#albeit I think star’s actions were.. even worse

[alien-insomniac-05]

Since I saw a random little post on Reddit talking about this (reddit is a place of horrors, I know)

I think jerboa III/boa should have been punished for destroying animus magic. Not in the same way that Darkstalker was as that would just be a repeat of what had already caused her actions (also I don’t think Darkstalker deserved to have his memories wiped either) but I feel that she should have gotten an appropriate punishment for it.

[blimbo-buddy]

If I may add my contribution to this lovely firegray slander.

Here are my ideas of them:

Graystripe is a cat who does what Graystripe feels like. His loyalty is there but thinks doing a single act will fix everything. He isn’t the type to apologize first and gives the silent treatment until the other bends. He doesn’t like being embarrassed and thinks what he does shouldn’t be anyone business regardless of how much it does involve them.

Fireheart is definitely someone who goes through a range of emotions and can be very emotional although he was definitely bullied for the kitty pet softness. He has morals but the internalized xenophobia is hitting him hard. He’s a bleeding heart, ready to sacrifice himself and well-being for others even when it kills him to do so. I don’t see him as taking only actions, he needs to hear the words.

I’ll never not be pissed when Graystripe decided attacking Fireheart for trying to protect his secret was a good idea and keeping Tigerclaw off his tail. He did all of that and still treated him like shit.

Fireheart could’ve revealed it right then and there when Bluestar asked and I would 100% back him up.

Note: this is right after the attempted patrol raid got back in Fire and Ice.

~

That’s not love

Fireheart scanned the edge of the clearing, looking for Graystripe. He needed to know if his mate did slipped out of the camp, he hoped to the stars he didn't.

Lionheart already wasn’t pleased with him due to Brackenpaw’s training, or lack thereof. He was thankful he took Fireheart’s words, albeit he still didn’t happy. He didn’t want it to be worse.

A part of him hoped Graystripe would be happy he spared him the conflict, maybe Graystripe’s yellow orbs would shine with affection this time, he tried not to think about how long it's been since they last glowed at him, how long it’s been since they last shared tongues or talking about telling the clan they were mates. How he longed to have that back, longed to lay in the same nest. He wasn’t the best at best making he found out. Something to take his mind off the dreams and the insults from the other warriors for being woken up.

Maybe he should try sleeping in the day, it’ll be better for rest of clan.

“Where’s Graystripe?” he heard Lionheart’s voice but it lacked the usual softness, in it's place was fury, like yesterday.

“Graystripe-”

“Over here” he heard a hushed tone

He followed his friend’s voice into the shadows behind the nursery. The milky scent made him wonder about the future, maybe some kits, he wondered about fatherhood and kinship.

Fireheart mewed quietly into the gloom, but he couldn’t see Graystripe anywhere. He opened his mouth to call again but it was immediately met with him being knocked down to his paws. Fireheart shot up and spun around, all his senses alert. He saw Graystripe with his hackles raised, silhouetted in the dimness.

Graystripe lunged again. Fireheart ducked just in time as Graystripe swung a wide gray paw at his ear.

“What are you doing?” Fireheart spluttered, terror and hurt spiked through him. ‘What did I do?’

“Like you don’t know” Graystripe flattened his ears and hissed, “You didn’t trust me! You thought I would betray ThunderClan!” He aimed another swipe. This one caught the tip of Fireheart’s ear.

Pain and fury shot through him, he didn’t know whether to hiss or cry. He trusted Graystripe with his life, hadn’t he made that clear. “I just wanted to save you from having to make a choice!” he spat “I just wanted to-”

Graystripe flew at him and knocked him backward. The two cats tussled, claws unsheathed. “I can make my own choices,” Graystripe snarled.

Fireheart struggled free and leaped onto Graystripe’s back. “I was just trying to protect you.” ‘I love you’ a part of him whimpered

Cold Yellow eyes seemed to bore into his soul “I don’t need protecting!”

Blinded by anger, Fireheart dug his claws into Graystripe’s pelt, but Graystripe flipped Fireheart over and together they rolled out from behind the nursery and into the clearing.!

The cats in the clearing sprang out of the way as the two young warriors barreled into them. Fireheart yowled with rage as Graystripe bit his foreleg. He thrusted upward with a claw and raked Graystripe’s right eye. He heard Graystripe yowl and retaliated by lunging downward and sinking his teeth into Fireheart’s hind leg.

“Stop this!” Bluestar yowled

Cats stared and started whispering. Tigerclaw and Darkstripe looked amused.

“The kittypet’s acting up again”

“What he’d do this time?”

Fireheart wanted to relent and hide away from the whispers but yowled as Graystripe’s hold didn’t loosen.

A burst of yellow flashed and soon enough his leg was free. He looked up to see Lionheart dragging Graystripe by the scruff.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“Fireheart and I were having a discussion and-“ Graystripe’s face met the dirt as Lionheart released him

“Don’t you start” Lionheart curled his lip

“Fireheart, go see Yellowfang, Graystripe-“ Bluestar was cut off as Lionheart approached

“Apologies Bluestar, but I want to chew this wanker out first”

Fireheart winced, he opened to mouth to plead, it was his fault anyway but Lionheart gazed at him and he closed his mouth. He started walking towards the medicine den, not wanting to stay for the aftermath.

As he passed he thought he heard “-deserves better” from who he couldn’t tell, maybe from Tigerclaw.

He needed to do better, he shouldn’t have let it get this far.

Yellowfang wasn’t pleased when he entered nor when she wrapped his ear and leg.

He shouldn’t have angered Graystripe like that. Maybe they can share some prey and he could apologize, maybe he could convince him to stop meeting with the Riverclan cat if he caught a rabbit or large bird.

He felt a paw nudge him

“Anything else hurting?”

“No”

Yellowfang sighed before she rested a paw on his own

“Fireheart, he’s a prick-”

“Yellowfang,-” he stopped as the old molly held a paw

“He’s prick and will continue because he knows you’ll let him”

“It's not that bad”

“I suppose attacking you isn’t that bad?” She retorted

“I attacked back” he replied “I think I cut his eye” A part of him wanted to run out and comfort Graystripe and say sorry.

“Good for him, dodgy tosser” she stared at him “Where does it end Fireheart?”

Fireheart felt something in him boil “What do you know?” he snapped “You don't have a mate! You don’t know what love is! You don’t know sacrifices love makes you do!”

He immediately slapped his paws to his mouth, he waited to be yelled at but it didn't come me

“Fireheart-”

“I'm sorry”

Yellowfang was quiet for a moment, strangely he didn’t sense any anger, he kept his eyes closed until he felt her fur brush against his “You’d be surprised about I know”

Fireheart was silent, his words never helped anyone.

“You know I was once a warrior before turning to a part of healing” she began “I had someone I ‘loved’” she laughed bitterly “Known each other since kithood, it made sense that we were infatuated with each other, so he was sharp and yelled, it was love” she mewed “Love hurts, I reasoned” Yellowfang’s eyes turned cold “But overtime, it got to me took me a while to really start to think about it, why did I feel so bad when it wasn’t my fault, why he wouldn’t tell that kit to back off and say we were together, you wanna know what did it? When was the last time he said he loved me?”

Fireheart lifted his head to met her gaze, the question hung in the air

When was the last time said he loved him?

Fireheart opened his mouth to reply but…found nothing. It was always him that said it. He always asked for comfort and warmth.

He never said he loved me. Was I just a thing to play with? He wanted to scream to the skies and say it wasn’t true.

“He…he does” he tried but Yellowfang’s soft look made him break.

“I know you want to see the good, I know, but trust me when I say, whatever this is, that’s not love”

He didn’t feel the fat tears rolling until he felt the drops fall onto his paws. He felt Yellowfang pull him in as he started to cry, burying his face into her fur.

He didn’t know when the crying stopped and sleep took him. Yellowfang didn’t stop him and no one woke him.

~

GreyStripe thinking that doing one single good deed will immediately resolve him of his countless shitty deeds is honestly the better version of him especially with what we see in canon. His tactic of giving the silent treatment to make others feel bad really would just show how much of a shitty person and friend he is.

And hoooly shit this FireHeart interpretation is so good. Like I've said before, FireHeart with internalized xenophobia is such a great idea for him because it demonstrates the slight bit of tragedy to his character, that being that he ends up falling to the hateful status quo of the clans when he's tried so hard to fight against it. You're completely right about the Grey attacking Fire thing, even after all of that, GreyStripe doesn't seem thankful to him like dude he just saved your ass, he could have easily just spewed out the truth but he didn't all because he cares about your selfish ass.

The way this story perfectly shows us GreyStripe's selfishness and his lack of thankfulness towards everything FireHeart does for him is so on point and so sad+infuriating to read. GreyStripe tries to pin the blame onto FireHeart because it's the coward's way out, instead of facing his responsibilities and consequences of his actions. And then when LionHeart intervenes, GreyStripe tries to dumb down the situation by framing it as a "discussion" between him and FireHeart, it's likely that if he was given more time to speak, he'd twist the narrative to make it seem as though FireHeart was being irrational. But FireHeart genuinely thinks that it's his fault because of other similar situations that have ended in the same way, GreyStripe always guilts FireHeart to the point where FireHeart is unsure of himself and his worth, again, showing off GreyStripe's selfishness and readiness to pin blame on others.

I love how YellowFang immediately just spews out "He's a prick", she's trying to get FireHeart to finally admit that GreyStripe is horrible but the poor guy keeps trying to defend him and make up excuses for a cat who doesn't give a fuck about him. Despite all of his excuses, YellowFang sees directly through them and makes a point to FireHeart that it's never going to end if this keeps going on. Then FireHeart angrily retorts back at YellowFang and insults her when she insists that GreyStripe needs to get a good whooping, he's yet again, trying to defend GreyStripe. I love the callback to RaggedStar and YellowFang's abusive relationship, it offers readers a moment where YellowFang connects with FireHeart's situation, she wants him to know that he isn't the only cat who's gone through something like that. And you know what? It does actually work a bit, even if FireHeart tries to insist that GreyStripe loves him back, he's still able to slowly and painfully realize that GreyStripe never once told him that he loved him, it was always FireHeart. Then YellowFang hits FireHeart with the "I know you want to see the good, I know, but trust me when I say, whatever this is, that’s not love” sentence and fucking hell.. it hits you in the face like a brick.

The story is so well crafted in showing both GreyStripe's seflishness and immaturity and FireHeart's eagerness to see the good in GreyStripe. It's a continuous cycle that FireHeart never notices until a role model in his life points it out.

[elliepassmore]

To Cage a God review

5/5 stars Recommended if you like: fantasy, magic, Russian Revolution, disability rep, multiple POVs

This was one of my anticipated reads of the year and it did not disappoint! There's a good mix of action, magic, and politicking going on throughout the book and I flew through this book. I will say though that I would've appreciated a map so I could better understand where everything was situated since I had kind of a hard time figuring it out on my own and there are a lot of places mentioned. This is Russian inspired and I loved that May included the multitude of nicknames that are common in Slavic languages! A lot of the time I see Slavic-inspired fantasies only using one nickname, but in reality the languages use. So. Many. Names. And it was great to see that here.

I was fascinated with the world. The nobility are called alurea and are the ones who have gods (dragons) caged in their bodies. There is some mention of how this works and why only the nobility have it, but this book is kind of sparse on the details, I suspect book 2 will deal with this a little more. Everyone else (i.e., commoners) are called supplicants and not only do they not have gods, but it's also thought impossible for them to have them. Enter Galina and Sera, who I'll get into more below. I thought it was interesting to see how alurea vs. supplicant relations played out and by and large found the alureas to be very unsympathetic. They go beyond typical royal, rich person disdain for the common folk and straight into disregard for their lives. They literally don't care if supplicants die due to their actions, it's not even something they consider pause worthy.

This also plays out in how the rich-poor divide is structured. The alureas live in opulent palaces and have gorgeous silk gowns while the supplicants live in tenements that threaten to collapse with them inside. Many are forced to go with too little food, and one of the book's narrators recounts how alurea threw cake onto the ground to watch starving supplicants lick it off the cobblestones. This, of course, makes great breeding ground for revolution, with the rebels being called 'faithless.'

Sera and Galina were raised by the leader of the revolution, who also happened to be a little into human experimentation. Their mom found a way to bind gods into non-royals and was able to bind one into each sister, thus turning them into very effective, albeit secret, tools of the revolution. The book opens four years after their mother's death when Sera and Galina decide to return to their home city and take down the empress for good.

Sera stays in the city gathering information and preparing elixirs to strengthen Galina's god for the final showdown. She's definitely the strategist of the two and plays it a little closer to the edge than Galina does. Her spy network in the city is small but quite effective, and it was interesting to see how she played certain things to their advantage. I liked the combination of her being book smart and street smart. I feel like we don't often get characters who are both, so I enjoyed seeing her master the science lab and knife a few alureans. While Sera does decry violence, her past (and the fact that she seems to have literally invented bombs in this world) indicates that it doesn't always bother her. I think in this case it works out because her plan is better than what the faithless have going, but at the same time I think she should probably acknowledge that violent revolution does work.

Galina is a little softer, though I think she deserves to be considering 1) she lost her family to the empress prior to being adopted by Sera's mom, and 2) definitely got the worse end of the deal with their mom's use of her god. Galina's main job in this book is to spy on the empress and get close enough to her for Sera's plan to work. She has the unique opportunity to get close to the princess too, and that allows her to see some good in alurean power, though she doesn't get fooled into thinking the alureans should stay in power. This book involves Galina healing from her past and recovering from everything that happened. I hope in book 2 we get to see her in action more since it seems like politically she's going to be very involved.

Katya is Sera's spies in the palace and gets a POV of her own. I found her story to be very compelling and am torn between wanting to see more of her and wanting her to be able to rest. Katya serves as the empress' handmaiden, the latest in a string of 16, all of whom end up murdered by the empress. Katya's sister was the handmaiden before her and was killed after a visiting diplomat made the empress angry, and so Katya swore revenge on the empress. Her journey toward being able to throw off the confines of the empress' control was powerful and satisfying.

Vasilisa is the princess and also gets a POV of her own. She's a bit of a mystery at first, and as a result we don't get her POV until we're well into the book. She used to be very active and was even more popular than her mother, but after her father died she became a recluse and there are rumors she isn't even alive. The truth of it is that Vasya has a degenerative disease and is simply refusing to harm her body anymore just to make her family look good, particularly since her mother doesn't want her using mobility aids when in public. She seems to have a better understanding of things than her mother does and while she still lives in the lap of luxury, she utilizes her godpower to try and help supplicants. She's also scientifically minded and is the one who develops most of the treatments for her condition.

Vitaly is the last POV character and he's Sera's love interest and the new leader of the faithless. He and Sera used to be partners in the revolution and would go on missions together to help bring down strategic targets or help provide weapons to other budding revolutions. He has a fairly single-minded focus, which could be annoying at times, but at the same time was kind of understandable considering his past and the fact that Sera wasn't cluing him in to what she was doing (that being said, did he really believe she was a supplicant?? And why not question why she didn't want the 'new' alurean dead?). While Vitaly does come across as the brooding bad boy type, it's clear that he adores Sera and would cross any lines for her, including his own. I did appreciate that he truly seems to care for her (and I do like him as a character), but I feel like some brains behind that brawn and violence would be nice.

Overall I greatly enjoyed this book and found the characters to be intriguing. The world is rich and has a lot of depth to it, and I'm curious to see how this most recent revolution will play out. Interestingly too, I think this book could be read as a standalone as well, if you're looking for a one-off read!

[scham-wcan]

Heyo! Hope you're having a great day/night

Was wondering if ya had any more angst headcanons for cinwin buzzing around, or fluff if you're not up for angst atm

Heya!

I do have a couple angst/hurt-comfort ones about my kids absolutely—this got a little long, hope that’s okay!

I do enjoy thinking about when all of everything is said and done the pair of them are left with just are covered in scars, wounds, and injuries that will take time—even with Maiden powers—to heal. These are two people who are obsessed with how they’re perceived, Winter with her former status haunting her and her new life she’s made in the ashes of the old, Cinder with how far she fell to get power she thought she needed or deserved only to be used as a tool for someone else which she is damned to never let happen again. So these wounds and damages are far more than just superficial, they’re injuries which they believe damage their character, make them appear weak, underserving of what they have obtained, because why would the winner be anything else besides capable. Even worse if there are injuries which impede their lifestyles, like a busted leg or back, or a new prosthetic which refuses to cooperate in place of a Grimm abomination. They’re just incapable of accepting that with all of these damages that they’re still worthy of what they achieved or had.

Which—And this is where the hurt comfort I promised comes in— is why I think a scenario like that is so perfect for these two. Because in spite of how they view themselves, the other one still values strength, perseverance, and they’re able to see those short comings as things beyond damages to an ego but semblances of pride. They’re mementos of the tough times each of them have gone through, and ones they have gone through together as well.

Like a scene where Winter is breaking herself over backwards trying to come to terms with a brace, or an assisted recovery piece, refusing to use it and feeling the pain in that injury just grow so much worse. Cinder wouldn’t be the one to force her back into using it, but she’d be damned if she would listen to what was once one of her greatest foes and now greatest partner beat herself up over being unable to run. Despite all of that pain she may not be able to run, but she can stand, she can hold her own weight, she can walk—albeit with Cinder close by for her own peace of mind.

Or a piece of Cinder just angry beyond belief that she cannot do something as simple as pick up a mug with her prosthetic, refusing to believe she’s being defeated by something she caused and something so simple as a scrap of metal shaped like a hand. Taking periods where she goes without the thing while fuming so hard she’s steaming. It’s a bad memory again where she knows she has no one else but herself to blame for her being like this, its the biggest symbol of how terrible her life and actions were to that point; and that struggle is made manifest with her being incapable of doing the simplest of things. Yet there’s Winter, ready to pick up the arm when its thrown, bring it back when Cinder’s prepared, there help her attach or remove it, and always prepared to be there with Cinder, in silence or in voice, to persist that she’s improving.

Other than that there’s also the obligatory scar worship and devotion they show to one another, where one damns themselves because of their wounds while the other notes constantly that she is the most beautiful mosaic piece they have ever seen covered with losses and victories more poetic and powerful than the stars in the sky.

But other than that yeah I have some CinWin buzzing around usually, thanks for asking!

[starlessea]

𝙎𝙩𝙚𝙥 𝙤𝙣 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙖𝙨 - Chapter 1. Is It A Bird?

A/N Make sure you read the prologue before, or this chapter might not make sense!

Series Masterlist: Step on the Gas

Summary: A dishonourable discharge from the military results in you being hauled off to live with your grandparents in the boonies, otherwise known as the middle of nowhere Georgia. After running over a nail on the road, and pushing your grandpa's vintage Camaro to the nearest auto-shop, you meet Daryl Dixon - the local mechanic. At some point, the world ends, but that stubborn man never gives you a chance to slow down. His smile gives you whiplash, but he still insists that you to step on the gas.

Words: 4869

Chapter Warnings: Language, Injury

You watched the bird fly from behind the clear glass, level with the top floors of the office building.

You followed it the best you could, walking the stretch of the room alongside it. The window was long and wide, filling the wall entirely. This whole section of the building was made of glass, and stood tall against the skyline — so that you could often see the flocks of birds that flew by.

Though, it wasn’t as tall as the ones closer to the inner city.

No, this was more of a dwarfed skyscraper.

You reached the end of the office, and placed your hands up against the cool glass as the bird continued onwards — leaving you behind. Below, the street seemed desolate, just as the sky now did. There wasn’t a single soul lurking down there — but you didn’t trust your eyes in the slightest. Especially not here.

You needed a better view. You needed a bird’s-eye view.

The fire escape steps were rickety, and metal flakes crumbled beneath your feet. They had rusted from the rain, and you tried not to think about how precariously they squeaked as you made your ascent to the roof. You’d done it before, but every time felt worse than the last.

You just couldn’t shake the feeling that they’d cave beneath you — and laugh their squeaky laughs as they sent you plummeting to the ground.

You reached the top, and felt the breeze on your cheek as you scaled the roof courtyard. Up here, everything seemed untouched. It always had done. This high up, people would look like mere ants — harmless, and far enough away that it didn’t matter if they weren’t.

The wind blew, and you stared out towards the building parallel to the corporate one you were currently standing on. It had been a hotel once. But now its roof held something far more valuable than deckchairs and a cocktail bar.

There she was, you smiled, and what a beauty indeed.

It was an army helicopter, sat perfectly still against the horizon — like a bird nesting. It was a camo green, but it didn’t camouflage against the greyish sky in the slightest. Though, it did seem like it belonged there; it was a hawk after all.

A Sikorsky Hawk, to be more specific.

You’d never flown her type before, but she’d been there ever since you first took refuge in the building, like an abandoned bird in an abandoned city. The army had been the first to flee, after all — or the first to die. Either way, the hawk had sat alone for nearly two months, teasing you.

You should have just stayed in Georgia.

