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joequiinn · 1 month

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Like Aphrodite | e.m. x reader

Summary | Eddie just loves to be used by you…

Warnings & Tropes | SMUT, fem reader, established relationship, drug and alcohol use mentioned, unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), overstimulation, some dirty talk, pet names

A/N | This little thing is so self-indulgent and based on an evening where I was crossfaded beyond belief with my partner (tmi?). I also pictured this as part of the Dos and Don’ts universe for those that know, but really this is entirely standalone.

W/C | 2.8k

Taglist | @ali-r3n @eddiernunson @edsbug

!!! MINORS DNI !!!

Sometimes you manage to get crossfaded just right that it makes you inconsolably horny. The kind of horny that no amount of sex seems capable of satiating, the kind of horny where you stay wet for hours, the kind of horny where your body entirely overrides your brain function.

And tonight was one of those evenings where it suddenly washed over you like a tsunami - you went from melting into the couch one minute to salaciously craving Eddie’s cock the next.

So, of course, like the doting partner he is, Eddie offers himself up to you, no questions asked. He’s already rock hard, dick slapping against his stomach once he frees himself from the restraint of his boxers - listening to your wonderful ten minute rambling about how wet you were was such a tease, but you were too intoxicated to even realize what you were doing to him.

You practically drool at the mere sight of him, reaching out for his cock with the hopes of taking it into your mouth, but Eddie simply slaps your hand away. It makes you giggle, until he speaks in a lusty timber to instruct you: “Use it.”

Being just faded enough, you stare at his pretty face for a few long seconds, as if the command doesn't quite make sense, your mouth hanging open slightly and your eyes doe-like. Then of course, you realize exactly what Eddie meant, your pupils growing large as you attempt to crawl into his lap and remove your panties at the same time, nearly fumbling in the process.

Considering how goddamn horny you already are, it takes you no time at all to sink down onto Eddie's cock, and when he bottoms out the two of you moan in unison.

“Fuck how are you so wet…” It's said almost as a prayer, his eyes hooded and enraptured while watching you find your rhythm. Your intoxication makes you so very sensitive, slick and stimulated even before you find the perfect position; every little motion makes you moan and mewl as you adjust to Eddie’s thick cock.

And when you do finally find that angle that makes your eyes cross - the one that requires you to bounce on your knees a little while rolling your hips - your brain is instantly gone. Eddie's dick turns you stupid in no time at all, pornographic sounds of pleasure leaving your mouth, head thrown back as you use him all for yourself.

And Eddie sits there like such a good boy, letting you ride him to your heart's content as he stares at your beautiful face with utter ecstasy. His eyes are practically black with desire, the temptation to drive his cock up into you nearly impossible to resist; but he refrains, happy to be used as if he were a goddamn sex toy.

“This is all about you, baby,” he whispers against your ear while you brace your hands on either side of his head, your walls clenching at the sinful way he says it; Eddie moans at just how tight you are.

You alternate your titillating rhythm back and forth, starting slow before picking up the pace then slowing again, creating a friction so good that you can’t help the string of expletives that fall from your plush lips one right after the other. And you must be keeping this up for a goddamn eternity, because your thighs are on fire and your knees are shaky, but the feel of Eddie’s cock buried in your warm pussy is far too good to stop.

You ride him for so long that you can feel yourself cumming every few minutes, sparks bursting behind your eyes while shivers roll up and down your spine. Shit, not only are you crossfaded, but now you're high on desire; your orgasms are keeping you so damn wet, and every time you stop bouncing with the thought that you’ve had enough, Eddie’s cock twitches inside you, and you spiral like an addict all over again.

Feeling your thighs shaking on either side of his, Eddie grabs your ass and squeezes it tight, delighting in the sound you make in response to his rough hands. With his firm grip, he helps you rise and fall on his dick, keeping his hips from bouncing up to meet yours, as much of a struggle as that was.

“You can stop at any time, princess; this isn't for me.” His tone is both tender and sultry as he stares up at you in awe. His words feel like a challenge, giving you a second wind as you stop for a moment to look him in the eye.

“I could do this all night.” You say through labored breath, a cock-drunk smile on your pretty face as you lean in for a sloppy, passionate kiss. Your lips trail across Eddie's jaw and down his neck before you begin to rut against him once more, ignoring the burn in your legs because your pussy feels too damn good to stop now.

You start back up slowly; considering how overstimulated you already are, even that torturous pace makes your toes curl. Your moans have grown louder, your body slick with sweat, your pussy still so damn wet. You have to keep grabbing Eddie's shoulders to steady yourself, not only loopy from intoxication but also from how fucking good his thick cock feels inside you.

Eddie's hands want to be everywhere at once, squeezing your hips and waist, teasing your nipples between his fingers, under your thighs to give you that extra bounce that makes you cry out in a way that drives him fucking mad.

He's stayed so hard for you, not even cumming once, solely focused on your pleasure alone. The sight of you greedily riding his cock, head thrown back and practically drooling, is making him crazy, but he can’t come undone, not tonight - this isn't about him, Eddie reminds himself. Watching you is pleasure enough, and he is determined to give you as many orgasms as you wanted; Eddie has always joked about having ‘reverse whiskey dick,’ as he called it, where he gets hard and stays hard without a single orgasm in sight.

So, you say you can go all night? No, Eddie’s the one that can go all night, and he’s more than happy to be used by you until the sun comes up.

Another intense orgasm sends electricity jolting throughout your body, knees shaking, toes curling, moans loud and stuttering. Even Eddie could feel it as if experiencing aftershocks, his hands holding you tight as he watches you with total adoration and wonder.

“Like goddamn Aphrodite…” He growls, pulling you into him so he can ravage your skin with nips and kisses, teeth grazing across your neck, tongue swirling around your nipple. His touch only made your mewls more desperate, walls clenching around his cock, nails digging into his shoulders when you felt him sucking a hickey just above your collarbone.

“You feel good, baby?” He whispers into your hair, his breath hot against your ear. Fuck, Eddie must have made you cum at least a dozen times already, but selfishly you still want more, even as your body practically melts in his hands.

You look at Eddie with hooded eyes, the buzz of alcohol and the high of weed still dancing through your body in a way that makes you so goddamn desperate for more. The goofy grin on your face must have spoken for you, because Eddie chuckles lowly, smiling back with a wickedness that was far too enticing.

“What, you still want more?” You bite your lip with a nod, despite how much your thighs are trembling. Eddie’s hands cup your ass as he practically throws you down on the couch, his cock never fully leaving you; when he sinks balls deep back into your slick folds, your legs spasm, and Eddie gives you a cruel, adoring look, “Oh, princess, you really want more? You're already shaking from how much dick you already got…”

“I can take it--” You spoke airily, chest heaving as Eddie waits, watching you squirm in an attempt to create some friction between you two. He ruts deeply into you with one tantalizing, slow roll, causing a sharp sound of pleasure to escape you as you twitch; Eddie looks between your face and your leg, his hand firmly squeezing your thigh as it still trembles.

“You sure about that?” Eddie taunts again, teasing as he wiggles his hips against yours, feeling your clench rapaciously around his cock. You cling to him, nails digging into his back, heels hooking around his legs as if silently insisting that he give you more. So, he pulls out of you only to sink right back in, gripping tight to your shaky legs as he does so.

“God, you’re such a mess…” Eddie’s salacious words are like music to your ears; he sets a slow pace, drinking in the way that you twitch and moan and squirm with utter delight, “All this dick isn’t enough for you? You wanna have it all night long?”

Your attempt to respond is simply a blissful hum, eyes crossed with a stupid smile on your lips. Eddie picks up the pace just a little - though not too much because he knows how much a slow fuck drives you wild - holding your legs up so that he can bury his dick even deeper. Each and every thrust has you whimpering, your body nearly overwhelmed by how fucking good you feel. As your knees continue to shake uncontrollably, you desperately grab at the couch and then his shoulders for purchase, struggling to even keep your eyes open as pleasure rolls over you in wave after wave after wave.

Fuck, how was it even possible to cum this much, how was it possible for you to still be so goddamn wet and begging for more?

“This what you want, princess? Want me to fuck you senseless?” Eddie makes the question sound so loving, even as he’s now struggling to maintain his composure. His forehead is sticky with sweat, his skin on fire, breath hot against your neck.

You scarcely even manage to say the words, “yeah, baby,” the response so damn breathless with euphoria that Eddie almost couldn’t hear it.

His hips began to slap against yours more feverishly, the tip of his cock hitting that sweet spot deep inside you that makes you cry out, legs shaking wildly as your nails dig so hard into him that you break skin. Words of praise and admiration spill from Eddie’s lips, a string of them one right after the other, but you’re so high up on cloud nine that you barely understand them, as if spoken in a foreign tongue.

Your body quakes with total ecstasy before it seems to give up, trembling from head to toe before collapsing heavily into the plush couch. Eddie’s eyes ardently gaze down on you, admiring your lidded eyes and open mouth, the love bites down your neck, the heavy rise and fall of your breasts, glistening with sweat. Slowly, he slides his cock out of your pussy - still wet and desperate for him - and a whine escapes you at the loss of your bewitching sex toy.

A wicked look flashes across Eddie’s face as he presses his thumb lazily to your clit, thrilling at the way your legs instantly twitch at the sensation. Your hips roll weakly, so, obligingly, Eddie begins to massage your overstimulated bud in the way he knows you adore. With his other hand, he holds your knee tight, keeping you from clenching your legs together as cries of pleasure leapt out of you, body shaking and fists gripping tightly into the couch cushions.

“Oh, darling, you’re spent…” Eddie’s words are wanton and yet goading, as if he hopes that you’ll find the energy to argue with him. And sure enough you do, though all you can manage is a heavy hum of disagreement as you try to keep your moans from disturbing your neighbors, having forgotten that the two of you left the windows open.

Eddie slides his thumb from your clit to your pussy, slowly lowering his head down between your legs; he presses his tongue provocatively against you, your entire body practically jumping at the sensation. He slowly dips two fingers between your wet folds, giving you only a moment before his mouth absolutely lavishes you, tongue and teeth feverish on your clit.

Your legs almost snap shut around his head, but predicting as much, Eddie has his free hand ready, firmly grabbing hold of your quivering thigh and keeping it in place. It’s like static electricity is being shot through your entire body, everything shaking and jumping and twitching at the swirl of Eddie’s tongue, at the pumping of his fingers. You throw one hand over your mouth in a useless effort to contain yourself, whimpers and sobs so loud and unruly that it made Eddie smile against you.

The stimulation is becoming overpowering, your body attempting to retreat from Eddie as another orgasm rolls through you; using both hands now, he keeps you firmly in place as his mouth becomes more zealous, as if silently taunting “isn’t this what you wanted?”

You grab desperately at Eddie’s hair, hips stuttering up against his mouth as he continues to hold tight to your legs, finding far too much enjoyment in the way you writhe against him, in the way you taste. Fuck, he nearly wishes he’d been counting your orgasms, because tonight has to be one for the history books; your arousal was so goddamn intoxicating, in a league entirely of it’s own.

Finally relenting after what must’ve been a lifetime, Eddie removes his lips from you, smiling wildly at the way your slick body collapses into the cushions, eyes closed and heavy gasps of air passing between your lips. He happily lounges there between your legs, the scent of your arousal surrounding him as he watches your strung out face; eventually, you open your eyes again, resting the back of your hand to your forehead, chest heaving as you catch your breath. Your gaze trails down to look at Eddie’s handsome face, a toothy smile spreading across your lips at the self-satisfied look on him.

“I think you need a break, princess.” His breath is warm against the inside of your thigh, lips grazing along your skin.

You shake your head with a happy hum, voice weak and a little slurred from the combination of weed, alcohol, and really fucking good sex, “No, we’re gonna go all night…”

As if to prove a point, Eddie teases your pussy with a single finger, grinning sinfully at the way your body instantly responds, back arching, legs shaking, mouth moaning. He gives you a smart look while removing his hand, receiving a silly little glare as your only means of retaliation, considering that your body felt like pudding.

Eddie presses a light kiss against your leg before rising from the couch, your eyes going wide with hunger at the sight of his cock, still hard and flushed red. Seeing your expression change, he points a reprimanding finger in your face, “No.”

You laugh pleasantly at the admonishment, curling your sore legs against the couch as you watch Eddie like you were a lovesick puppy; he smiles contently down at you before turning towards the kitchen, your eager gaze enjoying the view of his ass before he disappears around the corner.

Returning back a minute later with a glass of water, he holds it out for you, forcing you to sit up, which makes your entire body ache in protest. You try not to ogle his dick, but even as you’re chugging down cold water, your eyes are staring over the rim of the cup. As if possessed by the sight of him, you once more reach out for Eddie’s cock, but he dodges your reach with another stern look; you smile with faux innocence while holding the glass up to him.

Eddie takes the cup and knocks back the rest of the water, leaving it carelessly on the coffee table. He starts to fuss with his unruly hair, pulling it up into a messy bun while walking back towards the bedroom without a word. You make a face at his back, and as if he can feel your eyes burning into him, he pauses and turns back around.

“Well,” he raises his brows in question, a playful smirk on his lips, “You coming?”

Giddily, you shoot up to your feet, ignoring the burning in your thighs as you rush to follow after him for round two.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #stranger things

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 11 months

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5k is so deserved! I constantly go back and reread your works and am always looking forward to what’s next ❤️❤️❤️

I’ve been having thoughts about a Hesh x femreader reunion request thats similar to your latest Keegan piece. Except reader was childhood friends with the Walker boys, but despite there being feelings between Hesh and reader they’re scared of confessing because of their friendship. they get separated when Odin happens, and both join the military and reunite during a joint Op with the Ghosts and readers team, and even after 10 years their feelings resurface and finally get together.

Can’t wait to see what you’ll write for all the requests!!

—To The Boy of My Childhood

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Ten years came and went fast, but the memory of the Walker boys stayed. One more than the other. You never got to tell him you loved him.] ❞

You remembered his kindness, above all. His big, pure, heart. Hesh wasn’t just someone you grew to know and then threw out like a pair of old socks, no, he was too good for that—a mix of playful boyishness and the makes of a fine man. You wished you could have told him how much he meant to you before it all just fell apart.

Growing up near the Walker boys was a treat and a curse, not for yourselves, but for the adults—no one got in the way of you three. Late nights in the backyard, laughter keeping everyone up into the small hours. The fights and the near-instantaneous make-ups.

The older years of deep-rooted attraction to the green-eyed boy of your youth.

David Hesh Walker had been everything you had ever wanted, and even when the ground shook and the word split, you still couldn’t tell him how you felt. But fate had plans for the two of you—it was only a matter of time.

Ten years, to be exact.

You jump down from the helo, your knees taking the brunt of the weight from your gear as your team follows. Fort Santa Monica was a bustling stronghold right on the door of Federation occupation—enemies stalking like animals beyond the wall for a glimpse of weakness. The men and women here were anything but.

“On me!” You call out behind you, and the resounding rush of booted feet follows as you all move out along the helicopter pad swiftly. The unit you were assigned was given a simple task—assist the commanding Captain here and his men with wall defense to reduce the amount of casualties.

Over the ten years of war, you’d honed yourself into something akin to a walking weapon. Found deliriously surviving in the remnants of the USA, your rage and anger gave you the skills you needed to still be alive when the soldiers found you; brought you back to civilization. It hadn’t taken much for you to sign up after that, thinking Hesh and his brother were dead.

Hesh. God, you had loved him so much that the feeling hadn’t dimmed in the slightest even now. Being so close to home once more made you feel…strange.

“Lieutenant!” One of the soldiers comes up to greet you all, shouting above the whir of blades—he was an older man with a shaved head and a large beard. “Welcome to Santa Monica!”

“Good to be here!” You call, a rifle hanging heavy on your chest. “Where do you need us, Sir?”

“Fall in, I’m bringin’ you to Scarecrow!” So you follow, leaving the sandy beach of the port and heading into the dense streets. There were civilians in this Fort, you knew, just beyond the checkpoint of fences. You have to wonder how they felt about this—trapped in a rat cage with the water and the war clamping to them tightly.

“Heard your unit was well-known.” You’d learned the man’s name was Thomas Merrick—a Captain here. You blink at him, head tilting. “Scarecrow was eager to get you here, can’t say why.”

“I was told you needed support at the wall, Captain,” you explain, brows furrowing. “Were my superiors mistaken?”

Merrick's brown eyes stare at you as you walk beside him, your men all speaking to one another from behind.

“No,” is all you’re told.

This ‘Scarecrow’ was known as only that, and your lips thin at the comment leveled at you. Strange.

Your other men are shown their barracks, and you send them off to get rid of their packs and belongings while you continue on with Merrick to the control room—eager to meet this Captain and get real answers.

When you get there, the second you push open the door and Merrick takes his leave, you’re greeted by one of the old faces that you could recognize anywhere.

You freeze just three feet into the room, locking eyes with this mythical ‘Scarecrow’ but it wasn’t some great war strategist, at least, not as you know him.

“Mr. Walker?” You pause, blinking in confusion. Elias Walker—Hesh and Logan’s dad. Your heart constricts in your chest.

He looks at you, a small smile on his stern face as his arms crossed, nodding his head.

“Thought I recognized that name in my request for transfers.”

“Holy shit,” you breathe, a grin breaking out over your face for the first time in ages. Part of you wanted to race and hug him—bathe in the comfort that his rare soft looks would bring you when you were younger…but you weren’t that kid anymore. Being alive was enough, and with the things you’d seen, it meant far more than anything else. Elias seemed to share that sentiment, as he walked over and put a hand on your shoulder, squeezing it.

“How did…how are…” Your head shakes quickly, memories flooding back along with the pain. But there, in your chest, a flicker of hope—something more blooming back to life. “Logan?” Your voice is tiny, pleading as you pause, gazing into Elias’s eyes. “...Hesh?”

“I already called ‘em back in. They’ll be here soon.” He gives you a proud nod. “I’m glad you’re still here, Sweetheart.”

You laugh, smile wobbling.

Alive. Hesh was alive.

Every wall you’d built falls the second boyish laughter echoes out from the halls. You turn, hearing feet move down the floor, closer and closer as your body stills like a statue.

Alive.

When a shoulder pushes open the door, you stop breathing as a far older David enters the room, Logan, as always, not far behind.

He’s mature now, with a beanie over his short brown hair and the presence of a grown man holding down responsibilities—he was smirking back and his brother, saying in a voice that haunts your dreams, “Think we should tell him what Riley found today, Logan?”

The younger brother stops short, locks eyes with you, and his body goes as tight as a fishing line.

Hesh’s brows furrow. “Logan?” He turns to you and those green eyes go confused for a moment, lips going thin. It’s a flash of recognition that re-ignites them—a flicker of something long past before they snap wide with fierce realization.

