#not so many empty spaces of time. they get to feel closer to the audience? i mean it accentuates tetsuo's conflic over kaneda etc

[cacaitos]

i do think the team working in the adaptation did a great job unironically.

[that1fangirrl]

Dancer!Reader Gets Hurt

CW:kinda angsty, some swearing, blind joke, she/her pronouns, kinda scary(idk tbh)

A/N: You guys voted, so here I am delivering. Hope you guys enjoy it as much as I did writing it. I feel like Jane Villanueva when I write lol. K bye<3

When you and Matt first met, he made it his mission to protect you at all cost. Whether that be from creepy strangers, the frat boys on campus, or the scary mean girls in your dance class. You had told Matt many horror stories about the “bitches” in your class. They hated you since day one. Something about you being Miss Flynn’s favorite student even though you joined the class later than everyone else. And being the sweet boyfriend he is, he agreed with you. 

During a particular week, Miss Flynn had called out sick with the flu, but encouraged the class to continue using the studio as needed.

You guys were gearing up for a new spring showcase coming up in the next few weeks. You were especially ecstatic about your small classical part in the show. It would be your first time dancing solo. And hopefully the requitors in the audience would ask you to come and dance with them once you graduated. All nerves were out in the open. Most of the girls were super proud of you, knowing it’s a tough position to be in, but knew you could handle it and were definitely gonna kill it. 

Sydney and Madison thought it was stupid. “That bitch came here in sophomore year and thinks she can just kiss ass to the top. I bet she’s sleeping with the choreographer or something.” It was laughable how the two older girls always thought you had to be sleeping with somebody in the arts department to get your solo. Especially because everyone knew you were so obviously dating the sweet blind law student who always sat in the corner of the studio waiting to walk you back to your dorm.

“Yeah. She’s probably cheating on that blind guy. He wouldn’t even be able to see it coming. Poor guy, he’d be better off with someone like me.” Little did they know, Matt was extremely aware of their weird feelings. The two of them would constantly ask him random questions and be in his personal space. As if you weren't a few feet away, practicing with Miss Flynn in the same room. He always chose to just brush them off and go back to whatever it was he was doing before. 

Today was no different. Matt knew your nerves were off the charts, so he volunteered to stay with you the next few days while you practiced extra hours. Unfortunately today, he had been forced to help Foggy study for their upcoming test that was stressing him to hair loss. He sent you a sweet “Sorry about tonight, again. I promise to make it up to you as soon as I can, Rosie. ‘Sad face emoji’ ‘heart emoji’” He was so darn adorable. How could you be mad at him when he acts so sweet? 

Practice went great tonight. You had been there for almost 2 hours working with some of the other girls, too. When it was time to go, you decided to hit up the locker rooms to freshen up before going to your dorm. Thankfully, the room was still clean and empty.

The cool water on your muscles felt like absolute heaven on Earth. Your hands gilded across your body slowly and thoughtfully, massaging every area that had been giving you trouble. Once you were done, you wrapped a towel around yourself and walked back to the locker area. The sound of the door opening and closing took you out of your short daze. “Hello?” You craned your neck around the corner when there was no response. You continued drying off and clothing yourself; taking a seat on the bench. Another loud noise echoed off the walls. This time, you stood up grabbing your things and shoving them in your bag as quickly as possible. Trying your best to be quiet, you headed for the door.

Going down each aisle of lockers, no one was seen. You continued closer to the door, grabbing your phone and earbuds as you reached it. Putting one in and dialing your boyfriend’s number, you stayed cautious. Matt had finally picked up the phone with a cheerful “hello.” “Hey Matty. I’m on my way to your dorm. I think someone’s following me.” He perked up on the other side of the phone, immediately hushing a confused Foggy. “Are you okay? Where are you? I’ll meet you there.” You shook your head, walking down the long hallway. “Um. Arts building by the new locker rooms. The ones on the higher floors.”

You took a quick breath before turning around. Nothing. “I’m really scared, Matty. It’s so fucking dark and quiet over here. I heard someone come into the room, but I couldn’t see anyone.” Matt starts haphazardly putting his shoes on, nerves spiking with yours. “Okay. I’m on my way. Just stay on the phone okay. Foggy and I are coming to get you.”

Another loud bang had you quickening your pace. You started to speed up closer to the stairs, holding your phone and bag close to your body. “Okay. Just hurry cause I think they- ahhhh.” “Y/n. Hello? Y/n”

A/N: Did I spook you guys? Are you guys mad at the cliffhanger? Are you biting your nails off? Well don't! Cause I did write a part 2 that you will be getting soon. hehehehe I deadass was writing this shit like I was A from Pretty Little Liars. Like I literally was giggling my ass off so hard. But I was also low-key scared cause I always put myself in my reader's shoes in my mind(if that makes sense), so I literally was paranoid as hell. Anyways, tell me your guys' thoughts. I hope you liked it

[37q]

a conch's voice

kinda crazy... every time i want to do something, im like, would that have killed tyler? i wanted to vagueblog abt something just now but i thought, wow, any traumatized individual could read this as a threat on their life.

skrrrt, strolling down my eerily straight and smooth memory lane.

grand scale i always struggled with my personal impression -- what some would consider a classic audhd fight to be "understood" -- on my social world. perfect transing conditions of course, but no trans person mediates their relationship with "viewability" the same.

2011-2015/16 i was Big blogging as some persona that was abt as "real" as "i" could get. so much tsongkhapa and deleuze and baudraillard and butler yet i was still invested in mapping out who i was and how i wanted to enact that. flying by the seat of her pants as an adolescent / young adult with more self awareness than she could use! after a few too many pints of spilled blood in trying to reconcile the authenticity of those two selves with the oversized feedback loop i dug myself into, i realized the precision was the problem for me.

im very gullible. specifically, when im not working conscientiously i easily lose sight of who i am, my goals, the whole shebang. memory things, dissociation things... for a long time basic low self esteem things. i would much ratherve been someone else, and its easy to type myself into cognitive tension with my past! queen behavior was to distort how i express my feelings for maximum positive engagement and tie their psychological merit to their discursive application in the field.

2016/17 is when my endeavors failure hit me though, and the hobbsons choice was imminent -- (a) aim for total accuracy, put your whole ass out their for it to be minced and composted, blur the lines between your sense of self and your social milieu or (b) disappear, evade semiotic capture, obfuscate the publicity of human connection. razor thin or ocean wide.

2013/14-2016, the size of my voice broadening my audience to unacquainted bad faith or irrational actors, hitting its apex when i was peak suicide risk. i got too tired of broadcasting distant vibrations from a bleeding shell, singing of a depth unfathomable to our context, a stranger to my own ears. i was being so honest, but that truth looked evil in stage lighting.

so 2017-18 i consolidated my digital footprint and pulled back on the accuracy of embodying and expressing my sense of self, concurrent with psychiatric ego death during institutionalized dual recovery programs. i couldnt even think or write directly for a long time after that... weird to say it outright like that but my meds help me be honest with myself. no creation, no outlet, and no intention, but a lot of tripping and falling.

2018-2021/22 i carried myself with a sincere love and detached interpersonal expertise that lent itself to elevated aphorism. connected when i could and wanted to, extended and sought out support, found peers and explored new ways of life. tried my best not to embody anything. left opinions as batter in my brains mixing bowl.

i dont know... this piece became harder to write the closer i got to the baggage of my current habits. and its still so fresh. nobody deserved any of this. i cant compose anymore

the obscuration was the problem this time. too much empty space to project into, and too much exhausted passivity to cut away the embers of delusion. blood, bruises, scars, mourning and grief... rampant suffering over expectations and misunderstandings...

i want to post about nothing. i want to spread my whimsy, and be misunderstood. i want people to connect my meaninglessness to their feelings, and i want them to feel good about their mundane invocation. i want to be furious, i want to be awe-inspired, i want to be giddy! i want to be vague!!!!!! i want to express myself, i want to play and sing, i want to write poetry and stories and essays and rants on my page without sending someone into a spiral about who they think i might be!!!!!!!!!!!! please let us both live!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[sun-e-chips]

My entree for the DCA Halloween writing contest on the DCAH2023 discord server

We were challenging to write under 1,000 words I think mine was exactly 1,000 haha.

——————————————————

It is … a small room.

I can’t really complain, compared to the local hotels and inns this Bed and Breakfast was by far the most reasonable.

The room even reminded me of a 1930’s haunted study. Every inch of the wall had Victorian furniture against it except for the space left empty for the window which overlooked the gravel parking lot.

It felt spooky in a comforting kind of way.

Setting my suitcase on the nightstand so I wouldn’t have to keep stepping over it, I began unpacking my supplies. After I laid out everything in a tired but organized manner I felt very satisfied with my preparedness for the ghost hunting this weekend.

By no means am I a professional, in fact I’m a straight up amateur. But this seasoned gig has turned into a rather fun hobby and excuse to visit some ghostly sites this time of year.

…

That night, I dreamed that there was a tapping against my window, when I got up to look closer at my visitor all I could make out was a faint shadow on the glass.

When I awoke I deduced that it was of course the rain that had passed through earlier this morning as I could still see the fresh droplets clinging against the window.

Nevertheless my night was perfectly ordinary and I had slept well enough.

My day was also fairly ordinary, I got dressed, checked out the local shops, and meandered around town until it came close to sunset. Then It took all of me to not run back to the Bed and Breakfast, where I grabbed my things and caught a trolley that would take me to what is now the resting place of Freddy’s Arcade and Daycare!

I’m coming along with a tour group tonight but tomorrow I made sure that I would get the place all to myself!

Thankfully the owner had no problem opening up the building for another day.

As long as I pay the overnight fee and check in with the watch-woman when I leave I’ll be in nobody's way.

“This rotten place doesn’t see many visitors” he said,

“For legal reasons we have to keep most of the original arcades and animatronics boxed and locked away. That’s why it’s functioning more as a warehouse than a haunted attraction.”

My group was a fairly pleasant one, though we didn’t catch much evidence or experience any anomalies. We had fun nonetheless.

The most memorable of our group, I think her name was Cerys, had experienced a paranormal encounter herself here last fall.

“It was just down that hallway by the storage doors that I felt a tug at my collar that thankfully released when my friends called back to me. Only lasted a second or two but it was undeniable and sent a violent shiver up my spine”

“Do you think the ghost was trying to reach out to you in private?”

“Maybe, but since then I try not to stray too far from the crowd here. If the ghost wishes to have an audience of one I rather not be the lucky volunteer”

I retired that night in hopes that tomorrow’s solo investigation would be more fruitful.

…

Now that I’m standing inside the arcade alone I can see why tourist numbers have dwindled. Without the clutter of games and other mechanical entertainment the rooms feel rather barren and lifeless. I make my way across the hallway to the daycare and don’t give much thought to the one or two ajar doors that centered the gallery.

The daycare also appears relatively bare, all that stands is a rusted play structure that probably doesn’t have long till it too is locked and stored away.

I managed to find a clean spot to sit and begin throwing out some questions into the dark void.

“Is there anyone here who would like to reach out to me”

“…”

“I have a few tools here that can help you to communicate with me, a spirit box, EMF reader, flashlight..”

(creak)

“Oh you can also answer my questions with taps, one tap for yes and two taps for no. would you prefer that”

“…”

“I’ll be staying in here for the night. Is that ok with you?”

(faint shuffling)

“Do you remember who you are?”

(creak)

“Do you like having visitors?”

“…”

“Are you human?”

(creak creak)

“Are you able to leave this place?”

(crea-)

An alarm in the building trips, scares the crap out of me and my visitation is cut short, damn.

I caught the watch-woman on my way out and she confirmed that the building will be closed off to evaluate the cause of the alarm. Great.

To bed it is.

Well that was clearly the wrong decision because something had followed me back.

I awoke with undefinable fear, aware that something was in the room with me.

My strained vision made out a crouched, lanky figure with red eyes, one of which was faintly covered by a fabric that draped over its head.

I felt Infected by my fears and a terror driven paralysis consumed me. I could not bring myself to close my eyes or even blink.

It surveyed me for a minute then averted its attention elsewhere.

Cracking and a patter noise could be heard downstairs.

The animatronic follows with constrained weight behind each step. It passed the door frame unnaturally, shifting its body up and forward when turning the corner as if to make itself look as large and foreboding as possible.

As I hear it walk down the stairway I make out a second pair of steps trailing up. Then heavy rustling. Then silence.

When my frozen terror had passed I made a run for my car.

If I hadn’t been in such a hurry to escape I might have noticed the string of oil along the stairs, the torn off hinges on the front door or the remains of a disemboweled automaton collapsed beside the building.

[denimbex1986]

'In the realm of cinematic brilliance, few actors possess the captivating range and depth that Cillian Murphy effortlessly embodies. With the release of Oppenheimer, it feels like a good time to reflect back on just some earlier brilliant Cillian Murphy roles, for those that might be unfamiliar with them. From the early days of a zombie-infested London to the cosmic depths of space, Murphy’s performances have etched themselves into the annals of film history. Join us as we delve into some of his most remarkable roles, each a testament to his artistry and ability to bring characters to life in ways that linger in the hearts and minds of audiences worldwide.

Jim – 28 Days Later (2002)

For many, this might be their first exposure to Cillian. If you love zombie movies they just don’t get much better than 28 Days Later. In my opinion, the movie is one of the absolute best films within that genre. After waking up in a hospital with no recollection of what’s happened, Jim (Cillian Murphy) starts to make his way through a ravaged London. Cillian Murphy’s introduction in 28 Days Later is unforgettable. The first thing most think of is Jim walking across an empty Westminster Bridge. it’s an impressive shot, considering that it was done for real. Backed by an outstanding soundtrack from John Murphy, and directed by Danny Boyle, Jim’s quest for survival is a savage one.

Tommy Shelby – Peaky Blinders (2013 – 2022)

Peaky Blinders shows us the criminal life of the Shelby family during the early 1900s. At the heart of it is Tommy Shelby (Cillian Murphy). Tommy is a very determined character intent on building a criminal enterprise. Tommy’s enterprise eventually, thanks to greed, expands outside of just his hometown of Birmingham. Tommy is ruthless and often puts his business before his family, which can be a really tough watch. Traumatized by his time in World War I, Tommy comes across as quite cut-throat, and relentless. Ironically his one weakness is his family.

Cillian constructively balances all of these heavy themes throughout the series. Told over six seasons, with a corker of a cast (Tom Hardy, Paul Anderson, Helen McCrory), Peaky Blinder is considered by many as Cillian’s finest acting role. I can believe that claim too as he’s had so much time to actually live and grow with the character. Like Hugh Jackman as Wolverine, it’s hard to imagine anyone else portraying Tommy Shelby. Peaky Blinders was created by Steven Knight,

Capa – Sunshine (2007)

Sure, Cillian Murphy has worked on a stack of movies with Christopher Nolan. After the success of 28 Days Later, Cillian once again teamed up with Danny Boyle, and this brings us to Sunshine. Once more backed by composer John Murphy, Sunshine is a claustrophobic trip towards the center of the sun. Why you ask? Well, the sun is dying. A team of astronauts packs a colossal bomb on their ship, the Icarus II. They do this in hopes of reigniting the sun back to its full strength and potential. Cillian does a superb job at keeping Capa grounded in the first act of the movie. Cillian the calm and concentrated character in the situation. However, the closer they get to the sun, the more Capa is horrifically tested. Capa is pushed to his limit, and Cillian captures that whole progression with ease. We are only “stardust” indeed…

Cillian has been featured in a diverse list of simply amazing projects, and these three outings are just the tip of the iceberg. From Inception, Batman Begins, Red Eye, and that project I haven’t named which you’re thinking of right now.

Cillian is having an impressive run, and after Oppenheimer, we can’t wait to see what he will do next...'

[themovieblogonline]

The Wonderful Career of Cillian Murphy!

