#when a kind gesture turns into FRIENDLY WAR

[lizzieolseniskinda]

TOM RIDDLE - soulmates don’t exist PT. 2

SDE MASTERLIST - x FEM!reader (POC!friendly)

SUMMARY: everything changes for you when snape gives you a certain memory. will you be able to do the task that dumbledore has given you?

WORD COUNT: +3.7k

GENRE: angst-ish (but not really)

CONTENT WARNING: soulmate & time travel au, english is not my first language. muggle studies is basically what we get in school

The corridors of Hogwarts were eerily quiet—almost too quiet in the early morning light. You wandered around Hogwarts, taking in the atmosphere. It was just how you remembered life before the war. But you had to act as if you didn’t know, act as if you didn’t know your way around Hogwarts. Your heart was still racing from the overwhelming disorientation of time travel. The walls seemed taller, the stones beneath you felt somewhat smoother. It felt the same but yet so different at the same time.

You had no clue what to do next. The task lay plain ahead of you—find Tom Riddle and alter the course of his life by becoming his great love. You shook your head; you knew how time travel could have a big effect on the timeline. You never took Muggle Studies—mainly because of the maths—but you knew what this could do. Once he saw you, it would be done. There would be no going back, well, it wasn’t like you could turn back whenever you wanted.

But, it was like Hermione said, ‘No one is supposed to see you.’ Only this time, it was different. If you didn’t change Tom Riddle for the better, you could make him even worse than he was in your time.

“I believe you may be a bit out of place, my dear.”

You stopped dead in your tracks, your heart almost leaping out of your chest. The voice was warm, kind, but still serious. You recognized the voice. You turned and saw Dumbledore standing there, a somewhat younger version.

You knew he was still a professor at this time. His auburn hair was tinged with a lot of strands of silver, his robes a deep shade of purple. His piercing blue eyes gleamed with curiosity and suspicion as he looked at you. He raised an eyebrow, and his lips curled into a gentle, knowing smile. You wanted to slap him, angry for making you do this, while telling you absolutely nothing.

“You look as though you've been wandering these halls for quite some time,” he continued, stepping toward you. “And yet, I don't recall seeing you in any of my classes.”    

You swallowed hard, your mind scrambling for a good answer, but you came up empty-handed. Dumbledore's gaze was patient, waiting for you to speak.

“Uhh... I—” you began, your voice shaking softly, but you stopped. What could you say? What were you supposed to say? That you had just traveled back into the past to stop one of his students from becoming the biggest and darkest wizard of all time?

Dumbledore's eyes softened. “Why don't we take this conversation somewhere a bit more private?” he suggested, his tone gentle. “I have a feeling there's more to your story than a lost stroll through the castle.”

Without waiting for your response, Dumbledore turned around, motioning for you to follow him. You hesitated for a second, but the calmness in his demeanor somehow reassured you. Reluctantly, you followed him down the corridor, your footsteps echoing softly in the stillness of the morning.

After a while, you arrived at an empty classroom, the large wooden door creaking as Dumbledore pushed it open. Sunlight entered through the tall, narrow windows, casting long shadows across the rows of desks. The air was filled with a faint scent of parchment and chalk, just like his.

Dumbledore gestured to a chair near the front. “Please, sit down. Make yourself comfortable.”

You did as he asked, feeling out of place in this familiar yet unfamiliar world. Dumbledore remained standing in front of your desk for a moment, studying you with those sharp, calculating eyes. “There is something... remarkable about you,” he said quietly, his voice kind. “You’re not quite where you’re supposed to be, are you?”

You looked at your shoes, realising you also didn’t quite look the part to simply be lost. “No,” you admitted. You knew lying to a man like Dumbledore would do you no good. “I’m... not?" you said, unsure.

Dumbledore nodded, as if he had expected that answer. “Time,” he mused, his eyes twinkling with understanding. “It has a peculiar way of bending when we least expect it.”

Your head snapped up, meeting his gaze. He knew. He definitely knew. “How?” you breathed, the question slipping out before you could stop yourself. “How did you—”

Dumbledore raised his hand to quiet you. “I have my ways,” he smiled. “But more importantly, it seems you have a very important reason for being here.”

You swallowed, feeling the enormity of your ‘mission’ pressing down on you, but in Dumbledore’s presence, it felt a little less overwhelming—though you were still angry he hadn’t told you anything sooner. He waited, giving you space to explain.

After a pause, you spoke again. “I was sent... to change something. Something that will affect the future,” you hesitated, unsure how much you were allowed to reveal. “It's about Tom Riddle.”

At the mention of Riddle's name, Dumbledore's expression didn't change, but you noticed the slightest shift in his demeanour. His gaze became more focused, and he leaned forward slightly.

“Tom,” he repeated softly. “Yes... I've always known there was something... special about that boy.”

Special? More like dangerous. You nodded. “If I don't change him, if I can't make him different... the world will fall into darkness. Everyone I love, my friends...” you stopped. Your parents. You hadn’t even thought of them. Your heart started banging in your chest. You wanted to go back. Tell them that you were grateful for everything, and that you were sorry for leaving them behind out of nowhere.

Dumbledore didn’t react with surprise. He nodded. “Do not worry about your friends or family.” He sighed softly. “You have been given a great responsibility. But changing the course of someone's life is no simple task, especially when that person’s soul is... so deeply marked.”

You looked down at your hands. “I don’t even know if it’s possible.”

For a moment, Dumbledore was silent, his gaze fixed on you with empathy. “Nothing is impossible, but you must remember, even the darkest of souls have their choices. Tom Riddle's path has always been his own. You may be able to guide him... but ultimately, it is up to him who or what he becomes.”

His words hung in the air, a reminder of what you were facing. “Know that I will be watching, and if you ever need guidance, you know where to find me.”

Dumbledore had insisted on introducing you to the Headmaster as a transfer student, emphasizing that no one could know the truth. The fewer people involved in the truth, the better.

You made your way through the corridors of Hogwarts with Dumbledore. Students were scattered around, laughing, talking in hushed voices, completely unaware of the darkness that would be coming.

Dumbledore said the password to the Headmaster's office. It was the same as he had used. So original. The spiral staircase came into view as the gargoyles started moving. You followed your former Headmaster up the stairs. The office was filled with old books, a large desk, and a few moving portraits on the walls. It looked almost the same as Dumbledore's office.

Behind the desk sat Headmaster Armando Dippet, a tall, thin man with kind eyes. “Ah, Albus,” Dippet said, rising from his seat to greet him. “What brings you here?”

Dumbledore gestured to you. “Headmaster, I would like to introduce you to our newest transfer student.” He gave you a small nod to encourage you to take a step forward. “She's come from Beauxbatons and will be joining us for the rest of her schooling.”

Dippet's eyebrows rose in surprise. “A transfer from Beauxbatons? How delightful! We don't often have students join us from abroad.” He looked at you. “What is your name, my dear?”

You swallowed, your nerves tightening your throat. “Y/n L/n.” You smiled at the Headmaster. “I'm honored to be here.”

“It's always wonderful to have new students join us at Hogwarts. The castle can seem quite large and scary at first, but I'm very sure you'll grow accustomed to it in no time,” Dippet smiled at you.

You forced back a smile. Normally, you would love such pleasantries, but now? Absolutely not. It felt as if you wanted to throw up.

Dumbledore stepped forward. “Headmaster, I’ve already informed Y/N of the basic rules and traditions of the school, but I do believe the Sorting Hat will handle the rest?”

“Indeed,” Dippet nodded, motioning to a nearby shelf where the Sorting Hat was in its usual place. “No time like the present.”

Your heart raced when the Sorting Hat was placed upon your head. You knew what house you had once belonged to, but would it be the same here? In this time?

“Hmm...” the hat murmured after whining about who dared to wake him up. “Interesting... very interesting. You’re not like the others I’ve sorted. Ever.”

You held your breath.

“I see loyalty... with a lot of bravery,” the hat mused. “A fierce desire to do what’s right, even when it’s proven difficult. Courage, and there’s something more than that... something deeper…”

Did it know? You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, huffing out a breath.

“Ah,” it whispered. "But that is not for me to uncover. Your place, however, is clear.”

Another moment passed, and then the hat shouted, “Gryffindor!”

The word rang in your ears. You weren’t placed in the same house. Your former house was Hufflepuff. What changed? The house of loyalty, hard work, and kindness. Maybe this could help ground you. Most Hufflepuffs you knew were kind (mostly high as well) and helpful. There were always exceptions, but you were happy with that house.

Dippet clapped his hands together, clearly pleased. “A Gryffindor! A fine choice indeed. You’ll find good company there.”

Dumbledore’s expression remained calm. “It seems that your path is set,” he said quietly, his eyes twinkling with that wisdom he always had.

As the hat was lifted from your head, you stood up from the stool you had taken a seat on. Gryffindor. It was unexpected, but not wrong—or bad. In some way, it made sense for you. You needed to be brave to talk to Tom Riddle. So, what better house for that than Gryffindor?

The Headmaster waved his wand, and a piece of parchment floated over to you. “Here’s your timetable, Y/N,” he said, handing it over to you. "You’ll begin classes immediately. I’m sure the others will help you find your way.”

You took the parchment, scanning the schedule. You had loads of free periods, and as always, an Astronomy class at midnight on a Friday night.

“Thank you, Headmaster,” you said quietly, tucking the parchment under your arm.

Dippet smiled. “Welcome to Hogwarts, Y/N. I hope your time here will be both enlightening and rewarding.”

“I sure hope so,” you nodded. Rewarding. You could use the reward of going home.

You and Dumbledore left the office. Going down the staircase, the air felt cooler. Dumbledore walked beside you in silence.

“So, you’ve been placed in Gryffindor,” Dumbledore broke the silence. “A good choice. You’ll find a community of loyalty and bravery there.”

You nodded. “I didn’t expect it.”

“Sometimes,” Dumbledore said with a smile, “the unexpected paths are the ones that lead us exactly where we need to go. You have been given a second chance, in more ways than one.”

“And remember,” he said softly, “the fewer people who know your true purpose, the better. Riddle must never know why you’re really here.”

You nodded.

When you stepped inside the Gryffindor common room, you immediately felt the warmth. There was a soft red glow from the lanterns, and the walls were lined with rewards and books. The smell of fresh cookies hung in the air.

A group of students was clustered around a table and looked up as you entered. It was already early in the morning, and you wondered why most students were up at this time. The faces of the students were curious but friendly, and a wave of relief washed over you. Before you could take another step, a girl with curly dark hair and a wide smile broke away from the group.

“Hi!” she greeted enthusiastically, her eyes wide with interest. “You must be the new transfer student! I’m Maeve, Maeve Miller.”

You tried your best not to grimace as you forced a smile. “I’m Y/N L/N.” The realization of having to meet and make new friends dawned on you even harder.

“Professor Dippet had owled us. We were all curious, y’know? Transfer students aren’t that common. You’re lucky it’s the start of the school year!”

You smiled at Maeve’s happiness, but you were still baffled at how fast news spread in Hogwarts. I mean, you had literally just left Dippet’s office.

“I’ll make sure you fit right in. I’ll show you to the dormitory,” Maeve smiled.

You followed her to a spiral staircase. As you walked with Maeve, she chatted happily about the house traditions, the upcoming Quidditch match, and the best way to sneak extra food from the kitchen.

Once you reached the dormitory, you found yourself in a circular room with soft, warm lighting. You saw only one vacant bed — in the middle — with your belongings neatly placed beside it. A suitcase you recognized, though it felt strange seeing it here. You had basically come empty-handed, so how were all your belongings here already?

“ How...?” you trailed off, confused.

Maeve caught your confusion. “Professor Dumbledore’s pretty amazing, isn’t he? He made sure your belongings were here from yesterday evening. Must’ve used some magic to get your stuff here so quickly.”

You nodded, even more confused. You didn’t even know you had time-traveled yesterday. You had no idea how, and you didn’t want to think too much about it before it might drive you mad.

“So, obviously, that’s your bed,” Maeve pointed towards the bed with your belongings on it. “And this is mine,” she added, pointing to the bed next to yours. “We’ll be neighbors! Oh, and these are your other roommates.”

Two other girls approached, one with long red hair and freckles, and the other with short brown curls. They introduced themselves as Alicia and Lilith, both offering you warm, welcoming smiles.

“Nice to meet you,” Alicia said, while Lilith gave you a small, shy wave. “It’s so exciting to have someone new join us, especially in our fifth year!”

“I’m glad to be here!” you lied through your teeth.

“Well, we’re heading to breakfast in a bit if you want to join us,” Alicia offered. “But I’m sure you’ll want to settle in first.”

“Yeah, you guys go ahead, I’ll catch up with you in a while,” you replied with a nod and a smile.

As the girls made their way out, leaving you alone, you felt disoriented. This was all going too fast. You needed a moment to yourself. Normally, you would have already been in your last year. You made your way over to the small adjoining bathroom. The light was bright. You stepped in front of the large mirror, ready to see your face full of scars and dirt from the war.

But no, your fingers trembled slightly as you reached up to touch your face. Staring back at you was a younger version of yourself — exactly as you had looked in your own fifth year at Hogwarts. Your features were softer, untouched by the weight of the war. Your eyes looked brighter... they hadn’t seen the horrors that awaited. No pair of eyes should see a war go down.

It was all surreal, like looking at a stranger. It was clear the potion had not only sent you back in time, but also transformed you to match the age you needed to be.

For a moment, the reflection blurred as tears welled up in your eyes. You had been thrust back into your younger self, in a world you didn’t belong in. You took a deep breath, swallowing the fears and tears away. You could do this. You had to do this. For your friends and family.

The first day at Hogwarts felt surreal. The familiar sounds of students chatting in the Great Hall, the smell of freshly made food, and the sight of enchanted candles floating above made you feel like you had stepped back into a dream. You knew there was a big chance that Tom Riddle was here, in the same room as you.

But before you could worry about him, you had to get through your first day as just another transfer student.

You found yourself sitting at the Gryffindor table with your roommates and their friends. “So, what was Beauxbatons like? I’ve heard it’s incredibly fancy, with all those grand fountains everywhere,” Maeve spoke—a good friend from Lilith, you noted. You could see how she was the one who helped Lilith blossom open as a shy person.

You hesitated for a second, remembering Dumbledore’s warning to keep it simple. You gave her a small smile. “It’s different from Hogwarts. Especially since there are a lot more boys here than I'm used to.”

Lucas, a boy with a head full of black curls, looked up. “Hogwarts has its charm. Luckily you were sorted into Gryffindor. You seem like a cool person, and everyone knows it's the best house.”

Alicia was flipping through your timetable, trying to figure out if you had any classes with your Gryffindor friends. “We’ve got Defense Against the Dark Arts first thing! I'm hoping for some practical lessons today. Spells, maybe,” Alicia's eyes widened with excitement.

Your stomach dropped slightly after Lucas mentioned there was a big chance you’d have a class with the Slytherins and a few Ravenclaws. Given Riddle’s obsessive interest in the subject, there was no doubt he would be in this class.

You offered a casual nod. “Defense Against the Dark Arts should be interesting…”

After the five of you finished breakfast, you gathered your books and made your way to your first class of the day. The halls were busy with students, most of whom paid little attention to you, though a few curious glances lingered.

Once you reached the DADA classroom, you found yourself standing at the doorway. You hoped for a normal teacher—when you were at Hogwarts before, every year there was a teacher with the weirdest background ever. The classroom was large, with desks arranged in neat rows, and the walls were lined with various defensive artefacts.

You let your eyes wander around the room. There, near the middle, sat Tom Riddle.

He was exactly as you had imagined—tall, dark-haired, and composed. His sharp features and cold eyes stood out even among your classmates. He exuded an air of authority and confidence. The other students around him seemed to ignore him. You wondered why. Were they scared of him, or did they think he was a weirdo?

You quickly tore your gaze away from the back of his head before he sensed you staring. “Come on,” Maeve whispered. “We don't want you to be late on your first day.”

You nodded and walked toward a vacant seat next to Lucas. The professor was a stern-looking man with a neatly trimmed beard. He immediately launched into a discussion of the most advanced spells, his tone brisk and matter-of-fact.

It was pretty hard to focus with the presence of Tom Riddle in the room. Every now and then, you dared to glance at him, watching as he listened intently, his expression focused and serious. You had no idea how you were supposed to change him. He already seemed so... unreachable.

Halfway through the class, the professor called for everyone to pair up for duelling practice. Maeve grabbed your arm, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

“Partners?” she asked eagerly.

“Of course,” you replied, grateful for the distraction.

You and Maeve moved to an open space in the classroom, pulling out your wands as the professor demonstrated a series of defensive spells. You followed along, trying to keep your movements smooth and controlled. Thankfully, the practice went well, and Maeve seemed impressed.

“You're really good!” she said after successfully blocking one of your spells. “You must have had excellent teachers at Beauxbatons.”

You smiled and nodded at her praise. As you practiced with Maeve, you couldn’t help but notice Tom a few spaces away, duelling effortlessly with a Slytherin boy. His movements were precise, fluid, as if he had been born with a wand in his hand. It was clear to anyone watching that he was far more advanced than most students his age.

Finally, when the class came to an end, you packed up your things, trying to avoid looking at him as you left the room with Maeve, Lilith, Alicia, and Lucas.

“Next up is Transfiguration,” Alicia said, checking her timetable as you all walked down the corridor. “I’m actually looking forward to that one.”

The rest of the day passed in a similar blur. Transfiguration was more manageable—Professor Dumbledore, who taught the class, gave you a small, knowing smile when he saw you, though he treated you no differently than the other students. You worked on basic transformations alongside your friends, though your mind kept drifting back to Defense Against the Dark Arts and the presence of Tom Riddle.

Potions came next, with Professor Slughorn as the teacher. He welcomed you to the class with open arms, making sure you had everything you needed. It was weird since you'd already met him, just when he was a bit older. Lucas was quick to show you around the room, helping you find ingredients and sharing tips for the potion you were brewing.

“Slughorn’s a bit of a collector,” Alicia whispered as you carefully added a pinch of powdered unicorn horn to your cauldron. “He loves students with… potential. But he’s nice, at least.”

