#No glaze today we die like men

[thefloatingstone]

Trying to figure out how to make squid boy emote because every time I've drawn him so far he looks very stern and it just didn't sit right with me. Also the more I played the more I noticed how his expressions change.

Anyway this is what I got so far. I plan to do more because hoo boy is it tricky to pull certain emotions out of him.

[joylinda-hawks]

How dare you raise your hand to the man from Siji Manor. WOH, episode 35, part 6. WKX lies barely alive under a tree. The Scorpion King and his men approach him and tell him that he hasn't seen WKX in a long time. Du Pusa goes to MHY's body for the Glazed Armor fragments. The Scorpion King calls WKX an ally and states that WKX was full of energy the last time they met. He asks what happened to get WKX in this condition. Du Pusa takes the bag and gives it to the Scorpion King, who checks its contents. The Scorpion King says he will collect MHY tinted glass lock pieces if WKX allows it. WKX weakly tells the Scorpion King to take them and disappear because he is blocking the sun. The Scorpion King smiles and Du Pusa says that she has admired WKX for a long time and asks if he will let her say goodbye to WKX. The Scorpion King looks pointedly at the woman and she steps back. Scorpion says someone as big as WKX deserves to do it themselves. If anyone else did it, it would be disrespectful. With that, Scorpion pulls out his hidden weapon and runs up to WKX to deliver the final blow. However, his attack is interrupted by a sword appearing out of nowhere. The Scorpion King and his men jump away from WKX. ZZS appears as a ghost and puts his sword to the Scorpion King's neck. Du Pusa and his men run up to him. Between them and WKX stands ZZS. ZZS says in a firm voice how dare the Scorpion King raise his hand against the man from Siji Manor. The Scorpion King replies that ZZS has made great progress in martial arts. In almost a whisper, WKX calls ZZS an idiot and asks why he came here. ZZS replies that he came here to die with a madman like WKX. WKX smiles. The Scorpion King hears this and asks why they don't die together. He adds that no one will get out of the Ghost Valley alive today, because it is full of puppets. ZZS says that even if he were to die here today, he would take the Scorpion King with him. Scorpion, still with the sword around his neck, replies that they can both die here together, so why bring him into this. The road to hell would be boring, he asks them to be reasonable people and asks if there is no other option. ZZS says it's fine and tells him to stop Glazed Armor and ZZS to stop WKX, who listens to ZZS's words with a sigh. After a while, the Scorpion King tells them to go and, adding that there is no point, he retreats with his men. Again we have a scene with a clash of two characters, or actually three. The Scorpion King does not want to be dependent on anyone and that is why he wants to kill WKX, he is an unscrupulous man for whom only the chosen goal counts. ZZS is a proud man - a sect leader who defends his younger brother. He doesn't care that he is alone and has four opponents. For him, Glazed Armor is not important, only WKX. WKX is glad that ZZS came for him. Even though WKX deceived him, ZZS sides with him. Once again, we also have excellent acting by ZZH and GJ.

[chaosfairy18]

Ok so little talk before this, this is based on events actually happening on the 25th (and the following days) of December 1914 and since it is only recorded that year and not any after I put this in an au of sorts where a lot of the boys didn't migrate to the USA (or at least came back to Europe in... unfortunate times)

A bit of talk of death but nothing happens

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

Half-opening his eyes he saw his breath materialize in the cold air in front of him, temperatures having been freezing for days now. Since he had woken up once more, it meant it was the First day of Christmas now, the 25th of December. But Michael didn’t feel celebratory, not where he was.

“Hey, Skittery. Up you go.” Steffen tapped him on the shoulder, both having slept through the night, the others holding the fort through the night. There hadn’t even been one shot or grenade through it and he was glad for that. Even having bad luck, with being here at all, he could at least get one lucky night.

“Merry Christmas, Snitch.”, he murmured, heaving himself up and righting what was left of his uniform, looking at the medals with disdain.

He’d been drafted into the German Army, no matter if he had been living with his mother and brother in Britain for the last three years, and he didn’t even know where Benny was now, hopefully not sitting in a trench at the French border, hopefully just working in a lazarette or doing planning. But he wasn’t hoping for much, as he wouldn’t have started with a higher rank like Michael had – it was only because he was over 30 already, they needed far too many soldiers and had far too little professional ones so the older people getting drafted got a modicum of responsibility.

Skittery hated being stuck there, in the cold, in the dirt and smell, hoping every day it wouldn’t be another one of his friends dying, shooting at Brits and Frenchmen he didn’t even want to fight, just because Austria-Hungary and Germany had made enemies.

It seemed like the day was peaceful and quiet, for now at least, and he and Snitch met up with Dutchy who’d already been awake a while. The guy was even more unlucky then they’d been as he’d never even lived in Germany, only having had a German father and living in Holland. But the drafters got everyone if they really wanted that.

“Any plans for today, Skitts?”, asked Dutchy, peering over the edge into the no man’s land, not even the snow moving in the few meters between them and the other soldiers. Honestly, it was weird, being called Skittery again after so many years. He’d had the name as a newsboy in the bigger city he’d lived in as a kid, the place he’d met Snitch all these years ago actually, but he hadn’t used it in ten years, until getting here. But donning another name and character made the fight just a bit more bearable, pretending it was just the fight for food and against the rich, not a fight against poor freezing soldiers just like him, being thrust in a situation none of them asked for.

On Christmas of all things. “No plans. Maybe we can spend a peaceful day today. I wouldn’t shoot if they don’t, I’m tired of it and I don’t wanna bury someone on this day of all things.”

“You think they’d really wait it out just because we don’t do anything?”

Michael shrugged. “We could negotiate.” The other two just looked at him confusedly. He shrugged again. “We could go over and offer Christmas Peace.”

“Are you nuts? They’ll shoot on sight if we go up there.”

Skittery’s eyes glazed over slightly, not even fazed at the idea of dying. “If it happens it happens. Good a day as any to die, but I want to try it.”

Somehow, all three of them had climbed out of the trenches, walking without weapons into the no man’s land, snow crunching under their shoes, still fresh where no grenades had disrupted it. Nothing moved or shot until they were almost halfway through, when two men – one in a British and one in a French uniform – climbed out as well. At least that seemed like a good start.

The British man spoke first, when they were all standing across each other, seeing an opposing soldier up close without weapons for the first time. They didn’t look any different from them, even around the same age. “What do you want?”

Being the one who spoke the best English – even if Dutchy and Snitch weren’t too horrible – Skittery answered: “To discuss a ceasefire during Christmas. We don’t have any orders from above to start anything and it’s not really a day to fight a way.”

Both looked surprised he even spoke English well, none the less with a London accent. The blond Frenchman with an eyepatch was the next to talk: “We can agree to that. Everyone stays on their side.”

For a few moments, an awkward silence hung in the air. Skittery debated with himself if he should ask a favour, now that he was already on a talking basis. He turned to the brit with glasses. “Could you do me a favour and write my mother for me? She lives south of London and any letter I’d write wouldn’t go through, I just want her to know I’m at least still okay.”

“Not like she’d want anything to do with you anymore.”, interrupted the blond soldier, clearly joking.

Skittery rolled his eyes. “Bet your Ma never wanted anything to do with you, eyepatch.”

Laughing, he held out a hand with a cigarette. “It’s Blink actually. Cigarette?”

He took it while still saying: “Nah, I only smoke Turkish cigarettes.”

With everyone quietly laughing you almost forgot that they were soldiers in the middle of fought over land, from different sides. It might have just been the Christmas Spirit, or maybe they were already tired after just a few months of war.

Somewhere to the left he could hear a few of his men start a quiet rendition of “Alle Jahre Wieder”, breaking the quiet for a welcomed nostalgic feeling, as if they just stood on a field near a little town during Christmas time. He could see a few more soldiers of both sides daring to cross out of the trenches, some even getting close enough to talk, a little snowball fight even breaking out between some Frenchmen, quickly pulling more people in.

“Weird to hear songs in another language.”, commented the soldier with glasses, looking in the vague direction the singing was coming from, having switched to another song.

“If you want to hear three more languages you wouldn’t understand, just say the word.”, jabbed Dutchy, pulling the unsuspecting man away to probably talk his ear off about languages.

The officers broke their little discussion apart after that, going their merry way and at least Skittery himself was just taking a few deep breaths of cold December air, watching the smoke of his new cigarette travel into the sky, listening to the various Christmas songs sung behind him. Some spiced tea and he’d feel right at home.

Looking to the ground again he found a few younger soldiers with British uniforms, all notably younger than he was, the closest to him with dark hair and rubbing his red fingers, not wearing any gloves. He must have been about Benny’s age, 22. So young and already stuck out here, but still laughing with his friends and building little snow figures like they weren’t in a warzone.

Skittery walked back to his trench, getting a pair of gloves that was supposed to go to a soldier that had fallen two weeks ago, and brought them up to the freezing young man, so similar to his younger brother. “Don’t freeze your fingers off.”

The boy looked up in surprise, but took the cloth regardless. “At least they don’t got your ugly eagle on them. Wouldn’t want to be mistaken for a Kraut.”, he joked and Skittery rolled his eyes, just barely holding back from ruffling his hair like he’d do with Tumbler just in that moment.

“Yeah, yeah, so much thanks for a Christmas present.”

The peaceful day they’d had didn’t last, it never could, not with orders from above, or changing soldiers in the trenches, but it was different now, knowing the faces of your opponents, knowing their Christmas songs, knowing some were just like his brother.

And he thought of that day a lot when, finally, he found Benny again almost three years later, even if they both had scars and wounds they’d found each other alive again, in December of all times, almost making it home again for Christmas in time.

Duane Street December, Day 22: Bad Luck

[iaminsane-blog]

Little Lady, Big Guns.

here is chapter/part 2, hope you guys enjoy :)

As I sat in my cozy office decorated with various small portraits and nick knacks, continued to set out the base modeling on a piece of sketch paper for my newest invention. Throwable tasers. A small sketch of balls equipped with two metal prongs jutting out of one vertices. The slightly weighted metal prongs allowed for the taser to imbed itself into the skin of the victim.  This device would be perfect for far scale attacks, I know director Price would be pleased to see my work. To be truthful weapons weren’t my first interest for a career, it all started in a small gun shop off the coast of San Diego. 

Stumbling into the shop was like walking into a small cave, the walls covered in band posters, the slight smell of gunpowder. It was all unfamiliar but nonetheless comforting. An Old man with young eyes sat on a barstool chair behind the counter and his eyebrow quirked up slightly at the sight of me. 

“Can I help you ma’am?”

I held his gaze and let my eyes draw slightly to the right, to the large handheld gun case next to him. 

“I just moved into an apartment alone and I need a gun for safety.”

It was that simple sentence that launched into a full 30 month journey, first with buying, then the training lessons, the cleaning, hanging out at the store day by day. Mr.Wilcox and I had became extremely  close, with his extensive knowledge and my willing to learn we made a good team. It was when that April a call from a local hospital caught my phone. Mr. Wilcox was caught with a nasty case of stage 4 prostate cancer. Apparently he had known for a while, and simply wished to find a suitable heir to pass his beloved shop onto. It was that hot, humid day in April that I sat by his bedside, clutching keys he had pressed into my palm.

“Mr.Wilcox I have to ask one question, why didn’t you tell me?”

His eyes, glazed over and slightly cloudy still sparkled with a twinge of life.

“ If I had told you that I was going to die, you would’ve acted towards me with unconscious entitlement. And that would’ve blinded your true character. I trusted you with my life and now beyond that I trust you with my shop. Thank you Vera, I think its time.”

And as he closed his eyes peacefully I did the same, the only sound being the slow decline of the heartbeat monitor. 

A small wet spot appeared on my sketch and I swiped away at the sudden tears. I didn’t even register the small knocking coming from the doorframe, the tall frame of Soap. 

“Are you..are you okay?”

His gentle voice caught me a tiny bit off guard, but I needed to deflect his attention. 

“Yeah I was just you know, chopping onions so the tears.”

He gave me a small perplexed look but a small smirk accompanied it. 

“Well me and the boys were wondering if you wanted to come with us to lunch, we like to give newbies the rundown.” I stood and quickly swept up by drawings into my drawer, turning the lock and placing the small key into my back pocket. My outfit of choice today was another patterned skirt with instead a fitted long sleeve black turtleneck. My glasses had slightly slidden down my nose and I adjusted them accordingly before walking up to Soap with a smile. 

“I just have to warn yah, some of these guys haven’t so much as seen a woman in a while. And unfortunately they’ll see you as fresh meat.”

I gave him a tight lipped smile, I appreciated the warning but however I trusted myself. 

“Thanks Soap, but don’t you worry I can carry my own. Let’s go, I’m starving.”

The grayish lump that they called mashed potatoes and the slight orange burnt piece of meat they called beef steak did little to ignite my appetite. As I followed through behind Soap in the lunch line I got a view of the lunch room. Large metal tables situated row by row, each with a group of men seated. And each group of men seemed to have many sets of eyes, all of which were gazing directly at me. While Soap lead the way to my table it seemed very conversation that I passed had stopped, and each head turned my way. I sat down at the table next to Soap and across from Gaz and Ghost, and ghost still worn that damn mask. 

“Can this even be classified as food?”

I moved around the mash on my plate trying to find it somewhat appealing.

“Well it’s high in calories and resembles some sort of lump, So it’s good enough for us”

i let out a small giggle and reached forward for my coffee, straight black just how i like it. Being on this base for only a couple weeks didn’t give me enough time to fully discover it, and i might’ve heard in passing about a local bar.

“Well being a newbie I don’t get told everything but I might’ve heard through the grapevine that there’s a local bar around here? Do y’all know anything about that?”

the playful hint of my voice drew a slight smirk from Soap, who shot a half lidded glance to Ghost.

“Vera you have just trespassed into a dangerous land.”

His ominous answer only peaked my interest more.

“Come one Soap, let up. I’m a big girl I can take it”

He let out a small laugh and leaned forward, as did the others. Inviting me into an inner circle meeting. 

“Listen for newbies they do a certain, uh. Welcoming ritual of sorts. If you can handle yourself then we’ll swing by after lights out and take you . Just be warned it could get embarrassing.”

“I’m in, this is gonna be fun.”

A buzzing from the phone in my pocket brought my attention to an incoming call, from Director Prince. 

“Sorry boys, business calls.”

I collected my half eaten food and coffee while holding my phone between my shoulder and cheek. Walking away from the group.

at the table

“They’re gonna go hard on her.”

“Let’s just hope she isn’t a lightweight.”

Ghost’s jaw clicked with annoyance. He didn’t want you to get black out drunk in front of a group of eager men. It made his stomach churn and his heart burn. He figured showing chivalry, the one trait most of these men didn’t have…. perhaps she’d take notice. 

[dourpeep]

The men of Genshin as romance types:

This just kind popped up in my head after thinking about Xiao's characterization! I might add to this in the future, but for now it's just a small list of headcanons + a short blurb :>

Contains: Lots of fluff, lightly suggestive

Features: Albedo, Venti, Kaeya, Xiao, Zhongli, Childe, and Diluc

Note: you can be soft and still top btw, this is only for how they'd be romantically

Sweet:

Albedo

Albedo is also shown canonically to do little gestures like give people the sketch he did of them to see them smile, this man might seem kinda standoffish at first, but he's not cold

From his voicelines and story, we also know that Albedo is the type of person to think pretty deeply about everything around him

His brain goes 100 miles an hour with all the possibilities and scenarios he can think of

So with his s/o, the best thing that could happen is that he'll take the time to really slow down and unwind

Being a busy, busy man in pursuit of knowledge beyond anyone's comprehension, Albedo rarely gets time off (his sketches are considered research, in a way, no?)

So once he's finally at home, there will be lots of little shows of affection

Passing behind you, perhaps a light touch on your back or shoulder to let you know he's there

On a particularly rough day, he'll sit facing you with his forehead resting on your chest and just--take your hands and put them in his hair

Not really the type to pamper, but there's no doubt of his love

Probably the type of guy to like sitting close in silence

Maybe on the nights you cook, he'll come and wrap his arms around your waist, head leaning on your shoulder as he watches you work

Quietly, you lay on the couch tangled up in his arms, the soft sound of breathing and the light warmth you feel lulling you to sleep. It seems that, even though Albedo is left half asleep from a long day of research, he still continues to trace mindless little patterns on the back of your hand with his thumb. You shift, and he hums, pulling you closer.

Venti

The man’s been through so much, honestly

He's lost his closest friend, helped a rebellion usurp a tyrant, been through a war that lasted centuries, watched as another friend he'd known since birth fall to corruption (but ultimately was saved)

Point being, he's tired and just wants to have his fun

True to his nature, he likes to tease and poke at his s/o, but nothing that can't be undone (after all, a prank isn't funny if it's permanent)

Hand holding, is a must! Venti is a very affectionate person who isn't afraid to express his feelings when it comes to his s/o

Lots of smooches too! (Please smooch him back)

Speaking of hands and smooches, he's the type to bring your hand to his lips and give each your fingertips a little kiss. They've done so much for you and allow him the joy of holding them, so it's the least he can do!

