#also why were so many of the questions in the question pool about scar. like c!grian what were you thinking when you wrote those bud

[anywhere-anywhere]

SCARIAN DIVORCE OVER

[hcdragonwrites]

A Tiger on the Mountain (a @semisolidmind Fanfic)

Here it is ! Another one. I made up a creature specifically so I could play out a scenario in my head and lead into another fic after this one. This is not a two parter but it leaves it open for a follow up!

TW: Blood and Violence and allusions to torture at the end. (Not of Peaches SHES fine)

“Get out before you become a new rug for me to wipe my feet upon.” Sun Wukong snarled over the table, his staff in his hands. The Nine Tiger Demon took a step backward at the fury. The expedition to this kingdom of monkeys and flowers had been a fools mission. Zari, The Nine Tiger Demon- Lord of the Eastern Waste and Terror of the Snowy Steppes, dipped his head cordially.

“As you wish, my Lord.” The tiger smiled and stepped out of the council room, his great black cape swirling as he exited in a flourish. He had made a jab at the Monkey Kings pride by calling him Lord. He knew that his patience was wearing thin with him. Especially after he had eluded to the weakness of mortal Ally’s.

“It is necessary to procure some of the goods they produce.” Wukong had waved the complaint aside. As if waving a fly. Zari was a lord of a snowy country where resources were few and blood was spilt as common as the snowfall. His kind had been hunted by poachers for their pelts. For the magic quality in their stripped bodies. Bones, blood, tendons, fur, claws… Everything in a tigers body was hunted for medicine, magic and mayhem. To hear that the most feared creature west of his kingdom, the great demonic Monkey King who had challenged Heaven, had made treaties with humans…

Zari had licked his muzzle sensing weakness.

“Why treat when you can take?” The tiger lord had questioned. His attendants beside him fidgeted, their hands straying to the scimitars belted to their sides. A twitch of his tail tip called them off. A tiger was playing with a monkey to see what sort of prey it had between his claws.

“And cause further disharmony around me ? Mortal men are easily placated. It leaves me free to put my resources into more important things.” Here the monkey leaned forward, eyes glowing with the torchlight. “Like seeking new territories in the east.”

The threat was received but Zari didn’t rise to the bait. He was a patient creature. The scars on his stripped hands and body proved how many battles and hunters he had outwitted.

Of course Zari had only come to sieze up the competition in the West. He never had any intentions of swearing allegiance to the ape. To debase himself to an ape? Never. So it only took Wukong a few more verbal jousts to also know the game was at an end. He had dismissed the tiger with a threat. Zari kept his claws velveted. For now.

As he stepped out of the corridor he let the slightest bit of agitation show in his whiskered face. A twitch of a tail brought one of his attendants forward.

“Gather the lower Claw.” Zari whispered. “They need a good hunt.”

“Of course my King.” The lesser demon bowed and raced off, light as a feather in the wind. At least that would humble the foolish ape—

Zari came around the corner and bumped straight into something soft, and pliable. His claws caught it reflexively before the thing fell completely onto his black armor and ruined his perfect complexion. He hissed, about to snap at this new weaker underling of a foolish king when the scent hit the top of his mouth.

Human.

“I’m so sorry!” It was female. The women pulled from the tiger claws. Her eyes remained cast down. Simple peasant clothes. Hair tied up in a messy updo. Flushed cheeks, good proportions. The tigers eyes had been blown wide.

“Are you alright miss?” Zira smoothed the twitching of his whiskers, kept the lashing of his tail to a minimum. But his instincts roared and his mouth pooled. “I did not mean to bump into so harshly.”

A captured peasant girl? A pet of this monkey kings?

“Oh no it was my fault!” The women said. She finally looked up and the tiger demon got a good look at the curve of her throat. The hot pulse just inches from his fangs.

From further down the corridor someone called “PEACHES!” The girl stiffened a bit then smiled sheepishly.

Zira felt as if he was a wolf in the sheep pen.

“I should have been watching where I was going. Carry on!” She bowed and then quickly scuttled off.

“Well well well…”Zira smiled to himself as another monkey ran past and after the fleeing women. He felt his grin widen, the drool threatening to slip. “Look like I have some entertainment myself…”

For Zari, The Nine Tiger Demon- Lord of the Eastern Waste and Terror of the Snowy Steppes, was whispered and feared by mortals across his snowy slice of the world. Legends told of how he would slip in as silent as a ghost. How he would visit families and paint their walls in red crimson and spattered gore. For Zari was a man eater, a enjoyer of mortal flesh. And his favorite prey that he enjoyed devouring most was women.

This conquest just got a bit more interesting.

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

“I Demand compensation.”

The threat would have come off more terrifying from the Monkey King if he had been dressed in his armor. However he was… not. Instead Wukong was at the present moment, begging on Peaches lap beneath a cherry tree. His face was a storm cloud as he lifted Peaches hands up to his head.

“I am afraid you won’t be getting any.” Peaches let her hand fall limply off. The stormy face broke into a beggars crocodile tears.

“PEACHESSSS!”

Macaque would have snickered at his sworn brother begging but he was also not getting any sort of touches from Peaches. He didn’t know why she had decided today of all days to deny both of them.

Why was she withholding scratches from her husbands? Well. For many reasons. For one, one of them startled her awake this morning by swooping her into his arms because he got a little too excited and woke her from her dreams. It also triggered a huge sort of panic because she has had enough of nightmares on being snatched away thank you.

Of course telling the one begging at her knees right now that his over exuberance this morning had been one of the reasons for no pats, would only lead to more exuberance.

A second reason she was including both and not just the one who scooped her ? Well because the day before Macaque thought it would be funny to pop one of his shadows beneath her while she was trying to brush her hair and in the fall the hairbrush - still tucked into her hair- wrenched. It had been painful and she had lost several bits of her own hair in it.

And thirdly? Because these two had, for all intensive purposes of the words, kidnapped her and forced her to live here upon the mountain. Yes she was still bitter about it. No she wouldn’t get over it. At least not today. Too many tricks were tugged and her personal space breached for her to simply let it go. A little bodily autonomy and boundary would be nice. Instead her two lovers would look at her as one would a family cat and go “awwwwwwww!” and scoop her up.

So two very peeved simians sat cross legged staring her down. Wukongs tail was lashing back and forth, his eyes narrowed like a cats. He reached forward and grabbed Peaches hand again. She had learned long ago that giving them the satisfaction of her resistance- how cute! They would say as she practically threw all manner of pellmell closet clutter at them- would only prolong their inevitable smothering of her.

Being impassive was her best weapon.

So she let her hand be limply lifted.

Just as limply it slid off the Monkey Kings head.

“Peaches! Come on!” Wukong groaned. He sounded like a kid begging for sweets. Peaches sniffed. The day was nice at least. She had made her way out of Water Curtain Cave and out onto the mountainside before her attendant could shove and stuff her into royal courtly attire. Not today! Peaches hadn’t wanted to attend court. She hadn’t wanted to be near that council room. Her accidental bump into that demon had been as close as she had gotten. A tiger demon? Now that was something she hadn’t seen yet.

Wukong laid himself over her lap, his face pouting up at her. He looked… adorable. It was almost enough for her to forget about his transgression this morning. It wasn’t enough. She turned her head away.

Only for Macaque to be there. He had somehow snuck up, as was his silent way, and pressed himself to her back. He slipped her into his lap, and Peaches felt a little spark of unease. Macaque was the slower of the two when it came to affection, sneaking it in or trying to tease it from her. Wukong was all action and joyful tugs and play. His was earnest and forward. Macaque was… sly. Teasing. A fox inside the chicken house.

“Sweet peach, come now.” His hands settled around her. His breath tickled the shell of her ear and Peaches fought the blush from rising in her face. Think of rocks and birds. What you will eat tonight. Anything but how his voice and how it feels rumbling against me.

“We just want to have a little comfort.” The dark furred monkey lifted her hand. He entwined his fingers in hers. They were so large. The practically swamped her own. The claws slide along the fingers as he lifted her hand and tugged it into his fur onto his cheek.

“Come on, little plumb.” His smile was as sweet as honey, as soft as downy feathers. If it had been any other day she would have mussed his fur and teased him back. However Macaque made a mistake of touching her hair with a free hand. Reminding Peaches that this little trickster had yanked some of her hair out.

She let her hand remain lax.

“No.”

“Then you leave both of us no choice.”

Macaque leaned back and with a woosh and gasp of air and black- they were back in their room. The pillow pit cushioned their fall, as did Macaque who lay beneath her. Peaches let out an indignant squeak as the demon monkey growled playfully in her ear.

“You have only a few moments before Wukong gets here. Do you want to tell me what’s up?”

“No.” Peaches sniffed. His hand was trailing along her skin, almost walking up her arm.

“Are you mad at him?” Macaque asked.

“Yes”

“Are You mad at me?”

“Yes.”

“Is it … a mad kind of day?”

She didn’t respond.

He tutted and tugged her hands free of where she had shoved them beneath her arms. He placed one against the side of his head, eyes gently closing. He kissed her palm, her wrist, her arm.

“Come on my sweet… just indulge us both..”

“No.”

“Little minx.” The purple eyes flashed along with that sharp toothed smile. Peaches felt her face flush. Macaque leaned in and over her now, his free hand twining in the hair on the back of her neck. The demon was angling her from being the one on top, to sliding her into the pillow pit with the dark haired monkey hovering above. He pulled her up and into him, and Peaches had the startling realization that she was so very very small and he was so very very large all of a sudden.

“What sins do I have to whisper into your ears ? What marks should I leave upon your skin to earn your affection again?” His eyes dipped to her lips. Peaches face felt like it was afire. “Should I sing your praises into your skin with my teeth?”

Oh dear.

And then the moment of tension was broken by a furious orange blur bursting into the room and tackling both of them. Peaches cried out while Macaques face looked deadpan at his sworn brother. The moment of tension, of turning Peaches pink as a lychee fruit, was over.

“MACAQUE! THATS NOT FAIR!” The monkey king was entangled with both of them as he grabbed the other hand and shoved it into his fur. Peaches only held onto them now as they jostled her. “HOW MANY HEADSCRATCHES DID YOU GET?”

“None…” His face was exasperated, his tail twitching at the tip.

“None?” Wukong echoed.

“None!” Macaque slammed his head closer to Wukong. Peaches was perfectly sandwiched between her husbands very bare and very exposed chests as the two brothers bristled at each other. She was loosing her own power of wills because … well. Peaches was only human. She could barely stay mad at one Monkey half dressed. Two half dressed and practically pressed cheek to pec against either side of your face ? It was a marvel her body didn’t burn up on the spot from how much she was blushing.

“Why you shouting at me then?!”

“You spoiled my sport before I could tease some out of her.”

“Oh?” Wukongs eyes shot downward. Peaches looked away, feeling like she got caught watching.

Oh no.

The two demons looked down on her. And Peaches felt like she was in danger. Not a you-will-die-and-be-disemboweled way. More of you-will-be-turned-into-a-second-sun-from-how-much-we-will-tease-you kind of way. They loomed over their mortal wife, ears perked forward and grins becoming sharp and feral.

Another burst through the door however saved Peaches from being turned into a puddle beneath the attentions of her husbands.

“Ugh what is it now?” Macaque sighed.

“My King! We are under attack!”

The two warlords changed from flirting devils to stiff and immovable stones as they stood. Macaques ears swished, forward and back, each set twitching as he confirmed it.

Wukong was across the room, his armor back on his body in a flash. His staff was plucked free from his ear, elongating in a flourish.

“Where?” The Sages voice was a silent rumble.

“Off the south slope- a band of panthers by the look of it.” The sentry’s tail was puffed in fear. Wukong nodded and was off in a flash of fur and fury.

Someone was attacking the mountain? They must be crazy. Insane. Or have a death wish.

Macaque set Peaches firmly in the Pillow pit, eyes somber.

“Love don’t move. Don’t leave this room. Understand ?” His face was pinched in worry bordering on fury. He was trying to maintain his composure for her, to hold back the anger that was threatening to bubble upward. Peaches may think of her boys a lot of way. They were selfish when they wanted her attention. They had taken her away reluctantly from her home. She had been forced to live her for the past decade or so. Her husbands were warlords, murderers and Demons.

They also cared for her a great deal, in a way that no mortal could compare. They clothed her in the finest garb but also gave her the option of comfort. They brought her to the Palace and laid laws down among the fellow demonic ally’s that she was to be respected and treated as an extension of Wukong and Macaques power. They brought her gifts from the outside world when they came back from expeditions, made her foods from the finest ingredients, told her stories of their travels. On nights when the past came back to rear it’s head she could find comfort in one or both of their arms.

And at times like this, she felt thankful that, of all the kidnapping creatures in the world, at least it had been these two.

That didn’t sound like a plus at all.

Macaque was waiting for her response. Peaches shook herself free of the cobwebs, of the past and back into the present. The mountain was under fire. Something was trying to earn the ire of the Monkey King and his People. As a very soft once mortal immortal now, Peaches had no sort of power to defend with or help. She was a liability, at least until she began her own cultivation, on the battlefield. So Peaches nodded.

“Yes.”

It was all Macaque needed. He pressed a kiss to her temple and whispered “Good girl.”

And he was gone, falling into shadow.

“Hellooooo?”

Peaches started awake at the voice. Disoriented she disentangled herself from the soft fur and pillows she had been wedged between. She must have fallen asleep some time in the day. The light coming from the windows was a burnished gold, sunset settling on the

“Someone help! Help me please…”

The voice was disjointed, the sound echoing from beyond the closed doors. It set her skin to crawling. Shouldn’t there be guards ? Shouldn’t there be someone outside the doors?

“HELP. SOMEONE HELP!”

The voice sounded like a baby! The shrill high note cut through the last hesitation Peaches had. She opened the door and rushing out into the corridor.

The echos of her footfalls bounced back to her from the stone walls. The cry came again, a baby monkey hooting in distress. It came from around corridors, downs passageways. Peaches raced forward until she had burst out of the cavern and into the dying light of the sun.

The grass swayed in the breeze. The shadows danced across the field, like stripes on a great tigers back.

She felt a shiver go up her spine. Something was terribly wrong. It felt off - the world felt off. The mountain was usually brimming with life and sound. Birds would be calling even at this late hour when day turns to night. The cicadas would be sonorously screaming their complaints to the night air. However…

Everything was still. Not a insect nor a bird called out. There were no generals or other monkeys present on the mountain. Usually sentries were littered about the fields and slopes. There was no one here at this moment.

That’s wrong. Completely wrong…

A faint gurgle, a dying cry of a baby monkey from somewhere just ahead.

“Where are You?” Peaches called. The child sounded in pain- and the sooner she got them inside the cave, the better. “You have to tell me where you are so I can help you.”

“Typical mortals.” The voice came from behind and peaches whipped around. A tiger demon, a creature of immense size and with terrifying teeth, toward behind her. Zira held the languid look of a cat with a full belly, tail swaying in the grass and claws meticulously being groomed. The blood from those long claws was the fresh scarlet of new blood.

“Your kind always come when lured by another— I was wondering if I should do a human baby or a mortal imitation but, seeing as you’ve been collared and tamed by monkeys, I thought that would be the easiest way to lure you out.” The tiger lord grinned. Peaches saw that he was fully armored. The black leather of his body was painted in dark splotches of red.

He’s … killed people. Who has he killed?? Where’s the baby ??

Peaches stepped cautiously back into the grass, heart racing. The tiger lords eyes grew round.

“Are you trying to run?” His voice was practically a pur as he stood straighter. “Please do. The chase will be good for me and clear this monstrous smell of ape blood.”

“What do you want?” Peaches needed to stall. To find a way to keep the beast talking. He liked to talk to full the silence. “Why are you here?”

“Those are boring questions dear morsel. Boring indeed. You mortals think all the same- but at least you taste better then your little brains think.” Zira stepped forward and into Peaches bubble- forcing her backward and further away from the cave. “Why am I Here ? Well to play. It’s been so long since I’ve had a chance to play with another demons pet.”

Another slow pace forward. Another hasty retreat from Peaches.

“I can understand. I play rough. It’s hard when you all … scream at the slightest break of bone. At the sudden loss of limb…” the tiger lords body seemed to grow, a secondary face appearing from its left cheek. The new muzzle opened and in horror peaches heard people crying, of mortal women begging for their children. The voices of men pleaded for wives and sons and daughters. Anguished cries, cries of pain. Voices from the past.

Dead voices.

“They never last long.” The tiger smirked, that new face along his left side turning upward as well.

“So when I came to see this terrifying demon lord who has challenged heaven I expected him to have a show of strength. What I didn’t expect was a pet like you.” Those eyes flashed.

“Why? Wukong is the strongest Why—“

“Why did I not expect you?” Zira snorted. “Because demons forget themselves when they stop consuming lesser beasts and start befriending them.”

Peaches looked about her. She wouldn’t be able to make a dash back to the caves. This tiger was driving her further and further from safety. She had been a fool to try and help, a damned fool. The next best thing she could do was to try and stay alive long enough. Long enough for her to call out. Wukong or Macaque would hear her. She had no doubt on that. There was also the willow tree just ten feet behind her. If she could get to it and climb she may be able to stall out this demon.

“Now dear. How would you like to die?” The tiger was closer now as Peaches kept stepping back. She was almost back pedaling, trying to stay out of the range of those claws. Of those red teeth. “I could kill you by fang or claw. Or maybe a sword would be better. But then… where’s the fun in it for me if you die so quickly ?”

Peaches spun on her heel and ran.

“HELP!” Her lungs filled with more air, to shout to the Heavens above. The grasses bent beneath her flight. She had almost made it to the tree, almost got enough air to scream again when something slammed into her shoulder. Bright hot pain bloomed and she fell to the dirt. Her hands reached up and came away with sticky blood.

“Calling for help is useless.” Zira licked the fresh blood clean from his claws, enjoying the taste of terror on his tongue. “My men have them busy against the farthest side of the mountain.”

Peaches rolled, to get up to get away she did not know. Her movement was stopped by a booted heel to her shoulder. The new pain elicited a scream to peak from her lips. It rang eerily off the mountain that was so still. So awfully still.

“The pain will only be temporary.” Zira knelt. The tiger reached down with his clawed hands. He cupped her face as she fought him. He smiled and opened his jaws wide to close over her throat.

The suns last dying ray cast a shadow as black as night over the grassy floor. It pooled beneath the mortal women and then, with a slip and tug, Ziras prey was swallowed by the black. The tiger snarled claws raking the soil in a vain attempt to dig her back out.

“So it was you.”

Zira turned.

There, leaning against his staff was the Monkey King. His clawed hands and golden armor were covered in black blood. Zira felt a worm of unease creep into his calm and cocky smile. Those warriors had been the best of his Claw- the best in the Snowy Steppes. There was no way they had failed—

“Ah King Wukong!” The tiger Lord began. If he could stall him out, lead him into a false sense of security, then that would be better. It would buy him time to get closer, to steal into range and pounce. “So nice to see you agai—-“

The tiger lord didn’t even see the moment. On second the orange monkey was standing before him and the next he felt a blooming pain cut along his secondary face. He roared in confusion as the sight from those eyes was lost in a shower of blood. The tiger had no time to reorient himself however. The neck blow was to one of his hands. Sun Wukong clasped one in hand and with a terrible crunch, shattered all the bones within.