“He’s even got a club,” Lilith quipped quietly.

By the time you reached your last class of the day, Charms, the exhaustion of trying to keep up appearances had settled deep in your bones. Yet, your new friends kept the energy alive. Alicia was quick with jokes, and Lucas had a dry, witty humor that balanced Maeve's enthusiasm. And Lilith was just there, enjoying her friends’ energy.

a/n: quick chapterrrr, part three will be coming out next week (probably or sooner)

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@optimisticsandwichgladiator

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[opal-owl-flight]

can I ask about the poster "agent 3" kids story?

Yes you can and here it all is!! Presenting…

tldr: She comes from a family of big name actors in the industry, and shes been raised from hatching to continue their legacy. Its…a lot of pressure to put on a kid, especially one who just wants to make her (impossible to satisfy) family proud. Despite being surrounded by impossible standards, the fakest friends chosen for her, being given everything she can ever want (except what she really needs), and putting on a hundred masks for everyone in her life for survival’s sake in a cutthroat industry, she chooses to be kind.

more details under the cut!!

Her name is Sariwa, which means “fresh” . Named for her spring green tentacles and as a blessing from her parents that shed stay youthful, beautiful. a hope that she would be seen and be adored (as freshness implies coolness/popularity in sploonworld).

Shes hatched into the acting industry, with both parents being big in the industry. From hatching she was expected, trained to be an actor like her mother is. The media adores them, this “sweet little family”, but no one knows how nefarious everything is when the cameras are off.

The dad is neglectful, disappearing into meetings most of the time. The mom is a helicopter parent to make up for it. Pointing out every flaw that Sariwa apparently has in either performance or appearance. Never giving praise. Except when she performs “well enough” on stage. This instills in the child this need to make them proud. to…to make everyone happy. She becomes someone whose dependent on other peoples’ praise to function.

Shes given everything else, dont get me wrong. Every material thing she’ll ever need. all the big popular “friends” chosen for her. But…shes not allowed to turf. yknow. biggest event in an inkling’s life here in Inkopolis. and shes not allowed to go to school either. shes too busy memorizing lines for adverts or-

The second she turned 14, she was chosen as the lead role for Cuttlegear’s brand new show abt Agent 3. She looked exactly like the legendary hero, according to the sources. All her time went into this project. Thankfully, unlike at home…her co-actors were very kind. Her parents didnt choose for her this time. She was meeting actual people who dont put on masks beyond their job. the actor they got for Cuttlefish, in particular, is a very kind soul, defending her when the directors get too pissy with her performance. (Those are the only people she fears, tbh shes fearful of most authority figures.)

*Cuttlefish is also depicted as kind and supportive in the show. and in most games. Unlike the real Cuttlefish, which is kind of a loony old man who pushes ideas on young inklings. He still gives more support and kindness that 3s dad ever gave, but thats only RELATIVE to how little he gave in the first place. One can only imagine the longing this inspires in the real 3.

Sariwa…since shes hatched shes had to put on an act. Be the perfect little doll for her parents. For the world. But her friends here, they inspired her to…have fun with what shes doing again. To take off the mask (mostly beyond the clock). Breathe life in the character when she can. (But lets be real…shes getting 3 spot on with how many parallels they have with each others lives.)

But what is she beyond the mask, her role? She wasnt allowed to do anything beyond this. She was forced to depend on her abusive parents and their associates. She cant live alone beyond them. Not allowed to turf bc shes “a prim and proper young lady; above such violent drivel that only delinquents participate in”. They gesture to 3, whos one of the faces Squidforce uses in their promotions, and say (ironically.) that she must not become that. Face ripped to shreds and eye mangled.

No one knows they got that from the real war that Sariwa is pretending to show.

The show does its best to be an accurate telling. Child friendly, to a point. Horrifying things still get kept in somewhat. Things that will horrify a child on stage.

If Sariwa is terrified of the props, can you imagine how it was for 3?

————————

And once she realizes all of this. Once she gets out of this situation thanks to Callie, Marie, and 3 themself. Does she feel guilt? Guilt for depicting the horrors in a way that glorifies it instead? A part of a project that aims to make people complacent to the real horrors that churned below?

There is one thing Sariwa feels about 3, that I am aware of rn.

“Im glad, that out of every story I couldve told, Im glad it was yours.”

Just like 8, she sung this tale in her hearts. Just like 8, she used this to break out of this terrible situation, answering the call of the ones who promised her safety. A better life. Like the way she stage broke through that prop in the choreographed Octavio fight, she broke through the influence of those around her.

*She actually went off-script a bit in that scene. After she beat down Octavio, she held out her hand. Mostly to help the actor up. But then, without realizing, she spoke, she spoke of making things better between the nations. That maybe he doesnt have to steal the zapfish anymore.

Her time with the octoling actors, and hearing the stories from the ex-octarians, made her aware and know the fact that theyre people too. The directors kept it in. They knew that if they released this as they have planned it, there will be fuckign riots from the ex-octarians or the Inkling “sympathizers”.

She saw the value this story held, despite the subliminal messaging that she wished wasnt implemented. That she wished she wasnt a part of. She saw that its a tale of hope. A tale that inspires one to become the hero of their own life. A tale that inspires one to make the world a better place.

————————

So she was hatched and raised to make people smile, singing her songs and dancing their dances. Much like the clan singer that was 4, except the tradition is much more healthy compared to industry standard. And she didnt become as mean as the people around her, at least not internally. She put on a mean mask but she felt the void within. When she was given kindness for a long enough time, she put her walls down.

And just like the real 3, she underwent through the horrors of expectations she had to hold up, and trying to make uninterested parents proud. They dont see her as their daughter, shes just a means to an end. She had to wear a hundred masks to survive and it made her lose her sense of identity. She had to be mature, she had to take the shitty behavior of adults who expect her to be like one too. It made her lose grip of who she is beyond this role. Hell, they made her so dependent on their handouts that shes not sure she can exist beyond this hell. Much like how 3 struggles to know a life beyond their duty.

And much like 8, she used the story she was telling to break out and get herself in a better situation. She met with the real Agents 1 and 2 (without her knowledge) and asked. Begged. for help, after her show ended. (3 also kind of pointed the two in her direction. Bc cod knows how horrifying this industry is. Shes lucky she didnt get any of the grosser horrors ~~its bc I didnt feel comfortable writing such topics~~)

And then shes faced with the same problem all the real legends faced. What comes after the end? When the dust clears, what happens next? She wasnt given a damn choice, she wasnt allowed to try to learn things beyond this role. to be beyond an imagined agent 3. a soldier for the screen. who is she now, that shes out of that battlefield?

little does she realize that the real 3s asking the same question for themself.

[revelboo]

oh my GOD the way you write the scavengers has me melting, holy shit, thank you for the absolute feast

A Lifeless Ordinary Pt 3

Scavengers x Reader

• “Big TV’s talking again,” Spinister growls, lowering the organic onto the console and completely ignoring the look Krok levels at him. Reaching out a servo to nudge you away even though you shoot him your own look and make a deliberate show of walking around a button rather than over it. You don’t bother to offer him the hand gesture at least, seeming to mostly reserve that for Spinister and Crankcase. “We’ve been over this. It’s not a TV. Someone go see who’s hailing us,” Krok says as you sit precariously on the edge of the console, legs dangling. And stare him in the optics with that uncanny intelligence.

“Yeah, yeah,” Misfire mutters, rising from his seat and hesitating when you snap your little fingers, all heads turning to stare in surprise at the noise. Watching you touch your own face, then point at Crankcase. “Huh. Facial paralysis again? You should let Spinister fix you,” Misfire says, reaching to pat you on the head with a servo and smiling crookedly when you aggressively swat at him. There’s the angry hand gesture. Crankcase’s own hand lifting to offer Misfire the same gesture, because even not knowing what it means, it’s obviously not a friendly gesture.

• “We’re being hailed by someone named Swindle,” Fulcrum calls from the back and Misfire’s wings flick up aggressively. “He’s a crook,” Misfire yells back. “Don’t answer it.”

• “Answer it,” Fulcrum counters, venting tiredly as Spinister reaches across him to try and nab you and nearly knocks you off the console. “I’ve heard of him. Sold to both sides during the war and always had all kinds of contraband. See if he has food for organics.” Carefully curling his servos around you, he stands and heads toward the back where Swindle’s face is grinning widely at them all. Keeping you cradled to his chassis, Krok reaches with the other hand to push Spinister’s arm down when he starts to lift his weapon at the screen with a muttered ‘TV’s talking.’

• “Greetings,” Swindle says, leaning in closer. “Out here on the fringes, supplies can be a bit hard to find. But I’ve made it my mission to help my Decepticon brethren. For a price. Energon. Engex. Whatever you need. What about your little human? Hard to come by human stuff out here,” he adds, spreading his hands.

• “Human? This is a human?” Misfire asks before Krok can, waving a hand at the organic in his grip. “Do you have its language files?” Krok demands, taking a step toward the screen and watching Swindle’s grin become predatory.

• “For a price, friend. I have anything and everything for sale.”

• Docked with Swindle’s own vessel, Krok watches Spinister and their human picking through crates of human things. Extremely overpriced human things, he’s almost certain, but seeing how excited you are as you chatter to yourself and hold up a sparkly covering the same purple as his armor plating, it’s hard to be too annoyed. “You sure you want the language file? They’re cute until you can understand them,” Swindle says, watching them all with the air of a thief appraising his own kind. Probably not unwarranted as Krok spots Misfire and Crankcase both subspacing little things behind Swindle’s back.

• “I’m sure,” Krok says as Fulcrum picks up a stuffed toy animal as big as you are and offers it to you. Watching you smile hesitantly and reach for it, saying your nonsense. Pointing and making that weird snapping sound with your fingers to ask to see things. Being able to really communicate would help, though. “Humans are spacefaring?”

• Tucking the oversized teddy bear against your hip with the spangly dress draped over a shoulder, you lean to dig deeper in the nearest crate. Sucking in a breath and digging out a package of Oreos and hugging them to your chest. Because food? You’re starving and while your scary aliens have tried to find you food, it’s been hit and miss. Mostly miss and ending with you curled into a sick ball of misery. You have no idea who the smiley one is or why he has all this stuff, but that greasy smile makes you think of a used car salesman. Practically screaming untrustworthy.

• “They can barely make it to their own moon,” Swindle mutters as Misfire starts digging through a crate of foodstuffs. “Yours is far from home. A pet abandoned after the war I’d guess. Probably got tired of listening to it whining.”

• “I’ll risk it,” Krok insists, watching your excited little dance as you clutch a tiny blue package to yourself and then turn big pleading eyes his way. Language barrier or not, your message coming through loud and clear. They end up pooling their remaining Shanix and having to cull the pile you and Spinister have made into necessities. Feeling bad as you relinquish the slinky, purple covering, but having to let you keep the toy because Spinister gets agitated when Crankcase tries to take it from you and it’s not worth someone getting shot over. The language file is handed over last as Misfire corrals you into his hands, that blue package still clutched in your hands like you’re afraid it’ll be taken away from you.

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On the hunt for pins and buttons

[jamdoughnutmagician]

Tiny Match-maker

Bucky Barnes x Single mom!Reader Fluff

Adjusting to his new life outside of the superhero business, Bucky makes the acquaintance of a very young, inquisitive girl.

Just a meet-cute scenario with Bucky, that I might just write a part 2 for if people are interested in it.

Word count:1,853.

Masterlist // Bucky Barnes Masterlist

It wasn’t often that Bucky found time for himself. Between the busy and at times chaotic line of work he found himself in, it didn’t leave a lot of time to do the things that the average person could do.

Doctor Raynor suggested that taking a step back from the heroic, android, alien, wizard-crime-fighting lifestyle might be just the thing that he needed. To take some time to do the things that the everyday person took for granted.

So that’s why Bucky found himself for the first time in a long while browsing the aisles of his local grocery store, standing in the middle of the dairy aisle, pondering if there’s any real difference between getting oat milk or almond milk. 

He’s brought out of his thinking when he feels something collide with his shins. Something, or rather someone. A young girl, she couldn’t have been more than three, maybe four years old. Her hair that is tied up into two bunches on either side of her head bounce slightly as she crashes into him.

He looks around himself, apart from him and this little girl, the aisle was otherwise empty. 

What was he supposed to do? He’d rescued thousands of civilians time and time again, but this little girl was just standing there, wide-eyed and innocently looking up at him.

“Hi! My name’s Lottie!” the little girl introduces herself with a big gap-toothed smile.

Bucky crouches down ever so slightly to meet her smaller stature. 

“Hi there, Where are your parents, huh? Are you lost?” he asks, keeping his voice soft when talking to her.

 Just as the little girl opened her mouth to answer, a woman came running down the aisle, slightly out of breath and with a look of panic on her face.

As she gets closer, Bucky takes in her appearance, she's pretty. Really pretty. The kind of effortless beauty that has a faint blush rising to his cheeks. 

“Charlotte!” the woman calls out as she comes closer to the little girl before scooping her up in her arms and hoisting her on her hip. “What have I told you about running off like that?” you gently scold her, although the scolding is more out of your own worries about your little girl.

“Sorry mommy.” she murmurs quietly as she tucks her head into your shirt.

“I’m so sorry, sir, I hope she didn’t bother you too much.” you smile apologetically at the man in front of you. He was tall, broad and far too handsome for his own good. With soft dark brown hair that fell along his jaw, pretty pink lips, the most beautiful stormy grey-blue eyes, and just the right amount of stubble grazing across his angled jaw to have you blushing as he looked your way. 

“Oh, hey, no harm done, she seems like a sweet kid.” he smiles, his voice is deep and rich, with a slight raspy gravel.

“Yeah, she is, although it would help if she wasn’t so much of an explorer, it’d be a lot easier to keep my eye on her otherwise.” you laugh.

“No, the world needs more explorers I say!” the handsome stranger joins in with a friendly chuckle of his own. 

“Well, I can see you’re busy, so we won’t keep you any longer..” you string out the end of your sentence, when you realise that you don’t actually know your new friend’s name.

“James. My name’s James.” he says, gesturing to himself. You tell him your name in return with a friendly smile.

“Well, it was nice talking to you, James.” You smile before turning back down the aisle. 

Bucky watched as you walked away from him, and he couldn't  help but hope that he might run into you again.

“Look, all you gotta do is go down there, tell a few old man war stories, answer some questions, maybe have your picture taken a few times and that’s it” Sam explained.

Sam had signed Bucky up to tell a few stories to the kids at the school downtown. A few about his life back in the day, and his life now. Sam thought it might be good for his public image.

“Just because you’re Captain America now, doesn’t mean you get to tell me what to do, Sam.” Bucky grumbled.

“When Steve gave me the shield, he did warn me it came with the custody of one grumpy super-soldier.” Sam laughed a wide, gap-toothed smile at his friend.

“..And that’s why you don’t let your best friend sign-up to be a government ordered science experiment.” Bucky smiled, as he finished his talk with the assembled group of young students in the small, but colourful classroom.

“Wonderful, and does anybody have any questions for Sergeant Barnes?” The teacher asked, as she stepped out beside Bucky.

“How did you lose your arm?” a young boy blurts out, quickly raising his hand.

“Timothy!” The teacher is quick to gently scold the young boy, but Bucky quickly steps in before she can make her point.

“It’s quite alright, I don’t mind answering this question.” He assures the teacher, before turning to the young boy. “I-uh-I kind of lost it when I came up against a bunch of bad-guys, who weren’t very nice at all.” Bucky thinks carefully about how he was going to word his answer, especially for this 5-year old kid. “..But it’s all good now, because I’ve got the super-strong metal one.” he shows off by rolling up the sleeve of his deep-red henley shirt.

“Are you and The Falcon really friends?” another young boy asks from where he’s sat cross-legged on the carpet in front of Bucky.

“Well, we’re team-mates, so I guess I’d call him a friend, but really he only hangs out with me because I make him look cool.” Bucky jokes with ease.

“Mr. Sergeant Barnes.” A tiny hand shoots up amongst the group. 

Bucky looks out and there sat at the back of the class is the little girl who ran into him at the grocery store at the weekend. Her bouncy curls tied up in two bunches on either side of her head.

“Yes, Lottie, you have a question for Sergeant Barnes?” The teacher prompts. 

“Are you single? I think my mommy would really like you.” She smiles in that innocent way that children do, unaware of the slightly impertinent question she was asking.

Bucky flushes scarlet all over, a blooming heat settling over his features. 

With a laugh and a nervous scratch to the back of his neck, he gathered himself together enough to answer the young girl.

“I am, and I’m sure your mommy is a wonderful lady, but I think it's best that we don't talk about her private life when she's not here.” Bucky stutters out, chosing his words very carefully. 

The school bell suddenly rings into life, signifying the end of the day, and the children are all quick to get up from the carpet and make their way towards their coats and bags that are stowed away in their cubby holes.

“Ah ah, kids! What do we say to Sergeant Barnes?” The teacher prompts

“Thank you Sergeant Barnes.” The children say harmoniously. 

Bucky shrugs on his dark leather jacket as he makes his way out of the school, watching as all of the kids rush off to find their parents.

He was just about to head off to the school’s parking lot, where he’d parked his motorbike, when he sees the same girl from the classroom, the very same one who had bumped into him at the grocery store, this time her tiny hand tugging her mother across the playground and straight towards him.

“Mommy! This is the man who came into class today to tell us stories!” Lottie bubbled excitedly. 

You stepped closer to Bucky and he swears that you got even more beautiful than when he last saw you for that fleeting moment. 

As you get close enough to him to fully see his face you are met with the piercing blue eyes of the familiar stranger who you hadn’t been able to stop thinking about since you’d bumped into him at the supermarket.

“Mommy! This is Mr. Sergeant Barnes! He told us all about working with his friend Captain America!” Lottie blurts out.

You had recognised him from the moment you saw him in the store, but out of courtesy to not embarrass him, you pretended that you didn't know about his life as an avenging super-soldier. 

“Mr. Sergeant Barnes?” Your voice raises in a teased question.

“Just James is fine, Ma’am.” Bucky clarifies, extending a warm hand out in a friendly greeting.