His type of love is free and sweeter than the scent of cecelias, soft as the wind that kisses your skin

Really, he wants to be able to treasure you as much as he can in the time you have together

Today was a picnic date kind of day. A basket filled with fresh, ripe sunsettias and a few dishes you both worked together to make (mostly you, after what happened with Venti's apple cake) sat on top of a sturdy blanket laid on the grass. Head laid in your lap, the wandering bard strummed idly on his lyre, adding a lovely backdrop to an already perfect day.

Romantic:

Kaeya

Of course, the suave Captain doesn't stop with honeyed words

Mysterious as he is, he takes what he does in stride

If he could spend all his life entwined with you, he'd die a happy man

Kaeya is the type of partner to romance with candlelight and nighttime strolls on the beach

A little cheesy, yes, but all the more to sweep you off your feet

Flirty, he likes to take his time with his love and while he similarly treasures his s/o, it's in the way the fairytales are written

Perhaps a little cliche at times

Nevertheless, he's the type of partner to sweep you into a dance despite there being no music and dip you low (whether you both lose balance and fall is up to gravity)

He'll show his affection physically, whether through a quick kiss when you stop by the Favonious Knight's HQ, or pulling you close when you walk through a crowd on a market day

Teasing is also a big thing, if he can make you blush, his mission is accomplished

In privacy, expect his treatment to be the same--it wouldn't do any good if he leaves his dear s/o confused about how he feels

Once again, you take his hand and he sweeps you into a lively waltz, sweeping across the living room floor. Not once do his eyes leave yours. All he ever needs is the feel of you close and the rush of his heart in his chest that bubbles into something fonder when your laugh reaches his ears.

Xiao

Not the best with words, Xiao shows his love through his actions

Little gifts, helping now and then with commissions and clearing the road, he'll do it all with no expectation of thanks (should you thank him, he'll be extremely grateful for the recognition but also perhaps unsure how to react)

He doesn't tend towards physically showing affection to his s/o, so when he does, expect them to show his utter devotion

Often, Xiao questions what it is that he did to deserve such a love, but as soon as you appear in his view, it no longer matters because as long as you believe him to be worthy, why wouldn't he be?

His love is based deeply in trust. The heart is a fragile thing and to someone who's suffered so much in his lifetime, he guards it fiercely to protect himself

When he finally does allow himself the comfort of a relationship, he'll soak it up entirely

Nights spent stargazing on the top of Wangshu Inn, pinkies intertwined, or bodies held together tightly with the sweet exchange of breath

Every touch that he offers is gentle, reverent, and serves to remind him that what he's experiencing is real

He tried, really, for the thing on the plate to turn out the way that you usually make it. It's a far cry from what he remembers, but you set it down and bring your hands to his face. The sight of your beaming smile warms him deeply and he pulls you in close for a kiss.

Zhongli

Be still, my beating heart-

Just as he's full of information from the flowers of Liyue to the deepest cracks in the soil, he loves fully and unapologetically

He's lived through many eras and seen so much that it's hard to not want to express how he feels as he feels it

Deeply appreciative of whatever his s/o does and does for him

He indulges in every word, touch, feeling, and look- He's not a greedy man, but when it comes to love? There's a deep desire to feel it all

There are many ways that Zhongli expresses that love, a few being through your daily strolls through Liyue Harbor and the daily and nightly rituals the two of you have settled down into

His favorite is probably the mornings

There's something about waking up wrapped up in your lover's arms, head resting on their chest as the sun's warm beams shine through the windows that's utterly satisfying

Zhongli indulges in these little moments, favoring them over all else

Once in a while, he'll take you back to where your first date was to reminisce, perhaps even (jokingly) mention little embarrassing things either of you did

Zhongli watches as you sip at your drink and admires the way the sun compliments your eyes. You're preoccupied by the falling leaves, it seems, mentioning how they're just as brilliant gold as his. Though the feeling he feels is far from the excitement of butterflies, it has settled into a comforting sort of warmth that hopes you feel as well.

Passionate:

Childe

This man's love is wild like his personality

Loud, fun, and never quite predictable, he loves like a whirlwind and with an enthusiasm to match no other

Lots of teasing going on here, to make you blush or to mess with you, you'll never know

But it's his unapologetic fire that drew you to him to begin with

When he's not occupied with work, he'll drag you to go sight seeing

Every experience is a new experience, no matter if it's something that seems so everyday or not

His affection is in the form of tightly held hands (he doesn't want to lose you with how quickly he weaves through the crowd), well-placed winks, and kisses to steal your breath away

He also loves in a way that's fiercely protective. His job is a dangerous one and, with the way he's open with your relationship, his affection serves to protect you

But don't forget that despite his passion, he's a man who deeply treasures those close to him and, as his s/o, you'll be showered with only the best he can give you

It was only a quick break in your day, he'd assured, but it quickly became another round of seeing Liyue through his eyes. In the span of only an hour, you've already spotted an untouched patch of glaze lilies, sampled rich Li-style cuisine and fresh Yue-style cuisine, helped a young girl fetch her kite from atop a tree, and now are working your way (or rather, Childe is working your way for you) to a little area behind the busy streets to show you a pack of dogs he'd befriended. Fondly, you smile and watch as he beckons them out of hiding.

Diluc

Diluc lives for the way that his s/o brings the best out of him and, in return, he does the same back

He exudes the air of a gentleman with the way he shows his affection, but, whether intentionally or not, in an utterly enticing way

Being busy during the day with running the tavern and the winery as well as at night as the Darknight Hero (he insists you stop calling him that as well, but you don't miss the light flush of pride each time), the time he dedicates to you is left in the early morning long before you leave for the day and the evening as he settles just before he sets off

During morning time, he's often fond of running his hands over you, feeling each dip and curve, memorizing the way your hair falls and the way your lips curve when you smile

It's a quiet sort of passion

His love is expressed in the fond murmurs against your shoulder and head, sharing those moments of deep intimacy both physical and not

In the evenings, you both settle in front of the fireplace, sharing a drink or two

There's sometimes a certain look in his eye that sets your heart aflame in the dimly lit room, and sometimes he sets off a little later that night in lieu of a few more stolen moments with you

Diluc slides into your shared bed in the early hours of the morning, a bit later than usual. The shift stirs you just enough to wake up to two arms pulling you to his chest and a deep breath with his nose buried in your hair. He's no doubt exhausted. Eyes bleary, you turn until you're facing him and loosely wrap an arm around his waist. In the moments you're still half-awake, you hear a low murmur of 'love you' and you smile against his skin.

[biggest-stupidhead]

Can I ask for an request where Levi is a soldier who is pointed to protect a royal person. Then he fell in love with her active attitude, smart brain and support to the scout

AN: This took me so long. I deleted it like three times on accident so this is as good as its going to get 😂. do let me know though if I misspelled anything I didn't skim over it sooooo YOLO.

Summary: Levi is asked to attend the summer gala with !princess reader.

Word Count: 2.8 K

Warnings: mentions of Levi's scarring, some cussing? I think? that's about it

__________

Levi's hand trembled as he ran the fine toothed comb through his damp hair. He scowled back at his own reflection, eyes avoiding the pink scars that marred his skin. It had been nearly a year since he had been discharged from the military due to his injuries. At first he had struggled to find a routine, having been in the military for more than half of his life, it was a huge loss.

His hand jerked unexpectedly and the comb pulled through a knot in his hair painfully. He clicked his tongue and dropped the comb, gripping the edges of the sink to steady himself.

How pathetic.

There was a time when he could complete these tasks with no problem. But now his body seemed to be failing him, if he stood for too long his joints protested, he struggled to hold a pen due to his lack of fingers. He also wore an eyepatch to cover his milky right eye and some of the scars that covered the right side of his face.

Normally Hange would help him get ready, they were the only person he could stomach seeing him this way. But Hange was busy, they had meetings all morning. So Levi was left on his own, and he managed as well as he could. Although it took him double the amount of time it usually took, he still did it.

He grabbed his cane on his way out of his humble apartment, the carriage was waiting for him outside. In the carriage was the last person he wished to see, Zeke Jaeger. His glasses glinted in the sunlight as the coachman held the door for Levi who sat as far away from the war chief as possible.

Zeke blew out a puff of smoke, which swirled around in the small space. Levi's lip curled into a sneer, and Zeke smirked pleased to rouse a reaction from the retired Captain.

"Big day today eh Levi?" He spoke around his cigarette and Levi rolled his eyes.

"I suppose." He agreed, eyes never leaving the man.

That was about the only words exchanged between the two, the ride was thankfully short. The carriage arrived to the castle just after noon, the coachmen opened the door for Levi and Zeke. The sunlight was bright and made Levi squint, it didn't help that the castle seemed to glow as the sun bounced off of it.

"This way old friend." Zeke instructed and Levi followed begrudgingly, Zeke led Levi through the halls and into a large ball room. The castle staff was scurrying about, carrying massive bouquets of flowers and other decorations in preparation for the summer gala. Levi had attended this very event many times over his career, but he had not intended on joining in this year. Zeke paused a few feet away from Erwin, who was standing before a young woman Levi had met a handful of times. You had aged in the past two years that he hadn't seen you, although you weren't any taller, he could see the age on your face. Much as he assumed you could see in his, you also carried yourself more confidently, shoulders back, chin up.

Erwin paused and turned to greet the two men, who both saluted him and you.

"Captain, how nice to see you." You hummed, a pleased glint in your eyes as you curtsied, much to his surprise.

"You as well Zeke." You seemed less excited to see the war chief.

"Princess, you look lovely." Zeke closed the distance between the two of you, taking your hand a bit too eagerly and bringing it to his lips. You smiled a bit tersely, but allowed it.

"Ah, and you look...as hairy as the last time we met." Your jab threw Levi off, but Erwin seemed to have expected the exchange. Zeke laughed heartily and pulled back.

"Such a sharp tongue on you princess." He chuckled and you shrugged, a smug grin on those lips of yours.

"You make it easy."

"Princess, you are aware that Levi is to accompany you to this year's gala yes?" Erwin steered the conversation in a more relevant direction and you nodded.

"Mhm, and I'm very excited to be escorted by Eldia's most eligible bachelor." Levi wasn't sure if you meant it sincerely, or if it was his turn to face the wrath of your sharp words.

"I'm sure you are." Erwin chuckled, his hand falling on the back of your tricep. You gathered your skirts and took a few steps closer to Levi.

"The last time we met, you weren't keen on dancing, I do hope that's changed." You smirked at him and Levi barely fought the flush off of his cheeks as you pushed past him.

"We can go in the drawing room and discuss logistics, the gala is a mere week away after all-" Levi tuned out whatever it was Erwin was babbling about, too focused on watching you saunter out of the room.

__

Levi spent the next week trailing behind Erwin, attending meetings and luncheons with other high ranking military members. It was boring, but nothing that he hadn't done before. The day of the gala, Hange arrived with the remaining of the 104th cadet corps. Levi felt great relief at seeing the familiar faces, Hange had eagerly came to hug him, and he pretended to hate it. Mikasa even came and gave him the briefest of embraces, Connie had been the most excited, throwing his arms around his former captain and squeezing him tightly. Armin had grinned sheepishly, and offered a small wave. Jean just nodded respectively in Levi's direction. Gabby and Falco had tagged along as well, wearing their best uniforms, decorated with their medals.

"I can't believe we get to come to the summer gala!" Connie gushed, his hazel eyes wide as he soaked in the castle in all of its glory.

"We won a war." Jean huffed, eyes sharp, hand fidgeting with his medal on his lapel.

"We lost more than we won." Mikasa murmured, her own shaky hands reaching for a scarf that was no longer wrapped around her neck. The cheery mood quickly dissipated at Mikasa's statement, Hange cleared their throat and clapped their hands in an attempt to drag everyone from their thoughts.

"Let's go meet Erwin then." They said, and Levi nodded.

"Let's." The group walked through the halls, Hange in the lead and Levi at their side, it felt like old times. The kids, well they weren't really kids anymore, were beginning to return to their annoying selves.

"-will we be able to eat the food?" Gabby asked, and Levi nearly flinched, the statement reminded him all too much of Sasha. Connie seemed less phased, he sighed and brought his arms behind his neck as they walked.

"I sure hope so."

"We're here on business." Mikasa reminded them and Jean hummed in agreement.

"We're here as representatives." Armin added, and Hange chuckled.

"Use this as an opportunity children." Hange cooed, pausing in front of the doors to the drawing room.

"Have some fun, get drunk, you've earned it." Hange then pushed the doors open, revealing the cozy drawing room, Erwin sat with his legs crossed in one of the arm chairs, a book in his lap. He closed the book and stood, his sleeve hanging limply where his arm once was.

"Cadets, erm or should I say captains." Erwin chuckled awkwardly as the kids all jumped to salute him, fists clenched over their hearts.

"Commander." They all greeted in unison.

"Sit, we have much to discuss."

__

The discussion was rather tame, a short bit of it had been relevant. Where the kids were to stand, what they were to say and how they were expected to act. The rest of the afternoon had been spent catching up and enjoying each other's company. Just a few hours before the guests were to arrive, Erwin sent the group off to find their spots.

Levi found himself waiting outside of your room, his watch gripped tightly in his fist, watching the minutes tick by. You emerged about fifteen minutes after him arriving, your dress was a deep emerald green, elegantly hugging your frame in all of the right places. You smoothed the silk gown skirts and smiled at him, the red lipstick on your lips making your teeth seem extra white.

"You look ravishing Captain." You complimented, accepting his arm before walking slowly down the hall, careful to keep his pace.

"...as do you." He choked out, a blush tickling his ears.

"Did you get all done up for me?" You pressed, hand tightening around his bicep.

"No." He answered, although he was partially lying, the truth was all he could think about as he dressed, was you. How would you be dressed? Was he to match you? Or was he expected to wear his usual military dress? He had opted for the latter, and it seemed to work well, the inky black dress coat and the gold medals that decorated his lapels seemed to compliment the emerald in your dress.

"Well, I sure hope that you will at least dance with me." You pouted, shooting him a hopeful look.

"Tch." He clicked his tongue, truthfully it was all that he could mange, he was nervous enough about joining you this evening. But you asking him to dance? He had never danced in his life, and with his legs in the state they were in now?

The two of you stopped, overlooking the ball room which was already filled with guests, milling about with flutes of champagne. You snuck a glance at Levi, who was looking down at the crowd with a bored glaze over his eyes.

"Ready?" You asked, squeezing his bicep once and he nodded, chin held high as the two of you slowly made your way down the staircase. Levi's eyes scanned the crowd, searching for familiar faces, which he found in their designated spots. He knew that the king had asked him to accompany his daughter largely as a political move, not for protection as he had in the past. But old habits die hard, he double checked exits and kept an eye out for shady people, it was easier than looking at you after all. Not because you were ugly, rather the opposite, you were stunning and that intimidated him.

After at least forty five minutes of socializing, the dancing began and you tugged impatiently on his arm, which you had yet to let go of.

"Please Levi, just this once." You whispered so only he could hear, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end at your closeness.

"Princess." He said sternly, although his voice did shake a tad, and you grinned, knowing that you had nearly convinced him.

"Captain." You countered, taking a step towards the dance floor.

"Just one." he said after a moment's hesitation before falling back in step with you.

"Just one." You affirmed with a wicked grin as you led him into the mass of bodies.

Levi felt his pulse race, his anxiety was roaring he had absolutely no clue how to dance, especially with his legs in the state that they were. You seemed to sense this, carefully taking his hand and resting it on your hip as you stepped ever so closely to him. Your chest was pressed against his, and he was sure that you could feel the pounding of his heart as it threatened to escape his ribcage.

"You just follow my lead." You whispered as he brought his other hand to rest naturally in the palm of yours. He nodded, eyes wandering down to glance at his feet, which were partially concealed by your skirts.

"It goes something like this, step-" You took a step towards him and he took one back.

"Then to the left," You instructed softly and he obliged, the two of you moving slightly out of sync.

"Then forwards again." You nodded as he stepped forwards and you stepped back, skirt swaying.

"Then to the right," You chuckled as his brows remained fixed in a tight knot as he tried to focus.

"Then we do it again." You seemed satisfied, and he nodded it was simple enough, although he could already feel the strain of the activity in his joints.

"Easy." He huffed, taking the lead and you giggled and fell into step with him.

"Tell me Levi, when you went across the ocean and fought those men, who were you fighting for?" The question caught him off guard and he nearly forgot the next step.

"That's an odd question." Levi shot you a mean look and you shrugged.

"I want to know what pushed Humanities strongest to be so strong." You answered, unfazed by his sour look.

"I fight for the people." He replied curtly and you sighed.

"That's a boring answer, I want to know what really drives you." You pressed and Levi frowned.

"Its the truth."

"Then tell me a lie." You raised a brow, challenging him and he screwed his nose up in distaste.

"Why would you want me to lie to you?" He asked out of genuine curiosity, no one had ever given him such a request.

"To spice some things up I guess." You hummed nonchalantly and squeezed your hand that held his.

"Then I would tell you I fought that war for you." He regretted the words, but you seemed to be pleased by them.

"Aw so you did think of me while we were apart." You cooed and Levi nearly broke away from you, but he only gripped your hand harder.

"You were the last thing on my mind." he huffed and you let out a throaty laugh. A lie, he thought of you often.

"You really are funny." You let your head fall affectionately into the crook of his neck and he swallowed thickly, as your scent washed over him.

"I didn't mean to be."

"I know, that's what makes it funny." Your breath tickled his neck as you spoke, you seemed to be in no hurry to pull away.