Panic came traipsing up the tigers spine. This was not good. The monkey was moving incredibly fast - too fast- for him to counter. He reached for his Scimitar- the blade of Nine Tigers- to end the fight. This blade could cut mountain in half- it could cleave souls from bodies and leave the flesh whole.

“You come to my mountain…”

The staff slammed into the side of his head, casting several of the tigers teeth from his jaws. He was unbalanced but determined. He just had to grab his sword —

“You attack my home…”

Another blow to his middle sent him slamming into the willow tree. The force of it snapped the bark and collapsed the Willow behind him. Zira felt stars float in his vision, tasted his own blood. He had a hand on his sword now though. He drew the blade, cutting it across the insolent ape that towered over him. Wukongs soul would be cleaved, his body left behind for the flies to lay eggs in. He would be dead. The blade sliced —

And snapped in half.

“You tried to devour my wife…” Fear is not something a tiger experienced often. It raced over his stripes, twitched his crushed whiskers, and made his eyes widen. That had been his wife ? That common little dustmote ? Zira had miscalculated. A pet was one thing. But a wife —

“You took… a mortal… as a wife? Pa—“ Zira tried for bravado, tried to spit into the monkey lords face. The tiger was desperately clinging to what remained of his pride. He had chased a rabbit into a ravine and found wolves.

Zira opened his jaws to cast his last disrespect. Only for the claws of Wukong to cut along his jaw and crush it closed before he could finish.

“I will break every bone in your body before I let you die. You will wish you were dead before I’m done with you.”

The shadows swallowed Peaches and arms wrapped around her but she was still flailing. She grabbed at fur and skin and battered her fists and nails against it.

“Ow - PEACHES - PEACHES ITS ME!” Macaque voice cut over the adrenaline that floated high and fast in her blood. She blinked at him. They were back in their room, back inside Water Curtain Cave. Peaches hand was still curled in a fist, still raised up to beat along her captors face. Only. This wasn’t the tiger anymore. It was Macaque.

“It’s just me.”

“I’m not dead am I?” What stupid words to say but it was the first thing her numb mind could think on.

“What? No.” Macaques face was a sea of worry lines as he gently turned her shoulder to him. The blood was sopping beneath the cloth of her shirt. He gave it a sniff and murmured in soothing tones. Mostly to himself. “But I’m concerned for your shoulder. Let’s get that looked at alright ?”

Peaches nodded. Macaque used his claws to rip free the ruined cloth of the shirt and gain better access to the claw marks.

“It’s an ugly scratch but nothing deep.” She felt his hands, paper soft press along the skin. She hissed at the fiery pain as damaged nerves and sore skin protested. “Peaches you will have to be brave for me and let me stich it closed ok?”

She nodded. Her mind was still processing the events just moments ago. Of tiger teeth flashing to bite her throat. Of claws cutting her skin. Macaque returned to her and tugged her into him. She didn’t protest. Didn’t stop as he pulled her hand up to his face. She twined her fingers into the fur, needing the grounding almost, if not more, then he did. Macaque made soothing chirps and soft noises as he worked, pulling needle through flesh and closing it up.

It was only after a time, when Peaches own fear began to fall away, that he asked her.

“Why did you leave the room Peaches ?”

“I heard … it sounded like one of the babies Mac.” One of the little monkey babies all alone and crying for help. The haunting sound echoing off the stone and always just out of reach. “One of the littles in pain and hurt. I didn’t think. I just … acted.”

“Mmm.” Another stich pressed into her skin and she flinched. “You know this means you will have to have a day guard now yes?”

“Are you putting more restrictions on me after I almost got devoured ?” It was a bad attempt at humor but Peaches tried anyway. Whenever something happened to her - if it was an imagined insult from a courtier, a threat to her life because she tried something new and it didn’t agree with her- the boys would set new limits, new conditions. Macaque scowled at her and she bit her tongue from adding to the humor.

“Precautions. If I hadn’t heard you—“ His voice chocked at the end. Peaches looked back. Macaques ears were all low, dropping like flower petals. For all their faults, for their transgressions in taking her choices from her, they loved her. Peaches could see that love in Macs eyes as he imagined the possible outcomes that could have happened. She twirled her fingers around s patch of his fur, soothing him and herself with the confirmation that this was the reality now and not those flashing teeth.

“We can’t loose you Love. I — we — we were so afraid.” When Macaque had heard the strangled help in the heat of battle he had stopped. He had felt his heart give a lurch and Wukong had been of like mind. That battle was practically won. Between the two sworn brothers, nothing much could stand in their fury. But hearing Peaches— Peaches who they left back safe in their room, in the palace, calling for help—

“I was too.”

“When I tell you to stay inside - stay inside. Understand?”Anger laced Macaques words as he pinned her with a look.

“Yes.” It wasn’t good enough though. Not for him. It wouldn’t be for Wukong. The next time the mountain was under attack—if there was a next time— Macaque would lock the doors and the windows. He would shudder the room in shadow if he had to. But. A yes for now was the best he would get from her.

“Good. That’s all the chewing out I’ll give you because when Wukong gets here he’s going to have some very harsh words with you.” Peaches shoulders flinched a little.

“He’s mad at me?” There was genuine hurt and dismay in her voice. Wukong and Peaches had the toughest days when it came to their relationship. Some days she could forget he had taken her without her consent from all she knew- had wiped her village clear off the map. Other days she only saw the blood soaked Warlord in all his fury. On those days arguments ensued and the kings mood was ever sour.

“Never mad at You.” Macaque reassured. Wukong never was genuinely upset at their peach. How could he be when he was enamored with her so? Macaque couldn’t even keep his own anger at her negligence of self after todays events. All she had to do was look at him with that puppy dog look and he was wanting to tease and soothe her into smiles and comfort. “Never. Afraid for your life ? Absolutely. He has half a mind to keep you indoors from now on.”

“He said that ?”

“As we were racing to come get you yes.” Macaque finished the stitches with a pull and tug. The cord came free in his claws. He set about binding cotton gauze around the area to protect the stitches. In the morning he would let them breathe.

“But I think if you let him coddle you for a few days and you agree to a guard, he won’t take your outside privileges away.” Macaque teased and gave advice. Wukong could get a bit … territorial when it came to their Peach. He understood how important it was to give some sort of semblance of freedom to her. Peaches was like a flower- she needed light and air to thrive. If Wukong took that away, he wouldn’t like how she would wilt. Even though Macaque himself had half a mind to keep her inside forever. Especially after today.

Peaches head brushed beneath his chin suddenly and the monkey was jarred from his thoughts. She was nodding off, fighting sleep. Macaque gathered her up easily and set her into the bed they shared. He took care to arrange the pillows, to settle her into her most favorite blankets and soft things. It was a distraction from the rage that now was bubbling upward. For though Macaque had the calmest demeanor- he was just as bloody and furious as his brotherly counterpart.

“Go to sleep.” He commanded. Peaches yawned, catching the trailing end of his tail.

“You won’t leave me … will you?”

“I will be right here till Wukong gets back.”

It was hours later when Macaque heard his brother step into their rooms. Wukong had bathed and cleaned himself elsewhere from the smell of the water and floral oils coming off of him. They both knew how Peaches had an aversion to the scent of blood. The monkey king was across the room and hovering over the pillow pit where she slept.

“How is she?” Wukong asked. All the rage had gone from him. Only worry remained. His tiny little wife… he could still see the Tiger hovering above her, his jaws parted wide over her throat to devour. It made Wukong wish to break his muzzle again.

“Worn out. The cuts are superficial at best. I stitched them up.” The sheen of white medical gauze and cotton took over one lovely shoulder of Peaches back. Wukong felt his teeth beginning to grit in a threatening smile.

“Why would she go outside?! Peaches isn’t a fool.”

“And she wasn’t one.” Macaque soothed. He was standing now that Wukong was here, making his way to the door slowly. “She went outside because she heard the bastard imitate a baby cry.”

“A baby?”

“She thought it was one of the babies.” Wukongs heart gave a shudder. Of course she would throw caution to the wind. His Peaches loved the children of the mountain almost as much as he himself did. “Peaches said she went out to look and that’s when he leapt at her.”

Wukong felt a bit of his anger ebb. He was never angry at Peaches. He could never be. But anger around how she acted ? … yes. That was a possibility. Hearing how she didn’t go out until she thought it was a baby- well. He couldn’t fault her for that.

“The sentries are dead.” Wukong had come across their bodies after restraining the tiger demon. Seeing his peoples cut throats and crumpled bodies had not soothed his anger. He hoped the tiger healed quickly enough so he could repay them for each of his peoples lives. “The tiger killed them. He thought he could kill me by swinging his fancy sword. Too bad it snapped on the first try.”

“Did you leave him alive?” Macaque was at the door now, his fists uncurled.

“He’s somewhere beneath us in a wet cave. I broke all the bones in his body. But … I Left the tail for you.”

“Good.” The door opened and his brother was gone.

Wukong stared at Peaches as she slept for a moment. He had almost lost her today. He half wanted to wake her up and shake her and the other half just wanted to keep her tucked away and safe inside the mountain. Wukong would pull promises and such from her tomorrow. In fact, he may have to teach her some basic self defense. She would never be able to stop a full demonic beast. It would ease his mind however - it would sooth him and settle the fur that kept rising along his back- if she at least had an understanding of what tricks and traits demons used to tempt food out of hiding.

Wukong slid into the nest, settling himself so he didn’t jostle her awake. Tomorrow he could sit her down and tell her the new precautions he would have to merit out. A new guard, lessons in defense, maybe even a copy of him nearby or in the shape of some common item… Wukong could gift her a hairpin each morning and do her hair with a copy of himself. A magical copy that would have ears out for any mischief she may wind up falling into.

It would give her the illusion of freedom without telling her I put a spy on her person. That made Wukong feel better. For the next few days however, she wasn’t leaving his side. He didn’t care if she cried out or pouted or started to throw things. They had almost lost her.

Peaches half woke with a start as Wukong adjusted the blankets about her. Her face came upward, staring and trying to see all about.

“Wukong?”

“It’s just me… you can go back to sleep.”

To his astonishment Peaches shifted, settling herself into his chest. Wukong welcomed her tangle, twining has hands into her hair as she tugged on his fur. Her cheek was pressed to his chest where his heart must be hammering beneath. The Monkey king made soothing chirps and soft calls to her, a reassurance of safety and care. Soon enough her fingers relaxed again as she fell into sleep.

He kissed her temple and nose, twirling his fingers through her hair. It was just as soothing for him as it probably was for her.

Wukong was glad the tiger had been able to survive him. He couldn’t wait to gift his pelt to her when he was finished with him.

If Macaque didn’t kill him after all.

[jadienjaystoriesandart]

Grian walked with Scar down the hallway, though their rooms were close by it still was a bit of a walk due to how big these apartments were. Especially the more luxury ones. Grian was still processing how large the place was, having sat in a bathroom taking in the sheer amount of space he had. Going from a tiny college dorm to basically 3x the size was a bit jarring. Oddly Bdubs did let her take her time, if only to avoid a sensory meltdown of a watcher.

Grian had slowly gotten used to the large space, and got familiar with it. At Cub's suggestions he took too personalizing the place to make it feel like home. Cub said that making a new space homey would help him with the overwhelmed feeling of it. By filling it with stuff it would make it feel less big. And oddly enough that worked. Grian was also thinking about getting a cat, something he always wanted. Once the NHO finally gave him the stuff from his college dorm back, it was nice to put the funny red sheets on the bed with the mismatched Minecraft pillow case and the plaid blanket he got a thrift store. One day while personalizing the place Scar came over and said Grian was going to see his and Cub's apartment.

"Are you sure about this Scar?" Grian asked as they walked, the only sound was their shoes on the carpet.

"Absolutely! Cub is super excited to show off our treasures to you!" Scar said very eager as he had a bounce in his step. "We got all sorts of things to show off from our days as Convex."

Grian gave a look as she felt nervous. "Scar are some of these objects going to cause anything to burn, melt, cause a rash, or break me in any way, shape, or form?" she asked, learning to cover all her bases with Scar or Cub. They liked to play mind games and riddles, or round about questions.

Gapping looking mock offended, Scar placed a hand on his chest. "Why Grian! Why would you ever think we'd intentionally put you in dan-" he cut off by the hard look. "Well, we always make sure your safe, have we ever put you in a stupidly dangerous situation before?"

"Do you want that alphabetically or chronologically? Because I can think of three just from last week." Grian deadpanned as Scar made small pouting sounds.

"Look we won't let anything hurt you, promise on my wings!" Scar said cheerful as ever, as Grian sighed heavily. By now they were in front of the door as Scar punched in the code number and the door opened. NHO believed that keys were impractical and easy to lose.. So hence remembering a code to get into your home. He's more shocked he hasn't broken it yet.

The smell in the apartment was the first thing she noticed. Sweet, like sugar cookies or cake. Not over powering, but noticeable. The next was the sheer amount of shelves with trinkets, and pictures of Cub and Scar in different places.

Grian looked around noticing they were fond of the colors blue and some whites with a few blacks or dark browns to compliment it. It oddly wasn't harsh on the eyes, sure it was bright but not like the stark white walls of the NHO labs. This felt functional and warm.

Taking off her shoes, she sat down on the soft couch as Scar called to Cub that she was here. Through the smell of the sweetness, Grian could making out food from the kitchen. She didn't think either of them could cook, but it oddly smelled good.

As Scar went to get his partner, hanging up his coat on the rack, Grian took in the place. There was these pictures of Scar and Cub doing funny poses at historical places, most of them Scar or Cub was breaking something in them. He also saw a few objects next to them, this large crystal near a picture of them holding a man by his shirt collar over a pool of water that had the crystals in it. A picture of them near the pyramids, with Scar having tripped in the background into sand, next to it was some gold mask.

She also saw some black rocks near with many holes in it, which she could say were meteorites of sorts. "I like to collect anything space related." she turned to see Cub grinning at her from the doorway. "Anyway, welcome to our home currently." he shrugged, as if to say this was a temporary place.

"It's rather full of things." Grian said passivley, not in a bad way, but an observation.

"Ofcourse! Cub and I love to show all our things. Oh! Cub we should show her the skull room!" Scar looked excited. "We like to collect skulls of people we killed and decorate them, i love that one we did by dipping it in gold!"

Grian stared at Scar then looked at Cub, he just laughed, "Later Scar, lunch is almost done." he teased his partner. "Hope you like meat, mostly steak cubes in a thick soup."

"I didn't know you cooked." Grian commented, Cub just shrugged and said nothing. She didn't expect him to, he liked to let gestures speak louder than words, and didn't think cooking was a big deal to explain it.

A meow broke the silence as a cat jumped onto Grian's lap purring. She was white and grey marking, nuzzling up to him. "Awe!" Grian cooed petting the soft fur, "Arent' you an adorable fur ball?" she smiled when the cat licked her nose.

"That's Jellie!" Scar said, "My cat, and she's a purr-fect kitty!" he said as Grian was petting Jellie with a bright smile on his face. Scar was also smiling at how Jellie loved their new partner instantly.

After that was Cub letting the food simmer and telling Grian about the objects in the room and where they got them. Jellie making herself comfortable on his lap. And Scar telling the shenanigans the got into to get these objects and the missions. How Doc, Beef, Etho, and Bdubs all get annoyed they take 'souvenirs'.

'I mean really, you give a man a chance to see something he's never seen before, and tell him NOT to take anything?" Scar waved his hand dismissively.

Grian was laughing by now, "Scar these might be historical objects worth thousands!" he managed between laughs. "Governments don't like when you just take them."

"Then they should put up a sign!" Scar defended to her.

"They do!" Grian laughed out as Scar pouted next to Cub mumbling something about they shouldn't tempt a vex with a shiny object.

Showing her the amazing view they had, and trying not to laugh at how her legs shook. And she shakily said it was pretty. Who knew Grian was afraid of heights? Gently leading him away from the window.

The beef cube stew was amazing when she got to try it, savory and tender. Near melting in her mouth, and Cu assured her it was beef. "We'd never make you eat a person Grian, that's cruel and your our friend!" he said firmly, it was the first time Grian had heard him sound so serious.

The way he said it though... Grian felt a strange sense of warmth by how firmly he said she was their friend. Truth be told she didn't have many friends in college too focused on passing classes. Yet sitting here with Scar saying they needed to bring Grian on a mission to see some landmark, and Cub readily agreeing some exposure to breaking the law in minor ways would be a good way to get her into being a hitman.... Grian found herself smiling softly to herself.

It was late as Scar had fallen asleep watching movies with them, Disney movies and getting Grian to sing some songs off key with him. Cub was getting Scar to bed when Grian was getting her shoes. "Thanks for having me over Cub." he said softly. "I enjoyed it."

"You're welcome any time here Grian, I'll text you the pass code." Cub said with a shrug on his shoulders. The smile on his face didn't seem as sinister as the ones he gives to Doc or Bdubs, no teeth. Must be a vex thing.

Cub walked with Grian back to her apartment, "Today felt oddly normal, if you don't count the weird objects you two have." she joked as Cub looked at her. "Huh... guess i never knew I was misisng some sense of normalcy in this mess."

Oddly he thinks she didn't mean to say that last part outloud. Yet as she bids him goodnight, and heads inside her home, Cub narrowed his eyes down the hall. Well, if Grian hanging with them made her feel better, he'd be sure she knew she was always welcome...

Holding back a scowl, Cub left to go bother the NHO by creating some digital problems. Maybe he could trick them into letting them take Grian out of the HQ for a few days? Yeah, he was sure she'd love that! With a smile and a nod, Cub went off to do what he did best, cause problems.

-

@tibby-art

@tibbycaps

I keep making edits because I wrote this half asleep. 😂

[gatheringbones]

[“If I were growing up now, I might consider myself trans too,” says my friend Kate. She grew up in the Texas Panhandle during the 1950s and gravitated toward feminism in the 1970s like many of her peers. She adds ruefully: “I’m glad I didn’t have that option.”

Nadia has absorbed those fears, and she wonders whether her friends will see her top surgery as an act of betrayal. Before they left for Florida, Nadia implored her girlfriend, Flora, not to tell lesbian friends of theirs that she’s “getting rid of [her] boobs,” joking that she’d “be out of the club.” Flora says she feared losing access to her lover’s body. Never having undergone surgery before, she was afraid of the unknown. “Will it really solve her problems?” she wondered. Why put yourself through that? And why go to a doctor who specializes in transmale top surgery if you’re not trans yourself?

Nadia has stayed in touch with some of the lesbian-identified people she met online who told her they were having top surgery. A few have since “decided to go on T and now identify as male,” she says. It led Nadia to question her own motivations: “Will I begin to identify as trans? Is removing my breasts some sort of internalized misogyny? Am I betraying the lesbian community?”