In return you shake his hand and tell him your name.

“So, it seems that we’re meeting again, James” You smile

“Hah, yeah.” He smiles back fondly with a warm chuckle.

“So you’re the one who’s been telling my daughter all these fantastical stories?” you pose, eyebrow arched.

“Just something I do as a way of working with the local community. Helping young kids to learn about their history from first-hand accounts.” he explains.

“Well, that's a very sweet thing to do.” you smile. 

“Mommy.” Lottie whispers as she tugs at the sleeve of your jacket. “He said he was single too!” 

“Sorry about her, she likes to play match-maker.” you apologise, hoping that things hadn’t taken a turn for the awkward. 

“It’s okay.” he laughs it off. “She’s a cute kid.”

“Yeah it’s just been me and her from the start, it’s been tough at times, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Oh? Well she seems like a wonderful young girl, and that’s only testament to having you as her mother.” he says with an earnest smile tugging at his pink lips.

“Come on now, Lottie, let’s head home, and let Mr. Sergeant Barnes get back to his life.” you say to your daughter as you begin to make your way out of the school’s playground.

“Wait!” He jogs across the school years to catch up with you before you can leave. “and you can absolutely tell me if I'm just reading this whole situation all wrong, but I'd be a fool if I didn't at least ask you if you perhaps fancied meeting up and getting coffee..at least meeting on purpose this time.” he blushes adorably.

“You know what, I'd like that actually.” You nod. “Let me give you my number and you can text me whenever you're free and we can set something up.”

He hands you over his phone and you enter your number in and text yourself so you have his number on your phone too.

“Here you go,” you say as you hand him over his phone. “It was nice seeing you again, James.”

“Bucky.”

“Hm?” 

“My friends call me Bucky.” 

“Well, Bucky, I hope to see you again, sooner rather than later.”

“You can count on it.” He grins back with a cheeky wink.

Bucky walks back to his apartment with a confident stride, he'd have to thank Sam for signing him up for this gig, that's for sure. 

@penguinsandpotterheads @paybacksawitch @impmunson

[peakbys]

TAILORED

Pairing(s): Tommy Shelby x Fem!Reader, Luca Changretta x Wife!Reader Summary: Your little double life starts to unravel when your husband shows up to avenge his father. Request: Yes. Sorta.             → @alana000 requested the reader in a love triangle between Tommy and Luca, I ended up combining that with my idea for Tommy's poll result and my brain kind of just ran away with it. So, it may not be exactly what was requested but I hope it's enjoyable regardless. 😅 Warnings: Long post, cheating, tension, mentions of arranged marriages, poor Italian, friends to lovers to enemies (if you want to interpret it that way, ending is left as it is.) Eye contact (for the gif?) Note: This is hard to wrap up in a one-shot, so I'm sorry if the ending is less than ideal. Still, I've been working on this thing for weeks so I hope you all enjoy.

You had just wanted to ride horses. 

Of course, life was never so simple, yet it really didn’t need to be as complicated as it was currently. You had left America feeling uncertain, but excited. You wrote back home whenever you could, especially once you managed to make a bit of a name for yourself in horse racing. Really, you wanted to move onto training, yet you knew you could race those horses too. It was extra money, of course, but something you earned on your own. It wasn’t passed down from your family, your husband’s family. Though, in hindsight, you had to wonder if this really was the place you were going to end up all along. 

When you had made a bit of a reputation, it brought the attention of some people that operated in a way you were all too familiar with. Crime was in your family, and it was certainly in the one you married into. It didn’t take long to figure out what was being asked of you when you were asked to take the fall sometimes. Horses lost races, yet that didn’t mean that you couldn’t benefit. At least, that was how it had been explained to you back when your pride was too stubborn to accept that you’d participate in fixed races.

Yet, the opportunities got harder to turn down after a while. 

Your involvement with the Peaky Blinders was something you left out of your letters outside of vague gesturing toward ‘buyers’ and ‘bosses.’ 

Tommy Shelby was definitely a person you didn’t write back home about, as much as he was a very common face in your life over the last couple of years. In a strange way, Tommy had a demeanor that was overly familiar too. You had associated it with controlled movements, sharp grins and the chewing of a toothpick. With him, it was a neutral expression and a stare that felt like he was looking through you at points. Yet, both your husband and Tommy had the same commanding air that pulled your attention to them as soon as they stepped into a room. 

Outside of the wounded pride that came from losing a race you were certain you could win, that alone had almost been enough to call off working with him. You had more than enough of that back in America, and you didn’t want it here for however long you were planning on staying. 

Though, Tommy proved up to your expectations in that he was very hard to ignore. 

It had started off friendly enough–professional, despite the nature of what you were doing. More races won, a few lost with a wad of cash tossed into your lap with a vaguely smug look also tossed your way. It was profitable, so it was easy to stick with. Tommy brought horses to you, sometimes, too. Beautiful creatures. If there was something that easily bonded you to Tommy, it was the horses. The conversations got easier and more frequent. Longer, too. You could remember the mild surprise that crossed your expression when he asked about something more personal than the horses and the races. 

That was what had you both sitting outside your little ranch home that you were living out of currently, talking about your family, America. Your late brother, especially, given that he had passed in the war and Tommy revealed that he had fought as well. Your brother had joined in hopes that maybe it would be something noble–something that wasn’t crime and making his living from getting involved with the families in New York. Dying in a trench so far from the people who loved and knew him didn’t seem very noble in your mind, especially with the memory of how your mother wailed when she got the news. 

Yet, you got a sense of understanding from Tommy that you hadn’t expected to find. It opened the door to some…very troubling feelings. 

You had initially tried to dismiss them as the similarities with your husband causing you to feel homesick, but that really wasn’t the case and you knew early on that you were lying to yourself about that. Given that the majority of letters that you wrote back home were to your mother-in-law, outside of the odd one you got directly from your husband when it seemed like he had the time, it was hard to ignore the growing distance that had festered. It had lingered in the background before you left America, and it only grew once the physical distance was there. 

Still, you had been quick to state that you were a married woman when it felt like Tommy was catching on to your conflict. Didn’t change much, however–it was a weakening defense and you both knew that. 

It resulted in a moment of weakness that haunted you, one that had your loneliness and conflicting emotions taking control. When it came to money, you knew things could get rough. In the back of your mind, you knew there could be some volatile tempers. Yet, you figured some people might not take that out on the riders. 

A man cornering you in the stable one night proved you wrong about that, however. Your feet barely scraping against the stable floor, his hands wrapped around your throat while you tried to talk him down through what little space he gave your windpipe. Between the pressure on your neck and the tightness in your chest from your lungs begging for more air, Tommy’s arrival was lost on you until the man released his hands from around your neck. 

You could remember the way you crumpled onto the ground, coughing harshly and gasping in air. You had registered the threats uttered and the shine of Tommy’s pistol, yet it wasn’t until he helped pull you to your feet that reality had come back around to you. 

–

“Come on. Sit over here.” 

You were used to his usual calm, straightforward approach to most things, yet at the moment it seemed at least vaguely caring. It was hard to tell with Tommy, yet you didn’t have the energy to really dig too deeply into that. As much as your pride wanted you to hold your head up and shake off the guiding hand on your arm, you were focused on trying to still the racing of your heart and ease the tightness in your chest. 

“He really wasn’t here to talk,” you commented once you were sitting down in a chair, holding a hand to your neck still. “I should’ve known better.” 

“Don’t think it would’ve stopped him any,” Tommy replied, “Least I’m not down a good rider.” 

“I appreciate the concern,” you commented around a bitter huff, though the touch of amusement in his gaze settled that feeling easily enough. 

“I was comin’ by to give you this, anyway,” Tommy continued after pulling up a chair and passing over your cut of the winnings from the race. “Just in time, too.” 

You nodded lightly, carding lightly through the cash as you counted quickly in your head. Something you had always done since you started working for him–suspicious at first, more like a force of habit now. In the current moment, however, it was more like an excuse to not have to look at him while every swallow and movement of your head reminded you of the forming bruises that you’d have to cover for the next while. 

It had never been in you to enjoy being rescued, yet you certainly knew that could have been worse if he didn’t show up when he did. You could feel a ‘thank you’ forming on the tip of your tongue the more you thought on it, though the feeling of his fingers under your jaw had you stilling. He tilted your head up somewhat, the action pulling a small wince from you as he examined the marks on your neck. 

Your gaze remained locked on his face as he did so and even after he shifted his hand to let you lower your head again. The tight feeling in your gut cropped up again, a familiar sensation when you looked at Tommy these days. A fluttering feeling that was both familiar and unfamiliar in a sense. Something that you had talked yourself into feeling over time with your husband, yet with Tommy it had formed on its own. 

It scared a part of you, yet you found yourself unable to pull away. Especially when you felt his hand shift along the back of your neck, a few seconds of hesitation and a sinking feeling until his mouth pressed against your own. 

If it had been you who leaned in to kiss him or if he crossed that line himself, you didn’t know. Yet, you found yourself returning it all the same, a hand coming up to cup the side of his face. You lost track of reality for a few moments–it was just you and Tommy, his lips, his tongue. His hands on your shoulders, waist, lower back. The excitement about the kiss made your gut twist, heat in your face. There was relief in there, too. 

Finally, you felt like someone wanted you. You weren’t an obligation, or worse a charity case. Your first kiss hadn’t been forced, yet it felt more like it was something you should do. To prove a point, an intention. It wasn’t like this with your husband. 

That thought hit hard, sinking into you like a heavy stone just as you could feel both your own and Tommy’s hands venturing further. You were married–and kissing your boss in the stable of a racetrack while your husband was an ocean away. 

Shame burned hot in your gut as you pushed Tommy back, standing quickly to put some distance between the two of you. The look he shot you was calm, as if he expected this. Your marriage wasn’t a secret, he knew what he was doing too. 

“I…shouldn’t have done that,” you said after a few moments, tucking your earnings into a pocket. “Thank you for the help, Mr. Shelby. Goodnight.” 

–

Naturally, you didn’t talk to him much after. You wanted to, the thoughts tumbling around in your head, yet you couldn’t bring yourself to. The situation didn’t stop you from feeling relieved about his attention shifting away from the races after a while, however. You still raced, listened to the directions that would come in about certain horses and races. Things were normal, stable, and it was like you could just forget what happened. Things were calm. That was, until word got back to America that Sabini was having issues in London. It was a bit of a surprise to you that you weren’t asked to get involved. At the time, that is. 

It was something that was brought up in some of the letters–more of a warning at first, just keeping you informed in case you did need to make a move in the name of your husband’s family. You usually weren’t set to do those things, however, so you didn’t expect much outside of a possible trip to London to see what information you could get from the Italians there. 

That was, until your brother-in-law was killed. Things were a bit of a blur after that. 

Everything had escalated well beyond anything you had imagined and it seemed unavoidable how the two sides of your life were now overlapping. 

It was what had you pacing around the lavish room that you had been told to move to. It was very similar to the one that you had stayed in when you had joined your husband for a family wedding. The very event that put the idea of moving away from America for a couple years to begin with. 

A maid had been in and out over the last couple of hours, leaving you food and drink when you asked but otherwise gave you a polite distance. You appreciated that, despite the fact that no amount of food or tea could settle your nerves. 

You hadn’t unpacked, your little suitcase sitting by the door. It would look a little odd, you knew that, but you couldn’t bring yourself to. 

All you could do was wait, wondering how all of this would play out. The letter had been vague, just the address that he said he’d be staying at and that you should be moved there by the current date. It didn’t do anything to reassure you, obviously. A part of you just wanted to know. Another part of you just wanted to see him–as if seeing your husband would clear all the muck from your head and it would be easier to think. 

So, naturally, you were jumpy by the time you heard the door open. The maid always knocked, so it was clear who it was. 

Luca hadn’t changed much in the three years you had been away, dressed in his typical dark attire. Expensive, tailor-made and you knew how much he seemed to care about his appearance. That had initially struck you as pompous when you had first met him, yet you had quickly grown used to how connected his family was and it seemed to be more so about bragging about his family’s reputation. You knew it pleased him when you humored the expensive clothing and gifts–a little less common as the years passed, you had noted. 

At the moment, you couldn’t help but feel almost…underdressed. A number of things had changed, in more ways than one. You still didn’t know how you felt about the situation or what you even felt in the moment you saw him again. 

Regardless, you worked up a somewhat tight grin and approached him, Luca removing his hat to place on the desk nearby. 

The rings on his fingers were cold as he cupped your face, pulling you in to press a lingering kiss to your mouth. Your hands came up to rest on his wrists, finding an odd sense of comfort in the familiarity of it. Yet, it was lacking now. You knew that. The memories of Tommy that cropped up made that sharp edge of shame known in your gut, yet you still managed to keep the small grin on your face as Luca pulled back. 

“Carissima,” he said, hands still cradling your face as he ran his thumbs along your cheeks, “Non sei invecchiato di un giorno.” 

“Nemmeno tu,” you replied, the words heavy and cumbersome on your tongue. Luckily, Luca just grinned, dropping his hands to wag a light-hearted finger at you. 

“You promised me you’d still practice your Italian.” 

“I don’t get to use it often,” you replied, “Not a lot of Italian speakers around.” 

“Should’a listened to me about movin’ to London,” Luca commented, “Be with the family. Though…well, maybe it was good you didn’t.” 

“Right…” 

You let out a soft exhale through your nose, watching as he circled around the desk slowly as if he was looking for something. The atmosphere shifted as soon as the topic was brought up, your gaze following his movements as you tried to gather together something to say about it all. Killed his brother, his father, and you weren’t naive enough to believe that he was there to drag you back to America. Luca glanced back up at you, almost studying you for a moment. 

“Ma’s told me a few things she’s learned about you, too,” Luca stated, a cold sweat breaking out across the back of your neck as your heart jumped. 

Still, you held his gaze, expression impassive. It didn’t seem likely that she would know about what happened while you were staying overseas, yet it didn’t ease the feeling like you were looking down the barrel of a gun. 

“I told her quite a bit in my letters–you, too. In the ones you read, at least,” you replied, crossing your arms as he moved to lean against the front of the desk. 

“Left out some details,” Luca said, “How you’re racin’ horses in the tracks managed by the Peaky Blinders.” 

“It’s hard not to if you’re looking to fix races,” you said with a nod, feeling that tight not in your stomach loosen somewhat. “I didn’t make it a habit to dip my hand in that. When your horses get a reputation, there’s some interest. I might have been approached, but I can’t say I’ve had any personal interactions with them.” 

“No Tommy Shelby?”

“Not personally,” you lied, “I know of him.” 

He met your gaze without a reply for a few moments, arms crossed in a way that almost mirrored your own. A part of you wondered why you were protecting Tommy–of course, you didn’t want Luca to know of certain details, but clearly you didn’t swear any loyalty to him or his gang. Yet, you did so anyway. Luca eventually nodded lightly, pressing his lips together in thought for a moment before he stood up to approach you once again. 

“I was hopin’ you might have some information that might make this easier, but you’re just racin’ horses.” 

You could almost hear a touch of something to his tone, yet it didn’t seem he was willing to make that clear or say what he was thinking. It didn’t sit all that nice, but you figured if he was suspicious of you, you would’ve known. (You hoped.) Still, you gave him what you hoped was a convincing enough apologetic smile as you reached out to rest your hand on his cheek. 

“I know what you’re here to do. I wish I could give you more information than that,” you said, “As I said when I left, I didn’t want any involvement in that business and it’s been kept that way. If I had known…” 

“I wouldn’t want you catchin’ a bullet anyway,” Luca replied, “Though, you remember anythin’ or might be leavin’ anythin’ out…” 

“I’ll tell you,” you said with a small grin, “I wouldn’t want you catching a bullet.” 

“They can try,” he stated before pressing a kiss to the side of your head, “Quicker this is done, quicker we can get back home.” 

You hummed in response, not quite agreement. As much as you were uncertain about the outcome of all of this, you had a sinking feeling that it wouldn’t be dealt with so quickly. 

*****

As much as you knew you shouldn’t be out by yourself, especially with the fact that this vendetta business could escalate at any moment, you didn’t think too much of it. 

There was an issue with one of your horses back where you were staying, and you knew suddenly disappearing would look odd to anybody who was paying attention. You were on edge and alert, yet you figured it would be best to look as if things were business as usual. Family was visiting, you were staying in a hotel. 

Yet, you couldn’t help but notice the quietness of the home. If there was an issue, you figured there would be a few different people running around. You frowned as you pulled up to the property, noticing that the stable was empty. You clenched your hands around the steering wheel of the car, ready to pull out at a moments notice. Though, the familiar figure standing outside the home, near the very chairs you had sat in when you chatted over the years. 

You debated leaving, but thought better of it. While it seemed unlikely that he didn’t know the people he was up against, you didn’t want to appear too suspicious if he hadn’t pieced together your involvement. 

Regardless, your approach was guarded, eyeing Tommy with a questioning gaze as he moved to step down from the porch. 

“Long time since I’ve seen you last,” you greeted, “...It’s very quiet out here for the emergency I was told to come see.” 

“Right…” Tommy replied, his expression unreadable as he approached you. “I had to get your attention somehow. Someone here said you are staying elsewhere for a few days.” 

“Family’s in the country for a while,” you replied casually enough, “I didn’t want to drive back and forth.” 

“Family. Well, I guess you really should see this, then,” Tommy stated, finally pulling a hand out of one of his coat pockets. 

He extended what looked like a photo, folded at a particular edge. You paused for a moment, looking into his impassive stare before you reached out to take it. 

Unfolding it completely, you were greeted with a wedding photo filled with familiar faces. The family wedding from a couple years ago, a seemingly routine celebration for the most part at the time. For the Changrettas, at least. Of course, standing just along the folded crease was you standing next to Luca, a faint smile on your face with your arm interlocked with his own. You had only seen the photo once when you had returned to New York after the wedding, yet it really turned out to be a terrible reminder that you weren’t as well hidden as you thought sometimes. 

“I did tell you I was married,” you stated, finally glancing up to meet Tommy’s gaze, “Though, with what your family’s done, I guess this really changes quite a few contexts.” 

