#and i should be drawing something for my sister too she requested it

[goldensunset]

sighhhh. i have a really ambitious drawing idea but . this is coming from a person who struggles and bleeds and screams and cries trying to even do one painfully simple drawing. like i want full body multiple figures a particular something i have no experience with. but i take like 10 hours to draw a 3/4 bust of a simple character design. it would take me a really long time and i don't know if i have the strength to commit to that when maybe i should be practicing with simpler ideas to improve on the basics first

[fayes-fics]

Vignette

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader

Summary: An artist meet-cute in the park.

Warnings: none... this is the fluffiest of fluff

Word Count: 1.2k

Authors Note: Anon request fill (see HERE) about Benedict and an artist having a meet-cute in the park. Unbetaed. I hope you enjoy this, Nonny, and sorry it has taken so many months! <3

A wooden toy hoop whooshing inches from your knee interrupts your quiet refuge amid the flower gardens of Regents Park, breaking your intense concentration on your drawing and almost dropping your charcoal.

Seconds later, a pretty young girl of maybe eleven years old comes running after the errant object, her plaited hair bouncing, her blush pink dress swishing around her knees as she calls out an apology to you and retrieves the hoop from the nearby bush.

“What are you doing?” she asks, her face a picture of impish inquisition as she wanders back to your bench.

“I am drawing,” you smile benevolently; something about her mischievous spirit reminds you of your nieces.

“What are you drawing?” her grin somehow infectious.

“You see those roses there?” you point with your charcoal to a nearby white alba maxima rose bush, stems almost bowing under the weight of the heavily ruffled peach-tipped petals. “Those are in peak bloom, and I am attempting to capture them, their ephemeral beauty...”

“Are you any good?” 

You chuckle at her youthful bluntness, but just as you are tilting your work towards her, you are interrupted by a man rounding into this same quiet corner. 

“Hyacinth! Please refrain from injuring and bother…” his refined voice begins to chastise but suddenly grinds to a halt mid-sentence as soon as he catches sight of you.

But he is not the only one who has lost the power of speech. 

Something vaults hard in your stomach like you are plunging down an invisible chasm. He is handsome in a way you have never seen before in your twenty years on this earth: tall, with a strong jaw and a dandyish colourful outfit that fits him very well. 

There are a few moments where all you do is stare at each other, lips parted, before he appears to shake himself a fraction and bows his head in polite greeting.

“Where are my manners? I would like to apologise for my little sister almost causing you injury, Miss. The fault is entirely mine; I should not have let her play quite so spiritedly in a public park. I-I hope you are not injured?”

“N-Not at all; the hoop merely brushed my skirt. I am more than fine,” you assure hurriedly. “Mr….?”

“Bridgerton,” he offers, nodding to you in a more formal greeting.

You would know that name anywhere—one of the most esteemed families of the Ton. You instantly know he is not the Viscount, having seen him at society events, so you surmise this must be one of his younger brothers. Before you can offer your name, however, he speaks again. 

“You draw?” 

“Oh.. yes, yes… I-I do,” you stumble, a little taken aback by his question, even as you feel his sister’s gaze volleying between the two of you with a bemused expression.

“I draw too,” he explains, placing a hand over his sternum, the sunlight catching upon a signet ring on his little finger. 

“Oh…” you seem inordinately pleased to share such a hobby with this virtual stranger.

“I also know well that charcoal fingers are an occupational hazard..” he adds cordially as he catches you attempting to wipe the dark smears upon your hands with a rag. “May I see your work? If it is not too impudent of me to ask,” he adds modestly.

“I-I am not very good…” you fret, looking down at the partial image you see on your sketch pad. “Tis merely a pastime I use to escape…”

“Believe me, Miss…?”

“Y/l/n.”

“Believe me, Miss y/l/n, it is very much the case for me too - being that I am one of eight. Including such trouble-makers as this one,” he rolls his eyes affectionately as he signals to Hyacinth, who seems to be rapidly losing interest, distractedly spinning the hoop she holds. “Escaping is almost a full-time hobby for me…” 

You cannot help but giggle at his droll humour, and he seems delighted, his face lighting up as you hide a mild blush behind the back of your hand.

