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skyward-floored · 7 months

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Whumptober Day 20: Found family, Blanket

*shuffles feet*

...in my defense, I almost entirely finished this yesterday, I just wasn’t about to go trying to edit and post it at like 11:30 at night (though this note probably would have been a lot more interesting if I had lol).

Anyway. Continuation to day 17! I apologize for the delay and hope the wait was worth it 😓

Day 17

Read on ao3

Warnings: same as day 17, injuries, torture mentions, a short nightmare, just bad times for Twilight

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Getting out was a blur.

Link forced himself to stay awake as the leader of the heroes (had he even said his name? ...If he had he couldn’t remember) carried him, but focusing on much of anything was difficult. The ever-present pain weighed him down like a heavy load, old scars and new injuries adding endless layers of suffering, and even just being carried in someone’s arms was agony.

There was the leftover burn from the magic too— though the chains that had secured him were gone, the manacles were still on his wrists and the collar was still around his neck, and they ached, his whole body still shaking from the ordeal of removing the chains.

It was a struggle not to just pass out.

But the part of him that still screamed not to trust stay on alert be prepared for him to come back was stronger. It had been honed from countless jarring awakenings, pain ripping him back from already restless sleeps, and so he stayed awake, no matter how badly he wanted to rest.

The man holding him shifted his grip as he went up some stairs, and Link felt his breath hitch as some of his injuries were nudged. The man whispered an apology, and gently squeezed one of the few spots of skin that didn’t have an open wound on it.

Link flinched anyway.

The touch immediately retreated, and Link was torn between being relieved and crying at the loss of it.

Part of him still expected them to suddenly turn on him, the kind touches becoming bruising ones, gentle hands turned to claws and knives. But... he also craved it. He desperately wanted somebody to pat him on the shoulder and hug him and run their hand through his hair, but any of the touch he’d received so far had been like torture.

He truly couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt a touch that didn’t involve pain in some way. He could barely stomach it now, no matter how well-meaning, and he hated it.

Was there anything left the Shadow hadn’t taken from him?

Voices suddenly rang down the hall, and Link stiffened, straining his ears to try and figure out who— or what they were.

One of the other heroes who’d gotten him out (the one with the Master Sword, he thought. He really needed names) called out, and soon there were unfamiliar faces and words being exchanged and questions directed at him and all he could do was close his eyes, overwhelmed by the sudden amount of people surrounding him.

How many were there?

“... got Legend pretty bad, but we beat him off and he disappeared,” a polished voice spoke, and Link twitched an ear his direction. What was he talking about? A legend?

“I’m fine,” a sharper voice cut in, and Link thought it seemed younger then the other one. “You didn’t need to use that fairy, that was our last one!”

“Well what was I supposed to do?”

“Save it for the reason we came here in the first place! He’s way more injured than I was!”

“Legend,” a softer voice spoke up, sounding exasperated, “...you were pretty bad. And you know we don’t take chances with injuries caused by the Shadow.”

A sick feeling abruptly surged over Link at the name, along with an intense hatred and fear and horror and too many emotions for his mind to handle at the moment. Link’s breath stuttered against his will, and the man holding him frowned.

“You don’t think the Shadow is still here, do you?” The small hero with the colorful tunic asked, and the voices paused.

“Probably... not,” Link croaked, and they all looked at him.

He swallowed.

“Do you know where he is?” a man in a deep blue scarf asked, and Link exhaled, gathering his strength.

“No,” Link managed to get out, and the voices stayed quiet. “Probably not. But he usually... usually powered ‘self before... fights.”

“...powered himself?” a younger voice asked in an anxious tone, and Link closed his eyes again. Hadn’t they known? Or at least figured it out based on what they’d seen?

All he was was a battery.

“Thank you Link, I’m sorry we brought it up,” the leader apologized, and Link made a noncommittal noise. “We’re almost out, hold on.”

They began moving again, and Link caught several people looking at him, though most of them stopped when they realized he’d noticed. A teenager with a stripe of pink in his hair didn’t though, and Link found himself staring, curious about the look of him. He gave him an awkward little nod, and Link tried to return it, though he wasn’t sure if he succeeded.

They were all so different, were these really heroes like him?

The Shadow had mentioned other heroes once or twice, but Link usually had no clue what he was talking about, or if he did, refused to say anything.

Besides, he was usually too busy screaming to listen anyhow.

Something bright shone out of the corner of his eye, and Link turned to look at it, his heart speeding up at the sight of a large entryway. The group hurriedly went through it, and Link was almost blinded from how bright it was after they walked through.

He blinked furiously, needing to see what was going on, and finally his eyes adjusted and he looked around in shock.

Sunlight.

Faint, barely-there, dim autumn sunlight that struggled to shine through the trees, but the sight of it nearly made Link sob.

He was outside.

He could see sunlight shining through yellow and orange leaves, eventually joined by the sound of birds and other creatures as they went along, air that wasn’t stale rushing past his face and making all his injuries hurt more but he didn’t care a bit.

He was out.

He was crying he realized, and he closed his eyes, overwhelmed by it all.

It wasn’t a trick. He’d never gotten this far the few times he’d been brought out, they were really who they said they were, they must be, and they’d gotten him out of the darkness.

Someone might’ve said something to him, but the overwhelming sensation of being outside had finally pushed Link to his limit, and he gave up on his fight to stay awake.

Darkness swept him away, it’s touch more gentle then he’d felt in a long time.

(...)

The heroes didn’t stop traveling until they were plenty far away from the oppressive ruins where they’d found Link, the trip passing in almost complete silence.

Link had passed out in Time’s arms not long after they’d finally exited, tears on his face, and Time couldn’t help but be somewhat relieved.

Watching Link remain in an almost stubborn state of alertness, ears twitching towards any sound, flinching when Time adjusted him, had been agonizing to watch. His body desperately needed rest, but he’d been stubbornly refusing it until they were out.

He’s certainly one of us, no doubt about that, Time thought with a sigh.

Sky grabbed a bedroll the moment they found a safe place to stop, and Time carefully lowered Link onto it, trying to avoid any injuries. He had several on his back, but they set him down as softly as possible, and Link didn’t wake.

“That’s really him?” Wind asked in a small voice as Warriors moved over to carefully look over all of Link’s injuries, cursing under his breath more than once.

“This is him,” Time replied quietly, trying to clean some of the blood and dirt out of Link’s hair. Now that they were out of the ruins, it was even more obvious how badly Link was in need of being cleaned up and cared for, and Time focused on not being overwhelmed by the task.

What all did he go through in there?

“What happened to him?” Legend said in a voice full of quiet horror, and Wild harshly kicked a rock into a tree.

“What didn’t?” he bit out in a fragile voice, and Sky put a hand on his arm, saying something that Time didn’t catch.

Warriors accidentally brushed a hand against Link’s collarbone then, and his eyes shot open, nearly throwing himself backwards away from the touch.

“Get away!” he snarled, voice hoarse, and Warriors immediately backed up.

“Whoa, easy,” Warriors quickly reassured, putting his hands up. “I’m only checking which of your injuries need to be cleaned so we can give you a potion. We don’t want anything healing inside them.”

Link glared at him in suspicion, but when Time moved into his line of sight, he relaxed a little.

“He’s helping, Link, I promise,” he reassured, and Link slowly relaxed, though he remained awake. Time glanced around at the other heroes as Warriors finished his examination, and saw that most of them were either looking at Link, or pointedly not looking at him as they worked on setting up camp.

It seemed none of them were quite certain how to deal with seeing one of their own in such a state.

Wild came over when he noticed Time watching them all, and he looked at Link, uncertainty on his face.

“Can I help at all?” he asked, voice stronger then it had been, and Time looked over at Warriors.

“These all need to be cleaned, and it’s not going to be easy for him,” the captain reported quietly, looking over his chest. “The faster we can get it done the better.”

“Link, we need to clean you up before we can heal you,” Time said as he knelt at his side, and Link gave him a bleary look. “It won’t be pleasant, but it needs to be done.”

Link breathed out and nodded, looking up at Time with shadows under his eyes.

“Go ahead,” he whispered.

Time gave him a faint smile, and Wild knelt beside him as they got to work.

It took a long time scrubbing all of the dirt out and disinfecting the injuries Link was coated in. They focused on cleaning the actual wounds, but Time knew Link would need the rest of himself cleaned up at some point, dirt and blood and all sorts of grime coated on his skin.

But that can wait.

Link was stiff throughout the entire process, trembling when they got to certain injuries, and trying not to cry out when they used the alcohol Warriors had provided to disinfect. The worst part was his face, which Time carefully washed up, but Link was nearly in tears by the time he finished cleaning the slice that cut right through the dark lines on his forehead.

But they finally finished, and Link sagged, his breathing shaking. Hyrule came forward then, and offered to heal him, and Link gave him a curious look.

“It’s a healing spell, it’ll be more thorough than a potion,” he explained. He faintly lit up his hands to demonstration, but Link immediately recoiled from the light.

“No, no n-no magic!” Link breathed, a flicker of terror in his eyes.

Hyrule immediately backed off, and Link’s cheeks flushed as he calmed down.

“I... I’m sorry, I-I...”

“No, I understand, that’s okay,” Hyrule said kindly, and Link swallowed and looked away, cheeks still red.

“Potions will be enough,” Time said peaceably, and Hyrule took out a few, handing them to Time. Though a fairy or healing spell would be preferable. “Take it slow, Link.”

Sky helped him carefully sit Link up, and Time helped him drink the entire red potion, slowly so as not to overwhelm his stomach. He eagerly sipped at it, and the most intense of his injuries began to knit closed, angry lines and deep gouges, and places that must be barely healed-over stab wounds—

Time exhaled, and lowered Link back to the ground as he finished, anger stirring in his chest.

The Shadow will pay for this.

“Try and get some more rest, Link. You’re safe with us,” Time said gently as he set the bottle aside, and rested a careful hand on Link’s.

He flinched, but after a long moment, slowly gripped it back. His hand shook as Time brushed his thumb over the dirtied triangles on the back, but he didn’t let go, even though Time knew holding on was hard.

You’re safe.

(...)

The next few days trickled by slowly, Link struggling to adjust to life not imprisoned in a hole being used as some sort of dark power source.

His injuries were healing, albeit slowly due to the sheer amount of them, but he was struggling more with the other scars his imprisonment had left him. He still couldn’t handle much touch, or large amounts of food, and he’d rarely sleep for long periods of time, waking up sweating and shaking from memories he hadn’t told the rest of them about yet.

Four made it his personal mission to remove the collar and bands from around his neck and wrists, since all they did was serve as a reminder for all them of the torture he’d endured.

Link wanted them off more than anyone, and he patiently sat through all of Four’s attempts at removal. The smithy finally succeeded with the help of some of Legend’s items and tools, Link nearly crying with relief at them gone, but the pale scars underneath the metal were almost worse.

They couldn’t be removed.

Time tried his best to help Link adjust, but it was hard when he could only give them the bare minimum of what he’d endured, and stubbornly tried to insist he was fine and they didn’t need to fuss over him. Even after he’d wake up gasping from a nightmare, Link would try to muffle his cries in order not to wake anyone, and couldn’t stand even a grounding hand on his shoulder.

It was at times like these Time wished Malon were here. She would know exactly how to comfort the traumatized boy they’d all found themselves with, better than Time ever could.

How do we help him, Malon? he thought one night as he studied Link’s slumbering face. His scars were harder to see in the dark, but Time knew they were there, slashed across his forehead, his chest... and his heart.

How did you ever handle me?

Time didn’t find any one answer, but as time slowly went by, Link did open up, at least a little. As they all explained more about themselves, he was willing to do so a bit too, explaining some of his journey, and telling the dark marks on his forehead actually weren’t a result of his imprisonment, though not exactly explaining what they were from.

His favorite thing to talk about was his home village though, and the longing in his voice was impossible to miss.

Time would have carried him there himself if it had been at all possible, but they were a long ways away from Ordon, and Link could barely walk across the clearing they were camped in without needing a rest. Taking him home would have to wait, as much as Time disliked it.

But in the meantime, the other heroes did their best to help Link as well, Wild figuring out what was easiest for him to eat, Warriors and Hyrule dutifully checking up on his injuries. Wind liked to tell him stories whenever he was struggling not to dwell on memories, sometimes getting Four to tell a few, and Legend even laid out his weapons and offered to let Link borrow one, until they could get him a sword of his own.

Sky often just let him hold the Master Sword, Link’s hands clutching the hilt as he sat in silence.

It seemed to comfort him, often when the rest of them couldn’t, and while Time couldn’t relate, he was glad it helped.

Time could also tell it was killing Sky not to be able to comfort Link with touch, at all, but Link was still working up to anything more then his hand being held. He would just have to do it at his own pace, as hard as it was to watch him struggle.

And things didn’t change in that regard, until all of a sudden they did.

(...)

Link closed his eyes as the tip of a blade pressed against his chin. He wouldn’t panic. This happened almost every day, and he wouldn’t panic. He wouldn’t give the Shadow the satisfaction of it.

“You’re not going to beg today?” he asked almost curiously, and Link licked his lips, tasting blood. “I might even listen, you never know.”

“I’ve never begged,” he said in a cold voice.

He wouldn’t stoop to that level, he’d sworn to himself he wouldn’t. It was one of the few ways he felt like he had a choice in the matter, and he knew it made the Shadow mad when when he remained silent.

He wouldn’t give his captor the satisfaction.

The Shadow leaned in so they were eye-to-eye, and Link stared at the crimson glow of his eyes, trying not to let his breath hitch.

“Well. Let’s see if we can change that, shall we?”

And then the blade flicked down, pain ripping across his chest. At at the same time the metal around his neck lit up like the lava on death mountain, burning into him, searing down the line where the sword had struck, and Link screamed as he felt magic bore into him and sap away every bit of his strength—

He woke up.

Link jerked upright, pain still blinding him, and he might’ve screamed but he wasn’t sure. Darkness was around him, lit only by the Shadow’s glowing eyes and he knew it had all been a dream, he hadn’t been rescued after all and he was never going to get out—

Link breathed heavily, clutching at his neck, certain he could still feel the collar, magic burning into him, feel his strength ripped away as injuries were torn into his chest—

“Link,” a soft voice said, and he heaved in another breath, hands still pressed to his neck. “Link, you’re out, you’re safe.”

He managed to raise his head, and saw Time kneeling carefully beside him, a hand outstretched in a calming gesture.

He swallowed, breathing in another shaky breath, and looked around, slowly recognizing the campsite they’d been at for the past several days. The light he’d seen was the campfire, not the Shadow’s eyes, and he felt relief start to soak through the terror.

He wasn’t there. He wasn’t back.

His breath hitched, and Time moved closer to him, offering him a hand to take if he wanted it.

Link stared at it, then began to shake, feeling suddenly overwhelmed at everything again.

He was out. He wasn’t a prisoner. He was out and safe and he’d been there for so long but he was out but he wasn’t home but he was home, brothers he never knew he had saving him and their kindness made his chest ache because he’d done nothing to deserve it and despite waking them up and slowing them down and pushing away their help they kept coming back and he’d done nothing—

A sob broke out of him as the sheer scale of everything suddenly crashed down onto him, and Time’s eye widened.

Then he leaned forward, and slowly, carefully, put an arm around him.

Link’s breath hitched with another sob, stiffening as the touch settled across his back, but as Time tried to move, he clutched at his arm, silently begging him not to let go. The touch was like fire on his back, but it soothed a part of him that he hadn’t even realized had been hurting so much.

Time hesitated as Link shuddered, then he lifted his other arm, pulling him into an actual hug, tight and warm.