“My family…” he repeated, you catching a glimpse in his expression that you never really saw. It was sharp, angry. It had you propping a foot back in case you needed to step away from him as he stepped a little closer to you. “Your family…killed me wife and my brother.” 

“Yes. You killed my husband’s father and brother. Spared his mother, which was a mistake. If you’re here to kill me to think you’ll get a leg up in this, I wouldn’t. Luca’s old fashioned–wants this done by tradition. As I’m sure you know. Yet, you kill me, I can’t say he’ll not just put a bullet in your head on principle. Considering you had to lure me out here, you have no idea where he is, right?” 

He didn’t say anything, lingering close as you looked up at him. As much as you knew he could kill you where you stood–there was enough spilled blood on his side to warrant it. Yet, there was that part of you that was fond of him. Felt something–might not have been deep or fully developed. It might never be. Yet, you knew you had a bit of a leverage here. You knew how to survive–keep your head down, do things for the sake of connecting your family, and taking advantage of opportunities when they presented themselves. 

“I like you, and I didn’t come to this country with the intention of getting wrapped up in a vendetta between you and my husband’s family,” you continued, “So, I’ll say this. I’m not here to be your enemy, yet I will do whatever I need to in order to get out of this alive. Luca, on the other hand, knows how to hate and will not stop until one of you is dead.” 

“I don’t need a lecture on the vendetta,” Tommy stated, “If you have no involvement, you’re a citizen in my eyes. I would be very careful about crossing that line.” 

“I’d be careful about crossing Luca Changretta,” you replied, “As it stands, I don’t know enough about you to give him anything of value and I have no obligation to tell you anything more about him. Give me a chance to get out of this alive, and I may change my stance on the latter.” 

“You’d sell out your own husband, eh?” Tommy asked, tilting his head somewhat as you continued to meet his gaze. 

“Arranged marriages can be tricky.” 

“I can’t make any promises, Mrs. Changretta.” 

“Then I guess we’ll see how this all plays out, Mr. Shelby.” 

[momojedi]

— as beautiful as the day i lost you pairing. echo x gn! jedi reader

**

type. oneshot, fluff note. watched the bad batch arc with my dad and he came to appreciate echo as much as I do so I wanted to write a lil about him &lt;3 warnings. really fluffy, mentions of order 66 taglist. @patapouille (open for more)

star wars masterlist

“Don’t shoot!” The clone stands still and carefully holds up his hands, dropping the blaster gun as a peace offering. “We’re not going to hurt you, I promise.” He motions his two companions to follow his lead and lower their weapons.

I hesitate. After the past couple weeks of running from the Empire and having friends turn to foes amidst battle when Order 66 was declared, I’ve lost all ability to trust anyone, especially clone troopers. The warm and friendly gaze replaced by that sudden hatred in their eyes is still a vivid memory on my mind, ever since that fateful day.

But if this really isn’t some evil scheme led by an imperial commander and if that trooper really is telling the truth then perhaps finally letting my guard down might not be as bad of an idea as it seems. After all, I feel no evil sensation, no malice in the force but rather … a familiar one.

I frown. Despite being like no troopers I have ever met before with their dark armour and their unique looks, something about them felt warm and inviting, like coming home from a hard mission back into the arms of a loved one.

I shake my head and lower the lightsaber I’ve been gripping so tightly, my knuckles now slowly turning white. “Who are you?”

The trooper - their leader I suspect - takes a hold of his helmet and pulls it off in a swift motion, dark hair falling over his shoulders. His face is halfway covered in a tattoo and he looks at me in a calm yet strict demeanour. “The name’s Hunter. We,” he gestures towards the two other men, one impossibly huge towering over the other two with a skull on his helmet and the other slender with grey armour, a pair of piercing eyes glaring at me through the goggles of his helmet, “are the Bad Batch.”

The Bad Batch, eh? I narrow my eyes thoughtfully as I dimly remember Captain Rex mentioning them before when Master Skywalker stopped at the Jedi Temple for a debriefing and updates on the current war situation. My face darkens as the clone captain of the 501st crosses my mind. Had he executed Order 66 as well? Was Master Skywalker even … still alive?

The ghost of a smile lingers on my lips as the chaotic battalion comes to my mind. I had worked with them more than once in the past, mostly involving their ARC trooper duo Fives and Echo, the latter of whom I’d developed very close relationship with, dare I say romantic even. Despite being forbidden and likely resulting in my banishment and his execution if it would’ve ever come to light, we grew incredibly fond of each other, stealing kisses and loving glances whenever we had the chance to. However, after Echo’s death in the Citadel, I refused to work with the 501st any longer when the mere memories of him proved to be too painful for me to handle properly.

I shake my head, no, this isn’t the time to mourn. “Tech, tell them it’s safe too come out.” Hunter’s voice catches my attention as the grey clone nods and walks to the back of the cantina, presumably to comm whoever else they are hiding. Then, Hunter turns back to me, crossing his arms over his chest. “What’s your name, anyway?” I eye him for a second before introducing myself. “How come you’re not killing me? Isn’t that kind of what all clones do now?” Hunter winces at that. “We got our chips removed recently so… don’t worry, we shouldn’t be a threat to you.”

“Hunter! Is everything okay?” A small voice squeals, catching me off guard as I turn to its source. Through the back doors of the cantina, a small girl runs towards him, barely noticing me. I raise a brow at that before glancing at the other person trailing behind her. Like the other three men in the room, the person - who I assume to be another clone - is covered in dark armour, a white ‘99’ imprinted on the plate of his helmet. One of his arms is replaced by a scomp, likely proving useful to slice into things.

When the clone takes notice of me, he freezes. I hum quietly, remembering one of my Jedi contacts’ words shortly after the Purge was declared; maybe he’s scared the Jedi might take revenge on him?

Unsure on how I should put him at ease, I smile slightly and clip the hilt of my saber to my belt before raising my hands. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to hurt you.” I hold back a slight scoff at those words. ‘After all it should be us who should be scared of you,’ I think.

The clone still doesn’t budge, seemingly staring at me from under his helmet before finally raising his arms to push it off his head and revealing —

I’d recognise that familiar tingle in the force among millions. For a second, the world seems to stop as Echo’s warm eyes meet mine. It’s only the noisy clattering of his helmet meeting the ground that rips me out of my trance and I immediately feel my eyes well up with tears.

“Echo?” I croak, almost in a whisper. Despite my internal struggle, my body refuses to move. But I don’t have to because before I know it, Echo has already rushed over to me and scooped me into a tight hug. Suddenly, I feel the tears spilling as I bury my face in his chest plate, gripping him desperately as if he’d disappear any second if I were to let him go. “I - I thought you were — ” My words are interrupted by a broken sob.

Gently shushing me, Echo pulls away before cradling my face in both his hand and the tip of his scomp. “It’s okay, everything’s okay, mesh’la.” His voice is steady but I can’t help but notice the light tremble in his words as he pulls my forehead against his. Unable to properly use my words right now, I just nod quickly.

“Look at you,” he mumbles breathlessly, a small chuckle laced with disbelief escaping him, “you’re as beautiful as the day I lost you.”

Without a second thought I pull him into a deep kiss which he happily indulges in, knowing fully well that I won’t ever let him go again.

[thegreymarveljedi]

Friendly Flying Fun!

(Tech x Reader)

Here it is! The full fic of Friendly Flying Fun! I am so sorry that it took me so long to write this story. It’s been a busy few months and a lot has happened but here we are! (And I’m sorry for the added week after I promised to have it up almost a week and a half ago!!)

This was a request made by @ewokmurderbear

hello hello! i saw your request are open so uh here goes. techxf!jedi reader who is an exceptional pilot. they start having friendly flying competitions with lots of banter. eventally the banter turns into outright flirting bc they both love eachother sm but don't feel comfortable admitting it (yet). but like its obvious to tech's brothers that they like each other but not so much for him. then one time after flying around an alpine area tech takes a risk and does something like tuck a strand of hair behind her ear or fix her clothes or a sweet gesture like that. she returns the favor and then they are both like hey i kinda like you and the rest is history. i really like the idea of a first kiss being outside in a mountainy area where it's kinda cold. just fluff and banter, pre-o66 plz. sorry if its too long or confusing. have a great day/night!

I’m not usually one to write for Tech but I tried my absolute best with this one and I made it very VERY fluffy. Like, go see the doctor, your teeth are ROTTING type fluffy. This is also set closer to the beginning/ middle of the war so pre-order 66 and pre-season 7 (Sorry Echo fans) and I decided to make the reader Anakin’s twin sister. I hope you enjoy.

Warning: almost getting shot, tooth rotting fluff, Tech actually flirts like a pro, teasing, brotherly love, first kiss, head scratching is so relaxing, tech needs love and he gets it, FLUFFFFFYYY (Already said but it needs a second one)

Words: 5.2k

—————

It was a fierce battle on the surface and in the air, both sides fighting for control of the planet and the information that the locals held. The Bad Batch had been tasked with extracting as much information as they could, doing it quickly and quietly as not to alert the separatists that the local population was siding with the Republic.

The team had successfully acquired the information and were now fighting their way out of the facility. Crosshair had found a perch not to far away where he could clearly watch his squad, making sure to take down any stragglers who may have gotten close. Wrecker, Hunter and Tech were in the mix, fighting off the droids that came their way.

“Woah! Who’s that pilot?” Wrecker asked in awe as a Jedi star fighter flew through the atmosphere, taking out vulture droid after vulture droid and clearing a path for the evac ships.

“I don’t know but I like their style,” Hunter replied as he and Tech continued to take out the droids on the ground. When Wrecker had first spoke, Tech was uninterested, more concerned about getting out of there alive but the second Hunter agreed with Wrecker and Tech looked up, he couldn’t look away from the starfighter. He was captivated by the way it moved through the sky above them, the tricks the Jedi was doing making him feel a little warm inside.

This kind of distraction wasn’t something normal for the genius clone and it took him by surprise when a stray blaster bolt went past his left ear and straight into a stray droid that had snuck infront of him. He quickly shook his head, internally scolding himself for being so easily distracted.

“Watch it Vod. Don’t need you loosing your head,” Crosshairs drawled over the comms making Tech scoff.

“I was not distracted Crosshair, I was merely observing the Jedi’s manoeuvres,” Tech said, adjusting his goggles and taking another few shot at the remaining droids.

“Mmhmm. Sure you were,” Crosshair teased and Tech could practically hear the smirk in his voice. Tech just rolled his eyes as the droid army was finally defeated, the remaining clones of the 212th battalion gathering their things and preparing to load the evacuation ships.

Hunter, Tech and Wrecker finished up, joining Crosshair in speaking with Commander Cody and General Kenobi. Cody and Hunter linked arms in Greeting, with a smile as Obi-wan greeted them with a smile.

“Excellent work sergeant. You and your team have done very well. You have the intel?” He asked and Hunter handed him the drive with the intel they were sent to collect.

“Right here for you general,” Hunter replied and watched as Obi-wan smiled, pocketing the drive.

“You gentlemen have just retrieve data that should help turn the tide in our favour.”

“Just doing our job sir.”

“Speaking of job, I have someone I would like you to meet,” Obi-wan said and all four batchers looked a little confused before the jedi star fighter from earlier flew overhead, an excited ‘Woohoo!’ Coming over the comms.

“(Y/N), would you like to join us on the ground please?” Obi-wan spoke into his wrist comm with a smile and shake of his head.

“Be right there master!” The female voice said back, the starfighter making another loop around before the Jedi inside jumped out mid air, landing perfectly on the ground next to Obi-wan and Cody. The fighter flew off back towards the Negotiator, (Y/N) now facing the bad batch with a giant grin.

“Clone force 99, I would like you to meet my second padawan, (Y/N) Skywalker,” Obi-wan introduced and watched as the Bad Batch’s eyes widened.

They had heard stories of the infamous Skywalker twins but had never met (Y/N) in person. They had met Anakin over a holo but that was briefly during the mission briefing.

“Former padawan master, I just like hanging around you and the boys,” you said while maintaining your grin, watching as the Bad Batch was left stunned.

“Yes, former padawan but no matter where you or Anakin go I will still consider you my students,” Obi-wan said and placed a hand on your shoulder. You smiled at your surrogate father, knowing that he meant it all from a place of love.

“I appreciate it Obi-wan. Now, who do we have here?” You said and turned back to the Bad Batch, all four of them now standing at attention.

“This is Sergeant Hunter,” Cody informed, pointing to the clone with the red bandanna. You smiled and gave him a nod.

“Good to meet you Hunter. I look forward to working with your squad,” you said with a grin and Hunter gave a nod in return.

“Likewise general, our squad likes to get the job done.”

“Likewise sergeant. And who is this?” You ask as you point to Wrecker who is smirking at you. You return it just as intensely, walking up to Wrecker and sizing him up.

“The name’s Wrecker general!” He says enthusiastically, giving his palm a punch with his other hand. Your grin somehow gets wider as you mimic his action.

“I think you and I will get along just great Wrecker, especially if you like to have fun,” you wiggled your eyebrows at him which made him laugh.

“I like you already!” You laughed and turned to look at the silent on with the toothpick in his mouth. You met his eyes and remained staring at one another, neither of you breaking eye contact even to blink.

“That’s Crosshair, he’s not much of a conversationalist but when you need to hit a precise target front 10-clicks, Crosshair’s you man,” Hunter explained and watched as the two of you continued to stare. Crosshair, surprisingly, was the one to break first, eyes rapidly blinking to get moister back.

You stood triumphantly before reaching a hand out to shake his. The rest of the batch watched with baited breathes, knowing that Crosshair never shook anyone’s hand unless they earned his respect in some way. They all gasped when his hand met yours in a firm grasp, the corner of his lip lifting in a very subtle smile. You nodded in understanding, knowing that you still had a ways to go to get him to trust you but that you had earned the chance to prove yourself.

“I like a challenge ram’ser, and I look forward to seeing your skills in action,” you said, watching as Crosshair nodded and moved back. Lastly, you turned to look at the ever so slightly shorter brother, his face buried in his data pad as he tried very hard to avoid your eyes. You cleared your throat which made him look at you, your eyes locking as if in a trance.

“And who is this handsome trooper?” You said, voice taking on much more flirty tone. Tech continued to hold your gaze as you walked up to him, his data now hanging at his side in his hand.

“This is-“

“Tech, general,” Tech interrupted his older brother, taking the initiative to introduce himself.

“It’s nice to meet an even more handsome face,” you said flirtatiously, watching as a blush bloomed on Tech’s cheeks.

“Thank you for the compliment, though I do believe my brain is worth more than my looks,” he said back, his data pad finding a home on his hip as he gives you his full undivided attention. The rest of the squad was once again left in shock, not used to Tech being focused on something other than his data pad.

“I’m sure it is just as handsome as you,” you replied, and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before retreating back to Obi-wan and Cody. They had watched the whole exchange from the side lines, knowing that you were not so easily corralled once you had your heart set on something. Instead, Obi-wan gave you a shake of his head with an another small smiling, his eyes turning back to Hunter.

“Sergeant, your squad has done great work so far in this war and to continue to improve your productivity, (Y/N) will be coming on as your general temporarily,” Obi-wan explained, receiving a few different reactions rom the squad.

Hunter nodded in approval, knowing not to argue with the Jedi master. He wasn’t opposed to having a new squad member, especially one who might have some new skills to teach him. He was looking forward to seeing you in action.

Wrecker hollered in agreement, excited to get to show you how he liked to do things. He hoped that you shared his love of explosions and would help him blast some clankers.

Crosshair was a little less enthused, mumbling about not needing a babysitter when he and his brothers could get the job done quick. He may have given you a chance to earn his respect but that didn’t mean he wanted you on the team. Though, as if sensing Crosshairs disagreement with this decision, you levelled him with another stare. Once again he tried to keep eye contact but backed down once again, rolling his eyes and placing another toothpick in his mouth.

Tech however was the most intrigued, knowing that there was still knowledge to learn from the Jedi. He hoped that maybe on leave, he could ask you questions and pick your brain for more knowledge. Maybe have you show him some flying tricks and manoeuvres that he may not know just yet. Tech met your eyes after your stare off with Crosshair and smiled as you winked at him, blushing a little before picking up his datapad and burying his face in it.

“This change is only temporary to see how well you work with a Jedi. It is not something that will remain if the results are inconclusive. If the results of this change are satisfactory, the choice to stay will be left up to (Y/N),” Obi-wan continued which made you smile, the Bad Batch all nodding in understanding.

“Sounds like a plan general,” Hunter said and watched as you and Obi-wan had your own quiet exchange.

“I trust you will work well with your new squad?” Obi-wan asked you, placing a hand on your shoulder. You smiled in response, placing your hand on top of his.

“Of course Master, I’m very excited to work with them after everything Cody and the boys have told me,” you said and looked to Cody who only smiled and gave you a nod.

“Of course (Y/N). Please be safe and don’t be a stranger.”

“I won’t Obi-wan, you can count on that.”

Obi-wan was a little sad to watch you go, his second student moving on to lead another unit in this war. He was proud of both you and Anakin and as Obi-wan watched you walk back over to the batch, he knew that he had done a good job as a teacher.

Hunter motioned for the Batch to begin heading back to the Marauder, wanting to at least clean it up a little for you. Crosshair and Wrecker were the first to turn and make their way to the ship, disappearing behind the facility they had infiltrated and cleared out. Tech however, stayed next to Hunter which surprised the sergeant greatly. He looked at Tech curiously but was met with no verbal explanation, Tech just having his head down until they watched you walk back over to them.

“Are we ready to go?” You asked, giving Hunter a smile and Tech another wink. Before Hunter could say anything, Tech jumped in, walking beside you and leading you to the marauder with a hand on your shoulder and beginning to ramble about their ship and all its capabilities.

Hunter rolled his eyes and smirked as he watched from a safe distance, his little brother talked their new general’s ear off. He knew that this was something new and exciting for Tech so he wasn’t going to ruin it.

~Time Skip~

You had been with the batch for a couple weeks now and it had been some of the most thrilling and memorable time of your life. The boys were outstanding in their work and knew how to get the job done quickly and quietly. You had adapted well to their tactics and had even dawned some of their spare armour. It had been a gift from all four of them but Crosshair’s idea.