“May I?” his ask is so soft you cannot do anything but acquiesce.

“‘Tis just a small vignette…” you excuse meekly as you hand over your sketchpad, suddenly so nervous to hear his opinion. You have never shared your drawings with anyone before, but something about his affable demeanour makes you bold enough to do so.

He is quiet for some time. It feels like an age, even though it is likely only a matter of seconds, but still long enough that butterflies start to roil in your stomach.

“I did say it is just a hobby…” you titter nervously, looking away.

“It is beautiful…” he exhales quietly, tone filled with admiration as your eyes ping back to him.

Your heart flutters as he extols the virtues of your work, effusively admiring your use of shading to capture shadows and the lines you have used to denote the multitudinous layers of petals, his gracious hand gesturing over the picture as he speaks.

“You flatter me entirely too much, Mr Bridgerton…” you demure, even as you feel yourself blooming under his praise, just like the flower you have painstakingly attempted to capture. A warmth in your chest that seems to radiate out to glow all over.

“I assure you I do not,” he smiles, handing you back your sketch pad.

“Benedict,” Hyacinth whines, stamping her little boot on the grass, “you said we would play…”

“I do not wish to interrupt your family time,” you placate, pleased you have learned his first name.

“Hyacinth, I am sure Eloise said something about sandwiches; you want lunch, do you not?” Benedict responds, raising a pointed brow.

“Well, yes, but…”

“Run along then,” he pulls an exasperated face at her that again has you giggling, making a shooing gesture with his hands.

She sighs but departs with a dramatic flounce.

“Sadly, I must also depart; a family picnic indeed awaits. But if I may be so bold, I would very much like for us to meet again. If you would be amendable? With a chaperone, of course,” he adds hurriedly, keen to be gentlemanly. “I think perhaps we would have much to speak of… around art. And perhaps we could… draw together? Here?”

His proposal, so sweet and straightforward, has you rendered speechless again, heart leaping at the very thought.

“I…I would like that very much,” your honest confession out of your mouth before you can swallow it.

“As would I,” his response instant, his face beaming. “Would you be here, perchance, Thursday afternoon around this same time?”

“I would…” The hitch of excitement in your own voice unmistakable.

“Excellent!” his hazy blue eyes seem to dance in the sunlight as he respectfully tilts his head again. “I am so looking forward to it, Miss y/l/n…” are his parting words before he takes his leave.

“As am I, Mr Bridgerton…” you murmur belatedly, the words shared only with the fragrant roses surrounding you, swaying gently in the afternoon breeze.

Your stare lingers where he stood long after he has left, an excited buzz over your skin at the thought you have met a kindred, artistic spirit. And one so very handsome, too.

Join my taglist HERE

Benedict taglist pt 1: @makaylan @foreverlonginguniverse @notanotheruniverse @iboopedyournose @colettebronte @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @lilithseve @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @Mlovesbridgerton @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @jeanfreau @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @hanji-emo-blog @Huffelpuffforlife @0x1harmonia0x1 @sya-skies @balladynaaa

[ultralightpoe]

Anti-hero - Roy Kent

Authors Note : Based off a request I got {Could you do a Jamie or Roy fic with a girl who feels self conscious as their date to a gala or something? Lots of fluff and comfort! If you don’t want to write it, no worries 💜} A quick reminder that you are all beautiful and truly wonderful. You all deserve the world, and I hope you all find your own Roy Kent. -Ultralightpoe

Word Count: 3,997

Warnings: self doubt. curse words

Requests: OPEN

Main Master list - - Midnights Event List

(Thank you for the gif @50shadesofpemberlypost )

x Enjoy x

I have this thing where I get older but just never wiser

Midnights become my afternoons

When my depression works the graveyard shift

All of the people I've ghosted stand there in the room

- 

It had been an issue for years, one that was directly caused by your mother. 

