#the danger it posses for the order

[teecupangel]

How would the other assassins react if one of their own assassins snuck on recon missions knowing they're not supposed to but unfortunately they kept messing up the missions even though they wanted to prove themselves?

Oh boy. This would be a problem because even if it’s just a recon mission, they’re Assassins and even a small mistake could be the trigger that will end their life so they’d be less… uuuhhh… well… let’s just see XD

I’m just going to focus on the main Assassins:

Altaïr: He’d get irritated and would probably talk to that Assassin. His words would sound harsh and hurtful but his message would be clear: “You’re a liability and there’s a reason why you were not taken in this mission in the first place. If you keep this up, we’ll end up failing the mission or, worse, dead.” and the other members of his team would tell him he’s gone too far because of his choice of words. A conflict would arise from that and Altaïr would order everyone to stay hidden and to not do anything at all. He’ll finish the mission all by himself instead. That would only add more bad blood between Altaïr and the rest but he has no time to coddle someone he believes can’t even see how much in jeopardy they all were now because of the mistakes they had made. The missions would still be a success and Altaïr solo-ing the mission would be known to the Brotherhood and well… there will be those who will side with Altaïr’s decision and those who would think of him as being a gloryhound so, in this scenario, the Assassin had inadvertently added more reason for Altaïr to be isolated with the rest of the Brotherhood which they didn’t want to do but Altaïr doesn’t care anyway. (In this one, Al Mualim would not be pleased and, really, a ‘soldier’ who does not listen to their master is a liability which would be dangerous because Al Mualim wouldn’t think twice of cutting off those he cannot control both for his own benefit and the safety of the Brotherhood as a whole).

Ezio: Ezio would try to be patient and understanding but he’s been an Assassin long enough to know that one single mistake could easily end their lives so he’d be nice about it when he tells the Assassin to stand down and stay with the group. The Assassin would probably feel like they’re being pushed aside by the end of the mission and Ezio would take the time to talk to them, telling them his side of the ‘story’. Ezio isn’t just thinking about the mission, but the safety of everyone including the Assassin themselves. Ezio would also scold them for going on the mission when they were explicitly told not to and that trying to prove one’s self is only a good thing if they can do it. For now, Ezio would order the Assassin to return to training and forbid them from going on any missions until Ezio is certain they show that they understand why they were being punished and would show a bit of growth.

Ratonhnhaké:ton: He’d have to do more for the mission to make up for the Assassin’s mistakes. He’d get frustrated but he won’t take it out on the Assassin, knowing they’re trying their best. Once the mission is over, Ratonhnhaké:ton would try to help the Assassin get better because he’d remember that how he learned the best when it’s one-on-one training and he think that maybe that would help.

Edward: Honestly, if Edward was still a pirate, he’d probably leave the Assassin once they reach a safe location, might even tell them to do something else that would lead them back to Jackdaw instead as he has no time (or patience) to babysit anyone. If he’s already an Assassin, he’d try to be understanding but he’d get frustrated later on which he’d just sigh about in a resigned kind of way. He’d just work harder to get the job done even with all the mishaps happening. By the end of it though, he’d probably get the Assassin sent to Miko to be trained and to be as far away from the field as possible until they’re ready since it’s too dangerous for everyone.

Arno: Arno would do everything he can to support and make up for the Assassin’s mistakes and he’d be stuck playing referee and breaking up the tension between the other Assassins that are actually part of their team. Once the mission is over, he’d try to help the Assassin by talking to the council into lessening the Assassin’s punishment but he’d be unable to say anything once one of the council members go “Would you still be saying the same thing had their actions resulted in the death of one of your team members?”. If Bellec was alive by this time, he’d tell Arno to stop being ‘nice’ as being nice would get him killed in this line of work and Arno would just stay quiet.

Jacob and Evie: Evie would try to be nice about it but she’ll tell the Assassin to stand down or step aside because they’re in the way. Jacob would be the one to try and comfort the Assassin because he knows how easy it is to be blinded by the desire to prove themselves. That has been a companion of Jacob since they’ve been young after all. When Jacob and Evie return to the train without the Assassin, Evie would tell Jacob not to coddle the Assassin because the only way for the Assassin to be better is by accepting the truth. This turns into an argument with Jacob saying that Evie wouldn’t know what it’s like since she has always been the best while Evie tells Jacob that he’s too busy having a pity party by himself that he doesn’t even notice that Evie herself had spent her entire life trying to gain their father’s approval and Jacob had it easy because he never even tried. This makes Jacob finally snap because the reason why he never ‘tried’ was because he knew it would always fail because Evie always got their father’s attention and… well… the following day, the Assassin won’t know anything about it but Jacob would suggest that they join the Rook instead and the Assassin would mistake that as Jacob saying that they’re never going to be a good Assassin so they should just stop.

I’m sorry if it sounds like negative reactions but recon missions can be quite dangerous, especially if it’s in enemy territory (and recon missions usually means they don't have any information) so an Assassin who keeps messing up would be… well… that Assassin would be adding more and more chances that their group would be found and captured or killed and all the other Assassins would have to keep helping clean up the ‘mess’.

[literatureloverx]

BSD MEN PLAYLISTS

Hi!❤️

I put this together pretty randomly, so the songs aren't in any particular order. You can imagine just the characters or them with their ideal type! darlings.

Enjoy!❤️

Fyodor Dostoevsky

The Neighbourhood - A little death

ABBA - Lay All Your Love On Me

Army of Lovers - Crucified

Lana Del Rey - Ultraviolence

Lana Del Rey - Young and Beautiful

Lana Del Rey - Salvatore (orchestral version)

Lana Del Rey - Dark Paradise

Theme from Schindler’s List

Theme from Romeo and Juliet (1968)

Tchaikovsky - Swan Lake Theme

Tchaikovsky - Sleeping Beauty Waltz

Rossini - The Barber of Seville

Art of Noise - Moments In Love

=> FYODOR’S MASTERLIST

Dazai Osamu

Taylor Swift - Enchanted

Alexander Rybak- Fairytale

The Neighbourhood - Daddy Issues

Sade - Smooth Operator

David Kushner - Daylight

Raye - Escapism

Lady Gaga - Paparazzi

XOXO (Kisses Hugs) (feat. Pixel Hood)

Conan Gray - Family Line

Bad Omens - Like A Villain

Nbsplv - The Lost Soul Down

Labyrinth - All For Us

Queen - Bohemian Rhapsody

Falling In Reverse - Popular Monster

Cigarettes After Sex - Apocalypse

The Living Tombstone - My Ordinary Life

MGMT - Little Dark Age

=> DAZAI’S MASTERLIST

Nakahara Chuuya

Sia - Elastic Heart

William Singe - Love You Like Me

Måneskin - Gossip

Skillet - Awake and Alive

Lana Del Rey - Born To Die

Slipknot - Custer

Miley Cyrus - Angels Like You (Rock Version)

Pierce The Veil - A Match Into Water

Ariana Grande - Dangerous Woman

Chase Atlantic - Into It

Chase Atlantic - Drugs & Money

Chase Atlantic - Swim

Stefflon Don - 16 Shots

Zayn - Pillowtalk

Zayn - Tonight

=> CHUUYA’S MASTERLIST

Nikolai Gogol

Insane Clown Posse - In My Room

Britney Spears - If U Seek Amy

Britney Spears - Circus

Britney Spears - Toxic

Britney Spears - Baby One More Time

Lady Gaga - Bloody Mary

Lady Gaga - Bad Romance

Lady Gaga - Poker Face

Lady Gaga - Love Game

Lady Gaga - Judas

Maroon 5 - Animals

SZA - Kill Bill

Bea Miller - Playground

Melanie Martinez - Mad Hatter

Mother Mother - Hayloft II

(Nightcore) - Black Widow (Rock Version)

Autoheart - Stalker’s Tango

Bebe Rexha - I’m Gonna Show You Crazy

The Living Tombstone - My Ordinary Life

=> NIKOLAI’S MASTERLIST

TO VIEW ALL MY WORKS => HERE

[oceansssblue]

SW REQUESTS:

"Would love to see a Wolffe x reader fic where the AFAB reader is injured in battle, Comms him and then their Comms get jammed and he's just freaking the hell out. Love some angst of him carrying her back to a ship and losing his mind over it"

Some minor alterations but I'm SO HAPPY with how this one came out! I love wolffe and there aren't that many fics about him. Do recommend your favourites! Xx, sky.

"RADIO SILENT" –WOLFFE/F READER

WARNINGS: BATTLE, WOUNDS&BLOOD, ANGST AND FLUFF. 📩💔💖

Halsakaa is a nightmare. The Republic hasn't been able to redirect more forces to the Outer Rim planet to help you; and your troops are struggling to keep the droids battalions at bay. It honestly feels as though the Republic –and the Jedi– have abandoned you to your wrath; no-one coming to this remote location in the galaxy to save you. The destine of your own life, and the lifes of your soldiers, are solely in your hands. And you'd give everything for them, even sacrifice yourself if you have to. After so many experiences together, for almost three years straight now, they have becomed such an important part of you it feels as if you have ingrained every single one of them in your soul. You know you should'nt be so attached to them; Master Ploo quietly reminds you from time to time –though you know he's not exactly indifferent either–. The wolfpack is his own just as they are yours. Yours. Growing up as Jedi you haven't had this kind of... ownership over anything but your saber. Obviously, you don't see the clones as something you can posses, use; but they do belong to you in some sense, and in that way, it's your responsability to command them, to take care of them. And you... love them. It's a dangerous word for a Jedi. But it's the truth. It is the reason why, right now, your soul aches. Each death is a strike right to your heart. But how can you see them any different, when they are such loyal friends? Such fierce soldiers, who fight and die selflessly for the freedom of other citizens in the galaxy, a freedom that hadn't been given to themselves?

Your dark emerald green lightsaber flies in your hands, deflecting one bolt after the other one. Sweat makes your usually comfortable jedi robes stick to your body; minor scratches and wounds tingling painfully at the friction of the fabric. It doesn't make you move any slower, though; you feel unstopable jumping from a cluster of droids to another, the hum of your saber following you around while you slash through your enemies with persistent focus and skill. General Ploo is doing his own thing on the other side of the battlefield; your clone troops split in half to defend both sides of Halsakaa's capital.

You don't know how much longer you can hold this off. All of you have been trained for this, and you're used to drawing strength from the Force, increasing your usual endurance; but even you are feeling exhausted, muscles straining like painful cords, and the thing about the droids is that they never tire out. You know this has to end eventually. Right now, Master Ploo's orders are to hold on til some other battalion can come to your rescue –the other option abandoning Halsakaa to the separatists, which would cause a disastrous impact on the Republic–; though you don't know when that will be. It may be days, or weeks. A month, maybe two. Even with the system of rest-and-takeover you've got established with the clones you're afraid you're going to lose.

The night falls, and some troopers fall back into the delicate safety of the makeshift camp, a decent distant away from the battlefield; they'll try to shut the eye for some hours before replacing other brothers positions again. You keep fighting, completely exhausted but knowing perfectly well that your presence in the battlefield equals the force of ten clones; pushing through your energy limits and fiercely holding your own.

Hours pass, and the two suns of Halsaaka rises again; your tired eyes getting used to the new light while you keep slashing droids with your saber.

"We're pushing them further away from the South Door" Master Ploo's calm voice picks up through your coms. "I have been informed that the 442th have been dispatched in our way. They will join us in two sunrises".

You can't help but give a relieved sigh. The 104th have worked with the 442th more than once in the past. They are heavy infantry; and you wouldn't say no to some of that now. Any fresh soldier would be a welcomed addition. You can see the strain on your troopers; though none of them would dare say a word out loud.

"Copy that" you answer through your channel with your Master and the 104th's commander and sergeant. "I'll feel as happy as a kid with a popsicle when I see that green stripped armour along our light gray one".

You dodge a shot and use the Force to push a wave of droids to the side; your troopers quickly using the oportunity to blast them down.

Wolffe's deep husky voice pipes up in a tiny, well-humoured comment.

"Still a kid yourself, General" he teases you, voice still firm and contradictionally serious.

Your lips pull up on a tiny smirk.

"We can't all age in a blink of an eye, my dear Commander" you chirp back.

The coms pick up his raspy chuckle before the frequency goes back to silence.

The droids make way for something bigger and you groan under your breath. The first bolts make the earth beneath your feet shake slightly; orders and screams shouted all around you.

"Bad news, boys" you open the general coms this time so everyone gets updated in this very unwelcomed surprise. "We've got some spiders".

You focus yourself on them; flying through the battlefield and jumping on one droid after the other one, sinking your saber into their red sensors or cutting off their laser canions. Then, when you're in the middle of jumping off of one, a surprisingly well aimed bolt crosses the air and hits you; and you fall down with blood quickly soaking your side, staining the fabric of your Jedi clothes.

"Fuck" you mutter out loud, jaw clenching til your teeth hurt while you stand up quickly and deflect another bold with your saber, trying to cope with the pain. You open your private frequency with Sinker and quickly inform of your state.

"Sinker, I've been hit" you grit between your teeth while you kill the droid responsible for your wound and step back between your troopers to cover yourself momentarily.

You pull your clothes up and quickly glance down at the wound. Usually the bolts inmediately cauterizes the wounds; but this hadn't been a normal droid, but a combat-J1, with it's weapon specifically designed to make the most damage to human's skin without it's predecessors side-efects. The apparently less dangerous bolts are quite the opposite; dividing into smalller ones that diverts into different directions when hitting a surface with enough resistance. Right now, there's only one entrance wound on your right side; but you know they may have carved more than one path inside of you, making it a life or death situation depending on how lucky you are.

"How bad is it?" He asks, slowly but effectively advancing through the droid lines towards you, an easy person to locate with the shine of your emerald saber.

You grunt in pain, hand soaked in dark scarlet blood, and take a deep breath in, knowing what you need to do for now.

"Bad" you just answer, carefully lowering your own saber towards the wound "It's a shot from a J1. I'm going to cauterise the wound for now, but I might go into shock in the next hour. Just a heads up."

You chuckle weakly, and then carefully graze your lightsaber against the wound. The skin quickly hardens and clots; the smell of the burn quickly reaching your nose. Your knees buckle while you swallow your scream of pain; legs shaking weakly and tears springing to your eyes while you finish putting a momentarily solution to your wound. At least you won't die from blood loss for now.

"Maker, General" Sinker is suddenly there, taking a strong hold of your opposite hip to stabilize you. "That really doesn't look good. You should go back to camp, Sir".

You find solace in his strength for a minute before rightening yourself again and getting ready to move. You close your eyes and center yourself with the Force. You're hurt, but you're still in the middle of open fire; you need to swallow the pain and dizziness down and hold on.

You give Sinker a firm nod.

"I'm letting this side of the battlefield on your hands, then" you tell him, his own back inmediately straightening too under such responsability. "Just one more night and we'll have reinforcements with us tomorrow".

Sinker nods in understanding, appreciating your words of encouragement. He quickly orders Comet to help you get safely back to camp; while he inmediately takes the role of leader and commands your part of the 104th clone troops. You need to protect the North Door of Halsaaka while Master Ploo and Wolffe take care of the South.

One arm around Comet's shoulders and finding strength in the Force, you quickly start your dangerous way back to safety. Even though Comet's alert with his own blaster and you're still deflecting bolts with your saber, you're vulnerable now. You just hope you're both able to make it.

You open your coms to inform of the new situation.

"I've been hit with a J1" you warn Master Ploo and Wolffe. You don't like how weak your voice sounds. "Wolffe, I..."

There's a small explosion right beside you; and the force of it pushes both you and Comet to the ground. You whimper in pain, but quickly grab him and push the two of you back up, resume walking –more like stumbling forward–. You try the coms again, wanting to tell Wolffe you've left Sinker with command before retiring for the night; you grumble in irritation when you see your com device has detached from your forearm and has been left abandoned behind.

"Do you have your com?" You ask Comet.

His voice is barely audible under the protection of his helmet.

"My audio appears to be broken after that last fall, General."

You sigh, tired. There's nothing you can do about it now. Sinker will communicate with them sooner or later.

"Let's just make it back to safety then" you say, and Comet nods diligently.

You'll just focus on not collapsing to the ground before reaching camp.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Wolffe's heart stutters inside his chest when he hears your voice in the coms. You're always strong, always fierce; something he had admired from the very first time he had had the chance to work under your command. He had been cold towards you back then; not purposedly harsh against you, but not friendly either. You hadn't cared. When one of his men had pointed out to you it wasn't personal, but just Wolffe's reserved, unpolished personality, you had answered unbothered and completely understanding. He could still hear those words in his head; "I get it. I'm a stranger that holds the lifes of his brothers in her hands. None of you know me yet; trust is earned. I hope I will with time. I'd like us all to be comfortable with each othef. But if not, it doesn't matter. I'm not here to make friends. I'm here to fight. I'm here to protect people; and I'm here to direct my assigned troops as best as I can in order to achieve the best results with the minor number of casualties. If Commander Wolffe opens up to me I'd be honored. If not, I'm sure we could still be good comrades in this war". He still remembers the way you had tilted your chin upwards; staring defiantly at the clones in front of her, completely unaware of him standing not so far away at her back. "Now, I believe there's still some preparations needed for Jaal; and we're taking off in an hour". With that not-so-subtle signal that the conversation had ended, the troopers around you had quickly fell back to place; and Wolffe had silently followed Master Ploo Koo towards you. "Look at you, little warrior" the older Jedi had told you, a pleasant smile wrinkling the corner of his covered eyes. "Already displaying such good lidership traits". You had turned around in surprise; so many life presences around you, and experiencing a rush of your own emotions, you hadn't been aware of both of their presence. Your cheeks had flushed slightly; though that same defiant glint hadn't left your eyes. "Master" you had slightly bowed towards him. "You see me with good eyes" you had smiled softly at him, in a clearly opened affectionate way Wolffe wasn't used to seing in other Jedi. "Just having a chat with the troops". Master Ploo had chuckled quietly and pointed at him with a hand gesture; Wolffe quickly taking a step forwards towards them. "I have just had a quick meeting with the Council. Commander Wolffe will update you on my behalf, as I need to go have a word with the pilots" Master Ploo had glanced back at him pointedly. "If he'd be kind enough...". Wolffe had inmediately nodded, firmly. He had high respect towards that specifical Jedi; and he didn't usually hold others in such high regards. "Of course, sir" he had then turned towards you. "General, if you can follow me to the strategy room...". You had firmly hold his stare for a few seconds; and the quiet inquisitive gaze had felt as if the young Jedi Warrior had scanned his own very soul. Wolffe had had his first tingle of that uncomfortable but curious feeling back then; a feeling that had only increased with the following years. Nowadays, he...