Tech had taken it upon himself to modify the armour, making sure that it fit your body as well as worked for your maneuvering on the field. It was a welcome gift from them to you, making sure you stayed protected while with them on missions. They had even made sure to paint a 99 on the gauntlet for you as a symbol of you being their general.

Your first time wearing the armour, Tech couldn’t take his eyes off you. You were breathing in his eyes, the armour complimenting your skin well. Watching you fight was a whole other experience, your movements and skills unmatched by anyone other than a few of your higher ranking Jedi. You moved like the wind, quick and unforgiving while still being graceful.

Your flying skills however, were really what brought Tech to his knees. You were an exceptional pilot, knowing how to fly a ship even with your eyes closed, literally.

The first time you had done it the boys had panicked, Tech reaching to take over the controls but all you did was laugh, flawlessly maneuvering the marauder through the sky and to a safe landing Zone. Hunter has scolded you but with one look, you silenced him with a stare before standing and moving off the marauder. From that day on Tech knew he was fucked, your beauty, your skills, your fearlessness and confidence had hooked him.

And when you flirted with him? His soul was on cloud nine everytime.

“Hey handsome, how’s it feel to be the smartest man alive?”

“I hope you know CPR because you just took my breath away.”

“I would ask if you wanted to see a holofilm with me, but I don’t want to get in trouble for bringing in a snack.”

“I’d buy you a drink, but I’d be jealous of the glass.”

Eventually he worked up the courage to flirt back after one too many comment from his brothers. Hunter was getting a little fed up with his younger brother’s rambling, wanting him to just reciprocate. Wrecker and Crosshair teased him relentlessly, laughing at his failed attempts to flirt back or respond with anything other than helpless rambling.

Eventually he got it down, managing to flirt right back with you much to your delight.

“I’m an organ donor. Can I give you my heart?” You said once, rest your hands on his shoulders from behind while he sat in the pilots chair.

“Do you believe in love at first sight or should I walk by again?” He responded quickly while turning the seat to face you. The look on your face must have made him more confident because he followed up with another line very quickly.

“Even in zero gravity, I’d still fall for your beauty.”

It was your turn to blush before you gained your wits back, leaning into to be face to face with him again.

“If I could rearrange the alphabet, I’d put U and I together.”

That made Tech chuckle as he turned back to the window of the marauder, focusing on flying the ship once more. Hunter, Wrecker and Crosshair had not been spared from the cheesy exchange, all three trying not to cringe or laugh at the display.

From there on, you and Tech flirted relentlessly with one another, always finding time and ways to squeeze in little comment to each other much to the dismay of the others. They all knew you and Tech had the hits for each other. And they all knew that both of you knew but were too afraid to act on it.

It was after another successful mission when Tech asked you to fly with him for a little.

“Would you care to join me for a friendly flying competition?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck. You smiled widely at him and nodded, taking the copilots seat as Tech set off into the skies.

The whole time you were flirting with one another, even as you performed a perfect Cuban eight with your eyes closed. Tech was infatuated with you, watching as your eyes lit up and your smile met them. Your cheeks were tinted with a little red blush from the adrenaline rush.

When it was his turn to take the controls, Tech performed a flawless cobra maneuver, watching as you yelped with delight at the rush. You spent hours in the air before finally coming back to the ground where the others were waiting with knowing smiles on their faces.

~Time Skip~

“Now that our mission is over, General Kenobi is allowing us a week of shore leave, especially after this one,” Hunter explained and everyone visibly deflated with delight.

You had been with the Bad Batch for close to nine months now, working along side them smoothly and completing every mission successfully with very little issue. The squad trusted you now, even Crosshair had come to respect and trust you, making jokes with you here and there. Wrecker was always fun to talk too about explosions and all things food and Hunter was a very good conversationalist in battle strategies and handheld weaponry.

And Tech….

Oh Tech, he was something else; a handsome genius with an adorable smile and a heart of hearts. He flirted back with you all the time now and even initiated your flirting ‘contests’ sometimes. It made you swoon whenever he did and you made sure to flutter your lashes at him a little more.

“Where are we going to spend it?” Wrecker asked hesitantly.

“Please not Kamino again,” Crosshair hissed, an undertone of distaste seeping into his words.

“We could go to Coruscant?” Hunter suggested, looking to his brothers for any sort of agreement.

“I do not believe Coruscant would be the ideal choice,” Tech chimed in, adjusting his goggles in the cute way he always did.

“Why not?” You asked, head tilting in confusion as you looked at the boys for an explanation.

“We’re not really welcomed by any of the other clones,” Wrecker explained cautiously before Crosshair butted in.

“They don’t like us because we actually do our jobs right,” he sneered.

“But what about Cody and the 212th? They love you guys!” You said exasperatedly, not believing much of what they were saying.

“They put up with us because they have too. Cody likes us but the others whisper about us all the time. They don’t think we hear them but we do,” Hunter said and crossed his arms. Your mouth hung open in shock, not wanting to believe that your beloved battalion wouldn’t get along with your new squad.

“That’s bantha shit. I’ll give them a piece of my mind once our leave is over. In the mean time, let me go make a call,” you said and stomped off, far enough away that even Hunter couldn’t hear the conversation you were having with a certain senator.

~Time Skip~

When you had finished your conversation, you waltzed back over to the boys in much better spirits, explaining how you pulled a couple strings to get a week away in Naboo at a nice lake side cabin. They were very intrigued by your changed attitude and the prospect of going to Naboo to relax and recoup.

You and Tech had dropped the others off at the cabin, the beautiful place a great escape for shore leave after the close call of the last mission. Tech, however, had asked you if you would like to have another little flying contest before you both settled down at the cabin.

You had readily agreed, wanting any opportunity to spend time with the genius clone as well as to show of your skills. You had each taken turns at the helm of the marauder, performing tricks in the air that made each other laugh. You always liked to show off a tailslide and turn it into an inside loop, the adrenaline rush from both maneuvers making to you holler with excitement.

Tech on the other hand went for what the boys and yourself had branded as “the Tech turn” though he would never call it that himself. He performed the maneuver with ease, making you laugh. You each performed another few tricks before Tech took back control and landed you both on top of a grass covered mountain top. The air had a chill to it though neither of you seemed to mind as Tech let the gangplank down and led you out of the marauder.

He took your hand gently in his and led you to sit on the edge of the cliff, placing a standard regulation blanket down before guiding you to sit next to him. You smiled at his kindness and thanked him, joining him without any thought or care in the world.

You sat there in silence for a moment, taking in the view of the planet surface from so high up. Looking at the open fields below the mountain ranges, admiring the beautiful landscape that Naboo had to offer.

“How did you find out about this place?” Tech asked, watching the same landscape and view you were, only his eyes shifted to settle more on you.

“I have my way,” you replied and gave a Tech a wink causing him to chuckle.

“You are full of surprises general.”

“Call me (Y/N), Tech. There’s no one around. It’s just us,” you said and looked over to him. He nodded and tested the name on his tongue. He had call you by your name only once before but he had been so embarrassed to do it again even when you said it had been okay. Now with the confidence he had gained, he didn’t feel afraid.

“This is a beautiful place (Y/N). Are you sure you will not disclose how you came to afford such a dashing place for our shore leave?” Tech inquired, watching as a small shiver ran down your spine as he said your name.

“That will be a story for another time,” you said, knowing full well that you could tell him but wanting to save it for later.

“Very well then my Dear,” Tech chuckled and gave you the side eye. You both started at one another for a minute, not breaking eyes contact before once again, Tech lost. Your stare was so deep and intense that none of the boys could beat it. When Tech looked away and blinked you whooped in triumph, laughing at your victory once again.

Tech smiled as he looked back over to you, your eyes crinkled up as you laughed, feeling the adrenaline of the last hour lingering in the air. Tech’s eyes were filled with love and adoration for you, the months of flirting and playful banter finally sinking into his heart and making him think.

Maybe, just maybe she’ll reciprocate…

His mind was all over the place, for the first time in a long time and it took all his brain power to focus. How could he though? He was taken by your beauty, your heart, your confidence and your kindness. He was so madly in love with you. He knew it and his brothers knew it but he didn’t think you did.

Without thinking, Tech reached over to where to sat next to him on the cliff top, tucking a stray strand of hair out of your face and behind your ear. The action cut off your laughter as you look at Tech whose cheeks were a tinge pink and his eyes mesmerized by something. Your eyes met his and he carefully pulled back before clearing his throat and turning away from you, fiddling with his hands awkwardly.

Your heart melted at the sight of the oh so smug genius being embarrassed by the little action of affection. You smiled at him and reached over to him, taking his hand in yours. He stiffened for a moment before relaxing and turning back to you, his cheeks still a little pink from the cold as well as embarrassment.

“I-I am sorry if I overstepped, I do not know what came over me and I-“

You cut him off by placing a warm hand on his cheek, the rest of his sentence dying in his throat.

“You didn’t over step at all Tech. I promise.”

“Are you certain? I understand that as a Jedi you do not have the lu-“

You cut him off again with a little laugh before leaning forward, connecting your foreheads together in a keldabe kiss. Tech’s breath hitched in his throat at the tender action, eyes closing and forehead sinking into the touch. You stayed there for what felt like forever before your other came to join your first on Tech’s opposite check. His breath hitched a little again as he let out a shaky sigh.

“Tech…” his name fell from your lips so gently and quietly, as if saying it any louder would break the atmosphere of the moment. Tech almost didn’t hear you but when his eyes opened to meet yours once more, it was clear what you were silently asking.

It took him weeks to work up the courage to flirt back with you instead of rambling when you spoke to him and when he finally worked up the courage to reciprocate the flirting, he was on cloud nine. You had been dancing around each other for months since then, playful teasing and shameless flirting. It all led to this.

Tech’s eyes closed as he brought his gloved hands to your cheeks and pulled you into a seering yet gentle kiss. The world around you both melted away as your lips connected, months of tension being released as you both engaged.

Tech’s lips were soft against yours, his hands radiating heat even through his gloves. Your lips were just at soft, your hands falling to hold his wrist so he wouldn’t pull away just yet. The kiss seemed to last a life time before you both pulled away for some much needed air, remaining close with your foreheads pressed together.

“That was..”

“Breathtaking?”

“Quite literally.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“I am very much not opposed to doing that again.”

“Then why don’t we?”

Tech didn’t need to be told twice as he hoisted you onto his lap and crashed his lips to yours again. Sparks flew and a new found sense of longing settled in your bones. The kiss was more fierce this time, Tech slowly but surely finding his rhythm as his hands settled on your hips. Your arms settled around his neck, fingers toying with the wispy hairs present on the back of his neck.

Tech squeezed your hips and nipped at your lip, drawing a short but pleased sigh from you. He smirked against your lips and pulled away, once again out of breath. You weren’t much better, chest rising and falling quickly with the need for air.

“You - I - holy shit,” you breathed out, the words to describe what you were feeling right now escaped you. Tech chuckled at your fumbling, smoothing his thumb over your left cheek.

“Now it’s you who is left speechless mesh’la,” he teased as you rolled your eyes with a smile.

“What can I say? You’re a really good kisser,” you shot back making Tech blush a little.

“I try, my dear. I have never had the opportunity to do something like this with anyone. It never felt right if there were no feelings of infatuation involved,” Tech said huskily, his voice low and afraid of scaring you off. You smiled shyly at him and kissed his nose, your eyes conveying what you were feeling before your mouth could vocalize it.

“I understand Tech. Being a Jedi, we’re not supposed to form attachments or relationships with people but with you, it feels so natural,” you replied and watched as his eyes lit up slightly.

“Are you saying that you feel the same about me as I do you?”

“If you’re trying to tell me that you like me then yes, that’s exactly what I’m trying to say.”

No more words were spoken as Tech once again pulled your lips to his, the kiss firm yet gentle. Your lips moved together perfectly, like two pieces of a puzzle finally coming together. It was as if you had been together for years, the kiss perfect in every way.

You ran your fingers through his hair as best you could, slowly removing his goggles and placing them down next to both of you. Tech blinked rapidly a few times, eyes adjusted to the world without his trusted eyewear. He looked at you with a confused expression before his shoulders slumped and he melted against you, feeling your fingers massage his scalp and neck. It felt so relaxing, the tension leaving his body like a puff of air.

You giggled as Tech let his head fall forward to rest on your shoulder, breathing deep and relaxed as you continued you movements on his neck. When you hit a particularly rough knot, Tech groaned, his hands flying to your hips once more as you worked the knot out.

“Cyare,” Tech whispered as you moved back to his scalp, scratching it gently.

“Hmm?” Was all you responded with, not wanting to be any louder for fear of disrupting the atmosphere.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For this, for everything you have done for our squad, for being there for us all and for treating us like people instead of expendable objects,” Tech’s words struck a cord in you, the sentiment behind them making itself clear. They had never been treated like people, always being sent on one mission after another, the fear of death or failure always there. They were soldiers yes, but that didn’t mean they were less than human.

“Of course Tech, you’re just as human as I am and you do so much for the galaxy. You fight for those who can’t and stand up for those who won’t. You and your brothers are good men and I will fight anyone who tries to say otherwise,” Tech smiled at your words, your words helping him to feel like a normal man instead of a soldier.

“Thank you Cyar’ika,” he replied and wrapped his arms around your waist, hugging you close and letting himself dream of the future.

—————

I don’t know if I fully like what I’ve written here but please, let me know your thoughts about it. I hope it’s not to bad!

[chiriwritesstuff]

Meet Me at the Farmers Market - an interlude - Brother

Series Masterlist

Rating: T

Word Count: 909

Warnings & Tags: Jealous Joel Miller, Tommy is a flirt, Buckle up for a Tommy POV!

Chapter Summary: Tommy would do anything for his brother, no matter what.

A/N: Please, please don't hate me.

I know Tommy’s shameful flirting is somewhat of a running joke in this series, but what if it was much more than that? What if there was an instance - that as much as you want someone, you can’t deny the connection that they have with someone else, especially when it’s with your own brother?

I’m somewhat protective of my iteration of Tommy and even though it might not seem like it now, this interlude is the first of many.

Don’t worry, it won’t be so bad for him in the end, you’ll see.

This story happens during the events of pt 1 ‘Jealousy, Jealousy’ to pt. 3 - ‘Sunflower’

If there is anything that is certain, it would be this: Tommy Miller would do anything for his family. 

Especially for his brother.

To most people, he was a lot of things - a wiseass, a silly flirt, a hot head with no semblance of a filter. A joiner, much to Joel's ire - shipping himself off to war the moment he snatched the flimsy, sorry excuse of his high school diploma - flipping the bird to the crowd as he kisses his English teacher square on the lips - I've always wanted to do that, he beams, leaving her gasping for air - as he runs off the stage, his mother mortified and Joel shaking his head, as he mutters fucking moron.

If there was anyone he loved the most, it would be Joel—the older brother he always wanted, the one he looked up to, who protected him no matter the situation. Whether it was spotting him when he happened to be behind on rent (it was only ONE time), giving him a job after his short stint in the military, or bailing him out of jail when he let himself loose just a little too much—Joel was there, every time. He took his stern looks and grunts of displeasure in stride, knowing that even if his brother was pissed at him for his poor choices, he still loved him, that he would always be there for him, no matter what, poor choices and constant meddling be dammed.  

As much as Tommy took, Joel was always willing to give. Even if it seemed like Tommy wasn't grateful or thankful at times, especially considering Joel hadn't had the best luck in life himself- being a single father and owning his own business that he fought tooth and nail to keep afloat and all, Tommy made a promise to himself that he would do everything in his power to pay his brother back, to show him just how much he loved him and respected him, no matter what it took. 

It's the least that he could do, right?

Even if that meant losing the girl.

The truth is, he didn't mean to fall for you. With your bright smiles, killer body, and penchant for driving him absolutely up the wall as you teased him at the market, being in your orbit felt like he was a different man—a better man - One who made responsible choices and had a steady job, with the white picket fence and the minivan to boot. He thought about you constantly, from when he woke in the morning to when he lay alone in bed at night, imagining the weight of your body next to his, his arm delicately stroking the curve of your hip as you smiled back at him in the dark of night. Tommy always believed he wasn't built for that kind of life, but with you, it was easier to see, it was easier to believe.

Tommy did what he did best—he flirted, and he flirted hard. He wouldn't let his brother's raised eyebrow stop him; he was relentless in his pursuit, putting out all the stops until he finally managed to badger you enough to agree to go out on a date with him. You seemed receptive enough—never turning down his offer to help set up, always smiling sweetly as he passed you your regular matcha latte he bought for you every Saturday, your hands patting his shoulder in thanks. It seemed friendly enough, not overtly flirty, the gesture—but he wouldn't let that bother him, even if he caught your gaze looking in his brother's direction as he desperately tried to hold your attention from time to time.

It didn't bother him. 

No, not at all.  

So when he sees Joel blushing as you greet him in the morning, his voice getting caught in his throat as he tries his best to utter a reply, or when you would bring up his brother in conversation as much as you possibly could, he took it in stride, not letting his resolve waver. Your sweet smile was worth the challenge, he thought. I'm the younger, childless, more able-bodied version of the Miller men, surely I would be the better option, right? he assures himself as he watches you walk over to joel anxiously, the bashful smile on your face as Joel motions to one of his fucking woodland critters - No. I still have a chance, I still have a-

"Hey, Tommy?" your voice cuts through, suddenly in front of him.  God, she's so gorgeous today, maybe today i'll finally do it, I'm gonna ask her if-

"Sunflower! What's up?" 

"Is... is Joel single?" you look up at him, eyes hopeful.

"...Oh." Tommy feels a heaviness in his chest, and suddenly the heat of the Texas sun seems unbearable. He attempts to conceal the hurt with a forced smile, hoping it doesn't betray his true feelings. He doesn't allow the look of glee that spreads on your face in satisfaction to bother him, no, he should of fucking known. He looks out towards his brother in the distance, catching his eyes as he looks at the both of you, the hint of jealousy flickering in his eyes. He shakes his head at him.  You have nothing to worry about, brother - she was never mine, and was always yours.  