It’s not that she was a villain, and it wasn’t like she knew she was doing it anyways, it was always something that just managed to slip out of her mouth in passing moments . A quick ‘that shows your back fat’ there and a ‘are you sure you like that color? It washes you out baby’. Always said with that tone that made you rethink every decision in life. 

She did it out of love. 

But the comments she made built up, that and the pressure of school and social media building up. It all took a toll on you. You found your life mixed with new issues. Anxiety, self-doubt, depression, and you became a new person. 

It was like a shadow version of you, one that tracked how much she ate and thought about how loud she laughed and how much was too much talking. Every single move you made was tracked and overthought.

But then Roy came into the picture. 

At first you did what you usually did, you tried to speak low and not draw too much attention. Tracking how much you laughed and how much you ate. It was fine because your friend group never really realized it, they didn’t know a thing was out of place. But Roy, who had been brought by his sister, was quick to call it out. 

“Fucking stop that.” He muttered when you tried to fix your skirt, using his hand to slap yours away. “You look fucking perfect. Take a breath, yeah?”

“I just…. I’m debating the color, everyone else wore pastels and I hadn’t realized that it would be that type of party.” You admit, body hot with embarrassment as a group of girls pass you at the party. But that was the least of your worries, you had eaten too much cake and had tripped on the stairs in front of your friends. Could everyone see your makeup on your neck? Were they laughing at you-

“Do you overthink everything?” Roy blurts, catching your elbow to pull you back gently as a waiter with a heavy tray passes by. “Because I’ll tell you right now that you’re the prettiest fucking woman at this party.”

“You can’t say that at someone’s birthday party.” You laugh, stepping closer to him without realizing. “That’s one of the biggest rules. It’s like saying someone is prettier than Aphrodite. Next thing you know that person will be cursed to marry your father because the goddess hates you.”

“I’m sorry?”

“It’s…. Greek mythology. I’m not going to marry my dad. It… okay. I’ve ruined this so I am just going to-” You move away quicker than he can follow and you think that it was over. But you had not known just how determined Roy Kent was. 

Soon enough he was taking you out, one date became 4 which led to a relationship. 10 months in and you were the happiest you had ever been. He saw you, in every outfit and every mood and every way, and he loved you just as you were. 

But there was something you didn’t expect, the amount of attention that would come with dating a professional football player. It was a whole new demon in itself. 

- 

I should not be left to my own devices

They come with prices and vices

I end up in crisis (tale as old as time)

I wake up screaming from dreaming

One day I'll watch as you're leaving

'Cause you got tired of my scheming

(For the last time)

- 

Lunches with your mother were the worst, and yet you loved her more than anything. Today she chose an extremely fancy restaurant dressed in a Valentino outfit and her makeup to perfection as she cut her salad up with her fork and knife. 

“Oh this is dreadful.” She sighs, shaking her head. “There is barely any chicken in here. This is insane. Do you see chicken?”

“There is chicken.” Roy shrugs, narrowing his eyes a bit. Lunches with them were always such a weird dynamic considering they were exact opposites. Your mother looked for drama, she thrived off of arguing. Roy chose brutal honesty, he worked best on shutting arguments down before they could even start.  “It’s right there.”

“Oh, baby that is a terrible color on you.” She huffs, sitting the plate back down and turning her glare on you as her hand raises to call the server over. “It washes you out. What have I told you about-”

“She looks fucking stunning today.” Roy scoffs, blinking slowly. 

“It’s fine.” You whisper to him, trying to defuse the situation. 

“No, it’s not.”

“Now I read somewhere that there is a big fundraiser gala coming up, it was in the paper. I assume you both will be attending.” Your mother begins, smiling when the server starts heading over. “You should let me dress you darling. I know how you get anxious about that all and I want to make sure you look your best.”

“She’ll look bloody fantastic in anything-”

“Oh you finally decided to serve your table.” Your mother interrupts him, talking to the server and completely disregarding your boyfriend. 

He takes a moment to lean over to you, catching your eyes. “I’m about to stab my fork into my fucking eye.”