Wolffe cleared his thoughts and focused on battle. Your voice had sound weak and tired, but you were perfectly capable of holding yourself, and this wasn't the first time you had been hurt before. He had actually patched you more than once in the past and... And then you mentioned a J1, and whispered his name, and there was a loud ringing sound through the coms that sounded too close to an explosion for his comfort and... And the sounds died, leaving nothing more than radio silence. And Wolffe, going against everything he had learnt and was trained for, pannicked.

"General?" His frantic, afraid voice was enough for Master Ploo to focus his attention on him, a graze at his Force life enough to make him understand his commander's feelings. "General. Come on. Com in, kid..."

There was only static.

Wolffe's heart pumped faster, adrenaline shooting through his veins. His hands trembled. A knot formed in his throat, slowly chocking his voice. He never broke down. He never broke down, but...

"Cyar'ika" he begged in a whisper. "Please, please answer and tell me you're okay".

He still got no answer back from you, and he felt his soul hurt.

Master Plo's hand suddenly renched him back into reality; a comforting wave of what could only be his Force washing over him. Wolffe turned his face towards him. The Jedi watched him in understanding.

"I can feel your turmoil. It is such it's difficult for me to focus on anything else. You are in no state to stay in the battlefield" he told him, cautiously gentle. "If my padawan has been gravely injured someone has probably helped her return to camp. You must go and make sure she's okay".

Even if Wolffe wanted nothing more than to start of a run and find her, he still hesitated in front of his General. He was a soldier. A commander. He couldn't leave his place just because he had stupidly, oh so fucking stupidly, fallen in love with her...

Master Plo squeezed his shoulders once. He knew him so well.

"Go" he insisted. "That's an order".

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Wolffe quickly wrenched the flimsi excuse of a door of the tent open. He had gone to the makeshift infirmary first; his doctor quickly informing him of the state of his Jedi, and where he could find her resting at the moment. "A dangerous wound, but surprisingly stable" he had told him while he took care of the wound of a fellow brother. "She's a tough one, our General. It was a good idea to use her own lightsaber as a cauterizer. She wouldn't have probably made it all the way back here otherwise". That probability had made Wolffe tremble.

His own eyes quickly scanned the Jedi's state now. She was laying down on a rucksack, unusually clad in just a sport top and his Jedi pant's; outer robes discarded and clean bandages effectively wrapping around her lower torso, with just a small amout of blood transpairing on her side. Her lightsaber had been carefully placed at her side. Her hair was untied and a mess; some sticking to her dirtied face and some falling around freely behind her. Despite her evident exhaustion, Wolffe hand't ever been so happy to see her.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Commander?" You asked in a surprised voice, slowly and carefully propelling some of your weight in your elbows in order to see him better. "Shouldn't you be back on the battlefield?"

Your face quickly changes into a deep, worried frown as you scan him up and down quickly.

"Are you hurt too, Wolffe?"

His heart clenches again. He steps inside the tent, slowly falling down on his knees besides you, and closes the door.

"No" he simply answers, observing you quietly.

You're completely lost. He's looking at you in a different way. He... Feels different, in the Force. Usually he feels much more reserved, almost as if he had learnt how to shield his emotions from a Jedi; however this... This felt raw.

"I'm afraid I don't understand" you chuckle and then wince at the way the movement tugs at your wound, a bit nervously now. You pointedly look at him. "You wouldn't be here just because you got worried, right?"

Wolffe's expression doesn't change.

"You went radio silent" he answers, quietly.

You arch an eyebrow.

"Our coms died" you explain, still confused about his attitude.

Wolffe can't help himself. He reaches forward and carefully grasps your chin in his right hand; eyes boring into yours. You gasp in surprise and can't do anything else but stare at his breathetaking mismatched eyes in response; emotions inside of you swirling dangerously with his move.

"You were hurt" he enfasises, almost as if he's trying to tell you something else, something you're not quite understanding. "You were hurt, and you went radio silent".

Oh. Oh. He thought you might be... You might have...

"Oh, Wolffe" his name is an understanding, affectionate sigh on your tempting lips. "I'm okay".

He doesn't want empathy. Doesn't want that almost condescending type of comfort. He needs to make sure you're still here; with him. He needs to exteriorize all this raw, painful emotions he has been keeping hidden for so fucking long, and he wants you so fucking bad it makes his mind and soul burn...

He bends down over you, holding himself against one hand proped against the floor while the other one tugs your neck forward, and then he's kissing you –fiercely, dominantly, real–; he kisses the same way he fights and a surprised but delighted whimper of a moan can't help but escape from your lips, hands quickly clinging onto his shoulders desperately.

You... You hadn't thought you'd end up having this. With you being a Jedi and him being such a perfect, respected clone Commander, you had always brushed your wants aside and...

"Wolffe" you whisper, trembling inevitably when his plush warm mouth moves from your lips to the side of your neck, biting gently. "Wolffe, I...".

He breathes and looks up at your face again; cupping your cheek with his right hand and observing your reaction with his eyes shimmering in needs and desire.

His Force signature blasts. He loves you. He loves you, and you...

"Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum" you whisper, risking it all and giving your heart to him.

Tears blur your sight. They're not sad tears; they're not happy either. They're a mix of emotions that make you feel like a mess and...

Wolffe sighs. You love him. You love him, and the fact that you've told him in Mando'a...

He closes his eyes and gently presses his forehead against yours; finding solace and peace in your embrace, in this Keldabe. His eyes then flutter open, and he holds your face in both of his hands, slowly joining your lips in a kiss much more sweet and unhurried than those from before. You hum, surrendering in complete bliss.

He caresses your smuged cheek with his thumb, taking some of the dirt and exhaustion of the battlefield away.

His voice is a secret whisper as well.

"Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum, cyare".

Your fingers tug at the hair at the back of his neck, and you crash your lips onto his.

You imprint those five mandalorian words in your soul.

THE END.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

This one was a blast to write! Felt the emotions so raw myself tooo bfbfbsfb this two are so cute. I hope I get to write more of Wolffe in the future, I really like the guy.

Did some minor alterations –like him not been the one to actually carry you back to safety– but it kinda wrote itself and I'm happy with how it came out. Hope you liked it as well!

Also, dear friends, if you ever want to request something longer than a one-shot, you're able to do so as well (if the plot goes accordingly or I find it expandable). I'm not writing whole stories, but a short one of maybe 2-5 chapters max would be okay.

Stay tunned for the next one yall. It will be a little angsty one with Echo, and then we'll have a flirty fun one with Crosshair.

Xx,

Sky.

Back to main masterlist here!

[thequietkid-moonie]

S/O self harms because love the scars

[ HEADCANONS ] [ Aventurine, Nagisa ]

[ Honkai Star Rail ] [ Assassination Classroom ]

The person who requested this wanted to stay anonymous!

I wasn't able to write for Karma like the annon wanted buuuut i hope all of you enjoy this two cuties <3

Aventurine

The love Aventurine has for you is inmense and sincere, and since you reciprocated those feeling he has no reason to don't show you affection in diferent ways all the time, even bragging about you to her subordinates and sometimes even talking about you non stop to Topaz (half to annoy her and half because he just can't shut up)

As much as Aventurine is open and loud with how much he loves you he normally doesn't talk about the true extent of his feelings, he doesn't has the courage to tell you directly how much you truly mean for him and how much he does care for you, how he would be willing to give everything he posses if is in order to keep you safe and happy, but even when he doesn't talk about it out loud he has diferent and indirect ways to show how much he truly care about you

Aventurine cares too much for you and is afraid of losing you so when he noticed your scars he was imediatly worried, but since there are just scars he stays as calm as posible and take time to try to find out what could have happened for you, but if there are fresh injuries on your skin Aventurine can feel his heart skip a beat, even if you have a dangerous work that could explain them it won't easy his worries, in this case he will imediatly ask you about it (and please ask you to take care of the injuries, even if you already did and are even properly bandaged up he will insist)

Deciding to tell him about your little habit or him finding out will recive the same reaction, he is beyond shocked and worried, he won't exactly judge for it but he is not going to take it well neither, Aventurine is already too scare of losing you but you doing this just makes his worries increase

Aventurine has to take a moment to calm down before asking you to please stop doing this, he can understand that you like scars but hurting yourself is not healthy in any way, he doesn't want you to do this and, honestly, he is more than willing for you to hurt him instead, give him all the scars you want as long as you stop hurting yourself

Aventurine will gain the habit to discreetly looking over you whenever he has the chance to make sure you aren't hurting yourself and if he sees another fresh injuries he can feel himself in the verge of tears, but he will hold them back and calmly (but heartbroken) ask you again to please don't do it

Nagisa Shiota

Nagisa is really caring and loving, he can be quite flustered by his feeling and even more by the fact that are reciprocated but that also lead him to try to be the best boyfriend he can be

Nagisa doesn't exactly make a big deal out of you two being together but it can be quite obvious how close you two are of each other, he doesn't even try to hide the adoration and love in his eyes whenever he is with you, he doesn't has reasons to do so (but he kinda regrets being so obvious everytime he end up tease by others, still he won't change it)

Even if Nagisa doesn't think much of himself he is really observant and smart, he can notice little details and since he cares for you so deeply he will unconsciously pay close attention to you. It won't really take him too long before noticing the scars on your skin or even fresh wounds, and he is imediatly worried but at the same time doesn't want to ask right away

Nagisa is smart so he will try to reach a logical conclusion, trying to not be carried away for his worries, Class 3-E is reciving assassin training so the most logic option could be to think that you got hurt during training, but at the same time it isn't the most accurate option since Karasuma tries to be as careful as posible and Koro-sensei has forbidden to hurt the students, the students security is a top priority so you getting badly hurt like that during the training doesn't sound too much likely, wich only end up increasing his worries

The more worried Nagisa is the more he stares at your scars, so that end up leading you two to finally talk about it (and honestly, if non of you say anything it will be Koro-sensei who would intervene soon or later), either by you choosing to tell him or him asking you to talk about it the result will be the same, you doing it on purpose to yourself just makes Nagisa even more worried, imediatly thinking the worst, but if it is truly just for the scars his worries will easy just a little

He doesn't judge you but it isn't happy about it, he doesn't like the thought of you hurting yourself just because you like how scars look and he will definetly have a serious conversation with you about this (he doesn't want to come across as controlling but this is an unhealthy habit), honestly he does respect your liking so he is up to suggest other and more healthy ways to fullfil your wish, maybe you two can ask Sousuke to draw you a cool looking scar over your skin (or maybe even teach you how to do it), Nagisa is sure he will happy to do so and that way you won't harm yourself!

[nostalgicnarrator]

Outlaws and Lawmen

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Word Count: 5311

Parings: Thorn X Bilbo

Description:

Throin Oakenshield, law man, finds himself facing an outlaw, the likes of which he’s never seen before.

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⚠️Warning⚠️

Brief mention of extreme violence. Gun fights and death.



Note:

Listen, I don’t know what to tell you except I really wanted to write this for whatever reason. I was inspired, mostly by @shurikthereject and more specifically this post, and this post by them. Go give them love please if you haven’t already. Have fun and tell me if I messed up.

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The sun was just beginning to rise over the small, dusty town of Ered, casting long shadows on the wooden buildings that lined the main streets.

The cool breeze rolled through the growing town, it carried familiar scents of leather, horses, and the distant aroma of freshly baked bread.

Thorin Oakenshield, the town’s sheriff, adjusted his hat and took a deep breath, savoring the calmness of the early hour.

Thorin’s family had long been intertwined with the law, a legacy stretching back further than he or the rest of the town could really remember.

His father and grandfather before him had both worn the very badge now clipped to his chest.

though they were not the only to carve their own legends into the town, they were the only ones who’s legends lined with mystery’s.

His grandfather had been one of the most revered sheriffs the town had ever known, a man who brought order with a steady hand and an unyielding sense of justice.

But he had not been as invincible as he pretended. He’d upset the wrong people, his throat slit in the dead of night, his body found cold and lifeless in the alley behind what was now Bombur’s saloon.

No one had ever discovered who was responsible. The killer’s identity became the stuff of ghost stories whispered around campfires, a shadow in the town’s memory, known only as “The defiler.”

Thorin’s father fared no better. He vanished without a trace while leading a posse into the hills, chasing after, well Thorin didn’t know.

What he did know was that his father’s badge showed up and left in Thorin’s home, there was no explanation,

And as the weeks turned into months, Thorin's hope dwindled to a painful acceptance. His father was assumed dead, claimed by the wilds or worse.

Left with little choice, and after a little convincing, Thorin took the badge. He was allowed to wear it and wore it he did, making him one of the youngest sheriffs in the territory.

Now, it was his turn to uphold the family honor in a town that seemed forever on the brink of the unexpected. Ered had always attracted the strange and the dangerous, and lately, there’d been no shortage of both.

The sudden influx of outlaws had become increasingly frustrating, bands of desperados and renegades testing their resolve, pushing at the edges of the peace Thorin strived for.

Thorin, by now, had dealt with his fair share of trouble. He’d faced down outlaws who thought his town was an easy mark, stood toe-to-toe with gunmen who underestimated him, and outsmarted those who tried to outgun him.

His reputation grew quickly and he was known as the quickest draw and for having a sharp mind, at least when it came to dealing with outlaws.

His name began to spread beyond Ered, most rumors of him were just that; rumors. but if the whispers in saloons and campfires across the state helped in keeping his town safe he didn’t mind.

Most were overly dramatic stories, some being entirely false and others just being exaggerated. But said stories were enough to make some think twice about causing trouble in his town.

Before that, Ered was just another dot on the map. But it quickly became known as Thorin Oakenshield’s town.

A place where the law was upheld not just by the sheriff’s badge, but by the man who wore it. Outlaws might ride into other towns to cause trouble, but not here. Not under Thorin’s watch.

Still, even as he took in the quiet morning, a familiar tension settled in his gut. The calm wouldn’t last; it never did. And today felt like one of those days when trouble was bound to find its way to his door.

And even as Thorin strode down the main street, nodding to or saying hello to the townspeople who greeted him, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was brewing.

The air seemed thicker today, the shadows just a bit darker. He greeted his deputy, Dwalin, as he stepped inside the sheriff’s office.

“Mornin’, Thorin,” Dwalin grunted, adjusting his gun belt. His face, usually calm, held a hint of tension.

“Morning, Dwalin… Feels like a strange day, doesn’t it?” Thorin replied.

Dwalin nodded. “Aye, it does. Maybe it’s the storm coming in from the east, but I’ve got a feelin’…”

Thorin chuckled. “You always have a feeling, Dwalin. Let’s hope it's just the weather this time.”

But deep down, Thorin knew better than to ignore his instincts or those of his deputy. On more than one occasion either had been provided right.

And if they were both feeling it, then something really bad might just happen. Before he could dwell on it anymore, Bofur, the always cheerful owner of the general store, came through the door.

“Sheriff! Morning!” Bofur called, his usual grin tight fake, it seemed out of place on his usually jovial face.

Thorin nodded and made his way over. “Why mornin’ Bofur, everything alright?”

“Well, …no sheriff, It’s my cousin. I’ve been trying to get him help and, well he’s out on his own again.”

Thorin sighed. Bifur, maybe this is what his gut was so upset about. Bifur had lost his mind a few years ago after an accident.

The old prospector was a kind fellow most days but, when he got to wondering, there was no telling.

Bifur often wandered off into the hills, he never got much farther than that. “Alright, I’ll go check on him. Might be good to get out of town for a bit.” Throin patted Bofur on the back.

“Thank ya sheriff, send him to my general store or to my brothers saloon.”

Dwalin gave him a nod as they quickly gathered their stuff. Thorin was first to mount his horse, setting off towards the hills.

The wind picked up as dark clouds gathered on the horizon. He didn’t like leaving town with a feeling like this hanging in the air, but Bofur’s cousin needed checking on, and that was that.

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The midday sun hung high over Ered, casting its relentless heat down onto the dirt streets. A breeze brushed through the town making trees rustle kindly.

The townsfolk moved about their business; women chatting outside the general store, children running past the schoolhouse, and a few men lounged outside Bombur's saloon.

Then, a low rumble of hooves sounded in the distance, growing louder as they approached. Heads turned, eyes narrowing against the glare to see a group of riders on the horizon.

At the head of the pack was a man with a dark brown hat, caramel colored curls wearing a green shirt and a dark poncho around his shoulders. A white bandanna covered his face nicely.

Not everyone could immediately recognize the leader, but the few that did knew him as Bilbo Baggins, the outlaw.

He was a new name to the outlaws list, steadily climbing the wanted list, now he sits near the top, he’d robbed banks, and towns. He’s known to be armed and dangerous.

He never misses, he hasn't ever each time he’s shot a gun. Bilbo rode in with a confidence that would send a chill down the spine of any onlooker.

Three other men rode behind him, all armed and faces hidden behind masks of different colors and patterns.