"Hmph." He hummed stupidly, unable to form words with you so close.

The song ended and you lifted your head, one of those wide grins sprawled across your lips.

"That wasn't so bad was it?" You whispered cheekily and he scoffed as the two of you exited the dance floor. You both found a seat at one of the tables set on the outskirts of the room, taking a break to drink and enjoy each others company.

Levi rubbed his knee under the table, the dance had truly taken a toll on him and he barely suppressed a groan. You noticed, shooting him a concerned look.

"Does it bother you often?" You asked, dragging your chair closer to his. He rolled his eye and pulled his hand slowly away from his leg.

"No."

"You're lying, just tell me the truth."

"I thought you wanted me to lie to you." He snapped back and you scoffed.

"Not about this." You reasoned and he sighed deeply.

"Yes, it hurts like a bitch." He turned to face you, his knee knocking yours and you frowned.

"You should've told me, I wouldn't have made you dance."

"I-" He paused, catching himself before the words left his mouth. But after one look at your open and concerned face he couldn't not say what he had been wanting to say.

"I wanted to." He admitted and your eyes widened a fraction.

"You...really wanted to?" Your words were raw and clearly Levi had caught you, the witty young princess off guard.

"I did."

"Would you do it again?"

"Yes."

"Hm." A smug look crossed your face and Levi scowled at you, not liking the way you seemed to be plotting something unbeknownst to him.

"What?" He snapped and you let out a short burst of laughter.

"I knew that you weren't lying when you said that you thought about me." You teased and he growled lowly under his breath.

"Maybe that was your last dance with me."

"Easy now, let's not be hasty, we have the whole night after all darling." You patted his shoulder, standing slowly and walking around the back of his chair to squeeze his shoulders before slipping off into the crowd.

He hoped that you meant it, that you would come back even if he could not dance with you again. He hoped that you had thought of him too, that his fighting had all been worth it. To spend the rest of his life by your side, even if he was just your guard or even a political ploy. He would do it for you, and he would do so happily.

[evilcatgirlwizard]

re: tumblr finally realizing that terfs affect trans men just as much as trans women, that trans men were also revolutionaries and did ample work for our rights today

the misogyny in this chilis is PALPABLE. bc of course its the trans men who y'all completely glaze over and move off of. society has ingrained into yall the "inherent weakness" of afabs so fucking bad that yall just LOVE LOVE LOVE to whole ass forget abt the contributions trans men have made to lgbtq rights. like? tiiight good to see everyone still sucks but with a nice coat of leftist paint.

look. i love trans women. im DATING a trans woman. fuck, i AM a transfemme. but can we take a whole ass fucking step back and thank literally every trans man for having more cahones than the entire US military for having to deal with right wing lunatics calling them gross shit AND left wing dumbshits refusing to realize the pain and damage trans men have had to endure for YOUR rights?

analyze your biases. this is YOUR call out post. respect trans men as both strong AND contributors to the trans right movement. also recognize that terfs harass, demean, and torment ALL TRANS PEOPLE. it is NOT JUST TRANS WOMEN. it is nbs, trans men, genderqueer ppl, fucking ANYONE that isnt cis. theyre terfs, not twerfs. they want every trans person to suffer and die. do NOT forget this.

my fucking god.

[snelbz]

I'll Be Seeing You {2}

Nesta x Cassian, 1940′s AU

Collaboration with @tacmc​

Summary: After Cassian gets injured in the war, he’s taken to a war camp to be cared for until he gains enough strength to return to his battalion. While he’s there, he falls for a nurse that couldn’t care less about his title and doesn’t put up with his bullshit. Once he’s healed and the years pass by, he finds that there’s only one thing he wants to remember from the war, and she’s only a letter away.

Trigger Warnings: war

A/N: Enjoy a surprise chapter a couple days early, we’re just too excited for y’all to read this story.

Chapters will be posted every Monday.

Word Count: 2336

IBSY Masterlist

Shelby’s Masterlist

Tara’s Masterlist 

Nesta was making her rounds as the sun set outside of their desolate war camp.

It had been a long day, one filled with losses. After the ambush two days prior, their tent had become full. Now, there were far too many empty beds.

It never became easier.

With every soul that she attempted to heal that passed from this world to the next, she felt like a failure, even though it was impossible to save every soldier that had been injured in the heart of battle.

There were victories, though.

Those who were left in the tent were improving.

The ambush had brought in nearly fifty injured soldiers, and just over twenty of them remained.

Including Corporal Cassian Nazari, who she was walking up to now, a glass of water in hand.

He blinked a few times against the light of the guttering candle on the table, but after a moment his eyes settled on her. Settled, but still glazed with pain.

“Nurse Nesta,” he said, voice rasping from sleep, attempting to resituate himself in the uncomfortable bed, with one good arm. “Is it time for my sponge bath already?”

She sighed through her nose and closed her eyes, resisting the urge to rub her temples.

Most men in the infirmary were polite, respectful, grateful to be taken care of, especially knowing what befell their fellow soldiers who hadn’t been quite as lucky as they were. The first day she’d attended to the corporal, she’d assumed his inappropriate comment about foreplay had been some sort of unintended joke, something he hadn’t been able to control as he awoke.

But as Cassian slowly healed, Nesta learned those little comments were quite regular for him. And when he learned that they made her blush, or even snap at him occasionally, it only made him say them more frequently.

“I’ll give you a bucket and a sponge and you may help yourself,” she quipped. “Does that interest you?”

He laughed, quietly, but winced as it seemed the simple shaking of his shoulders brought a bout of pain. “You’re in a good mood today.”

“Why do you think that?” she asked.

“You joke with me,” Cassian said, shrugging a shoulder. “You joke when you’re in a good mood.”

“I don’t joke,” she replied. “I only give back what is given to me, even though I do it in a far more appropriate way.”

“There are worse things than being inappropriate,” Cassian promised her.

Nesta simply shook her head. “Here.”

He took the pill from her palm and took it, swallowing it with the glass of water she gave him. For a moment, his eyes closed and he sighed, deeply.

“How are you feeling today?” She asked, sitting down in the chair next to the table. He opened his eyes and she reached out to feel his head. He had been feverish the night before, and she was worried about infection setting in.

He was just as clammy as he’d been, if not more so. There was a slight sheen of sweat on his brow, but before she said anything, she wanted to hear it from him. Even if she was fairly sure it would be a lie laced with male bravado.

“Fine,” he replied, though he attempted to sit up with one arm again and winced. “Like I could get back on the battlefields right now.”

Rolling her eyes, she stood. “Too bad that won’t be happening yet.”

She strode for the medicine cabinet in the center of the tent, aiming for an antibiotic strong enough to stave off the infection. His own inability to keep still had led she and Madja to band his fractured arm to his side, but this kept the bullet wounds on his back from airing out. It was about choosing the lesser of two evils with this man it seemed.

Last night, they’d elected to set his arm. Tonight, it seemed he’d go back in the sling and she’d see what needed tending to on his back.

“Are you allergic to penicillin, Corporal?” Nesta asked, coming back to his cot.

“Not that I’m aware of, but I have a feeling that we’re about to find out for certain,” he noted, chuckling, then breaking into a cough fit.

“Alright,” she sighed, and pulled him fully into sitting position. “It seems you still have a fever. I’m going to give you this penicillin. Then, I’m going to take off your bandages and clean your wounds.”

“And then?” he asked.

Nesta blinked, hesitating as she a needle with the drug. “Pardon?”

“After you clean my wounds, what will you do?” Cassian asked, that sly smile remaining. “Because I have a few ideas-.”

“Corporal,” Nesta interrupted. “I am here to heal you, and nothing more.”

Cassian lifted a brow. “First of all, it’s Major, actually. It’s been years since I was a corporal. Secondly, I thought we could play a card game. What was it you were thinking?” Nesta’s cheeks heated and she ignored his pointed question. “My apologies, but Private Hale said—.”

“He knows nothing, which is why he’s only a private.”

She cleared her throat and held out her hand, letting him take the two pills in her palm. He did so, without any commentary, which Nesta took as a blessed relief.

She retrieved the sling his arm had previously been in, as well as fresh bandages, an ewer of fresh water and a bottle of antiseptic.

And a bit to put between his teeth in case the pin became too unbearable.

With a few tugs on the knots tying them together, Nesta unwrapped his arm from his body, not taking a full look at his back yet.

Almost immediately, Cassian tried to stretch out his arm, which earned him a chastising look from Nesta. “It’s tight,” he defended.

“If you move it too much before it’s had time to set and heal, tight will be the least of your worries, Major,” she replied, carefully tying the two ends of the fabric sling around his neck. “Not to mention your shoulder is still too weak as well. Do you want to dislocate it again?”

He grumbled something that sounded similar to No, ma’am, and sat still while Nesta settled his arm into place.

Once she tended to his arm, she prepared herself to examine his back again.

“This isn’t going to feel good,” she warned, taking in the angry, red skin puckering the edges of the wounds. They’d been able to retrieve the bullets while he was unconscious, but they weren’t in the most ideal and clean conditions for a healing to take place. Gently pressing her fingers around the mildest looking one earned a hiss and sudden jerk from Cassian. As well as puss, far more puss than Nesta was expecting. “I’m going to have to clean these out.”

“Can’t you give me more of that stuff that put me under and do what you need to do?”

His words weren’t unkind, but the tone… Nesta knew he was in pain.

She could, of course, but the powdered pain killer was much stronger than what she’d already administered. Not to mention is much, much shorter supply. It was reserved for surgeries, mostly, or life-threatening injuries.

An injury like the major had been brought in with at the time.

Not for a standard, but nasty, infection, unfortunately.

War was unfair, Nesta decided then. She’d known it for quite a while, watching good men die for their lands, but it was evident in that moment as she looked at the man’s ravaged back before her.

“Unfortunately, no,” she said, at last. “But I promise to work quickly.”

He gave her a curt nod and braced himself.

The alcohol burned, she knew that, she knew that it had to feel like fire was being lit to the surface of the skin, but as she poured the alcohol over the wound and began to clean it, the only sense of pain that Cassian showed was his rigid posture.

“Bear with me,” Nesta muttered, beginning to rebandage the wound.

“Got any whiskey?” he asked.

Despite herself, Nesta snorted. “No, I don’t. Is that your drink of choice, major?”

She was trying to distract him, trying to make the time go by just a little bit quicker as she worked.

“Usually,” he said, and huffed. “Every now and then I like to order a simple lager.”

“Lager,” she repeated. “What a luxury.”

“It has been a while,” he agreed.

She worked in silence for a few minutes, having to go so far as to scrape out the bits of skin that were too far gone and only likely to slow down the healing process. But when his breathing became ragged as she started on the worst of the wounds, the one right near his spine, she asked, “What’s the first meal you’re going to have when you get home? What have you been dreaming of since you enlisted?”

Mindless chatter, she reminded herself, was just as effective as a painkiller.

He was quiet for a moment, only hissing as she pressed the alcohol-soaked rag to his back. She had accepted he wasn’t going to answer when he softly asked, “Don’t you mean if?”

She was suddenly very thankful that she was working on his back and was unable to see his face. Playing dumb, she kept him talking. “I’m afraid I don’t follow.”

“Don’t you mean if I get home?” He asked. His voice was hollow, lacking the warmth it usually did when he spoke. It was unlike what she’d started to grow accustomed to. “This is a war we’re in the middle of, ma’am.”

She cleared her throat, continuing to work. “I think you ought to change your manner of speech, major, or you’ll be more likely to conscribe yourself to believe the worst.” Pressing a clean bandage to his skin to staunch the bleeding, she asked, “Now about that meal, sir?”

Surprising her, he laughed, quietly. “I guess I haven’t thought about it too much. My mother used to make a mean pork roast. With carrots and potatoes. That would hit the spot right about now.”

Nesta couldn’t help but lick her lips at the thought of a nice, hot, homemade dinner. “How about dinner rolls?”

Cassian hummed. “My mom used to make the fluffiest dinner rolls. She used to make me roll the dough. I hated it, until it was time to eat them.”

She smiled to herself. “My sister Elain loves to bake. She makes this pear crumble…” Shaking her head, she sighed. “It’s the best. Especially when she whips cream to put on top.”

“I don’t remember the last time I had a warm dessert,” he admitted, wincing as she applied antibacterial cream to the wounds. Turning to glance at her, he amended, “Actually, I don’t remember the last time I had a hot meal.”

The words hurt Nesta’s heart. The food they had in the med camps weren’t great, but she was sure they were better than rations the soldiers were issued.

“Tell me more about your sister,” he breathed, clearly needing the distraction while she worked.

Nesta sighed. “Which one?”

“How many do you have?” he asked.

“Two,” Nesta said. “Couldn’t be more opposite of one another. Feyre, the youngest, would rather spend her time painting, or outdoors in the woods behind our house, while Elain prefers to spend her time baking, or in her garden.”

Cassian nodded, thoughtfully. “And you?”

“What of me?” she asked, beginning to rebandage his wounds.

“What do you prefer to do with your time?” he pushed.

Nesta’s hands slowed. She wished she had more time to fill as of late. “I enjoy reading, I suppose.”

“You suppose?” he asked, then chuckled.

“What’s so funny about that?” Nesta asked, eyes narrowed at the back of his head.

“You either do or you don’t,” he said, shrugging, and wincing from the simple motion. “But, you suppose.”

Nesta scoffed. “Fine. I enjoy reading.”

“What manner of books?”

She hesitated for a moment. “Romance.”

He snorted. “Of course. Let me guess, a knight in shining armor, coming to rescue a damsel in distress?”

Nesta’s cheeks heated as his guess was nearly spot on of the plot of one of the tattered, well-loved books she kept in the small bag she brought with her from home. “And what’s so wrong with a knight saving a lady who needs help?”

“Nothing,” he replied, trying to shift his hurt arm. She adjusted the sling to hold him tighter. “I just think it’s a silly ideal to hold. Not everyone is going to have someone come save them.”

She was suddenly very aware of the fact that they were in a med camp in the middle of war.

“I guess you’re right,” she mused. “But I don’t see why that should stop anyone from dreaming.”

Cassian huffed and said nothing more.

When Nesta was finished, she asked, “How does that feel?”

“As good as it can,” he answered, in grumpy sincerity. “Although, I still wouldn’t mind that sponge bath.”

“Has anyone ever told you how ridiculously impossible you are?” she asked, the words flying out of her mouth before she could think better of it.

Cassian’s smile only grew. “If only you knew.”

Nesta’s chin rose as she tried to make sense of his remark, but she asked, “Can I get you anything else for the time being?” Cassian opened his mouth, but Nesta interrupted with, “Nothing that has to do with sponges.”

He laughed, quietly. “A cure for boredom?”

Just as Nesta was getting ready to reply, a cry came from just outside the tent, and her body was tensing, preparing itself. Madja’s eyes connected with hers, and Nesta’s feet were immediately in motion.

Another body coming in, caught in warfare.

It seemed he would have to entertain himself, as Nesta was once again vividly reminded that no one may ever come to save her.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t save someone else.

[butcheranons]

Bad Influence

summary: You love Bad more than anything else; well, maybe not as much as The Egg, but he’s up there. 

Unbeknownst to you, he hides his true nature with the kindest human eyes you’d ever seen. 

word count: 2.8k

A/N: this was once a drabble  👍 👍 (no beta we die like wilbur)

warnings: unprotected sex, somewhat exhibitionism (if you count the egg as a voyeur), overstimulation, breeding kink if you squint, too many pet names.

anatomy: gender neutral 

“Bit higher," You raise your hands along with your words, guiding the two men holding the decorative banner. “Perfect.“

“Where do these chairs go?” Turning your head at the new voice, you frown at the state of the furniture.

“What are these?”

“Dinner chairs.”

“They sure don’t like the ones I ordered.”

“What? They’re exactly as you requested, black dining chairs with red cushioning.”

“Red?!” You scoff, “I ordered black iron with crimson cushions! This is cherry! What are we? A picnic?!” You roll your eyes.

“C’mon, no one will notice the difference, just take these we have a lot of work to do.”

Your neck snaps at the sound, raised eyebrows as you hum, expecting him to say something else, but alas, he doubled down.

"I said: Just take em', we have five other deliveries today."

"What?!" There's this little pang of annoyance that sets on your nape, leaving your muscles sore at the thought of having to deal with lazy workers. "I have paid upfront."

He rolls his eyes.

"You insolent little thing..." Gritting your teeth, you look around before stepping forward, "Take these back or you and your bosses will hear from me. I will not let this pass. How dare you?!"

"Man... Why do you have to complicate, it's already paid for, just fuckin' take it."

"Language...!"

You hear a chime from behind and your shoulders relax, turning around there's this heat that creeps up your body when your eyes meet his.

"What's wrong, my little muffin?" His hands wrap around your waist, pulling you into his chest and letting his warmth envelop your body. He never failed to surprise you with how warm he was; constantly.

"Oh, sugar bear," You whine, tangling your fingers into his. "This is the end of the world! I asked for black iron with crimson cushioning and look at this disaster!"

He nods, a bit confused, trying to differentiate between the shades, but feeling your upsetness. "Cupcake, why don't you go manage the catering samples while I sort this out? I'm sure you will love the red velvet cake, I sure did!"