The fact that transitioning is now an option for women who identify as male means that Nadia must consider how she wishes to identify herself. Flora reassured her: “Having tissue removed from your body is not going to make you a man.” Several months after she had undergone top surgery, Nadia still sees herself as a woman—albeit a woman without boobs. She has a new job and a new girlfriend—someone she used to work with at the employment counseling nonprofit, who worked with her in her union. Her involvement in the union has energized her in new ways, renewing her commitment to social justice organizing. When we speak, she seems happier and more at ease with her life. Top surgery hasn’t changed her life radically, though it has helped her intimate relationships, she says, and has made her less self-conscious about her body. She goes to the beach or to the Y locker room topless now and no one bats their eyes. “I now look how I’m supposed to look,” she says.

Recently, when she was at a union conference in Las Vegas, Nadia spotted another person at the hotel pool who also had the familiar scars of someone who had had top surgery, who was also there with a girlfriend. Though they didn’t say anything to each other, they looked at each other and shared a glint of recognition. Her story suggests that after being estranged from one another, younger butches and trans men are finding one another and making common cause, welcoming gender-crossers into the Lesbian Nation.

In an effort to blur the boundaries between butch lesbians and transgender men, some have suggested the label “transbutch.” When I ask Nadia whether that label is meaningful to her, she seems unconvinced. “It seems too ‘second wave,’ ” she says. Nadia sees herself as part of feminism’s “third wave,” which is more aware of queer issues and racial diversity, and which refuses to “put people in categories.” Unlike her second-wave feminist foremothers, who, in their enthusiasm for remaking the world, seemed at times pretty prescriptive, she’d prefer to “let them decide for themselves how they identify,” she says. So for now, she’s calling herself “butch and queer.” Or “whatever.”]

arlene stein, from unbound: transgender men and the remaking of identity, 2018

[loquaciousquark]

Final Thoughts

Okay! I went back and replayed the final sequence again and was much, much happier with both how everyone looked sans helmets and with some randomly varied flavor text in the background. I remain really, really happy overall with how this game ended both generally and for my particular runthrough.

The run-up to the Morphic Pool was really, REALLY creepy, and I liked the ways they threw all the li'l brainies at you to start wearing down the group resources. It does remain hilarious that the noodle-armed rogue was rowing the boat, though maybe that's why we couldn't get out of the way of the stalactite in time. The brain was fun gross and I couldn't quite tell--was the voice the same as the narrator? That would have been a nice touch! I did absolutely roll a natural 20 on that DC 99 check to Dominate the Brain (loved that setup in the dialogue window), but alas, the brain took off to destroy everything anyway. The biggest issue I had here was figuring out how to get past that dumb pile of rocks for that very mediocre chest.

In the Astral Plane, I managed to get enough brains to craft several potions of psychic resistance that I never used, but which made me feel better to have. There was never a chance my Tav was going to let Orpheus stay bound (I'm still working on her backstory, but I know she comes into the game feeling strongly anti-authoritarian and only gets moreso over the course of the events), so the only question I had was what was going to happen to the Emperor when I made that choice.

Sidebar--the Ansur fight & environ was one of my absolute favorite locales of the entire game. I loved the set design, the puzzles, the music, the reveals, and the final fight--I thought it was a fantastic setpiece altogether, and the reveal that the Dream Guardian was not only an illithid, but Balduran, made me actually gasp. Getting a conclusion to that questline as narratively satisfying as this one made me really happy, and Wyll's response to its conclusion with his dad--becoming the Blade of Avernus--I also thought was incredibly fitting for both that character and the choices he made within this world.

Anyway, I played through becoming an illithid just to see what happened (Astarion's comment about preferring any option that doesn't change your beautiful face--I felt that, bro), and as soon as I saw that grey triangle torso I was like, nope, sorry Prince, tagging you right back in on this one. Just can't do it, even when the fate of the city's on the line. I've spent too many hours looking at her janky eyes and her scarred lip to turn them all into tentacles now. I wasn't surprised the Emperor turned on me, but I didn't expect him to just full-on go Netherbrain and leave us in his rainbow skull.

I loved, loved, love the rally scene in the High Hall. What an awesome way to remind you of how many ways you've made a difference in some of these quests. The owlbear & Dannon along with the Strange Ox were my favorites, but seeing Barcus, Zevlor, and even Isobel & Dame Aylin was just wonderful. Really loved this entire sequence.

This is the first time I've ever really both utilized summoned allies in a big fight like this and also felt how much they turned the tide! A fantastic balanced encounter in the courtyard, and I called down so many Harpers & Fists & the owlbear & the dragonfire (so COOL) and Yurgir (got stuck in a building and did poke damage for the rest of the fight) and Rolan's tower (absolutely LOVED that you could save his fam & they could come live with him). It truly took an encounter that was really, really difficult into something absolutely manageable and in some ways quite easy. They told you to gather allies and by GOD I GATHERED ALLIES. I feel rewarded for my exploration!!

Of course, it then became utterly paramount to keep all summoned allies alive, but thankfully that wasn't much of an issue. My rogue by the end of this had Celestial Haste, two cunning action dashes, extra movement from momentum, and could easily clear 120+ ft a round and still have actions at the end of her movement. Plus she had a longbow that gave Guiding Bolt on a hit (GOD it's such a good longbow, I want to go back and play more combat just to play with it again), so even the few times the mindflayers were able to Dominate some Harpers I was able to get over there with either her or Lae'zel jumping rampart to rampart across the entire map & break their concentration. A super fun, exciting fight with a lot of variety. Orpheus is powerful as a mindflayer! The power is not small! He just doesn't have a horizontal mouth or a nose anymore & I can't do that to Tav!

Still never figured out how to get into that blocked-off area at the south of that map. Found a random forum post that suggested there was a chasm you could jump into to access the "Upper City Sewers," but the only things I found in the chasms was death, womp womp.

Anyway, got up to the brain (very cool cutscene! Not a snowball's chance my Tav was actually able to haul herself up that stem!) and REALLY liked the brain fight. I didn't have any issues navigating it (though a timer on the battle is always cool!) and only got Lae'zel & Orpheus killed once on the first run when I didn't understand how the Marked for Negation electric balls worked. The final cutscene where the brain fell in the water was beautifully animated; I loved seeing those NPCs keep cropping up in this sequence. I liked the image of everyone hauling themselves out of the bay onto the dock & Astarion complaining bitterly about how often he's having to swim on this trip.

My first run-through of the final dock conversation made me very sad. I didn't like Minsc's pithy comment about sunflowers for Astarion at all, and I hated watching Karlach's heart break behind that hideous helmet. (The stats were so good, and the aesthetics were so awful...she was in my party 99% of the time so Hide Helmet worked almost always...except when it mattered the most, ugh.) The second time, being able to see her face & Wyll's really helped that scene land and it really, really worked for me. I still don't think there's a fantastic in-universe Watsonian explanation for why we can't fix her engine for good with all these acres of infernal iron we've been collecting, but ACCEPTING THAT ON FACE VALUE FOR THE MOMENT I thought the writing and acting in that entire sequence were beautiful. Karlach's voice actress in particular just wrecked me. Beautiful, beautiful writing at the end; just wish the structural tentpoles were a little stronger to justify the moment.

On my second, helmet-less runthrough, when Astarion started to burn, Halsin made a much more sober comment along the lines of "he will miss that freedom; it may be some time before we see him again," and I much preferred that. It felt right in line with how my Tav felt about the situation, and she was very grateful for his empathy there. I still wish we'd figured out a way to have a celebration or something together, though I appreciate Wyll & Karlach's absence would have put a serious damper on things.

I am glad, I think, that I waited to see Karlach's ending after the patch. This read so determinedly hopeful, even with the very bittersweet sting, that I think to have anything less would have really undercut her journey even more than the options we currently have. All in all, I was very satisfied with sending her and Wyll to Avernus while we figure out how to fix her. Their final cutscene charging into the credits was the bomb.

The Astarion wrap-up scene was almost, ALMOST perfect. The choice to tell him we'd find a way to get him back in the sun was EXACTLY what I wanted to say (which was a theme in this game--there were only a handful of places in the entire game where I was frustrated by not being able to react the way I wanted--so impressive, Larian!). I just wish they'd been able to have one kiss in a room with walls and a ceiling, weh.

Anyway! The game is over, I'm immensely satisfied with all outcomes and party storylines with a few minor asterisks here and there, and I'm already plotting out several pieces to flesh out the places I want to explore. The characters are so rich and dynamic and reactive, the world feels so very real and robust, and I'm eager to live in it a little longer. I don't think I'm going to start another playthrough anytime soon--for me my first run is usually "canon", and I want to sit and marinate in this version of the world a little longer--but eventually I'll probably try a Durge just to see what the deal is. It'll honestly be incredibly hard not to romance Astarion, but we'll see! Maybe I'll just make Tavish again with a tweaked backstory. I don't know much about the Durge at all, so it'd be pretty blind!

What a good game. What a good time! I probably will go back and see what achievements I can pull easily--I was delighted to get one for "saving every tiefling possible through the end of the game," yeah boiiiii. Now to unblacklist everyone and see what the heck I've missed out on while spending every waking moment smooching an insufferable elf!

[fandomfoodiedancer]

Eliot comes out

A/N: Just a little thing that popped into my head on the train this morning. It’s not edited so please let me know if I made any mistakes!

“That's a beautiful dress love”You smiled widely at the bartender, hoping to get a bit of information.

“Aw, thank you!” The blonde beamed over the compliment

“However it's only half as beautiful you” You batted your eyelashes and looked down, shyly, hoping to win her over. As you continued to flirt with her, you heard the Eliot and Hardison over the coms.

“Damn girl! Are you flirting with the waitress? Either way you got moves! Dude, you gotta watch out, if she keeps this up she'll go home with a girl tonight before you!”

“Shut up man” Eliot scoffed, you could practically hear the eye roll.

Even though you knew you'd be interrogated by your friends soon, you continued to flirt, waiting around before your performance. The current con required a burlesque dancer, and luckily for the team, that had always been one of your dreams. Soon enough there was an hour before your showtime, so you went backstage, putting on your make up when you eyed Eliot in the change room mirrors. You smiled when you saw him. He was the person you were closest to on the team, and he knew you were nervous for this show, so promised he'd be in the audience, and seemed to find time to sneak in to help calm your nerves. But you also knew he wanted answers.

“So, you excited for your big show?” Of course, a neutral conversation starter. You signaled to your coms and turned them off despite Hardison's complaints that would follow.

“Why don't you ask me the real question?” Nerves pooled in your stomach but you knew you wanted to come out to them all eventually.

“What was that back there?”

“Tie my hair up and I'll explain?” You handed him a pile of bobby pins, sitting down. You took a deep breathe as he started to work.

“I like girls. And guys. I don't really know what that makes me. I think I'm like a half way point between bi and pan. I'm not sure. I just know I needed a distraction and a confidence boost to try and keep my anxiety down, and I noticed that girl eyeing me tonight and thought, what the hell, I may as well take a chance, you know? I don’t... I don't want you to think of me any differently Eliot. You're one of my closest friends, you mean the world to me and I don't want you to think that I'm different as this is me. Yeah.” You looked at him through the mirror. After placing the last pin in the bun, he glanced softly back.

“I know”

“You know?”

“I know that you are who you are. Who you like doesn't change who you are. I think it's kinda cool and brave of you to act on it. Especially in front of me and the team when you hadn't said anything.”

“Thanks. Okay, heart to heart over, I need to get changed then if you can help me cover up some old scars and bruises?”

He nodded. That's part of why you loved Eliot, he never asked about important things, always trusting you to tell him when you were ready. The bruises were from a con gone wrong, which Eliot knew about, but the scars were something from your past the team didn't know, and you'd rather they didn't. That's why you trusted Eliot to be the one to help you cover them up in the skimpy costume you'd been given for stage. Pretty soon all of the marks were covered, except one high on your hip.

“Thanks El, I'll fix the last one.”

“You sure? I'm here to help”

“I know, just that it's high up on my hip, and I don't want it to be awkward for you to see me in my underwear.”

“Sweetheart, please. It's not like I won't see you in the costume tonight, which probably covers less, plus I've seen so many women in their panties, I ain't gonna bat an eye.” You bit your lip trying not to laugh, as you stripped so he could cover the mark.

“You know, when you say it like that, you sound a bit like a stereotypical gay chorus-ensemble-theatre guy.”

“Pfft, I do not!”

“Yeah, you do! 'seen so many women in their panties', 'not gonna bat an eye'. Is there something you want to tell me El?”

“Dammit, I'm gonna beat the crap outta you one day y/n.” He finished up the make up before turning around as you carefully put on your costume.

“Nah, you love me too much!”

“You're lucky too. There's something I should say whilst we're being honest though”

“Oh?” You freeze for a moment, before finishing getting changed, needing to hear what he has to say.

“You know how I worked for Moreau?” A lump formed in his throat as he said the words. You already thought you knew what he was going to say though.

“Eliot? If this is too hard to say you don't have to, I think I know what it is.”

“I... I gotta say it to get it off my chest though. I've wanted to tell ya for a while now, you're the only person I trust with it. But, uh.... he and I...”

“Had a thing?” When he nodded you continued “I guessed as much. And just so you know, there's no shame or anything bad in liking guys too. You're still you, not any different, and it isn't something you should feel bad about or like you should hide it.”

“Yeah, but it ain't easy to admit. Not when you've grown up in a small backward town in the south, then been in the military. Even harder to admit when the only serious feelings I've had for a guy was for Moreau”

“I know. But I'm proud of you Eliot. Thank you for telling me and trusting me” There was a soft sound that escaped the hitter as you hugged him, before he broke the soft moment with a slight cough.

“I, uh, should go back out to watch your performance.Good luck with the waitress by the way, just don't forget the con.”

“When have I ever gotten distracted?”

[whumpdreaming]

Okay so I know you just answered my last ask but here's another one since you said there was no limit

I was also curious about questions 13, 16 and 19 :)

19 is asked while staring at her scar in the picrew. how'd that happen

(your ocs are killing me they are splashing around in my brain like it's a public swimming pool. I am so enthusiastic about them)

— 🎄

Hi again!! It's literally impossible to send too many asks as I really look forward to these and they make my day <3

13. What are their coping mechanisms, good or bad?

Ruby likes hitting stuff. Sometimes people if she's getting into a fight, but a lot of times she exercises to blow steam off. I imagine she practices some sort of martial art. Or she'll listen to really loud death metal and clean stuff.

16. Who do you like to see caring for them, if anyone?

Herself, a lot of the time --- when she was younger, Ruby was deep into various forms of substance abuse and such, and it actually took a long time for her to keep moving despite her issues and to be there for herself. Otherwise, it's not common, but she'll go and talk to and/or bawl her eyes out with Barb sometimes.

19. Do they have old scars, physical or otherwise?

Ruby has a scar on her cheek from falling near a table, and the unsanded corner cut the skin. Plus lots of emotional trauma from her rough childhood. I guess that's a big part of why she gets along so well with Barb. They had very similar upbringings. (Well, Barb's were less physically abusive, but you get the idea.)

[cloudpools]

Blythe was completely enrapt, bright emeralds boring into Gurin as he explained the layout of his home. A clam. They were inside a giant clam! How did that even work? Was it still alive? If they were inside the mollusk then where was the mollusk nestled? Her jaw drops to ask her ever-growing pool of questions, but she hesitates as he continues after a brief pause.

It had been obvious to Blythe that mentions of their first meeting brought him a lot of discomfort. Even just her presence (regardless of their current predicament) seemed to make him uneasy. The memory hadn't been pleasant for her either, but she didn't carry any scars from that night other than a deep anxiety to never have Zeyrfial yell at her like that again.

Veril also remembered that night well. He'd found Gurin crumpled, pierced, blood pooling around his hanging form. Gurin cursing as Veril cleaned the wound, used what little healing magic he knew, and bandaged him up. The grumble of thanks as he limped him back to his quarters. Veril hadn't asked any questions that night, but the pieces were slowly falling into place now that he'd met the cause of the incident.

The red-skinned demon's smile grew more as he watched his friend flounder. It was so odd. Normally Gurin was so suave with women, whisking them away with a wink and silver tongue. Gurin didn't need to tell Blythe anything about this place, but it seemed that he was doing so to put her at ease. Not because he wanted to seduce her, but because he wanted to assuage any worries she may have. To give her reassurance that he had a plan, and everything was going to be fine.

And then the elevator doors opened.

Blythe doesn't move right away, in awe of the main hub, but when she notices the crowd coming for them to take their own elevators to their own destinations, she gasps, scrambling behind Gurin and latching on once again. Veril is quick to reactivate the necklace with the snap of his fingers, hissing as other demons pushed past. "Yea, Brenn! Watch it!" Trying to position himself in a way that would keep Blythe safely nestled between the pair (which was rather difficult now that she was invisible), their merry(?) band made way for the thick of the crowd. How unfortunate that they'd have to pass through in order to make it to the main lifts.

Blythe stays completely silent, using all of her concentration not to trip or bump into anyone, while simultaneously eavesdropping on all the passersby. Veril quirks a brow, throwing a look at Gurin. "Is it a holiday or somethin'? Why's everyone scrambling around? What's the hubbub all about?" If Veril would take five seconds to listen in, like Blythe, he would hear the whispers of his coworkers.

"...Ukolai came personally...." "... breach in security..." "....his whole guard..." "An inspection?" "No no! A celebration?"

"Shit." Veril's curse startles Blythe, and she looks up to find his gaze trained on a formally dressed, bespeckled demon. "Dravok's here.... which means...." Dravok was a large demon, and an even larger asshole. You had to be when you were the head of an archdemon's honor guard... He was doing his job, scanning the perimeter when his eyes fell on an unusual sight. The glasses he was wearing were special. Expensive gems cut thin that allowed those who peered through to dispel any magical tricks or disguises. You never could trust anyone.

Especially those who were invisible...

"VERIL." Reflexively, the portly demon stiffens, and all eyes shift to what most would see as just a duo. "What in the hells are you hiding this time?! How many times have I had to have a talk with you about using counterfeit gems?! You better have a damn good explanation this time or else." The crowd parts, allowing the blue-skinned guard a path directly to them, the rest of the guard filling the gap around Ukolai. And it's only now that Blythe realizes... Dravok is staring right at her.

Panic sets in. Should she run? Should she hide? Maybe she was overreacting? Maybe it would all be fine? She begins to quiver as the guard stands before her, towering, muscular. Blythe is swallowed by his shadow, and there's no mistaking it. He's looking down on her. "And who might you be? A new pet?"

Blythe contemplates answering, but instead ops to tug on Gurin, shaking only getting worse. She was caught! What would happen to her now?!

These depths and tunnels didn’t allow conventional sources of magic to function as they should. This mine was, after all, not unlike an oyster- long dead, tunneled through for its precious pearls of stone deposits. Lost geodes of congealed … hells know what. Gurin had the vestiges of understanding the rules and laws of the creation of these stones but the inner workings went above him. That made it all the more bizarre how Blythe had made it in. But at least, for now at least, the localized spell that Veril had utilized would do what it needed to.

…right???

In the safety of the elevator, it’s revealed its not quite as steadfast as one would hope. As if Gurin hadn’t already felt pangs of anxiety with how it flickered when one were to touch the little lady. Something that was bad enough already. Shit. It’d almost be easier to dress her up as a demon than whatever this was. Coulda woulda shoulda. Who the fuck is Gurin kidding? He didn’t have anything on him to put on airs or disguises like that.