In the realm of cinematic brilliance, few actors possess the captivating range and depth that Cillian Murphy effortlessly embodies. With the release of Oppenheimer, it feels like a good time to reflect back on just some earlier brilliant Cillian Murphy roles, for those that might be unfamiliar with them. From the early days of a zombie-infested London to the cosmic depths of space, Murphy's performances have etched themselves into the annals of film history. Join us as we delve into some of his most remarkable roles, each a testament to his artistry and ability to bring characters to life in ways that linger in the hearts and minds of audiences worldwide. Jim - 28 Days Later (2002) For many, this might be their first exposure to Cillian. If you love zombie movies they just don’t get much better than 28 Days Later. In my opinion, the movie is one of the absolute best films within that genre. After waking up in a hospital with no recollection of what’s happened, Jim (Cillian Murphy) starts to make his way through a ravaged London. Cillian Murphy's introduction in 28 Days Later is unforgettable. The first thing most think of is Jim walking across an empty Westminster Bridge. it’s an impressive shot, considering that it was done for real. Backed by an outstanding soundtrack from John Murphy, and directed by Danny Boyle, Jim’s quest for survival is a savage one. Tommy Shelby – Peaky Blinders (2013 – 2022) Peaky Blinders shows us the criminal life of the Shelby family during the early 1900s. At the heart of it is Tommy Shelby (Cillian Murphy). Tommy is a very determined character intent on building a criminal enterprise. Tommy's enterprise eventually, thanks to greed, expands outside of just his hometown of Birmingham. Tommy is ruthless and often puts his business before his family, which can be a really tough watch. Traumatized by his time in World War I, Tommy comes across as quite cut-throat, and relentless. Ironically his one weakness is his family. Cillian constructively balances all of these heavy themes throughout the series. Told over six seasons, with a corker of a cast (Tom Hardy, Paul Anderson, Helen McCrory), Peaky Blinder is considered by many as Cillian’s finest acting role.  I can believe that claim too as he's had so much time to actually live and grow with the character. Like Hugh Jackman as Wolverine, it’s hard to imagine anyone else portraying Tommy Shelby. Peaky Blinders was created by Steven Knight, Capa - Sunshine (2007) Sure, Cillian Murphy has worked on a stack of movies with Christopher Nolan. After the success of 28 Days Later, Cillian once again teamed up with Danny Boyle, and this brings us to Sunshine. Once more backed by composer John Murphy, Sunshine is a claustrophobic trip towards the center of the sun. Why you ask? Well, the sun is dying. A team of astronauts packs a colossal bomb on their ship, the Icarus II. They do this in hopes of reigniting the sun back to its full strength and potential. Cillian does a superb job at keeping Capa grounded in the first act of the movie. Cillian the calm and concentrated character in the situation. However, the closer they get to the sun, the more Capa is horrifically tested. Capa is pushed to his limit, and Cillian captures that whole progression with ease. We are only “stardust” indeed… Cillian has been featured in a diverse list of simply amazing projects, and these three outings are just the tip of the iceberg. From Inception, Batman Begins, Red Eye, and that project I haven’t named which you’re thinking of right now. Cillian is having an impressive run, and after Oppenheimer, we can’t wait to see what he will do next. So, what’s your favourite Cillian Murphy role? Read the full article

[charmixpower]

Hcs about the girls’ road trips? If they have those? Kinda similar to sleepovers?

Hi hi~! Cute ask 💕💕 two super cute asks back to back, love that 💞

Roadddddddd trippppp timeeeeeee!!!

This would literally only work if Stella/Tecna lost their ability to teleport, because then there's no need to have a road trip (less they can only teleport to places they've been too)

I've spoken about a road trip across the Magix Universe, but I'd imagine them all piled up in like the domestic version of a Hawk and going planet to planet

Maybe this could be set during a season that doesn't have us stuck on the same 7 planets

Globe trotting but make it ✨space✨

Obviously Tecna and Aisha are the main ones driving, and Stella is let no where near the steering wheel. Bloom, Flora, and Musa taking turns as well

I'm pretty sure these ships would have beds in them for shifts but they'd also wanna go to hotels to sleep in better beds. Stella has decided that she will accept nothing under 4 star

Obviously Musa has the road trip play list, and from my own experience being stuck in a car for multiple hours, these are invaluable

At least half of the girls are awake at any time to keep the current driver company with constant chatter, or karaoke in Musa's case (when they have to drive though the night lol)

Tecna would be living gps and always have the best spots to go up on her phone

I think Stella, Bloom, and Tecna would love tourist traps with their amazing sights and activities, while Musa, Flora, and Aisha would prefer seeing more local shops and areas and getting a true feel for the community

They probably get equal stops of both. I feel like Musa, Flora, and Stella would practically be having a food tour during this

Stella and Flora takes Tecna's list of places and excitedly drag the Winx around every stop

Bloom obviously breaks out all the classic road trip games only to realize that many of them don't work because their in the vast emptiness of space that is staggeringy beautiful but also really empty lol

I can see Flora getting everyone to listen to a audio book with her while she drives. This goes exactly as well as trying to get them all to watch a movie together, ie Musa, Stella, and Tecna won't shut up <3

They all hang out in the pilot area and probably make a sitting area in the middle of it instead of sitting in the chairs

Aisha and Musa lead everyone in stretches bc sitting for this long is bad for the legs lol

The Winx universe probably only hqs galaxies with life being closer to the center where the Dragon first created life, so the Winx aren't slogging though a trillion galaxies

"O! Can we stop there?" "Stella, we have a schedule" "Can we please pull over, I'm bored in here!" "Stella." "I'm not getting enough sun or moon! This is so horrible!" "STELLA!!!!!"

So many detours, so many detours

Tecna is going crazy, and the Winx wanna see EVERYTHING

There's so much thing fucking around with them. Aisha does a loopty-loop and the crowd (Bloom, Stella, and Musa) goes fucking wild

They probably visit their family during this...seeing Tecna and Flora parents :))) and maybe seeing Musa's dad again

I'm imagining they stop on one of the many many many many ect barren planets, and just shoot the shit all together in the middle of nowhere for a while. Maybe camp outside if the atmosphere is livable

Bloom spends so much time star gazing bc in space, Stella probably joins her to soak up some rays (being inside for a long time is not good for my girl Stel 🥺)

If their famous by this point I can see them posting videos to social media to like engage with their audience

Musa and Stella need to promote their music and fashion after all djwnsnwkwjw

If the teleportation thing is what you believe and you can only teleport to places you've been, replace all of the space craft mentions with the bus from s4. Road trip on a new planet. Much more camping

[druigswhores]

you’re alive in my head

summary: in which natasha no longer had to live in a world without you, there you were in her arms once again. but why can’t she remember your life before westview?

content warning: natasha romanoff x fem!reader, set after endgame, angst, mentions of death, trauma, their relationship ending on a bad note, trust issues & previous steve x nat, there is some hints to homophobia in this chapter :/ (WANDAVISION SPOILERS!)

note: sorry this chapter was late!! it’s 3.3k words and i got my friend to spell check and edit it, ty ashy ily <33

REQUESTS ARE OPEN! (lmk if you want anymore content like this!)

‘моя любовь’ = ‘my love’ in russian <3

‘принцесса’ = ‘princess’ (i used google translate so idk how accurate it is

SERIES MASTERLIST

PART THREE COMING SOON

Death.

It's a complicated thing; A theory.

Nobody knows what happens to you after you die. Nobody knows what happens to your soul after you die. We make things up to make ourselves feel better, and convince ourselves that our deceased loved ones are watching over us, all the while convincing others that our loved ones are in a better place now.

But in reality, those are just dreams dying to be true.

Natasha didn't know if you were dead or alive. She just knew your body turned into particles of dust, your soul disappeared along with the rest of you. She didn't want to believe that you were truly gone, so she spoke to you.

She spoke to you, thinking you were listening to her; believing you were listening to her and that you were still around.

It was almost as if she was speaking to your ghost, the mere presence of you that remained with her, the piece of you that was a part of her. It felt wrong being in the compound without you, she felt as though she was trapped; trapped with the many reminders of how she failed you. The walls were suffocating her. Every time she thought about what had happened it felt as though the rooms were becoming smaller. The large 'A' plastered around the compound taunting her, reminding her of what they lost. Of what she lost.

So she had to get away.

Natasha found herself taking trips to the beach, the one the two of you adored oh so much. She'd walk along the sand, the harsh wind blowing against her face. The air smelled of salt, and she'd take a deep breath in with a smile. She'd reminisce all the times the two of you managed to get away from the compound, how effortlessly gorgeous you'd look with the breeze blowing through your hair, your laughter sounding like a melody that Natasha now longed to hear once more.

If she stood really still, she could, once more, feel the warmth of your fingers dragging against her skin, gently tracing shapes onto her body. Her heart would ache whenever she'd turn to the side, finding that nobody was beside her.

She had to get used to living in a world without you.

"моя любовь..." She sighed, fumbling with a stone she'd picked up, before swinging her arm and throwing it into the rippling water. The temperature was dropping. Christmas coming closer and closer every day. Natasha wrapped her coat tighter around her body, staring at the waves in front of her, observing the way they'd hit the shore before pulling back into the ocean. In the distance, she could see boats, and although they were far away, she noticed how the water carried them; the movement of the ocean pushing the boat into the direction of the wind. "No sailors.." Natasha realized, her eyes following a lifeguard boat making its way to the empty boats, likely checking for any survivors.

Yet another reminder of how the Avengers had failed.

It's only been a couple of months since the battle yet the traces of you continued to fade away. The sweater that was once yours now clung to Natasha's body as she made her way back home.

She'd do anything to bring you back. She'd do anything to have you in her arms again, complaining about something you'd undoubtedly forget hours later. She missed the way you'd never share your snacks with anyone but her. The feeling of warmth that would blossom inside her when your eyes met in a crowded room. All the times when your knee would brush against hers during a meeting. She missed the way it felt to lay next to you. She missed forgetting the world with you.

God, she missed you so much.

But there she was. In the same room as you, years later, preparing breakfast. Her hair was coiled and pinned up, keeping it in place. Her dress fit her perfectly, the skirt swaying with her movements as she elegantly makes her way across the kitchen floor. Her every movement seemed like a performance; like she was the performer and you were the audience, watching her in awe. She was captivating in every possible way, her enchanting voice pulling you in like a siren.

"Good morning, honey! I've been up all morning making us a delightful breakfast." Natasha greeted you with a kiss on the cheek, her performance almost seeming comical. "Nat... it's just peanut butter and jelly sandwiches." You pointed out, glancing over your shared kitchen, seeing the mess that was made. Somehow milk spilled all over the counters, dripping onto the ground, you immediately recognized the smell of burnt toast that hung in the air as you continued looking around.

"Peanut butter and jelly is your favourite, remember?" Natasha reminded you. Your eyes widened at the realization, thanking her. You helped her bring the food to the table, making a note to yourself to tidy up the kitchen before the dinner at Wanda and Vision's that the two of you were invited for.

But you couldn't recall Wanda telling you about the dinner?

"Are you okay, моя любовь?" She placed her hand above yours on the counter. The two of you sat in front of each other, your half-eaten breakfast resting between the two of you. "Of course, why wouldn't I be? I'm with my best girl." You smiled softly at her, and though your words said one thing, Natasha could easily recognise the distant look on your face as you stared off into space, lost in your own thoughts. "What's going on in that pretty little head of yours принцесса?" She teased, squeezing your hand gently.

"What time are we supposed to be at Wanda's?" You asked her, snapping yourself out of the trance you were in. Natasha hesitated, eyebrows furrowed as she watched your every move. Something was bothering you. "We're going to Wanda's in the evening моя любовь, she asked us a while back if we could help out before the others arrived, remember?" Natasha stated as the two of you brought your plates to the sink, beginning to tidy up.

"I'm not sure how much help you'll be sweetheart." You teased, pointing at the mess that was created due to Natasha making breakfast. She feigned hurt in response, "Oh принцесса, you're breaking my heart!" She made her way around you, passing you the cutlery as you rinsed the plates. You chuckled softly at her playful behaviour. "I think we should stick with me making us breakfast so our kitchen doesn't end up getting flooded, wouldn't you agree?" You chuckled, as you made your way around the kitchen, the two of you tidying up the mess Natasha had created.

"If only we were a robot," Natasha sighed, wrapping her arms around you from behind. You leaned back into her, embracing the warmth which radiated from her body, "or had powers." This was a position you were so very used to. "If only," she responded playfully. You turn your head back at the grinning redhead, as she leaned in for a kiss, her eyes fluttering shut as she felt your lips meet.

"You know," Natasha started, "we do have some time to spare-" you then cut her off.

"I like the way you think, sweetheart," You smiled softly, turning in her arms before making your way to your shared bedroom. Natasha followed closely behind.

The two of you were dolled up, looking your best.

Your dress ended just below your knees, the skirt extenuating your hips; it swayed with every movement you made. The short sleeves of the dress looked as though they were about to fall off your shoulders. Natasha's dress, however, was much more slim fitting and hugged her hips perfectly before flowing down, much like a waterfall, making it harder to look at anything else but her.

"Do you think Wanda will get mad at us for arriving a bit later than expected?" You asked nervously, fumbling with your fingers as the two of you made your way down the path that led to Wanda and Vision's home. Natasha shuffled around balancing the tray of pastries you'd prepared in one hand while using her free hand to rub your back gently, comforting you, "I'm sure she won't mind, моя любовь," she reassured you. As you near the house you could hear mumbling from the inside; you heard three or more different voices.

"Is that- is Vision singing?" You asked worriedly, glancing at Natasha who was mirroring your reaction. She knocked on the door, and the singing inside had abruptly stopped. "Oh, that must be our other guests," You heard Vision exclaim, "perfect timing!" You could hear his footsteps gradually get closer. The door swung open and Vision gave a nervous smile, glancing down at the tray of food Natasha was holding before letting out a sigh of relief. He hugged the both of you before welcoming you into his home. He introduced you to Mr. Hart, Visions boss, and Mrs. Hart, his wife.

"Oh hello," Mrs. Hart greeted, "no need to be so formal tonight honey." she smiled at you, pushing away the hand you had extended for her to shake. Instead, she pulled you into a tight hug which quite honestly surprised you. You awkwardly pat the older yet noteably shorter woman on the back before pulling away to quickly greet her husband. He glanced at you and Natasha in confusion, opening his mouth to say something before getting interrupted. "Oh here, let me take that, Natasha. You stay here and I'll go get a plate to put these on." You glanced at everyone in the room, offering them a smile before making your way to the kitchen, Vision stopped you before you got to the door, extending his arm out.

"Thank you," he leaned down to whisper to you. You squeezed his arm in response. You weren't used to seeing Vision in this form. He looked human. You rushed into the kitchen, startling Wanda, "I've figured you needed help." You smiled sheepishly at her, placing the tray down onto the counter, taking in all the chaos that was going on in the kitchen. It reminded you of this morning.

"Well, this isn't the first chaotic kitchen I've walked into today," you teased, reaching out for a plate before neatly plating the pastries onto it. Wanda laughed nervously in response, as she flicked through the recipe cards, searching for the right one. You walked back into the living room, placing the plate onto the coffee table prompting Vision to jump up out of his seat and offer Mr. and Mrs. Hart an appetizer. Looking to Natasha, you gave her a wink before swiftly turning around, your dress swaying with your movements as you made your way back into the kitchen, missing the frown forming on Mr. Hart's face.

"Oh, what was I supposed to do next?" Wanda began rambling, "what was the main course again?"

Making your way to the recipe cards floating in the air you attempted to help her find the card with the right recipe, steak. You could hear Vision playing a song on the ukulele while Natasha unwillingly sang alongside him.

"That's not it" You sighed, sifting through the cards, "is this one steak?"

"Steak," Wanda started, "Diane!" she accidentally yells. Her eyes widened as she realized what she'd done. She looks to you with a frown. You just barely heard Vision respond with a, "yes dear?"

"This is going terribly," Wanda frowned, leaning her head upon your shoulder. You chuckled, rubbing her back gently before pulling her away, forcing her to look at you, "Hey, you can do this, okay? You're not alone," you reassured her, attempting to raise her spirits. She sighed in relief, repeating to herself ", "I can do this, I can do this, I can do this..."

Vision barged into the kitchen unexpectedly, his nerves radiating through room. Wanda panics, accidentally using her powers to throw the lobsters out of the window.

"How can I be of assistance." Vision asks, mirroring Wanda's expression.

"Well," Wanda started, "the chicken is no longer a chicken and the lobsters just flew the coop, so the steak is the last man standing," she explains, making her way around the kitchen. You held the recipe card in your hand, skimming the instructions, "it says here you could cut down the prep time with a meat tenderiser." You recited, looking at the couple once more. "Excellent plan! Where's the tenderiser?" Vision questions, ready to help in the kitchen.