A wide smile breaks out on your lips, you give him a kiss on the cheek before running off to the kitchen, nothing but sweet red velvet cake and cherry pies on your mind. Welcomed by the scent of whipped cream and lemonade you're carried by your stomach to the caterer holding the delicacies.

Your tasting is interrupted by the loud banging of metal outside and you consider scolding your lazy workers, but give your attention to the cake samples instead.

You're sampling the chocolate red velvet with cherry frosting when Bad bursts through the doors, wiping his face with the crimson handkerchief you'd gifted him last anniversary. A sweet smile fills your face, "Honeypie, try this one!"

When his eyes meet yours, your heart fills with a sugary coating that seeps through your veins and directly into your brain, "I've had my filling, which one is your favourite?"

Humming, you let your body rest against his, "Mhm... Chocolate is the best, by far... But lemon is so good!"

"You've got a little bit of whipped cream..." His whispers are hot against your lips before he captures them, tongue flicking across the corners and to your cheek.

The heat in your body is noticeable.

"Thanks..."

"Mhm... This one is the best."

You giggle, slapping his chest, "You're so corny–"

"Only for you, my little blueberry muffin."

When the workers leave, the hall is a dazzling ruby tone all over, the vines seem to almost glow in pride, cascading from the ceiling like a blood waterfall. You wade through the floor they carefully polished, carpet over the dining room muffling your steps.

"Oh, it's perfect, honey bun!"

Bad gleams in joy, rushing to your side, admiring you almost as much as he adores the vines. "I was worried they wouldn't make it in time, but it's perfect."

"What about the mechanisms?"

"Ah, yes, Ant did a great job, come, look..." He holds your hand, pulling you through the hallway leading to the the egg. "We'll have them step right here," pointing to a large tile on the ground, he pulls a lever, which quickly raises it about two feet above your head. "And then it's just, wack!" His hands swing around in an attack motion and you smile.

Your heart palpitates at the thoughts of watching the sacrifice, having the best seat. From the raised position, the blood would splatter all over the watchers, a cloud of beautiful crimson falling at their heads.

"Oh...my almond cookie, this is beautiful! The Egg will be so proud!"

Bad chuckles at your praise, letting himself blush. He pulls the lever to lower back the platform as to leave everything in place.

You take a step forward, the heels of your shoes announce your movement. Standing at the centre, you face the egg, an unnatural warmth fills your chest. You pull at your blouse to appease your brain, though you know it wouldn't help. When your eyes meet Bad's, you can see his breath hitch, he makes it out as a cough.

"Join me, sugar bear!" You reach out your arms, eyes reflecting the red of everything around you.

Bad doesn't hesitate to follow your orders, pulling the lever and running across to catch the platform as it rises above the ground. You catch him in your arms, hands gliding across his chest and nape, he shivers under your touch.

"Do you want to give The Egg a show, muffin?'

Your pulse is so fast you believe anyone would be able to hear it, human or not. "Yes..." You nod, voice too breathless for the lack of action. The smile that catches his lips is almost demonic, and your chest craves him. His hands tease at your chest and you melt into his touch, "Please..."

"If you ask so nicely..." His whispers fall deaf in your ears but cut deep into your skin, burrowing in goosebumps along your body. "...Then I can't refuse."

When your lips meet his, it's sweet.

Sweeter than anything else you could ever wish for and you want to get lost in his kisses.

He holds you gently, but below the delicate fingers, there's this firmness that makes your heart stop. You know no one else could ever pry you off his arms and you're not opposed to the idea of being with him, on him 24/7.

Tongue exploring your mouth, you moan, hands occupied with fistfuls of his white dress shirt. You tug at the golden buttons, wanting nothing but to feel his chest on yours, let his body heat consume you and lull you into comfort.

"Do you trust me, muffin?"

You nod, your eyes glazed in lust can barely focus on his at this point. Bad smiles, placing a kiss on your forehead, he inhales your taste, your scent, your everything.

And then, he pushes you off the platform.

You feel the way your heart immediately jumps at the sight of danger, there's this cold that pools in your stomach and runs through your body, lowering your body temperature.

And before you know, you... fall?

But you don't meet the ground.

When you open your eyes, you're met with the under view of Bad's prideful grin. The vines around your arms feel hot, too hot. But they lift you up until you're in his reach again.

"Hi..." You breathe out, your heart still too unsettled to spot pounding in your chest.

You thought you'd die, or at least, get badly injured. Not that you didn't trust him, but maybe he made some errors in his calculations.

But then, again, if he wished for you to fall without the vines this time, you probably would.

And Bad pulls you in his arms, nose brushing against yours and you wonder how would ever doubt your little muffin?

"Did I scare you too much?" He caresses your cheeks, brushing your hair away from your face with so much adoration in his eyes you feel like a deity.

"No... just a little jumpscare."

He chuckles, kissing your nose softly, "Good."

You smile, wrapping your arms around his neck, letting his body flush against yours and fit you so perfectly. But you know you wish for a little bit more; after so much adrenaline, you feel some little... cravings.

And as if he read your mind, his hands wander your body, reaching for your waist with a little bit more force than usual. His fingers have no difficulty taking care of your belt or pants, he picked them out, anyway.

You let yourself loose in his kisses, your own fingers lost in his hair, pulling around the corners you know he likes a bit too much just so you get to hear his sugary moans. You devour each and every noise that escapes his throat.

Before you know, he’s got you in just your underwear. His lips leave yours for a second to take your hand and spin you around.

You don’t let go of the glisten in his eyes as he looks you up and down, tongue grazing over his lips hungrily. He could eat you up and it’d never be enough. No time with you would ever be enough.

Bad spins you just enough so now you’re facing the egg once again, back pressed tightly to his chest. His breathing bounces off your neck, making you swallow dry, hands nervous down your sides, wanting to touch him and feel him up—

“Look at how pretty you are, my little peanut,” His tongue glides along your cheek to reach your earlobe. “The Egg is so pleased with how beautiful you are... Let’s show your even prettier faces, should we?”

You nod, melting into his arms as his hands graze along your body; from your chest to your waist to your hips. His long fingers play with the band of your underwear, torturing you just so he can have the little whines that escape your throat unconsciously. When you reach behind your shoulder to pull and tangle his hair he chuckles along your skin.

His fingers are on you, skilfully reaching for the most sensitives places of your body. And you arch into his touch, leaving your neck fully exposed for him to nibble and suckle.

Your skin, otherwise perfect, is blemished with the traces of him.

Your lips crash against his, this time, more passionate than ever, all while his fingers don't lose their pace.

You're near your climax, your stomach churning around his fingers but it's worthless coming if it's not on him.

"Bad... Pudding, I need you..." It's a needy half-moan.

"Tell me the magic word, bombon..." His lips graze along your shoulder and you know, you feel it in your back how much he needs you, too. His face is completely flushed, the heat spread across his cheeks only rival your own heat, throbbing and needy.

"Please, baby, please... Give me–.... Please, I need you. Fuck me–"

The lustful smirk that takes over is by far not of his nature but you were his little bad influence.

"Mhmm..." Bad sings along your skin, one hand placed over your stomach and another on your shoulder blades.

He bends you over, the vines quickly tightening their grip over your arms; letting you hang as if you were laying down. While busy with his buckle and pants, he let his eyes fuck you over and over, the way your back looks to him, the faint red glow that touches your skin; You turn your head around and there's this lust, this yearning that grows on your belly.

Because Bad's otherwise kind, honey-brown eyes have now turned a devilish crimson.

His hands are rough when they pull off his pants, soon, coming around his cock, rock-solid and bright red. You wrongly assumed it might have been the redness of the room bouncing off his pale skin. There's a part of your brain that believes he's even bigger than you remembered though you chuck it to the amount of time it has been since your last.

You watch the inhuman amount of precum that drips from his glande and over his fingers, your mouth watering, tongue unconsciously running over your lips. Your reaction makes him chuckle.

Positioning himself at your entrance, his other hand leaves marks across your hips, holding you more firmly than he'd ever had. Not that you were complaining.

The tip goes in effortlessly, leaving behind this stretch that fills every particle of your being and clouds your thoughts with the ache of his cock. You hear him hiss, hands curling around your skin, leaving fingerprints all over. You're sure you will be admiring them tomorrow.

"So tight–" He hisses once again, "So, so tight– Just for me..."

Your eyes are rolling around in their sockets when he finally bottoms out, seemingly infinite in your canal. His fingers drag along your spine, ever so kindly letting you adjust before moving, even if his instincts are begging him otherwise.

When the expansion settles, you're unknowingly rolling your hips toward his, the grip of the vines making it harder to take control. But he lets ouch a soft chuckle, an adoring look sweeps his eyes for a second, so proud of your boldness. You were always a go-getter.

He is painfully slow, taking in every second of it, hitting your walls with a determination that makes you moan out incoherent strings of what you believed were words.

The sounds that erupt from his throat are feral and inhuman by nature, settling in every inch of your bones and activating your flight or flee instincts. You wondered if the third instinct was fuck.

Your chest dips down, the vines now holding your arms above your head while Bad's grip on your hips don't falter, instead, the new angle allowing him to speed up his thrusts; not losing any of the strength. Your brain is filled only by him and how amazing he feels in you.

He moans your name along with praises of how well you're taking him and you wonder just how in the world could he make such a sinful sequence of words sound so heavenly. Alas, you don't give much thought, your brain once again being quickly clouded with his cock and only his cock.

Bad pulls your waist, letting your back meet his chest. This position only heightens every touch of his, you’re so close, so warm, so good...

"The Egg isn't liking how quiet you are, sugar plum..."

You smile, stuck between watching the hypnotic crimson and the eyes of your adoring lover that swallows your moans.

His name leaves your lips like a prayer,

You will show The Egg how good Bad is to you.

"Bad, honey– Uh– I'm–"

"I know, muffin," His whispers are a caress along your ears, lulling you into your release.

You scream his name, the moans bouncing off the spongy walls of the cave and returning to your ears, you feel the way his grip tightens around your hips, the way you're milking him doesn't help how hard he's trying to hold back, prolong his time with you as much as he can.

"You're so good for me, just one more, babycakes..."

Every inch of your skin feels hot to the touch, even more than before. It's like you're on fire and freezing cold at the same time, each part that touches his body is a million times more sensitive. You feel each and every millimetre of his moves, the pleasure echoing around your body in waves.

"I don't know if I can." You shake your head, barely being able to think at this point, overwhelmed by the pleasure.

"Shh... You can, you're so good for me... So tight... You take me so well."

"Fill me up, pumpkin... Please, fill me up to the brim, let me feel you–", you moan, "–Fill me up so much I'm dripppin'!"

Oh, your Bad was too good for you.

His words are what tip you over the edge, getting him to catch his own climax. His hands don't leave your body, his lips coming to kiss all over your neck and jaw.

You melt into his touch, the vines releasing your arms and legs so you can collapse into him. He catches your body, coming to a sit and letting you sprawl over his chest, your hands reaching out to caress his hair.

"My little naughty cookie, if you spill one drop I'll have to fill you all over again..."

You giggle into his kisses, "Oh, no!" you exclaim sarcastically, giggling in between your words. He laughs, kissing your cheeks and forehead and everywhere he can get his lips on. Because you deserve so much, heavens, you're just perfect and you take him so well and you were made for him–

You feel loved.

You watch the glow of the vines brighten for a second and you both hum knowingly.

The Egg has been fed.

After all, there is a reason why orgasms were called "The little death."

[the-world-is-spinning-round]

Dragon - Remington Leith fan fiction (Spooktober Writing Challenge)

Remington lumbered towards the mouth of his cave, drawn by the sound of commotion just outside, and angered by the fact he’d been roused from his slumber.

The men milling around from the village, loud and self-congratulatory, ran screaming when Remington emerged from his home, red scales glinting in the sun and smoke billowing from his nostrils, but they left behind the thing they had been fussing over a few feet from the entrance from the cave…

Of all the ridiculous human things to disturb me with…

He stared down at the young woman in white bound to the stake the humans had stuck in front of the entrance to his cave, wondering if he was actually seeing what he thought he was seeing. Because what he thought he was seeing was a human sacrifice…but that would be fucking dumb.

Yet there was: a human sacrifice bound to a stake outside of his cave.

For fucks sake.

Remington was furious. He was a dragon - what the fuck did he want with some terrified human girl? He liked gold. Shiny, warm, quiet gold. Not human women, he screamed and cried whenever they saw Remington in his dragon form. It wasn’t as if he even wanted to eat them! Humans were scrawny and boney, on top of so loud…

But he couldn’t leave her tied to the stake outside the cave.

As loud and whiny as human women might be, Remington wasn’t a monster, just a dragon. Besides, it got really cold outside after the sun set - not to mention all the wild animals that would happily take a chunk out of the vulnerable human woman if they wandered past her while she was tied to a stake in the ground.

Remington wasn’t going to let an innocent woman die just because the idiots from her village thought they would accomplish something by tying her up outside his home.

Although what that was, he wasn’t sure.

Probably some bullshit about bribing him or feeding him so he wouldn’t go on a rampage. Just for that, he would go on a rampage…just as soon as the human was safe and away from his cave.

He stalked forwards, and was surprised when the human didn’t react at all beyond watching him with glazed over eyes.

She didn’t even talk until he was right in front of her: “Are you going to eat me?”

“Not today. I already ate, and your bones would probably get caught in my throat anyway.”

For some reason, the woman nodded at him as if that made perfect sense: “That would be annoying. Are you going to burn me alive instead?”

Remington frowned.

The human was way too calm - almost like she wasn’t quite understanding what she was actually asking him. He was starting to wonder if the men who had brought her here had drugged her or something, because there was no way anyone should be that relaxed when they were asking how they were going to die.

Despite his concerns, Remington carried on: “Sorry, no, I can’t breathe fire right now. I’ve got a cold.”

“Dragons can get colds?”

“Sure, why not, of course we can.”

The human nodded as if Remington had just told her something deep and meaningful, which only deepened his concerns that they have given her something to make her head this muddled, but it did seem to placate her enough that he had a chance to look closer at the ropes binding her to the rough wooden stake.

If nothing else, the way the ropes had been tied proved that the human had absolutely been drugged; the knots in the rope were so badly tied she could’ve gotten free in an instant if she’d tried.

It was the work of a second to free her, slicing through the ropes with a single claw and letting them fall to the ground at her feet…but she still didn’t run. She just stayed there, swaying slightly on her feet before leaning against the stake and looking up at him blankly.

Remington got the feeling that the human wasn’t going to be getting away from his cave any time soon.

Sighing internally, Remington changed into his human form. It was far less impressive than his dragon form in his opinion: all lanky and pale and squishy, but the woman’s eyes widened like a hatchling’s when they saw their first bit of treasure.

It was a nice stroke to his ego, but Remington didn’t allow himself to be distracted. He swung her up into his arms, carrying her bridal style back into the cave.

Despite her reaction to seeing his human form, Remington really wasn’t expecting her to bury her face in his shoulder, or wrap her arms around his neck, but he supposed it was better than her kicking him or screaming in his ear. She didn’t smell bad, either, even to his sensitive nose, and she was quite soft where she wasn’t covered by the white dress she was wearing - all in all, he'd certainly carried worse burdens. In fact, on the list of all the non-treasure-y things he’d hauled into his home, she was definitely one of the…top three.

Although when she started asking questions again, he thought she might drop down to just being one of the top five.

“Hey…if you’re not going to eat me, and you’re not going to burn me alive…what are you going to do with me?”

“It took you more than ten minutes to think of that question?”

The human frowned faintly - as if she knew something wasn’t right, but couldn’t quite work out what that something was: “My head feels strange.”

Remington felt something in his stomach clench uncomfortably.

He knew how it felt to be out of it when you didn’t want to be, and he didn’t have to be human to empathise with her.

“I understand, and I’m gonna take you somewhere to sleep it off, okay? You’ll feel better when you wake up.”

“Okay.”

The human was completely silent after that, even when he dropped to his knees on the edge of the pile of furs he called a bed so he could carefully lower the human onto the softest spot he could find. The only sound she made was a soft hum of thanks, already sounding and looking half-asleep…although she was awake enough to wrap her soft hand around his wrist when he moved to stand back up.

It wasn’t enough to actually stop him - her strength was nothing compared to his, even when she wasn’t half unconscious and he was in his human form - but…Remington still found himself pausing.

The one time he’d been in the same state as she was, out of his head against his will, he’d been alone and afraid, and he’d have given anything to have someone there to comfort him.

He couldn’t leave someone else in that state.

So even though he could never have imagined himself ending up in this situation, he still lay down next to the human, pulling some of the furs over her before wrapping an arm around her and tucking her head under his chin.

It…actually wasn’t bad. He nuzzled his face against the human’s hair, inhaling the smell of soap and hearth smoke and perfume, and found himself relaxing. She was warmer than an empty bed, and for a dragon…it was enough to make him purr low in his chest.

The human was asleep in no time.

And Remington followed her soon after.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

The Enforcers Part 2: Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader

synopsis: there's no forgiveness for the sinful.

wc: 1.3k

tw: none

masterlist

Your eyes are glued to the man in front of you as he taps his pen on the table, waiting for the assignment from the Grand Council.

“Can you stop that?” you quip, and he pauses his tapping, glancing at you before setting his pen down.

You sit back in your chair, sighing, wishing your parents could have done anything to fix the issue in front of you. But when you called, they sympathized with you before admitting there was nothing they could do.