Beside Bilbo was his right hand man, no name was ever given to the man, and none ever will. He always wore a purple shirt with a dark bandanna around his face and a black hat blocking the rest.

Bilbo’s right hand man was known as a wiry man with a wicked glint in his eye, he seemed to scan the buildings with sharp interest, his fingers twitching near the revolver at his side.

The riders came to a stop in the middle of the street, kicking up clouds of dust. Bilbo’s eyes swept over the faces that stared back at him.

There were wide-eyed women who clutched their children tightly, men tensing up, hands edging closer to their gun belts if they had one. He chuckled under his breath.

“Good afternoon, folks!” Bilbo called out lazily, he looked relaxed and calm. “How’s everyone doin’? Ain’t it just a lovely day? Be a damn shame if somethin’ were to spoil it.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd. The tension in the air was thick, almost like a coiled spring ready to snap. Someone had the nerve to draw and before the man could fully raise his hand a shot rang out.

The man dropped his gun and held his now bleeding hand to himself. Bilbos right hand man had his gun pointed at the idiot who thought it was a good idea to grab his gun.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you… see my partner here, he’s got an itchy finger.” Bilbo chuckled softly.

At the edge of the crowd, Dís stood with her sons, Fíli and Kíli. Her instincts told her to fight, keep her children safe. And she desperately wanted to listen to it.

But she couldn’t, not without getting someone killed. She held her sons back as they stepped forward, their own hands reaching for their guns.

With a gentle squeeze on their shoulders she got their attention “Stay calm,” she whispered to them, her eyes never leaving Bilbo.

Bilbo swung off his horse, strolling leisurely towards the bank. He nodded to Glóin as he stepped outside.

Bilbo’s gang slowly followed, spreading out behind him. “Now, I’m not here to hurt anyone,” Bilbo continued. “At least, not if I don’t have to. But my boys and I, we’re in need of some funds, and I’m sure your good banker here won’t mind making a generous donation.”

Glóin stepped forward, his face pale but not scared. “You won’t get away with this,” he said, his voice steadier than he felt.

Bilbo laughed, a sound that made the townsfolk flinch. The laugh was too sweet for what was happening. “Oh, I think I will. See, I’ve got more men hidden around your little town- rooftops, alleys, you name it. You make a move, and they’ll turn this place into a shooting gallery.”

A wave of fear swept through the crowd. They glanced nervously at the rooftops and shadows, imagining invisible gunmen lurking there, ready to unleash hell.

Fíli and Kíli tensed beside their mother, their eyes flicking towards the distant hills where their uncle had ridden not long ago. They needed to get him, now.

Dís felt the tremor of fear in her sons, and in that moment, she made a decision. She tilted her head towards Fíli and whispered urgently, “Fíli, you and Kíli go. Ride fast, find your uncle, bring him back.”

Fíli hesitated, his eyes wide. “But, Ma-”

“Go!” she hissed, “I’ll handle this!”

Before the boys could argue further, Dís stepped forward, raising her hands high. “Wait! Wait!” she shouted, drawing all eyes, including Bilbo’s, to her.

Bilbo cocked his head, curiosity piqued. “Howdy ma’am, pleasure to meet ya, who might you be?”

Dís forced a smile, stepping into the open. “Just a mother, hoping to keep her children safe,” she said, voice steady even as her heart raced. “You say you’re not here to hurt anyone- then prove it. Let these people go about their day. You want money? Take it and leave.”

Bilbo’s grin widened. He sauntered closer, he began to prowl around her. “Now, now, that’s quite a proposal. So what makes you think you can negotiate with me?”

“Because, I know you’re bluffing,” Dís said, her eyes blazing with a defiant spark. “If you had as many men as you say, you wouldn’t need to make threats. You’d have already started shooting.”

A hush fell over the street. For a moment, even Bilbo looked surprised, caught off guard. Behind Dís, Fíli and Kíli took the chance to slip away, moving silently through the crowd, unnoticed by the gang members whose focus was entirely on their mother.

Bilbo glared at her and pointed up behind her to a rooftop where a gunman was, he had a shotgun aimed at her “are you sure…? My dear you seemed to have misjudged.”

Dís glared back “one extra gunner-“ Bilbo points at another on the bell tower of the church. “Two then, show me another and I’ll believe you.”

Bilbo’s smile slowly faded. “You’re a sharp one, ain’t you?” he said, his tone darkening. “Maybe too sharp for your own good.”

Dís’s heart pounded, but she held her ground, she pulls give her sons all the precious seconds they needed, no matter what.

Fíli and Kíli had at that point reached the edge of town, a horse waited for them. Without a word, they mounted and Fíli spurred it into a gallop, racing towards the hills.

Bilbo’s eyes flicked to the fleeing boys just as they vanished from sight. His smile returned. “Looks like we’re gonna have some fun after all.”

He turned back to his men. “Inside the bank!” he barked. “And make it quick. We’ve got company coming.”

The gang moved into action, shoving Glóin into the building as they went inside the bank. He protested loudly. Loud enough to still hear him outside.

Dís watched as her sons disappeared over the ridge, a silent prayer on her lips that they would reach Thorin in time.

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The hills outside Ered were grassy and scattered rocks, with the occasional stubborn tree jutting its way up.

Thorin and Dwalin had their horses trotting along slowly, scanning for any sign of Bifur. The old prospector had a habit of wandering off into the wilderness, especially after his accident.

The poor man had a hatchet stuck in his head, Óin says it’s a miracle that he could even still walk. Bifur’s mind seemed lost most days, chasing shadows only he could see.

“There,” Dwalin grunted, pointing ahead with a nod. A figure sat on a rocky outcrop, silhouetted against the bright sky. It was Bifur.

He looked as wild as he always does, muttering to himself as he gazed into the distance. Thorin began to wonder if he was lucid enough to sign.

Thorin and Dwalin swong themselves from their horses and approached cautiously, not wanting to startle Bifur.

As they drew closer, Thorin could make out Bifur’s soft mumbling. He was rattling off gibberish nonsense that always seemed to only make sense to him.

“Bifur,” Thorin called gently, stopping a few paces away. “It’s Thorin. Bofur sent me, your cousin? He’s worried about you.”

Bifur turned slowly, his eyes wide and unfocused. For a moment, he didn’t seem to recognize Thorin, his gaze flicking between the sheriff and the deputy beside him.

Thorin took another step closer to Bifur, his hands went up when the prospector, stepped away as if to run. Then, a spark of recognition lit in Bifur’s eyes, and his face softened.

“Thorin” Bifur signed and Thorin let out a sigh of relief, nodding slowly as the prospector’s hands moved silently. “I know you.”

Thorin smiled, trying to keep his tone light. “Yes, you do. And you know Bofur and Bombur too. They’re worried about you, Bifur. They want you to come back to town with us.”

Bifur shook his head, his brows notched together as his hands moved warily. “Can’t go back. The Shadows there. Always watching… waiting.”

Dwalin stepped forward, his voice was softer than normal. “It’s alright Bifur. We’ll help you get back safe.”

Bifur’s eyes darted around, scanning the horizon as if expecting something to emerge from the rocks. “You don’t see them,” he signed with quick movements. “The dead won’t stay dead, the shadows walk like men there.”

Thorin glanced at Dwalin, who gave a slight nod. They had to handle this carefully. Bifur was not dangerous, but he was unpredictable, and the last thing they wanted was to spook him further.

“Listen, Bifur,” Thorin said softly, crouching down to meet Bifur’s gaze directly. “Why don’t you come down from that rock and whatever you’re seeing, whatever you’re feeling, we can talk about it back in town.”

Bifur looked at Thorin more now and then to Dwalin, he took a step back away, both men showed their hands to him, “Bifur, out here, you’re exposed. It’s not safe. Let’s get you back to your family. To Bofur and Bombur. They miss you.” Dwalin offered with a kinder tone.

Bifur hesitated, He glanced at the hills behind him, then back at Thorin and Dwalin. He started down off the rocks, slowly moving to Thorin.

Thorin smiled, relief washing over him. “Good man, Bifur. We’ll take it nice and slow. Just follow us.”

They helped Bifur when he got closer, guiding him back to the horses. The man was unsteady, his eyes still darting about as if expecting to see the phantoms that haunted his mind. But with each step, he seemed to calm a little more.

Thorin and Dwalin exchanged a glance, Bifur had once been a kind fellow, not that he wasn’t now and not that he didn’t seem to have moments of clarity,

There was a time where Thorin wondered if the person who slit his grandfather’s throat was the same person who tried to bash Bifur’s skull in with a hatchet.

The sound of galloping hooves drew Thorin back to the present. He turned, spotting two riders approaching at breakneck speed.

His hand instinctively went to the gun at his hip, ready for anything. As the riders drew closer, he recognized their faces. He found himself hurrying a little closer.

It was his nephews. Thorin’s heart clenched with worry as he glanced back toward the town. Something was wrong.

“Uncle Thorin!” Fíli shouted as he and Kíli threw themselves from their horse, scrambling over to him, panic etched on their faces. “You need to come back! The town- there’s an outlaw!”

“Said his name is Bilbo Boggins!” Kíli added breathlessly.

“No, no! It was definitely Baggins!” Fíli corrected, his voice trembling.

Thorin’s heart tightened. Bilbo Baggins, the name was as infamous as it was unexpected. He knew what the name meant.

Thorin felt a wave of dizziness wash over him as he glanced at Dwalin, whose expression mirrored his own horror and panic.

“What’s he doing?” Thorin demanded, trying to steady his voice. He pushed Bifur to Fíli.

Kíli caught his breath. “He’s holding the town hostage. Says he’s got a dozen men hidden around. Mom distracted him so we could get away, Uncle!”

Thorin’s heart sank, then shattered at the thought of his sister risking herself. He wouldn’t lose her too. He wouldn’t let his nephews lose their mother.

He turned to Dwalin. “Mount up,” he ordered, already moving towards his horse. “Fíli, stay with Bifur. If you follow then keep a safe distance behind us and get him back to Bofur and Bombur if you can manage. Stay safe, both of you.”

Fíli nodded, though his eyes were wide and worried. Kíli grabbed his uncle’s pant leg, not ready to let him go. “What about you, Uncle?”

Thorin’s face hardened. “I’m going to deal with our new visitor.” With that, he spurred his horse forward, “Let’s go!” he shouted to Dwalin, who fell beside him.

They raced back towards Ered, the peaceful morning had now become a distant memory.

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By the time they reached the edge of town, Thorin could still see some of the townspeople. Most had been ushered into the general store and the doors were blocked and bard closed.

The rest were tied up and left in front of the store. And Dís was one of them. Two men were at the entrance of the bank guns drawn, one called into the bank as Thorin showed.

After a moment the doors slammed open and there stood Bilbo Baggins, his face covered by a white bandanna , his right hand man stepped out beside him, his face also covered.

“Thorin Oakenshield,” Bilbo called out, his voice carrying over the din. “I’ve heard of you. The scary lawman turned legend. Some say you can never miss a shot.”

Thorin slid off his horse, Dwalin followed suit quickly, his hands hovering towards his gun. Even though Bilbo’s face was covered, Thorin could see the playful grin underneath it.

Then the first shot rang out, sharp and echoing across the town square, shattering the fragile stillness. Dwalin had fired at Bilbo, but he missed.

Bilbo huffed and shot back, his men soon followed his lead. Instinctively, Thorin and Dwalin ducked behind a water trough, bullets whizzing past them.

"Dwalin! Really? No negotiation?!" Thorin shouted over the din, gripping his revolver tightly.

Dwalin shrugged beside him, wincing as a bullet ricocheted off the edge of the trough, splintering the wood. “I had 'em, the sun just got in my eye…”

“Uh huh, sure.” Throin huffed, he ducked down lowered as his hat got blasted off. “Aww man, I like that hat…”

Dwalin huffed a chuckle at Throin and shook his head before popping up a bit and trying to shoot back.

Throin had to push Dwalin back down when a bullet narrowly avoided hitting Dwalin in the head. “keep your head down!”

Bilbo Baggins chuckled, his voice unnervingly calm amidst the gunfire. "Come on, Oakenshield! You've got quite the reputation. Show me what you've got!"

Thorin clenched his jaw, peering around the edge of the trough. Bilbo stood confidently in the middle of the street, a few of his men taking cover now behind wagons and barrels.

Thorin saw his chance, one of Bilbo's outlaws leaned out too far, aiming a shot at him from the roof from across the street. The outlaw fell from the roof, clutching his chest.

He squeezed the trigger, and the man dropped, his body crumpling to the ground.

"That's one," Thorin muttered under his breath. He moved swiftly, signaling to Dwalin to cover him as he darted to the side of a building.

Bilbo chuckled. "Ooh, nice shot! You keep that up, and I might have to start taking you seriously." Thorin's jaw tightened, but he kept his focus.

Another outlaw shot at him from a wagon. He lined up the shot, cocked his gun's hammer and squeezed the trigger again.

"Two," Thorin counted. He had to duck out of the way as a bullet ricocheted off the wall he was hiding behind.

Bilbo clapped his hands in mock applause. "Oh, very good, very good! But you're still outnumbered, Sheriff. How many bullets you got left? Think you can take us all?"

Throin growled, stepped out and shot at Bilbo, the outlaw just barely avoided the shot as he ducked behind a wall, his right hand man followed him quickly.

Dwalin glanced over at Thorin, Dwalin huffed and shot at them making one of the outlaws that was about to shoot Thorin duck back behind his cover and miss.

Throin slipped back where he was before, Dwalin soon joined him behind the wall. "He's trying to rile you up, don't let him get to you!" Thorin nodded, but he could feel the frustration bubbling up.

Bilbo's voice was like an itch he couldn't scratch, each word dripping with amusement. He huffed and shot across again behind a wagon after a moment Dwalin moved to fallow.

An outlaw popped up from nowhere with a rifle, aiming at Dwalin as the man ran. Thorin fired first, and the outlaw’s head snapped back as he fell to the ground.

"Three," Thorin called out through gritted teeth.

"Now, now," Bilbo chided, his tone mockingly sweet. "You're making this really boring for my boys. Can't you give them a bit of a chance?"

"You want a chance, Baggins?" Thorin shot back, his patience wearing thin. "Tell your men to lay down their guns and come quietly. Otherwise, I'll make sure you're the last man standing."

Bilbo laughed, a light, easy sound that grated on Thorin's nerves. "Well, I'm sure I'd love to stay and chat, but I've got a schedule to keep."

Another outlaw shifted, trying to take advantage of Bilbo's distraction. Thorin whipped around and fired, hitting the man square in the chest.

The outlaw fell back with a grunt, his gun clattering to the ground. "Four," Thorin called.

His reputation wasn't a game, but Bilbo treated it like it was. Bilbo's smile wavered slightly but didn’t fall. "Well, well! That's four of mine down. But who's counting, right?" He winked, his eyes dancing with mischief.

Thorin's patience snapped. "I am," he growled, Throin sprung up and stood on top of the wagon, and an outlaw popped up to shoot.

Throin nailed him in the head. The last outlaw dropped, leaving only Bilbo and his right-hand man, both still standing. “That’s five Baggins! Wanna make it 7?”

Bilbo stepped out, his grin strained beneath his bandanna. “Oh, you are fun, Sheriff. But now it’s just me and my friend here. And we’re not nearly as expendable.” As if on cue, Bilbo’s right-hand man lunged toward Thorin, a rifle clutched in his hands.

Before Thorin could react, the man crashed into him, both of them tumbling off the wagon and onto the dusty ground. The impact jolted Thorin’s breath from his lungs, and he fought to regain his footing as they rolled across the dirt. The rifle clattered out of the man’s hands, skidding across the ground, out of reach.

Thorin twisted, driving his elbow into the man’s ribs. The outlaw grunted in pain, his grip loosening just enough for Thorin to shove him off. Thorin scrambled to his feet, reaching for his revolver, but the outlaw was already up, tackling Thorin again before he could grab it.

They grappled in the dirt, exchanging blows, each trying to overpower the other. Thorin’s hand brushed the handle of his gun, but the man yanked him back, forcing him to focus on the struggle. They wrestled for control, boots kicking up dust as they struggled on the ground.

With a sharp twist, Thorin managed to throw the man off balance, sending him crashing into the side of the wagon. The outlaw groaned, shaking his head to clear it, while Thorin lunged for his gun, fingers closing around the cool metal.

But just as he did, the outlaw grabbed his rifle from where it had fallen nearby. They rose to their feet simultaneously, weapons in hand, both breathing hard from the scuffle.

Thorin fired first, but the man was fast, ducking behind a water barrel just in time. Thorin turned, his eyes scanning for Bilbo, but the outlaw leader was already on the move, darting from his cover with surprising speed.

Thorin spun, aiming to take the shot, but Bilbo was quicker than anticipated, and Thorin could react, Bilbo lunged forward and grabbed Gloin.

The man had managed to wriggle his way out of the doorway of the bank, his hands still bound tightly in front of him, a gag tied around his mouth.

Bilbo yanked the banker up to his feet, wrapping one arm around Glóin's chest and pressing the barrel of his revolver against the side of the man's head.

"Alright, everyone, hold up!" Bilbo shouted, his voice ringing out clear. "Or your good banker here gets a brand-new hole in his head!"

Thorin froze, his heart pounding in his chest. Glóin's eyes were wide, his face pale beneath the sweat and dirt that seemed out of place on the banker.

Thorin could see the desperate plea in Glóin's eyes, but he kept his gun trained on Bilbo trying to think of something, anything to say.

Before he could think to stop himself he was already talking "Let him go, Baggins," Thorin called out, hoping his voice sounded steady. "You don't need to hurt anyone."

