#I will leave you hungry because I ate and left no crumbs

[dipplinduo]

(❀◦‿◦) BYFILWM Chapter 6 Teaser

[archangeldyke-all]

reader who packs sev lunch x sev who only remembers to eat that lunch for the little love notes stashed in there plssss!!

WAHHHHH crying crying crying crying crying

men and minors dni

you've been packing her lunches since you moved in with her.

each day, you pack up the little reusable bag with leftovers or a quick cold cut sandwich, some snacks, and a note for your love. and each night, she comes home with an empty lunchbox and the tupperware licked clean.

what you don't know is that sevika only ever opens and eats her lunches because of the little notes you leave.

the first time you'd packed her a lunch-- just a simple sandwich and bag of chips in a paper bag-- she'd been too flustered by the gesture to tell you that she doesn't eat at work. she doesn't have time, she doesn't have space, she's usually not even that hungry after a days worth of dealing with idiots and cleaning blood.

so, when she gets to work, she tosses the paper sack to ran when she hears them lament about how hungry they are. "here, now shut your trap." she'd grunted, trying to ignore the bright smile her friend was shooting her.

"thanks, sev!"

she'd thought that would be the end of it. but, twenty minutes later, ran and lock found her in the alley, both of them giggling like children as they cornered her.

"hey, sevi-bear!" ran calls.

sevika freezes, her shoulders shooting up to her ears. that's your nickname for her-- reserved only for when you're trying to get her to blush and stammer.

lock laughs at her reaction, spraying chip crumbs everywhere-- her chips, sevika realizes-- and then he holds out a scrap of paper for her to examine.

your handwriting adorns it, enough for sevika to know that you wrote something devastatingly sweet and sappy. "you forgot this in your lunch, sev." he giggles.

she reaches out and snatches the paper with so much force lock stumbles forward. ran's cackling as sevika cooly walks away. (she doesn't sprint. and she's not blushing. no matter what ran says.)

she reads the note you left her in the stall of the bathroom, trying and failing to bite back her big, sappy smile at your words.

have a good day, sevi-bear. if you pass a market, bring home a dozen eggs? i'll miss you today, work's going to be so boring, all i'll be thinking about is you. eat all your lunch, i made it with love. <3

sevika's hit with immense guilt the second she reads your words. and also, a bit of jealousy that ran and lock got to eat your love sandwich, and she didn't.

from that day on, sevika ate all her lunches. she can definitely taste the love, even on days where you're too tired to pack more than a collection of pre-packaged snacks.

but what she treasures most are the tiny scraps of paper. she collects them religiously, keeps them in her breast pocket each day until she can get home and stash her daily note in a little shoebox buried under her side of the bed.

taglist!

@fyeahnix @lavendersgirl @half-of-a-gay @thesevi0lentdelights @sexysapphicshopowner @shimtarofstupidity @chuucanchuucan @badbye666 @femme-historian @lia-winther @gr0ssz0mbi3 @ellsss @sevikaspillowprincess @leomatsuzaki @emiliabby @sevikasbeloved @hellorai @vikasub @glass-apothecary @m0numents @macaroni676 @vixel352 @artinvain

[french-unknown]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐒: luffy, zoro, nami, usopp, sanji, robin 𝐂/𝐖: fluff 𝐖/𝐂: 1.6k +

| m a s t e r l i s t | - | p t . 2 | - | p t . 3 |

Luffy lay down with you as you gazed at the stars from the Thousand Sunny. You weren't on call tonight but the frustration you felt prevented you from falling asleep so, annoyed, you had to give up the idea. The problem was that Sanji had made cannelés for everyone the day before and, not being hungry, you had hidden your in order to eat it later. Unfortunately, when you went back earlier, your dessert had disappeared and you didn't want to disturb Sanji who had already finished cleaning the dishes for the day.

You sighed as Luffy talked next to you, creating wacky stories about the clouds passing in the night sky above you. Needing solitude, you got up to leave, not without taking advantage of his inattention to search his pockets as discreetly as possible. If there was anyone on this ship who might have food on them, it was him. But the boy had nothing but crumbs so you left wishing him good night.

Arriving further, however, you saw that some crumbs had remained stuck under your fingers then, when you tried to remove them, you noticed that they had remained because of their sticky layer. Intrigued, you realized that, in addition to the food residues being sticky, they were still fresh since they were still soft and they smelled slightly of rum and vanilla. You hesitated a little in disgust but ended up placing one of the crumbs on your tongue. It was a cannelés leftovers. In Luffy's pocket.

"You ate my dessert, jerk!"

Since this morning, Zoro has been blackmailing you into washing the dishes instead of him. You weren't very happy to see a photo of you, drunk with a tomato-red face, dancing furiously with movements so random that they looked like you were defending yourself against an attack of invisible seagulls. Having lost track of that evidence after he put it in his pocket, you were determined to get it back.

When you separated in town, you decided to leave with Zoro. Saying he was wary at first would be an understatement, but he eventually relaxed even though he kept a safe distance between you two. You had tried everything to get closer: to accelerate towards him, to pass in crowds, to try to jostle him "accidentally" or to attempt a fall towards him. However, nothing helped, he always remained a few steps away from you. Growing more and more frustrated with your failure, you let yourself be left behind without a struggle as you thought of other ways to bring it within reach.

Luckily for you, you saw him stop as you passed a sword shop. Totally hypnotized by one of the exposed blades, you seized your chance and thrust your hand into its pockets in search of the coveted object. Luck may not have been so on your side, though, because you found absolutely nothing. You had to remove your hands so he wouldn't notice the intrusion, still totally shocked to find nothing.

"You expect it to be easy?" you heard him ask sardonically as he continued on his way.

As you were about to go to the bar with some of the Straw Hat Pirates, you were brutally arrested when Nami refused to give you your share of the pocket money. In front of your incredulous face, she invoked the money she had to spend to repair the material damage you had caused during a fight on the previous island. Unless you pay her the interest on a so-called "at-risk" loan amounting to 300% of course.

Shocked at having been scammed, you jumped out of the ship anyway to join the others on the road. Just because you couldn't afford a drink yourself doesn't mean you weren't going to drink! However, on the way, you saw a berry note protruding from the back pocket of Nami who was walking in front of you while talking with Usopp. So you approached the duo innocently then, when you were close enough, you reached for the note. Sadly, your hand came into contact with something firm, warm and tight that stopped your hand before it could reach the paper of the ticket. You looked down, curious, and felt a bead of sweat slide down your spine as you realized that the firm, warm thing in question was actually Nami's hand holding you in a death grip. You had just enough time to raise your eyes to see her murderous smile pointed directly at you.

"Did you really think you were going to get me?" She asked too sweetly, unsheathing her Clima-Tact. "I think you need to be reframed."

It was no secret on the boat that, before joining the crew, you made money by scamming and robbing people who came to Rain Dinners, Crocodile's casino in Alabasta. Your pickpocketing tendencies were therefore well known to the crew.

However, while you were chased by Luffy on the boat because you were holding a piece of meat, you tripped over Usopp at the bend of a hallway. Neither of you saw the other coming so he remained frozen while you found yourself on all fours on top of him. For your part, old habits die hard and, with a gesture more instinctive than conscious, you slipped your hand into his pocket to remove trifles that you had recovered. It was Luffy's cry coming closer that pulled you out of your torpor and pushed you to get up and run with your loot. But a few meters away, you felt that your thieving hand began to heat up and sting without really worrying you at the time. It wasn't until you got to the other end of the ship and your hand began to seriously burn you that you wondered what was going on when, at the same time, the captain snatched the meat from your hands before running away happily to eat his treasure safely.

For your part, you collapsed on your knees, your aching hand folded against your chest as you winced in pain. In your fall, you saw what you had stolen from Usopp fall from your pocket to land in front of your eyes. There were two small balls of an alarming red accompanied by a small note written by the hand of the sniper: "For the thieves who cannot keep their hands to themselves".

He was hesitating between two kinds of melons at the market so, with a different fruit in each hand and totally lost in thought, he continued to weigh them before making a choice. Suddenly, he jumped when he heard your laughter behind him.

"Not that I'm complaining about the pleasure of your company but how long have you been around?" he asked, surprised. "A little moment." You answered.

Having finished shopping, you returned to the boat where Sanji immediately began to store the groceries. As he listened to you talk, he felt the urge to smoke. He jammed one of his cigarettes between his lips as he retrieved his lighter from his pocket. He was then surprised when he did not find it. Without cutting you into your story, he began to look in all the pockets of his suit: those at the front and back of his pants, those of his jacket and even inside it but there was nothing there. He was however convinced to have it on him before going to the market.

All of a sudden, you offered your help. Though surprised at the offer, he was still relieved as he followed your directions and leaned towards you with his cigarette still between his lips. Your face, now less than centimeters from his, seemed almost irresistible to him as his eyes lowered inexorably to your mouth. Warmth crept close to his face and, as he inhaled, he felt the smoke rush into his lungs. Silently, he looked down further and saw your hand below his face holding a lit lighter. A lighter so familiar that it took him two seconds to recognize it; it was his.

The meal with the Straw Hat Pirates was always something. It was noisy, messy and sometimes stressful but it was still a moment of happiness and sharing among your crewmates. Despite that, your only concern at the moment was how you were going to manage to steal Robin.

You had never picked the pockets of the archaeologist so, out of pure competition, you had it in your head to steal her at least once and, unfortunately for you, her only pocket was on her chest. Impossible to steal her like that. Yet, no matter how hard you tried to find solutions on how to position yourself, how to divert her attention and put her in confidence or even what opening to use, you couldn't. The target was much too close to eye level and the fabric too close to the body for her not to notice.

A sudden and unusual silence pulled you out of your thoughts. You then realized that everyone around the table had shut up and looked at you without saying a word. Robin on her side, sitting right in front of you, had partly covered her neckline with one of her hands, embarrassed.

"If you keep staring like that, you'll soon have to paid." Nami spoke from across the table.

Instantly, a blush bloomed on your cheeks as you tried to defend yourself by stammering pitifully. Whatever you say about the rest of the meal, everyone looks at you suspiciously and you end up keeping your head stubbornly turned towards your plate.

𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐘 𝐔𝐏𝐃𝐀𝐓𝐄

𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @iheartamora @bontensh0e @opchara @idsmash717

[heavyhitterheaux]

Sunday Service

First Lady of Private Garden Instagram AU

Liked by jackharlow, saweetie, theestallion, urbanwyatt, jaysontatum, druski2funny, privategarden, and 1,286,004 others

y/ninsta: I'm Backkkkkkkkkkkk. Did you miss me? Sunday Service dropping Friday. Pre save it now! 😘💕

normani: well it's about damn time! saweetie: we stan. what paprika gonna say about this one? blancahood: PAPRIKA?!?! HELPPPPPPPPPP theestallion: can't wait for this, I know my good sis is about to EAT y/ninsta: saweetie you are a hot ass mess and you know it lmao dualipa: glad to see that jackharlow is letting you out the house more these days jackharlow: now why am I in it? dualipa don't start with me today, my kids got me stressed out enough and you are NOT helping claybornharlow: produced by the one and only little baby saweetie: y/ninsta I call it like I see it. We make pretty bitch music and there's nothing but talent on this end. can't say the same thing about her. Tryna throw shade and I'm about to throw the whole damn rainforest. don't come for my bestie who isn't thinking about you jackandy/naremyparents: MUVA is backkkkkkk!!! dualipa: jackharlow send them my way and I guarantee you that they are about to be on their best behavior jackharlow: dualipa not with the youngest one starting to bite people y/ninsta: jackharlow AHT AHT! she was probably hungry and we know you can't cook. not too much on my youngest now. druski2funny: I knew from the beginning that those triplets were going to be problem children y/ninsta: druski2funny leave my babies aloneeeee the only problem child I have is jackharlow jessicakelce: saweetie said what she said and ate and left no crumbs y/ninsta: saweetie only one of us is going to be here for the long run and it's the one who's married to jackharlow 😜 allthingsy/n: talk yo shit mamas, at least we know you can back it up jackharlow: everyday I stray further and further from knowing what peace feels like and not you calling me a problem child smh saweetie: y/ninsta OOP let her know! between her and the girl that has a daddy with no neck, they coming for the wrong person urbanwyatt: saweetie NOT THE DADDY WITH NO NECK quiiso: 😭😭😭😭😭😭 y/ninsta: jackharlow love you smush 😘

Liked by jackharlow, urbanwyatt, taylorrooks, saweetie, 2forwoyne, cardib, sza, and 2,065,139 others

y/ninsta: every time yall book me with them hoes it's gon be big drama 🤭🤭

blancahood: here for the pettiness and the pettiness only y/ninsta: blancahood I'm innocent sis saweetie: y/ninsta well I'm not. STREAM SUNDAY SERVICE!!!! 2forwoyne: GET IN THE BOOTH BITCH theestallion: hard work and grinding pays off. what a luxury it is to shoot up the charts by being a tik tok rapper without actual talent. when I see her imma tell her to freestyle on the spot. jessicakelce: theestallion don't set yourself up to be disappointed like that lmao cardib: yall messy in these comments and I'M HERE FOR IT allthingsy/n: one thing's for sure and two thing's for certain, y/ninsta's girls are always going to have her back sza: now we all know y/ninsta can fight and I would never want to be on the receiving end soooo good luck with that lol y/ninsta: sza that is the old me! I'm mature now! jackharlow: y/ninsta this morning you tried to fight the delivery guy because he dropped your package y/ninsta: jackharlow he damn near threw that shit. it had FRAGILE written on it and he was acting like he couldn't read. not my damn fault. he was asking for it. jackharlow: ladies and gentlemen, my wife y/ninsta urbanwyatt: y/ninsta I fully support your actions jackharlow: urbanwyatt DON'T ENCOURAGE HER claybornharlow: y/ninsta I support you too, forever and always y/ninsta: the people love me, jackharlow get with the program jackharlow: y/ninsta just terrorizing me since day one smh y/ninsta: jackharlow would it help if I told you that your money paid for what was in the package? jackharlow: beat his ass

Liked by jackharlow, saweetie, neelamthadhani, urbanwyatt, normani, champagnepapi, theshaderoom, and 2,816,002 others

y/ninsta: when you ask your husband to send you a selfie because you miss him. Look at my pookie 🥹

I love you long time big baby 😘💕

jackharlow: 🙈🙈🙈🙈🙈 jaysontatum: he knows where home is y/ninsta: jayson, don't you muthafuckin start with me urbanwyatt: the girlies are fightinggggggggg druski2funny: wait, what about me?! y/ninsta: keyword: HUSBAND. as in he's MINE. go and find yall own smh jackharlow: y/ninsta remember that one time you told me to try and return you without the receipt? the receipt being our marriage certificate that you tried to set on fire when you were drunk? y/ninsta: jackharlow that is my past and therefore I do not live there anymore saweetie: lmaooooooooo urbanwyatt: all I remember is her having matches and running with them as jackharlow was jumping over couches to try and stop her. good times. jackharlow: urbanwyatt you would encourage this smh urbanwyatt: jackharlow that's my bestie and imma stick beside her jackharlow: urbanwyatt AND I'M NOT? urbanwyatt: jackharlow you are, I just love to see her terrorizing you jackharlow: smh it be your own first born y/ninsta: two more days until I get to see my big babyyyyyyy jackharlow: you better be ready for me 👀 y/ninsta: jackharlow if you stay ready, you ain't gotta get ready 👀

Liked by jackharlow, urbanwyatt, cardib, taylorrooks, generationnow, shloob_, softtcurse, blancahood, and 1,843,951 others

y/ninsta: oh look, it's my husband 😍😍😍

You are such a dad now and that's what the outfit is giving lmao jackharlow 🤣🤣

jackharlow: these damn kids got me fighting for my life smh y/ninsta: jackharlow and yet you want more? jackharlow: y/ninsta we're having a basketball team y/ninsta: jackharlow in what universe and with whose vagina? saweetie: you gonna fold one way or another. you always do. y/ninsta: saweetie don't encourage him urbanwyatt: the fact that he was almost late because of baby number three y/ninsta: urbanwyatt she is the no limit soldier lmao jack can't tell her no because she looks like him, but acts like me dualipa: y/ninsta if you need me to save you, blink twice jessicakelce: dualipa lmaooooooo jackharlow: dualipa you, y/ninsta, claybornharlow and my kids be the reason I'm stressed all the time and I don't like it claybornharlow: I am literally just sitting here minding my business jackharlow: claybornharlow THIS TIME and this is a rare occurrence y/ninsta: cut it out you two! smh, I'm already raising enough children between my triplets, jack, my pets, and pg 2forwoyne: now what did we do this time?! y/ninsta: 2forwoyne idk, but I'll find out soon enough because I always do jackharlow: y/ninsta not you calling me one of the children again y/ninsta: jackharlow a mother's job is never done, maggieharlow BACK ME UP maggieharlow: y/ninsta I did what I could with him, and he's your responsibility now lol jackharlow: not yall throwing me under the bus smh saweetie: jackharlow they more so catapulted you lmao

[strawurberries]

i loved your post about vash and reader’s stretch marks. i was wondering if you could write something where the reader is afraid of getting fat, so she skips meals or replaces them with water?

Missed Meals

Summary: Vash notices a change in his companion's behavior. Worried, he decides to confront her.

Authors Note: I'm glad you liked my other post! I hope you like this one as well (though I'm a little nervous because I got stuck writing this and I'm afraid it came out bad). Also, just want to add, I've struggled with eating disorders before (not from self-image but more like Vash's "I don't deserve to eat") so I understand. Everyone is beautiful in their own right and deserves to eat!!! Love all of you guys!!

Warnings: Self-hate, eating disorder.

It started off small; giving her bread to Milly instead of finishing it off, ordering a lighter meal instead of the usual hardy one she adored, and sometimes she simply said, “I’m not that hungry”. But actions like hers always lead to a slippery slope, one that tends to wrap its dirt-crusted nails around its victim and drag them into an early grave. She had never been someone who ate enough to feed an entire village, but not even she could survive on sips of water and the guilty crumbs she rarely allowed herself to consume. After a while though, it became natural, second nature to head off to bed while the sun still hung in the sky, claiming that exhaustion outweighed her hunger—which, she supposed, wasn’t all a lie.

The best lie, she had been told once, is the one that includes the truth. 