“Seriously. Keep the regular job, Veril. That’s all I'ma say on that. You’re lucky the damn spell hasn’t dropped her through the floor. Or worse.” He heaves a sigh, feeling more and more like a chaperone or something. Between the helplessness of Blythe (not really her fault) and the foolishness of Veril’s (quite the opposite) he felt like the only sane person present.

Or the one who didn’t have other ideas in mind… he… didn’t have any himself? Did he? Another glance at Blythe, has him uncertain. A forced half-smile as he lifts his chin.

“Oy. You’re holding up alright for now, aren’t you?” Another breath. “Don’t worry… this place is confusing to get around, but when you know what you’re doing it’s quick work. We take this elevator back to the main body of the mollusk. We were down like a… a vein. That last place we met, where the ball was being held. Its not far from where we’re going.” An involuntary memory sends a small shiver through Gurin. An impulsive touch to where the lances of ice had pierced him. It’d taken no small effort to get those healed up. “Uheh. We’ll be taking another lift from there to get out to the transport circles- seeing as none of us know any magic that can take you out from that point.” Once again begging the mystery. “In the meantime, or rather once we get out of there you best– !!!”

The doors decided this was the perfect time to reintroduce to Blythe the crown of the mine. The sanctuary yielding unto the three the full bustle of the premises in which Gurin and Veril worked under Ukolai.

It was, for better or worse, much more open than previous areas. Though it was still dotted around the edges with crystals- these were left as decoration having little use as magical foci or structural need. Pretty, barely, and that was about it. Various carved stone walkways spread out place to place like boardwalks across a shallow marsh. Stairways. Balconies. Larger yawning holes of carved stone that lead down deeper pathways. Some leading to offices. Others to barracks.

Blythe is afforded a single generous moment to take in any new sights, before the presence of moment demanded they move. That’s a lot of people looking to get past them onto the lift they just came to. What the hell?!

“Hey. Watch it, you trying to push me over? Good grief, Brenn.” At the very least, Gurin was quick to adopt a more postured image, as he usually did. Locking gaze with the offending demon (one his equal in height) and shifting past. Hopefully giving time for Blythe to slip around and hells please have the magic put back to work. “Hell of a day for things to be this busy… and what’s going on down there now?”

Gurin can’t help but observe a crowd of various demons down near the main lifts, and others watching from afar… but from where they were standing it couldn’t be made out just yet just who or what had attracted attention. And even worse, they’d be learning one way or another if they wanted to get out.

[sakuraryomen01]

Lost Lamb /OG Sukuna x Female Reader/ .10

. . .

✧ Warning: Og Sukuna Ryomen, servant reader, Master x Servant, protector/predator x reader kind of relationship, basically a Sukuna fanservice chapter (more hot springs, wet muscles, showering, etc [ig].), reader trying out masturbation, sensual kissing, neck kisses, sensitive reader, sexual touching

✧ Reader: Female Reader

✧ Plot: A Master x Servant Fanfiction in which Sukuna, the king of curses, finds you snooping in his temple and he makes you pay for your crimes for the rest of your life..

✧ Words: 4.586k

fic masterlist :: .o1 .o2 .o3 .o4 .o5 .o6 .o7 .o8 .o9 .10 .11 .12

·A/n: Been feeling like the kiss has been prolonged long enough.. I hope you loved this series as much as I have!! Can't believe it's so close to being complete!! Also: there's a change I made.. can you spot it? (This will be pretty hard to guess but I'll give anyone that finds it a shout out!!)

~~

♡ Thank you for reading this bit! Enjoy! ♡ . . .

That morning, you woke up to the sounds of a shower being run. Assuming it was the one down the hall, you sat up and rubbed your eyes. Trying to wake up and think about the events of last night.

Sukuna had come in last night to rest, joining you in his large bed and yawning deeply, before rolling over and hugging you close to his chest. You asked why he was holding you as his large arm flexed and practically warmed your entire body. Making your face heat up just the same as he huffed out a groggy reply.

"Just tired. Now, sleep." He said, his voice rough and tired. His extra arm lifted up the blankets to cover you both, adding more heat than there should be and flustering you over a simple movement.

He sounded so cute when he was tired..

Even after you fell asleep, the warm embrace of another was so much more comforting than the stuffed animals you had held for months. Not saying that they weren't good to have on a bad day, they were just as nice to hold, you just felt more at peace in Sukuna's arms. The warm embrace of his arms and body was full of comfort, but also something else.

Feeling his large and hot body behind you began the first of many nights full of lewd and sexual dreams. They were so detailed, so full if lust, that you woke up with a pooling of liquid between your thighs almost every morning. Today, thankfully, wasn't one of those days.

But still, the dreams were so confusing to you.

Why were they suddenly appearing? What caused them?

"Y/n? What are you doing up so early?" A rough voice echoed from the room's entrance.

You looked up to see Sukuna in all his glory. The same taut muscles that had small scars combined with tattoos on his skin. Thankfully, there was a towel wrapped around his middle, but there wasn't much leaving your mind to the imagination. You could still see Sukuna's v-line and the tummy mouth that licked it's lips every few moments. Sukuna looked so gorgeous, perfect— as if sculpted by the Gods.

"I had a weird dream," You replied, sitting up and crossing your legs. "It's nothing though, don't worry."

There was a moment of silence as Sukuna tried to figure you out. He knew that was a lie, without question. You looked nervous, skittish, and all around a bundle of nervousness. Was it him? Did he do something wrong? He hoped he didn't, he didn't want you to be nervous around him.

"Mm.. Very well," Sukuna said, calmly walking over and resting his bottom on his side of the bed. Quickly patting down his damp, pink hair, Sukuna took a deep breath and closed his eyes.

For the last few weeks, he had been thinking about something way too early. Something that made him blush but smile randomly if the thought crossed his mind.

Marriage.

It was such a random thing to think, to contemplate, to wonder about. It was far to soon too. You and him had barely begun your relationship but, Sukuna felt he didn't care. So what if it was too soon? Who was going to judge him for loving you eternally?

Sukuna wanted to ask now, more than ever, but he knew that would shake you. It was way too soon. He just needed to wait a little longer. His love for you wasn't going anywhere, so why must he worry himself.

That morning was like any other. You cooked and cleaned with Uraume, swept up the gardens and prayed for the soul buried underneath the shadows of the sakura tree. Even as you brought Sukuna additional clothing while he had his daily visit at the springs, you held your smile. It was so relaxing, to feel nothing but that blissfully elegant warmth in your tummy and heart.

This feeling always came with those comforting thoughts. That this shrine you once feared was now your home. That you lived here without a care in the world and the tragedy was just a stepping stone to your future endeavors. There was almost nothing that could ruin the life you had now. The good and the bad memories that you had were just the beginning.

So, as you made your way back into the shrine, you couldn't help but thank the Gods for your new life.

"Y/n, could you stay?" Hearing Sukuna voice from behind you, turning your head and seeing the object of your attraction. "It's rather boring to stay out here by myself."

You let out a small embarrassing squeak, feeling the warmth of your cheeks rise like they did a year and a half ago. But, even if it was embarrassing, you made your way back over to the warm waters of the springs. Undressing quickly before joining Sukuna in the waters, the rippling of the foaming liquid tickling your skin.

"There's my little human.." Sukuna muttered, the smile on his face hiding the secrets he was keeping behind it. "So small and plump.. Gods, I feel blessed to have you in my arms."

Those words made your body tingle with desire, the lewd images of Sukuna that had been clouding your mind at night coming back with a vengeance as you looked up at the large curse.

He was so close to you, hugging your small body to him like you'd shatter. Sukuna didn't even hide the fact he was letting his hands wander and drag over your body. Running his nails over your skin until his large hand came up to cup your small face.

His lower set of hands placed at your hips while the others held onto your cheeks, tracing his thumbs up and down your jaw. Sukuna's eyes pouring into yours, all the feeling and want that had been bottled up for months coming out as if to confess.

He wanted to kiss you so bad, to feel your soft lips and to suck on them. There was so much, why did he bother to hold back?

Because, Sukuna knew better.

You were far too innocent for such a perverted and hot kiss, something like that was to be waited on. Patience was something the King of Curses had learned over the last year and a half. Waiting a little longer wouldn't kill him, even though he wished dearly to just rush and kiss you.

Impatience was the enemy with this.. Patience is a friend..

"Anyways, how was your rest last night?" He asked, a calm smile on his face as he guided his large hands over your small body. "You seemed quite twitchy, nuzzling into me more than normal too."

"Oh, I slept well!" You lied, remembering fractions of your odd sex dream.

"Really, I'm fine!"

With a sigh, Sukuna turned a blind eye to your small lies. Pulling you close by your hips and washing your front, feeling his cheeks dust pink at feeling your small tummy.

Well, it was small to him at least..

After finishing up in the springs, Sukuna let you go once you had rinsed and dried off. He couldn't help but stare as you did so. Washing off the running water with his large and soft towel, rubbing the plush thing up and down your body. Letting the droplets collect on the fluffy fabric until there was none left.

Quickly, the curse shook his head, looking away from the sight and turning to the woods.

He couldn't make fantasies to think of later by watching you dry yourself..

"Ok, I'm heading inside, Sukuna," You said, alerting the male before bowing slightly and heading towards the shrine entrance.

The both of are you still too embarrassed to see each other undressed? Uraume found this adorable, watching from afar at your still flustered state. They thought you'd both just come to terms with everything right away.

Guess they were wrong.

Anyways, as you stepped into the clean throne room, taking a deep breath and exhaling, you headed towards your formal room and gathered your Moon Festival blanket. You loved it so much, you simply had to have it close by.

While you were hanging it up, Sukuna had entered clean and ready to get dressed, currently wearing a towel that was hanging around his waist. Your eyes locked for a solid second before you both turned back and focused on your current objectives. Though, hearing the closing and opening of drawers and such was a little too tempting..

One peek wouldn't bother anyone, right?

Glancing over your shoulder, you were rewarded with the wonderful sight of rippling muscles that flexed and practically rolled off each other easily. Black tattoos and small scars decorating perfectly tanned skin that seemed like a total dream and treat for the eyes. As yours trailed and searched every little part, Sukuna dropped his towel and you held back a small noise.

What was about to come out of your throat? It was so sudden, too..

There were two small dimples above his bare bottom, even the tattoos that trailed down seemed to be pointing at them.

Were you drooling? Didn't even know, you were more focused on the male currently looking for a new set of clothing to wear.

A large desire inside begged for him to just pounce on you and ravage your very soul. To make you cry with pleasure and to rip a part out for himself to swallow and devour. You wanted him to trace his large hands over your small body and tickle that space between your legs, to rub and tease and teach you how to use it.

Experimenting by yourself was no longer an option, it wasn't helpful.

Your fingers grazing between your folds and pressing your soft spots wasn't enough. You wanted— no, needed —more. How could you defile your own body knowing that it wouldn't be enough? It wasn't going to be enough; not compared to Sukuna.

His large and strong hands that knew so much more experienced and knew the body better. They could fill and touch things you'd only dreamed of, making you feel full before anything else entered. You wanted to feel and touch him too— to kiss and hold things that make you blush at night and fantasize.

There was so much to learn, a whole wonderland of new things to try and feel. Were you ready? Would you do well?

Would he want it too?

"Y/n, darling, you're drooling.."

Blinking a few times, you quickly cleaned your salivating lips as a hot blush filled your cheeks. There was no amount of embarrassment that fit the description of the word that was of equal status to this. You were caught drooling over your lover, admiring and practically mewling for more.

This was beyond embarrassment..

"I-I'm so sorry, Sukuna.." You mumbled, finishing your job and covering your eyes. "I'll leave you to dress by yourself! I didn't mean to bother..!"

Trying to escape from Sukuna and his unearthly body, to ignore and feed on your sexual depravity alone before a large set of hands grabbed you by the shoulders and yanked you back inside. Pulling you from safety of outside in the hallway and into the tense and hot room.

Was he upset? You didn't hope so, though something in you did.

"Y/n, were you looking at me while I was undressing?" Was the only thing that left his lips, his eyes unseen due to shadows and the dark light flickering through the curtains on his window.

You looked at the ground, listening to the slow creak of the door as it was closed shut by Sukuna's extra appendages.

You were dead. So dead. You weren't going to leave this room alive. Your entire life had led to this moment-

"Yes." You admitted, your voice quiet as you mumbled out a response. Shaking underneath the large curse's touch, you barely stuttered out your reasons or apolpgy.

"I-I didn't mean to, you j-just look so gorgeous unclothed. I'm s-so s-s-sorry for looking at you s-so disrespectfully. I sh-should be punished for m-my actions."

Sukuna's grip tightened, nails barely digging into your monk clothing. "Yes, you should be punished.."

Here it comes..

Closing your eyes, you held back a whimper as Sukuna released your left shoulder and let his nails graze against your jaw. Tracing your sensitive skin until he tilted your chin upwards and towards his dipped face. Your flushed little gasp when your eyes connected with his was amusing, a small noise that didn't even break the ice.

"But why?" His voice echoed, low and sweet. Like dark chocolate, Sukuna's voice held a bitter coo, though it was nice to hear.

"You were merely admiring my body for what it was worth. Simple things like this are common amongst lovers, aren't they? You should know this, you've read plenty of those sickly romance novels in your room late at night."

He was so close, your heart was going to explode. Sukuna's eyes gleamed and sparkled under the small slits of sunlight that barely managed to grace the room. Breathing wasn't even an idea as Sukuna's nose gently pressed against yours, your stomach sinking and bursting open with butterflies at the same time.

"I know you look at me, little lamb; don't be ashamed. It'd hurt to know that you would rather keep your admiration a secret.." Sukuna's arms practically propping you against the cold, stone wall as his eyes bore into yours.

The choking mewls in your throat spill in mere moments as Sukuna lowered himself to your level. Getting on one knee as his eyes devoured the very sight of you in all your small humane glory.

"..Then tell me you were so lustful for me."

You were hiccuping by now, feeling that large pit in your stomach return. So harsh.. So mean..

"Trying to play me for a fool, did you really think you could hide your little fondling moments?" Sukuna cooed, his voice dripping with lust and a small ounce of annoyance as his position only got closer.

"I could hear you all night. Mewling and whimpering as the scent of your arousal filled my nose. So dirty; doing such a thing next to me while I was asleep."

You thought you were in the clear. That you were safe. How could you be so stupid? Nothing got passed the King of Curses in his own bed.

The tension heightened, feeling Sukuna's grip on your shoulder grow stronger, making you wince as his eyes glared at yours. His snide smile quickly leaving once they saw your quivering lips, one thing only coming to mind as he got closer.

You were going to be punished— killed —for what you did..

But, that wasn't it.

Soft and warmth was what you felt pressed against you. What was it? Your eyes had shut quickly as Sukuna moved closer, the sudden warmth making you shudder.

Did he bite your throat? Was he currently devouring you?

Though, as you opened your eyes, you couldn't help but whimper in shock. He was.. kissing you.

The warm supple lips that you'd been dreaming of. The same ones that once barked orders and spat crude words, they were pressing against yours. Sucking and pushing you into the wall as his lips enveloped yours in a soft embrace. So gentle and loving, kind and soft.

It was heavenly.

"M-Mmn.. ah!" You mumbled, closing your eyes again as Sukuna continued pleasuring your lips. Letting his tongue and teeth graze and prod at yours, creating plump little indents in your skin as he tilted his head.

Sukuna let out a low groan that created a pool of fresh arousal in your underwear. The warm stickiness was the last thing on your mind as Sukuna lifted you from the ground and held you in his arms. Proudly letting you sit on his lower set's forearms as his hands squeezed as your plump body.

So much.. Too much..

The little noises, the soft touching, it felt too good. What was with you? You felt so vulnerable and sensitive, as if Sukuna's mere breath was enough to make your body crumble at his feet.

His kisses were becoming too much, feeling their hot touch against yours. Making your soul melt and reshape as if he was molding it anew himself. There was too much attention, it wasn't enough.

That knot in your tummy? It was growing, becoming stronger. Urges and desires slapping you into a twister of whimpering and mewling as Sukuna rested you on his bed. Rubbing and holding you down into the mattress like you'd fall, Sukuna's lips leaving yours only to go down and suck on your neck.

Something so new and different..

You felt his top set of hands pin yours to his neck as his bottom set lifted your legs and held your knees up to his hips. Sukuna's grasp on your hips and bottom made you feral, licking up his lips like it was a fine dessert and making him chuckle.

"Eager to please me, are you?" He teased, the rush of adrenaline this was giving him was intoxicating.

No. You were intoxicating.

That was why his blood rushed downwards, straight to them and all their naughty ideas. It fed and made their brain think of the lewdest and dirtiest things that Sukuna could do to you and her.

That little flower that he wanted to touch so badly.

To stroke and tease, to suck and lick, to press and pull. The thought alone was enough to make Sukuna hard; imagining how soft your plush walls would feel.

How they'd stretch to accommodate them and them alone. How tight and warm your insides would feel pulsing around his hard lengths and twitch when he'd pull out. Sukuna desired nothing more than to make you beg and plead for them, to worm your tight hole into submission.

So much was waiting for you..

"Hello? Sukuna?" Uraume's voice echoed from down the hall.

With a sudden twitch of annoyance, Sukuna growled. The both of you now resting on his bed, the sheets practically a mess as you rest underneath him. Your disheveled figure was so nice to look at, watching as your cleavage spilled from underneath your clothing, leaving Sukuna's boner twitching and throbbing dangerously.

Not one moment goes by when his life doesn't bite him in the ass..

"What, Uraume?" He growled, his breath coming out quickly. Sukuna's eyes trained on the bedroom door in hopes that Uraume didn't come in.

Thankfully, they didn't, but they explained the situation.

Apparently, there was a small band of village members coming to explain the terms of Sukuna's new pay agreement. It had been a while since he notified the villages that he decided to change his agreement.

So, with a heavy heart, Sukuna sighed and stood, watching the sadness flood your face at the sudden contact loss. The King smiled, looking down at you and running a hand across your cheek, kissing your forehead.

"Don't worry, we'll get to finish this little.. experiment some other time, lamb," Sukuna said, the tease in his voice making your heart flutter. "For now, try and relax and enjoy a warm meal with Uraume while I conduct business."

You gave a slow nod, the feeling in your body starting to return as Sukuna walked out the door. Closing it until a few minutes later, Uraume came in with a tray of piping hot green tea, and some additional treats and snacks.

"They are strawberry tarts," The monk informed, chewing on one of the soft, powdered desserts. "I make them for myself quite often. I have a bit of a sweet tooth for these things."

"That's neat, I want to make some for Sukuna later," You said, also eating from the small bowl next to the teapot. "Could you teach me?"

"Maybe some other time. For now, relax."

. . .

As he sat atop his throne, Sukuna's maroon eyes gleamed with a dark glare down at the villagers. Their terror of him still being his favorite past-time, he sat with a smile.

"Time to discuss our new arrangements, yes?" The curse chuckled, sensing the shivers sent down their spines.

Scaring people is still so fun..!

"Y-Yes.." The group's leader mumbled, standing up on shaky legs and stepping forwards. "W-We have a list of the items we could give you every month as payment.."