Blinking quickly, the man watches you, hands at his sides jerking forward by a millimeter as if to grab for you at even a single glance. No one speaks for a long, long time, and maybe you don’t want them to. Hesh and you are locked in a look of pure pain and elation—a dance of life and death.

There aren’t any words for it beyond the sudden mad scramble for the other’s hold.

You collide in a sharp breath and a hand to the back of your head—keeping you to him as you both grasp for purchase; for a glimpse of your childhood back.

“Jesus Christ,” Hesh breathes, anchoring you to him as his chest sputters. “Oh my fucking God.”

“Hesh,” you whimper through a sobbing laugh. “You son of a bitch, I should throttle you.”

He scoffs wetly into your ear, hands quivering and voice cracking.

“Me? If I remember, Doll, you were the one to take that tumble down the hill—I…I tried to find you, y’know that? I swear, I didn’t want to leave but I—”

You pull back and slam your lips to his.

It was far better than an ‘I love you’ when he melted and grappled you closer.

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violentvaleska · 8 months

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𝑨𝒃𝒚𝒔𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝑴𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔

ɴɪɴᴇ ʰⁱˢᵗᵒʳⁱᵃ ʳᵉⁱˢˢ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: ʟᴇᴠɪ ᴀᴄᴋᴇʀᴍᴀɴ x ғᴇᴍᴀʟᴇ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

sᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: ᴀs ʟᴇᴠɪ's ᴀssɪsᴛᴀɴᴛ ɪᴛ ɪs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴊᴏʙ ᴛᴏ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ᴄᴀʀᴇ ᴏғ ʜɪs ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ᴡɪsʜ ᴀɴᴅ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴄᴀᴘᴛᴀɪɴ ɪᴛ ɪs ʜɪs ᴅᴜᴛʏ ᴛᴏ ᴄᴏᴍғᴏʀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀғᴛᴇʀ ᴀ ᴘᴀʀᴛɪᴄᴜʟᴀʀʟʏ sᴄᴀʀʏ ɴɪɢʜᴛᴍᴀʀᴇ.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ɢᴏʀᴇ, ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ, ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs: ↫ ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜs ɴᴇxᴛ ↬

ғᴀɴғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴍᴀsᴛᴇʀʟɪs

ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3

ᴛᴀɢɢɪɴɢ: @ajmiila02 @xiernia @sunniisyde

The last ten days have been so full of death, failure and betrayal that you almost forgot there was once peace, life and loyalty. Mike's death and the appearance of the beast titan set off a chain of events that even you couldn't have foreseen. Your entire squad was whipped out while you were in the safety of Erwin's office, mourning Mike's death with him. You were assigned as Levi's personal assistant shortly after the Commander declared you unfit to fight due to trauma. That's why you haven't been actively fighting for the last few days, instead learning how to serve Levi's tea properly. A few days later, you had a vision of Reiner transforming into the armored titan. A background check revealed that there was literally no information about his upcoming, and after Armin began to suspect your comrade and friend as well, things went downhill quickly.

Bertolt and Reiner revealed themselves as titans a few days later and kidnapped both Eren and Ymir, who appears to be a Titan as well. In total, there were five intelligent titans within the walls, and yet none of you knew how they appeared, where they came from, or why Eren had one. Surely the secret lies in the cellar of his father's house in Shiganshina. When you rescued him from the colossal giants Reiner and Bertolt, it was revealed that sweet little Krista Lenz was also hiding a terrible secret from you.

Historia Reiss, that's her real name. She hasn't given much away yet, but Commander Erwin has made sure she's in Levi's new squad. If anyone was able to get information out of her, it was him. After you and Historia were chosen, your friends quickly followed. Eren, the only remaining member of the Captain's late squad, obviously stayed under his supervision, and after a few discussions Mikasa and Jean also proved to be natural choices for him. Armin was the next obvious choice, and a good one at that. He may be weak, but he has strategic potential. You are not sure why Connie and Sasha were chosen. It's not that you hate them, on the contrary, you're glad to have their cheerful personalities around again, but are they really good enough to protect Eren and Historia from danger?

Tomorrow will be the day when the new Levi Squad will leave with the Hange Squad for the Titan-based experiments outside in Rose. The supposed breach turned out to be nothing but a false assumption, the truth is much darker. The titans that attacked you that day and killed your squad appeared right inside the walls, and to make matters worse, they were once human. How? You don't know yet, but you're confident you'll soon find out. You have been over-analysing your journals and notebooks every night, trying to read between the lines and remember your visions. All triggered by the words of that ape titan. He knows you; he made that clear, which is why you now suspect that you are from outside the walls. That's why you're standing outside Erwin's bedroom, anxiously knocking on the door, hoping not to disturb him.

Commander Erwin Smith has been in a coma for days, having lost his arm in battle. It was bloody and messy, and when he came back bleeding and on the brink of death, you wondered if your visions had deceived you. You saw his death and it was different.

"Name and business." A calm yet harsh voice demands, letting you know he's still awake.

"Cadet Faye Engel, sir. I have news." You reply, loud enough for him to hear. After a moment of silence, the Commander allows you to enter, and you nervously open the wooden door. As you enter, you find yourself facing the Commander, bedridden, unshaven and deeply affected by recent events.

"What is it, Faye?" He asks, wetting his lips with his tongue as he lets your name roll over his cracked lips.

"Captain Levi wants to inform you of the further plans for tomorrow, he has written everything down here." You show him the envelope, written in your superior's perfectly written calligraphy. He declines the offer, insisting on reading it himself, and asks you to give him the reports, which you do, your cool hands touching his, making you shiver. It's not that you're attracted to him, no, it's more the uncomfortable feeling you get when he looks at you, almost as if he knows something you don't.

"Anything else, dear?" Slightly nervous, you brush a strand of your hair behind your ear that has fallen into your face as you shift from one leg to the other.

"Yes - um." As you search for the right way to explain your theory, a nervous feeling, almost like fear, settles in your gut.

"I don't think I'm from inside the walls." You admit and take a deep breath.

"But I'm not your enemy!" You add quickly with a nervous laugh, scratching the back of your head uncomfortably.

"What makes you think that?" Erwin asks, genuinely intrigued by your confession.

"The Beast Titan. It was able to talk to me and it seemed to know me." The Commander looks at you and allows you to continue.

"It called me by a name that sounded strangely familiar. This beast said he thought I wouldn't remember it. He said I had done it to myself." You are telling the truth; Erwin can see it in your frightened eyes. He wishes you'd told him that, but for now he can see past it. The loss of his friend has taken a deeper toll on you than he expected at first.

"I figured you weren't from here." Erwin confesses after a minute of silence, his deep blue eyes boring into your soul with interest.

"But why?" You ask, deeply confused. Have you been behaving differently? Or strange?

"To be honest, I was never really sure that you were from Shiganshina. I think you lost your memories, that the head injuries were serious after all. It's impossible that you forgot the whole concept of the walls, but that's highly unlikely". He explains calmly, playing with the envelope you gave him.

"But you said something to Mike that was even more unusual." You raise an eyebrow at his statement, wondering what you might have said.

"Apparently you said that you were at school until you were fourteen. No one within the walls can stay in school that long, except for the rich heirs of nobles in the inner districts. If you were from Sina, someone would have looked for you. He says, and you think his thoughts are reasonable. There is a comfortable silence between the two of you until Commander Smith decides to lead the conversation again.

"The name he called you by." He begins, sitting up slightly, serious in tone but with a hint of gentleness in it.

"Is that how you want to be called from now on?" Seemingly taken by surprise, your frown deepens as you immediately answer with a short "No", causing the Commander to raise a bushy eyebrow.

"No?" He repeats your words, confused, as if he hadn't expected you to say that.

"I don't want to be called anything that has to do with that beast." You explain sternly and firmly, clearly rejecting the idea. The blonde just nods his head, different thoughts dancing in his head, all circling around you.

"If he knows you, do you think the other titans do too?" He wonders, asking you something you haven't had time to think about yet.

"If they know me, they certainly haven't shown up." You answer honestly, unable to think of a time when they would hint.

"I hope you realize that no one can know about this conversation." Erwin says and opens the envelope from Levi, his attention now elsewhere.

"I do." You promise with a brief nod of the head and salute him to get permission to leave. "Have a good night, Faye."

Your night had been nothing but horrible. Sharing a room with your good friends from the trainee corps had never been a problem until tonight. Historia was the first to fall asleep, followed by Mikasa, who had been injured by a titan a few days ago. Sasha and you stayed up the longest, chatting about the past few days and answering her questions about being the Captain's personal assistant. Although you had only been in this position for a few days, the man had managed to drain you of all your patience. You had to make him tea several times in a row until his words weren't "drinkable" anymore but "good", and it took you ages to proofread his files and papers, only to find that they were already perfect. Sasha would giggle at your miserable week and ask you for some advice on what it meant to be his subordinate. Soon after, you both fell asleep, leaving only the light of the moon in the darkness of your barracks.

The dreams that haunted you that night began strangely. You don't know how or when it began, but first there was Historia, standing in a white dress with a red velvet rope covering her shoulders and back, her hair pulled back in a beautiful bun, her expression deadly serious. Someone placed a golden crown on her head, and the shouts of joy from the citizens filled your ears. But the dream did not end there. Now you're going through a torturous ordeal, watching soldier after soldier fall to their deaths. You see Shiganshina, covered in moss and ivy, as if no one had cared for it for years. You walk through its streets, dried and fresh blood covering the stony streets. You see Erwin, his body motionless and lifeless, you see him on a mountain of corpses, all of them dead scouts. Erwin was once praised for his success in bringing back hundreds of soldiers alive, but now he's the cause of hundreds, if not thousands, of deaths.

You don't realize it's a nightmare, no, you think it's another nightmare you can't wake up from. You don't notice your body tensing and shaking, you don't hear your own cries and pleas. But your friends do, rushing to your side as you scream in agony. Unable to wake you and seeing blood running from your nostrils all over your face, Historia quickly runs out of the room to find help. Other scouts have woken up by now, so they open the door to see what's going on. On her way to get a nurse, Historia accidentally runs into Captain Levi, who seems to be wide awake. She tries to explain the situation to him, not knowing that he has already dealt with you like that before.

Levi is quick on his feet, rushing down the corridor to the barracks.

"Oi. Get back to bed." He spits at the inquisitive scouts, urging them back to their rooms with an angry expression on his face. Historia follows him, concern written all over her sleepy features. Entering the barracks, he pulls the panicked Blouse girl away from your form and demands to know from Mikasa how long you've been having the seizures. The gloomy brat is the only reliable one in this situation, she answers him sharply as she holds your hand and tries to comfort you. Ever since you came to defend Eren at the trial and looked after him when she couldn't, Mikasa has been nothing but loyal to you, trusting you in every way. She used to be cold and distant, much like Levi, but knowing the truth about you has helped her to understand.

"I'll take her to the nurses. Go back to bed." The Captain carefully lifts you into his arms and holds you close to his chest, trying not to get blood all over himself. Your screams stop instantly as your tearful eyes close, and you slowly begin to calm down. Almost as if he has brought you back to reality.

He carries you through the corridors, cursing the soldiers who didn't listen to him the first time and lecturing them about respect. He can't take you to the nurses though, he doesn't trust them. They're employed by the military police, and he certainly doesn't want to give them any reason to find out about your nightly seizures. Levi only told the girls this because he knew it would ease their worries a little. After all, he needs them awake for an hour-long journey tomorrow. He listens to your soft whimpering as you come to, your frightened eyes opening to meet his as he carries you up the stairs to his office.

"They're all going to die." You whisper under your breath, your body weak from the terrifying attack you have just endured.

"Don't think about that, brat." Levi tries, he really does, but comforting others has never been his forte.

"Where are you taking me?" Your confused and tired voice makes him pity you a little as he looks straight ahead, not daring to meet your eyes.

"My office." He says as he struggles to open the door without accidentally dropping you.

"Am I in trouble Captain?" Your raspy voice and troubled words make him swallow without answering. The last few days have been terrible for him, not that you've been a terrible assistant, far from it. You were perfect in every way, caring deeply about details and his opinion. Almost as if you were using your work as a way of coping with your loss. He felt more and more happy to have you around every day, and it made him feel terribly disgusted with himself. "Remember who she is." He tried to tell himself. "She could be my death one day, we know nothing about her, not even her real name." But Levi can't help himself, there is something about you that seems to draw him in, something that warms his belly with a desire he thought he had buried long ago.

From his office, he goes to his bedroom, only to put you on his bed, which he rarely uses. He tells you to stay there when he goes to the bathroom to get a wet carpet. Ever since he saved you from certain death on the last expedition, he has felt responsible for you. Levi knows that you are a grown woman, a soldier, capable of looking after yourself, but who will look after you when you can't? When you are unconscious, unable to control your own body? Looking at you in the mirror over his sink, Levi can't help but admire how stunning you look; covered in tears, with a thin line of blood that makes your pale skin stand out even more. He swallows, reminding himself that he is sick in the head for thinking that your current state is attractive. "That's why you don't have sex anymore, idiot." He tells himself, clutching the wet cloth tighter in his fist. "You only hurt your companions."

He leaves the bathroom shortly afterwards and comes to your side.

"Can you tell me what you were dreaming about?" The Captain asks as he begins to clean the blood from your face with the clothes, not as gently as you might have liked, but you don't complain.

"I saw Historia in a crown." You start to shiver at the coolness on your heated face. "But I also saw Shiganshina." He stops meeting your eyes, waiting patiently for you to continue. "The whole regiment of scouts was there, most of them riding to their deaths." You gulp at the image that has taken over your mind. "So much blood, the beast titan..." Levi silences you, placing his finger over your lip to stop you from speaking.

"We'll talk to Erwin about it in the morning." He promises and continues to clean your face so that he doesn't get any dirt on the fresh sheets. At least that's what he tells himself.

"Captain?" You speak up, tired eyes following the movement of his hand. He looks up, the darkness making you breathless.

"Why are you so kind?" The question seems to take him by surprise, as he stops his movements, his eyes widening for a second until they form into slits. It's almost as if he's realized that this behavior is unlikely for him. At least with you.

"Tch, don't be stupid. I'm not doing this to be nice."

He explains, getting up to take the flirty cloth to his bathroom. "Then why..." But Captain Levi doesn't give you room to ask another question as he tucks you into the blanket.

"You need sleep, Cadet. Tomorrow's going to be exhausting, I can't have you tossing and turning." His voice is gruff as he closes the shades and the bathroom door roughly, leaving you alone in his bedroom. His room, his bed. You only seem to notice it now, now that you are fully awake and frightened by what you have seen. It makes you blush a deep red at the realization.

"Wait Captain..." He stops at your small voice, your eyes meeting in a haze.

"Please don't leave me alone. I can't be right now." It's the truth, you'd probably just get caught up in your darkness.

"And here I thought you were 15. Apparently, you are five." Angered by his harsh and mean words, you frown and pull the blanket a little higher. Noticing that it barely smells of him, you wonder if he cleans the sheets daily or hardly uses them at all.

"I'm 23." You remind him, or at least you think you are. You notice the side of his lips move up a little, but as quickly as it appeared it's gone.

"Do you know what you are asking of me, Cadet?" He asks as he steps closer to your surprised form, his arms crossed. You notice that his shirt is partially unbuttoned, revealing his collar. His sleeves are rolled up and you think you have never seen him so comfortable.

"You ask your Captain to stay with you so you can have a better night's rest." He concludes, scowling at the assumption he's just made, daring you to walk into his trap, but you don't give him the sick satisfaction.

"This is so unbecoming of you, Captain. Bringing a barely conscious girl into your personal barracks." You sneer, your eyes twinkling as you look up at him with a daring stare that seems to take his breath away for a moment.

"Unbecoming? Hm. Why do you think I brought you here, little Cadet?" You weren't expecting him to jump at your challenge, but rather to scold you for it. Biting your lips, you fidget under the white sheets that covered your nightgown from his endearing eyes. Your fingers play with the hem as you reply in a hushed tone.

"I believe there is some sort of rule against having your subordinate in your quarters, Captain." You tease softly, a smirk on your lips as you watch him narrow his eyes at you, his body tensing. His hands clench into fists. You wait for him to say something else, but instead he looks away. You sigh in relief and pull your legs closer to your chest, curling up into a ball and closing your eyes.

"Get some sleep, Cadet." He finally says, leaving your bed and soon the bedroom, closing the door behind him. Certainly not able to sleep, you try to distract yourself, debating with yourself why the Captain took such good care of you that night.

#fanfiction #attack on titan #levi ackerman #aot #shingeki no kyojin #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi #oneshot #captain levi #erwin smith #historia reiss #eren yeager #mikasa ackerman

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sevendeadlywhispers · 8 months

Text

7Seals

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Prologue

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This Is War - Thirty Seconds to Mars

1:25 ━❍────── 5:28

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VOLUME: ▁▂▃▄▅▆▇ 100%

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• Next Chapter: Chapter One

•Chapter List • Levi Ackerman x OC female

• Word Count: 666

“I want to confess as best I can, but my heart is void. The void is a mirror. I see my face and feel loathing and horror. My indifference to man has shut me out. I live now in a world of ghosts, a prisoner in my dreams.”

- Ingmar Bergman

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The sun dipped below the horizon, casting a bittersweet glow over the Training Corps grounds. Iris, Alexander, and their two comrades stood amidst the dwindling light, their hearts heavy and minds cloudy. Captain Erwin's words hung in the air, like a shroud of uncertainty, as he revealed the harsh realities of life within the Scout Regiment.

Around them, cadets began to shift and murmur, torn between dreams of glory and the harsh truths Erwin had laid bare. Iris's gaze darted between the departing cadets and the unwavering commander before her, her heart a tumultuous sea of fear, determination, and doubt.

Captain Erwin's voice, steady and resolute, seemed to pierce through the gathering dusk. "Now, having heard this dismal state of affairs," he proclaimed, "whoever still wishes to put their life on the line and join us, remain here. But first, ask yourself: Can you give your heart? Can you give everything to humanity? That is all. Those wanting to join other regimens are dismissed."

The cadets' collective breaths seemed to hold as Erwin's question echoed in the gathering gloom. Iris's heart raced, a symphony of emotions echoing within her chest. She felt the weight of the world pressing down on her, the daunting choice they were all about to make.

Beside her, Alexander's hand tightened around hers, his eyes unwavering. In that moment, he was not just her lover but the embodiment of their shared hopes and fears. His presence, his unwavering resolve, was her anchor amidst the tumult.

As the cadets made their choices, Iris couldn't help but feel a tremor of uncertainty. The world beyond the walls was an uncharted territory, fraught with peril and unknown horrors. She had always been the voice of optimism and encouragement among her peers, but now she found herself grappling with her own doubts and fears.