That destroyed any composure Link had left, and he buried his face in Time’s shoulder, crying harder than he had in a long time. The touch all around him was awful and wonderful and agonizing and pure relief, and the sensation made him shake with how overwhelming it was.

“You’re okay,” Time whispered as Link fell to pieces in his arms. He ran a hand through his hair, and Link’s breath hitched on another sob. “You’re okay. I’ve got you, Link.”

Link had no clue as to the last time he’d received a hug, but this one, as messy and awful and painful as it was, was probably the best.

(...)

After that night, Link often found himself in a pile of heroes whenever he went to bed.

Wild would curl up at his side, Sky would end up with an arm flung out on top of him, Wind and Four by his head. Sometimes all of them would end up around him, and Link would nearly cry if he woke up and realized, falling back asleep more deeply then he had in months.

It was wonderful.

He was still struggling to get back on his own two feet, building his strength, still dealing with the fact that he’d always have the scars from his imprisonment, that he still sometimes woke up screaming in the middle of the night.

But he knew he’d have the others to support him, as hard as it was to let them. He still had moments where he’d push them away, when touch hurt instead of helped, when the thought of giving up crossed his mind, and didn’t seem like too bad of an option.

But he wouldn’t give up. Dark Link may have crushed him, but he wouldn’t be kept down, even though at times it seemed nearly impossible.

He would keep going.

And as Link leaned against Sky’s shoulder one night, Time’s arm over his shoulders, Wild and Four sitting leaned up against his feet while the others sat close by, it wasn’t nearly as hard to believe that he might be... okay.

Ordon would have to wait a bit longer, until he’d regained his strength, and could properly swing a sword, but until then...

A hand ran through his hair, and Link exhaled, the feeling of safety like a warm blanket around his shoulders.

...Link could wait.

#not pictured: dink being blown up by the FD next time Time sees him #linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu twilight #lu time #linked universe fanfic #all the links #lu chain #whumptober 2023 #day 20 #fic #found family #blanket #writing from the floor #also not pictured: Link finding horse grass and giving epona many kisses #this is messy but I got emotional writing it and my writing gets messy when I’m emotional XD #plus a lot was written late last night haha...#anyway I hope you guys like it #I wanted to make it even even longer but I had to stop somewhere 😅

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aceviscontiswife · 11 months

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Killers catching you crying/upset

I’ve been wanting to do some comfort type stuff for a while, so this is what my poll was for! Hope y’all enjoy!

Gn! Reader. Pre established relationship! Killers included: Danny, Pyramid Head, Wesker.

• Danny is used to seeing people cry from fear. He isn’t one to comfort, if anything, Danny’s the reason someone’s crying in the first place. He’s a murderer, not a therapist.

• However, when Danny catches you crying, it’s a different story. Why? What happened? Who did this? How the actual hell does he help you? Long story short, Danny hates seeing you upset.

• You’ve never seen Danny this concerned, or this confused. It’s clear he has no clue how to comfort you, but he tries his best. He’ll kneel down beside you and stay with you until he was sure you were alright. It was a side of Danny you’ve never seen, but not one you didn’t like.

• If it’s a survivor who’s made you cry; don’t worry, Danny will handle it. Once you’re better, Danny will teach that survivor a lesson they’ll never forget.

You had tried to last the entire trial without breaking down, but eventually you couldn’t hold back your tears any longer. You slumped against a tree, hugged your knees to your chest, and began to sob quietly. Danny was the killer this trial, you could always just find him, but you didn’t want to ruin his trial with your problems. Danny must’ve heard you, for it wasn’t long after you started crying that he kneeled down next to you and quickly removed his mask so you could see his face. “Hey… what’s wrong?” Danny asks in a tone so… soft, so concerned. It was like nothing you’ve ever head from him.

“I… it’s Nea…” You answer as more tears well up in your red, puffy eyes. Danny nods, wiping away your tears and pulling you into a tight hug, mainly so you wouldn’t see the flash of anger in his eyes at the mention of your teammate. “I’ll handle them once you’re better, okay?” You nod, and while you knew Danny was being sincere, you couldn’t help but ask “Are you sure?” To which Danny simply replies, “It’s what boyfriends are for, dollface.”

(I have never wrote for Pyramid Head before so I apologize in advance lol 😅)

• You’re… crying? That’s not something Pyramid Head likes to see, not at all. His first instinct is to make you stop crying, whatever that might take.

• While he can’t speak, Pyramid is good at telling you things through his body language. He’ll set his weapon aside and open his arms slightly—his way of saying “Come here.”

• He’ll pull you into a bone-crushing hug, his hands awkwardly rubbing your back as you cry against his chest. Pyramid will hold you until you’re done crying, and listen to any word you had to say. For something that spoke in garbled nothingness, Pyramid Head was surprisingly very well at comforting you.

• You’d tell him what had upset you, and if it just so happened to be a survivor, Pyramid Head would leave your side in an instant to go deal with them. He would return covered in blood, set his weapon aside, and allow you to melt in his arms once more.

You were somewhere in the deep, desolate forest of the entity’s realm, tears streaming down your face as you cried. You hadn’t even heard him approaching, startled when Pyramid Head suddenly appears next to you. He had laid his large weapon against a tree, his arms slightly open and waiting for your embrace. You didn’t say anything, you simply took a small step forward and wrapped your arms around him, laying your head on his chest.

Pyramid Head held you for a while, and it was only when your sobs began to lessen did he finally pull away. You knew what he wanted now; Pyramid Head wanted an explanation. “Gabriel was-“ You cut yourself off as Pyramid Head suddenly turned away, grabbed his weapon, and began making his way towards the survivors’ campfire. Was he going to-? Would the entity even allow that?! Either way, once you realized what Pyramid Head was doing, you couldn’t help but smile and wait patiently for his return.

• Unlike most of the killers, Wesker at least knows what he should say to someone who’s upset. Does he? No. Crying is a weakness, and Wesker can’t have that.

• But, much like Danny, Wesker does a complete 180 when he finds you crying. He never wanted to find you like this, and now that he has, he wants nothing more than to bring an end to your tears.

• You never would have guessed Wesker was good at comforting, but he was. He knew exactly what to say, what to do, and had you feeling better again in no time.

• If it’s a survivor who’s made you cry, you best believe Wesker will handle things. He’ll wait until he’s in a trial with them, and once he is, he’ll make sure their time with him is absolutely miserable. Wesker will teach that survivor a lesson, and it’ll work so well they’ll probably never speak to you again; out of fear of what Wesker might do if they hurt you again.

“Dearest, why are you crying?” You heard a familiar voice speak from behind you. You turn around to spot Wesker, staring up at him through teary eyes. “It’s nothing…” You lie, quickly wiping away your tears and sniffling. Wesker obviously didn’t believe you, stepping up next to you and resting his hand on your shoulder. “Don’t lie to me, y/n. What’s upsetting you?” You knew there wasn’t a point in lying again, so you tell Wesker the truth.

“Laurie was being really rude to me in my trials…” You admit, sounding more childish than you had wanted to. Wesker simply hums in response, resting his free hand on your other shoulder and beginning to rub them, easing the tension you had gathered from your earlier trials. “I’ll handle it, sweetheart.” Wesker assures you, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Don’t worry about a thing.”

#dead by daylight #danny johnson #ghostface dbd #ghostface x reader #ghostface x y/n #danny johnson dbd #albert wesker #dbd wesker #wesker x reader #wesker x y/n #albert wesker dbd #pyramid head #executioner dbd #pyramid head dbd #dbd

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delicatenightfury · 9 months

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Trust

2022 Month of Writing: Day 20

Pairing: Kaz Brekker x reader

Prompt: "It's hard to bury your past."

Word Count: 3k (this turned out longer than I was expecting)

Author's Note: please don't steal my work! you can choose to respond to the prompt as well, but don't steal my work

I'm not totally sold on this, but if you're interested in a part 2, please let me know!

I based this off the Netflix show Shadow and Bone (even though I liking the books better 😅) - just a heads up

y/n pressed a damp cloth against her arm where she had gotten a long cut. She winced slightly but focused on cleaning the wound before it got infected. She and the other crows had just barely survived an encounter with Pekka Rollins and his men in what, unfortunately, was an ambush. Her abilities as a Squaller did help some, but one of the Dime Lions sliced her arms, making it more painful to control wind. She had been lucky with her injuries and required far less attention, thus why she was tending to herself. Nina needed to be focused on Inej instead of her.

She tensed slightly when she heard the familiar sound of footsteps accompanied by the thump of a cane. They stopped somewhere behind her, letting silence fill the room for several minutes. She knew it was petty, but she wasn’t going to be the one to speak first. Several minutes later, he finally caved.

“We need to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk to you,” she said lowly.

“It doesn’t matter. We need to talk.”

“Yes, it does matter, Kaz.” She sent him a glare over her shoulder. “You almost got us killed tonight.”

“We have to cut off Rollins’ resources-”

“Do we? You’ve been content just doing simple business for the Crows Club. Then, all of a sudden, you take a mission to saints know where and somehow manage to cross Rollins in the process. Now, we have been framed for murder. And I wasn’t involved in any of it, since you left me behind, yet I still got dragged into this mess.”

She threw down the cloth and picked up a clean one to press firmly against her arm. She held back another wince, glad that the bleeding had seemed to stop for now.

“The mission was need to know.”

She glared at him.

“And I didn’t need to know?” Kaz didn’t respond, but he didn’t look the least bit apologetic. “I had to go into hiding, Kaz, because Rollins added my name to that bounty before you even stepped foot onto the boat that brought you all back to Ketterdam.”

“It was never my intention.”

y/n scoffed.

Kaz slowly came closer, but still kept his distance.

“We were sent to Ravka to locate the rumored Sun Summoner,” he said.

That made y/n pause. She had heard the rumors. All of Ketterdam had. Especially when the Fold expanded and wiped out several towns. The Sun Summoner was a Grisha who was able to manipulate light, who might be able to use their power to help tear down the Fold once and for all.

“And?” she asked.

“We found her. The Darkling used her power to expand the Fold. We had several run-ins with her, but she didn’t come back to Ketterdam with us. Our employer was looking for answers.”

“About the Sun Summoner?”

“Amongst other things.” She glanced at Kaz. He was looking at the far wall, but was only a few feet away from her now. Feeling her gaze, he looked down at her. “He took a particular interest in you.”

“Me?”

“He saw your wanted poster in the street and made an inquiry.”

“That’s not much to go off of, Kaz.”

“He’s a privateer. Rich. Seems to be from Ravka. His inquiry was brief, since his main focus was on the Sun Summoner, but he seemed determined.”

“Again, not completely helpful. This privateer have a name?”

“He called himself Sturmhond.” y/n froze. She knew Kaz was watching her for a reaction, but she couldn’t care. “You know him.”

y/n tossed the dirtied rag aside. She nodded slowly.

“I used to. It was a long time ago.”

“When?”

“Why do you care?”

“Because just hearing the name caused you to freeze up, y/n. I need to know if I can trust you to still function properly should we encounter him again.”

She looked at him.

“You’re worried about how well I’ll perform? Thanks for the vote of confidence, Kaz.” He continued to stare at her. She picked up clean bandages to begin wrapping her arm. “You don’t have to worry about it. It was a long time ago.”

“Not good enough.”

“Will you just leave it?”

“No.”

“Kaz-”

“y/n.”

“Drop it.”

“Tell me.”

She sighed.

“He’s my brother.”

There was a long beat of silence as Kaz took in her words.

“I wasn’t aware you still had family.”

She scoffed.

“As if I could call them that. I was the third child and therefore expendable. Being Grisha just gave them another reason to ignore me.”

She tightened the bandage she had put around her arm. It was a rough job, but it would hold until it could be properly looked at later. She began to clean up her supplies, sticking it in a corner for when it was needed again. As she moved, she caught a glimpse of Kaz. He was still looking at her, as if trying to find more answers.

“What?” she said. Her voice sounded more harsh than she meant it to.

“There’s more that you’re not telling me.”

y/n rolled her eyes.

“Just drop it, Kaz.”

“Not if you have information that will help us.”

“And how is my past going to help us with Pekka Rollins?”

“It will prove that I can trust you.”

y/n stopped. She set down the clothes she had been folding and looked at Kaz. His expression remained cold and hard. He rarely showed emotion as it was.

“You’re questioning my loyalty?” she asked. He simply stared at her, causing her to huff. “Thanks for that, Kaz. After all this time, I’m glad to know where we truly stand.”

She got up quickly and made her way to the door, passing by Kaz along the way.

“y/n-”

“Don’t. Just don’t.”

She hurried outside to avoid him seeing the hurt on her face.

The following week was rather eventful. The Crows had created quite a bit of chaos after releasing false Firepox at all of Pekka Rollins’ businesses. In the same night, Kaz got Rollins to lift the charges he had put on the Crows and admit that he was responsible for the crimes. Rollins had been arrested and taken to Hellgate.

During that time, Kaz and y/n had barely spoken to one another. They only spoke when necessary and even then, they did little to converse with one another. Jesper and Inej were quick to notice the difference. Even Nina and Wylan noticed but neither felt it was their place since they hadn’t known the Crows long.

y/n had been reading in her room when a sharp knock came. She stood and went to the door, finding Kaz on the other side.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“Downstairs,” he said. “We have guests from Ravka.”

y/n sighed but nodded. She stepped around Kaz to make her way downstairs, letting him go to wake Wylan and Jesper.

“y/n?”

She looked up sharply at the familiar voice, her eyes widening.

“Zoya?”

The dark haired Squaller smiled widely. She moved forward to hug her.

“Saints, what are you doing here? We thought you were gone! Not even Baghra knew what happened.”

y/n looked down.

“Zoya-”

“And who is this?” A tall man approached them, a smile on his face.

“Tolya, this is y/n. Nikolai’s sister.”

Tolya’s smile grew.

“You’re Nikolai’s sister? It’s wonderful to finally meet you. I traveled with him for many years. He’s spoken of you often.”

y/n was going to respond when a glimpse of Kaz caught her eye. He was standing by the stairs, watching their interaction. Her shoulders deflated when his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. She knew immediately that he had caught at least part of their conversation. She looked back at Zoya.

“It’s a bit of a story,” she said. “One that can be shared later. I assume you are the guests Kaz told us about?”

“Yes. We have a mission for you.”

Soon, the Crows were seated in front of Zoya and Tolya, who handed them a document.

“The neshyenyer?” Nina said after they had explained the mission. “Sankta Neyar’s blade.”

“So you haven’t completely forgotten what you were taught at the Little Palace,” Zoya said with an almost taunting tone. “Just your loyalty to Ravka.”

y/n couldn’t help but feel like the statement was also directed at her.

“Ravka or Kirigan?” Nina countered. “It didn’t take him destroying a city for me to question my loyalty.”

“So, that we all know you two have history,” Jesper said, “what’s the payment for this particular job?”

“Name your price,” Tolya said. “It matters that much.”

“Is that the Lantsov family crest?” Wylan asked, looking over Nina’s shoulder at the paper.

“You know it is because it’s hideous.”

Zoya shot her a glare before glancing at y/n, who only smiled in amusement. She was never a huge fan of the Lantsov crest. To hear someone felt the same was a little refreshing.

Tolya looked at the group. “Prince Nikolai requests your services to retrieve and deliver the neshyenyer to Alina Starkov in East Ravka.”

“She’s returned?” Nina said.

“As has the Darkling,” Zoya replied. “With an indestructible army of shadow monsters.”

“Saints,” y/n muttered.

“I do not like the sound of that,” Jesper said.

“She needs the blade to kill them. It’s the only thing that might work.”

“Retrieve the blade, and the prince will pay you whatever you ask.” Tolya told them.