Now, she recalled that advice as she sat at a table in the back of this dingy town bar. What should she say? What could she say? Recently she had been using up all her excuses left and right, the hunger in her belly growing and the pain in her heart becoming ever more sharp. The group had decided to stop by a local bar before heading to the hotel for the night, nearly everyone complaining about the rough day that had been forced to suffer through. And, to them, a drink was something they were eager to welcome. She, if she hadn’t been too preoccupied with her stomach pains, probably would’ve ordered a whiskey to clear her head of every annoying little thought. 

She opted for water though. The least she could do was drink water; she owed it to herself, and so she honored that obligation. Throat parched, mouth achy; the water tasted amazing.

The bar erupted in a shout as someone tripped, roaring laughter drowning out the domestic conversation of her table. Too loud. Vaguely she heard someone mention dinner—she cringed. She did promise herself that she’d finally eat a crumb or a bite tonight (after nearly passing out yesterday she became all too aware of her weakness). She wasn’t dumb, she knew she’d have to eat eventually, that she’d wither away—but one more night, one more meal skipped, it couldn’t do any more harm, right? Besides, from what she had seen on the menu, the foods were all greasy, full of fat and carbs, and wouldn’t help her figure at all.

I just want to look pretty, she reasoned, skipping a meal tonight will help that. God forbid she ate too much and all her progress disappeared: letting that baby fat back under her chin, the muffin-top around her waist, or even the extra flesh on her belly? She’d rather die than let her body look like that again, much less look worse. It terrified her to her core. She needed to look good, and that meant, to her at least, that she must be skinny, thin, and agreeable. Starvation is a small price to pay for beauty.

A waiter slowly started to make their way across the room, eyes set on her table. 

I need to go.

She stood up, giving a small smile, “I’m gonna head back to the hotel.”

“You’re leaving already Miss?” Milly asked, “it’s still early enough for one drink! C’mon!” She raised her glass and grinned, “look! Mr. Wolfwood and Mr. Vash are already enjoying themselves!”

Drunken giggles erupted across the table. 

“Oh Milly,” Meryl sighed, “let the girl get her rest. God knows we all need it.” She waved her hand with the flick of her wrist, “if it wasn’t for the trouble you’re all bound to cause, I would’ve already left myself.”

“Hey!” Wolfwood barked out, “we’ve never caused trouble a day in our lives. . . well, can’t say much for Needle-noggin’ here.”

“It’s not my fault!” Vash cried, “trouble finds me! I always run away from it!” He sobbed into the table, “can’t a man catch a break?!”

Wolfwood laughed and patted him on the back, “it’s all God’s plan, my friend.”

“Well he sure does have a stupid plan!”

With a smile and silent wave, she slipped out from the table and weaved through the bar, the happy expression quickly falling off her face. I’m tired, she thought to herself, ignoring the biting air of the night. A dull ache in the pit of her belly made her stop for a moment, really tired. . . 

She barely remembers getting back to the hotel, much less how she managed to get dressed and settled in bed before that wretched knocking woke her up. With a skip of her heart and a rapid smack of her arms to get the blankets off her cold body, she jumped out of bed and reached for the gun she had tossed on the floor. One smooth movement and she delicately wrapped her fingers around the metal. She didn’t even think about the possibility of her friends needing help, or perhaps just room service making their rounds; the only thing on her mind was the fact that she wasn’t prepared to die that night. 

“Who’s there?” she grumbled out, ducking to hide beside the door, back to the wall. She rubbed lazy circles into the metal, finger twitching every so slightly over the trigger. She had never been the greatest shot, nor the most eager to kill, but she would do what had to be done if it came down to it.

“Vash.”

She blinked, sleep-clogged mind getting dunked into a vat of mean, old reality. Her situation hit her upside the head and she resisted the urge to put her face between her knees and groan about how dumb she is. Instead of wallowing in her stupidity (which, if you really think about it, wasn’t the worst reaction she could’ve had), she sighed, “oh.” A spike of relief shot through her like a summer’s breeze on a warm day. Shoulders relaxing and muscles begging to be sent back to bed. . . only, she wasn’t tired anymore. I’m not sleeping tonight, am I? Her heart still beat like a drum, thumping in her chest like no tomorrow, and her body—taunt and tense, ready for a moment's attack; that’s how she’s survived this long, by being prepared for every situation no matter the outcome. 

“Can uh. . . can I come in?” Squeaked out Vash.

She cursed and opened the door, wooden creaking echoing throughout the hotel hallway, letting her occupied hand hang by her side, “yeah, sorry. What’s the matter?” 

Vash stood in his usual clothes—red coat, ridiculous pants, and bulky boots; his gloves though, she noticed, he wasn’t wearing gloves. He gave her a small smile, “sorry did I scare ya?”

The smile made her less mad about the ordeal, kind and small. He never smiled too widely or genuinely, just enough to show that he cared, that he knew what happiness looked like—though she knew that he thought he’d never be able to obtain happiness, a faraway dream is how he described it to be. Oh, how if given the chance, she would give him all the joy he would ever want. 

She shoved that thought aside.

“A little,” she raised the gun and gestured with it for Vash to come inside. “Why are you up so late?” 

He slid into the room silently, walking over to sit on the edge of her bed, “couldn’t sleep.” he sheepishly rubbed the back of his neck.

That was a lie. She could tell. “Want to talk?” She locked the door and once again tossed her gun next to her bed, hoping it wouldn’t go off from the rough handling. “Or jus’ need someone here?” 

“Just talking, if you don’t mind.”

She nodded, “a’right. How was your day?”

He smiled, “good. You?”

“Peachy.”

The conversation died off.

Neither of them really knew what to say—unspoken words disease the heart and kill the soul, making the tongue bloated and thick. She, not knowing how to comfort her friend as her mind wandered from her own problems to the world’s in general, and he wasn’t sure how to get his point across.

Silence.

Vash cleared his throat, finally collecting his words, “are you. . . okay?” The question hung in the air sourly, sucking any sense of comfort out and churning it into an uninhabitable room of misery. He flinched, as if the mood of the room was hurting him physically. “You’ve been acting a little different lately.”

She leaned against the door, hoping the action would give her the confidence to either run away or admit her inner-thoughts.“Hmm? Fine, you?” She turned her gaze away. Could she run? No, he’d catch her in less than three seconds and her trying to slip out of the room would be an admission of her guilt. But she really didn’t want to talk about herself. She’s doing okay, isn’t she? Just a little tired, anxious, and sad. . . but she’ll get over it. Besides, it’s not like she’s dead yet.

“I’m good.”

“Good.”

Oh how painfully awkward this all was. 

The bed squeaked as he moved to get into a more comfortable position, “I have some leftovers in my room, from dinner, if you want any.” He tapped his leg with his fingers, head angled slightly to watch her expression.

He knows. 

Those eyes, no matter how much of a kind smile or goofy aura he carefully crafted to show everyone, his eyes gave away every part of his secret-self. The part of him that was scarily intelligent, observant, and abnormally calculating—a man smart enough to play dumb and a man strong enough to be kind. That part of him is what interested her so, the gravity that pulled her attention to him everytime he entered a room. 

He knows.

With a defeated sigh she rubbed her shoulder and walked over to the bed, shoving herself behind him to lay back down. If she had to bare her soul to him, the least he could allow her to do was to be vulnerable while being comfortable. He moved slightly to allow her more room, facing away from her as if her very gaze would burn him. “I’m not hungry,” she gave one last effort to cover her lie, to toss her truth out the window in the hopes that it would be buried in the sand. 

“You said that yesterday too.” He stared across the room, back rigid. 

The sands never work in your favor. 

“Huh,” she faced the wall, “guess I did.” The blankets were scratchy, old, and ratty, but she pulled them up to her chin nonetheless. She was tired now. All her adrenaline had poured out of her mouth, dripping onto the creaky wooden floor, seeping into the ground beneath. 

“And the day before.”

“Are you sure?”

“Very.”

She closed her eyes, knowing she had finally been caught in her web of little half-truths. “Haven’t had the stomach to eat anything lately.” Perhaps she could escape this somehow—even though she knew it was futile, part of her accepting the fact that he wouldn’t let this go—, make him run away and stop caring, God that caring! It annoyed her to ends she had never seen before, yet she loved it so. If only he didn’t care, she clenched her fist into the blanket, then this wouldn’t have happened. And it’s not like she’s dying! Nor is she killing herself or drawing blood, she’s only skipping a meal every once in a while.

“I don’t. . .,” Vash trailed off locking his fingers together, “I don’t mean to pry, but you’re starving yourself.” He sat the words quickly, sharply, and promptly, as if he was afraid of them and needed to throw them out of his mouth as soon as possible.

All lies come to an end.

“I know.”

But wouldn’t it be nice if they could live forever?

He bit his lip. “Why?”

“You’re prying,” she snapped. 

“Sorry,” he whispered.

The conversation died off. 

She didn’t mean to sound so rough and uncaring—the opposite of that gentleman—but a fear had struck her heart and she couldn’t stop it. The only way to feel okay, to be okay, was if Vash stopped caring, stopped worrying, and walked out of the room without a second glance (no matter how much that would hurt). Only he had the power to alleviate this anxious pain but she knew she would never allow her to wallow in misery alone.

What did Wolfwood say? She thought to herself, misery enjoys company?

The air turned from sour to stiff, oppressing; like a hand had come to clasp her throat, fingers digging into flesh and muscles spasming as they tried to escape the hold, only it was fruitless.

“Sometimes,” Vash’s voice cut through the air, peeling the layers of devilish emotions back. Slowly he shuffled down to lay next to her, on his back, hands laced over his chest. “I feel like I don’t deserve to eat. . . how can I allow myself to eat when I know how the people I failed, the people I let die, will never be able to enjoy things like that again? And, really, I think part of me hopes I’ll die from starvation, so I can take an easy way out.” He paused and let out a shuddering sigh.

She didn’t move. 

“I don’t know why you’re doing this, and you don’t have to tell me, but I understand in part. And if you ever need anything, I’m here. Okay?”

Why did he have to be like this? Why did he have to care? And why did she want to accept it so damn bad? If he had never noticed, if he had never looked at her with those eyes, if he had never met her—then she’d be living in her little palace of warped perception like a Queen of nothing but barren hearts. A ruler of her own land, a lawmaker who bows to no one; only this man had come into her secluded little kingdom, raided the halls of the castle, and whisked her away to feel the sun. It hurt her. To know how delicious the outside tasted, yet know how her soul felt safer within her prison.

“Do you think,” the words died in her tongue, nervousness making her numb. To hell with it, he already figured it out. Might as well bite the bullet.“ That I look pretty?” she whispered. 

Silence. 

Oh, that was a mistake, wasn’t it? The silence hurt in her ways that she didn’t even know could hurt.

Vash choked on his own spit and coughed, “w-what?”

Suddenly she wished the silence was still there.

Of course he’d have a reaction like that! She’s ugly, big, and broken. Why did she think it’s run out any different? “Nevermind.” She buried her face into the blanket, biting back a rumble of sobs in her throat; eyes stinging gently. 

“No! No! You—you just caught me off guard! I think you’re beautiful, really.” He turned over frantically, hand awkwardly hovering over her shoulder as he talked into her neck.

“You wouldn’t think the same way if I was bigger,” she curled into herself, “if I was fatter.” She aggressively wiped her tears away, “and skipping a couple meals isn’t too bad if it’s for a good reason, you know?” She wasn’t sure if she was believing herself at this point.

He was silent. 

“No matter what,” he twiddled his thumbs, ears turning red, “I think you’d still be beautiful. If you were taller, shorter, thinner, bigger, only had one leg or, um, like lost both eyes or something—” he heard her lowly whisper an audible “what?”, “I’d still think you’d look amazing. And, if anyone says otherwise, they don’t deserve you.” He hesitantly set a hand on her shoulder, rubbing comforting circles, “no matter what, I still cherish you.”

Her voice cracked, “thank you Vash.” His words didn’t convince her entirely, but still, they were nice to hear. 

He hummed. “I know my words aren’t going to fix everything, but we can start here, if you want?”

She let out a bubbling sigh, trying desperately to keep her tears away in order not to embarrass herself further. “I'm scared.”

“That’s okay, I get scared all the time. I’ll be right here for you, the whole way.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

[mybeautifulchristianjourney]

Tradition and Faith

Then some Pharisees and scribes came to Jesus from Jerusalem and asked, “Why do Your disciples break the tradition of the elders? They do not wash their hands before they eat.”

Jesus replied, “And why do you break the command of God for the sake of your tradition? For God said, ‘Honor your father and mother’ and ‘Anyone who curses his father or mother must be put to death.’ But you say that if anyone says to his father or mother, ‘Whatever you would have received from me is a gift devoted to God,’ he need not honor his father or mother with it. Thus you nullify the word of God for the sake of your tradition. You hypocrites! Isaiah prophesied correctly about you:

‘These people honor Me with their lips, but their hearts are far from Me. They worship Me in vain; they teach as doctrine the precepts of men.’”

Jesus called the crowd to Him and said, “Listen and understand. A man is not defiled by what enters his mouth, but by what comes out of it.”

Then the disciples came to Him and said, “Are You aware that the Pharisees were offended when they heard this?”

But Jesus replied, “Every plant that My heavenly Father has not planted will be pulled up by its roots. Disregard them! They are blind guides. If a blind man leads a blind man, both will fall into a pit.”

Peter said to Him, “Explain this parable to us.”

“Do you still not understand?” Jesus asked. “Do you not yet realize that whatever enters the mouth goes into the stomach and then is eliminated? But the things that come out of the mouth come from the heart, and these things defile a man. For out of the heart come evil thoughts, murder, adultery, sexual immorality, theft, false testimony, and slander. These are what defile a man, but eating with unwashed hands does not defile him.”

Leaving that place, Jesus withdrew to the district of Tyre and Sidon. And a Canaanite woman from that region came to Him, crying out, “Lord, Son of David, have mercy on me! My daughter is miserably possessed by a demon.”

But Jesus did not answer a word. So His disciples came and urged Him, “Send her away, for she keeps crying out after us.”

He answered, “I was sent only to the lost sheep of the house of Israel.”

The woman came and knelt before Him. “Lord, help me!” she said.

But Jesus replied, “It is not right to take the children’s bread and toss it to the dogs.”

“Yes, Lord,” she said, “even the dogs eat the crumbs that fall from their master’s table.”

“O woman,” Jesus answered, “your faith is great! Let it be done for you as you desire.” And her daughter was healed from that very hour.

Moving on from there, Jesus went along the Sea of Galilee. Then He went up on a mountain and sat down. Large crowds came to Him, bringing the lame, the blind, the crippled, the mute, and many others, and laid them at His feet, and He healed them. The crowd was amazed when they saw the mute speaking, the crippled restored, the lame walking, and the blind seeing. And they glorified the God of Israel.

Then Jesus called His disciples to Him and said, “I have compassion for this crowd, because they have already been with Me three days and have nothing to eat. I do not want to send them away hungry, or they may faint along the way.”

The disciples replied, “Where in this desolate place could we find enough bread to feed such a large crowd?”

“How many loaves do you have?” Jesus asked.

“Seven,” they replied, “and a few small fish.”

And He instructed the crowd to sit down on the ground. Taking the seven loaves and the fish, He gave thanks and broke them. Then He gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the people.

They all ate and were satisfied, and the disciples picked up seven basketfuls of broken pieces that were left over. A total of four thousand men were fed, in addition to women and children.

After Jesus had dismissed the crowds, He got into the boat and went to the region of Magadan. — Matthew 15 | The Reader’s Bible (BRB) The Reader’s Bible © 2020 by Bible Hub and Berean.Bible. All rights Reserved. Cross References: Genesis 6:5; Exodus 20:12; Exodus 21:17; Numbers 22:29; 2 Kings 4:44; Proverbs 4:23; Isaiah 9:16; Isaiah 29:13; Isaiah 31:3; Isaiah 35:6; Isaiah 60:21; Isaiah 61:3; Matthew 4:18; Matthew 4:24; Matthew 5:10; Matthew 7:6; Matthew 8:2; Matthew 8:10; Matthew 9:22; Matthew 9:27; Matthew 10:6; Matthew 11:6; Matthew 11:21; Matthew 12:34; Matthew 13:18; Matthew 13:36; Matthew 14:19; Matthew 16:10; Mark 3:9; Mark 3:22; Mark 7:1-2; Mark 7:5; Mark 7:11; Mark 7:19; Mark 7:24; Mark 7:27-28; Mark 8:1; Luke 16:21; John 5:23; Acts 3:26; Acts 10:14-15; Romans 15:8; 1 Corinthians 6:13; Colossians 2:22

[iguessweallcrazyithinktho]

𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒖𝒔𝒆𝒅 𝒕𝒐 𝒃𝒆 𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒆

Summary: you and harry dated in his early 20s but broke up after 6 months. You didn't tell him you were expecting his child out of fear. Now your son is 5 and Harry sees you with him.

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: 𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒔𝒕, 𝒇𝒍𝒖𝒇𝒇

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈: 𝒔𝒆𝒄𝒓𝒆𝒕 𝒄𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒅

𝑷𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈: 𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒓𝒚 𝒔𝒕𝒚𝒍𝒆𝒔 𝒙 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑷𝒍𝒆𝒂𝒔𝒆 𝒅𝒐𝒏𝒕 𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒏𝒕 𝒂𝒏𝒚𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒎𝒚 𝒄𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒆𝒏𝒕.

𝑭𝒆𝒆𝒅𝒃𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒄𝒐𝒎𝒆!

5k words

--

You may seem like the perfect 27 year old. You Have a nice career as a lawyer, a nice car, you lived in a nice suburb, and you have many friends and family that love you just as much as you loved them. people thought you were on top of the world, living freely, but that was beyond the truth.

you had a little boy named Jack. He was your life – no your world. Even though he wasn't planned you were so grateful for him. And the reason why you had all these things in your life is because you wanted him to have a good life even if Harry wasn't involved.

He wasn't in jack's life by your choice. You knew it was stupid and you should've told him before Jack was born but you didn't have the guts to and still don't. You thought you could do it without him and Frankly you did. It was tough but as long as a smile was upon his sweet face you know you were doing the right thing.

--

You walked down the people filled sidewalk; it was around 2pm and you were done with work, on your way to pick up your baby Jack for preschool.

You walked onto the school property, entering the building. It was full of parents picking up their kids and teachers talking. You went straight to jack's classroom to pick him up.

As soon as you entered the room, Jack spotted you. He smiled widely and ran to you wrapping his arms around your neck seeing that you were already crouched down. "Mommy!" You laughed as you picked him. "Hi buddy, did you have a good day."

Jack looked at you, his sea green mixed with a hint of brown sparkled. He was way too identical to harry it was insane. Green eyes, curly hair, dimples, he even had his accent but it was just slightly. He was just a harry styles 2.0 and every day he grew he started to look more and more like his dad.