But as Iris glanced at Alexander, his resolve unshaken, she felt a renewed sense of determination. He was the beacon of hope amidst the encroaching darkness, and she knew that they could face whatever challenges lay ahead as long as they faced them together.

In the end, only ten cadets remained standing, their hearts heavy but their spirits unbroken. They didn't want to be there, but deep down they knew they had to join.

Erwin's gaze swept over the small, resolute group, his voice laden with significance.

"I ask you, if I order you to die today, could you do it?"

Alexander, though his voice trembled with fear, spoke on behalf of them all, "We don't want to die, sir."

Erwin's lips curled into a knowing smile, his eyes conveying the weight of their shared decision.

"Of course," he replied, "let us hope that you don't then. You who stayed, you are now one of us. Allow me to welcome you to the Scout Regiment. This is a genuine salute, soldiers. Together, we give our hearts."

With unwavering determination, they joined in the traditional Scout Regiment salute, shouting, "Sir!"

Fear still gripped the hearts of the cadets, Iris, Petra, and their comrades included. Hange's voice quivered as she voiced her doubt,

"I'm worried I made the wrong choice."

Iris, her voice filled with vulnerability, nodded solemnly. "I have my doubts too."

Alexander, unyielding in his resolve, added, "We're all in this together. There's no turning back now."

"Suck it up Hange." Gunther laughed but sweat dripped down his face as his thoughts raced, the memories of his family flooding his mind.

As the moment settled in, Captain Erwin's voice rang out once more, his words resonating through the hearts of the new recruits.

"Those of you standing here have worked through your fear. You have proven yourselves courageous. Each one of you has my respect."

And so, the ten cadets took their first steps into the treacherous world beyond the walls, their hearts heavy with fear and uncertainty, but their determination unwavering.

Why am I doing this?

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#levi ackerman #aot x reader #attack on titan #captain levi #levi aot #aot #levi attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #levi ackerman x reader #snk levi

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friendlylocalwhumper · 8 months

Text

Their eyes are wild, round as saucers and glimmering with unshed tears. Strapped down to the floor by their wrists and ankles, a band of metal across their throat, and their clothes plastered wet to their shivering body, Quinn looks small.

A rough hand weighs heavy on their chest as if to keep them from floating away. A curtain of bleach-fried hair hangs around a mean face twisted in the shape of concern for once. “Calm the fuck down,” Major rumbles, pushing down on their sternum.

That pressure is the only thing keeping them sane. Quinn’s hyperventilating has them so dizzy that they can’t feel their fingers or toes. Their eyes rocket around the room but they find no escape, no guard to manipulate or trick. Just an empty room and a friend who can’t save them.

“Calm down,” Major snaps, and those teary brown eyes finally settle on him. His hand wanders up to grab them by the jaw. “It’s coming again. You know that?”

They nearly panic again at the reminder. The chains keeping them down rattle with the shudders of mortified anticipation.

“Hey, stay focused. On me. Say yes Major.”

It’s hard to keep hyperventilating against the hand pressing down on their ribcage. Exhausting. They gasp weakly. “Ye-. Yes, Major.”

“Cool.” He didn’t make them say it to get obedience out of them or anything, and uncharacteristically, he doesn’t smirk. “It’ll hurt. You need a stupid mission or something? Instructions, to think?”

A jerky nod. Their eyes flit to the clock on the wall that counts each second, ticking upward. When it hits the next minute, the shock will course through them again.

“Eyes on me, bitch,” Comes his reminder, and they look up at him again, a tear slipping free to carve its way down their cheek. “It’s just pain. Just lasts ten seconds. Make it to five without a sound. That’s the rule.”

“Five?” They bite out, teeth nearly chattering from adrenaline. “Why, why’s it matter if I… I can’t…” Their question dies out as the click of the clock warns that there’s only five seconds left.

“Because I said so. Just do it. No screaming, five seconds. You ready? Breathe.” Speaking in a machine-gun rapid fire now, Major grips onto their hair and forces them to look straight into his eyes, at nothing else. “Breathe.”

The restrained spy sucks in a tremulous breath, focus finding its way into their expression. And then they jolt, their body straining with all its might to fling Major away, to tear their hair out in his grip, to break their own body in the metal restraints. Major swings a leg over their stomach and straddles them, knees digging into their sides hard. And he shoves their head down so it won’t bounce off the floor like it did a minute ago.

Their mouth stretches wide, but Major growls, “Five seconds,” and watches them go red with the effort of keeping the scream in.

Ten whole seconds pass. The electricity stops, and they flop, panting.

“Didn’t scream at all,” Major comments as he disentangles his fingers from their hair. “Look at me.”

Jittery, drowning eyes find him again, lost with pain. They focus enough to see Major give a grim nod. “You did good,” He says, and their bottom lip wobbles. “Gonna happen again in a minute.”

“F-forty-five seconds,” They correct on a hoarse gasp.

“Whatever. Can you handle it?”

“Nnh nnh-… n-, I-I don’t…”

“Not do you wanna. Can you? Will you fucking survive it?”

They swallow a whimper and nod slightly. “Doesn’t f-feel like it. But… yes?”

“Yeah. You will. Don’t piss me off, now. You didn’t scream. This time don’t even open your mouth.”

Their eyes flash with doubt. “But I… I, I don’t…”

“You’re a tough bitch,” Major snaps, lowering to be all but nose-to-nose with them. “You won’t die. This is fucking easy. Say you’ve got this.”

There isn’t time. They have no time. They try to look at the clock again, but he leans to block it from their sight. “Say it,” He orders again.

Quinn takes a ragged breath and grunts with the effort of speaking on command. “I’ve got this?”

“Again.” He’s petting their cheek. They don’t even recognize it directly, they just lean into it and swallow a sob.

“I’ve got this.”

Stormy eyes harden. He doesn’t say anything else, just watches. The clock ticks, and the shock comes.

After ten seconds, Quinn sucks in air, and when it escapes them it comes out as a squeaky sob. They screamed, they think. Hard to be sure. Major moves and they flinch, eyes squeezed shut, breaths tiny and rapid.

“Okay,” Major says, and he sounds softer than before. “It’s whatever. ‘s actually fine if you gotta be noisy. Uh. Keep your eyes closed.”

They flinch again when he touches their face, but it doesn’t hurt. His hand brushes back and forth, stiff with scars and clumsy. The side of his thumb scratches over their nose, his cracked palm slides over their forehead. There is no pattern to it, no tender cupping of their cheek. No kiss to the forehead or finger under their chin to lift it. It’s like being a kitten curled up at the foot of a trucker who is reaching down to pet it with the same nonchalance of scraping mud off his boot.

As rough as it may be, it drags a broken sob out of them, and he doesn’t stop. Maybe he can see how badly it hurt that time. Maybe his arbitrary rule about keeping quiet was only for their benefit, and if it didn’t help then he won’t make them try again.

“I’m sorry,” Quinn keens, tipping their head cooperatively as he swipes his palm to rub the tears off each cheek for them.

“What for?” Comes the gruff answer.

“For. For… I don’t know. I just am.” Their voice is high and painful in their throat.

“…’s okay.” The click comes. Quinn nearly screams from pure terror and surprise at how quickly a minute passed. “You’re fine. Hey, breathe.”

They do. The pain comes again. His hands, his weight, all of it disappears.

Some time later, and it might be minutes or hours later, they hear him picking a fight. Growling, yelling. Quinn tips their head slowly to see that Major is pinned by a boot on his chest, screaming in rage about… Quinn. About how the shocks haven’t stopped, and it’s too much. How this is pointless and stupid and it won’t work because they never talk, they never break.

The click of the clock comes, but Quinn is too busy to turn their head and watch the seconds tick by in terror. They are watching Major with awe, teary eyes lit up with curiosity and pride. They must be doing a very good job holding up, if Major is so mad for them. They can handle the next shock. Major might not think so, if he’s arguing for them, but they finally believe they can. They must be very very strong to have lasted this long, to make Major actually care.

#whump #mine #drabble #captivity #angst #torture #quinn #major

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fatlevisimp · 18 days

Text

In Time. (Levi Ackerman/Attack on Titan Fan Fiction)

Chapter 8: Commander Erwin.

Her blades glided through the titan's nape, taking it out. With haste, she landed on a nearby roof, her eyes quickly darting around, searching for her next target. However, she could not see any more titans. Diana let out a small sigh of relief as she realized that the attack was finally over.

"Good job, cadet! Retreat over the wall!" A female voice called out to Diana as a figure rushed past her, her ginger hair whipping around behind her. Once again, Diana readied her ODM gear and made her way to the wall. Within minutes, she'd made it to the top, letting out a sigh of relief as her hands fell to her knees. She hunched over for a moment, letting the feeling wash over her before a voice pulled Diana from her moment.

"Is this her?" A deep voice questioned.

"Yes, sir, that's Cadet Lando." Levi's all-too-familiar voice followed. A pair of boots entered Diana's field of vision. She slowly stood up straight to see a tall, blonde man. "This is Commander Erwin Smith," Levi introduced, causing Diana to quickly salute.

"Sir."

"Relax, Cadet. You've earned it," Erwin said with a slight smile. Diana relaxed her salute, staring up at the tall man before her. His eyes were kind as he spoke to her. "You put on quite an impressive show today, Cadet." Diana let a crooked smile fall on her face.

"Oh, I don't think so, sir; I'm not half as good as the special operations squad." She denied it, scratching her head and looking down at her feet again.

"Still, for a cadet, ten titan kills on your first mission is impressive," Erwin spoke; Diana smiled, looking back up at the Commander.

"Thank you, sir."

"Oh, is this her?" A new voice sounded. Diana's head turned to see a tall, well, taller-than-her person heading towards herself and the Commander. They had glasses and long brown hair pulled up into a ponytail. "Hello, cadet! Great to meet you. I'm Zoe Hange!" They introduced themselves with a smile.

"H-Hello." Diana stuttered out, confusion on her face once more. How is this person so cheerful after such a horrible event? Diana was pulled from her thoughts when Hange spoke again.

"So you're the cadet with the high titan kills, right?" She asked Diana, still smiling.

"I guess?" Diana responded, the confusion evident in her voice.

"What do you mean, you guess? Ten titan kills on your first mission? That's crazy, so you have to come out on our next capture mission. I'm sure you'll be great! How does that sound?" Diana stared at Hange, both puzzled and shocked. They spoke so fast that Diana was barely able to take anything in.

"Cool it, Hange. The kid's barely out of her first mission." Levi's voice sounded from behind Diana. Diana's face fell with a frown as she turned back to Levi for a moment. She rolled her eyes at him. I am not a child. Diana turned back to Hange as they began to speak again. Levi passed the two, standing just behind Hange as they spoke.

"Huh? Oh come on, she'll be fine I mean did you see her out there?" Hange retorted.

"Also, not a kid," Diana added, frowning at Levi; he only let out a tut before walking away.

"So you wanta?" Hange asked. Diana flinched a little when she realized how close Hange had gotten to her face.

"Um, sure, capture mission?" Diana questioned, raising her eyebrow at Hange, who smiled an almost sickly grin.

"Oooo, so I capture titans for my research, I do experiments on them and document my findings, I'll have to tell you about it sometime." They explained before pointing down into Trost, Diana looked down to see two titans being hoisted onto carts.

"Sure." Diana agreed with a nervous smile.

"Really? Oh wow, well, first -"

"Hange, give it a rest; she probably wants to see her friends." Levi's voice interrupted again, and Hange's face dropped.

"Yeah, sorry. Maybe another time?" Diana asked with a smile, causing Hange to grab her arms. They stared intensely into Diana's eyes.

"I'm holding you to that." Diana nodded at Hange as she let go of her arms and almost skipped away. Diana's eyes followed Hange until they caught sight of Levi. Their eyes connected again. It was intense, and it set off a feeling in Diana she'd never felt before.

Levi's mind clouded, her eyes, something about her eyes. His face softened as he stared back at her. He watched as her hand tucked a strand of loose hair behind her head before finally pulling her eyes away from his.

"Speaking of my friends, where are they?" She asked, turning back to Erwin. Levi blinked a few times before pulling his eyes away from the girl.

"Cadets Ackerman and Arlert are being rounded up and debriefed with the rest of the cadets. However, you are to head back to the barracks. You should take a break. I can see you're quite drained. I will have one of the special operations squad escort you over," Erwin explained.

"O-okay, what about Eren?" Diana asked, following Erwin to the lifts.

"He has been given to the custody of the Military Police; we are going to try and see him as soon as possible before his trial." Erwin further explained, my brows furrowed. Trial? They must be conducting it to see if Eren is a threat to humanity.

"May I see him too? Sir." Diana asked, knowing it was probably impossible to see Eren right now.

"We were barely able to scrape a meeting to see him. Do you really think they'd let a cadet see him?" Levi piped in with a slight eye roll. Diana threw a glare Levi's way.

"No, I suppose they wouldn't." Her head dropped to her feet as the words left Diana's lips.

"Do not worry about Eren; we have a plan," Erwin said. "Now, head to the barracks. There's a lift waiting on the other side of the wall for you."

"Yes, sir!" Diana saluted once again before getting the lift and making her way down.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Diana was finally dropped off back at the training barracks. After thanking the soldier who brought her over, she decided it was best to get some sleep, especially after this long day. She slipped off to her room. Once there, she changed out of her uniform and into some pyjamas before settling into bed. After some hours of staring at the ceiling, she finally drifted off. Her mind was uneasy at the thought of Eren and his trial.

#aot #attack on titan #levi x oc #aot fanfic #aot fanfiction #levi ackerman #levi aot #aot x oc #shingeki no kyojin #slow burn

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greybackpack · 10 months

Text

Kotallo leans on his remaining arm as he considers the battle map projected on the metal table. He'd planned to map out both Zenith and Regalla's activities in order to gain insight in their next move. Normally, Kotallo loves the stretch of strategy, the way clues fall together so that he may prime his attack to kill.

Not today.

His mind does not seem to want to cooperate with his plans for the day. Instead, it wanders onto the subject of his commander. Commanders. Both commanders.

He’d been at Chief Hekarro’s side since almost the beginning of the Chief's glory. Out of the current Marshals, he had the most seniority. Even before the ambush, Kotallo was the one who knew Hekarro-the-Chief best. From the first Kulrut until now, Kotallo’s learned many things about his role as a Marshal… and about his commanding officer’s role as a leader.

Kotallo admired the man, then and now, both for his gift for combat and his goal of peace despite of the glory he could have had. Or, perhaps his goal of peace is because he knows what combat and conflict brings. Glory... and suffering.

Though, Kotallo supposes the position of Chief and Guardian of the Grove is glorious enough.

What Kotallo truly admires, however, is the way his commander handled the weight of leadership.

Far from prying eyes, Kotallo watched as Hekarro allowed himself to bend under the weight of handling the clans. Kotallo does not judge. If it was him handling Tekotteh, let alone the rest of the clans and the Carja, the clans would most likely have been decimated. Yet, Hekarro leads with both strength and patience, yielding and standing firm when necessary. Then, in his private moments, with or without his Marshals, he allows himself a small moment of weakness, of rest. Of bending beneath the weight of responsibility.

But Hekarro did not- does not- allow it to break him. He bends. He hangs his head, heavy and aching from his crown, and slumps against the plant covered walls of the Grove. And then he gets back up.

When Hekarro has had his time to process, Kotallo watched him pull back his shoulders and settle back into the mantle of leader. Kotallo watched as Hekarro lined his spine once more of machine metal and rouse strength to his posture in order to keep going. To keep moving, to stand up when all is weighing you down is true strength. To deny the temptation of rest in order to protect and fight is something everyone struggles with. It is a hard lesson, to learn with grace. Kotallo has learned and learned well. It is a strength that Chief Hekarro possesses. It is the kind of true strength that the Ten were known for.

And that is the driving force of Kotallo's loyalty. Yes, Hekarro took him in when his clan casted him out- exile hidden behind a veneer of honor- and that had netted Kotallo's service. Yet it is the kindness, the solid sight of the back of his chief as he protected the clans from enemies and themselves, and the steel that lines his spine as he cuts enemies down is what secures Kotallo's unwavering loyalty. It is what secures his return, it is why he allowed himself once more to be a spear to be pointed.

Aloy, too, has the same grit and sheer will behind her every move. The same ability to bend the world to her commands, to her beliefs. Her battle seems never ending. Kotallo respects that. She fights like she's been taught nothing else in her life. She, as Erend would say, kicks ass. She kicks everyone's ass, the enemy's, his own, machine ass. She even, Kotallo thinks as he tips his head upwards to hide his smirk, kicks her own ass.

But... She fights like Tenakth. Something he did not expect to find in the reclusive Nora. Soft, he had thought those from the east.

Aloy had proved him, and everyone else who had ever doubted her, wrong. She proved a whole clan wrong, when she tore the Bulwark down with the ease of someone who's pulled off the impossible so many times that 'impossible' only means 'harder'. Hair like fire, heart like hearth, fight like a blaze. Firestorm. Aloy, who is easy-going (not that he can say much, Kotallo knows he's anti-social even amongst other Tenakth) until she isn't. Calm, unsuspecting, until she isn't. People tend to underestimate her. They see the colors of the Nora, the soft, deer-like pelts she wears, and think that is everything she is and will ever be. Until she slits their throat with a skilled hand and a sharp blade. Until she destroys the wall his clan had believed unbreachable for centuries and essentially slapped Tekkoteh's face with... a boulder. Multiple boulders. Aloy spat in the face of doubt and took out its knees with her spear.

His new commander has a penchant for the impossible.

Then again, people had said uniting the Tenakth was impossible and Hekarro pulled that off too.

Kotallo glances away from the map, eyes still adjusting to the focus hub of information. He looks at the schematics for an arm, a strange mixture reluctance and hope swirling at the pit of his gut.

Perhaps Aloy would be amenable to performing another minor miracle...?

#aloy #aloy destroying the bulwark #kotallo #horizon forbidden west #horizon zero dawn #we don't talk about Aloy casually destroying long held beliefs enough #kotallo's prosthetic arm (the plan)#aloy horizon #aloy and hekarro seeing themselves in each other #kotallo ruminating on his commanders #and realizing that they're both kind of insane #legendary and effective but insane #hekarro #tenakth #kulrut

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radioactivepeasant · 8 months

Text

Snippets: Free Day Thursday

Warnings for this oneshot: some blood/gore/horror elements, implied unethical experiments, brief description of a panic attack. The ----- line will mark the end of that scene. TWs will be tagged below.

(Also I stole some fake swear words from Star Wars because they still roll off the tongue well)

"Awww crap. No no no no-"

Jak looked away from the arguing Samoses to see Daxter peering up at the next level of the prison. The one he'd been trying not to think about.

"What?"

Daxter looked back at him with a terrible expression. "...Praxis doesn't have the kid, right? He'd be bragging all over the city about it if he had the kid."