It was only meant to be a weekend trip, but somehow you’d gotten stranded in Atlanta during the end of the world. You would have cursed your luck, but then again you were lucky enough to get stuck on the outskirts — only narrowly missing the bombs as they reigned down upon the city.

It was like a meteor shower. Except, instead of falling stars, it had been napalm.

You could remember it perfectly. First the power had gone out, then the water mains dried up, and finally the food whittled down to nothing. You’d hopped from building to building until you came across this corporate graveyard — which had enough supplies to keep you alive for a few weeks. But you should have just left Atlanta whilst you had the chance.

This tower had lulled you in with the promise of safety, but had kept you trapped there ever since.

Walking closer to the roof’s edge, you glanced along the building in the distance. You’d checked it a dozen times now — mapping out all of its exits to try and find a way inside. You had to be prepared. After all, it wasn’t like you could just wait until you got there. Your boot hit the fencing, and you felt the urge to peer over the railing at the alley below.

Don’t look down, you told yourself — but you always did.

A narrow sidestreet separated the office block from the hotel. There was a fence at one end, secured with a thick padlock, whilst the other was open. That would have been fine on its own; except, the biters had all stumbled into the alley as though it were a cattle cage — and couldn’t figure out how to leave once they were there.

Dumb fucks, you thought, watching them pile up against the gate as though it were a concert barrier.

Almost every day, you’d come to see that helicopter — separated by a channel of the undead, their heads bobbing like ripples on the surface of water — and every day you’d turn around and head back down the fire escape.

Your stomach gurgled, and you let out a sigh. The stale lunchroom cereal had recently run empty. You felt for your pistol in your back pocket — the one you’d managed to get a hold of during the initial outbreak.

Six bullets, you counted, before slipping it back into your jeans.

You smiled at the irony.

“Six!” you yelled at the man, placing your card face-up on the bar. “It’s my lucky number.”

Dixon knocked back his whiskey and grimaced as it went down. Joe’s was practically empty by now, but the man lingered about like the aftertaste of your drink — waiting for your shift to end.

“An’ why’s that?” he asked, not looking up from his own hand.

You smiled — the alcohol making you loose-lipped.

“It was your closing time. Six in the evening,” you explained, waiting for him to lay his last card. “But you still fixed up the Camaro anyway.”

Your fingertips rested along the hem of the jacket, feeling the worn leather. The air was stiflingly warm, but you kept it on. After all, it still smelled faintly of the man who’d given it to you.

Like whiskey and gasoline.

Atlanta had gone still and quiet, leaving you to your thoughts as you stood on that rooftop — trying to be brave. Military training was meant to beat that into a person, but maybe you’d gone soft since then. After all, you always preferred to stay above the action than be in the midst of it.

Six bullets, a Hawk, and a cattle grid filled with biters.

You laughed. Everything interesting always seemed to happen on a Tuesday.

Glancing over your shoulder at the bird once more, you tried to ignore the way your stomach dropped and your palms sweat. It was probably from the heat, you tried to tell yourself, but you knew better than that.

“I guess today’s the day,” you said, to no one in particular.

Then, you began to descend that rickety fire escape once again — because what goes up must always come down.

//

What you hadn’t realised, is that the same could be said for that Sikorsky Hawk, which spat you out of the sky like you didn’t deserve to be there.

When you finally came back around — after drifting in and out of consciousness for what felt like much too long — all you could smell was burning rubber.

That’s not good, you thought, as you blinked your eyes open.

Black smoke hung thick in the air, melding with the orange flames that flickered in the distance and caught the trees.

Those damn trees.

You hissed curses through your teeth as the pain finally kicked into gear — albeit a bit delayed. In your haziness, you’d barely realised how precarious your situation was. Like a puppet on a string, you dangled from the branches of a tall, leafless tree — caught by your parachute wires.

Your breaths were shallow and strained, and you slowly lifted a hand — the one not tangled in the cords — to feel your stomach.

Blood.

It was shrapnel from the crash. It stung like a bitch, and would probably need stitches. Well, it would if you could get down in the first place.

You glanced up at your other arm, eyes stinging from the brightness of the sky.

That doesn’t look right either, you grimaced.

It had gotten caught during the fall, and had twisted at an unnatural angle which only made you wince as you tried to free it. Like a marionette, if you plucked those wires ever so slightly, your whole body flailed.

The radios whirred below you, letting out a continuous note of high-pitched static as they caught alight. It reminded you of the screeching of wheels as they spun over tarmac — or something like that.

But, then you saw a man.

And the man saw you.

At first, you barely recognised him without his oil-stained work clothes — wrench in hand. But at the same time, he seemed to blend in perfectly with this new world. He had a crossbow slung over his back, and a rope of limp squirrels looped around his shoulder. A natural born hunter, indeed.

With numb toes, and blood rushing to your head, you called out to him hoarsely — hoping that he’d spot you perched among the trees.

“Dixon,” you spoke, and winced straight after.

Your voice didn’t even sound like your own.

Still, the man whipped around, and stared straight through you as though he were looking at a ghost.

“How’s it hanging?” you teased, and recognition flashed on his face.

It had taken him a while to cut you down, untwisting your limbs delicately from the cables. But once you were free, he carried you in his arms — like some trophy game from his hunting trip.

Then, he noticed the wound.

The mechanic looked down at you helplessly. He still hadn’t said a single word, but his eyes told you everything you needed to know. They rested on your hands — which were pressed down firmly to stop the bleeding — before trailing back up to your face.

He looked older than you remembered, and more hardened. And he didn’t view you with the same shy curiosity as before — you had noticed.

No. This was sadness.

You brought a hand up from your stomach and touched it to his cheek. He flinched at the contact, but didn’t pull away.

You could swear he even leaned into it.

His mousy stubble tickled your palm, and only then did you realise the bloody fingerprints you’d left behind on his skin. You let your head flop against the man’s chest, your ear pressed to his pounding heartbeat.

“Today really isn’t my day,” you murmured there, and he started walking.

//

You watched the sky the whole way back.

It looked so different from the sky in Atlanta. There were no hulking skyscrapers blocking it, nor fast food billboards that had begun to peel away. And there were far more birds flying by — the real kind, not any Sikorsky Hawks.

Dixon remained completely silent, except for when he’d occasionally remind you to keep pressure on that wound. He moved quickly, but he seemed lost in thought — lacking the usual bite you remembered.

He also seemed to have lost his words, you thought.

But then you reached a clearing.

You could hear the commotion before you saw it; there was some rustling behind the trees, accompanied by dry shouts and the clanging of metal. You glanced up at the man carrying you for answers, but he didn’t once look down.

Daryl stepped out into the open air, and squinted from the sunlight. You did the same, turning your head into his chest for some cover from it.

“Ya can drop yer weapons,” you heard him say.

Well, more like felt — since the vibrations rumbled against your cheek.

“Unless yer plannin’ on offing me with tha’ shovel,” he snapped.

There he was, you smiled, that was the Dixon you recognised.

You could feel his heart thumping as he spoke, and you had to coax yourself away to take a look at the scene for yourself.

A group of people holding spades, a bashed-in biter, and a mauled deer.

You laughed. Fucking Tuesdays.

Except, the laugh trailed off into a wheeze as the pain started up, and the blood poured.

Daryl quickly kicked into gear with urgency, and brushed off the group as they tried to ask their questions. “Someone best go get Merle off his lazy ass,” he yelled, “tell him his favourite helicopter pilot jus’ crash landed ‘ere.”

Your head snapped up at his words.

Merle Dixon, too? You weren’t sure you could handle them both.

Except, nobody moved to go and retrieve the older brother. Instead, a small asian man stepped forward — removing his baseball cap and wringing it in his hands.

“I can’t believe it,” he announced, eyes locked on you, “helicopter boy was telling the truth!”

You squinted at his words, trying to make sense of them amidst the heatstroke and blood loss.

But, you didn’t have to try for long. A second man stepped out from behind the frontline of people, also parting with his obnoxiously large hat as he did so. Except, this was no baseball cap; this was a damn country midwestern cowboy hat.

The badge in the centre of it caught the light and beamed it back directly into your eyes, making you cower away. The man shucked his hands into his pockets, and only then did you catch sight of him fully — clad in his King County Sheriff’s Department uniform .

Great, you sighed, letting your head flop back over Daryl’s arm. A fucking cop.

Dixon’s jaw clenched, too. You saw it above you — tensing.

“You come from Atlanta?” the officer questioned, “earlier today?”

That caught your attention. He’d been in Atlanta, too?

You definitely hadn’t seen any survivors on the flight over. But then again, it would’ve been nearly impossible to distinguish the dead from the living at that altitude. You swallowed thickly, and nodded.

“What happened to you?” he pressed.

The group’s chatter had died to a silence, and even Daryl seemed to await your answer.

“Engine failed,” you croaked, parched from a lack of water. “Couldn’t control the descent so I had to jump,” you cursed the last part, “too many trees.”

Then, you pinched Daryl’s arm lightly — feeling woozy from the sun. He nodded, and wordlessly stepped over the rotting corpse near his boot.

“You two know each other?” a voice interrupted, “and you just happened to find her?”

You didn’t like this man’s eyes; you hadn’t since you’d first caught a glimpse of them. He had dark, bouffant hair that seemed far too prim for the end of the world, and was wearing light cargo pants.

Then you noticed the dog tags hanging from his neck, and the combat boots which matched what you knew to be police-issued training gear.

Seriously, you thought, another one?

Daryl didn’t seem particularly fond of the guy, either, because he narrowed his eyes at him in the same way he did the biter at his feet. He looked as though he was considering ignoring him completely. And you couldn’t blame him.

It wasn’t like you were bleeding out, or anything.

“Was trackin’ tha’ deer,” he responded, toeing the dead animal with his boot. “Seen the bird go down an’ followed it.”

Daryl readjusted his grip on you, and you groaned from his heavy-handedness. But you didn’t miss his guilty expression.

After all, he probably tried to be gentle.

“An’ there she was, jus’ swingin’ from tha' tree like a big ol' piñata,” he finished — that southern drawl thick on his tongue.

You watched the other man’s jaw shift as though he were chewing on a bee, and spit at the ground like it had stung his mouth.

“You’re telling me that she crashed a damn helicopter in our backyard?” he barked, narrowing in on you with those sharp, dark eyes. “Drawing walkers from all over?”

Daryl shifted where he stood, making the leather of your jacket squeak as it rubbed together. You were beginning to feel like tinfoil in a microwave — cooking slowly in the sun as you waited for the men to finish brooding.

“Ya hear ‘nything?” the mechanic asked of the group, who turned away from his intense gaze one-by-one. “Din’t think so,” he spat, and you could practically hear his thoughts.

What a bunch of cowards.

“Was in the bow of the woods,” Daryl went on, eyeing the dark-haired man where he stood. “Land dips in at either side, like a noise tunnel.”

He paused, his eyes briefly flicking up to the sky as though seeing the scene once more.

“Only ones hearin’ it were the ones a’ready there.”

Daryl juggled you in his arms again, probably aching from the long trek, and seemed antsy to finally escape those heavy stares. But then, the man shook his head — as though remembering something.

“Now where’s my damn brother?” he growled.

And everyone’s eyes fell straight to the ground, like birds swooping down from the sky.

//

It would be an understatement to say that Daryl Dixon had exploded at the news.

He went nuclear.

If you hadn’t been in his arms at the time, you were certain that someone would’ve been on the receiving end of Daryl’s right hook. You’d seen it before, after all. That man wasn’t exactly one to pull his punches.

But, luckily, you had been there — crumpled in on yourself as the white hot pain also reached nuclear levels.

And so, you were ushered into a small, greyish tent that smelled faintly of oil and gasoline — and the unfortunate alcoholic stench of Merle Dixon — and stripped out of your jacket by a woman who tried her best to quell the bleeding.

But even then, you could still hear the storm raging outside the thin canvas material — the storm that went by the name of Dixon. He’d never shown that sort of temper around you before, so it came as a shock to see it brewing for yourself.

Yells competed with each other outside the tent walls, as a woman with short, greyish hair politely tended to your wounds — pretending she couldn’t hear anything at all.

But, you heard it and bolted upright, straight as an arrow.

Merle Dixon had been chained to a roof like a dog in Atlanta.

What fucking irony.

The smoking ban had loomed over rural Georgia for a while now, but it fell on the deaf ears of the regulars. They still smoked their thickly rolled cigars, and cheap cartons of cigarettes — clogging up the bar and your lungs every time you took a breath.

Dixon sat on the stool, watching as you wiped down the chestnut oak covered in sticky beer rings, and pulled new drinks for the impatient men twice your age. He was mulling over a particularly hard whiskey that day, but wouldn’t tell you the reason behind it.

So, you continued with your rounds until another man approached you, and took the only free seat beside the mechanic.

Big mistake, you smirked, and awaited his reaction.

Daryl Dixon shared barspace with no one - hence, the free seats on an otherwise crowded Friday night. Except, he did nothing but shoot the stranger a side-eyed glance, before returning to his whiskey that needed a top-up on ice.

The newcomer let his eyes slide down over you, in that sleazy way you’d become familiar with by now. He ran his tongue along the front of his teeth and tilted his head back in an exaggerated display of bravado.

And you snorted; you just couldn’t help it.

He scowled at you in response, as his gaze rested on the bare skin of your neck.

“Military dog,” he spat, despite your lack of tags, “where's yer collar?"

Beside him, the mechanic’s jaw clenched as he looked up from the ice melting in his glass.

You laughed. “Howdy, redneck, where’s your cousin?”

And Daryl choked on that same ice.

Surprisingly, the bitterness all but faded away from the unknown man’s face — as he seemed to take your comment in jest. He smirked, and wacked Daryl on the back forcefully as he hacked up his whiskey — yelling something about it being too damn expensive to go shooting out all over the bar.

You couldn’t understand the situation. You’d never seen Daryl act like that with anyone at Joe’s — let alone this particular breed of asshole.

“Feisty, jus’ how I like ‘em,” the stranger quipped back, sending a wink at you that lingered on your skin.

You pulled a face, and went back to wiping down the bar — careful not to lean over too much.

“Knock it off, Merle would’ya?” Daryl shot back, his voice rising in pitch over the name.

The other man — Merle — grinned, before clapping Daryl over the back once more. “No promises, lil’ brother,” he teased.

Then, he knocked back a drink you were certain he must’ve snuck in — because you sure as hell hadn’t poured it for him — and disappeared into the sea of drunkards playing pool and throwing darts haphazardly.

You froze, glancing over to the mechanic.

“That’s your brother? I’m so sorry-”

“Don’ worry ‘bout it,” he interrupted, before finishing his whiskey and handing you the empty glass. “Asshole deserved it.”

Back then, you saw no resemblance between Daryl and Merle Dixon — but, families always had a strange hold over a person. After all, that was the reason why you’d gotten shipped off to Georgia in the first place; your parents had swept you under the rug like a bad kept secret — simply to try and keep up appearances.

You’d followed your brother into the military, only for it to spit you back out and leave a bad taste in everyone’s mouths afterwards.

The tent door unzipped, and flapped as it caught the evening breeze.

Daryl entered like a hurricane, startling the woman — Carol — as she tended to you. He was followed by an entourage of curious faces who watched as he toed his boots off, and kicked them to the side.

“All of ya best get out,” he grumbled, as he peeled off his leather vest and set it down next to you — his eyes focused on your white shirt that had since been dyed red.

The group seemed to register his words, but no one made the move to leave.

The man let out a frustrated grunt, before fumbling with the small first-aid box near your feet. “Need to give ‘er stitches, an’ I ain’t need no one breathin’ down my neck,” he said, scowling down at the supplies.

You swallowed thickly, that didn’t sound very convincing.

A blonde woman near the tent entrance seemed to think the same, because she chirped up.

“You know how to do that?” she questioned — braver than any of the men who stood in stunned silence.

Daryl’s jaw set. “Y’ain’t believe me?” he bit back. “Think ‘m only good for spittin’ on the ground an’ feedin’ ya damn squirrels?”

The same woman recoiled at his words, and you sighed.

Always had a bark much worse than his bite, that one.

But then the man reached over for the hem of your shirt and you just froze — before slapping his hand away. He also recoiled with the same, exaggerated movements, and scowled at you as though your touch had burnt him.

You wanted to trust him, but part of you just couldn’t.

Daryl must’ve caught the look in your eyes — and recognised it for himself — because he sighed and shook his head, and glanced over at the women nearby.

“Anyone else know how to give stitches ‘round ‘ere?” he demanded, but the majority shook their heads.

All except one.

“I think I-” Carol piped up, before a burly man shot her a look so boldly threatening that it even made you flinch.

The woman paused over her words, before eventually shaking her head.

“I don’t. I’m sorry,” she mumbled, timidly, before that same man slipped his hand in hers and pulled her away.

You recognised that look, too.

And so the rest of the stragglers disappeared from the tent one-by-one, until only you and Daryl remained — deadlocked.

“C’mon, Camaro, quit yer bitchin’,” he coaxed, his voice more soft now that it was just the two of you. “Unless ya wanna bleed out o’er my tent.”

He had the needle and thread all prepared between his fingers, waiting for your permission.

You sighed. “You used to be a lot nicer, you know that?” you remarked, thinking back to the Dixon who shyly smoked cigarettes on that cliff’s edge, watching you like you were brighter than the stars.

You had noticed.

Then, you lifted up your shirt with your trembling hand, as he pressed onto your skin with his steady one.

And so Daryl gave you stitches — filling you up on Merle’s stash of whiskey to dull the pain — and muttering how, despite his work not being pretty, it’d be functional. You didn’t question how he’d come to learn how to sew butterfly stitches in the first place, thinking it best not to ask, nor did you comment on how gentle he wiped away the blood.

Always a man of his word, Daryl Dixon’s stitches were definitely not pretty.

But, to you, they looked like constellations.

He’d made it clear how lucky you’d been that it was only a surface injury; if it were anything deeper, he wouldn’t have been able to patch you up. It was probably thanks to that thick jacket that you’d managed to walk away from the crash mostly unscathed.

You’d seen him eyeing it occasionally as he worked, glancing over at the bloody leather that stained his tent floor.

Like hell would you be giving it back.

After that, he’d also managed to sneak Carol back inside — away from who you could only guess to be her husband. She’d told you that your arm wasn’t broken, but in fact dislocated, and helped set it back into place as your eyes stung with salt tears.

But you couldn’t complain.

After all, they’d tried to put you back together like humpty dumpty after your crash — albeit with staples and scotch tape.

Though, as soon as you were out of the woods and in the clear, Daryl pulled his boots back on and collected his things impatiently — not even sparing you a second glance.

“Where are you going?” you asked quietly, afraid of the answer.

Your words left your mouth a bit slurred from the medical-whiskey concoction, but he only pretended not to hear them.

You asked again, until he finally responded. “‘M goin’ to get my damn brother back, where’d ya think?” he answered, frustration laced in his voice.

He stuffed a few things into his rucksack, before slinging it over his shoulder.

“Careful, Dixon,” you cautioned, “you have a habit of finding yourself in a mess when you let your temper get the best of you.”

The man scoffed, and made a point of looking you up and down — calling you hypocritical with his eyes alone.

“Don’ act like ya know me tha’ well,” he growled, startling you with his tone.

But, you couldn’t blame him for his words.

After all, you’d spent more time apart than you had together.

The man sighed. “Gotta go get Merle,” he reasoned, more carefully this time.

He flickered open the tent, and let in the sky. It was not yet black, but a burnt orange, as though preparing to be set alight with stars. It reminded you of those evenings you’d get to close up early, and walk past a certain auto-shop that still had its amber lights turned on, and its door wide open.

And the former mechanic started walking away, leaving you behind out on the sidewalk.

“Daryl-” you called after him.

The word spilled from your mouth like beer overflowing from a glass — pouring over before you could stop it.

He glanced back immediately.

You never called him that.

Even though you knew his name from other people’s tongues, he’d always been Dixon — ever since the moment you read it on his shoddy name-tag. Not once during the month you’d spent with him had you called him Daryl.

Not until now.

“It’s getting dark out,” you whispered, even though the sky was still clearly orange.

You swallowed the dryness from your throat — and with it, your pride.

“Please stay? Until morning?”

Dixon looked back at you, swaddled in one of his clean shirts that he’d buttoned up himself — making you look so small.

And he sighed. He always was the worst liar of them all.

“Jus’ ‘til mornin’,” he repeated, trudging back to that grey tent.

Then, he took a seat beside you, his knees knocking against yours. But you tried to fight against your smile, and racing heart that pounded deep in your chest.

Because what goes up must always come down.

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[a-funny-little-sunflower]

Yandere Nuada x reader

[Warning, there's a minor murder scene so if you aren't interested in anything like that just skip over it or don't read the fic, whatever makes you the most comfortable. Hope you enjoy :)]

Translation: Darling wife - bean chéile darling.

You had just come down to the sewers to see how Nuada was and to bring him some food you had made for him, but what you were greeted with instead is something that will stay with you till the day you die.

You could remember everything, no matter how much you tried to forget. You could recall how unwelcoming the sewers were that day, even though you had traversed them many times in the months of courting Nuada. It was almost like they were trying to warn you of the danger ahead.