"Yeah! We draw, and we went to dance class. It was fun." He said giddily as he placed both of his tiny hands on your cheeks.

You chuckled, "that's nice. Okay let's go." You let him down so he could walk. The both of you walked out of the school, on your ways with your life. "We're going to go to the bakery." You said looking down at Jack briefly. He looked up at you. "Mama's going to get a muffin. What are you going to get bug?"

Jack looked up at you, "I going to get a muffin too." He stopped in front of the bakery's door waiting for you to open it. It was the bakery you both always went to due to the fact it was only a block from the school. You said 'okay' as you opened the door.

The sweet smell of baked goods filled your nose making your stomach growl; you didn't even notice you were hungry until now. You and Jack walked in and got in the short line of 3 people waiting in front of you, waiting for your turn to order.

–

Harry who was just finishing up his run decided to stop at the bakery for a snack. He stopped at the door taking out his earphones before he walked in.

It wasn't packed which was nice he thought to himself. He got right behind you in line.

at first he didn't even recognize you. He was to busy looking at the menu, but when Jack asked you a question and you responded his breath hitched in his throat. He remembered your voice like it was yesterday. Still as sweet as anything he has ever heard.

So many thoughts were running through his mind. Who was the kid you were holding onto? Were you babysitting? Or is he Yours?

Harry took a deep breath, distancing himself from his thoughts. He was going to say hi to you instead of freaking out.

It took some courage but he spoke up. "Hi." He tapped your shoulder causing you to turn around. When you saw harry your eyes widened. "Harry.... Hi." You were shocked, this couldn't be real, it was actually harry fucking styles.

"how.. how are you?" You asked. You weren't sure if you should hug him or shake his hand; you weren't expecting this.

"I'm great." Harry placed his hand on his hips looking down at Jack. "Uh who's this little guy, you're babysitting?"

In the inside you cringed at that but answered him, "uh no. He's my son." You looked down at Jack who was looking between you and Harry in confusion of who harry was.

You looked back up at Harry, his eyebrows were knitted as he tried to put everything together.

"uhh" harry looked back at you. "Uhh is he mine?" His voice was high pitched as he asked that. You hesitated, but nodded.

You can see a mixture of pain and disbelief on Harry's face. It kinda hurted seeing how he looked.

"Why didn't you tell?" Harry said looking at you then to Jack. He was starting to notice how jack looked like him. You shook your head to the side, struggling your shoulders, running your available finger over your forehead, "I.. I." As you started your sentence you felt a tug on your pants. You looked down at a pleading eye Jack. "yes Jack?" "I want muffin." He said. You nodded, peering back at Harry, "Look can we sit down and talk after I get him his muffin?"

"yeah, sure." Harry said as he swallowed. You muttered an okay, going to the counter while harry found a seat. You ordered a muffin for Jack and a coffee for yourself before going to sit with Harry who was in a Booth in the far back of the bakery. He was not trying to be seen and you understood that.

You placed Jack in the booth before you took your seat. You put on his favorite show on your phone so he can watch it while you and Harry chatted.

Harry didn't look at you, he couldn't. He went all these years without knowing he had a son; that hurt him more than anything.

"look, Harry I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I was scared and I didn't know what to do."

"you didn't know what to do? Y/n you could've called, text, told gemma or my mom. You had so many opportunities, and so many ways to tell me and you didn't." Harry exhaled as he finished. Even though he was pissed his voice was soft. As much as he wanted to be mad at you, he couldn't.

You looked down at your hand on the table. "I don't know what else you want me to say other than sorry." Harry looked up at you, "I know you're sorry, and I forgive you. But it's just, will you let me be in his life now?" You looked up at him, "of course." You softly grinned at Harry before looking at Jack. He had muffin crumbs all over his face as he ate it. You Chuckle, "Jack, I want you to meet someone."

Jack looked at you. "Who?"

"well I want you to meet him." You pointed at Harry, " he's your daddy." Jack looked at you then at Harry. "Daddy?" Harry laughed, "yeah, I'm your daddy." Jack looked back at you for reassurance. You nodded, laughing yourself. Jack turned back to harry. "Hi." He said smiling, followed by a little giggle.

----

Jack and you spending the Whole day with Harry. Despite the rough start, the day went well. It didn't take Jack and Harry long to become best buddies. Harry was already telling Jack about gemma, his dad, and Anne, jack was more than ready to meet them.

The night ended with Harry leaving around 8. He made sure to tell Jack he'll be back the next day to play with him. That made Jack extremely excited and he went straight to bed after harry left.

That night as you got in bed you wondered if today was a dream. It felt like one. It wasn't though. You laid in bed staring in the darkness as you tried to comprehend it.

--

The next day you took Jack to school and you went to work. The whole day your brain was in a blur. You tried your best to focus but you couldn't. You didn't know if it's because harry was back in your life and your past feeling for him were starting to return or something else, but whatever it was was like a concrete wall in your brain

You got through your work day and went straight to pick up Jack. Of course when you picked him up he gave you a big hug and cute giggles and smiles. As you both made your way home, Jack couldn't help but ask his dad.

"is daddy coming over." You nodded, "yeah, he's coming over for dinner. Should we make some pizza?" Jack nods his head as he giggles, "yeah!"

You snickered, "well let's go put some pizza in the oven.

-

You and Jack spent the evening cleaning and getting food ready. Jack was extremely excited; he couldn't help going to the window every minute to see if harry had arrive or not. He was already so attached to Harry.

While you were in the kitchen you heard the sound of a car pull up. Not long after you heard a streak, it was Jack. "Mama, he's here!" He ran in the kitchen, he was smiling and bouncing up and down.

You smiled, "let's go open the door." Jack led the way from the kitchen to the foyer. He struggled to open the door but once he got it open there was no stopping the kid.

He ran to harry, wrapping his arms around his legs; it nearly knocked harry unbalance. Harry chuckled, running his hands over his mini me.

"hi buddy." Jack pulled away from Harry's leg. "Hi daddy." Every time harry heard that name it felt like a dream.

"can I come inside?" Harry asked Jack even though the answer was obvious yes. "Yeah." Jack took harrys hand letting him in.

As he passed you, harry winked. You chuckled as you closed the door.

-

After spending a couple of minutes with Harry it was dinner time. You three sat at your dinning room table and ate. While Jack and Harry talked, you stayed quiet. It didn't go unnoticed by Harry either.

As you were cleaning up after dinner Harry managed to slip away from Jack to see if you were okay.

"hey y/n are you ok?" You turned to him. "Yeah, I'm great." You smiled at harry as you turned back to the dishes. Harry pressed his lips into a thin line. "Okay, well I'm going to go back to playing with Jack. He's so energetic."

You laughed as harry walked off finding the little monster. They were having such a good time and that made you so happy.

--

Later that night after Jack was put to bed, harry decided to stay a little late for a chat with you. You both sat on the couch beside each other but with a little space between you both.

"how have you been?" Harry asked you. You sighed through your nose, "I've been great. Really stressed from work, but I'm perfect." Harry nodded just the slightest. "What you do for work?"

You looked at him. "I am a lawyer." As you said lawyer harry couldn't help but smile. He remembered you always talking about wanting to be a lawyer and to see that you finally fulfilled your dreams makes him happy. "That's amazing. I'm so happy for you puppet."

The nickname, god the nickname. He used to always call you that when you were dating. Hearing it made your body tingle.

"you're working so hard, I have no idea how you took care of jack by yourself." You strugged your shoulders kinda getting a little embarrassed from Harry's comment.

Harry smiled at you, "how about I take out to dinner with no Jack, so you can relax. How does that sound?"

You looked up at harry, eyebrows raised, "umm sure, yeah." Harry smiled softly, his cute little dimples showing. "Okay." He stood up. "Well I gotta going. Thank you for having me over puppet."

Your breath hitched in your throat from the name as you stood up. Harry pulled you into a tight hug. If there was one thing he was good at, it was hugs.

When he pulled away he placed a kiss on your cheek before making his way to the door. You followed. "I'll pick you up tomorrow, 7?"

"yep." Harry turned to you, "okay, see you then." With that he walked out of the house to his car.

You shut the door letting out a deep breath. He was doing something to you.

-

The next day, around 7pm you heard a knock on the door. You quickly Walked to the door opening it. On the other side stood Harry. He looked at you and his breath hitched.

You were dressed in a dainy dress with flowers on it.

(I couldn't choose which one so, here)

"hi."

Harry returned back to earth. "Hi." You chuckled. "It's not too much is it?" Harry was quick to shake his head, "no, you look beautiful." You thanked him before you ran back inside to get your bags. On the way you passed your babysitter and your very close friend. "How does he like your outfit?" She asked at a whisper.

"he likes it." She ohhed, "you might have him on your leash now. Good job." She playfully congratulated you causing you to laugh. "Well, we'll see what happens. I gotta go."

She waved goodbye and you walked to the door. Harry was still waiting their but he was talking to Jack. When he saw you, he smiled and stood up.

"hi you two." You said, slipping past Jack. Harry turned to you. "Are you ready to go?" "Yes." You responded.

"okay, well I'll see you later buddy. Gotta to take your Mama out." Jack nodded, "okay, bye." With that Jack Jack shut the door on you both. You scoffed turning to harry, "well that was rude."

Harry chuckled, "very. Now let's go. I have the perfect restaurant for us. He walked over to the passengers side opening the door for you. You grinned walking over to the car, "thank you." You got in and harry shut the door. "No problem."

---

You sat across from harry, your nose deep in the menu you were looking over. Harry had brought you to a nice Moroccan (I'm sick of saying italian) restaurant that selled some great dishes.

"do you know what you're going to get?" Harry asked as he sat his menu down. "Yeah, I'm going to get Kefta tagine." You said hoping it was correct. Harry nodded, "nice, I'm going to get Tangia."

You smiled at him, "I was going to get that but I opted out." You Chuckled lightly as you sat your menu down. "It's very good. I always get it when I come here." You raised your eyebrows, "okay."

The waitress soon came by and took your orders. When they were done Harry turned back to you. "So how have the past few years been for you? I know you had Jack but how has it been for you?" He reached over and took your hand in his. It was a simple gesture that calmed you.

"well it's been hard but I've been enjoying myself. Um I've tried going on vacations, it's always to another city but that's good enough for me. I try my best to have alone time with Jack and go to the spa and the bar, but that's about all I can do."

Harry nodded as he listened. "You're amazing and I want you to know that. And you don't have to keep beating yourself up over not telling me about Jack. I'm here now and it's been the greatest Few days of my life so don't worry about it, everything is going to be fine."

You smiled at Harry. You felt very relaxed around him, it was just the power he had.

-

You both soon after got your food and began eating. You made conversation with each other easily. Harry talking about tour and you talking about Jack. At the end of the night as you both walked to his car harry couldn't help but wrap his arms around you.

"I had a good time with you." He said looking at you. "I didn't as well. Thank you for inviting me."

You both walked to the passengers side. As you reached out to open the door harry did the same. Your hands touched and you both pulled back at the same time. "Sorry." Harry mumbled. You shook your head, "it's fine" you turned to him seeing him blushing with his hand on his face. You laughed taking his hand, "why are you so shy?" You asked.

Harry looked at you and playful frown on his face. "I'm not..... Maybe." You laughed, some how you felt like a 20 year old girl again. Harry laughed along with you. He took your other hand in his. You looked into his eyes, the ones you loved dearly. Before you could even think right you were kissing harry.

You shuttered, shivers running down your spine as you kissed his soft lips. You felt your body yearning for him like it never had before. Harry let go of your hand and cupped your cheek. It deepened the kiss for the both of you.

Harry felt your little hands tugging at his waist so you didn't lose your balance. Despite wanting to kiss him more you had to pull away for air.

Your forehead rested against his as you both caught your breath. " I've missed your lips." Harry said. "I've missed yours too." You breathed out

Harry sighed, "let's start over. Let's not worry about the pass and just focus on the future."

You opened your shut eyes looking at him. "Okay." Harry mumbled out an okay before placing a light kiss on your lips and pulling away.

The man in that used to be yours was now yours again, and damn it felt nice.

----

Okay, I'm finished, I'm proud too. feedback welcome.

@littlesoldierelleora @big-galaxy-chaos @hazgoldenstyles @tea-spillin-trash @harryisking94 @hashslingingweedslingingslasher @limitedwonder @harryspirate @distinguishednachotale @angelishpersona @captainamerica-is-bae

[aquilaofarkham]

title: mishpachah rating: T+ word count: 3,085 summary: Five years after rebuilding the manor—and the birth of a new Belmont into the world—Trevor decides to share an old recipe with his newfound family.

For @fibulaa 💛  Thanks so much for commissioning me!

READ HERE

The first bread Trevor Belmont ate while living his newly orphaned vagabond life was so dry it cut at the inner walls of his throat. He swallowed each bite with grimace after grimace, knowing that despite the pain, the already hardened child of thirteen could stave off starvation for a little while longer. Until he tasted the faintest tinge of copper on his ruined tongue.

Putting those years far behind, he now stands in front of a wooden counter, blurry eyed and with a yawn reminiscent of a sun drunk cat. It seems clean at first glance but in every corner Trevor notices fragments of past meals which he tried wiping away once they were finished and placed on a more pristine table meant for family. Bits of salt, half minced vegetables, and crumbs of bread much softer than the ones belonging to a later childhood he would rather forget. This kitchen, warm in its early morning sunlight, was the final instalment of the manor, newly risen from the ashes. Or rather, simply rebuilt thanks to the calloused, blistered, and splintered hands. No more ruined stone, no more fire blackened beams holding together little less than an architectural skeleton. The somewhat mirror image of Trevor’s lost home has been faring better than the castle. Too many memories, fresh, ranging from bitter to incomprehensible.

Slowly, he grows conscious of his surroundings and his own self. A continuing habit of being the first to wake not just in this manor hold but in life. Reluctantly opening his eyes prior to dawn covering the landscape while still traveling alone only to drag a pair of worn boots back along a similar muddy road. Trevor never wanted to wake up before the sun. He just couldn’t bear to stay in the same place for much longer whether due to the laundry list of dangers or more often than not, his newfound hatred of whichever backwater hamlet he unfortunately found himself in.

He’s happy to wake up early. Happy to never feel a need to leave or escape, happy to know that lack of food replaced with pints of liquid pleasure mixed with death will never plague him again. Happy to prepare breakfast in a hot iron pot over a well stoked fire. What he thought he lost forever has come back, along with new additions to the family he’s carved out.

Another presence bounds her way into the kitchen and ambushes Trevor from behind. He’s not old—not yet, he’ll give it time—but years of drinking have made their permanent stay, dulling the more acute senses. Makes it easier for a five-year-old to catch him off guard. Trevor’s eyes bolt open as tiny arms hold him in a tight cage.

“Good morning, papa!”

His ears ring at the sound of Mirele’s loud voice, but at least he won’t have to worry about nodding off. He stares down at the youngest Belmont who looks as though someone had split Trevor and Sypha straight down their centres into four pieces and sewed each differing half onto the other in order to create a new person. A homunculi of messy dark chocolate hair, bright eyes shining with blue ice, full rosy cheeks somehow conspicuously smeared with some sort of dirt or jam, and enough energy to wear out an electric powered jackrabbit. 

“How’s my little monster doing this morning?” Everything Trevor says is laced with his own personal touch of affection and Mirele loves it.

“Mama and papa are still asleep. Help me wake them up! Pleaseeee?”

This doesn’t surprise him; Sypha has always preferred to savour her last moments of sleep longer than normal and Alucard is… well, Alucard.

“Tell you what.” Trevor places a lid onto the simmering pot with a heavy clank. “While this heats up for our breakfast, we’ll go wake up those lazy bones.”

“Right!” Hand in smaller hand, the two make their way upstairs into the shadowy master bedchamber. Curtains drawn with only a sliver of light cutting its singular path across the floor and over two distinct lumps covered by blankets and furs. They seem conjoined, linked in each other’s arms, unaware that a third party has been missing for long enough. Mirele plunges into the room first, jumping onto the bed as all children do when parents refuse to join the land of the conscious. She playfully shoves and cuddles her way between the two bodies who sink deeper beneath the covers, lazily moaning like ghosts.

“Mama! Papa! Wake up! It’s time to get up!”

Trevor hopes that his tactic of throwing open the weighted curtains works in a more effective manner. Listening to the rising chorus of wordless protests coming from behind, he’s pleased with the results. “Never thought I would be the one setting a good example for our daughter.”

“Do not get cheeky, especially this early.” Sypha’s response spills out like running water. It’s clear her mind isn’t quite all there yet. But she can scoop Mirele into her arms, find every ticklish spot, and illicit giggles that only canines might hear. “At least we both know how to have fun, right my sweet?”

“Vampires… nocturnal…” A deeper, muffled voice emerges from under one of the pillows.

“Something you’d like to share with us, Alucard?” Trevor quips, amused at how the other father of the household can never seem to shake off his morning dishevelment. Perhaps sleeping in a coffin would help—a very large one so he doesn’t have to be alone. Alucard reluctantly removes the pillow as tangled heaps of gold fall over his face.

“Vampires are supposed to be nocturnal. Would you rather I burst into ashes upon contact with the sun? Think of our girls, Trevor.”

“We’ve all seen you in the sun before, it’s about as dangerous as a clove of garlic.”

“I have my own means of physical protection. Far beyond your measly human comprehension, love.”

“Personally, I’ve been able to comprehend you plenty.”

Mirele stares up at Sypha, her bushy brows furrowed. “What does… comp… sshhheshion mean?”

“It’s just another word your fathers use whenever either of them want to feel smart.” 

Alucard gives Sypha a gentle pinch on either side of her abdomen. “I thought you were on my side.”

“What about my side?” Trevor asks, excelling at the greatest strength he possesses—the ability to never take anything seriously, only when he must.

“I’m hungry,” Mirele speaks up. “Hungry and bored. Can we eat now?”

--

This life is not normal, but then again it is. It always has been for them. Normal once meant coming together because of violence, encroaching darkness, and some flimsy prophecy stringing them along one dead body at a time. A prophecy which never said what had to be done after they followed it to the hard earned letter. Perhaps that’s why Trevor, Sypha, and Alucard floundered afterwards. No instruction on how to live their upturned lives.

Fuck prophecy.

They made this life by their own standards and in accordance with their own desires. They loved how they wanted to love and no prophecy could have foreseen Mirele. How she calls for her father while both Trevor and Alucard turn their heads at the same exact second. How she quickly calms herself when presented with a bowl of warm oatmeal drowning in honey and wild fruits hand plucked from the surrounding forest. But it’s not enough. Nothing ever is for someone always growing, always wanting more from life at such a young age.