“But I like the sound of that,” Jesper said.

“I assume same goes for you?” Zoya asked Kaz.

“I’d welcome the chance to help your prince spend his country’s money.”

Nina quickly expressed how instead of kruge she wanted someone released from Hellgate. Zoya decided to poke fun at Nina for her attraction, but y/n nudged her arm to quiet her. Nina had told y/n of Matthias, the Fjerdan she had fallen for before she came to Ketterdam. She admired Nina’s determination to free him.

“The offer is the offer,” Tolya said. “And Prince Nikolai is a man of his word.”

“But we need to go now,” Zoya told them.

y/n looked to Kaz, who was scanning over them. His eyes lingered on her for a long moment before he pocketed the document.

“It’s settled,” he said. “We’re in.”

The group dispersed quickly after to begin preparing. y/n watching Kaz walk away. When he disappeared upstairs, she sighed.

“Well something’s going on with you two,” Tolya said suddenly.

“Excuse me?” y/n said.

“You and Brekker.”

“It’s nothing.”

Tolya hummed as if he didn’t believe her.

“I haven’t been here long, but I can sense the tension between you two.” He slid into the seat that Zoya had vacated and tilted his head at her. “What happened?”

Despite being much larger than her, he did not come across as intimidating. y/n felt herself relax.

“You said that Nik told you about me. Well, I’ve never talked about my family. But when Nik was in town as Sturmhond not long ago, he made inquiries about me. Kaz demanded answers I wasn’t ready to give.” She sighed. “He implied that he couldn’t trust me.”

Tolya nodded slowly.

“Have you tried talking to him?” he asked.

“Kaz is unbelievably stubborn.”

“And if Nikolai’s stories have revealed anything, I believe you are too.” y/n chuckled. “So why haven’t you told him?” y/n paused and looked at him. Tolya offered a small smile. “Perhaps the first step in receiving trust is showing it? Someone always has to take the first step.”

y/n watched Kaz from the doorway of his room. He was going through various maps and documents spread out over his desk. She knew that he knew she was there. Somehow he always knew. Nonetheless, she knocked on the doorframe.

“Yes?” Kaz said.

“We need to talk.”

He barely glanced at her.

“It’ll have to wait.”

“No, Kaz. We need to talk now. We can’t keep working like this and you know it.”

He huffed and looked at her as she stepped into the room, shutting the door behind her. He leaned back against his desk.

“What is it?” he asked. “In case you’ve already forgotten, we have to leave for Shu Han soon.”

“I haven’t forgotten. But if this plan works, you need to know the truth.”

“About?”

“Me.” She waited for him to make a quip or dismissal, but received none. So, she took a deep breath. “My real name is y/n Lantsov. I’m the third child of King Alexander and Queen Tatiana. I never made my society debut because once it was discovered that I was Grisha, I was taken to the Little Palace. From then on I was raised with the intent of identifying as Grisha, not a Lantsov.

“As a result, my parents basically forgot I existed. My eldest brother barely spoke to me as it was, so I was only truly close with my other brother. I wasn’t allowed to see him. Kirigan wanted there to be little to no reminders of our pasts so that we could separate ourselves from the otkazat’sya.”

She paused and looked outside. Ketterdam was bustling with activity, both legal and illegal, just as it always was. Ketterdam never slept.

“Early on, Nik and I would sneak out at night to meet. We were children and would rather play than train and learn. Nik loved to play pretend. We had found an old boat and we’d be sailors. I’d use my powers to steer us. He’d call himself Sturmhond with the distinction that he was a privateer, not a pirate.

“But we eventually got caught. I was disciplined by my instructors and put through more rigorous training. More so than some of the others. At first I thought it was because I had snuck out, but time went on and I was still pushed harder. My powers are no where near Zoya’s level. I doubt even an amplifier could get me there. Unfortunately, it took me too long to learn why that was.

“Kirigan wanted me pushed because of my background. He was… almost giddy about the fact that I was a Lantsov. I started noticing his power plays against my family. When he would visit the Grand Palace, I was among his small entourage of Grisha. He would give me special tasks when we visited, as if flaunting the fact that I was under his command instead of my parents.

“One day, while a group of us were traveling, we were attacked by Fjerdans. Drüskelle. They ambushed us, their goal to bring us to the Ice Court for a supposed trial. But we knew better so we fought back.” y/n took a deep breath to calm herself and force back the memories. “When I realized I was the last one standing, I used my powers to knock the remaining Fjerdans unconscious. I couldn’t kill them, despite the fact that they had just killed my friends.

“But as I stood there, I realized that I was alone. For the first time in years, I was by myself. I realized that there was nothing tying me down in that moment, so I fled. I went to the nearest port and stowed away. I ended up here and chose to make a new life for myself. One where no one knew who I was, where I would have more freedom than I could have imagined. Then I met you. And you know the rest.”

Silence fell over the room. y/n didn’t want to admit it but she was nervous how Kaz would react. She could feel him watching her, staring holes into her back.

After a minute, she felt the air shift and heard Kaz push himself off the desk. He slowly walked toward her, cane thumping at his side. She continued to stare outside even as he came to stand next to her.

“So Sturmhond is the prince,” he said.

y/n almost wanted to scoff - of course that was what he chose to say first - but she refrained.

“Yes. Tolya confirmed it for me.”

“And when he came to Ketterdam and inquired about you, it was because he thought you were dead.”

She shrugged.

“I suppose so. I don’t know what got reported to the king or Kirigan after the ambush. At some point, I stopped caring. It wasn’t my problem anymore.” She looked down. “Guess I was kidding myself. It’s hard to bury your past.”

Kaz huffed.

“Not if you bury it somewhere no one will ever look.”

“And I thought no one would look in Ketterdam,” y/n said, finally looking at him. “The Darkling never left Ravka and I had no idea where my brother was. I hadn’t seen him in years. I didn’t even know he had gone to serve in the military until he had been gone for three months.”

Kaz studied her for a long minute. y/n wished (not for the first time and certainly not the last) that she could read him.

“When we retrieve the neshyenyer and go to Ravka to deliver it, what will you do?” he asked. “I have no doubt we’ll run into your brother at some point.”

y/n sighed.

“I don’t know. I suppose I should talk to him at the very least. He deserves that.”

“And after?”

She shrugged.

“I’ll figure it out when I get to it.” She looked him in the eye. She knew that her answer probably left him unsatisfied but it was the best she could offer in the moment. “What about you?”

“Me?”

“Last week you said that my past would tell you whether or not you could trust me. Now you know. What’s your verdict?”

Kaz’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly as he scanned her over. She refused to look away. Finally, he nodded.

“I trust you,” he said. “You’ve got our backs.” He stepped back, breaking eye contact with her so that he could gather various things off his desk. “Now finish gathering what you need. We leave for Shu Han in an hour.”

#month of writing #writing prompt #kaz brekker #Kaz Brekker x reader #dirtyhands #bastard of the barrel #shadow and bone #shadow and bone netflix #six of crows #grisha #grisha reader #kaz x reader #one shot #squaller reader #lantsov reader #tolya yul bataar #tolya is a relationship counselor

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ateriblewriter · 11 months

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"You can't just lose your temper like this every time you get a little bit upset!" With Luke Hughes please

😊 I hope this is okay, i feel as though i could have done better. its kinda messy. idk. sorry. first time really writing for luke. it's longer than the others blurbs for the celly but I was challenging myself. 😅

A Broken Glass

he was supposed to be better this season. better than the child he felt he was in the few games he played in at the end of the prior season. he made sure to put in the work over the summer, improving upon an already impressive skill set. but it still wasn't good enough.

luke was having a bit of a hard time recently, making mistakes that were in his words stupid and should never have happened. getting himself into trouble on the ice, uncharacteristic actions set off by the littlest things. he had been putting a lot of pressure on himself and instead of being better he was getting worse.

everything came to a head on a tuesday evening after the devils had lost again and luke gave another lackluster performance. once again on the brink of being benched for someone else who could perform at the caliber they were looking for.

jack had decided to seek the comfort of another human being, having gone over to their place for the evening. this left the whole place to just you and luke. which was great because you finally wanted to pick your boyfriends mind about how he was feeling about everything recently.

“are you okay?” you inquire watching him.

"i'm fine." he scowled.

"do you want to talk about it?" you ask starting to ramble. of course you didn't believe him and just because he shut you down right away didn't mean you were going to stop trying to get him to say more than a few words to you. "because you really should at some point. im worried about you. you don't even have to talk to me. is it the team? is it something im doing? is it-"

"just go away." luke interrupted you. he was so in his head, he didn't notice the glass he had been holding, slip from his hand and crashing to the ground. luke wasn't necessarily mad. he was mainly just frustrated with his situation and really didn't like talking about it. the way he showed it may not have been the best way.

you're too shocked for words at the glass on the floor, opting to crouch down to clean up the little pieces of glass from the broken cup instead of using your words. you tried to be as careful as you but while brushing the tiny bits together with the back of your hand, a little piece embedded itself in between you index finger and middle, causing it to bleed a lot.

you could feel luke rolling his eyes, frustration still radiating off of him. he was looking for an argument. you heard him mumbling something but couldn't really tell what was said.

"what was that? you need to speak up."

"i said that you don't understand the pressure i am under. i am supposed to be better. and i'm not. you wouldn't understand that. I'm not like you I just don't give up on my dreams."

"that's not true and you know it." you clench your teeth together, trying your hardest not to give into what he wanted, a fight. because luke knew you were an athlete and that you had big dreams of making it big. only to have them crushed by a devastating injury, that led you to pursue other dreams.

"you know what? call me when you want to actually talk and not start a fight." you grab your set of house keys to leave, the small cut in between your fingers still dripping little droplets of red stuff on the floor. you didn't want to be around him if he was going to act like that.

you didn’t go far that night. instead of going somewhere like a bar, you opted to go over to the neighboring apartment. where it just so happened that your best friend, since moving to jersey, lived. Of course she wasn’t home, but you still had a key and helped yourself to her couch for the rest of the night.

it wasn’t until the next morning that you started getting messages from jack. you hadn’t intended on responding to him but he seemed instant on talking, worried about his little brother and the girl who had become like a sister to him.

jack- where are you

jack- why is there glass on the floor and is that blood

jack- what happened dot

y/n- ask your brother

jack- he said you left

jack- what’s going on

you could have responded more to jack or you could just walked the few feet home and talk to him yourself. the later would most likely include seeing luke. you knew you'd have to talk to him eventually, why not rip the band-aid off now.

jack practically tackled you when you re-entered the apartment and luke was no where to be seen at that time. once he let you go, you told him all about what had happened the night before. he tried to reassure you that his brother was an idiot and that he didn't mean what he said.

"y/n? can we talk?” nodding you guide him over to the couch. "i'm sorry about last night. i shouldn't have said that. it wasn't nice."

"i know luke. but you can't just lose your temper like that every time your get a little bit upset." you cradled his head in your lap. you ran your fingers through the longer curls. "they are going to keep eating you alive if you do. and it'll only get worse."

"i know. it's just." it was hard for him to be this vulnerable, especially with you. but if he wanted to get past this bump in the road he was going to need to at times. "everyone is comparing me to them. and i try and be like them and im not."

"exactly. you're not like your brothers. you're luke. not quinn. not jack. you are luke. you need to play like luke. you need to be luke."

“how do i do that?” he turned his face to look up at yours. he still regretted his words and decisions from the night before. but he needed to find a way to find himself again and stop comparing himself to his family.

“i don’t know exactly lu. but we’ll figure it out together yeah?” you boop the tip of his nose with your finger eliciting a slight smirk and a head nod from him.

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes blurb #nhl imagine #nhl blurb #nhl imagine #ateriblewriter 200 follower celly #yes I’m still writing these

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bluginkgo · 3 months

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OOOOOH Remastered as Animals Behind Scenes

Oh wow, Ginkgo you're actually getting somewhere with the backgrounds- not I'm not lol. Backgrounds are still a killer, not to mention I had no idea how I wanted to make their den to look like on the inside. So I just went with the general: it's a hollowed out tree.

Another thing I ran into was how I wanted J to look like. I had settled on a fox prior to even starting Sleep nuzi comic. Further solidified by @electronix-arts post on J fox (go show some love on that post, it's an amazing idea :3)

But once I got past the sketching... I hit a wall. The colors for J had to be tested. I tried going with the usual color that I depict N, based off of his merch color. But it didn't seem to fit quite right like it did with V. So I decided to switch her over to the more common red fox palette. There are some foxes that are grey! But I didn't like the way the colors mashed with my style.

A funny thing I ran into was J doing the bap bap to get N's sensor back online. First it was a thought of letting J slap him with her nanite tail, buuuut I didn't like that idea. So instead I went with J just smacking him like a cat would- foxes are dog hardware with a cat software, you cannot change my mind. Then it was an issue of how I wanted it to look like.

Went through two versions, before scrapping it and finding the perfect reference photo.

As per usual, some shots of the process. Get possessed by the absolute solver that gives you yet another insane idea. Sketch, outline and color, aaaand render!

I've been making progress on yet another project I decided to add onto myself! I really gotta stop, I have too many ideas and not enough time (proceeds to pile on another 3). It might take a little while longer because... very suddenly, a lot of exams were upon me 😅. I will try my best to still get it out by this week, but if not, then definitely next week. ^_^

Wow, you made it all the way to the bottom, you're crazy. Have a cookie! 🍪

#murder drones #glitch productions #serial designation n #murder drones fanart #murder drones serial designation n #md serial designation n #n murder drones #murder drones v #murder drones j #murder drones n #serial designation j #serial designation v #bluginkgo's murder drones as animals #md fanart

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mscoffeesq · 26 days

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Getting Stronger

The trouble started about three months ago. I had made a resolution to get myself into the gym, to start finally building some muscle. I’d always felt weak and small, and even though so many people around me loved how cute that made me I hated it. I wanted to be big. I wanted to be strong. And, to some extent, I wanted to feel powerful.

A friend of mine, who agreed to help me out, brought me a gift after my first week and a half of struggling. She handed me a bottle of green liquid and told me it would help me with my muscle building. Well, what she actually said was, “It will make you strong.” I told her I wasn’t comfortable with taking any kind of hormones, but she assured me it was nothing of the sort. It tasted vile, but I managed to choke down the whole thing after a few gulps.

To my surprise, it worked! Almost too well, honestly. After nearly two weeks of failing to lift anything more than ten or fifteen-pound weights, I was suddenly able to lift forty pounds with ease. Each week I was able to lift more, able to run further and faster. But, with each week I started to feel... hungrier. And... larger. Not just in a sense of growing muscle. After a month I realized I had grown almost six inches.

I started to have almost insatiable food cravings. One night, out of nowhere, I was hit with an overwhelming urge to eat as much meat as I could. I ended up buying and devouring an entire rotisserie chicken just to satisfy my hunger, and to be honest I could have gone for another if I hadn’t stopped myself. Once, I even cut my lip hard on my canine while eating. I looked in the mirror and realized my teeth had all gotten longer and sharper. Not long after that is when the... scales started developing.

Dark, shimmering black spots started appearing on my knees and elbows. It didn’t take long for them to spread. And the whole time I just kept getting bigger, and bigger. I knew what was happening, and I was afraid. But deep down I wanted it. I ate more and more with each passing day, and the meat fueled my transformation. After two months I’d started developing small horns and a nubby little tail. My tail seemed to grow in the fastest once it started, and within a week I was able to swish it around with ease.