Jak swallowed, but it felt like there was a rock in his throat. "He'd never shut up about it if he'd hurt Mar."

His own voice was shaky a Daxter's fear spread to him.

Not the kid, not Mar, please please, anything but that-!

"Then he got somebody else's kid. Or something else's kid." Daxter climbed up to the pipes between floors and pointed to a sickly glow. "And uh...it didn't like the guards much."

Jak was through the hole in seconds, even as every cell in his body told him that he didn't want to look. Didn't want to know what couldn't be unknown. He gagged as the stench of blood and meat hit him like a wall. This...this wasn't the sweaty antiseptic smell of the Chair.

Two dead KG lay crumpled on the floor, barely recognizable as human beneath the clotted gore obscuring what little remained of their faces. Deep furrows had been clawed into the skin, deep enough to expose bone. The stench of offal did not quite cover the acid pulse of dark eco. Jak could guess what kind of being had inflicted these wounds.

Had Praxis continued the experiment after he'd escaped? Had he finally been successful?

Jak’s stomach lurched as he recognized a third body -- or the uniform and rank insignia hanging in tatters, at least -- slumped against an open tank of some kind. Ignoring the whispered shouts of Samos down below, Jak gingerly stepped over the corpses to examine the tank.

Subject 0401-B its label read, 304 days gestation.

Bile burned in Jak’s throat.

0401 was the number they'd applied to him in the DWP. What was 0401-B? What had they started growing ten months ago?

Wet, smacking noises drew his eyes unwillingly to the dark space beneath an examination table. A trail of dark blood painted a streak all the way to...something's...hiding place. In and out of the mess, tiny footprints peppered the floor. They were no bigger than the Kid's.

Jak coughed and gagged, desperately holding back what little was in his stomach. He didn't want to look, but he did.

Something was hunched over beneath the table, covered in the leathery scales of a metalhead. A long, spiked tail twitched restlessly as shark-black eyes stared back at Jak emotionlessly. The figure had the proportions of a small child, almost like Mar -- thick, stubby limbs, a large head with soft, round cheeks -- but there the similarities ended. Ghost-white hide peeked out beneath cracked and flaking red-brown stains that covered the majority of 0401-B's face and torso. It cocked its head like a little bird, examining Jak, and slit nostrils flared.

"Oh my gods," Jak heard himself whisper, as if from miles away. "No no no no-"

The thing made an ungainly hop towards Jak, coming further into the light. A mane of pale gray hair, matted and tangled, fell across a narrow back, and an all too familiar pair of tiny black horns rose from the thing's head.

It was Dark Jak. It was a monster. A demon.

It was a child.

"What the hell?" Daxter croaked, skittering back towards the hole they'd come up from.

"Hell" was putting it mildly.

The dark eco creature's long ears twitched -- notched ears, Jak’s ears -- and it chirped. Carelessly, it dropped the half eaten head of what had once been Commander Errol and took a tentative step into the light.

It was -- he was -- naked, digitigrade. A hybrid of a human and a Centurion metalhead. In place of a skull gem, his horns pulsed with whatever eco he'd consumed from his prey.

Jak felt lightheaded.

"Prrp?"

The little monster dropped to a crouch, and hopped closer, balanced on tiptoe and fat clawed fingers. He sniffed at Jak, and a disturbingly innocent smile spread across his face.

There were a lot of fangs in that smile.

"What do we do?"

Daxter's voice echoed strangely.

"What do we- ohboy. Jak? Jak, stay with me. Don't look at the evil baby. Look at me. Look at me, pal."

Too late.

"I ca- I can't," Jak gasped, "I can't breathe-"

He curled into a protective ball as dark eco rushed to fill his skin like a protective layer, broadening his shoulders with the crack of joints. It didn't completely cancel the pain of growing a foot taller and a pair of horns in the span of three seconds, but it mitigated it somewhat. Now as pale as the...the not-Jak, he huddled with his hands over his ears. Block out the noise. Block out the lights. Focus on something small. Breathe, breathe, breathe-

"Urr?"

The creature looked different through Dark Jak’s eyes. He would have expected it -- him -- to register as a threat the way other metalheads did. To activate his hunting instincts. But the experiment just felt...familiar. Like someone he'd seen before but didn't really know. He also was very clearly not a threat. Not to Jak.

The child reached up with bloodied hands, instinct driving him to seek comfort. Trembling violently, Dark Jak lowered his arms and let the child use them to climb up to his chest and settle there. Blank-faced and hollow-eyed, he was motionless.

What had Praxis done?

What had he done?!

"Oh kriff, is that Errol?"

Daxter began to retch as he lifted a paw to avoid stepping on...well, he couldn't readily identify the body part anymore, but it certainly wasn't attached to its owner.

"Or...was, I guess."

He didn't feel too badly about vomiting on it.

______________________________________

"Jak? What's happening up there? We have to go! Now! What did you-"

Tess shrieked and jumped back when Jak dropped through the ceiling with something covered in blood in his arms. He was pale, pupils larger than they should've been. Tess knew that meant something up there had made him transform. And it probably had to do with the thing squirming in his arms.

"What is that?!"

"It's a kid."

Jak tucked the scarf closer around the child, hoping against hope no one would notice the tail -- the dead giveaway that the poor thing was part metalhead. "Praxis...he t- he tried to make another Dark Warrior. We have to get him out of here."

His voice was flat. Almost expressionless. There was a lot going on behind those eyes.

"And the guards?" Tess asked, eyeing the gap in the ceiling.

It was Daxter who answered in Jak’s stead, in a colder voice than any of them had ever heard.

"Errol will never hurt my pal again. He'll never hurt anyone again."

Ohhh. Oh that was going to shake up the Baron’s plans. Errol was both his meanest guard dog and his designated racing champion to keep the nobles pacified. Without the useless nobleman scion, he'd already lost control of the races. The Krimzon Guard would break down in organization too. Or at least, they would if Tess had anything to say about it.

"Good," she breathed, "Good. Thank the Precursors. Did he- did he hurt the- the baby?"

A tiny spark of life kindled in Jak’s eyes.

"It didn't end well for him," he rasped, and fell silent again.

Samos the Elder tiptoed to look at the toddler's face, then immediately began to howl about dark eco contamination. Samos the Younger simply looked uncomfortable with the presence of a child. Neither of them were going to be of any use in a crisis, clearly.

Tess sprang into action.

"Okay! Here's what we're going to do! Daxter, get Jak and this poor baby to Safehouse 8. I'll take these two back to HQ and deal with Torn. Check the kid for injuries, and we'll figure out what to do from there. Okay? Okay. Let's move, people."

Daxter sighed dreamily as he climbed up onto Jak’s shoulder. "Gods, I love a woman who takes charge in a crisis," he cooed.

It was almost enough to distract him from the extreme amount of blood covering the too-small kid with Jak's ears.

Nobody wanted to think about how he'd come to be.

If Jak was more violent than usual on the way out of the prison, Daxter didn't point it out. All he did was stay out of the way when Dark Jak came out to get hands-on with the idiot guarding their exit. The monster kid got very excited when Jak transformed the second time, chirping and squealing like a possessed bird.

When they'd broken out once more, pelting through the streets in pouring rain, they didn't stop to think. Jak knew if he pondered this little...person's...existence beyond cursory knowledge, it would shatter the pieces of himself he'd managed to put back together so far. So he just wouldn't think about it.

It was a kid. Errol hurt it. It killed Errol. End of story.

"Hang on kid. We're out of here."

A glance down revealed the beginnings of a far less sinister face as the rain finally began to break through the blood caked on the child’s skin. He blinked up at Jak with wide eyes.

"It's- it's not your fault. Okay? No matter- whatever people say, it isn't your fault," Jak croaked as they ran. "You didn't choose this. You're just a kid. It's not your fault."

He wasn't sure if he was talking to the kid, or to himself.

___[Three Hours Later, in the safe house]___

"Eep?"

"Wha- no! No, you can't eat that!"

Jak dropped his gun and dove for the kid, snatching a Scattergun cartridge from his chubby fingers.

The child looked at him with complete betrayal, opened his wide little mouth, and began to scream.

The boys looked at each other in panic. Someone was bound to hear that racket.

"Just let him have it!" Daxter yelped, covering his ears, "Metalheads eat eco, don't they?!"

"I don't know how much of him is metalhead!" Jak argued, "I don't want him to get hurt- Ow!"

The demon baby had decided to lodge a complaint with management in the form of locking his jaws around Jak’s forearm. He couldn’t penetrate the gauntlet fully, but there would definitely be bruises.

Without stopping to think, Jak grabbed the tot's cheeks and squeezed.

"Getoff!"

The demon baby growled at him.

"Let go, you little croc!" Jak increased the pressure. "Knock it off, or I'll bite you! See how you like it!'

He had absolutely no idea if the kid could understand a word he said. He certainly didn't act like he was listening.

So he shrugged and bit the kid's finger.

It wasn't hard. It didn't even dent the skin! But the kid yowled and fell back like he'd been struck a mortal blow. He wailed, holding up the afflicted finger to Jak.

"Well that's what happens," Jak scoffed. "You bite me, I'll bite you right back. Don't like it? Keep your teeth to yourself!"

The toddler sniffled, and in spite of himself, Jak softened. He groaned and gingerly lifted the kid under the armpits to set him on the cot beside him.

"Look. Just don't do it again, okay, Croc?"

"Ah," said the hybrid solemnly. The gurgling sound almost mimicked speech, as if he were copying Jak.

"Huh. You're kind of cold. Are you supposed to be that temperature?" Jak frowned.

He had absolutely no idea what counted as "normal" for something that had probably never existed before. Mar was always a little space heater-

Jak stubbornly buried thoughts of the kid deep in his mind. Not now. He needed to focus, and be able to keep his mind in the fight. He could let the "what-ifs" paralyze him later.

"Uh...here. I guess we should give you something to wear," Jak finally decided, "You are pretty naked. You...probably don't know what that means, though."

Daxter grimaced and slowly took his fingers out of his ears. "I am not babyproofing this safe house without coffee and financial compensation," he announced, "But if you can keep the little chomper busy for a couple minutes, I can see what passes for the sacred bean juice around here."

In the five minutes it took Daxter to brew some burnt, dark roast sludge, Jak had come up with a solution for the toddler's temperature.

It was not the solution Daxter had hoped for.

"No. Absolutely not. We have to find some clothes for him."

Daxter slammed a fist into his palm the second he put the foam coffee cups down. "One involuntary nudist in this family is bad enough! And he doesn't have strategic fur like I do!"

"What's wrong with what he's wearing?" Jak groused.

Daxter stared at him until his left eye began to twitch.

"What's wrong with-? HE'S WEARING A PILLOWCASE!"

The newly named Croc paused in his endless game of trying to catch his own tail to chirp questioningly. His limbs stuck haphazardly out of the pillowcase Jak had cut holes in, but it was more than he'd worn in the lab.

Daxter dropped his face into his palm. "Do you think that little menace is potty-trained? Do you? Because I can almost guarantee he is not!"

That hadn't occurred to Jak. He cringed and glanced at the hybrid. "Uh...how...do you potty-train a kid? Mar already knows how to go by himself, I think. But he's not. Like. A baby...thing."

Daxter huffed and began digging through drawers. "Short answer? You don't. Not in the middle of a war you don't. We're gonna need diapers. So many diapers. Do they make diapers with tail holes? Probably not. Oh- and wipes. I don't know if scaly butts get rashes but I don't wanna find out."

Jak groaned. "I don't know how to take care of a kid this little! We are kids!"

"Well do you wanna leave him with the Underground after their stellar show of babysitting skills thus far?" asked Daxter sarcastically.

"Kriff no!" Jak spat. He dragged grimy fingers down his cheeks and growled in frustration. "Can't ask Sig, he'd probably think the kid was a metalhead and try to hunt him or something."

"Eep! Ooooo!" Croc gathered himself, tail lashing, then made a leap for the bed.

He hit the edge and bounced off with an indignant squeak.

"Well," Jak said after examining him for a second, "He's durable, at least."

Far less angsty Croc Shenanigans to follow later this afternoon

#fic prompts #writing prompts #jak and daxter #praxis started making Stitch i mean Croc when Jak kept showing no changes #jak and daxter au #free day thursday #jnd croc #tw gore #tw blood #tw panic mention #Croc is basically Stitch but he eats people. but only Krimzon Guard. he doesn't know the armor isnt a crunchy shell #tw horror #Errol met a very gruesome end and he deserved it #Jak had absolutely no idea what to do with a toddler and it shows #angst with a happy ending #will be dadmas once they all get exiled

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kallie-den · 1 year

Text

In Red Eyes

A proud, stubborn, female knight hunts an ancient vampire, but when she looks into the creature’s deep, red eyes, she finds her memories being altered and the source of all her strength and pride being drained away

This is from a Patreon poll from a few months ago. My patrons voted for a vampire x knight story, and of course, I was more than happy to deliver

If you enjoy my work and are looking for more, or you want to support me, I strongly encourage you to check out my Patreon! I write erotica full-time, which means I need your patronage to keep creating, and my Patrons also get benefits like early access to my stories, extra stories, and the ability to vote on what I write next! So, if that sounds good to you, head over and join the couple hundred patrons I already have :)

—

Despite her sleek, feminine features and silky, braided hair, Ser Isabelle of Verona was every inch the vision of perfect, chivalrous knighthood. With her breastplate worn proudly on her chest and her sword held high, she looked like a figure striding out of legend. But her valor was far more than just superficial. Even since her tenth nameday, Isaballe had striven to embody the kind of knightly heroism she had always so admired by training, fighting, and learning to prove her worth and overcome the limitations the world placed on her for her gender.

Now, after more than ten years, she had finally earned her title. When her father, the prince, had touched his blade to her shoulders and dubbed her a knight, acknowledging her worth at last, it had been the happiest and proudest moment of Isabelle’s life. Soon after, she had taken a questing vow and journeyed to the Carpathian mountains, determined to help cleanse the shadow that seemed to hang perpetually over that land.

That was what had brought her to Castle Dragosi, a grand ruin that slumped down the slopes of one of those mighty peaks. Isabelle had come in search of the undead beast that was terrorizing nearby villages. For all her bravery, though, Isabelle was no fool. She had spent a month scouring the archives of nearby monasteries, arming herself with knowledge of all the reputed weaknesses of the sanguine creature she was setting out to hunt. Only once she was sure of her readiness had she dared venture across the castle’s dread threshold.

Isabelle had been prepared for so much. But, to her eternal shame, the very first glimpse of the vampire’s eyes had utterly unmade her.

As she stood in one of the damp, dark, stone-walled passageways underneath the castle, lit only by the flickering moonlight that passed through the occasional window, they glared at her from out of the shadows that lay before her. Two crimson disks that seemed to glow like lamps, casting the stone in a spectral, unholy light that still, somehow, failed to properly illuminate the creature.

But the effect those eyes had on Isabelle was far more sinister. As soon as she met the vampire’s gaze, she was utterly transfixed. The muscles she’d spent so long honing simply refused to obey her. She could not look away. Even the sweet relief of blinking was denied to her. She could only stare in horror as those two crimson lights drew closer.

“Well, well, well,” the creature mused, in a refined, feminine, lightly-accented voice. “What do we have here? A knight, it seems. And a girl, too.”

Despite herself, Isabelle shivered. The vampire’s voice had a touch of the archaic to it, but moreover, lying beneath her words was a deep, base tone that no human throat ought to have been able to produce. It spoke of hunger, and the terror of ages past.

“Name yourself, trespasser,” the vampire commanded. She sounded accustomed to obedience.

“I am Ser Isabelle!” Isabelle replied. Mercifully, her voice did not quake. “A knight of Verona. And I have come to be your final death.”

The most unnerving thing about the vampire’s rich, ravenous laugh was how relaxed and unhurried it was.

“How amusing!” the creature purred. “Tell me, do you know whom you address?” She took Isabelle’s silence for an answer. “Ser knight, understand that you are in the presence of Countess Mihaela Dragosi. This castle, built by my ancestors, is my home. And I am determined to see it restored to its former glory.”

Her words sent a shiver down Isabelle’s spine. She had read the name ‘Mihaela Dragosi’ in an old monastic tome, dated to centuries ago. There could be no doubt that she was dealing with an ancient and formidable creature. But Isabelle was not about to let that rob her of her convictions. She clenched her sword tight in her hand, and strained her every sinew in an effort to move forwards.

“Then you will fail,” Isabelle growled. “I will not allow you to prey upon the people of this land any longer.”

The passageway echoed with the sound of footsteps, and the glowing red eyes that held Isabelle rooted to the spot grew larger.

“What a foolish sentiment!” the countess scoffed. “Prey upon? Does a farmer prey upon his cattle when he takes them to slaughter? I think not. It is simply the natural order of things.”

Her words kindled a righteous fire in Isabelle’s heart. It gave her fresh strength, and with it, she was able to make her limbs move - just barely.

“Your words are lies and vileness,” Isabelle spat. “Nothing more.”

In her mind’s eye, she could already see the sword stroke that would part the countess’s head from her body. Isabelle knew exactly what to do. She had trained for it her entire life, and she had no little amount of experience in combat. She just needed to save her resolve for the vital moment.

“I have no need for lies,” Countess Mihaela retorted. She sounded as immovable as the mountain. “But I will deign to teach you the error of your ways, Ser Isabelle of Verona. Behold the face of your rightful superior!”

She stepped further forwards, until the dim moonlight finally fell upon her face. Frozen mere paces away, Isabelle was able to see and stare at every horrifying detail.

Countess Mihaela Dragosi was beautiful. That was the first thing the knight was struck by. She had been expecting something vile and demonic, or perhaps weathered by the weight of centuries, but no. The countess looked like she could have been the darling beauty of any royal court. Her skin, though deathly pale, was flawless, and her high cheekbones and dark, perfect lips spoke of the nobility she claimed. Her raven hair fell about her in long, curled locks, and she wore a long, elaborate, corseted dress that trailed along the floor behind her as she walked. The effect was stunning. She looked like the kind of classical beauty that artists and sculptors would have longed to immortalize.

But beneath the beauty, there was terror.

After a few moments, a creeping sense of horror settled across Isabelle. When she searched for its source, she realized that the proportions of the countess’s face were all wrong, somehow. Below her imperious cheekbones, her cheeks were far too hollow and emaciated. It made her look desperately, impossibly hungry. There was something slender and pointed about her face that gave her a predatory air, and her mouth, when she opened it to speak, opened just a little too wide. Behind those perfect lips, there were fangs, razor-sharp and long.

And, of course, there were those eyes. Those glowing, crimson eyes.

Aristocracy layered atop monstrosity. The countess was truly everything the folk tales spoke of.

