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on-my-vigilante-sht · 4 months

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Asshole Instructor

Luke Castellan x Jackson!Reader

Request: luke x jackson!reader angst to fluff like he likes reader but bullies her and like one day she almost dies and then he feels so guilty and confesses

Summary: Luke has been an asshole but he can't help it until he realizes the girl he likes could be gone any minute

Warning: Angst, bullying, Luke acting like a five year old, monsters, injuries

Word Count: 1.5K

Masterlist

A/N I tweaked your request a bit so the story flows more imo

“Faster,” I yelled at one of our newest campers. Y/N Jackson dropped her sword and ripped off her helmet, looking at me with fury in her eyes. I was a little afraid but mostly really attracted to her like this.

“Don’t fu-”

“Hey, we don’t curse,” I reminded her of the camp rules. “What with all the kids around.” Seeing her become even angrier made it so hard not to laugh. I was just glad that we weren’t near any bodies of water. When I had told her that her 12 year old brother was a better fighter than her at dinner, every glass of water rose up in the air she was so mad.

She just threw the sword down and stormed off. “Hey!” I yelled after her. “You’re not dismissed.” But she ignored me, continuing to storm off towards the beach. I felt a pang of guilt antagonizing her to the point that she left but I figured I shouldn’t chase after her if she was going to be around water. Plus, it was funny to see her get so mad.

I turned around the clean up the arena only to see Annabeth standing there looking unimpressed. “Why are you being so mean to her?” she asked.

“I’m not, I'm just messing around.”

She rolled her eyes. “No, you’re antagonizing her. And I think I know why,” she smirked.

“Why?” I asked, deciding to humor her.

“Because you looove her,” she replied smugly, drawing out ‘love.’

“I do not,” I immediately defended. I cringed as my response was too fast. She only gave me a satisfied smirk. “Fine, okay. She’s pretty, I’ll give you that.” Annabeth just raised her eyebrow. “And smart,” I admitted. She kept looking at me. “And nice.” More looks. “Fine! Whenever I see her I want to kiss her and never let her out of my sight.”

A smile broke out on her face, finally satisfied. “See? Now go tell her that. Well- maybe not that exactly. You’ll probably scare her off. But tell her how you feel instead of harassing her and making her hate you.”

My heart stopped. “She hates me?”

“Probably!” Annabeth said like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Or at least she will if you keep treating her so terribly.”

“Fine, I’ll apologize to her after dinner,” I sighed.

“No! Now,” she demanded.

“But she’s at the beach. She’ll kill me!”

“I don’t care. Go,” she said, pointing down the beach. “And take this to her.”

I grumbled, grabbing her helmet from Annabeth before heading after the daughter of Poseidon. When I finally found her she was sitting near a cluster of rocks, clearly trying not to be noticed by anyone. But as I prepared to tell her how I felt but as I looked at her, I thought about all the horrible ways she could reject me. And then humiliate me by telling everyone in camp about it. So instead I threw the helmet at her.

It bounced off the rock with a clang, clearly startling her. “What? Are you gonna cry because I told you, you sucked. What are you 5?”

“Go away, Luke,” she yelled. I once again felt a pang in my chest as I heard the trembling in her voice. Whether from rage or tears I wasn’t quite sure. But picturing her laughing in my face as she rejected me made me keep going.

“I see why your dad went back to your mom. He couldn’t have his only demigod child in decades be so weak like you.”

“I said go away!” she yelled, standing up. Her eyes were practically on fire as she looked at me with a burning glare. The ocean was getting choppier behind her before it lunged up into a huge wave, soaking me to the bone. I coughed when it finally receded and she was left there, standing dry. “Leave me alone or I’ll stuff you in a sewer pipe,” she threatened, walking off.

When I told Annabeth what happened she threatened to stuff me in a sewer pipe. But other than that she let it go and I hadn’t seen much of Y/N. Which hurt at times because I missed seeing her and I thought about her all the time but I honestly deserved that threat she gave me so I respected her wishes.

That was until I heard a scream and then a boy’s desperate yell. I was in the arena when I heard it and didn’t hesitate running towards the sound. There I found Percy and his sister at the edge of the forest. Percy was frantically pushing on his sister’s bleeding leg as she was getting visibly paler. He looked up, seeing me. “Do something!” he yelled.

I ran over, kneeling by her side. I could now see the wound clearly and it was deep. Deep enough to kill her from blood loss. She already had a puddle underneath her and I could see a trail coming from the woods. “Go get Chiron,” I told the boy. He nodded, getting up to sprint to the Big House.

I looked at Y/N’s face, surprised to see her still conscious. “Surprised you’re not cutting me further open,” she said through shallow breaths.

“Look, I’m sorry I’ve treated you like shit and I promise I’ll explain why when you’re better but I need you to focus on staying awake right now. Think you can do that?”

Despite the fact that my hands were keeping her from bleeding out she had the audacity to roll her eyes. “Fine.”

“Thank you,” I breathed. I felt ashamed realizing that was probably the first nice thing I had ever said to her.

Once some Apollo kids came and took her the Big House I went with them. But once they had her in the sickroom and everyone else was kicked out, I became wracked with guilt and worry. I made her life miserable. Why? Because I was afraid of my own feelings for her? I realized just how ridiculous that was. And I realized how little time I may have to actually confess my feelings.

“What happened, Percy?” Chiron’s words interrupted my thoughts.

“We were in the forest just trying to get some monster fighting experience when this big… dog—I think it was a hellhound—jumped at me out of nowhere. I guess she saw it first because she pushed me out of the way but its claws caught her leg,” Percy explained. “Is she going to be alright?” he asked, tears in his wide eyes.

“Yes, she should be fine,” Chiron assured the boy before sending a reassuring look to me too. Did everyone know I liked her? I briefly cursed Annabeth, she probably told him.

But soon enough Lee and Michael said we could go in so I followed Percy into the room. Her leg was wrapped in a pristine white bandage and the sheets must have been changed because they were also white in contrast to her bloody shirt and shorts.

“Percy, why don’t you go get her some clothes for when she wakes up?” I suggested. He looked reluctant but went anyway so I could talk to her. I took a seat by her head, observing her peaceful, beautiful face. “I don’t know if you can hear me but… at least you can’t reject me like this,” I said, letting out an empty chuckle. “But um I guess I'm fulfilling my promise. The reason I’ve been such an asshole to you is because… well… I think I’m in love with you. And I was afraid of my feelings and that you’d reject me so I took it out on you and I’m sorry for that. You didn’t deserve that.”

I sat there for a beat of silence, unsure what to do. But just before I stood up and left, I felt her fingers brush against mine. “Took you long enough to confess, jerk,” she said. I looked back at her, finding the slightest smile and her gorgeous eyes.

“So… you like me too?” I asked, my heart pounding with insecurity.

“Yeah, of course I do,” she admitted. I smiled, leaning down to press my lips to hers. When I pulled away to breathe she took the opportunity to speak. “If you tell anyone I’ll stuff you in a sewer pipe.”

“Sure you will,” I taunted her, connecting our lips again. This time I only pulled away when I heard a slightly squeaky voice.

“What are you doing with my sister?”

Masterlist

#percy jackson #percy jackson and the olympians x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo x reader #pjo tv show #pjo series #the lightning theif #luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #x reader #percy jackson x sister!reader

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milliesdiary · 1 year

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐓 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐔𝐒

𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭; you’re a general's pants-wearing daughter: a skilled fighter, headstrong, and teased by others for not being feminine. during a sparring session with your friend, aemond, you two make a bet: if you win, he has to show you his eye. if he wins, you have to wear a dress — and kiss him.

𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐬; aemond being aemond, confessions, just some good old sweetness ✨

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞; thank you so much to the amazing person who asked for this :”) i hope i could do it justice! to be as inclusive as possible, i do not mention the reader’s father’s descent. i also do not specify her skin tone, body type, eye/hair color, or hair texture ♡

𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐍’𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐘𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐄𝐋𝐒𝐄.

Not like any other woman, at least. You’re strong-willed. Unshakeable. Not as naïve.

As a child, you made mud pies, climbed trees, and kicked boys who made fun of you for acting unladylike. You would return to your parents with grime under your nails, grass stains on your pants, and a twinkle in your eyes. Blood never bothered you; you could get slashed open, bruised, and filthy, yet still make it home.

Maybe it was because of your father — a stubborn general hardened by war, with a sharp way of speaking and a stern sentiment. He taught you the way of the sword at the age of 9, and instilled you with a sense of discipline. Not once did he try to force you into the stereotypes of being a woman; the fancy clothes, the manners, the expectation to give birth at any chance possible.

That’s just not you.

You're not the kind of girl who crumbles beneath the weight of insults, who loses her mind, who cries. You give the same treatment to those who hurt you. You are Bloody Mary, the venomous spider, the wicked snake. You are a creature that can wander through flames without getting burned.

So no, you are not like the other women.

And the townsfolk are always willing to remind you.

The second you step onto the training grounds, all eyes are on you, and there’s an intense discomfort at how they look you up and down.

They are taking in your appearance; your black flowy cape, leather pants, and the tunic cinched at your waist to match. It’s not the style they are used to seeing, comprised of silk dresses and chiffon gowns.

People gossip about how you could steal the hearts of every man in Westeros if you just put on a skirt — if you sat with your legs crossed, prim and proper. If you smiled more often.

“Such a waste of a pretty girl,” they whisper.

How stupid.

You shrug away their stares and try to focus on something else.

It’s a beautiful day, perfect for sparring; the November sunlight veils the world in a golden shawl, and the cool air is sweet as a mandarin. The temperature has risen enough so that you can train without getting numb or going home with an earache from the wind.

You’re more than ready for a fight, to get your hands soiled and feel sweat bead down your face.

Walking over to a table where swords and blades of all kinds are spread along the surface, you feel that familiar rush of excitement. You’re about to grab a dagger until you hear someone call your name.

It’s Ser Criston. He walks over, armor clicking with every stride and gleaming in the autumn sun, only to stop beside you. “I was waiting for when I would see you again. Have you come to train?”

“Of course,” you say simply. “Did you expect any less?”

“Maybe not,” the knight replies, an accepting expression on his face. He knows that you enjoy playing dirty.

Luckily, you and Ser Cristin get along. He is outside a lot of the time helping to train the others, so it was not unusual that you both talked from time to time. You aren’t sure if he is bothered by your lack of femininity, but he never mentions it, so you do not mind him.

You focus your attention back to the blades, picking up a particularly sharp sword. You weigh it in your hands; the grey metal is dense and heavy, brand new. Your reflection stares back at you in the steel. Ser Criston catches your hum of satisfaction.

“That sword was gilded just days ago. A work of art,” He nods.

“Indeed it is,” you agree. Then you smile knowingly at him. “Is there anyone I can spar with?”

Ser Criston responds with a curt nod. Admiration dances in his brown eyes; he’s definitely not like the others. “Plenty.”

Eager, you follow Ser Criston to the patch of land reserved for sword fighting. People are gathered in a circle around two men who are already sparring; the crowd cheers, made up of men who are desperate to make a good impression and women who have come to watch.

You glance at the pair of individuals who are currently engaged in a duel, following their sharp steps as they parry each other’s hits. You remain near the back of the crowd, bringing the tip of your sword to the ground and resting both hands on the hilt.

You’re trying to act casual — but you’re actually itching for your turn. Impatient.

The fight turns out to be pretty boring. You’re able to guess every move before it’s done and correct every miscalculated block inside your head. It might be unfair to judge them so harshly; you’re a skilled fighter and have trained for years. The advantage is yours.

But you also can’t bring yourself to care. These are the same men who boast about their power despite being weak.

You’re genuinely relieved when one of the men knocks the other down, leveling their sword at their opponent’s face. The people around you clap for awhile, and then the crowd slowly breaks apart as some leave to continue their duties.

It’s fine; you don’t need the validation of a crowd during a match.

“Alright,” you say gruffly, ripping your sword from the dirt and skirting through the gaps of people, stepping onto the sandy soil of the sparring area. You turn to face a few of the trainees’ expectant faces. They are waiting for you to choose someone, though all of them seem pathetic. Might as well get it over with.

“Would you like to duel?” You finally ask a man toward the front.

For a second, he remains still. And then he smiles; fucking smirks like he’s a serpent and you’re a lamb ensnared between its teeth. He thinks you’re an easy opponent, all because you’re a woman.

Beating him is going to feel good, you think. Beating all of them.

Balancing the sword in a hand, you spit into the dirt just to spite him — which is successful in making multiple people cringe. Good. You have to bite back a smile and prepare yourself for your opponent’s first strike.

And you were right, of course.

They’re all useless, each more powerless than the last. There’s no challenge, no threat. Not even child’s play with any of them. You have more than half of your competitors on their asses before they even get an opportunity to attack, making every clang of your sword against another seem meaningless.