"Oh, I really didn't want to, Sheriff," Bilbo replied. "But you haven’t and your friend hasn't left me much of a choice, now have you? How about you drop those guns, and maybe I'll think about letting your banker friend here go."

Dwalin's jaw was set, his hand steady on his weapon. "Like hell I will!" he yelled out. "He's bluffing, Thorin. We can take him."

Bilbo chuckled, his laughter maddeningly light and teasing "Is that what you think, Deputy?" He tightened his grip on Glóin, pressing the barrel of the gun harder against the man's temple, Glóin to wince. "I'm not bluffing. Now, toss your guns aside, or I'll paint the street with his brains."

Thorin's mind raced.

They were at a standoff, and Bilbo knew he held all the cards. "Alright, Bilbo," Thorin heard himself say. "We'll put down the guns. But you let Glóin go first."

Bilbo's eyes glinted with amusement behind his bandanna. "Oh, Sheriff, you think I'm new at this? I say guns first, then the banker goes free."

Thorin could feel Dwalin tensing beside him. "Don't do it, Thorin," Dwalin whispered urgently. "We can't let him leave. Not after what he's done."

"Dwalin, put the gun down," Thorin told Dwalin, turning to face his deputy.

But Dwalin's jaw clenched, and Thorin realized too late what was about to happen.

Dwalin's hand twitched, raised his gun and shot, but Bilbo was faster.

A gunshot cracked through the tense air, and Dwalin staggered back dropping his revolver, clutching his shoulder with a grunt of pain as he fell to one knee.

"Dwalin!" Thorin shouted, his voice sharp with fear and frustration.

Bilbo pressed the gun harder against Glóin's head, his smile never faltering. "Uh-uh, Sheriff," he warned.

"You make one more move, and your banker's brains decorate the street. Now, what's it gonna be?"

Thorin's frustration boiled over, but he forced himself to remain calm. "Bilbo, listen to me," he said, his voice low and steady. "Glóin has a family. He's not part of this. Just let him go."

For a moment, Bilbo hesitated, his grip on Gloin loosening just slightly. "I know he has a family, Oakenshield," he said, his tone almost sincere. "I don't want to hurt anyone, Sheriff. Honest, I don't. But I can't have you chasing me down the road. I need to make sure you don't follow."

Thorin nodded slowly, lowering his hands further. "Alright, Bilbo. We'll stay put. Just don't do anything stupid."

Bilbo's smirk returned, though his eyes darkened with determination. "Too late for that, Sheriff." In one swift motion, he pistol-whipped Glóin, sending the bound man crumpling to the ground, dazed and bleeding.

Before Thorin could react, Bilbo spun, firing a warning shot into the dirt at Thorin's feet. "Drop it!" he barked.

Thorin's revolver clattered to the ground without hesitation. Bilbo's right-hand man covered them as Bilbo mounted his horse in a single, fluid motion.

"Pleasure doing business with you, Sheriff!" Bilbo called mockingly, his voice once again full of mocking cheer. He spurred his horse, his right-hand man close behind, both of them racing out of town in a cloud of dust and grit.

Thorin watched them go, he groaned in frustration as anger boiled in his veins. He turned quickly to Dwalin, who was struggling to his feet, clutching his shoulder.

"You alright?" he asked as he looked his deputy over with concern.

Dwalin nodded, though his face was pale from the pain. "I'll live. What about Glóin?"

Thorin knelt by Gloin, checking his pulse and untying the gag from his mouth. "He's alive, just knocked out. Get Óin.

Make sure everyone else is safe," he ordered, looking out over the square.

Dwalin nodded and staggered off, Thorin could see his nephews, Kíli was uniting his mother and Fíli helped unbind the doors of the general store.

The dust from Bilbo's escape was still settling, but Thorin knew one thing for sure: he'd be ready when Bilbo Baggins came back around. And next time, there'd be no escape.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

1 / 2

Note:

Okay I’m gonna stop it there. This was just kinda a little one shot for @shurikthereject ‘s western/cowboy au. The rest of this note is kind to them now. I tried to stay true to the shown characters and how you made them but I’m not the best at that. Also I wouldn’t mind making like a whole book for it but if you hate this and you don’t want me to continue I’d like to know. Or if you’d like me to change anything let me know. Okay bye.

[acollectionofcuriousreblogs]

So I know there are a lot of us who appreciate Minkowski as a big and buff woman, but hear me out, consider the thematic implications of tiny Minkowski. Of 5’0, athletic but not jacked, Minkowski. Because then, besides Eiffel, Minkowski would be the only character who is just pretty average. She’s not a brilliant scientist like Hilbert or Maxwell. She’s not in control of an entire space shuttle or an immortal android like Hera and Pryce. She can’t dodge out of the way of bullets like Cutter. And she can’t match the physical threat that Lovelace and Kepler have proven they posses. In fact, she’s not much of a threat at all, which is precisely why I think Cutter picked her.

She’s strict and disciplined, a natural leader who follows orders and trusts authority; exactly the kind of person Goddard can manipulate. However, even if she ever does wisen up (which she obviously does) she won’t be able to cause great damage to others or the company. She’s easily dispensable…so Cutter believes.

And yet time and time again, we see Minkowski survive. This woman, who was marked to be killed off back in season 1, manages to be one of few to make it back to Earth in the finale. Minkowski is constantly going against people bigger, brainier, and better than herself but she always comes out on top. She survives Hilbert’s takeover. She forces Kepler to surrender during their mutiny. She beats Jacobi’s ultimatum without any loss of life. She kills the immortal Cutter. Not to mention all the many, many disasters and dangers she endures (and brings her crew through) while in space.

And that’s because she’s a testament to the human spirit. An embodiment of sheer will and determination. Of unrelenting perseverance, even in the face of impossible odds. Don’t underestimate the little guy because they can endure. Renee Minkowski, the woman constantly proving you don’t need to be exceptional to do great things. And I love her for it.

[eelnoise]

something for two (nsfw!)

week 1 of small kinktober!

catboy!zoro x fem!reader

>your plan to wear that little dress to the bar works way better than you think.

cw: catboy going feral, biting, bleeding, breeding, zoro is a little rough with you, use of the nickname 'princess' an: with this fic I have officially been posting for a year! and to celebrate i'm going to attempt a few more this month in honor of the season changing. thank you all for being on this little journey with me! wc: 2.3k

The bar thrums with loud music and echoed chatter; easy distractions after the last several days of straying off the wayward marine skiffs that always seem to be chasing along after them.

Maybe it’s the handful of whiskey he’s already downed, but Zoro finds it easy to dismiss the hustle and bustle of the dance floor or the crowded bartender. He’s sated where he’s seated, quite content on minding his business while the other Strawhats enjoy themselves with whatever they’re busy doing.

He keeps a sharp eye out, though, for despite his light inebriation Zoro’s guard remains up. There isn’t any way to tell if any of these patrons are up to no good, and frankly somebody needs to keep the peace if something breaks out. That, and, someone very important to him has yet to show up.

Back on the ship, you had insisted on waiting and walking with Nami – who famously takes a while to get ready for a night out – and knowing that you can defend yourself if necessary on the short walk from the dock to the town, Zoro shrugs and heads off with the others, thinking nothing of it.

But you haven’t turned up yet. 

Part of him thinks to go searching for you, but each time he considers standing up your voice echoes in his mind, scolding him for getting lost or losing his way.

With a sigh, Zoro’s ears flatten and his tail twitches in annoyance as he finishes off another mug of whiskey.

When you walk into the bustling bar, it’s hard to find anyone you’re familiar with over the masses of people within. So you stick close to Nami, inching your way through sweaty, booze-scented bodies to find the bar for a much needed drink.

You had donned a short black, hip hugging dress at the behest of the navigator and – while it's easy to pretend that you had agreed in innocence, you, and a certain brooding catboy that you’re fond of, definitely know better.

Spotting Zoro at the far reaches of the establishment, you make a beeline toward the side of the bar where he’ll certainly get a good look at all of you. Wrangling Nami along, you squeeze between a few patrons and order a round of drinks for the two of you, making quite sure to bend over the wooden bar enough for the swordsman to see just a glimpse of your panties – his favorite pair – on display.

You aren’t playing dumb – you know exactly what you’re asking for – and the short of it is: you’re ovulating, and he can smell it.

Zoro's ears perk up at the familiar scent that hits his nose as you enter the bar. The sweet, musky aroma of your arousal wafts through the air, igniting a primal hunger deep within him. His eyes narrow as they lock onto you, drinking in the sight of your curves hugged by that sinfully short dress.

A low, possessive growl rumbles in his chest as you bend over the bar, putting yourself on lewd display. The urge to claim you, to rut into your heat and fill you with his seed, surges through his veins. His tail lashes behind him, betraying the cool, collected visage that he was trying to maintain.

In one fluid motion, he rises from his seat and stalks towards you, his movements predatory and purposeful. The crowd parts before him, sensing the dangerous aura rolling off the swordsman in waves – the same aura that has you smirking into your drink.

Zoro's breath hitches as your scent grows stronger, the feral need to breed you consuming his every thought. His stride is long and purposeful as he approaches, the hungry look in his eyes promising wicked things.

He crowds into your space, one hand coming to rest possessively on your shoulder as he leans in close as he raises his lips to your ear. "Nice dress," he rumbles, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. "Shame about what's about to happen to it."

The swordsman's hand slides from your hip to hook an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his firm body. You can feel the heat of him even through your clothes, his scent enveloping you and making your head swim with desire.

"Someone's feeling bold tonight," you purr, feeling his sharp nails nip along the fabric of your dress. 

Zoro's grip on your hip tightens, his hardening length pressing insistently against your lower back. "You know exactly what you're doing," he grumbles, his hot breath fanning across your neck. His free hand slides up your side, skimming the curve of your breast before cupping the back of your neck. "Well, two can play at that game, princess."

In a flash, Zoro spins you around and over his shoulder, making you squeal in sudden excitement. His strong arms wrap around you as he carries you away, picking the first door he sees, beyond which you're a bit relieved to see a single stalled bathroom. 

Zoro kicks the door shut behind him before setting you down on the edge of the sink, never breaking eye contact. His hands grip your thighs, pushing them apart as he steps between them. 

One hand slides up your thigh, pushing your skirt up around your waist as he leans in to nip at your neck. "I'm going to make you scream my name until everyone in this bar knows who you belong to," he promises darkly. A claw slides up your thigh, and in an instant your dress is sliced down the sides and the fabric of your panties is cut through.

"So needy, huh?" You coo, reaching up to scratch behind the moss green tuft of his ear with sickeningly sweet abandon. “All over one little dress?”

Zoro replies with something between a scoff and growl – like he isn't in the mood for your teasing anymore and that he's going to do something about it. His eye flashes with a dangerous glint. "You're the one who decided to parade around looking like a snack," he murmurs, his voice low and rough with desire. "Don't act surprised when I decide to take a bite."

He means it, too – because a large, clawed hand tightens around the underside of your thigh and presses it to your chest as the other hastily rustles his cock free. There's no patience in his actions, as soon as the tip of his dick throbs at your entrance, Zoro is shoving it past your folds and deep into your soaked pussy. 

Your mouth falls open and your toes curl, a sharp moan of arousal leaving your lips as he sheathes himself within you so hungrily. Zoro releases your thigh places his hands firmly on the wall either side of your head as his hips piston into you at a rhythm of his own, trapping you between them.

Zoro's hips snap forward, driving his thick cock deeper into your tight heat. “Gonna fuck a runt or two into ya’, since thats what ya seem to want." he growls, his voice strained with pleasure. "Otherwise you wouldn’t be walkin’ around with your ass out.”

It feels like you're getting the wind knocked out of you, each stroke along your walls pulling enough of a hedonistic tune from your lungs to leave you breathless.

"F-fuck...," you gasp out and reach to grab hold onto his wrists, desperate for anything to keep you grounded.

"Shit, you're so tight," he groans, his head thrown back in ecstasy. "Gonna fill you up so good, make you feel so fucking full." Zoro's tail wraps around your thigh, the soft fur tickling your skin as he continues to pound into you mercilessly. His claws dig into your thighs, leaving deep, crescent-shaped marks in their wake.

He leans forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss as his hips continue their relentless assault. His tongue invades your mouth, claiming you thoroughly as he fucks you senseless. His hips never stop moving, driving into you with a force that rattles the sink beneath you with each powerful thrust, the sound of your bodies slamming together drowning out the distant noise of the bar beyond.

You fidget a hand between the sweat of your bodies to find your clit, desperate but unable to keep up with Zoro's stamina. You gasp when he suddenly smacks your hand away with a feral growl down your throat before leaving your lips to nibble down your neck.

Zoro's teeth graze your skin, his sharp canines leaving a trail of stinging bites in their wake. "No touching," he barks, his voice a low, possessive rumble. "I'll take care of you."

He reaches between your bodies, his calloused fingers finding your swollen clit. He rubs the sensitive nub in tight, fast circles, sending jolts of pleasure through your body. "Gonna make you cum on my cock," he pants, his hips never faltering in their relentless rhythm. "Gonna feel so good when you squeeze around me."

Zoro works your clit with expert precision, the rough pads of his fingers sending sparks of pleasure shooting through your core. He can feel your walls fluttering around his throbbing cock, your body tensing as you climb higher and higher towards your peak.

“Fuck – I know it feels good, doesn’t it princess?" he growls, his hot breath fanning over your neck. "Made for my fucking cock, aren't you? Want me to give you a brat to prove it, right?"

"Yes!" You cry out, rolling your head back into his palm, "Show everyone I'm yours, Zoro, please!"

You feel your orgasm building, your body tensing as the pressure mounts. Zoro's fingers on your clit are relentless, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

"Fuck, Zoro, I'm–", your nails dig into his shoulders as your climax crashes over you. Your pussy clenches around his cock, your walls ripple and squeeze him into blind ecstasy, and the sound of you chanting – screaming his name takes him down with you.

He groans as your walls clamp down around him, your orgasm milking his cock. He bites down hard on your neck, his teeth sinking into your flesh. Zoro's hips stutter as the taste of your blood fills his mouth, the coppery tang mixing with the musky scent of your arousal. It's intoxicating, driving him to fuck into you with renewed vigor.

He pounds into you with wild ferocity, his cock throbbing and pulsing inside your fluttering walls. With a final, brutal thrust, he buries himself to the hilt and stills, his cock twitching as he floods your womb.

Zoro's body shudders as he empties himself inside you, his cock pulsing with each spurt of cum. He releases your shoulder from his teeth, licking the excess blood from his lips before he collapses against you.

His chest heaves as he catches his breath, his softening cock still buried inside your cum-filled pussy. He nuzzles into your neck, inhaling the scent of your arousal mixed with his own.

As Zoro's breathing calms, he slowly pulls out of your still quivering pussy. Zoro leans back slightly, admiring his handiwork for a moment as he watches his seed drip from your well-used hole and with a wicked grin, he scoops up the excess cum from your thighs and pushes it back inside, making sure every last drop is accounted for.

Can't waste that.

"There, that's better," he says with a satisfied smirk. "Now you're nice and full, just like I promised."

He helps you off the sink, steadying you on your wobbly legs. His hands roam over your curves, caressing your skin as he takes in the sight of you - disheveled, full, but stunning. You're a sight to behold - rosy cheeks, swollen lips, and a satisfied glow that radiates from within. With a final, possessive squeeze to your ass, Zoro steps back. 

"Should get you cleaned up, huh?"

Zoro reaches for some paper towels, wetting them under the sink before turning back to you. With a gentle touch that belies his earlier ferocity, he carefully cleans the wound on your shoulder, wiping away the remaining droplets of crimson that lay dry on down your chest.

Once you're cleaned up, Zoro helps you with your dress and lends you his robe, tying it tightly around you, his hands lingering perhaps a bit longer than necessary. He leans in, capturing your lips in a slow, deep kiss before pulling slightly with another satisfied grin.

"Let's get out of here before someone comes looking for us," Zoro says, his voice low and husky. He takes your hand, intertwining your fingers with his as he leads you out of the bathroom.

As you step out into the dimly lit hallway, Zoro pulls you close, his arm wrapping around your waist possessively. He guides you in search of an exit through the still very much crowded bar, his grip on your waist firm and possessive. He keeps you close, as if afraid someone might try to steal you away.

Finally, you emerge into the cool night air, the bustle of the bar's patrons a distant memory. Zoro takes a deep breath, filling his lungs with the crisp air. He turns to you, his eye gleaming in the moonlight.

"Come on, let's get you back to the ship. Gotta put a real bandage on that bite." He leans down and scoops you into his arms. One of your hands comes to scratch behind his ears again lovingly, and he can’t resist leaning into more of your touch.

"Sorry about that, by the way." He adds as he follows your pointed finger in the direction of the docks. His voice, rough with exhaustion and satisfaction, comes with a soft purr in his chest that threatens to lull you to sleep there and then.

"Like you said," You reply, sleepily looking up at him with a smile and a small kiss to his shoulder. "It's what I wanted, right?"

[spadeprincesss]

Four Swords mutant/experiment AU

This is an AU I role played with @saltyskychild way back in like 2017, but I thought about it recently and wanted to retouch it!

TW: torture here and there, human experiments, general violence, blood, kidnapping

General plot: all four links are kidnapped/handed in to the government at a young age because they all posses superhuman abilities.

Each ability corresponds to the element acquainted with their color in the Zelda games: Blue - water, Red - fire, Green - air, Vio - earth.

Zelda is also a mutant, she hides this fact from her father who is the person that set out the order to capture and experiment on mutants.

She secretly runs an organization that helps rescue mutants from these facilities, with the help of Impa and other sheikah characters.

Shadow is a human experiment, he’s never seen the outside of the facility. The very first genetically engineered human weapon.

The colors are divided into danger levels (taking a page from: X-Men here LMAO).

Blue and Red are beta level because they’re the easiest to neutralize.