Isabelle needed to slay her. A creature like this could not be permitted to roam the world. The mere thought of it was abominable. Stomach-churning.

“My!” the countess exclaimed. “A maiden of your beauty is a rare gift indeed. How very fortunate.”

Too late, Isabelle realized that the countess was already within arms reach, and was studying her every bit as closely as she had been studying the vampire. Once she became conscious of it, it started to feel like Countess Mihaela could see all the way through her. At such a distance, her sinister eyes dominated Isabelle’s vision.

“I am no maiden!” Isabelle’s voice didn’t sound as even as she had hoped. Something about the vampire’s presence made it impossible to stay calm. She was struck by the uncomfortable notion that this must be how deer felt when they noticed an approaching wolf. Sweat was dripping from her brow, and her heart was starting to pound. Still, she would not yet herself yield to cowardice. “I am a knight!”

“So I see,” Countess Mihaela cooed. “But that strikes me as a terrible waste, dear Isabelle. I would hate to see this pretty face marred by battle scars.”

She reached out and stroked a single fingertip across Isabelle’s cheek. Only then did Isabelle notice that each one of her nails was a sharp, wicked talon. Her touch brought with it the sting of pain, and then the wet of blood.

It was unbearable. Isabelle made her move.

With all the fierceness and fire she could muster, she forced herself into motion and brought her sword down towards where the countess stood. Her muscles still rebelled against her commands, and so it was a slow, clumsy stroke, the kind that Isabelle might have made when she was first learning the sword. But she poured into it all her righteousness and all her experience. The countess’s evil would end here.

The blade flew cleanly through the air, and made an ugly sound when it struck uselessly against stone.

Isabelle blinked sluggishly. Countess Mihaela had moved… perhaps? There had been a blur of something, but it had been too quick for Isabelle’s eyes to follow. What was happening? She could tell the power of the vampire’s eyes had sapped her speed, but she still had not expected this.

“You see?” came the countess’s voice, from Isabelle’s blind side. “I think knighthood does not suit you.”

“Silence!”

Isabelle instinctively wheeled to face the vampire as quickly as she could, but as soon as she did, she was once again made a prisoner of her wicked eyes. Her movements slowed to a crawl, and an overwhelming lethargy ate at her limbs.

“You are a delightful thing,” Countess Mihaela mused. “I have a terrible thirst, but it would be a shame to see you spilled all over the flagstones. A waste. No; instead I will grant you the honor of a high place in my court.”

“A place in your…” Isabelle was aghast at this mockery. Her noble face twisted into a hateful expression. “I would never serve you,” she snarled. “I would die before becoming your knight.”

The countess gave another rich, regal laugh. “I do not need a knight, Isabelle of Verona. I need a bride.”

“W-… what?” For the first time, Isabelle felt truly lost. Her? A vampire’s bride? That was ridiculous and repulsive for a dozen reasons. She detested that she needed to listen to this for even a moment, but it would take time to regather her strength. “That’s nonsense!”

“Why?”

The question was so simple it was almost disarming. Isabelle was left speechless for a moment.

“I have been fighting for my entire life,” she began, trembling with rage, “to be anything else. Princess. Bride. Maiden. I have been fighting to escape all that! I’ve fought. I’ve trained. I’ve defied-“

“Oh?” Countess Mihaela interrupted effortlessly. “Is that how you remember it?”

She sounded amused, like she was enjoying a joke beyond Isabelle’s comprehension. Isabelle frowned. She wasn’t given to reminiscence. Especially not at a moment like this.

The countess, though, was not to be deterred.

“Tell me what you remember,” she insisted. As she spoke, her eyes seemed to glow brighter, turning even the shadows a deep, haunting red. Isabelle felt a sudden weight pressing down on her shoulders. It was as if the vampire had suddenly brought her full presence to bear against her. “Tell me a memory.”

“I…” Isabelle’s eyes widened as she started to speak. It was as if there was a fishhook in her tongue, dragging the words out of her. “I… remember…”

“Struggling?” Countess Mihaela said, when Isabelle trailed off uncertainly. Her voice was thick with dark amusement, and she seemed to loom ever larger and larger above the paralyzed knight. “Just look, Isabelle of Verona. Look deep into my eyes. You can find your memories there.”

Against her will, Isabelle looked. She found herself staring as deeply as possible into the crimson portals of the countess’s eyes, until her entire being was flooded with red light. And then, without warning, she felt herself tumbling into the past.

***

There was a sensation like being plunged into icy waters, and then, suddenly, Isabelle was back, standing above the courtyard of the keep in Verona, as a girl. Not truly, of course. Isabelle could tell that much. Her eyes were open. Beyond the unnatural light of Countess Mihaela’s eyes, she could still see that she was standing underneath Castle Dragosi. But that didn’t seem to matter. Her memory was more real than reality itself, and she was wrapped up in its recollection.

Isabelle knew the moment well. It was the moment that had started her along the path of knighthood. Even so, more and more details kept crashing over her, shocking in their vividness. The weather. The scent in the air. Things she had never bothered to commit to memory.

In just a few seconds, Isabelle was about to descend the stairs to where the master-at-arms was drilling her father’s men. Armed only with a girl’s stubborn pride, she would demand that he train her too. He would laugh - they would all laugh - but eventually, after some arguing, he would agree to indulge her. Even then, it had been obvious to her that he wasn’t taking her seriously. But in the years to come, Isabelle had shown him better.

In memory, she started to move. But as she did, a warning chill began to creep up her spine. This was wrong. This was all terribly, terribly wrong. But why? How? She couldn’t quite pinpoint the source of her dread.

It took her far, far too long to realize that the scene should not have been cast in such awful red light.

In memory, Isabelle looked up, as if admiring the sky. But there was no midday sun hanging overhead. Instead, there were two baleful, crimson orbs that drenched everything in the color of blood.

Those eyes. Her eyes.

Once Isabelle noticed it, everything started to change. To dissolve. In memory, the world around her started to melt, the way Winter’s snow melted at Spring’s first touch. It was slow, to begin with, but it quickened at a horrible pace. The keep. The master-at-arms. His men. All of Verona, visible over the keep’s walls. Even the stairs beneath young Isabelle’s feet.

It was all quicksand. It all lost its shape and started to fall away into the sudden abyss that Isabelle sensed hanging underneath the whole world.

The worst part was that she couldn’t even make herself scream.

And then, there was nothing.

***

Isabelle felt herself jolted back into the present. She was fully herself again, confronting the countess. And this was her chance! She should strike again, while she had the strength.

But she couldn’t. She was overcome with a terrible, gnawing sense of loss that begged all-consuming questions.

What had she been remembering? What had happened that day, as a girl?

Isabelle did not know.

“Did you lose something?” Countess Mihaela asked. Her voice was poison, and full of even darker amusement than before.

For the first time, fear entered Isabelle’s voice. “W-what did you just do to me?”

“Don’t worry,” the vampire assured her. The gleam of her fangs was almost as bright as her eyes. “I can fix it. I can fill that hole in your heart. Look deeper.”

The knight could not disobey, and the glow of Countess Mihaela’s eyes once again stole her back into the past.

***

It was the same moment again, and Isabelle found herself infinitely reassured. Thank God it was not truly lost. She was a girl again, on the stairs of the keep in Verona, and she was about to run down to speak with the master-at-arms.

But again, the whole scene was bathed in crimson.

This time, though, something changed. A shadow appeared over Isabelle. Looking up, she saw a woman towering over her. She was wearing an elaborate, old-fashioned dress, her hair was dark, and her corpse-pale skin marked her as a foreigner to Verona.

“Hurry back inside, Isabelle,” the woman chided, in an accent Isabelle could have sworn she recognized. “Your mother is looking for you. It’s time for your lessons.”

In memory, Isabelle pouted briefly. Her mother’s lessons were always boring, girly things. Needlework, dance, poetry. But after a moment, she acceded. It wouldn’t do to keep her mother waiting. The courage she’d been mustering dissipated. She turned and headed back inside to her lessons.

***

That was the end of the memory. Isabelle felt herself once again being roused toward the present. As she awoke from the strange, nostalgic stupor, she tried to tell herself that it was false. That it hadn’t happened that way. But those thoughts started to melt away beneath the vampire’s gaze, and she felt the new version of events effortlessly slot into the hole that had been left in her heart.

Isabelle blinked. Something had happened again. But what?

“Are you alright, my dear?” Countess Mihaela asked mirthfully. “You look a touch unsteady!”

“You did… something?”

Isabelle’s mind was in turmoil. She could sense that some kind of tectonic shift had occurred within her, but it was getting harder and harder to determine where or how. The new memory - whatever it was - had seared itself indelibly into her mind, but it was already setting down roots like a sprouted tree. It was building connections. Spreading seeds.

Changing her.

“What is happening to me?” she breathed.

“I believe that you were about to strike me,” Countess Mihaela suggested. “Would you like to try?”

Her words drew attention to the sword raised in Isabelle’s hand. It seemed heavier than before. Isabelle realized that her hand on the grip didn’t feel quite right. Was she holding it improperly?

Why wasn’t she sure?

“No?” The countess laughed. “My mistake, it seems. Then instead, I think, you were educating me about your upbringing! You told me… yes, that was it. You were always a dutiful daughter. You always strove to meet your mother’s expectations for the little princess of Verona.”

Isabelle winced. Princess. Strictly speaking it was correct, but she’d always loathed that title. It was so girlish. Moreover, Countess Mihaela’s words had her perplexed. She didn’t remember telling the vampire any of that, and yet it all had the ring of truth to it.

Her head was a mess of fog and doubt, but more memories were starting to form out of the gloom. She remembered sitting through innumerable lessons in everything that was expected of a courtly lady. She remembered that her duty had always come first, no matter how much she’d wanted something more.

No matter how often she had looked out of the window, and watched her father’s men training.

“Yes,” Isabelle agreed slowly. “I… suppose.”

“Then how strange, that you ended up at my door!” Countess Mihaela mused. “Not that I am complaining, of course. You’re a lovely thing. Except for this. It really doesn’t suit you, you know.”

As she spoke, she reached up and stroked her fingertips along the flat of Isabelle’s blade.

Fueled by a sudden surge of strength, Isabelle snatched it back protectively.

“Silence!” she demanded, anger making her voice firm. “I won’t hear that. Not from a creature like you.”

No matter what, Ser Isabelle of Verona was a knight. Even though her duty to her mother had made training difficult, she had still spent her nights pounding away at training dummy after training dummy to hone her strokes. She had made do without a master-at-arms’s tutelage.

This sword was her life.

“My, my!” Countess Mihaela mocked. “So proud! You must know it well, that sword of yours.”

“Yes!” Isabelle answered, with a measure of her former fierceness. “Do not mistake me, fiend. Call me the princess of Verona all you like. The hours I have spent with this blade shall-“

“Is that truly how you remember it?” Countess Mihaela hissed, overriding Isabelle with demonic, regal authority. “Look at me, dear Bella. Look.”

Her command was iron. Isabelle looked into her deep, red eyes again, and lost herself in their mesmerizing glow.

***

This time, when the memory took hold, Isabelle was transported back to Verona once more. She was down in the courtyard, alone, and she was training. She always liked to practice in the evenings, when there were fewer prying, judgmental eyes to see. And after her mother’s lessons, it was a good way to vent some of her frustrations.

In memory, Isabelle planted her feet carefully. She raised her sword into a guarding posture and took careful aim at the practice dummy in front of her, ready to thrust.

But something was wrong.

The tip of her blade kept shaking. She couldn’t seem to hold it steady. Why? Hadn’t she done this thousands of times before?

Or was it hundreds?

Or was it just dozens?

And why was the courtyard bathed in an evil, crimson glow?

In memory, Isabelle looked up at the evening sky. Two moons hung overhead, and both of them were the color of blood.

Was this really how it had happened?

Isabelle couldn’t seem to call any alternative to mind. This was the only version of events she knew. That she had ever known. What could it be but the truth? With that comfort in mind, she raised her sword once more, ready to strike.

But first, she closed her eyes.

When she opened them again, Isabelle was assailed with a throbbing headache. The world, as she remembered it from that night, was doubled up upon itself. In her mind’s eye, there were two different memories fighting for the same space. As both of them forced themselves in, they each blurred around the edges, becoming unreal.

The other memory took place inside. She could tell that much. And she was holding… something. Something sharp. Everything else was indistinct.

The dissonance was unbearable, and Isabelle was gripped with an urgent need to determine what was real and what was not. And in her desperation, the accented voice that came to her as if drifting on the night wind felt like a blessing.

Look, it called. Look up. Look deep.

In memory, Isabelle looked up. She let the crimson moons overhead transfix her. Somehow, as she stared the knot of tension in her head started to slacken. She relaxed. And as she did, the courtyard and the training dummy melted away like candle wax.

Moments later, in memory, Isabelle found herself sitting in her chamber. It was as if she had never been practicing her swordsmanship outside - and indeed, that memory was fading fast. Overhead were not moons, but rather two odd, red lamps hanging from her ceiling.

She looked down. In her left hand was a frame for embroidery, and in her right was a needle, raised as she was about to thrust it into the fabric like a sword. In memory, Isabelle smiled. What a childish little fancy!

The childhood temptation to become a swordswoman had still been with her, at that age, but only just. Instead, Isabelle remembered resigning herself to her filial duties, and spending long hours practicing her needlework to become the princess her mother had always so wanted.

Then, in the memory, came a knock at the door, followed by her mother’s voice:

“Isabelle?” her mother had said. “There’s somebody here I’d like you to meet.”

Isabelle set aside her needlework as her mother pushed open her chamber door. At her side was a woman as strange as she was oddly familiar. She was extraordinarily pale and looked hungry, and her eyes were all red.

“She’s to be your tutor,” Isabelle’s mother had explained, “in the finer points of courtly etiquette. She’s a countess from the east, from over the mountains.”

Even in this most vivid of vivid memories, Isabelle barely registered her words. Her recollection was dominated by a single, overbearing feeling.

Adoration.

A single glance at the countess’s slender, aristocratic countenance was all Isabelle needed to know this was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. That she would ever see. There was an inhuman quality to her that only enhanced her perfection. Isabelle felt like she was looking at a saint, or perhaps a goddess. The blasphemy of that notion was completely unimportant compared to how desperately she wanted to worship and adore this woman.

In memory, her body started to warm to new desires. Shame stained her cheeks. It was wrong. Terribly, biblically wrong. To feel this way about another woman was unspeakable - let alone about a woman who had come all this way to tutor her. But there was no denying it.

In memory, Isabelle tried to remember if she’d ever felt this way about a woman before. She didn’t think so. This lust, this dizzying passion, this yearning for closeness and intimacy was like a spike driven into her skull. Without precedent, it had erupted inside her. If she hadn’t known better, Isabelle might have blamed it on a devil’s touch or a witch’s curse.

And in any case, she was too enamored to care.

“Hello, Bella,” the countess said, in that accented, somehow-familiar voice. “I’m here to help you blossom into a fine young lady.”

Coming from this goddess, the diminutive nickname didn’t anger her. It merely made her blush.

“Hello, countess.” In memory, Isabelle rose to her feet and curtsied as prettily as she could. A breathless eagerness slipped into her voice. “I look forward to your tutelage.”

***

Then, it was over. The memory was finished and receded back into the dark corners of Isabelle’s mind, there to spread its roots just like the first had. More memories started to appear before her mind’s eye. Memories of long years of tutelage and devotion as she cultivated her own regal femininity. But this was no time to dwell on them. She snapped back to the present, and scolded herself for being so absent-minded.

She wasn’t a girl back in Verona. Nor was she some old maid, constantly reminiscing. She was a knight, and she was here to… to…

To what?

“Are you alright, dear little Bella?” Countess Mihaela asked. “You’re looking a little pale.”

Isabelle leaped backward as she noticed how close the vampire was. Terror gripped her. Why was she here? To slay a vampire? That sounded like a bad jest. Where had she found the insane courage that had brought her down into this castle, sword in hand?

She barely even knew how to use the thing.

“Do not worry,” the countess added mockingly. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Isabelle risked an incredulous glance at the creature. That proved to be a mistake. Once her eyes found the twinned, red lamps that shone out of the vampire’s face, she was once again frozen to the spot - not that it seemed to matter. Even running away felt like a distant fantasy. How was Isabelle supposed to move when she was weighed down with all this clunky armor? She had no idea how to move in it.

After a few moments, though, she realized there was something else that was giving her pause. Something about the countess. There was an eerie familiarity to her, like she had been conjured forth from Isabelle’s past. Had they met? It seemed impossible. How would she have met a vampire? But the notion continued to gnaw at her. She tried to tell herself that it was a mere trick. That, if anything, Countess Mihaela was something spawned from her nightmares.

But that wasn’t quite true either. Because Countess Mihaela was the most beautiful woman she had ever set eyes on. Even her obvious inhumanity was enchanting. Isabelle couldn’t take her eyes off her, and the sight of the vampire’s face stoked shameful desires she’d kept carefully hidden for so many years. Hers was the face that had haunted both Isabelle’s wet dreams and her most loving fantasies.

That, just as much as anything else, was terrifying.

“K-keep away from me!” Isabelle yelled, her voice wavering.

“Or what?” Countess Mihaela opened her mouth and bared her fangs. “What are you afraid of, little Bella?”

“D-don’t call me that!” Isabelle was teetering on the brink of panic. “I… I… I have a sword!”

She clutched it to her chest with both hands, embarrassingly like a child reaching for a prized toy.

“Oh? Then do your worst!” The countess spread her arms wide. “Here. I won’t even move.”

Hot, bitter tears of humiliation started to well up in the corners of Isabelle’s eyes. With the vampire goading her, she raised the sword as high as she could, and tried to imitate the way she’d seen fighting men move.

She failed miserably.

Isabelle had no idea how to hold the sword, much less swing it. When she struck out towards the countess, she was woefully unprepared for the way its weight and momentum carried her forwards and threatened to throw her completely off balance. Letting out a miserable whimper, she allowed it to slip out of her hands. It clattered to the ground uselessly, off to one side.

True to her word, Countess Mihaela had not moved a muscle.

“You see?” the vampire said, with an air of predatory, sickeningly false kindness. “You’re not meant for this, dear Bella. Why not accept what I offer instead? Be mine. Be my bride.”

The offer was horrifying in its allure. Countess Mihaela felt as much like a succubus as she did a bloodsucking monstrosity. Isabelle shrunk away from her whilst shaking her head and trying to ignore how tempted she felt.

“Don’t… don’t call… d-don’t…” Isabelle couldn’t keep herself from tearing up. She was trying desperately to think of a lifeline, but she was so terribly confused. She couldn’t so much as understand why she’d come here. “I-I’m a knight! I’m a k-knight!”

The claim felt laughably, pathetically false. But still, Isabelle was determined to hold true to that part of herself. It was one of the only things she remained truly sure of. Her deepest conviction.