You ought to take pride in it, thinking back to their breathy chuckles as they whispered about how deluded you were. How unwomanly.

But you don’t. You don't feel prideful, self satisfied, or any emotion of fulfillment. It’s too easy.

The blows from your adversary are repetitive, almost as if he is rehearsing a list of strategies. The movements are easy to predict, giving you the upper hand. It’s not difficult to knock him on the ground, sweeping his legs out from beneath him with a blow that you wish he would have jumped over.

There is someone who definitely would have dodged it, though.

The enigma, the cunning raven, the Prince — Aemond Targaryen. The one man who doesn’t judge you or stare condescendingly. The only person who you consider an equal, an acquaintance.

Aemond is a man of honor. His eye is the shade of lavender, and every syllable that falls from his tongue is sliced apart by the sharp quirk of his lips. High cheekbones, fair skin, an eyepatch making a home over a scar that sits where his eyelid once was.

A dark serpent.

Just as you struggle with your identity, he does, too. You are aware of Aemond’s lack of restraint, lack of faith, lack of fear, and his internal conflict. You know why the man is the way he is.

Aemond had told you what happened once, after you had finished having a nice conversation with his nephews. It’s tragic: when a person doesn't feel valued as a member of a family, they develop a sort of outcast mentality. Childhood experiences of neglect paves the way for lifelong isolation, and as a result, Aemond withdrew. He started spending time alone.

But out of every person in the world, he chose to keep a spot open for you. It’s an honor, really.

The man you are sparring with gives in, standing to his feet with a grunt of humiliation and shooting you a glare. You return it with one of your own, ready to pick another opponent, and then—

“You have been busy, I see,” A familiar voice says.

You turn toward the sound of it, the lull and the accent — only to be met with Aemond standing in the front of the crowd. You size him up, sword dangling at your side.

Aemond’s arms are crossed behind his back in a casual fashion, head held high with interest. His white hair is in a half-up half-down style, the ends flowing over his broad shoulders like a silk scarf.

“My Prince.” There’s no stopping the grin that blooms on your lips. As embarrassing as it is to admit, you always find excitement in his presence. “Dare I ask how long you have been watching?”

“Long enough.” Aemond is silent as he scans you up and down; there’s not a single streak of dirt on you, nor a single cut. He takes notice. “Pray tell: how many men have you made fools of?”

“I don’t know,” you dramatically sigh, acting indifferent. You retreat from the center of the sparring ground to stand in front of him. “I have not had the luxury to count. I was too busy winning.”

Aemond exhales a sharp breath from his nose — his way of conveying amusement — and slightly tilts his head. “It seems that they have not prepared themselves for a woman of your caliber.”

It’s a compliment; a bit cheeky, yes, but a compliment nonetheless. It has you rocking back and forth on your heels in anticipation. “A woman of my caliber? I must say, My Prince, I am flattered.”

“I would not say it unless it were true.”

“Well, if it is of any comfort, you are not like any man I have ever known," you jibe. "You're like a character in a folktale. Someone from a history book.”

"The prince, I presume."

"No, you're the dragon. A magnificently evil dragon." Your tone becomes teasing. “How could anyone lead a regular life with a beast like you?”

“I should inquire the same, My Lady.”

“You just don’t understand a woman that dares to be different, that’s all.”

Aemond lets out a simple ‘hmm’ at that. You slap him in the arm playfully and he doesn’t flinch. He only graces you with the tiniest smirk.

The prince does not enjoy being touched, though the aversion seems to disappear when it comes to you. He can tell; he knows by how he does not scowl at the idea of your hand on his shoulder, or cringe at the feeling of your arm brushing against his. You do not give off negative energy.

Perhaps this is why you have remained in contact with each other; you don’t judge one another for the things you are and for the things you can’t be. Somewhere, deep down, you both think the same thing: take me as I am, or watch my back as I go.

You know of Aemond’s true nature, and he realizes yours.

Much like him, you cannot be picked and thrown away like a flower or an old manuscript. You are a hurricane: ferocious, unflinching, and authentic. A dagger that will slice through the flesh of anyone who dares to cross you.

Though he will not publicly admit it, your spunkiness delights him.

“Come then,” Aemond says.

You’re confused at his words — unsure of what he’s talking about — before he saunters to the center of the sparring circle. He brandishes his sword from a holster wrapped around his hip, the metal screeching into the air. “We have yet to train together. Demonstrate your skills to me.”

It’s true. In the years you’ve known him, you have never once challenged each other. You know what Aemond is capable of though, so it’s intimidating. It’s probably the main reason you have never asked to spar.

Maybe it’s time to change that; you’re not about to back down from a fight. It would hurt your pride too much.

“Fine,” you agree, slinking forward to stand before him in the training area.

There’s so much you want to know about Aemond, you notice. So much that you’d like to learn. Your gaze is focused on his face, and his eye, and then that eyepatch — and you realize that he has never showed you what’s underneath the leather.

You’ve heard the rumors: how the socket has been replaced by a sapphire, a deep, saturated blue that reflects the light at every angle. You wish so badly to see it. For him to trust you with the imperfect parts of him.

It gives you an idea.

“I will spar with you,” you begin, maintaining a serious tone in your voice. “But only if we make a bet.”

The look on Aemond's face changes from being neutral to intrigued. He slices the earth open by shoving his sword into the soil. “And what would that be, My Lady?”

“If I win,” you quip, “you must show me your eye.”

The silence is deafening.

Aemond frowns then. You’re scared for a second; scared that you went too far and bit off more than you could chew.

Looking back on the past can be very frustrating. You have to let it go, you want to tell his younger self, clapping him on the back. If you did that, he might get angry. Or maybe cry. Maybe you would, too.

You open your mouth to revoke the words, yet close it just as quick, unable to get a single syllable out.

But then he speaks.

“Then it shall be,” Aemond says firmly. He leans his weight on his sword, crossing one ankle over the other. You aren’t sure if he actually doesn’t care or if he’s just hiding his anger. He’s always been an expert at keeping his emotions at bay. “If that is what you wish.”

Relief is a godsend in that moment. You fix your surprised expression into one that is more calm. “…And if you win?”

Aemond seems to think it over.

Finally, he decides on something; with the mischief that glints in that one eye, you know it’s going to be less than satisfactory. “I propose you wear a dress for an entire day.”

“What? There’s no way—“

“And kiss me.”

Your mouth drops open in surprise.

Is this how he plans on winning? By threatening you with something so strange in the hopes that you will give up before you started? Like hell you’re going to kiss him. Fuck that. “You cannot be serious.”

“But I am,” he says coolly. Taunting.

In that moment, you consider your options. One, you could retreat. Two, you could fight him and win, effectively seeing the thing he hides most. Third, you could lose, and have to wear a dress, and…

The thought has you reeling. But, at the same time, you do not want to run away from a challenge. You never have. And never, ever will.

You’ll just have to win.

“It is settled then,” you nod, trying to remain composed. Your voice wavers a bit; if Aemond notices, he does not comment on it.

Aemond’s mouth creeps into the slightest smile. He tears his sword from the earth and spins it in the air with a flick of his wrist. “Whenever you are ready, then,” he deadpans.

“I have been ready,” you tease, stepping sideways as you both begin to circle each other. Your footsteps are light and airy in a silent prowl, a show of the expertise your father passed to you. “Are you?”

“The first to hold the other at sword-point wins,” Aemond states, ignoring your question. There’s a sharpness to his words as he tries to draw a reaction from you. Provoke you. “I hope you do not hold back.”

“You must think lowly of me, My Prince,” You retort. “I would never do such a thing. Are you worried that I am going to beat you at your own game?”

Aemond licks his lips, fixing you with a predatory stare; it looks as if he wants to use his canines to rip apart the air, the world, your body that stands before him.

It urges you into action.

You lunge with your sword, but Aemond knocks it to the side with ease, spinning his own in a hand and making a swipe at you.

You don’t hesitate to deflect it — once, twice, three times — before parrying another of his blows. You manage to hit Aemond’s sword particularly hard the fourth time, and you catch a glint of surprise in his eye.

You take a quick step back, before confidently transferring your blade from one hand to the other without breaking eye contact. Your head is buzzing with exhilaration.

“Did you think it would be that simple?” You grin arrogantly. “As a man who studies the way of the sword, I thought you would be more of a challenge.”

To your chagrin, Aemond doesn’t gift you with a reaction. His profile remains composed, although there is a fire in his eye; he has finally found someone who tests him.

You are about to say something else before he lunges for you.

Aemond is fast and skilled, the swiftness of his steps impressive, with a strength in his arms that could send you to the ground if you gave him an opening. With every clash of your swords, you know he’s evaluating your endurance, your attacks, the likelihood of you slashing him with your blade.

However, Aemond is not attempting to boast his power; not like the other trainees who argue like idiots about whose sword is the sharpest or who has the best balance. That’s what you like about him.

Aemond’s jaw is set and confidence keeps his chin held high, even as you deliver another strike to his blade. Your attention is drawn to the way his knuckles are white from the grip on his sword; veins protrude from the pretty skin of his hands, emphasizing the slender length of his fingers.

Focus.

Strike. Block. Dodge. Slash again. You score another hit, but Aemond follows it immediately with a jab at your chest, which has you losing your balance. You respond with a stab at his side, though he dodges it.

This dance of blades feels like it lasts forever; if it were anyone else, you probably would have won by now. Every second feels like a minute, each one longer than the last.

Just before a leap, Aemond tightens his grip on the weapon’s hilt. Before you can react and fix your stance, the sword swings towards your feet, his speed and skill working together to knock you off-balance. You land on your back in the dirt, your blade flying somewhere.

You’re fast, yes. But he is faster.

Quickly you try lift yourself up and grapple for it, but suddenly Aemond pushes you back down. He straddles you, careful not to place his entire weight on your body, and then the pointed edge of his blade is at your throat.

You’ve lost.

Aemond lets out a breathy pant, a wicked grin on his lips — it sends a chill branching down your spine, all the way to your feet. Spite coils in your chest, your nerves trembling with adrenaline, and you see the thrill of the fight reflected in Aemond’s eye.

You are both the same in that way.

“You do put up quite a fight,” Aemond jests, his tone low and deep. You let both arms lay flat across the ground, every breath labored as your heart punches the inside of your ribcage. “Though I am afraid it was not enough.”

You've never experienced energy like this before. You’re trapped underneath him which is exciting in a strange way. You respond with sarcasm in an attempt to hide your embarrassment.

“You offer to spar with a woman only to fling her into the dirt,” you pant. “How polite of you.”

“And you spar with a dragon.” Up close, Aemond’s iris is a startling violet, and the pupil reflects streaks of shadow and light. He’s agonizingly gorgeous. It makes you feel warm. “Is that not what you called me?”

“You are a man of the most preposterous kind.”

“And yet you still wallow in my company.”

There’s nothing you can really say about that. In a final act of defiance, you stare him down as long as possible; in this small way, you feel undefeated. “You can release me now.”

Aemond hums in acknowledgment, letting his sword hang at his side and slowly standing. In a rare act, the prince offers a hand for you to take, but you slap it away. He is entertained by your glare. “You never fail to reject kindness when it is given.”

“Kindness does not serve me.”

Aemond is amused at your annoyance. He spins his sword between his fingers before sheathing it back into its holster, and you pick up your sword to pass it to an observing knight. When you turn back around, Aemond is staring at you. “What?”

“You owe me a debt.”

There was the bet; you’d almost forgot. Gods, you were going to have to wear a dress for a day, and — and…

“Regretting your choices now?” The taught line of Aemond’s mouth evolves into a smile, coy and demure.

“No — no, of course not,” you snap. The words don’t come out as calm as you need them to, and it’s all because of him; he has a way of being frustrating. Always doing something to make you tighten your fists. But as much as you would like to blame him, it was your idea. You reap what you sow. “I never break a promise.”

“Good,” comes Aemond’s response. You both stare at each other for a bit, and then you realize: he’s waiting for you to kiss him. For real. Right here, right now.

“What is wrong, little bird?” He teases. “Do not fly away from me now.”

“I—“ you start, unsure of what to do. A split-second decision is made. “I am not doing this here.”

Before Aemond can say anything, you are grabbing him by the arm and tugging him along. You pull him past clusters of townsfolk, ignoring their curious stares and keeping your gaze forward. He does not resist you.

After peering around an empty alley and inspecting it for any stragglers, you drag him into the stony darkness and nearly slam him against the wall. It’s not on purpose; you’re just reacting to the aftershocks of adrenaline.

You need to be alone to do something like this.

You’re so close to Aemond now that you’re breathing the same air as him, nearly pressed against his chest. You can smell his jasmine shampoo, can feel the warmth radiating from his body. You try to slow your breathing: in and out, to clear your head and push every doubt away.