He would do anything for his brother, even if it meant losing you.

[girlwonderers]

Gimme NORI!!! 👍 - what (if any) is a good, safe touch for your character? 🤛 - how does your character react to being hit? are they likely to continue a fight if someone else starts it, or try to de-escalate or get away? and ✌️ - are there any gestures or touches that your character shares with a friend/team/loved one that are a type of code between them?

IT'S THE GIRL!!!

👍 - what (if any) is a good, safe touch for your character?

right now? none. prior to lastwall's destruction, nori was much more gregarious—she'd been a career soldier for over three centuries, and had friendships that lasted through multiple generations of families (given lastwall's overwhelmingly human population).

then her home was blown to rubble, and all her friends were killed if they were lucky or turned into undead abominations if they weren't, and nori was turned into an entirely different kind of abomination—and probably killed the rest of her squadron and the civilians they were escorting, but she doesn't know, which is almost worse, if she knew she could at least try to atone—and she abruptly became a hermit living on the fringes of the single most cursed region in the entire inner sea. so: don't touch her. she might literally bite your head off. she does not have the emotional capacity for that right now.

at this exact moment in-game she's especially twitchy and oversensitive, since the full moon is less than a week away and she's stuck in the wilderness surrounded by people she's known for less than a month, several of whom are professional monster hunters. she gets overstimulated more easily as the moon waxes, so at the moment she doesn't even want the cleric touching her to stitch her wounds.

🤛 - how does your character react to being hit? are they likely to continue a fight if someone else starts it, or try to de-escalate or get away?

a quick review of the historic conflicts of lastwall:

undead hordes, both mindless and intelligent, working with cultists of the whispering way to try to resurrect an undead lich-king bent on conquering the entire inner sea and turning it into a necrotic wasteland

the expansionist orc clans from belkzen,* who had historically united under the whispering tyrant's banner to raid and slaughter the holdings in lastwall (although there were some clans who allied with lastwall, and there were major reforms among the belkzen chiefs and warlords in the last decade and change who decided the tyrant was a big enough threat that they should ally with lastwall instead)

various undead, cultists, and other monstrosities such as werewolves and umbral dragons in virlych, which technically wasn't within lastwall's borders but was under its protection and was a regular patrol area for lastwall's knights

the five gajillion fucking goddamn demons that came through the worldwound in sarkoris

in summary: when she did fight sapient, living humanoids, they weren't willing to sit down and work out a treaty.* nori did not learn de-escalation tactics. she learned "stab it until it stops twitching" tactics. if someone starts a fight, she will end it.

friendly duels or training bouts/sparring are another thing, agreed upon in advance, and she's more than happy to engage in a show of skill or offer instruction; she actually worked as an instructor in the infantry school of the crusader war college in vigil, when she was between deployments to the various frontlines. but if you walk up to her and deck her, she's going to lay you out on the floor.

*there's a long canon history of prejudice and discrimination against orcs within human communities, including lastwall. nori's not immune. recent events within the PF setting have given the orc holds a lot more development and there's been way more communication and peace efforts between belkzen and the remains of lastwall specifically, but she wasn't around for that.

✌️ - are there any gestures or touches that your character shares with a friend/team/loved one that are a type of code between them?

with her current party, not really! she hasn't known them long enough, and definitely doesn't trust them enough. her squadmates/fellow lastfolk had a tradition of 'vigil salutes' (really elaborate high-fives), in reference to the vigil tattoos that all oathbound citizens had on their palms, and the special marks of iomedae reserved for the crusader knights.

the knights of ozem also used a system of hand-signs for communicating silently in the field, and nori's position as lieutenant meant that for most of her career, she was her squadron's standard-bearer—as a senior lieutenant, she would sometimes perform this duty for a whole regiment, when they did larger operations. her training was specifically in infantry battlefield tactics and signalling, so it was literally her job to signal orders for the other knights on the field. she has taught a handful of these signals to her new party members; even though they're not nearly as disciplined as the crusaders she's used to commanding, they have the good sense to defer to her when she's clearly the one with the most experience on the field.

(her superiors kept trying to promote her to captaincy and give her command of a whole battalion, but nori found she did her best work with smaller groups—plus her experience and longevity meant that when higher-ranked officers, usually the captain but sometimes even higher, non-field ranks—stepped down, nori was usually charged with helping the new officer transition into their role and acting as an advisor. it also saved her life, since she was deployed leading a handful of squadrons on a patrol near belkzen when the tyrant obliterated vigil.)

[writingwhimsey]

Married to the Enemy- Shingen Ch. 7

Chapter 7

After getting myself calmed down, Shingen and I headed to the banquet which was being held in the main hall. My cheeks were still a little red…but well I hadn’t been expecting Shingen to kiss the top of my head like that! It had been such a sweet and affectionate gesture. Noy to mention, he kept my hand in his as we walked towards the banquet.

“I hope you are looking forward to this banquet tonight, Ava.” Shingen said.

I smiled at him, hoping the pink on my cheeks was enough to pass as just being a healthy amount of color. “I am. I always had fun at the banquets in Azuchi.”

“I will see to it you have even more fun.” Shingen replied, smiling warmly.

We soon reached the door to the main hall and Shingen was sliding it open. When we walked in, I was a bit surprised. At Azuchi the banquets, while casual still held a bit of a formal air about them. Everyone had their spots, sitting by rank…pretty much how they sat for war councils. Here everyone was in little pockets of loose groups and there appeared to be no rhyme or reason to it. Everyone seemed to sit where they wanted to.

“We don’t have any kind of formality here, whatsoever.” Shingen said, as if reading my thoughts from my face.

I smiled. “I can see that…I like that.”

Shingen led me around the room, introducing me to a few more of his vassals that were scattered about the room. They were all rather friendly and polite. We soon came to a spot where Kenshin, Sasuke, Kanetsugu, Yukimura, Saki, and Sasuke were seated along with another man I had yet to meet. 

The man I had yet to meet, smiled at me as we sat down. He had dark hair which was in a ponytail hanging over his shoulder and a beauty mark under his chin. He had a rather relaxed and yet ethereal air about him.

“Ava, I want you to meet my cousin, Yoshimoto.” Shingen introduced us. “Yoshimoto, this is my wife Ava.”

Yoshimoto smiled at me as he looked me up and down. “What a lovely kimono. Truly a work of art.”

I felt my cheeks flushing. Though I know he was complimenting my clothes…it was still the way he was looking at me…and well I was wearing the kimono. “Thank you.”

“See, aren’t you glad I told you to wear that kimono, Ava?” Saki teased me.

“Did you style her hair as well?” Yoshimoto asked. “It’s simple yet elegant and compliments her face very well.”

It was Saki’s turn to blush now. “I did. I also did her makeup.”

“You did such a lovely job.” Yoshimoto praised. “You did well bringing out her natural beuaty.”

Saki giggled and blushed. “Well, thank you, my lord.”

Yukimura was rolling his eyes. “I don’t know why you two are getting so giggly and blushy over his dumb comments.”

Saki turned to Yukimura with a frown. “Because it’s nice to hear nice things from people.” She answered. “How can you be so dense?”

Kenshin sat looking bored as he downed a cup of sake. “I knew bringing women into this castle would be a bad idea.” He said.

“I think they bring a breath of fresh air into the castle. It has always needed a woman’s touch around here.” Shingen said.

“Surely there are maids and others around the castle.” I replied.

“Yes, but they leave me alone.” Kenshin said. “They do their jobs and stay out of my way.”

“Don’t let Kenshin’s sour disposition bother you.” Shingen assured me. “He’ll be better once he’s had more sake.”

“Don’t forget his pickled plums.” Sasuke added.

Soon trays of food were being set before us. Shingen’s was piled high with sweets. I had a few sweets on my tray, but had several other dishes as well. “This smells and looks delicious.” I said. “I still don’t understand how you can eat so many sweets, Shingen. If I ate that many my stomach would be killing me.”

“I just really enjoy my favorite things.” Shingen replied with a shrug.

“Your wife is right though.” Yukimura spoke up. “It wouldn’t kill you to eat more like she does. You know, like normal people.”

“I guess I could cut back.” Shingen said, lifting a hand and stroking his chin in thought. Then a puckish grin came across his face as he turned those gray eyes to me. “You will help me with that, won’t you Ava?”

“I mean, if you’re wanting me to help you, I guess I can.” I replied. “Though I’m not sure exactly what I can do to help.” 

Shingen grinned at me. He was then taking my hand in one of his, while using his other to push his tray away towards Yukimura. “Here, Yuki take this away from me.”

Yukimura eyed his lord skeptically, but did as Shingen requested. He was then bringing him a tray that had a more balanced plate on it.

I looked at mine and Shingen’s joined hands, wondering just what he was up to. “Shingen…”

Shingen looked at me, his eyes warm and an easy smile on his face. “Yes, Ava?”

“What exactly is your plan?” I asked, looking pointedly at our joined hands.

“You’ll see.” Shingen replied. He was then taking a bite of his food, seemingly enjoying it, but he also made a face. “It’s good, but I really do need something sweet to balance it out.” He was then bringing my hand up to place a kiss on the back.

I felt a spark where his warm lips touched my skin and a pleasant tingling sensation worked its way up my arm. “O-oh…wait…am I…now your something sweet?”

Shingen grinned at me. “Beautiful and brilliant.” He said. “Yes, in order to cut back on how many sweets I eat, I’ll just have to steal a kiss every time a craving hits me.”

“Ugh, I should have known he’d do something like this.” Yukimura grumbled. He was then pushing the tray of sweets back towards Shingen. “Here! I’d rather see you eat too many sweets than flirting with your wife.”

Saki was smacking Yukimura on the shoulder. “Oh let them flirt.” She said.

“Them? I don’t see Ava doing anything other than turning into a tomato.” Yukimura countered.

This only made me turn even redder. And while Shingen had accepted his tray, he hadn’t let go of my hand…not that I was complaining. With my free hand, I reached for my sake cup, taking a sip trying to hide my embarrassment.

“I think we should find something else to talk about.” Sasuke said.

“Yes before I get bored and kill all of you.” Kenshin declared. 

“Lord Kenshin…” Sasuke said.

“I don’t blame our lord.” Kanetsugu said, refilling Kenshin’s cup.

We all chatted for a while longer, there was more teasing and joking that went on as the banquet went on. I found myself drinking a bit more of my sake than I normally would have…purely out of embarrassment. Shingen continued to hold my hand throughout the banquet, bringing it to his lips every so often and not touching his tray of sweets.

After a while Shingen leaned in to whisper in my ear. “Would you like to get some fresh air, Ava?” He asked, the fingertips of his free hand brushing against my flushed cheeks…which were from a combination of the alcohol and the intoxicating presence that was Shingen.

A pleasant shiver ran down my spine, but I nodded. “Y-yes…”

Shingen turned to everyone else. “We’re going to step out for a bit and get some air. We’ll see you all later.” He said before standing up and then offering me his hand.

I placed my hand in his and allowed him to help me up. I had more to drink than I thought as I was unsteady on my feet. I could feel myself teetering and that was when I felt a strong arm wrap around my waist.

“Don’t worry I’ve got you.” Shingen said to me as he steadied me. Once he was sure I was secure, we started to walk away, his arm still around me.

We made our way outside and were soon standing in a lovely garden. The cool night air was a blessing on my heated cheeks. Shingen led me to a bench that was beside a reflecting pond and helped me to sit down before taking the seat beside me.

I took in a deep breath of the night air. “It is a beautiful night.” I said as I looked around the garden.

“It is.” Shingen agreed. “Thank you for agreeing to come out here with me.”

“Do you like the garden?” I asked.

“It is a pleasant place to be.” Shingen agreed. “But…also I was just being a bit selfish.”

“How so?” I asked, my brow furrowing in confusion.

Shingen smiled as he lifted a hand to caress my cheek. “Because I enjoy seeing this adorable look on your face, but I am not fond of sharing it with anyone else.”

I felt my breath catch at his words. I could tell by the light in his gray eyes that he was completely sincere right now. “And here I thought you…were just trying to be considerate of me.” I teased after a moment.

Shingen chuckled. “Well, there is that too. I thought you could use some fresh air.”

I smiled at him before turning my gaze back to the sky above us, a beautiful crescent moon and a blanket of millions of brilliant stars illuminating the night sky. We sat there in companionable silence for a few moments, both of us just enjoying the night together. Though of course, now was a perfect time to get to know more about Shingen.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I’ve already spoken with Kenshin and the castle seamstresses. They are all in agreement that you would be a welcome addition. I can introduce you tomorrow.” Shingen said before I had the chance to ask him anything.

“Oh, I would love that!” I said, an excited smile on my face. “Thank you, Shingen!”

“Anything to see that beautiful smile.” Shingen replied. “Perhaps after that we can go out on the town. I’ll show you around and if there are any sewing notions you need, we can get them.”

“Oh, we don’t have to do the shopping…but going out does sound nice.” I replied. “I believe you did mention some bakeries and good tea houses here when we had our first date.”

Shingen grinned. “We could indeed visit some of those.” He agreed. “But if we walk around the shops and you see something you need we can still get it.”

I giggled. “I don’t think I should need anything, but I don’t mind walking around town with you.”

“I am happy that my lovely wife is so willing to spend time with me.” Shingen said, smiling at me.

“Well…you are pleasant company.” I replied. I was starting to feel nice and warm and fuzzy…a bit sleepy from the sake I had consumed and some of my defenses were down more than they normally would be. I ended up leaning my head against Shingen’s shoulder…very firm and broad shoulder.

“Are you getting tired, Ava?” Shingen asked, his velvety voice warm.

“Mmm…maybe a little.” I answered. “But…I’m not ready to go to bed yet.”

“Alright.” Shingen replied, moving so that his arm was around me and my head was on his chest as I rested against his side.

“You know…I was really nervous before our wedding.” I said, the alcohol pulling my honest thoughts from me. “I…I was scared of what you might be like. I mean…a man doesn’t get known as a tiger for being cuddly and all.”

Shingen chuckled lightly, but nodded. “I can see how that would be scary.” He said. “How do you feel now?”

“I feel…like I got lucky with you.” I answered. “You’re kind and warm…very warm.” I was nestling into his side further now, enjoying the warmth of his body. “Letting things go at a pace I’m comfortable with and…making sure I can still work…it’s nice.”

“I am glad that I was able to dispel your fears then.” Shingen said, his voice sincere. 

“What about you?” I asked. “What were you thinking…before we got married? Were…were you curious about me or concerned?”

“I would think you could tell I was curious.” Shingen answered with a chuckle.

“Hmm, you did intentionally run into me the day before.” I replied. “What were you thinking about me…after that run in?”

“That I was a lucky man to get to marry such a beautiful woman.” Shingen answered. “And perhaps I did some more looking into you before that even.”

“What do you mean?” I asked, turning my head to look up at Shingen.

“I asked Yukimura and Sasuke about you, since I knew they were your friends.” Shingen answered. “And I did ask around Azuchi about you. Everyone was quite taken with their kind princess. Not one person had a bad thing to say about you.”

I felt my cheeks heating up. “Oh…”

“And so once again, I was happy to learn I was a lucky man.” Shingen said once again.

“Now you’re just making me blush…” I said, looking away abashed.

We sat there for a while longer, looking up at the moon and enjoying the silence. I could feel myself relaxing further into Shingen. “I think you might be ready for bed, Ava.” Shingen said.

“Mmm…I think you might…be right.” I replied around a yawn.

Shingen helped me to my feet once again and then walked me back to my room. We were soon standing outside my door. “Have pleasant dreams, Ava.” Shingen said, bringing both of my hands up to his lips and placing a kiss on each hand.

I felt a warm tingly sensation flowing from my hands and up my arms at the touch of his lips. As I looked into his eyes, I was overcome by a strong desire. Shingen was constantly showing me affection…I had the urge to show him some as well. He had shown me so much tonight.

“I had fun tonight and I look forward to our day tomorrow.” I said and quickly leaned close, stretching up to place a kiss on his cheek. “Goodnight, Shingen.”

Shingen’s gray eyes went wide, but a slow smile spread across those handsome lips. “Goodnight, Ava.” He replied, leaning in to kiss my forehead.

I felt tingly down to my toes and a giddy smile worked its way across my face as I turned to walk into my room. I had been extra sleepy…but now I felt that I might have a harder time getting to sleep than I thought.

Shingen…

Shingen walked back to his own room after escorting Ava to hers, a smile on his face. His cheek felt tingly where she had kissed him. It had been so cute and so sweet…and his response to kiss her forehead had been a sincere reaction.

“I hadn’t been expecting that.” He murmured, his hand going to rest on his cheek, as if he could hold the warmth of her lips there. “I can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings.”

[ladylamrian]

- Chapter 3: The Unknown

[ Please read past chapters before this ]

-> Masterlist of this Mini Series <-

Female MainCharacter: Alexis Clarissa Fontaine

Pairing: F!MC×NikRyder

Other characters in this chapter: Katherine, Vera Reimonenq, Ivy, Garrus, Krom, Elijah,...

Summary: Nik doesn't remember Alex, instead... Elijah Ryder and the bloodwraith are back.

Word Count: 1.1K words

Rating: Teen (Mystery, Angst)

Warnings: Language, Talk about death

-> My complete Nightbound Masterlist <-

Taglist: @infactnoimmasitinthemiddle ; @peonierose ; @secretaryunpaid ; @jdstar88 ; @blackcatkita ; @lilyoffandoms ; @liviusofpella ; @mxdanni ; @mariemarieohcontrary ; @tessa-liam ; @choicesficwriterscreations ; @hopelessromantic1352 ; @rosepetals1 ; @stars-are-within-me ; @dutifullynuttywitch ; @artbyalz

Comments via Reblog wholeheartly welcome

GIF interpretation: Alex loses her lover, Nik Ryder. Again.

With an old enemy left and getting rescued by an old, familiar stranger from a past vision, Alex froze, slowly trying to progress. She's shocked, and so is the blond next to her. Nik Ryder, being an absolute stranger tried to calm down his pet. Never in his life has he seen that kind of creature, and now being saved by an old man who shoots glowing arrows in the modern 21st century?? Both face Elijah with open mouths. The legendary nighthunter, Elijah Ryder standing now in front of them.