"I'm looking at him," Wanda began, holding her hand out to pass the tenderiser to Vision. You pull her hand back before Vision reaches out for it. "No. What you need to do, Vision, is go entertain your guests. Have faith in your wife and I, okay?" You pushed him out of the kitchen, before turning around and clapping your hands.

"So, where were we?" You asked, hopefully.

After a stressful couple of minutes, a brief visit from a woman with a pineapple, and Natasha almost spilling water on her dress; dinner was served.

Well technically, breakfast was served.

The six of you sat around the dining table, nervously looking around. Mr. and Mrs. Hart looked at the food in confusion, staring at the cooked bacon and eggs paired with the red wine and chocolate covered strawberries.

"Breakfast for dinner?" Mr, Hart began, with obvious judgement written all over his face. "How very-" "European." Mrs. Hart cut him off, smiling reassuringly at the two of you.

"European?" You muttered, glancing at Wanda in confusion, who then motioned her hand in a 'I'll tell you later' sort of way. "Oh, let's have a toast!" Vision began, raising his glass up. All of you followed suite as Vision continued.

"To my lovely and talented wife," he gloated, unable to take his eyes off her.

"And to our esteemed guests," Wanda added. You didn't miss the wink she threw at you and Natasha, causing the two of you to stifle your laughs. Everyone clinked their glasses together and dug into their food. It wasn't long after when the questioning began.

"So, where did you move from?" Mrs. Hart began, "what brought you here? How long have you been married? And why don't you have children yet?" She interrogated Wanda and Vision, and you glanced over at Natasha, hesitantly, who shrugged in response before continuing to eat her food. Her eyes then met Mr. Hart's, who's eyebrows were furrowed at the interaction, waiting for his wife to finish speaking so he could say something. You didn't notice Wanda struggling to answer the questions being thrown, while Vision looked at Wanda desperately waiting for an answer. It was almost as if the two of them didn't know themselves.

You also failed to notice Wanda zoning out of the conversation, staring off into the distance as Mrs. Hart continued pestering her for answers. "And what about the two of you, huh? You two roommates?" Mr. Hart questioned, noticing how closely seated you were next to Natasha.

"Something like that," Natasha responded, biting back the smirk that was fighting it's way onto her lips.

"Two lovely women such as yourselves shouldn't struggle to find a man. Why don't the two of you have husbands yet?" Mr. Hart asked, leaning forward. You felt the hair in your arms rise as you realised where the conversation was leading. Glancing at Natasha nervously, you noticed how her fingers were clenched around her cutlery.

"We just prefer each other's company," you stated simply, shoving a forkful of eggs into your mouth to distract yourself.

"What do you mean? Are you- that's unnatural!" He ranted. You ignored him, noticing that Wanda was still trying to answer questions about her and Visions marriage.

"Yes, yes, we were married in," Wanda paused, getting lost in her thoughts. Mr. Hart continued his rant to you and Natasha as You, Vision and Natasha glanced at Wanda nervously.

"You're both women! That's wrong!" Mr Hart argues.

"Well, what's your story?" Mrs. Hart questions Wanda.

Mr. Hart began shouting, slamming his fist onto the table as Mrs. Hart continued to grill Wanda for answers. Wanda snaps back into reality due to a sudden, unexpected noise. She turned to face Mr. Hart who began to choking. You stared at Natasha, frightened and unsure as of what to do in this situation.

"Oh, Arthur, stop it!" Mrs. Hart laughed. She repeated the words 'stop it' over and over again, her tone gradually becoming more panicked as her husband continued to choke. His hand rested on his throat. Vision stared at Mr. Hart in an unsure manner, his hands resting against the table almost as if the were pinned against it. You only just noticed how Mrs. Hart turned to Wanda as she continued repeating those same words.

"Stop it," she pleaded, her voice shaking as she looked at Wanda, who was staring at Mr. Hart in shock. Mr. Hart fell off his chair and onto the ground as he continued to choke. You wanted to rush over and help him but it felt as though your hands were bound to the table and you couldn't move your legs. You were only able to watch as the man continued to choke while his wife chuckled.

"Stop it."

"Stop it."

"Stop it."

"Vision, help him," Wanda demanded. Vision rushed out of his seat and next to Mr. Hart, phasing his hand through his throat and removing a whole chocolate covered strawberry.

When did Mr. Hart pick up the strawberry? You thought to yourself.

"Let me help you up," Vision offers, helping Mr. Hart back to his feet. The atmosphere in the room had immediately changed, going back to exactly how it was before. It was almost as if a switch had been flipped and everyone forgot what was happening.

"Would you look at the time!" Mr. Hart exclaimed making his way to the door as his wife followed behind him.

"Well," Wanda started, "are you both alright?" she questioned nervously, as she stood up. "Yes, we better be going. We had such a lovely time!" Mrs. Hart reassured. The couple left the house very abruptly, mentioning something about a promotion before exiting the front door.

"Oh, we must be going as well!" Natasha exclaims, pushing herself up out of her seat before saying goodbye to the two. She hugged them both before making her way out of the door. You hugged Vision and thanked him for having you over before making your way to Wanda.

"Tonight was wonderful, Wanda," you reassured, pulling her into a hug. You felt her shoulders slacken in your arms, sighing softly as she returned your embrace before pulling away from you, her arms resting on your shoulders.

"Thank you, thank you for everything."

As the two of you made your way home, you couldn't help but let Mr. Hart's words play on repeat in your mind. You could tell Natasha knew what was bugging you as she squeezed your hand gently. The two of you continued to hold hands as you made your way home.

"I know we can't get married," you started, as you stood in your living room, staring at the woman who made you feel most at home. She nodded, waiting for you to continue as she rested her hand against your cheek, allowing her thumb to gently stroke your face.

"But I just want you to know that I'm here for you. For better or for worse. I never want to be apart from you," you chuckled softly, staring at her in awe, allowing your eyes to glance at her lips before you looked back into her eyes.

"I know, моя любовь. And I'd do anything for you," Natasha began.

"Even die for you."

natasha romanoff taglist: @blackxwidowsxwife @severepeanutartisanhands @madamevirgo @starsvck @umsolikeblog @baddecisions-png @yourmcu

all works: @teenwonder @amourtentiaa @husherstan @peggycarter-steverogers

[bokettochild]

Fic request! Legend and Ravio being best buds and being there for each other? Or like just them getting along. Platonic cuddling? I love them both.

Slight self projection on this one, but oh well!

I really like writing the dynamic for these two! But i would like to clarify that I write it as being strictly platonic.

Yes, Ravio does kiss Legend on occasion. But Ravio is a toucher, and that's just how he loves! For him, that's normal, that's something you do to those you love, not just in couples :)

Legend isn't great about physical touch, mostly because he's unaccustomed to it. He loves it, he just doesn't know how to ask for it or receive it most of the time.

And with that cleared up, on to the fic!!!

Mr. Hero was acting weird again.

His family had come back to visit again, and while many of them were wrapped in bandages and sporting some rather nasty wound, Mr. Hero seemed to be relatively well off from the fight. He wasn’t untouched, this was Mr. Hero after all, but he wasn’t as poorly as some of the others, which is why it was so odd for Ravio to find him curled up on the couch in their living room when he’d thought that everyone had gone to visit the local village.

They’d talked about it over breakfast. They’d arrived yesterday and hadn’t had time to restock in a while. The worse injuries were a broken arm on Mr. Smithy’s part, and that in no way hampered them from being able to do a run to the village, and it seemed many of Mr. Hero’s family saw visiting towns and villages as something of a treat.

They had been so eager over breakfast, talking over each other while Mr. Hero had rolled his eyes and pushed Tune- Wind back into his seat, scolding the champion for chewing with his mouth open and generally just correcting table manners and keeping people under control during the meal. Typical Mr. Hero, fussing over everything being right but pretending not to care, Ravio wouldn’t be surprised if the next time he sees them all they all eat like they’re in a castle, Mr. Hero’s just the kind of person to subtly train them all to behave lest they be faces with his flashing indigo gaze.

But he really would have thought, what with how everyone had chattered, that Mr. Hero would be with them all, leading them through the village and haggling with shopkeepers on the prices of potions and food. Yet here he sits, curled on their couch with that bulky quilt he likes so much thrown over his shoulders. Mr. Hero hasn’t bothered to fix his hair or tuck it under his cap, and it tumbles down his shoulders in a messy tangle as the Hylian stares unseeing at the far wall.

Ravio pauses in the entryway to the living room, his cup of cider still on one hand, and the book he’d been hoping to read in the other, heart torn over walking back into the kitchen and asking why Mr. Hero isn’t with his family. The slight shudder that runs across Mr. Hero's shoulders is all he needs as an answer and it’s without a second thought that the merchant strides across the room to settle on the couch beside his housemate, eyes bright and smile disarming as he looks over to Mr. Hero.

Dull violet meets his own green as Mr. Hero pauses and sighs, gaze shifting back down to the ground.

Oh. Oh, this is bad.

No snark, no dismissal, no ‘Ravio, I’m not in the mood’. Mr. Hero is at a stage where he is simply accepting things, and that’s never good!

“Why the long face?” He prods gently, settling himself on the couch as Mr. Hero moves slightly to accommodate him.

Okay, that’s even worse. Mr. Hero is being accommodating.

Oh Lolia, is he dying?

“Enervated.” Mr. Hero drawls, and Ravio is now officially freaking out. The big words have come out, the big words that he doesn’t know the definition of. His gaze trails back over to his book.

Most people don’t consider reading a thesaurus a past-time, and Ravio never would have considered it before moving in with Mr. Hero, but if he wants to understand the hero than he needs to know all the words that will crop up in his vocabulary anytime he is especially tired or bored.”

“E-enerv-”

“Tired.” Mr. Hero clarifies, shifting in place and drawing the blanket tighter around is shoulders.

Sharp green eyes watch his movements. It’s autumn and a slight chill has pervaded the air, but there really isn’t any need for the heavy blanket in this weather. Maybe a shawl or afghan of some sort, but the thickest and heaviest blanket in the entire house? That’s just plain overkill!

“Just tired?” He doesn’t even bother pretending to respect Mr. Hero’s space as he reaches out to rest his hand on his housemate’s forehead, gently shifting to touch the vet’s cheek. Rather than shake him off, Mr. Hero gently leans into the touch, eyes fluttering closed gently as a breath whistle from his lips. Ravio frowns as he pulls back.

Mr. Hero is warm, but not unhealthily so, and it can probably be blamed on the heavy quilt he’s got throw over his shoulders.

The merchant quirks a brow. “Are you cold?”

Mr. Hero’s face twitches oddly, eyes darting up to meet Ravio’s before drifting back down; blank and tired in a way they often are after a long day. But today has not been a long day, he reminds himself, and Mr. Hero must have been in here since finishing dishes with him this morning.

“Yes.” Mr. Hero murmurs softly, more at the folds of his blanket then at Ravio. “But not...outside?”

And that is... that is confusing.

“I don’t understand.” He half wishes for his hood and robe, but he’d only just finished cleaning and he hasn’t put them on again, so he plucks instead at the edge of his scarf, similar to what Mr. Captain Hero Sir does when he’s anxious.

Mr. Hero huffs a breath. “I wouldn’t expect you to. Glad you don’t.”

He doesn’t like the blankness of Mr. Hero's face or the heaviness of his words. “Can you explain it to me?”

If there’s one thing that brings light into his friend’s eyes, it’s teaching. Mr. Hero loves to share his knowledge, and Ravio has sat contentedly through a dozen lectures on bee-keeping and orchard work or weapons care and traveling precautions and any number of other things. All he ever needs is a cup of cider and a warm nook to bundle himself away while Mr. Hero talks. Goodness knows he chatters quite a bit himself; Mr. Hero deserves to have an audience on occasion too, and he always has such interesting things to say that Ravio never minds listening.

But Mr. Hero’s eyes don’t light up with that glint of passion and his fingers don’t tap with barely contained energy. Quite the opposite. He curls in closer around himself, eyes clouded as he breaths heavily. “It’s like there’s somethin’ ‘side you that’s cold an’ empty. Like you swallowed ice or somethin’ cold like an’ it won’t melt. You can be toasty warm on the outside and it ne’er goes away, it’s jist-” The pink-haired Hylian’s ears flick as his nose twitches with pent up irritation. “It’s like you’re empty and no matter how much you eat or sleep or keep busy, it ne’er goes away.”

Understanding dawns with a heavy heart and tears pricking in his eyes. “I think that's called loneliness, Mr. Hero.”

Mr. Hero’s eyes glisten as he turns away. “’m not lonely. There’s eight people on my tail on the day to day an’ I can’t lose ‘em even if I tried.”

The tight ball Mr. Hero is curled into could be defensive or self-comforting, and he can’t tell which, but Mr. Hero's grip on his blanket laden shoulders is too tight to be anything short of strained.

“Being with people doesn’t mean you aren’t lonely.” Ravio’s voice comes softer than he means it too.

Mr. Hero once complained that his own voice was trapped in the stage of squeaking and breaking, but Ravio’s could drop low ‘till it was nothing but a deep vibration. He’s teased Mr. Hero about it more than once, but he finds that it’s also effective at making the other boy calm. Mr. Hero loosens so now, eyes still blank as Ravio stares at them, hoping that they’ll turn to meet his gaze. “You can feel lonely in the middle of a full kingdom.”

He knows. He remembers hiding in his big room in the castle and wishing that it wasn’t so cold and empty and that someone would look at him and see something other than a cowardly advisor. He'd wanted someone to look at him and see a friend, or a brother or a loved one. He’d wanted to matter and be safe in the warmth that was a real home.

Mr. Hero gave him that. Mr. Hero’s house, with its big apple tree and buzzing bees, it’s pokey little kitchen and creaky staircase, the blasted rocker and the freaky masks on the wall, all of it makes this house a home that is so distinctly Mr. Hero's, yet somehow also his own.

He can see it in the knitting needles stashed in their basket by the couch. In the mugs that he’s left empty on bookshelves and table tops. He sees himself in the drawing of the curtains to let in sunlight, and the organization of the items on the shelves and the wall.

This is their home, something that is both of them, and it’s always felt warm and fulfilling to him.

He’d never realized that Mr. Hero might not feel the same...

It’s on impulse, and the fact that Mr. Hero doesn’t push him away speaks volumes, but Ravio scoots forwards and pulls the veteran hero over to rest against his chest, his arms wrapping tight around his friend as heavy breaths escape from them both.

“Is this better?” He whispers softly against the pink that curls beneath his chin and the fluttering breath of Mr. Hero.

There’s only a faint grunt from the hero in his arms, non-committal, but Mr. Hero isn’t complaining or pushing him away, so he doesn’t let him go either. Never mind that he’s almost pulled his friend on top of him, Mr. Hero needs a hug, and Lolia danggit! Ravio is going to give him the best one he’s capable of!

Mr. Hero’s breath evens out as he adjusts a few times, shifting but never pulling away, and Ravio takes that as a cue to make himself comfortable.

Short, pale fingers trail up to weave through curling pink locks that are still unbrushed from the night before. It’s silky under his touch, a testament to his friend’s alternate form, and he takes no small amount of pleasure in winding his fingers through it and gently tugging out the tangles. Mr. Hero only sighs under his ministrations.

“It’s okay to ask for hugs you know.” He teases softly, almost disappointed that he can’t see how his housemate blushes and stiffens, but Mr. Hero's ears give him away, red as they are, and a smile tugs across his face when he sees it. “I'm sure Mr. Chosen Hero would love to hug you, he seems like that kind of person. And Mr. Smithy always seems fond of that sort of thing. Why, even-”

“Shup.” Mr. Hero huffs, and Ravio grins as his eyes fall down to where his friend’s arms have wrapped around his waist, a messy head of pink lying against his chest and the full weight of hero and blanket pressing down on him.

He doesn’t respond, but he does go back to running his hands through Mr. Hero’s hair.

A tune comes to mind as he sits there, and he lets the melody drift through the room as he absently strokes Mr. Hero’s long pink hair, the book in his hands capturing his attention until soft squeaking snores begin to sound from the hero on his chest.

No one’s there to see the kiss he presses to the mess of petal pink, and when the others return from their trip, neither of the two bunnies is awake to say anything at all.