As you walked, you could hear the faint sounds of what seemed to be, moans of pain, and the closer you came to Nuada’s residence, the louder the sounds became.

You grew worried for your love and began to quicken your pace for fear that your beloved was in pain. Oh, how you wished you hadn’t, maybe then you wouldn’t have seen it.

But you did…

And nothing will ever change that…

As you entered Nuada’s residence, you were met with a terrible sight.

It was Nuada all right, his pale elvish complexion seemed to glow in the dark of the sewers, but he was on top of something…Or rather…Someone.

It was an acquaintance from work, someone you barely knew, John was his name…He had shown romantic interest in you before, but you had always politely declined any of his advances, after all, you had Nuada!

But the man you knew from work was barely recognisable in his current state. He was covered in blood; his eyes were glazed over with tears and he was letting out cries of agony.

What made this sight so much worse was that Nuada was the cause of it…He was on top of him, holding a sharp-looking blade of some kind, with a dangerous look in his golden eyes that you didn’t trust.

He was moving the blade around the man’s face with murderous intent while talking in a dark mocking tone…what was he saying…?

“If you had just taken the hint that my beloved had no interest in filth like you, this whole thing could have been avoided.” Nuada moved the blade towards the man’s chest and held it just above his heart. Like he was deciding his fate.

Nuada stared into the man’s eyes before saying, “You should have stayed away.” Nuada raised the blade above his head, letting it shine in reflected light for a moment, before slamming it down violently, so it met its mark directly in the man’s heart.

But Nuada didn’t stop there.

He ripped the blade out of the man and raised it again, ready to stab him once more, and that’s exactly what Nuada did. He stabbed, and stabbed, and stabbed until his clothing was soaked with blood, and splatters of the man’s blood covered his face.

When he was finished with the brutal murder, he got to his feet and stood above the man’s dead body, staring at it in disgust for a moment before turning his head and looking directly…at…you…

There was tense silence filled with things unsaid as you two stared into each other’s eyes, neither of you able to talk.

Nuada hadn’t expected you here, otherwise, he would have left the disposal of that filth till a later date so he could give you all his attention. After all, you were kind enough to come to see him, albeit suddenly, and from the basket in your hand, you must have brought him something to eat. You were always so kind like that, so willing to lovingly care for him, a perfect love, to which no other could compare.

While Nuada’s thoughts were calm, yours were running rampant, you couldn’t process what had happened, you didn’t WANT to process what happened! It had to be some kind of joke…It had to be…

Nuada’s mouth stretched up into a soft welcoming smile, but after what you had just witnessed, his grin seemed almost demonic. His smile lessened when he saw how you were looking at him, he tilted his head at you in confusion and spoke.

“Pretend you never saw that bean chéile darling, I can’t stand it when you look so scared.”

You started moving backwards slowly, stumbling, shaking your head at the one you once loved. How could he have done this? You had long lost the hope of this all being some kind of practical joke, the man’s unmoving bloody corpse made sure any thoughts of salvation had long vanished from your mind.

“…No... No…No! … please don’t…It’s a joke…you didn’t…Please tell me you didn’t….

“I did this out of love, I’m doing this out of love.” Nuada moved closer extending his hand to you, trying to calm you, but his words only served to frighten you more. He had just killed someone, you couldn’t stay here, he was unstable, and he wasn’t close enough to grab you yet, maybe you could run…There was still a chance of escape…Of freedom.

You turned on your heel and ran back the way you came; your heart was hammering in your ears and the sounds of your footsteps echoed along the sewers…but…those weren’t just your footsteps…Nuada. He was running after you and his footsteps were getting closer! Oh God how stupid you were, of course, he was faster.

Without warning, you felt a pair of arms wrap themselves around you and pull you towards a firm chest. The moment you’re caught, you let out a started cry of fear, however, this didn’t deter Nuada in any way.

He picked you up bridal style and starts walking back to his home in the sewer, all the while you thrash and cry, desperate to getaway. “Nuada please let me go, please! I won’t tell anyone I promise!”

Nuada took no heed of you until you had both returned to his home, whereupon arrival, he laid you down on a large nest of blankets and pillows. As soon as he sets you down, you immediately try to move away in desperation, but he doesn’t let you. “

“You have to stay here, where it's safe, it’ll be a little strange at first but just give it a little time, you’ll get used to it, I promise.”

You can’t stop the few tears that slip past your eyelids, but Nuada tenderly brushes them away.

“Nuada plea-” but he cuts you off by cupping your face, forcing you to look directly into his golden eyes. “My darling, please try to understand” His voice is soft now, a stark difference to his action’s moments ago. “You are a golden light of kindness in a sea of dark cruelty, and I must protect you, I’m the only thing keeping you safe from a filthy, disgusting world.”

You couldn’t turn your head away, so you simply closed your eyes, his words had a powerful effect on you. Nuada adored you, worshipped you as if you were the very being that hung the stars in the sky, but what you had scene had frightened you.

Nuada must have sensed your fear because he spoke again. “Darling, I wouldn’t have intervened if I didn’t think it was necessary. That man would have hurt you at some point, he was already becoming too comfortable with taking advantage of your politeness”.

That remark made you think. The man was constantly pushing boundaries, now that you thought about it, but you were always too kind to say anything, not wanting to make him feel embarrassed.

“You see my beloved? He might have hurt you or taken you away from me, and I couldn’t let that happen, no one else makes me feel as loved as you do, I can’t lose that!”

“So,” you begin, your voice shaky from the left-over adrenaline in your system, “you only want to protect me? You don’t want to hurt me?”

Nuada took his hands away from your face and clutched your hands, as he looked deep into your eyes. “No darling, I would never. I love you more than life”. His eyes flicker down to your lips for a moment before he leans forward and captures your lips with his.

You are mentally and physically exhausted from what happened, and this finally loving gesture is what breaks you, you can’t help but lean into Nuada, melting in his touch.

“Okay,” You say softly, “I understand…I still love you, and I won’t leave you”. At those words, Nuada almost weeps with relief and presses his forehead to yours, a loving gesture in itself.

“I just want to love and adore you every day for the rest of our lives” He whispers, “I just want to keep you safe from all harm”.

And you can’t help but believe him. Nuada has always protected you, always adored you, and he was right in believing that man was a threat, his advances could have easily escalated, and Nuada stopped that from happening.

He worshipped you like the Sun, and you gave him the warmth and light he so desperately needed, you were perfect as you were, and nothing could ever come between you.

[dilucids]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤSacrificial duties, Mondstadt ver.

would they sacrifice you or mondstadt?

includes: jean, lisa, kaeya, diluc, amber, albedo and venti.

( i'm too socially inept to request for someone to do this so i took matters into my own hands. )

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 JEAN GUNNHILDR ━━ DANDELION KNIGHT 〕

━━ is this even a debate? jean would sacrifice you to save mondstadt.

━━ the question would tear her apart though, she'd spend so much time trying to find another way to save both her city and you that she'd neglect her health ( basic needs, like eating, sleeping )

━━ if it were a person or god who was demanding these terms, she'd try to negotiate anything to save both, even her own life, though if you were willing, she'd hesitantly ( literally beg you to not go through it and reassure she'll find another way ) let you go.

━━ no matter what she chooses, she'll still feel incompetent in the end, as if she isn't good enough to be the acting grandmaster and would probably overwork herself to try and focus on something.

"I'll do it," Jean looks back at you, horror flashing through her eyes though you didn't falter, still staring the entity in her eyes. The wind picks up as if feeling the ameno swordswoman's vivid emotions, she shakes her head, taking small steps towards you as she reaches out for your hand. You cringe when she fell to her knees, "no no no, please, you don't have to do this."

You don't look at her, knowing it would only make things worse for the both of you, you didn't want her to be the last thing you saw nor did you want your face to plague her dreams like a ghost. "I care about Mondstadt too, Jean." You hope she understands that you were also doing this for your city and doesn't blame herself, "it's my duty."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 LISA MINCI ━━ WITCH OF PURPLE ROSE 〕

━━ lisa is a bit more of a wild card.

━━ lisa only oversees the library of mondstadt but it's really unclear the extent of her care for the city itself.

━━ it's impossible for one to say if she would hold a lover priority over a city due to lack of background so that's why she's more of a wild card right now, because i could see her potentially doing either.

━━ though i'm leaning a little towards sacrificing you because of her closeness with jean and her involvement in the knights of farvonius, she knows it would be morally wrong to sacrifice an entire city for one person, lover or not.

"It's okay," you reassure her, smile still gracing your face albeit the heavyweight pressure of death for your city digging it's claws into your shoulders. "I'm sorry," she apologises for the nth time and you can do no more than squeeze her hand in affirmation, knowing a hug would be too much for the both of you right now.

You feel her fingers slip through yours and your hand is embraced by the winds of Mondstadt, a sudden change from the electricity that plagued her fingertips and passed onto yours. You take a shaky breath and leave her behind you, her eyes watching your back along the way until you were nothing more than a dot in the horizon━━ ready to become a star in the sky.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 KAEYA ALBERICH ━━ FROSTWIND SWORDSMAN 〕

━━ another wildcard!

━━ unlike lisa, however, i'm leaning towards sacrificing monstadt.

━━ even with all his background knowledge, kaeya is still a character that holds a lot of secrets and it's canon that he's a mysterious figure, cavalry captain or not.

━━ don't get your hopes up though, because he still may sacrifice you ( after a talk with jean or diluc/j )

━━ kaeya lets anything happen as long as it falls into place of how he has expected to end, he really doesn't know what to do when an unknown entity shows up and demands the price of you for his city or vice versa.

━━ really hard to get a grasp on him.

━━ i could see him spending one last day with you after deciding he was going to give you up ( you obviously knew of this ) but after 24 hours with you, away from mondstadt, he might realise that, even if he regrets it for the rest of his life, he'll never be able to give you up.

━━ alternatively, if he didn't open up to you about this or went to jean or diluc, they would convince him to "do what's right" and give you up.

"No. I'm not doing it," his tone differed from the norm━━ he was never like this, not even on official knights' business. His eyes unnervingly determined, tone you were unable to refute, and words that scared you. "Kaeya, you have to," your fingers place themselves over his, which were barely touching your cheeks.

"I'm not doing it," he reaffirms, sounding as if he were trying to convince himself out of all people. "I'm━━ I'm not losing you to some city. I can rebuild a city, we can find a city elsewhere," he states, eyebrows furrowed and not taking a single breath between his words. You pry his fingers away from your cheek, holding them over your lap. "Kaeya, this isn't just 'some city', it's the city you love. The city we love." You coax, finally getting him to look into your eyes. "You're the person I love." He says, exasperated.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 DILUC RAGNVINDR ━━ DARKNIGHT HERO 〕

━━ hate to be the bearer of bad news,, and as biased as i am to this man, he would give you up.

━━ wouldn't open up to anyone about it, he'll just drive himself insane pondering both options.

━━ and although it would literally make him insane even thinking about losing someone precious to him ( again ) but his loyalty lies within the city of freedom and the city alone.

━━ even after the dispute with the knights of farvonius ( in the webtoon ), he still remains as the protector of mondstadt and i don't think nor am i able to see it will ever change.

━━ unlike kaeya though, i don't think he'll be able to see you at all once he decides to sacrifice you, he'll just be reminded that he'll never be able to see you again and the terrible decision that he's going to go through with.

━━ will also throw himself into extensive work to get you off his mind afterwards.

"You okay there?" Your eyebrows furrow, leaning against the open door of Diluc's office, seeing his hair tied back into a bun, hands in his face as he gazed deeply at his wooden desk. His head flies up at the sound of your voice, clearing his throat, "when did you get here?"

You shrug, taking steps towards him as he leans back into his chair, "being a hero taking a toll on you?" You tease him, taking a seat on his desk next to him and placing your feet on the chair, leaning forward to cup his cheek. He turns away. You're no stranger to his austere ways so you merely lean back, balancing yourself with your hands against his desk, telling him about your day.

"━━and then he wrapped it up and sent it to me, which was awfully disturbing might I add."

"I'm sorry," your eyebrow quirks when he suddenly cuts into your storytelling. You push yourself forward, reaching out for him and redirecting his gaze ( which hadn't looked in your direction even once ) onto you. "What's wrong my dear?" He only grimaces at the nickname━━ wincing almost and still refused to look at you, gaze cast upon the floor behind his bangs. You couldn't even see his eyes.

"Your guilty act is making me ponder if you've had previous relations with someone else, Master Diluc," you frown a little, using your other hand to force him to peer at you. He leans forward, placing his forehead on yours and whispers, "never."

"I just wanted to apologise for the future," you smile a little and place a kiss on his forehead. "I will always forgive you."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 ALBEDO ━━ THE CHALK PRINCE 〕

━━ albedo's original creator hails from khaeri'ah and venti, archon of mondstadt, was one of the original seven who aided in the destruction of khaeri'ah; is that enough reason to destroy it for a lover? no.

━━ would he still do it? yes, yes, yes.

━━ we all know he considers himself a threat to mondstadt but i don't think he would've ever thought this was why he was a threat, to hold an entire city in his palms and be able to destroy it with a single word was quite a terrifying thought.

━━ it wouldn't stop him though, i really don't think albedo holds any sentimental attachment to mondstadt, he only works and lives there as of right now but he's currently heeding his creater's words and pursuing the truth of the world.

━━ he might grimace over losing a few people that he holds dear and end up rethinking his decision but in the end, will choose you.

━━ another reason i think he would destroy mondstadt is that, once albedo discovers something or the feeling of enlightenment that comes with studying something new disperses, he is quick to stop studying that and abandon it due to the "bittersweet truth" hitting him so if he grew tired of mondstadt,,,,,, rip to jean 🙏

Your eyes flicker from the sight of his back to the unknown entity, hovering just above the floor, her eyes uninterested in you as she gazed into Albedo's eyes, maybe trying to read his expressionless face. "Have you made a choice, Kreideprinz?"

Nothing is said. Nothing from Albedo nor you, you didn't seem to have a part in this private conversation but you also seemed to be an integral part of it due to the way Albedo kept looking back at you, squeezing your hand as if to remind himself that you existed. "I'm choosing them."

She peers at you now, her eyes boring into yours as she scans you for something, "are you sure about this decision?"

For some odd reason, you're not offended by her words, maybe because she didn't sound like she meant it in a rude way ( it also seemed out of her standoffish character ) but was genuine in her curiosity if Albedo would go back on his words. He squeezes your hand again, rubbing circles on the back of your hand━━ something he did to calm you but it seemed that this action was to ground him instead.

"Yes, I am."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 AMBER ━━ OUTRIDER 〕

━━ YOU.

━━ in the most heart breaking – heart warming way ever, she'd give you up.

━━ notice how more than half of these mondstadt fuckers would give you up? yeah 🙄

━━ on a serious note, a lot of them have devoted themselves fully to protecting the city and i don't see any one of them being able to give the command to destory the city, even if their s/o was being held with a knife to their throat right infront of them and amber is the very same.

━━ even though we don't know to much about her, she is seen as a perfect example of justice by kaeya, and is extremely devoted to her work, she's just below diluc and jean in the most to least likely to sacrifice you in my opinion. it's simply overlooked due to her lack of presence in the game.

━━ i think her compassionate and kind side will make it harder for her to come to a decision because she doesn't want to have to lose one thing to keep another but in the end, she will give you up.

Amber seemed extremely distressed, immediately running into Jean's office once arriving back at the Knight's base after finishing her usual trek of Mondstadt's surroundings. You had attempted to call out her as she ran through the halls but she didn't even look your way, which was peculiar to you but you could only guess something dangerous must've happened due to her eagerness of reaching Jean's office, slamming the door wide open.

You quirk an eyebrow and Kaeya, stood beside you, whistled briskly, hands on his hip. "Someone's in a hurry," you roll your eyes at his comment and simply grab his arm, dragging him over to Jean's office, "just shut up and come."

The minute you knock and open the door however, the room is quiet. Jean sat on her chair, elbows placed on the table and concern burrowed deeply within her furrowed eyebrows and Amber, who was shaking her leg up and down in anxiety, fiddling with her nails.

Kaeya seems a little amused by the situation, unlike you, who was extremely concerned by the little actions of anxieties Amber was exhibiting, striding over to her side in an instant. Placing your hand on her shoulder, she leans into you almost instantly and begins quietly sniffling into your shirt.

You mouth to Jean that you're taking her out and Jean nods, thanking you with a small smile on her face. You guide Amber into a quiet room in the headquarters, letting her silently cry as you attempt to soothe her. "Hey, hey, what's wrong?"

She shakes her head, only repeating a small, "I'm sorry."

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ〔 VENTI ━━ WINDBORNE BARD 〕

━━ venti is characterised as a free spirit, like the freedom that the city of mondstadt represents, he carries that within him but at the end of the day, he is still mondstadt's archon.

━━ so we all saw this coming but you 👫

━━ i don't really think there's a lot to explain, he's their archon and even if he loses everyone he's ever loved, his priority is mondstadt.

━━ he'll probably take you on that ride on dvalin he's been promising you for the past year with no explanation.

━━ you'll ask him why he's dragged you from work and he'll just say he's feeling nice or that the winds are good for a ride right now.

━━ you'll stare at him with that, 'don't–you–control–the–winds?' look and he'll wink at you, telling you to stop staring at him or he'll blush.

━━ will completely come undone when he seed you happily laughing on dvalin's back, arms spread open as your laugh echoes into the wind.

Your excited whooping is all he hears, previous nervousness abandoned with his hands placed on your waist as Dvalin pierced up above the clouds; the ground nothing more than a fleeting dream to you both. It's such a shame that young, immature Dendro Archon got his hands on you first, gifting you his gift of Earth's nature━━ if not for the God of Wisdom, Venti would've gifted you heaven's winds if he knew how simply being in the sky made you so ecstatic.

The adrenaline finally dies down when Dvalin arrives just above the clouds, wings creating new and dispersing the old. You lean into Venti who takes this as an invitation to push himself further into your side and begin playing with your fingers, allowing you time to simply relish in the situation. "You're awfully quiet today," you muse, staring at Venti with a small smile.

He hums, "it's quiet up here," in nothing less of a whisper. You nod along with his words, fighting the urge to jump into the clouds, knowing you'll pass right through them. Venti sinks into you further somehow, like you were a passing cloud; his shoulder pressed into the crack of your arm and torso, head leaning on your shoulder. "You'll be okay Venti," and you embrace him.

[mrvdocks]

Streets

His phone pinged with another comment.

BobbyBaseCamp: You should fuck her.

Kurt had to do a double take. Surely there was no way Bobby had just asked him to make a whole sex tape.

There were other ways to become famous, Kurt thought.

But he was desperate. And Bobby needed content.

Warning: some choking, sexual encounter

As if this day couldn’t get any worse.

You knew if you were late to work one more time you would be fired and then you wouldn’t be able to make rent this week, and then the crippling feeling of adulting and being a massive failure would hit you during a 3 am binge of cheap wine. You’d already promised your roommate you’d pay them back but it just seemed like a shitty week.

Your car wouldn’t start, unsurprisingly, since it had been making all sorts of noises the day before. Add it to the list of things you’d have to inevitably pay for.

You sighed, bringing your phone out and going through the apps. Lyft? Too expensive right now. Uber? Too many creeps. Spree? It was some new rideshare app you never really paid attention to until now. But the sweet sweet price of a trip from your home to work was unmistakable.

You eagerly awaited your chariot to hell, eyes glued on the screen to the driver’s name. Kurt.

He’s there almost instantly, and you have to make the connection between driver and image just in case. You can never be too careful.

“Kurt?” You ask, bending to meet him at eye level from the outside.

A notification bar from the top of your screen indicates that your card was declined and so the Spree ride was canceled. Kurt’s name disappears from your phone. You grimace, looking back to him.

“You know what? It just canceled. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright, I’ll get some other people today. No need to worry about it.”

You raise a brow. “Are you sure? I mean I’m sure there’s someone else who needs you right now.”

Oh but I do need you. He thinks.

He gives you a smile and waves your concern away. “Hop in! Don’t worry about it.”

In his head, he thinks this might work, no trail at all. No having to break into your phone and text or call someone about your whereabouts.

You hop in the backseat, finding solace in the silence for a few moments before Kurt turns to talk to you.

“Going deep huh?”

“Sorry?”

“I meant, you know, you were going to Vine and Hollywood. Must know some big people.”

You laugh nervously, most drivers wouldn’t make small talk with you sometimes. But that would stem from you not wanting to talk to them as much. Better to keep at your own business.

“Uh yeah I guess. Even if some of them are assholes sometimes.” You chuckle.

“You know anyone personally? Maybe you could get the word out for me. Have them tag me. My handle’s KurtsWorld96.”

You chuckled to yourself. This was Los Angeles after all, particularly Hollywood. Land of people who want to be a star by any means necessary.

“Yeah sure, I’ll bring it up sometime,” you say, bringing your attention back onto your phone to pass the time.