I obviously couldn’t go out anymore, but my friend was kind enough to take care of me. The transformation didn’t even seem to faze her in the slightest. She would bring me big helpings of fresh, dripping meat to eat. I would devour all of it while she would lovingly rub my expanding, scaly hide. I’ll admit, I’ve become rather possessive of her now. I really began to want to add her to the nest I’d built in my room, along with the myriad of things I was compelled to take over the last few weeks.

Three months ago, I was weak. Powerless. Now, I feel the weight and power twitching below every fiber of muscle within myself. My wings are growing in now, and my feet have already become clawed. I suspect my hands will be next. Mine has assured me that I will still retain some of my human facial features- aside from my teeth, eyes, and the scales at the edge of my face. I can accept this. She says we probably can’t stay in the city anymore, but I didn’t want to anyway. There’s too much noise here and I haven’t been able to stand to my full height in weeks. Even hunched over I still fill up most of the room, and my horns scrape against the ceiling.. I will take her somewhere peaceful and quiet, where I can stretch out and continue my growth unimpeded. Although, I will probably have to find a way to pack up my nest. I couldn’t possibly leave a single thing that belongs to me behind.

— I really have been thinking of what to do with this account 😅 But I’ve recently been consumed by dragon transformations after watching Delicious in Dungeon, so I figured this would be something fun to post here

#Dragon #dragon tf #transformation #Lesbian dragons #fiction writing

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clonesimpextra · 1 year

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Along for the Ride

Pairing: Commander Wolffe x Reader Word Count: 1.9K Rating: Explicit (18+ Only) Summary: On a rare break away from camp, Wolffe takes you on a speeder bike and you both exist in a moment of peace. A/N: Inspired by kaijurave's most recent Wolffe piece with him on a motorbike. This was supposed to be filthy, but became spicy emo. Sorry but it's just been that kind of day 😅

The war is all-encompassing. It takes and it takes and it takes so slowly and for so long that you find yourself forgetting what it’s like to live for life instead of living against death.

There are moments, though, when you remember. When Wolffe tugs on your hand during a safe lull in the midst of a campaign. When he takes you somewhere quiet or somewhere loud — whatever you need so long as it’s somewhere that is just yours.

Right now, that somewhere is on the back of a stolen — borrowed, Wolffe had insisted — speeder bike coursing through the wilds of Takodana. Wind curls its way through your hair, your forehead pushed against Wolffe’s unarmored back so you can just feel … him, the air, the trees whose branches tickle at your skin as you fly past.

Life.

You relish in the heartbeat of the world around you and you wonder, briefly, if you’ve also forgotten what it’s like to not feel so many other heartbeats cease at once.

Wolffe brings the bike to a slow stop, perhaps feeling the way your arms tensed at your thoughts, but you don’t move. You want to hold on to this moment, to him, for just a little bit longer.

You’re far away from the camp, but you know that once you let go, once you get off the bike and explore this small peace, the time between now and when you have to return will shorten and shorten and shorten until it’s nothing but a memory to keep you warm and alive in the cold trenches of death. And you’re not ready for that. Not yet.

So you place a gentle kiss to his spine, smiling when you feel his heartbeat quicken under your hands. Hands that are now reaching for the latches of his codpiece (can’t go out completely naked, he’d said when you’d raised a brow at his half-kitted form earlier), a task you no longer need to see to perform.

Wolffe’s hand falls on top of yours, pausing your movements with a gentle squeeze.

“I need this, Wolffe,” you whisper, trying desperately to push away the rising panic. A surprise even to yourself. “I need to make you feel good. I need to—”

Need to know I can bring life into someone just as easily as I can take it away.

“I know.” He moves your hands away from him anyway, a sob at the back of your throat before he leans to the side and tugs you forward, onto his lap. “But you’re not the only one.”

The sob surfaces regardless, a desperate sound muffled into his neck as you make quick work of his codpiece, as he settles you more firmly on his thigh. It’s a bit of an awkward position — your leg closest to the bike hiked up slightly for room — but the hard edge of his thigh plate pushes so perfectly against your cunt, you can’t bring yourself to care.

You hand him the codpiece, knowing he’s particular about his armor, even this piece of it, and he places it carefully, so gently for such a large man, on the seat behind him. By the time he turns back around, you have his lowers unsealed, pushed down just enough to wrap the fingers you’d sucked into your mouth around the length of him.

A moan, so soft and low, escapes him and sinks into you. The warmth of his breath on your face, the echo of his sounds in your head, the sight of his parted mouth etched into the back of your eyelids. No one gets to feel, hear, see Wolffe this way except for you. And that’s one relic of the war you won’t mind remembering.

He quickly regains his composure, tightens his grip on your hip, helps you grind back and forth on his armored thigh. “That’s it, love,” he groans, eyes focused on where your pussy meets his armor. “Take what you need.”

You’ve done this before, if not in this exact position or in this exact place, but fuck if his words don’t make it feel like the first time.

“Such a good girl.” He pushes his leg up, pulling a moan straight from your core. “Could listen to you all fucking day.”

Every movement is an electric bolt of pleasure straight to your pussy and you can feel how wet you are, can hear the slickness seeping through your leggings and onto Wolffe’s thigh plate. A distant part of your mind wonders how you’ll get rid of the evidence before you head back to camp but that’s a future problem. Something to be worried about then, not now.

Now. Now all you can think of is the fact that despite how it feels, this isn’t the first time. Wolffe has always known what you need to hear, but now, after dozens of hours spent studying his reactions, you know what Wolffe needs, too. You know how to please him based on the slightest movements he makes, the smallest sounds. And that was what had started all of this, wasn’t it? Needing to make him feel good? Needing to see that you could do something with your hands other than destroy?

You pull yourself up his thigh as far as you can go, your slick making it much more of a glide despite the shifting of the bike beneath you. Resting your head in the crook of his neck, hand still pumping his cock, you press your lips to his collarbone.

And bite down gently.

You press your teeth against his skin just hard enough to send a spike of pleasurable pain throughout his body. When his cock twitches in your hand, when his leg thrusts up yet again, you know you’ve done well.

You shift your head slightly and bite down again.

Wolffe’s moans spur you on and you’re nipping at his shoulder, his neck, the top of his chest. He’s thrusting into your first now, lost in his pleasure, and you can’t help but pause your ministrations to enjoy the view.

You’ve always been fascinated with the way his cock looks sliding through your fist. The way it twitches when you run a thumb over the tip. The way precum bubbles up from the slit. You can push men three times your size across a field with the Force, but somehow this — your ability to undo and rebuild this man with nothing other than a single hand and maybe a mouth — almost feels more potent.

Just when you feel him thicken, feel your own breaths become more uneven, Wolffe stills his movements, kisses the top of your head and whispers in your ear.

“You needed to make me feel good, mesh’la. I need to be inside you.”

His words are spoken on huffs of rushed, desperate-to-come air, but you can hear something in them. Something familiar. Something that sounds a lot like the desperation and fear that had led you to suggesting this in the first place.

And you don’t know how it will work, on a speeder that’s wobbly at best, but you’ve been doing fine with … this … and you never have been able to hear pain in Wolffe’s voice and do anything other than everything in your power — anything at all — to make it go away.

So you nod your head. Lift up off his thigh even though it makes you whimper at the loss of contact. Let him push down your leggings until you’re somehow free of them and push your underwear to the side. Lower yourself onto him until there’s nothing between you but the smallest bit of air.

“Fuck, I love the way you feel around me, love.” And his voice leaves little room for argument when it’s accompanied by his hands sliding up your back to grip at your shoulders, pulling you closer to him on every thrust.

His head rests on your covered breasts, panting warm breaths and filthy sweet nothings through the fabric as you run your fingers through his hair. This right here — Wolffe in your arms, his cock buried deep, his head against your chest — is what you want. It’s all you want. You hate the war for making it something you can’t always have.

If life were fair at all, this moment would last forever, would resist against the push of time and demand to be. Just be.

But you were both so close already, and it doesn’t take long to catch back up. So when you feel the familiar burn low in your stomach, feel his cock twitch against your tightening walls, you tug Wolffe’s head back.

The milky blue lines of the one eye and the warm brown rays of the other stare back at you, never wavering. Even as you circle your clit with the middle finger of one hand and trace gently across his scar, as gently as he always handles his armor, with the other.

Wolffe comes when you place a kiss at the very tip, spilling inside you with a release that you’ll carry around for the rest of the day. You’ll feel it on your walk, when you next slide your leg over the seat of the bike, when you return to camp. No one knowing except you and the man who fucked you.

The thought alone is enough to send you over the edge, and for a moment — for one breathless moment — you forget about the war. Forget there’s a camp of soldiers to return to whose names, once turned from numbers, will turn into numbers once more. Forget that your life is not your own to do with as you wish.

For a moment — for one breathless moment — you imagine that this bike you’re currently defiling can take you anywhere you want. You’ll slide on to the back of the seat, wrap your arms around Wolffe’s waist, and it will take you to a place with four walls and a roof. A bed in the corner, a kitchen to the side, a yard in the back where you can watch flowers grow because you have time. You have so much time. You can stay you can go you can do whatever you want with the man you want always by your side.

For a moment — for one breathless moment — you are in control of your life, instead of just being along for the ride in someone else’s destiny.

The moment disappears, moves on without you into a realm of could-have-beens.

You move to untangle your legs from his, hips aching at being spread so wide. But before you can, Wolffe’s grip on you tightens, keeping you close. He looks up at you again and you see in his eyes the same desperation you heard in his words, in your words.

“Just …” he licks his lips, swallows hard. “Just a little longer.”

A kiss to his forehead, to his brow, his scar, his cheek, his nose, his mouth. A kiss for every moment you’ve imagined with him a thousand times but that you’ll never really get to live. Maybe one day. Maybe never. Maybe right now is all you get.

“I’m here,” you whisper.

Because you are. Because he is, too.

Because this is the place where the pounding of his heart still drums through your bones.

And it’s enough — this moment on this bike in these woods. It’s enough because it’s you and it’s him. You’ll hold it, all of it, close, somewhere inside you so the war can’t rip it away.

So that on the hard days you can live inside that moment and pretend it’s your reality: a memory that can still, somehow, someday, be brought back to life.

#commander wolffe #commander wolffe x reader #wolffe #wolffe x reader

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sweetmage · 25 days

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Rambling about my made up Niall lore because I'm obsessed with him now and just wanna ramble!!

Putting it under the cut because it's super long 😅

I decided that Valentin (my m!Surana who had an unspoken romantic relationship going with him) and Niall simply cannot be alive in the same timeline…

Anyway, after Val dies during Uldred's whole situation (never even got to see Niall become an enchanter🥲 ) Niall takes the Isolationist thing very very seriously. No longer because he has a "foolish" dream that he might whisk Val away somewhere better but because it is no longer a suggestion but a demand.

He does not trust those that don't have magic, not even just templars. They are all one in the same. They judge, they isolate, and they kill. There will be no peace and safety for mages until they have built a fortified a place for just them. There is no understanding or bridging their differences at this point.

He was already a pessimistic and dour guy since the beginning of the mage origin and I HC that, despite being friendly, he wasn't the most approachable guy for that reason. I think he meshed well with Val's personality and unwillingness to lay down roots though and they just kinda clicked. To lose someone, especially someone who has fought so hard for freedom and to make a place for himself… I honestly think it just kinda broke him. I'm thinking Niall doesn't die during the circle tower quest, but he doesn't succeed either.

So he is just kinda like "I cannot help anyone, I can't save anyone, I can't escape this place, I can't do anything". I have absolutely no idea who the warden is in this case but maybe some words from them would help.

I am thinking that's the turning point where he sees exactly what it is that caused this to happen (in his opinion). Yes, Uldred was doing something fucked up, but it came because he (and magic) were repeatedly undermined and dismissed.

Yes, they were wrong (him wanting to ally with Loghain and all) but they were born of desperation.

And beyond that the actions of one man caused the templars, whose job it is to protect the circle and cut down abominations, left them all to die.

They would never know the horror that went on in there while they all ran and secluded themselves. Mages having to hide and turn to extremes to fend for themselves against demons (to which they are most susceptible) and other mages (to which they lack the power to stop, unlike templars who are trained to do that).

I don't consider him to be a very angry or impassioned person really, I can't really see it, at least not at this point.

But he survived when he had no right, reason, or desire to. He could at least do his part to try to do something in the aftermath of failure after failure on his part.

Of course like… sadly in the end this ultimately affects nothing (at least as far as he is concerned)😔Yet again he has failed to make a difference. BUT! I am thinking post-DA2 he's still kicking about and takes on some sort of a guide role for other apostates trying to survive during the war.

I need him to look back and feel like he has done absolutely nothing but fail the circle and everyone in it only to turn around and find that there are people who are looking to him for guidance. He survived impossible odds several times over, he has used his position as an enchanter to help and speak up for mages when he can, etc.

People saw that and people who are frightened and don't know what to do might see that still.

I have been working on fleshing out the group of isolationist mages he leads around and is basically the leader of (he is kinda like a pathetic but trustworthy mayor in my head, idk lol).

I am trying to give them a variety of backgrounds, lifestyles, and opinions (even opinions I don't agree with. Gotta have variety and conflicts and the like) and it's been fun so far!

#i just think he's neat okay?#niall dao #dragon age origins #jun rambles

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gallavichthings · 1 year

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Writer’s Spotlight - Mhunter10

Be honest, y’all thought I had abandoned this series, didn’t you? But I hadn’t! In fact, this interview was done a long time ago, but posting was delayed for several reasons. It’s finally here though, and I’m very excited for you to read this one, because the writer we’re spotlighting today is a fandom veteran and one of our most prolific writers. Enter: Malenah, aka @mhunter10!

GT: Ok, first of all, I've got to say, I'm so happy you agreed to talk to me! I missed you! How have you been?

M: Been up and down and dealing with some stuff, but I think I'm okay. I definitely miss writing.

GT: And we miss your writing. Is that why you stopped for a while, life just got in the way?

M: Yes, but also the fandom and show wasn't fun anymore. Tumblr policies got annoying and people weren't finding my stuff....people actively stealing my work and reposting without asking.

GT: Oh, that sucks. 😔 When did you join the fandom? And what made you want to? What was it about Shameless (or Gallavich) that captivated you?

M: Oof maybe 2013ish? 2015ish? Whenever Shameless first season was on. I actually didn't even have Showtime, I would literally sit on Tumblr and wait for someone to recap the episode or link a bootleg clip. I've always been into good queer stories as a queer, and Cam and Noel's dynamic was interesting and the sort of cute that makes you squeal like a little girl.

GT: They've always had a lot of chemistry. Did you start writing fics right away? What made you want to start?

M: I was actually writing for another fandom/couple for a while way before Shameless. For Gallavich I was mainly just making headcanons that sometimes turned into drabbles. Eventually I wrote longer fics and started posting to AO3. I'd respond to someone else's headcanon or idea with a short fic.

GT: A lot of people still do that nowadays. That was one of my favorite things about your fics, actually, the fact that most of them were short and I could get my quick Gallavich fix without compromising my lack of a long attention span. 😅

M: Haha I was the queen of the drabble.

GT: What fandom were you writing for before, if you don't mind me asking? Was it the first you wrote fics for?

M: A soap opera called As the World Turns😅. I was writing fic when it was still airing new episodes in the middle of the day on CBS. I wrote for Luke and Noah and the fics are archived somewhere on the internet forever.

GT: Was it also the first fandom you read fics for?

M: I think so? Lol that sounds right. I also wrote some fics for Eyewitness, the US version.

GT: Let me backtrack, because we went straight into your experience with fandom, but I want to also know a bit about you. Please tell us a bit about yourself.