The heroes stop in the doorway, surprise and fondness taking over their faces at the sight of both of their hosts stretched out over the couch, Legend lying over the top of Ravio, one of the merchant’s hands still resting on Legend’s head while the other hangs down towards the floor, barely grasping the book he'd been reading (Wind makes a comment about reading a thesaurus being strange, but no one really questions it too much). Legend’s arms are still wrapped tight around Ravio’s waist, his cheek pressed against the merchant's chest as squeaking snores escape through parted lips.

They’ve never seen the veteran so peaceful, Time muses as he removed the book from Ravio’s hand and tucks the quilt tighter around the two, noting with surprise it’s weight. Neither hero nor merchant wake, although Ravio does shift in his sleep at the disturbance, but the two are out cold.

There’s the snap of a shutter and a faint coo as he looks up, single blue eye meeting Wild’s own, the champion smiling sheepishly from behind the slate, the image on the screen of him knelt beside the two boys, tucking them in on the couch. Time smiles at his cub. “I want a copy of that picture, you hear?”

“Yes sir.” The champion whispers in return.

[manonblaqkbeak]

Fire and Ice

hello, hope you’re all doing well. i’m doing a double feature today since its the 20th here in aus. so todays fic is for day 19 and 20 (like, if u squint lol).

its a lil bit more angsty then i planned for it to be in the beginning, but its got some fluff at the end. (also, again, i borrowed the 10 month pregnancy plot from acotar)

1.9k words

enjoy!

The bathroom tiles were cool against Aelin's clammy skin as she slowed her breathing. As she willed herself to stop feeling so dizzy.

Four months into her first pregnancy and Aelin soon came to realise what the worst part of pregnancy; the morning sickness.

Or, as Aelin liked to call it, 'whenever it rutting happened' sickness. Morning, midnight, dawn, she often found herself running towards a bathroom, emptying her stomach loudly for the whole damned kingdom to hear.

She was aware of the rumours flying around, that there were friendly bets going throughout the city as to whether or not Terrasen was going to have a prince or princess (apparently, the majority were betting for a boy, but Aelin didn't care what she had, as long as they were healthy), but neither her or Rowan confirmed the pregnancy, and so the rumours stayed as gossip, until she and Rowan were comfortable enough to officially announce it.

Aelin wanted to wait because of how hard it was to conceive—it had taken her and Rowan over three years to be successful, and while she knew that three years wasn't that long, it was still hard when nothing happened—and was scared that if she said it out loud, then something horrible would happen. She hadn't even told her friends, although she knew that they knew; the rumours would have reached them. She appreciated that they hadn't asked either of them. Other than Rowan, the only other person that knew of her pregnancy was her personal healer, Magnolia. Other than Yrene, the demi-Fae was a healer than Aelin felt comfortable around, because even after a decade later, she still had nightmares about her time in Maeve and Cairn's cruel hands, the never ending chain of healers coming to fix her so she could be tortured again and again.

Rowan wanted to wait because of everything that happened to Lyria and their child. There were many nights when Aelin would wake up and find Rowan just watching her, his hand against her slowly growing stomach, and not only could she see the pain in his eyes as he thought back on what happened all those centuries ago, she could also feel it, like a living thing. Aelin knew that Rowan did his best to stop her from sensing his dread, but she wasn't a fool, and she would have known how he was feeling even if they didn't have the bond between them, even if she was miles away, she would know.

The bathroom door opened and Rowan was helping her up, his hands warm and gentle against her clammy skin.

Aelin was far too tired to ask if one of her handmaids called for Rowan after Aelin ran from their shared closest and into the bathroom, or if he felt her distress through the bond.

It was probably both. She would ask once her head stopped spinning.

Resting her head against her mate's chest, Aelin breathed in his scent, letting the pine-and-snow of him calm her senses. His strong arms wrapped around her, his tattooed hand running up and down the length of her spine as his right hand was a steady presence against her lower back.

How long they stayed like that, Aelin wasn't sure, but once her head stopped spinning, she rinsed her mouth out to get rid of the pungent vomit taste that was lingering. Once satisfied that the taste was gone, Aelin let Rowan lead her to bed—not the closest.

“Rowan—” she started to say, but her husband cut her off.

“That was a strong one, and Magnolia said that it's best to rest afterwards.” So he felt it through the bond, then. “I'll take over, and you can stay in and read that book you've been eyeing all week.”

She should say no, that she was fine, but a day of rest did sound nice and probably something she desperately needed without knowing it—and she really had been wanting to read the book that Dorian had sent her the other week (which she had to write a detailed review of when she sent it back. It was one of her favourite past times, especially if it was a book that Dorian loved, but she didn't particularly like, because his response to her review was always the most dramatic thing that always made her laugh).

“Fine,” Aelin said, “I'll rest and you can go deal with Head Teacher of the Academy.”

Rowan groaned at the mention. The Fae male that ruled the magic school was nice, but just so damned pedantic that he had a say about everything. And everything was falling apart, according to him, despite the fact that the school was built only five years ago. “I swear,” Rowan grumbled, “that if he complains to me that the school halls aren't the right shade of brown, I'll throw him out the window.”

Aelin laughed, because she had said the same thing when the male had come around complaining that the roof tiles were crooked last month and she had sent Rowan to check on said tiles (and what a surprise to absolutely no one that the tiles weren't at all crooked), but that wasn't enough for the Head Teacher, when he came back the next week, he wanted the tiles replaced.

If he wasn't so damned talented and good with children and running the school, she would have had him fired for being a nuisance. But unfortunately, neither she or Rowan couldn't just get rid of him because he was annoying.

“Make sure that your shirt is tucked in neatly, or you'll get the same speech about cleanliness like last time.”

Rowan flared his nostrils at that, but said nothing as he got up and changed his crumpled tunic for a fresh one—not at all tucked in—and began his fussing.

Truthfully, she was surprised that he lasted that long.

He left her a glass of water, and a pitcher full of the liquid on her nightstand, and the bowl of seasonal fruit next to it. Next was opening the balcony doors to let in the fresh air, and then the fluffing of pillows and straightening of the quilt and bed sheets—Aelin may have teased him a little by saying that the sheets were too tight, and then too loose, having to bite her lip to stop herself from laughing as he huffed at her ever-changing mind, until she decided that the sheets were just right after five minutes of readjusting.

Aelin watched it all with a small smile on her face, even as she grumbled about his fussing tendencies—but she knew he did it from a place of love, and that he wanted her and the baby to be comfortable.

He even went as far as to check her forehead, and gave her a wash cloth to freshen her up from her earlier sweating. At least she was already in a cotton nightgown and didn't have to get changed—although she knew that if she had too, Rowan would have brought the clothes over himself.

Once he was satisfied that Aelin was comfortable, he left with a kiss on the lips and a promise that he would see her once he was free, Aelin cracked open the book, but fell asleep thirty minutes later with an unexpected headache, a hand on her stomach.

X X X X X X

It was a rare day when Rowan had an empty afternoon, there was always someone to see, something to do, someone to write back to, that when Rowan finished his meeting with the Lords and Ladies of Terrasen and there was no one waiting for him in the audience chamber, Rowan was the first to leave the meeting, needing to check on Aelin. He hated how pale she looked when he left, but when he spoke to Magnolia quickly, the skilled healer told him that it was perfectly normal, but she would check in on Aelin to make sure that everything was okay—and since he wasn't called for during any of his meetings, he took that as a sign that things were fine.

The fact that the bond was quiet also assured him. He had tugged on it during at some point when one of the Lords was rambling, and he got a tired tug back, effectively telling him that Aelin was sleeping. So he let her be, and he sat in his worried state alone.

Rowan was excited for the baby, to take this step with Aelin, but Gods, he'd also hadn't been this tense, this paranoid that something was going to happen in so long. Rowan didn't think he'd feel like himself until he held their child in his arms, but Aelin still had six months to go.

And sometimes...sometimes he found himself wondering about the child he lost with Lyria. What they would have looked liked, if they would have been tall and broad like him, or slim like her. He also wondered how long their child would have been safe before Maeve claimed the child, having them trained to be a warrior like Rowan, or if Maeve would have cast them aside like she had done to Lyria, who Maeve saw as nothing but a pawn to use and toss aside.

His thoughts kept spiralling, his mind going from one thing and another, but stopped when he heard the sloshing of water and a relived sigh once he got closer to his rooms. He made his way through the space and soon came to the bathroom where Aelin was resting against the porcelain tub. Her skin was a light pink from the hot water, but otherwise looked healthy.

Rowan just stood and watched her for a moment and let the contentment from the bond wash over him. The steam danced through the air, carrying Aelin's scent with it, and the indescribable scent of their child within her.

“Are you going to stand there all afternoon?” Aelin asked, her eyes still closed, “or are you going to join me?”

Rowan decided to join her, managing to hold back his wince as he made contact with the boiling water—how Aelin found the hot as hell water relaxing he would never know.

When he was comfortably behind her, Aelin leaned against his chest, and took his hands and placed them against her growing belly.

“Magnolia visited me a few hours ago,” she said. “She says that soon the nausea will pass.”

“Good,” he said, letting the words settle in him.

Rowan was about to lean back against the bath when Aelin's fire filled the air in thin ribbons, moving as smoothly as water as it flew past him. His own magic moved in response, and soon his ice and wind joined her fire, going around the room, filling it up with the differences in temperature. And from the tub, a water butterfly the size of Aelin's palm lifted into the air, its movements delicate but strong as it came towards him. Aelin turned to look at him, her brows furrowed lightly in concentration.

The butterfly came to rest on his nose, and then exploded in his face.

Aelin laughed at his incredulous expression. Rowan shot forward and flicked water in her face, and soon almost all of the bath water was on the floor as they splashed at each other back and forth.

Rowan's troubles melted away with his ice and Aelin forgot about all of her nausea and stress temporarily.

Aelin couldn't wait to meet her baby, and she knew that Rowan was the same.

Six months couldn't come soon enough.

[aceofspadegrass]

Third Times The Charm~

Characters: Hatter, Niragi Suguru, Chishiya Shuntaro, Last Boss, @a-simp-20 , @niragis-right-hand-rabbit, and Me

Genre: Dunno, but Hatter's out for blood. ♥️ Hey, at least there's some fluff at the end!

1.3k words

We're back at it again, except this is more aftermath than actual heisting. Time goes by and this rendition of Hatter is gonna murder us one of these days.

Hatter thought it was the end of it all, he really did. The three that kept managing to slip underneath his nose, past the militants, would stop after a few times. No use in challenging fate too many times, there was always bound to be a slip-up somewhere.

Yet it happened again, and this time it was getting far too out of hand. He had just come back from a game, just as many of his loyal and dedicated people were doing at the same timeframe. Sweaty and exhausted from the Spades game he just had to push through — with an overwhelming success, he should add — he wanted nothing more than to sit back, relax, maybe have a nice bottle of that black cherry vodka he managed to win last week. What better way to relax?

Well, he wasn’t getting that privilege, as he steps into his room only to find something amiss.

“ Where. Is. My couch.” Hatter says to an invisible audience, eyes staring at the spots where his couches were. The funny part was, through the slow realization of the scene in front of him, was nothing else looked remotely out of place. Every little thing that he remembered leaving on the floor was still there, and nothing looked to be moved. The only evidence that anything was missing was the blank spaces, perfectly aligned in the sad shadow of his purloined couches.

Hatter slowly takes a slow, deep breath, eyes fixated on the spot — and perhaps a little bit of bloodlust was forming in his body, perhaps even more — and he lets it out, a smile of doom forming upon his lips. Oh, those three were definitely on his Super Duper Traitors list. Nobody was gonna steal his couches. Especially a second time.

Hatter strides away to his bathroom to wash up a little, finding zero reasons to not look good before he sends a search party for these three so he can finally get his hands on them. He splashes cool water on his face, washing away every bit of grime and sweat that remained on his face, sighing in relief as the water cooled him just a bit.

Not cool enough to dissipate the fire in his system, of course, but it was a good attempt on the water’s part. He straightens up, staring at himself in the mirror, smile curled on his lips as he nods to himself. “ Oh, this’ll be the day you’ll regret betraying me. I’m going to make sure traitors pay.”

Hatter turns around, his kimono swaying rather spectacularly as he begins his walk down to call a surprise manhunt. Sure, he felt a bit bad that he was sending out people just after finishing harrowing games for their lives, but it was for the greater good of him! After all, he knew what was best for everyone to get out eventually, and they all listened to him. He loved these people, how they willingly fought for the greater cause in support of him and the safe haven he created for all of them.

That support he got was going to a great cause, and that included finding the traitors. He passes by a few people, smiling as he relays the call to them, to spread the word to come back to the lobby so he could tell them all the important news. He doesn’t bother to check if they do as he asked, knowing full well that they’d do anything to help like the good people they were, making his way up to the floor where he usually spoke to the members of his beloved utopia.

Within minutes, the crowd filter left and right to hear what Hatter had to say next, Hatter smiling down at them as they all waited patiently for his news, a few chattering amongst themselves. Hatter raises his arms, a wide smile on his face.

“ Greetings everyone! I do sincerely apologize for calling you all here once more when you all deserve time to relax! Trust me, so do I, but this is quite important for you all to hear!” Hatter starts, voice clear and concise to attract even the most distracted of people. Eyes look up at him from below, Hatter raising his arms and clenching one into a fist. “ As you all know, there are three rules to this Beach!” One hand holds up three fingers, each one going down as he repeats them. “ One! You must always wear a swimsuit! Two! You can do whatever you want here! And three! Traitors will be killed.” Hatter lowers his arms to rest on the railing, leaning forward with a calm smile. “ This is about the third rule~”

That gets people chattering again, fear in their tone and faces. Hatter laughs, and he waves a hand to shush them. “ Do not fear! This isn’t about you, my beautiful and beloved members! No, this is about a certain group that continues to escape my grasp, ones that you may have seen before! They come in and out like cats in the night, frisking away my items like it is nothing more than candy in a candy shop! The horror!” He puts the back of his hand against his forehead, dipping down as if the sheer thought would make him faint. He straightens up again into that relaxed position near immediately, waving a hand out towards the crowd. “ But fear not, for I have a task that will require all of you, militant and guests alike! I want you to work extra hard in locating these dastardly fiends and bring them here so that I may properly hand them justice!”

The crowd grows louder as they continue to gossip amongst one another, and Hatter feels a wave of glee pour through him from the thrill of getting one step closer to catching these robbers. “ If you bring me them, I will reward you graciously! Consider this a bounty, a game without consequence on your end! You are all smart, capable people, and the power of many overthrows a few!” People begin cheering, Hatter looking through the crowd with his award-winning smile. “ Thank you for your patience and ears, you may all go have fun now~” He says, ending his rather passionate little speech as people cheered for him and chattered loudly, Hatter stepping away with a flourish.

Perhaps like this, he’ll finally capture the little thieves and he could finally rest.

Meanwhile……

“ Holy fuck your fucking nails hurt-“ There was a light chuckle, Niragi scowling with his eyes shut tight as his hair was massaged with shampoo, head tipped back into the water basin as he rested on a reclining chair. “ Sorry! I haven’t trimmed them yet, wasn’t expecting you to have a slip ’n slide for hair so it was a last second decision! Now stay still so I can wash your hair-“ They said, going back to trying their best to be gentle but firm.

Niragi pouts, but he lets it continue. Besides him was Chloe, who was casually humming the Mentos ad song while trying to give him a manicure, having already finished his other hand. In the background was Last Boss and Chishiya, the latter of which was just there for the free strawberry milk that was brought in. Last Boss was merely waiting for his turn for a head scrub, despite having absolutely zero hair to actually scrub. The both of them were chilling on the freshly stolen new couch, with multiple empty bottles of milk and a few empty water bottles at their (freshly water foot massaged) feet.

“ So…. are we ever going to tell Hatter that we’re borrowing his couch?” The last member of the heisting squad, Ila, asks. Chloe shakes her head. The one still scrubbing the giraffe lizard merely shrugs.

“ Eh, he’ll never figure out anyways. We’ll get away like we usually do, and these three are not allowed to spill because we’re nice and offered them a free spa day.”

“ You said you’d break my dick with a baseball bat.” Niragi mutters, just loud enough for them to hear. “ The offer still stands~”

[today-only-happens-once]

retrospection

title: retrospection

summary: Virgil finds Roman in the Mind Palace Theater after the events of Putting Others First: SvSr. 