"What are ya' both lookin' at me??", the old man muttered.

"I... Uh, Elijah? Is that you? No, it can't be. You're supposed to be dead.", Alex unsurely spoke.

"Oh, here I go to war and ya' already expect me to be dead?!! I may be old, but tougher than you think, child. Look at you, getting saved... and... Who's that pretty boy of your's anyway?", his strict gaze turned to Nik who was standing next to her. Nik who felt addressed, cleaned away the dust from his clothes and adjusted his glasses while his dog curiously started sniffing the surrounding area.

"Thank you for the rescue, sir. I don't know how you did this or what that was, but thanks. My name's Nik.", he reached his hand forward to shake Elijah's hand, but the old man avoided the friendly gesture and turned his strict gaze back towards Alex.

"How many times did I tell you to stay away from danger and not take things into your own hands when I'm not around?! You would have been dead now, child. Glad that I appeared on time, huh? And what are you even wearing? Where's ya' huntin' gear?"

"Uhhh, I'm wearing my regular clothes. My white shoulder-free top and blue jeans. Excuse me, what's going on? Who are you? You can't be alive, because you died years ago?!!"

"What non-sense are ya' muttering? Enough! Let's pay Garrus a visit, he'll have to explain. I told him to look out for ya' and...", he answered, grabbed her arm and pulled her to follow him until Nik intervened.

"Hey, back off!! Is this the way you treat a woman?"

"She's my student and my responsibility. Mind your own business, pretty boy.", he shooted a glare at him.

Exchanging another glance with Alex, Nik decided to turn his back and leave. His loyal dog follows him. Alex's heart sank seeing Nik go. Not after finally seeing him again. What's happening? What's going on? That man can't be her Nik. He doesn't even recognize her. Maybe a look-alike?

"Nik...", she sadly wispered while shedding another tear for him. She wanted him back, found him, and then she lost him.

"Child, I expected better from you. Remember what I once said, the closer you get to a person, the weaker you get. The more it will hurt you one day, so don't get too close. Don't trust anyone.", he explained in a harsh tone as she turned her attention towards him.

"Nik is the love of my life and I trust him from the bottom of my heart."

"A few months I was just gone and ya' already changed. Look how close the bloodwraith was about to kill ya'. Guess, I'll have to have a few strict words with Garrus for not looking after ya' while I was gone."

"Oh yes, lead me to Garrus. He'll explain what exactly is going on here.", she glared at Elijah.

The entrance doors of the Graveyard Shift shot open, as Elijah Ryder and Alex Clarissa Fontaine marched together inside. Both seeking answers. A friendly face with shimmering blue eyes greeted them.

"Elijah sir. Alex darling. Glad to..."

"I told ya' to look after her while I was gone. Just returning from NY and then I discover her beeing chased after the bloodwraith while holding hands with a guy."

"What??! My apologies, I didn't know. Alex, I thought you were at home?"

"Uhhhhh, Garrus. Explain first... Why is Elijah Ryder still alive and standing next to me? Nik said that he died when he was 17."

"What rubbish are y'a sayin', girl? Nothing ever happened to me and who's that Nik guy you're talking 'bout? Second thing, why were ya' runnin' away from the wraith, like a damn coward? I taught you to fight.", Elijah intervened when Alex was asking Garrus the question.

Before Alex could answer back, suddenly someone hugged her from behind which startled her at first. But then she calmed herself down after discovering who it was.

"Hey Alex, missed me?"

"Katherine?!! You're... You're back!!!"

Delighted to see her friend after so many months, she turned around to face her, returning her a warm welcoming hug. Again, tears rolled down her cheeks.

"Katherine, is that really you?! And the scars on your cheek... You're hurt. Did the war...?", she sniffed.

"I'm as hell as fine. Long time not seen, huh? Just returned with Elijah from the Vampire War. New York is safe now."

"I'm glad that you're alright, Katherine. I missed you. But... What is happening here and what happened to Nik? And Elijah??!!"

"Who's Nik, sweety?"

"Ooooh, is our Alex in love?! I want to know too. Who's Nik? Is he good-looking?", Ivy came from behind to tease her and giggled.

"Oh, not you all too!!", she begged and angrily dashed outside, leaving everyone behind in Graveyard Shift. Escaping those questions and everything. What should she do? What just happened? Of course, she's happy to finally have Katherine back, but Nik? Instead, she got Elijah??? No. No!! As Alex's mind tried to process everything, her eyes discovered a heartwarming, familiar face. It's... It's Vera who's lonely walking down the streets.

"Veraaaa!!!", she shouted, hoping that she knew at least what was happening. As she called her the second time, their eyes met each other's. Mysterious dark eyes. But before she could finally catch up to her, Vera frightened and ran away.

"What??!! Veraaaa, nooooo! Stop!!!"

Hearing Alex her screams, Katherine, Elijah, Garrus, Krom and Ivy dashed out from the Graveyard Shift to check on her.

"What's the matter, darling?"

"Everything okay? Why are you screaming Vera's name? Did she try to harm you?", Krom asked with concern as they all faced Alex and her tears.

"Wha... Wha... What? Why would Ve... Vera try to harm me? She's my friend."

"Because she's a Reimonenq. And a Reimonenq only wants power.", Elijah hissed.

"But Vera is different and not like her mother, Elijah."

"Why do ya' care for her? I thought I already convinced ya'? She's an enemy who can't be trusted. You two are no friends."

Nik beeing a total stranger? Elijah is alive? Not beeing friends with Vera? One night all friends were sitting together to comfort each other. But now everything and everyone has become unknown.

"I... I... I'll go for a walk. I want to be alone for a while, please.", Alex requested, turned away and left without turning back.

"What's wrong with this girl?!!", Elijah hissed.

*tap and zoom closer on pictures to see details

[girldragongizzard]

Chapter 10: Living the dream

I’m literally on the moon, standing on the terminator, the faded edge between light and dark.

Or, rather, I’m in the light and the sun is above the moon’s horizon, but it drops steadily and I know I’m at the terminator when it gets about halfway set. I think this is faster than it should be, at first, but then it stops there.

The shadows around me are long and stark. I can see every granule of the regolith when I look down at it, and when I lift my foot there’s a clear, beautiful dragon print there. You could make a logo from that.

Scan it. Trace it in Illustrator. Ready to print. Chapman would take care of it for you at hir print shop.

There’s no air, of course, because it’s the moon, but I can still breathe just fine, because I’m really asleep on my roof. I know that, but the thought also passes through me, because I’m on the moon and the visuals are so amazing.

There are so many stars.

For a dream this is startlingly vivid.

I don’t know the moon’s geography, so I have no idea where I am on it. But it’s a relatively flat plane covered with what looks and feels like gray sand mixed with pebbles of various size, shape, and texture. This is covered with a smattering of rocks, each marked by its own harsh shadow against the rest of the regolith. And I’m surrounded by low hills, which I suspect are the rims of craters.

If I look toward the sunset, everything is bright with the shadows appearing as if they are holes, rips in spacetime through which I can see nothing.

And if I look directly away from the sunset, it quickly becomes mostly darkness with the very peaks of hills and rocks light stark white against the night. Irregular shapes, like tiny odd clouds underneath the starry sky.

There’s a fairly decent sized boulder near me with a rough and pockmarked surface cast in vivid relief by the sunset, and it calls to me. It reminds me of pumice and looks like it would be perfect for scraping off the remnants of my dead skin.

I don’t so much go over to it as fall in its direction, as if it has a gravity I’m compelled to obey, stumbling and then bounding sideways toward it kind of like a ferret doing its war dance. I stretch my neck out, raise my right wing, and ready my shoulder and side for a good scraping, and almost complete closing my eyes before seeing something move in the shadow of the boulder.

Lunar dust billowing around me, I stop abruptly and look directly at it with both eyes, instantly throwing it into my immaculate binocular perspective, the precise distance from me of every detail instantly and intuitively known.

The shadow is so dark, and yet there is just enough ambient light thrown around by the other features of the moon that I can pick out a spikey, round silhouette within it. Something that huddles, and rearranges lanky limbs, and blinks.

It’s staring right back at me, right into my eyes, and it’s not transfixed.

My heart races, and I take a quick impossible breath.

My brain tells me this means that it is another dragon, or a monster. No other living thing should be able to withstand draconic transfixion. Or, at least, that’s what my instincts believe.

It does seem afraid to show itself, however, and I calm myself and lower my head, turning it sideways to look at it out of my right eye. It’s not my friendly eye, but it’s my closest one, and that involves less movement on my part.

I watch it relax a little.

I decide to wait, settling down into a loaf, wrapping my tail around me, to show it that I’m not a threat and not scared of it.

I don’t know if it will then see me as vulnerable food and attack, but this gesture of polite acceptance has been serving me well lately. And I’d rather make an acquaintance of this thing and learn what it is than terrify it and make enemies of it.

I wonder if my fire would work here. Do I provide the oxygen myself? Is that part of my biological napalm?

I’m pretty sure I’m not going to need to use it, considering the movements I’m seeing in the shadow.

And slowly, ever so slowly, what emerges looks like a cross between a pangolin, a chimpanzee, and a pineapple. You might say that the pangolin and pineapple are redundant descriptors, but imagine if its scales ranged from the smooth ones of a pangolin through the spiky surface of the pineapple to the pinapple’s leaves along its spine and tail, starting with a tuft of them on the back of its head.

It, however, has the mouth of the Cheshire cat. Wider than it should be for its head, with almost human teeth. And it silently chatters to itself, flashing white enamel in the sunlight as it moves out of the shadow and approaches me.

There is no sound on the moon, except the faint vibrations I feel through the regolith my feet have sunk into.

Leaving simian footprints in the moon dirt, it approaches me with a tentative arm outstretched, reaching for the shoulder of my folded wing, tilting its head. I’m almost certain that it’s going to pet me, but there is that little doubt I have to choke down still.

It does. They do. This is another dragon, a person, I think. And I relax as their gentle touch traces my scales. I feel a little picking sensation as they grab a bit of dead skin and pull it away for me.

As I watch this, with my other eye I catch movement across the rest of the night side of the moon, and more dragons emerge into the chiaroscuro of the lunar twilight.

A wild mix of kangaroo, leafy sea dragon, and dimetrodon leads and towers over me, tilting their head in curiosity.

A massive worm with hundreds of child arms for legs and the horned head of a tiger follows them.

Everything that follows is as startlingly different as the last. Though I am starting to notice, here and there, dragons that fall into the more recognizable phenotypes. Dragons that are similar to me in structure, if not detail.

It feels like the whole moon is covered in dragons, and they’ve all come forward to help me shed, eating my skin as they remove it.

Soon, I can’t see them for the crowd, and I roll over to let them get at my underside, it’s such a pleasant experience.

I’m feeling so elated and ecstatic by the whole experience, as if I am Queen and this is how my subjects support me, until one of them bites me in the side.

I wake up with a start, lying sprawled and limp on my back.

A seagull that is standing on my left outstretched wing has just pecked me where it feels like my kidneys should be.

There’s a bit of scaley dead skin in its beak now. And it takes off immediately upon seeing my head move to track it.

One of the reasons I have so little trouble catching and eating seagulls is that they aren’t used to me existing and being a thing in the first place. They do have a general instinct to avoid predation by anything and everything. But they don’t seem to recognize a dragon plummeting from above when they’re in the sky. And apparently, they don’t see me as any kind of a threat when I’m asleep and hardly moving.

There were other seagulls on the roof, who’ve also taken off as I’ve roused.

It seems to be late in the morning, and I’ve somehow slept through the Morning Roll Call, and missed my chance to start it.

How did that happen? I didn’t think I slept that deeply. I would have expected the calls of my neighbors to wake me, at least.

I check my messages and my server, to see if anything else weird happened last night.

I check the news, both the daily paper’s website and the weekly.

Nothing in particular, yet.

That dream had been so profound feeling, I expect it to be on par or to surpass the effects of the dream I had when this all started. But so far, nothing but my own feelings of rooted calm, grounded confidence, and a growing strength and energy that feels like freshly oxygenated blood in my veins.

I stretch and examine myself.

My indigo scales gleam with faint ultraviolet reflections under the overcast sky, and the blue scales surrounding them reflect tiny visions of the clouds. Here and there, scraps of dead skin and scale cling to my cracks and crevices, but I’m sure they’ll work their way loose and free with movement.

Maybe I didn’t do too terrible a job of shedding yesterday.

If I knew a Becky, I’d try to make her feel one of my legs. A Rhoda will do.

I feel the need to talk about my dream and to show off.

So I go to do that.

And when the door of the coffee shop jingles with my entrance, Kimberly looks up to say, “Ooh, shiny!” And then a squint and a jutted chin, and she adds, “You’ve got bits still on you.”

“Oh, you need a shower brush! Probably a good stiff one,” Kim exclaims.

“Oh, I have such a good idea,” Kimberly turns to her, excited. “Take a bunch of those and nail them to the inside of a big horseshoe shaped thing, and make it like one of those things for cleaning boots and shoes, but for Meg. Probably make it out of plywood and shit, and fill it with sand for weight.”

That sounds divine, actually.

“I wouldn’t know how to make that,” Kim says, blinking.

“Neither do I, but Nathan’s good at that kind of thing, and I can learn,” Kimberly says. “Also the nerds at the Maker Space would love it as a project, I bet. Especially if other dragons find it useful.”

“Fair point,” Kim concedes. Then she turns to me, “Meg. I’m going to give you the Dust Buster while you hang out today, OK. See if you can use it if you shed the last of that skin in here, please.”

Look back out the window toward my favorite outside table, then back at her.

“Oh, OK. The yooj?”

“Yes.”

“No problem! I’ll bring it out.”

“Thanks.”

“Oh, new word!”

“Yes.”

“Fantastic!”

—

And the rest of the week starts to proceed like that morning. Slow, comfortable, with mostly easy conversations and a growing uneasiness because no shoe is dropping, no fallout falling, and no news in particular.

I actually develop a new daily routine. Or realize that I already have one that emerges when nothing else interrupts it.

The Morning Song is followed by stretching, then coffee, then talking to whomever wants to talk to me. I take a flight around the edges of my territory, quietly. Sometimes I visit a business, not to buy anything, but to simply say, “hi,” to whomever is in there, and then move on. If a conversation happens, it happens, and it makes me happy. Then I nap most of the afternoon on my roof. And eat every other day. I get my water from the coffeeshop, it two big bowls of it follow my daily coffee. And then I go back for another bowl after my nap.

I spend a lot of it thinking and talking to my people. Rhoda gives me that document of advice for activism, and I just go ahead and post it to my discord and tell the others to delegate the appropriate tasks to each other, and to volunteer.

When they don’t all step up, I surprise myself with the audacity to make requests, and then advisements, then phrases that read an awful lot like orders.

Mostly just to treat each other better, and work with our humans to find better communications accommodations and put them into place.

The Maker Space completes its dragon-sized keyboard project for the library and starts a second one.

Waits steps into the library and accepts the invite to my server.

rivertroll57 introduces himself as Anurak (he/him), and he has opinions on food that he misses eating.

I apologize for the night I harassed him, and he tells me to not do it again. But he has no trouble with me attending court so long as I don’t bother him. He’s somewhat bewildered about the idea of territories, actually.

And if anyone can get doordash to deliver several pounds of something decently spicy to his bridge, he’ll be thankful. He can’t afford it.

When we talk over the internet, we’re all amazingly reasonable. We even joke about our draconic urges and instincts, our feelings. And we learn that we’re not only all different in physiology, but also personality and psychology. We all exhibit one stereotype or another of dragons, but no one has all of them, and we’re all each a different grab bag of foibles.

It reminds me of any human forum I’ve participated in, especially the queer and autistic ones.

Wentin’s Arboretum Anxiety Klatch doesn’t meet again, yet. And I wonder if they all might be waiting for me to give the signal. As if I’m the most connected dragon in town, and therefore an authority.

I do know two Artists, but I don’t think anybody else knows that or the significance of it. If they do, it’s subconscious and not well understood.

Ptarmigan has been more inconspicuous and discrete than she implied she’d be.

And it seems that everyone knows Chapman but not what sie is. Or they aren’t admitting to it.

But I imagine that if they know Chapman, they know how competent, knowledgeable, and connected sie seems. And I imagine between Chapman, Rhoda, and my coffee shop, I might have a reputation that’s also announced by my insistence on starting the Morning Song every day that I can.

But maybe I’m getting a little full of myself.

I have one more counseling appointment before anything interesting happens, during which we talk about my dreams. I feel like my counselor thinks she’s at a loss for how to serve a dragon, honestly. She’s floundering. Her interpretations aren’t particularly relevant.

I don’t know what to do about that, but it’s really her job, her responsibility. In the meantime, having one more person to talk to, even if it’s stymied by my partial mutism and the need to use AAC, is something I do value.  

And nearly every night, I finish off my day by having tea with Rhoda in her apartment.

Oh, and it rains, a lot. And I haven’t decided if I like sleeping in it out in the open on a roof or not. It’s both soothing and relentless.

—

“Ptarmigan and Chapman still don’t think my moon dream did anything,” I tell Rhoda the night of Monday, the 16th of September. 

A big part of our nightly tea sessions is that we give each other plenty of time to compose our thoughts and sentences. We’re not going for long, in depth discussions to get things done. We’re enjoying each other’s company and occasionally punctuating it with well thought out observations and concise reports about how our days are going.

It’s nice.

I like it.

“I think maybe it did, though,” Rhoda says, but doesn’t elaborate.

I bathe my tongue in delicious tea steam and then laconically ask, “How?”

“Mm,” she grunts. And then she gestures with a lazy wave of her fingers and says, “This.”

I smile and wait.

I like the idea that if I dream of something peaceful and good, that some kind of peace and goodness follows in my life.

It still mostly feels like coincidence to me.

But here I am, a dragon, sitting in the living room of a middle aged sad hearted woman, sharing tea and sentiments with her.

I can imagine just what style of artwork would be used on that greeting card.