Red’s powers are neutralized by water of course.

Blue is neutralized by the cold, he freezes over faster than the average human because of the increased levels of water in his body.

Green is alpha level, he’s kept sedated because they can’t cut his oxygen aka his power source. If left unchecked he can raise air pressure levels and escape.

Vio and Shadow are omega level threats.

Vio’s power is simple but he’s smart, he figures out really quick that anything earth related or derived from earth is under his control, making the use of any metal around him prohibited.

Shadow is kept in a bright room, his room has two separate generators in case there is a power outage, he can’t be allowed in the darkness for too long or else he’ll grow too powerful.

Note that all colors have the potential to become omega level threats, they are all under strict surveillance because of it.

Vio was part of Zelda’s organization prior to being captured, therefore he has more experience with his powers than the others. He’s hostile, manipulative, only high level personnel are allowed to watch over him. He has a track record of talking his way into getting new employees to let him out.

This is how Zelda finds out about his facility, her informant (Vio) goes missing and she tracks it back to this facility and tries to rescue them all.

In Vio’s first escape attempt he uses the chance to see how many people are there, finding the other colors and deciding he has to make a plan that lets them all escape.

Along the way he sees Shadow, and Shadow becomes intrigued as soon as Vio nears his door and says “I promise I’ll get you out of here.”. No one has ever said that to him, everyone tells him he’ll be a weapon or rot in here.

Vio lets himself be recaptured, confident he can find another way to escape, hopefully to even contact Zelda. He could easily escape by himself, but abandoning these people here is cruel.

More notes to come if enough people take interest. Might write a fic too if people want it. Look forward to doodles about this AU as well.

[aingeal98]

More aos rambles but I find it so interesting that Coulson, despite being the one May and Daisy look to as a man with a good heart when they themselves feel like monsters, is the one who would risk everything including other people to save them. Like if Daisy is in danger and the only option to save her is a plan where every other agent has a 95% chance of dying, he's doing it. And he's very openly hypocritical about it to the point that everyone else calls out his double standards. Mace saying "When it comes to May and Daisy you can't be objective." and Lincoln and May pointing out how he'd sacrifice every inhuman but never Daisy. Like he cares very deeply about Fitz and Simmons but he makes decisions that puts them at risks that I just can't see him doing if it was Daisy. And Coulson very rarely feels bad about it, he stands by his hypocrisy and desire to protect his daughter. Even when it comes to Daisy's own wishes, he cares too much to let her sacrifice herself.

Meanwhile May doesn't love Daisy any less, quite possibly even loves her more by the end of the series, but she also is just more... understanding and respectful of Daisy's autonomy and wishes. Like if Daisy were to die or sacrifice herself May would never recover, would be the last to leave the grave side. But at the same time she wouldn't risk every agent to save her, choosing instead to believe in Daisy's ability to beat the impossible like she's done time and time again. And I don't think she would have knocked Daisy out to drag her home when she was scared of ending the world. She would have stayed with her, and that would likely have been what twisted Daisy's arm to get her home. 'If you're going to be stupidly sacrificial and stay then so am I, because we're too alike. I know how you think and I know that's how to checkmate your self destructive impulses.'

I'm not saying one is morally better than the other, they're both just parents who love their kid and want to protect her. But Coulson, who's viewed by most people as essentially just some suit with a good heart, would order every man he commands to fight a suicide battle if it was the only way to keep Daisy alive. Meanwhile May would be first in line to fight that battle, and she would win! But she would never drag anyone else down. She's as practical and ruthless as Coulson, even more so sometimes. But having been the one to train Daisy, her protection comes in the form of unshakeable belief in the good Daisy is capable of, and a gentle but solid place to rest whenever things don't go as planned. If she thinks Daisy's making a mistake she'll say it to her face, but she's more... open, than Coulson is, to letting Daisy fumble around and find her own way. She'll still be there to beat up anyone that threatens her kid and offer wisdom in the aftermath, but it's less impulsive than Coulson.

Coulson idolizes Captain America as a hero for the same heroic traits he sees in May and Daisy. He believes that they are Special people, and they must go on even if he doesn't. But those very same traits that makes them so special in his eyes are what makes them feel like they have to be the one to jump on the grenade and protect their team, all while Coulson is trying to keep them as far away from the grenade as possible. And they both see a goodness in him and in each other that they don't believe they posses themselves. They're all somewhat correct and also all a little blinded by how much they love each other, but that's just how families are.

[massscara]

DRDT SPOILERS.

Theories and headcanons about the execution of the murderer of the second chapter.

And so... Since we know the murderer of this chapter (They is innocent, believe me), I want to share my guesses about their possible execution.

.

.

.

.

.

.

My reasoning will begin with the fact that there are executions in danganronpa that not only reflect the killer's talent, but also contain things that they don't like ( Example: Mikan Tsumiki )

In her execution, you can see the oversize objects ( You can notice a large syringe, and then a huge hand and space appear ), which she doesn't like and is afraid of. All in order to make her fall into despair.

Following from Ace's Wikipedia, you can find out that he doesn't like horses and meat. ( But this is only from material things. I'll mention the rest later )

Of course, if he is a jockey, then the execution itself is more likely to involve horses, however, I would find his execution more interesting if it involves meat ( or some other food ). Based on these words, it can be concluded that there are two possible scenarios for his execution: a horse and food.

Food:

If we go on this trail, then since Ace has an eating disorder, then he can be under tremendous pressure from himself. He will either be forced to eat something, or he will soon become someone's food ( the same meat that he neglects )

Horses:

You can die in different ways because of horses, so I've given you a list of some historical figures who died because of a horse-related accident. Here are the highlights:

« He fell from his horse onto his sword and fell to his death »

« He was thrown from his horse into cold water and suffered a fatal heart attack or drowned as a result »

« He fell in front of a horse that stepped on his head »

« He fractured his skull when his horse stumbled and fell »

In general, I understand Ace why he is so afraid of horses. I think there are at least two possible scenarios ( they are divided into subtypes )

The first scenario :

I think a horse racing option is possible.

Subtype 1:

Horse racing contains a dangerous obstacle course. Ace goes through them all at first, but at the very last moment he messes up ( It is possible that Monotv cheated by giving impossible obstacles to overcome or outwitted him )

Subtype 2:

Ace successfully overcomes the same dangerous obstacle course, but his supposed opponent cheated and won. Ace's loss may anger those who bet money on him. That's why, let's say, they started throwing stones at him.

The second scenario :

Historical events. Executions of the Middle Ages. (both that I found are very similar )

Subtype 1:

To be hanged, drawn and quartered was a method of torturous capital punishment used principally to execute men convicted of high treason in medieval and early modern Britain and Ireland. The convicted traitor was fastened to a hurdle, or wooden panel, and drawn behind a horse to the place of execution, where he was then hanged (almost to the point of death), emasculated, disembowelled, beheaded, and quartered.

Subtype 2:

The remainder of the punishment might include hanging ( usually not to the death ), usually live disemboweling, burning of the entrails, beheading, and quartering. This last step was sometimes accomplished by tying each of the four limbs to a different horse and spurring them in different directions.

If it concerns 2 subtypes of the second scenario ( 1, in principle, too ), then it will be funny to put pressure on the moment with his already fragile neck.

And I'm going back a little to the moment when I was talking about Ace's dislikes! Of the non-material ones, he dislikes the following: being a jockey and being perceived as incompetent.

We know perfectly well that Ace is a rather short — tempered personality, most often acting impulsively due to aroused emotions. It can be assumed that his own execution will carry ridicule about his lack of professionalism and frivolous attitude to the sport in which he is so famous. It is possible that his entire execution will stupidly mock his desire to escape both from the killing game and from his daily life ( It was also the case with Teruteru, who was turned into his unloved food, and also presented on the cover of the execution in the form of a pig in honor of disrespect )

It is likely that in this scenario, he will be banally pissed off, which will make him act irrationally. And these actions of his based on negative emotions will push him to a fatal mistake.

That's all!

Thank you for your attention and time, because Ace is actually alive and not dead and it was all a prank hehehahHaehEhhaHahehe....

[liminalpebble]

Never Enough (A Loki Comfort Fic)

Summary: It's not a easy life in Asgard's palace as Frigga's witchling apprentice and a victim of relentless teasing thanks to Thor and his warrior posse. You feel like a failure and a misfit, until the patron god of failures and misfits decides to comfort you.

A/N: Angst, comfort, fluff fic (ultimately feel good). Wholesome. Pre-Thor 1 Loki. Loki x reader. Just a little something I wrote to cheer myself up after a week of feeling like I'm getting it all wrong and being stupid. I hope it makes you feel better too if you're going through the same thing.

----

You slammed through the double doors and took long angry strides down the hallway, anxious to get to the privacy of your quarters before tears released themselves from your eyes. None of them...NONE of them...had ever seen you cry, or scream or loose your temper, and you'd be damned if they saw it now.

You considered it some kind of dysfunctional personal record at this point. You saw inscrutability as a strength. If you had to feel alone, you figured, you could at least lean into it and make yourself strong enough to not need the people who would reject you anyway.

All they saw was the serious apprentice in the black velvet gown who stuck to the shadows in every way. Thor, however, saw this seriousness as an opportunity for jest between himself and his warrior friends on many occasions. One day, when the entire court dined together, he turned from his pile of food and gallon of ale to smile at you. Your heart and stomach dropped, knowing he was somehow about to make an ass of you despite your best efforts.

He bellowed your name. You closed your eyes and let out a long breath, gathering your patience for the great oaf.

“Yes, Your Highness?”

“Tell me, who do you favor in the races?”

“I know not of them, Prince, so I have no preference.”

“Yes, but for the hel of it. Pick one,” he goaded.

“I suppose Volstagg's steed, as it has the better record?”

The entire room erupted in raucous laughter. All except for one person. The younger prince of Asgard sat quietly with a dangerous look on his pale face.

Fandral shouted drunkenly, “My lady, Volstagg's steed couldn't jump over a single brick, much less a full set of hurdles. Are you entirely sure you're Asgardian, knowing so little about these things?”

Another ripple of laughter erupted around the room. This, you thought, was the final straw. You couldn't stop making small stupid errors lately in your magical training with Frigga. Although she was patient and kind, you could see the disapproval in your beloved mentor's eyes and that was worse than a tirade. And now this.

You took a breath, gathered yourself behind the inscrutable mask you were so accustomed to now, and politely excused yourself for the evening with some remark about the late hour.

-----

Now you raced against your feelings as you stepped quickly down the marble hall, nearly to the safety of your quarters, to privacy. I'm going to make it. You told yourself.

As you reached towards the door of your quarters, a blinding green light interrupted you and Loki's form materialized in your path.

You flinched a little, surprised that the younger prince stood before you with his hands calmly held behind his back.

Alright, just a little longer. Keep it together just a little longer. You ordered yourself.

“Your...Your Highness. What can I do for you?”

He took a measured breath and stepped closer, icy eyes looking down to meet yours, “Dear lady, I was actually wondering what I could do for you.”

You swallowed hard. You had always found the sly brilliant prince intimidating. You studied magic alongside him under Frigga's tutelage. He was spectacular, running circles around you every single lesson. In all these years, he never so much as said an entire sentence to you until now. He seemed barely aware of your presence, in fact, focused instead on larger schemes, ambition and glorious purpose.

You chuckled at the thought. Glorious purpose...meanwhile I have no purpose at all.

“What's so funny?” the prince asked, brows knitted in confusion.

To your horror, you found you had only begun to laugh harder and suddenly you couldn't stop, “Sorry...my liege...I just. Sometimes the arbitrary cruelty of my stupid life strikes me as, well, very tragic...and very funny.”

To your surprise, Loki smiled...not a small polite grin that you'd seen him give many times, but a full wide mischievous Cheshire cat smile, broadcasting an almost manic delight. It frightened you a bit, but gods, he looked even more shockingly handsome than before. You didn't think that was possible.

You flinched a little as he walked closer and his hand came to your face. His fingers felt cool against your hot skin as you realized he was wiping tears away; tears you didn't even realize you had begun to cry.

He nodded toward your door and placed a graceful hand on the small of your back, guiding you. With an understanding kindness in his eyes he whispered. “Come on, let's sit and talk.”

-----

As you sat facing each other on your couch, he conjured two warm cups of tea and a blanket around you. Surprised, you gripped both closer to you and the warm comfort began to seep through the cracks of your icy loneliness.

“Thank you,” you said with a small smile.

He inclined his head of beautiful black hair in a graceful nod. “My pleasure.”

“Forgive me for asking, Your Highness...”

“Loki...just Loki...please.”

“Loki,” you said slowly, cautiously. “Why...why are you doing this? Why are you being so kind.”

He sipped for a moment, taking time to gather his thoughts (a habit his brother apparently didn't share). “I know what it's like. I've been where you are. I've felt what you feel.”

His large lovely eyes never left you, bright and blue and full of sincerity. Not what you were expecting from the god of lies. “Forgive me, Si....Loki...but no, you don't. And no, you haven't.” You took a deep breath and looked to your hands, his intense gaze becoming too much. “You're perfect...at magic...at everything...a prince of the realm. Your place is solid and secure and important. You have a glorious purpose. I...I am simply not enough...not good enough...not smart enough...not enough like them.”

You began to sniff and squint and look away, horrified that the hot tears dared to fall in front of him, of all people. His long hand found yours and encompassed it. He scooted closer and said, “Darling, I assure you, I'm not perfect. I've also been the butt of Thor's stupid jokes and mockery for years on end, the mere spare prince to my kingdom. No one listens to me. I'm not like them. I never was, and I'm not sure why. Much like you, I say very little because I'm trying to be strong, trying to not give them any more fodder to ridicule me. I live in the shadows, just as you do.”

You met his piercing eyes this time, with your soft ones. Loki thought they looked so kind, that you looked so beautiful in this moment and he scolded himself for not reaching out to you sooner. He had always had so much affection for your, but he never dared come closer. You had built walls around yourself just as high and thick as his own, after all. Of course, It didn't fool him, and he always wanted to know what was behind them. “That's a shame,” you said, squeezing his hand. “How can they not see how incredible you are. How dare they treat such a beautiful person so badly?” You said in awe.

He peaked his eyebrows and smiled sweetly, his own eyes welling at your praise. Loki had always seemed dangerous and alluring to you, all angles and metal and leather and deep silky voice. You had never seen him so solicitous and vulnerable. You said carefully, “I...I realize, that this is a gift, you've given me. I don't take it for granted.”

“What do you mean?”

“Seeing you more...intimately. I'm grateful. It's good to not be alone for once.”

“You matter, darling. You are so much more than 'enough'. You are exquisite.” he said, kissing your forehead. “Now,” he said, conjuring a dagger with a dangerous glint in his eye, “Let have a bit of fun with Thor and his friends, shall we?”

@evelyn-rathmore @muddyorbs @icytrickster17 @unlucky-number-13 @lokischambermaid @lokisgoodgirl @peaches1958 @sweetsigyn @ladyofthestayingpower @loz-3 @alexakeyloveloki @coldnique @acidcasualties @marcotheflychair @gigglingtiggerv2 @smolvenger @loopsisloops @joyful-enchantress @lokihiddleston @peachyjinx @thedistractedagglomeration @thenerdyoldersister @sarahscribbles @sailorholly @littlespaceyelf @eleniblue @mochie85 @infinitystoner @tripleyeeet @goblingirlsarah @mischief2sarawr @mischiefmaker615 @itsybitchylittlewitchy @holdmytesseract @viv-annelore

[sjsmith56]

The Recruit

Summary: A former special forces operative is recruited by Bucky and Sam, who have to get past her trust issues first.

Length: 4.6 K

Characters: Named OFC, Bucky Barnes, Sam Wilson, Yelena Belova

Warnings: PTSD, abandonment issues, anger issues, trust issues, reference to capture and sexual assault, alcohol abuse.

Author notes: I’m not sure where this came from but I wanted to explore Bucky trying to help someone with similar issues to his. The name of the OFC is a deliberate choice as it establishes that she has had a chip on her shoulder for a long time. Takes place after Thunderbolts* and Captain America: Brave New World.

It had been two days since I brought the woman and her daughter, victims of domestic abuse by her mobster husband, to the safe house. Two days since I was ordered to keep going while the Avengers confronted his posse of men who were tracking us. Two days since I last wondered how I ended up as an agent with the Avengers. It certainly wasn't something I set out to do when I answered a cryptic ad that persistently showed up on my cell phone, asking only three questions.

DO YOU LIKE YOUR JOB?

IS IT FULFILLING?

DO YOU WISH YOU WERE DOING SOMETHING MEANINGFUL?

IF YOU ANSWERED NO, NO, AND YES, YOU MAY BE THE PERSON WE NEED!

CLICK HERE IF YOU WISH TO KNOW MORE.

Yeah, stupid drunk me clicked on the hyperlink and two days later (is there something about two days that just follows me?) Sam Wilson and Bucky Barnes showed up at my door. Even that wasn't technically true, as I was outside my apartment, had just put the key into the lock and opened the door when I realized that something wasn't right. As a single woman I was pretty aware of my surroundings, so the sight of a pair of black, scuffed combat boots and a pair of pull-on work boots lined up neatly on the mat inside my door led me to believe I wasn't alone. I didn't feel like I was in danger, because honestly, what thief or murderer would take his footwear off and put it on the mat? But, living alone, I also knew not to take any chances, so I reached inside the closet to get my aluminum baseball bat so that I had a weapon handy, except, it wasn't there.

"I have your bat," said a man's voice, coloured by a Brooklyn accent. "We're not here to hurt you but we also don't want you to hurt us."

I stayed in the doorway, not answering and definitely not moving.

"Told you we should have called first," said another voice, also male, but warmer in tone, with a hint of the south in his accent. "You have to admit that breaking into the apartment of a single woman sets off all sorts of warning bells."