“Can I have bread?”

Trevor, half way through his bitter coffee, turns to Sypha then Alucard as all three parental figures exchange glances. They haven’t the heart to tell Mirele. No bread at the ready, only the necessary ingredients and a considerable amount of flour bags to blanket Enisala. There’s the option of making it themselves, yet it depends on a certain someone’s capacity for patience.

“How do you feel about baking our own?” Trevor’s voice wavers, which he tries to mask with his characteristic dry tone. It’s been a long time since he’s made bread. Then again, helping the manor cooks was a somewhat selfish endeavour as it meant extra servings for the baby of the Belmonts. Yet his proposal goes over well with Mirele, whose inherited eyes light up at the prospect of trying something new.

“I wanna make bread! Can we? Can we please?”

“When was the last time you baked anything, Trevor?” Alucard asks, genuinely curious and with a healthy dose of skepticism. “You still won’t tell us much about anything concerning your former life, let alone the sort of foods your family ate.”

Trevor feels a twinge in his gut—still better than a punch. His two lovers, even his daughter, they only know of his mother; a matriarch in her own right. They know her name, the monsters she killed, and not much else. Trevor’s excuses: he doesn’t remember anything about her, despite the fact that he does. He didn’t know her for very long or very well, so there’s no point in missing her. Trevor did know Sonia and he does miss her, sometimes more than he can handle. Then the easiest excuse: it’s just another self-preservation tactic.

Out of this inner reflection comes an idea. It breaks tradition in a way. For the Belmonts and other Jewish families, everything is passed down through the mother—recipes, forms of worship, blood memories, centuries old tactics of bruising one’s knuckles and temples. Trevor doesn’t think this slight deviation from his culture’s norm will make him any less of what he’s always been. Mirele will simply have to pick up where he left off when she’s grown.

He doesn’t want to think about that now. She’s only five after all. One lesson at a time. 

“Alright. Gather round, pupils. The bread we’re making isn’t just any bread. Forget everything you know and everything you’ve been taught because this will be the closest thing to heaven you’ll ever taste.”

“How dramatic…” Sypha mutters under her breath. Alucard joins her amusement with a subdued chuckle. 

“I believe you were partially his influence.”

Trevor knows how much trouble he’ll be in if he puts Mirele through the most agonizing cruelty of waiting a second longer than necessary. Fearful of her pint-sized wrath, he gives everyone the order to start gathering ingredients: flour, eggs, honey, and some indulgent herbs to make this particular bread something special. As much of a strategic leader in the kitchen as he is when the world is coming to an end. With everything spread out on the countertops, Trevor guides his family step by step through the only recipe he remembers. He calls this bread “challah”, which Mirele immediately strains her freshly green vocal chords, trying to pronounce the word exactly as her father does. She quickly gives up and focuses on mixing the ingredients with an intense look—almost to a fault as bits of sloppy dough fly out of the bowl. Good. This enthusiasm is what Trevor wants to see.

Kneaded and allowed time to rise, the next step is the most important. Trevor divides the dough into four halves, then again, and again until each participant has their own handful of raw unbaked strips. 

“We have to braid them?” Mirele asks following his explanation. 

“That’s right. It’s what makes this bread different from all the rest.”

“Just like when papa let’s me braid his pretty hair!”

Every pair of eyes turns to Alucard, whose smile widens in that way which causes his eyes to shut tightly. Fangs happily bared as he pulls Mirele into his flour and dough covered arms while she giggles in delight. After they all return to work, her loaf turns out the same way as the braids she gives to him—lopsided, uneven, lacking a few outsticking stray hairs, but filled with affection and genuine resolve.

Three loaves are placed into the oven, including a fourth crudely constructed but still adequately done piece. Mirele is now more willing to play the waiting game—so she claims. Sitting in front of the oven while staring directly into its insides, utterly fascinated, oblivious to her surroundings. Unaware that her three parents are whispering behind her back. Eventually, Sypha has to gently pull her away with her bottom dragging along the kitchen floor.

“How about you and I do something a little more interesting while your fathers keep watch over things.”

“But what about the c… the calla!”

“Don’t worry, they will look after it. And we are not going far, my sweet.”

“We’ll make sure nothing burns down.” Trevor assures, despite it being Sypha who usually revels in cinders and ashes, intentionally or not.

The two retreat down the corridor past diamond shaped stained windows and into one of the manor’s smaller libraries where the cabinets reach the high ceiling painted in deep blue hues. Scattered from corner to corner are constellations of stars and midnight clouds obscuring each phase of the moon. Once when Alucard found Mirele curiously asleep atop a number of pillows when she should have been in her own bed, it was his decision to paint the library in new colours. Sypha moves aside an entire shelf of thick volumes as though trying to find a carefully hidden switch that will lead them into a secret chamber. It’s what Mirele hopes but turns mildly disappointed when the books do not in fact magically shift to reveal a stone passageway. Her soured anticipation is only countered when Sypha places a box on the desk.

“Can you guess what’s inside?”

“Is it treasure?”

“Close! You are almost right.” Sypha opens the lid just as Pandora did except there are no horrors, no evils to be wrought upon humanity. Mirele peeks inside and her eyes shine with the glistening silver of trinkets, pendants, and talismans. She resists the innate urge to reach her hands, still white with flour, into the box only to briefly experience the sensation of holding one between her fingers. Even children know when something is sacred.

“These belonged to your grandparents. They used them for protection and strength. A long time ago, before you were born, their home burned down and everything was destroyed.”

“Papa’s home?”

Sypha nods, grateful that this story now has its happy ending, slight as it may be. “However, when your other father started building the manor we live in, he found this box trapped amongst all the rubble. It managed to survive.”

“What do they say?”

Mirele points to one pendant molded in the shape of a sword. Inscribed along the curve of its ash-riddled blade are the Hebrew names of angels which must have been muttered by Sonia or Gabriel. The longer Mirele stares, attempting to decipher yet another new language, the brighter her cheeks grow red with frustration. Her mother acts quick just as her eyes begin to water. 

“It’s alright if you don’t understand what any of them say.”

“I can learn! Please, mama? I promise I’ll study really hard!”

Sypha’s lips curl as Mirele continues her begging. Oh the mind of a child. How quickly it changes.

--

The kitchen feels hotter, wafting through the air. Enveloping the room and everything caught between its walls. Trevor stands by the oven, a thick cloth ready in his hand. It shouldn’t take much longer. At least there’s no stench of something burning. Almost makes him pine for the days of his family’s massive stone oven and how he would sneak around at night and pick out leftover morsels from inside like an insatiable mouse. Not unlike the actual beasts which he hunted throughout the hallways before moving onto larger prey typical of a Belmonts’ work—or as large as his own runtish body mass could handle.

Minutes of quiet pass, still eyeing the loaves with a keen gaze. Trevor’s concentration soon broken by the feeling of two arms wrapping around his softening yet still robust midsection. Slow and careful, until his back is pressed against an equally broad chest.

“Can I help you?” He asks as Alucard buries his face into the curvature of his shoulder blades.

“You’re already helping.” The dhampir, unchanging in his physical appearance (a revelation both Trevor and Sypha refuse to acknowledge for the time being), tightens his embrace.

“Something wrong?”

“No… I just enjoy feeling how much softer and warmer you’ve become.”

Trevor’s cheeks blush ever so pinker and not because of the oven’s heat. By now he should be used to Alucard’s sudden bouts of outward affection.

“You even smell better.”

There it is. Trevor thought he would be waiting forever to hear that little jab, though said with nothing but a good heart.

“That might be the herbs you’re smelling.”

Alucard shifts around so that the two of them are side by side, cheek to cheek, as he chuckles in Trevor’s ear. “Come here.”

He doesn’t offer a kiss, not where Trevor was expecting. Instead of his lips, Alucard singles out every patch of stray flour on his face, kissing, wiping, even licking them clean. Cheek, jawline, and nose. Trevor’s expression twists into a ticklish, surprisingly delighted facade. 

“You’re a half vampire, not a cat.”

“Better to clean you now than later.”

“Always so fucking odd…”

“You love it.”

Much to his lucky stars, Trevor manages one curse mere seconds before Sypha and Mirele return. They let their daughter speak at a breakneck speed neither one can fully comprehend—something about silver pieces and whether they can teach her a new language—until one series of questions finally sticks.

“Is the bread ready yet? Can we eat it now? Can we please?”

Trevor placates Mirele by revealing the fruits of their joint hard earned labour: four freshly baked and perfectly shined challah loaves each representative of whoever did the braiding. She bounces in her chair before simmering down to an excited tremble once Trevor warns her of how they need to cool. In order to make this more of a meal, he rummages about in search of two other beacons from his childhood. He’s rewarded with one of the few fresh apples they have left while Sypha, ever in tune with his inner thoughts, grabs another small pot of honey for him.

Trevor thanks her by gently running his palm across her lower abdomen, over the growing bump. He keeps it there for just a second longer, a subtle gesture of love noticed by Sypha. Fingertips intertwined with each other, they join Alucard and Mirele at the table as the midday sun shines golden through the windows.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

By the king’s hand 🐍 VI

Warnings: warnings to be added as we progress but this series may contain non-consent, violence, death, and other triggers (this chapter, oral, violence, degradation)

This is dark!fic and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The king proves to be mercurial and you prove to be foolish.

Note: Masterlist update coming today @darkmasterlistyouneveraskedfor​. Updates might be sporadic from here on out because despite the world being utter shit, Black Friday still exists.

Thank you. Love you guys!

As always, if you can, please leave some feedback, like and reblog <3

The air was fragrant as you sat on the low bench, wrapped in only a robe, and stared out the window. On the other side of the room, Loki dressed with the help of the young boy, Hal. The steam of his bath still dissipated in the air as he grumbled now and then, often drinking deeply from his glass and pouring another slosh of water from the pitcher.

It was as if you weren’t there. How easily the king forgot about all but himself. He dressed in dark blue that day, trimmed in an ivory cape and boots. He swatted Hal away and touched his temple as the sunlight made him squint. He sighed and brushed his fingers through the ends of his dark locks.

“Today will be the riding events. I did excuse myself from those lists.” He spoke, almost as if to himself. “Tomorrow I will be in better condition to win at the blade.”

You were quiet as you drew your legs up onto the bench. You slouched over your knees and rested your chin on your crossed arms.

“I will be gone much of the day but I expect you ready upon my return,” he neared and his shadow loomed over you, “You will undoubtedly be eager for it… From what I recall of last evening, you might even be begging for it.”

You glowered up at him as he smirked and winced then tapped his forehead.

“What am I to do? I have nothing but to walk the boards and stare out at the grass. I will be mad by the time you return.” You muttered as you turned your head away.

“All the better,” he slithered. He lifted his toe and swiveled his heel. He exhaled deeply. “Well, what should you like to do?”

“Besides the obvious?” You sneered.

“Perhaps, if you behave, I will see you to a stroll among the corridors when all are retired, but for now I cannot offer much more.” He sniffed, “So, what is it you peasants occupy your time with?”

You blinked and rubbed your cheek as you thought. You hadn’t much besides your work and your occasional adventures with Gilla. Neither would be viable now.

“I might try to sketch?” You looked up at last.

He considered you with a wrinkle in his brow and nodded. “I will grant you the favour upon the promise of one in kind,” he said, “...upon my return.”

You bit down. You expected as much but it still irked you. You turned to the window again.

“As you wish, your majesty.” You stared out at the green leaves that crested the branches of the palace yards. You felt him watch you a moment longer before he retreated.

“Hal, you will fetch her paper and some charcoal,” his soft soles approached the door, “Tend to her meals as you will and draw her a bath. She is starting to smell a bit… common.”

“Your majesty,” Hal chirped and followed the king through to the receiving chambers.

You listened as the doors opened and closed and you dropped your legs over the edge of the bench as you leaned against the wall. You grunted in frustration and hit the bench with your fist. It was exactly what Loki wanted; you at his mercy. Those small requests would grow to desperate pleas. His ploy was working but you could do little to keep him from controlling you entirely.

🐍

You weren’t very good at drawing but you managed a sloppy image of the scene through the window. The trees were slightly crooked and the gate uneven but it kept you busy for a time. You turned to a blank sheet but couldn’t focus enough to draw as you could hear the distant audience from the other side of the glass.

The common folk didn’t often attend these events. If they were present, they were selling wares to those lords and ladies who gathered for the pageantry. Still, trapped in the endless monotony, you longed to join the festivity. Anything but to sit within those walls and wait until your tormentor returned. Even if he could make you feel splendid, the king was little more than your warden.

As the sun reached its peak, Hal appeared to draw your bath with several attendants. You washed alone and dressed in one of the gowns provided by the king. You hate how the satin clung to your torso even with its boning and how the skirts tickled your legs as they swished.

You ate a little. Your tedium turned to impatience turned to agitation. The day faded from yellow to a calm blue and slowly dimmed beyond the stone walls. The din quieted as the sun descended. The king’s presence loomed in your mind.

You attempted a sketch of a lion statuette and relinquished the charcoal in frustration. Hal appeared with two covered plates on a tray and set them on the table. He placed a bottle of wine and some goblets alongside them and left you without a word. The boy seemed nervous since your prior conversation.

The king entered without fanfare. You looked up at him as you were distracted from the trance that had you staring into the unlit hearth. He glanced over at you and frowned. He tutted and removed his cape.

“I am aware your etiquette is unrefined but you will rise and pay your obeisance to me upon my arrival,” he uttered, “Do not think I grow negligent in my expectation of you, little mouse.”

You stood stiffly and bowed. He sat at the table and huffed.

“Well, get over here,” he pointed to the other chair, “Pour some wine.”

You crossed to the table and filled a goblet for him. Your own, you only filled to the half point. You sat and uncovered your plate as he did the same. He poked at the food. He was annoyed already.

“Are you not hungry?” He asked as he twirled his fork. “I am informed your plates are left barely touched as late.”

“I am,” you scooped up a potato, “I will eat.”

He tilted his head and considered you. He dropped his fork and leaned back in his seat. “Do not force yourself on my account,” he said, “If you do not appreciate the fare, then you may forego your supper.”

“Your majesty, I will--”

“No, no, as I recall, you owe me,” he glanced at the paper on the edge of the table and the sticks of charcoal, “And as I do anticipate an early morning on account of the competition, I would rather we sort this out sooner.”

He dropped a hand down and picked at the laces of his trousers, “Come, under the table,” he bid, “If you will not eat then you may use your mouth for other means.”

You glared at him, mortified. You brought your fork to your lips and he was quick to rise and bat it away. The top of his pants drooped as you dropped the silver and you blanched at him. He dropped back into his chair.

“I do not issue requests, I give orders. Now on your knees or I will have you even quicker on your back.”

“Then do it already,” you snarled, “I tire of your boasting.”

He stood once more, this time so abrubtly that his chair toppled behind him. He was upon you in a moment, his hands around your head as he forced you to your feet. His eyes flared down at you as you grabbed onto his arms and wrestled with him. You stumbled as he dragged you around the chamber he angled you toward the settee.

He shoved you down and slipped a hand down to your throat as he straddled you beneath him. He slid his hand down the front of his open trousers and pulled out his hard member. He lifted his knees and moved up to pin down your shoulders. He squeezed your throat tightly as he bent over you and guided his cock to your lips.

“You bite me and I will have your teeth on the floor,” he threatened, “Now open for your king.”

You clenched your lips but as your breath dwindled, you gasped and he quickly slipped inside your mouth. He sank down your throat as he brought his hand up above your head and thrust his hips roughly. You choked and kicked out. You slapped his thighs as you struggled to breathe.

He groaned as his hips slammed down harder and harder. You gagged and your eyes lolled back as your vision swam with tears.

“You do push me when I am already… inflamed,” he grunted, “When my temper has already been stoked by incompetents.”

He fucked your face without relent as you were trapped beneath him. His fingers stretched over your head and he sped up once more. He panted as he chased his end and when it rose, he flooded your throat without warning. He continued to rock into you until you swallowed around him. He shivered at the sensation and sat back as he slowly drew himself from your mouth.

His cock glistened as he rested his weight on your chest and steadied himself. He swallowed and hung his head back. Without looking, he poked two fingers into your mouth. Without thinking, you gnashed his digits between your teeth. You were met quickly with a strike across your cheek.

He wiggled his fingers, further pained by the slap, and growled.

“Must you insist on difficulty,” he pushed himself off of you and tucked away his cock. He grabbed your arm and wrenched you onto the floor. “There you are.” He jabbed you with his toe. “You can spend your night there.”

He shoved you back with his boot and spun away from you. He went to the table and took the heel of bread from his plate and the entire bottle of wine. “No supper for you. If I see that you’ve so much as stolen a crumb, I will whip you myself.”

He stomped to the bedroom doors and looked back at you one last time. “And leave the boy alone. He is not your friend.”

🐍

You stayed on the floor but didn’t sleep much. Little hazes but nothing more. Loki stirred in the next room and you turned to face the wall. You didn’t move as a knock sounded shortly after. The young boy seemed to always sense when he was required. He entered and hesitated as he passed you before the settee. He carried on and you let out the air in your lungs.

You heard the king’s voice and the activity that followed his awakening. When he emerged, you remained as you were. He ordered Hal around as he sat to tie his boots. He scoffed as he rose and swept towards the door.

“I know you are awake, mouse,” he said, “Let’s not make deception a habit.”

You refused to respond and he huffed. The door opened and he paused in the doorway. “See to her meals, boy.” His voice shifted direction, “Sir, you will watch the door.”

A grumble came in response to the orders as the door snapped shut. You rolled onto your back and sat up. The morning light made your head pulse and your eyelids drooped heavily. You pulled yourself up onto the settee and buried your face in the cushion. You hadn’t the energy to stay mad, you only needed sleep. It wasn’t long before it came.

When you woke, you were groggy. A plate awaited you on the table and the same buzz floated from outside the walls. Another day of sport and you were, as ever, pent up inside on the king’s whim. You slunk over to the table and ate without tasting. Your stomach ached until it was satisfied.

You stood and paced. You stopped at the window as you tried to get a glimpse of the tents erected around the tourney grounds but the silk offered little sign of what was unfolding. You hated that you had to wait, it was all you did. The king had chosen your punishment well. This purgatory was worse than any dungeon.

You marched back and forth. Your anger began to bubble over. Well, if he should have you do nothing, you will find something to keep yourself occupied. Perhaps you might tear down the drapes or dismantle the framed pictures of his smug ancestors. What worse could he do that he did not intend already?