"I see," Sukuna said, the sneer on his face never leaving as the small human got closer. The smell of fear was thick in the air as the man handed Uraume the list for him to read later.

"Well, I'll visit some time next month with my answer. You may leave."

Just as quickly as they entered, they left. The slam of the shrine's door echoed throughout the large temple as Uraume handed Sukuna the large scroll.

It was a simple leather-cased one, like many Sukuna's seen before, with black ink for the writing. The list was filled with types of cattle like sheep, cows, and pigs, while the items were gold, or treasure that their adventurers would collect from travels. All the things Sukuna didn't really need.

Whatever, I've canceled plenty of deals before.

"Never mind them," Sukuna said, shredding the list before him with a few easy tears. "I don't mind their cattle or jewels; they can be replaced."

"Of course," Uraume said, bowing and heading down the throne's stairs. The clacking of bones under their feet as they descended them until they reached the cool, marble floor.

The quiet pattering of feet being heard as Sukuna's subordinate left, heading towards the kitchen. Probably to begin dinner..

"Oh well, I've been a little hungry anyways."

After entering the dining hall, Sukuna sat at his spot at the end of the table. Patiently waiting for you to come scurrying in with your little monk outfit and a flushed smile on your face. Sukuna gaining one of his own at the thought of you, flustered and warm.

He could barely help holding himself back whenever he saw you. Earlier was an even harder time to try; thankfully though, it ended quickly just as soon as it started. Being the his safer headspace, Sukuna agreed with himself that this was far better.

Being near you and not in you for now would satisfy him greatly.

"Sukuna, dinner is ready," A voice cooed from the entryway. It was you, of course. "We're not going to have as big of a dinner, if that's fine?"

"It's fine, as long as you prepare it," He said, the smile still on his face as your cheeks tinted a rosy pink. So cute..~

You gave a short bow, heading off into the kitchen— Sukuna assumed, to help Uraume. It wasn't long until you and your former colleague came into the room with a few plates. Some full of chicken balls topped with a spicy sauce and bits of cheese, and others where little salads with different kinds of vegetables.

There was one plate, however, that was filled with small tarts.

The dusted desserts looked delicious, Sukuna couldn't wait to try them. Though, every time he'd attempt to grab one, you or Uraume would swat at his hand and tell him they were for after he finished his meal.

"Don't slap me again!" Sukuna ordered, looking at Uraume with furry and annoyance.

"Don't try and eat one of the tarts again!" They retorted, the same fire and annoyance burning in their eyes. "Dessert never goes before dinner!"

You were giggling like a child on your side of the table, having already finished your meal a while ago and enjoying the little tithe between them. Even as the night went on, Sukuna still attempted to snatch a dessert only to get a swat from the white and red haired little monk.

Soon though, the large cursed spirit finished his meal and began devouring the little treats. The powder covering his fingers and face as if he was a kid in a candy store. You couldn't help but smile, watching the glutton enjoy the snacks.

The ones you had prepared while Sukuna was away.

Feeling proud you had finally finished a personal snack you had made, you decided it'd be best to go to him. He loved sweets just as much as you and you felt it was only a good thing to do. Besides, you could always make more for him and you if there was ever any need for them.

Maybe I'll make some later on tonight?

"Finished?" You asked as Sukuna finally cleaned his face off, forgetting the powder covering his chest and collarbone.

He gave a nod after cleaning up and stood, staring down at the plates as Uraume moved to collect them. Though, as if he was going to say something, stopped short and just shook his head. Leaving the dining hall quickly and heading towards his room. You stayed behind for a while to help with dishes and cleaning before going to your new room.

"What's mine, is yours now, Y/n."

You bumped into Sukuna on his way to the showers, blushing almost immediately as you both waved and continued to where you were going. Getting changed into some nightwear, you climbed into Sukuna's large bed and waited for him patiently as he showered. Though, something inside you was stirring up again, the need to touch.

But I can't! Sukuna's going to come into the room at any moment!

He's not going to mind.. That little devil on your shoulder whispered, a weak throb beginning to take place in your core. Sukuna is showering right now, he'd take forever before getting back to the bedroom..

The thoughts of Sukuna in the shower made the weak throb turn into a bigger pulsation, your aching body wanting attention as you continued to imagine.

Sukuna's pink hair and the way it'd stick to his forehead when damp. How his muscles looked all slick with water, the tattoos painted into his skin and the glimmer they'd give off. As the thoughts continued, your hand began to explore.

Going down, down down.

Rubbing your inner thighs as your eyes closed, spreading your legs little by little as your fingers began to trace over that little button you'd learned a while ago. Rubbing circles around it, imagining it was Sukuna's finger instead..

or his tongue.

"Nghh.." You mewled, covering your mouth quickly and whimpering against it.

Wanting your hand to be Sukuna's tongue was something you never thought of until now! Why so sudden?!

But, it was so.. good. To think about Sukuna's face flushed between your thighs, licking and kissing your tummy and skin as if to decorate it. The low noises of your wetness continued to grow, only a few mewls or moans leaving you in the short time frame.

"Ha.. ah! S-Sukuna.. mmn..!"

Your fingers moved furiously, trying to reach that little spot inside that'd make you finish. Images of your lover spurring you on as those final thoughts of Sukuna and them entered the threshold. How large and soft they were.

Thinking of Sukuna entering you and teasing her, playing with your sensitivity until you finally finished. Your body is shaking and your thighs are weak, fingers covered in your warm slick. But then..

There was a creak.

A hum.

And then finally, a low and amused chuckle.

"Y/n, what are you doing?"

a/n:: I wanted to add some sort of a sexual scene before I finally create it, to kind of ease you all into it, i guess you could say. i hope you enjoyed the spicy part regardless and are ready for the next one! it's going to be fun writing it, and testing out a new way of writing 18 content is always fun for me ^^

. . .

Chapter Theme Songs: — Love & War - Yellow Claw (Remix) (feat. Yade Lauren)

. . .

taglist for Lost Lamb:: @okkotsufav, @gojoscprsaviour, @cafeinthemoon93, @im-a-killer-queen, @lucyrocks86, @pulchritxde, @watermelon-online, @xx-intothevoid-xx, @taetropchou, @pipopeew, @noblemaidenheart, @aepinkoutsold, @tojidilfs, @mageyboo, @zatrinaxxx, @north-st4r, @itadowriii, @pulchritxde, @kawaiipenguin20, @bontenbunny, @delphinefrancis, @tsupi, @hxlalokidottir, @satoritendoucultsacrifice, @justanotherj9, @amigoferal3, @vampirebloodfallen, @hail-homucifer, @xeno-fond, @k-indie, @mzladyd, @agirlisnow, @xxnghtclls

last chapter || next chapter

[icarus-apologist-writes]

Soul Seer-ed Kiss

Grian x Reader | DoubleLife

With a side order of one-sided Scar x Grian and Scar x Reader

Warning: There are spoilers ahead, so be warned.

This was a prompt given by an acquaintance on @shepard-ram's Discord server. (It's an amazing server btw. So many amazing people)

You were a familiar face on the Hermitcraft server despite not joining any of the spinoff series that several of the hermits get themselves into. The hermits encouraged you to look at joining one of the many series. And so with their encouragement, you signed up for the new series, DoubleLife.

However with you in drawing pool, you now had no one to be your soulmate. When this was found out, you were given a special role instead. You were to be the Soul Seer. Instead of having a soulmate, you were able to see the ties between the Soulbound and were able to either cut or refasten the strings if needed.

Upon dropping into the new world, everyone began spreading out to find resources and their Soulbound. At this point, you were approached by Grian. Unknown to you, the winged hermit had been holding a rather significant crush on you for quite some time, and was praying that of all people, you’d be his soulmate. 

He was devastated when he learned that you weren’t his Soulbound and even more so when he found out who was. Scar, why’d it have to be Scar? He didn’t love Scar, sure the man was a great friend, but Grian didn’t love him. Not like he loved you. You left soon after the two found each other, and quickly started planning yourself a base.

You had a fun time building your base. The other Hermits would stop by sometimes and share information and sometimes supplies with you. They seemed to take pity on your lack of a soulmate. You had yet to tell anyone of your given abilities and role. Even with the fiasco going on with Pearl and Cleo and their Soulbound. You got to hear loads of that gossip whenever the two came in to vent to you. 

This was how you caught wind of the Sugarcane situation. According to the girls, Joel, and Etho; Grian had taken every piece of sugarcane on the entire server. You laughed at their exaspirated faces, and asked what they expected you to be able to do about it.  And this was how you learned about his extreme crush on you. 

The plan was for you to distract the lovestruck bird, while they tore through the man’s base. Then when he went to deal with them, Pearl would sneak back around and take you back to your house. It’d be like you were never part of the scheme at all. You thought about it for a bit, and agreed. While you didn’t like the idea of messing with the relationships of the Soulbound, Grian and Scar did NOT need all the sugarcane. 

Grian had just about had enough. From the lighting the Ranch on fire, to painting a target on their backs because of the sugarcane, Grian was tired of Scar. The man was chaotic as hell, and for once, the winged hermit wanted none of it. He kept thinking of how peaceful it would’ve been with you as his soulmate. Soon enough he was looking for ways to sever his ties to Scar and attach them to you. That was how he learned about a rumor of you acting as if you could see the strings of fate. There was also talk of people seeing you trace your fingers through the air, and feeling a tugging deep in their chest.

The day that he planned to search the server for you and question you, was the day that you showed up at their base.

Grian whirled around the moment your voice reached his ears. Here you were, the l̶o̶v̶e̶ ̶o̶f̶ ̶h̶i̶s̶ ̶l̶i̶f̶e̶  person he was looking for. Oh how he missed you. He’d been so busy trying to keep himself and Scar alive that he hadn’t had the time to come visit your base. 

You approached Grian, calling out his name as you drew nearer. You could feel the nervous energy growing in you as you remembered why you were here. Now that it had been pointed out to you, it was obvious that Grian was head over heels. There was no way to ignore the smile he gave you and the relief in his eyes as you asked to speak with him. 

Several minutes of idle chat passed by, mostly about base progression and other mundane things. Seeing the group of Sugarcane invaders pass in the background, you decided that now was as good a moment as any. Taking a step forward, you place a hand on Grian’s upper arm. Peering up at him, you ask if you could do something that you had been wanting to try for a while.

Wordlessly, he nodded and you took that as your cue. You wrapped your arm around his neck and gently pressed your lips against his. You felt the man stiffen before his arms shot around your body and pulled you closer to him. One arm settled around your waist with the other running up your back to rest his hand against your head. You tangled your fingers in his hair and his beautiful, colorful wings wrapped around the two of you. 

And as suddenly as the moment came, it left. The sound of crashes and yelling came from in and under Grian’s base, and the man pulled away from you. He blinked a few times, and tore off around the base, yelling about the sugarcane the entire way. Pearl was quick to pick you up and take you back to your house by horse. The plan was a complete success, with the sugarcane divided among those involved.

Scar was a lot smarter than people gave him credit for. And as such, he knew that Grian didn't want to be his Soulbound. He knew that Grian didn’t love him the same way. He knew that Grian would much rather have you, and honestly, who could blame him. You were a kind, caring soul and Scar had always enjoyed spending time with you on the Hermitcraft server. With all your kind deeds to him, he could honestly say that between you, Grian, and of course Jellie, his heart was split into three.

So why did it feel like he was breaking when he saw you kissing Grian. When he saw Grian pull you closer, and wrap you in his arms. His heart filled with burning jealousy, but he couldn’t figure out who it was directed towards. Did he want to be the one Grian was holding? Or did he want to be holding you close to him, with his lips on yours. 

He rememered how Last Life had gone, how he was left alone and he refused to let it happen again. He also had heard the rumors about you and had seen the odd behavior firsthand. Surely if you were capable of severing bonds, then maybe you could make them? Either way, Scar was determined, you were going to be joining their Soulbond. Scar would get to be with both of the people he loved. Grian would finally be happy and you would be safe. Scar couldn’t ask for anything better.

[alice-angel12x]

Naga! BakuDekuShoto X (fem)Mermaid!Reader

Part 2. Here

Y/n is warned to never go near the surface by her pod. She's been going near the surface every night and very early at dawn, sunrise to relax, sing, watch the sunset. Being a mermaid had its many blessing and curses. They were creatures of great beauty and magic, from their beautiful voices to the powerful magic in just a single tear. So naturally, they were secretive creatures.

A great lake deep in the forest of Atigus, a large pod of Merpeople lived in this lake. A lake so deep it could have been mistaken for the deepest part of the ocean. Living so far down in the deeps, they were a bit isolated from the many magical and grand creatures that also inhabit the forest.

Yet Y/n was a curious individual and would swim near the surface, in hopes of seeing another creature. Thought she was smart enough to know that there is one creature that she must avoid at all costs, Man. Yet She would brave the bright surface, and sing out to no one in particular.

One day as she ventured to the surface at sunset, she began to sing into the wind. As she rested on the lake's edge, she suddenly felt a painful sting on her shoulder. Y/n gasped in pain, but her body became so heavy suddenly and lost all control. As she laid there motionless, as she heard the snicker and the strange language of humans.

The humans quickly slumped the unconscious mermaid onto their backs and tried to find their way back to the village. Yet as they walked down the path, they could feel predatory eyes watching them.

As one of the humans looked around, they noticed that special markings were etched into the tree's around them.

"Oh no, we have walked into Naga territory," one of the humans gasped in horror.

As the two trembled, a large shadow engulfed them. The tallest stood up to 9 feet in height, standing above them, while the shortest stood 7 feet. They couldn't begin to fathom how long these nagas could be. These giants glared down at the small humans that had invaded their territory.

Dealing with the humans was simple, yet something did catch one of their eyes. The smaller green naga noticed the abandoned creature on the ground.

"What is that?" The freckled naga wondered.

"It looks like to be a humanoid creature like us," a red and white naga commented as he leaned over the mermaid.

"Yet, it's not. Its scales look strange and its tail is so short, it's the same size as those pathetic humans," The ashy blond Naga scoffed as he picked the mer by her tail.

"K-kacchan! Careful," the green-haired naga gasped.

"Why does it look like part fish?" The red and white naga asked, " You should be careful, Bakugo."

"Whatever, Deku," Bakugo scoffed, as he tossed the body over to green Naga.

"Nice catch Midoriya," The red and white naga commented.

"Thanks, Shoto," Izuku sighed as he got a closer look at the creature.

"So what do you think it is?" Shoto asked.

" It must be some water-faring creature, other than that I'm not sure," Izuku said as he held the mermaid close. " It would be nice to speak to her about it. Maybe I could hold onto her, F-for a  little while."

"Why?" Shoto asked.

"Probably cause this will be the only female that can't walk out on him for better a mate," Bakugo commented.

"I think you may be projecting a little, Bakugo," Shoto commented.

Bakugo scoffed and slithered off somewhere else, as Izuku and Shoto stood in awkward silence.

"S-so does that mean I can? N-Not for the reason that he said!" Izuku said quickly.

"I'd... Certainly hope not," Shoto said simply.

_________________________

As Y/n slowly came to her senses, she could feel something odd. As she slowly opened her eyes, she noticed that this body of water was barely deep. Plus something was wrapped around her, it felt strange.

She slowly opened her eyes, to see that the surface of the water was just a foot above her head. And wrapped around her waist was a tail, a snake tail. Y/n tensed slightly, but the creature felt her movement and quickly tightened its hold.

She was suddenly pulled up above the surface and was face to face with a freckly face with forest green eyes.  His eyes were full of wonder and curiosity as he inspected Y/n very closely.

Y/n wanted to scream, yet remained frozen. Not only was she unsure of this creature, but also intimidated by its great size. She never felt so small and helpless.

"what are you? And who are you?" Deku asked as he muttered other questions.

"A-a mermaid, my name is Y/n," Y/n squeaked nervesly.

"Ah, like an Oceanid," Izuku smiled." I-i have to write this down, I have so many questions."

As his tail wraps more around Y/n, she watches as the snake man turns to gather his parchment paper. They were covered in writings and notes about almost anything. Before Y/n could get a grasp of what was happening, she was drowned in the naga's curious questions. He must have not been paying too much attention as he tightened his hold.

"C-can't...Breath," Y/n whimpered as she passed out.

------------- Deku suddenly felt Y/n go slack, he stopped rambling and quickly looked at her.

"AHh! Y/n," Izuku gasped as he quickly placed her back in the small watering hole.

"Oi, killed it already," Bakugo laughed mockingly.

"N-no, Y/n passed out," Izuku said nervesly.

"So what is she?" Shoto asked as he tried to get a better look.

"An Oceanid, but she calls herself a mermaid," Izuku said as he put down his notes.

"Hmm, well what were those humans doing with one?" Shoto asked.

"Probably harvest her for magical properties. If they can't possess magic on their own, then they will take it," Bakugo scoffed simply.

"Well, I'm glad we came across those humans then," Izuku said with a relieved sigh.

___________

After a couple of weeks, Y/n grew used to Izuku and his curiosity. She would learn many things about him, that he was defiantly a curious Naga and a very emotional one. Will cry a river at any strong emotion he feels. Y/n could only hope that this small pool of water was not his tears. She would learn a bit about his other two companions.

Bakugo is the most prideful and skilled of the three. Always going off how he will be the best and rise the ranks among their kind. Shoto on the other hand seemed very calm out of the three. Almost to the point where he seemed indifferent about everything, though he takes everything very seriously.

Izuku would also learn a lot about her and her home in the great lake. How they knew many great magical treasures and plants within Atigus. It was just so fascinating to him, and it felt so nice to have someone discuss the magical phenomena with him.

As Y/n rested in Izuku's coils, a question came to mind.

"Hey Izuku, you've been so sad as of late. What is making you so sad?" Y/n asked.

"Um, it's a little embarring to talk about, but... The season of union is coming to an end soon. And during this time Nagas begin to pair and bond, and we bond for life. Sadly a girl I had my heart set in already bonded with someone else. So I may just end up being unpair," Izuku explained.

"What about Bakugo and Shoto?" Y/n asked.

"Well, most are annoyed or frightened by him, and would rather stay far away from him. And Shoto, has a bit of a hard time, umm, connecting to others," Izuku said slowly and awkwardly.

"Oh, well I'm sorry to hear that. I can't see why you would not find someone. Your sweet and so kind," Y/n smiled as she rested her harms on his coils.

Izuku's face turned a bright red as his tail tightened slightly. His heart fluttered in his chest as he stared down at his Oceanid friend.

"Y-you really think so?" Izuku mumbled, as his eyes watered.

"Despite your timid nature, you are willing to help though in need. Even if they may not deserve it," Y/n smiled up at him.

"Thank You Y/n," Izuku thanked as he cried waterfalls as hugged Y/n closely.

"Though you can be a bit of a cry baby," Y/n winced as she was drenched in tears.

But he didn't hear the last comment as he hugged her close.

----------------

"Shouldn't you be returning Y/n to the great lake, Surely she would like to return to her home and family," Izuku's friend Iida asked.

As the two patrolled the large Naga territory. Izuku's heart began to thump in his chest in a panic at the thought. The thought had many times came across his mind, but the thought of parting with her. Tore his heart apart.