“Think of it this way,” your father murmured. “Now you have even more of an opportunity to show how strong and capable you are. This is a gift to you, y/n. You can make the best out of this situation.” The inspirational chatter didn’t cut through the fact that this Leviathan could very well get you killed, and there was nothing to be done about it.

“Sorry about the wait,” Gojo grumbles, entering the room and taking his sunglasses off. “I had to bring Yuji and Choso down from their overexcitement. Okay,” Satoru closes the door to your shared living space, tossing a file onto the table. “First task. There’s an exclusive club downtown named ‘Sinful’. I need you, y/n, to go in and infiltrate the club for one week. Doesn’t matter what you pose as, but I need some information about the club owner.” You flip open the manilla folder and look at the pale face of your target, who only goes by ‘Mahito’. Get in, dig up some dirt, get out. Geto, I need you to pose as a bouncer and bring his second-in-command to the warehouse uptown.” Geto takes the picture of his second in command, Uraume, and nods. “And make sure you watch y/n’s back. If she gets into a sticky situation--”

“Get her out,” Geto affirms, and Gojo stands.

“Good. Gather intel today, y/n, and go in tomorrow. I expect to see a report on my desk next week at seven o’clock.” You get up and leave the room without Geto, making your way back to your barrack and going straight to the computer in your room.

“Y/n, can I talk to you?” you hear behind you, and you turn to face the man in the doorway.

“Sure,” you chirp, pretending to be civil for a moment.

“You have an issue with me,” Suguru states, walking into your space. “I want to know what it is.”

“You literally got your Kitsune killed last year, and they won’t reassign me. I don’t have any respect for you.” You turn back to your computer and roll your eyes, typing in names and pulling data.

“You don’t know the whole story, do you?”

“Should I?” you ask, not looking back at the man.

“You should.” You hear the creak of your bed dipping, and you turn away from the computer, mouth open to yell at him for sitting on your bed. But when you see him bite his lip and look at his hands, you stop, waiting to hear him out. “Let me start off by saying that it wasn’t on purpose. I would have never…” Suguru gulps hard. “I would have never sent Yu into that mission if I knew he would have died.”

“But he did.”

“It wasn’t my fault. It was a trap from the start, and Yu didn’t know… we were set up. And I couldn’t get to him fast enough, which is why he died. He was long gone when I arrived.”

“So, why didn’t they say that you were set up?” you question, but he shakes his head, looking at his trembling fingers.

“Because why would they give a Leviathan an excuse when they need someone to blame? And now, I’m supposed to be guarding a child of a Kitsune legacy, and--”

“You’re terrified of a tragedy happening again,” you finish for him, and Geto nods slowly.

“I know I won’t make it out alive if you die on my watch. The Grand Council will exile me… or worse. And the price I paid for letting Yu’s life slip through my fingers was enough to scar me for life.” You eye him carefully, assessing whether he’s telling you a sob story or the truth.

“I don’t believe you,” you quip, and Suguru’s eyes lift up to meet yours in surprise. “Listen, once we finish this mission and get back, I’m not going on another with you even if they kick me out of the CSB. I’ll tell them you redeemed yourself and can go back to being someone else’s Leviathan.”

“Y/n, I--”

“I’m done talking about it.” You turn back to your computer and continue your data search, letting a sigh out when the door to your room closes behind him.

_____________________________________________________________

The exclusive club’s bass pulses loud enough to potentially blow your eardrums out. You’re standing at the bar, mixing a drink while patrons mill about, conversing and watching the show on stage. Geto is standing inside the door, arms crossed over his chest as if he were a big-shot bouncer, but you both know he could handle whatever comes through that door with ease. Your eyes meet briefly, and he nods, but you look away, focusing on your target.

As you turn away, you notice the owner of the club - Mahito - sitting in the VIP section, fiddling with his cash in the open. Showoff, you think, disgusted with his demeanor. Uraume sits next to him, eyes glazed over as he watches the dancers on the pole.

You’d been at this for six nights and gathered enough intel to pack a file full of pictures, fingerprints, and even a dollar bill he gave you as a measly tip for serving him drinks all last night. You grumble internally about the show of disrespect, still heated from the exchange, but you remember the CSB pays you - and your partner for that matter - handsomely for each mission completed, so it’s really not about the cash at all.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Mahito calls out over the music. “Bring me and my friend some vodka.”

“I don’t want to drink,” Uraume replies, but you bring two glasses of the house’s best vodka anyway, setting it in front of them.

“Thank you.” As you lift up, Mahito grabs your wrist, pulling you down to meet his eyes. “You know, my friend here is a bit of a prude. How about you loosen him up with a little show, hmm?” You want to recoil at the way Mahito licks his lips, but you plaster on a sickly sweet smile as he lets you go.

“What would you like?” you wonder, placing your hands on your legs as you show off your cleavage that spills over your bra. Uraume grimaces, leaning away from you, only muttering,

“I want you to go away.” You place a pout on your lips and throw a glance at Mahito, who shoos you away. Thankful for the dismissal, you go back to the bar when Kyoko, the head bartender, joins you.

“Hey, y/n, we’re going to need three bottles of prosecco.” She tosses you the keys to the storage room and you catch them, confused.

“But you’re the only person that has permission to go back the--”

“I’m occupied with Mr. Friday,” she thumbs back to the roped-off area where two men in suits chug alcohol. “Just don’t get lost in there.” You nod your understanding and walk to the storage room, where all of the alcohol is kept. As you look around for a prosecco, your mind wanders off, trying to memorize the years stored inside. But as you lift a bottle off the shelf and step back, your ankle twists, and you fall backward, hitting the wooden floor with the prosecco.

“Fuck!”

The shattered glass goes everywhere, and you’re left nursing your bloody hand as you attempt to get off your back.

And that’s when you notice it.

A pair of eyes looks at you from under the shelves, their green pupils winking out, then coming back into view as they open again.

“Help me…”

[blitheringmcgonagall]

My Gallant Lad - Part III

So I got a wonderful anon telling me that this is their favourite Lily Rescues James fics, it’s part of my canon maraders fic  We Can Be Heroes. But, because it works as a stand alone, I’ll be posting it here in four parts. I hope you enjoy it! Set during first wizarding war, Lily is very BAMF (but tbh so is James)

Read part I here : After their worst row ever, Lily and James get captured by Voldemort

Read part II here : James tries to save Lily

TW: angsty and violence

PART III

Lily’s raw voice echoed through the castle walls, a lone, hauntingly beautiful gaelic song. The words indecipherable to any of the Death-Eaters who heard it, yet clearly a lament of some kind. She hadn’t been able to stand it, hearing James’ screams, imagining what was happening to him. And when she couldn’t hear him, dread clawing at her every pore, wondering…

Are you dead, my love? Did they kill you? Please don’t die, I beg you!

Haunted by the silence, almost relieved when his screams returned, because she was selfish and wanted him alive, needing him to be alive… almost immediately replaced by rage and terror and guilt and begging them to leave her husband alone, screaming herself hoarse.

She couldn’t stand it when the sound from the dungeons suddenly stopped – a spell, she was sure.

What did it mean? Was he-

She started to sing. She sang in Irish. Fuck them, no Death-Eater could get inside her head now. She pictured him as she sang, her lively lad, turning around mid-laughter and catching her eyes as he and Sirius poked fun at each other, she saw him saying something ridiculous to Minnie and watching as the strict teacher’s mouth broke into a huge grin despite herself, saw all the Marauders chasing each other and yelling and James landing on top of the others. And always his mischievous, adoring eyes turned to her, searched for her. She saw him propose to her surrounded by fireflies, vividly heard that muggle record, the lyrics bittersweet…

”Yours in the gray of December Here, or on far distant shores I've never loved anyone the way I love you

Yours to the end of life's story”

“No!” her voice faltered. “No! Not today!”

She breathed in sharply, as someone knocked on the door, twice, in abrupt succession. She recognised that trademark sound.

“Severus?” she croaked.

Severus pushed the heavy door slowly, almost reluctantly, now that it came to it. He looked uncharacteristically agitated, his waxy cheeks flushed. Relief swept over him as he looked at Lily. She looked upset but safe. She was shackled to the wall, her hands above her head, tied together. She was trembling and pale. There was no sign of the Cruciatus, or other dark magic.

“Are you alright, Lily?” He said, hurriedly throwing a potent heating charm at her.

“What are you doing here?” Lily’s husky voice surprised him, he hadn’t heard her screaming.

“What happened? Did they hurt you?” Severus said, moving closer to Lily and regarding her anxiously. “They hurt me by hurting him,” she whispered.

Tears tracked down her cheek, and Severus wiped it with his thumb. “I’m so sorry, Lily,” he said, his voice trembling – he was slightly scared of her, and then there was unexpected guilt - guilt about lying, guilt about how James was going to die. “I tried to... I tried...”

He stopped and took a few breaths, looking at the ground.

“I tried to save him, I tried some healing charms and... and I sent the others away. I wasn’t sure what to do, Lily, but then I was called away and Avery had... I was too late, Lily, I’m so sorry.”

He couldn’t look at her.

“No, Sev, please, not James, please,” Lily’s broken whisper made Severus’ heart ache.

“I’m so sorry, I’m... you don’t know how sorry I am,” Severus whispered back. “I’m desperately sorry.”

Lily didn’t say anything, silent tears streaming down her face.

“He... James and I, he spoke to me, he thanked me for trying to save him, before he... he asked me to save you, to get you out of here. I promised him I’d do it. Do you understand Lily?” She was looking at him blankly, through her tears, her mind far away in some distant time or place. “Lily!” Severus whispered urgently. “Lily, he wanted you to be safe! He insisted I save you! He told me a code word - I’ve no idea what he meant, but he said to tell you - Graham’s Number.“ “Graham’s Number,” Lily repeated quietly, as though dazed. “James.” “Yes, James,” Severus said, trying not to sound impatient. “We have to leave now, I promised him I’d get you out of here! Do you understand?”

Lily nodded, still crying.

“My beautiful,” she said. “My gallant lad.”

“Yes, yes,” Severus said, eying the door of the cell. “We need to leave! Now! If Voldemort finds us, we’re both dead!”

Lily stared at him intently. After a few seconds she smiled vaguely.

“I’m so sorry Sev, let’s go, I just... it’s so much to take in, you know? I can never thank you enough, for trying to save him, for being such a noble person?”

Severus squirmed.

“It means everything to me,” she said, her red-rimmed eyes looking into his soul.

“It’s nothing,” he said firmly, refusing to hold eye contact and pointing his wand at the chains. “Frangit!”

The chains broke, and Lily collapsed into Severus’ arms.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “Can you help me? I don’t think I can walk?”

“Of course!” Severus said, feeling a bloom of warmth spread through his chest.

This was what he had longed for, desperately, for as long as he could remember – Lily, holding onto him, needing him, weaker than him, reliant on him, asking him, begging him for his help. He tucked his wand in his pocket and lifted her up, looking lovingly into her stunning eyes. Surely she could also feel the deep attraction between them, the passion sizzling beneath their fingertips?

“Lily,” he murmured, bringing their lips closer.

“Severus?” she said hoarsely.

“I love you, Lily Evans,” he said, holding her closer. “I always have.”

“Your idea of love sickens me, but I’m glad you’re so predictable, Severus.”

Lily’s voice was cold as she stepped back from him in disgust, and he found himself staring at the tip of his own wand.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he said, his heart pounding as he tried to make sense of what was happening.

“Change of plan, Snape!” Lily said. “You don’t get to sweep me away like a lying bastard-“

“Your husband agreed to this! It was his idea!” Severus’ voice rose.

“Gobshites, the pair of you!” Lily said, her voice quivering with rage. “Probably one of the only things you two ever agreed on - that James Potter should sacrifice himself to save me? That James Potter was expendable, that I would cope without him?” Severus dropped his gaze in the face of such fierceness. “You see, I’m not leaving here without James. If he’s dead, and you better hope to fuck he isn’t, I’m still bringing him with me. He means more to me than anyone else, everything else, in the entire world. I’m not leaving my soulmate to rot in this hell!”

Severus looked at her hand with trepidation as she aimed at his chest.

“I was trying to save you, Lily,” he said, stepping away from her.

“Trying to save me for yourself, Severus! Killing my husband was never going to buy you my love!” Lily’s green eyes were incandescent.

“I didn’t… I had no part in it, it was Hugo Avery!” he said.

“No part at all? That’s strange,” Lily sneered. “Because your friend Hugo payed me a lengthy visit which only finished a short while ago, you practically overlapped.”

Snape’s eyes widened with surprise and alarm.

“He wasn’t meant to go near you!” he said.

“He did,” Lily said, shuddering despite herself. “Came in to tell me everything he was planning on doing to my husband, and later on, to me. It took rather a long time.”

“What do you think you’re-“ Severus said in fear, as Lily lifted his wand.

“I’m sorry, Severus,” Lily’s voice was hard and implacable. “Imperio!”

Continue reading BAMF Lily here

Snape’s eyes widened for a split second as the invisible spell hit his chest (so powerful it almost threw him backwards) before they seemed to fade, the fear in them replaced by a dullness.

His hands fell by his side. “Is this castle surrounded by anti-apparition wards?” she asked.

“Yes, and the nearby forest,” Snape answered mechanically.

“Where can we use a portkey?” Lily ordered, poking Snape with her wand.

“From the courtyard in front of the main entrance.”

She hated the strange empty look in his eyes, as though he was unable to think for himself and devoid of any thoughts at all, until commanded by her to do so. She hated it.

“Good,” she said. “Now you will do exactly as I say! You will bring me to the oubliette, and you will help me save my husband if it’s the last thing you do! But first, you will bring me to your potions lab!”

                                                             ********

“Step away from Potter, now! I’m taking over!” Avery’s head jerked upwards in shock as Snape landed with a heavy thud right beside him, closely followed by Lily Evans, who had a glazed look in her eyes.

“She’s under the Imperius,” Snape added, glancing around at the other men.

“Snape?” Avery said, glaring aggressively at the half-blood. “What the fuck are you doing here? You said I could finish him off?”

“Change of plan!” Snape said, sounding furious. “Back the fuck away from him now, or you’re a dead man!”

“What?” said Avery. “Why?”

“The Dark Lord wants to take over torturing Potter and Evans himself, he needs to find out about his missing book. He will be livid if Potter is dead or unable to answer him! I mean murderous.”

Avery looked terrified.

“Fuck! Snape, you said...” Avery whispered hoarsely.

“You fool, you should have thought to check with your Master before you went this far! If I were you, I’d make myself scarce, unless you want to face the Dark Lord’s wrath!” Snape hissed.

Avery had never seen Snape look so imposing, so powerful. He looked like he wanted to obliterate them all.

“Shit! I... but what if he asks who...” Avery stammered.

“I’ll cover for you as best I can, but I suggest you leave until he calms down, unless you want to risk being here when he loses it,” Snape said, looking at Avery as though he detested him.

“Fuck. Okay. Thank you, Cerberus,” Avery said, frantically grabbing his cloak and stepping across James’ body as he latched onto the rope ladder and sped upwards. “Fuck Voldemort, I hate that bastard!”

Nobody answered, aware that Avery was extremely unwise in voicing his feelings about the Dark Lord’s unpredictable behaviours.

“Severus, you moronic shit,” Severus said between his teeth. Mulciber and Rosier snorted, enjoying Snape’s irritation. “You two better help me get Potter looking more presentable and less dead, unless you too want to join Avery and get AK’ed to hell!” Snape whirled around menancingly. The two men looked at him blankly.

“You don’t think the Dark Lord is actually going to forgive Avery, do you, you pathetic fools?” Snape scoffed dangerously. “Throw every healing spell you can think of at this traitor, and I’ll see what I can do for you two imbeciles!” Rosier cleared his throat and looked stunned. Mulciber glared at Snape.

“We hardly did anything!” he said. “You probably did more of the Crucios than we did!”

“I presume you haven’t forgotten that the Dark Lord is an extraordinarily gifted Legilimens?” Snape smiled thinly, sticking the tip of his wand into Mulciber’s abdomen. “He’s going to die of blood loss, not of Crucios, obviously, you fool! Care to tell him yourself the extent of your role in this… shambles?”

Mulciber’s lips thinned and he shook his head.

“Thought as much,” Snape replied smugly. “Mulciber, get me the blood replenishing potion immediately. Rosier, give me a hand here – Vulnera Sanentur over his entire body, Brackium Emendo over his ankles, quickly!”

Rosier nodded his head and started firing healing spells anxiously. Snape did the same, deep in concentration, his wand flying over James’ body. Mulciber reappeared moments later, holding a half-empty bottle of dark red liquid. Snape grabbed it off him wordlessly and carefully placed three drops into James’ mouth, scanning his face anxiously. Blood trickled from James’ right ear.

“Still looks pretty moribund to me,” he muttered to himself, touching James’ hands tenderly.

James’ fingers felt frozen, white, almost blue.

“Perhaps Rosier should come with you?” Mulciber asked, inching backwards towards the rope ladder.

Snape’s lip curled.

“Don’t be pathetic, Rosier is a liability, and far too skinny to be able to lift Potter. I need you with me,” he ordered.

Mulciber opened his mouth.

“The Dark Lord specifically asked that you accompany me,” Snape said. “He said he may need our help in questioning Potter, that’s if he isn’t already dead by the time we get there. We need to hurry!”