"So, sue me," answered the first man. "I want to know how she reacts to a strange situation. Will she threaten us with calling the police without assessing the scene first? Or will she walk in, prepared to react if she must, and find out why two strange men have broken into her apartment, taken their boots off and left them on the mat inside her door?"

"What if she's armed?" asked the second man. "I know you can dodge the bullets."

"You brought the shield, so you're safe, too," said the first. "If she shoots first and asks questions later then she hasn't passed the test. You have to change things up, Sam. This isn't a typical job interview."

Shield? Sam? Job interview? What the actual ...? I stepped out of the doorway to at least see who was talking.

"Do you two argue like this all the time?"

I looked at the one man who I recognized as Sam Wilson, the new Captain America. Which meant the tall dark-haired man with him was Bucky Barnes, the famous (and infamous) Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. They both stood up from where they had been sitting on my couch. After my question they looked at each other.

"It's not really arguing," said Barnes. "It's more like exploring alternative possibilities. You know, hypotheticals." He tossed me the bat, watching how I caught it with one hand, my left one. "Ambidextrous. Nice." He checked his phone and said my name, not even making fun of it. "You are her, right? Former special forces, forced to quit after you broke the nose of your asshole of a commander. Could have got a dishonourable discharge for hitting a superior officer but you managed to get an honourable discharge and a written apology from the guy."

He looked at me, waiting for a reaction.

"What do you want?" I wasn't going to dance around the issue. "Why are you here?"

Barnes held his phone up. "You answered the ad." I looked blankly at him. "The three questions that you answered No, No, and Yes, then clicked on the hyperlink."

"Which didn't work," I replied.

"Oh, it worked," smirked Barnes. "Gave us access to your phone, your records, your whole life really. Which is why we're here right now giving you this job interview."

He was really getting on my nerves, and I flipped the bat, catching it again in my left hand. Wilson looked at him then put his hands out, trying to diffuse the situation.

"Look, I admit that this is unusual," he said, in a tone that I recognized.

It was the same kind of voice that counsellors at the VA used when they were trying to show they had your best interests at heart. I didn't buy it when I had to go see them after my discharge and I wasn't buying it now. Once again, I flipped my bat, only this time I attacked as soon as it hit my hand. It wasn't the best move to make as I ended up on my back, with a metal hand on my chest, holding me down and a pair of the bluest eyes I had ever seen gazing down at me.

"I thought you said you weren't going to hurt me," I wheezed, when my breath came back.

"You attacked," shrugged Barnes, then he lifted his hand off my chest and offered it to me.

I took it and stood up.

"Job interview, huh? For what?"

"Avengers," said Wilson. "We're starting it up again. We have several of the previous Avengers coming back, and some new ones, but we're searching out uniquely qualified individuals whose skill set matches our requirements."

"Aren't you all enhanced, or something?" I asked, looking intently at him.

"No." He shook his head. "It's not a pre-requisite. We're looking for people who can defend themselves, adapt to a situation, and can work with a team. We don't think you got a fair chance with the special forces."

Fair chance. He would have to use those words because he was right. I did everything I was supposed to, knocked myself out to prove that I belonged then had to fend off my commanding officer, six inches taller and 65 lbs heavier than me, when he tried to hurt me in front of witnesses who were on my side. They did try to bust me, but my CO was stupid enough to try it in a place with a security camera. I still got discharged and last I heard he was booted up to be a lackey for some general in Washington. That's how it goes, sometimes.

With a sigh, I went to the kitchen, leaving the bat on the counter and opened the cupboard above the fridge, taking out a bottle of scotch, and grabbing three glasses. By then Barnes and Wilson joined me and I poured out half a glass for each of us. I downed half of mine, then looked at both.

"What's the catch?"

They looked at each other again; a habit that was becoming tiresome.

"No catch," said Sam, "except that you kind of have to leave your current life behind. We're not exactly official or authorized."

"Covert operations?" It was what I trained for.

"Sort of." I shook my head. These guys weren't exactly filling me with confidence.

"Look," said Barnes, finishing his drink. "We were ready to do this a year ago, after the Flag Smashers. Then we both faced some unique challenges. I got press ganged into being in a secret ops team that was so shady it was practically underground, and we weren't being given the truth about our real purpose. Sam was called to Washington to head up the new Avengers, but the President wanted them to be more like his personal hit squad. We were being manipulated left, right, and centre and none of it was for a noble purpose. That's not who we are and before you point out that I was the Winter Soldier ...."

I held up my hand. "I know your story. You don't have to convince me that you were forced into it. So, you're basically starting up the Avengers but on your terms. No shady government agency or government interference, but no government funding either. No Sokovia Accords binding your hands as well. Who is funding it?"

Once again, they looked at each other and I huffed as it was getting really irritating when they did that.

"Stark Foundation but it's buried under layers and layers of non-profits so that they can't be accused of running a private black op." Wilson looked at me earnestly. "The funding is all hands off. We get it and what we do with it is our business. We promised to keep that on the down low, and we don't do anything too illegal, like murder or bank robbery or piracy, stuff like that."

"You interested?"

Barnes was looking directly at me, those blue eyes piercing right into my soul. Working in a warehouse since my discharge hadn't exactly been fulfilling but it was honest work, and it kept my mind from brooding on how my life was unfolding. If anyone knew how much I was really floundering it was this man.

"Alright, I'm in," I said. "I know you're not military, but I want my rank back. I worked hard for that."

"As long as you know that I'm your superior," said Barnes. "In the field, Sam and I are in command." I nodded. Most sergeants ran the units anyway. "Alright, welcome to the Avengers Lieutenant Ripley. I'll be back tomorrow to pick you up and take you to the compound. We all live there." He glanced at my place. "You should be able to sublet this flat easily enough."

I smirked. "I'm surprised your research didn't tell you I'm a squatter. There is no lease. I found the key the owner left in a hiding place. You tell me where the compound is, and I'll be there tomorrow."

Wilson looked uncomfortable but Barnes' face was inscrutable. He texted me a map with a pin dropped on it, then walked past me to the door, stopping long enough to lower his face to my ear and whisper. His warm breath caressed my neck, bringing up goose pimples on my forearm.

"I knew but I was trying to help you save face. I've been where you are, Ellen. You're a badass but you're still a fuckup. Fortunately for you a lot of the Avengers are. It's why we work well together." He straightened up and kept going to the door, stopping only to put his boots on. "You be there by 15:00 or I'll come looking for you."

Then he was gone, and Sam Wilson smiled apologetically at me before following him. I poured myself more scotch, drinking it in three separate gulps. Another fresh start: that's what I had to tell myself. Maybe this time I would believe it.

I showed up at the compound on my motorcycle at 14:55. All of my worldly possessions, my clothing, a few books, a small photo album of my only living relatives, my sister and her family, and my trusty aluminum baseball bat were packed into the saddlebags of the motorcycle, or into the large backpack I wore. The guard at the gate gave a glimmer of a smile when I gave him my name, but at least he didn't say anything and directed me to the building. When I pulled up, Barnes and Wilson were standing there, waiting.

"I'm here," I stated, after I turned off the ignition and stepped off, removing my helmet.

"Didn't doubt it for a minute," replied Barnes, eyeing my ride. "Nice bike."

"It is," I agreed. "Can I leave it here?"

"There's a garage. I can show it to you later. Let's get you set up with your access privileges."

It took about 30 minutes to get me squared away and I dropped my things off in my quarters, then they gave me a brief tour of the facilities. The residences were nice, better than military but more spartan than where I had been living. Sam said I was free to personalize it in any way. Since I wasn't sure how long I would be here until they kicked me out, I planned to leave everything in my bags. Back out in front of the building I got on my motorcycle, prepared for them to give me directions to the garage. Instead, Barnes got on behind me, his hands lightly on my waist.

"Let's see what you've got on this," he said.

"You don't have a helmet," I noted.

"I trust you not to kill me." I almost laughed at that.

"Alright, Sergeant. Remember, you asked for it."

I gunned the throttle, pealing out with the smell of burnt rubber enveloping us. Barnes didn't panic. Instead, he leaned into me, wrapping his arms around me, and moving as I did as I took the corners way too fast. I became aware of a heat radiating from him, even through our leather jackets, making me wonder if it was a super soldier thing. At some point, he patted my stomach then pointed in a direction and I turned that way. We were behind the building where we started, and I slowed up as he pointed to a garage door.

"Thumbprint access," he said loud enough for me to hear. "You're in the system now."

Pulling up, I removed my glove and pressed my thumb on the sensor. The door opened and I drove into the cavernous garage. He directed me to an area where several motorcycles were parked and I pulled into an empty space. We both got off and I nodded my head at the others.

"Whose are these?"

"Mine," he said.

"All four of them?"

He nodded. "Harley-Davidson WL(A) just like one I drove in World War II. I restored that one myself. Triumph Bonneville T120, Norton Commando 961 and for everyday driving a Honda Gold Wing. There's a workspace through that door over there, where you can work on your bike if that's what you like to do in your downtime. Keeps me sane."

We said nothing in the elevator up. Barnes got off at the main floor, nodding at me as he left, while I continued to the top floor where the residences were. When I got inside my quarters, I sat there, wondering what I should do, seeing as how I didn't plan to unpack just yet. Since I wasn't hungry, I figured a workout would drum up my appetite. Changing into my gear, I walked to the fitness centre, remembering where it was from my brief tour. Several people were in there, including a blonde woman, who was practising her kicks and punches on a heavy bag. For a smaller woman she had a lot of power in her and I realized I was watching her more than I was paying attention to my own workout.

"You bothered with something?" she asked, with a distinct Russian accent.

"No, just admiring your skills," I said, "although you're going to hurt your hands if you don't hit it properly."

"I've been doing this for a long time," she smirked. "I think I know how to hit a heavy bag."

I shrugged and turned away from her, continuing my leg work. A few minutes later she stood beside me and gestured to the mat.

"Show me what you've got, rookie," she said, trilling the "r" in rookie.

"I don't want to hurt you," I replied, not knowing her background.

She said something in Russian then challenged me again. With a sigh, I looked at her and got up from the leg lift machine I was on. I was several inches taller than her and at least 20 lbs heavier but she moved towards the mat and gestured to me. Well shit, it was my first day and I already was being called to prove myself. Rolling my neck and shoulders to loosen up I approached her and got into a crouch, as we circled each other, trying to get the other to make the first move. Then she attacked and damn, she was fast, pinning me in no time at all. Letting go of me, she resumed her position, and we circled again, only this time I attacked first, except she climbed upon me and did a move that encircled me before bringing me down hard. The third time, she moved but I was ready for her and sidestepped, clipping her in the face before taking her in a choke hold, while wrapping my legs around hers. The more she struggled the harder I squeezed.

"Ripley, let Yelena go," said a voice and I looked up to see Barnes there, a pissed off expression on his face.

I released her, then stood and offered her a hand up.

"Red Room, aren't you?"

"Da, how did you know?" she asked, wiping her bloody nose with the back of her hand.

"Squared off against a couple of you a few times," I replied. "You're lethal but the man who trained you also trained his own weaknesses into you. I would like to work with you on those, if you help me with mine. If you're going to have my back, I want to know that you're up to it and vice versa."

"Yasha, I like her," said Yelena. "Alright, Ripley. You have a first name?"

"Ripley's fine," I answered. "We good?"

"Da."

She walked past Barnes into the women's locker room, while the others who had gathered dispersed. He didn't move, just stood there glaring at me.

"Don't hurt your teammates," he finally said. "Save it for the missions."

"I would have released her before she passed out."

He turned around and left without a word. I called to him, but he didn't react, and stupid me, I ran after him, pulling him by the arm. His metal hand was on my throat in an instant, pinning me to the wall. Then he just as suddenly released me and turned away. I watched him walk away until he was out of sight.

"He worries about hurting us," said Yelena, who was now standing next to me, her bleeding nose taken care of. "His reactions are so ingrained that he is afraid of the force he uses being lethal. Killing is something he tries to avoid but sometimes it is just how the mission goes. It affects him deeply when that happens."

After I showered and changed, I went to Barnes' quarters, knocking on his door. There was no answer then the door suddenly opened, and I pushed it further open, stepping into the darkened interior. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust but I saw him on his couch, with a glass of amber liquid in his hand, and an open bottle of the same colour liquid on the coffee table. The TV was on but he had the sound off. Closing the door, I approached the table and picked up the bottle, smelling it ... scotch.

"There's a glass in the cupboard," he said, waving towards a small kitchen.

I came back and poured myself some, then sat next to him.

"She started it," I said.

"I ended it," he answered, taking a swallow. "You can't be using your full abilities on your teammates. Train, yes, but hurt them, no."

"We're the same level," I answered. "Now, she knows that I have her back, and I know the same about her. I know the drill, Sergeant. Didn't take you to be queasy about a little bit of blood."

"I'm not but I know what you're capable of," he said, looking straight ahead. "You were captured by ISIS, sexually assaulted by several of them, and your team did nothing to rescue you, figuring you were as good as dead. Then you killed your captors, using whatever you could get your hands on, and walked for two nights in the desert, hiding wherever you could during sunlight hours. When you reunited with your unit your commanding officer tried to justify why he didn't try to find you, and you almost killed him. I know the record says you only broke his nose, but you did a lot more than that. You have severe untreated PTSD and you're a bomb waiting to go off."

I could feel my insides freezing as he listed off what really happened to me, wondering how he found out. When I found my voice, it cracked.

"Why did you offer me a job then, if I'm so dangerous to your obviously well-qualified teammates?"

He put his glass down and looked at me, and I saw it then, the same look I often woke up with, that often stared back at me in the mirror after I slept like shit for weeks in a row. Of course, he had been there, in worse circumstances than I had and for years instead of days.

"Because we can help you," he said quietly. "We can redirect your rage and your anger towards something that will make a difference. You won't be getting by on dead-end jobs and living wherever you can find a place to hole up in. Healing isn't linear. I've been free of HYDRA for over ten years and there are still times when I wonder if I deserve to live. Shit happens but I can control how I react to people, especially those who need me to have their back. I will always have your back, Ellen, and if you are ever taken by the enemy, I will find you, even if it takes years. But you must meet me halfway. Are you going to challenge every single person who is an Avenger? Because I can tell you right now that I won't stand for it. They've all survived their own crucibles, have faced their own battles and setbacks. They don't have to prove themselves to you just as you don't have to prove yourself to them. You either decide you belong, or you don't. It's as simple as that."

We drank in the dimness of his quarters, not speaking to each other, while I considered his words. Everything he said was all true and he knew it because he had been there, right where I was. For too long, I had avoided dealing with a lot of things, not just what happened to me when I was in the army. It went back further than that, to when my parents were killed in a car accident, leaving me in the care of my barely legal sister. I never felt like I belonged because I had been abandoned more than once. Now, this man, the longest serving PoW in history had offered me a choice to go on and live my life in a downward spiral or accept the support and help of being part of something good. Everything in me ached to find a place to call home but I was afraid of facing despair again if I let my guard down and let these people in.

A motion to the side caught my attention. It was Barnes' hand, moving to the space between us, palm up. It was an offering, of friendship, of trust, of hope. All I had to do was place my hand in his and it would seal something between us, a promise to be there for me when I needed it most. With a shaky breath I placed my hand on his, noticing once more how warm he was, and we intertwined our fingers. He squeezed my hand and sat there for some time, in the quiet.

That was six months ago, and I haven't been disappointed in placing my trust in Bucky, and the others. It wasn't always smooth sailing, but no grudges were held, and any disputes were dealt with by various methods that didn't involve drawing blood. This mission, where I continued on with this mother and child, desperately trying to escape the life of misery they had, tested our capabilities. As we got into a shootout with the "associates" of her husband sent to take the daughter back to her father, Bucky pulled me aside.

"Go, take them to a safe house," he said, putting a new set of keys into my hand. "It doesn't matter which one because I'll find you. There are extra vehicles at each place so if you just go to change vehicles that works, too. Just don't try to call or text us." I wasn't going to lie. I was afraid and I told him I didn't know if I could do this. "I have faith in you, Ellen. It's why I wanted to recruit you."

With a nod, I herded the pair out the back door of the safe house we were in. There was a garage in the back yard, and I opened the door, unlocking the car doors with the remote on the key chain. Pressing the garage door remote I sped out of there, with the woman and child huddled on the floor of the back seat. We drove to another safe house, its location in the countryside memorized. For two days, we stayed there, and I almost reached the point where I was done waiting. Then a vehicle pulled up to where the access road came off the highway and I sent my charges into a safe room in the basement, telling them to unlock it only for me. I turned off the lights and watched as the car approached, parking some distance away. A man got out of the driver's seat and stood in front of the car, studying the house. I couldn't see his face as the headlights blinded me. Then he pulled out a cell phone and texted something. My phone pinged and I read the screen.

Bucky: It's okay. It's me. I found you.

Ellen: Prove it's you.

Bucky: You're named after a badass woman, Ellen Ripley, from the Alien movie franchise. I didn't know about the character until you brought it up when you got drunk and came onto me. I turned you down because I don't have sex with drunk women, especially those with PTSD.  After I saw the movies, I made a pass at you, and we've been seeing each other ever since but we haven’t gone all the way, because you’re not ready. Satisfied?

I opened the door, and Bucky Barnes strode towards me, the man who had my back from the beginning, the man who found me and is helping me find myself. Allowing ourselves a moment to embrace, we went down to the safe room and retrieved the woman and her daughter. Leaving my car there, we all got into Bucky's car and drove to where the Federal Marshals were waiting to put the pair into witness protection. After we watched them drive away, Bucky lifted me onto the hood of the car, and stood between my legs, kissing me passionately for several long glorious moments. Tonight, we would spend together at the safe house, then we would drive back home tomorrow. Home, what a wonderful way to describe my new extended family, and the man who would search to the ends of the earth to find me if I ever went missing. All because I answered what I thought was a spam ad but was really an invitation to become an Avenger.