-----------------

"Oh, you're still here?" Shoto asked as he entered the cave.

"Umm, have been for this past Month Shoto," Y/n said as she poked her head above the water.

"Izuku must hold you dearly if he hasn't returned you home yet," Shoto said as he found a comfy spot and laid down.

"Y-you think so?" Y/n asked nervesly.

"Hmm, don't you miss your family? I'm surprised you haven't asked him to return you," Shoto commented.

As Y/n studied him, she could feel something about those words. Like it wasn't just meant for you to answer.

"Are Nagas not close to their parents?" Y/n asked.

"Um, not all, but most," He said with a slightly sad look.

"What about you, if it's not too personal?" Y/n asked.

Shoto stayed silent for a time, as he slowly touched the burn on his face. " I could care less what my father is up to, but I... I do wonder how my mother is doing after she ran away from me and my dad," Shoto said sadly.

"W-why would she do that?" Y/n gasped.

"She said my left side and red scales looked too much like my horrible father. She burned the left side of my face and ran," Shoto answered as he covered his scar. " I was too horrible for her to look at."

Y/n frowned sadly at his story and pulled herself up onto the dry ground. She slowly approached Shoto's tail as she awed at his lovely scales.

"Your white scales shine like pearls, and the red ones look like rubies, your so lovely, Shoto," Y/n said in a soft tone.

Shivers ran up his spine as he felt the warm fingers slide across his scales. His heart pounded in his chest as he slowly coiled his tail around her.

"Y-you couldn't possibly mean that," Shoto said slowly.

"Of course I do. You know if you smiled more, maybe the ladies or gentlemen would flock to you," Y/n smiled.

"Flock? Like... Birds?" Shoto asked, really confused.

"No silly, I mean many would find you more approachable," Y/n laughed.

Her laugh was so small and cute, he could help but tighten his hold on her. He could feel her warmth on his scales as he slowly leaned in closer to her.

"If you're doing what I think you're doing, then you two are disgusting," Said a voice.

The two quickly turned to see Bakugo, who came back from a hunting outing. A large boar was slung over his shoulder as he entered the cave.

"Find a different part of the cave to suck each other's face," Katsuki grumbled.

"Why would we do that?" Shoto asked with pure confusion.

"Cause It's decent," Bakugo growled.

"No, why would we suck each other's faces?" Shoto asked again.

"I'm done with you," Bakugo scoffed.

_____________

Shoto and Izuku had to eventually leave to do a final scout turn, leaving Bakugo and Y/n. Bakugo had no interest in talking to the mermaid and did his own thing, by cooking the boar he caught. Y/n with nothing to do hummed to herself, her voice echoing off the walls of the cave.

"So you were the source of that voice," Bakugo said suddenly.

"Ummm... I was right next to you. How did you not know until now?" Y/n asked with a deadpanned look.

"No, every time around sunset I could hear something in the wind. A voice, singing," Bakugo said simply.

"Oh, I thought I was just singing to myself," Y/n said bashfully.

"More like to the whole forest," Bakugo huffed.

"Was I okay?" Yn asked slowly.

"You were definitely better than those harpies who think they can sing," Bakugo scoffed, turning away to hide his red ears.

"That is so sweet of you to say," Y/n said, slightly touched.

"Tch. Well, I don't really care for the noise of rain, you can keep doing what you were doing," Bakugo said slowly.

Y/n smiled at the tsundere naga and continued her song.

_________________

(3 weeks later)

Y/n and the three nagas grew closer and closer during the 3 weeks. The season of Union was quickly coming to a close, but tensions were high among the three males.

One morning, Shoto had his tail wrapped protectively around Y/n's sleeping form when he heard a soft but challenging hiss. Looking up sightly he could see it was Izuku. Izuku's usual large round pupils were now slits, as his serpentine tongue flicked between his lips.

"Yes, Izuku?" Shoto asked coldly.

"Your turn to patrol soon, maybe you should let her go now," Izuku said as nicely as possible, as he slowly inched closer.

Shoto tensed as Izuku slowly got closer. Shoto's pupils quickly turned to slits as he hissed back. Y/n was unable to sleep through the loud noises coming from the two.

"What's with all the noise," Y/n groaned sleepily, as she untangled herself from Shoto's coils.

"Would you shut it you two," Bakugo growled, as he pulled Y/n's sleepy form closer to him.

"B-bakugo, careful," Izuku hissed.

"I am," Bakugo said simply.

"Don't you both have someplace to be?" Izuku said with a slight hiss.

"W-what are you all fighting about?" Y/n asked, slightly more awake.

________________________

Pt.2 maybe?! I don't know

[burnyouwithacigarettelighter]

part i, autonomy in your coherence | c.g

With something like time that runs round with the world — ignoring it’s inhabitants and stealing things that you’d hidden away for safekeeping — you’ve taken up the hobby of art, furiously sketching faces that are six-feet under.

The skill is beautiful and horrific all the same, watching like a person with amnesia as the portraits begin to lose their depth, the freshness, the personality that came free with who you’d chosen to print on the page.

You’ve forgotten your feelings for Carl, because he didn’t feel the same.

You just wished you did a better job at it.

WARNINGS: mentions of death, suicide ideation

this is a continuation of watch you burn away and i recommend you read that, first! this is also part of a series, so here is the masterlist if you need it!

(cross-posted on ao3!)

Your father once told you he had a patient that died from heartbreak.

“Your heart can’t really break, though, right?” You’d said. A doctor for a father and a laboratory technician for a mother made you more than aware of things, seeing through the myths and pretty white lies of figures like Santa and the tooth fairy.

(They had gone through with it anyway, because although their child knew, it was a gateway to normality in such a busy home.)

Your father scratched his chin, unsure how to respond. “My patient had died from a broken heart, though the process wasn’t as simple as it’s term name. A broken heart — the nonliteral meaning — can be the cause and the domino toppling to many things that could lead to death.”

“Like what?” You’d said with little admission into the conversation, having been flicking through a novel you’d picked up a while back (which featured a one eyed pirate and his partner who’d ended up dying in the end — not that you knew, yet, at least.)

“I don’t know, er,” Your father swirled his coffee lightly, gesturing wildly with his free hand, “Mental health issues, for one. Erratic actions, depression, a lost sense of self. Obsession.”

“Huh,” You muttered, looking up at your father for the first time. “A lost sense of self? Really?”

“What is your father teaching you?” Your mother said, stepping into the kitchen with a questioning expression. The conversation ended there, without so much as a thought after.

You wish you pried your father for further answers. What you’d give to get the workaholic of a man to dump his duo psychology medical major thoughts unto you with little care.

The knowledge would be gold in your time of need, when pulling and pushing distance further between you was like venturing through a field of thorns.

(Perhaps you just missed your parents. But that couldn’t be it, right? They’d died and you had lived, their blood on your hands and the gun in your fingers, their glazed over eyes and your own that nearly matched, cold and willing without a drop of emotion.)

But you’d gotten through it for him— without him. Without anyone, quietly harboring scratches and bleeding from the field with little effort.

If someone asked, you would tell them with full and honest confidence that you harboured no more attachments. You were a naive teenager, running through your feet and over yourself for something that was just a crush.

Crushes are — in their whole singularity and purpose —  temporary.

They are brief, and momentarily something that causes ripples and waves in your thoughts, just the slightest mention or faint sight makes you detour down a road of sickly sweet dreams and fantasies.

He was first love (like? You didn’t love him, no, it was a crush and it was something for the unattainable and the inappropriate — in which with full truth, he was.) so you poured the honey glazed remembrances and rose coloured lenses over your memories, because he was a first love, and you know that those were cracks in the heart, growing vines and constricting the part that was him — the part that’d always, always be there, without a doubt.

(However much you didn’t want it to be.)

The leaves and the venomous flowers that sprout in decaying grooves come with age, and you are older now.

You bear fresh scars that litter your entire being and wear newly buried bones of people who were once not just that, the dirt still sitting in the crevices of your nails, and you seem to forget their voices with each passing day.

With something like time that runs round with the world — ignoring it’s inhabitants and stealing things that you’d hidden away for safekeeping — you’ve taken up the hobby of art, furiously sketching faces that are six-feet under.

The skill is beautiful and horrific all the same, watching like a person with amnesia as the portraits begin to lose their depth, the freshness, the personality that came free with who you’d chosen to print on the page.

More and more, the faces look like reference art rather than a taken from life picture, which was all telling them to sit still and watching their eyes crinkle at the edges when you show them the result, voices echoing and asking if they could have it.

Everyday, as it has become a peevish habit like biting your nails or obsessively reminding yourself your stove is off, you draw pictures of everyone.

If you are close enough with them, you ask the subject to sit and model for you, analyzing every breath and laugh they take when you crack a joke or engage them in meaningless conversation just to see how the light hits their brows when they raise, the shadows pooling in their aging lines.

Everyday, you wish and hope and even fucking pray that their portraits continue to be something of anxious routine, rather than trying to dump their image out of your head and onto paper so you can see their faces one more time.

His image seems to change with each moment he sits in for you, once a face with two piercing blues, then a patch and eyes that looked at the dusty wooden floor, and later, someone who looks at you straight, something that told you he was a survivor, who bore his battles proudly, the scar on the right of his face sitting ruggedly and bewitchingly.

You draw him, exactly the way you see him, and when you show him the picture, he laughs, and says “You made me look too pretty,” and you shake your head, “It’s exactly the way I see you.”

You do her, too, upon request. When she sits, you draw her almost like it was professional, drawing the curvature of her face with exact precision, intense shading, marking the features she holds. The dip in her nose, the straight of her hair.

(You often forget who you’re drawing in these moments, and when you step away from the canvas you’re hit with whiplash. It’s subconscious, the way you do these things to please him, wanting to see so clearly how his face spreads delicately with delight.)

It takes a little while for you to convince Ron. When you first propose the drawing, he gives you a confused face, before walking off to do shooting practice. He’s gotten better with the gun over the years, and doesn’t respond when you tell him you know why.

(His mother didn’t come out of it alive, and his brother didn’t come back without harm. The younger boy was alive, but would grow up with only his brother by his side and one less limb to account for.)

The second time, he makes a snide comment, albeit with no bite, about how ‘you must be a horrible artist, to ask me of all people to model for you.’

The third time, you’ve dragged him to the small office you makeshifted for the drawings in the garage. He studies every slit of paper you’ve ripped out of your book, the unfinished sketches or yet-to-be painted canvases piling up against the walls. Complete works sit proudly on your wall, displayed for the world to see.

His hands hover over the paints sitting on your desk, charcoal, dirt, sticks, paintbrushes, handmade dyes, wallpaper cut-outs.

“Why?” Ron says curiously.

“‘Why?’ what?” You echo, fiddling with a fork you grabbed from the kitchen, splaying out a thick lather combination of beet dye and cement onto your finger to check the consistency.

“Why do you draw these portraits? I get the others because,” He says, leaving the words “because they’re dead” hanging in the air between you two in mutual and regretful acknowledgement, “But you draw these everyday. You drag Carl and Enid off, or just sit on the benches and draw Maggie and Glenn knee-deep in the dirt.”

You sigh a dreadful breath, wiping the rest of the beet-cement mix onto the page with the pad of your fore-finger. “We’ll forget them one day.”

He looks at you, unblinking. The dead, the gone, and the soon to be long forgotten only existed in your memories, in your words, and when the time came that the world had moved on and stopped, they would cease. Their whole memory relied on the living, nothing about them able to reach and grasp life on their own. Memory was all that was left, and it was all you could do to wash away regret.

“And the rest?”

You bite your tongue hesitantly, your movements rigid, “You see their portraits. Everyday they get less and less coherent. When — when time comes , these drawings will be the only thing getting me by.” You whispered.

The ball had dropped. Coping and grief in it’s big and ugly form, preying on your conscious hungrily, taking shelter in your largest worries. Claws sunken in your flesh, the monster was a thing that felt like it would never go away, because it would loom right alongside death itself, watching and waiting for the moment they’d deemed someones time to have been enough.

(It would never be enough. Enough meant they’d pop in from next door and ask to borrow something, enough meant they’d swipe dirt across your face to make you angry — enough meant they would come in everyday and sit for their portrait once more.)

A creaking on the floorboard caught your attention, eyes watching as Ron’s feet walk to the corner of the room, before hopping onto the wooden seat with little effort.

“I’m not going. I never will. But — do it anyway. I’d… like to see how I look on paper.” He said cheekily, picking up a thin pencil off your desk and handing it out to you.

So you did. Seconds turned to minutes and minutes snowballed into hours in the dim lighting of the garage, asking the blond to turn his body, stretch his head and make different expressions, fulfilling and destroying the little worm of worry sitting in your head.

When you’re done with the charcoal, turning it around for Ron to see and to inspect, he asks, “What about you?”

“And what about me?” You say. His questions never make sense without further discussion, but the boy always has to wait for you to pry and ask him to elaborate.

“You don’t have any drawings of yourself. You’re the artist, the photographer, the one who makes these things that will stay longer than the memories and the words — so what about you?”

It’s rare that Ron delves into his emotions and the things he really means, but when he does, it’s something that stays, for a long while.

“I,” You didn’t have an answer for it. You weren’t one to do a self-portrait, it not being the same as having someone to sit and take from. “I don’t want to.” You finished simply, an ice cold realization coming to reality in you.

“Why?” He says the same words as before, but the words hold a heavy weight.

“I don’t know.”

You knew.

Maybe one day, you’d wished that you’d wash away like seafoam on the beach. You wouldn’t leave a single portrait behind of you, and the memories and the words were left mum behind his lips, because you knew how he got in a loss.

Quiet and unfeeling, it was so selfish of you that you’d counted on how he got in that state to leave you behind, neglecting you like the fruits of your memories you’d never get to bear.

Ron’s gaze bore into you like he knew exactly what you were thinking, telepathically taking in every thought you’d conveyed at your dispense.

“You should.” Is all he says, before stepping off the wooden stool and out the door.

What was wrong with you? You feel so… entirely foolish. Obsolete. Embarrassing.

You walked past the remnants of those who were gone everyday, obsessively creating canvas over canvas of them and the only thing you could think was that you’d wish to position yourself beside them?

This world was catching up to you, and fast, but you’d just have to run faster than it could.

[fandom-puff]

Mating

Pairing: Remus Lupin X Reader

Requested by: anon

Summary: you’ve done a good enough job of covering up your attraction to your new colleague... that is until the moon cycle heightens his senses...

AN: I’m getting there with these requests! I’ve been going through them at my own pace- sorry if I’ve rejected your request though- id rather not write it if I don’t have the inspiration to do so 💖💖💖

Also I went to TOWN on this one, so feedback is greatly appreciated !!

Gif creds to owner as usual x

Warnings: rough, possessive sex, swearing, breeding kink , werewolf tricks (scents, mating, knotting)

Drawing your robe tighter around yourself, silently cursing Severus for putting people in detention. You had agreed to take over his patrols for the night, when in reality, you wanted nothing more than to go to bed. Sighing, you held your lit wand out in front of you, walking up the corridor, occasionally nodding at a passing ghost, telling Peeves to bugger off, greeting snoozing portraits...

The silence of the dark corridors allowed you to mull over your thoughts, figure out some lesson plans, what you would get people for christmas the next time you visited Hogsmeade, but as usual, your train of thought wandered, soon landing on a particular Professor. Smiling dumbly to yourself, you pictures him in your mind, from his grey-flecked hair to his shabby, patched robes; his kind, tired eyes to his light stubble and moustache; his trim chest to his long, elegant fingers...

Shuddering slightly, you tugged your lip between your teeth. What that man could do with his fingers, you mused, remembering at dinner earlier that evening, watching as he wrapped his hands around his goblet- you came to the conclusion that those fingers would look much better wrapped around your throat...

You were so lost in your thoughts that you bumped headlong into the object of your desires. How did you know it was him? Was it his gentle hands grasping your arms to stop you falling backwards? Was it the gentle words he uttered asking if you were okay? No. It was his scent, of all things, which lingered on his comfy knitted jumper- tea and books and... the forbidden forest... you couldn’t help but inhale a few gulps before mumbling your apology, making to move past him. Those hands grabbed your arm again, stopping you dead in your tracks.

“Why not walk with me, YN? Your patrol won’t be as lonely,” he said kindly, smiling down at you. You could see a slight glint of his white teeth in the wandlight as you nodded. Together and in relative silence, you strolled the corridors, occasionally murmuring to one another- yes the weather had been a bit rubbish lately, that book is excellent, no I didn’t know it’s the full moon in three days...

You knew about remus’s condition, as everyone on the staff did. Why was he bringing it up? Did he think you were scared? Did he think you would run away once it clicked? You didn’t care that he was a werewolf, of course you didn’t. If anything, it often made you wonder what he was like in bed before the Full moon. He seemed tired all the time, but you had read about mating- would mild-mannered Remus Lupin evolve into a primal beast? Would he dig his nails into your skin as he got carried away? Would he fuck you from behind like an animal? Did he have a deep-rooted urge to fill you with his seed and watch you swell with his pups...?

“YN? You aren’t listening to a word I’m saying, are you?” Remus’s voice shook you from your depraved thoughts.

“Hmm?” You asked, letting out a shaky breath. Your knees were wobbly and you could feel heat and wetness pooling in your knickers. You would most certainly be fucking yourself tonight thinking of him.

“I said we’re at my rooms. You’re very welcome to come in for a cup of tea if you like? Might have something stronger in a cupboard somewhere for a nightcap,” he said, smirking slightly. Were your eyes deceiving you or did he just lick his lips?

“I... Er... yes please?” You said, nibbling your lip. Your midnight masturbation would have to wait tonight it seemed. You took a seat on one of Lupin’s armchairs as he pottered about the kitchenette, fixing tea for you both. He soon carried it over and sat opposite you as you sipped at your drinks, once again silent. Remus inhaled deeply through his nose and leg out a soft sigh, before fixing you with a stare, his eyes flashing amber- or was that just the firelight playing tricks?

“God, I wish I was a legilimens,” he hummed. You frowned, cocking up your eye brow and setting your teacup down.

“Why’s that?” You asked, leaning forward, your lips slightly parted.

“Because I’d be able to figure out what’s got you so aroused,” he murmured. You gulped, biting your lip hard as you stared at one another before your lips were smashed together in a messy, desperate kiss. Your teeth clashed and you were both grabbing handfuls of the other’s hair as Remus pulled you into his lap, moaning lowly. “I guess that answers that question,” he grunted as you tipped your head back and sighed.

“H-how did you know?” You gasped as his teeth scraped right over your pulse point.

“Your eyes glaze over when you daydream,” he grinned, nibbling your earlobe. “And do you want to know a lesser-known fact about werewolves?” You nodded eagerly, your nails scraping over his scalp. “Around and on the full moon, our senses peak. Touch, hearing, sight, taste... smell... I could smell your arousal before we were even on the same corridor, YN... now tell me... was that all for me?”

You shuddered as his growl vibrates through your throat. “Yes!” You whimpered, trying to grind on him, but there were too many layers between you both and you whined out dejectedly. “A-all for you, Remus, f-for ages now!” Remus grunted and licked at the blood vessel at the side of your neck, you pulse throbbing against his tongue.