Mulciber swallowed.

“Now help me lift Potter, and for fuck’s sake be careful, he’s perilously close to death as it is!” Snape said.

[arminhug]

hello, pumpkin || annie leonhardt x reader: chapter two

series masterlist

。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

BIRTHDAY GIRL

Annie and I never established that we were friends until her eighth birthday.

In the blossoming spring warmth, I nestled myself in the corner of the bench in the playground’s garden. It was an unspoken fact that nobody really played in the garden; it was a quiet haven for a few of us to read or enjoy solitude, yet it had also become a spot where I waited for Annie every day, and almost every day, had she not been sent home or busy with other obligations, Annie joined me, sometimes speaking, sometimes not. I didn’t mind; I just loved to be in her company.

On this particular day, Annie stood before me, and despite her being the same height as me, her air always made her seem much bigger and powerful.

“My dad says this is for you.”

She handed me a white envelope into which I fervently tore, revealing a gaudy invitation card.

“It’s your birthday on Saturday?” I quizzed.

“No, my birthday is today. But my dad said it was too short notice to invite you to my house today, so you can come on Saturday.”

At this news of Annie’s birthday, I immediately leapt to my feet and braced her in a hug. “Happy birthday! What cake are you having? Are you going to hand out sweets to your class?”

Annie did not hug me back but did not resist. “I don’t like cake, and I don’t like anyone in my class.”

I gasped. “How can you not like cake? Also, who’s going to be at your party if you don’t like anyone in your class?”

“Cake is too heavy and sweet.” She responded monotonously. “Also, you’re the only one coming; it’s not a party, my dad just knows I have a friend now and wanted you to come. You don’t have to.”

Unlike Annie, I didn’t actively avoid the other children in my school. I was still invited to many class birthday parties, I spoke amiably to my peers and I could name a few schoolchildren whom I could consider a friend— yet Annie, the stoic, ash-blonde girl confessing she saw me as a friend elicit such joy within me, I can still remember the feeling to this day if I think about her enough.

“So if I’m your friend, I have to get you a present, right?” I had reminded her of the title that she gave me moments ago.

“No. I don’t want a present.”

“Yes you do, everyone wants presents!” I retorted. “What do you like best in the world?”

“Cats.”

I sat down, sulking. “I can’t get you a cat, Annie. What else do you like?”

Silence.

“Mummy and I can make you something.” I continued, desperate to find something that I could give to my friend. “She’s really good at baking. Do you like cookies?”

“No.”

“Cupcakes?” I refused to give up.

“No! Cupcakes are tiny cakes, you know I hate cakes.”

“Brownies?”

“No.”

“Doughnuts?”

This time, Annie turned away, not meeting the question with a monosyllabic “no”.

“Doughnuts! Annie, I’ll make you lots of doughnuts, okay?”

Annie still refused to look me in the eye. It never bothered me, but I had gathered that she was more inclined to refuse eye contact when she was upset or shy. Before I had the chance to attempt to pry into which flavour of doughnut she would have liked, the bell signalling the end of recess rang. I leapt to my feet and pressed a chaste kiss to Annie's cheek.

“See you later, you doughnut!”

She shoved me towards my line with no malice in the action. “Whatever you say, pumpkin girl.”

“Earth to (y/n)? You’ve been glazed over for the past five minutes. What’s so exciting about the window?”

I blink, snapping out of the saccharine memory of Annie’s birthday. Four pairs of eyes are fixed on me, and I animate myself, taking the doughnut from my plate and shrugging. “I was just thinking,” I respond.

“You sure? Not looking at any hot dudes?” the only other female at the table, Sasha, suggests. Her hazel eyes flicker suggestively over to the group of men kicking a ball about in the park over the road from our favourite local café, which has baked goods to die for (or so Sasha and Connie, the food fanatics of my friendship group claim. I won’t argue—the doughnuts are heavenly.)

“Yeah, c’mon, (y/n)! There are three dashing fellows right here, why do you need to stare at those losers?” Connie chimes in, gesturing to himself and my other two male friends, Jean and Marco.

“Yeah, you wish. My type isn’t idiots,” I playfully smack Connie’s head, the growing stubble brushing my fingertips as I find any way to bring the subjects away from men that I would apparently find attractive.

“On all seriousness, what is your type? We’ve never seen you have anyone about.” Jean interrogates. Great.

It took me a while to figure out that I’m likely not into men. I never quite knew why I got so uncomfortable when middle school brought an array of boy bands that prepubescent teenage girls loved to swoon over, and why I could never answer when somebody asked me who was the hottest, but at the age of sixteen, when I realised my heart was racing upon seeing two women kiss in a film my friends and I had watched, it hit me like a freight train that I was definitely attracted to women.

I chose not to indulge anyone in this knowledge; realistically, I know I don’t have too much to worry about. Sure, my parents aren’t screaming about supporting gay rights from the rooftops, but I know that they have no prejudice towards the community, and my four closest friends would accept me no matter what — hell, Marco told us he was gay when we were fifteen and sixteen years old over a game of Mario Kart and we embraced his queerness with open arms.

So what’s the big deal? I think to myself.

“Does it matter? I’m too busy to date. These university decisions are killing me!”

“Simple,” Jean interrupts, pointing the straw of his ridiculously large iced coffee in my direction. “You come to Marley with Marco and me. Good university, far enough away from your parents, and you get your favourite friends with you for the ride!”

Jean and Marco are one class above Sasha, Connie and I, and decided that Marley University, a small, public school that gained a decent reputation despite it being so new, was the place for them. It was hard to say goodbye once they left school, but the holiday breaks came frequently, and soon enough, they were back for Easter, helping their three younger friends decide on which school to go to.

“Tempting, but probably not. I can’t get over the English department in Sina,” I responded dreamily.

“Yeah, and the crazy entry requirements. You’d have to be a robot to get those grades! Just come to Marley with us, I’m sure the English stuff is fine there, too!” Sasha whined, poking at my hand. I take another bite of my nostalgic treat, shaking my head.

“Guys, I love you all, but I can’t make such an important decision based on my friends. You understand, right?”

“It’s fine, (y/n),” Marco interrupts, his familiar comforting smile gracing his freckled face. “We’ll come to visit you up there, right?”

“Nope. Four of us, one of you. She is coming to Marley.” Jean retorts.

“Jesus, fair enough. I’ll book the plane tickets now!” I tell him sardonically. He elbows me jovially in response and stands, coffee in hand. “Right, we can finish our drinks and snacks on the way outside. It's too nice to be spending it indoors.”

Ignoring the protests from Sasha and Connie, who forlornly protest that they haven't had the chance to order a baked good after their main courses, the majority of the group tail towards the double doors, leaving the duo no choice but to begrudgingly follow suit. The late March sunshine is glorious, beaming down on my face, much like the day twelve years ago I was daydreaming about. It suddenly hit me that today, March 22nd, Annie would be turning twenty years old. This newfound knowledge makes my stomach drop and I cannot control the grief coursing through my being.

It's ever so odd how I can remember every detail about my childhood friend; every memory we shared together, her favourite colour, (black, which I insisted was rather morbid for an eight-year-old, so I coaxed her into putting blue as a second favourite) how on Sunday mornings her father would always pick her up from my house after a sleepover at 10 am sharp to take her to karate, even though she had told me in confidence that she much preferred kickboxing. I couldn't tell you many facts about any other childhood friend who I lost to time; it's only Annie. Every detail of the girl who made my infancy etched into my heart, refusing to leave.

As I force myself back into the present moment, I am aware that maybe Annie was more than just my best friend.

But I was so young. How could I have truly differentiated between innocuous childhood affection and romantic yearning?

“Marco?” I punctuate the spring silence before I can even stop myself. “How did you realise your first crush?”

Marco raises his eyebrows. “Jeez, it was so long ago. I was eleven and I was having a sleepover with my friend. We were on his bed playing Minecraft on his laptop, but I wasn’t even paying attention; I was just admiring his face, how he was so engrossed in the game. My heart was racing because I realised I wanted to kiss him, but I didn’t even think it was biologically possible to like the same sex, so I brushed it off. Now I look back…” he laughs awkwardly, before looking me in the eye, his tone suddenly earnest. “Why, what’s up? Anything you want to talk to me about?”

I stop in the street, completely oblivious to the speed of modern day life around me. Suddenly all I care about is how my stomach leapt when I saw her pallid figure walk through the double doors, into the garden, how I found any excuse to hold her hand, how obsessed I was with the topography of her curved nose, icy eyes, lips stark against her pale skin.

“How do you know for sure you’re gay if you’ve only ever had a crush on one person in your life? Somebody who you haven’t spoken to in eight years?”

。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。..・。.・゜✭・.・✫

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

under pressure

(hey guys, welcome to another installment of the swashbuckler au. Geralt’s gonna get very very Protective in this 'chapter'.

warnings for this chapter include: a very brief mention of blood, being threatened with a knife, and mild peril)

Why? Jaskier wondered. His back was pressed tightly against the rough brick of an unfamiliar alley wall and the man who had demanded his nonexistent coin-purse was pressing the tip of a very sharp dagger just below his navel. Why am I always the one getting into these kinds of situations? 

“I told you, good sir, that I have no money on my person.”

“Everyone around here keeps gold ‘im. What kind of idiot goes around a port town full of pirates without some kind of insurance against coming to harm?”

“Are you saying that because I have no money you are going to do me harm?”

“Somethin’ like that,” the man leered. The dagger pushed in again and Jaskier knew that it had ripped through the fabric of his shirt when the tip suddenly bumped against the skin of his stomach. “Since you don’t have any money you’ll just have to come back and explain this misunderstanding to my captain yourself.”

“Excuse m-”

The man yanked Geralt’s lucky red bandanna down and tugged it backwards, sliding it between his teeth and effectively gagging the ex-nobleman. He spun Jaskier around and shoved his chest up tightly to the brick. The brigand roughly yanked his hands behind his back and tied them with a length of rope that appeared from seemingly nowhere. The newly minted pirate struggled violently, kicking out his legs and wiggling his torso in an effort to dislodge or disrupt his attacker. Maybe his struggling would get someone’s attention (although it was highly unlikely in a town such as this). Unfortunately the mugger was practiced and nothing Jaskier tried seemed to bother or slow him down at all. 

Starkey and Lambert were only a few feet away! He could hear the rise and fall of their voices as they bartered for supplies with the hardtack merchant around the corner. The anxious brunette whined, trying to make the sound high enough to reach his friends and crewmates. If only he could get the kerchief out of his mouth for a split second, then he could whistle or shout…

He felt the surface of the wall scratching his skin through the hole in his shirt and he frowned. That would leave an unpleasant mark for the next few days and make wearing his sword-belt an absolute nightmare. If he was still part of the Kaer Morhen’s crew by nightfall, that was. If this man didn’t succeed in his current mission of pressing Jaskier into service aboard some other pirate vessel. Jaskier’s blue eyes widened even further as a real sense of panic set in. They might not be able to find me in time. We might head out to sea before Geralt even knows I’m missing if they don’t turn around and noti-

“Hey, where’s Jaskier?” he heard Starkey ask. Oh, thank gods. 

“Shit.”

“We’d better find him quickly because I can see Geralt from here,” Starkey added. “I don’t want to be the one to tell him that we lost his precious little siren while we were busy bickering with a shopkeeper.”

“Fucking hells,” Lambert groaned. C’mon, Jaskier pleaded silently. Just around the corner, lads. Please, Starkey. You guys know I’m too annoying to stay quiet for this long. 

The man with the dagger had already started yanking him backwards down the alley towards a questionable-looking wagon. Jaskier’s attacker kept one hand fisted into the back of the kerchief and used it to maneuver his head around, much like one would control the reins of a horse. The ex-noble made a loud, wordless noise from behind the cloth. Muffled as he was, he was praying that any one of his crewmates heard it and felt the need to investigate. 

Another stranger in dark clothing appeared around the corner and helped the first man lift Jaskier onto the back of the wagon. The newcomer reached for Jaskier’s wildly flailing legs and pulled them together. He tied the brunette’s ankles with another piece of strong hemp rope and tested the knots with his fingers for any slack or give. There was none. The young man screamed and grunted, trying with every ounce of strength he possessed to free himself from their twin grips. It was a fruitless endeavor; they were strong and clearly practiced in the art of stealing other people’s crewmembers.

“Jaskier! Oh, fuck! Hey you there, let go of him!” Lambert was running down the alley towards them, hand on the hilt of his cutlass. The man keeping the gag cinched tight pulled his dagger out again, holding it up against the column of Jaskier’s throat. The second kidnapper released Jaskier’s tied ankles and made his way towards the front of the wagon. Lambert slid to a stop, eyes narrowed threateningly. “Captain! Starkey! I found ‘im. He’s in danger!”

Had Jaskier not been scared witless by the threat of having his life ended rather abruptly via blood-loss, he probably would have smirked. These men, regardless of who their scurvy-ridden captain was, were about to get their asses handed to them by one of the most wanted pirates to ever sail the seven seas. Certainly one of the most renowned and fearsome.

The blade of the knife pressed even more tightly against the skin of his Adam's apple and Jaskier flinched. Maybe, if I even live long enough to see Geralt kick their asses. At least my death will be avenged quickly, otherwise. 

As if summoned by his lover’s thoughts the handsome, white-haired Captain appeared at the opposite end of the alley. Jaskier thought he might cry from the mere sight of him. He definitely wanted to let out a relieved sob when Geralt growled out, “It’ll go easier for both of you if you just put the dagger down and release the boy now.”

The ex-noble felt his captor’s muscles twitching nervously as he released a humorless chuckle. Don’t slip up now, Jaskier prayed. Not while you’ve got a knife against my neck.

 “Why should we do that?” his captor questioned. The man tugged at the already taut bandanna and Jaskier whined in pain when the damp material bit into the skin of his cheeks. The fury written across Geralt’s features was absolutely terrifying; he looked like an avenging angel, his strong stature defined by the light of the square behind him and his silvery hair wild around his face. 

Jaskier didn’t want to die, not in the slightest, but this wouldn’t be the worst last sight to see, all things considered. The man tugged the material again and Jaskier’s eyes widened when his neck scraped against the edge of the dagger’s sharp blade. “He’d fetch a fair price from our captain. He’d probably fetch a very hefty bit of gold if we took him down the coast a-ways, actually. Your threats aren’t going to lose me a nice bag of coin.”

Geralt took one slow, measured step forward and drew his cutlass with an effortless extension of his arm. “I’ll give you one last chance to let him go peacefully before I start slitting throats,” he snarled. The scowl on his face would make any ordinary person soil their knickers on sight, but the man holding Jaskier had probably seen something like this before. He was experienced. He teasingly nicked the young man’s tanned skin with the dagger and Jaskier hissed. The sound had Geralt’s eyes going wide with rage. His nostrils flared and his hand twitched. The kidnapper smirked confidently as a thin line of blood beaded on the brunette's skin, “Oops.”

There was a blur of movement from Geralt’s end of the alley, a whooshing sound, and then a wet thud. The man keeping Jaskier captive fell back, dropping his dagger to the ground below as he did. Jaskier wriggled forward in an attempt to reach Geralt and ended up toppling heavily off the back of the wagon and onto the cobblestone street. Lambert dashed to his side and pulled the kerchief out from between his teeth. The younger man was panting, blue eyes wild and confused. “Did Geralt just hit that guy with a knife!?”

“Yeah.”

The ex-noble gave a short, hysterical laugh. His eyes took on a glazed, unfocused quality and Lambert looked to Geralt for help. “Neat,” he muttered.

Jaskier wasn’t sure if it was the shock of having his life legitimately threatened, the smell of his own blood invading his nose, or the impact from hitting the stone walkway, but just as Geralt knelt down at his side, he passed out.

----------

When his eyelids finally fluttered open again, Jaskier had to squint. The late-afternoon sun slanted in through the porthole of Geralt’s cabin, surrounding the grim-faced Captain with a halo of golden light. “My hero,” Jaskier sighed. He was a lucky man to have a lover so attentive, protective, and also incredibly sexy. 

“Jaskier!” the pirate pulled him into a sitting position and wrapped him in a hug, crushing the slightly smaller man against his broad chest. “I was so worried that he’d gotten your vein or hurt you some other way that we couldn’t see. Are you alright, little nymph?”

“I’m alright,” he blushed. Geralt’s nose was buried stubbornly in his hair, breathing in repeatedly as if he’d been afraid he’d never see Jaskier awake again. “Really, darling, I’m just a little shaken. That’s all. I thought we were running errands today. I wasn’t expecting to be taken captive and threatened with a life of piracy.”

“You’re - Jask, you’re living a life of piracy.”

“It was a joke,” the ex-noble teased. Geralt relaxed his grip slightly and leaned back. His amber eyes searched Jaskier’s blue ones for any sign of dishonesty or hidden pain and found none. His siren was telling the truth. The Captain took a seat on the edge of his small bed and dragged his lover onto his lap. Jaskier noticed with a sly smile that he was draped in one of the White Wolf’s overly-large burgundy shirts. One he didn’t wear very often but that Jaskier found him endlessly attractive in nonetheless. “Geralt, did you change my shirt for me?”

“Your other one was ripped. It had blood on it. We also had to bandage your wounds.”

“Oh. Thank you for letting me borrow it,” Jaskier flapped his arms a little, letting the sleeves roll down over his hands. “I love roomy shirts to sleep in.”