One Shots Masterlist

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[astrowithkaro]

❥ 𝐋𝐈𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝟏𝟎𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄

This post will explain what it means to have Lilith in the 10th house, I will be assuming that you know the basics of Lilith and won't go into details about her symbolism 🌹

(Black moon) Lilith is named after Adam’s first wife before Eve who was the outcast of the garden of Eden as a demon for asserting her sexuality and independence. Lilith represents our worst flaws, our unconscious mind and repressed desires as well as our hidden sexuality. This dark goddess symbolizes lust and carnal desire; she epitomizes all things taboo.

You can find your Lilith by creating a natal chart for yourself on Astro-seek.com and specify Lilith placement (PS: NOT ASTEROID LILITH 1181, it needs to be BLM/h12 that is usually an option in the extended chart settings).

All credits goes to the writer - @astrowithkaro. Do not steal or repost!

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ 𝐓𝐡𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

You guys are made to play out the Lilith in your lives. Lilith will point where your hidden powers lie. People with this placement often have the ever-lasting sense that they are meant for something big. They have a higher calling in life and are often determined. They have long-term goals that are bigger than usual. They posses a lucky-girl mentality, but it comes at a cost.

Since the 10th house rules the eye of the public, your hidden extremities might be an invitation for rumours and scandals. Therefore, this placement can often get caught in drama, both at a young age while being in school, and often tend to manifest into their work life as well. You might have people speaking about you behind your back, but these rumours don't always resemble who you really are. As teens, you might develop crushes on teachers, or anyone that you idolise. In order to get their attention, you might try to seduce them or make yourself look as appealing as possible to the other person's deepest fantasies/desires. You often compare yourself to the best students and look up to the most successful people in your life, and even copy those tactics in order to gain those same traits you lack in yourself. On a darker note, you could have issues with your father or have a father figure that is absent. You might be oblivious to the insecurities that other people reflect onto you, and feel like it burdens you without being able to recognise where it stems from. You might fall in love with difficult people, people that are narcissistic or possess antisocial traits. People who do not have clear motives for you, but still lead you on in ways that would trigger a trauma bond between you two - love bombing is a clear example of that.

You might be labeled as a difficult person to work with and have a lot of competition when it comes to job opportunities. The people who are responsible for your job role/recruiters might ask you for sexual favours in return for a better position or a raise. Refusing to do this might lead to people throwing dirt on your name, you have the choice to stand up for yourself and make authority figures responsible for their bullshit. Having this placement also has a higher chance of working job positions that involve anything sex-and identity related.

There will be a certain fixation on shaming your position, or having people try to barber that recognition out of you. You might feel self-conscious around people who are highly successful. Though, you are able to recognise manipulation tactics used and you are not afraid to use it against anyone else if it comes down to it. But this could be a dangerous move since you can sometimes be vulnerable to Machiavellism due to your emotional side. You might also be prone to sexual partners who toy with your emotions, and want to use you for sex, might even try to shame your sexuality. You have a lot of public influence no matter what you get recognised for, two famous examples are Albert Einstein and Vladimir Putin. Therefore, you need to utilise it carefully.

Since there is a certain fixation on the desire for authority, you may sometimes desire darker powers or leadership, especially for those who meet a lot of resistance that lead to social isolation. You are afraid of failure and might be very responsive to any sort of failure or to be seen as vulnerable. You might develop a hyper-independence complex or a play a damsel-in-distress for people of power. You need to put your feelings aside when it comes to business. Your test in life is connected to having a sense of responsibility. There will be a delay in finding your career path.

There might also be a period during which you feel the need to over-sexualise yourself or romanticise parts of your life that are difficult for you to handle. This is rooted in the need for control over something that seems difficult or hard to reach. You might find it difficult to connect to your own deeper goals and ambitions, often due to unresolved resentment towards certain people or situations. You might hold grudges towards people who did you dirty. The path to empowerment is self-acceptance and moderation. If your needs aren't met, you tend to be ice-cold and might even appeared detached and distant - sometimes even "head in the clouds". You need to draw a line between your emotions and have an endurance.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･

𝕿𝖍𝖆𝖙'𝖘 𝖎𝖙 𝖋𝖔𝖗 𝖓𝖔𝖜 𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖈𝖆𝖓 𝖋𝖎𝖓𝖉 𝖒𝖞 𝖒𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 𝖍𝖊𝖗𝖊

[habitsbf]

This is kinda my theory but ive wanted to hear your opinion on it that maybe the reason why Habit absolutely haves to posses somebody in order to have a physical from is because to more blend in and control people AND because he physically cannot take on his full acually form because the universe that everymanhybrid plays in dosent alowes him to

AHHH THIS MAKES ME SO HAPPY ‼️ i like the idea of that theory and have thought about this before! HABIT is a predator, it makes sense that he would blend in with his surroundings to basically get closer to his prey/victims. before HABIT revealed himself in series, he had inhabited evan a few times before and pretended to be him. he used that to trick the others into false security, to lure them closer before eventually striking.

some examples of this i can think of are in the videos "slender man" on the crash621 channel and "Ryan & the SEVENTRIALSOFHABIT" on the main EverymanHYBRID channel.

in "slender man" evan and vinnie/vinny are hanging out together and playing video games. they are both in a happy, comfortable, and presumably safe environment. vin feels safe around evan and doesnt feel the need to worry, but before they actually sat down and started up any games, you see evan talking to "someone" about slenderman and his violent impulses. thats obviously not a good sign!! this someone convinces evan to agree with them, claiming evan (who is irritated he hasnt been able to attack anything) can get a hunt out of it. as the video continues and they hangout together, after a while, the video cuts to just vin playing alone. once he dies in game, "evan" appears from around the corner and stares at the screen. vin, believing it was really evan, approaches him. this is when HABIT attempts to strike, throwing him to the ground and attempting to stab him. luckily for vin, he was able to overpower HABIT and throw him off (which i never see people talk about for some reason? like, thats such a cool detail to me. that proves HABIT isnt as powerful as he makes himself out to be) anyways, HABIT blended in and hid behind evan for a while before he thought it was a good time to reveal himself. he wanted vinnie/vinny to feel false security in hopes of catching him off guard.

in "Ryan & the SEVENTRIALSOFHABIT" theres a scene where "evan" is caught by jeff talking to "himself." you can tell his voice is off, his voice is a little more raspy/growly than normal. thats clearly not evan. jeff doesnt piece that together though, mainly since at the time they were less aware of what HABIT was capable of. "evan" tells whoever he is talking with (im assuming it to be slenderman) "you gotta remember, that whatever i want, I GET. whatever i want. i want their fuckin' blood and i will take it. there aint a GOD damn thing you can do about it." which obviously is out of character for evan. he goes on to say "scare evan, hes just a bitch. not me. i will fuck you up the next chance i get." all of this confuses jeff, especially since this all seems to be coming from his friends mouth. jeff speaks up after a moment and calls out to evan. this causes HABIT to pause, and his tone of voice immediately switches back from raspy and growly to evans usual tone, a more friendly tone. he puts the act back on, acting nice and saying, "hey man, how you doing? i didnt see you there. i was just talking out loud." making an obvious excuse in hopes to not scare jeff off as he got up to approach him, knife in hand. jeff could sense this wasnt normal and something about it was dangerous, so he turned around and ran away before HABIT got any closer.

moving onto the topic of his his true form, while i do like the idea of him not being able to use that form in the universe EverymanHYBRID takes place in, it also just makes sense that he would choose not to use it. i mean, lets look at the actors drawing of HABITs true form:

this doesnt exactly look like a creature you would see out roaming around in your backyard everyday. im not sure what color he canonically is, but going off of all the fanon concepts ive seen, no natural wolf-like creatures has purple fur. they also dont have spider legs coming from their backs. again, HABIT is a predator. hes supposed to blend in, not stick out. his appearance is threatening, and to get closer to people, he needs to be NOT appear threatening. he needs to trick them into feeling safe and secure. he needs them to not yet know he is there. not until he is ready.

ANYWAYS LONG RAMBLE OVER 🎉 i showed my best friend this ask and discussed it with them a bit, so heres a silly screenshot from that

[oh-for-fic-sake-library]

A Stuffy Called Geb Chapter 1

Masterlist

Summary: It was your turn to help train Matt , and as usual the kylo fanatic was quick to bring up the magnificent supre leader, who you actuallyheld in high regard yourself. Bonding ensues, but you might have gotten a little too comfortable with Matt and over shared some personal embarrassing details about yourself. But it could be worse? I mean it wasnt like the leader of the first order was going to find out or anything... Right?

Warnings : DDLG, Age play, Anxiety, fluff, homour, swearing, closet little trying to make a friend.

A/N: so i cant get the idea of daddydom!kylo finding a little hidden within his ranks. I love ddlg dynamics and really do think kylo has a soft nurturing side thag in canon he hates. But what if he had an outlet? One single person he could fawn over to get it out of his system so he can be a hard ass on everyone else?

Wordcount: fairly short for me.

You entered the break room, cautiously crossing the space making sure to wav out of everyones way lest you become the butt of another joke. You managed to arrive at your destination; the caf pot. You moved quickly grabbing a fresh cup silently praying there was some actual caf left on the pot, and that it was still warm. Luck had to be on your side as the pot poured hot fresh caf into you cup.

"Oh thank the stars for that" you muttered before moving to place the pot back down. Only to pause when another cup emerged from behinde you. You yelped slightly, not hearing anyone creep up beside you, and nervously turned hoping it wasnt one of the bullies you unfortunately had to work with. But you were pleasantly surprized. Instead of a Jake or his little posse of ass kissers and assholes there stood the tall handsome yet clumsy newbie called Matt.

You flicked your gaze up faltering slightly. You drew a deep breath. Oh yeah you had Matt with you today. Not that you minded, you just werent the most social. But then again years of torment and bullying by your peers would do that to you. You calmed yourself somewhat and craned your head up higher and higher realising once again just how over whelmingly big he was. He was huge, in every aspect. You smiled up at him trying desperately not to screw up a chance to possibly make a freind.

"M-morning Matt. Caf?" You offered whilst busying yourself popping three sugars into your caf and stirring. Matt eyed you carefully before nodding quietly.

"Morning, yes caf please." he answered in his usuall awkward yet slightly demanding tone. But his eyes locked onto you, staring at you intently, a slight quirk to his brow. You smiled anxiously youd worked with Matt only once and that was when youd found him abandoned by karen in the corridor and decided to help him fix the little blunder he'd made on the calcinator.

"So i dont know if youve been told already, but today your with me" you anounced quickly pouring out a cup for him and handed it over trying to ignore anxiety building inside of you. You really didnt want to mess up and have another colleague laughing at you behinde your back. You had to act normal. Just be calm and normal.

"Oh good, i want to avoid Karen" he added following you away from the caf pot to let the others get to it. You flicked your gaze around noticing the others were sending you side eyes and smirking at you. Clearly they were waiting for you to make a fool of yourself as usual.

"We all do. Shes err, difficult. Well we dont have much for today but you sir are a lucky duck~ we are working in the rear star destroyer dock today and the finaliser is finally scheduled to dock there. Isnt that cool? Were gonna see her come in" you babbled nerves getting the better of you. He always made you nervous, he wasnt like he seemed? He had a strange aura. Powerful, stern, authoritative. He felt like a; no. No way. There was no way Matt was one of those. But god he was definitely huge enough to make you feel little. Fuck. That was a dangerous thought, now all your going to imagine is how easily he could man handle you if you were a brat. Shit.

"You like the finaliser?" Matt asked following you out of the break room grabbing your tool bags from the small cubbies by the door. You looked down and shrugged embarrassed by the way he said it. He'd noticed your odd enthusiasm.

"Yeah, sorry i get too excited. Ever since i was a kid I'd wanted to see a star destroyer." You uttered twiddling your fingers in the strap of your bag.

"So do you like star destroyers in general or just the finaliser?" He asked this time in a less abraisive tone. He sounded careful, gentle. Nothing like the matt youd seen before now. You looked at him confused by the change but offered him a small smile.

"All of them i suppose, growing up stories of the old empires fleet and stuff? I could never get my head around them. Their just so huge and stuff; even now i get excited just seeing them" you explained slightly dejected knowing youd made a fool of yourself. But still a little thrown off by his change in demeanour. He seemed to back off? The stern prickly aura tht surrounded him mellowed out. It was nice, like he was reassuring you in some unspoken way.

You couldnt help glancing up at him nervously, trying to figure him out. If anything he didnt seem to mind your small outburst, he just carried on wth the conversation as you both walked the halls towards the elevators like getting over excited was a normal thing in the first order. You flicked your gaze away quickly before he caught you staring. Fuck. He didnt look like he thought less of you for getting all giddy over something so small.

"I understand that. They are awe inspiring, an engineering marvel" Matt's lip quirked ever so slightly when you perked up again beaming up at him bouncing back from your self doubt quickly.

"Exactly! We might even see her dock if we're lucky; did you know its the first time shes coming in to dock since the supremacy? Shes never been on the supernova before" you chirped happily scanning your pass at the faster maintenance elevator.

"Soo you take this rag and slip it over the clamp and just pop it here... no this way, remember righty tighty... your right; thats it. Then that way the pannel cant spring back and catch your fingers" you explained leaning over to hold the spring loaded sliding door back out of matts way so he could place a clamp in front of it.

"Huh... Thats alot easier" he uttered with a grunt as you released the hatch door letting it meet the clamp and stay open without risking any fingers.

"I take it the others didnt show you that trick?" You sighed with a frown as he marveled at the now secure hatch door for a second.

"No, i caught my fingers alot see?" He growled, one eye twitching in irritation before holding his hands up showing you a few nasty bruises and small cuts where these finger death traps had clearly pinched him. You winced hissing through your teeth

"They are all bullies, dont let it get to you. They think their hot shit because they work on the supernova now. But like its not that hard you know? Its a big ship they need tonnes of us here. Personally I'd rather work on her" you reassured him with a light pat on the arm before flicking your eyes to the huge ship that was docked no more then forty feet from you.

You shook your head, shoving the longing from your mind before peeking into the hatch useing your torch to dig around for the problem.

"Ah. Jakes handy work." You uttered spying the issue. A lower voltage cable haphazardly bridging two connectors. Luckily you had some of the correct sized wire spare this was a common issue.

"Hmm? How do you know that?" He asked with a frown not likeing the way you didnt sound surprized by a mistake. Like this was a regular occurrence.

"He always uses this for everything. This sector needs thicker cables for the higher voltages going to the star destroyers. He doesnt like carrying it down here because... well im not sure why to be honest" you explained moving over to show him the problem wire. You ended with a shrug but pulled back from the hatch to dig around in your bag.

"All we have to do it replace this small section and it shouldnt short anymore, lets get to it" You said over your shoulder as you began pulling things out of your bag to get to the replacement wire.

"Now see these wires are already stripped? We just smoosh them together and then twist, it makes the most reliable connection... good job! Now we tape it" you instructed watching Matt work the electrical components and secure it in place. Luckily Matt had picked up alot on the job and had not only disconnected the useless wire, but replaced the connecters either end just to make sure everything worked.

"So why are the others so nasty to you?" He asked out of the blue as he tightened the two screws securing the plastic safety cover on the open wires. You stuttered at him before shaking your head deciding to pretend you didnt know what he was talking about. But he sat up fixing you with a single look making you feel like a kid caught in a lie.

"The others, they avoid you unless they are tormenting you. Why? You seem... competent and pretty harmless, actually nice" he pried again this time not giving you any room to deny or deflect. you sighed defeated, slumping on the spot feeling pretty pathetic.

"You noticed that? Well they are bullies" he frowned at that it was the second time youd called them that. This time he was determined to get to the bottom of it,his eyes grew colder. You shuddered. This man? There really was something about him. Something completely feral yet contained? He just had something dangerous about him. But not in a 'im big and we both know i could crush you' way. It was? Darker, refined, pronounced. Honed.

"But why?" He coaxed again, his voice growing sharper. You got the distinct feeling he wasnt used to asking a second time. And most certainly never had to repeat himself a third time.

You swallowed dryly feeling a tense curiosity grow between you both. He wasnt going to drop this, you might aswell tell him so he can laugh at you and be done with it.

"A few things, as you noticed i tend to get excited quickly, sometimes i say things without thinking? They also know about my past failures... And well they found out about my hobby and i became a joke" you trailed off hoping he'd get the hint from your vague answers and leave the conversation there. But he didnt instead he seemed to perk up his gaze intensified.

"Hobby? Not many people still have hobbies in the first order?"

"I know its sad right? Just because we work here doesnt mean we gotta be a bunch of faceless boring old farts" you covered your mouth quickly but the words hd already escaped. Fuck, why are you like this? The one time you could really use a thought to mouth filter it failed again.

"So whats your hobby?" You did a double take before frowing confused. Why did he care?

"I err well i make clothes for dolls and stuff" you mumbled, mixing your words a little bit. Some part of you still waring you this was a bd idea nd he was just going to make fun of you for it. The other more submissive part reasoning he wasnt the type to be refused.

"Dolls?" you cringed at his tone, he didnt sound creeped out, or as if he was about to laugh in your face but he sounded off? Strained? As if he'd been anticipating something like that but had hoped youd say something different.

"Yeah it started when i was a kid... When the first order took over my home planet the the job market crashed especially when the first order began conscripting kids" you paused for a moment gauging his reaction before deciding you should elaborate more.