Word count: 1549

Warnings: spoilers (obviously), self-loathing is extremely heavy here, angst in droves, hurt/comfort, cursing. 

A/N:  I wasn’t planning to write anything in reaction to POF but then this idea caught me in a flying tackle and wrestled me to the ground until I wrote it. So here it is! Posted in the spirit of the “two cakes” theory. Unedited because I just don’t have the mental or emotional energy after writing this. Might be some of my angstiest stuff yet. I’m not sure. It’s up there, for sure. No taglist because it’s short and unedited but since @creativenostalgiastuff specifically asked me to, here ya go!

...

Virgil steps into the Mind Palace Theater as quietly as he can, listening to the echoes of Roman’s final sung note reverberate against the walls of the large room. When Patton had said he was worried because Roman hadn’t returned to his room after whatever conversation had occurred following the wedding reception, Virgil had told the Moral Side he’d try to find him. He’d had a feeling that perhaps Roman would go to one of his usual spots when he was upset. 

The theater is empty, Virgil realizes as he catches the door before it can slam. Usually, when Roman performed, the Creative Side filled the rows of seats with adoring fans. Then again, as far as Virgil knew, Roman hadn’t done much in the way of performing since sentencing Thomas to attend the wedding.

Virgil stays in the back of the theater and watches Roman catch his breath. The Creative Side’s head is bowed, his hair falling unchecked into his eyes, the stage lights casting long shadows across the angular planes of his face. It makes it impossible for Virgil to see Roman’s expression from this far away.

Then Roman’s shoulders jerk with an aborted sob, and Virgil sighs.

Roman sinks, slowly, to the stage floor and Virgil slips his hands into the pocket of his hoodie and starts to walk down the aisle towards the stage. Roman doesn’t seem to notice, pulling a knee up to his chest and burying his face in his arms perched on top of it.

Virgil sniffs as he gets closer in an effort to make his presence known without demanding a response. Roman doesn’t even look up, but the way he freezes for half of a beat is enough to let the Anxious Side know that Roman is aware he’s not alone. It’s something, at least.

Roman is sitting on the edge of the stage thrust, and Virgil jumps up onto it to sit beside him. There’s a long moment when neither of them says anything. Virgil’s hands fidget in his lap as he listens to the way Roman’s sniffles and shaky exhales fill the space around them. He doesn’t look at Roman—not much, anyway—in a perhaps flimsy attempt to let Roman feel that he still had an element of privacy.

But the quiet stretches on, and Virgil starts to feel that perhaps Roman is waiting for him to speak first. So he does.

“No adoring fanbase today?”

Roman sighs. “Best not, after that performance.” He lifts his head, and Virgil counts it as a small and fleeting victory. “How much of it did you hear?”

Roman doesn’t look at him when he asks, but Virgil looks at him when answers. “Not much,” he replies honestly. “The last note.”

Roman’s voice is almost as dull as his eyes, staring blankly at the rows and rows of vacant audience seats the stretch out before them. “I was sharp on the last note. My voice kept—” His voice wavers, then breaks off. Virgil glances over and sees the bob to his Adam’s apple as he swallows. Then he huffs a humorless breath. “Well. That.”

Virgil opens his mouth to reply but Roman cuts him off. “I’ve sung that song probably a million times but I guess now I can just add it to the long list of things I can’t seem to do right.”

Virgil feels something—like dread but sharper—ripple down his spine. His gaze flashes to Roman. “That’s not fair.”

There’s a twitch to Roman’s jaw. “Isn’t it?”

Virgil swallows. “Roman—”

“I was cruel to you. For years, Virgil.” Roman glances at him then, but he averts his gaze a moment later as if too ashamed to meet his eyes. “And then you left, and I eventually realized how badly I’d messed up, and I started doing better. Or, I thought I was. And then Thomas got broken up with, and my efforts to salvage what was left of his heart only led to more pain and I hurt you and I hurt Patton and by extension, I hurt Thomas. I write some song lyrics a few months later and nobody likes them. What’s worse is they’re right to not like them—some of them were like something Remus would have come up with.”

Virgil’s chest clenches at the disgust that drips from Roman’s voice as he speaks. “Roman—”

“I was the reason that Thomas missed the reading of Joan’s play, remember? Because one cute boy gave us the time of day, and I made Thomas choose him first over them. And then I let myself get manipulated into parading around this very same stage in an effort to appease my own sense of guilt over it all. I continued to be mean to Logan, calling him names and calling him stupid which couldn’t be further from the truth.” He rakes a hand through his hair. “I was just… angry, and jealous, and I lashed out at an easy target because I’m just incapable of not hurting you all.” Roman’s hands curl around his biceps and grip.

“Roman,” Virgil repeats firmly, but Roman shakes his head and wipes a hand across his mouth and presses on.

“And-and then the callback comes around, and I think finally, y’know? Finally a sign that I could do something right. Finally my ambition is a good thing that helps Thomas rather than hurts him. But even that was wrong, because Thomas—because I—wanted so damn badly to go to that callback, he decided he wasn’t a good person. So I tried to make him do the right thing, because I can make that sacrifice if it means that for once I didn’t screw up.”

Virgil sees a sheen to Roman’s eyes, and the Creative Side quickly brushes at his eyes. He still won’t look at Virgil.

“And then today—“ and Roman’s voice breaks. Virgil watches as Roman’s grip on his own arms tightens even more and the Anxious Side worries that he’s going to leave bruises. Roman stops and takes a breath, his eyes screwing shut. “Today I learn that I couldn’t even get that right. I side with Janus, and I’m the bad guy.”

Virgil startles. He told them his name? He quickly shakes his head, filing away the information to deal with at a later time.

Roman doesn’t even seem to have noticed. “I side with Patton, and I’m still the bad guy. I just… I don’t know what it takes to be the good guy, Virgil. I thought… I thought—”

“Hey,” Virgil says, as softly as he can, reaching a hand out and covering Roman’s on his arm. Hoping to ease the death grip he has. “Roman, you are a good guy. You’re Thomas’s hero, after all.”

There’s a strange, choked noise in the back of Roman’s throat and he wrenches away from Virgil’s grip, scrambling to his feet. He stalks several steps away, his back to the Anxious Side, and Virgil feels suddenly… lost. That used to always be a comfort to Roman. Something he clung to in his darker moments.

But something anguished had flooded into the Prince’s eyes when Virgil had said that, and Virgil…

Virgil doesn’t understand why.

“Not anymore, Virgil,” he chokes out in a strained voice. “Thomas doesn’t—I’m not—”

Virgil blinks a few times, his brow furrowing. Slowly, he pushes himself to his feet. “Roman, what are you saying?”

Roman whirls around, his fists clenching and his eyes red and watering. “Spare me the faux ignorance, Anxiety! Janus as much as confirmed that Thomas was lying to me about that. So I know. I know I failed him one too many times now. I know Thomas doesn’t… he doesn’t…” Roman clenches his jaw and averts his gaze again, his expression crumpling.

Virgil glances away, turning that over. That… didn’t make sense. Because Virgil knew—he knew—that Thomas did, in fact, see Roman as his hero. Virgil doesn’t know what Janus told him, or why (because when he thinks about it, even for a moment, he can’t understand why Janus would lie about something like that to Roman), but he knows that Roman is wrong.

Virgil takes a step towards Roman. “Bullshit,” he snaps. “You are his hero. Thomas loves you, Roman. We all do.”

“Shut up!” Roman snaps back. “Why—why do you all keep saying that?”

Virgil takes another step. “Because it’s the truth, Princey.”

Virgil watches as Roman blinks, and the tears that had been brimming in his eyes track down his cheeks. Roman doesn’t scrub them away, either, instead shaking his head.

“I don’t—I don’t understand,” Roman manages, his eyes searching with a desperation that only further tightens the clench in Virgil’s chest. “I’m not… I keep… I don’t deserve it. I—”

Virgil is close enough now to grab him, so he does. He grabs Roman by the arm and yanks him in. Roman stumbles, but Virgil catches him, holding him close with one arm wrapped around his back and the other threading up through his hair to keep him in place.

“Listen to me, Roman,” Virgil says in the Prince’s ear. “We—all of us—love you. We do. We have, we do, and we will. We will say it and we will show it in as many ways as you need until you can believe it yourself.”

He feels Roman’s grip against his own back fist in his sweatshirt. Something like a sob wracks through Roman’s chest, and it’s like a dam breaking open.

Virgil just holds on as tight as he can.

[babypandawrites]

Allies, Pt. 9

The Northern Air Temple 

Pairing: Sokka x F Reader Warnings: None Word Count: 3,813 Summary: You thought that the chance of there being Airbenders other than Aang was too good to be true, sadly you were right. 

Note: How I completely forgot about this until now I'm not sure but! Another piece of this series I’ve done for the fun of it is outfit designs- If that kind of things in fics isn’t your cup of tea then feel free to act like these don't exist! But for those who are interested or who might just wanna see; here you go.  This is just what I personally envisioned while writing, again feel free to ignore it if you want, but I figured I might as well share :)  I was also going to wait until tomorrow to post this bc Wednesdays is my upload day for it on Ao3 but I’m also a chapter ahead there and wanted to get my tumblr uploads caught up- so back to back post today and tomorrow :) Yay 

-Navigation- | -Atla Masterlist-  -Last Part- | -Allies Masterlist- | -Next Part- 

Taglist: @boomeraangin​ | @brokennerdalert​​​

“So, travelers, the next time you think you hear a strange large bird talking, take a closer look, it might not be a giant parrot, but a flying man! A member of a secret group of air walkers who laugh at gravity and laugh at those bound to the earth by it!”  Aang smiled. “Aren’t airbender stories the best?” “Was it realistic? Was that how it was back then?” Katara questioned.  “I laugh at gravity all the time. Haha! Gravity.”  A pair of hands holding a hat suddenly appeared in the space inbetween Sokka and Y/n. The storyteller shook the hat, the jingling of coins being heard.  “Jingle, jingle.”  The two searched their pockets for any money. Y/n didn’t have anything, and the only thing Sokka pulled from his coat pocket was a small ball of lint and a bug.  Y/n offered the storyteller a sheepish smile. “Sorry.”  “Aww. Cheapskates!” The man left them, going to ask other audience members for donations.  She turned to look at Sokka, a disgusted expression apparent on her face at the bug that wiggled around in his hand. “Why… was there a bug in your coat?”  “Hey! Don’t question a man and his bug.” The bug rolled over, and started to crawl up his hand. Sokka yelped and shook it off.  Her expression twisted into amusement. “A man and his bug, huh?”  “It’s not my fault we can’t afford to keep him fed.” 

The next morning, the group found themselves on the way to the Northern Air Temple. Apparently, the airbenders in the story they heard were seen the previous week. It seemed a little too good to be true, that there might be airbenders other than Aang still out there, but Y/n wasn’t going to be the one to crush the kids' hope.  That was Sokka’s job, not hers.  “Hey, we’re almost at the Northern Air Temple! This is where they had the championships for sky bison polo.”  Y/n looked at Aang with a smile. “Sky bison polo? That sounds fun.”  “It is fun! So much fun!”  Katara moved to sit next to her brother. “Do you think we’ll really find airbenders?”  “You want me to be like you, or totally honest?” Sokka asked, focusing on whittling a piece of wood.  “Are you saying I’m a liar?” Katara crossed her arms over her chest.  “I’m saying you’re an optimist. Same thing basically.”  “They’re not the same thing at all.” Y/n commented. The boy just shrugged his shoulders.  “Hey guys, look at this!”  Appa was starting to approach the Northern Air Temple. It sat up on a sheer peak, several people flew around it, and smoke rose from a few pillars.   “Huh! They really are airbenders!” Aang leaned, crossing his arms unhappily. “No, they’re not.”  Sokka pointed up at the people flying around. “What do you mean they’re not? Those guys are flying!”  “Gliding maybe, but not flying. You can tell by the way they move. They’re not airbending. Those people have no spirit.”  Y/n tipped her head to the side, watching the gliders. “I mean, they look like they're flying to me, but you would know best.”  As she finished speaking, a glider passed over the group's heads, nearly taking them off. The glider’s pilot laughed, turning to pass by Appa again. Getting a closer look at the kid, it could be noted that his glider was built out of the wheelchair he sat in.  Katara pointed in the glider’s direction. “I don’t know, Aang. That kid seems pretty spirited!”  The glider made another pass, and soon Aang was standing up glider in hand, before taking off. Another glider flew in front of Appa, startling him and causing Katara and Y/n to fall backwards into Sokka. The three grunted at the impact.  “We better find some solid ground before it finds us!”  Appa made a landing on one of the temple’s outer terraces, the trio getting off him and watching as Aang and the boy in the wheelchair glided through the sky. Aang eventually came down and landed next to them, the other boy also coming to a landing. A few kids came other and detached the glider from his wheelchair, before he wheeled over to the group.  “Hey! You’re a real airbender! You must be the Avatar! That’s amazing! I- I- I’ve heard stories about you.”  Aang rubbed at the back of his neck, embarrassed. “Thanks.”  “Wow! This glider chair is incredible!” Sokka rushed over to the kids who had the glider setup, inspecting it.  “If you think this is good, wait until you see the other stuff my Dad designed.”  He began to wheel away, the group following. They were led through the huge main gate of the temple, into the main chamber. The room was dominated by steam-powered machinery with many wheels, gears and pipes.  “Wow!” Sokka ran forward, looking around the room excitedly.  “Yeah, my dad is the mastermind behind this whole place! Everything’s powered by hot air. It even pumps hot air currents outside to give us a lift when we’re gliding.”  Aang took a look around. “This place is unbelievable.”  The boy in the wheelchair smiled. “Yeah, it’s great isn’t it?”  “No, just unbelievable.”  Y/n tried to hold back a laugh, clearing her throat to force down her laughter.  “Aang used to come here a long time ago. I think he’s a little shocked it’s so… different.” Katara said, before following after Aang when he walked off.  “So better!”  Rolling her eyes, Y/n elbowed Sokka in the shoulder. He gave her a look.  “Come on, you don’t think this is cool at all?”  “Not really.” 

Soon they followed the boy, Teo, to another part of the temple. This time it was a courtyard of sorts, it was untouched, and there were statues of airbenders.  Aang was much happier about this, than he had been about the other room. “It’s nice to see even one part of the temple that isn’t ruined.” He spoke, as him, Y/n and Katara looked at a huge statue of an airbender monk.  “Look out!” A voice shouted out, shortly before a wrecking ball crashed through the statue. The three flew backwards with the debris, and everyone started to cough from the dust. As the dust settled, several people could be seen through the hole that’d been created. One of the people walked forward, a middle aged man with a mostly bald head who wore a monocle, a green tunic and an apron.  “What the doodle! Don’t you know enough to stay away from construction sites? We have to make room for the bathhouse!”  “Do you know what you just did? You just destroyed something sacred! For a stupid bathhouse!” Aang, clearly upset with the man, took on an airbending stance.  The man waved a hand in front of his nose. “Well, people around here are starting to stink.”  Aang pointed at him. “This whole place stinks!” He slammed his staff against the ground, sending a strong gust of wind through the hole in the wall, knocking the wrecking ball and it’s rig off the building's foundation. “This is a sacred temple! You can’t treat it this way. I’ve seen it when the monks were here. I know what it’s supposed to be like.”  “The monks? But you’re twelve!”  Teo wheeled over. “Dad, he’s the Avatar. He used to come here a hundred years ago.”  Aang walked closer to the man. “What are you doing? Who said you could be here?”  “Hmmm… doing here… A long time ago, but not a hundred years, my people became refugees after a terrible flood.” He gestured his arms for effect, before moving to stand behind his son. “My infant son, Teo, was badly hurt and lost his mother.” Sniffling, he held back tears. “I needed somewhere to rebuild and I stumbled across this place. Couldn’t believe it! Everywhere pictures of flying people. But empty! Nobody home! Then I came across these fan like contraptions!”  He held his arms out as if they were wings, making flying motions with them as he walked about the courtyard for a short moment. He stopped in front of Aang, who was clearly still upset.  “Our gliders.”  “Yes, little light flying machines. They gave me an idea. Build a new life for my son, in the air! Then everyone would be on equal ground, so to speak! We’re just in the process of improving upon what’s already here and after all, isn’t that what nature does?” Aang was still upset, while Sokka and Katara stood behind him, teary eyed from the story. Y/n rolled her eyes at the siblings, before moving to stand next to Aang, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. Sure, the story was sad, but to her the boy’s feelings were more important.  The Mechanist turned to look through the hole in the wall he’d created. “I suppose that’s true. Unfortunately, progress has a way of getting away from us.” He looked down in a bout of sadness, before his head snapped up to look at an odd candle device..? A bit aways from them. “Look at the time!” Three candles burned brightly on a stone pedestal, each separated into their own sections. Next to the pedestal, a large mallet rests, sitting head down. The Mechanist turned to one of the scribes behind him. “Come the pulley system must be oiled before dark.”  Sokka approached the candles, observing them. “Wait, how can you tell the time from that thing? The notches all look the same.”  “The candle will tell us. Watch.”  The candle’s flame snapped four times in a row.  “You put spark powder in the candle!” “Four flashes, so it’s exactly four hours past midday, or, as I call it, four o’candle!”  Sokka let out a laugh, as The Mechanist looked at him, seemingly pleased he was interested. “If you like that, wait till you see my finger safe knife sharpener!” Y/n’s attention moved to the man at the mention of that, watching as he held up his left hand, where three of his fingers were made of wood. He detached them from his hand, before tossing them to Sokka. “Only took me three tries to get it right!” Sokka let out a scream, as he caught the wooden fingers. “Follow me!”  The Mechanist turned to leave, the men who were with him and Sokka quickly followed. As the boy passed by Y/n, he grabbed onto her wrist and dragged her along with him. She offered a quick goodbye wave to Aang, Katara and Teo as she was dragged away. 