“You can just ask to borrow them,” the Captain relented. “You don’t always need a scheme to get what you want, little nymph.”

“Hmm,” Jaskier sighed, cuddling close again. “I absolutely did not think up the idea of coming to bodily harm in order to borrow your shirts, as likely as that sounds. Thank you for rescuing me, Geralt.”

“I am not an easy man to scare,” the pirate intoned seriously. His grip on Jaskier tightened and his voice grew scratchy with emotion as he continued. “But seeing you like that today had me more frightened than I’ve ever been before in my life. I’ve faced down bigger ships with better guns and more men than mine. I was briefly incarcerated by the mayor of Novigrad and sentenced to hang. I’ve seen my fair share of scary things, my sweet siren, but I would never be able to live with myself if you came to harm. That’s the most terrifying thought of all.”

“Geralt,” the young man gasped. He wrapped his arms around his Captain’s shoulders and moved to straddle the larger man’s wide lap. He pressed a brief but bracing kiss to the White Wolf’s saltwater-chapped lips. “The thought of never seeing you again is the worst thought in the world. Let us never be parted.”

“Hmm.”  Geralt’s left hand moved to grip Jaskier’s corresponding hip while his right arm went around the back of his nymph’s slender shoulders. He gently pulled their chests together and nibbled his way up the uninjured side of his little nymph’s neck, reveling in every soft, yielding noise the brunette made. He pressed a rough, wet kiss to the soft skin behind Jaskier’s ear and growled possessively, “Never.”

(of course 1/2 of all my swashbuckling au credit goes to @limrx)

[theyscreamjade]

Black S/O Thanksgiving

This idea came to me while my cousin and I were talking about the upcoming holiday and how different it’ll be without my family members due to Covid-19. As a fellow black cardholder, this made my night go from sad to funny. These are mostly memories of my childhood as well, so I hope it makes your day as it did mine.

I also need some requests! Please! Don’t be Afro request me anything.

Disclaimer: Cursing and chitterlings.

——————————————

Izuku Midoriya

* When your mother or guardian demanded you come home for Thanksgiving instead of staying in Japan and to bring your boyfriend as well.

* You knew this was about to be a show. Much to your surprise, He was excited to finally meet the people who raised you to the phenomenal person you are today.

* You two plan and head back to your hometown a day before thanksgiving.

* You had to tell him to change over a thousand times. (I’m from the south, hear me out.) because he wanted to go dressed in his best.

* (You save that for Easter honey, not thanksgiving.)

* Once he was dressed to a decent satisfaction, he stops and buys flowers for your mother before you two would arrive.

* Once you two arrive, cue the awes of baby photos of you scattered around the house. THEN MOMMA DOES THE ULTIMATE AND WHIPS THAT OLD PHOTO ALBUM OUT OF YOU IN A BATHTUB.

* I see Deku as the type to wound up at the women’s table. We know that table, it’s the one where all the women sit and discuss their year and the drama within the family while drinking wine that was meant for dinner.

* He’s not drinking anything though, he’s the taste tester. He’s tasting everything your guardian makes.

* When they find out he’s the number one pro-hero back in Japan, The single aunts in your family will be asking you for numbers of men at the company.

* After eating, He’ll of course help clean up and even wash a few dishes.

* Don’t be surprised when you two come home and he asks where can he get chitterlings from?

——————————————

“I can’t stand Rico’s ass! I can’t believe he lied and said he didn’t get that girl pregnant when that baby looks just like him.” Your aunt said, complaining about your cousin as she walked over to the table. “Deku, Here. Try this.” She said, sitting the bowl of chitterlings on the table and handing him hot sauce.

He scanned it carefully as your grandmother and mother looked at him, worried. “Give it a try baby, you’ll like them. Honest.” Your grandmother said with her sweet voice. He smiled before clapping his hands together. He gave thanks for the meal and dug in, much to his surprise. She was right.

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

Katsuki Bakugo

* No one had to call anyone, He just walked in and told you to pack up because you two were going to your hometown.

* You two went to his parent's place last year, it felt right to go to yours this year.

* After packing everything up, boom. You two take the earliest plane ride and arrived early in the morning. I mean early like at 3 am.

* A few hours later and it was time to head out. Much to your surprise, he didn’t come empty-handed. He held a present (his mother demanded that he’d give) for your mother.

* You two arrived right on time, everyone wasn’t here yet and food was still cooking.

* You wanted to die when he passed by the baby photos, he’d scan them and point them out just to have your mother respond and give the back story to each of them.

* You don’t know how in the hell he wounded up in the backyard with your father (uncle, or guardian), touching the ALL MIGHTY BELOVED GRILL that perfectly smoked the beautifully glazed turkey.

* He and your father would sit in the uncle's section, where all the men of the family sat. Of course, they’d ask what he does and everything and constantly asks if he’s capable of keeping you safe.

*he was given the right to check and examine the turkey with your father until it was cooked to his deemed perfection.

* Your father is rather proud to have him as his future son in law(even though you two are just dating),regardless of race.

——————————————

“I’d like to say grace. Lord, thank you for this delicious meal you’ve provided for us. Thank you for the times you’ve kept us safe in your hands, thank you Lord for giving me such an amazing family. And thank you for my future son in law, Katsuki Bakugo.” He spoke as the water you were drinking when down the wrong windpipe.

You cough harshly as Bakugo pats you back. Once you were calmed down and processing what he just said, Bakugo places a slice of turkey on your plate. “Atta boy! He even knows how to cut!” Your father spoke again, handing Bakugo his plate while everyone laughed at how embarrassed you were. You knew this would further fuel his ego even more.

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

Shoto Todoroki

* Unbeknownst to you, he overheard your conversation with Momo one night and how you missed being home. He frowned that you were so far away from your hometown that he couldn’t just leave you unhappy.

* Behind your back, he calls for a private jet for you two.(on Endeavor’s name of course.)On the day before, he tells you to meet him on the plane where he blindfolds you.

* The ride was a bit bumpy and everything but once it was over your town, he slipped the blindfold off which made your eyes water when you saw your home.

* The Next Day, you two leave the hotel room and you can tell from his silence he was that he was nervous. You’ve told him all the stories about your family and he’s..not really used to that.

* Little crystals formed on his shirt which you dusted them off when you stepped towards the steps to the house. From outside, you could hear the sounds of your uncles playing dominoes and yelling at the tab while football played

* When your mother (or guardian) opened the door, he’s immediately consumed in a tight hug.

* “It’s so great to finally meet you! I’ve heard so much about you, Come in!” They said gingerly as he was suddenly pulled inside.

* (Yep, they just...forgot you, honey. I know...it’s okay.)

* After being shown around the house, he was left sitting with the grandparents who were watching westerns on tv in the main living room where you finally found your poor boyfriend. Your youngest nephew, who’s nearly a year old sat on his lap staring at the tv then him as if he’s saying ‘you saw that?’

* You greet the elderly before grabbing your boyfriend's hand only to have the child start crying when he was placed on the couch.

* He was only silenced in Shoto’s arms, which was strange to you before you realized, your sibling’s lover usually does cosplay as Shoto for their job at a Hero Theme Park

* The poor confused baby thought it was his parent and clings to Shoto like a koala but Shoto didn't really mind.

*To add insult to injury, the parent won't be in until after Thanksgiving.

——————————————

“I’ve gotcha honey, hold on.” Your sibling said as they wrapped a large floral blanket around his body. Once they were done, it was now a fabric baby carrier that held your nephew up to Shoto’s chest.

“Sorry about that, I’ll make sure to take him after dinner okay?” They said, sounding sympathetic to him.

Shoto ran his hand through their fluffy curly locks and smiled. “I don’t mind holding him a bit longer.” He replied while you prayed this doesn’t give him any ideas.

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

[lygerastia]

3. Making History - Ezio Auditore

It's time for you to join the Brotherhood with your first kill, hoping to impress your master, Ezio Auditore.

Warnings: slight!violence; rape attempt. 

Chapters: 1 [complete]

Words: 5,799

READ IT ON AO3.

***

She lands without a sound, perfectly. A wave of pride engulfs her, but she knows she shouldn’t dwell on that. Days and weeks and months of arduous training—all culminated at this moment. 

The time has come for her to prove her worth; and take her place in the Brotherhood. Prowling the rooftops, blending with the shadows, she approaches her target: a middle-aged wine trader that used his money to take advantage of young women. He was the lowest kind of filth, a degenerate that needed to be eliminated off the Earth. It was hard to witness his atrocities, but the Master said she had to watch, to remember later why she was doing this. To leave regrets behind as she took his life—was she even capable of murder? 

Today, she’ll find out. 

Even if she excels at combat, stalking, and all it means to be an assassin, she won’t ever be accepted if she doesn’t wet her blade. The initiation was cruel, but she was ready for this. One could say she was born for it, but she might say they’re wrong. The frail girl from before that watched Templars trample her family in cold blood—merely a pawn in their path to greatness—died on that night. Like a phoenix, she was reborn into a merciless and cold-blooded creature, with only a shred of kindness reserved for those who mattered. 

On that night, she lost everything. If it weren’t for the Master stopping them on time, she would’ve joined her family and never know life’s pleasures. Her only regret is not getting to her little sister in time—he deserved more. He deserved better.

So she promised herself that she’s going to do better. Save others selflessly; vengeance meant nothing to her. No one needed to share her fate. Yet none were as lucky as her.

No more unnecessary killings, no more tears.  Only hers. 

She takes a deep breath, all of these thoughts swirling in her head to encourage herself. Master told her it would be hard the first time, but it will get easier the more she does it. It was a sad thought, that this has to be a constant. But her fate has been sealed the moment she stepped into the chamber and swore fealty to the cause.

We work in the dark to serve the light…

The young woman was only prolonging the inevitable. The target was getting closer to her hiding spot, in the dark shadows of an abandoned alley. After days of studying, of following, of pretending she was something she wasn’t, she learned this man’s schedule. She knew his habits by heart, knew what kind of girls she liked, how he tortured them, how much of a filth he can be. The man was a big fan of girls like her, dreamers. It wasn’t hard to get him drunk and spill out his secrets—the groping was the hardest part to bear with. Back then, she felt no remorse when imagining the blade at his throat, cutting it from ear to ear. But she stayed her hand—it will only endanger the Brotherhood to act recklessly. 

So she sated her thirst by waiting. 

“You’re a very nice signorina, aren’t you?” the man pinches the flesh of the girl he charmed tonight. It made the assassin’s stomach turn. The girl giggles, a bit unsure. The assassin knew she was only doing this for money; there was no love between the two. She pitied her, but she was used to this cruel and unfair reality, where the rich thrive and the poor die. “Why don’t we…?” The man’s smile vanishes, throwing a commanding look at his three bodyguards. Business as usual, it meant. The assassin knew the men would turn around and pretend not to hear the poor girl’s scream as the man did as he pleased. Not this time. 

The wine vendor guides the girl in the assassin’s alley, as predicted. It was a favorite spot of his, close to the bar he frequented: a bar he owned. What will happen to it after his death? She knew he had a family and a boy that would inherit riches. Afterward, she’ll keep an eye on him; there’s no need for another leech. Her actions, she knew well, will only inspire hate, but such is life if you want freedom and justice.

She can bear that cross.

The target is getting closer, hands all over the girl’s body. At first, she’s playing along—but the vendor is not playing nicely. He takes what he wants by force and, soon enough, her clothes are torn off her. The girl screams and tries to run away, but he grabs her wrists, and violently slaps her face. The girl’s knees crumble underneath her and she’s falling, blood dripping from split lips. 

The man only laughs at this, eyes gleaming greedily as he stares at her helpless form. 

“You’re mine now.” 

He licks his lips and undoes his belt, dropping his pants. The girl groans on the ground, dazed. But when she sees the shriveled member dangling in her face, ready to pounce, she screams and tries to crawl away. She forgets he has an iron grip on her wrist and it hurts her.

“Yes, yes! Struggle more!” 

The guards don’t flinch and deter all curious gazes. At this moment, the assassin had enough. She had her doubts, staying there in the shadows and watching: was she capable of this? Did this man deserve to die and leave a young boy without a father? 

However, she could also see that there was no redemption in this man. He will never change; he’ll continue to profit off of young women, no matter what. His time has come and, silent as a cat, she stands up and steps towards the two struggling figures. The vendor was now getting annoyed with the girl’s refusal, spittle falling out of his mouth as he told her to stop. The assassin had to admit she was putting on quite a fight; but she stopped as she spotted the assassin behind the man’s back. Her eyes widened in surprise—then taken over with a new kind of fear. 

How must the assassin look to her? 

Her face was half-hidden by the white cowl, but she could still see the coldness in her eyes—the dangerous gleam that attracted her Master’s attention. With a flick of the wrist, she activates the blade and, before the woman could scream once again, she plunges it deep into the man’s neck. 

Blood started spurting from the wound, landing on the girl’s face. The vendor’s hand lets her go and she scrambles away, backing up a wall, shivering. Staring at what was happening in front of her, as the assassin gently lays the man down—no matter how much he didn’t deserve it. The man struggles to form words as he chokes on his own blood, looking up at his killer. She holds his gaze, a silent angel of death, unrelenting. With this killing, something in her truly broke and she couldn’t wait to tell her Master that she was ready for whatever came next. Her heart was with the Brotherhood, now until her demise. These monsters didn’t deserve to live—and she was the reaper that will cull them. 

Carefully, still holding the gaze, watching the man’s life seep out of him, too slowly, she brings out the feather. A ridiculous thing, in her opinion, but sacred to the rest. She won’t question the creed now. Like a lover’s caress, she dips the feather in his blood—it quickly stains as the man’s eyes glazed over, close to death’s door.

“We—We only…” he breathes out, struggling. He’s watching something else now, far above her reach. She listens to his last plea. “...want...order.” 

With that, his hand that was about to grip the assassin’s collar falls to the ground. Mission complete: the target has been eliminated. A cruel smile adorns her lips, basking in the glory her fist death brought—a mistake, as the girl, forgotten, starts screaming.

“Murderer!!” 

A hint of annoyance graces the assassin’s features as she stands up, glaring at the girl. Where was her 'thank you' for saving her? Things would’ve ended much worse for her if it weren’t for the assassin; but Master warned her not to seek approval. Sometimes, she won’t get any gratification for her deeds. As an assassin, she must live away from all this. She must be above it. So, instead of shushing her up, the assassin smiles like a mother scolding her child. 

Of course, the guards hear and turn around, arms ready, shouting. Their master was dead at the feet of a figure clad in white, identity shielded. They could only see two eyes glinting dangerously and a cruel grin, whispering: 

“Requiescat in pace.” 

**

Only five of the eight assassins that set out this night came back: and she was one of them. 

Getting out of that predicament wasn’t hard; she was a natural at climbing buildings and vanishing out of sight. It wasn’t long before she left the alarms behind her, enjoying the crisp air of the night. Only when she stopped she realized her heart was beating fast—with adrenaline or fear, she didn’t know. But the deed was done and she felt nothing. Staring at the dried blood on her fingers, she remembered the feeling of the act, as the pulse weakened. 

Somehow, it made her sad. Shaking her head, she made sure no one was following her before arriving at the Brotherhood headquarters, where her teachers were anxiously (and solemnly) waiting for her. She didn’t expect to be met with applause from her fellow assassins, but she enjoyed their happiness. She lived another day—and there’s one less stain in the world. As she received pats on the back, she also received the bad news: three new novices didn’t make it and got caught. They won’t be seen again. Her heart ached at that, but she couldn’t help but feel glad that she made it. She was initiated now. 

And she didn’t plan on leaving.

After the tumult died down, she finally gets a respite as the others prepare for the celebration party. She wasn’t sure she was in the mood for such an occasion, but her nerves were still alert and she needed to relax. As the crowd dispersed, moving onto another novice like her, she finally caught the eye of her beloved Master: 

Ezio Auditore da Firenze. 

She dislikes the way her heart seizes at his sight, her admiration turned into something more over the course of her training. She didn’t plan on it, but he was young and handsome, and she still believed in love. It was wrong of her, she knew it very well. He was her teacher, a few years older than her, and her savior. At the same time, he was her captor, stealing her heart with a flirtatious grin and a cheesy pick-up line. The assassin heard his story from the other novices, about how his family was hung, down to his little brother. They shared a similar path that only brought them closer until it was too late to turn back. He chose vengeance—and she mercy. 

If only they weren’t in this deadly situation…

There was no time for romance in the Brotherhood; his actions told as much. Or was she misinterpreting? She wanted to believe there was more to it than the innocent remarks, the gentle touches, the sultry whispers. 

“Ezio? He’s a damn womanizer,” Claudia, his sister, confessed to you one day. “Don’t fall for his honeyed words.” 

It only sowed doubt in her heart. She was nothing special. Other beautiful donnas could attract his attention.

Yet, for now, she delighted in his warm gaze, pride in that cocky smile of his. Her body was enveloped in a hotness that crossed from head to toe. Ezio had that kind of effect on her, as if he could undress her with just one look—probably without him even wanting to. The brown-haired man exuded potency and it only made her desire him more. 