M: Oh Haha well I'm 30. Black, bi, live in Maryland. Have a bachelor's and currently getting my master's. Write, paint, sculpt, collect, read, work… mostly work. Work work work. Fall is my favorite season. Libra. Currently have 8 tattoos. Live with my partner, 3 years together. Umm...I've got arthritis and hip dysplasia so lol....anyone wanting to murder me now has everything they need to know and opportunity.

GT: Hahahaha That was very in-depth, indeed! What's your masters about?

M: Organizational Sciences.

GT: I don't know what that is, but it feels like something I should study. 😅 What is it? And do you already work in that field or are branching out?

M: It's akin to industrial psychology...basically, how workplaces work and how to improve the work environment. Definitely has a lot of intangible skills everyone should have an understanding of if you work. It's very meta sometimes lol. Leadership, communications, change management, negotiation, etc.

GT: Oh, that's interesting! You mention you also paint and sculpt? Talk about a well-rounded artist! What got you into those?

M: I've just always been artsy fartsy crafty.....schmafty. Fun fact: walked out of my pottery class first day cuz the professor rubbed me the wrong way....took ballet instead. I'm mostly a painter but I have a lot of little things I've made out of clay just for fun.

GT: Like what?

M: Mostly small food 😆. I paint whatever. I was an instructor for about 2 years.

GT: If you feel comfortable, could you maybe share a pic or two?

GT: They're all beautiful, but the one with the blue-haired woman is GORGEOUS! 😍

GT: Let's talk about Shameless. Do you have a favorite season and/or episode?

M: Yikes, I honestly don't remember much but definitely before the whole show went off the rails. I think 1-4 are standouts, maybe 5 or 6. I only really stayed for Gallavich.

GT: I feel you, I actually stopped watching after S5.

M: Trevor was the worst.

GT: Why do you say that?

M: Not the actor ,obviously, but the whole storyline was not done right at all, imo. The whole jesus stuff was stupid. Frank continuing to live was stupid. All the stupid and inconsistent decisions compounded into me not giving a shit anymore.

GT: Did you actually watch all the seasons? Because I myself skipped S6 to S9. What did you think of the ending?

M: The ending I saw was the wedding stuff, but I haven't watched anything after.

GT: Do you intend to or will you just consider the wedding the end and that's it? Either way, what did you think of the wedding? Or the fact that there was one. The early-seasons fan in me was in shock it even happened. Once Mickey came back for 9x06, I figured that was as good as it was going to ever get.

M: I knew they would do it. They baited us, kept us on the hook and reeled us back in with the Gallavich crap. I thought the wedding was fine, didn't understand half the people there. Oh wait I also watched some of the stuff with them in the apartment and trying to adjust to that which was actually pretty interesting. I didn't really keep up after that, just saw some gifs here and there. I think they had sex in an ambulance with a dead person? I don't really understand why they have to keep doing illegal stuff. I refuse to believe Fiona would not even show up or call or check in, but I understand why Emmy wanted to cut full ties with the show

GT: I agree, I never understood why not have Fiona keep in touch, or just have one of them mentioned she called. But it's the same thing they did with Mickey at the end of season 5. Instead of cutting Noel from the show, but still having Mickey be somewhat present through mentions, they decided he'd be arrested AND Ian would break up with him. And then they mentioned things about him that weren't true. That made no sense at all. How would you have written their ending if you got to choose?

M: I've written their ending lol; just a short fic reimagining the day after the wedding. I liked the apartment stuff. I would've written them trying to find Mandy eventually leaving the show due to a positive sign she wanted to reconnect. They need to leave the Southside. But during their search, Mickey goes to school. Maybe some shenanigans ensue, but ultimately he does well enough to graduate. I'd see Ian writing a book.

GT: Ian writing a book? That's something I never thought of. A biography or fiction?

M: Maybe a memoir.

GT: What about other moments of the show? If you could change one thing the show did with them, what would it be?

M: Everything. Anything I ever had an issue with, I usually turned into some sort of fic in retaliation. I did a fic rewriting their meeting at the docks, and also one where Ian finds Mickey in Mexico. I did one of when Ian came home from the hospital and Mickey is taking care of him, but ends up helping Fiona with some chores.

GT: Ok, but if you could only choose one? Sophie's choice, I know. Well, reverse Sophie's choice. 😅

M: Idk I'd redo all the stuff with Yevgeny and not make Mickey forget all about him.

GT: Great point. Just one more thing that doesn't make sense in this show. Ok, now let's talk fanfiction. What kind of fics do you write the most? I mean, I know you're the drabble queen, but what else?

M: My fics range from absolute crack fucking with the readers, to gut wrenching, to smut, to whatever passion project I think 2 people will read. I've written some lengthy stuff. Two wips I'm ashamed to admit I forgot where I was going with them as the reason I haven't updated them are White Coats and, by far my most popular fic, The Sugar Daddy. I also have several series going with trans Mickey, fratboy Mickey, geek Mickey, etc.

GT: I can relate, I also have a WIP I don't know how to continue. I have the plot planned, but... I don't quite know how to get there. Do you have a personal favorite among your fics, one that you were especially proud to write?

M: Definitely The Sugar Daddy, but they're all my babies to some extent, even the less popular and early ones. I liked writing pregnant Mickey. And I like some of my fantasy spins, like Mickey meeting Santa lol, and Ian in Oz.

GT: If you had to rewrite a fic you wrote, which one would you choose and how would you change it?

M: I have over 400 fics so I know I myself am forgetting a lot of them lol.

GT: I have way less and I forget mine too, so I can only imagine. 😁

M: When I come across an oldy it's always fun to read it with fresh eyes haha. I don't think I would rewrite any.

GT: No regrets, huh?

M: Pretty much.

GT: Fair enough. Now, you said it yourself, you have A LOT of fics out there. Where do you get your ideas from?

M: I tend to write in a zone so whatever I put out there is what I wanted out there in the moment. I have an idea and just go with it and see how it comes together

GT: You said you write in a zone. How do you get in that zone? (asking for a friend)

M: I've had somewhere I just could not figure out how to get it out of my head in a way that makes sense so those just never see the light of day or they find their way magically into something else. It's probably an undiagnosed adhd thing but I hit a groove and can keep going as long as I'm excited. That excitement is generated by how much I think what I've written is going to make people shit their pants. I have a fic titled Ian Snaps Mickey's Neck.

GT: Lol that sounds like a good motivator. So I'm assuming you don't plan your fics much?

M: Not like pages and pages of details before I even begin, but I know major points and how I want to lead up to some of them. That's not to say I'm not just winging it most of the time. Sometimes I'll come up with something better or different based on reactions if it's a multichap. Prompts are a little tricky sometimes cuz the person is expecting the thing so you need to do the thing.

GT: What about research? Do you do any before or during writing?

M: A little if I want to make sure I'm saying something correctly, either words or phrases. Places sometimes, or if I want to actually describe something specific. For example, in the Sugar Daddy I have a few links to items Ian gets Mickey just to add to the visuals but I'm not expecting everyone reading to care enough about the minutiae of how much it costs to take a bus in Chicago. I stick with what's relevant and if I think people will get the point without me turning in a research paper.

GT: Do you have a preference for writing from Ian's or Mickey's pov?

M: No preference just whatever the story calls for [whose pov do I write more, it's definitely Mickey].

GT: Do you write other characters aside from Ian and Mickey?

M: I've written a couple fics that include other Shameless characters and definitely some original characters.

GT: Which Shameless characters do you write more often? Do you write fics just about them or only include them in your Gallavich fics?

M: Ian and Mickey for sure, others as needed for the story but I know I've done a fic from Debbie's perspective a long time ago? Or Carl....

GT: You mentioned you sometimes include OCs. How do you create them? Do you base them on real people?

M: No, definitely not. I mean, if there is any originality in an original character anymore ie. typical archetypes. I at least try to make them their own character and not just an npc.

GT: You write a good deal of mpreg, a trope that a lot of people don't like. What attracts you to it?

M: Hahaha a good deal? I wrote 2 at the most. To me it's just another way of writing something. I've read some weird shit that I definitely would never write myself.

GT: Really? It was more in my mind. 😅 What are some tropes you enjoy writing?

M: I like writing scenarios that actually happen to me sometimes. Makes things feel more real. I guess I subscribe to the usual angsty stuff. But I genuinely like writing fun and sweet, sexy and loving, intimate.

GT: Is there anything you think you could never write?

M: Incest, child stuff, dom/sub, animals.

GT: Do your preferences apply when reading as well? What kind of things do you enjoy reading about?

M: Haha I've stumbled into some fics where I'm not sure if the subject or the writing turned me off more.

GT: Like what? What makes you quickly hit the back button?

M: If it's great writing, I might skip around some bits. Otherwise yeah, I'm not reading anything that I'd have to announce to a room at gunpoint. But that's for my own peace, some things just should not be written.

GT: One more thing, out of curiosity: where does your url come from? I get the M from your name, but why hunter10?

M: It's my last name and birth month and username for everything because I'm a basic and terrible person 😆.

GT: What are you currently reading?

M: The one where Ian is the reading tutor and has a cat, Paragraphs by @palepinkgoat. I also like their other stuff and am always extremely jealous, feel free to mention that haha. Jealous and supportive, but still… lol. And I really do want to finish The Sugar Daddy but for now I'm going to get back into writing slowly with updating some of my series. Before that I was reading Deaf Group by @thevioletjones, another fav. Unfortunately a lot of my list is orphaned, deleted or no updates since 2015.

GT: Yeah, a lot of people left the fandom around the time, which is sad, but understandable. I understand orphaning your fics, and of course shit happens, so abandoned WIPs are normal, but I don't get the reasoning behind just deleting something you created, unless you later realized it was in poor taste. But well, to each their own. Ok, so I was going to ask you about your plans for more, but you've already said you want to finish The Sugar Daddy. Any other plans?

M: No other plans really. I always think I'm going to write this idea I've had but I'm not skilled enough to do it

GT: And finally, leave a message for those reading this interview, please.

M: Ehh....hi,this is Malenah and you're watching Disney channel.

Idk. Be careful, be safe, be aware of your surroundings. I love you.

Drink some water and keep going.

#gallavich #ian x mickey #shameless us #mickey milkovich #ian gallagher #writer's spotlight #mhunter10 #mod post #gallavich fanfiction

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teaandfiction-28 · 2 years

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Hi. Long time lurker, love your work, I've been following on Archive of Our Own. Seriously love all your writing! 😍😍My request is Angst 6. Anywhere on the time line will do, but I feel like a lot was missing between the hospital and the baby so maybe somewhere in there...? Not going to lie, my favorite fics are the ones where Hank gets a bit of a reality check, when he actually shows some emotion and breaks down. Anyways....much love, thanks for writing, your the best. -Amber

Well thank you for no longer lurking! Honestly, I don’t think I’d be publishing half as much content if people like you weren’t so kind so thank you 🥰

You’re absolutely right, there was a big chunk missing between PS & BND but I felt like, if I didn’t stop writing somewhere, I never would! 😅

Anyway, here we go with some angst - hopefully this hits the spot! 💛

—————————

Prompt: “You’re not sorry.”

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Mentions of gun violence.

Timeline: Set between C1 and C2 of “Brand New Day”.

Ten days.

If he really wanted to be pedantic, just over fourteen thousand minutes had passed since he had cradled her lifeless body in his arms and prayed to a God he wasn’t even sure he believed in that she would make it through. And as each of those fourteen thousand minutes passed, the guilt that had settled like an anvil on his shoulders seemed to sink deep into his bones, festering in his chest to the point that he felt like he could barely breathe.

He had spent almost every one of those fourteen thousand minutes at her side, listening intently to each cautiously optimistic update from the doctors until the nurses forced him home for sleep and sustenance but he was back before their shift started the next morning.

But now the day they had been impatiently waiting for was finally here. She had been cleared by both her surgeon and her obstetrician to continue healing from the comfort of her own home. As relieved as he was that they deemed her healthy enough to discharge from their care, he was utterly terrified at the prospect of being all the way across town should she require medical attention. Nonetheless, he had eased her into the front seat of his SUV and driven like an eighty year-old lady all the way from Chicago Med, breathing a subtle sigh of relief when he rolled to a stop outside of her apartment in one piece.

Despite having spent ten days confined to a hospital room with nothing but idle chit chat to keep them entertained, they hadn’t really talked. They hadn’t discussed his behaviour in the days leading up to the shooting, they hadn’t spoken about her keeping the pregnancy a secret and they hadn't really broached the topic of what the future held for them as a couple.

“Can we talk?” She had asked later that evening as they occupied opposite ends of the couch, the distance between them feeling like a bottomless gulf rather than just a few inches of fabric. Swallowing thickly, Hank switched off the evening news that he hadn’t really been watching anyway and turned slightly towards her but, for a few long moments, neither of them spoke.

“So, uh-”

“Did you-”

They broke off with awkward huffs of laughter, Hank lifting a hand to scratch the side of his face nervously before resting his arm along the back of the sofa.

“Do you love me Hank?”

His heart fell into his gut at her quiet, vulnerable question and he had to force himself to remain where he was because every fibre of his being was telling him to close the space and hold her. But he knew he needed to give her space if they were going to get through the next few minutes.

“More than you'll ever understand.” Was his gruff reply, the emotional tension hanging thick in the air between them.

“Then why did you leave me?”

Again, her question was like a swift punch to the chest but he knew it wasn’t anything he didn’t deserve. Because he did. He did leave her.

“Kate, I’m sorry-”

“But you’re not sorry, Hank. Not really.” She said softly with a shake of her head, cutting his apology dead. “I don’t think you’d even be here right now if I hadn’t of gotten shot.”

The implication that he would still be wallowing in self-pity, blaming himself for the death of his best friend was louder than her words could have ever been and, he had to concede, she probably wasn’t wrong. But where he was dark, she was light; and where he was corrupted, she was pure. Quite simply, he knew he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if his damaged soul somehow managed to defile hers.

“I can’t raise a child with someone who’ll cut and run the minute things get tough.” Her hands subconsciously settled on the blanket covering her barely visible bump at the mention of their unborn baby and Hank felt his eyes prickle with tears. “She’s gonna need to know that you’ll be there...that, no matter what happens, you’ll always stay.”

“Christ Kate.” He whispered, caving in to the overwhelming desire to comfort her as he shuffled along the couch, grasping both of her hands in his, intertwining their fingers and replacing their joined palms gently over her midsection.

“She’ll always be just as much yours as she is mine and I’ll never stop you from being in her life if that’s what you want.” Tears were rolling down her cheeks in thin rivulets, her lower lip quivering as she fought to hold herself together. “But you have to promise me that you won’t leave her, Hank.”

Her broken request shattered his heart into a thousand tiny pieces, not only because of how visibly upset she was but also because it was the first time she had ever vocalised anything but complete trust in him. But despite the hint of doubt that coloured her tone, her eyes were pleading for him to confirm that the past year hadn’t just been a figment of her imagination.

“Listen Kate, I know it’ll take time for you to trust me again but I swear to God...” He lifted a palm to her face, his chest physically aching when her eyes fluttered closed and she leaned into his warm touch. “I will never leave her.”

Kate released a slow, shaky breath, the tension seeping from her shoulders as though hearing the words out loud finally gave her the reassurance she had been desperately seeking. Hank patiently waited for her eyes to drift open before making his final promise.

“And I’ll never leave you.”

Mindful of her sutures, he leaned forwards and gently touched his lips to hers, hoping to convey everything he was feeling at that moment. Remorse, hope and unbridled, unconditional love.

When he pulled away, his thumb brushing over her damp lower lip tenderly, her own apologies began tumbling forth in a slightly breathless rush but, in his mind, none of that mattered anymore. All he cared about now was spending the next six months keeping them both safe and healthy.