“I know, darling. Moony knows...” you sighed softly, eyes rolling back as you felt gentle hands on your waist, stilling your movements. “If we carry on, YN... Moony will take over. He will claim you as his mate, eternally. If that is what you want, I am more than happy to oblige, but if you are even a shred unsure, please leave my chambers. We can discuss this after the moon when it is safe-”

You pressed a tender kiss to his lips, pulling away and resting your forehead against his. “I want this. I’ve wanted this for ages... please, remus, I’m yours. I’ve felt... drawn to you since we met. It makes sense,”

He smiled weakly. “You understand what you are getting yourself into, this close to the moon? Our first coupling together will not be tender. Passionate, most certainly, but by no means gentle,” you could feel his hands trembling from the effort of keeping control.

“I’m yours, remus,” you whispered, bringing one of his hands down to cup your soaked, clothed heat, biting your lip hard. “I want this. Please, remus, mate with me,”

It was as if something snapped inside him. Without the aid of your hand, he pressed his hand into your heat, feeling how slick you were even through your knickers, attacking your neck with feverish kisses as you rutted against his hand, the heel of his palm mashing into your clit in the most deliciously searing way. Reluctantly, remus pulled his hand away, kissing away your whimpers of protest as he carried you to his bedroom, flinging you down on the bed and hovering over you, his thumb and forefinger tracing the hem of your shirt. “Take it off, remus,” you begged, and he was all too happy to oblige, soon stripping you to your underwear. Gulping, he looked you in the eye as he trailed one finger up your navel, grinning as you shivered and arched your back. “Need to feel you, Remus, please!” You pleaded. Normally, remus would be unwilling to undress fully, ashamed of his scars, but this close to the Moon, he had only one thing on his mind. Almost comically quickly, he tugged his jumper, shirt and trousers off, kicking them aside, practically pouncing on you to kiss you again. You pouted at not being quite able to see his erection straining at his boxers, but were quickly consoled when you felt it pressing hard against your thighs.

“Remus!” You moaned, trailing your hands up his strong back, your fingertips dancing over the silvery ridges of his scars, clutching onto him as though your life depended on it. You could feel the heat radiating off him, hear his pulse quickening just like your own, hear him panting above you. You were so close to him, yet so far, your underwear providing an unbearably wide wall between you both as you longed to feel him against your most sensitive parts. As if reading your mind, remus briefly pulled away and with a flick of his wand, you were both completely bare. Mouth ajar, you eyed up his cock, feeling your cunt clench around nothing at just the thought of accommodating his throbbing length and girth. Sensing your worry, remus nuzzled his face into your neck and kissed your pulse point gently. “I won’t hurt you, darling,” he whispered. “Nor will Moony,” nodding, you spread your legs. Remus groaned as he inhaled, already getting drunk off the scent of your soaked nether region. “Another time, my dear, I am going to drink from your cunt until you can’t come any more,”

You shivered and nodded, biting your lip. “That had best be a promise,” you moaned out, pushing his hair out of his face, breathy gasps and moans escaping you as you felt the bulbous head of his cock tapping against your throbbing clit. “Please, remus,” you begged, your legs moving instinctively to wrap around him.

Your begging was all he needed. He pushed his thick cock into you, stretching you out, grasping your hips to stop your wiggling as he revelled in the soaking heat of your clenching channel, soon moving his hands to grasp your thighs and hold them further apart. “I am going to mate with you, yn,” he growled. “I am going to claim you as mine, and I will be yours. I will fill you with my seed until your swollen with my pups. And when I come, you will feel my cock swell inside you to make sure my seed takes root,”

The filth spewing from his lips had your head reeling, and you bucked your hips up eagerly, begging him to do all of those things as he began fucking you relentlessly, the sounds of skin slapping and the wet noises of your coupling filling the small room as you gripped onto eachother. Remus’s lips found yours and you moaned loudly into his mouth as his tongue collided with yours before he sucked on it gently, sending jolts of pleasure sizzling through your every nerve. You had never felt more alive, more full, more worshiped than you did in that moment, your nails dug into remus’s arms as his thrusting became sloppy as he neared his end. “P-please don’t stop, Remus! Don’t pull out, please! Need to feel you fill me up properly!” You cried, your head resting on his shoulder. Remus grunted and nodded, his hips snapping hard against yours as he neared his peak.

“Bite my neck, YN, love!” He grunted. “Mark me as your mate while I do the same to- Ah! Fuck! Good girl!” You sunk your teeth into his pulse point, sucking harshly. Instinctively, you knew just where to bite, and you gently licked over the wound, moaning lowly as you felt the base of his cock begin to swell as he stilled inside you, the first spurt of cum painting your walls as his groaned out lowly. He basked in his orgasm for a brief moment, before leaning down to suck and bite your neck the same way you had.

You screamed.

The bite to your neck caused a white-hot surge of pleasure to rip through you as you felt your trembling body come undone, your stretched walls clenching tight around Remus’s swollen cock, milking every last drop out of him as you panted, tears streaming down your cheeks as you sobbed from the overwhelming pleasure and the rush of hormones your mating had caused.

Cooing gently, remus lowered you carefully onto your side, facing him, his cock still swollen inside you for the time being. The slight movement had you whimpering and Reaching up to kiss him messily. “I love you,” you moaned, hiding your face in his neck as your body relaxed.

Remus smiled gently and kissed your head and face over and over, pushing your hair out of your eyes. “I’m sorry it was so intense, darling. It’s not always like that, I promise,” he whispered.

“N-no... I loved that. The connection, both emotional and... physical,” you reached up and stroked the tender bite at your throat, shuddering as it twinged. “I am yours,” you murmured, reaching to kiss him gently.

“And I am yours,” he responded, stroking your hair. “My beautiful, beautiful mate, I love you,”

Soon, his cock softened enough to slip out of you, and you groaned softly, already very achey from your coupling. Remus smiled apologetically and spelled away the remnants of your pleasure, tugging the covers up around you. Instinctively, you massaged your lower belly, although you knew it was unlikely that he had knocked you up so soon, especially as you were on wizarding contraceptives. You frowned slightly, a sad twinge rattling your innermost instincts. Remus laughed gently.

“Soon, sweetheart. Soon you will swell with my pups. Just not quite yet,” he said gently, knowing that your mating would have unlocked something deep rooted in your instincts, something rather maternal. You pouted a little but nodded, curling into his side. He was right. There would be plenty of time for breeding later. Before then, you and your mate had some catching up to do before the full moon...

Tags: @a-hopeless-fan @lotsoffandomrecs @justanotherwildstar @rai-strangebr @zodiyack @haphazardhufflepuff @dumbfuckinslytherin @severuslovebot @darkthought15 @rabeccablake @sambucky8 @eleven-times-lively @talksoprettyjjx @extra-trash77 @rangerelik @dracosbbygorl

[ellcsgreenaway]

Pushing the Pull

summary: trauma changed each of them, but it only takes a small act to ignite bravery in them all

warnings: season 11 spoilers, canon criminal minds trauma and storylines, description of scars

words: 4.0k

this is for @proselys, thank you for your unwavering support and encouragement <3

It was a haven of theirs. Something special that no unsub could ever take away and somewhere none of them could ever intrude. Their loved ones understood it completely with no questions asked, just simple nods and mental notes of relief and peace because they were taken care of at Rossi’s.

It had been an unspoken tradition ever since Rossi invited - more like demanded - the team to come for dinner the weekend following Penelope getting shot. With Jason Clark Battle dead and Penelope left at home on medical leave, twiddling her thumbs and making Derek’s phone buzz every few minutes, the dinner’s intention was both an excuse for them all to see Penelope and for all of them to be together outside of the bullpen and cases. The first excuse was specific to the first time but the second excuse was used again and again until it became tradition.

And it was completely and utterly theirs. Children and other loved ones were always welcome with open arms but rarely ever made an appearance. This was something that belonged to them. Sometimes it was just dinner, usually homemade Italian food and expensive wine on the grand French dining table that is always set with seven place settings all year round - the linen tablecloth left neatly folded away after too many spillages from the malcoordinated Spencer and a drunken Emily. That table held many memories. Memories of laughter in the warmth of yellow lighting and candles, borderlining on hysteria that caused stomach aches, flushed faces and streaming tears. Spencer would gaze at his friends in these moments; Hotch and Rossi concealing their faces hidden in hands, Derek’s chair pushed back from the table with his head thrown back, Penelope’s mouth in her widest smile that made her eyes small with Emily frantically fanning herself with her hands while JJ dabbed her away tears with her napkin through giggles. They all treasured those memories but Spencer especially, committing each one to memory like he was scared it would cease in front of him.

The table also held memories of deep listening, with only one of them talking until whatever felt like the weight of the world had finally been lifted off their shoulders and spread across the seven of them as a group. Moments like these didn’t happen often, a bittersweet feeling quickly connoting them as their rarity made them special to who was finally letting go so bravely in front of them all as well as for the others to feel the great privilege of having earned their trust. Many of these moments followed hard cases that resulted in team discussions over a few glasses of Merlot, everyone venting out their frustrations, grievances and disappointments. Occasionally it was personal. JJ had spoken about Roz when a dinner had by chance been arranged on her the latter’s birthday. Emily had ranted about her mother after the team watched her through the conference room blinds on the phone for almost forty minutes and Spencer once voiced that he wanted to relapse, that he had been wanting to for a while but he hadn’t. He told them how he had learned that he now had too much to lose to relapse. Derek had started the encore of how proud they were of him - Spencer got his 1 year clean coin less than two weeks later.

Most of the other memories took place in the garden. JJ’s unforgettable wedding being a memory that all of them held close to their hearts along with late evening dinners, summer barbeques and pool days. Sometimes none of them needed to talk, they just needed to be away from the death and inhumanity and just be with each other. A kind and healthy distraction from their everyday horror.

Hence why the pool days were such a strong favourite. Broad shoulders above great chests weren’t thought twice about when Morgan, Hotch and Rossi would pull their shirts over their heads as were JJ and Emily’s long legs when they walked out together with their hair in its natural waves. Rossi would hang all of his towels around the house on radiators, ready to be warm and soft on shivering dripping skin while being accompanied by dimpled smiles and sighs of comfort. Fancy cocktails would be whipped up and decorated for display on the outside table with a cooler underneath always filled with a selection of everyone’s favourite beers. It was comfortable in the summer sun and relaxing water, a sound and non-judgmental atmosphere that eased them of all their worries for a few hours.

Clothes were shed.

Clothes were shed.

Penelope had struggled a lot when it came to her surgery scars. She tried to remind herself that they showed how hard the doctors, surgeons and nurses worked to save her and how despite Jason Clark Battle’s efforts she had overcome him and survived - but it didn’t stop the insecurity growing as the summer months closed in. Her bright and colourful bikinis that once entertained the team with a uniqueness that was perfectly Penelope Garcia before the tradition had been established were replaced with equally perfect one pieces. It hid her upper abdomen from everyone including herself and she preferred it that way. JJ and Emily still showered her with compliments that were just as true and heartfelt as before and Derek never faltered in his playful swooning over her. The team never said anything but the change didn’t go unnoticed.

It was from there that everything followed like dominoes.

Spencer had never truly been comfortable shirtless. It wasn’t unexpected or unusual for him to spend the day without taking off one of his long sleeved science tshirts, including when in the pool. Childhood taunts made worse by the fortunately only occasional nightmares of Tobias Hankel tightening the belt around his slender arm made long sleeves a close friend of Spencer’s - a comfort easily sought out and gained whenever he needed it. But he quickly found that the feeling of long sleeves clinging to his skin after getting out of the water was suffocating and anxiety inducing. So he opted for dangling his feet in the coolness instead, perfectly content watching the others swim, relax and generally act like teenagers just like at the dining table not too far away. The team knew it wasn’t something to bring up and Spencer was grateful for that.

It wasn’t surprising when Hotch was next. Penelope felt a sick and cruel sense of security in their shared insecurities as he got into the pool with his shirt still on. Emily and Dave were the only people in the world to see what Foyet had done to him with the exception of his doctors. They had stayed and sat by him in the hospital long after Haley and Jack’s safety was assured. He had fetched him water and held the straw to his lips while she hushed his shaky breaths and wiped his pained tears with soft fingers before any of them could really see him cry. He always went to sleep with one or both of them next to him and woke up just the same despite his protests. So Emily beamed at him when he finally got into the pool with one of his old polo shirts still on after much hesitation and none of them gave his anguished expression a second thought when it changed to reflect Emily’s, dimples and all. When everyone started to get out Dave whispers to him that there are spare shirts in the upstairs guest bedroom and no one comments on Hotch’s brief disappearance and return in dry clothes. Hotch acts like he’s been doing it from the beginning.

Emily always wore flattering but modest bikinis in bold colours like black and red contrasting from her natural paleness, never revealing but they also never took away any of the elegance in her stance either. It took her a while to accept the invitation to Rossi’s after Doyle’s death, ultimately convinced by none other than Penelope. The emotional wounds of them all were finally starting to heal with Spencer running into her arms as soon as she was in sight and Derek and JJ pouring her a drink - but the scars were far from disappearing. A scattering of healing jagged tears and precise surgical cuts littered across her lower abdomen, serving as a permanent representation of everything that had happened, a reminder of what she had done and the hurt it had all caused so many. The bikinis never left but she took up Hotch’s tactic with a sense of shame, staying in oversized t-shirts no matter how hot it got in the blazing sun. The team knew about the brand too but she hadn’t even told JJ about its attempt to be covered - the skin graft too visible to her dismay, leaving both scars to the team’s imaginations. No one dared talk about it, treating the topic as if it was forbidden. Emily smiled and laughed less and when she did it didn’t always meet her eyes. Sometimes they wished they had spoken about it, sometimes Emily wished they would’ve too.

JJ wasn’t too different. Her patterned bikinis in her favourite pastel colours wonderfully complimented her features. She had gone shopping with Penelope the same week of her first infamous pool day since Askari and Hastings had her questioning everything and leaving her with an emptiness that was desperately crying for fulfillment that hadn’t been satisfied yet. She changed into her new floral halter-necked top with matching bikini bottoms without thinking and froze at the sight of it in the mirror. She touched it all the time. She became used to it quickly but the way she hid it from others reflected a fierceness only seen in her care for Henry. It took weeks before she was truly comfortable in front of Will and she wasn’t ready for the team yet. She didn’t know if she’d ever be ready. So she changed into a one piece suit that she had also bought with Penelope and made a mental note to buy more high waisted bottoms.

Derek had been the final straw. All of them too broken or too much time had passed to suddenly change, accustomed to the new life they had adapted to and dictated for themselves after trauma.

Derek was raw, thoroughly stripped and flayed, waking in the night in choked hiccups of breath and having to wait for Savannah to take away the hand pressed too firmly to his chest. He had sobbed into her chest for over an hour after the first nightmare. She had been his unwavering beacon of sturdy reality, her arms never showed any fatigue around him as he pressed himself harder against her. The second nightmare had been the worst, bringing her to tears with him while he cried for his father to save him even in consciousness. It did get easier, eventually he’d wake without the agony of hyperventilating and needing all the lights around him on. Instead he turned in the darkness until he found her, entangling both of them in limbs, her hair and the safety of each other’s hold. They were grateful for the six months he had off, obtaining a steady cycle of him caring for her and their son she carried during the day and her caring for him in the night. When she wasn’t home he stayed in bed, sleeping as often as his body would let him, or meeting the team; lunch with Penelope Emily and JJ, calling Spencer and Hotch and meeting Rossi at the front door at any hour with homemade goods. Soon the cycle became relentless but both Derek and Savannah dreaded him going back to work. Despite this, he still kissed her at the door to return back to her arms as soon as he could.

But he had been the final straw. Savannah almost resulted to begging for him to go to Rossi’s and he had left hesitantly. It was May and warm, dancing shadows dappled on pavements through wisps of cloud and the grass was a cordial green from the week’s rain. Had it been another time Derek would’ve almost resulted to begging Rossi for a pool day.

Fresh trauma always takes a toll on all of them, even in the security of Rossi’s home. Smiles were wider in an untrue manner followed by loving gazes of unspoken words as soon as they thought no one was looking. While Derek wasn’t ready to be subjugated to that, to be the pity of everyone’s party, being there with everyone ignited a flicker of something he won’t ever admit felt hopeful - maybe he’d admit to Penelope at a later date when it was just the two of them.

Derek managed to briefly slip away from the harmless attention of them all to return with beers - the repetitive click of the opening caps and rattle of the bottles as he carried them from the kitchen let the flicker burn brightly in his chest, making his arms feel lighter and his face relaxed. He thinks that this may be exactly the push that the pull in his stomach needed. The smiles are wider in an untrue nature and he catches most of their eyes at unexpected moments but the smiles are still smiles and their eyes are as loving as they had always been.

The clouds grew over the afternoon as they congregated outside and consternation fell upon them. They took their seats around the glass garden table like routine as conversation died. The air was still warm, close to unbearable, despite the newly hidden sun. No one dared look at one another.

They didn’t have many awkward moments, Penelope usually solved it with her wit or Spencer began his aimless rambles just for the sake of noise - neither felt they could bring themselves to this time. Rossi focused his gaze on the patio ground, his heart twisting in a familiar guilt of not having to worry about covering physical attributes of trauma. He didn’t have any surgery scars or stab wounds or a trail of scorched skin down his sternum. It makes him feel even worse when he wishes he did, just to be able to truly sympathise and understand, maybe even go as far as to relate. Over thirty years in and out of one of the Bureau’s most elite units and nothing to show for it, nothing like the rest of them did. That thought stirs at his self loathing until he finally looks up from the ground beneath to Derek’s face which he is instantly confused by.

Derek is deep in thought, eyes fixed and his body unmoving, but that isn’t what confuses Rossi. He remembers Emily’s first day at his pool after her return from Paris. She lost herself too in thought for most of the day, leaning on Penelope due to the blonde’s inability to separate herself from her wonder woman. But Derek was different. Emily was spaced out, like she was needing short breaks from the perhaps overwhelming experience of being back there with everyone. Derek was contemplating.

Derek understands, now more than ever. Whether it be because of embarrassment or shame or it be an act of self preservation to regain dignity and autonomy, he understood. But he didn't feel the same and he felt fortuitous to not feel the same. With that he leaned forward, placed his beer on the table and took off his shirt.

The scar was still fresh, somewhat rose coloured in its recency, blooming brightly down his chest. The world seemed to stop for the rest of them. Even in such a safe and comfortable setting, none of them had dared to address their individual horror, let alone liberate it to sight. The silence persevered with an eerie undertone until Penelope stood and strode quickly back into the house. Derek’s heart plummets. The thought of triggering one of them hadn’t even crossed his mind and he mentally scolded himself for his selfishness as guilt grew within him. It all unravels in him when she reappears in a silly unicorn bikini and he has to hold back a scoff laced with laughter. His wide smile matches her own, wide in genuinity of their pride for one another.