Quiet steps echoed through the narrow hallway, as Y/n, Sokka and The Mechanist descending a narrow staircase. Each of them held a lantern, glowing with sparse blue light.  “These lanterns are terrible! I can’t see.”  Y/n ran into Sokka’s back, as he abruptly stopped to open the jar to his lantern. She flicked the back of his head, as he continued to speak. “Why would you want to use fireflies for light- Hey!”  She snickered, watching the firefly that escaped from his lantern.  The Mechanist turned to look at them. “Hey, close that up! They’ll get loose. Fireflies are a non-flammable light source.”  “Are you meaning to say that something down here is flammable?” Y/n asked, as they all continued walking.  “Well, why else would I need a non-flammable light source?” The Mechanist offered a chuckle, as they approached a door. The edges of it were blocked by some sort of sealant, which he felt around, probably to check for leaks.  After checking he turned back to them. “Cover your nose and hold your breath.”  Once they’d done so, The Mechanist slid open a panel in the door, which they all looked through. It just showed a dark and empty room. “Okay, so you brought us all the way down here to see an empty room.” Sokka spoke with a somewhat confused tone.  “Wrong.”  Eyebrows furrowing together, Y/n watched as the panel was slid shut again. “You brought us all the way down here to see a room full of flammable explosive gas?”  “Correct! It’s filled to the brim with natural gas. Came across it my first time here. Unfortunately, I was carrying a torch at the time. Nearly blew myself and the whole place even more sky high. Thought my eyebrows would never grow back! Anyway, there’s a vital problem that needs solving. From time to time we have gas leaks and they’re nearly impossible to find.”  Y/n took a few steps back, as Sokka helped check the door for leaks. “So this place is an explosion waiting to happen?”  “Yes, until I figure out how to locate something I can’t see, hear, smell or touch.”  “Right, is it safe for us to be around this gas? Should we be wearing masks or something, in case we come across a leak so we don’t, you know, inhale it?”  “Oh don’t worry, we should be fine.” The Mechanist paused for a moment, straightening up after finishing checking for leaks. “Well, as long as you aren’t a firebender or something- hah!” He let out a laugh, which Sokka quickly shared.  Sokka nudged her in the arm, as they started walking back. “Oh come on, that was funny. You know that was funny.”  “Yeah, hilarious.”  He threw an arm over her shoulders. “Come on, loosen up. We’re gonna be fine, even if we do come across a leak.”  She put her hands up in defense. “Okay, okay.” 

The Mechanist led the pair to his workshop, and very clearly told them not to touch anything, before going to look over some papers on his desk. Sokka, of course, did not listen to that and started poking through things the moment the man's attention wasn’t on them.  “Sokka, he said not to touch anything.” Y/n whispered, smacking his hand away from something he was about to mess with.  He gently pushed her away a bit, before going right back to poking around. “Calm down, it’s fine. It’s not like I’m going to break an-” Sokka cut himself off, as he knocked some stuff over. Grimacing, he tried to keep it from falling to the ground.  “I said don’t touch anything!”  When The Mechanist spoke up, Sokka dropped the things to the ground. Y/n crossed her arms over her chest. “Not gonna break anything, huh?”  The Mechanist came over, to help Sokka pick the things up. “Oh, don’t worry, that experiment is old and that egg was just part of last week’s lunch.”  Y/n kneeled down to help them too, as Sokka sniffed the air. “Ugh! Week old egg smell!”   “Quick! Find that egg!”  The three started to crawl around, looking for the egg, but none of them were having much luck.  “How could something that’s so small you can’t even see it make such a big stink!?” Sokka complained as they looked. The Mechanist perked up at the comment. “That’s the solution to our problem!”  “Yeah!” Y/n looked at the two, confused, as they faced each other with excitement. “What?”  “If we put a whole mess of rotten eggs in the cellar where the gas seeps up..” Sokka started the thought, which The Mechanist continued.  “The gas will mix with the smell of rotten eggs…”  “Then, if there’s a leak…”  “You smell rotten eggs! Then you just follow your nose to the place where the smell is coming from..”  “And plug up the hole where the gas is escaping!”  “You’re a genius!” The two spoke in unison.  Still, Y/n looked between the two with a confused expression. “ What? ”  Suddenly, a large bell started to ring, and The Mechanist was quick to get up and rush from the room. “Something’s wrong I’ve got to go.”  “Wonder what that’s about.” Sokka said, getting up himself. He helped Y/n up, grinning. “We should follow him.”  “Always a snoop, huh?” Laughing softly, she shook her head. “Alright.”  Grasping onto her wrist, he dragged her out of the room to follow after The Mechanist. They’d followed him to another room, one that was filled to the brim with different war machines branded with the Fire Nation’s insignia. 

“You make weapons for the Fire Nation!?” Sokka was clearly angry with his words, rightfully so. Y/n was pretty mad about this development as well. She pointed a finger at The Mechanist.  “You! You're terrible. Horrible terrible!”  The Mechanist looked at the ground in humiliation and shame.  Teo looked at his father angrily. “Explain all this! Now!”  “It was about a year after we moved here. Fire Nation soldiers found our settlement. You were too young to remember this tale. They were going to destroy everything, burn it to the ground. I pleaded with them, begged them to spare us. They asked what I had to offer. I offered… my services. You must understand, I did this for you!” Teo turned his wheelchair away, clearly upset. The Mechanist turned on his heel, and walked back down the hall, leaving the five kids in the room.   Teo shook his head. “I can’t believe this…. This is terrible.”  “I know..” Aang looked at the weapons with disdain. “There’s so much here.”  Y/n crossed her arms over her chest. “The Fire Nation could be coming for this soon…”  Aang breathed out a sigh. “Your right… I’m going to go figure it out.”  “I’ll come with.” Teo said, as Aang started to leave the room, before following the boy.  With Aang and Teo’s return, they found out that the Fire Nation was coming soon. And they were intending to burn this place to the ground. They were all outside on one of the walkways, trying to figure out a plan.  “This is bad! Very bad!”  Katara looked over to Aang. “Aang, what are we gonna do? How can we possibly keep them all away?”  “I’ll tell you how.” He pointed to the sky. “We have something they don’t. Air power! We control the sky. That’s something the Fire Nation can’t do. We can win!”  “I want to help.” The Mechanist approached the group, as he spoke up.  Aang offered the man a smile. “Good, we’ll need it.” 

“We finally got the war balloon working, thanks to Sokka. This boy’s a genius!”  “Thank you. You’re a genius!” “Thank you!” Y/n rolled her eyes at the exchange. “Can we get on with this?”  Sokka cleared his throat. “Right. See, the problem with the old war balloon was you could get it airborne, but once you did, it just kept going.” He demonstrated with a model that flew up and hit the ceiling. “You could put a hole in the top, but then all the hot air would escape. So the question became, how do you keep a lid on hot air?”  “Ugh, if only we knew.” Katara commented. Y/n, Aang, Teo and Katara herself all laughed at the remark.  Ignoring them, Sokka pulled the model down from the ceiling, now showing off the mechanism to open and close a lid on the top. “A lid is actually the answer. If you control the hot air, you control the war balloon.” He demonstrated again, but this time the model didn’t fly up to the ceiling, thanks to the lid that could be pulled open with a string.  Katara crossed her arms. “Hmm. That’s actually pretty smart.”  “Okay, we’ve got four kinds of bombs. Smoke, smile, fire and-”  The Mechanist cut Sokka off. “Stink. Never underestimate the power of stink!” 

“We’re going to have to modify this to the new design, and fast.” The Mechanist said, as him, Sokka and Y/n worked on bringing the War Balloon he’d already constructed outside. “With both of you helping we should be able to get it up and running pretty quickly though!”  “Yeah! And I’m pretty sure Aang and Katara will be able to hold off the Fire Nation with everyone’s help.”  Y/n furrowed her eyebrows. “They’ll be able to hold them off, but we can’t count on them too for too long, even if we have the skies. The Fire Nation’s army is huge, who knows how many soldiers will show up.”  They got the balloon set up to do the necessary modifications. “Oh she’s right, time is not something we have on our side right now.”  Sokka nodded in understanding. “Right. It’s only one modification though, so it can’t take terribly long, right?”  “Let’s hope not.”  Getting to work on the War Balloon, they probably could have gotten things done a little faster. But nonetheless, they got it done, and just in time too apparently. While Sokka and The Mechanist got ready to take off in the war balloon, Y/n went to find the others to see how they were holding up.  “How are things going out here?” She asked, once she found Katara, Aang and Teo. The three looked at her with slight concern.  “Not well.” Katara started. “Please tell us Sokka is coming with that war balloon soon.”  Before she could give an answer, the war balloon rose up from behind them all, and started moving towards the battle field. From where they all stood, they could see Sokka and The Mechanist dropping giant slime bombs onto the Fire Nation soldiers. The bombs that they had didn’t stop the soldiers, however, and they were starting to advance closer to the Temple.  Katara put a hand on Y/n’s shoulder, to get her attention. “What are they doing..?”  She squinted in the direction of the war balloon, trying to see what was going on. “I’m not sur-” She cut herself off, watching as something fell from the basket of the war balloon. Was that the balloons fuel source? “Did they just push out their fuel source..?!” “What?!”  A sudden explosion set off, a really really big one. The entire Temple got clouded in a ginormous wall of grey smoke. When the smoke dissipated, it was revealed that the Fire Nation was retreating.  Aang pointed to where the army was leaving. “Look! They’re retreating!” Everyone started to cheer at the success, but the joy was cut short, as the war balloon started heading downwards quickly. Thankfully though, Aang was able to get Sokka and The Mechanist before the balloon crashed below.  Currently, they all stood outside on the main terrace of the Air Temple.  “You know what? I’m really glad you guys all live here now. It’s like the hermit crab.” Aang spoke, as he carefully picked up one of the hermit crabs near them all. “Maybe you weren’t born here, but you found this empty shell and made it your home. And now you protect each other.”  Teo offered a smile to the boy. “That means a lot coming from you.”  “Aang you were right about air power.” Sokka pointed to the sky. “As long as we’ve got the skies we’ll have the Fire Nation on the run!”

[morihaus]

Dance

The citizens of Mournhold flock to the palace ballroom, as the Temple has acquisitioned the space for a most momentous event. The living god Almalexia, Mother Morrowind, the Righteous Queen, is set to make her first public appearance in decades to proclaim her support of the Nerevarine amidst a lavish banquet and endorse her station as Hortator. Though the streets of the great city are loud and laden with roaring storms of ash, the people answer the summons of their god, grateful for the grace and kindness of the Lady to provide for her subjects in such a time of strife.

On a raised platform at the end of the expansive chamber, Junah stands on the grandest stage, playing the role of a lifetime beside the beloved goddess. Her wardrobe is ebony and gold, the fashion of the Indoril combined with that of a ruling king; her cape is dark and worn with roses that match those scattered around the ballroom with express purpose, to herald the return of Nerevar himself. Makeup is as always an intensifying of the Indoril facial markings laid into her dark skin, with the added touch of a few strokes under her eye, opposite and complimentary to the marks Almalexia wears under her own. Her dark hair rises in a stylish crest, the austere and ennobling effect intensified by the shorn sides of her head and the trail of dark locks that falls down past her shoulders.

She stands tall, chin raised proudly to display her visage to the audience, who look on in awe. In her right hand she holds the Blade of Nerevar, Trueflame, which burns brightly as a beacon to announce its reforging. To her left stands Almalexia, holding her own blade, Hopesfire, with effortless poise and regality, flattering its twin with its bright blue flame.

The Lady of Mercy floats just so above the stage, as to raise her crown of jade high enough to match the Hortator's plume- but Junah is not looking at the woman she shares the stage with, her dark eyes are professionally locked on the packed in crowd, she only holds the image of what they must see in her mind's eye: the curling tresses of red hair falling down her back, teasing over her pointed ears adorned with jewelry; her serene face, lips turned in a smile that ended in laugh lines, an unashamed sign of warmth and matronly beauty; a woman who radiated power, with a comely dress of blue silk and a plunging neckline, paired with two pauldrons stacked upon one another on an arm that ends in the hand which fiercely grips her enchanted blade. As for herself, Junah did her best to see Nerevar, powerful war-leader, respected hero to her people, and to let the act mask the actor underneath, lost in the scene.

Almalexia delivers a speech for a time, neither short nor long, words carefully plotted out and chosen days before. Then, Junah says her part, exactly as they rehearsed, her voice strong and unwavering, her eyes locked on the crowd, hand gripping the hilt of the blade, her blade. They speak of the defeat of Dagoth Ur, the fulfillment of the Nerevarine's prophecy, the reunification of Morrowind, the beginning of a new era. The Lady officially endorses the Nerevarine, whom only Vivec had seen to declare as genuine thus far, in her own voice, and to her people it would seem that the Hortator has truly reappeared right beside her. Together, exactly on cue, they raise their twin blades aloft, bathing the crowd in their enchanted glow, and a great applause swells to fill the hall, nearly drowning out the storm raging outside.

From there, the blades are made to levitate above the stage through the will of the goddess, suspended side by side for all to see, reunited at last. This is also how Junah and Almalexia resolve to spend the rest of the party, at each other's side at all times, sticking together as, inevitably, a crowd builds around them to pepper them with questions.

For these, Junah remains mostly silent, save for responding to the few queries she's thought of answers to. Almalexia is most gifted with words, and most familiar with conversing with Mournholders especially, and so gracefully flatters their act with words, and by the time her Ordinators usher the questioners away to make space for her and her dear Hortator, most all leave satisfied with what they've heard. They move to a far wall to watch as revelers bustle about tables with food and drink, or take to the dance floor.

Neither one of them feels particularly peckish, so for awhile they simply stand beside one another, like part of the scenery. Junah is content to fade into the backdrop for awhile, left to her thoughts as she only has to stand beside her.

The gentle voice of the goddess brings the room back into focus. "Is something the matter?" She asks, and Junah looks over to see her golden-green eyes fixed right at her.

"What, was I making a face?" Junah quietly asks.

Almalexia is mildly amused as she nods, lip curving up at the remark.

"Shit," Junah mutters under her breath. "I'm sorry, it's just... we're at the beginning of something really big here. I've got a lot on my mind."

She smiles up at her, now standing on the ground and just half a head shorter than the Redguard. "The mark of a good ruler is to always be thinking, but do try to restrain yourself. This is a celebration." With those words, she slips her hand into Junah's, gently rubbing her thumb against it. She takes a step forward, urging Junah toward the center of the room. "Perhaps a dance would get your mind off it?"