She had told him when she regained consciousness that she wouldn’t be able to do things halfway; that it needed to be all or nothing. As Hank slowly eased her body against his, pushing a soft kiss to the crown of her head, he realised that he had never been more ‘in’ in his whole damn life.

#hank voight #chicago pd #one chicago #fanfiction #angst #fluff #writer #prompt #ask #hank voight x ofc #hank voight fluff #hank voight angst #chicago pd fanfiction

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between-a-ship-and-a-hard-place · 2 years

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congrats on your fic-a-versay!! your writing is amazing, i love to read your interpretations of the boys 🥺💞

request for this event: prewar (and either steve or bucky is trans ?? if you'd be ok with that?) and the lyric "I would go out tonight but I haven't got a stitch to wear / This man said, "It's gruesome that someone so handsome should care" (the song is This Charming Man by the Smiths and it's such a good prewar stevebucky song ;; ) /t4tstevebucky 🌟

Thank youu!!! 💚💚💚 Gaah, I do hope you'll like this one. It only got away from me a *cough* little bit. (If you were trying to drop me into a research rabbit-hole you did a great job 😅)

East Coast Swing, 2k words, rated T

Read it on AO3 or under the cut

one-and-two

“Come out with me tonight.”

“Bucky, don’t be stupid.”

⁕

“So there’s this girl up at the offices who was askin’ if we could—”

“Absolutely not.”

three-and-four

“Ste-vie—”

“No.”

“You didn’t even know what I was gonna ask.”

“Still no.”

⁕

“Please?”

“Quit it, Buck.”

Bucky pulled out the second chair and straddled it with his elbows resting on the table. If Steve looked up he’d no doubt see him batting his eyelashes. (They were longer and thicker than any girl’s he’d seen, which wasn’t really fair any way you looked at it.)

“I found a place I think you’d really like. There’re some people who’d love to meet ya.”

Steve held back a snort. He flexed his aching wrist and dipped his brush again, sliding off the excess on the edge of the cup. The tip of his tongue flicked out as he angled the hairs just right, keeping a steady hand while he filled in the black shading on the letters.

He pulled back and studied his work. Not perfect, but it would have to do. He didn’t have time to start over, Mr. Martin was going to dock his pay if he didn’t have the lot done by Sunday.

Bucky cleared his throat, then acted all wide-eyed and innocent when Steve glanced up and fixed him with a glare. It was annoyingly endearing. Steve bit the inside of his cheek.

“I’ve got commissions to finish.” He grabbed the stained rag from beside Bucky’s hand. “Now stop whining and make yourself useful, I ain’t darning your stinkin’ socks for you.”

five, six

“Look.” Steve pinched the bridge of his nose and counted to five. “Even if I wanted to be dragged off to some of your bars, it’s not like I got anythin’ to wear.”

He waved his arms to illustrate his point, shirt cuffs flapping over his hands. The shirt, like most of his clothing, had been Bucky’s, patched and hemmed and taken in to fit him passably. They served him well enough for everyday use. (He preferred it, to be truthful, being able to sink into shapeless shoulders and too-long sleeves and disappear from view on the crowded train.)

Oddly enough, his completely valid argument didn’t seem to deter Bucky, rather the opposite. He perked up and beamed at Steve over his plate of mushy beans.

“That it? Why didn’t you say so to start with? I’ll take care of it.” He patted Steve on the cheek and shoved another forkful into his mouth.

“No, that’s not what I—”

beat

It had been Bucky’s idea. That god-awful spring when Steve had just buried his mother and was about to be kicked out of the tenement because their landlord was a heartless bastard.

“Just two bachelors rooming together to save on rent. No one will question it.”

Steve was standing on the front steps, shivering under a borrowed coat, socks and shoes soaked through by the neverending rain that flooded the gutters. He swallowed, a mixture of dread and sick hope churning in his stomach. “What if they do? What if someone says something?”

“Then we go somewhere else. Plenty of rooms in the city.” Bucky shrugged, like that was nothing. “But they won’t, trust me. It’ll be fine.”

The last scraps of his pride had forced him to hold his ground for a bit longer. “I can get by on my own.”

The sigh Bucky let out was mostly fond. His hand was an anchoring weight on Steve’s shoulder, warming him through damp layers. Today his eyes were slate-gray like the sky. “Thing is, you don’t have to.”

right turn

There was a pile of new clothes on the bed. Almost new. But still in better condition than anything Steve owned.

“For my best guy,” Bucky had said as he dumped them in Steve’s lap without ceremony—no wink or cheeky grin to accompany it.

Steve stroked his hand over the striped wool of the suit jacket. It was soft but sturdy and seemed like it might be close to his size. He wondered what it would look like on him, if it would make his shoulders look broader and hide the way his spine was curved.

Then he put it down on the pile. “You shoulda spent your money on something useful.”

“Come on, Stevie. What's it gonna take with you?” Bucky let himself drop back on the bed, springs creaking under his weight. “I wanna dance.”

“So go dance. Take that girl, what’s her face. Don’t know why you keep buggin’ me for.” He dipped his hands back into the sudsy water.

Bucky sat up on the bed and watched him.

Steve kept his head down and scrubbed at a stubborn stain—a bit too vigorously. He prodded at the raw skin on his knuckles and cursed under his breath.

Bucky still didn’t say anything.

“What?” Steve snapped.

Bucky cast his eyes down and fiddled with the hem of the blanket.

“What is it?” Steve asked, voice softer this time. The soap stung his scraped hand.

“Just ... wanted to dance with you. Is all.”

beat

“Hey, Stevie.”

Bucky’s speech was a bit slurred, the words coming out of his mouth sticky and slow like molasses. He was draped over the bed with his suspenders pulled down and half the buttons of his shirt undone; underneath, the contours of his body, lean and powerful, chest flat and hard from hours in the boxing gym.

“Yeah?”

“Do—you don’t mind that I call you that?”

“... no. Why would I?”

In fact, Steve hadn’t really thought about it.

He handed him the glass filled with water. Their fingers brushed. Bucky’s skin was hot. There were tracks of dried sweat along his temples. He smelled like booze, stale cigarettes, and too-strong perfume that made Steve’s throat itch.

Bucky brought the glass to his mouth and squinted at him. “‘Cause I can stop if ya want. Just gotta say the word.”

Steve shrugged. “It's fine, honestly. Thanks for asking though.”

Bucky smiled dopily at him. “Anything for my best guy.” He straightened up and put the glass down on their wobbly nightstand. “C’mere.” He patted the mattress beside him.

Steve sat down. With the way Bucky was sprawled their legs were almost touching. The room was hot, the muggy August heat only tempering once the sun set. Steve’s palms were clammy. He rubbed them on his trousers.

Bucky’s hand came to rest on top of his.

“You know you’re my best guy, right?” he half-whispered in that way drunk people do.

“Sure do, Buck.” Steve forced a smile. “And you’re my best friend too.” Not like there was much competition for that spot, but it was true either way.

Bucky’s brows did a complicated dance move, settling on a frown.

“No, I meant like …”

His thumb was rubbing the top of Steve’s hand, tracing the tendons. Then his fingers traveled up Steve’s arm like they were explorers hiking a mountain. The furrow between his brow deepened, focus honed in like when he was fiddling with some new piece of machinery, trying to figure out what made it tick.

“Bucky, wha—”

The rest of his sentence was swallowed up.

By Bucky.

Because Bucky’s lips were on his.

Bucky’s hand was on his neck, thumb pressing into his jaw.

His breath was sour; his lips burned like that split-second between touching a hot plate and pulling your hand away.

Steve gasped.

Bucky stumbled off the bed, away from him, wide-eyed and frantic.

“Shit. ‘m sorry, I didn’t—”

“You kissed me.” Steve touched a finger to his still-tingling lips.

“Yeah.” Bucky stood frozen at the other side of the room, back pressed to the wall like he wanted to sink into the cracks between the boards. “I’m sorry.”

“You ...”

Steve forgot what he was about to say. He rose from the bed and crossed the floor to Bucky, who flinched like he thought Steve was going to hit him.

Steve lifted his hand and touched the tip of his finger to his lower lip. He needed to see if it would burn him

—if it would hurt the way his heart sometimes did when he looked at Bucky, sitting on the fire escape beside him, a cigarette dangling between his fingers, smoke curling around his gilded face, tilted up to meet the last rays of evening sun.

It didn’t. It hurt in a different way. Perhaps the same way that made Bucky screw his eyes shut and clench his jaw.

“Can I?”

Eyes closed, Bucky nodded.

Steve kissed him.

left turn

“Buck …” Steve sighed. “You know that’s not gonna—”

“I said I know a place,” Bucky interrupted. “Will you just trust me?”

beat

“I could be a girl. If—if you wanted me to.” Steve showed his hands in his pockets so Bucky wouldn’t see they were shaking and he squared his shoulders.

“What?”

Bucky stared at him.

“It’d be easier, right? If I was. We could, like, do things the proper way.”

Get married, have a family.

(wear a dress and a meek smile and lower your voice)

He stuck his chin out. “Not—not hide away here.”

Bucky wouldn’t have to come home on Fridays after visiting his parents with a storm cloud over his head and a dozen probing questions ringing in his ears; when was he going to settle down, he knew he was the oldest, supposed to set an example, didn’t he want something less temporary now that he’d gotten foreman duties at the factory —Steve had heard every variation muttered under his breath as Bucky scrubbed their chipped plates with angry efficiency.

A series of emotions flashed over Bucky’s face.

“I don’t like girls,” he said gruffly, not quite meeting Steve’s eyes.

“Oh.” The fight Steve had prepared for trickled out of him. “But then—but I’m—”

“Not a girl. So I don’t know why you’d wanna pretend to be one.” Bucky pushed past him and braced his hands on the window ledge, looking out over the street.

“I thought—We have it good like this, don’t we?”

Steve watched the rigid line of his shoulders. “Yeah, Buck, we do.”

“Then fuck ‘em."

one-and-two, three-and-four

The room was loud and smoky and dimly lit. Steve had to blink a handful of times before he could make out more than the contours of people.

It was smaller than he expected, a bar lining one short side and a row of booths filling up the other. There were people everywhere, milling about, sitting by the tables, talking, a few of them dancing.

All kinds of people.

The person that closed the door behind them was wearing men’s trousers and a leather jacket. A curvy—woman—with a feather boa and a mane of blonde curls was sitting behind a piano on a small, raised stage.

Steve pulled his mouth shut and tried not to stare as he took it all in. He’d had no idea there was a place like this in their part of Brooklyn.

A hand wrapped around his wrist. Steve looked up.

“Told ya.” Bucky grinned at him. “Now let’s dance. I’ll let you lead, if you promise not to step on me.”

“I think you oughta buy me a drink first.”

five

“Don’t know why you’d care what you wear.” Bucky’s hand rested on Steve’s waist, light and steady, his breath brushing over Steve’s cheek. “You’re the prettiest face in this place.” Bucky shifted his grip and spun them around in a tight circle.

Steve grimaced and missed his step. “‘m not pretty. ” He considered stomping on Bucky’s feet, which he’d so far avoided, just for that.

Bucky reeled him back in and grabbed his chin with two fingers. “Punk. Listen up. I swear there’s not a soul in here that isn’t jealous I’m the one that gets to dance with you.” His grip softened and so did his eyes. “Handsomest guy I ever saw.”

Steve’s face burned brighter than the glittering dresses of the queens standing over by the bar. “Shut up.” He punched Bucky in the shoulder.

six

“Wait here a second.”

“What are you—”

“...”

“Bucky. Somebody could see us.”

“Nah. It’s dark. And we’ll hear if someone comes.”

“But—”

“Can’t I kiss you goodnight?”

“No.”

“Aw, sweetheart.”

“... but you could take me home.”

“Steve.”

“...”

#em's fic a versary #stucky #stevebucky #stucky fic #pre war stucky #writing things

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growthgoddess · 1 year

Note

Can I ask you how’d you’d write or imagine a Totally Spies crackship story (but first, SFW or naughty?)

Hey thanks for the Ask!

If I were to post it here in Tumblr its gonna be somewhere near the SFW side given that I dont want to get deactivated 😅 I can upgrade it with the naughty bits when I post it in my Patreon.

If I am going to write a TS episode, I'm going to up the stakes by having Ulrich Wernerstein, Diminutive Small, and Olga Bittersweet get broken out of jail by an unknown benefactor. They band together and release a new addicting food product which slowly tuns women into hulking giants.

This will be just a quick synopsis for now.

The gang is summoned by Jerry and they try to round up the frenzied giantesses along with the other WOOHP agents for backup.

They eventually split up and track down to capture all three villains. Slowly getting clues to find out who the mastermind is.

It is to be revealed that their unknown benefactor is Ella Engorgio, a CEO of the company who distributed the food and is a battered wife who seeks to empower women.

Ella, now cornered by the spies and a squad of WOOHP agents, grabs a concentrated dose of the formula and drinks the entire bottle. Her body twitches and she laughs. She rises up higher and higher, tearing her clothes and revealing a stretchable body suit underneath.

She outgrows the building and the spies have to escape it without getting crushed by her body.

When they escape, the muscular giantess emerges from the rubble, but is now addicted to the stuff. Ella rampages through town to attack her own factory and eat more and grow even bigger. The spies try to stop her to no avail.

Sam then tries to resort to synthesizing a similar chemical as the formula to stop her using one of their gadgets.

Britney arrives on time to volunteer herself to be the giant to fight off Enormous Ella, and she drinks the vial. She grunts in pain as her purple jumpsuit tears apart and grows to Ella's shoulder height. By now, the evil CEO had breached the factory and has begun eating, growing bigger by the moment, even her expandable suit can no longer keep her modest.

But then several other giantesses, including a hulking Mandy, emerge from the city's chaos coming to eat the stuff as well. They fight Ella over the food, but she slowly overpowers them. Britney struggles to stay in control, but is able to fight it with the help of the spies.

A car soon arrives with Jerry coming out, he is also joined by Ella's husband, horrified by what he created. He tries to command her to stop this, but she sees him and begins to rage. He whimpers and hides in the car.

A chase ensues as Jerry tries to lead Ella away from the city, but she is fast, very fast despite her hulking physique.

They pass through a tunnel and she just plows right through it. But this gives Britney and the spies enough time to catch up with her. Britney tries to grapple Ella who is almost twice her size now, and Alex flies near her mouth to apply a synthesized antidote that Sam was able to make with Clover's idea.

It works and the other WOOHP agents fly around the city and cure the giantess plague.

#giantess #giant woman #giantess growth #caption #female muscle growth #giantess caption #growth caption #giantess growth caption #fmg

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fleurcareil · 9 months

Text

West Ontario: Thunder Bay and Kenora

It feels like ages ago that I left Sleeping Giant as I'm currently in Calgary, three provinces further west 😅 but been busy traveling with very little internet access, so will aim to catch up by writing shorter posts! 🤞

On the way to Thunder Bay I visited the Terry Fox memorial - for non-Canadians, he was a young man who ran a "marathon of hope" to raise awareness for cancer; having started in St John's in Newfoundland, he ran 3,339 miles across Canada close to here, where he had to stop as his cancer returned & he died shortly afterwards. Supporting Terry Fox runs by friends were the first donations that I made in Canada (I must admit I never ran myself) and he has rightly so turned into an inspiration for many. The memorial serves both as a reminder that our health is the very first thing we should take care of, and as a motivation to never give up on life... ❤

In Thunder Bay I did the usual errands plus an unsatisfactory visit to a BMO bank branch, where I had hoped they would reinstate my credit card after a suspicious activity... however, they only could send a new card to my friends in Dundas (where I'll be back end September 🤔) so that stressed me out but luckily with the help of great friends 😍, I received the replacement card this morning in Calgary so I can now worriless continue spending 😝.