When you find the courage to look straight at Aemond, you find that he’s already gazing at you.

The light is dim, though you can still make out his profile. You expect his violet eye to be full of mirth, akin to a wild animal staring back at its prey — but what Aemond offers you is righteous and noble. It causes you to prickle with eagerness and anxiety.

“Do not look at me like that,” you mumble.

“In what way?”

“That way.” You don’t even know what you’re referring to. You just want him to stop staring; it’s burning you up from the inside. “You always act like this when you feel like you have won.”

Aemond’s smirk grows before your eyes. His gaze flickers to the sliver of space between you, and then back to your face. “Sometimes I feel that you know me better than I know myself.”

You would let out a sneer if you weren’t so terrified; you need to uphold your side of the bet. You know it. And you definitely don’t want to give him the chance to tease you for your hesitation.

“Maybe I do,” you breathe. Then, grappling with every single piece of boldness you can find, you press your lips upon Aemond’s.

The kiss is resolute — there’s no way you were going to half-ass it — and you fall into him roughly, slamming each emotion you feel onto his mouth. He tenses a little, but then his hands rise to your arms, thumbs pressing into the sleeves of your tunic.

And then it’s over.

You break away from Aemond, almost shocked at yourself. Did that really just happen? Your blood pressure is through the roof, pulse thumping like a war drum.

You stare at him, and he stares right on back, both of you saying nothing. You can't look away, as frightened as you are. His expression is soft. So soft that it scares you, yet his eye darkens with interest.

You try to make a joke out of it, to rid yourself of this awkward feeling.

“With the way you are looking at me, My Prince, I would assume you actually like me,” you jest. It doesn’t work. Your brain is mush and the words are flimsy. Gods, you feel overheated.

Aemond only blinks, those silver lashes fluttering against his cheeks. It seems like he has come to a realization, and you don’t know what that is. He’s testing the waters; waiting to see if you will run away.

“And what then, My Lady?” he finally replies.

Your body gets hotter in an instant. The implications behind his words are enthralling, holding you in a death grip and making it impossible to speak. You’re searching for something to say, anything, but come up empty handed. Part of you is glad when he fills the silence.

“I must admit,” Aemond says slowly. “There is a certain quality to you. You seem unbreakable.”

“You know that’s not true,” you whisper.

“Perhaps,” he says. “Though there are times where I am not so certain.”

“Aemond…”

“Tell me: what do you think of me?” Aemond suddenly asks. It’s not commanding, not a demand. It just feels…personal. You’re not sure how else to describe it, the sound of him speaking so softly. Your ears are accustomed to your father's stern instructions and peoples’ jeers of your boyish antics. His tone sultry, he asks, “Do I make you nervous?”

“No—you don’t make me nervous,” you stutter. It’s hard to look him in the eye as the lie comes from your lips. “I do not really think of you much, honestly.”

“Hm.” Whether or not Aemond knows you’re lying, you have no idea. “You would be astonished then if you knew the ways I have thought about you.”

“What do you mean?”

Aemond takes in your expression, gaze flitting down to your mouth and then back up to your eyes. “Would you like to know?”

“Yes,” you say automatically. You’re not sure why you’re hoping for something more — something other than just empty insults and jests. Almost as if he knows what you’re thinking, Aemond leans in. His lips brush against your ear as he speaks.

“You are alluring when you ache for chaos. The flesh of your opponents are beneath your nails and their blood stains your teeth, and I can see you are a woman on fire.” His voice just above a whisper, breath hot against your cheek. “We are both made of flame. You have stolen my attention, my love.”

My love. He has never called you that before.

And it’s in this very second that you have an epiphany. How could you not have noticed it earlier? Felt it? How did you ignore the passion whenever this man talked, the warmth he conjured within you, how grateful you were that he treated you differently than others?

Aemond has feelings for you. And judging by how you are instantly filled with a massive amount of satisfaction, happiness, and excitement, you hold affections for him too.

But what is love, anyway? It must be the imprints someone creates inside of you—bruises, scars, gashes. Maybe he had maimed you in the same way, except you turned a blind eye to it. Truthfully, you never even thought you would experience something like this.

After all, love makes humans do terrible things, and you do not consider yourself to be that bloodthirsty. So much of it is violent; there’s the desire to be split apart, defiled, twisted, and reinvented by another person.

You have seen lovers approach one another in a wolflike manner, ravenous and feral for their attention. People who challenge their love get dragged in between them and flayed open without mercy. It’s terrifying, though it’s not watching the wolves tear others apart that scares you.

It’s knowing that you would do that for him.

Aemond boldly stares you down. “You are unaware to the extent I defend myself and my sentiments. How you manage to get the truth from me is rather peculiar.”

He suddenly reaches out and touches your cheek; he does it slowly, almost as if you are a beast trapped in a snare and he might scare you away.

Then Aemond moves his thumb to the corner of your mouth, before skimming it over your bottom lip and pulling it down slightly. He stares down at the inside of your lip — the sensitive, shiny flesh — wishing that he could brand his name there. If anyone tried to entertain you after, you could simply tug your lip down and show them who you belonged to.

This is not a simple bet anymore.

The urge to kiss Aemond again breaks free from within your system. Against your control, the impulse expresses itself in dirty thoughts that invade the most intimate parts of your body.

Quickly, you grab Aemond’s wrist and tug his hand away so you can press your lips to his once more.

“I hate you,” you breathe against him, holding his face between your hands as your noses brush together. “I hate you so much.”

Aemond retaliates accordingly; the way he licks into your mouth sends a shiver that ricochets throughout your body. He’s hot. So, so hot. His fingers cup the back of your neck to keep you close as your hands fly away from his face to hold every inch of him possible.

Aemond’s chest is warm, and his lips are scorching when he trails them over the corner of your mouth and then down your throat. You let your fingers roam to his hair, exploring the softness of each strand that drapes over his shoulder blades.

Aemond knows he’s getting a reaction out of you, that you are starting to feel the prickle of lust. It’s humiliating. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of knowing you can be riled up so easily. It is not like Aemond would give in to your primal desires anyway; he cares too much about duty, about honor. The man follows house tradition — marriage comes before anything else. He is just toying with you now.

You break apart from him, something he surprisingly allows. You want to tell him that you love him, just so he knows. If only you had the ability to articulate such things.

“Is this all you wanted?” You ask instead. “A kiss from me?”

Aemond places his hands on your elbows to coax you back a bit further; he wishes to see you entirely. His hand then rises to your cheek, where his thumb strokes at the underside of your jaw. “I did not want just a kiss, darling,” he reassures.

“And for how long have you been thinking like this?” You steel yourself and continue more quietly. “How long have you loved me?”

“Since the boar hunt,” Aemond says without hesitation. “You begged your mother to let you join, and a girl said you might as well be a townsboy. You tackled her to the ground.”

“But that was the day we met.”

“It was.”

“…That is…quite a long time.”

Aemond only hums at that. The confession makes your heart flutter and threaten it to stop; you swallow down his words, grateful, and then try to collect yourself. You clear your throat. “My Prince—”

“Aemond,” he corrects.

“Aemond. I need you to know something.”

“And what is that, my love?”

“You can’t sweet talk me into wearing a dress. I will not do it.”

“You will.”

Damn it. He is really not going to give this up.

“I hope you burn in the Seven Hells,” you mutter. It’s a joke, of course. You can’t really be mad at him.

Aemond’s lips threaten to twitch into a smile. An emotion akin to pride rests in his eye. “I shall only go if you accompany me there.”

And maybe, just maybe, you were meant to burn together. Whatever your destiny is, one thing becomes very clear:

You will ruin him, and he will love you for it.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x reader #hotd imagines #house of the dragon fanfic #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen x you #aemond x y/n #aemond x you #millie’s works — 📓

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liesmyth · 1 year

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locked tomb characters ranked by how cringe they are

because this post by @wifegideonnav reminded me that they’re all losers, but some are even more losers than the others

Hot Sauce: 1/10. This girl is cool in all possible ways and definitely future lead researcher material. No cringe, zero notes.

Pyrrha: 2/10. By far the least cringe of The Olds. Yes her nicknames for Nona have dad joke energy but she’s very earnest about it and it’s cute.

Juno Zeta: 2/10. Total MILF. Very smart and should know better than to get flirty with We Suffer, but I get it.

Marta Dyas: 3/10. A complete badass with a very sensible outlook on avoiding unnecessary forms. Call me Judith because I would also make a pass at her at the first possible chance.

Commander Wake: 3/10. She made Pyrrha fall in love with her, seduced ever-loyal G1deon into hatefucking and galvanized a dying resistance movement. She was genuinely nice to Gideon those 3 seconds they interacted in passing! Then she had to go and hide under the bed of a mentally ill teenager.

Dulcinea: 4/10. Her horniness for revenge is epic. Let down Pal as nicely as she could and managed to outwit Cytherea when it mattered. Not cringe at all.

Camilla: 4/10. Yes, she could kill you in seconds but she did once sell cigarettes, her most liquid asset, for about a third of their market value.

Alecto: 4/10. Scary eldritch woman-shaped creature with a sword, comes highly recommended by Pyrrha Dve. Loses points for confusing Middle English and thinking John was the best possible Sailor Earth when he was clearly the worst.

G1deon: 5/10. Utterly willing to burn for what he believes in. Yes, he probably needs some perspective but he made sure the baby had enough air before kicking Wake out of the airlock and Matthias Nonius thinks he’s an okay dude.

Pash: 5/10. She has that freedom fighter swag and the cool hair but she is a terrible bodyguard coasting on nepotism, sorry to say.

Palamedes: 6/10. He didn’t clock the serial killer pretending to be his ex because he was too busy going to painfully extreme lengths to avoid interacting with her.

Naberius: 6/10. My controversial opinion is that Babs is the least cringe of the Third House throuple. Yes he looks and acts like a peacock but he puts up with Corona snacking on him for no reason and is still nice to her, and gives Ianthe solid romantic advice.

Nona: 6/10. Cringe in the unselfconscious way of a young teenager, and put this ability to use making Pal fess up to his nurse kink. She will never be cool but it’s part of her appeal.

Mercymorn: 7/10. Speaks in onomatopoeias. She knows she is insufferable so she’s gonna do her best to make sure to be the most insufferable person in every room. Once called John Gaius “the best man I who ever lived” to his smug face and not even blowing him up later makes up for that.

Ianthe: 7/10. Looks like a wet rat. Hopelessly dramatic but she pulls it off. Declares her love for Harrow at every turn in the most transparent possible way then pretends she’s just being snarky. Some cool points for actually getting shit done

Coronabeth: 7/10. Terrible taste in love interests. Her freedom fighter era was hot but she thinks pompadour hair is a good look? Also, the way she spent her whole life lying about necromancy speaks of extreme conflict avoidance. Cringe move.

Judith: 7/10. She deserved to suffer and has suffered more than she deserves. It’s cringe how she clings to her imperialist brainwashing but she gets a point for rightfully understanding she should be wary of Corona, something Ianthe still can’t even grasp.

Ortus: 7/10. Yes he quotes his own epic poetry WIP at people but he also had to grow up on the Ninth with nothing better to do. Genuinely a very nice guy.

Cytherea: 8/10. Her unhinged vibes are very hot but she killed a couple of nerds and two teenagers instead of anyone who was actually dangerous. Cringe of her!

Silas: 8/10. Smarmy cloud-looking motherfucker. He is a child Pope and I guess he can’t help the inherent cringe of the Eight. But that’s still no excuse for bringing a portrait of John all the way to Canaan House just to hang it in your bedroom, dude.

Gideon: 8/10. Babygirl is a horny virgin with the vocabulary of a nerd. Harrow is bones over tit in love with her and she fails to notice after living in Harrow’s brain for eight months. Gets points for managing to maintain impressive biceps on a diet with no protein.

Augustine: 9/10. Extremely cringe because of how hard he tries to pretend he’s not cringe. Cigarettes on a space station and effectively performing swag don’t make up for how much he clearly wants to suck John’s dick. Which he did at least twice.

Harrow: 10/10. Spent most of her life being mean to Gideon because she was too hot to deal with and lobotomized a coffee shop AU into existence. Thinks Ianthe Tridentarius is beautiful. Once built a bone cocoon to sleep in after not drinking water for two days. Should’ve told God months ago that she just didn’t want to eat his fucking biscuits and stop offering.

John: 10/10. Unfortunately, this scale only goes up to 10 but we all know it’s not enough. Deeply cringe in a myriad of ways, chiefly among them the way he inflicts his barely veiled incest kink on all his friends. That one dad joke was gold, though.

This was getting too long but for the record: Aiglamene is cool and so is Abigail Pent. Magnus is not cool but he’s a fun time. The Terrible Teens are exempt from judgement on account of being 14.