A heat rises to Junah's face as her feet obey Almalexia's command, and she, in her heavy armor, allows herself to be pulled delicately forward onto the dance floor. The ball-goers quickly make room for the two of them, and Junah finds herself at the center of attention once again as Almalexia raises her arms, snaked with tattoos and intricate interlocking designs, up to rest around her shoulders. As her mind races to catch up and her heart races in her chest, she instinctively sets her hands on the other woman's waist and finds her footing. Her palm grazes against Almalexia's belt, against the gentle curve of her abdomen, and Junah locks her darting eyes against Almalexia's own calculating gaze.

As the band plays, their feet follow the movement of the music, gracefully swaying at the center of an empty circle formed by the crowd. Most of the dance floor was occupied by this now, many others ceasing dances of their own to simply watch the spectacle. Surprising as it was to hear Mother Morrowind would finally leave her temple, yet more surprising is it to see her in a slow, intimate dance with the Nerevarine, holding onto each other like lovers, her radiant and shapely body pressed up against the cold hard armor of the Hortator.

In the dance, while lovingly peering into Junah's eyes, Almalexia softly speaks. "You're a much better dancer than I'd expected." She quips.

Junah, only half-focusing on her footing, only half-seeing through her own eyes, responds. "I'm classically trained, ma'am."

"So you can be trained this time?" She laughs, a sweet lilting sound, refreshing like wind through the leaves of a tree. "Good to know... and please, Junah, I would have thought we were on a basis of names by now." She smirks at the taller woman, tilting her head playfully.

Junah laughs bashfully. "Right, of course."

This is all she can say before she loses herself again to the scene, watching as Almalexia leans closer, eyelids fluttering closed, lips tilting up towards her own. She meets her half way, bending down- almost dipping her in her arms, as though she were her leading lady, and the curtain was about to fall.

[commanderserwin]

questions and questions.

↦ pairing(s): levi ackerman x reader

↦ word count: 2.6k

↦ anon request: 

Hi, I hope you're feeling fine 💖 May I ask for something for Levi where he visits an orphanage where his crush works to visit her and all the kids are really excited that Humanit's Strongest is visiting and they ask a thousand questions and he is all in all very sweet towards the kids and it melts his crush's heart? 💖

↦ author’s note(s): thank you anon! i hope you’re feeling wonderful! and thank you for requesting, i’m sorry this took a while ☹︎ still, please enjoy & i hope you like it! 

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Levi has been staring into nothing for the past hour. He has been busy contemplating if he should go or not. He rested his arm on the couch’s headrest, his legs crossed as he thought hard and long when the only option is: to go. Yet, he found himself apprehensive. He has never been around children that much which is the main reason he actually doesn’t want to go. It’s not because he hates children... it’s just, they're children. What do they want? What do they like? What if someone cries? What does he know of children? Clearly, everybody has been a kid but he’s slightly insecure of his own childhood. All he could remember was the sweet slivers of moments shared with his mother, and the rough lessons with Kenny. 

But he couldn’t say no to you. 

In the end, he found himself changing his clothes into something more casual. Gone was the brown jacket of the Survey Corps, the leather harnesses, and the knee-high boots. He dressed himself with his black, coat, trousers, and shoes plus his white button shirt. He didn’t forget to wear his cravat.

Levi walked through the district, knowing all the turns he has to get to you. When he finally saw the little curved wall that was the orphanage, Levi thought that he was going to puke his guts out. He’s overthinking this too much, they’re just children. It’ll be trip. It’ll be all new to him. He calmed down a little when he saw you by the entrance, crouched down in front of little boy that he assumed was crying. He looked at himself, visiting empty handed that he didn’t even notice that he passed by the flower stall. 

He quickly turned back, and found the stall that he’s come to love. Levi picked out the flowers; the most colorful dahlias he could ever find for you. 

From the corner of your eyes, you spied the usual figure walking through the entrance. The colors of the flowers he’s been holding was an easy target to figure out that it was him, because of the huge contrast of the blacks and the flowers he’s hidden by the last second behind his back.

Both of you met each other in the middle. Smiling widely, as he tried to avoid the running children that was screaming various ways of ‘Excuse me!’ as they chased each other in circles. Finally, Levi reached you, a small smile on his face as he watched you erupt in a smile he has missed. 

“Here,” Levi handed you the bouquet, his hand immediately finding comfort in his trousers. 

“These are beautiful, Levi,” you breathed, smelling the dahlias. “Thank you.”

Levi only nodded, looking around. He is so nervous. He nudged his head towards the kids, “Is that them?”

“They’re very excited to meet you, Humanity’s Strongest Soldier,” you nodded, tugging on his sleeve to follow you. 

He stayed in his position, stumped, when somebody else tugged gently on his other sleeve. 

“Who are you?” 

Levi looked down, his furrowed brows softening at the sight of the little girl that’s still holding on to his sleeve. The girl followed his furrowed brows, and it made his heart pound a little harder. She's copying me.

“Levi.” He answered, looking down. The girl hasn’t let go of yet.

“Sera, meet Levi,” you smiled, pointing at them Levi. You crouched down, patting at her hair. “Levi, meet Sera.” 

“Hi, Levi.” 

“Hi,” he answered again, and once he saw the look on your face, he cleared his throat. “Hi Sera.” 

Levi made the effort to crouch down, meeting Sera’s brown eyes as he offered his hand. Sera shook his hand, her small one being completely engulfed by his. 

“Why is your hand so... hard?” Sera asked, holding back again to Levi’s sleeve. “It’s scratchy.”

“Sera,” you warned, pouting as you fixed her hair. 

“I’m sorry, Levi,” she apologized, holding on to his hand now. “I’m sorry you have scratchy hands.” 

Levi nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. Sera showed her hands to him, and he tried his best to look surprised as she gave him the widest smile. 

"I have soft hands."

"Yes, you do."

Levi looked around the children he has attracted— nervous and wary. He looked at you for answers but you only shrugged in response. For all the times, he has visited, he's always in the shadows. Children will come and look at him, but they would never gawk like together, especially when he's with you. It's not that he doesn't want the kids to look at him, he's just not prepared for the small audience that is now gathered around him. They all look up with curious eyes, mouths slightly opened, watching the two adults before them. Levi placed his hand on your smaller back, as if pushing you slightly in front of him, while he tries to hide behind you. 

“What am I going to do?”

It was no use. 

You only pull back on his hand, leaning in on his shoulder. Your lips brushed his ear, as you whispered, "Just be nice." 

"I am... nice." 

"I know," you answered back, squeezing his hand. He blinked, his brows raised a little. "Just relax." 

"I am relaxed."

"Levi," you laughed, his hand on your back again. He pulled you ever so slightly to him, still embarrassed, "Levi, you look like you're going to puke." 

╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾╼╾

Thirteen pairs of curious and wide eyes has been staring at Levi for a few minutes. He’s been stumped for not saying anything aside from introducing himself. 

So that’s where he was now. 

He’s currently sitting in the middle of the bench, legs crossed, as the children waited for more. 

Thirteen pairs of eyes. 

And it scared him to hell. 

His eyes landed on you, standing up with your arms crossed, holding the dahlias closely. He watched your lips turn to the side, giving him a small, encouraging smile that is even making him nervous. 

“Go on,” you mouthed, gesturing your fingers up for him to smile. He awkwardly smiled in return, glancing back at the children, but they all stayed quiet. 

Levi grimaced as he looked back at you. He wants you to save him. He couldn’t handle all the attention of the curious eyes that is looking at him. 

“I’m Levi,” he introduced himself again, his eyes flitting towards yours again. 

“Mr. Levi, is that your full name?” Amari asked.

“No,” he shook his head, adjusting his cravat to hold on to something. “It’s Levi Ackerman.” 

“Mr. Ackerman, are you really Humanity’s Strongest Soldier?” Isa asked, leaning in closer as she tugged softly on Levi’s pants. 

“It’s just a nickname,” he explained, looking back at you. 

“I want to be called Humanity’s Kindest,” Noah said. 

“That can happen.”

“Will you call me that, Mr. Ackerman?”

“Sure, Humanity’s Kindest!”

Levi looks so pale in front of the children and when you offered to help at first, he refused. He refused even though you could see right through his body language. He shook his head profusely, pulling away when you finally lead him to the bench. He made a mistake of grabbing to your wrist tightly, when you turned your back on him so that the children can satisfy their curiosity on the person in front of them. 

But he wanted to try. 

And you let him. 

But you don’t know if it’s going well or bad. 

Even when he looks like he’s about to pass out. 

“How many titans have you killed?” Triz asked. 

“I haven’t counted.” 

“What’s your favorite color?” 

Levi pondered on the question. He thought hard and long, until his eyes found yours again. He smiled a little, his eyes going to the bouquet of flowers he’s got you. 

All looks good on you, he thought. 

“It varies.” 

“What’s that on your collar?”

“It’s called a cravat.”

“Can I touch it?”

Levi leaned in forward, offering his hand as he helped Jack touch it.

“What’s your favorite food?” Carson asked. 

“Tea.” 

“But, that’s a drink, Mr. Ackerman,” Vico explained. 

“Levi is fine,” he explained, clearing his throat. “I guess, it’s soup?”

“Do you cook soup?”

“I try to.” 

“Do you also like bread?”

“Bread is fine.” 

“Potatoes?”

“Potatoes are great.”

“I don’t like potatoes,” Sylvie whispered, patting her stomach.

“That’s okay,” Levi reassured, nodding.

“Do you like horses?” 

“Sure.” 

“Are they fast?”

“Yes.”

“What color is your horse?”

“Brown.”

“I want a white horse.” 

“We have white horses.” 

“Will you bring me one, Mr. Ackerman?”

“Levi, please,” he said, fiddling with his cravat. “I don’t think she will like it.” 

Levi pointed at you, and they all turned around. Thirteen pairs of eyes plus the grey familiar ones that you like has stared at you. Levi cocked his head to the side, thankful that the attention is now on you. 

He has started to calm down a little, getting used to the questions they are asking him- which are pretty straightforward and he likes it. The children before him are very entertaining, and he patted himself on the back for actually going.

“I don’t think we have the space for a white horse, Jiya,” you pouted. “But maybe some day? In the future.” 

Jiya nodded, turning back to Levi. All the rest of them followed and now Levi’s nervous again. But it was all gone, when they asked again. 

“What do the horses eat?”

“Hay.”

“No soup?”

“No soup.”

“Are they fast?”

“Yes, again.”

"How fast?"

"Faster than me."

“How fast are you?”

“Very fast.”

“Do they bite?”

“Maybe.”

“Did they bite you?”

“No.”

“Are they smelly?”

“Yes.” 

“You don’t bathe them?”

“They’re just smelly.” 

“That’s sad,” Oliver whimpered. 

Levi’s eyes almost bulged out, whipping his head towards you for help. He doesn’t know what to do if they cry. 

“Please give them baths, Mr. Ackerman,” Oliver added as he looked up at Levi. 

Levi sighed loudly, relief filling his chest. “I will.” 

You smiled all throughout the whole exchange, seeing Levi relax a little bit made you relax as well. You could see how well he was trying, even when his eyes found its way towards yours for so many times, while you encourage him. All the children were so excited that Humanity’s Strongest Soldier is coming to visit— you were also excited, looking forward to this. 

But seeing him with children was different. It almost made you turn into a puddle seeing him with children. 

“Is she your wife?” 

He choked. 

But he stopped himself, he coughed for a bit, pounding on his chest. Levi blushed slightly, and this was the first time he didn’t meet your eyes. 

You were glad for it because you were also deeply blushing. You didn’t know that the conversation about horses would turn into the you. Given, that the both of you hadn’t talked about it, this was all new to the both of you. Levi has only begun courting you, and this...

“No,” Levi cleared his throat, uncrossing his legs, and crossing it again. “She isn’t.”

“Is she your girlfriend?”

Levi looked up at you, failing to busy yourself when you fiddled with the flowers on your hands. It’s like he’s found confidence with the question. 

“I’d like her to be.” 

“Well, please do,” Jon beamed, pointing at you for a second. “I think she likes you.” 

“Does she?” Levi smiled. 

“Uh-huh,” Maria agreed. “She gets sad if you leave.”

“Okay!” You blurted, making everybody turn to look at you. You could feel yourself blush a little harder when Levi tilted his head to the side, a small smile playing on his lips as he stared. “I think that’s enough-,” 

“She also likes flowers.” 

“Does she keep my flowers?”

“Yes! She puts them on a vase,” Nika replied, clapping her hands. 

“Do you know her favorite flowers?”

“Nika,” you warned. But it was no use. They’re too enamored with the guy in front of them that they have turned away from you. 

Nike turned around, and pointed at the ones that you were holding. “She likes those.”

“I should buy her that often?”

“Yes, you should, Mr. Ackerman,” Javi nodded.

“How old are you, Mr. Ackerman?”

Grateful for that distraction. 

“Old.” 

"I'm five years old." Isaac announced, counting off of his fingers. 

"That's nice."

“I think you are ten.”

“No,” Levi shook his head, suppressing a smile. “Older.”

“Twenty?”

“Older.”

“Thirty?”

“Maybe.”

“That’s old.”

Levi only sighed, untangling his legs as he leaned in closer to the children sitting on the ground. They all huddled closer together, speaking up after one another.

“Do you like her?” Jacob pointed at you.

“Yes, I-,” 

“Children,” Mary, the orphanage’s cook called out from the window. She wiped her forehead with her apron, waving her hand. “Dinner is ready!” 

Very grateful for the distraction. 

“See you soon, Mr. Ackerman!” 

Levi waved his hand, watching all of them ran inside the small house, bumping into each other; screaming who gets to sit inside. He watched the children avoid, running around as you called out to wash their hands before they eat.

Then they were gone, and it was just the two of you. 

You padded towards him softly, sitting with as much distance as the bench could offer, yet his knee touched yours, making you look up at him. He caught your eyes that made you look straight ahead. Levi placed his arm on the bench, his fingers brushing your sleeve as he did so. He could see the tinge of pink on your cheek, relishing this moment, thankful that he pushed himself to visit you today. 

“How did I do?” Levi hummed, tapping his foot on the ground. 

“Good,” you nodded, fiddling with the flowers. 

“Just good?”

“Sweet.”

“Good and sweet?”

“Levi..."

"Sweet."

You glanced over at him for a second just to take a peek at his smug face that you’re trying to avoid. This whole ordeal with the children started out good then it took an unexpected turn. You didn’t want to talk about it. “I... Thank you for the flowers.” 

“Don’t forget to put them on a vase,” he mumbled. 

“Stop,” you whispered, hiding your face again, remembering the questions. 

He tapped on your shoulder, making you turn your head towards him. Levi’s head was tilted to the side, his heart thumping, the blood rushing making him feel so alive. He loves teasing you, and with all the information he has gathered from the honest children, his teasing capacity has increased. 

You knew his body language. Very well. That look on his face means that he’s got something snarky to comment. His fingers grazed your shoulders, waking up your goosebumps. Something snarky, you just knew it. So when he opened his mouth, his brows arched, as his lips turned upside-, you beat him. 

“Don’t!” 

[mythicamagic]

Yang x MC Oneshot: The Red Crane

Summary: The Lao Shu mafia boss is looking for a certain woman- his woman- to be exact. (Not as AU as you might think) Yang x Liliana oneshot.

Rated M for smut 

3,000 words

AN: Part of this was originally a rp between me and my friend LadyDiana2000, but I've reworked and extended it into a oneshot. As always you can read this on Ao3 or fanfiction.net via the same username.

Warning: Smut, and the usual themes found in Yang's route aka references to human trafficking.

The Red Crane

The State-Operated Casino in Burlone had been deemed 'neutral ground' for the three deadly mafia families constantly engaged in turf wars. The Falzones barely indulged there due to its leader's distaste, but it was frequently visited by the Visconti and Lao Shu alike, along with regular citizens.

Of course, due to its popularity, copycats popped up everywhere in different territories. Many tried to capture its feel and opulence, but few succeeded.

One such unsavoury copycat lurked in the innermost depths of Lao Shu territory, behind far too many back allies to ever be relevant; The White Crane.

A little tidbit the locals didn't know- or frankly didn't care about- was that its female staff had been provided through underhanded means. Human trafficking valued foreign girls highest, so it was only natural the casino house exotic looking women.