Before you can get a look into what’s new on your timeline you notice there are cameras everywhere in the car. One facing you, one in the back, two on opposite sides of Kurt and one next to you on the other seat. Oh geez.

Have you landed into a wrong ride share service? Was this a couch situation?

Kurt must’ve noticed your silent panic as he glanced at the mirror and pointed to his cameras.

“For safety.” He assured.

You nod understandingly.

You flip back to your phone, more aware of being filmed. You have to wonder if this footage were to get out if your employers will notice you called them assholes.

Kurt glances at his phone, seeing Bobby comment.

BobbyBaseCamp: This is boring.

BobbyBaseCamp: You have to do something WTF worthy!!

Kurt rolls his eyes. Though, he knew Bobby was right in some way. If he was gonna get anywhere with this live stream and get #TheLesson out there, he’d have to do something bigger than he had planned.

You’d been nothing but pleasant to him so far, and he’d been keeping an eye out on those waters that sat a mere few inches away from you.

His phone pinged with another comment.

BobbyBaseCamp: You should fuck her.

Kurt had to do a double-take. Surely there was no way Bobby had just asked him to make a whole sex tape.

There were other ways to become famous, Kurt thought.

But he was desperate. And Bobby needed content.

It didn’t hurt that you were attractive. And while it would’ve been a shame to kill you to further his agenda, for some reason he had to try to talk himself out of it. Maybe you had a boyfriend. Maybe he wasn’t your type. Maybe you’d freak.

Bobby’s insults swirled in his head and in the comment section.

Fuck it.

Kurt swerved into an abandoned parking garage, hidden from view. Either thing he had planned today could work here, he just didn’t know it would be something else entirely.

He gets out of the car, and you finally snap from your phone daze to notice you’re not where you’re supposed to be. If anything you were somewhat still far from work.

Your eyes meet Kurt’s own as he opens the door to your side. You’re visibly confused but nonetheless move backward which lets him lean into the back and close enough to you to hover over. 

It doesn’t even register that he’s kissing you until you relax under him, hands coming up to his sweatshirt. You don’t push him away yet, but revel in how he slides in between your legs awkwardly and closes the door behind him.

It had been a while, and while you weren’t complaining, you didn’t really know Kurt all that well.

Pulling back to get some air, you have to ask. “You don’t have like anything right?”

You don’t think he gets it until he responds that he’s never really done this.

One night stands were reserved for nights, right? Not abandoned parking garages in Old Hollywood territory during daylight.

“I’m sorry. We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” He sighs, pulling back.

You don’t really know what to say. He wasn’t so bad looking. His appearance wasn’t too presenting. His hair wasn’t styled or cut, a little greasy maybe but he seemed sweet at first glance. Albeit a little socially awkward and persistent with his social following.

You answer him by lifting the ends of his sweatshirt up and over his head. He catches your drift and helps you, his tee going right after as your hands come down to his jeans. You pop the buttons, somewhat eager to unzip this complete stranger.

Kurt is faster, his fingers coming up to his mouth to lubricate. It’s the small things he’s trying to remember from porn.

Before you can get his pants down, his left-hand slides over your stomach and down into your own pants. You buck against his hand instantly, the feeling taking you by surprise and earning him a moan. You prop yourself up by your elbows and buck again, feeling his knuckle graze your most sensitive area.

He’s so focused on being able to sell this and you’re so entranced that you don’t notice when his other hand makes quick work under your bra. He squeezes lightly, thumb circling your nub. His other hand just pumping in and out of you painfully slow.

The oh so good feeling has you rolling back onto your back and moving closer to him to get the most out of his slender fingers.

The pornstar worthy moans make him smirk.

“Kurt,” you manage out, guiding him closer in between your legs and trying to get your damn jeans off.

He obliges, pulling your shirt up and over and letting it settle in the passenger seat where his camera was.

He’s quick at pulling your jeans and panties off, letting them fall somewhere in the pile. He dives back into you, legs fully spread, and locking him in. With one hand under the dip of your back and the other grasping onto your thigh roughly, he thrusts himself in, a deep grunt erupting from his chest.

He lets his head fall to the crook of your neck, muttering to himself. The feeling of you being so wet and tight makes his body go out of control. It’s unlike anything he’s ever experienced.

You whine as he pulls out, your arms coming up to wrap onto his torso and bring him as close as you can manage. It doesn’t feel fair, having you be naked all the way and him just halfway there but it doesn’t matter at this point.

He thrusts back in with abandon. Grunts, moans, and heavy breaths from both of you filling the car. He pulls your left leg up to his waist, angling himself close to where when he thrusts in again and again you clutch and scratch onto his back harder than before.

Your back arches with each hard and rough thrust he gives you, your legs close in on his lower back, trying to get as much of him as you can in you greedily.

He bottoms out, capturing your lips in a sloppy kiss, the action only intensifying what you were feeling tenfold. His lips leave yours and peck at your neck, collarbone, and breasts.

There was no way he was going to last long now. The feeling of you rocking and bucking to match his thrusts was euphoric and enough to make him come any second.

“Choke me.” You say breathlessly in between thrusts.

“What?” He’s out of breath as well and your request takes him by surprise but he complies and brings the hand that held your thigh to your throat. He presses his fingers down hard.

“Harder.”

Your hand reaches up to grasp his wrist as he grips your throat tighter than before. You smile in content, your eyes closing to revel at the moment.

Somehow the position of being in total control and having the opportunity to put you in some danger stimulated him even more. It fulfilled some primal desire in him.

If he couldn’t kill you, he’d have more fun edging himself.

“Don’t stop, oh god please,” you mewled, on the very cusp of release.

His fingers slipped back down in between your bodies, rubbing at you until you felt your eyes roll back.

Kurt felt close as you clenched around him. His thrusts became sloppy, the sound of skin against skin dying down. He let his head fall again, biting down onto your shoulder somewhat gently as his orgasm wracked through his body. The groan coming from him sent waves through your body and only added to your ecstasy.

But you weren’t done yet, lifting yourself and flipping the both of you over. Once you had him lying where you were, you rode out your high, grinding until you were nearly crying out from the overstimulation. The sight of him lost in pleasure, crying out and brows furrowed was a sight you knew you wouldn’t forget.

Your orgasm leaves you shaking like never before. You collapse on top of him soon after, satisfied. You almost would’ve initiated another round but instead reached for your discarded phone on the floor.

The time nearly made you jump out of the car naked, you were five minutes late.

“Shit!” You jumped, lifting yourself up and letting his cock fall back against his lower belly. “I’m late.”

As though he too was alarmed and more aware of what he just did, he sat up and you both rushed to get your clothes back on. He glanced at his phone, seeing the notifications from Bobby blowing up one after the other.

He might have to ask Bobby not to release this.

“I got it,” Kurt said, returning to the driver’s seat in a second and turning the car back on.

You fixed yourself up again, trying not to look like you just had sweaty spontaneous sex with your driver like some kind of tacky porno. All eyes would be on you.

Kurt drove like a madman and braked hard as he parked right outside the building of where you worked.

You gathered your things and rushed out of the car before turning back to bend to Kurt’s window again. “Do you have a pen?”

Kurt passed you one but instead of writing on paper, you used it to write your name and number on his hand.

Were you really giving this guy your information? He wasn’t such a bad lay, to be honest.

Feeling a blush creep up on your cheeks you smiled, “Maybe you can come over or something.”

Clearly flustered but still appreciative, he smiled back that innocent charming smile.

With that, you headed into work running and trying to come up with an excuse. Completely unaware of what was about to go down that day. Oblivious to the truth about your new crush until you went onto social media later on.

[penwieldingdreamer]

Dante's Prayer - A Peaky Blinders Story

It's been a while since I wrote anything regarding the fandoms I used to be active, but thanks to @fortheloveoffanfic I found another one that picked my interest. This is the first part of my Peaky Blinders story, let me know what you think. Like, reblog, comment if you want and let me know if you'd like to be tagged.

Summary:

When the dark wood fell before me And all the paths were overgrown, When the priests of pride say there is no other way I tilled the sorrows of stone.

I did not believe because I could not see Though you came to me in the night, When the dawn seemed forever lost You showed me your love in the light of the stars

- Dante's Prayer by Loreena McKennitt -

Warnings: Mentions of war, mentions of sex, period-typical sexism, canon-typical violence

Words: 1410

Prologue

Outside of Birmingham, 1923

Breathless pants were the only sounds echoing in the silence of the small cottage.

"I missed ya so fookin' much." he mumbled against her back as they tried to catch their breaths and Arthur pulled the sheets over their naked bodies.

Niamh smiled at the sensation of his beard lightly scratching her skin, committing it to memory before he'd leave her again. "It's not my fault, you've been avoiding me."

"I know, I'm sorry." he sighed, running his fingers along the skin of her shoulder and neck. "I'm going to marry Linda."

Swallowing the lump that formed in her throat, the redhead blinked away the tears that were gathering in her eyes, thankful for facing away from the eldest Shelby brother. "I believe this means goodbye then?"

"It doesn't have to be goodbye." Arthur breathed, his lips languidly moving along her spine. "We ain't serious."

Turning her head towards him, Niamh shook her head. "We can't continue this, it was good while it lasted."

"Why not?" he asked, leaning onto his elbow to watch her closely. He had known her since before the war, occasionally having had a tryst under the bridge by the Cut and when he had been drafted he spent three days until his leaving with her, promising to return as the same man that he left but he couldn't keep that promise, just like he never could promise her his heart.

"I'm scared, Arthur." she finally said after a while, her voice vibrating in the quiet air.

Brushing his hair out of his face, he moved his hand closer to her face, his roughened fingers stroking along the column of her throat. "What are you scared of?"

Biting her lip, Niamh put her smaller hand on his own. "Of falling for you, like I'm trying to avoid ever since you have gotten back. You're marrying her and if we continue, you'll only break my heart." Her eyes turned red from the unshed tears she kept at bay the entire time.

"I never promised ye love." Arthur replied gruffly, sitting up on the bed. "I best be going, or else you'd be throwing your heart at me feet."

Pulling the sheets up to her neck, Niamh wordlessly watched him get dressed, feeling the sting of heartbreak in her chest when there had been no love on both ends. Once he had haphazardly thrown on his pants and dress shirt, leaving the vest and suspenders off, Arthur turned one last time, burning the image of his favorite redhead into his mind's eye. Never would he forget the faces she made when he had given her the ecstasy she longed for, knowing he'd not be able to see the same expressions with his soon-to-be-wife.

One last time she watched him nod in goodbye, knowing his head couldn't be turned. The eldest Shelby would have only committed, if - and that was a very big IF - she had been with his child, but Niamh knew how to avoid it as well as he did. Nights in the war could be very cold and lonely so the army had handed out precautions for the soldiers to enjoy their time between the fights. Arthur had told her often enough how his dreams of family and romance had been snuffed out by the brutality of the war, that he would avoid the subject as best as he could, yet here he left her stranded in her cottage by the lake they used to swim in as teenagers, to have a wife and family, probably children along the way.

Arthur climbed inside Tommy's car, taking a deep breath before he screamed out the despair and grief that had been eating away at him ever since he returned from France. Niamh had been a distraction and Linda had given him the hope to get his dreams back, so why did he feel the same sense of loss he had felt when their father had betrayed him and left them again? The noose around his neck was back, tighter than before.

"FUCK!" He hit the steering wheel with such force, that it rattled the whole construction. Arthur needed to let go, he would marry Linda in three weeks and start a new part of his life with her.

“I, Arthur, take thee, Linda, to be my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do us part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.”

“I, Linda, take thee, Arthur, to be my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth.”

The eldest Shelby brother gently took her hand and slipped the golden band onto her left ring finger, repeating after the priest. “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow: In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”

Linda smiled up at him, her eyes so full of love and shining with happiness that he couldn't help but get infected by her. Returning her smile, Arthur leaned in and gently laid his lips on hers. His brothers cheered, albeit forcing themselves to be happy for him and his new wife. She had brought faith back into his life and would help him achieve his dreams of family and fortune.

When he looked up, at the end of the aisle Arthur thought he saw a flash of red before it disappeared again.

Had she come to witness his wedding? Maybe trying to stop it all together?

But no, he had told her goodbye, told her she wasn't the one for him because unlike Linda, Niamh hadn't changed his way. Hadn't made him see the light in this darkness again. At least that was, what he was trying to tell himself, because buried deep down in the pit of his heart there was a small fire burning for the redhead, that would never be put out, no matter how much water he'd use to kill the flames.

"Come on brother, let's celebrate your union." John called, pulling both Linda and him into a tight hug before he joined his wife Esme and their children on the way to the Garrison where Tommy had prepared the reception. At first Linda had protested, having wanted a proper banquet but she was soon overruled when Arthur told her it was easier that way. She'd have to learn that arguing with his brother or even Aunt Polly was never a good way to live in the Shalby family, it would be more peaceful to just concede and try to be happy about it.

"Come on now, luv, let's get some refreshments before we consummate our wedding and really make it official, ey." the eldest Shelby grinned at his wife, leaning down to swiftly brush her lips with his own, before he grabbed her waist and pulled her along to the pub.

Niamh had been planning to avoid the ceremony, knowing that only heartache would follow but she needed to be there to hear his vows and see his actions. Only then could she try to forget Arthur Shalby and move on, just like he did. No thought had been spared for her when he had repeated the words, giving his ring to her and promising a new life.

During the wedding she had wanted to stop them so many times, but when the final words of their vows had been spoken, she knew it was too late. He now was a married man and she, just a girl, a woman he used to know before he found Linda and her faith.

Taking a deep breath, the redhead hastily brushed a stray tear away and grabbed her bag, leaving the church as fast as possible, yet one pair of eyes followed her, always watchful for the happenings around them, knowing fully well that she hadn't just been there by mistake and trying to piece together what the real reason had been behind her short visit in the house of the Lord.

[cheelduh]

The Shackles of Duty

Pairing: Diluc x gn!reader

Synopsis: As a weapon of the Abyss, your obligation towards your Princess should be eternal.

Warnings: Unedited angst. Pls ignore any mistakes besties <3

Word count: 2k

You've never really given the weather any thought. It's not as if it matters to you. Stormy day or not, your responsibilities—no, your duty towards the Abyss will remain the same.

It's still raining. The mud thick underneath your boots, slippery against your heel, the putrid smell of grassy dew lingering miserably against the air.

"You know what you have to do." The Abyss Princess commands you, her loyal servant, hers to dispose if she so desires.

"The dragon...Stormterror." You explain, goosebumps forming on your skin as a result of the damp clothes that adorn your wet body. "Your brother, the honorary night, along with others, thwarted our plans by eliminating the fragments."

"Why?"

"You know why, your grace." Is all that you can give to her. "I shall follow him. Keep him away, from inciting another encounter—"

"No," Lumine declares, no room for argument. "Infiltrating their ranks is no easy task. You mustn't be relieved of your post, not yet at least. We need to extract as much information as possible to further avoid outcomes like these."

Exactly the answer you don't want to hear in the middle of this archon forsaken storm, all bruised and bumped up from Stormterror's confrontation.

Don't make me do this again. I don't know how much more I'll be able to take.

You bite your tongue, knowing full well the finality of her words. "As you wish, my princess."

The familiar redhead suddenly plagues your mind, stoic, and with years worth of anger at the world. The hero in the shadows, the man with an agonizing past, a sense of retribution albeit his severed connections with the knights of favonious.

Despite the obstacles of life and the intellect honed from his journey, he's reckless. Reckless enough to still believe that he can make a difference. That anyone can make a difference.

Diluc is reckless enough to love someone, reckless to think that his sworn brother would be the only one capable of betraying him.

—

"There's no point." Diluc whispers loud enough for you to hear him underneath the stars, adding onto the lull of night. "They all keep walking—no, running, aimlessly because of duty. They follow orders without knowing where they come from. It's utter chaos."

"But in all the chaos, there is calculation." You lean against the stone of the walls, and as always, you know how to speak to Diluc. How to open him up and read him like a book.

You're sure he can do the same with you, but he just isn't looking where he should be. You need him to look; to realize he's tangled up in your web of deceit and that there's no way out.

"How do you do that?" He says, aware all at once. "How do you give me so much yet so little?"

I want to give you everything, the pretty and the ugly things alike. I want to give you my secrets, fold them up in a dirty, black, envelope, and have you turn it to ash with the violent flames of your heart.

It's a lot of work hiding under false pretences.

"It's a beautiful night, my love." You say instead.

Diluc's never gotten used to the term of endearment, still new to receiving affection. It warms him up differently to his vision, pleasant yet unfamiliar. It takes a moment for him to come back to himself.

You briefly jolt at the pleasant warmth of his hand atop yours, a silent reassurance, one that worsens your guilt, weaves it into something that pierces your rotten core.

—

You don't know what you're thinking when you stand in front of Jean's office, fist hovering.

Is forgiveness why you're here? No, because you would've went to Diluc first. You would've confessed to him right then and there about what a vengeful weapon you are, a mindless soldier that will do anything for their queen.

You don't even get a chance to think of the various ways he'd kill you when the door is open, and you're met with the view of the acting Grandmaster herself. Another dear friend that will come to despise you.

"Y/N! I'm glad you're here—"

"I'm a servant of the Abyss." You cut her off, and don't stop yourself, letting the words run freely against the fast pace of your heart. "I've infiltrated Mondstadt under the orders of the abyss princess and used what I've learned to conspire against the archons."

Everything's spinning, so fast you can barely breathe.

Jean doesn't move, doesn't even blink as the confusion dawns on her face. You aren't looking for confusion.

"Don't pretend you're blindsided completely," You give her a humourless chuckle, and by the hush of your tone it's as if you're telling her a secret to any spectators. "You've known for a while now that there's been a traitor within your ranks. Every single attack from the Abyss—too clean, too unpredictable, one could say with coincidence."

"But the universe is rarely so lazy." Your voice is smooth, calm, the complete opposite to the flurries of emotions that bloom your being. "Varka knew that. And so do you."

"No," Jean finally speaks up, denying your claim incandescently. "We've fought together for years. You're one of our best, our most dependable. Everything we've done—everything you've done has been for Mondstadt. As always."

If only that were the truth.

You wave a hand over your right eye, releasing the magical bind to reveal the intricate marker. Jean's eyes widen, and she's far from her usual composed self.

"Still don't believe me?" You ask, knowing full well she's still in denial. It's not everyday your best mate, the one that fights alongside you, admits to being a traitorous scum of the abyss drenched in years worth of lies.

Ah the trials and tribulations of friendship.

"Fine then," With the flick of your wrist, it doesn't take much effort for the main doors to open up with a bang.

The acting grand master draws back at the shrill sound, teeth gritting.

She isn't the only one that's provoked. Wood and Wyratt, the only two guards on duty at this time let out shouts of surprise, reaching for their swords on instinct.

You summon your abysmal magic, which shapes into deep blue, if not black, appendages. They glitter, hiding the entire galaxy in them, with stars that burst into life. Breathtaking if not used on the battlefield.

In mere seconds, one latches on to Wyratt's leg, while the other takes Wood by his arm. All it takes is a jerk of your index finger, and they're sent flying outside the doors, which unceremoniously slam shut behind them. The lock clicks into place, cherry on top.

Jean materializes her sword, taking on a defensive position. You don't think you've ever seen the woman irritated, let alone as livid as she is right now.

That's more like it.

"Go on. Arrest me." You bring your wrists up, casual as ever. "We'd better hurry. They'll come after me soon enough, it's in your best interest to listen to everything I have to say if I'm willing to die over it." There's a tightness in your chest that you can't explain.

Jean hardens her gaze, not allowing herself to relax. You know what she's going to say. You've been her friend, her advisor, long enough to understand where most of her actions and decision stem from.

She says—well she says nothing, because she doesn't get a chance to when an abrupt screech erupts from her office, causing your ears to perk up and your blood to run cold. A series of heavy footsteps, footsteps you're all too familiar with follow.

Although you're fairly certain you know who it is, you glance over her shoulder anyways to meet the fiery red eyes that have reserved a place in your heart. The sole reason you're blowing the whistle.

You feel a sharp pang in your heart.

The pure, authentic, hurt in Diluc's hardened features are enough to have you gutted completely. Mouth dry with a rock in your throat, you don't so much as allow yourself to exhale.

You finally understand why you didn't go to him first. You were sure he'd be able to survive the betrayal, but you weren't sure you'd be able to survive it yourself.

Diluc. You want to tell him, tell him how sorry you are. Tell him how much of a piece of shit you are. Tell him that he doesn't deserve this, that he deserves so much better. Tell him that you love him, devastatingly so.

It isn't supposed to end this way. Things never go as planned.

You avert your gaze, clench your jaw shut, and wait.

"Jean." Diluc says, and there's grim finality in his voice. "We need a moment." His words send small pricks throughout your spine.

Jean regains her composure, mulling over his request, but any resistance is placated by a simple look from the redhead.

When she reluctantly leaves, the quiet is near unendurable.

"Why?" If the way Diluc's fixed gaze could set anything on fire, you would've been burned to the stake by now.