“Are you?” Countess Mihaela’s amusement was palpable. “What kind of knight doesn’t know how to swing a sword, dear Bella?”

“I…” Isabelle had no answer for that, but she couldn’t let go. Her knighthood was all she had. “I’m… I’m a… a knight?”

“You poor thing,” the vampire simpered. “You seem so terribly confused. Why don’t you just look into my eyes for a moment? I can take all of that away for you. Just look, Bella. Look.”

She wasn’t sure if it was out of compulsion, fear, or simple despair, but whatever the case, Isabelle looked. Countess Mihaela’s huge, red eyes opened up to devour her.

***

Once again, Isabelle was tossed into a helpless reverie of memory. She found herself transported back once more to Verona, but this time she was standing in the chapel attached to her family’s estate. Even tinted in sinister crimson, the day was unmistakable to her.

It was her happiest and proudest moment, and the most important day of her life.

Having come of age, she was waiting there in the chapel for the ceremony to begin. In a few moments, her father would come to join her. She would take her vows, and then kneel before him as he blessed her with his ceremonial sword and awarded her the…

The…

What? What was she here for, exactly?

Isabelle found that she was struggling to remember that.

A knighthood?

That felt right, but she couldn’t see how it could be. After all, by that age, knighthood had been nothing more than a long-forgotten daydream. She’d long since put away her sword and her storybooks. Instead, she’d devoted herself to becoming the elegant, beautiful princess of Verona, under the fond eye of her beloved tutor.

Her…

It was then that it dawned on her. No; rather, it was seared into her mind like a red-hot brand.

This wasn’t a knighthood ceremony. It was her betrothal.

Her father was soon coming, yes, but he was coming to give her away to her betrothed. Her vows weren’t of duty, but rather of love and faithfulness.

Love for-

“You are a vision of beauty, my beloved Bella.”

At the sound of that familiar, accented voice, joy surged within Isabelle’s breast. She turned to face her betrothed as she walked towards her through the crimson-lit chapel.

It was the countess.

Underneath Castle Dragosi, Isabelle’s brow furrowed. There were a dozen and more reasons why that memory was impossible. Why it made no sense. A betrothal between two women? It was impossible. And why would her family ever entrust her to some foreign countess? Or to a woman so much older? Why didn’t they object to the fact that the woman they’d welcomed as a tutor had seduced their only daughter?

Yet all those reasons were swept away in the rush of nostalgic bliss.

In memory, Isabelle could barely contain herself. She was finally to be given to the woman she loved. The way their romance had blossomed was nothing short of a fairytale, and it was a further miracle that her parents had consented so readily to the match. How could she be anything but thankful?

Through her mind’s eye, she could see that the countess had looked as beautiful as ever that day. She was wearing the same dress Isabelle always seemed to picture her in, and her fangs were as white and sharp as ever. And her eyes, of course, held Isabelle’s very soul in their grip.

She was perfect.

The memory was growing clearer and clearer with each passing moment. Now Isabelle felt like she could remember what she had been wearing. Not armor, but a pretty, white dress. She wasn’t a knight. She was a bride.

Abruptly, she found herself picturing her father at her side. She couldn’t see his eyes, but she could remember something of his smile as he offered her hand to the countess. Then, it was time for her vows. Isabelle spoke them from the heart, and the words took the place of years of chivalric oaths and honorable pledges.

‘Till death do us part…

***

This time, when Isabelle snapped back the present, it felt as though she had been struck by a thunderbolt. It was like she was remembering her whole life anew, and as her precious memories of the countess took root, they quickly filled the holes and doubts that had assailed her. It wasn’t long before she was set completely at ease.

Only, why were there tears in her eyes?

The only reason Bella could think of was that they were tears of joy - of the joy of, at long last, being reunited with her betrothed.

“You remember now, don’t you?” Countess Mihaela prompted. She was grinning wickedly. “Isn’t that right, my bride?”

My bride. Those words sent a rapturous shiver down Bella’s spine, and made her blush.

“Yes,” she said, in a dainty, adoring voice. “Forgive me, my love. I was confused. How silly of me!”

In truth, there were still a few things that confused her. They simply didn’t matter, now that she was in the arms of her great love. Why was she standing beneath some dank, ruined castle? Why was she wearing armor? Why did her body feel so firm, so muscular? And why was there a sword lying on the ground, so close at hand?

For a moment, she caught her own reflection in its steel. Her eyes seemed to have turned a dull, deep, listless red.

It didn’t trouble her. Not now that she knew who she was. She was Princess Bella of Verona, and she had come to take her place as Countess Mihaela Dragosi’s bride.

“Good, good,” the countess said. “You must come upstairs with me. I have clothes for you to change into. We can easily find you something more befitting a princess.”

Bella nodded gratefully. A dress would be much more comfortable and familiar than this heavy garb.

“But first,” Countess Mihaela added, “I am thirsty, my bride.”

Bella’s loving smile only widened. She knew exactly what the countess was asking of her. It was a bride’s duty, and one she was unbelievably happy to fulfill.

She reached up to unfasten the high-collared breastplate that kept her neck protected. Her fingers seemed to know how to handle the straps, even if her mind didn’t. After a few seconds, it fell to the ground next to the sword, and Countess Mihaela rushed forwards to sweep Bella into her embrace.

Bella, her knighthood lost, did nothing more than bare her neck in submission, and let out a blissful moan as the vampire’s fangs pierced her neck.

She had been wrong before. This, in fact, was her happiest and proudest moment.

—

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italeean · 2 years

Text

A good way to end a bad day

Levi is stressed after a day where every force of the universe seemed to work against him, but luckily for him, Erwin can't have that and is more than ready to do something about it

A/N: Good evening everyone!! I hope you had a great week and an even greater weekend ahead of yourselves ^_^ Thanks for waiting for my work, it really means a lot to me. As I had already anticipated, this is a request made by @oddslimee1 😸 Grazie per la richiesta, spero ti piaccia... e anche a tutti gli altri 💚🤍❤️ (Thanks for the request, I hope you enjoy it... and everyone else as well)

DISCLAIMER: This is a tickle fic, if it’s not to your taste I don’t suggest you need it

To say that Levi was pissed was an understatement. And to say that his day had been one was the worst of his life was even more of an understatement!

First, he woke up extra early to finish some paperwork... that was actually due to the next day, then one of the new recruits bumped into him at breakfast, making his cup of tea fall, and one of the cadets made a scene in front of him because he'd scolded her.

He was sitting in the dining hall, eating his dinner while sulking so much that even the members of his squad decided to leave him in peace. Maybe he had really been harsh with the cadet, but crying so much? If she was that emotional, why did she even enrol in the military force? Once you're outside of the walls, you don't get a scolding if you do wrong... he knew that way too well...

"Captain, I'm sorry for disturbing but I'd need a favor." His train of thoughts was suddenly interrupted by a voice he knew way too well. "What do you want, brat?" He asked quickly since he wanted to get over with whatever the kid needed.

"So, I know I'm on cleaning duty tomorrow, but Hange wants to experiment something new on my Titan form and I wanted to ask for perm-" The young soldier got interrupted by a sudden squeak on the captain, accompanied by a little jump. It didn't take long for Eren to figure out why he'd done that. "Sir, are you perhaps ticklish?" He asked, with a smug, Cheshire Cat-like smile.

"Jäger, go run ten laps outside. Now." Levi's tone was so cold that everyone could swear that the temperature had dropped of a few degrees all of a sudden. "But sir, it's night... and it's raining..!" The teal-eyed guy whined; "Which is why it's in your best interest to run as fast as you can." The man's gaze was literally furious, so the young soldier decided to go and avoid any other repercussions.

After dinner, the exhausted Captain went to his quarters... only to be met with an extra pile of paperwork. He tsk-ed and went to his desk, with the only intention to finish everything as soon as possible. When he was about halfway through, he got interrupted by a knock on the door. He would've probably murdered the one who dared to show up at such a late time, but since it was Erwin, he made an exception.

"Good evening, Levi" the Commander greeted him with a warm smile "Shall I come later? You seem a bit busy..." He asked, not even trying to hide his concern for his friend. "If it's something important, I can take a quick break." The shorter man replied, ignoring every fiber of his body telling him to continue his work and go to sleep immediately.

"Well, it is rather important actually," the blond said to catch Levi's attentiok "I noticed you were in a bad mood, so I only came here to check on you. But the fact that you're still working with those dark circles under your eyes is even more concerning." He added with a stern tone. "Tsk. I'll go to bed as soon as I'm done, don't worry." The dark-haired man tried to dismiss his superior, but it didn't work at all.

"Absolutely not. That pile of documents will take at least another two hours to complete and you don't have that much time. Just go to bed and I'll ask to my superiors for an extra day to hand in everything." Erwin tried to reason with him, but he hit a wall... way more solid than Maria, Rose and Sina combined together.

But he had an idea of how to make that wall crumble, whether it would be slowly or with a single blow. He walked behind his friend, making it seem like he was just checking what kind of report he was writing, only to mimic what Eren had done at dinner that evening.

"GAH- N-not you too! Are you seriously copying that brat?!" Levi was caught by surprise once more and didn't manage to hold back his reaction, much to his dismay and Erwin's amusement. "I'm sorry, I thought I'd seen something on your neck and I just tried to brush it off." The Commander apologized, with a performance that would've won the prize for worst performance in the history of acting.

The ravenhead jumped quickly on his feet and tried to reach the door, but his friend was quick to anticipate his move and managed to beat him in speed (also thanks to his longer legs, but it's better if we don't say it out loud). He reached the captain and dragged him to bed, then he threw him on the mattress making him lie on his stomach.

"So, are you going to get some rest?" He asked while keeping a hand in the middle of the other's back to not let him get up. "I said I don't need it! Just let me finish my work!!" Levi exclaimed with a hint of annoyance in his voice. "If you still have that much energy, I'm sure this will be nothing for you to handle." Erwin grinned while spidering his free hand up and down his friend's side and ribs.

"W-whahat are you thihinking?! Arehe yohou twelve?!" Levi tried to hold back his laughter but he couldn't do anything for his legs kicking reflexively, indicating how much that gentle touch was affecting him. "I was sincerely hoping to just convince you to go to bed, but you decided to be stubborn and say no..." Erwin tried to blame it all on him, although he knew he could've simply ordered him to drop everything and go to bed. Levi's strict work ethic would've made him follow that command.

But this was way funnier, and it was too rare of an opportunity to miss.

"Juhuhuhust cuhut it ohohout alreahahadyehe!!" The shorter man squealed while trying to cover up his side, but his friend's fingers always found a way to worm through his defenses. Also, not being able to see where or when he would strike made him feel more sensitive.

"If you still have enough energy to bark like that, you're not tired enough yet." The Commander stated seriously, as if it was some kind of serious report or anything. "Yohohou're juhust sahahaying nohohonsensehe nohow!" The blue-eyed man replied once more, still keeping that hint of harshness in his voice.

"Nonsense? I think your tiredness is making you lose your sense of judgment." Erwin fake-gasped, feeling surprisingly playful that night "Also, I think you should pay attention to your tone in front of a superior." He was still kidding obviously, he never minded Levi being a bit harsh. It was just how he was, and now they weren't even technically working, they were just hanging out as friends so the militar hierarchy didn't count.

However, that "rude" tone gave him the excuse to change spot and go for the ravenhead's thighs, which he already knew they were really, really bad for him. "Juhuhust gohoho ahahawahahahay!!" Levi squawked while he struggles and kicked harder to break free.

"Oh well, why didn't you ask sooner?" Was the only thing that came out from the blond's mouth before his wiggly fingers went to softly scratch the other's scalp, exactly where his hair was shaved. That never failed to draw the best reaction out of him. "AAAAAAHAHAHA OKAHAY YOU WIHIHIN YOHOHOU WIHIN JUHUHUST STOHOHOHOP!!"

Levi's death spot was the only one that managed to get him to laugh really loud, but it also annihilated his stamina in a few seconds. The Commander knew that, and that night he'd decided to use that to his advantage. However, the Captain was really exhausted from that stunt, so much that his eyes were closing on their own.

He fell asleep while thinking of Farlan and Isabel, remembering all those times when they would playfight like that without a care in the world. They were his family after all, they were his safe space.

After checking he was actually asleep, Erwin rolled up his sleeves and sat to the Captain's desk, ready to fill some paperwork and make his friend's life just a little bit easier.

#attack on titan tickle #lee!levi #ticklish!levi #ler!erwin #ler!eren #kinda...#tickle fic #aot tickle

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highfantasy-soul · 6 months

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NATLA Episode 8 - Legends (1/4)

[Masterlist of my NATLA thoughts]

Of course, full spoilers ahead.

Opening this final episode with the Gaang all working together to take out the fire nation ship felt so natural, I completely forgot that's not what happened in the animated version! In the animated show, it's just Aang who takes out the whole ship with Katara and Sokka hanging back behind the walls. (Which is odd because of all the ppl screaming that animated Aang would NEVER have Katara sit out on a fight when…that's exactly what he did. Katara and Sokka weren't doing their own thing while Aang was attacking the ship, they were literally just standing on the wall with Pakku and Chief Arnook - so….yeah, about all that live-action Aang hate for not wanting to lose Katara in the battle…..hmmm maybe…uh…watch the OG show with your brain turned on….)

Why was there no outcry about Aang 'not letting his friends fight' in the animated version when that's exactly what he did when he went out alone on Appa and Katara and Sokka did nothing? Almost like there's a massive double standard here.

Aang takes point in the battle, wooshing soldiers overboard and doing some nice AOE damage then Katara comes in with the pointed attacks to take out individual enemies. Aang and Katara working in tandem, their move sets complementing each other, was really beautiful. Then Sokka coming in with the 'Appa-eyed' view of the situation and calling out battle plans and heading to the command center to take out the leadership (of the ship) really showed how each person had their own strengths and balanced each other out. I think it was a really cool choice to not have Sokka fighting the actual soldiers, but rather taking out the mechanics of the ship: person on person combat isn't the only way to win a battle - making the smart move and taking out resources IS!

Zuko's tenacity and flat refusal to stop trying is on full display here - I love the desperation and Iroh not wanting him to go, but supporting him anyways. Iroh giving the advice about the fissures is so sweet and I really like the change to it being Zuko who mentions the father-son dynamic between them. Not directly, of course, but by telling Iroh Lu Ten would have been proud to have him as a father, to me, makes the bond clearer and stronger than Iroh telling Zuko he views him like a son.

While I'm not sure it was the animated show's intention, not showing how Zuko has helped Iroh, too, did make his declaration that 'Ever since I lost my son, I've come to think of you as my own' feel a little like he just attached himself to Zuko because he was a young boy who he could replace his son with and shape the way he thinks he should be - I know that's a pretty uncharitable interpretation of that scene in the OG, but because it's not very well fleshed out what their relationship was like before Zuko's banishment, it could easily come off that way. I think the way the live-action really delved into specifically the funeral scene showed how it was a two-way relationship from the start.

I've seen the argument that the live-action was actually enforcing sexism by having Katara and the women of the tribe push Pakku to change his mind about allowing women in combat, claiming that it was the '2000s feminism movement' of the women still 'asking' the man for permission to fight. To me, this isn't a legit criticism of the scene. Barring the fact that in the OG, Pakku still gave Katara permission to fight before the battle started (and in the live-action she went out on Appa to attack the ships without his permission anyways), they're at war. This isn't a 'I'm taking charge of my own destiny alone' thing - if they want to be effective, they need to all be a united front, not split between men and women. In this instance, they NEED to be working in tandem with the male warriors or else they'll fail - you know, the whole house divided will fall thing. So no, it's not 'women still not getting power until the man approves' like some say, it's logistical military strategy to make sure all leadership and combatants are on the same page.

I see this scene, Katara getting all the women to come out and demand to be a part of the battle too, as a precursor for her arc in the Imprisoned storyline (which I'll go into why I think that will be a character moment Katara will get in season 2 in my 'cut storylines post'). Katara doesn't just stand up for herself and takes the role of combatant alone, she inspires others to stand up, too.

It's also another example of the idea that so many people are desperate for a change in the way things are going, but they need a catalyst to give their movement momentum. Team Avatar is that catalyst and we saw it with the Fire Nation rebellion group, Tayo getting his father to start fighting back, and now the women of the Northern Water Tribe. Katara (and the Gaang at large) aren't coming into a culture and demanding they change their backward ways and the natives are all hearing and thinking about this 'gender equality' for the first time ever. It's clear the women standing up to Pakku have been talking about this for awhile (not to mention Yagoda's talk with Katara last episode where she doesn’t seem fully on board with the gender divide either, but she doesn’t see the opportunity to change the system quite yet) and big catalysts have a way of springing social change forward dramatically. Katara was the just first crack in the dam and Yagoda steps forward to back her.

I have a whole-ass thing about how narratives that try to talk about the white savior trope being bad usually end up in the same racist camp as the ones trying to make the white savior trope good and it comes down to the depiction of the indigenous population. In most, even if they're saying white savior bad, they give the indigenous population no agency - they just roll over to whatever the outsider is coming in to change about them or lead them toward. If the culture has a practice we would consider bad (like sexism), the outsider (animated Katara) is the only one standing up against it and no one else in the culture backs their bid for change, they just sit silently, let the outsider fight their battle for them, then 'reap the rewards' of (or 'blindly follow to their doom' in anti-white savior stories) the new societal change that they took no part in.

In the live action, they show that it's not JUST Katara wanting this change - the women of the tribe want it too and will stand up with and for Katara as they join forces to make societal change. They are ALL claiming their agency rather that letting Katara do all the work.

I know some people think it's 'virtue signaling' or whatever and complain about the shot of all the women heroes in Endgame or Captain Marvel's 'standing up after being knocked down' montage, but call me a stupid woman, those scenes actually mean a lot to me. Why is animated Katara railing against Sokka because she has to do the laundry seen as the height of feminism and yet a group of indigenous women standing up and backing one of their sisters in her bid to make systemic change actually the opposite of feminism? It makes no sense to me.

I like that the live-action shows the women and learners joining the battle too, but recognizing their lack of experience in battle. It's a realistic take on letting those with no combat experience join up. They aren't taking point in battle, they're going to certain parts of the field and doing what they can - shoring up the walls and aiding the fighters. That 'aid' is broad and quickly turns into intercepting fireballs and creating ice barriers to stop the soldiers from advancing. Like with Sokka's story: you don’t need to be a master at combat in order to help in a battle - you just need the chance to join others defending your home using every skill you have.