Half an hour west from Thunder Bay I breaked for lunch at the Kakabeka Falls, the so-called "Niagara Falls of the North"... although pretty (& in a more natural setting than Niagara Falls), the comparison doesn't really hold true 🤣

After that it was a 2hr+ drive to the little village of Ignace where I stayed in a lovely inn on a lake, run by a couple that used to live in Toronto but had moved here during the pandemic in search for a quieter life (which it certainly is with its 1,200p population!) .

Along the drive, the trees were still the same boreal forest (which I probably will never want to see again after this roadtrip 😁) and it was grey and boring so couldn't wait to stop for the day... the only interesting thing is that I changed another hour back in time, similar to Labrador not at a provincial border but just randomly somewhere 😅. Meant I had an extra hour to sit with my legs up!

Next day, I made the last 3-hour push to arrive in Kenora, the most westerly town in Ontario and famous for being on the massive Lake of the Woods. The roads were much busier here with several links to the US border, and suddenly it became agricultural with rolling fields west of Dryden, a change from the forever-forest!

In the evening, the lake at my campsite at Rushing River provincial park became dead still and massive clouds turned pink when the sun set... pretty! 😍 As a really great plus, there were no longer flies and very few mosquitos which makes being outside so much nicer. As a really big negative, there was a snake that came my way when I was sitting at the picknick table chatting with a friend. After booing it away, I researched Ontario snakes and although the common eastern gartersnake is not poisonous and doesn't normally attack, I was less than pleased when it showed up next to me again! 😵

In the morning, the water was still very calm so had a beautiful paddle before breakfast. I never cease to be happy when I'm on the water!! 🤩

Thereafter, I drove into town for a boat tour on the MS Kenora along tons of islands, rich houses, "devil gaps", spiritual rocks as well as 6 bald eagles. It was pretty but very hazy due to the smoke so then everything turns into the same gray-yellow hue... 🤨

After visiting an art gallery dedicated to a local painter and an interesting exhibit on the 150th anniversary of Indigenous Treaty #3 - " which will last as long as the sun will shine and the water runs, that is to say forever", it was patio time for a drink & snack with view on the lake! ☀️ Back at the campground, it was so sticky hot that I went for another little paddle to the beach and a refreshing swim 🤓

There was too much wind in the morning for another paddle so spent some time cleaning out and repacking the car, throwing away any items that I hadn't used for the last two months, no point in keeping those!

Although it was a great spot on the water, the campsite was a walk-in on a slope so I ended up hating it going up & down endlessly to my car... mental note never to book that again!

Before heading out, I did a small hike along the namesake rapids that the park was created for, but it was hot & humid so not enjoyable.

Time to say goodbye to Onario and off to Manitoba!

Wildlife: 1 deer (Dryden), 1 common eastern gartersnake (twice!), 6 bald eagles and 1 loud flying loon (Rushing River/Kenora)

SUPs: two at Rushing River

Hikes: one at Rushing River

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where-the-kissing-never-stops · 8 months

Text

The shifting Earth beneath us

Here is a piece that I created for the 15th Merlin anniversary!

It is a follow on from In my weariness I still hear you singing in my mind which was written many years ago now and could do with a rewrite 😅 and for those of you on ao3 here is The shifting Earth beneath us on ao3. Hope you enjoy 😊

Gwaine awoke with a start. This was the fourth time he had woken up. Gwaine was a fool to think that he would get any semblance of sleep after what he’d been through, waking many times dripping in sweat after hardly any sleep at all. He would be the last to admit it, but the night terrors were so bad this time, that his face was wet with tears. The light had finally faded so this time he had woken up to darkness, which made recovering from the awful dream harder.

He decided there wasn’t much point trying to sleep again just yet. The hunger was still present, so he wiped his face with his bedclothes and sat up slowly. He reached over and took a sip of the stale water left in the cup from earlier, then a slice of bread. He took small bites, remembering what Leon said about eating slowly. Gwaine was glad he did, because that one slice of bread filled his stomach. He couldn’t eat anything else, even if his stomach hurt and his body ached. His mind was still plagued with visions and memories of what he went through.

Gwaine swung his legs over the side of his bed, and he tried standing. It took a few attempts, but he managed it and he wobbled over to the window. He looked over the courtyard, which was lit up in the moonlight. How long had it been since he last saw that view? At least a week, probably longer. Gwaine vowed he would never take this sight for granted, as he never know when it would be the last time he saw it.

The clothes Gwaine was wearing were still damp from sweating from his dreams, so he took off his tunic and trousers gently, dropping them in a heap at the end of his bed. He took a clean outfit from his wardrobe and put them on. The effort it took was a lot, and he sat on the end of his bed afterwards. The blood pounded in his ears. Gwaine took deep breaths, holding his head in his hands and resting his elbows on his legs. In. Out. In. Out.

Gwaine’s mind flickered to a happier memory from the night before. Percival had kissed him. Gwaine wasn’t sure if it was a spur of the moment thing, more out of relief than anything more, but it had been something that helped Gwaine fall asleep, initially at least. Percival had been gentle and kind and respectful of what Gwaine had been through. It felt right. It was what Gwaine needed.

How Gwaine longed for some company again.

He leaned over at took another cracker from the plate. It was a little chewy, but beggars can’t be choosers, and he ate it, slowly again, with water. He took the last one. He already felt a little stronger. He waited a few minutes after eating to make sure he hadn’t eaten too much, then stood up, put his boots on and headed for the door. Gwaine felt more stable on his feet. Maybe this was a sign.

Gwaine didn’t really know where he was going, he just knew he didn’t want to be in his room when he could walk around. He didn’t want to stare at a ceiling unable to sleep. He didn’t want to be kept somewhere. Not again.

He enjoyed walking the corridors at night. The only light was from the torches hanging from the walls, and when he reached the outdoor parts of the citadel, the moon bathed him in its light. Gwaine stopped for a moment, tilted his head towards the moon and closed his eyes. He breathed deeply. This was something he had really missed.

It was summer, and the air was still quite warm, despite there being no cloud cover. Gwaine decided he would head to the field near the keep, which overlooked the lower town. It would let him see the stars clearly, and let him be rid of the troubles of the last week for a few moments, at least.

As Gwaine rounded the corner, it revealed the square of grass, and a figure was leaning over the wall at the end. Gwaine froze, his heart raced. The irrational part of his brain was in overdrive, convinced it was one of Morgana’s men waiting for him, to finish him off, but then he shook his head, and steadied himself, taking deep breaths whilst he closed his eyes. He leaned back against the wall whilst he collected himself. He couldn’t let this stop him getting the freedom he so desperately craved.

Come on, let’s go, Gwaine thought to himself, and he headed outside.

In this low light, he couldn’t tell who it was leaning over the wall, but it was someone tall. Someone who had huge arms and short hair. Someone who heard Gwaine approach and turned to see who was joining him.

Percival.

Gwaine’s breath caught in his throat, but he kept moving towards Percival. The other knight kept facing him, and leaned back against the edge of the wall as Gwaine approached.

The two knights were face to face.

“Didn’t think I’d see you at this time. Thought you’d be out for the count.” Percival smiled at Gwaine.

“Turns out my mind won’t let my body rest,” Gwaine said, quietly, and he stood next to Percival, leaning over the wall and he looked out over the lower town. He heard Percival turn around to join him.

Gwaine watched a couple stumble out of The Rising Sun, hand in hand and they stumbled down the road together. A patrol of guards passed them, and the couple bowed a little comically, almost falling over. The guards laughed, and continued on their duty. Both groups disappeared from view.

“Can’t wait for another night back in there, when this is all over, and we have all recovered.” Gwaine knew alcohol really wouldn’t help him in his present state, but he was craving the happier times and the friendly atmosphere over the ale.

“Gwaine,” Percival began, still looking over Camelot, “You went through something awful. If ever you need someone to talk to-”

“Thank you, Percival,” Gwaine began, cutting the knight off, “but this is something I just need to work through. It will get easier.” Especially with a good ale, Gwaine added mentally.

“You are incredibly strong to even say that,” Percival spoke softly, sincerely. “If you change your mind…” Gwaine nodded at him. The mutual respect was so solid.

They stood in silence before Gwaine moved, sitting down, then lying on the grass. He interlinked his knuckles and lay them atop his stomach.

“Gwaine?” Percival frowned at him.

“The stars are so beautiful,” he said with a small smile on his lips.

Percival went and joined him, lying beside him. “Yes, they are.”

They lay for a few moments in quiet reverence for the moment. The only sound they heard were occasional footsteps in the castle passing nearby, or the wind blowing slightly through the trees.

Percival spoke up and pointed to the sky. “Can you see that shape in the sky? It looks a bit like a huge spoon.” Gwaine followed Percival’s finger. It took a few moments, but he saw what Percival was referring to, and nodded. “Take the two stars on the right side, they point up to a fainter star, can you see?” Again, a few moments after Percival spoke, Gwaine nodded again. “That star doesn’t move ever. The other stars move around it. It always points north,” and with that, Percival lowered his hand slightly, pointing north. “So if you’re ever lost on a clear night, this star will help you find your way.”

Gwaine turned to look at Percival. “How did you learn that?”

Percival lowered his hand and turned to return Gwaine’s gaze. “My mother taught me that when I was younger. She taught me a great deal.” His gaze became sad, and Gwaine noted something.

“You’ve never spoken of your mother before.”

Percival turned to look back at the sky. “It’s not the easiest thing to talk about.”

Gwaine waited in silence, not pushing Percival to continue.

“Cenred killed my family.”

Another pause. Percival continued.

“It wasn’t long before I met Lancelot. Cenred ransacked my village. He razed it to the ground and my family along with it.”

Gwaine unlaced his fingers. “I’m sorry.” He reached down and took Percival’s hand in his, interlocking their fingers.

“I was out hunting with a few other men in the village. When we returned, Cenred and his men were long gone. Our house was destroyed, with my parents and my sister were inside. It took so long to find them in the wreckage that was our home.” Percival sniffed softly. Gwaine didn’t look, giving the man some privacy, but he rubbed Percival’s knuckles with his thumb as the other knight wiped his face with his other hand.

Percival continued. “Our village lost everyone apart from those of us who went hunting. After the pyres burned out and we drank ourselves sick, we went our separate ways.” A brief pause, and Percival gently squeezed Gwaine’s hand. “I moved around, became the strong man that people wanted, and that’s how I met Lancelot. He saw me pulling a cart out of the mud and came to help, before he realised I didn’t need it.” He smiled softly at the memory. “With him, it was the first time I felt true happiness since my family died.”

Percival was pensive. He didn’t let go of Gwaine’s hand.

The pair lay there for a while, the warm summer night keeping any chill away.

Gwaine was curious. “Were the two of you ever…?”

Percival snorted softly. “No, it was never like that. Lancelot brought joy back into my life, and he meant the world to me.” Percival squeezed Gwaine’s hand again, and Gwaine squeezed back. “I miss him.”

“So do I.” Gwaine let go of Percival’s hand in favour of turning on his side to look at his friend. “Thank you for telling me this.”

Percival turned to look at him. Gwaine wished they had lay down closer together, but a small nod from the taller knight was all he received. They both returned to look at the stars. Gwaine noticed that the longer he looked for, the more stars seemed to appear. The spoon and the guiding star were beginning to disappear into a cluster of stars in the sky, hardly intelligible as a pattern anymore.

Gwaine heard Percival yawn. “You should go to bed. There will be a lot of rebuilding work to do tomorrow.”

Percival sighed. “I’d rather stay here.” He left the sentence hanging and Gwaine didn’t fill the space.

Silence enveloped them. Gwaine slowly shifted, moved across the grass to be lying side by side next to the taller knight. As much as he too needed sleep, he didn’t want this moment to end. He felt very peaceful and very safe, and that was something he craved to last as long as it could. He struck up another conversation.

“What happened after you left Camelot?”

He heard a deep exhale beside him. Gwaine couldn’t recall a time he had heard Percival speak so much. When it was the group of them, Percival was mostly quiet, only saying a few words mostly, even quiet by the campfire. This was a conversation Gwaine would not take for granted. Percival cleared his throat before he began his tale.

“We found Elyan in the woods, which was a help as Arthur was slowing us down. Merlin heard the horses coming after us and we ran. We were thrown off our feet by magic, I can only guess it was Morgana. When I came round, the others were gone. I thought they had been captured, and knew there was nothing I could do. I had failed to protect my King.” Percival puffed out his cheeks.

“When I woke up, it was dark and everyone else had gone. I thought Arthur and Merlin were still with Elyan, but clearly they weren’t, so I went through the forest alone. It wasn’t great, I came across some bandits but steered clear, my head was mashed after a day alone and only my memories for company.” He exhaled. Gwaine waited. “It was dark before I came across someone. It was Rosie and her little girl. I couldn’t remember the child’s name but I rescued her from the dorocha and ever since I’ve seen Rosie out and about and she would always talk to me. She is lovely.”

“I remember her. I think her daughter’s name is Lily,” Gwaine offered.

“Matches her mother’s,” Percival said, a smile on his lips. He continued, “She brought me back to the camp where I saw Leon. The warmth it filled me with, Gwaine, I can’t express it. Seeing someone I knew so well filled me with so much relief. I told him what had happened so far, and Leon showed me their makeshift camp. It felt strangely familiar, living in such close quarters. It reminded me of home, of my family.” A pause, and Gwaine made shapes with the stars as he waited for Percival to finish. Gwaine wouldn’t rush his friend.

“We were planning on a way to find the King, but with so few soldiers and weapons we felt useless. It was a few days on when Leon woke me, before sunrise. He’d seen Merlin, and asked for us to all meet him in a clearing just down a small channel from the camp. And we did.” Percival turned towards Gwaine and their eyes met. “There was a sword in the stone, Gwaine. Did you ever hear about the legend?” Gwaine shook his head. “It was just as you would expect. You hear about a sword lodged in a stone, no one knows how it got there, no one can pull it out, and then Arthur stepped up. He tried, you could see him shaking with effort. Merlin spoke to him in a way I have never heard him speak. He spoke to Arthur like he knew every part of him, and he spoke to him as if the rest of us weren’t there. It felt like I was watching a moment that should have been in private.” Percival cleared his throat and looked away.

Gwaine processed what Percival told him. Merlin must have been with Arthur this whole time.

“And Arthur just, pulled the sword out of the stone.”

Gwaine made a surprised sound and looked at Percival.

“Gwaine, I wish you were there to see it. It was the most incredible thing I’ve ever seen.” Gwaine could hear the emotion in the other knight’s voice. “Arthur is the true King of Camelot and I would ride into the mouth of Hell for him.”

In the distance, the sky was lightening with the approaching dawn, and Percival’s face was slightly silhouetted against the dark blue. Gwaine reached over to put a finger underneath Percival’s chin. He turned Percival’s face towards his and leaned in. “So would I.” Gwaine kissed Percival gently. He tasted the tears Percival shed for his family. He tasted the devotion for their King. He tasted the raw emotion and belief that finally, everything was okay again. They broke apart. Gwaine wiped the tear that had spilled onto Percival’s cheek.

“And all the while, you’ve been suffering here.”

Gwaine laughed softly and brushed his thumb over Percival’s cheek. “Ah, don’t think about that. You’ve painted quite a picture of what I’ve missed, I almost forgot I wasn’t there.” He smiled at Percival. He dropped his hand and again reached for Percival’s, hoping the urgency wasn’t apparent in his grasp. “It sounds almost magical.”

“It may well have been. After all, Arthur pulled a sword from solid rock. There must be something to do with magic involved.”