"There wasnt many options for anyone i got conscripted but I failed the physicals and at the time couldnt read so failed the IQ tests. But my reaction time was quick so they wanted to train me as a pilot but i got terrible motion sickness. In the end they said i was useless and dumped me back home. I failed to be worthy of any resources" you recounted trying your best not to sound pathetic or depressed. But honestly being dumped back home for being useless really did a number on your self esteem for a good few years.

"The only other careers i could try once home were prostitution, serving girl, seamstress or try to abandon the planet and join the resistance. I became a seamstress because it meant i could learn to read patterns and stuff. Luckily because of my small hands i was ideal for making clothes for infants and smaller races" you added proud of your achievements. Although they were small you had done it all by yourself, no schooling or first order academies. Just you in your tiny bunk studying at night.

"But how do you get from illiterate seamstress to first order engineer?" Surprisingly the question didnt sting, nor was it harsh. He seemed invested in hearing how you actually ended up here. It was flattering in a way.

"Oh i had to learn to read as part of my apprenticeship; for patterns and stuff then i learned how to fix the machinery in the warehouses, i was the best person for the job because again small hands" you giggled raising your smaller then average hands and wiggled your fingers at him.

"I could reach where others couldnt when the sewing and press machines died. Then the first order came back to the planet looking for those with mechanical skills, they were desperate. We were taken to the supernova in its early days; just after snoke died and the commander becme supreme leader. I was trained up to keep things running smoothly while the more senoir engineers were sent to the more technical sectors" you ended your tale there wasnt much to say after that, youd gone through training and been assigned to your sector.

You moved to the open hatch and began loosening the clamp prompting matt to catch the door and let it slide shut without capturing your fingers.

"And why did the others laugh at you? I mean you just make clothes?" He pried not letting you escape his initial question.

"Yeah... its everything really? They already think Im too childish and get mysel upset or excited easily. Then they found out about Geb." You grunted, cursing yourself for letting Gebs name slip through knowing that this was going to be the point he began to ridicule you.

"Geb?" You nodded without looking up at him while making yourself busy by collecting your toold and playing your own game of tetris tryingnto fit everything neetly back into your bag

"Yes he is... he's a small bear stuffy, i brought him with me to remind me of home and i make all my outfits for him and dress him up. I made him little first order uniforms and tropper armour and stuff."

"You dress him up in uniform?" He asked his face breaking out into a grin. Though you couldnt tell if he was trying not to laugh or not.

"Yeah but not just officers and stuff; hey you like the supreme leader right? I did him" you changed the topic quickly, hopeing bringing up the man would send Matt into a kylo ren ted talk and get yourself out of the metaphorical hot seat.

"You made geb a kylo ren uniform?" He reiterated slowly as if needing to say it to let it sink in. You eyed him curiously waiting to see if he was offended on the commanders behalf or not. But when he finally chuckled you relaxed before gushing over the small bear you loved.

"Yeah i even did a little light saber too and and his helmet is removable and a little hood on his cloak oh oh and he has his little belt but the best part is his little fluffy ears poke out through his mask and stuff he is so cute, Geb's lived in it since i made it" you cooed letting yourself getting carried away explaining the little outfit youd spent almost a week creating. Matt beamed at you nodding along encouraging you, enjoying the show of pure innocent adoration. But stunned you into silence as he cut through all the talk with one single question.

"You think kylo ren's cute?"

You sputtered quickly glowing red as the huge man chuckled down at you almost cooing sweetly in a very un-matt way. Clearly something about all this had tickled him pink. He looked pretty smug actually. Good lord you hope he wasnt really freinds with the big man, youd die if any of this got back to him.

"Wha; err no. I err i dont err well maybe? I've never seen him in person; not close up anyway but i? I suppose he's probably cute; handsome? I dont think he'd like the word cute but handsome is good i suppose? But I meant Geb is cute... his fluffy little ears poke out the top of his kylo mask" you began scratching at your head lightly, trying to figure out how to get out of this with at least a shred of dignity. If that was even possible. It took your around three seconds to start talking yourself in circles nervously, your thoughts warning you not to insult your beloved leader 1. Incase matt lost his cool about it like he did at lunch the other day and 2. Well if matt was close to the kylo? Youd rather the leader of the first order knew you thought he was hot instead of cute.

"What do you think about kylo ren? You must like him to make an outfit for Geb" ah theres the matt you know and love. Thank god you thought youd lost him for a second there.

"Well yeah. I think he is a good leader, hes a smart tactician and skilled. Hes an astounding pilot and a frightening warrior;"

"You think he's frightening?" You frowned at the indignation in matts tone, the way he tensed and became clearly aggravated made you falter, why was he offended?

"Well dont you? He's so soo big, but then again so are you so you probably dont think he is scary; but to me your both soo huge!" You questioned blinking up at him curiously. Wasnt Matt scared of the supreme leader? Didnt he hear all the stories? You quickly grew uneasy with the mans simmering stare and tried to diffuse the situation by making a little comparrison between him and kylos impossible hieghts waving your hand at him animatedly. He finally cracked a smirk before tipping his head to the side .

"Your scared of my size?" He teased with a chuckle.

"No, i mean i was at first but now im not. You wont hurt me. But Kylo might if i annoy him and well most people think im annoying. But he is really scary he's stupid strong and people say he gets angry super quick and it just... he is really scary to me. i mean people chuckle about the way he says he is going to surpass darth vader but i think he already has in his own way" your words continued, thoughts and opinions on the commander that youd never shared with anyone pouring from you. You werent a fangirl but you did understand alot more of the subtleties that whent hand in hand with the commander and his abilities.

"You do? How?" Matt was quick to ask, he seemed eager to hear everything you had to say. As if he were glad someone else shared his love of the commander.

"His saber. Its all erratic and static-y, people can laugh about it. But that just shows they have no clue to what it takes to do something like that. That kyber crystal? Its gotta be cracked or something." You explained letting your theory out. Youd never really had anyone to explain this too before. It was actually nice to talk about so ething other than work a.nd food for a change

"How do you know about kyber?" You finched back at the sudden cold demanding tone. Warning? Threat? No, something else. Defensive. but your not sure why?

"I grew up on stories of the old empire. My grandpa was an inquisitor, i know the red sabers are made with bloodied angry kybers" you shrugged trying to play off the uneasy feelings matt gve you.

"You know not even vaders rage and hate managed to damage his kyber crystal. So for Ren to... the power it took to do that?" You spoke up again trying to make him perk up and snap out of the eerie calculating gze he had trapped you in. Luckily praising the commander seemd to do the trick. Thnk god, matt was a big guy, he was scary when his mood soured.

"Exactly! Its about time someone understood!" you grinned as mtt beamed down at you with an oddly fanatic look bout him. He relly did love to commander... it was almost creepy. But he was brightening up gain so you run with it.

"He's already got more going on then lord vader did. I just hope people dont manipulate him like its said they did with lord vader. Ren could be so much more. I mean as long as people dont mess with his head and stuff he'll finish what lord vader started, he has more drive." You summrised, in all honestly it was all true. Atleast in your mind, and thats not to sy you worshipped the ruler, well not like Matt seemed to anyway. But you did hold lot of respect and helthy amount of fear for the man. You secretly hoped youd never come face to face with him, youd probably die from a heart attack.

"You sound like you care for him despite your fear?" You faltered for a moment mulling over his words. You hummed for a moment contemplating your reply. Not just to keep him happy, but also genuinely cpnsideringnthe truth to hois statment. Finally you nodded to the huge man.

"I do. I mean I've never met him, if i did id either wet myself or he'd kill me for doing something stupid... like wetting myself probably" you chuckled trying to add a little humour, wanting to hopefully change the subject soon. You didnt exactly want to get caught gossiping about kylo. The last thing you needed was to give him an excuse to peak inside your mind, god knows what he could find...

"I dont think he'd kill you. You admire and respect him, he'd see that" Matt held your gaze leveling you with a stare, serious conviction that was sobering. Your demeanour changed once more uncertainty washing through you as his eyes bore into you. It was enough to make your head ache. But you ignored the light pressure of an oncoming head pains to continue your playfull facade.

"Like in my head? Oh god thatd be terrible what if he saw Geb? Or worse what if he found out i think hes good looking under that mask and has a gorgeous butt?" You panicked playfully, flushing at the small nugget of truth hidden in your teasing. You breathed a sigh of relief as the pressure receded in a stuttered jagged reversal.

"You've been staring at the commanders butt?" Why did he sound so smug about that? Unless he swings that way? oh maybe thats it? Matt had a crush on him~ that was actually quite sweet.

"Yeah, have you seen the man climb into the silencer? Thats the best butt in the first order! Besides toffee face had the old gnarled and ugly covered right? And huckleberry has the pale and sickly outer rim orphan thing going on, so kylos gotta be the young and handsome" you blushed as Matt suddenly boomed a laugh, holding his stomach as he lost himself in his belly laugh. You watched queitly, you got the feeling he didnt get a laugh very often. It made you feel a little sense of pride knowing youd given that to him.

"Did you just call Snoke toffee face?" He uttered chuckling between words still trying to compose himself. But even when he managed to cease the laughter his grin stayed across his face lighting up his handsome features, almost giving him life eyes sparkling with something youd not noticed in them before.

"Yeah... err dont tell anyone about that; especially the supreme leader and you most definitely cant tell him about geb, or that he has a cute butt! Pinky promise?" You rubbed the back of your neck nervously before perking up again and held out your pinky. You froze as you did so feeling embarrassed at showing such childish behaviour. But instead of being put off he smirked down at you, tipping his head forward, raising a hand to hover next to yours.

"Sure, but only if I get to see geb dressed up as kylo" he anounced lowering his voice as he inched forward locking eyes with you. You could only manage to look him in the eye for a few seconds before blushing again brighter and avert your eyes, focusing on the vast open space of the docking bays behinde him.

"Err sure but only if you dont make fun ok? Its bad enough with the others" you mumbled aprihensively nodding to him.

"I wont make fun of you, its nice to see someone recognise our leaders greatness, you idolise him enough to create an efergy of him. Its cute" He smirked curling his pinky around yours sealing the deal with a little shake of pinkies.

Kylo couldnt help the way his body warmed as his mind began twisting itself around the idea of you. This little promise was much more then you realised, he was swearing to himself youd become his. It was only a matter of time.

He couldnt stop. He couldnt erase you from his mind. The tiny naive technician he'd spent the day with. It was rare for him to be so drawn to someone. But you? You admired him, and understood his greatness more then most, understood him more than even he could ever imagine. You belived in him, worshipped him! It had taken everything in him not to reveal himself then and there. To tell you how right you were, how smart he thought you were. But he hadnt. He'd simply left the shift with a spring in his step. The knowledge that someone as sweet and innocent aboard the ship actually respected him was enough to make him giddy. And he didnt get giddy. He'd quickly brought the undercover project to an end after that. Not wanting to endure another day with irritating jobs worths and bitching. And he was far to tempted to smuggle you into the safety of his own chambers. Word got out about the whole thing, and that Matt was actually kylo. Some people suspected as much but by that point he didnt care. He was too wrapped up with thoughts of his tiny technician.

He had suspicions on the type of woman you were. Shy, sweet kind and open hearted. But naive and excitable a childlike quality. something he adored and secretly craved. There was something that pulled him to such a woman. He'd dabbled in erotica, reading up on all types of fantasies during those odd few years after escapeing to the darkside. Suddenly he was free to explore in that respect. Reading kink, watching porn on the holonet and having his first few sexual encounters. He thought it was strange but it was the careing aspect of control he craved more then anything. He had odd tastes in sex had lead him to almost abstinence. He liked being called daddy, loved being much larger then his partner. Feeling needed, having soemone obey him because they trusted him to make the right decisions. He needed someone to be his entirely, someone to absolutly adore him and listen. Someone fun who could brighten up his days. He just wanted one person to give themselves to him entirely without an ulterior motive. But it was difficult to find such a woman aboard the supremacy, they all had plans to ensnare him in some stupid plot to fame and fortune or worse. Children. Sure he was aware oneday he'd have to continue his legacy but not now, not in the middle of a god damned war!

But here he may have found what he was truley looking for in you. He wanted a permanent lover, sweet, small and genuinely innocent. You were unique a gentle somewhat clumsy person with little quirks, enough little quirks for him to wonder if you were indeed a little. He was no expert, he'd only ever really seen and played with littles in the clubs he and his knights frequented when the stress of the military got too much. But you were sending all the signals, maybe he just needed to take the reigns and give a few sharp tugs to snap you into little space. From the looks of it, you wouldnt need much coaxing. Well unless nerves got in the way but a few swift trips over his knee and some playful swats would probably be enough to stop any denile.

The anticipation that quivered inside of him, shook him to his core. Sweet, small, naive and breakable. A little. Fuck. A little here of all places?! Double fuck. Now was not the time to find that kind of gem! But then again who was he to kick a gift horse in the mouth? For such a rarity to wind up here of all places and land in his lap like that must be a sign from the universe? You must be a reward, you were perfect! And you were his. He just had to draw you in. He needed a reason to see you, a reason to get you to his chambers. And then he just had to keep you there.

[johaerys-writes]

Chapter 3: but it's still not true

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The bar Antilochus takes them to is downtown at the Marina Bay, the thriving nightlife district at the heart of the city. It’s hot, loud and crowded, and Patroclus thinks that perhaps he’s grown a little too old for all that as they squeeze towards the only available spot near the bar. 

Thrasymedes, Antilochus’ older brother—tall and broad, his suit jacket straining against his massive shoulders—joins them soon after, followed by a couple friends, both as loud and rambunctious as he is. The bars in the area are full of people in crisp suits, either from the conference or from the many offices nearby, and they’re all eager for a proper party. 

It doesn’t take long for Patroclus to be reminded of the soft spot Thrasymedes always had for Achilles. He corners him at the bar, buying him drink after drink as he talks close to his ear about God knows what. Achilles doesn’t seem at all thrown off by the attention—he’s always loved and sought it, and got it fairly easily whether because of his looks, his status or his many talents, but he’s always been lousy at keeping it for long. An hour or two of people clamouring after him was all Achilles could take before he would drop everyone to seek Patroclus out, dragging him away somewhere they could be alone. 

He doesn’t seem overly eager to do that now, though, catching up Thrasymedes and his friends on his most recent adventures, no doubt. He’s always been so damn eye-catching; he’s glowing in the dimly lit bar like a flame in the dark, handing out smiles as generously as if he had an endless supply of them. Worst part of all: every so often he glances over to Patroclus, his lips quirking in that knowing smirk that seems to be meant just for him when he notices him watching. 

Patroclus frowns into his glass of scotch, listening to Antilochus and his posse going on and on about their jobs and most recent promotions. His stomach churns uncomfortably, and it isn’t only because of the drink; from the corner of his eye he can see Thrasymedes talking with the bartender, no doubt ordering Achilles another drink. 

He is only half-correct, as there is soon a tequila shot pressed into his hand, same as everyone else in their little group.

“Bottoms up!” Thrasymedes shouts over the noise, bringing the glass to his lips. His hand, Patroclus notices, hovers dangerously close to Achilles’ waist. 

The flare of jealousy—yes, jealousy; Patroclus isn’t beneath recognising those ugly feelings rearing their heads within him when Achilles is around—is drowned out by the burn of the tequila when he swallows it. 

“Here, bite on this,” Achilles tells him not a moment later. He has left Thrasymedes’ side to hold a lime wedge to Patroclus’ lips. Patroclus just stares at him for a breath, and Achilles tilts his head to the side. “You do remember how to do this, right?”

Patroclus accepts the lime, the tips of Achilles’ fingers lightly brushing his lips. “What were you and Thrasymedes talking about?” he blurts out, the sour bite of the fruit still sharp on his tongue. 

Achilles shrugs. “This and that. He’s a great guy; I always liked him.”

“That so?” Patroclus asks, that irrational pang of jealousy making his voice sharper than he intended. 

He regrets it instantly the moment Achilles grins meaningfully at him. “Not like that ,” he assures him, batting his lashes at him. “You know I only have eyes for you.” 

Patroclus scoffs, his skin growing hot. “Right,” he mutters lamely, looking away.

A few moments later and another tequila shot is pressed into his hand, by Antilochus this time. Patroclus is already feeling a little woozy, his stomach roiling from the last couple shots he’s had. 

“Let’s go, Pat, drink!” Antilochus says, his glass already poised and ready. 

Patroclus shakes his head. “I don’t think I can drink anymore.” 

Achilles besides him laughs, wild and carefree, as if he's said a great joke. A few more of his shirt buttons have come undone, leaving his chest exposed, gleaming with a thin sheen of perspiration.  

“Of course you can, Pat. Here.” He grabs Patroclus’ hand and licks a stripe up the back of it, holding his gaze. The lights at the bar flicker, spinning in his eyes. The hair on Patroclus’ arm and neck stand up, a strong shiver running through him. Achilles pours some salt where his tongue just was, and clinks his shot glass to Patroclus’. “Bottoms up.” 

The tequila is strong, barely any taste to it at all, just liquid fire coursing down his throat. Patroclus brings the lime wedge to his lips and bites down hard on it, and trembles all over once again as he watches Achilles do the same. 

“Woohoo!” Achilles yells, throwing an arm over Patroclus’ shoulders. “Like old times, right? Right?”

Patroclus huffs a weak laugh, still breathless and hoarse from the strong drink, and the lingering feel of Achilles' tongue on his skin. Now he really doesn’t think he can drink anymore, and he knows he shouldn’t. His senses are numb from the alcohol and Achilles’ body so close to his. It’s so hot in the bar, the flickering lights illuminating Achilles’ hair, the sweat on his skin, the rows of chains on his neck, gold on gold. 

Patroclus can see his pulse there, beating at the vee of his throat, and he wants so much to feel it against his lips. 

“I’m going outside,” he shouts in Achilles’ ear through the noise.

“What for?”

“I need some fresh air.” 

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