The gambling room was located underground in a transformed basement, drunk men observing the girls. Some were on a cramped stage as entertainment, others waitressing. This newest batch had arrived together, and after a few failed escape attempts and punishments- they'd been shaken enough to be potentially wonderful gifts or products to sell on.

Liliana had never intended to get mixed up with mafia men or human trafficking. One second she'd been enjoying Italy's fine streets, heading towards down an alley- the next…

She shuddered, wiping down a table. Rough hands had grabbed her, snatching her away. She seemed to have been a spur-of-the-moment kidnapping.

Escape proved futile from the seedy casino. Guards were posted outside, and though unsteady with too much liquor in their system, they always overpowered her.

Green eyes dimmed, hazed by the thick smog of cigar smoke.

She'd been fortunate enough to avoid the territory's overabundant drug use, but that could easily change.

I miss you, Elena, Sister Sophia. I hope the children are alright.

It felt like such a long amount of time had passed since she'd seen them- since she'd last glimpsed decent sunlight not smeared by grimy glass.

Glancing at a kiseru pipe held within an older gentleman's hand, she shook herself, continuing with the day's chores.

Have I been forgotten?

----

It's after hours and early in the morning when the owner unexpectedly asked the girls to stay. Usually they'd go to sleep after tidying up. He smiled, standing within the empty casino room. "The time has come for one of you to leave the nest, little songbirds."

The girls shifted anxiously, having sat down in a section of old chaises and lounges. "What does that mean?" one asked.

"Surely you've wondered why you were all brought in here at the same time? Staff are kept in rotation, you see. We need new faces every few months or so. It's just good business. Eventually all of you will be bought or gifted. In this case, one of you will be a gift to the Lao Shu mafia. I hear their leader is without a woman right now."

The door to the basement swung open soundlessly- a man leisurely wandering down white steps.

Liliana stiffened, becoming still as a statue.

"Ah- signore Yang. I didn't think you'd be here so early."

"Mn," a man wearing a fine green changshan ignored the owner, gaze half-lidded. He lowered himself into a seat facing the cluster of women, taking out an ornate pipe and lighting it. Long red hair spilt from broad shoulders- some strands having been tied into a sloppy braid. Liliana's fingers twitched, experiencing an urge to fix it.

"From the looks on their faces, I assume they know the situation," he drawled, flashing his teeth in a mockery of a smile, golden eyes icy cold. As the leader of the Chinese mafia based in Burlone, people knew his name, but he wasn't widely known to the public eye.

"That's the boss of the Lao Shu?" a girl, Victoria, leaned in close to Liliana.

"Yes- but I'm not sure why he'd come here himself," she whispered back, hands drawing into loose fists on her dusty skirts.

Yang watched them watch him, taking a drag from his pipe and exhaling a cloud of curling smoke. "There's not much atmosphere here tonight... give them alcohol if they want it, they look foolish sitting there empty-handed," he addressed the owner.

He nodded, "Chie, would you-"

"No," Yang cut in. "They're busy with me right now. You take their orders. Nothing too expensive, mind."

Miraculously, the owner nodded with the briefest flash of fear, clearly not wanting to displease him.

Some of the girls ordered, though Liliana declined softly, wanting her mind unclouded.

"We'd probably look less foolish if we knew what you wanted," she spoke up, thankful her voice didn't shake. "We were just told something about being 'gifted' a moment before you came in, sir."

"I see."

He'd been collected since the moment he'd walked in, but his eyes unexpectedly burned the second they locked onto her, stealing Liliana's breath. Twin hooks glinted- secured at his hip. "Well, the weaselly owner of this cesspool is going to gift one of you to me," he spoke in a rich cadence, lifting a shoulder lazily. "I'm sure he intends for me to pick at random but I'm not particularly interested in that. If you want to come with me, then speak up," he uttered, accepting a glass of red wine without acknowledging the owner.

"Get on with it, then," one of the more jaded women sneered.

Yang's eyes slide to her. He gazed silently, with such deep, cold apathy.

Like a hawk assessing prey, Liliana stilled. Those tiger-like, vibrant eyes slid shut as he smiled indulgently, "I'm going to tell you now, I cannot abide those who refuse to understand anything. For example...the position they're in," he shot the woman a deadly smirk.

He took a sip, tilting his head consideringly. "You could entertain my men and be passed around, or become my woman, and everything that encompasses."

The implication is startling. Mafia had prostitutes, but he was offering something usually reserved for girlfriends.

This grabbed the attention of many of the girls, though Liliana reddened and glanced away. "Is this a conscious choice?" Amira asks. "Do we say- Yes, I want to be your woman, and that's that? Or are there hurdles you expect us to jump through first, only to be prostituted?"

"No hurdles. That's that," he mimicked, lips curving sharply. "Mn... but it would be unfair not to warn you of my nature. I get bored easily," he drawled. "If you abandon any effort to think for yourself, if you tell me 'I don't know anything' or 'tell me everything'... I will assume your brain is mere decoration. You will become worth less than nothing to me."

"And if that happens, you won't let us go," Liliana murmured, meeting his gaze unflinchingly. She wondered how long this farce would last for, lips thinning.

Yang hummed, expression unreadable as he squinted. "You're skinny," he observed bluntly.

Heat abruptly burst to her cheeks, "I like to share my meals with other people if they ask for seconds!" she felt the need to defend.

"And you went hungry instead? What a soft mindset," he gave a mocking smirk as though unable to comprehend the notion. "I'll feed you, plenty."

The way he said it sounded strangely inappropriate, and she swiftly dropped her gaze, exhaling shakily. His aura was intense- attention feeling heavy. Her thighs pressed together.

Yang took another drag of his kiseru, seeming to enjoy himself. He suddenly noticed something, motioning to Lucrecia. "Woman. Come here a moment."

Lucrecia paled but dutifully stood, padding over with visible trepidation on her face. "Yes?"

His pipe lifted, propping up the ribbon on her shoulder, gazing at it. Golden eyes gleamed. "Are you Hui's plaything?"

She swallowed, stuttering. "I... I don't think so? I just attend to his drinks and food orders," she explained. "The ribbon is something he tied onto me- so that he could monopolise my time."

It wasn't the complete truth, Hui had propositioned her many times. Lili stiffened, gripped by something that heated her blood.

Yang hummed, drawing closer to invade her personal space. "That so?" he purred, voice dropping. "Because if you were Lee's woman, I'd take you just to piss him off," he flashed a sharp-toothed grin.

"Let her go," Liliana burst, standing from her seat. Silence filled the room immediately, her heart hammering loudly in her ribcage.

Ah...

Searing, half-lidded eyes pinned her in place, dragging sensually down her form. Sweat beaded on her brow.

"Are you going to wait around all night or will you finally voice your desire to come with me?" a silky chuckle caressed her hearing, Yang's amusement palpable.

Liliana bristled, biting her lip. Lucrecia's distressed features were enough to draw her forward. "I'm not interested in being your pawn, but yes. I would like to leave this place. Please stop toying with Lucrecia needlessly."

Releasing her friend without another word- a tattooed hand darted out.

Squeaking, Liliana felt herself be tugged down roughly. Prying her eyes open, she shifted on his lap, an iron grip holding her around the waist. Sturdy thighs cushioned her legs- his chest solid with muscle despite his tapered waist.

She opened her mouth to say more- before a mouth pressed to hers. He forced a deep, long kiss against startled lips- tongue brushing against hers, swallowing her muffled noises.

Blushing hotly, Lili tried to ignore their audience, pressing her palms against his chest and shoving to no avail. She couldn't help but return the kiss, stifling less than innocent noises.

Yang chuckled and nipped her bottom lip, scraping sharp teeth over soft flesh while pulling away. "Women usually pretend to be completely enamoured by me," he whispered playfully. "But your glaring eyes aren't unattractive."

"I'm sure you'll receive plenty of glares from me in due course," she panted, cheeks stained red. Green eyes flashed and narrowed, shakily wiping her mouth.

A slow, pleased smile curved his lips, directing his attention to the waiting owner. "I think this one will prove entertaining," he stood.

"Oh! I'm glad!" the man bowed. "Please accept this humble offering. We hope it demonstrates our loyalty to the Lao Shu."

"There's just one thing," Yang sighed with dismay, grasping the hilt of one of his weapons. He lifted it, resting the curve of the hook beneath Lili's chin, metal cool on her skin. Green eyes remained calm, gazing at him quietly.

Yang almost seemed to gentle- just for a moment- before continuing with a playful lift to his voice. "If you're so loyal to us- I assume you didn't mean to steal something that belonged to me."

"W-what?"

A disappointed look crossed Yang's cruel, handsome features. He tilted his head, earring catching the lamplight. "Now that is a pity. I half hoped you'd had the balls to do it on purpose. Never mind," his palm planted against Liliana's back- shoving.

"Wait outside."

Gaping, Liliana stumbled forward. Shooting the girls a worried look, she tried to convey her fear for them, fluttering her hand slightly.

Please get down. Duck for safety. Escape!

Some of them seemed confused, while others caught on, becoming tense.

Hitching blue skirts up and taking the stairs two at a time, Liliana hurried, flinching at a brilliant blaze of colour and light.

She glanced back just once- witnessing Yang swing his hooks down- cleaving through muscle, sinew and bone like butter. Women cried out with horror as the owner collapsed, choking on his own blood.

Fresh air caught in her throat, and Liliana breathed in greedily, lungs protesting as she kept moving.

Multiple swaths of pinks, purples and reds painted the skies, sunset a burning hue on the horizon beyond tiled roofs.

It felt so good to be above ground.

The second she'd managed to race out onto the streets- the guards caught wind of the horror downstairs, drawing their guns and descending into the basement.

Liliana steadied herself against a wall in an alley, hearing rapid gunfire.

Pressing a hand to her mouth, salty tears of relief and worry for her companions welled up. They slid down rosy cheeks, eyes squeezing shut.

She could've run. Seized the opportunity to flee due to the chaos downstairs. Return to the church.

But she knew he'd pursue her.

Hearing footsteps draw closer over cobbled ground, Liliana sobbed, vision blurry as she looked up. But...that wasn't quite the truth. A part of her didn't want to leave this person either.

Yang lowered his bloodied weapon off one shoulder, crimson staining his clothes. Not one injury marred him, as per the norm.

"T-the girls," she managed to choke out.

"It appears they made it out alive," he drawled uncaringly, stepping closer.

"You didn't have to play around like that," she hiccuped, glaring. "Pretending not to know me..."

"Since you're partly to blame for causing my boredom over the past few weeks, a little roleplaying isn't much punishment."

Lili opened her mouth to reply- only to feel hands grab her head, a mouth slanting over hers. The clang of metal bouncing against stone indicated he'd dropped his hook. Shuddering, Liliana pressed herself against him, gasping against his lips and feeling a fresh wave of tears overcome her.

Yang backed her into a wall, body caging her against it, drawing hungry lips down to her neck to place open-mouthed kisses there- biting down.

Jolting, Liliana mewled, gripping him tight. "Y-Yang," she wanted him closer, burying her face in his shoulder.

"I tore Veleno apart looking for you," he hissed in her ear, nipping it. "And some of the other territories. I wondered if the Falzones had finally stolen their precious maiden back- but no. The piss-poor, fucking White Crane 'casino' was holding you. It's precious, really."

Though he smiled jaggedly, Lili could feel his temper spike, coiling tense muscles tighter. His blood-lust hadn't been sated.

She endeavoured to sway it into a different kind of lust.

"I thought..." she mumbled, kissing his chin. "I thought you might've forgotten me."

His tongue ran over the shell of her ear, hands roaming. "Obviously getting kidnapped has hindered your intelligence. I don't let go of my things," he smirked. "Especially not a woman who can glare like a cat. Besides- you returned to me willingly, Lili," fingers marked with intricate tattoos glided over her hip. "You chose to be my woman in there. It's too late to pretend otherwise~"

Her shoulders dropped with relief. Stroking a hand through soft, brilliant red hair, she breathed in his spicy, masculine scent. Her hips bucked of their own accord, a sigh fell from her lips, feeling him grind against her in return.

"Yang-" she breathed, tugging at his hair as he sucked on her collarbone, hand worming between them. "Not here-" a noise escaped her throat, shuddering.

Tattooed fingers pressed and glided against her clit, hidden beneath layers of skirts.

Lifting herself from the haze of pleasure they elicited, Liliana pushed against his chest insistently. With a hiss, Yang ripped his hand away and grabbed her around the waist, retrieving his weapon before leaving the alley.

They didn't make it to the Lao Shu base.

Stumbling as far as the dimly lit docks, Yang tugged her beneath the harsh shade of a boardwalk. The tide was out, allowing Liliana to fall back, cushioned by cool sands.

He gripped her stockings and yanked- ripping a large seam over her sex to allow access. Liliana opened her arms- cradling him close as Yang sank inside her without fanfare or preparation. Lili gasped, wet enough- but needing to adjust to his size once more.

"Did anyone else touch you?" he breathed, eyes half-lidded yet blazing with liquid heat.

"No- no one."

"Good," their breaths intermingled. "Otherwise I'd regret killing them so quickly."

He tugged her dress down just enough to expose a breast, firm grip squeezing it roughly. The way Yang's pupils dilated with every shaky moan she gave made her want to drown him in screams. Liliana clutched at broad shoulders in a death grip as he began moving, rolling lean hips with quick, hard movements.

She hitched her leg, throwing it over his waist- back arching as nails scraped her thigh. His free hand settled at the base of her throat, squeezing slightly.

"I think you owe me an apology," he purred.

"Pardon?- ah!"

Yang gave a rough thrust- cock hitting a spot deep inside that had her choking on a gasp while he simultaneously gave another squeeze. "You know why."

Blunt teeth grit, breath wheezing as he controlled her oxygen flow, cunt clenching hard around him in response. "I'm...sorry, for leaving Lan and Fei," she panted. "I just wanted to quickly check on Luca in town- gn!"

She keened loudly as his other hand played with her sensitive nipple, and threw her head back as Yang began to kiss down her jaw.

"That's a good girl," cold fire brightened his gaze. "Apology- hah- accepted. You were probably sharing food again, hm? That's just like you."

He kissed her hard, using his grip to keep her in place as she shivered with a broken moan. He tasted sweet, rich and decadent and she needed more, opening her mouth just enough for him to force his tongue in.

Yang moved more fluidly, hips undulating against hers with deep, deliberate thrusts. Lili marvelled at his frankly dishevelled look. They never broke eye-contact, bodies plastered together as they made harsh marks into the sand.

They both breathed heavily, the air between them hazy. Lili felt herself getting close, squeezing around him like a vice.

"Liliana," Yang caressed the syllables of her name like a hushed, sinful word. He knew it affected her, and wielded it like any other weapon. "Grip me harder, Liliana. Don't you want me to feel it when you experience rapture?"

Whining, she found purchase on the nape of his neck- digging blunt nails in and dragging them down, feeling him gasp, hips spasming- knocking her own release out of her like a thunderclap.

"Yang!"

He grunted, choking on a dark laugh as he came, releasing inside her. He abandoned her neck in favour of gripping blonde hair- tugging it to yank her head back- a bruising kiss pressing against rosy, open lips.

"Never a dull moment, hm?" Yang chuckled breathlessly, eyes dancing.

Laying in a daze, Liliana could barely formulate words, feeling him pool inside her- their combined juices leaking down her thighs as he pulled out. She knew she'd just traded one cage for another. That this person- this murderer- was just as dark and terrible as the men who had kidnapped her.

And yet, whether it existed or not- Lili imagined she could see it. A fondness in his cruel gaze. She wanted to be kept by him. It didn't make logical sense, but she felt it didn't need to. Yang was a being of impulse, instinct and indulgence. The more he touched her, the more Liliana sank down into the depths of where he resided.

Red cheeks flushed a darker shade of rouge. God forgive me, but I think I'm in danger of loving this awful man.

With a sharp grin, Yang abruptly flipped her over onto her hands and knees, ripping skirts aside and raising her ass- entering her from behind.

"Ah-! A-again? So soon?" she squeaked, moaning.

"What are you talking about? Playtime usually runs into a few sessions," a velvety chuckle resounded in her ear. "Now spread yourself wide, Lili. I want to feel your lungs compress as I hammer into you from behind. That sounds entertaining, doesn't it?"

Lili squeezed her eyes shut, heart thudding wildly. Trembling knees shifted in the sand, dragging apart.

Yes, it does.