Unbeknownst to the rest of them, every time since her shooting Penelope had brought a bikini with her to Rossi’s home in case she ever felt brave enough to wear one. Derek had triggered her but in a way that instilled enough bravery to not only want to wear her dearest unicorn two piece but to feel comfortable in it too. The others sport priceless expressions of shock while Derek took her hand in his, bringing it to his lips while maintaining an eye contact ridden with happiness for her, dissipating any remaining anxiety in Penelope.

Penelope caught JJ beaming admirably at her before she then too disappeared into the house to return to the long standing silence in a white bikini.

Before JJ had even sat back down, Spencer was pulling his long sleeved top over his head.

The silence once full of tension now radiated with love, bringing the genuinity back to most of their smiles as it had with Derek’s and Penelope’s. JJ brought her hand forcefully to her mouth in efforts to conceal something in between a laugh and a cry and Spencer’s eyes became small slits from his ample smile.

Yet again a new kind of silence washed over them again. No one had made the next move. The two dark haired agents had watched the ordeal play out in front of them as a sequence of inevitable events from the moment Derek took off his shirt. Anxiety and shame had gripped both of them like a vice, shadowing the pleasure from watching the others overcome this together as all eyes drew to them. The arguably most private agents of them all retreated back into both themselves and their seats, Hotch tapping his knee as an outlet of his emotion while Emily’s eyes glazed over in avoidance of her own.

It was a long moment before he turned to the petrified raven next to him and reached into her lap to gently squeeze one of her small hands, ignoring the slight tremble he could feel in her bones. She looked up at him through the shadow cast by her eyelashes and the tears gathering at her water line, he felt his heart drop to his stomach at her unobscured display of vulnerability. He smiled at her before leaning back and pulling his polo shirt over his head as Derek had.

Emily’s heart didn’t drop like Hotch’s, it did the opposite. It leapt up into her throat and at the sight of nine slithers of skin catching the light in the corner of her eye she thought she might throw up. She can see the smiles they all offer him and it makes her limbs feel both heavy and light and her body wrongfully exposed, so she brings her feet up onto the garden chair with her knees tucked tightly under her chin against her chest, willing it all to go away.

Her mind is plagued with Irish accents and the smell of freesias in the Tuscan air. She doesn’t have to. She knows that everyone sitting with her now doesn’t expect anything from her. She knows the team won’t think any less of her if she feels she can’t follow their pursuit and that they would never bring it up. She starts repeating these mantras in her head in an effort to fight off the memories of the cold warehouse floor, the harsh bright lights of the hospital in Bethesda, the sound of rain against the windows of the many French hotel rooms and the darkness that consumed her when the heart monitors beeped urgently in the ambulance.

“Fuck it.”

It’s small, two words in no more than a whisper from in front of her. The beautiful ray of sunshine wearing a unicorn bikini breaking through every dark cloud in Emily’s trance. Tears rolled down pale cheeks and Emily thought her bottom lip trembled as she looked into the blonde’s eyes and only saw love and acceptance.

“Fuck it,” she repeated in a quieter voice than any of them had ever heard her speak in, and with that she took off her oversized t-shirt.

Another tear falls but she catches this one as the realisation dawns on her that allowing her skin to breathe freely without any barrier in the gentle sun is not only relieving but soothing - the team collectively crossing the finish line together.

Derek rises without a word and offers an outstretched hand to her which she takes with complete trust and no hesitation. He brings her body to his and holds her in the perfect combination of sweet gentleness and reassuring firmness.

“I’m proud of you,” he whispered through raven hair.

She thought she might breakdown in his arms, she couldn't remember the last time someone had held her like this nor told her those words. He withdrew from the embrace slightly, opting for cupping her face instead and wiping the wetness from her cheeks with compassionate hands. She’s ready to burst into sobs but he has something else in mind.

He moves too quickly for any of them to really comprehend the sudden change of scene and what he is doing before it is already happening, taking them all including Emily by surprise. The team watched with breaking smiles as he swooped down and lifted Emily off the floor with her hips balanced on his shoulder. An uncharacteristic squeal escapes her having been flung upside down as he carries her in a fireman’s lift to the edge of the pool where he adjusts his hold to carry her like a bride before jumping into the pool with her desperately clinging to him. Everyone is laughing, a delightful sound Rossi thinks to himself.

“Derek!” Emily shouted in outrage as she playfully hit his shoulder, still in his tight hold after coming up from the water.

The smiling partners were quickly joined by the two blondes, running and jumping in beside them holding hands, Penelope not being able to stop smiling enough to screw up her face before she enters the water like usual.

“Spence c’mon!” JJ called, pushing her hair back from her forehead.

Spencer’s smile is the widest they have all seen it in a long time and he doesn’t hesitate to join. Hotch and Rossi join too unprompted with Hotch jumping in after Spencer for the first time ever while Rossi slipped in from the side as opposed to his ritual of having to use the pool ladder.

With a “get up here blondie,” JJ is quickly hoisted onto Derek’s shoulders and Penelope swims under Spencer to lift him onto hers, a playful wrestle pursuing as JJ and Spencer took firm hold of each other’s elbows with no prevail of throwing either into the water and Penelope trying her best to stay balanced while taking swipes at Derek’s legs.

Emily quirks her eyebrow suggestively to Hotch who is immediately on the same page as her, leaving Rossi to watch in shock as they enter the match with his hands on her knees steadying her weight on his shoulders. Hotch never indulged in the team’s childlike play, but everything today had been different so Rossi watched a giggling Emily atop of Hotch’s broad shoulders with his nose scrunched in a turned up smile that would’ve reminded them all of the Cheshire chat had they been looking.

Emily gives up eventually, launching herself into the water taking Spencer and Hotch down with her. Penelope fails to pout through her laughter as JJ and Derek parade through the water celebrating their victory. Spencer breaks through the water spluttering both water and nonsense at Emily, she simply retaliates by splashing him, ensuing another different kind of match.

Rossi pats Hotch’s shoulders, both greying men chuckling at the ridiculous but pure happiness they had all succumbed to. It didn’t take long before Derek and the blondes were also splashing Emily and Spencer, accompanying them with hearty chests and droplets hanging from eyelashes and fingertips.

And so, a team of very professional federal agents played like children into the early hours of the evening, simultaneously naive and well experienced to the world outside of their joy. As the years carried on, sunny afternoons at Rossi’s became sparse as the group grew smaller but none of them ever covered themselves again.

[sunflowersteves]

feel your touch || g.r.

summary || Geralt wasn’t used to your gentle and soft touches, but he never wanted them to stop either. 

author’s note || ok this is dedicated to @borkingbarnes​ because it’s v much inspired by this post and bee u are a wonderful amazing human being for thinking of touch starved geralt. hope you all enjoy!!

warnings || so much fluff, insecurity, touch starvation, soft!geralt, some angst, NC-17, not edited (oops)

masterlist

Geralt of Rivia was a plethora of things. He was a warrior, a tracker, a magic holder, a skilled fighter, and a monster hunter. But, he wasn’t a passionate lover. In fact, he wasn’t a lover at all. In the one-hundred years he has been alive, he’s never had a lover.

He’s had little nightly adventures with many women to cease any tensions he had. They were one singular night, the sheets pooled around him, and whoever was in bed with him. And every single time, there was always a mutual agreement that there would be no attachments except that of sweaty bodies. 

He had previously thought that emotions got in the way of things. Feelings and sentiments always get him in some type of trouble, so he vowed never to let them get to him. He always chooses to hold people at least five feet away from him at all times, even close friends like Yennefer and Jaskier. 

That is until you came along. 

You were like a breath of fresh air, light and flowing in the sunny breeze, but you were also a force that crashed up against rocks during a storm against the ocean shore. It had shocked the stone cold Witcher that you had held such an effect on him. 

It struck him so suddenly, like lightning; it was fast and hard. He thought of things he had never done so before. His mutated heart beat faster and faster when all you did was grin at him underneath the sunlight. 

He suddenly wanted to be a good lover for you, and Geralt had no clue how to deal with such feelings. He had never dealt with such desperation to be near you, such wanting that surrounded him constantly. He wanted to hold your hand when you walked along a market, laughing and talking casually. He wanted to press his face against your thighs as you fiddled with his long hair. He wanted to feel your warmth radiate onto his cool body while you read a book with your back pressed up against his chest. 

He wanted to feel your warm skin against his, basking in the sweet sensations of you. He wanted to give you everything; the desire to please you struck deep within his soul. 

Due to the lack of experience in such longing touches, he had struggled quite a bit. He struggled not to let his muscles tense when you lay a hand on his shoulder in comfort. His lungs restricting the air in them at the sensation of your lips peppering faint kisses on his chest. The strange phenomenon, however, was the fact that he loved your touches.

He loved the way the pads of your fingers ran down his spine. He loved the way your heat seeped into his skin. He loved the way your softness caressing his rough skin. Despite all of the times his body had betrayed him, he loved it.

You were reading some of your spells, trying to memorize every detail about them. For a short while, you didn’t even notice the Witcher make his way to bed. However, Geralt never got comfortable and only sat on the edge of the bed with his back turned towards you. 

Your sweet, honey-filled voice interrupted his intruding thoughts. “Why are you so tense, my love?”

He let out a long sigh, eyes flickering towards yours before fluttering down to his lap. You could tell that he wanted to say something, but his mind was betraying him leaving him with a blank stare as he twiddled his thumbs. 

“Lay down.” 

There were a few beats of silence, his back still shining before your eyes. You knew he must’ve had something troubling him even further if his ears ignored your presence. He rarely would ignore you of all people. It was as though he was incapable of it; his mind was constantly filled with thoughts of you. 

“Lay down, Geralt.”

Your tone was much sharper than before, the hints becoming more of a demand than a question. He blinked before doing as he was told and laid on his stomach. His eyes fluttered close when he felt you lay on top of him, your legs meeting the end of his back. 

His mutated heart starts to beat a little faster, your lips gently kissing the nape of his neck. He felt vulnerable as his cheeks scrunched up against the feathered bedding while your lips skated across his skin.

Your finger mindlessly started to trace a large scar, and his body immediately reacted by shivering from your delicate touches. He couldn’t help but let out a whimper as your hands caress his back, rubbing back and forth. 

Your body lifts itself at the sound. Your mouth hung open slightly in surprise. You weren’t expecting such a sound to erupt from him, more or less from the massive stoic Witcher. For a split second, you could have sworn there was a hint of blush that rested on his cheeks, most likely from the embarrassment of the sound he had made.

Nonetheless, you ignored it and continued to poke and prod at his tense muscles. Your hands worked their way from the top of his shoulders—grinding and digging to elevate the stress he was so clearly under. 

A moan escapes his lips, and you giggle, trying to dig even further into his muscles. You could tell that he felt good; his lips curled into a small smile. 

“Your hands are wonders, little dove.”

You laugh slightly, warmth spreading in your chest as a groan slips past his lips. Your hands kneading the sore battle-scarred muscles had felt like heaven. His skin burned with each touch you gave. 

You stop for a second before prompting him to roll over. He looks at you teasingly, watching as you try to lift him. He was like four men in one, so it was hard to get him to budge. Finally, he turns over and shares a couple of giggles with you. 

He lets out a small gasp as you immediately go to kiss down his chest, his hair slightly tickling your lips. On days like these, Geralt would normally wrap his arms around you and pepper kisses along your body. However, he just stared at the thatched ceiling while his breaths became shallow. 

“What’s wrong, my love?”

“I just… I feel as though you deserve more.” Your heart broke a little at the sullen look on his face; the furrowed eyebrows and teary eyes told you everything. All you could do was softly smile and take his large hands into yours. 

“You are stubborn, yes. You lack emotion more than anyone I’ve ever met, you’re thick-headed, and you have the worst of tempers.” You pull his head up to look at you. His eyes slightly widened at the burst of adoration that flowed between your glistening eyes. His stomach churned with pure glee while you squeezed his hands, “But those qualities that you always deem as negative are what I love about you. My love for you isn’t as simple as a want or desire. My love for you is by what you do and how you live. You are my life, my love. You are my stars and my sea.”

He just stared at your face. His eyes flickered between the crease of your brows, the hollows of your cheeks, and the plumpness of your lips. At first, you thought he was going to kiss you passionately, but he just held your face in his hands.

“I’m never letting you go, dove, ever. Anyone will feel my wrath if they disagree otherwise.”

“Hmm, that better be a promise, my love.”

~~

witcher: @lenalxvegood​ @harrysthiccthighss​ @borkingbarnes​ @dreams-of-sunlight-and-starfire 

geralt: @harrysthiccthighss​ @borkingbarnes​ @doozywoozy​

permanent: @captainchrisstan​ @angstysebfan​ @teenagereadersciencenerd​ @rebekahdawkins​ @hailmary-yramliah​ @buckybarnesplumwhore​ @stardust-galaxies​ @wiccanmetallicrose​ @keithseabrook27​ @hereforthesunrise​

[thetargaryenbride]

Levi x Reader:: Marks

Summary:: Sometimes you hated those scars so much, letting insecurities wash over you and allow self-hate to take place. But Levi was always there to remind you how beautiful you were. 

Word Count: 1458

Warnings: Some nudity

Feedback is deeply appreciated~!

｡☆ ❅ ★━━━━ ❅ ━━━━★ ❅ ☆｡

You let out a hiss as you slowly unbuckled the belts of your gear one by one, letting them drop heavily on the ground before quickly discarding your uniform and undergarments, throwing them in the laundry basket, leaving you bare. Blood flow finally began running smoothly and normally now that there was nothing to painfully tighten and restrict your thighs. You undid the taut bun, setting your hair free and relieving your scalp with a short massage as you proceeded to enter the bathroom. You let out a sigh of content the moment the hot water washed over your body, easing your sore and tense muscles.

The past forty eight hours had been nightmarish. You had returned from an expedition gone wrong. Two of your squadmates had been injured and as a good captain you had stayed by their side for hours as the doctors and nurses treated them. After that you hadn’t even had the time to wash and change as a mountain of paperwork had been placed on your desk. If that hadn’t been enough, the families of your injured subordinates wanted to speak to you so you had to spend more time reassuring them that everything was all right before returning to your tedious tasks. You had been so busy and just like that, two whole days had passed. The same could be said about the other higher-ups. Levi, Hange, Erwin, Mike and the other squad leaders and section commanders were up to the neck buried with work and in such moments you asked yourself whether it was worth to become a captain.

There was so much responsibility.

You wrapped a towel around your body as you finally exited the bathroom, now feeling more refreshed and clean. But when you stepped into your bedroom and passed by the mirror, you froze, slowly turning to look at yourself.

Your skin has always been easy to bruise and you hated that. Now, staring at your thighs – at the ugly markings from the belts marring your skin – you felt sick. And suddenly, you got reminded of every scar your body held. There was one on your calf when a titan had bitten down as you were trying to save a comrade from its jaws. At this point you probably had multiple scars on your back from the amount of times you had fallen, gotten hit or thrown left and right or smashed while fighting those monstrous creatures.

There was one on your abdomen too. It brought shivers down your spine every time you remembered how you obtained it. It happened on the day Wall Maria fell. The Scouts had returned from an expedition. Instead of returning to the base, you had asked Commander Shadis to visit your family – inform them that you were alive and ease their worry.

Your house was near the gates.

You had spent amazing few hours with your family – eating and laughing and chatting together. And then there had been an explosion and only a second later something heavy had rammed against your house. The sound of breaking and cracking of bricks and wood and falling debris had been deafening. You had almost been buried alive under the debris, a piece of wood stabbing you. You had thought that you were going to die. But someone unexpected had come to save you.

Levi.

That had set the beginning of your relationship. When you had asked him why he had gone looking for you despite all the odds, he had just shrugged, saying it was because you were the only person he was able to tolerate. It was valid, considering you were the first and only person to offer him and his friends help and friendship after they joined and you had made sure to shower them with lots of care and kindness.

You didn’t know whether it were insecurities or something else but right now you felt horrible. You hated those scars. You hated your body. You tiredly sat on the bed as you thought about all those other…normal girls who had clean, spotless, soft skin. Tears gathered in your eyes and before you knew it, you were sniffing, trying to suppress your sobs as you cupped your hands over your mouth.

You didn’t even hear when the door to your private quarters opened.

Levi’s eyes widened as they fell on your shaking shoulders. Your back was facing him as he stood silently by the door frozen, unable to move, his mind immediately listing and searching for reasons as to why you were crying.

His legs quickly carried him to your form and he crouched down in front of you, placing a hand on your knee. You flinched as you lowered your hands and looked at him through blurry vision before wiping away the offending liquid. He waited a bit, giving you time to compose yourself. When you seemed ready to talk, he spoke.

“What’s wrong?” it was a simple question but his tone was soft and soothing that you felt like caving in and telling him. But you were also ashamed. You didn’t want to appear weak or stupid in front of him. You didn’t want to bother or worry him unnecessarily. After all, one of the reasons as to why he allowed himself to love you, allowed himself to accept you and enter a relationship during those horrid times, was because he knew you could take care of yourself. He knew that you could handle anything thrown your way and survive and come back to him even stronger.

But sometimes you couldn’t help but allow a few moments of weakness. Was it selfish of you?

“It’s…nothing. I’m just being silly, that’s all,” you breathed out and he frowned, his hand squeezing your knee a bit scoldingly.

“You’re crying your eyes out for nothing then? You know you can tell me. But if you don’t want to, it’s ok,” he said as his other hand moved to grasp one of yours in reassurance, making you let out a sigh and close your eyes.

“I hate my body. I hate how…many marks it has,” you sniffed and prepared for him to say that you were behaving like a child or to berate you and scold you for being so weak, eyes squeezing more and more shut when you imagined every scenario.

But he didn’t do anything like that. Instead, what he did surprised you.

He gently unwrapped the towel and let it fall and pool around you, leaving you bare and exposed. You had half a mind to cover yourself with your hands but you were curious as to what he was about to do.

His face got closer and closer until he placed his lips onto your thigh, right over the still red markings from the uniform belts.

“Is it this one?” he asked quietly as he gently kissed it before moving to the one on your other thigh. “Or this?” he repeated the action before lifting his head, hands softly brushing against your legs and climbing upwards, passing by your hips, caressing your sides and resting there as he nuzzled against your abdomen.

“Or maybe this one?” he whispered as he peppered the jagged, long scar with fluttering kisses while his hands raised more and roamed over your back, fingers tracing each scar with such care and love that the tears started falling again. But this time it wasn’t out of sorrow or self-hate. It was because he was worshipping your body. He was worshipping you.

And it made you fall in love with him all over again.

“You don’t need to be ashamed of these scars and marks,” he muttered against your skin and your hand went to thread his raven locks. “They are a proof that you went through hell and you were strong enough to push through and survive. To keep living. Because if there’s one thing that’s worth it in this cruel world, is staying by your loved ones’ side and building beautiful memories together. That makes all the pain and hate fade,” he said before he looked up, his eyes meeting yours as one hand went to wipe off your tears, thumb brushing your cheekbone tenderly.

You gave him a watery smile as you leaned and captured his lips in a delicate kiss which quickly turned into a searing one as you tried to pour all your passion, gratitude and love through it. He rose to his feet and climbed on the bed without breaking the kiss, causing you to lay down as he towered above you, the hand that had brushed your tears still caressing your cheek with love while the other slid down to cup your breast. 

“Let me show you how beautiful you are.”