#i wrote this on my phone on the metro spelling what's spelling #will this finally be the post I send to L. to convince her to read the books?#tlt memes #the locked tomb #tlt

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grenadine-grenades · 2 months

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Korra's Upbringing

In the Legend of Korra I noticed that they only mention the way Korra was raised primarily in passing. Making remarks about how Korra grew up very isolated and not knowing anything about the outside world. It was always presented as ‘oh yeah the White Lotus never let me have friends my own age because I had to focus on training’ I think we just gloss over how traumatic Korra’s upbringing had to be.

When she goes to Republic City for the first time she immediately gets into trouble because she doesn't know you need money to buy things, she thinks everyone already knows she's the Avatar, and she basically doesn't know how the outside world works. It makes me wonder what the White Lotus was teaching her in the compound. Was she just focusing in on bending all the time? I'd assume that if you were going to isolate the Avatar from the rest of the world you'd at least keep them up on current events, political affairs, and teach them basic manners and customs in case of diplomatic meetings.

Along with the fact that no one knows or cares that Korra is the Avatar when she goes to Republic City. This could be explained by the fact that the Red Lotus tried to kidnap Korra when she was younger, but that would probably be world wide news considering that people know who the Red Lotus are. She'd also probably have to leave the compound at some point to give her opinion on world affairs when the time came to it.

What were the White Lotus's intentions with Korra? Were they going to let her out of the compound at some point or just make her stay only letting her leave when they decided that the Avatar's impute would be useful. It honestly comes up as a really messed up situation all around especially when you look at the way Korra acts around people.

She hasn't interacted with anyone her own age except maybe her cousins but Korra never really got along with them. It's why her relationships with Mako, Bolin, and Asami are so messy at first.

SHE. DOESN'T. KNOW. HOW. TO. INTERACT. WITH. PEOPLE!

I honestly think that the air of confidence that Korra puts on is something to compensate for the fact that she's an overall insecure and awkward teen girl. Like literally she thinks the first guy she likes is her soulmate.

Korra in the beginning

While I am one of Korra's biggest defenders I feel that Korra's upbringing largely informs why she is the way she is. When we first meet Korra she is a sheltered, hotheaded, and naive teenage girl who expects things to come easy to her. This makes her come off as spoiled and overzealous, jumping head first into the conflict with the equalists while only getting a surface level briefing of who they are and what they are trying to do (take away bending). Korra doesn't take the equalists that seriously thinking she can just hack and slash her way into stopping them, it's only until she is challenged then defeated by Amon does she really start being cautious.

Korra is at her best when she is challenged on a level other than purely physical fighting. While Korra is shown to be a strong fighter she is up against people who will kill her the second she shows any weakness. She doesn't hesitate but doesn't properly assess the situation she's in, like when she publicly challenged Amon she didn't truly realize how truly dangerous the threat she was up against was.

Korra really in the beginning a half-baked Avatar. She developed her own opinions on who the Avatar should be and it caused her fail again and again. It's only when she gets rid of the preconceived notions she had in her head is when she finally succeeds.

Later in the show she changes for the better becoming more calm in her approach to conflict. She’s still hotheaded but ends up learning from her mistakes.

#not me just airing out my opinions #tv review #legend of korra #this is just an incoherent mess #this is awful but enjoy #gonna end up adding more to this later

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megalony · 3 months

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Beautiful Destruction- Part 2

This is the second part in my latest Evan Buckley series, I hope you will all like it. Feedback is always amazing, let me know what you think.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff

911 Masterlist

Part 1

Summary: Evan's self-destruct behaviour lands him in therapy, where he connects with (Y/n). Everything starts changing when she transfers to the 118 and their worlds collide.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"So, your dad tells me you've joined the one-eighteen."

(Y/n) smiled around the rim of her coffee cup and looked down at the swirling puffs of steam circling into the air. She tried to curb her smile down and tame her reaction, she didn't want to seem overly keen or suddenly worried. But one look at Athena had (Y/n)'s eyes creasing at the corners and she put down her cup so it stopped morphing her smile.

"Any specific reason why… is it to do with your dad?" Athena perched her elbows down on the table and placed her cup down in front of her. She had been a little more than surprised when Bobby came home three days ago and told her that (Y/n) was the official new member of the team. The reason (Y/n) didn't join the 118 when she first became a fire fighter was because they didn't want anyone to think Bobby would favour her or lose his judgement with his daughter on the team.

"Felt like I was missing out," (Y/n) shrugged her shoulders while she shuffled forward on her seat and leaned over the table.

"Hm. You sure? I'm glad you both seem happy with the switch, it's just a little sudden."

"I fancied a change, I'm always listening out for their team on the radio, checking in, you know? Thought working with them might be easier."

It was partially true. (Y/n) did cling to the radio when she heard her dad's team attending to a call out or a rapidly spreading fire. She always listened when one of them was being taken to hospital and when they had their mayday calls and it made her anxious. (Y/n) knew if one of her dad's team got injured, it set off his own panic and she always wanted to make sure if he got hurt, she could go straight to him.

Moving to their team would stop that panic and give (Y/n) the feeling of being understood and looked out for. At least if she couldn't count on the rest of the team like her old station, she knew she could always count on her dad to watch her back and make sure she was alright.

"Well you're certainly your father's daughter which will shake things up in that place."

"No kidding. Eddie isn't sure what to make of me and Chimney is kissing my behind to suck up to dad. It's gonna take a while to settle in."

(Y/n) had only worked three shifts with the team so far but she was slowly finding her feet and falling into place with them. She had some medical knowledge and background which meant that while she gelled with Hen and Chimney, she also had a link to Eddie. He wasn't a paramedic like them but he was an army medic and (Y/n) and Eddie were on standby for any medical emergencies that got out of hand.

Hen seemed fine with (Y/n), she had heard about her from Athena, naturally, which was a good thing. But Chimney was gluing himself to (Y/n) so he could ask things about Bobby and try to stay on Bobby's good side. It was endearing but it was also a little unsettling.

Whereas Eddie wasn't sure what to do. He wanted to make her welcome, (Y/n) could sense that. But he didn't want to overstep the mark or do anything that would unsettle the foundations because she was Bobby's daughter that that automatically meant to tread lightly.

Evan was a whole other situation.

It felt rather easy to work alongside Evan and fit in. He automatically took to showing her the ropes and their way of doing things and his joking manner made things simple. They could have a laugh and try to play things cool so no one guessed there was something going on with them behind closed doors.

"You'll fit in just fine, especially after one of their parties." Athena rose her brows and grinned before she finished the rest of her coffee. A party would be just the thing to get (Y/n) officially intergrated into their team and have her become one of them.

If it was anything like the Christmas party, (Y/n) would be in for a treat.

She and Evan might have to abstain from the alcohol though. She could barely remember that night and she knew Evan didn't remember it either. Drunken nights of passion were all well and good, but not when both their minds were ticking time bombs.

When her phone buzzed in her pocket, (Y/n) put down her cup and dug around in her back pocket.

'Hey, kind of had a rough shift. Fancy a drink? Don't wanna be alone tonight. XX'

(Y/n) rolled her lips together as she felt her shoulders slump down. Her weight fell onto her elbows on the table and she sank her teeth into her lower lip.

That didn't sound good.

Evan didn't seem the type who would admit when he had a bad day. From what he said in therapy, he kept his problems to himself. Asking for help wasn't easy for anyone and he wasn't ready to do that yet, but this was close. He was admitting something was wrong and he was asking her for some sort of help. Drinking the night away might not be helpful, but (Y/n) could certainly give Evan some company and check that he was alright.

'Sure, on my way. XX'

"Do you mind if I head off?"

"Sure, you got plans?"

(Y/n) slipped her phone back into her pocket and drained the last drop of her coffee. Evan had timed that right. (Y/n) had come over to have tea with Athena and May who had already shot off back home before her night shift at the call centre. Since they had eaten and the coffee was empty, (Y/n) didn't feel bad about leaving. She had spent the majority of the afternoon with Athena, she could spare the evening for Evan.

"A friend wants to meet for a drink."

Again, she wasn't technically lying. She was just keeping some things to herself.

It surprised (Y/n) how quick it was to get from her dad's house over to Evan's apartment. She wondered fi Evan had realised how close he was to work and to Bobby when he moved in here. He probably did. He seemed like the kind of person who wanted to be surrounded by his family and friends, he didn't want to be far away from those he cared about.

Surprise and apprehension flooded through (Y/n)'s stomach all at once when she approached Evan's apartment and found the door unlocked. He had buzzed her in, logically he had unlocked the door too. But he normally waited for her to knock.

She knocked anyway and slowly opened the door, peeking her head round as she shouted a quiet, "Evan, you okay?"

Her eyes flitted to the kitchen and once she saw his broad frame, she shut the front door behind her and picked up the pace to go into the kitchen. She unhooked her bag from her shoulder and slung down on the counter but (Y/n) couldn't drag her eyes away from him.

Evan was leaning back against the counter next to the sink, pressing his lower back and hips rather tightly into the counter edge. He had one leg crossed over the other, one hand propped up behind him on the counter, presumably to stabalise himself. And a half-full beer bottle in his other hand. The way he rose the bottle to his lips and took a swig made his Adam's apple bob up and down and his neck tensed and flexed.

If she wasn't looking so intently, (Y/n) would have missed the way his head tilted to one side before correcting itself and holding straight again.

"Are you okay… what happened at work?"

He drained the bottle. In one swoop, the last half of the bottle was drunk and he let the bottle drop into the sink with a clash. The sound echoed through the kitchen and made (Y/n) shudder and when she pushed up on her toes to look across at the sink, she sucked in a deep breath. He'd had quite a lot to drink. A few beers, a few shots of vodka by the look of the empty bottle that they had cracked open last week and didn't finish.

"Cap sent me home." Evan's lips pulled into a tight grin that was full of sarcasm but it masked the pain well. The only trace of hurt was swirling in his baby blue eyes that burned into (Y/n)'s so much she felt like melting into a puddle on the floor.

"Why?"

"We had a car crash, the engine caught fire while I was getting the kids out… I got them both out, but they didn't make it."

Evan dropped his head down to stare at his bare feet for a while. It didn't matter that he got them out. It didn't make a difference when Evan crawled out of that car with one kid in each arm and heaved himself over to the ambulance just as the car exploded. All that mattered was his efforts weren't good enough.

Nothing he did was ever good enough and those parents would have to live without two of their three children. Evan couldn't help them.

"Did you get hurt?"

His eyes narrowed and a flash of uncertainty pooled in his eyes. His lips pressed together tightly and he braced both hands on the counter as his eyes followed (Y/n)'s approach.

He stayed still and deathly silent as she moved to stand in front of his legs and leaned her stomach into his like they were about to join in a dance. Her fingertips felt like heaven against his skin and her touch made his skin prickle with heat and adrenaline and his blood fizzled in his veins.

"Why? Doesn't matter, I'm still here-"

"It matters to me. It matters that you would of hurt yourself to get them out." (Y/n) didn't have to be there to know what Evan would have done. She knew he would disobey any order Bobby threw at him to get those kids out. And she knew Evan would of let himself get scolded, burned, scratched and torn apart if it meant getting them out.

He acted first and thought about the consequences later and when he had casualties like this, Evan wouldn't care about his own pain anymore. His turmoil would become irrevelant.

(Y/n) danced her fingertips over his exposed arms, taking in the state of his hands that had a few scold marks near the knuckles and fingertips. His gloves must have started to burn and melt. When she dragged his shirt up to expose his stomach, she watched Evan tip his head back and close his eyes. He wasn't going to stop her. He would do the same if things were the other way around.

No marks, bruises or cuts and burns on his stomach or torso. (Y/n) dragged her hands up to his shoulders and pushed up on her toes so she could lean over his shoulder. He had a minor burn on the back of his neck that went across his right shoulder, but it wasn't deep enough to require hospital treatment.

"Satisfied, baby?"

"No. I'm sorry you lost them, I know it's not easy." Her words made some difference because she wasn't just a girlfriend telling Evan everything was okay. She wasn't an outsider saying she knew what he was going through. (Y/n) had lost people in these situations too, she knew exactly what kind of pain would be rattling through Evan's mind and soul.

"Let's have a drink."

"Evan, baby talk to me-"

"And say what? I almost got crushed to get them out and what good did it do? I carried those kids to the ambulance and… and Bobby wouldn't let me tell their parents I failed them. He wouldn't let me explain how shit I am at this job, that I didn't do it in time."

Words tumbled past his lips before he could stop himself and he waved one hand out in the air before his fingers turned to scratch against his scalp and tug at his hair. He could feel his breaths running away without him and the panic started to bubble back up in his chest.

He hated the panic. It sobered him up. Evan drank to dull down those feelings, not to let them override him again.