The whole 'Katara can't be a master! It's bad fem power rep to have her become a master all on her own without a teacher!' outcries are really feeling like a repeat of people pissed that at the end of Daredevil s3 they added Karen to the business sign 'Nelson, Murdock, & Page' crying "But she's not a lawyer!! You can't do that!!!! That's so stupid!!! She doesn't deserve it!!!" Shut up. Seriously, shut the fuck up. This obsession with 'traditional' schooling being the only legitimate way to learn and if you haven't had a learning process that's highly prejudiced/not available to everyone, then you're actually shit and none of your accomplishments are 'real' is just straight poison. When they add Karen's name to the sign in DD, they aren't saying 'you're a practicing lawyer now', they're saying 'your contributions are why we're here, why we succeed in so many ways - we want to honor that even if you don't have BAR certification'. Same with Katara being called 'master'. It's not saying that she's reached Pakku's level (after all, he's THE BEST, not every master is going to be at his level) but they are acknowledging that she has skills and experience none of them have - she's been in the world, she's learned on her own, and she's held her own and has things she can teach to others.

There's actually a whole thing about how the term 'master bender' is thrown around willy nilly in the animated series - like, every character is considered a master (including the earth bending teacher in season 2 that's super annoying and is beaten easily every time he's in a fight) and there's not any actual explanation as to what that means. So people coming in now pretending that they actually know the threshold one must meet to become a waterbending master is really just them wanting to complain that a female character advanced her skills without traditional training. (She DID have a scroll, remember? She DID observe other benders and try to incorporate that into her moves, remember?). Airbenders are the ONLY group that have a clear definition for what makes a 'master' and Aang got it at 12, Jinora got it at 11. The term 'master' seems to be used more for ceremony/respect or a quality that they have something they can teach others rather than an actual course and test one must go through to attain the title. If we're going by that standard, then Katara is definitely a master all on her own.

It's not a 'girl boss getting a title you didn't earn just because you’re a girl and writers think that makes you cooler', it's a 'Katara has worked her ass off all season to teach herself, come up with clever ways of finding instruction, and even when denied formal training, took it upon herself to keep going and inspire others'. When she tells Jet "this wasn't you, it was me" and to Zuko, "Yeah, I found a master - me", it IS empowering and EARNED. It isn't cheesy 'I don’t need anyone's help' pop feminism, it's honest and a declaration that even if you are barred from traditional methods of learning, when you seek to educate yourself, it's still worth something. Just because you don't have a diploma, doesn't mean what you know isn't 'real'.

#natla #avatar the last airbender #netflix avatar #atla #natla positivity

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demon-blood-youths · 5 months

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An Officer's Corruption - Sinful trails of the six claws OVA - Part Seven

Hi everyone! This is part four of the OVA! Sorry for the wait!

This is the drabble series started by @the-silver-peahen-residence And the OVA is written by me! That said, here are the parts! Enjoy reading!

------ Latest Chapters ----

Part Nine

Part Ten

Part Elven ( NSFW Warning )

Part Twelve ( Slight NSFW Warning )

||OVA Chapters||

OVA part three

OVA part four

OVA part five

OVA part six

---- Warning ----

Violence ( Blood, Gore Injuries )

---- Drabble Summary ------

-----

Things were getting under control after the defeat of Katana, Akane and other devils that are now defeated and being hold. For now, there are reinforcements who arrived from nearby precincts and prisons to maintain order and help the guards of Prison Tee to secure the prisoners and get back to their cells. As for the Katana Man's men, some were killed and some surrendered taken into custody.

The first person to see was Officer Knight who came over to see Ink. "Ink! You're okay?! What happened?" He said as she arrived at the medic ward. Ink explained the situation to him. He brought some reinforcements.

"So the guy in the next room with his friends were..." He looks at Denji laying on the bed, sleeping with Six Claws watching over him. Ink nods, "Yep. That's him and that's them. The Six Claws."

"I thought they would be scary up front," Rust said. Like Davion for example. He hopes those guys aren't doing anything to Ink. Jeez...he even told Davion that he will be back after he got the call. He promises him that they can 'play' and hang out. It's not easy to tame a dragon like that.

"I got the call from Fosh and Mouse regarding this. They also had their situation at the Lupin Prison." Said Rust. Ink widens her eyes. "Is everyone okay?"

Rust nods, "Yeah! Apparently, inmates from there drugged the female guards and used them as hostages to get out of there. The details are messed up but Jaron is the one who shut the shit down with his power. That guy behind got his ass wrecked." Rust said.

"Good. I'm glad." Ink said. Ink knows that Jaron is a powerful psychic of his own league similar to Melinda. He doesn't do telekinesis like Melinda but he can command people with his voice and smell.

"Still can't believe shit happens like in both prisons." Said Rust crossing his arms. "Well...you can let Warden Reer knows that T Prison is fine but needs some repairs. It's big of mess." She said.

"How much of a mess are we talking about here?" Rust asked.

------ Warden's Office ----

"Damn it! This is going to cost us!" Warden Kinie Ger is now upset at the mess that this break-in has made to her prison. Those damn scum are responsible for this. All because of one inmate! She knew the Six Claws might have enemies outside of here. But this is something.

"I have to repair two guard towers, and several walls, and fix some of the facilities." Kinie Ger sighs at this mess. "And give overtime to the guards and the medical team at the infirmary as well." Thank god for the new guards. Officer Vin Shia, Vanguard, and Violet managed to contain the situation as it is.

From what she heard, two prisoners help Officer Vanguard and Violet based on the incoming report. Itadori Yuji and Denji Hayakawa. She will admit one of the Six Claws help a guard to defeat someone is surprising but it makes sense. Katana Man is here to kill Denji so it makes sense for Denji to butt in but why do it instead of getting out of the prison while they have the chance due to the chaos.

Kinie shakes her head. No, no need to dive into details. The next thing to address...

"Mr. Ryomen. Your offer."

Sukuna Ryomen heard his name when he was addressed. He was kept safe by Kinie's top guards during this whole time while Kinie Ger is taking command of the situation through radio. The man replies, "Yes?"

"I gave your offer much thought. I am now thinking of accepting it given how this situation turned out. I predict this attack will be one of many soon." She said as she gave a hand gesture to her guards to give her and Sukuna the floor to talk. The guards leave the room leaving the Warden and Ryomen to themselves.

"So...what are the terms of your offer?" She asked.

------- Infirmary -----

The Six Claws were forced to go back to their cells despite protest but Officer Vanguard ensures them that Denji will be alright and she will escort him back to the holding area once he is recovered and well.

In the meantime, Officer Vanguard tells two guards to monitor the Six Claws while she stays with Denji.

Officer Vanguard is still active and on guard. "Ink."

The sound of her name makes her look up to her dear friend, Doctor Alexandria aka Ophelia Alexandria. She is part of the hospital run by Yosano Akiko. She is assigned to work there with a partner named Hex who is attending to the patients at the ward.

"Denji? How is he?"

"Lost some blood but the blood you gave him helped him a lot to heal most of the serious injuries and he has become stabilized." Ophelia smiles, "Just a mere concussion given....the kick from Kali from some unprovoked reason." Ophelia sweatdropped a little. "He will wake up shortly."

"And for Jinx?" She knows that she was brought here by Itadori and his friends, his charge. Plus, they managed to tie one of the Katana Man's friends up. That Snake girl.

"Yes, Jinx! Tired but she sustained some injuries like bruises and bone fractures but she will be fine." Said Ophelia. Itadori and his friends were escorted back to their cells. She did hear Itadori to tell Jinx to get better so it was nice of him to help her out!

"That said, I must get back to other patients," Ophelia spoke. Ink nods, "Got it. Thanks Ophelia." She said. Ophelia nods with a smile and goes back to help Hex in treating the patients.

"Ughhh..."

Ink blinks to see Denji waking up. "Denji. You're awake." Ink smiles, happy to see him awake.

"Officer Vanguard. What happened?" Denji asked. Ink wasn't sure what to say, "Well...Kali kinda knocked you out because she overacted about something." Ink sweatdropped. Denji sighs. "Okay...so why are you here?" "Just to see that you're alright." Ink said. Denji hums, "I get that...but why do it?"

"Because it's my job."

"No...not that. Why? I get that it's your job but most people don't put their lives on the line for someone they don't know or hell...for people who do bad things. I mean...I killed a mafia and someone's family member." He said. "Even if it's part of the job. Most people will not butt in and just let people take me."

"That wasn't..."

"Yeah! I know. But you shouldn't have to do that. It's my problem." Denji grumbled. "Nobody ask you to defend me..."

"Denji. I read your file. Not just your criminal background but other stuff." Ink said. "You worked for the mafia to pay off your debt due to your dad, right? I mean....the only choice you made is something that was given to you."

"Yeah...but that's not all. I killed my dad."

Ink widen her eyes.

"I mean...he was mad drunk and I killed him."

"Denji..."

"To be honest, I kinda deserved what's coming. I inherited his debt, sold a few of my organs and kill those devils for the yazuka to get the remains to sell to paid off my debt. And after all that, they killed us."

"Us?"

"I made a deal with devil. Pochita." Denji explained. "He was badly injured so we made a deal together that I help him, he helps me. So we defeated the devils." He said. "And then...one day...we got screwed over. Pochita gave his heart to me in order to save me so I can show him the dreams I was talking about." Denji laughs bitterly. "I try to do everything I want to do but I ended up screwing things up and that's how I got caught." He said. "So that's why...you don't need to defend me like that, Officer Vanguard." He said.

A short pause as Ink listened to him.

"Denji....if I can ask. do you want to go outside again to live out your dreams?" Ink asked. Denji grumbles, "Yeah but I'm stuck here."

"Then...what about I help you out?" Ink asked.

"Huh?! Who says you can help me?"

"I mean...this Pochita guy...he sounds like a nice dude. I think I get it. I have a devil like that. Vanity. He helped me become a demon so I can do whatever I want." She said. Denji widen his eyes at her. "To be honest...I kinda barely remember my parents. I lost them in a car crash caused by a drunk driver when I was around 12 or something..." Ink said. "I wasn't in a good foster home...I had to survive and along the way...I made a contract with Vanity through a demon contractor."

"After that...I don't remember much but I do remember going on doing things I want to do. So I kinda get it." Ink said. Denji became slient at this.

"So how about this? For helping me out back there, how about I be your sponsor. To be honest...you're not that bad of a guy." She said.

Denji stares at her in disbelief. "But-but...I'm a perv! And all care about is liking girls and all that."

"Yeah...but most of the time...you did save people from devils, right? You save me for no reason so that's enough." Ink said. "I think you like girls because you like them right?"

"Huh..yeah?!" Denji stared.

"So how about I give you a reward?"

"A-a reward?!" Denji's cheeks flushed red. What sort of a reward?! Does she mean?

Then Denji was pulled into her chest. "You said you like giving hugs, right? So how about this?" Ink asked making Denji flustered at this action. Eh? His head in her boobs. Denji's cheeks became red and he couldn't believe this. They're so soft and....so warm. It's really gentle too. Denji can't help but close his eyes at the feeling of being cared for. He felt his heart skipped a beat as he hums. Ink goes to pat his head.

"Is this fine?"

"Yeah...it's fine," Denji said genuinely. This feels really nice. So nice. He never thought Officer Vanguard would be so caring and nice. She is not just pretty and awesome. She's like...a person treating him like a human being for once. Not a dog or anything.

"Denji. Once you're eligible for parole. How about you stay with me so you can learn some stuff. It can be anything you want as long as it's not illegal. How about an artist since you like girls? Or....like a lumberjack or...um...rescuer." She asked.

"How about we have sex?" He blurts out.

"Say what?" Ink blinked

Denji widened his eyes at what he just said now. Oh shit. What the fuck did I just say?! I just feeling her boobs and now saying stupid shit!

"Shit! I mean...nothing! How about I think about it? I haven't graduated from high school so I need a GED to do that stuff. Um...can you escort me back to my cell, Officer Vanguard?" Denji quickly does damage control. "Please."

"Okay, sure! That's fine!" Ink smiles. "Let's get you food and take you back there. How is that sound?" She said, backing away from him.

"Sounds fine," Denji said with a nod.

And so the day ends with everyone back in their cell after being healed, the people responsible for the break-in namely Katana Man and Akane Sawatari were taken into custody, and Warden Kinie Ger accepted the offer of Ryomen Sukuna to help repair and update the infrastructure of the prison with new updates.

----- The next day ----

"Achoo!" Ink sneezes.

"Okay..time for roll call!" Ink sniffled. The Six Claws stared at Officer Vanguard awkwardly. Uhhh...

"I...A-A-Atsushi...Nakajima!" Ink sniffled as she is wearing a mask as her eyes became droopy. Atsushi answers, "Here." Atsushi looks concerned.

"D-denji...Hayakawa."

"Here?" Denji said, blinking. What's wrong? Officer Vanguard was fine several minutes ago. She sneezes at her paper before wiping her nose.

Ink sniffs, "Right...uh...Katsuki Bakugo...?"

"Yeah here! Hey damn guard! What's wrong with you?" Bakugo asked. Ink chuckles, "Oh! Well...while I was fighting Katana Man and the people responsible in the rain. I kinda catch a cold. Oops." Ink laughs.

The Six Claws stared at her in disbelief. This is the same person who summoned a demonic greatsword and helped defeat Katana Man. And now she's here suffering from a cold while taking roll call. She sniffs. "So much mucus..."

"SO WHY THE HELL ARE YOU HERE??? TAKE A SICK DAY, YOU DAMN STUPID GUARD!" Bakugo yelled at her while Midoriya can't help but chuckle a little at this.

"But I got work..." She whined.

"I don't think that's good for your health, Officer Vanguard." Ren points out, pushing his glasses while Rin sighs. "Yeah....you can't be working if you're sick. That's....dumb." Especially in a place like this!

Denji nods, "Yeah. Take a break. Don't push yourself, Officer Vanguard. How about I take you to the infirmary..." Everyone in the Six Claws paused at what Denji said.

"Hmmmm..." Ink looks conflicted. "Okay..." Ink sighs. "Please take me to the infirmary, Denji." She said as Denji went to help her while wrapping an arm around his arm. Both go to the infirmary.

"Did something happen to Denji while he was in the infirmary?" Atsushi asked. Rin shrugs. "Got no idea..probably need an excuse to stay with Vanguard for some reason."

Midoriya hums. Looks like things are getting more interesting.

----

To be continued...

#{ mature content }#older Ink #Officer;Au #YoungAdult;AU #An Officer's Corruption; drabble series #drabble;#drabbletime #drabble #vaninkthedragon #An Officer's Corruption: Sinful trials of the six claws;rp #older ocs #an officer's corruption

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flightlessribbons · 6 months

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POKEVERSE SUMMIT PROLOGUE

Note: I'll write the entire summit pic (Have been working on and off on it between school) and will eventually post the whole thing on Ao3! For the time being now though, while it's still mostly a draft, I just wanted to post the prologue! I love making scenes with all the groups all under one roof and fleshing out relationships that may not have any reason to interact otherwise!

Prologue

The doors creaked to a close as the last name on the list entered the building, Silver's eyes wandering critically about the smaller than expected attendance. The elite four member scoffed at the high ceilings of the wide entrance room of the Opelucid city mansion that held the long awaited summit.

“Seems a bit overkill for a group with the same numbers as big as a school classroom.”

Jabbing her elbow deep into his side, Kris ignored her friend’s hiss in favor of glaring at him. “You complained on the way here about the possibility that the venue was too small, and now it's too big? Get over yourself!” He muttered a passive aggressive apology, rubbing his sore side while taking stock of his surroundings again.

The small audience milled about in the large front room, the hum of conversation diluted among the large space. With everybody pushed as far into the corners as they could, it surely looked less like an exclusive invite only event and more like a reluctant workplace party.

Silver recognized some of them, of course- The Kanto attendants were next to their own little group. Gold has been animatedly retelling a story to Red and Blue- the dark haired man hanging on to the tale with unrivaled interest, while the lighter haired man nodded politely along. Leaf and Lyra had been giggling for the last ten minutes, pointing at the way the clock’s second hand moved funny. Kris offhandedly wondered aloud if a ghost pokemon had anything to do with it.

Though the majority of guests he failed to recognize. A group from Sinnoh draped in clothes much too warm for the cooler Unova region in the spring, talked quietly, other than a blonde man and a bespectacled woman making jabs at each other about personal financial debt.

While he took some grace at the fact they were across the room so he didn't have to crane his head to even glance at them- the group from Galar was too tall for Silver's liking. On top of their intimidating heights, one girl was dressed in an outfit ripped straight from a fairytale, laughing far too loudly, her arms waving wildly in her large sleeves. Silver shook his head at the noise.

The trio from Hoenn was alarmingly peaceful in the corner by the fireplace. The lanky professor took up less space than his shorter wife, though he seemed at ease at the fact. She commanded a strong presence even as she simply joked with her green haired friend who only clicked his tongue at her tone with an unserious grin.

The Unovans were the largest in size, though Silver would argue the most boring. Save perhaps the girl on the side who dressed in pastels and loud shapes and her companion with a scowl and a mess of hair on his head, Silver glazed over the group easily.

He recognized one face in the rambunctious group from Alola, though he dared not greet his former student at the moment. Not while his company was the reason for most of the noise in the room as they cheered at a rotom phone for one reason or another.

“Hello everyone! Welcome to PROJECT PRYGON! "PRYGON" being a stylized variant of PPR-GON: the "Pokemon Preservation and Restoration- Group Organized Network!”

Silver's attention was caught at the wordy acronym, his head swiveling to his right. Just in front of the large door to the north wall, a blue haired woman stood excitedly, her hands clapped together. Her dark cheeks flushed with adrenaline as she continued with a wide smile, “Thank you for coming! I know almost all of you had traveled far at our invitation, and I wanna emphasize how much it means to us that you've managed to be here today!

“That said!” she grabbed a stack of papers from a service tray behind her, “Would you each please grab a form and fill it out before we proceed with today's activities?”

…

“Why do I need to have an opinion on the state of berries in my local ecosystem?” Silver mumbled to himself, paper gripped frustratingly in his crossed arms. He stood in the line to turn in his form, though a complication in the front caused him to stand stagnant for a moment. Separated from his friends who took longer to fill it out, the redhead jumped as a voice quipped behind him.

“Perhaps that question wasn't for you, then.”

Turning to see who spoke, a brown eyed young man peered straight at him. Silver felt uneasy under his gaze.

“Pardon?”

“Perhaps that question wasn't meant for you.” The brown haired man repeated, unwavering. He glanced at Silver's crumpled paper. “I'm guessing you didn't care much about naming your favorite pokémon historical event either?”

The redhead narrowed his eyes at the man, “Can't say that I did.”

“Questioning the theory of song in pokémon handling and evolution?”

“Not my expertise.”

A grin broke out on the man's face, like he'd made progress in a puzzle. “I see. You were able to answer the questions about pokemon battling, right? About using the right items and such?”

“Maybe I did- why do you care?”