“I know.” You smile, leaning in closer to kiss his cheek which makes him growl a bit at the pda but you see the smile he fights off anyways. “We’ll be gone soon.”

“You look great and the dress you pick will be fantastic. Don’t listen to her.” He gruffs out. 

“Have you seen those posts of you two? They were commenting on your age difference and I just want you to know that I do not think you are too immature for him. Truthfully honey I am proud, I never thought you’d make it with someone so accomplished. I mean it’s not like you had many prospects.” She laughs as the server sends Roy a wide eyed look while taking her plate away leaving the table once more. 

“That’s it.” Roy snaps, slamming his silverware down on the table and pointing his finger at her. “You watch how you speak to her. She’s perfect. And she will be a bombshell at the gala.”

Your mothers face flushes, blinking at him slowly as Roy goes back to his meal like nothing happened while you fight off a smile, your foot rubbing his calf under the table in a silent thank you before you try to pull it back only for his legs to slam shut keeping your foot held there. 

He sends you a sharp look, but the corner of his mouth curves up and you know that was his way of showing his love so you take it, smiling right back at him. 

- 

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

At tea time, everybody agrees

I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

- 

The dress you chose for the gala was perfect, you were excited to wear it and truthfully you were excited about the whole thing. This would be the first event you had ever attended with the Richmond team in the public eye, and you wanted to make a good impression. 

But your mothers words from the years rang through your head constantly as you waited for their practice to end, leaning against the wall in the hallway as you thought about everything. 

“Oh! Hello.” A angelic voice rings out, pulling your attention to Rebecca Welton coming down the hallway, making you stand up quickly. 

“Ms. Welton! Hi, hello, hey…. I’m saying hi in too many ways.” You blush, moving to shake her hand. “It’s great to see you again.”

“I was just about to say the same thing. Are you waiting for the boys?”

“I am, yeah. My car is in the shop so I need a ride.” 

“Oh lovely, will I be seeing you at the gala? I have been planning it for weeks, my ex husband used to plan it. The wanker.”

“I’ll be there. I just hope I dress well enough.” You laugh slightly, but her eyebrow raises and you panic slightly. Did everyone on this team just see right through all your shit? 

“You’ll look perfect. I wish I still had a figure like yours.”

“ANGEL!” Someone calls out before you are lifted into the arms of Danny Rojas, kissing the side of your face as he swings you around. 

“Alright. Set her down, will ya?” Roy snaps, coming around the corner and rubbing his knee as Danny sets you down quickly, kissing your cheek one more time before heading away. You lean forward and rub Roy’s knee right where you know he feels the most pain. 

“Is it hurting a lot?” You mumble, as he pulls your hand away. “Sorry, did I hurt you?”

“No, I just don’t want to moan in the middle of this hallway. Let’s go home?” Before you can even answer he is grabbing your bag and moving to take you to the car. 

- 

Sometimes I feel like everybody is a sexy baby

And I'm a monster on the hill

Too big to hang out, slowly lurching toward your favorite city

Pierced through the heart, but never killed

- 

Roy was in a shit mood the day of the gala, slamming cupboard after cupboard. You knew he was irritated about having to dress up and see the reporters that used to write about him all the time, and you knew in moments like this it was best to let him work through it. But sometimes you just couldn’t stay away. 

Shuffling closer, in his shirt, you wrap your arms around his center and shove your face into his back. He huffs out as he keeps swiping  the sponge against the counter, but he doesn’t push you away so you take a chance and kiss between his shoulder blades. “It’s going to be okay. What they say about you doesn’t matter.”

He sighs out, letting go of the sponge before turning around in your arms and wrapping his own around you, placing a kiss on your forehead. 

“You were young and they were assholes for that…. So fuck them.”

“Fuck them.” He repeats. 

“You’re going to walk by them in your fine ass suit with your fine ass body-”

“Please don’t objectify me.” He mumbles, but a smile is already on his lips as he leans down to kiss you deeply before pulling back. “And I will have the brightest fucking gem with me tonight.”