You kicked the door as you passed it and your toe throbbed. Your slippers offered little padding and you swore. Further enraged by your pain, you punched the door. You stopped and listened through the wood. You could hear the drafty emptiness of the halls. Cautiously, you rested your hand on the handle and pressed until the lever lifted. 

You pulled the door an inch inward and waited for it to be forced back into place. But you met no resistance and poked your head into the corridor. There was no guard, no passing resident, no spy you could see. You retreated and steadied your nerves. Was it a trick? A trap? Either way, it was too much to deny.

You went to the wardrobe and took down the grey cloak hung within. You tied it at your throat and peered back into the halls. Still, no keeper to stop you from your escape. Well, it would only be a brief sojourn. You only wanted to see the games. To know what made the crowd so raucous.

You hesitated. If the king discovered your flight, you would be in dire trouble. Yet, he was competing himself and wouldn’t even know. So long as you were back before your guard. Where was that lug anyhow?

You put your foot down lightly. You slowly leaned your weight on it and stepped out into the hall, testing its vacancy. Still, you were alone. You pulled up your hood and closed the door behind you. You weren’t certain which way to go in the immense palace.

You lost yourself several times over before you found the stairs. You scurried down the steps and hid your face as well as you could as you passed by servants in their aprons and caps. You felt as if they all knew, as if any would accost you and report your offense back to the king.

But they didn’t and you kept on until you stumbled in disbelief onto the green. You followed the scent of roasting beef and the wall of voices to the cluster of tents along the sporting field. There were benches set on platforms to house the observers; the ladies waving their handkerchiefs and the older lords cheering on their favourites.

You stood before the steps of the stands and glanced around. Surely you were being followed. You couldn’t have just walked out onto the green so easily. It felt too simple. It felt a snare but yet you kept going.

You climbed up and pushed down your hood as no other wore theirs. You needed to blend in with the crowd. You walked behind a row of ladies as they stood and called out to the field. You stopped behind them and stood on tiptoes to see past them. Two contestants in armor charged at each other with blunted blades. The tourneys had long since traded real steel for training weapons. The forgers often complained of the flimsy designs.

You edged past the line of ladies and upon a closer look, you recognised the fighters. The prince, Thor, fought in red armor with a lion on its helm, and his brother, the king, faced him with serpents across his breast plate. As you heard it, the custom was to allow the monarch a victory.

Still, the audience held its breath as the swords crashed together once more. The much larger royal barely missed his brother with a fearsome strike. Loki was quick and kicked out Thor’s leg. The elder slipped but recovered easily as he batted away the next swing. The two danced around each other; Loki, graceful and light, Thor, lumbering but effective.

As Thor struck down with both hands, Loki deflected him but found the dull blade snapped by the force. He stumbled back and dodged his brother’s next attack. The king was fast but defenseless. He ducked and dove all around but at last found himself cornered by his burly brother. You saw the desperation and the realisation in his posture.

He made an attempt to disarm his brother only to be thrown back. He landed with a thud on his back and the crowd went silent. Thor sheathed his sword and offered his hand to his brother. There was a moment before the gesture was accepted and the king was hauled onto his feet. The men clapped each others’ shoulders politely but all knew there was little comradery between them. Only the prince would dare best the king. And he had dared.

The king waved to the crowd and the competitors were led from the field. The king reached to remove his helm as he walked towards the stall and looked out into the crowd. His jaw was tense and even at a distance you could see his spite. And, you swore, he could see you.

You carefully took a step back and hid behind the figure next to you. You let out a shuddery breath. He could know, now from so far away. You were just another body in the crowd. Well, you had come and seen the fuss. You would have to go before your absence was discovered and the alarm sent up.

You retraced your steps and staggered onto the grass. After such a loss, the king would be even angrier. He did not lie when he said his brother provoked him like no other. A dark foreboding stabbed you.

You already regretted your mistake. A moment of impulsivity had taken you too far. But he hadn’t seen you. He couldn’t have. You were just paranoid. 

You ducked your head down and raced up the palace steps and followed a servant until you found the stairs. You were lost again as you reached the top. The corridors seemed to only lead into each other in circles but at last, you caught your bearings.

You turned the corner that led to the king’s chambers but were suddenly jerked back as a painful grip closed around your arm. Magnus sneered down at you as his hand threatened to crush your bones. He slammed you against the wall and you gasped.

“The king will not be happy with you, wench,” he snarled, “Oh, I think he might just toss you back where you belong.”

“Let go of me,” you rasped, “Ow!”

He shook you with a sharp hiss.

“Shut your fucking mouth. You know what he will do when I reveal to him what you’ve done?” He taunted. 

You gulped down air and croaked out as squirmed helplessly. “And what… about you? What will he think of the guard who let me free?” You trembled as his grey eyes bore into you, “When he learns that your absence allowed for my escape?”

His nostrils flared and he squeezed your arms. His jaw ticked as he stared you down then all at once, his hands dropped. He shoved you away from the wall.

“You keep quiet and go back,” he stomped behind you, “And I won’t snap your neck and tell him you asked for it.”

You went to the door and he was close behind. He reached past you and opened the door so that it hit the wall. He grabbed the back of your neck and dragged you inside. He kicked the back of your legs so that they collapsed and he forced you down to the ground as bent over you.

“I know why the king keeps you, whore,” he spat, “He will tire of you soon and I will delight in throwing you back to the dungeons.” He pushed until your face met the floor. “When he is done, he might just let me finish breaking you.”

He pushed away from you and flipped you with his foot. He clutched his pommel and sneered down at you as he circled you. His chest puffed out and he stopped sharply on his heel.

“A little rat like you will be back to the gutter soon enough,” he backed away as he seemed tempted to draw his blade. “I’ll make sure of it the next time you stray.”

He slammed the door behind him and it shook in his stead. You laid on the floor, paralysed with adrenaline. You blinked up at the ceiling and breathed at last. You were truly out of your depth.

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Paintings & Picture frames. [Pt.7]

Daryl Dixon x Reader [Pt.1] [Pt.2] [Pt.3] [Pt.4] [Pt.5] [Pt.6]

A/N: We’re nearing the end of intro week! I’m thinking of ways to keep them interacting after this, I don’t wanna end this story yet but I also don’t wanna make them date immediately just so I have a reason to make them spend time together. Updates after the next chapter may be a little slower because of this! Please enjoy this chapter!

Daryl loved watching you work, with everything you did there was this softness and it all looked so carefully thought out from his point of view. Not like his work that was all rough, and his mechanic work may have intricate parts but it was no way to be considered art. The two of you kept working for a while longer, constantly finding small things to edit or fix. After the umpteenth tiny edit, wondering what color would suit better with the photos used on your cover and eventually setting on one you realised it had started to get late already and your stomachs were grumbling for some food. Hearing your body make all the hungry noises you immediately felt embarrassed and felt a blush creep up your cheeks. Daryl noticed your shifting and let out a soft laugh. "

Ya wanna eat? I can head home if we're done." He offered. He wasn't sure how much longer he was welcome now that you had finished your schoolwork. You didn't want him to leave yet, it was nice to have someone over for a while, even if it was just for school. He was nice to be around and in a new town that was amazing already. "We can order something, I got paid this week so I got some extra cash to spend." You offered to buy dinner for the two of you and Daryl wanted to say no and go home, but he really didn't want to go back home again. He'd see you at school tomorrow but what was gonna happen after the project week was done and you both went your own ways? He wasn't ready to have that happen just yet so he reluctantly agreed on having dinner with you. "Yeah, sounds good. What're ya thinkin' of?" He asked and you opened up your local delivery service website. After going through multiple suggestions that were turned down by you being a picky eater or Daryl not being in the mood for that kind of food you ended on pizza. The one topic you immediately agreed on, a share size barbeque chicken pizza with extra bacon. After you ordered the pizza you went over to your desk to set up your printer to get your project on paper and all nice in a folder. Making sure all the pages were in the right order, adding the cover in the page sleeve on the front and putting the original artworks you made behind the last pages as well as some extra printed photos you made during Daryl's classes. All got some kind of description written on the back by the person who made the picture or painting.

Not long after you had it all put together your pizza arrived at the front door of your building, telling the guy you were gonna come and pick it up there and leaving Daryl alone in your apartment. He looked around at everything, observing and taking in every little detail from your matching dark furniture to your weird amount of small statues of animals and video game stuff. The dinner table was littered with art supplies that wouldn't fit on your desk anymore, which was full of digital artist items and sketchpads. Without really thinking of it at all he got up and walked towards your desk. It was full of half filled pieces of paper with small sketches on them. It mostly was all in one theme and while some were crossed out or had some negative texts written next to them, others had certain parts circled in colored marker with details written next to them that probably all made sense when put together. He of course had no idea what that put together something would be, but he was sure it would be really cool. On the table behind him were all kinds of paints and large papers filled with colors and mixes, something like what he learned in your class last week, but then huge and way more detailed than the small thing you two made in a two-hour class that was mostly the teacher explaining stuff instead of actually working. He mostly just followed your lead that day and still had no clue what he did but you seemed to be proud of what he did and that was all that mattered. It was weird how just looking at some colors on paper made him think about memories with you that made his heart flutter inside his chest. There was no way he was gonna tell you that, though. Not until he was sure you felt the same way, not that you ever would feel the same about a guy like him.

Back in the hallway you walked towards your apartment, taking deep breaths and trying to calm your mind. Having dinner with Daryl was just a normal classmates thing to do after finishing a project, nothing to be worried about. Except maybe accidentally spilling your drink. Or eating weird. Choking on a crumb or maybe just air. Would he be grossed out if you talked with your mouth full? What the hell, all those thoughts were so stupid you didn't even know how your head came up with them. You were just normally gonna eat your takeout pizza like you always do and everything would be fine. You made it back to your door in one piece and balanced the pizza in one hand while you fiddled with your keys in the other, opening the door and walking in. Daryl had been so intrigued by your artwork that he hadn't noticed you come in and set the pizza on the coffee table. "Food's here." You stated, watching Daryl snap out of his gaze. "Aight, cool." He stuttered on his way back to tho couch. To say he felt embarrassed being caught staring at your personal work was an understatement. He felt like he had accidentally invaded your privacy and had no idea how to tell you. But then again you didn't seem angry or anything so was it really as bad as he thought. You noticed him not really paying attention to the food first thing after sitting down and wondered what went on in his head. Maybe you weren't the only one nervous about having dinner together? While you already did have coffee at the diner while you worked earlier this week, so this wasn't even that new. Of course you were still nervous because that was just who you were.

The thoughts quickly left when you were both eating and enjoying the food a lot. "What place was this? Gotta get this at work sometime." Daryl commented after grabbing a second piece while putting the last bits of his first slice in his mouth. You told him the name of the place and where it was located. Daryl knew the street it was located on but never really paid much attention to the shops that occupied it. He did pass the place multiple times a week on his way to work and he was sure to pay more attention to it from now on. The two of you ate mostly in silence beside the occasional comment about pizzas or the suggestion of a drink refill. Only when there were only two slices left that were now in the both of yours hands, you started talking more. The conversations went from favorite foods to your hobbies outside of your study, tv shows you liked to watch or places you'd ever want to visit. Before the two of you had realised it, it had gotten dark outside already. You only realised when Daryl wanted to go outside for another cigarette. That one cigarette quickly turned into a Shit it's this late already?! goodbye smoke in front of your apartment building, with a promise to see each other again in the morning on Daryl's usual parking spot at school before your last day of the introduction week.

[cottoncandyqueersworld]

Please go easy on me....it's been a few years since I've written a story let alone letting someone read my trash writing.

Enjoy ~ 

A long and angry growl from my stomach bubbled audibly against the palm of my hand. On any other day I would have been okay with having to skip breakfast....even if it was getting close to dinner time....but we had been walking all over downtown Chicago. I was rightfully starving. 

" Ugh! I don't think I can go on any longer.....I might die..." I whined, hoping for a reaction from the group but all I got was an irritated response from Kyle. 

 " For the last time we don't have time to stop and eat River.... we're so close to the performance spot and if we're even a minute late they'll -" 

" What IS that smell?..." I asked cutting him off in the process. I began looking around to find where the sickly sweet smell was coming from and then I saw it in all it's glory...Rainbow letters spelled out The Yummy Tummy Co. The soft pink building was just screaming at me to come and sample there sweets. I wiped the drool from my face and whipped my head around and looked up at Kyle 

" We don't HAVE to be at the park until 6ish. It's only 4:15 Ky.....give me half an hour. Quick in and out and I'll meet you guys there. " I even gave him a little pout but it wasn't enough. He crossed his arms like an annoyed parent with there child. I was losing hope until an idea hit me. 

"C'mon I KNOW your hungry too....what if I get you something so your not all cranky when we preform huh? You wanna do your best right?" He raised an eyebrow and sighed. 

"25 minutes and half a dozen blueberry glazed doughnuts.... we'll meet you there." I practically jumped in the air and raced to the bakery, barely doing cars as I crossed the busy street. 

I opened the bakery door and a wave of sweet hit me like a ton of bricks. I felt a twinge of anxiety set in as nobody came to greet me....matter of fact nobody else was there. I was alone.

"Hhheeelllllllllllllllllllllllllooooo?" I called out, sightly annoyed that I was gonna leave empty handed. Right as I was about to turn around I saw a plate of brownies sitting on the corner near the cash register with a free sample sign poking out of one of the many brownies. 

"Well....I don't think much harm will come if I just take a few....right?..." My stomach answered with a growl and I grabbed the plate of brownies and was about to sit down when I figured it would be a good idea to grab a drink too....I was about to play for thousands of people....I wanna sound good for all the lovely ladies out there I thought to myself as I scanned the room for something to drink and then I saw the customer fridge stocked with pops and teas but I had my heart set on the Cookies' n Cream milk. I heard kyles nagging voice in the back of my head saying that I shouldn't be messing with dairy because there wouldn't be time for a bathroom break but I shook the thought out of my head and looked at the clock on the wall... 4:17....oh I definitely have time. I sat down and licked my lips as I examined the feast in front of me. A large plate of brownies and 5 20oz bottles of Cookies'nCream milk. With a big smile on my face I grabbed my first brownie in dug in. 

       This was by far the best tasting ANYTHING I have ever had the pleasure of putting in my mouth. It was still warm and a just a touch under baked so it was extra gooey. The fudgyness of the brownie accompanied by the chocolate chips that seemed to melt in my mouth kept my tastebuds begging for more. After I finished that first brownie I chugged a bit of the milk and before I knew it I had a good system going. I'd take a few bites than take a huge gulp of milk and I continued this for awhile. 

      I began to feel my belly expand around the 5 or 6th brownie. I leaned back against the counter and patted my belly.  I was starting to fill up fast but they tasted ssooo good. I unbuttoned my shorts, giving my belly more room to grow as I chuckled to myself. I was definitely a messy eater. Crumbs and mostly eaten brownie bits scattered all over. I had chocolate stains on my shirt that and the tips of my fingers. No doubt my face was covered in the choclately goodness. A satisfied burp escaped my lips and I gave my belly a little rub as I unzipped my shorts. I could telly belly was getting really bloated but to what extent I didn't know. I've always kinda had this fantasy about making myself as huge as possible. The feeling of my soft jiggly belly and massive thighs was always a little bit of a turn on. I felt my face heat up as I was making myself excited. I moaned as I felt all the brownies making their way through my digestive system. I felt as if I died and went to heaven. But before I could grab another brownie I head footsteps in the distance. My heart dropped. I wasn't alone after all. Before I even had time to react I felt hands bang down on the counter I was sitting infront of. Thank God for the ledge of the counter that was hiding me. I could tell my the groans and angry noises coming from whoever was behind the counter that they weren't pleased with my little snack. 

"Who the fuck ate all the brownies?? Ugh I JUST made them this morning! I didn't even get to try this new recipe.....WHOEVER did this needs to fess up NOW!" The fiery voice demanded. I was hoping for a quick escape since they hadn't noticed me yet since they had come from behind the counter and I was sitting infront of it I was hoping I could just crawl out and quickly make a run for it but my stomach had other plans as a long low growl gave away my position. Shit. I looked up at the same time a very confused pair of thick glasses looked down at me. I felt my face flush. I considered myself a 'smooth talker' when it came to women but she was different. For once I had nothing to say. My mind went blank. She walked around to the front of the counter and I sheepishly stood up. There was a breaf silence until she asked 

" Where they good at least? I've been trying these different recipes and I thought I finally got it right but I wasn't sure so I left them out as free samples" she was looking me up and down. I had forgotten that my shorts were completely undone and I could have easily put a toddler to shame with how messy I had ate them. 

"Y-yeah they were amazing! You should DEFINITELY keep that recipe. " I finally had enough courage to look up at her. She was a hair taller than me, just under 6ft. She had dirty blonde hair that was down framing for face, and the most beautiful sky blue eyes I had ever seen. She had a Beatles shirt on from their '64 would tour, black jeans and combat boots. I felt my face turn another shade of darker red when I realized I had gotten lost in her eyes. 

"I'm Kat" she said with a smile. 

" River......my name's River." I said with a nervous smile. ' Jesus what is wrong with me? Why is she making me so nervous? Why is my heart beating so fast?' my stomach growled breaking my train of thought. 'why on earth am I still hungry???' I sighed and placed a hand on my belly. 

" Guess I'm still kinda hungry.....would you mind if?....I mean I'll pay of course even though they're free samples I'd feel bad...Oh! And all the drinks......" I reached into my back pocket ready to pay the small fortune but I got no response from her regarding a prince. I looked at her again to only see she wasn't even paying attention to my words. No. She was fixated on my belly. her face was a little flushed with what I'd assume was excitement as she was biting her bottom lip. I quickly pulled my shirt down and began to button up my shorts. ' no worded she's staring at you she probably thinks your a fucking fat pig' I thought to myself. She quickly noticed this and her eyes grew wide. 

 " No no no please don't. I'm sorry I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.... Your belly is just so massive.....it's kinda....hot..." She trailed off as she took a step closer. My eyes widened in disbelief. 'hot?? She thinks I'M hot???' damn it. I was at a lose for words again. 

 " You think I'm....hOt?" My voice cracked. Damn it. Damn it. Damn it.....

    She nodded her head as she messed with her hair " Yes, very.....but you mentioned you where still hungry?" 

     "Yeah, but I don't think I can eat anymore brownies." I said sheepishly. 