You'd calculated this moment countless of times, predicted exactly how this would go, lived through every outturn in the dead of the night as you struggled to find sleep in his arms.

Living through it is far more dreadful than you could've ever imagined it to be.

His body closes in at your lack of reply, hands gripping your forearm to pull you in and kick the door shut. "Why?" This time it's more firm.

You open your mouth to speak, like a fish out of water, and out comes nothing.

"I trusted you," Diluc says weakly, in a way that has your heart shattering a million times a second. Tightening his hold on your arm, he continues "You were the only one I...I should've known. I was foolish to think I could believe in you." a sharp exhale, and he pushes you back against the door, but it's not harsh at all. He's gentle, and somehow that makes everything so much more worse.

Your inability to reply sparks a different kind of rage in his heart.

"It must have been quite the show, watching everyone run in circles." He seethes, furious, wounded. "Was it all just a lie? Were my feelings ever returned? Or was I just another one of your fair games?"

You wrench away from his hold as if it's burning you. The words are like needles, pinning into you with so much force it has you lurching in place, and then they twist deep within your blackened veins.

"Stop it." You should've just left. Should've just pushed back the nagging in your brain and jumped off a cliff or a something. Surely the unexpected death of a royal guard—no, the death of a fundamental piece in their plan would surely be enough to cripple them for at least a few days, if not weeks.

Anything but this.

You meet his gaze. "I do love you Diluc, that I am sure of. You don't have to believe me. I know I wouldn't."

"Is that all you have to say?" He all but hisses, gloved fingers closing in to form a fist. "You've betrayed everyone. Your friends, your family...me."

"You think I don't know that?" Your voice breaks when you look away. "I don't know what's right anymore, what's wrong. I don't even know what I've been fighting for this entire time." A sharp, mirthless laugh escapes your lips, "To allow myself to carry out orders I do not believe in is too much to bear. How long do I delude myself into thinking that this is all for Khaenri'ah? That this is all for a reason that is beyond me?"

There's a sliver of softness that shows in his features, but you're too busy calming the waves crashing in your head.

"Whatever it is, it doesn't matter anymore." You say, the sinking of your chest only expanding. "I've already contravened against the abyss, and for that they will come for me. The only thing I regret is that they couldn't get to me before you did."

A stricken look passes across his face, brows furrowed and desperation as clear as day when he reaches for you.

This time, you let his arms curl around your shaking figure, welcoming the comfort that you're undeserving of. "I won't let them."

"I'm sorry." You whisper shakily, fisting the fronts of his coat. "I'm so sorry Diluc."

Diluc hums as he strokes your hair soothingly, with the utmost of care. Although his trust in you has shattered, like irreplaceable fragments of glass, his love for you will remain constant.

Even with the storm that is fated to come.

[jessiebanethedragon]

White Sands Warm the Cold Sea (pt 4)

Star Wars, The Bad Batch Pirate!au (Hunter x Reader

Summary: the reader, betrothed to a disgusting Coruscanti Lord flees her home world and lands herself in a plethora of trouble, a ship of clones, and one pirate captain whose cold exterior needs much more than the tropical seaside sun.

Warnings: Swearing, takes place in time periods where women have dowery's and suchlike. The readers dad and betrothed are asses.

Chapter one

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four: The Corillian Run

You’re scared, perhaps the most scared you’ve ever been in your life. The brief distraction while it may have saved your skin for a moment, only added to the gut wrenching fear you now faced.

He had his personal guard looking for you.

But before you have time to dwell on whatever horrors would await you when they finally tracked you down, you hear movement again. And in a split second of fight, flight or freeze, your feet take off. It’s a bad idea, an absolutely mind numbingly stupid one, you realise as you go tumbling up the stairs and coming face to face with four men standing on the above deck. The largest of whom begins to laugh.

“Well look a’ that sarge! We found ‘er.” All of them watch as you glance over your shoulders.

“Don’t try it.” One of them grits out, you can’t see his face, it’s covered by his captain's hat, and in another pure moment of idiocy your feet take off towards the very front of the ship.

Had you been better acquainted with your sea legs, or better understood the physical layout of a vessel this size, or even if you hadn't looked behind you to see your attackers follow you, you might not have fallen head over boots into the gun deck. Straight through the open metal grate that usually rested flush with the deck. Crashing unceremoniously down into the harsh wood and winding yourself, you scramble on bruised elbows.

“Crosshair!” Someone shouts, and whatever they were trying to convey seems to have stuck because after that you don’t hear anything else. Scanning your soundings quickly your eyes land on the only weapon you’re currently capable of wielding, a left over small dagger sitting perfectly on a barrel of gunpowder. You snatch it up just as one of the men runs down the stairs and his googled eyes land on you.

You’re a sight, covered in gunpowder, and wiedling a shaking dagger.

“Hello.” He greets, raising his hands in front of him, “why don’t we talk, just the two of us, I apologize my brothers can be Bantha brained more often than not.”

“I’m not going back to Coruscant.” Your first words surprise you, and you realize you would in fact rather die than face whatever consequences come of your actions. It’s dimmer down here, the sunlight shines through only where you fell and through each gap to make way for the cannons, it is calming in a way.

“Where would you like to go then? Maybe we could make a deal?” The man offers, and pushes his goggles up, you notice he has kind eyes.

“I do not have any money.” You’re so scared, and you realize he must know this because he extends his hand. Huh, you hadn't realized he got so close in such a short amount of time.

“That’s okay.” He says with his hand out. “My name is Tech in case you were wondering.”

“I don’t care!” you shout becoming desperate, why doesn't he understand? “I don’t care where you’re going or who you are!” his face softens considerably when you become so upset. “Just get me the hell away from him.” you whisper, finally letting your arm drop once you see he’s made the connection between you and the pirate from earlier.

“You’re the bride.” He states as if he’s condemning you. You nod your head, and place a hand over your mouth to stifle the sounds of sadness that threaten to come forward.

“You have no idea what he’s capable of.” You say shivering at the memory, the first time you were seen in public, the first time you really met who Nython was. And how he laughed when you ran from the room of his treasures.

“Yes we do, and we can help you.” Tech says sternly, in a way that almost makes you believe him.

You jump out of your skin when the metal bars above you crash down, blocking you in from above. You look up to see one of the men from before ghost above the grate and away from you. Your grip tightens on the dagger as you throw your arm up and back, before letting the blade fly in the direction of the man blocking you into the gunpowder hold. As he flattened himself against the wall of the hull to dodge your sloppy albeit, effective attack, you grind your sturdy boots into the wood and take off towards the stairs.

You make a total of three strides coming out from below deck before you feel hands grab at your arms. Amidst twisting and turning you see and collide with goggles and know that tech escape the knife unscathed. And when a hulking man steps in front of you your feet go wild until they connect with flesh and Tech has no choice but to drop the slippery eel of a woman you’ve become. With escape on the forefront of your mind you clamber onto the ledge of the ship itself. Ending up on all fours, the ship to your right and the thrashing sea on your left.

“Enough!” A voice booms from the right, the man, who must be the captain you infer from his long coat and wide brimmed hat stands with a blaster pointed in your direction. You pull yourself up and look below you.

“Hey now…” Tech cautions looking worried at how you’re regarding the sea with such ease.

“Let er’ jump Tech.” The captain says holstering the blaster. “That water that you are thinking about, that’s the Corillian Run, one of the major sets of currents that ships use for hyper-sea travel. You jump into that and you’ll drown in seconds.” You look over it again, terrified of the thundering waves and endless depths.

Before twisting yourself and launching your body over the edge of the ship.

A number of things then occur in very quick sequence, Tech and his larger co-part rush to the edge to get eyes on the woman overboard, it sounds like Tech screams after you but for all you know it could be the wind. And then in one of the most painful experiences of your life, something grabs you out of the air and sends you both into the side of the hull. Everything stings and you heave for breath as you’re winded, and a firm hand digs itself from the outside fabric of your dress and latches onto the underneath of your corset to get a hold on you.

“Dang Ferrick, Maker fucking Hells.” He swears in pain. One arm secured on the rope attached to the ship somewhere and the side of the body also flush against the unforgiving wood.

In ash hair and voluptuous curse words, Crosshair has just saved your life.

By the time the biggest of the men has pulled you both back onto the deck of the ship you’ve barely caught your breath and everything shakes and aches. But with whatever adrenaline you have left in your system you gather yourself trying to take off again. But before the action is even fully processed by your body a hand of steel flys out to wrap itself around your neck. And walks you backwards into one of the cabin walls.

His hand stays in place on your neck as his head tilts upwards in a way that blocks the harsh sun and lets him see over the hat's wide brim.

It is then that you gasp for air, partly because of the way his rough salt water stained hand restricts your breathing, and partly because of the tattoo that takes up half his face in the shape of a skull.

He sneers at your very existence, as he moves his head back to level with your own.

“Lock her in the brig. And turn the ship around.” The deep voice echoes as he pushes you into the arms of one of his crew mates. You squirm in their grasp, screaming.

“You can’t, you can’t take me back there!” the hold on your arms tightens ever so slightly.

“Captain, the winds, the tide…”

“You bastards! They’ll kill me, and they’ll hang all of you! Let me-“

“Enough!” Everyone is still at his rage. And you put on a brave face when he turns his glare towards you.

“You- you stowaway on MY ship, attack MY crew, and have the audacity to start making demands?” You stay silent and watch as he rounds on the smallest crew member. “And you soldier, that was order. Turn this ship around. Wrecker. Lock her in the brig. Now.”

“Yes Sir.” They both call, and you catch the eye of the forth crew member, pulling himself off the deck of the ship and looking unsteady. And you realize for the first time, you could not have picked a worse ship to stowaway on, because now you’re in the company of clones.

Tags: @the-mandalorian-clone-lover @peacefulwizardfox @rex-meshla @and-claudia @kamino-mermaid @thelambandthewolffe @starwarsmeninhelmets

@bronvin @myeternalsin @sweetsunflowerkisses @loverofclones @beizm @gunsmoke-blu

@logina6

Comment to be added

[whatareyousearchingfordean]

Happiness Continues

Part 8: 27 Weeks Pregnant

Summary: The guys and their wives take a drive up to Dallas for a Creation convention. The weekend goes great until an uninvited guest shows up. 

Pairing: Jensen Ackles x Plus Size Reader

Word Count: 6.4K+

Warnings: Language, angst, stalker scenarios, psuedo-kidnapping

Author’s Note: I know this was uber delayed, but school... anyway I hope it lives up to your expectations. Congrats to @waywardbeanie @jensengirl83 and @akshi8278 on getting your questions into the fic and a huge thank you to everyone that participated. I wish I could have put all the questions in but it would have just been too long of a chapter. But please know I really do appreciate you all. The song sung in this chapter is by The Highwomen called Crowded Table, check it out if you’ve not heard it before. And of course many thank you’s to @emoryhemsworth​ for being the best beta xo Alex

Catch up with the series masterlist and then check out Alexandra’s Library for more by yours truly!

The sound of ice dropping from the refrigerator and into the metal thermos clanged around the kitchen. Once she was satisfied with the amount in her water bottle, she topped it off with water. As she turned around, screwing the lid into place, the soft hums of her husband could be heard as he came out of their bedroom, their suitcases trailing behind him. 

“You know,” she started, the humming coming from her partner reminding her of something, “you still haven’t told me what song you chose to sing tonight.”

“And you know I told you it was a surprise,” he replied, placing the luggage out of the way and coming to stand next to her at the island. 

“I hate surprises.”

“No, you don’t.” Dimples formed on his cheeks as he kept his smile tight-lipped, his wife rolling his eyes at her. 

“Please! Just tell me,” she jutted out her lower lip in a vain attempt at mocking her brother’s puppy-eyed look. 

“Fine, I chose “Having My Baby,’” Jensen sighed, his shoulders sagging. 

“You did not! Please tell me you are kidding.” 

“What’s wrong with Paul Anka? That song is a classic.” The actor stood up taller, his voice growing defensive. 

“I hope to god you are kidding because believe me when I say that if you so much as mention your ‘seed’ in front of hundreds of fans, I’m taking this baby and I’m leaving.” Y/n pointed to the still-growing bump attached to her abdomen before flicking it towards the door, the most serious expression written on her face. 

“Oh, so that’s how it’s gonna be? Fine,” Jensen cleared his throat, and she knew it was coming before he even had the chance to open his mouth again. “The need inside you, I see it showin’, oh, the seed inside you, baby, do you feel it growin’—”

Y/n’s hands flew to her ears, the ‘la, la, la’ falling from her lips in an attempt to drown him out. His face split into a wide grin as he snatched her wrists and pulled his wife into his chest, placing a soft kiss to her nose before her lips. 

“You’d be so lucky, baby, but no, it’s a surprise. You will find out tonight, so let it go.” Jensen released her from his grip as the security system chimed. It noted movement near the garage door just before the couple heard the voice of her brother coming from the other end of the house. 

“Let’s go, Ackles, we’ve got three antsy kids in the car and need to hit the road pronto!” Y/n snatched her backpack and water bottle from the counter as Jensen grabbed their bags and headed towards the garage. The guys took the bags to stuff them in the trunk as Y/n set the house alarm. 

Jensen pulled open the passenger side rear door to the Padalecki’s SUV, helping his wife into her seat before climbing in the front passenger seat. They greeted Jared’s kids as the family set out on the road towards Dallas and the Supernatural convention. 

****

The sign that flew by on the side of the highway indicated that Dallas was about eighty miles out still, giving them at least another hour until they made it. The kids had long since fallen asleep in the backseat, their bellies full of snacks and their distractions in hand. Y/n glanced back at them before digging out the bag of Goldfish she had packed for her snack. Before she could even get it completely open, her husband’s hand appeared between the side of the vehicle and the seat, palm up. The woman chuckled before dumping a handful into his hand. He transferred the crackers to his left hand before returning his right to its original place to rest it on her calf. Jensen ran his fingers up and down her leg, the action soothing to both of them. 

From the seat next to her, Y/n could see her sister-in-law turned to her, a knowing grin on her face. For being an actress, Gen sure did have an awful poker face. 

“What?”

“Nothing, I’m just really happy you two found each other,” the smile on Gen’s face growing wider as she spoke, the eyes of the men in the front seats flickering back to her. Jared glanced over from the driver’s seat just quick enough to see what Gen was referring to. There was a twitch of a smile on his face too before he covered it up to fake a gag. “Speaking of, how was Toronto?”

“Oh, I’m in love with Toronto!” Y/n gushed, her mind going back to the trip she made to visit her husband on set. Because of the break-in, they were making up filming days and he couldn’t get away, so the couple decided to celebrate their first anniversary together with her going to visit him. “The city is so beautiful, albeit not as beautiful as Vancouver, but there is just something about it. It reminds me of New York a lot, but like, cleaner.” 

“You two had a good weekend?” 

“We did. Jensen took me to Alo for dinner, and I know I’m pregnant, but it was the best food I’ve ever had in my life. I wanted to take the chef home with me.” Thinking back to the dish she had, Y/n ran a hand across her abdomen, the memory of her baby coming to life after the meal making her smile to herself. 

“I believe you, even if there is something about being pregnant that just makes everything taste better,” Gen giggled along with her sister-in-law, the two of them sharing a secret that their husbands would never understand. “I’m glad you had a good time with what you had.”

“Well, either way, I was going into my third trimester. I was not up for some extravagant trip across the globe. My back hurts too much to pretend to be relaxed.” As she thought about the way her body had continued to change as the finish line came onto the horizon, it was like her body throbbed in response. The makeup artist flexed her limbs, rolling out the kinks from sitting for too long in one position. 

“I’m sorry girl, but it only gets worse from here,” Gen scrunched her nose, wishing she could tell her anything but the truth. 

Y/n sighed, the action rolling through her whole body, “I was afraid of that.”

****

Clif was waiting at the back doors to the convention center of the Hilton where Creation was hosting their convention this weekend. He was there to escort them all inside as well as stay with Gen and Y/n during the show. Creation provided their own security for Jensen and Jared, so Clif was more than happy to spend time with his favorite girls. They were running a tad late, having hit traffic after dropping the kids off with Jensen’s parents who had graciously offered to babysit. 

“Hey, kid,” Clif greeted Y/n with a bear hug once they were inside, his large arms engulfing her and squeezing tight. “Let me look at ya.”

Y/n stepped back as he released her, running a hand over her now unmistakable bump to emphasize it underneath her maternity clothes. “Not much of a kid anymore.” 

“No, you aren’t, are ya? Went and let this idiot over here corrupt you.” Clif locked his arm around Jensen’s neck, bringing him into his chest to ruffle his hair with the opposite hand. The group laughed and Jensen struggled to get out of his hold, his hands immediately flying to fix his hair once Clif relented. 

“You’ve been spending too much time with Jared,” Jensen scowled at his friends, who shared a look and a shrug. He took his wife’s hand and moved to continue down the hall before pausing to turn back. “And I’ll have you know, she was already corrupted when I got ahold of her. All I had to do was sit back and enjoy the ride.” 

A gasp of her husband’s name fell from her open mouth as he tossed everyone a wink and pulled Y/n deeper into the hotel. Her surprise morphed into a giggle as he pulled her along, her cheeks flaring with residual embarrassment. Her family was bound to push him too far one of these days, and she was just waiting for him to drop some sort of bomb on their unsuspecting ears. She just hadn’t anticipated it would be today. 

Jensen had been in a particularly good mood since that morning. Y/n couldn’t place whether it was the excitement of being at a convention again or if it was being home, but whatever had him smiling like an idiot she was thankful for. Jensen’s attitude had always been infectious, and right now she was thriving off of it, the joy of being able to make her forget about her swollen ankles and face. It was nice to be in the moment for once. 

Louden Swain was already starting their soundcheck on the main stage as she and Jensen entered the hall. Y/n let Jensen go and went to sit in the chairs in the front row to watch them busy themselves around the stage. She was alone until Clif, Jared, and Gen caught up and joined her in the seats. It didn’t take long for the band to run through everything with all their guest stars who would be performing with them. Jensen did a quick verse from “Like A Wrecking Ball” before also joining those that were in the audience. 

The fans could be heard already outside the doors to the hall, their excitement palpable even from a couple of hundred feet away. Not that she blamed them, Louden Swain always put on an amazing show, as did the rest of the cast who chose to join them. Her husband was obviously her favorite to watch; the rough honey trickle of his voice had a way of splitting her soul in half. After that, she was obsessed with watching Briana. The woman was a powerhouse and had a way of captivating everyone watching her. It was no secret that she often found herself on YouTube watching Bri and her husband dueting “Shallow,” making it her most-watched video by far. 

Everyone was escorted to the green room while fans filled the hall, then Clif escorted them back to watch from the sidelines once the lights went down. They took a seat in the chairs that had been put aside for them against the wall, joining in the squeals of the audience when the guys took the stage. 

Louden Swain captivated everyone with their songs and stage presence, as per usual, but when Rob introduced Jensen onto the stage, it was like a train had just rammed into the wall of the hotel. She could feel the floor shaking underneath the insanity that ripped through his fans in the seats of the audience. 

“Well, good evening Dallas!” Jensen bounded on the stage, the leather jacket he was wearing somehow looking that much better in the lights of the stage. The Texan pulled Rob into a tight hug before taking his place in front of the microphone stand. The stubble that had arrived in just a few days of not shaving was more evident on his jaw and neck as he craned it sideways to work the stand up to his height. Y/n had to admit he looked absolutely scrumptious. 

“I’ve got a new song for you guys tonight that the guys have been so gracious to learn for me.” Jensen paused for the screams from the crowd before continuing his introduction. “This one is for my wife. I love you, honey.” He cast his eyes to where she was seated, watching the smile that spread across his features and letting it calm her anxious heart.

You can hold my hand

When you need to let go

I can be your mountain

When you're feeling valley-low

I can be your streetlight

Showing you the way home

You can hold my hand

When you need to let go

 I want a house with a crowded table

And a place by the fire for everyone

Let us take on the world while we’re young and able

And bring us back together when the day is done

Jensen’s foot tapped against the stage as he found his groove in the first verse. Almost instantly, Y/n recognized the opening chords to the song making her heart flutter in her chest. She’d first discovered this song before they’d even found out they were expecting. There was an instant connection to the lyrics, and in typical Y/n fashion, she had played the song on repeat until she knew the lyrics backward and forwards. She really couldn’t believe he’d remembered it. 

If we want a garden

We’re gonna have to sow the seed

Plant a little happiness

Let the roots run deep

If it’s love that we give

Then it’s love that we reap

If we want a garden

We're gonna have to sow the seed

After everything the two of them had been through the past few months, the lyrics falling from his lips brought tears to her eyes. She chose to completely ignore the fact that she was pregnant. This was his way of reminding her of that night and the promise he’d made. The actor was more than ready to start a family with her, and he would keep reminding her until he ran out of breath.