“Truthfully,” Rhoda says. “I think too many people were trying to do too many things at once right away, including you dragons, and y’all had to figure everything out. I think that dream was really just your subconscious mind telling you you’ve reached the next stage, yourself. And an equilibrium between everyone else was being reached that your brain noticed. But I like to think it presaged these evenings we’re having.”

Ah. Hmm.

I allow myself to enjoy composing my next sentence, however long it takes.

“Is there another idiom for ‘waiting for the other shoe to drop’?”

“Ah, yeah. I get you,” she says. “Some people are probably gathering their forces and not enjoying their tea.”

“How learn magic?” I ask, more abruptly.

“You want to get down to business before bed?” she puts her tea down.

“Yes.”

“OK, I’m in,” she straightens her back and looks down at the low table between us that is covered in crochet magazines and her tea set. Then she looks up at me through her brows, “I don’t know, specifically. But most people go about it by reading books from authors who they think have special knowledge. There are rituals and shit, right? And most magic that people do probably doesn’t work. At least, not in the way that pendant of yours that Chapman made works. But I’ve got a question.”

“Yes.”

“When you use that pendant, do you feel that shift you’ve mentioned? Do you sense it?”

I try to remember the few times I’ve used it and I think my answer is, “No.”

“Then,” she says. “I think that’s where you start. That tells you that what you sense is when an Artist is actively altering the world. Not when the alteration they’ve made does something weird or amazing. I think that is a big huge clue, and it can tell you all sorts of things.”

I make a quiet knocking noise three times as sort of my own version of humming in response.

“You’ve got a sense no one else has. Use it.”

[lgbtqmanga]

New Releases May 28, 2024

The Genius Puppeteer Loves the Holy Knight Fiercely (manga) by Hatoba Kogarashi

As a high-ranking general captured after the end of a war, the Holy Knight Gilbert braces for execution… when at the last moment, his life is saved by Chris, the enemy nation's master artificer and puppeteer. An arrogant, wickedly playful man who surrounds himself only with dolls of his own making, Chris claims to admire the beauty of Gilbert's soul and intends to use him to create his newest masterpiece.

When Gilbert refuses to go along with Chris's plan, he is forced to choose between certain death and forsaking his faith to become an immortal doll. Hoping to buy enough time to make his escape, Gilbert instead offers himself up to Chris as a slave. But if that's the game this knight wishes to play, then Chris fully intends on toying with him until Gilbert breaks to his will…

I Can't Say No to the Lonely Girl (manga) vol. 2 by Kashikaze

Ayaka is caught in a blackmail situation, obligating her to grant the new student Sora one request each day. The “requests” are surprisingly intimate, leaving Ayaka excited for more. Despite Sora’s affectionate gestures, Ayaka feels insecure.

“Where is our relationship going?

Next challenge? A hot new transfer student.

A love triangle up ahead?

Konohana Kitan (manga) vol. 13 by Sakuya Amano

Yuzu and Satsuki are now working as maids at the Akitsushima Hotel, an inn for Western Great Spirits that they arrived at on their travels. Will they be able to pull off their duties despite being astonished by the inn's quirky owner and the other maids? Fox workers will wait on you hand and foot. This is the 13th volume of nostalgic Japanese stories that will illuminate and heal your heart.

Only the Stars Know (manga) by Nagisa Furuya

Sora hasn’t been having a great weekend. Not only did he lose his job, but now his girlfriend’s left him as well. Weighed down by misery and disappointment, he stumbles upon a stranger in the park. With a stunning meteor shower above and a friendly ear to his side, the young college student is offered a brief respite from his problems. But when the stranger leans in for a kiss, Sora is left dumbstruck. Was this chance encounter just a new problem to add to the list or have the stars finally aligned in his favor?

Turns Out My Online Friend is My Real-Life Boss! (manga) vol. 1 by Nmura

Hashimoto is a perfectly average salaryman, working a repetitive office job, made all the worse by his stylish, strait-laced boss, who insists everything be done by the book. Whatever he does for this perfectionist, it's just not good enough! Thankfully, Hashimoto can go home to his favorite online video game, where he can unload on the forgiving shoulders of his best friend, whom he knows only by the name “Uma.” The duo make plans to meet in person, but when they do, Hashimoto is horrified by a revelation that will change his entire life…

What Did You Eat Yesterday? (manga) vol. 21 by Fumi Yoshinaga

A trying day at court, the aches and pains of aging, and the rising cost of living put Shiro through quite the wringer. Kenji is also in for a few surprises, as discussions about the future and an unexpected New Year’s visit to his family’s home lead to some shocking revelations and an unforeseen proposal. Fortunately, the two always have the comfort of a meal made with love to see them through. Good thing, too, because when a premarital quarrel threatens to torpedo Gilbert/Wataru and Kohinata’s wedding plans, it’s up to Shiro and Kenji to find a way to save their friends’ happiness—without putting their own relationship at risk.

Yata-Momo (manga) vol. 1 by Harada

Good-for-nothing himbo Momo lacks the ability to look after himself, while Yata is a reliable but simple lug. The two get off to the worst possible start when Yata comes across Momo during a post-sex clean-up in a public restroom. Taking advantage of Yata's kindness, Momo ends up staying at his apartment. As he spends more time with Yata, the once-slovenly Momo starts to change… But in the midst of this, Momo's previous “owner” shows up.

[isamajor]

Whumpril 2024 : day 16 to 20

16 . Coughing Fit

Telmiltarion hated caves. Each descent triggered an inexplicable apprehension. These cramped spaces made the hair on the back of his neck bristle, and this feeling of being trapped gave rise to panicked thoughts.

The air smelled earthy and stale. The dust made him cough. When he tried to breathe again, it became wheezy. The fear of choking took over, and his heavy breathing turned into fits of wheezing coughs. An endless loop began: increased fear, intensified wheezing, followed by violent coughing and choking gasps. He could no longer calm his cough. Everything his companions tried to do to relieve him seemed in vain. (103)

•

17 . Hallucination

Nebarra staggered through the forest, holding a nearly empty bottle of wine in his hand. Fatigue tugged at his eyelids, but he refused to give in to sleep and its nightmares. The shadows of the trees in the moonlight turned into changing specters, dancing before his troubled gaze. A twig snapped under his feet, putting him on alert. He turned around, drew his sword, expecting enemies, but saw nothing. Only silence answered. Then, whispers floated on the breeze, growing louder with each passing second.

Complaints, dying groans, pleas... Was it real or were his nightmares from the War coming to life on the wind? (104)

•

18 . Broken Glass

The vial had slipped from his hands and crashed to the ground, shattering into a thousand pieces and spilling its precious contents onto the floor. Lucien knelt down and tried to pick up the scattered pieces of glass but the sharp fragments did not fail to cut his fingers. He let out a squeal of surprise and pain. Drops of blood mixed with the spilled potion on the floor and, for a moment, Lucien became afraid of the alchemical mixture it could have made. He froze, sucking his wounds, among the broken pieces of glass, waiting for a possible alchemical reaction. (101)

•

19 . « I need you. »

This goodbye sounded like a farewell. The dragon would transport the Dragonborn to the ancient fortress of Skuldafn. From there they would go through the portal to Sovngarde. A sort of journey of no return. Their companions who can teleport themselves would join them, but Lucien remained behind. Someone had to stay, right? However he wanted to believe that the Dragonborn could come back.

"Skyrim needs its Dragonborn. So do I.", he said in a strangled voice. "Ah that's sounded awfully gushy." he tried to compose himself. Then, squeezing the Dragonborn's forearm, he added, staring intensely at them, "Still, it's true.". (104)

•

20 . Touch Starved

Taliesin sat alone in his tent, fingers playing with the cover of a book he had found in an old chest. The candle flame flickered, and the shadows caressed his face. Memories attacked him. Moments of casual touches like a friendly pat on the shoulder, a squeeze of the hand...

He sighed. He hoped, in the future, that his relationships with his new traveling companions would allow him to be touched, cherished, fully accepted as one of them. To ease the crushing void within him. Just one tender gesture, a single act of kindness to remind him he was worthy of being loved. (103)

------

You can read all the Whump drabbles I've made so far for the Skyrim Custom-voiced Followers here ! Drabble collection (collection of small texts around 100 words each) featuring the Last Dragonborn, Kaidan, Lucien Flavius, Inigo the Brave, Auri, Nebarra, Xelzaz, Remiel, Lucifer the Argonian, Caryalind Thallery, Telmiltarion, Gore, Taliesin, Lydia and Serana.

[hufflepuff3000]

Prologue of my BoB fanfic

╔════ ❀•°❀°•❀ ════╗

May 1942

The nervous ticking of a wooden clock above the door to the head office marked the passing seconds.

Judith Sanders felt awful. Her hands were sweaty from the heat and nerves. She was fiddling with the seam of her skirt, trying to distract herself from what might happen when she finally entered the door down the hall.

The door opened, and a busy-looking secretary stepped out onto the floor.

"Miss Sanders?"

Judith stood up, smoothed her skirt, and nodded.

"That's me," she said, beginning to walk toward the office.

Her nerves flared as she passed the other women waiting for their turn. For the last two hours, the door at the end of the hall had opened, the secretary had called a name, and both women had disappeared into the office. Five minutes later, the door would open again. Judith assumed the women who were finished left through a back door, preventing them from revealing what was happening inside.

Well, she was about to find out.

Walking into the dimly lit office, she was greeted by the man behind the large wooden desk.

"Pleasure to meet you, Miss...?"

"Sanders," Judith answered. "Thank you for inviting me, Mr. Thompson."

Mr. Thompson was a tall man in his fifties. His remaining hair was gray, and he had wrinkles around his eyes and mouth, making him look older than he was. Judith respected the man. She had heard of his heroic actions in the Great War, where he had saved many of his comrades during combat.

"We don't have much time. Shall we begin? You saw the other women waiting outside, I believe?"

He didn't wait for an answer.

"Miss Sanders, I have seen your portfolio, and I must say, I'm rather impressed," Mr. Thompson said, looking through Judith's folder of photographs.

Judith didn't know what to say, so she simply nodded with a smile that she hoped looked thankful.

"I take it you know where you will be sent?" he asked, raising his left eyebrow.

"I do."

"Well, in that case, I'd like to invite you to join our team."

"What— I mean, I didn't expect this to be so quick," she stammered. She had thought she would have to take some kind of test.

"Well, there was a reason for the portfolio. I just wanted to see the photographer behind it before offering a job," Mr. Thompson said with a faint smile.

"Of course. In that case, I would like to accept your offer."

"Good," Mr. Thompson stood up, and Judith followed suit. "Go with Kelly here; she will give you further instructions," he said, gesturing to the secretary—Kelly—who stood by another door.

Judith shook hands with Mr. Thompson, and he handed her back her portfolio folder. Then she followed Kelly.

Kelly led Judith to a room that looked much more inviting than any other room Judith had seen in the building. Various framed photographs were hung on the walls, and a comfortable seating area occupied the center of the room. The faint smell of old paper and ink filled the air. When they entered, two women looked up from their conversation.

They seemed friendly. The taller one had red hair, braided down her back, with soft features and warm brown eyes that reminded Judith of her mother. The shorter one had dirty-blonde hair, hazel eyes, and the prettiest freckles Judith had ever seen.

After Kelly had disappeared without a word, the red-haired woman began talking.

"Don't worry, she'll come back and explain everything once we're all here."

"At least that's what that lady said to me when she dropped me off here an hour ago," the blonde murmured.

"Don't listen to her," the redhead laughed. "Mary doesn't mean it like that."

Judith chuckled at the blonde's expression.

"Anyways, I'm Cecilia, but everyone just calls me Celia."

"I'm Mary," Mary said. "But Celia already spoiled that."

"I'm Judith."

Judith smiled at them. When she didn't say anything else, Mary started talking again.

"Talking doesn't come easy to you, huh?" Mary asked with a grin.

Judith felt heat rising in her cheeks. Talking—especially small talk—had always been difficult for her.

"No worries," Mary quickly added. "We won't see each other very often anyway after we get sent away."

"We could send letters, though."

At that, Judith smiled. She had always preferred writing over talking anyway. Excitedly, the girls exchanged their current addresses, promising to write each other as soon as they knew where they would be sent.

Judith put away the piece of paper into her photography folder so that the paper wouldn't get lost or damaged on her way home.

"Sooo, Judy, show us your photos," Celia looked at her curiously after she saw Judith's folder.

"Um, sure, here," Judith handed the yellowish object in her hands over to Celia.

Celia opened it, glancing at the photographs inside.

"Wow! These are incredible, Judith," she said, her voice filled with genuine admiration.

"Holy sh—" Mary had looked into the folder as well.

"These are so good! How the hell did I end up here when they've seen your photos too?" Mary asked jokingly, scrunching her freckled nose.

"Oh Mary, shut it, you make poor Judy turn all red," Celia scolded.

Mary flashed a sheepish grin in Judith's direction.

"Thank you, Mary," Judith replied with a smile. Since she had discovered her talent for photography when she was twelve years old, she hadn't gone a week without taking at least one photo. And although Judith would never openly admit it, she knew that her pictures were really good.

"You have to show me how to take these kinds of pictures sometime!" Celia exclaimed as she handed the folder back to Judith.

"I will," Judith said, tucking a loose strand of her chestnut hair behind her ear.

At that moment, Kelly came into the room again, followed by another woman.

"This is Nora. She will be your contact back here. You will send her the photos, and if anything occurs, you will talk to her," Kelly explained as soon as she walked into the room.

Nora smiled at them and greeted them: "Hi everyone! I would shake hands but, you know..." Nora's hands were full of packages and folders filled with paperwork.

She was greeted in return by the laughing Celia and Mary. Judith just smiled at her and hoped Nora wouldn't think she was mean or impolite.

Nora had dark curls reaching her shoulders. Her golden earrings shimmered in the light. Judith noticed that Nora had painted her nails red, matching the color to her lipstick and shoes. All in all, Nora was a very stylish person, Judith thought.

"Now on to the explaining part," Kelly said. She and Nora had just finished showing the girls around the building.

When the girls looked at her expectantly, Kelly continued.

"As we all know, you are here because you are good at photography. And that's just what we need in our paper.

To be more specific, we need photos of combat.

There have been combat photographers before, but we want to send women too. You know, it should definitely give our paper some more attention, and we really need that. All these other papers are sending out people too."

"So basically we want you to go to the front, take pictures, and send them back so we can publish them saying it was women that we sent to the front to take these pictures?" Nora spoke after a moment of silence had passed.

"Alright by me," Mary said.

"Yeah, sure," Celia agreed.

Judith, sensing that the attention was now all on her, said quickly, "Okay."

"Good." Kelly looked down at some paperwork in her arms. "I'll finish the formal stuff, and in a few days, you will get the further information in the mail."

The girls looked at each other, each of the three smiling nervously at the others, with whom they would work together for the next time.

 ╚════ ❀•°❀°•❀ ════╝

[fatwtf]

overwatch time!!!! reaper x doomfist

The dim, sterile glow of the Talon base was only broken by the flickering of scattered monitors, their soft hum filling the air. Beneath the sound, a tension built—a current that crackled, neither welcoming nor entirely unwanted. Doomfist leaned against the cold metal wall of the war room, his massive, powerful form casting a long shadow over the room. His gauntlet glinted in the muted light as if eager for a challenge, his thoughts far from the impending strategy session.

His eyes tracked the door as it slid open, the sound echoing in the quiet. Reaper entered, his footsteps soft but deliberate, boots clicking against the floor. He didn’t bother to look at Doomfist immediately, his skull-mask obscuring his face. But the air between them shifted.

Doomfist’s lips curled into a smile—more of a knowing smirk than a friendly gesture. Reaper didn’t look at him, didn’t acknowledge him, but Doomfist could feel the subtle weight of the other man’s presence, how the atmosphere thickened when he was near. Reaper wasn’t here for strategy. No, there was something else in his movements—a slow, deliberate, almost predatory approach.

“Talon’s operations are progressing well,” Reaper said, his voice cold, flat—a tone that never seemed to warm. He turned toward the nearest monitor, his back still to Doomfist.

“I know,” Doomfist answered, his voice deep and rich with command. “But we both know you didn’t come here for business. Not today.”

The slight shift in Reaper’s stance was the only indication he’d heard, or perhaps even acknowledged Doomfist’s words. For a moment, the silence between them was thick enough to suffocate. Then, without warning, Reaper turned his head, his voice lowering, the words coming like a whisper of smoke. “Don’t act like you’re immune to it. We both know you’re as much a part of Talon’s power as I am. More, perhaps.”

Doomfist’s chuckle was low, dangerous, as he pushed himself off the wall and took a step closer, the sound of his heavy boots resounding through the room. He towered over Reaper, but there was something unsettlingly close in his proximity, a kind of magnetic pull that neither of them could quite escape.

“I’ve never claimed to be immune to anything.” His voice was rich with meaning as he leaned in, his breath brushing against Reaper’s shoulder. “But I’m not here to play your games, Gabriel.”

At the mention of his real name, Reaper’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t flinch. Instead, his gloved hand rose, and for a fleeting moment, Doomfist thought he might strike. Instead, it came to rest against the metal of the desk between them, fingers tapping in slow, deliberate beats.

“And yet here you are, standing so close to me,” Reaper murmured, his voice almost amused. He tilted his head slightly, the skull-mask giving him an unreadable expression.

“I don’t stand *anywhere* unless I’m in control.” Doomfist’s voice was a growl now, the weight of his presence pressing on Reaper. His massive hand reached out, a finger lightly grazing the edge of Reaper’s cloak. The contact was small, but its implication was huge. “Control is everything, Gabriel. You should know that better than anyone.”

The name—*Gabriel*—hung in the air between them, and for the first time, Reaper’s usual mask of indifference cracked ever so slightly. Doomfist noticed it, his gaze darkening. He was used to being in charge, used to having his will unquestioned. But with Reaper, it was different. There was something… raw beneath the layers of power, something that neither of them could completely suppress.

Reaper didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stepped back, finally turning to face Doomfist fully, his mask now a mere inch away from the other’s face. The proximity sent a jolt through Doomfist, the sudden intensity in Reaper’s eyes betraying something unspoken between them.