    " Oh? Well lucky for you this is a well stocked bakery. Follow me." With a flip of her hair she  spun around and beckoned me to follow with her finger. How could I say no? I shrugged and without another thought I followed her behind the counter. I could tell things were about to get interesting. 

[lady-amethyst18]

(Emma and Leo went to a nearby donut shop to get some food. Like donuts, kolaches, and a few bottles of milk. They decide to go through the back alleyway as a means to get home faster.)

Emma: Are you sure we should cross through this way, Leo?

Leo: It's a shortcut. We'll be fine.

Emma: But what about that creepy guy that hangs around the abandoned theater? Everyone told us to stay away from him. I heard he takes people away and traps them in the theater, and they never come out!

Leo: Don't be silly! Just don't look him in the eyes. Don't even say a word. Just ignore him and walk past him.

Emma: ... Ok...

(They quietly sneak past the disheveled man, trying to avoid his line of sight. They nearly reach the corner until they both hear a loud growl.)

Leo: I know, Emma. I'm hungry too. But we're almost back to our apartments.

Emma: That wasn't me, though...

(They hear the loud growl again. The man put a hand over his stomach, indicating that he was hungry.)

Leo: Oh... It's that guy... (He reaches into the bag and grabs a wrapped up kolache)

Emma: Leo, what are you doing?

Leo: He's hungry. I'm just gonna give him some food, and then we'll leave.

Emma: B-but you said-

Leo: Shh! I'll be fine. Just stay over there. (He slowly approaches the man. He can still hear his stomach growling. The man's head is turned down.) Excuse me, sir.

Balan: (looks up) Huh?

Leo: I couldn't help but realize you were starving. Here, have this.

Balan: Y-you're... Giving this to me?

Leo: Yeah. You can have it. I'll just split the other with my dad or something. Go on, take it.

(The man took the kolache and unwrapped it. The moment he took a bite, his face lit up, and he consumed the whole thing while the little bird creatures ate the crumbs.)

Balan: Thank you. God bless you.

Leo: (smiles) No problem. We should go home now.

Balan: Wait... Y-you're leaving already?

So here's the context

Leo and Emma are neighbors in an apartment building. They've been pretty close for a few years now and do everything together. So one day, they went to a nearby donut shop because their parents gave them some money to buy whatever they wanted food-wise. They both agreed on donuts and kolaches and took the long way on their way over there.

Once they got their goodies, Leo said that they should take the shortcut through the back alleyway. The problem was that a crazy homeless man was living on the outside of the abandoned theater. Rumors spread that he would abduct people and trap them in his theater, where they would never come out. But Leo was bold and said to just avoid him altogether.

Of course, they heard his stomach growl. Leo assumed the poor man was hungry, being homeless and all. So he decided to give him some food while Emma kept her distance.

The man gratefully took the food and thanked them for it. But when it was time for them to go home, the man was worried that they would leave him even though they just met. The teens repeat that they have to go home and that their families were waiting for them. Saddened, the man lets them go and thanks them again for the food.

As they sat and thought about it some more, the man didn't seem all that creepy anymore... Just sad... So they come up to him again, and introductions begin.

This is my Lonesome Maestro AU. When Balan's first show was a disaster, and everyone left him. He's become very lonely and sad due to no one being around. Until Leo and Emma showed up and try to change his life for the better.

[strawberryyllemonade]

Untitled Fanfic - Chap. 1

Ongoing - Sasha x Niccolo

I’ll be publishing this on Ao3 once I get my invite code on the 28th, but I’ll also be publishing the chapters here. I’m needing a title, feel free to suggest! This takes place during the time skip in which Niccolo and Sasha’s relationship presumably took place. They’re aged up a bit just because I find it easier to write characters closer to me in age, and I personally think they look a lot older than they are canonically. That being said this will be rated M for potential mature themes, though this first chapter is fairly tame.

Chapter: 1 - Word count: 2,474

Damn Eldians.

Niccolo didn’t even try to hide the scowl on his face as he stirred the large pot in front of him. He still couldn’t believe that in the span of just a few weeks, he had gone from a member of the Marleyan Navy to a prisoner on the Island of Paradis. He had always been taught that the Island of Paradis was home to the worst of the worst. Eldians alone were bad, but on Paradis they were the devils themselves. The Eldians in Liberio at least aimed to repent for the crimes of their ancestors.

When he had been assigned to a scouting naval mission to Paradis, he hadn’t expected to return. It was common knowledge that every ship sent to Paradis in the past couple of years hadn’t returned. Of course, Niccolo expected they had met a fateful end at the hands of the Island devils - not taken alive as prisoners. In a way, dying would have been better. Going from a Marleyan who spat at Eldians to a Marleyan who was being spat at by Eldians was a difficult transition.

Niccolo grimaced as he stirred, the sound of some stupid Eldian soldiers behind him frustrating him even more. They were talking like they had never seen seafood before. Were they really so uncivil that they had never even seen a boiled clam or crab? He wasn’t shocked. Their kind literally ate people in their true form.

He could hear Yelena behind him, explaining what the spread before them was. He couldn’t believe his time and talent in cooking were being wasted on these unappreciative savages. He looked over his shoulder. The group behind him consisted of Yelena, two young male soldiers, and a female one. The guys looked around 19, maybe 20 in age. One of them had sleek, light hair and a thin chinstrap beard. The other had a round head with fluffy, short hair on top. They looked nervous, and both of their eyes were on the female soldier.

The female soldier was plain looking, with brown hair pulled back into a loose ponytail and eyes of a similar color. Was that… drool in the corners of her lips? Niccolo’s interest was piqued. Was she just such a savage that she was unable to control her drooling? One of the male soldiers put an arm on her shoulder, almost as if he knew what was about to happen next, and was making feeble effort at preventing it.

The female soldier attacked a fat lobster on the plate in front of her. Niccolo was surprised that she even managed to pick it up - it had to still be ridiculously hot…

That didn’t seem to bother the woman as she tore the crustacean in half and began absolutely devouring it. Her comrades called out to her, urging her to slow down and leave some for the rest of them.

“Sasha! No fair, leave some for the rest of us!” the shorter soldier with the round head urged.

Sasha. so that was one of the names. It seemed almost too normal of a name for an island devil. He recalled going to school with at least two people with the same name. Well, whatever her name was, Sasha was absolutely destroying the food in front of her. The drool was gone, but there were crumbs and bits of food all over her face. It was a bit gross, and Niccolo felt weird staring, but by now her friends were also enjoying the food and weren’t focused on him or Sasha.

“Mister Niccolo!” Sasha called out, tears in her eyes.

Niccolo let out a mixture between a grunt and a gasp. Was she really… crying? Was it not good? The amount she had consumed in mere seconds begged to differ, but maybe she was just hungry.

“You’re a genius!” She sobbed, before continuing to eat, tears flowing down her full cheeks in streaks now.

Niccolo quickly turned his head back to his pot. He could feel his face heating up. A genius? That was a weird way of putting it. He knew he was good at cooking, he had always been good at it. But… a genius?

Niccolo continued to cook in silence as the Eldians behind him devoured the food he had prepared. Soon, the sound of satisfied eating was replaced by groaning and complaining. The trio had clearly eaten too much, but none more than that Sasha girl. When Niccolo finally did look over his shoulder, she was doubled over in pain, groaning louder than any of them.

“There’s no reason to eat that quickly. There’s plenty of food.” Niccolo grunted at the three, his eyes lingering on the brunette. She threw her head back in protest. “But mister Niccolo… it’s so good - I was afraid it would jump back into the ocean!”

Jump back into- that was ridiculous. She was clearly kidding. The compliment made him blush a bit, but he was still annoyed. Even if they were a bit more appreciative than he would have expected of some island devils, it was still a waste of good seafood. A lobster that size would have fetched a nice price at a restaurant back in Marley, but now it was wasting away in the stomach of this… Sasha girl.

The trio soon left, and as Niccolo cleaned up the mess they had left behind, he couldn’t help but notice that the Eldians had neatly stacked their plates and made sure to help the cleaning process at least a bit before they left, even if they had been doubled over in pain from overeating.

Hmph. Maybe they did have some manners after all. Not a lot, but some.

-- --

Of course, cooking lunch for some of the devils hadn’t been the end of his day's work. Niccolo’s food skills had earned him a spot as a chef for the military and other high ranking bureaucrats. It wasn’t ideal cooking for these ungrateful Eldians, but it was better than doing manual labor or other dirt jobs like some of his comrades got stuck with.

Niccolo scrubbed at a dirty plate, standing over the sink. It was near sunset by now, and at this point the sky was a shade of orange, filtering in through the windows and creating a warm ambiance. It was nice. He would never admit it out loud, but the sunsets here on the island of devils were some of the most beautiful he had seen. Maybe it was due to the Island’s century-long lack of industrialization and pollution, but the sky was always crisp and clean.

He slowed down his washing - by now he was mindlessly scrubbing an already clean plate -and looked out the window wistfully. He wondered what his friends in Marley were doing - what his parents were doing. Did they think he was dead? Another casualty among the hundreds that occurred among Marleyan ranks every day? They probably considered him as good as dead the moment he told them he had been assigned to a Paradis naval mission.

Niccolo clenched his jaw, and grasped the sponge in his hand tighter, causing suds and water to cover his hand. His life had been completely taken away from him. Just because he wasn’t thrown in some prison cell somewhere didn’t mean he wasn’t a prisoner. He was in the clutches of these stupid Eldian devils, and no amount of letting him cook or giving him a decent place to sleep would change that.

As Niccolo continued musing over his situation, he heard the front door to the restaurant open. The sun was nearly completely set now and that meant that some of the officers would be coming in to drink. He sighed, wiping his large hands on his apron and setting down his sponge and dishrag. It happened almost every night - the officers would come in, have one too many, and say things that were out of line. Comments on his heritage, comments on him and his people being at fault for the deaths of their comrades, comments on the price of booze, and more. He much preferred the cooking aspect of his role to the bartending aspect, but again, he was a prisoner so he didn’t have much of a say in the matter.

“Evening.” Niccolo said without looking over his shoulder, moving over to the booze shelf and grabbing a few glasses to start. At least he didn’t have to be kind and chatty for tips. They didn’t tip him, and even if a kind officer did try to slip him some money he couldn’t spend it. At the very least he had to be civil. Most of the Eldians that came in didn’t make much of an effort at small talk anyway. Not that he cared, the last thing he wanted was to talk to an island devil about anything other than when he could go home.

Niccolo shone the inside of some of the glasses with a rag, waiting to hear the familiar stomp of boots and the pulling back of barstools. When he didn’t hear those things, he looked over his shoulder. Instead of the familiar sight of Eldian military members coming in for their nightly drinks, it was that female soldier from earlier. What was her name again? Sasha. That was it, Sasha.

Sasha didn’t say anything, but she looked around curiously. He supposed she hadn’t been in here before. It was a fairly fancy place, reserved for higher ranking and senior officials.

“Can I help you?” He asked, scanning her up and down. She wasn’t with her friends this time. She seemed quite out of her element in a fancy place like this. If she hadn’t been a devil, he would have thought it was intriguing, maybe even cute, but that wasn’t the case.

“I was- uh… that food you made earlier. It was so good…” She muttered, taking a step forward. “I was wondering if you had any more left?” She inquired, still nervously looking around.

Niccolo raised a brow curiously. More? She had just eaten herself sick less than three hours ago, and she was hungry again? He wasn’t surprised that Eldians were bottomless pits. They were constantly soaking up resources in Marley, feeding them and housing them. It was no shocker that the case here was similar.

“No. I don’t. Seafood goes bad quickly, and besides, you guys ate it all. I don’t keep leftovers anyway.” Niccolo said, turning around, glass still in hand as he polished the inside of it. The look of disappointment on Sasha’s face almost got to him. Man, she had really liked his food, huh?

“You liked it that much? You’ve really never had seafood before?” He couldn’t help but ask. Had they just never had a lobster that big?

“Liked it?” She asked, her eyes widening and shining. “I loved it!” She lunged towards the bar, her hands grasping the edge of it as she leaned over. “It was the best thing I’ve ever tasted, mister Niccolo!” she insisted, resting her head on the bar. “I’ll be thinking about it for the rest of my life…” she pouted, closing her eyes.

Niccolo jumped back a bit, red creeping onto his cheeks as she leaned over the bar, only inches away from his face. The best thing she had ever tasted? Surely not - she didn’t even use any sauce when she ate it…

“Best thing you’ve- what do you normally eat?” Niccolo asked, caught off guard, a confused look on his face.

“Bread, potatoes… sometimes if I’m lucky I get some meat.” she said, grinning goofily. Bread and potatoes and sometimes meat? What was she, a hobo? Even poor people in Marley didn’t eat that bad. Maybe she hadn’t been exaggerating when she said the lobster had been the best thing she had ever tasted. If he had only had bread and potatoes most of his life, a lobster would be a breath of fresh air to him too.

“Hmph.” Niccolo conceded, reminding himself who he was talking to. He was talking to an island devil, that’s all they deserved to eat. He was frustrated he had even wasted a good lobster on them anyhow.

“Mister Niccolo, will you be cooking for us more?” Sasha urged, lifting her head as she looked up at him, her eyes wide as saucers. She looked so… hopeful. He couldn’t help but feel intrigued. She seemed to be really looking forward to even the prospect of his future cooking.

“Don’t have much of a choice, now do I?” he shot back, not overly sassy, but making a point nonetheless. It wasn’t a lie. If they told him to do backflips all day he wouldn’t have much of a choice, either.

Sasha flinched a bit at that, and he immediately felt a bit guilty. A small frown traced her pink lips. “I guess not.” She muttered, standing up, and moving away from the bar. “I’m sorry Niccolo. I know that this isn’t your home. I know what you think about us.” She said gently. “If it was up to me this whole war would be over and everyone would be home. I’d be somewhere in the woods hunting all the meat I wanted and not worrying about Marleyans, Eldians, titans, or any of that.”

Sasha put a hand on her hip and stretched her back a bit. “If it were up to me.” she repeated, looking up at him for a moment. Her eyes were childish and fun, but there was something darker in there. Niccolo didn’t have to look twice to know that she had seen more than the average person. The emblem on her uniform told him she was a member of the scouts. Before the invasion, the scouts killed titans outside of the walls. She had probably seen countless of her friends and family killed. He wondered if she had known the Marleyan warriors who infiltrated the scout regiment.

Niccolo had to shake his head. She deserved all of what had happened. Her comrades deserved it too. It was part of being an Eldian - if they wouldn’t willingly repent, they had to be forced. It was just how it was. He couldn’t look at her like a silly brunette girl with big brown eyes who loved food. He needed to see her and her comrades as descendents of murderers.

“If only it were up to you then.” Niccolo responded simply, his eyes darkening.

Sasha stood closer to the door now, her hand around the doorknob. “Well, I want to thank you either way, mister Niccolo. I hope I get to eat more of your food soon. You’re very talented.” She said, looking over at him, opening the door. Just before she closed it, a playful glint danced in her eyes.

“For a Marleyan.”

[mylifeisactuallyamess]

General Hux x Female Reader/Kylo Ren x Female Reader

A/N: I have been in a world of writers block and my brain decided nothing I’ve been writing is any good 😬 but I’m hoping I’m over that now. I better be.

Warnings: mention of interrogation, RC is bound, some gore mention, imprisonment and a brief mention not many people would get unless they’ve read Bloodline or done some research into Leia.

Word Count: 4489

Masterlist

Read Chapter 18 here on AO3.

The white rushing lights did nothing to calm you, the pilot wouldn’t speak and you had no idea where you were going. Removing the helmet and dumping it at your feet, you sobbed silently, replaying the look on your husband's face over and over again. The way he stumbled, falling to the floor his eyes wide as the enormity of what he’d done came crashing down on him.

On one hand you wanted him to suffer, to feel the heartbreak of your loss and on the other you wanted to reassure him. But there had been no time, you had no idea Kylo was going to save you. He risked everything to send you to the ends of the Galaxy, to get you away from your sentence but you didn’t understand why? He just condoned the use of a new weapon on your home planet, in front of you taking and destroying everything you’d ever loved. To replace it with your freedom?

But you were alive, the shock of it numbed you knowing that you shouldn’t be here, you should be in the trash compactor instead of that poor trooper. You finally cried yourself into exhaustion dozing off in your seat but you had no idea for how long before the ship dropped out of hyperspace, jolting you back awake.

You could see a lush planet, the TIE glided into the atmosphere, all you could see were trees, massive trunks and wide leaves spanning the distance below you, but no buildings.

Proximity alarms exploded all round you, shattering the quiet and making your heart almost leap out of your chest. The gun controls lit up and you hesitantly put your hands on them, you had no idea how they worked or what you were even shooting at. You were terrified, the screaming whine of the alarms split your mind in two and you desperately wished you were anywhere else. The ship jolted, dragging a soft scream from your constricted chest and you gripped onto your seat as the TIE began to spin. You closed your eyes not wanting to see the flash of blue and green as the whole ship spiralled towards its doom, wishing this ride would end soon or you were going to be sick.

Panic wound its way through your body making you hold your breath in the hope the pilot would regain control of the ship. Another blast made the control panel in your face explode and you screamed in pure fear, trying to shield yourself from the sparks and heat that threatened to burn you.

The TIE crashed, ploughing into the soft ground and gauging the earth as it carved a path through the large trees until finally rolling to a stop. The chassis ticked loudly, the durasteel cooling after the intense heat it had endured, the viewport had shattered over you, earth and flora had made its way into the cockpit and you tried to turn and check on the pilot but the harness trapped you. Fighting against your straps you began to sweat, the humidity of the planet creeping up on you in the clumsy trooper armour, it was almost too much but you knew you had to get out as the heat increased. The sound of flames licking their way towards you made you renew your efforts to escape, finally releasing the catch on your harness you managed to start climbing out. A hand grabbed the collar of your armour, hauling you with strength and throwing you onto the spongy ground. You coughed, struggling to catch a breath, squinting against the bright light as it filtered through the green leaves. The TIE exploded behind your saviour, making him a silhouette against the flames, his outfit ruffling in the heated breeze that rushed over you both. The barrel of the blaster rested on your breastplate and you cried out in fear.

“Don’t shoot!!” You managed to choke out.

“Why shouldn’t I?” You’d heard that voice before. It would forever be ingrained in your memory.

“Because you’re Commander Poe Dameron.”

A noise dragged his attention behind him, the pilot had managed to free himself from the wreckage before it exploded and was stumbling through the undergrowth. Poe moved to aim with his blaster.