“It proves he is our King. Maybe it’s in his blood, or something.”

Percival sat up with a start and looked down at Gwaine. “You think Arthur has magic?”

Gwaine sat up slowly, propping himself up on his elbows before sating, “Well, he could have, but he clearly doesn’t know about it.”

The pair laughed together. It felt good, like the world was returning to rights.

“And after that, we made a plan to enter Camelot and fight Morgana and Helios, which clearly worked, and we found you.” Percival finished his story in a less than dramatic style, which Gwaine was grateful for.

The sun was rising and he was tired. The first light of the sun hit the castle walls and the golden rays made everything look even more majestic, including Percival. Gwaine leaned forward, rested on his knees and cupped Percival’s face in his hands. “Thank you for saving me.” He leaned down and kissed Percival more deeply than before, and Percival matched it. He turned around and pulled Gwaine closer, his hands shaping and moulding Gwaine’s body into his. Gwaine’s legs straddled Percival as they drank each other in.

The distant sound of voices pulled them apart, but Gwaine rested his forehead against Percival’s.

“I would ride into the mouth of Hell for you, too,” Gwaine spoke into Percival’s mouth.

“And I you,” Percival whispered in response.

They stayed there for a few moments before Gwaine let go and stood up, a little unsteady as the lack of food and lack of sleep caught up with him. Percival did the same, and placed a hand on Gwaine’s back to steady him.

“Let’s get you inside.”

Gwaine looked at Percival. In the glowing golden light, he looked radiant. Not even a yawn could mar the beauty of Percival.

“Come to bed with me?”

Percival looked down, a knowing smile on his expression and shook his head.

“For sleeping only, I need it as much as you do,” Gwaine started, “I might sleep better when I know someone is keeping me safe.” Gwaine cocked his head. “And not just anyone.” He smiled.

Percival quickly lost whatever argument he was going to give Gwaine, and nodded.

“I’m so glad to have you, Gwaine.”

Gwaine’s breath caught in his throat. This is what he had wanted for so long, someone wanting him, someone being happy to know him. Tears started to well up in his eyes, but he blinked them back. In return, he offered Percival a smile and squeezed his hand.

“Let’s get some sleep.”

#perwaine #sir gwaine #sir percival #gwaine #merlin #bbc merlin #hurt/comfort #my works #the sword in the stone #the sword in the stone part 2 #percival's backstory #merlin 15th anniversary #these knights honestly #i just want them to be happy together #op #merlin 15 #pergwaine

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coolfireguy73 · 2 years

Text

Concept drawing of an old Medic

I mean really old. I was thinking somewhere around the end or after the 50 years he got from the devil.

He would be around 100 years old, kept in "mostly" good shape thanks to his experiments. He is still very tired though, far less more energetic than in his years as a mercenary. But he tries to stay in shape, he likes walking a lot, he usually goes near hospitals or cemeterys to find free organs and such.

He is quite lonely, I don't think he ever had huge groups of friends, and by now everyone on the team, or everyone he knew even, is dead or nearly dead.

He stopped moving from county to county, he bought a house a bit outside of town somewhere in Germany. Covered in leafs and filled with wild birds.

Archimedes died, obviously, though he lived way longer than a normal dove should have. Soon after buying the house he started hiding seeds and hanged little bird houses everywhere he could. His house became a safe place for every bird in the area.

Other than that he lives a pretty "normal" life, he's still the clinically insane doctor we know and love but a lot more calm and collected. That's not to say he's gone better, in fact he may have gotten worse. He's ill after all, and he's old. He may forget a few things here and there and is losing part of his mind every day that goes by.

He isn't as sad as you may think though, he's living his long life as he pleases. Feeding birds, experimenting, playing violin...

I really didn't expect to write this much. I wanted to make a bref summary but I kept adding more, sorry 😅 I wanted to draw him for a few months but I kept failing. He wasn't good enough.

Made an update

#the insane bird old man #you know #not the insane cat lady #tf2 #fanart #team fortress 2 #art #tf2 medic #traditional drawing #headcanon #tf2 headcanons #au ?#old medic

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btsmosphere · 3 years

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AND ANOTHER !!

so: do 'big enough for both of us' jk & yn ever say the L-word? if yes, under what circumstances? 👀

Ways to say I Love You - drabble from the Big Enough for Both of us universe

~pairing: jungkook x reader ~word count: 2.3k ~fluff, established relationship ~rating: g ~warnings: I think they swear once

~a/n: thank you again for another great request rid!! I know we said... drabble, but.. this kinda happened. I never expected this to turn out so long, but I hope you enjoy our lovely couple a few months on! also a quick apology for being mia this week, I’ve been away where wifi is not abundant😅but I am back now!

Jungkook loved you.

If you asked him to pinpoint a moment he knew, however, he wouldn’t be able to tell you. Ever since you had burst into his studio that day and kissed him, he had begun falling, and still he hadn’t stopped. Not that he would want it any other way.

In fact, it may have started before then.

He had had a crush for a while, seeing you hanging around Namjoon. And when he had seen you swamped in his sweater for the first time, well…

Maybe he had been a goner from the start.

But for all that he loved you, he didn’t know how to tell you.

Every time the thought had crossed his mind, if he had stared a little too long and you asked him what was wrong, he would say something like how nice your hair looked. How he liked the sound of your laughter. How cute you were when you wore his clothes (something he had ensured became tradition).

But there was something he was good at, and that was music. He loved the studio.

Once, he had shown you around it, answering every one of the litany of questions you had about the equipment, and that night he had sung his heart out in recording, picturing nothing but your face.

His notebook filled more and more every day, scraps of phrases that circled his brain when he was around you.

He had to tell you.

Somewhere along the way, it had struck him. Although his mouth betrayed him every time, his pen could do things he could not. Back in December when he had written you that note, everything had gone perfectly from there.

So that was what he would do.

The first one was in spring. He wasn’t sure what to make of all the thoughts swimming in his head, didn’t know where to start expressing himself.

So he pressed his pen to paper and wrote three words.

It felt daring as it slipped into the pocket of the black sweater.

The knowledge of it being there fizzed through his veins all day, until you had noticed his manner and asked what was wrong. Your eyes look nice in this light, he had said.

You just smiled, but gave him a kiss to ease his jitters.

It worked.

No mention came of the note. Perhaps you hadn’t found it. Jungkook couldn’t always keep track of what you were wearing, as you were each holed up on campus for longer each day now that finals approached: you with Namjoon in the library, him for hours in the studio.

Had you even worn the sweater?

Somehow, the second time it was almost effortless.

Returning home from a long day in the studio, he found you waiting with food ready – not that you had cooked it, but the takeaway was his favourite anyway.

“You went all that way?”

Rushing across the room, he quickly folded you in his arms. The meal in question didn’t deliver to his place, so you must have walked to get it, and it was cold out today.

“You deserve it baby,” you grinned, eagerly pecking him on the lips.

“Are you warm enough?” he fussed, hands rubbing along your arms in an effort to warm you under the blue hoodie you had pinched from his wardrobe.

“I’m fine,” you laughed, tugging him with you to the table.

That night, you had knocked out early. Maybe the walk had been more tiring than you let on.

This left Jungkook gazing at you as you lay, curled under his blanket with the hoodie pooled on the floor nearby. Almost on instinct he reached out to it, and not long later, another note made its way into the pocket.

I love you. You’re so thoughtful and I feel so lucky that you’re mine.

A little longer this time. And over the next few weeks, he continued, writing down the things that had struck him that day, that moment, about how much he loved you.

He didn’t even write those three words every day. Perhaps, each time you had asked him what was wrong, he had told you exactly what he meant.

Your hair is perfect. Your eyes. Your laugh. I love you, I love you, I love you.

Everything about you.

It was summer. For the past week, the sun had been beating down on your campus, leaving you chasing the shade in desperation to keep cool. Today, it had finally let up, rain spattering against the windows of the library as you worked.

Finals were nearing their end, but you couldn’t quite relax. Two more papers were left before you could finally be done.

Sighing, you stretched, pushing away from the table.

“Tired?”

“What do you think?” you rolled your eyes at Namjoon.

He tilted his head, looking sympathetic, but still tapped your book.

“You told me you wanted to finish looking over this chapter.”

“I know, but…” you whined, flopping forwards to rest your head against the table.

His laughter drifted across the space, only making you groan louder and screw your eyes shut.

“Shut up,” you aimed a kick at him under the table, “not all of us are set to ace all our finals.”

“Don’t say that,” he chided. A second later, a pen poked you in the head. “Tell you what, I’ll go get you some coffee. You keep going.”

Though you sighed, you did raise your head with thanks. Your best friend returned your smile and walked away through the bookshelves.

Despite his encouragement, you slumped back in your chair once more, letting your head hang limply over the back. Your fingers danced in your sweater pocket. That was one good thing about the cold: when it had been so hot, you had no excuse to steal your boyfriend’s heavenly jumpers to wear.

Then your hand brushed against something.

With a frown, you lifted your head, pulling a piece of paper from the pocket. Bringing it to your eyes, you found a small note, and read: You’ve worked so hard. I’m proud of you.

Lips parting, you stared at the note. When had Jungkook written this? You knew it was him; you recognised the writing.

Without noticing it, a smile had been brought to your face. No matter when he had put this here for you to find, it felt as if he was right beside you, telling you to cheer up and keep going.

“What are you looking so happy about?”

A coffee cup landed on the table and was pushed under your nose.

“Nothing, nothing,” you hurriedly spoke, pushing the note away and taking the drink from Namjoon.

Though he clearly didn’t believe you, he dropped it and returned to his work. Now, with renewed motivation, you took a sip and did the same.

You couldn’t get the note out of your head. Jungkook said sweet things to you all the time, but the small gesture had made your heart flip.

The next day, you were simply curious. A different hoodie hugged your frame now, and you slipped your hand into the pocket, expecting nothing, but a little hope still lingered…

Sure enough, a slip of paper.

Gasping, you pulled it out, eagerly smoothing it out to read.

Your hand fits so perfectly in mine. I love that.

You swallowed.

Still staring at the words, you sank onto your bed. For a moment, your heart had gotten ahead of itself. The note was adorable and you could just imagine those sweet words coming from Jungkook’s lips, but…

For a moment, you may have misread. I love that.

That… didn’t mean quite the same thing, did it?

Still, a smile snuck onto your lips. You loved your boyfriend, and you knew that, but if he wasn’t ready to say it, that was okay. You would wait. And you were more than happy with his frequent reassurances and compliments.

Sighing, you lowered yourself to lie down, clutching the paper to your chest.

“God, Jungkook, I love you,” you whispered.

The next thing you knew, a relentless buzzing forced your eyes open. Light still streamed through your room, nowhere near night time even though you had clearly dozed off already.

Swiping at your eyes, you struggled up and fished your phone from within the folds of your duvet.

“Jungkook?”

“Hey, baby, are you okay? I called once already.”

“You did? Sorry, I think I fell asleep.”

His chuckle filtered across the line.

“That’s alright. I was on my way over, but if you want to rest, I can-“

“Oh, no, please come!”

“You sure you’re not too tired?”

“If I am, you can just come and cuddle me then. Now get over here!” you cried.

“I would love to,” he chuckled, “take care of yourself until I get there, alright? Don’t even think about getting up.”

Grinning, you agreed, although you had already climbed from your bed during the conversation. A little cleaning up before he came would hurt no one, right?

Placing your phone down, your eyes fell on the note you had discovered earlier. It had fallen to the carpet, so you quickly scooped it up and stored it in your nightstand with the first one. All thoughts from earlier had vanished; there was no doubt Jungkook cared about you, with the way he treated you.

One day, you would tell him how you felt.

Swiftly moving on, you began scooping up clothes that had been left strewn on the ground. Perhaps you had stolen a few too many jumpers, judging by the state of your room. But Jungkook had never complained.

As you shook out the creases in one, a flash of movement stopped you. Spiralling to the ground, another piece of paper.

Almost instantly, you were diving for it, grabbing it from the floor.

You look so cute when you wake up in my arms.

You swore your heart nearly stopped in its hurry to do somersaults in your chest. Your eyes traced the words again and again.

Who had given him permission to be so adorable? To steal your heart this way?

Slowly lowering the paper, you looked around at the mess of sweaters around you.

And then you got to work.

Almost every one had a note inside. Complimenting your voice, your cuddles, even the fact you remembered how he took his tea.

But of course you remembered. Just like he wanted you to rest well, you wanted him to eat well. You wanted to know his quirks, his ins and outs, just like he adored yours – all because you loved him.

By now, there was a small pile accumulating at your feet, when finally you read those words. You had to reread it, disbelieving that it was even real. Along with the little message, it said I love you.

“I love you,” you repeated to yourself.

You held the paper tighter, careful not to tear it.

“I love you.”

You spoke it like a promise, as if it was Jungkook himself that you held in your hands.

Squealing out loud, you bounced in your spot as you reached for the next hoodie. For a moment before you went for the pocket, you held it in your hands, running your thumbs over the fabric as you had done many times before. You remembered this black jumper as the first you had ever stolen from your locker last winter.

Delving into the generous pocket, you came across yet another note.

When you lifted it to your eyes, your breath hitched. You could do nothing but stare, feeling as if the whole world had paused. As if the moment you looked away, it would be taken back.

This one had no compliments and praises like the others. But somehow, it contained all of them in itself.

I love you.

A click from the door pulled you away at last, and you were rushing to your feet. Leaving the mess forgotten behind you, you dashed across your apartment to the door, pulling it open before Jungkook could even take his key out.

“Jungkook!” you panted.

Met with his startled doe eyes, you pulled him over the threshold, lips clashing hungrily. Responding immediately, Jungkook’s hands travelled to your waist as he backed you into the door that had just closed.

When you pulled apart, you stared up at him, caged by his taller frame pressing you against the door. Still panting, his mouth morphed into the softest bunny smile.

“Didn’t I tell you to wait for me in bed?” he murmured, bending to brush his nose against your own.

“Jeon Jungkook,” you huffed, pushing slightly at his chest.

Brow furrowing, he obligingly stepped back, though he looked puzzled.

“Why didn’t you just say so?” you breathed.

This only added to his confusion, frown deepening.

“What do you-“

“I love you!”

All trace of his frown evaporated, eyes growing large as he stared down at you. He seemed frozen, wobbling slightly as you tugged him closer, lifting the note to his face.

“I love you,” you repeated, echoing the words inked onto the paper, “you stupid, adorable, romantic little shit- I love you, dammit! So much. Now, please say something because I’m getting a little worried-“

Your rambling was suddenly cut off as the note in front of your face was pushed to the side, lips pressing to yours once more.

This time, they were lighter, ghosting across your own but gradually pulling you closer until your head spun, gasping into his open mouth.

“I love you,” he whispered, throaty between kisses.

His arms wrapped around you, lifting you so you could circle him with your legs.

“I love you,” he breathed against your neck as his lips grazed it, leaving you breathless.

His head fell against your chest. But as he spoke again, he drew back, meeting your eyes with his large ones, full of nothing but honesty.

“I love you too. I love you. I left you so many notes, and I didn’t know what to say-“

“Don’t worry,” you smiled, “they all said the same thing.”

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are most appreciated💜I always love to hear from you

Taglist: @aianloveseven @preciouschimine @un2-verse @ddaechwita @taegularities

#thebtswritersclub #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook x reader #jungkook imagine #jungkook drabble #jungkook x reader #bangtanarmynet #btscreatorscorner #purplearmynet #jungkook scenario #jungkook oneshot #jungguk imagine #jeongguk imagine #jeongguk x reader #jeongguk fluff #jungkook imagines #boyfriend jungkook

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