The door is always open

Your picture’s on my wall

Everyone’s a little broken

And everyone belongs

Yeah, everyone belongs

 I want a house with a crowded table

And a place by the fire for everyone

Let us take on the world while we’re young and able

And bring us back together when the day is done

And bring us back together when the day is done

If Y/n thought that the screams that greeted Jensen on the stage were deafening, it had nothing on the roar that now filled the hall, never mind the thrumming of her heart in her chest. She was sure time had stopped. Her husband blew a kiss to the audience before bowing off stage. It was his disappearance from before the mic that had on her feet without a second thought, chasing after him behind the stage and to the green room. 

She burst through the doors, her eyes meeting his as he turned to the sound of the latch. Without a second thought to the others in the room, the pregnant woman launched herself into her husband’s arms. Both of them dug their faces into the embrace, knowing just what the other needed at that moment. 

“You’re right, I did love this surprise,” she mumbled against his neck. Jensen ran a hand down her hair, his arms instinctively squeezing her tighter to him as she spoke. 

“Anything for you, babe.”

****

Behind the scenes of conventions was far less exhilarating for the guests than it was for the fans attending. It was quiet in the green room, most people eating or napping in between events they were to attend, which was why Y/n and Gen chose to stay behind the next morning and let the kids sleep in as much as possible. The guys were up at the crack of dawn to get to the hotel in time for the gold panel, and neither wanted to deal with pulling three little ones out of bed that early. 

It was nearly midday by the time the girls had wrangled the kids into the car and to the hotel. Clif met them at the back door much like he had done the night before, ready to escort them wherever they wanted to go. When they arrived in the green room, the guys were off to their respective photo op rooms. 

The kids took center stage when they got there, livening up the room in an instant. Odette fed off the attention far more than her brothers did but being the youngest, that didn’t come as a shock to anyone. Y/n wanted to hit the vendor’s room before her husband got back and they had to be on stage for the main panel. There were often hidden gems at some of the booths and she wanted to support the small business that set up there. She invited Gen to join her, and naturally, Odette wanted to tag along. The two of them left the boys in the capable hands of Kim and Briana before grabbing Clif and heading out. 

The room was bustling with people who were in between activities when they entered. Y/n picked up the small girl and put her on her hip so she could keep better track of her, not that Odette protested. They made their way to a booth surrounded by original artwork. Most of the displayed pieces were Supernatural related, but there were a few other pieces that encompassed other shows and movies, as well as art that encompassed just about anything else. Y/n got the artist’s information, intending to order an original piece from her. 

From there, it didn’t take long for the room to realize who had joined them. The hushed whispers of the con attendees could be heard as they moved on to a shop that sold handmade jewelry. Luckily the looming presence of Clif was enough to keep people at bay. He was very good at subtly guiding those who dared to walk up to them away from the scene. Right now they preferred peace and would greet some people once they were finished looking. 

Gen bought something from the jeweler for Odette, seeing as once the toddler set her mind to something, she was relentless. Then the trio moved on to a few more booths before acknowledging the fans in the room. Clif took Odette from Y/n while the wives talked with some people in the room. There were many congratulations and asks for photos which Y/n politely declined while Gen agreed.

With a glance at her watch, Y/n signaled to Gen it was time to head back. They said goodbye to the fans and headed back to the green room. Jared and Jensen were back already when they entered, eating a quick snack before they had to go back on stage. 

Jensen pushed his chair back from the table when he spotted his wife. He patted his thigh as she made her way towards him and she took a tentative seat in his lap. The actor placed a kiss on the underside of her jaw before offering her the food on his plate. She decided on a carrot, biting into the hard vegetable as her husband spoke. 

“I missed you this morning.”

“I know, I missed you too. Still hate waking up to an empty bed,” she frowned, tossing the other half of the carrot in her mouth. 

“Just a few more weeks, then I’m done and it’s just you, me, and this baby,” Jensen promised, resting his large hand over her growing abdomen. He ran his thumb over the swell of her stomach as she contemplated his words. 

“Promise?” She cocked her head, knowing full well he intended every word. Before he could answer, the Creation handlers appeared to grab the boys and bring them to the stage. 

“Promise,” he kissed her again before urging her off his lap so they could head out. Gen rounded up the kids to go and Jared picked up his daughter to carry her out to the show. Jensen and Y/n walked hand in hand down the back hallway until they had to go separate ways. Jared handed Odette over to his wife and they were off to get show-ready. 

The girls and the kids followed behind Clif and took the empty seats in the front row far off on the right side of the stage, the lights lowering just as they were getting settled. Rob and Rich appeared and did their usual bit before introducing the boys onto the stage.

Watching them together was something Y/n always enjoyed. The two actors played off of each other so well and never failed to make her chuckle. Especially now, she loved that after everything that had happened, their relationship was not hindered. They were truly brothers on and off camera, and Y/n couldn’t ask for anything better. 

Jensen went to his usual chair on the right side of the stage, pulling it more forward and center before sitting down as the crowd continued to cheer for them. Jared followed suit, spinning his chair around and putting as close to Jensen’s as was humanly possible. Her husband frowned and leaned away from Jared, who only played along and leaned into his best friend. 

Jensen brought the mic to his lips and scowled, “Dude, why are you so close to me?”

“Cause we’re family now, officially bonded by blood,” Jared retorted, still trying to lean into Jensen as he continued to pull away. The older man rolled his eyes at his brother-in-law’s antics but couldn’t fight the smile on his face as the crowd cheered at Jared’s words. 

“Don’t remind me.” Jared leaned into Jensen, whispering something in his ear before the pair shared another laugh. Jared spun around and started the questioning. They got a few typical questions about Supernatural and the final season, nothing too crazy, but one specifically piqued Y/n’s interest. 

The girl asking the question stood not even twenty feet from her at the mic on the right side of the room. “My question is for Jensen.” Her voice was steady, but she was looking at her feet as she spoke. “Now that you are on The Boys, the show has far more carnage than Supernatural, and you have said in the past that you dislike being covered in fake blood, so I was wondering if you have come to terms with it, or has your hatred only grown?” 

Jensen threw his head back in laughter at her question, surprised that he hadn’t been asked it before today. “Well, you are right, I have not been shy about my contempt of stage blood, but nowadays I do find it far less annoying than I once did. I think I got over it filming season fifteen. There is nothing like staring at a beautiful woman to take your mind off of the stickiness. Y/n was a great distraction.” 

“Alright, that’s my baby sister you are talking about,” Jared faked a gag before dropping his mic in his usual fashion as the crowd let out a collective ‘awe.’ Jensen shrugged before moving on to the next question. He rounded to the next fan on the opposite side of the stage. 

“Hi,” the boys said in unison, bright smiles on their faces for the girl.

“First of all, I want to congratulate Jensen on the pregnancy. So, my question is for Jensen and Jared. Jensen, since you learned about the pregnancy, has your perception of life and love changed, and if so, how? And for Jared, being a father yourself, what are some things or advice you would like to share with Jensen? How has becoming a dad changed you? Thank you!” The girl stuttered around her words, her nerves of having the guy’s undivided attention seeping through her voice. 

“What?!” Jared dropped his jaw as he turned his head back to look at his brother in law in the seat next to him. “You’re pregnant?” 

Jensen leaned back in his chair and ran a hand down his torso, “Do you think I’m showing yet?”

“No dude, you look good, women everywhere hate you.” The duo fell into a fit of laughter, their heads were thrown back in unison at their stupid joke. Naturally, the whole crowd joined in. How could one not when those two were cracking up? It was infectious. 

“I’m sorry about my friend here. Thank you, we are very excited.” Jensen leaned around Jared to smile at the fan that stood with a Random Acts volunteer’s arm around her shoulders. “As for your question, it didn’t really hit me until we heard the baby’s heartbeat for the first time. Anyone who has kids knows how important that moment is. I never thought I could love my wife more than I already did, but there is something about looking at the woman you love carrying your child. It’s a completely different kind of connection to another human being. As for our baby, well, she was just a flicker on the screen then, but I knew there was nothing I wouldn’t do for that flicker.”

“Y/n is gonna kill you later for saying ‘she,’” Jared cut in, but Jensen just smirked knowingly. The man always had to cut the emotion with a joke, something the pair of them had in common. Life was too short to always be so serious anyway. 

“Well, what about you dad?” 

“What are you talking about?”

“She asked you a question too, so answer it,” Jensen reminded his costar, much to the amusement of everyone around them. 

“Oh yeah. Well, I’ve given Jensen tons of advice. He’s constantly coming to me for my superior wisdom.” Jensen frowned behind him, his eye roll visible even from the back of the room. “Nah, but in all seriousness, the best piece of advice I could ever give him would be to just be there for your wife, whatever she needs. She just gave you a child, the least you could do is get her some water and snacks during feedings.” 

In the shadows of the audience, Gen leaned over to Y/n, whispering in her ear, “I think he’s done that maybe twice.” Y/n laughed along with her friend, knowing full well that sounded just like Jared. 

“Being a dad has taught me an abundance of patience and understanding. While they are your kids, they are also humans with real feelings and thoughts. It’s important to listen to your children, and I mean really listen to them. It’s not easy some days, but what they’ll remember in twenty years is whether mom and dad were there or not, so that’s what’s most important to me.” The girl whispered a shaky ‘thank you’ to the guys before they moved on. There were more questions about Supernatural, Walker, and The Boys, but what Y/n didn’t expect was another question regarding her, the words cutting her like ice as they left the fan’s mouth.

"Now that Y/N is pregnant, how hard is it being away from her while filming? How do you handle the emotions of being away from your wife in this kind of situation?" The fan had a bright smile on her face as she asked a question that was sure to have the fans falling even more in love with her husband and the amazing man he was. 

Gen’s hand fell on her shoulder as she noticed her sister-in-law’s body tense, awaiting the answer from the actor on stage. Jensen turned his gaze to her, offering a small smile to her before turning back to the fan. 

“It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I feel like I’m dumping everything on her shoulders and leaving her to figure it out alone, and I hate that. You know, I made a promise to her on our wedding day that I would always be there for her, and I feel like I’m breaking that promise. On the nights that the baby is rolling around and not letting her get any sleep, she will FaceTime me to show me, and anyone who’s ever seen this knows it’s just as cool as it is creepy when it looks like the kid is trying to escape from her stomach.” Jared nodded in agreement alongside him as the audience laughed at his admission. “My heart clenches in those moments because I know there are a hundred other moments that I don’t get to be there for, but even more so that my wife doesn’t get to have me next to her for. I know it’s just as hard on her, experiencing all these new milestones alone. We are both just very lucky that she has Jared and Gen so close. Those two have been her rock through this whole thing.” 

“If there is anyone who can handle it, it’s Y/n,” Jared cut in, sensing his friend’s growing discomfort. “My sister is one of the strongest women I know, so don’t worry about her too much, Jay.”

“Right, yes my mistake, what was I thinking worrying about my pregnant wife?” The shorter Texan played up his words with a stiff nod of his head, much to the enjoyment of the crowd. The guys thanked the fan for her question just as Rob and Rich came back on stage, starting up the last question song. Y/n excused herself then to go to the restroom, assuring Clif she’d be okay and she would be right back, imploring him to stay with Gen and the kids.

The pregnant woman slipped past Creation security near the stage to the hall that led to the bathrooms. She sped down the hall on her toes, the urgency not hitting her until she stood up. Her mind was focused on getting to the bathroom, unconcerned about anything else until she was inside the first open stall. Y/n took care of her business, coming out of the stall to a figure standing directly across from her at the sinks. Her eyes trailed up the broad person who had their back to her until she met their eyes in the mirror.

“No!” The gasp left her lips, her feet instinctively stepping backward until her back hit the stall. 

“Hi, Y/n,” the man’s voice was rough, the sound of grating against every nerve in her body. It perfectly matched the smirk that he held as he turned to face her, the same smirk that had been haunting her dreams for weeks now. The woman swallowed around the lump in her throat as her pulse rose, the thrum of it beating behind her ears. 

“How?” It was the only thing she could force past her lips as her mind raced through all the possible outcomes of this encounter. If anything, she was trying to buy time until someone came looking for her, but she had no idea how long that could be. 

“I expected a hello, but I guess I can’t really blame you,” the guy shrugged, his nonchalance unsettling Y/n even more than she already was. “I’ve been waiting for you for a long time now.”

“Waiting for me?”

“It was only a matter of time before we found our way to each other,” he took a step closer to Y/n, her heart skipping in her chest at the action. No matter how frightened she was at this moment, Y/n refused to back down. Instead, she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin at the man. 

“Wh-what do you want?” Her tongue tripped over her words and the woman fought to control her breaths, letting the air out slowly through her nose as she refused to look away from the stalker across from her. 

“I want you. It’s always been you. For years I’ve waited for you to come to your senses about that actor you call your husband, but it seems you may need a little push,” he explained as his feet began to pace in a line, cutting off her only route to the door of the bathroom, to her freedom. 

“Excuse me?” Y/n was genuinely confused now, her adrenaline-soaked brain struggling to comprehend what he was telling her. 

“He’s all wrong for you. The bastard married you and ran off to Canada the second he could, leaving you to tend to his house, and now look at you, knocked up with his spawn and he still could give a rat’s ass about you.” The man’s voice was rising in tone as he became agitated, with what exactly she wasn’t sure, but she didn’t want to stick around to find out. 

“My husband loves me—”

“No!” He rounded on her, his pacing halted as he looked at her. “He’s poison. He doesn’t care about you or your career, he only cares about what you can do for him, but me? I’ve been your number one fan since the beginning. With me, your possibilities are limitless. Nobody could stop us.” 

It was now even more apparent to her at that moment that this guy was far more unhinged than she had originally thought. He believed with every fiber of his being that what he was saying was the truth, she could see it in the fire raging behind his eyes. It was the same fire that had her biting her tongue from firing back. She had more than just herself to think about in this situation, and she had no one way of knowing how he would react, but she also knew that staying in that bathroom was not an option either. 

It was now or never. He was no longer pacing across her escape route, and she wasn’t that far from the door. If she could at least get on the other side of it, she could create a commotion to draw attention. The second his eyes flickered from her own, she leaped into action, setting her focus on the door, and only the door. As her fingers wrapped around the handle, she felt his rough grip on her bicep. She was only able to get the door open a fraction of an inch, but it was enough. Her frantic eyes met with the shocked ones of Gen and Clif on the other side of the door. 

“Damn it!” He hollered as he yanked her back. The door didn’t even have time to close before Clif was pushing his way into the bathroom after her, watching as Y/n stumbled and nearly fell on her ass from the force of the stranger’s pull. 

“Alright, let her go,” Clif’s voice was calm and demanding as he assessed the scene in front of him. “Don’t make this worse for you than it already is.” 

“You make it sound so easy,” the guy chuckled dryly, the sound of it finally breaking whatever false sense of confidence Y/n had created. Preparing for a struggle, she squeezed her eyes shut, the action sending the welled up tears cascading down her cheeks. 

“It is that easy. Because trust me, if you hurt her, it will be the last thing you ever do.” The sound of the bathroom door opening again had her opening her eyes, a few of Creation’s security guards filing in to back up Clif. Knowing he was outnumbered, the man roughly released his grip on Y/n’s arm. The pregnant woman scrambled away from him, past security, and out into the hallway. 

“Y/n...” The sudden grip around her wrist startled the traumatized woman, her body reacting against it until her gaze met the familiar green eyes of her husband. Her body relaxed in an instant, throwing her into his arms as a sob racked through her body. Jensen squeezed his wife in his arms, holding her shaking frame close to his chest as she let out all her emotions. He shared a look with Jared before burying himself into her as well, just as relieved to have her back as she was to be free. 

It had only been about thirty seconds since Gen had come running back from checking on Y/n to tell them that something was wrong, but it was all it took. He felt his heart sink as he looked at the fear in Gen’s eyes. He and Jared were up from their chairs like lightning, allowing their long legs to get them to the bathroom with security hot on their tail. It killed him to have to wait outside, but he knew it was the best chance of getting her out of there safely, so he bit his tongue and did as he was told. None of that mattered now anyway, she was safe in his arms, and that was the most important thing. 

It felt like an eternity later when the cops showed up, taking the place of the unarmed security detail. They emerged with the guy in cuffs, a deep scowl on his face as he was carted out of the hotel, Clif and the security following behind. 

“Clif, what the fuck happened?!” Jensen growled, fury about the day’s events creeping upon him, seeing the guy that had his hands on his wife only fanning the fire in his belly. 

“I’m sorry, Jensen—” Clif's words were cut off by the raging actor. 

“You’re sorry? You were supposed to be protecting her!” Y/n lifted her head from her husband’s shoulder, using the back of her sleeve to wipe away the tears and snot from her face. The man’s whole body was tense, the anger rolling off of him of barely perceptible vibrations. 

“Hey, Jay,” she put her hands on his face, making him look at her. Reluctantly, he tore his gaze from Clif to look at his wife, his face softening as he took in her fragile state. “It’s not his fault. I told him to stay with Gen.”

“Y/n/n...”

“No. Clif is not to blame right now and you know it,” Y/n lowered her voice, the little bit of sternness she was able to muster dissipating. “You’re scared and I am too, but don’t take that out on him.” Jensen nodded at her, leaning in to kiss her forehead with trembling lips.

“I’m sorry, Clif,” Jensen breathed, his eyes opening slowly to look back up at his long time friend. Still trying to come to his senses over what had just happened, he had one arm around his wife, refusing to break contact with her. The fear of being out of control was still too overpowering. 

“It’s okay, I understand.” The two men shared a nod. Emotions were still on high, and everyone needed a moment to take in the events that had just transpired. Before anything else could be said, one of the cops cut through the tense scene playing out in the middle of the hotel hallway. He had a concerned look on his face, but he had a job to do too. 

“Ma’am, can I ask you a couple of questions?”

Main Panel Timestamps x/x

Part 9: 35 Weeks Pregnant 

Forevers: @22sarah08​ @akshi8278​ @anathewierdo​ @atc74​ @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce​​ @callmekda​ @dawnie1988​ @deanwanddamons​ @ellewritesfix05​ @emoryhemsworth​ @foxyjwls007​ @hobby27​ @janicho88​ @jensengirl83​ @katehuntington​ @lyarr24​ @malfoysqueen14​ @miss-nerd95​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​ @msmarvelouswinchester​ @polina-93​​ @sleepylunarwolf​ @stiles-stilinski-24-dylan​ @smol-and-grumpy​ @suckmyapplejacks​ @superfanficnatural​ @supraveng​ @talesmaniac89​ @tranquility-or-chaos​​ @waywardbeanie​ @winchest09​

Happiness Continues: @afangirlreacts​ @anaelsbrunette​ @ashleyrose0117 @austin-winchester67​ @deanbowlegsackles​ @deangirl93​ @deans-baby-momma​ @death-unbecomes-you​ @dvnmbabe​ @fangirl199813 @harryhook-lover​ @hoboal87​ @itsdesiree86​ @jbsgirl4eber11 @let-me-luve-you​ @lunarmoon8​ @neverland14353​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @parinarain​ @rebeccathefangirl @rebelemilu​ @smoothdogsgirl​ @spnfamily-j2​ @stoneyggirl​ @squirrelnotsam​ @traceyaudette​ @winchestergirl82​ @winqhster​ @zpandaqueen​

[k7l4d4]

Danny Phantom AU: ParaNormal

Hello all, I am a huge fan of Danny Phantom, but I often found myself disappointed with how underutilized certain characters and aspects of the show were before its conclusion. This AU is based on how Clockwork, the ghost in charge of overseeing time and the future, witnessing the formation of a NEW Timeline Parallel to the main. Everybody clap your hands!!

The basic premise is based on this: What if the Fentons had support for their research, like a proper laboratory? This is essentially based on the thought that the Fentons managed to publish and profitize some of the side-benefits of their research, such as Ectoplasm powered gear and weaponry, specifically the viability of Ectoplasm as a fuel source itself! After getting this revolution out there, the Fentons managed to reel in some support for their research, even partnering with a few groups in order to conduct more tests than was feasible prior. Let’s be honest here, in canon they were basically operating off of a shoe-string budget and their own ingenuity for their inventions, along with whatever devices they could repurpose to make more.

However, all that success comes at a cost, particularly when it attracts enemies. During a tour of their main lab building by the local elementary school, with support and supervision from local parents and industries, a disgruntled employee decides to cause some trouble after he’s fired for his conduct on the job. He destabilizes the prototype portal, while a young Danny, Sam, and Tucker, all of whom had snuck away from the class for their own reasons, are in the room. The resulting explosion changes everything.

Danny, Sam, and Tucker disappeared that day, presumed dead. The explosion devastated the town, random portals and specters appearing on an almost daily basis. Life as Amity Park had known it was irrevocably altered. A prominent side effect of the explosion was the emergence of Half-sides, people who had been exposed so deeply to ectoplasm that they had become essentially part ghost, though not to the extent that Danny was in Canon. I’ll detail some of the prominent ones below.