"Hey,"

He tried to tilt his head back but he couldn't stop (Y/n) from cupping his face within her palms. Her thumbs brushed beneath his eyes and her fingers stroked against his cheeks as she tilted his head down so she could stand on her tiptoes and press their foreheads together.

They were close enough that Evan could taste her lips and feel each breath she took mingling with his own rapid, shallow breathing.

He couldn't stop himself from reaching up to cup her wrists, silently begging her not to let him go. He didn't want to be without some sort of touch and right now, her touch was the only thing grounding him to the Earth. He let his breaths run away without him but he focused his eyes on hers and shed as many tears as he could to get them out his system.

"Do you want to know what good you did today?"

Evan didn't answer, but he didn't object either, and (Y/n) took that as a sign to keep going.

"You gave those parents closure. One, two, ten seconds later, and they would have no bodies to bury. You don't know what that means to a parent, to have their children home when they pass away. My dad stopped you from telling them because he knew how they would thank you, and he knew you wouldn't be able to handle that. But that's okay, baby. It's okay."

(Y/n) closed her eyes and leaned further into Evan until she finally pressed her lips against his wet, ruby red mouth. She swallowed every little hitched breath and cry he let out, she let him dig his nails into her wrists and sink his teeth down into her lip. And she let his foot reach out and curl around the back of her ankle to drag her closer until every inch of her was pressing down on him.

Evan wanted to feel her weight pushing down on him. He wanted to be pinned between her and the counter to know that he was alive and feel safe with someone who cared.

"But I c-could of saved them-"

"Baby, you don't know that. If they were alive when you got them out, they might still have died on the way to hospital or when they arrived… like my mum." (Y/n) pressed another delicate kiss on Evan's lips while she continued to brush away his tears.

He didn't know what it meant to have loved ones back. (Y/n)'s younger brother died in their house fire years ago but her and Bobby were grateful to the firefighters that managed to get him out. And they were more than grateful that they got her mother out too. She died in the hospital but they still got her out and no one could have done anything more.

No one was blaming Evan; he had no reason to punish himself.

"You gave them back their children, and that's enough. You are enough."

Evan didn't know how important it was for family to have their loved ones back after they died. A lot of people didn't get that. Their families could die in a fire or drown in the sea or be lost and never come home or be found. Parents went to their graves not knowing where their children were and not having graves to visit or ashes to give them comfort.

By getting those kids out, Evan gave those parents that sense of closure. He handed them back their children.

He had done his job the best he could and there was nothing more that Evan could do. He had to come to terms with that and take solace in the small things. Evan needed to accept a little comfort and know he had done enough today.

Punishing himself wasn't going to help anyone when no one was blaming him for what happened today and no one ever would.

'I don't feel like enough.'

Those words were on the tip of his tongue but he couldn't bring himself to say them. Not to someone who would completely understand where he was coming from. Not to (Y/n). He didn't want her to talk him off that ledge, not quite yet.

"Deep breaths… let me make you some coffee." (Y/n) knew the silent message behind her words would reach Evan. She would try and sober him up a little, he didn't need a hangover to haunt him in the morning and he had drunk enough for tonight. Coffee would settle his system and that was what he needed.

(Y/n) kept one hand cupping his face and brushed her thumb across the corner of his mouth. She pressed her chest into his and leaned around him to flick the kettle on, but Evan shook his head.

He let go of her hands so he could wrap one arm around her waist and cup her hip. His nails scrunched up in her shirt and dug through into her skin and he reached his free hand out to grab the neck of the whiskey bottle tucked far back on the counter behind him.

"I think you've had enough, sweetheart."

(Y/n) could feel his resolve start to fade when she held his chin between her thumb and finger and tilted his head away from the bottle to face her. She tugged him down to her level and kissed him while her other hand reached out for his. She pushed the bottle back down onto the counter.

He had drunk enough while he'd been alone, but he wasn't alone now. She was here now and she was going to take care of him.

"I haven't, I can still feel the panic, in here." He let go of the bottle to rub his fist over his chest. The bundle of nerves were still igniting away in his chest and he wanted it to stop. Drinking stopped his panic, it dulled his overactive mind and calmed him down and made it easier to fall asleep. "Have a drink with me."

When his lips pressed against her temple, (Y/n) sighed and hovered her lips against his neck. But her fingers stayed tight around his wrist and she stopped him from reaching back out for the bottle.

She wasn't doing this.

(Y/n) wanted to help Evan, but drinking with him wasn't going to help. She wanted things to be good between them.

If they started to reply on each other to drink together and lose their minds, they would end up harming each other and destructing themselves. (Y/n) wanted to be a support system for Evan and in order to do that, she had to do what was best for him and drowning their sorrows wasn't going to work. (Y/n) knew a lot about relying on alcohol after seeing her dad go through that and she wouldn't let that happen with Evan too.

"Evan, if I drink the night away with you, it's gonna change us. We'll start destructing together, we'll egg each other on and push ourselves past the edge. And I don't wanna lose you like that. Let me look after you-"

A gasp tumbled past (Y/n)'s lips when Evan cut her off.

His hands cupped the back of her thighs and he swiftly hoisted her up off her feet and walked her forward to the kitchen island. He sat her down on the edge of the counter and moved to stand between her legs with his hands digging tightly into her flesh, moving her legs so she hooked them around his torso.

He kept one hand cupping her thigh but his other hand wandered right beneath her shirt, letting his cold fingers travel across her warm skin until she was squirming in front of him.

"Promise me."

"What?" (Y/n) cupped his face in her hands again and leaned her head forward against his.

"Promise you won't let me go. Stay with me, hold me, just don't let me go."

Each word rambled faster and faster past his lips until (Y/n) could barely focus on what he was saying. There was a sense of urgency behind his words and she found herself nodding along, whispering a promise against his lips that devoured her like she was his last meal on Earth.

His hand slipped down from her back to her bum and he pulled her off the counter, forcing her to sit on his hips while he started to walk away from the kitchen with his lips still attached to hers. He drank her in, inhaling and gasping against her mouth and groaning into her lips when her fingers tangled into his hair.

"How drunk are you, Evan? Is this you destructing?"

Her voice sounded like a lullaby dream in Evan's ears and he found himself smiling despite the tears that were still pooling in the corners of his eyes. He pressed his nose against hers and swiped his tongue out across her lip while he stopped at the foot of the stairs.

"Not drunk enough, baby." Her fingers tickled the back of his neck and he swooped down to attach his lips to her neck instead. "And no, it's not. You're my saving grace."

He wasn't trying to get her into his bed so he could use sex as a way of combusting. He was trying to drown himself in (Y/n) because she was the only thing standing between Evan the the void he was staring into. He would lose himself in her eyes, drown in her body and breathe her in until she made everything stop and put the world back to rights.

***

"Self-harming can come in a lot of different forms, it doesn't have to be physical injuries. It's anything we do that purposely hurts or brings us down in any way. Starving ourselves, forcing ourselves into dangerous situations to prove a point or to feel that risk of being hurt. Abusing substances for various reasons."

(Y/n) found her eyes zoning in on the wooden floor, focusing on the little chips and dents that made something pristine look broken and unkept. She could relate to what Harold was saying.

At one point or another, (Y/n) had done a lot of bad coping mechanisms to punish herself or as a way of coping with the world. They didn't always seem bad, but they felt necessary. Running head first into a bad situation despite being told not to because she felt like she deserved to be in danger and because getting hurt would punish her for the things she had done wrong.

"And in your jobs, where your main priority is to help people, if you can't do that… you can end up hurting yourself to cope or as a punishment." Harold rubbed his hands over his knees as he sat up a bit straighter. "Would anyone like to share?"

"I- I think it feels necessary, for me, rather than as a punishment."

"Okay, can you elaborate on that (Y/n)?"

Sitting opposite Evan in the same seats as last week suddenly felt like they were sitting on opposite ends of the ocean. He looked so far away when she lifted her gaze to stare across at him.

He had his arms folded over his chest, his knees bent out to the sides making his thighs look large and inviting and he was slouched down so he didn't look as tall. She knew Evan felt like he was the odd one out, both because he was new to the group and because he looked different. He was young, like her, but he carried himself like he could face the world, until he walked through those doors.

When Evan walked in here, his resolve changed and his control faded away.

"It's necessary to skip a meal because I can save more time, I can do more at work, I can get on with that call ten or twenty minutes quicker because I cut out something that isn't necessary."

"You prioritise?"

"Yeah… I'll take that sense of danger too. The higher the danger, the more adrenaline, the faster I move, the more I can think and act. My expectations rise each time until I'm thinking… skip breakfast, skip lunch, run into a fire without gloves on so I can grab things better and if I get hurt, then that's a good thing. It proves what I'm doing is paying off somehow."

(Y/n) had expectations of what she wanted to do when she was at work. She wanted to be efficient and eating meals took time. It was time to prepare food, set out the dinner and wash the plates and then try and work it off so she didn't feel too full or too tired.

Skipping that meal meant she felt more alert, more agile and she had an extra half an hour to prioritise and get ready and stock the truck.

When she was scared her adrenaline made her think better, the scarier the better because she worked better under pressure. And if that pressure got her hurt, that was okay, that was just the burden of proof of what she was doing and how it was paying off.

But (Y/n) knew the more she thought like this, the more her expectations would rise and she would never meet those goals she set herself. She would end up starving herself to the point of needing a doctor, she would forget safety measures and put herself at risk to be more efficient and helpful.

"And you know, when you don't meet those expectations, you push harder. But when you do meet them, it's not enough because you raise the bar." When (Y/n) nodded and stared down at her hands, Harold looked around the room. That was her telltale sign that she was done opening up. "Anyone else have any other harmful tendencies?"

"I don't take precautions at work anymore."

"What kind of precautions Evan?"

"When we had a factory fire a few weeks back, we were told to evacuate, but I knew someone was still inside. It wasn't safe and I knew going in could cost me everything, but I did it anyway… against orders."

"Why?"

"Because it doesn't scare me. Sometimes… I- I go void, you know? I have days or weeks of not being afraid to risk everything. I know I can do it, so I blunder my way through and I do it."

Evan hated it when he felt that way. He hated that blank, null and void feeling where death didn't phase him and the danger felt limitless and pointless. He ran back into that factory and found a way to get that man out. Granted, he needed the team to come back and help him, but Evan found that man when everyone else was willing to let him die than take a risk.

Evan didn't need the danger and adrenaline to fuel him, but he wanted it because without it, he felt like a zombie.

"Do you get that dopamine rush, when you complete what you set out to do? Does it feel like a reward for you?"

"Not always, that's the bad part." He slumped forward in his chair and leaned his forearms down on his thighs as his back clicked into place. When he didn't get that excitement or that relief at the end of the day, Evan felt like going home and never waking up. What good was the job to him if it didn't give him that boost and that reward or knowing and feeling that he had saved someone?

"So then you keep running into that danger, chasing that high and gratification. What happens on a bad day, Evan? When you're stopped from running into that building or when all your efforts don't work?"

"I drink. I go home, I drown, and I don't wanna get up. I lost someone two days ago on the job and I… fuck, I… I've never felt like that before, but if I had a gun, I might of used it."

Tremors rattled through (Y/n)'s stomach and her arms bound around her chest to stop herself from crying. They weren't really meant to mingle and it was a conflict, her and Evan being in the same therapy group like this. She couldn't afford to give them both away and admit that Evan meant much more to her than a stranger in a weekly meeting.

But how could she stop herself from crying when he'd just admitted the job was killing him?

Being a fireman was his saving grace, it was what Evan wanted to do and he couldn't see himself doing anything else. But losing someone had nearly taken every ounce of him. It wasn't fair. Not when Evan did his level best each and every day and he helped so many people, but now he felt broken.

"Can I ask why it hit you so hard?"

"Because I got them out! I- I had then in my arms, and my efforts did nothing. If my best can't save someone, if it's n-not enough, where does that leave me? So I drink, a lot, and I would of carried on if-" His baby blue eyes welled up with tears and for a split second, he let his eyes linger on (Y/n) before he looked down at his hands and tangled them together. "Uh, if I had more alcohol in the house."

A close save.

Evan would have drank the bottle of whiskey in his apartment and the rest of the beer in the fridge if (Y/n) didn't come over when he asked.

He would of woken up the same way he did when Maddie found him if (Y/n) didn't help him. And he would do it again and again because the drink stopped the panic and the panic fuelled his bad thoughts and turned him on himself.

"Okay. You said before that you binge drink, Evan this is only a suggestion, but I think abstaining from alcohol might be useful. You sound like you're on the path to abusing it and that is a hard path to stray from."

Harold tried to word it as carefully as he could, but he was only saying something that Evan had already been thinking about.

Something that (Y/n) had already talked about.

She didn't want to keep drinking with Evan in case they both got on that abusive path of drinking when their problems worsened. They would end up drinking after every bad shift, drowning the night away and using alcohol to make things better. Then where would they be if they needed a drink to get themselves through a shift at work?