“Oh, c’mon.” You blush, trying to pull back but his arms are tight around you. 

“I think we need to fuck.” He huffs kisses at your face again. 

“Don’t be so crass!” You laugh, trying to escape him and shuffling you both to the bedroom right as your phone rings. “It’s my mother.”

“No. Don’t answer.”

“I have to, or she’s gonna be mad.” You answer back, watching his face turn dead serious as he looks at you. His hands come up to rub at your jaw. 

“You listen to me you little rat.” He mumbles, you fighting back a laugh at the nickname. “Don’t listen to a word she says, because you are beautiful.”

“I won’t. I promise.” You promise, kissing his lips deeply and losing yourself to the kiss for a moment before he pulls back and shuffles to continue cleaning the counter. You swipe your thumb across the screen and mumble out a “Hello mother.”

“Oh you’re there! I thought you were about to ignore my call.” She snaps through the phone. 

- 

Did you hear my covert narcissism I disguise as altruism

Like some kind of congressman? (Tale as old as time)

I wake up screaming from dreaming

One day I'll watch as you're leaving

And life will lose all its meaning

(For the last time)

- 

You broke your promise, and you let your mother get the best of you. 

Her words from earlier bounce around your mind as you get ready. You debate whether or not your hair looked healthy as you spray hairspray across it. Did it look greasy? Untamed? Could they see your split ends?

Was your nail polish the wrong color? Was there a patch of hair on your legs that you missed? Did the dress color wash you out? Did you look too heavy? Was it too late to cancel?

“You look…. “ Roy blinks, coming up behind you to help zip the dress. “Fuck.”

“Is that good?” You ask, biting at your lip as he leans to kiss the nape of your neck. 

“Good? You look bloody amazing.” He snaps, kissing your neck one more time before standing straight. “Now let’s go make money.”

“What are we fundraising for? I never looked into it?”

“I have no fucking clue.” 

“Right.” You laugh, turning with your hand in his as he kisses your knuckles softly. “Then let’s go make money for whatever needs money.” 

“Make a fortune.”

- 

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me (I'm the problem, it's me)

At tea time, everybody agrees

I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

- 

Your lip was worn down from the amount you had been biting it. 

Walking up to the gala you saw a red carpet with dozens of flashing cameras and begin to panic as you get closer, your hand tightening in Roys as he stands straighter. You would not be able to handle the cameras and see your picture all over the internet. What would people say? They would trash you, oh how bad would it be?

But Roy, ever the perfect man, simply held your hand tight and walked across the red carpet with a confidence that made your skin hot. He muttered to each that called his name, his voice deep and uncaring. “No. No. Fuck you. Fuck off. Fuck no.”

A smile blooming across your face as you let him lead you into the building where everyone is walking about with drinks in their hand. 

“I’m going to go get us drinks. Your usual?” He asks, waiting for your nod before heading in the direction of the bar leaving you standing there to take a look around. 

You took your chance to look around at everyone around you, smiling at anyone you make eye contact with. The anxieties began rising, as every gorgeous female passed you in their perfect dresses. Was your dress cheap looking? Did you look pathetic?

You were caught up in your thoughts as Jamie approached with his date, a model that introduces herself with a hug that makes you sniff caramel, leaving you with a crater in your chest as you look at her perfection. Jamie talks about the gala, looking around at everyone as a flash makes you blink, all three of you turning to the person that just took your picture. 

“The actual fuck?” Jamie scoffs, staring at him. “We were having a conversation, ye?”

“Sorry.” The man nods, moving to walk off and bumping into Nate with another apology. “Didn’t see you.”

“Hi Nate.” You smile, trying to seem calm when he walks up. “You look great.”

“Thank you! Mr. Lasso actually bought me this suit.”

“Who?” You blink, trying to see who he had been talking about. It wasn’t meant to be a snappy or snide comment, you had yet to be introduced to the new coach and the name didn’t ring a bell at first. But the second you saw the man with the mustache owning the crowd not far off you knew who Nate was talking about. 