She tore her gaze from him, cheeks flushed and embarrassed. This was not the time for these thoughts—and it was only souring her mood. She should be happy she could finally fight by his side, as equals. Hopefully, he’d want her to join him on important life or death missions where she’ll prove herself worthy of his attention, if she hadn’t until now. Straightening her back, the young assassin joined the others in the revelry, knowing she couldn’t approach him right now. Maybe later he’ll come to congratulate her. 

She hoped for it. 

** 

It was good to loosen up and discard her assassin robes; at least, for now. With warm mead in her cup, held between her cold hands, she sat at a table with a few of her peers, discussing their kills. It was getting rather tiresome by now and hearing the gruesome details wasn’t her cup of tea. She tried to lighten the mood with a bit of goofiness, but it didn’t stick. The smell of bloodshed was intoxicating everyone—aside from the alcohol in the room, of course. A ballad was sung in the background and she swayed to it, staring at her cup. 

Ezio didn’t come once by her table. She figured it was just because he couldn’t show any signs he preferred her over the others. It was only fair—but it still hurt. All she could do was drown her sorrows with cup after cup, until she could see double. Almost, anyway; the world was a blur. It didn’t help that alcohol made her slightly aroused, so looking at Ezio was getting harder by the minute. 

“Cazo,” she breathes under her breath, knowing she needs air or she will lose it. “I’ll be right back,” she says to no one in particular, but one of the novices nods before resuming the conversation. With wobbly steps, she found the stairs that went up and up, winding and winding. It was all confusing but, somehow, she ended up on the roof: the place for the leap of faith. The young girl didn’t get to do it yet and now, inebriated, had half in mind to jump. Test her might against the odds and prove—prove what? She didn’t know, her mind was blurry. At least the morning air, still not dawn yet, but close, sobered her up a bit. She took a deep inhale, closing her eyes—up above felt good. 

Then a crazy thought popped into her head: wasn’t she ready for the big leap? She didn't need someone to hold her hand while she was doing this. At least, not after the first time. Opening her eyes, she stares at the wooden beam, scratched with memories and so many assassin feet. Putting on a brave face, she prepared herself for this step—and it doesn’t take her long to get up the ledge. Slowly, she walks down the beam, balancing perfectly over the chasm. Daring to take a peek, she sees the tiny stack of hay on the pavement, not looking very safe. Her heart rate picks up, but she’s more intrigued than scared. After all, what did she have to lose? 

If things went wrong, she’d miss Ezio’s smile the most. Probably the only thing keeping her here, on Earth—and the cause she was serving. The problem was her Master will never love her back. Didn’t she hear he had a sweetheart back in Firenze? Of course he did—guys like him never stay single unless they expressly want it. 

She stops in her steps, the wind ruffling her tresses. It felt nice, but her good mood is soured by the bittersweet feelings she was holding inside. Dio, she hated when she drank too much—she drowns in her sentiments and can’t swim back to the surface. Soon enough, tears start streaming down her face, tasting bitter, and it only frustrates her. 

Stupid love. Idiotic her. Damn Ezio. 

She wipes her face, but the tears won’t stop. Before she loses patience and courage, she takes another step on the beam, till the edge, creaking dangerously. An eagle squeaks somewhere above her, drawing circles—she felt reassured by that. One more—she looks down, the Earth titling, but she has no reason to care. She had to do this—just believe. 

Inhale—

“Cara mia!” 

The woman almost jumps out of her skin and loses balance at the sound of a distressed voice. She could recognize that low timbre anywhere—and the last thought as she was falling was that he was the last person she wanted to see. If she fell and missed, he’d lose a precious pupil; how stupid she was for ever thinking of doing this without his help! 

At least—

But Ezio has quick reflexes and he catches her before she plunges to her death, grabbing her by the waist and pulling her back to the safety—of his arms—of the ledge. Her arms automatically wrap around his body, enjoying the sensation of his warmth enveloping her. She inhales his crisp musk, losing her mind over it. For a few seconds, Ezio returns the embrace, holding her so tight he might crush some bones. It was rare of him to show affection—if it really was the case—so the young apprentice was taken by surprise. 

Still—was it just the alcohol or did he call her his sweet? 

It all ends abruptly, though, as he pulls away from her, anger blazing in those amber-colored eyes. “What were you thinking?” Before the girl could answer, he notices her glassy eyes and the tear streaks. He softens up—after all, it was rare for him to get mad nowadays. In his youth, he was a vengeful spirit, seeking out his family’s killers. 

But now, “What happened, bella?” 

Again with the pet names. What was going on with him? Was he as intoxicated as her? Peering into his lovely gaze, she could see he was as sober as he could be. She didn’t see him with a glass yet—although she avoided looking at her master too long. 

She tried to steady her heart as she smiled sheepishly, hiding her expression, “Alcohol and I don’t mix, unfortunately.” 

“Come down before you hurt yourself, alright?” he guides her by the hand, back to safety, and she sits down on a random crate. The adrenaline left her and she was coming back to reality—but she was more aware of his proximity than ever, as he sat down next to her on that small piece of box. His knee was touching hers and she felt jittery sparks. Still, she pushed the thought away and focused on his words—or more, on the way he carefully took her hand in his. 

“Why did you do that?” he asks, calmer now. His voice was soothing and it only made her want to cry some more. It just wasn’t fair. 

“All assassins need to do the leap of faith, no? I was trying it out.” She shrugs her shoulders as if she tried to avoid a direct answer: that the reason for this was him. 

Ezio is rubbing circles in her palm with his finger, sending shivers down her spine. “Then why the tears?” 

“It was the wind.” 

“I don’t believe it.” 

“Master, I—” 

“Call me Ezio from now on.” He grins, the moon highlighting the scar on his lips. He has taken off his hood, but not his white robe. His brown hair tied in a ponytail added to his charm, as always. It was rare to see him uncovered, and so she admired him closely without shame. He noticed her interest and his eyes took a flirtatious shape, leaning in. But it lasts only a moment before he goes on, “Do you regret killing that man?”

She shakes her head, vehemently, “No.” 

“Then?”

“The alcohol—it makes me emotional, that’s all.” She realizes she’s too close to falling into his trap—taking advantage of an inebriated woman was exactly the first move of a womanizer. She wants to get away from him, to remain master and student forever. There was no need for heartbreak, there was no need to pretend there was something going on when it wasn’t the truth. 

Still, she doesn’t move a muscle, preferring to stay there and enjoy the moment. How little she could. 

He chuckles—a beautiful sound to her ears. She feels her heart melting and turns her head to the side so he doesn’t notice her blush. 

“It’s good to see other sides of you, bella,” he whispers, softly. “I’m proud of you.”

“...Grazie.” 

Silence followed, a pause to let tears dry and unspoken words be said. His presence was comforting, as always, but she disengaged her hand from his. That was too much for her—and it only gave her unwanted ideas. Either way, it was nice to hear that he cared. The only thing he made concrete is their positions in this relationship: so close yet so far away. In some situations, there were boundaries that couldn’t be crossed.

As they were sitting there in peace, dawn emerged, painting the dark sky with strokes of orange and pink. 

“Oh!” she exclaimed, eyes lighting up with glee. “It’s beautiful!” 

The young woman was aware, in the back of his mind, that her words were the perfect set up for a pick-up line. Ezio didn’t hesitate to seize the opportunity to say something cheesy, a huge grin on his face as if he was going to say the most intelligent thing in the world. 

“Not as beautiful as you, tessoro.” 

Her old self would’ve swooned at the prospect of a wealthy young man being interested in her silly person. But she’s not the person from a few years ago, when all she could think of was giggling with the other girls and dreaming about poems from secret admirers. Those were happier times, when everyone was alive and there was never killing involved. 

But the new one, the ruthless assassin of the night that was just anointed, didn’t take kindly to pointless romance. She stood up, a whirlwind of fury and shame, glaring down at her master—the person of her affection. The woman wanted no more than his empty promises to be real, for him to love her as she did. The looks they shared weren’t just a bunch of lies. Maybe Ezio was eating her up whenever they locked gazes and there was a twinkle of softness in the smile he offered her. He wasn’t cocky like when he flirted with other donnas that came in his path. Those women were only a means to get to vital information—so there was no point in getting jealous.

Even if Ezio glanced back at her whenever he was getting too close to a lady; that gesture she never missed. 

She could only wonder: what was the point? 

Ezio Auditore is looking up at her with surprise in his amber eyes. He saw her angry before, at her inability to progress or understand the proper techniques. The young man found it rather endearing to see her cheeks puff like a squirrel. It was one of the many things he admired and loved about her—the girl who went through hell and came back a demon. 

“Don’t say words that you don’t mean, Auditore—I mean, Master!” 

“Cara—” 

“There you go again! I am not one of your courtesans, Ezio, to flirt and toy with!” She was pouring her soul into the words, mixed with hurt and longing. “We both know we are abnormal, we—” They’ve stepped the boundaries when they’ve leaned towards another for a kiss, then rudely interrupted before it was too late. They’ve stepped boundaries when they shared intimacies and let innocent gestures turn to something more serious. The tears are back again in her eyes—she hated how weak alcohol made her. 

“If you are not serious about it, then—” 

“Hey, you’re not even letting me speak!” Ezio stood up now, taking a step towards her. He wasn’t pissed off, but genuinely surprised by her outburst. “I thought you understood!” 

The young woman’s heart was screaming, so she obstinately raised her chin in defiance. What was there to understand? 

“That I am a fool?” Ezio takes another step, towering over her; but she doesn’t wait for another fake embrace. In an act of madness, she climbs the ledge again and, without even thinking about it, she jumps. 

In mid-air, she spreads her arms to the side, on instinct. She feels the current rush her, but she is still falling like a dead weight towards the ground. She doesn’t even want to watch, if she was going to hit the mark or not. She trusted her destiny, she trusted the creed, she trusted her master, and she believed she was an eagle like all the rest. 

No one was going to miss her anyway. Her family is waiting—

But her guardian angel is watching in the form of Ezio Auditore; she’s not yet aware but he followed her. She wasn’t going to let her do something stupid, so he jumped and rushed to her rescue. She might’ve passed an important test today, but leap of faiths weren’t to be taken lightly. What if she did this all by herself—what if he weren’t there to save her? Ezio didn’t want to think about that as he took her in his arms, holding her tight to his chest. He rolls so she falls on top of him; he notices she’s closing her eyes tight, a small smile on her face. 

They fall into the pile of hay with a soft thud, just like Ezio predicted. He had a sixth sense for this and he never missed. But the young man, most of all, felt fear. 

The new assassin pops her head out of the haystack, breathing out in excitement. She hops out of it, laughing maniacally. 

“That was fan—”

“Fanculo! Sei una stupida bella ragazza!” She was interrupted by Ezio’s loud and angry voice as he rose from the hay. The lone drunks prowling the streets scattered away, scared of the outburst. She only watches him like a scolded student, remembering the times she failed to impress him. The man grabs her shoulders, peering down at her. There was an unspeakable sentiment in his eyes, varying from anger, fear, and relief. A mix of all of them that made her cheeks go red from shame. She felt completely stupid by her actions—and she swears she’s going to atone for her sins. 

“I apolo—” 

“A cosa cazzo stavi pensando?” he goes on, his Italian accent thick and choked from too much excitement. She keeps her mouth shut, lets him vent out and awaits her punishment. However, he had other plans in mind, his calloused hands moving up to rest on her cheeks. He tilts her head up and they gaze into each other’s eyes, like two forgotten lovers. “Idiota.”

“Si,” she acknowledges.

“Don’t—” and he dips low, capturing her soft lips with his. It takes her a few seconds to wake up to reality, but he’s parting by the time she comes to her senses. “—do—” Again, he’s kissing her, slower, making her aware of the feel. She overcomes the shock and gets swept off her feet by the intensity of his feelings. “—that—” She’s ready for him now, leaning in to meet him halfway, pouring her heart out. This was a turning point in their relationship and they both knew it. “—again, bella.”

Ezio calmed down, resting his forehead on hers, gazing deeply. She sighs in content, never wanting for this moment to end or prove to be a dream. 

“Ezio.” It’s the only thing she can say, feeling weak in the knees. She was glad he was holding her, rubbing her thumb over her skin. “I won’t, I won’t. Promise.” 

He looks at her for a lie, but sees none. Instead of kissing her again, he hugs her, petting her hair and inhaling her scent. 

“I thought—fool that I am—that I lost you.” These words, said in a soft tone, warmed her. She hugged him as tight as she could, closing her eyes and enjoying the way his body felt underneath the clothes. “I tried not to worry about you; I know you can handle yourself, I’ve seen you, but—” he takes a shuddering breath, his emotions raw on his face. “—I’ve lost so much, cara.” He loosens his grip on her again, planting another needy kiss on her ripe mouth, one she gladly returns. For a few precious moments, they get lost in the feeling. His beard was scratching her skin, but she didn’t mind because this was all she ever wanted. 

“I don’t want to lose you too,” he explains, defeated. “And, trust me, I am not pulling this out of my ass.” His amber eyes were mesmerizing, drawing her into his madness. He tucks a loose piece of hair behind her ear, “I’ve come to admire your cunning, your bravery, and your determination.”

“Ezio…” she wants to believe this was right, but this was wrong. The reasonable part of her needed reassurance. “We are not allowed. What will the others say? You are my—my master.” She was getting nervous and fidgety. For now, nothing Ezio could do would calm her. He let her go on, express everything. “I could never—compare with—” She took a deep breath. “The point is, we can’t go on, whatever this is.” 

As a response, he laughs lightly. “You worry too much.” She pouts, but he goes on, “I thought about this too, but I am sure of what I am feeling.” Ezio takes her hands and brings them to his mouth, caressing them lightly. In her eyes, he looked so beautiful, with his eyes closed and long lashes, a few strands of hair falling over his face. He opens them, amber eyes sparkling in the upcoming light. “You are my equal now. We serve the same purpose. I don’t see you as a simple pupil—I couldn’t overlook such a beautiful lady like yourself.”

She rolls her eyes, “Stop.” 

“I am serious. Is it wrong for me to want more out of us?” Those puppy eyes only melted her resolve, just like he wanted to. “I’ve set my eyes on you a long time ago, but you never fell for my attempts. It...baffled me. You had me intrigued. All this time, you had me around your finger, not the opposite.” 

The woman can’t help but laugh at that, “I don’t believe it!” 

“You had more power than you think.” Suddenly, he turns sheepish, for the first time, unsure. “Cazo, this is not the way I planned the confession.” 

“It’s still romantic,” she added helpfully, trying to make him feel better. 

It worked as he grins cockily. “I’m glad I still have charm, bellissima.” He leans over, brushing their lips together like feathers. Ezio breathes on her mouth, seductively, “My eyes are only for you, no matter how impossible it sounds. We’re not so different, you and I.” 

“How do you know I feel the same way, Auditore?” she whispers back, already caught in his web. This was the last step that got her tangled—and she had no plans on escaping. She was a big fool and maybe she’ll cry later, but she shouldn’t regret it. 

There was nothing left to lose. 

“Are you joking?” Ezio laughs, slowly pushing her against a nearby wall. It felt cold under the thin fabric of her clothes and she shuddered. The brown-haired man seemed to like that. “I can see it in the way your body and mind bend to my will. How your breath stops for a second at my sight—” his teeth lightly graze her earlobe and, indeed, her breath hitched in her throat. “—and you can’t take your eyes off me.” 

“Same goes to you.” She retorts, not backing down now. 

“Ovviamente.” 

He’s practically purring by now, hands itching to roam all over her. Instead, he calms down and begs you, “Can’t you just give us a chance?” 

Her palms cup his face, rubbing his short stubble, pretending to think about it. She takes on the sexiest tone she could muster without feeling too embarrassed by it, and responds, “I’d like to take it slow…” Ezio distracts her how he knows best: by planting butterfly kisses over her neck. It was hard to think about anything else while he was lavishing her with his attention. 

“Anything for you, dolcezza. As long as you’re mine.” 

Morning was upon them—she could hear people waking up in their houses, ready for another day. In that instant she was aware of that, she noticed how tired she felt; sleep must come after such an eventful day. At the same time, Ezio seemed wide awake and ready to take advantage of this newly established relationship. His kisses were turning more than innocent—and she was melting like butter under his touch. 

“Shall we move this elsewhere?” he asks, eager to possess her whole being. 

“Take it slow, remember?” 

He snorts, rolling his eyes. In a few swift motions, he has her pinned on the wall with her arms above her head—she couldn’t escape. Before she could protest, they are both locked in an intense make-out session, with tongue and nothing to inhibit them. They’re kissing passionately, hungrily, like two feral creatures just discovering each other. It holds everything they wanted to say, the pent-up frustration and innate desire. It sends tingles down her spine and lust in his body. He doesn’t want to take it slow—not one bit—but he understands her reluctance.

All he needs to do is persuade her he meant every word. 

“I can’t take it slow,” he says when they take a short break. Her mind is spinning as he’s kissing her again with intensity. “But I’ll make a sacrifice.” 

He stops, leaving her breathless and panting, wanting for more. Ezio could see it in her eyes—a reflection of his own want. How bad did he want to ravage his pupil and make her beg for more…

He shudders just from thinking about it. “Together, we are making history, bella.” 

“Fine…” she says, sweat running down her skin and into unexplored territories. He couldn’t help but focus on a drop, mesmerized by the movement. “Just—” she was surrendering and this vulnerability endeared him. “—take good care of me, alright?” 

He smirks, “Of course.”

–

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