(Y/n) wanted to be Evan's support system and if they were going to help each other, they needed to acknowledge some of their problems.

Alcohol was starting to be a problem for Evan.

He nodded before he bowed his head and hung his hands down between his thighs.

Suddenly, the room felt like it was expanding, like the floor was growing and creating a distance between him and (Y/n). And Evan wanted to run across the room and drop his face into her neck and curl his arms around her waist. He wanted to anchor himself to her, tether his body to hers until he wasn't afraid anymore. Until the night faded away and the day seemed bearable.

Right now, Evan didn't want a drink. He just wanted (Y/n).

#evan buckley #buck imagine #buck x reader #evan buckley x reader #evan buckley imagine #imagine #911 imagine #bobby nash #beautiful destruction

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stories-and-chaos · 2 months

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Shrike: How to Train Your Exorcist

[Hazbin Hotel reader insert as Alastor’s “darling life and death partner” Ace x ace relationship, both parties are moderately sex favorable.]

[One shot, word count 1425, Cw: mild cursing]

—————

There was barely a month before Extermination Day. The Hazbin Hotel was packed for the first time with residents; cannibals and your avian demons, preparing to defend against the exorcists. The cannibals were used to ripping their prey to shreds. They needed practice hitting weak spots and wielding angelic weapons instead of their teeth and claws.

Your flock had flight and agility but the majority relied on hit and run tactics. They needed to learn not to dash off but continue their attack. Fortunately a couple of your followers had a more hawk-like design and the hunting ability to match. And you of course had the look of a butcher bird; you had plenty of experience taking down opponents.

“Alright you lot! We’ve got techniques you need to learn if you’re going to last longer than thirty seconds on extermination day. Angels are used to being unopposed in the air; they fly down, attack, then fly off to their next victim. So we take advantage of that.” You paced in front of the gathered demons.

You were short, but most of your people weren’t much bigger. “Exorcists aren’t going to be looking above themselves for targets. Even a small fighter diving at high speed can knock their target out of the sky. If we can grab and spin them, we might even break bones when they hit the ground.”

Some of the more delicate members of the group looked at each other dubiously. “Not to mention, they don’t fight together. They hunt down targets individually. Which means we can team up against them.” Now they looked more curious. “We don’t even have to make direct contact; two or more of us diving right next to them at top speed is going to hit them with our wakes. Knock them off balance and they’ll be easy targets for Pentious’ ranged weapons.

“We’re all going to have angelic steel weapons. Slash at them as you dive by, you might hit limbs or a wing. If you’re lucky, you’ll hit the neck. Ultimately, our goal is to disrupt them in the sky and get them to where the cannibals can finish them off. Now, let’s start with diving runs.”

You ended up holding multiple target dummies aloft with little whirlwinds. The demons weren’t very accurate at first, but they picked up the concept quickly. Before the week was out, more than half were knocking the dummies off their perches and almost all were trying weapons during their dives.

Alastor was doing his own preparations, but he did help setting up the targets. His tentacles held them in place when you needed a break. He also amused himself by making surprise attacks to keep the fliers on their toes.

You hauled Husk over at least once a day to join the flight group. He still didn’t like having wings, but you pointed out he needed every advantage he could get. And you knew how rusty the former Overlord was. So you shoved him right into the lot for practice.

The one you couldn’t get a hold of was Vaggie. She was spending all her time instructing the cannibals, then working with Charlie after. You’d seen her new wings and according to her royal girlfriend, the former exorcist had been in Hell for years. If Husk was rusty, Vaggie likely was too.

Ten days before the early Extermination, you walked up to Vaggie after the group’s lunch break. “Let’s leave the troops to Charlie for the afternoon, ma petite. You’re overdue for some time with me.” You linked your arm in hers and essentially dragged her with you. Charlie tried to come with you, but you waved her off. “Not to worry princess, I’ll give her back in one piece!”

“What the hell are you doing?” Vaggie didn’t really sound angry, just annoyed at your pushiness.

“I am giving you something you badly need.” You brought her to a patch of grass near your flock’s training area. You had told everyone to clear out of the sky in this area; this wasn’t a group session. “You’ve got those pretty new wings, cher. Let’s prove they’re not decorative, hm?”

With that you launched into the sky, hovering about twenty feet above the ground. “I know how to fly, Y/N.” Her voice turned harsher than usual as she joined you. “And Carmilla already showed me how to fight angels.”

You smiled, got a bit more altitude, and raced past her in a dive that sent her spinning in the air. “Carmilla, for all her skill and charm, is sadly limited by gravity,” you said, pulling out of your dive. You grabbed Vaggie’s arm as you passed her again, this time pulling her up with you. You brought her face close to your own. “We are not.” Before she could respond, you grabbed her shirt, spun her in the air and threw her toward the ground.

She managed to get control and brake before she hit the ground. “Allons’y cher. You know how to beat angels?” You summoned a stiletto in each hand. “Let’s make sure you can beat them where they feel strongest; the sky.” Vaggie pulled out her spear before launching herself at you.

She was right; she did know how to fly and fly well. It seemed flying was like riding a bike, you never really forgot. But she was also out of practice and had never sparred with someone like you. Someone willing to fight dirty, with tooth, talon, wings, and every bit of strength in your small frame.

That first day, she could barely touch you. But by the end of the day you could tell she was getting more fluid before the tiredness set in. She had a grin on her face as she begrudgingly said, “Okay, you’ve got a point. I need practice.”

“So you’ll be here tomorrow afternoon?” She rolled her eye and agreed before finding Charlie. You stretched your wings out and Alastor manifested behind you. “Looking like you were enjoying yourself today my dear.”

“I did, cher. Husk refuses to spar with me and none of our followers can quite keep up. Despite the situation, it’s fun to find someone who can.” You smiled up at him and placed your hand in his outstretched one. His shadows enveloped you, delivering you to the hotel suite.

Alastor led you to the table and pulled out your chair. “We’ve hardly been able to spend time together recently. Will you let me have your attention for the night my dear?”

“Gladly, darling.” After dinner (gumbo that reminded you of quiet nights both in the living world and Hell), the two of you relaxed on the couch together. You each had a book to read; the only sounds were the turning of pages and the chirps and drones from the bayou. Just being in each other’s presence helped calm your nerves about the upcoming battle.

The following week was packed with training and preparing the hotel’s grounds for the attack. Vaggie showed up every day after lunch to practice with you. As a former exorcist, she was experienced with various weapons already. She picked up on your style without too much difficulty.

Two days before the deadline, she grappled you in midair. Her remaining eye glowed as she continued her movement, spinning you with her own body as the axis. Like you had to her the first day, she flung you to the ground, her rotation giving the throw more force.

Too close to brake, you resorted to cushioning your fall with wind. Once your head stopped spinning, you looked up at her and started clapping. “Well done, cher!” You rustled your feathers, getting everything back into place before taking to the air again. “Now, let’s make sure you can do it again.”

It turned out she could. Neither of you could manage too many in a row without getting a wicked headache. But Vaggie had a grasp of everything you could show her in those ten days. Much of what you had practiced together was new for her, meaning it was one more way to catch the angels off guard.

Inevitably, Extermination Day arrived. You waited with the rest of the defenders. Vaggie had her wings hidden for now; none of her former comrades knew she could fly again and she wanted it to be a trump card.

Golden light rained down, Vaggie rallied those around her with Charlie, you and yours took to the sky to teach the rest of the exorcists a lesson.

——————

@whitewolfsoldat @edgyboi10000 @ch3sire-blu3 @clearly-awkward @badatpunz @bengewatch @chewbrry

#hazbin hotel #hazbin fanfic #hazbin vaggie #hazbin alastor #alastor x reader #asexual alastor #alastor #vaggie

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multifandomfanficss · 8 months

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Stuck With You

Adrian Chase/Vigilante x Reader

Adrian Chase Masterlist

Prompt: When the team sticks their newest member with Vigilante, everyone feels bad for you, but you’re grateful to have him around when you run into something from your past and lose your cool.

Warnings: panic attacks, human experimentation, referenced child abuse

A/N: I found a couple lines of dialogue in my drafts that I never did anything with and I had the writing bug today so I decided to finally make something with it! I’ll crosspost it on my AO3 adriansglasses as well. Hope you enjoy!

“(L/N), you’re with Vigilante.” Harcourt says, at the beginning of the meeting.

“You’re really gonna stick the newest person with that psycho?” John asks.

“You don’t need to be mean to Adrian just because he’s not here.” Leota starts.

“I would say it to his face too. He’d probably just laugh and call me his 4th best friend.” John retorts.

You hadn’t been with the team for long. This was your first mission with them. After a mission gone too out of control, Waller sent you to the middle of nowhere Evergreen, Washington. You thought she’d sent you here because the environment would be less hectic, but the longer you’re there, the more you realize she probably sent you here because everyone on this team is either highly traumatized or in need of more experience. She was trying to put the training wheels back on. From what you’d been told by the team’s top conspiracy theorist, Christopher Smith, this team was originally supposed to be an expendable scapegoat, but they ended up saving the world. You had no idea what to believe at this point.

“What’s up with Vigilante?” You ask, wondering why this was all such a hot topic. You hadn’t known him for long. He seemed a little odd, but overall fine. If you were being honest you actually kind of liked him. He was sweet and funny, often without trying. There was this comforting air about him and you didn’t really know why. He was a good fighter and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t think he was at least a little bit cute.

“He’s a little…” Chris started moving his finger in a circular motion, trying to insinuate that Adrian was crazy.

“He can’t be that bad.” You smile.

Suddenly Adrian comes running into the old video store tripping over one of his shin guards that wasn’t on properly. He sits down and fastens it.

“Sorry I’m late, guys. They kept me late at the restaurant and then when I was trying to put on my suit in the car I accidentally ran a red light and usually I would kill somebody for that, but I mean I think the more important thing is that I didn’t run over the old lady crossing the street! She was totally fine and I know she’s alive because she screamed at me…I’ve never seen an old lady use to many swear words. It was kind of awesome! Anyway what did I miss?”

“You put on your suit while driving?” Leota asks.

“Yup.” He gives a straight face nod. Adrian often had a way about him, as if what he was thinking should be obvious to other people, when in fact, it was not obvious to most people most of the time.

“You amaze me.” Harcourt says, sarcastically.

“Thank you.” Adrian smiles, not catching her sarcasm.

She rolls her eyes, sighing.

———————————————————————

Later on that night you and Adrian found yourselves walking through a series of tunnels.

“John, I think we might be lost.” You spoke into your coms, hoping he can help you from the van.

“I can’t even hear you in my earpiece and I’m right next to you. I think we lost the signal.” Adrian walks in silence for a few seconds before adding, “I’m sorry you got stuck with me.” He looks at the ground, sad.

“What are you talking about?”

“I know they stuck you with me. Nobody ever really chooses to be my partner.” He lightly kicks a rock, pretending not to be bothered.

“They did pair us up, but that doesn’t mean I was disappointed.” You smile.

“Really? Why would you want me?”

“Well first of all, you’re a great fighter. You were also the first person to attempt to be my friend. I’d trust you in the field over anyone.”

“Really?” You can hear the surprise in his voice.

“Yeah.” You let out a soft giggle. “Why are you so surprised that I like you?”

“Usually everyone just tells me to shut up or fuck off.”

“Well I’m not everyone.” You nudge him playfully as you walk.

Soon you come upon a door. It’s a little rusted, but Adrian shoots the lock off and you’re able to break in.

“What is this place?” He asks.

As soon as you walk inside you see the tubes, the files, the devices, the tables, the symbols. You know exactly what this is. This is an old facility for the for the group that made you leave your old job, the mission that ruined your life. You see files on the table, files no doubt full of details on the children they were experimenting on. The group would take orphaned children or children who were abandoned and unwanted, kids who had no one to protect them, and they would experiment on them. They were human trials to try to find new ways of making superheroes. This must have been one of their old abandoned facilities. Despite the lab being inactive, just the sight of it was still enough to send you into a spiral.

Your heart starts beating rapidly as you grow dizzy. You look down at your shaking hands. You’re starting to lose control of your breathing.

“I- I can’t-“ You walk backwards out of the room, starting to hyperventilate.

“Woah. Hey, what’s going on? Are you having a panic attack?” Adrian slowly puts his hands out towards you. He’s a little unsure of what to do.

“I’ve seen this before!” Your entire world is spinning as your start to cry. You can’t stop thinking about the awful things you saw when you snuck into their active facility earlier this year. Those poor children. Part of you was starting to wonder if Waller put you on this team for a reason. You should have known better than to think she was giving you a break. Waller always had some sort of fucked up motive that only worked for herself hidden up her sleeve. “I can’t fucking breathe!” You sob, sucking in air.