Paulina Sanchez: Half-sides typically are regarded with a mix of suspicious caution at best, paranoiac fear at worst. For emergent Social Butterfly Paulina, this essentially crippled her. Paulina has always been lethally self-conscious, particularly about her worth, often seeing herself as nothing without her beauty, the one thing that people outside of her family seemed to care about in regards to her; she wasn’t athletic, she wasn’t a very good student (at the time), she was just the pretty face on the playground. When she became a Half-side, all of that went away. While still extremely self-conscious, Paulina is more comfortable in her own skin, and genuinely kind to others, though she certainly has a vindictive side to those who cross her. Paulina’s primary ability is the ability to travel through mirrors, as well as communicate through them, and store things in them. It’s rare to see her without at least one form of mirror on hand. Paulina is also something of the local conspiracy theorist, albeit one who’s usually right; her ability to spy on others through whatever reasonably reflective surface is nearby aids in this immensely.

Star: While many often confuse her ditzy attitude with genuine unintelligence, Star is sharp as a tack, easily the smartest kid in her generation. She just rarely cares enough to show it, preferring to live life without the extreme expectations of the exceptional burdening her. Star is Paulina’s oldest friend, some have even speculated they might be more, and is always willing to stick up for her when she gets grief for being a Half-side. Star herself possesses an unusual power, in that she can capture past and future events of anyone she takes a picture of. Star is never seen without some form of Image Capturing device, often carting a Polaroid Camera around her neck. She’s occasionally wondered how her powers would interact with film and video, but she so far hasn’t tested it.

Dash Baxter: Once having a future as a promising Athlete, the emergence of his Half-side powers sealed his chances at a successful future. Dash gains in strength, speed, and endurance proportional to his stress or aggression, entering a complete berserker state when sufficiently enraged. The sheer chaos he’s caused in the throws of his anger, as well as the slew of ruined property and broken objects whenever his strength flared up has turned him into a lonely outcast that no one is willing to tolerate being around bar his small circle of friends. Dash occasionally tries to bluster and act like a tough guy, but his isolation has ruined his self-confidence, leaving him starved for interpersonal contact and validation; you could literally just tell him good job, being a random person on the street, and he’ll act like he won the lottery.

Kwan: An all-around nice guy, Kwan has served as the peacekeeper among his peers for years, even as his parents worried about his behavior taking a turn for the worse if he strayed into the wrong crowd. Kwan is a sweetheart, regularly volunteering at local shelters and charities, as well as soup kitchens, he’s single-handedly done more for the reputation of Half-sides than anyone else. Kwan’s power can essentially be summed up as weaponized Empathy; anyone he comes into direct physical contact with feels the accumulated emotions of everyone their actions have negatively impacted from the perspective of said victims. His abilities are so potent that, during an incident in Middle School, when he attempted to stop a man from assaulting a woman, his mere touch sent the man into screaming hysterics as the sheer amount of pain and suffering he had inflicted to others hit him all at once, literally driving him mad. As a result, Kwan always wears a pair of gloves. ALWAYS.

Well, here’s the basic idea. Let me know what you all think!

[soymilka8]

americano - hwang hyunjin

pairing: hwang hyunjin x female reader !

word count: 1.5k words

genre: fluff.

warnings: none

synopsis: hyunjin loves his americano, you were simply the one who made it.

master-list.

i miss hyunjin so very much AHHH.

she was a barista, he loved coffee.

can anybody make it anymore obvious? coffees are meant to be enjoyed whenever. cold may the sky be, or warmness may the gods bring, the only point here is that you could never go wrong with coffee. after all, there were tons of ways to enjoy them and decorate as you please!

they've always been therapeutic for the young woman— the coffees she'd make were her pride enjoy. a little too proud she was, always keeping coffee beans close to her, even in her own bag. if a zombie apocalypse ever were to come, the first thing that'd popped into her mind would be none other than coffee.

how she'd bring a stash near her basement for easy access, or how she'd save up money for an espresso machine all for the sake having coffee during the terrible reigns of walkers; all those were common thoughts inside her brain.

though some might say she was a bit too attached to her coffee beans and machines, nobody was fronting enough to say anything about it. after all, the young woman made peoples’ coffees taste like magic! complain as they might like about her rooted passion for the drink but whenever they get a sip of their order, mouths would be quickly shut by the drink alone.

her eyes were like hawk as they swiftly worked their way around the station. hands followed her every movement as jittering and clattering could be heard throughout the small café she worked at.

a small café it was, with minimal decorations and very few people crowding the building. no wonder. the café was pretty well hidden after all, far away from the noisy parts of the city. the only noises that occured day to day were her voice, a few chatters of the people, (an old couple being her favourite) and the slight vibration of their every action.

it had always been like this, really. she'd serve a couple of familiar faces their coffee, well acquainted with them as they frequented the building, and a couple of newcomers whom have yet to see the place would also drop by and order their own. she always treated them the same, serving them their drinks and specialties sometimes even with a little twist of her own to spice things up. nothing a little surprise couldn't handle.

although she wasn't quite certain why she paused her actions upon seeing a certain someone.

she totally wasn't guarding the door from time to time, afraid that a sudden bandit may come because of her intense overthinking skills— no. it wasn't any of that, rather, she just happened to have glanced a quick moment at the door and she saw a man.

a man, people might say. a normal, human being.

but her eyes sparkled upon seeing him enter. he was just so majestic. the way he carried himself inside the small café made it feel like he was the star of the show, and that the café was the background. it didn't help that the outfit he was wearing caught her eyes, too.

boots, pants, black turtleneck, long brown coat— with the captivating face being the cherry on top. he was attractive, there was no denying that. maybe if she were to ask his number, something might blossom—

no, of course not.

she couldn't bother. the woman idly rolled her eyes at herself for being so idiotic, now halting her attention away from the man who caught her attention, and continued on working on a teenage girl's latte. it was stupid, to even think of the fact of asking his number.

for one, she'd never reckon herself to want to grab anyone's attention right from the get-go. she never believed in love in first sight and she most likely would have never if not for the man who just entered so gracefully. two, she was a barista. it would have seemed weird if she was to ask his number upon entering, or worse, she might make him uncomfortable.

and she wasn't up for any of that.

now fighting the urge to glance at the man's visual once more, she bid a small thank you to the teenage teen and coughed abruptly, mentally preparing herself for what's about to come. act normal, act normal, act normal.

“hi, what can i get for ya?”

not bad.

“good afternoon,” the man smiled ever so softly, “can i please get um... an iced americano?”

boom. okay maybe acting normal wasn't such a good idea after all. not when his smile is so angelic it would send you to the gates of heaven! the small tug of his lips in an upward motion, the formation of crescents on his eyes as he smiled so delicately; it surely was hard for the woman not to woo.

“sure, anything else?”

“hmm... can i maybe get a hazelnut croissant?”

she nodded, “and one hazelnut croissant, that's it?” and looked up. the man reciprocated her actions, and she told him of the price. “um... can i please get your name?”

“hwang—” he smiled again, “hwang hyunjin.” she tried nodding albeit hesitantly as she twisted her heels in slight terror. her back faced him, he didn't know she was quite literally squealing inwardly and maybe even outwardly, who knows.

or maybe he did.

she faced him once again after pretending to have been doing something, mindlessly working through the cashier's register. she tried her best not to pay as much attention to him, though of course, it was hard not to when the beautiful man was staring her down.

“here,” she handed him his change at the small placement box beside her. it was rather frustrating her boss had to add the box for she was not even given a chance to accidentally hold his hand. the man named hyunjin nodded, walking away and sitting himself down onto one of the chairs as he minded his own business.

yeah, she hoped she'd be able to make his coffee properly.

the first few seconds were fine— weird even for the young woman as she made the man's americano. she'd have never thought she wouldn't be as distracted as she thought she'd be, even focusing more than normal at the task at hand.

that was until when she briefly glanced at him, he was already staring at her.

she flinched slightly, trying her best to work on the beans and not paying her any attention. she was sure it wasn't her imagination, he'd really been staring, pretty intently as well. like he was watching her every move with slight... interest. like he was fascinated with the idea of coffee— or maybe just his americano alone. nevertheless, it was enough to make her fuzz with timidness.

“one iced americano and hazelnut croissant for hwang hyunjin?” his name rolled of her tongue so smoothly. the man rose from his seat, strutting his way towards her with the same smile he had given earlier only this time, it was directed at his americano. she could tell how much he loved his americano,

“here you go,” she handed him her drink, he took it, and for the first time, their hands brushed against each other. it was only a brief contact, but the sparks it had initiated were intense. maybe she was just being dramatic. “thank you.” he had said, about to take a sip of his americano when he'd caught on to the writing on the back.

his name was written on there, sure, but there was another thing hyunjin never would've thought he'd seen on the plastic. it was numbers. and if he was to guess, it would more or less be yours.

surprised, hyunjin took a look at you. your face was that of a grin as you handed him a call sign, indicating him to call you if ever. it was bizarre how your hands just had a mind of their own, recklessly adding your number in as you wrote hyunjin's name earlier. you've told yourself countless times it would be impossible.

though it wouldn't hurt to try.

“i make good coffee.” you said sheepishly, scratching the back of your head. hyunjin was slightly appalled but even so, he smiled in the most heart-warming way ever as he nodded at you. the silence remained for a few seconds until you looked at hyunjin, only to see him once again staring back at you with eyes that held such interest.

his smile had widened, the moon on his eyes bending even more as his face scrunched up. he looked so adorable.

and without a second word, he walked away towards the door about to head out. you'd have thought he rejected you if not for the promising smile he held on his face just a few seconds back.

but as the night came and the café went to a close, he messaged you that night, the words still stuck to your brain:

“make me coffee some other time, princess ;))”

[angelatmidnight1]

fuse as a lee PLEASE!! it’s too cute 😆😆

Let Sleeping Dogs Lie

After a particularly bombastic match, Fuse treats himself to a cold beer, a grilled steak, and a well-deserved nap. Walter enjoys a good R and R session after a little mayhem, and today is no different. However, instead of enjoying that nap, a rather mischievous Legend crosses his path, and his name is Octavio Silva. It’s too tempting not to prank Walter as he slumbers, and the poor man is down for the count. Rampart joins him in the mischief and, much to his surprise, they discover that the explosives enthusiast is ticklish. Now, it’s time for the real fun to begin!

“Ahhh, that’s the stuff…”

Walter murmured aloud after he’d downed the rest of his beer. It’d been a long and trying day in the Apex Games; his squad never seemed to catch a break, and many of the fights just barely went in his favor. If it hadn’t been for the extra grenades in his pockets or picking the right time to drop his Mother Lode, the championship would’ve gone to someone else. But, alas, he and his squad managed to pull through and claim the crown for themselves. It was an exciting game, no doubt about it, and those were the kind of games ole Fusey couldn’t get enough of. They reminded him of being back on Salvo, back in the Bonecage, where he put many a bloke to sleep with his fists. He was in the prime of his life then and, like a fine wine, he only got better with age. Of course, he couldn’t spend all of his time raising hell, and there was nothing better than a cold beer and a grilled steak after a hard day. He was even lucky enough to have the entire common room to himself, since the rest of the Legends were all scattered throughout the dropship. After putting the empty bottle down on the table, the explosives enthusiast stretched out onto the couch. He decided to take off his metal arm to get more comfortable and put it next to the discarded bottle. Then, the tiredness finally catching up to him, Walter closed his eyes and dozed off shortly after.

What Fuse didn’t know was that Octavio was actually within the vicinity, wandering throughout the halls without anything to do. Normally, he would be hanging with Ajay or pulling off some sick stunts in his Gauntlet. Ajay, however, was busy working in the med bay and didn’t have time to deal with her hyperactive friend. And his Gauntlet, much to his dismay, was closed down for maintenance along with the entirety of King’s Canyon. The speedster never liked rules and tried to sneak in anyway, but he was caught and received a stern warning from the Games’ admins. Octane muttered some Spanish curses under his breath as he wandered into the common room. Maybe, he thought, he could put those thermites that he swiped on his way out to good use. He noticed Fuse on the couch and speeded over to him, grinning. If he was going to do anything with grenades, he’d definitely want the explosives enthusiast’s on his side. Since he was approaching from behind, he didn’t notice that the old man was sound asleep.

“Hey, amigo! I saw your last game, you were awesome!” he complimented. He climbed over the couch and plopped beside him. “You gotta show me how you pulled off that stick with the arc star. A collateral like that would look sick on my feed.”

When Walter didn’t respond, he arched a brow and turned to him. The explosives enthusiast was slightly slouched over, fast asleep, with his good arm draped over his stomach. Octavio blinked and leaned in to poke his shoulder, but he didn’t stir. The gears in his head turned and he grinned widely behind his mask. If he wasn’t able to pull some stunts or hang out with Ajay, he decided that he’d do something just as fun: pull a prank.

It took about ten minutes, but Octavio managed to dig up a can of shaving cream and a feather for a classic prank. He gave the room a quick once over to make sure no one was around to either distract him or wake the older man up. When he was certain that the coast was clear, he popped open the can and tipped over to Fuse. He slowly grabbed his hand and pried it off of his stomach so he could turn it over with the palm facing up. Every now and then he paused, looking for any signs that he might be waking up, but he didn’t give any. Lucky for Octavio, it seemed like Walter was a heavy sleeper. Octavio put a handful of shaving cream in the man’s palm and chuckled excitedly. Sure, this was a popular prank, but it was still funny.

Oh man, mis amigos are gonna love this.

Octane put the can down and put the feather between his index finger and thumb. He stepped closer to Fuse and took a breath, quickly fluttering it against his right cheek. At first, he didn’t give a reaction. But after a second try, Walter scrunched his nose and turned his head away. The speedster repeated the motion, flicking the feather back and forth, but the older man would just scrunch up his face and squirm away. There were a couple of times where it looked like Fuse was going to use his hand to brush his face, but he kept putting it down at the last minute, earning a groan from Octavio.

“Come on, just a lil bit higher…” he murmured, deciding to switch to his left cheek and increase his efforts. Footfalls sounded off behind the daredevil, but he didn’t notice, so the curious individual was able to walk up right beside him.

“Oi, what’cha doin’?” Came Rampart’s loud voice, which startled Octavio. His head snapped towards hers and he brought a finger to his lips.

“Shh! I’m trying to prank dormilón (sleepyhead) over here,” he whispered, gesturing to the shaving cream with the feather. “So don’t wake him up.”

Ramya’s eyebrows rose and she sat down at the opposite side of Walter. “Gramps is down for the count, huh? Guess he ain’t all that spry after all.” she snickered. She craned her head over to see the shaving cream in his hand and smirked. “Ooo, that’s a classic prank right there. Want some help? Bet I could dig up some markers.”

Octavio shook his head and waved her off with his free hand. “Nah, I’m good. Just need him to itch his face.” He explained, poking the feather into Fuse’s left cheek at random intervals. Walter stirred and grumbled, making the speedster retract his hand. It looked like he was going to wake up but, thankfully, he calmed back down and returned to sleep. Rampart rolled her eyes, leaning over Fuse to take the feather from Octavio.

“You’re doin’ it wrong. Watch.” The modder instructed, wiggling the feather against Fuse’s nose. Walter grumbled again and turned his face away, but Ramya was persistent. She propped herself up on her knees and crawled closer to him. She leaned forward, flicking the plume against his nose again. She balanced herself with her hand against his side, unconsciously gripping it when he fidgeted. Walter twitched and exhaled sharply through his nose. He leaned away from the invasive touch, this time curling against the arm of the couch, and sighed deeply. Ramya blinked and glanced over at Octavio. The speedster met her gaze and inched closer to Fuse, cocking his head to the side.

“Is he…?” Octane curiously poked at Walter’s ribcage, earning a grunt and a quiet, yet undeniable chuckle. The speedster’s eyes lit up with mischief and he grinned at his accomplice. “Mira, looks like tough guy’s ticklish.”

Ramya matched his grin and she walked two fingers along his side. Fuse squirmed and pushed himself further into the couch’s arm. He chuckled and murmured something indecipherable, a faint smirk appearing on his lips. “I think you’re onto somethin’, mate.” The modder answered, crossing over his stomach to repeat the same motion on his other side. “Never thought I’d meet a ticklish Salvonian. Now I’ve seen it all.”

Octane and Rampart’s poking and prodding stirred ole Fusey out of his nap, albeit slowly. What started off as quiet grunts and chuckles evolved into prominent giggles as the duo increased their efforts. By the time Walter was somewhat conscious, his nerves buzzed with the ticklish sensations, and he jolted awake.

“AH! Whahat---oh, it’s just you lot.” Walter breathed a sigh of relief, unaware of the situation that he’d found himself in. He was still groggy from being disturbed from his nap. “You pups need somethin’? Or can this old dog go back to--”

He paused, feeling something foamy in his hand. He glanced at his palm and his eyebrows furrowed. “The hell? What’s this doing in my hand?”

Walter shook the stuff off of him. He noticed the feather in Ramya’s hand and smirked, putting two and two together. “Oh, thought you could prank ole Fusey, did ya?”

“He did,” Rampart nodded to Octavio, earning a glare from the speedster. “But he’s a bloody amateur. Guess it’s for the best though, otherwise we wouldn’t know how ticklish you are.”

Fuse gave her a bewildered look. “What?” he spat, yelping when Octane jabbed him in the side. “Hey, knock it off!”

Octavio chuckled. “Didn’t peg you as the ticklish type, amigo. That must suck for you.” He teased, aiming another poke at his stomach. Walter batted him away with his good hand and scoffed.

“I reckon everyone’s ticklish to some extent, mate. What of it?” The explosives enthusiast responded, only to have the realization hit him seconds later. He was sandwiched between two of the most mischievous Legends in the Apex Games, and he’d taken off the only thing keeping him from being the target of their mischief: his metal arm. Granted, the metallic limb wasn’t that far away from where he was, but one of the pups had agility on his side. Walter’s had worse odds though, so he lurched forward to grab it.

Like clockwork, the two younger Legends jumped into action. Octane grabbed Walter’s arm and pulled him backwards, causing him to yelp. Ramya was quick to get up and push the table holding the metal arm further away from where they were. Somehow, Fuse managed to free himself of the speedster's hold and stand up.

“Yeah nah, you lot can have the bloody couch. I’m going to enjohohohy myhyhy--ah! Stohohop!”

While Walter was distracted, Rampart snuck up behind him and poked at his sides. The explosives enthusiast sputtered and snickered, turning to fend her off next. This gave Octavio the opportunity to seize his arm and pull him back on the couch. Fuse yelled again and tried to push him back, but it was difficult to do with one arm. The ticklish pokes were only making it that much harder. So, although Walter outmatched both of the Legends in terms of physical strength, Octane was able to get him down and hold his arm above his head.

“Hurry, chica! Get his legs and I’ll keep his arm down.” The speedster called over his shoulder, adding to the tickle attack by scratching along Walter's stomach. Fuse arched his back and fell into a deeper pool of laughter.

“Nohohoho! Blohohohoody hehehell, gehehehet ohohohff mehehehe!” Walter protested, struggling to propel himself upwards by digging his heels into the couch. Ramya grinned and straddled the man’s waist, effectively pinning him down.

“Aw, ya ain’t afraid of a little tickling, are ya mate?” The modder teased, digging her wiggling fingers into his sides. Fuse laughed even louder and twisted his torso side to side.

“I ahahahain’t afrahahahahid of ahahahnytHIHIHIHNG!” He fired back, his laughter jumping in pitch when Octavio poked into the sides of his stomach. The speedster was positioned above his head, holding his arm down with his knee, and grinning widely. He opted for using his thumbs to drill into the spot, snickering when he bucked his hips and swore.

“Oh yeah? Then tell us where you’re most ticklish.” He challenged, smirking when Fuse’s head snapped up to him.

“WHAHAHAHAT?”

Octavio laughed. “You heard me! Tell us where your worst spot is, and we’ll leave you alone.” He repeated, using all of his nails to torment Fuse’s stomach.

“Maybe.” Ramya chimed in, finding his hip bones and giving them some quick squeezes. The old man yelled and swore again as he tried to buck her off of him. He didn’t want to accidentally send her flying across the room, but he hadn’t been tickled since his younger days, and he’d forgotten just how ticklish he really was. Granted, most people he came across didn’t want to tickle a man who had a metal arm and wielded explosives, but these two pups weren’t deterred at all.

Walter’s laughter was only getting louder the more they tickled him. Octavio had gotten bored of sticking to one spot and started poking at his ribcage. He arched his back and cackled; his ribs were a very ticklish spot, coming just shy of being his worst one. For a moment, he considered telling the pups where that spot was, if it meant they’d stop pestering him. But, the thought was gone almost as soon as it came up. If Ole Fusey was anything, he was certainly stubborn.

“NOHOHOHOHO!” He yelled, bucking his hips again when the speedster increased his efforts. “COHOHOHME OHOHN! YOHOHOHU’VE HAHAHAD YOHOHOHUR FUHUHUN!”

Ramya scoffed and reached behind her to squeeze his knee. He responded by yelping and drumming his leg against the couch cushions. “I thought you said you weren’t scared,” she simpered, her nails dancing along the top of his knee and underneath it. “It must be a really bad spot if ya ain’t gonna tell us. Which isn’t the best idea, cause we’ll find out eventually.”