“No wait!” You shouted. The pilot was severely injured, half his helmet had been blown away revealing burned skin and a bloodshot gaze, he was holding his arm and it could have been broken or dislocated. His red eye fixed on you.

“Did we reach our coordinates?” He rasped. You didn’t want to answer, you knew what was coming.

“Hey pal, you look pretty banged up there. How about you put your blaster down and we can get you some help?” Poe called out, his brow furrowed with deep lines.

“Did we…?” He coughed, his body shaking from the effort.

“Yes!” You sobbed loudly and watched with horror as the pilot reached for his blaster.

“Buddy! That’s not a good idea!” Shouted Poe raising his arm but he wasn’t quick enough, the pilot pulled his blaster free and shot himself. You screamed loudly, knowing that image was going to be stuck in your mind for a long time. Your body went limp, letting Poe drag you roughly, hauling you away from the death and destruction that seemed to follow you. Is this what the Galaxy was like? All death and endings? This war was ripping the very fabric of everything, so many lives lost and you blamed the Resistance. Your hurt had stemmed from their actions, their disregard for anything except themselves and their need to stop the Galaxy falling under the rule of the First Order. Your thoughts faded away as your mind tried to close itself off, you were in enemy hands now and Kylo had put you here.

You turned to see the door open and Commander Dameron strode in, he was looking at a datapad and holding a piece of bread that he was chewing on. His foot kicked the door and it closed behind him with a loud hiss. He settled himself opposite you, still not acknowledging you even when you moved, making your shackles clank loudly against the chair. You waited expectantly for him to say something, instead he took a large bite of the bread tutting when the crumbs littered his shirt. You watched in disbelief as he brushed himself down before picking up the datapad again, the screen reflecting in his eyes.

“Are these really necessary?” You asked, wincing at the loudness of your voice and noise of the chain links as they fed through the chair.

“Yep.”

“Oh, you do speak then.” To your annoyance he shrugged and flicked through the pad some more. “Are you going to interrogate me?” When he refused to answer you sat back and crossed your arms with a sigh. You should have known he was going to be insufferable from the gleeful tone and glint in his eye you’d seen previously. That holo-image from the datastick will forever be imprinted in your memory and it made you dislike him intensely. You watched as he shoved the last bit of bread in his mouth, trying to ignore the stabbing pains in your stomach not remembering the last time you ate or drank anything. You thought back to your last meal, the prisoner rations weren’t exactly mouthwatering, but you’d eat some right now.

Your expression fell as you recalled the way Armitage had sagged against the wall, his expression one of shock and your heart pounded wildly. You had nearly broken the cover that Kylo had gone to great lengths to provide, the need to rush to Hux had been overpowering even though he had just uttered those devastating words in your cell, telling you your life was about to end. You had convinced yourself he had no choice, he had been backed into a corner as much as you had, forced to make these decisions he shouldn’t have been making. You frowned again at the noise of the chains when you went to blot your eyes, the noise alerting Poe to your change of emotion and he studied you with interest.

“Are you hungry?” You looked at your hands in your lap not wanting to let him know you were absolutely starving but also not sure how much longer you could keep yourself upright if you didn’t eat. “I’ll get you something.” It wasn’t until he disappeared that you realised he’d left his datapad on the table. You sat up slightly, seeing there were no cameras, no two way mirrors, no droids, nothing to say anyone was watching you. The chains clinked when you reached for it, your fingertips brushing the corner but not even enough to move it, a growl of frustration left you and you tried again. The pain of the chains cutting into your wrist did nothing to dissuade you, but the sound of the door reopening made you slump back in your seat.

“Ten out of ten for effort.” He stated calmly, sliding a tray of bread, fruit and water in front of you.

You grimaced to yourself, shaking your head.

“That was a test.”

“If you like,” he replied nonchalantly. You looked at the food, your mouth watering and your stomach heaved at the sight of it wanting you to eat it but your pride made you not reach for it. Poe wasn’t watching you, his gaze once more looking at the datapad with curiosity and you found yourself wondering what he was looking at. Information on you? Reports on the destruction of Arkanis? Maybe they had a whole file on you and Hux and he was flicking through your wedding holographs. Did you even have holographs? You honestly couldn’t remember. You frowned as you realised they hadn’t even asked your name, after the incident with the pilot you had been dragged back here and that was it.

“Why am I still alive?” You blurted out.

“I do the questions around here,” he mumbled. His brow dragged down at something on the screen and he huffed with annoyance.

“Maybe you should try asking me some?” No response. You fidgeted, hating the way he was making you feel. Awareness prickled down your arms knowing this must be a Resistance approved technique for interrogation and you hated it. You felt exposed, vulnerable, completely at this man’s mercy as he paid you no mind and yet, you felt yourself wanting to get his attention.

“What?” You jumped at his loud exclamation of surprise, dread pooling in your belly, what he was looking at was clearly not good news. “You’re such a cheat Finn!” He snarled, slamming the pad down and rubbing his face. You watched the curls bounce back to his forehead after his fingers had left them trying to figure out what was happening. “Are you going to eat that?” He asked, dragging your attention back to the food. ”Fresh food doesn’t come to us often. Don’t waste it.”

“What did you do? Steal it from a First Order supply ship?” You were trying to be sarcastic, but the look he gave you told you everything you needed to know. “Oh, of course. It’s what you people do.” He cocked an eyebrow and rested his chin on his upturned hand, finally paying you the attention you seemed to want.

“You people?” He inquired. You shook your head, suddenly wishing he would stop staring at you with those rich brown eyes. “You should eat.” He stated forcefully and you found yourself complying. Your bound hand reached for the bread, taking a chunk off and carefully putting it into your mouth. You tried to hold back the tears at the taste, it was glorious, so fresh and soft it reminded you of eating in Armitage’s quarters, sharing food on the Finalizer…you looked up at the ceiling trying to stem the flow of more tears knowing that you were now being watched closely. “You ok?” Poe asked softly.

“Oh sure. I’m perfect,” gripping the bread tightly you ground your teeth together in an effort to contain what was bubbling up inside you but it was useless. “I was sentenced to death, my homeworld was blown up, my husband…my husband…” you swallowed. Trying to force the emotion away but it just came back up your throat with more force. “That poor pilot didn’t even know what hit him!” You sobbed, remembering that awful scene that no doubt was laying forgotten on the jungle floor. “And Kylo risked everything to get me out, Armitage’s face…oh Armitage!” The sobs were heavy on your chest, forcing their way out between your words. “And now I’m here, with you.” You finished with venom. Poe looked at you with a stony expression clearly not wanting to stop your flow of words. “You! You started this whole thing! Placing that datastick in my chest I had no idea what it was? How dare you! I didn’t do this! I am no spy! My allegiance is to the First Order!” You were shouting, your bound hands pointing aggressively at him across the table as your face twisted with hatred. “I will not answer your stupid non questions, I won’t play this game.”

“That’s ok,” he said calmly, picking up the datapad and smirking. “You already gave me most of what I wanted.”

“I hate you!” You screamed loudly, ripping your throat as he sauntered past you. “Let me out! Just kill me! Don’t leave me here alone!” Fresh sobs spilled over and the chains settled loudly as you slumped in your seat. A fit of rage made you swipe the tray off the table with a loud cry, the cup bouncing loudly and spilling its contents, the bread was thrown with force and it exploded against the far wall. You screamed again, pulling heavily on your chains until your body decided that was enough. “Please don’t leave me here alone,” you whispered.

You had no idea how long you were imprisoned for, but everyday Poe would come and sit in your small room. You lay on the bed, your back to him every time, refusing to speak or move and yet whenever he left, the door hissing closed behind him you found yourself turning, wishing he’d come back. When you were alone the feelings that filled you were the worst, the hatred at yourself, the loss of your planet, the grief at the end of your marriage. You had searched your room for anything sharp to end your suffering, to quiet the thoughts that shouted loudly into the silence of your mind but there was nothing.

You had fallen asleep in the corner of your room, probably sobbed yourself to sleep like you normally did but you didn’t have time to crawl into your bed before Poe was entering your makeshift prison. He paused, seeing you in a different position had thrown him slightly even though he covered the surprise well.

“Is the bed not good enough anymore?” He asked with a hint of amusement, placing your usual tray of food down but you already felt the barriers slipping back into place and you refused to acknowledge he’d said anything at all. Your gaze grew fuzzy and your eyes lost focus, mentally drawing yourself inwards so you wouldn’t have to deal with his chatter or hesitant questions. You heard him sigh as he sat down in his usual seat. “You can’t ignore me forever.” I can. “Would you like to play a game?” No. “There’s a version of Sabacc I can access, you can help me against Finn and Rey. I swear they cheat.”

Rey.

That name made you stir from your reverie.

Rey.

That jedi, the one who had scarred Kylo, killed Snoke, helped destroy Starkiller, obliterated the First Order fleet.

That Rey.

“Rey.” Poe paused when you spat her name. “I hope she knows the…trouble she caused us.” It was the most you’d spoken since that stint in the interrogation room, your voice was raspy from disuse and you found yourself getting up for the water. You were lost in memories that all blended together, the voices and sounds trickling through your mind but the finer details were smudged. Poe’s mouth was open, no longer containing the surprise he felt at the change in you.

“You caused us trouble too,” he countered and you looked up to give him a scathing glance. “Anyway, I have someone who wants to meet you.”

“Is it Rey? Because I might scratch her eyes out,” you spat. “Don’t forget my chains,” you snapped sarcastically, holding up your hands up waving them slightly. He moved, gathering his datapad and leather jacket.

“It’s not Rey. I’ll be back later.” He said in a rush before leaving the room. You grabbed the bread, chewing it quickly knowing that you were going to need your strength. The only other person who would want to talk to you would be someone you’d never met in person before but someone you knew. Yes, you’d like to talk to her.

You paced in your small space until you were exhausted, your body not used to the increased movement meant you tired quickly and you found yourself eating everything on the tray before Poe returned.

The hours all bled into one another until he entered with another tray and you grabbed it off him, eating whatever hot food this was not caring at the bland taste. You eyed him when he leaned his arms on the back of the chair, facing you. His leg spread either side of the chair in a relaxed position as he leaned forward. You took him in, really studied him like you were seeing him for the first time. He was well built, tanned, his curls an unruly mess on top of his head. He wore a white shirt, the collar upturned and the buttons undone allowing a glimpse at his chest, his leather trousers were tight and tucked into his boots. A blaster was strapped to his thigh, the holster sat low on his hips, his knee jigged slightly and you sighed between mouthfuls.

“Got something to say, Dameron?”

“Well I was appreciating you seem to have your appetite back and didn’t want to interrupt.”

“Just spit it out.” He spread his hands.

“Well, she would like to talk to you today if you’re up for it.” You put your fork down and took a sip of water as you thought over what he’d said. Clearing your throat slightly before pushing your now empty tray away.

“Let’s get this over with,” you said, holding out your wrists ready to be cuffed.

“You promise to behave?” He asked dryly.

“I’m sure if I misbehave I’ll get shot,” you retorted. He approached, wrapping the cuffs around your wrists and checking they weren’t too tight before clipping them shut.

“We’re not the First Order,” he replied softly. “You could have a place here.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you mumbled.

“I’m sure you’ll feel differently soon enough.” You followed him obediently, his hand firmly gripping your cuffs as he led you out of the room and you got to see the base properly for the first time.

It wasn’t what you expected at all, a CR90 Corvette class ship was settled in a huge cave, providing a sheltered hideout for the Resistance. Large power lines were fed from the ship to consoles that dotted the clear space near the grounded ship. As you looked curiously around you could see makeshift beds, all placed haphazardly along the vast cave wall, sectioned off to offer some sort of privacy. Some had workbenches and storage crates with the small beds and it hit you that this was all the Resistance had. Then why could you not defeat them?

They had been beaten down, the New Republic was gone so they lost their backing and the main bulk of their fleet, half of the Resistance had been wiped out at the Battle of Crait and yet here they were. Surviving like the bottom feeders of the Galaxy they were. It astounded you, maybe even awed you that they were still having some sort of sway in this war. Your lip curled as you followed Poe over the uneven ground, how could these people offer the Galaxy something better than the First Order? Surely they couldn’t, they could barely feed themselves resorting to stealing and sneaky tactics, how could they offer the Galaxy stability and equal standing?

You were led aboard the Corvette, ignoring the stares and whispers that followed you from the cavern. If Kylo refused to end the Resistance then you would try and open eyes this side of the battle. All you knew was the Galaxy was ripping apart and it was time to stop.

You let Poe manoeuvre you into a chair, the room was white and pristine containing two chairs and a table, he took your bindings off and you rubbed your wrists out of habit. The door opened behind you but you kept your eyes trained on the surface of the table not wanting to look upon the woman who had entered the room. You heard her dismiss Poe before settling in the vacant chair opposite you, the silence that followed was mutual, her dark eyes studied you as she leaned on the table, her hands clasped together. You let her scrutinise you, did she know?

“Are you just going to sit there Princess?” You asked softly, breaking the silence. Her posture straightened giving you the reaction you desired.

“It’s been a while since anyone used my royal title, I go by General now,” her voice was calm and steady when she spoke.

“I apologise it’s force of habit,” you confessed softly, now letting your eyes rise to settle on her. She looked tired, her face lined, her dark hair greying in its delicate Alderaan style. Her eyes were dark and familiar, but softer in their appearance than what you were used to looking at and realisation trickled gently down your spine. “I know who you are, Princess Organa but do you know who I am?”

“Lady Hux, married to General Armitage Hux of the First Order.”

“He got promoted to Grand Marshal…” you corrected her with a frown.

“And demoted back to General, albeit recently.” The news shocked you, making you realise that Kylo had indeed taken everything from you both.

“He promoted Pryde,” you whispered, noting Leia bowed her head in acknowledgment. You sneered in disgust, your heart pounding at the idea of Armitage having to answer to such a foul man. A man who was capable of terrible things with his bare hands. You tried to bring yourself back to your situation, you couldn’t help Hux now, only yourself. “Kylo knows where you are,” you stated.

“He has other battles to fight at the moment,” she commented like the news didn’t shock her.

“With your Jedi,” you spat. Leia’s dark eyes pierced you, her posture never faltering for a moment.

“I feel you don’t like me very much,” she observed and you wished you didn’t have to spell it out for her. You sucked in a breath, it was slightly exhilarating knowing something the great leader of the Resistance did not.

“Our families have history, but you probably paid no heed to the ripples your actions would have caused.”

“I am well aware of…”

“Are you?” You demanded cutting her words short. “My aunt was Carise Sindian.” You took a moment to enjoy the micro expressions that flew across Leia’s face, the realisation as she worked out the finer details of your statement. “You stripped her of her royal standing and so her family was ostracised, I was lucky to land the husband I did but, his father did know my father. Favour for a favour,” you looked back down at your hands. In your mind's eye you replayed the moment Arkanis was destroyed, the red light forever tormenting your nightmares. “None of that matters now,” you said softly.

“You are still a part of Arkanis. The part that lives.”

“I don’t want to be all that’s left.” This wasn’t how you wanted the conversation to go, you came into this with confidence but here you were fighting back tears, the thought of Arkanis was still raw and painful, a loss you were sure you’d never recover from. Leia leaned forward like she wanted to reach for you in comfort.

“I was there, watching when Alderaan was destroyed. I know the strength of the hurt you feel.”

“That is where our similarities end, Your Highness.” She withdrew, a blank mask falling across her face. “Do you think you can do it?” You asked, trying to distract yourself.

“Do what?” You smirked hoping it would cover the shine of tears in your eyes.

“Win. I saw your setup out there, hoping a few criminals and relics of the old days are enough to go against the might of the First Order.” She regarded you with a firm look as though you were a petulant child and it aggravated you.

”We are doing our best,” she replied.

“And what happens when you win? If you blow the First Order from the Galaxy what happens next?” You leaned forward, catching a glimpse of uncertainty in her eyes. You took her silence as her answer and continued. “So you don’t have a plan? The First Order has a plan, to offer aid, to control the crime and chaos that spreads across the Galaxy. To stop children starving in the streets, can you offer the Galaxy that, Leia?” Now she leaned forward an almost triumphant look on her face when she replied.

“What do these people get in return for such selfless acts? Military occupation. Enlisted into mining camps, the children pulled off the streets away from families to become stormtroopers…”

“Troopers with full bellies!” You shot back and she shook her head.

“How can you be so blind?” She snapped.

“I am not the one who’s blind! You refuse to see that the First Order wishes to bring equality to the Galaxy. Killing the rotten bureaucracy and petty politics!”

“They seek control! And with control comes corruption!” She almost shouted. “I have seen what power does to people. The Empire made the same promises that the First Order are and Palpatine didn’t follow through on any of them! He ruled with an iron fist taking more lives than he saved…” you stood. Rage at her words making you go against your better judgement.

“Kylo is not Palpatine!” You shouted, slamming your hand onto the table. Leia sat back slowly, an unreadable expression on her face.

“How can you be so sure?” She asked quietly, her eyes boring into yours in almost a challenge as though she had already made up her mind about the Supreme Leader.

“Because he saved me.”

[jasperswhumpjourney]

Hands: First Master

CW: Hand whump, slavery, pet whump, Master/slave, broken bones, A/B/O dynamics, food whump, food restriction, pet kibble.

--

While poor Jasper was used to a hard life, he’d hoped being an Alpha’s pet would make it easier. He’d had fantasies, wished that an Alpha would whisk him away to far off places and pamper him like a good pet.

Then he was sold to his first Master.

The Alpha who bought him’s house was big and beautiful. Although he’d only caught a brief glance of this before being locked into one of its darker corners.

How quickly he learned First Master was violent and rough, uncaring of the damaged states he left his new pet in. It wasn’t long after arriving at his Owner’s, Jasper received his first broken bone.

It shouldn’t have surprised Jasper his earliest broken bones were fingers. Master liked him in his formal kneel. He liked even more, resting his foot over Jasper’s fingers, increasing the pressure until Jasper couldn’t help but whine.

The day his fingers were broken, when he whined — fingers slowly being crushed beneath polished dress shoes — Master grabbed his hair in response to the noise. Jerking his head up with one hand, his other hand slapped Jasper hard. Twice.

“Shut up!” Master hissed and pressed his foot down harder.

Jasper bit his tongue hard enough to bleed as the index and middle of his right hand were crushed until they audibly cracked. Tears ran down his cheeks and his body trembled with the pain, but he was good and managed somehow to stay silent. He’d hoped this would be enough to placate Master.

It wasn’t.

His left hand received similar treatment, breaking its middle, index, and ring fingers too.