“Tender nice touching.” Adrian slowly approached you, patting your shoulder. You needed pressure on your body. You felt like you were slipping away from earth and you needed to be held down.

“Can I have a hug?” You asked, quietly.

“You want a hug?” He asked, his voice just as quiet. He was speaking softly to not startle you further.

“Yeah…”

“I think I can do that.“ He smiles, slowly bringing you into his arms. A little loose at first, he tightened the hug as you melted into him.

“I’m sorry- I- I just…I know what the did here and- and-“ Adrian shushes you as you begin to stutter, your mind moving much faster than your mouth is able to.

“You’re okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you. Just breathe with me. Don’t focus on anything else, but your breathing okay? Can you feel me breathing?” He rubs your back as you cry into his arms. You nod. “Okay, good. Just…just follow that.” He sighs and then focuses on making his own breathing something you can follow.

“Sometimes it’s hard for me to know what people on the team want because I know Chris doesn’t wanna look weak and Harcourt would kill me if I touched her, so I try to be careful. I just don’t wanna upset you guys more, but if you want me hold you I can keep doing that. Just let me know what you need and I’ll do it.” He says, softly.

“Can you just keep talking?” You ask. The sound of his voice is soothing and grounding.

“You want me to keep talking?” He smiles. “You’re in luck. I’m actually really good at talking. So good, in fact, that people are constantly asking me to shut up. So uh… What can I talk about? Oh! I know. So I have this friend at work. His name is Taylor. Well, he says we’re not friends, but he texts me all time time asking me to help cover his shifts and I would only trust a friend enough to ask them for that, so I think we’re friends. Anyway, so Taylor walked in this morning and…”

The longer Adrian rambles on the better you feel. The pressure of his body on yours and his voice slowly bring you back to earth. Eventually you find yourselves walking back through the tunnels, hand in hand, retracing your steps as he guides you back to the van to regroup. He keeps you distracted with silly stories the entire walk back.

You don’t know what the rest of your team was talking about. Adrian was the best partner you could have had.

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deathmetalunicorn1 · 11 months

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Hi, can I request? Female Teen Reader who have four stuff animals like a wolf, a bunny, a cat, and hawk. The human champion found Y/n cute hanging out with her stuff animals. But when Y/n came in her match with her stuff animals, she call out her stuff animals name til suddenly her stuff animals transform into scary looking beast. She defeat her god opponent along with her friends. Her scary stuff animals turns back into cute stuff animals as Y/n walk out the arena with them. How does the human champion react after what they saw?

-Many thought you were childish, playing with stuffed animals, but the other human fighters were fiercely protective of you, mainly because they knew that you were a fighter as well.

-Seeing you, a teenager, a child in their eyes, fighting, made them furious that you were being forced to do this, and seeing you happy, even for a moment, was all that mattered to you.

-Kojiro sat beside you, holding onto Bunny, looking at the stitching, “This is really well-made, Y/N, the stitching is unlike plush toys I saw when I was alive.”

-You smiled warmly, leaning into his arm, “I learned how to sew when I was younger, and I made them myself.”

-Adam ruffled your hair as he passed by, giving you a small smile as you were up next, but you didn’t look nervous at all.

-You inhaled deeply, gathering your stuffed animals, confusing Kojiro as he had offered to hold them for you while you were fighting, but you were taking them with you.

-When he asked you, you just turned and beam, “Don’t worry- we got this!!”

-All of the human champions watched you in worry, hearing the outrage of the crowds, seeing a teenager- a child that was going to be fighting! But the weird thing was… you didn’t look scared at all.

-Your opponent, a minor earth god, Kand, was cocky, immediately teasing you, calling you a child for holding your stuffed animals.

-You pouted before throwing your stuffed animals up into the air, “Wolfy!! Sir Hoppington!! Meow-Meow! And Bright Eyes!! Let’s go!!”

-A puff of smoke surrounded each of your stuffed animals and instantly, a massive wolf, baring his fangs, a cat flexing it’s claws, a hawk screeching from above, flashing his talons, and a plain, adorable, snow-white bunny, cuddled in your arms.

-Kand’s eyelid twitched as everyone was in an uproar, seeing that your cute little stuffed animals turned into terrifying beasts, at least three of them.

-You stayed back, letting your friends do the work for you, handling Kand easily, before he roared out in fury, “Fine- prepare yourself for my most powerful attack!!”

-You didn’t look impressed but called your three friends back to you, who all sat behind you before you opened your arms, letting your bunny hop to the ground and it hopped forward, looking unassuming.

-Kand roared in fury again, charging forward and instantly Sir Hoppington’s eyes turned red and went right for the throat, tearing into it before ripping his arm off.

-Everyone was horrified before Kand disappeared and you kneeled, hugging your now bloody rabbit before a cloud of smoke appeared around your stuffed animals and returned them to their normal forms.

-When you returned backstage Kojiro was there to greet you, congratulating you on your win which made you grin warmly, thanking him, before he spoke, “How is it that they can change into those beasts? You said you made these.”

-You giggled warmly, a twinkle in your eyes, “It’s love power! They came alive to protect me because I poured so much love into them!” he laughed warmly before taking you back to the waiting room so you could rest and eat.

#record of ragnarok #ror x reader #ror kojiro sasaki

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jordisblogg · 11 months

Text

shuri x spidergirl!reader hcs

warnings: fluff, tchalla and ramonda are alive.. for a little, major character deaths, flirty!reader

it was weird how you and shuri first met. she was on a mission in new york, encountering a villain, when suddenly a string of web came into view snatching her up before she could get pounded by the giant fist that was coming down and smashing into the pavement.

“aren’t you supposed to have some kind of danger sense? you ain’t see that big ass fist coming?”

shuri looked up and saw what was keeping her from falling 15ft from the air. you.

you looked so beautiful, mask bunched up at your forehead, showing off your gorgeous brown eyes and long curly lashes. the setting sun gleaming so perfectly off your caramel brown skin. and your curls not being able to be covered by the mask so they stayed down on your shoulders.

“no, but thank bast you caught me before it did”

you smiled.

“..nice accent.”

shuri let her helmet disintegrate, revealing a small smirk that was held on her lips.

“thank you”

and from that moment on it was nothing but bliss for the two of you.

it was awhile after you and shuri started dating and the public was starting to catch on rather quickly.

it would be during interviews after you had just caught a criminal. paparazzi were left and right of you, sticking microphones in your face trying to get you to answer questions.

“spider-girl, are you currently in a relationship with the black panther?”

“spider-girl, over here!”

“we’ve seen you and the princess of wakanda hanging out around the city, are you both dating?”

you would never give them a straight forward answer. simply shrugging your shoulders, pulling your mask over you face and leaving the scene.

you can’t say that you blame them with all the constant back and forth flirting between you two. what may have started the rumors is that you’ve started to develop a new nickname for your girlfriend. kitty.

shuri will never tell you, but she likes the nickname.

“easy kitty, wouldn’t want you to hurt that pretty face, would we?”

“aw, you care about me kitty?”

“like i’d ever let them come near you, kitty”

when you both did eventually go public, nobody was surprised but they were ecstatic! you both were trending all over social media.

you smiled in amusement as you scrolled down the comment section.

user37292: “not both my wives getting tg😮‍💨”

user2904: “yea we knew y’all wasn’t slick with alla that flirting😒!”

user01607: “AHHH cuties!!!”

shuri would always send you reassuring texts if she knows you’re about to go on a mission. doesn’t matter how big it is. she always makes you put your safety as a priority, knowing your desire to save and protect surpasses your need to save yourself.

“be safe my love, please don’t get yourself into any trouble and don’t get yourself killed.”

“no promises🤭! love uuuuu💗💗”

“i love you too❤️”

…

“y/n i’m serious!!!”

you love to bug shuri. it’s your favorite pass time. even though she lives all the way in wakanda. you make sure you call her at least 8 times a day. yes.. 8. not that she minds. she loves talking to you.

“hi baby!!”

“hi my love”

“whatchu doin?”

“in the lab, are you alright?”

“yea.. you wanna see my challenge?”

“..what?”

shuri loves to say your the light of her life. you constantly make her smile with your crazy antics even thought some of them make her genuinely worry for you. but she learned that was just how you were.

“y/n?! what the hell happened to your face?!”

“this guy rocked my shit!”

“..are you okay?”

“yea.. i think it makes me look bad ass not gonna lie”

you and shuri give each other pet names like most couples do. hers for you are: my love, usana, sithandwa sam, and princess. and yours for her are: kitty (JOKINGLY), mami, baby, and when you had finally learned some xhosa, you started calling her wam yedwa (my one and only)

once shuri had decided you both were deep enough in your relationship for you to meet her family, she called you to tell you to pack a bag and that a talon fighter was coming to get you in the morning.

you made sure you dressed appropriately, seeming as you were going to be in front of royalty. you didn’t feel like you would make a bad impression, but that didn’t stop you from being nervous, shuri having to constantly reassure you during the flight.

“i’m royalty? it’s the same as talking to me”

“girl you don’t count”

“ah.”

they both loved you though! tchalla was the most pleased, constantly picking on shuri.

“it’s about time my baby sister found herself a person!”

“please be quiet”

during your stay, she had took you into her lab to show you some of the new inventions she was working on. most of them were for you. you loved the way she talked about her work, the way her face would light up or how she would stay on one topic for hours. god she was so cute.

shuri would always love taking you to events as her plus one, and vis versa. the way the slick black dress would compliment your curves just right and have you showing a bit of cleavage would leave her drooling.

and you loved to see her in a suit, you’ve told her that. seeing her in a suit matching with you always brought “unholy thoughts” as shuri would say. seeing her gold adornment piece underneath the blazer and with the gold grills to match! wheww.. that combo would leave you a mess.

despite you making a lot of money from your hero work. shuri still spends a whole lot on you. constantly sending shit tons of flowers to your doorstep, buying you everything that you look at for longer than 2 seconds, taking you to expensive restaurants. it did not matter. there was no limit to what she would get or do for you.

“shuri, baby, i think i’ve got enough”

“just this necklace and then we’ll leave”

you love taking shuri on nightly outings after a mission. you both could be chilling at your apartment and you’ll look down at her laying in your lap, tinkering with her kemoyo beads, and just stare.

“..what?

“you wanna to go web-slinging with me?”

you would have her hold onto you extra tight as you both were standing on top of a very high building.. a little too high for shuri. the entire time you swung all that could be heard in the air were shuri’s high-pitched screams or her fussing that you nearly hit a building but wouldn’t have time to finish once you would start swinging again. we’ll say that was the night that started shuri’s fear of heights.

i like to think it’s canon that shuri had started to have panic attacks after the death of her brother and mother so you would always help her when she was having one or if she was and you weren’t there she would call you. the soothing sound of your voice, the constant kisses on her forehead and your soft hand rubbing circles on her back helped calm her down.

“it’s okay baby, i’m right here. deep breaths”

you were a cuddle bug and shuri loved it. she loved when you ran your fingers through her curls or traced the tattoo down her shoulder while she laid her face in the crook of your neck .when she would always ask you why you liked to spoon her so much you would say:

“you already top me in bed, shit- i can’t have this?!”

shuri stays touching you 25/8. whether it’s holding your hand or having an arm around your waist. it keeps her calm when she’s around you. she feels safe. it’s gotten so bad that she’s started to follow you around like a lost puppy sometimes and she doesn’t even notice it.

you could be in the kitchen making you both lunch and she’s right behind you, both arms wrapped around your waist as she nuzzles her face in your hair.

“i think i’ve spoiled you too much..”

shuri spends so much time around you that she’s started picking up on your lingo. you find it funny but adorable when she uses it.

“then the bitch threw me into a building!”

“into a building is wild”

when she’s not fighting for her country, shuri loves to take you out on dates. there will be things that she had asked you wayyy before you two were even a thing.

“what would be your ideal date?”

“fair or arcade date!”

and she would still remember after all this time. she had asked because she knew she was going to end up with you and she wanted to you to be happy. she had never been in a relationship before you so she wanted to make this one count. to make sure you were the one.

when shuri had finally gifted you your own custom set of kemoyo beads you finally felt like you two were official. she had waited because she knew you did a lot of crime fighting and didn’t want them to break but once she modified them she knew it was time.

“I GOT MY OWN PAIR?!??!”

“yes, i wanted to make sure you were ready first.”

you love giving shuri spidey kisses.

“why do you always hang upside down to give me kisses?”

“it’s like a reward”

you love to ask shuri stupid questions in the middle of the night just to piss her off.

“baby?”

“hm”

“when did you realize you were gay?”

“since i was born. go to sleep”

shuri’s tender headed. so when it was wash day for her you’ll need to prepare yourself for her whining.

“ow! usana, stop tugging!”

“i barely even pulled..”

you love buying your merch for her to keep when your away on missions. so her room is basically filled with a bunch of spider-girl plushies, cards and action figures.