Fuse tugged as hard as he could at his pinned arm, trying to wench it free, but the speedster held strong. He laughed harder the higher up Octavio tickled, throwing his body around. Octane was trying to gage which ribs were the most sensitive; he raked his nails against the bones at a rapid pace and scribbled at the spaces between them. So far, they all seemed equal in sensitivity, but the speedster wasn’t ready to give up just yet.

“OKAHAHAY! OKAHAHAY WAHAHAIT!” Fuse screeched when the speedster lingered on his two centermost ribs. The younger Legends perked up, slowing the tickling down just enough to keep the poor man giggling.

“Yeah? Got something to say?” Octavio asked, rhythmically tapping against the fleshy part beneath his ribcage. Walter gasped and lost himself in heavy giggles before he was able to put some words together.

“Lehehehet’s….lehehehet’s mahahahke ahahaha deahahahal…” he tittered. Maybe while he bargained with them, he could keep them distracted long enough to pull his arm free. “Lehehehet mehehe up, let me get back to me nap. And I’ll tehehll ya whahat you wanna knohow after.”

Rampart arched a skeptic brow and gently skittered her fingertips over his stomach. Fuse flinched and sucked in his stomach, prompting the modder to apply a little more pressure. “How do we know ya won’t cut tail and run the second we let you go?”

“I wohohohn’t! Yohohur mahahate wohohould cahahatch up to mehehe! Cohohme ohohn…” Walter snickered when Ramya switched from the gentle touches to deliberate scratching. “Leheheht mehehe gohoho!”

Rampart looked up at Octavio while she circled one nail around the man’s navel. “I dunno...whaddaya think, mate? Should we let him go?”

Octane withdrew his hands and pretended to ponder the request. He was having fun; no, he was having a blast, and he wasn’t ready to stop any time soon! Fuse was one of the last people he’d ever thought to be ticklish, and he didn’t think this opportunity would present itself again. He gave the old man a brief moment to breathe before he dropped his hands back onto his ribcage. He prodded at the fleshy part beneath the ribcage and worked his way up the bones, earning a scream and loud fit of laughter. “Psh, no way! This is the least bored I’ve been all day.” He piped, laughing when Walter tried to roll away from him again.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHA! NOHOHOHO YOHUHUHU BLOHOHOHOODY DROHOHONGOHOHO!” Fuse screamed and writhed when Octavio kneaded back into his centermost ribs. Ramya giggled and reached underneath his shirt, scribbling her fingertips against his bare sides and tummy. This prompted another scream and an even louder burst of laughter. “STAHAHAHAP TIHIHIHCKLING MEHEHE!”

“Nah, sorry mate. He’s my partner in crime, can’t let him down.” The modder quipped, gently pinching both sides of his abdomen. Walter almost threw her off of his waist and shook with raucous laughter.

“BAHAHAHAHA! I’LL KIHIHILL YAHAHA BOHOHOHTH! I SWEHEHEHEHAR!”

The younger Legends were laughing almost as hard as he was and they picked up the tickling pace. “Ooo, I’m so scared.” Ramya snickered, circling her nails back around the man’s navel. Walter snorted and furiously kicked a pillow, sending it flying across the room. Octane momentarily stopped tickling him and threw his head back with laughter.

“Sí, you sound terrifying right now.” He added, smirking. He tickled up higher still, reaching his uppermost ribs, and scritched at them at a rapid pace.

Now, Walter wasn’t someone who was easily frightened, but the panic set in once the speedster attacked those ribs. He violently thrashed around with his laughter bordering on hysterics. If Octavio tickled any higher, he knew he wouldn’t last long.

“AHAHAHAHAHAH STHAHAHAHP! EHENOHOUGH ALREHEHEADY!” Fuse demanded through heavy fits of laughter. He arched his back when he alternated between the two ribs, rocking from one side to the other to try and avoid the tickles. His stubbornness was hanging by a thread now; maybe it would've been better for him to just come clean? Little did Walter know, neither Octane or Rampart were going to be as easily swayed now.

“Nope! You had your chance. And it looks like I found a good spot here.” The speedster answered with a grin, moving back down his rib cage to tickle each rib individually. Walter threw his head back and kicked another pillow off of the couch, his laughter taking on a desperate note. “Probably your worst one, right?”

Fuse frantically nodded. “YEHEHEHEHEHEHES! IHIHIHIHIHT IHIHIHIS! SOHOHO STOHOHOP!” He shouted, practically splitting his sides when he gently pinched the centermost ribs. His laughter took on different pitches depending on where Octavio tickled; poking beneath the rib cage made him giggle uncontrollably, tickling along the ribs themselves made him scream and roar with laughter. Rampart looked up at the two of them; she noticed that the higher up he tickled, the more the explosives enthusiast struggled. She grinned, reaching up to join Octane in tormenting his ribs by poking at his lowermost ones.

“You get his armpits yet? I think you’d wanna be thorough.” She offered, her grin widening when Fuse glared at her...or at least tried to. There was no way she could take him seriously with how hard he was laughing.

Octane glanced at her and chuckled. “No, don’t think I have. Are your armpits ticklish too, amigo?” He asked, slowly poking back up the man’s rib cage. He felt Walter stiffen and he beamed behind his mask.

“N-Nohohohoho! Thehehey’re nohohohot!” He lied; the unfamiliar feeling of panic eating at his nerves increased the closer his nails got to his armpits. Did ole Fusey’s voice crack when he told this lie? No, it didn’t! And he’d deny it for as long as it could...but that would just be another lie.

“No? Bummer.” Octavio bit back a smirk and sighed, leaving his hands resting on the top of the rib cage, just underneath where his armpits started. Ramya halted her tickling too and gave the speedster a questioning look. If he hadn’t been wearing the mask, she’d be able to see that mischief in his eyes was still going strong. Even Fuse, who was grateful for the break, was a tiny bit skeptical. He glanced at his hands and then at the kid’s face, breathing heavily. Was he really going to let him go, just like that?

Well, the short answer was no.

“Guess I’ll just have to forget about it and go see i--SIKE!”

Without warning, Octane buried his hands in Fuse’s armpits and wiggled his fingers around. The explosives enthusiast screamed and immediately dissolved into hysterical laughter. He didn’t even have a chance to fight it; the ticklish sensations came swift and sudden, and left him writhing on the couch. This time, he accidentally threw the modder off of him, and he could only pray that she wasn’t injured. Besides a yip of surprise and a few words of profanity, Ramya was perfectly fine.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA STAHAHAHAHAHAHAP! BLOHOHOHOOHDY STAHAHAHAHA--” Walter’s demands were lost in his laughter as he dug his heels into the couch again. Since his arm was the only thing pinned down, he bucked himself forward to try and sit up. It didn’t work the first time, and it spurred Octavio to tickle him faster, drawing out more protests and wild laughter. He tried again, and again, and one more time after that, but the tickling had weakened him, and he didn’t pull his arm free before Ramya collected herself.

“Heh, well that looks like that was a lie, huh?” Rampart noted. Since she didn’t want to get thrown off again, she decided to sit next to the couch and poke at his ribs. Walter snorted again and laughed even harder, his legs flailing all over the place. “All the more reason to tickle you. Right mate?”

Octavio happily nodded and fluttered his nails along the length of Walter’s armpits. “Yup! You brought this on yourself, señor.” He grinned, going on a search for an even more ticklish spot along the armpits.

Meanwhile, Fuse was dying laughing. He did all he could to try and propel himself forward to escape, but Octavio’s knee kept his arm in place. The last thing he wanted to do was plead, but he was running out of options, and he only had so much oxygen. “OKAHAHAY! ALRIHIHIHGHT! I’M SOHOHOHRRY!” He yelped, thrashing violently when the speedster lingered on the lowermost areas of the armpits, just a hair away from the ribs. Whenever he stroked there, he twitched and absolutely howled with laughter. “PLEHEHEHEASE STAHAHAHAP!”

Ramya was the first to take notice; Walter didn’t seem like the type of guy to beg, so she assumed that they didn’t have a lot of time to keep on tickling him. She gently scratched at the ultra sensitive ribs that Octavio found: the uppermost and center most ones on each side of the rib cage. He desperately shook his head, attempting to dodge their hands, but they easily kept up with him. Thankfully, after a few more bouts of heavy laughter and intense struggling, Fuse finally pulled hard enough to get his arm free.

He immediately hopped to his feet and hurried towards his metal arm. The younger Legends blinked, surprised that he actually managed to get away, but it didn’t last long. They chased after him, laughing, and caught up with him before he could get a hold of his limb. Walter whirled around, extending his good arm out to defend himself, but it was too late. Both Octane and Rampart launched themselves towards the explosives enthusiast at the same time, each one burying a hand into an armpit. Fuse flinched and barked out some more protests mixed in with laughter, but ultimately, he ended up back on the floor in stitches.

“AHA! I GIHIHIHIHVE! I GIHIHIHIHVE! ENOHOHOHOUGH!” Walter yelled. He planted his hand on the floor and tried to use it as leverage to push himself up, but crashed back down when both Legends increased the tickling pace. At this point, poor Fusey was too tired to really try and get them to stop, so he could only shout another ‘plehehehehease’ before his laughter fell silent.

Rampart gradually halted the tickling and gently elbowed Octane. “Alright, alright. Let 's stop. Think grandpa is all tuckered out.” She chuckled, scooting back to give the man some room to recover. Octane pouted, but stopped shortly after Ramya did.

“Fine. Hey, no hard feelings, right amigo? I was super bored till you came along.” He added, heading over to where his metal arm was. He picked it up and handed it to Walter, who had to take a few extra minutes to catch his breath before he was able to grab it. He attached it back to his limb and exhaled. Fuse was still tired, but for a completely different reason now.

“...Glad I could be of service,” Walter quipped sarcastically. Octavio extended a hand to him to help him to his feet, and the older man accepted it gratefully. However, much to the speedster’s confusion, he didn’t release it right away. The speedster’s brows furrowed and he tried to tug his hand back to him, but when he looked into the man’s face, he saw a similar look of mischief in his eye. It made a shiver run down his spine. “But you do realize that disturbing me from my nap isn’t something I’m going to let slide, ay?”

Octane paled and only increased his efforts to yank his arm back to him. Thankfully, Rampart was still nearby, and she saved the day by giving the explosives expert another poke to the side. Walter yelped and jumped away from the touch, allowing both her and Octavio to scramble away. Fuse watched them go but, instead of chasing after them, he returned to his seat on the couch. He chuckled to himself; for now, he was going to return to his well deserved nap. But, when he woke up, ole Fusey was going to start some trouble...in more ways than one.

I was pretty nervous to post this since it's a little bit shorter than my usual fics, but the length of this one just felt 'right' when I finished writing and reread it. This is also my first time writing for Fuse and I'm still working on getting his character down, especially since this was kinda an impulse write :P. Anyways, I hope you liked the story.

[philicheesecake]

Refugees pt 1 (vore fic)

Note: this takes place with my two newest OCs, Zi and Baka. I might write more about them as their story comes to me. I haven’t given them an exact size yet, but for now I’m saying Baka is 7-9 ft tall while Zi is 4 ft tall.

Warnings: Soft attempted fatal vore, minor burns and injuries, but safe in the end. A lot of cursing and general stinky behavior from Baka

—————

It had been nearly a week hiding underground. The sewer systems were growing claustrophobic and the darkness only grew as the two travelers tried to conserve the energy of their flashlight. Food supplies had run out two days ago, and both of them were growing restless.

Prince Baka as usual seemed to not take the situation seriously. How could he? He was a sheltered spoiled brat who knew nothing of how the real world worked. Zi was only doing their best to try to keep him out of trouble.

But now starving, with no clean water supply, and lost within the winding dark tunnels, anything seemed preferable to dying in here.

Zi stepped ahead through the tunnels, ears twitching as  they listened out ahead for any sign of danger before motioning behind them to follow. There was a pause, but now steps forward. Only an exhausted groan. Then a splash.

Zi blinked in confusion, turning to see the prince trying to get up, having to crouch badly within the tunnels even as he got to his feet, due to his towering size. With the dimming flashlight shining towards his face, his weathered features could be seen. A crocodilian-esque being with three webbed crests spanning from his head to the tip of his tail. His green eyes were dry and exhausted.

"Mmmstarvin'. Fuckin starvin' down here," the prince bellowed weakly. "Can't go on like this..."

Zi sighed, stepping patiently over to the prince and mutely held out their hand to try to stabilize him to encourage him forward. The prince leaned his weight on Zi, before toppling over, splashing into the smelly sewage on top of the smaller creature. Zi coughed, wiping the contaminated water off of their face and grunted as they tried to crawl out from under the prince, trying again to help him to his feet. The prince grumbled, resisting the assistance, seeming set on dying here and now, in the midst of his toddler-like dramatic tantrum.

"Mmmwwwanna die then," Baka whined.

Zi grunted silently under their breath, managing to crawl out from beneath the prince and tugged on the side of his arm to help him to his feet. The prince grumbled dramatically once again, not wanting to move. "Lemme stay here. Don't wanna move... leave me to die..."

His stomach growled pleadingly, echoing through the dark tunnels. Zi sighed, letting the prince's arm splash to the ground like a ragdoll. They picked up the flashlight again and stood before the prince, thinking quietly for a moment before speaking. "Wait here,"

With a small bow of their head, they left through the tunnels, leaving Baka lying baffled in the puddles. Baka had told Zi to leave, but he hadn't really expected them to. Zi had sworn to serve him until they were freed. Did they just see the prince's death as their chance of freedom?

"You can't fffuckin tell mmme what to do!" The prince babbled. His voice only echoed uselessly through the sewers. He let out a whale-worthy moan and slumped back down in the puddles. He smelled awful. He hated the smell. He hated Zi. He hated his family. He hated the world. He hated everything. With this litany of hatred coursing through his mind, he slowly succumbed to sleep, believing this to be death at last.

A gentle hand shaking his shoulder was what brought him back to his senses, and the returning light of Zi's flashlight. Baka grumbled tiredly, closing his eyes again, not wanting to be brought back into this hell. He was perfectly content lying in this puddle and hating everything, and sleeping. He didn't have to exist in this disgusting sewer if his mind was somewhere else.

It seemed Zi had other plans, however. The smaller reptilian's soft voice insistent through the silent dripping ambience of the sewers. "There is a path leading to a river. We can get fresh water and fish there,"

The prince seemed reluctant at first, but anywhere but here was ideal. He was starving, and fish sounded better than nothing. He hoped it wasn't raw, though. He groaned as he lifted his head, reaching for Zi for assistance to get to his feet. Zi complied as well as they could, though they were just as equally deprived of strength, they just tried not to show it as much.

They led the prince to a low opening where the sewer runoff poured into a polluted river. It wasn't the sight that Baka had wished for, but anywhere was better than those sewers. He was never going in there again. Zi made sure the coast was clear before hopping softly into the river and nodded for the prince to follow. Baka collapsed into the running water, rolling a bit beneath the surface before resurfacing, refreshed to have his scales rid of the sewage slush and at least feeling a little cleaner. It seemed Zi had already done so before leading Baka there, visibly appearing cleaner in the better light. Although it was night out in the fresh air, the light from the stars and moons was almost overwhelming to get used to after being stuffed in the pitch darkness of the sewers for so long.

Zi frowned, looking into the river hopefully, though even in the darkness, they knew the prince was right. "We can at least collect some water here. But we can't stay out here for long."

"You fuckin cheated me," the prince growled. "You kept my fuckin hopes up this whole fuckin time. 'Just last one more day sir,' 'now isn't the time for cannibalism. I am here to serve you'  'tomorrow we'll have better luck' 'tomorrow we'll have better luck' and again and again and again and AGAIN. I'm fuckin SICK of this disaster," he managed to get to his feet, swaying slightly. "So you have to serve me one last fuckin time here. Help me out,"

Zi's brow furrowed slightly, showing the slightest trace of concern before stepping closer to take to the prince's side, seeming to assume that Baka needed some help standing. Baka's behavior altered, however, gripping Zi a little too tight for support, instead, bringing them closer and his mouth yawned wide above them, suddenly clamping his jaws over their shoulders. Zi was shocked, sucking in a surprised breath. The prince had mentioned eating Zi before while they were in the tunnels, but they hadn't considered that he would really do it. In panic, they struggled against the prince's grip, but he simply ignored it. The prince's mouth watered heavily, drenching Zi's upper half with sticky drool and drew them in deeper, beginning to swallow. The throat opened up before them and the slight jerking of the jaws forced Zi in deeper despite their protests. The tight throat dragged them downwards more quickly with each swallow and the shove of Baka's hands.

He didn't have long to enjoy this feast, however, when a beam of light shown down from the slope near the river and a team of uniformed armed men were all directed at him, quickly making their approach to surround him. The prince tried to sit up, wincing as the weight in his stomach sloshed and resettled from the action. "Can you just leave me for five fuckin minutes?" Baka grunted. The soldiers surrounded him and patted him down to search for any weapons, finding none, before binding his hands behind his back and led him up to their transport.

Sitting alone in the back of the high-security transport vehicle, he could feel Zi's struggles begin to weaken. They were just as weak as him, and he doubted they would last long. They seldom spoke normally, though he could hear their normally level voice sound out more fearful, albeit muffled, pleading for reason. The prince didn't bother listening, pressing a hand to his middle to coax them into digesting already.

"You're wasting your breath in there. You dragged me through fuckin hell, and now ya get your fuckin share of it," Baka grunted under his breath.

Zi went silent, hugging themselves in the hot, slimy darkness. Their struggles stopped, but their breathing was still fairly normal, a little panicked. They were probably trying to preserve energy.

"My service meant nothing?" They spoke quietly.

"Your service meant food that I should've given into a week ago," Baka grumbled. "And now we got captured anyways, so dragging me through those sewers was fuckin useless."

Zi went dead still, probably from disbelief, or despair, though it was hard telling their reaction without a visual. Not that Baka cared anyways. They should be dead soon.

The car came to a halt and the back doors opened from the truck. Armed guards led prince Baka through a sheriff's office, leading him to one of the back cells. They had been remote enough to be far from the capitol, so the police had to wait for the officials to show up before transporting him back to the new enemies' capitol.

For now, Baka slumped within the holding cell, lying back on the hard bed. "I don't wanna die... they're going to kill me," Baka spoke to himself, though his occupant heard. Ironic that he was complaining about dying while he was currently killing his most loyal and perhaps only ally.

"If you let me out, I can help... we can escape again," Zi offered hopefully, trying to keep emotion out of their voice. It was really beginning to sting in there, and the acid levels were steadily rising. The clenching walls persisted to grind the caustic fluids into Zi's exposed skin, and it was growing increasingly painful and unnerving.

"Mmmh, I don't wanna," Baka responded.

"Neither of us want to die, Baka. If we fail, we both die. If we succeed, we both live. If you kill me now, it would be inevitable for both of us,"

Baka groaned. He didn't respond for a moment, rubbing his gut almost mournfully. The acids were getting worse from this action, their level rising to fill half the chamber. Zi withheld a worried whimper in their throat, trying to keep their chin above the acids. The walls suddenly clenched tighter around the smaller reptile, painfully this time, nearly crushing their ribs, before the motion forced Zi back up the throat, carrying them upward with difficulty. The little breath they had collected was squeezed out of their lungs and they choked on the slime around them, nearly suffocating before their release.

A gagging sound and a glimmer of hopeful light beyond the jaws greeted them before they were coughed up onto the floor in a puddle of slime and acids. Zi gasped for air, shuddering violently and coughed up the slime that had caught in their throat. They dragged themselves across the floor to prop themselves against the wall of the cell, looking over at the prince with unveiled residual fear in their eyes.

Baka was on the floor lying on his stomach with drool dripping from his jaws, looking further nauseous and miserable. He let out a long drawn-out dramatic groan.

Zi hastily tried to wipe some of the slime off of their face, glancing down with a disgusted shudder to notice the nasty burns that marred their scales. They couldn't focus on that traumatic experience though, shakily getting to their feet. They stumbled over to the barred entrance of the holding cell, examining the lock and took out a lock pick, beginning to get to work.

A small click sounded once they succeeded, and they looked over at the prince, trying to help him to his feet. His hands were still bound behind his back, and Zi was almost too afraid to release him. Just as they helped Baka to his feet, alarms suddenly blared. They winced, ears flattening back and they looked towards the doorway fearfully.

"...fuck," Baka growled.

"We have to go," Zi went out the opening of cell, looking carefully down the hallway. Oddly, the guards were nowhere to be seen, and action was heard further within. Their brow furrowed in confusion, and they stepped silently into the main area of the police station, Baka dragging himself behind them with no regards for stealth, and seeming further interested in making as much of a dramatic scene as possible along the way.

The door opposing them suddenly swung open and several assorted armed men entered, not wearing the police uniforms, and appeared like standard civilians. Their eyes lit up in relief and one rushed forward to greet the freed prisoners with a bow. "Prince Baka, please come with us. We're here to help, and we're loyal to your line to the end,"