Afterwards, Master hadn’t liked how Jasper’s hands looked with their broken bones. He didn’t like Jasper using his hands while they were healing. Not because he cared about how they healed. But because, left unsplinted and unwrapped, he didn’t like seeing them how they were: their bumpy swollenness and black-purple-yellow hues offended him.

'No hands' meant Jasper was no longer allowed to eat on his own in his Master’s presence.

At first, Master said he’d just leave Jasper’s bowl on the floor and he could take his meals there like a puppy, face first into his kibble. This made Jasper flush with humiliation; both being that helpless and with how messy eating that way could be. Jasper hated being dirty. He especially wanted to stay neat and clean for his First Master, who he so desperately wanted to please.

Instead of the bowl though — “for now” Master warned — Jasper would kneel by his chair and wait to be hand fed. He was to keep his hands hidden behind his back during this.

Not allowed the same food as his Alpha, he had to wait while Master ate, the delicious smells of Master’s meals all around him. When Master finished, that’s when he would be fed. But even then it wasn’t that easy. Master made him beg for each bite. Telling Jasper that he didn’t seem hungry enough, or want it enough.

But this wasn’t true. Because Jasper was hungry. Very.

Especially since Master fed him while he found it entertaining, and only then. Usually this was at evening meal, and only a few bites, begged for and hard earned.

Still, Jasper knelt next to Master’s chair and waited like the good pet he’d been trained to be. Despite his hurt hands and his hunger, when Master turned his attention to him, at last, he couldn’t help but try to improve his already perfect posture.

“Hungry, pet?” Master asked.

Jasper couldn’t help the warmth that bloomed in his chest at finally getting some attention. Pet! Oh he wanted to be a good pet so badly! Jasper nodded and looked up with pleading pet eyes. Not given permission to speak yet he had to rely on other ways of begging.

He couldn’t even see the food from where he knelt on the floor. Couldn’t smell it either. Not his food anyways. But it didn’t matter, he wanted it so badly. He would do anything to please his Master to get it.

Master caught his chin and tilted it up. Deceivingly gentle Jasper drank it up. Even so, he still carefully kept his eyes respectfully averted. Knowing just how easily Master got bored of feeding him, the chances of him getting fed if he insulted the Alpha by looking at him directly; well he didn’t want to risk it.

“Beg.”

With this permission, Jasper desperately did so.

“Please sir, please.” He started, moving in a way he knew Alphas considered pleasing, pressing his cheek into the Alpha’s hand and nuzzling into it. “Please sir, I’ll be so good for you. I promise, please Master.”

The Alpha hated it when Jasper’s stomach would growl outside of his permission to plead. He counted such rumbles as begging, and only allowed these with permission. It was a struggle to hide his body’s hungry noises while Master ate, but now he’d been given permission, Jasper’s stomach clenched and gurgled.

“Please Master,” he tilted his face into Master’s hand, pressing a kiss where he could reach inside Master’s wrist. “If it pleases you to feed this pet…” Jasper was careful in how he begged verbally too. Because he knew if he made this just about himself, Master wouldn’t feed him at all. Pets that were too uppity and demanding had food withheld until they learned their places. A common belief not held by just this Alpha.

Wording his humble petition this way, at last Master’s other hand came into view. It held not a table scrap but a piece of Omega kibble.

Brown balls of food, dehydrated for long term storage and ease of feeding, all his life Jasper had eaten these. Already been salivating at the smell of Master’s food, seeing the kibble — right there!!— only made things worse.

Because, although his Master held it in front of his face, mere inches away, Jasper knew from experience this didn’t mean he would get it.

He had to be good.

So good.

Closing his eyes would be disrespectful, so instead he pressed another desperate kiss to the soft skin of Master’s wrist to avoid looking at the kibble. Jasper was rewarded for this with the little piece of dried food pressed to his lips. He opened them immediately and flicked his tongue out, avoiding the kibble — to be good— and licked at Master’s fingers instead. This showed Master was his preferred sustenance.

Only when Master let go of the piece of kibble, withdrawing his hand, did Jasper pay attention to it. The flavour was underwhelming, and so dry and crumbly. But it was food! The only kind of food he was ever allowed. It was the best thing Jasper could hope for; that was enough.

Even with the extra saliva, Jasper's mouth was still dry from dehydration. The dry kibble quickly sapped what little moisture remained in his mouth, making it a struggle to get down despite how hungry he was.

The moment his mouth was free again, Jasper went back to work, worshiping the now empty hand in front of his face.

Teasing the first bite from Master was always the easiest. After this, Jasper had to work much harder for his food, beg more and more between each little piece of kibble. He had to work quickly too, because Master always got bored before Jasper was full.

Regardless, Jasper pressed kisses to the fingers in front of his face, licking lightly between them to clean Master’s fingers of crumbs. When Master pulled away, Jasper’s heart stopped. It wouldn’t be the first time Master only fed him one piece of kibble and then ended the meal.

To his delight, today the hand came back with a second little ball of kibble.

Trained from birth by his breeders, Jasper was made of manners and obedience. Not once was he bad, trying to scarf down the food before Master released it. What’s more, each and every piece gifted to him was met with gratitude and worship.

Several pieces in, earning food became significantly harder. It was clear, as usual, Master was getting distracted: feeding his pet wasn’t nearly as entertaining as hurting him. So instead of a new piece of kibble, after Jasper worshipped and cleaned Master’s fingers, instead of gathering another bite for him, they instead pinched his nose closed.

His mouth was open, so it wasn’t bad at first. He wasn’t surprised, however, when it was ordered closed. Breath taken away until he almost blacked out in exchange for another piece of kibble. Then his gasping face was slapped multiple times before Master decided to gift him with yet another single piece.

And then Master forgot about the food entirely, focusing instead on tormenting Jasper.

His hunger was barely sated, only a small handful of the kibble ended up in his stomach. He was too busy, however, to dwell on this. All attention now centered on his breathing and keeping silent as Master thought of new ways to make him cry. He was so intent on enduring that, in addition to his still hungry belly, he also almost no longer felt the ever-present throb of his broken fingers as he dutifully held them behind his back.

Masterlist

[yeet-me-dad-dy]

The Witch in the Woods

Note: Placeholder Title

Summary: You have one last hope for saving your sister, and it lies with the reclusive witch that lives deep in the forest.

Warnings: Mentions of blood

Characters: Marvin, Gender Neutral Reader

Words: 2,788

You trudged through the thick green underbrush of the overgrown forest outside of town, muttering to yourself in frustration as you fought with the branches that snagged your clothes and the pickers that got stuck in the bottoms of your shoes. You had been searching for two weeks now, spending whatever free time you had wandering the woods with your satellite GPS and a crude camping site map, intent on finding help.

Help…

You hoped he would be able to help; the barista who told you about him insisted he would. You weren’t sure what you would do if he couldn’t. You were out of options.

Out of options, out of time, and out of patience.

As the watch on your wrist ticked over to show 3 o’clock in the afternoon, you leaned against a gnarled old tree with a heavy sigh, panting and sweating from the exertion of trying to find your way through a forest with no footpaths. You were starting to think that this miracle worker you had heard rumors of was just that… rumors. Rumors, squashed hopes, and disappointment. You shrugged your backpack off of your shoulders and took a moment to sit against the tree to have a drink. It was as you tipped your head back to take a swig from your water bottle that you saw something you definitely hadn’t expected to see.

There, above the trees in the distance, was smoke. Not the kind of smoke from a forest fire, but the kind of smoke from a chimney. A chimney meant a house, and a house meant people, but… a house? Out here? Who on earth would build a house in the middle of this wild place?

Regardless, you put your water away and pulled your backpack back on, then set off in the direction of the smoke. If nothing else, maybe the residents would have a bathroom you could use.

Roughly half an hour later, you stepped out of the densely packed trees and into a small clearing. Across from you, on the edge of the clearing with its back against the trees, only fifty meters or so from you, was a little square stone cottage. It was the very picture of serenity, there in the sunlight, with a little wind chime hanging from the porch roof above a rickety looking old garden swing, a hammock set up on a wooden frame to the right of the house with a small table beside it, a variety of odd looking decorations hanging from the trees on the edge on the clearing. The cottage itself was small, made mostly of stone, with vines crawling up the sides, wooden shutters, and yellowing old glass in the windows. A chimney stuck up from the right, reaching into the clear blue sky and puffing out gray smoke like an old boat captain with a pipe.

Despite its fairy tale appearance, you approached cautiously. You had come into this forest to find a powerful witch, and this was the home of a witch if ever there was one.

The three wooden steps that lead up to the porch creaked and groaned beneath your weight, and for a moment, you thought you might collapse beneath you and trap your legs, leaving you at the mercy of the witch in the woods, stuck and helpless. The steps didn’t collapse, however, and your heart pounded in your chest as you stopped before the front door. It was painted a very deep shade of royal purple and there was a strange symbol painted roughly head height in black pigment. You swallowed your apprehension and knocked.

You couldn’t stop the flood of images that rushed through your brain as you waited for someone to answer. You were scared of who or what exactly was going to answer the door. You expected some gnarled old man, clad in dirty brown robes, with a twisted jewel-topped staff and one blind eye, with a crow perched on his shoulder. Or perhaps a withered old hag with a wart on her long, crooked nose, and a feathered shawl, with a mean black cat at her feet.

Minutes passed, and you had knocked three times with no answer. You had no intention of leaving, not after you had come this far. You were considering going and relaxing in the hammock while you waited for the cottage’s owner to arrive, but the door swung open before you had a chance to turn around.

The person who answered the door was absolutely not what you were expecting.

He was young and fit, with long brown hair that you were sure would fall well past his shoulders if he didn’t have it up in a very messy bun. He wore a puffy white Shakespearean shirt and high-waisted black trousers, all very vintage, but also very comfortable-looking. His outfit, however, was not what caused you to take a step back in surprise.

No, that would be the skeletal cat mask he wore, with piercing green eyes gazing out at you through the eye sockets.

“What?” he asked sharply, and you jumped.

It was as you struggled to remember who you were and why you were here that you noticed how tired and quickly put together he looked.

“If you woke me just to stare at me, I will absolutely turn you into a toad for it.”

“No!” you answered quickly. You definitely want to be toaded. “No, sorry, I was just…” You cleared your throat. “I came to ask for your help.”

“Yeah, that’s usually why people end up here,” he responded, more softly now.

He pulled the door open and stepped back, gesturing you to come in with a flourish of his hand.

“Come in then.”

You took a deep breath and stepped over the threshold into the cottage.

Before you was a very quaint little home, with one large main room and a much smaller one in the back left corner, the perfect size for a lone witch living in the depths of the forest to exist comfortably in. Directly in front of you was a table and chairs, just big enough for two people, and to the right of that, the fireplace sat smoldering against the wall. It was a comfortable temperature, despite the heat outside and the burning coals. The witch made his way into the kitchen to the left, which was nothing more than a long counter with a sink and oven, and a fridge at the end. It was as you watched him open the fridge and pull out a pitcher of what you assumed was strawberry lemonade that it dawned on you that this place had electricity… somehow.

“Make yourself comfortable,” the stranger said as he made his way back to you with the lemonade in one hand and a tray with cakes and honey in the other. He set both down, and you took a seat. He took the one across from you, poured himself a drink, and stuffed nearly an entire cake in his mouth at once.

You shifted nervously in your chair and eyed the food. Your stomach rumbled, but you would be damned if you were going to eat anything a strange forest witch offered you.

“It’s not gonna poison you,” he said, as if reading your mind.

Your face heated up in embarrassment and you chuckled dryly.

“I didn’t think it would…” you replied, only half lying.

“So have some.” He pushed the tray toward you.

“Thanks. Um, I’m not hungry.”

“Yes you are, I can hear your stomach. Eat.”

You swallowed hard.

“I’m… I’m not really…”

It was rude to refuse food, especially from a witch, right? What would he do if you said no again? What would happen if you ate the food? There didn’t seem to be a good answer to this.

He leaned back in his chair and studied you with those bright green eyes of his. And then his lips twisted into a grin and he began to laugh. You stared at him, utterly confused at this sudden outburst.

“What-?”

“You think it’s like faeries, don’t you? You think if you eat the food you’re never gonna be able to leave, right?”

“I-” You didn’t finish your sentence. You weren’t even sure what that sentence would be. He was right, you couldn’t argue that.

“I’m not fae, I’m a witch. And why would I want to keep you here anyway? I want you to LEAVE so that I can go back to bed. I’m not offering you food to try and steal you away to some fantastical realm, I’m offering you food because it’s here, I’m eating it, and it would be rude not to.”

He grinned as he nudged the tray even closer to you.

You hesitated only a moment before you gave in and enjoyed one of his cakes. You’re glad you did. Not only did it taste wonderful, but you had run out of snacks a few hours ago and you were starving. He poured you some lemonade and you washed the crumbs down before you finally got to the reason you were here.

“My sister is sick,” you started.

He nodded and devoured another cake, seemingly uninterested.

“The doctors can’t seem to tell us what’s wrong with her, but she’s in so much pain she can barely sit up in her bed, let alone do anything else. It’s gotten so much worse lately, and she’s fallen into a deep depression. She won’t eat, she can’t sleep because of the pain, and she’s starting to go septic because she can’t get out of the bed and she’s in too much pain to roll over.

“Mmhmm.” He took a sip of his lemonade.

“I don’t want her to be in pain anymore.”

“So put her out of her misery.”

“What?” You were taken aback that he would even suggest something so barbaric. “I’m not gonna kill her! I want her to be better! I don’t want her to be in pain anymore! I want her to be able to do the things she used to do, like riding horses, and hiking. I want her to be able to go back to school or hang out at the mall with her friends!”

The witch sighed and leaned back in his chair.

“Alright, alright, calm down. I have something.”

“Good,” you snapped angrily.

“I assume you brought some form of payment?”

“Of course I did.”

You reached over and unzipped your backpack, then dipped an arm in to rummage around. Your hand brushed against the soft fabric bag you put the “payment” in, and you pulled it out.

“Here.” You handed it to him.

He took it from you without hesitation, loosened the drawstring to open the bag, and dumped its contents out in the palm of his hand. It was a knife in a well-worn leather sheath.

He tossed the bag aside, nearly into the honey cakes, undid the button to pull back the sheath’s safety strap, and pulled the knife free. He froze when he saw the blade in its entirety.

“It was my great grandfather’s. When he died, my grandmother put it away with some of his other things. It hadn’t been touched until I fished it out of the old trunk. The blade is silver and the handle is made of elk bone. It’s a full tang hunting knife.”

“A silver hunting knife…” the witch mused. “What exactly was your grandfather hunting, I wonder… There didn’t happen to be wooden stakes in that trunk of his, did there?” he joked with a smirk.

You didn’t return the gesture.

“Yes,” you answered plainly. “There were.”

The man’s smile dropped and he looked again at the blade, still as sharp as the day that your grandfather had last sharpened it.

“That knife has killed quite a few monsters, I suspect,” you said.

“Yes, I suppose it has…”

He ran the edge of the blade down his thumb. He didn’t even wince when it cut into the flesh, just sucked his finger into his mouth to lick it clean. He slipped the blade back into its sheath and then tucked it respectfully into the bag.

“This is sufficient payment. Stay here.”

He rose from the table and made his way to the back of the cottage, toward what looked like a little library area. You watched as he stopped in front of a bookshelf, crowded with old, dusty tomes and all manner of oddities, from carved figurines of animals to something that you didn’t want to know the identity of floating in a jar of murky liquid.

As the witch rummaged around in his belongings, your eye was drawn to the rickety little staircase - if it can be even called a staircase - near the kitchen that led up into a loft. You thought you could see the end of his bed, with a handmade quilt bunched up, hastily thrown back by whoever had been lying there. It seemed you had indeed woken him, and you felt a pang of guilt. He looked disheveled and tired when he answered the door.

“Here,” his voice came from the back, drawing your attention back to him.

He was kneeling on the ground on an ornate looking rug, surrounded by pillows, with his hand in a large black wooden box. He clutched something in his right hand, something you couldn’t quite see, and used his left to close and latch the box. He pushed himself to his feet, set the box back on its dusty shelf, and then returned to you.

He didn’t sit back in his spot, just stopped beside you and held out his hand. In his palm was a small glass vial with a liquid inside that looked suspiciously like blood. Hesitantly, you took it from him and turned it over and over, inspecting it uncertainly.

“What is it?” you asked, that same uncertainty evident in your voice.

“It’s your cure,” he stated plainly as he tucked his hands into his pockets.

“Looks like blood.”

“It’s got blood in it, but that’s not all it is.”

“Whose blood?”

He sighed heavily and rolled his eyes behind his cat mask.

“Look, if you don’t want it, then give it back.”

Quickly, you held it close. “No!”

“Then quit asking questions. It’s what you wanted.”

You rose to your feet to stand before him.

“Look, I’m in the middle of the woods in a creepy witch’s cottage. Excuse me for being a little bit uncertain!”

He huffed.

“YOU came to find ME. I’m just giving you what you asked in return for the payment you gave me. Alright?”

You squinted at him, not entirely sure you wanted to argue.

“How do I know it’ll work.”

“Oh my gods,” he mumbled, and wiggled his fingers up under his mask to rub his eyes. He dropped his arms back to his side and took in a deep breath. “You gave me the knife, I give you the potion,” he said more calmly, though there was still an edge of frustration in his voice. “Give it to your sister or don’t. I don’t care. Just get out of here so I can go back to bed.”

You hesitated.

“It’s not gonna kill her?”

“It’s not gonna kill her.”

“How long will it last?”

“Forever.”

You hesitated again, then nodded and reached down for your bag. You set it on the table, pushing the honey cakes aside so that you could unzip it and tuck the vial safely inside.

“Don’t break it,” the witch warned. “Unless you want to pay for another one.”

You didn’t respond. There were other things you could give, sure, but you really didn’t want to make the trek back through the forest again. You weren’t even sure you would be able to find this place a second time.

You shrugged your backpack on and held out your hand.

“Thank you for your help and the food. I hope you get some sort of use out of the knife.”

He looked down at your hand, but didn’t move to shake it.

“Sure, uh… You’re welcome. I hope I never see you again.”

You scoffed, but weren’t able to contain the playful smile that pulled at the corners of your lips.

“Ditto,” you chuckled. “Here’s to never meeting again.”

You returned your hand to your side and then turned to go. He followed you to the door, and you could feel his eyes on the back of your neck as you stepped out of the clearing and back into the shadows of the trees.

It was a few minutes later, as you were struggling once more through the underbrush that you had forgotten to ask the witch if you could use his bathroom.