“..really?”

“can’t help it that i’m famous baby”

shuri loves to say that your powers get on her nerves when you aren’t using them for hero purposes. when your with her in her lab and she hasn’t given you that much attention you’ll use your webs to pull her backwards having her set right between your legs while you sit on the table.

“will you stop that? i have to finish!”

“can i get a kiss first?”

people know that you and shuri are dating and they’re full aware of who you are. but that doesn’t mean they won’t try anything. girls will constantly come up to her, giving her compliments and asking her questions. one was even so brave as to trace one of her hand tattoos (she snatched her hand away quickly) . she says nothing and glances at you giving her the deadliest look, daring her to say something back to them. not wanting challenge you authority she stays quiet.

it doesn’t matter when or where shuri calls you, you always answer.

“sithandwa sam, are you busy?”

*literally in the middle of fighting a monster*: of course not, what’s up mami?”

a/n: ok going to bed. bye

#shuri x reader #mcu shuri #bpwf #spidergirl #shuri x black! fem! reader #shuri udaku #shuri x y/n #shuri fic #shuris my bbg fr😚#ilhsm #jj’s fics

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amarriageoftrueminds · 11 months

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something i love is how Steve Rogers canonically takes after his mother. both appearance wise and in terms of his ideals

too bad the mcu's powers that be didn't care to explore steve or bucky's backstories beyond catws, or else we could've gotten an actual appearance from Sarah, but that's ok future projects can fix this /copium

but anyways Steve is canonical Momma's Boy, I wish marvel would remember lol

now if only marvel could also remember that Bucky Barnes is a protector and steve's guardian angel with a shotgun (or i guess sniper rifle, during the war)

cuz if marvel did then they could be genius and retroactively give us flashbacks/scenes in the past that put Bucky back there with little Steve and show interactions between Bucky and Sarah and have Steve's mom thank him for looking out for her fighter of a son, and also retroactively include scenes of Bucky's family reacting to their kid choosing to pick up the disabled little bullied Irish kid and decide he must protect hehe

there's too much good shit there that sets up the true nature of Bucky and Steve's friendship, which i feel like marvel writers kinda forgot over the years and replaced it with caricature-ish flat understanding of both Bucky and Steve, so such scenes would be good to remind writers and the audience of why they've been caring about each other and give insight into their parents

Am I the only one who gets the vibe that, quite apart from wanting to unravel any plot-threads which undermine the specialness to Steve of the Token Female they bothered to put in the Cap movies... they don't want Steve to be a Mammy's Boy, cuz they see that as less acceptably manly and cool?

Like: Tony is allowed to obsess over what his dad thought of him, across multiple movies (and ditto what the Odinson boys thought of Odin's opinion of them) but mothers only matter if, and only while, they're being fridged?

Ditto with Bucky's mother too, now I think about it (at least his dad also gets zero mention or exposure). And it would be so sweet and easy to have flashbacks of kid Steve and Bucky -- it would even save them the hassle of having to pay for the adult stars, to film!

Also can you imagine kid-Bucky, already a worrier, asking Sarah what Steve's dad died of and finding out he died from having bad lungs and this just unlocking a whole new level of nightmares for him about Steve and his 'fuck you imma fight everyone in this dirty dank alleyway with bad air' attitude. 😩

I absolutely 100% headcanon Bucky and Sarah as having a whole unspoken language between them, as the only two people on earth who get Steve. I always imagined there would be a whole series of private memories -- moments of non-verbal communication between him and her -- which even Steve himself wasn't privy to.

#historically accurate stucky tag #toAyourQ #dat's me #hey nonny #stucky meta #kid steve and bucky #WE SHOULD'VE SEEN THEM #sarah especially we should've seen it's actually criminal we had screentime wasted on others over her #they really just blatantly did not give a shit about doing comics-Steve justice #he's not the guy they want they want Soldier Boy #remember folks: REBLOG 🔁 / DON'T JUST LIKE 🤍

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muffinlance · 1 year

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Would you be willing to do one where the g'aang meets zuko with his dragons and is like? Wtf? Because I would appreciate the image of aang seeing thw dragons and going, can I pet em, while sokka or katara is like, can I fight dragons? No, no I cannot, and the other is going, not evil fire lord, bet. Please?

(Continued from parts one, two, and three.)

“My older brother should have had the throne, of course,” said the man Aang had come to meet. “But he was still mourning for his son, when… Well, when I think of it now, it was the beginning. My father, poisoned in his bedchambers. My wife, missing in the night. It took me years to piece together what must have happened. It was unthinkable, for a child so young to…”

Aang swallowed thickly, his hands balls on his legs. “Zuko… did all that?”

“When he was younger than you are now. There was always something wrong with that child,” former Fire Lord Ozai said, from between the ruin of his twisted lips in his scared face. Aang wasn’t sure how much farther the scaring extended, but… but he could see it creeping down under the man’s collar, emerging again on his hands. “I was not—I am not—a good man, Avatar Aang. I know that. I was like King Kuei, sheltered in my palace, unaware of the true extent of this war. A spare prince; I was never meant to rule. Neither was he. But obstacles were removed from his path, one by one, until I was the only one who stood in his way. I was not a good man, Avatar. But I would never try to kill my own father.”

“Thank you for speaking with me,” Aang said. “And… I accept your offer, Sifu Ozai.”

Sokka and Katara shifted behind him, uneasily. Long Feng gave no sign as to his opinion, beyond being the one to make this meeting with the Fire Nation’s rebel leader possible. But there were very few firebenders not under Fire Lord Zuko’s control. Aang had to learn from someone. And… at least Ozai understood, how dangerous fire could be.

* * *

Earth King Kuei had thrown out the treaty his advisors had spent so long negotiating, and slapped together his own private agreement with Fire Lord Zuko after only a few days; Ba Sing Se and the eastern part of the continent were left intact and under Kuei’s reign, while the western coast was handed off to the Fire Nation as tribute.

The North Pole’s borders remained closed.

The South had been the first nation pressed into an end-of-war treaty, while the Fire Lord’s dragons watched on.

The Air Nomads… if there were any left, still hiding somewhere, they hadn’t come out for Aang.

* * *

Master Yagoda wasn’t a fighter, and claimed that one world journey was quite enough for her lifetime. She’d remained in the South Pole after Aang’s training there was complete, to help her new tribe.

Long Feng’s responsibilities as the Earth Kingdom’s own rebel leader made it inadvisable for him to place himself in enemy hands. The Fire Lord and King Kuei were close; if Long Feng were taken prisoner, he would be handed off to Ba Sing Se for a quick trial, and likely a quicker execution.

Sifu Ozai’s injuries made it impossible for him to truly fight by Aang’s side, of course, even if he didn’t face an even swifter death than Long Feng should they be captured on Fire Nation soil.

But this was Aang’s job. He was the Avatar, so he had to do this. He had to give all the nations of the world a chance to grow, free from the Fire Lord’s enforced peace.

“We’re not leaving you now,” Katara said, placing a hand on his shoulder. Her brother mirrored her, a moment later.

They’d started as his escorts, in this terrifying new world. He’d trained under the same master Katara had; learned everything there was to know about healing, from Master Yagoda, who’d used the false peace to travel south. Healing was… it was so much better, than the training Sifu Long Feng had put him through, the precise way earthbending could be used to contain or kill. Or Sifu Ozai’s lessons, hard learned, about just how much fire it took to truly stop a fellow bender. At least Ozai had been sympathetic to Aang’s concerns, to the culture only he seemed to remember. Ozai didn’t want his son dead, either. He still loved him, even after what he’d done. He just… wanted him stopped.

Fire didn’t kill easily. But it could definitely stop someone. And then Aang could heal him, and just… keep him in jail. The Fire Lord had a little sister, kept hostage all these years, who Ozai thought might still be convinced to join them. She could be the new Fire Lord, with Ozai as her regent. And then the Earth King’s main ally would be gone, and Long Feng could go back to reclaim his home for the people, instead of the nobility who’d grown rich on war without ever stepping foot outside of their walled inner city.

And. And Aang could travel, and relearn this world, and practice his healing more. That was what the world really needed: healing.

But it was like Yagoda had taught him. Sometimes a break had to be reset, before it could really heal.

* * *

It was… really easy, getting into the Fire Nation palace. They rolled Appa in soot, and came in the night. Landed on a roof. Entered through an upper window on an inner courtyard, where guards wouldn’t think to stand watch. The Fire Nation had uncontested aerial supremacy, after all.

They knew where the Fire Lord’s rooms were; they were Ozai’s old ones. They were also very empty. Which they’d been warned about, because apparently the Fire Lord did his best evil planning at night when his advisors couldn’t reign him in.

There was the flicker of candlelight under the sliding doors to his office. And… no guards. Which led to a round of is-this-the-right-place looks shared between them, but. This was where the map Ozai had given them said to go. So they had another round of looks, with resolute nods this time, and then Katara was sliding open the door as he and Sokka ran in and…

…And a very tired looking servant was standing in front of a desk, shuffling papers around like there was something he’d missed in them. His long hair was partially tied up in a frazzled bun, but mostly down his back. He blinked at them through a pair of glasses that were almost an exact match for the ones in fashion at King Kuei’s court, like he’d gotten them from the same artisan. And also there were some ink stains on his face, like maybe he’d fallen asleep on some still-drying documents. So… maybe a scribe?

“Where’s the Fire Lord?” Sokka demanded, club raised.

“...I can see the family resemblance,” said the servant, who had turned fully to face them, and oh. He… had the Fire Lord’s scar. And there was the Fire Lord’s crown, being used as a paperweight at the edge of the desk.

“Does Chief Hakoda know his children are here to assassinate his ally—” Fire Lord Zuko said.

“ ‘Ally’ is a little strong,” interrupted Sokka.

“—Or do the Water Tribes have their own ‘rebel leader’ now?”

“ ‘Assassinate’ is a little strong, too,” Aang said softly, shuffling his feet, his hands tight around his staff.

The Fire Lord stared at him a moment. “...Ah. So my father would prefer that you maim me, and drop me in a dark cell for the rest of my life?”

“Umm.”

Zuko stared, and stared, and then pushed up his glasses and rubbed at his eyes. “Listen. Can we just… reschedule this?”

“Reschedule,” Katara repeated. “This.”

“You haven’t attacked me yet, so this isn’t technically a diplomatic incident. It’s just… a scheduling conflict?”

Sokka snorted, and then looked vaguely angry at himself. Katara elbowed him. Aang kept gripping his glider, but maybe a little less tightly.

“We got news of an earthquake on Shojima not even two candlemarks ago,” the Fire Lord said, sliding his glasses back down. “Which means the tsunami is on its way to the main coast by now, if it hasn’t hit already, and I need to get these out if the relief supplies are going to be on their way by morning. So we can either have a really fast assassination attempt and then I have to add ‘explain to the world why the Fire Lord killed the Avatar and a nation’s heirs’ to my schedule sometime this week. Or we can talk first, but I don’t have time for that, so can we reschedule this to…”

And the very evil Fire Lord turned away from them to begin shuffling through his papers.

“First,” Sokka said, pointing a finger at the teenager, “Aang would be more than a quick fight, rude. Second: I’m still working on the second, but seriously, rude. And third, what do you mean you’d put our fiery-death-explanations into your schedule sometime this week?”

The Fire Lord didn’t seem to be listening. But he’d apparently found his appointment book, so that was good? Except for all the flipping.

“I can do… lunch tomorrow? If you’re okay with actually eating while we talk. I’m not allowed to skip meals, or Captain Izumi cancels my appointments ‘for national security’.”

Sokka slowly lowered down his pointing finger.

“Talking would be good,” Aang said. “I like talking.”

And then they got to meet Captain Izumi, which was a lot scarier than meeting the Fire Lord.

And then they realized that what they’d thought was vaguely tacky dragon-print paneling along two walls was actual dragon skin and this wasn’t an office it was an open-air veranda and—

“Quick fight” might have been an accurate prediction, yes.

More accurate than Sifu Ozai’s map.

(Read more prompts || Longer ATLA fics || Original works)

#Zuko’s Guards Five Minutes Later Back From Getting Him More Parchment: And then you… rescheduled your assassination #Azula: Ah the power of being an idiot #And Father thinks he can control me as regent?#that's adorable #Meanwhile the Gaang: Wow this heavily guarded suite of rooms is WAY nicer than the refurbished chamber that was once bad #Ran and Shaw: were sleeping this entire time #the sounds of Zuko shuffling papers and making unhappy mouth-noises are their usual nighttime serenade #the sound of Captain Izumi firmly berating her Fire Lord for co-scheduling work with meals is not #sleepy dragons yawn and look in #Sokka sees no scheduling conflicts down their maws #Avatar The Last Airbender #atla #Zuko #Aang #Hello Dragons Here

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