The stranger's back straightened, a hand coming up to adjust the brim of his hat. He seemed to be calculating at a mile a minute, analyzing every spoken and unspoken word with an eerily keen eye. His smile returned to his face, smaller but more accomplished and content.

It unnerved the older man.

“All to know which questions are right for each person. Everyone here's got their own favorites.”

His eyes flickered away for a second before returning, his voice lighthearted as he spoke. “You’re up.”

The redhead ripped himself away from the odd conversation, walking forward to hand his paper to the service attendant. Looping back to his friends, he didn't dare spare a glance to the weird stranger. His discontented frown only softened when Lyra sat next to him, her cheeks rosy. She squealed and patted at Silver’s leg, “I wasn't expecting that at all! What a fun questionnaire!”

He stared blankly at his girlfriend, “What about that was fun to you?”

The brunette scoffed at him, as if he'd told a bad joke, “Number 14 was about the importance of breeding patterns and egg groups! No one ever asks about that- and as one grandchild of a daycare couple, it means a lot to see it up there! Everything important is usually about battling- so you never have a problem being seen.” Lyra pouted a bit, and settled more into her chair, letting her words sink into the man beside her.

“The questions…not for me.”

Sparing a look across the room, he found the odd young man in the Unova group, unseeming and relaxed in the way he carried himself. For someone so nonchalant, Silver couldn't picture him as the same person behind him in line.

At least not until Leaf had come up and pointed at the odd man minutes later with pride, “Y’know, that's my nephew! Isn't he so tall now?”

Looking at his brunette friend, so well known for her exuberant personality, and a little less well known for her scarily critical mind and instincts, Silver only sighed in full understanding.

“I can really see the family resemblance.”

#POKEVERSE FIC #ribbonrambles #ribbonwrites #pokeverse 108

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racfoam · 2 years

Text

Professor Gaunt Part 5(?) Snippet

“Get up,” commanded Gaunt.

It was like an electrical surge jolted through Harry’s body. Everyone jumped off their seats. There was something about Gaunt's delivery of those two words that made it very clear he wouldn't tolerate dallying.

“Pair up with the person next to you,” said Gaunt.

Harry was sitting beside Hermione, so it was no riddle who she was going to be paired up with. Ron went with Seamus, Neville with Dean. Every pair separated to walk to the opposite side of the classroom with the others, leaving ten feet gaps in between each other.

“We’re going to be reviewing the Disarming Charm,” said Gaunt, settling beside his desk, looking at them all coldly, the snake hanging off his shoulder like some horrible travesty of an oversized scarf; he reached out and petted the giant snake on its head. “I suspect you all know the incantation and the wand movement. First to disarm will be the ones on left side. Then the right. Disarm only. Don’t blast your partner, or I will take points from your House, regardless of your reasoning. You should already be self-aware of how much magic to channel into a spell for the wanted results.”

“Hear that, Harry?” asked Ron, leaning over to whisper to her, “Go easy on Hermione. No blasting.”

“Anything you'd like to share with the class, Mr Weasley?”

Ron gulped. He looked ready to faint. Harry didn’t blame him. Gaunt, despite his slim frame, was taller than Ron (and Ron was the tallest in their year) and his gaze was a pitch, dark black. In short, he did not look like someone anyone would want to cross.

Harry put on a big smile, aiming it at the tall, dark-haired wizard. “Ron was just telling me not to blast Hermione into the wall, sir. I’m infamous for blasting people away.”

Everyone chuckled and snickered.

Gaunt smirked. “I'm sure you are, Miss Potter. Get on with it.”

There were a few nervous shifts. Hermione raised her wand along with the others on the left. Harry and the others on the right raised their wands, too, to give their partners a clear target.

#snippets

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fantasyinallforms · 1 year

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Okay you HAVE to do “First thing you should know…it was an accident.”

The last prompt of the March Madness Fotfics event! Thank you, @sunnyrosewritesstuff! It's fitting that the last prompt I do for this event is the one I went a little crazy with.

Also, find this and my other work on A03! https://archiveofourown.org/works/46128451/chapters/116124325

bagginshield {G} 3217 words

Title: Happy Accidents; part 1

There were many things you could say about Dis Durin. Chief among them was that she loved her boys with her entire being. She especially loved spoiling them whenever the occasion arrived, and this week there was an occasion. It was Fili and Kili’s 11th birthday, and Dis had a small catalog in front of her filled with places she could take them. The boys sat on either side of her, eagerly throwing their opinions into the mix.

“Thorin! What do you think of this one?” Dis called to him as he walked inside from his shop. Thorin peered over the table to read what she was pointing at.

“Plant and sip? Isn't that where you build terrariums and sip on wine? You might be about ten years too early for that one, sis.”

“They have non-alcoholic parties.” Dis rolled her eyes. “What do you think, boys? You get to build a terrarium for a cactus or succulent.” Yells of excitement flooded the house for the next few moments as Dis got a clear answer to her inquiry.

“Alright, we’re going next Saturday at 2pm. Thorin, make sure you’re free.” Dis commanded matter of factly. Thorin put down the cup of water he was drinking to cock an eye at his sister.

“What makes you think I’m going? I have a black thumb. I’m good at building things, not growing them.”

“It’s not about being good at it! The boys want to spend more time with you. Do it for them” As if on queue Fili and Kili abandoned their excited conversation about cacti and rushed Thorin’s legs.

“Please, uncle! Please, please, please! It’s really hard to kill a cactus!” The boys refused to stop hopping around his legs until he eventually gave in.

“Fine! I’ll go!” Thorin shouted, running his hands through his hair in defeat. He glared and rolled his eyes at the pleased self-satisfied smile Dis was now sporting.

A week later, he was pulling up to a barn-style building with a wooden sign hanging from it called ��The Sipping Plant. To the right of the building was a long greenhouse. It was a locally owned place, not a chain. That actually made Thorin a little happier. Being a small business owner himself, he understood the struggle. He waited for Dis to arrive, and they all walked in together. The inside had a distinctive boho vibe to it. The front seemed to be a store. There were shelves lined with pots, trinkets, and various plants. As well as some handcrafted wood-based items like birdhouses and pre-made planter kits. An older man wearing overalls and gardening gloves greeted them just inside.

“You must be the Durins! Go ahead and get settled in the back party room, and I’ll direct your guests through as they come in. You’re expecting 14 people total, correct?” The man asked.

“Yes, 14. Are you the owner?” Dis asked.

“Me? No, no. I just work here. Name is Hamfast Gamgee, but that's a mouthful, so you can call me Gaffer. Owner is Bilbo, and he’ll be leading the terrarium building” Gaffer led them to the back room. Beds of plants lined walls, and wide tables with matching wooden benches sat in neat rows facing another table on a raised platform at the front of the room. The room had been decked out in balloons and ribbons, and the chalkboard at the front read ‘Happy birthday, Fili and Kili!’ in pretty loopy handwriting. Strung between 2 very tall cacti was a banner that said ‘WELCOME.’

Dis sat them all at the front middle table, and they waited. Soon the room was filled with Fili and Kili’s friends and a few parents. The room was a buzz with voices, and Thorin was wondering how this mystery instructor was going to get everyone to quiet down. Just as he thought that, the lights in the room turned off, then turned back on again. The noise died down as everyone looked toward the door. In walked a short man (thought that was relative to Thorin, who was 6’6ft) with curly honey-brown hair. He wore jeans and a ruffled yellow shirt covered by a green gardening apron with large front pockets. He had a round face, an adorable button nose, and his ears were just slightly pointed. His mouth fell open as he watched the man walk across the room and take his position behind the table.

He stopped in front of the chalkboard and surveyed the room before addressing everyone in a pleasant tenor voice. Perhaps it was wishful thinking, but he could sware the man's eyes lingered on him just a tad longer than the others in the room.

“Welcome! My name is Bilbo. Raise your hand if it’s your first time here.” most of the room raised their hands. “Wonderful, thank you for being here. I know this is in celebration of two very special birthdays. So let's start with making sure our birthday boys stand out!” He approached the table they were sitting at and knelt down. “Looks like I have two queen bees today” He handed them a pair of bee antennas. The boys took them hastily and put them on their heads.

“But wait! We’re not the queen! Mama would be the queen! Can we be prince bees?” Kili asked excitedly. Bilbo looked at Dis, who seemed a little flustered but gave a small nod. He returned to the table, got another pair of antennas, and handed them over.

“Prince bees and their mom, the queen bee it is. But what about your Dad?” Thorin paled immediately

“I’m their uncle, not their dad.” Thorin quickly rushed to say. He really wanted this man to know that he was very much not taken. Bilbo nodded and returned to the front. He instructed everyone to get a drink from the coolers in the corners of the room and walked them through the different materials they would be working with. They each chose a pot and two succulents from the plant beds Bilbo pointed to. When they sat back down, Bilbo laid out rocks, a bucket of soil, and some decorations at each table. The rest of what Bilbo said was lost to him. Enchanted, he watched small, nimble hands dirty themselves in the soil and expertly transplant the succulent from the temporary pot it was in into the more permanent one in front of him. How could a person be this cute?

“Alright, now it’s your turn. I’ll walk around if anyone needs any help.” Bilbo announced. Shit. He hadn't been paying attention to the actual words the man had been saying. He grabbed the little trowel in front of him and layered a big scoop into his pot. Before he could start taking the nursery pot off his succulent, Bilbo picked up his pot and dumped out the soil.

“It looks like you might have missed a step. Rocks first for drainage, then soil.” Thorin failed to keep the blush off his face as he corrected his mistake. Eventually, they made it to the final decoration stage. They were instructed to decorate their pots and soil however they wanted. The boys seemed to be having a blast decorating theirs with little plastic dinosaurs and spaceships. The artist in Thorin liked this part a lot himself, although he was going for a less busy aesthetic than his nephews. He was deep in concentration when he heard a stool pull up beside him. Sitting on the stool, Bilbo was at eye level with him. From a distance had thought the man had brown or maybe even dark blue eyes, but now that he had a good look at his face, he saw that his eyes were, in fact, a deep shade of green. Deeper than emerald but far more mesmerizing.

“That looks amazing! Most of my adult clients are usually pretty tipsy by this point in the process. Is that a crow?” Bilbo asked enthusiastically.

“It’s a Raven. I’ve always really liked ravens.” Thorin replied sheepishly.

“As you should! They’re smart, beautiful birds and more helpful in a garden than you would think. It's very detailed. I wish I could draw half as well as you.” Bilbo giggled, and Thorin couldn't help but smile at the sound of it. He felt like a kid that got the attention of his crush, and he didn't want to lose it.”

“I’m good with my hands!.... I mean, it’s my profession using my hands… Building things! I build things. Mostly out of metal but also wood. So you could say I have a lot of practice being creative.” He wanted to bury his head in his hands in embarrassment. Luckily he was rescued from his torment by another table asking for help.

“You should get his number after this!” Dis hissed in his ear, causing him to jump. Thorin shot her a slightly incredulous look. “I’ve known you my entire life. I can tell when you get heart eyes for someone, and you practically ogled the man on his way into the room.”

“Chances are he’s not even gay!” Thorin hissed back

“I forgot your gaydar is hopelessly broken. There are two pride flags in this room, Thorin. Which means if he’s not gay, which I would bet money he is, he at least won't take offense to the question.” Thorin looked around the room to find the flags he clearly missed. One was sitting right on the desk in front of him, nestled in a jar of sharpies. The other took him longer to find, and it wasn't until he looked back at Bllbo that he saw the flag pinned clear as day to his apron. Well, it wasn't sure proof, but it definitely boded well.

It had been a few years since he had tried his hand at the dating pool. He valued his space and his solitude and wasn't willing to give that up for just anyone. One look at Bilbo's, though, and he was considering it. Surely he was being silly. He had met this man an hour ago, but something about him radiated like sunshine through thunderclouds, and it made Thorin want to try.

The formal part of the party ended, and the room was left to them for cake-cutting and unwrapping gifts. The boys were over the moon with all of it. Thorin was particularly happy with their reactions to the wooden swords he made and painted for them. Soon after the last package was unwrapped, guests started filtering out until, finally, it was just Dis, the boys, and himself. He took the antennas off the boy's heads and whispered to his sister.

“You get the boys home. I’m going to hang back for a moment.” Dis’s face lit up, and she pushed his nephews out of the door, sparing him a wink before she left. He wrestled his nerves and turned back towards the party room. Bilbo was wiping down the chalkboard and humming an unfamiliar tune. In all his nervousness, Thorin's approach set off an unfortunate chain of events. He went to step onto the raised platform and underestimated the ledge causing him to trip. In an attempt to break his fall, he absent-mindedly grabbed the saguaro cactus standing to the side of the chalkboard. This caused him to jump back in a jolt of pain, again, forgetting the ledge. Thorin fell backward off the raised platform and crashed into a table. The table's legs snapped under the weight of the impact, sending it and him to the floor with a bang.

His head swam for a moment, and there was a light ringing in his ears as the world came back into focus. It was a very pleasant focus as Bilbo's face was now inches from his.

“Mr. Durin, are you ok! Gaffer, help me get him up, then go grab the first aid kit!” Thorin felt his body get pulled into a sitting position, and finally, he fully regained his senses.

“First thing you should know…it was an accident. Second thing is that I will definitely make you a new table,” Thorin mumbled, clutching his head. He winced when he realized one of his hands was covered in cactus spines.

“I’m not worried about the table! Do you need me to call an ambulance?” Bilbo fretted. He was kneeling on the floor in front of Thorin, one hand supporting his back and the other resting on his chest.

“No, no, I’m sturdier than I look. I might need help getting these spines out of my hand, though.”

“Yes, I can help with that. Here lean on me, and I can help you up.” Bilbo braced himself so that Thorin could lean on him instead of his injured hand.

“No offense. Are you sure you can help me up? I’m twice your size.”

“I’m stronger than I look, but to be safe, make sure you lean into your other hand.” It was a little bit of a struggle, but Bilbo was able to help him stand up and get seated on a proper bench. A short time later, Gaffer came running back in with a first aid kit in hand. Bilbo took it and pulled a chair to him so close that their knees interlocked. He held out his hand, motioning for Thorin to hand his over. When he did, Bilbo took it in a firm but gentle grasp.

“I am so sorry, but this next part will sting a lot, and the pain will likely ache the more spines I take out. Are you sure you wouldn't rather have urgent care do it?” Bilbo met his eyes with a worried expression. Thorin put his hand on Bilbo's knee.

“No, I’m fine. Like I said, I’m sturdy.” Thorin enjoyed the little blush that crossed Bilbo's face at the casual touch, but he retracted his hand, not wanting to overstep. Bilbo started plucking the spines out in silence. He wasn't wrong; the more spines came out, the worse it hurt. Sensing Thorin’s discomfort, Bilbo tried to strike up a casual conversation.

“So, what were you on your way to ask me before all of this happened?” Bilbo asked, still concentrating on his hand.

“I was returning the antennas, and I was going to say thank you. The boys had a lot of fun.” He winced as the last of the spines came out. “Is that all of them?” Thorin asked

“No, I have to get the fine hairs out next, then clean it. This next part won't hurt as bad, but it will feel weird. Bilbo pulled out a little jar of glue and coated Thorin’s hand in it, then placed a few gauze pads over it. “The glue will dry and pull the little spines out. So were you just coming to return the antennas, or did you want to ask me something…else?” Thorin’s head snapped up to look a the bashful smile spreading across Bilbo’s face.

“Well, I should probably ask for your number. You know, just in case I decide to put my hand through another cactus. You do definitely seem to know what you’re doing.” Thorin tried to flash a cheesy grin, hoping his attempt at being smooth wasn't as horrible as it sounded in his head. To his delight, Bilbo started laughing.

“I’ve had a lot of practice bandaging accidental cacti wounds. I’ve never had someone break a table, however, so I will get to add that to my list of firsts.” Bilbo looked him right in the eyes with a sweet smile and ripped the glue-soaked gauze off his hand in one clean motion. Thorin wrenched his hand back in a yelp of pain.

“You said that wasn't going to hurt as much!” Thorin grumbled, rubbing his hand

“I lied, sorry! I needed you to not tense your hand. I’m sure it feels much better now. I just need to clean it with some peroxide, and we’re all done.” Bilbo gingerly wiped his hand down. When he was done, he gave the back of his hand a little pat and got up. Thorin was sad to see him move away. He was also sad to realize that Bilbo had never actually given him his number. Thorin pulled the car keys out of his pocket and scratched behind his head in a nervous gesture.

“I appreciate the help, and again, I’ll make sure you get another table. I guess I should probably head out.” He started to turn around for the door when Bilbo called him back.

“Wait! You just crashed into a table; there is no way you should drive home! Y-you could have a concussion or… something. Let me drive your car home, and Gaffer can follow behind us to take me back.” Thorin was not about to question getting to spend a little more time with this cactus-loving gardener.

“I live about 30 minutes away so as long as you're sure. My truck is a stick shift. Is that going to be an issue?”

“Not at all! I love driving stick!” Bilbo seemed oblivious to his double entendre, then turned a wonderful shade of scarlet. “I mean, I drive stick all the time! Wait, no I… just give me the keys….” Bilbo swiped the keys from his hand and quickly walked out the door, not making eye contact. Thorin stared after him with a lopsided grin and fond eyes. He had known Bilbo for all of two and a half hours, and he already wanted to kiss the man silly.

The car ride was comfortable. They listened to a few songs off their playlists and then swapped stories about their jobs and hobbies. All too soon, they pulled up to Thorin’s house.

“Wow! Your house is way nicer than I thought it would be! Not that I thought it would look bad or anything! It just doesn't match up to the aesthetic I thought you would keep.” Bilbo put the car in park and stepped out. Thorin did the same. He walked around to the side of the car Bilbo was standing on to continue the conversation.

“That’s because my sister picked the house. Most of what makes me, me is in a workshop around the back. You should see it sometime. I know you do projects of your own I think you’d like it.” Thorin hung the second bid for more time together out in the open, hoping Bilbo would take it.

“I think I’d like that,” Bilbo replied, blushing. Thorin held his breath as those deep green eyes looked through lases up at him. Bilbo stood comfortably in the shadow of his broad frame and heaven above; he looked like he was meant to fit there. The air hung heavy for a moment before Bilbo rolled up onto his tiptoes and planted a chaste kiss on Thorin’s lips. “I have to go but… you should call me!” He felt him slip something into the breast pocket of his flannel shirt, then turn and walk away. He stared in shock as he watched Bilbo’s pleasant form disappear into a yellow Volkswagen. When he checked his pocket a moment later, it was a business card for The Sipping Plant with a heart drawn around where Bilbo’s number was.

#bagginshield #thilbo #bilbo x thorin #the hobbit #fotfics #FIAF(me)fics #fanfiction

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