But when you turn back to Nate you see a glare set on his features, his cheeks a little red as he blatantly looks away from you. “You look great, Jamie. You as well Keeley.”

Then he walks off, bumping into you harshly as he passes which makes the blonde look at you with wide eyes as Jamie excuses himself for another drink. 

“Oh, that was extremely rude of me. I shouldn’t have asked about the coach- that was-”

“What are you talking about?” She blinks, looking extremely confused. “You didn’t do anything wrong?”

“Here you are.” Roy grunts, handing you the chilled glass. “Keeley.”

“Hello Roy.” She smiles before Jamie whistles to pull her over. 

“Did he just call her like she was a dog?” You ask Roy as she walks over, and he shrugs. 

“He’s a wanker. Always has been and always will be.” Roy grunts out, rolling his eyes. “He doesn’t ever pass the ball. And he is a massive tool. You should hear some of the things he says to-” He begins to explain as you try to smooth out your dress before his hand shoots out to stop you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Your answer was too quick, his eyes narrow and he catches it. 

“What happened?”

“I just…. I think I upset Nate because I asked to Lasso was and I didn’t mean to and everyone here looks amazing. But I’m fine. Everything is fine.” 

“Did that little fuck say something?”

“No. It’s fine Roy. Everything is fine.” You smile, leaning forward to kiss his lips which he allows before moving back and holding his hand knowing he doesn’t like pda.  “Let’s go find our seats?”

- 

I have this dream my daughter in-law kills me for the money

She thinks I left them in the will

The family gathers 'round and reads it and then someone screams out

"She's laughing up at us from hell"

- 

“Hello Roy, you handsome devil you.” A southern voice rings out, walking up to where you and Roy were seated together. “And what pairs so well with a handsome devil? An angel.”

“The devil is technically… well historically the devil is an angel.” You blush, immediately feeling stupid as the fun fact slips from your lips. “Well, I mean- I’m sorry that was stupid.”

“Stupid? Absolutely not. I feel ashamed that I didn’t know it.” He laughs, leaning to shake your hand. “My name is Ted, all my friends call me Ted which means you must.”

“It’s wonderful to meet you. Roy was telling me about all the new techniques at your practices.” You smile, making your boyfriend shake his head. 

“I said nothing good.” Roy huffs.  

“He said everything good.” You smile which makes Ted smile back. 

“You both look fantastic. Have a drink on me, since it’s an open bar.” Ted jokes, moving to walk away as Roy places his hand on your lower back. 

“Why the fuck would you tell him that I said good things?” He huffs and your stomach drops. 

“I’m sorry. It was just teasing and you do always say great things about him so-”

“Take it easy. You are fine.” He shakes his head. “Are you okay?”

You hadn’t noticed but your fists had clenched and your nails were digging into your skin, his own fingers were quick to make you release the hold and rub his thumb over the crescent marks left on your skin before bringing your hand up to kiss your palm. 

“I thought you hated pda.” You whisper, leaning so your foreheads were pressed together as he pretended to roll his eyes. 

“Fuck it. I have a gorgeous date and I deserve to kiss her in public.” 

“Are you sure? It’s a big move for you.”

“Have you seen yourself? Prettier than the goddess aphrodite.” He smiles and your eyes widen. 

“How. Dare. You! What have you done? I’m going to have to marry my dad now. Roy, how could you have done this to me?” You laugh, shaking your head. “I also cannot believe you remember that from almost a year ago.”

“Of course I remember.” He blinks. “That was the first conversation I had with the love of my life. Who would forget that?”

“Oh knock it off.” You mumble, shaking your head. 

“Knock it off? Knock what off?” He snaps. “Do you realize how fucking lucky I was that day? The day you looked at me? My life was made. The second best day of my life.”

“Second?”

“Second. My niece’s birth is the first.” 

“I’m fucking honored.” You laugh, smiling from ear to ear. 

“Did you just cuss?”

“I did. I’m sorry. My mother would kill me.” You blush. 

“Can I be honest with you for a second?”

“When are you not?”

“Fuck your mother.” He blurts, which makes your eyes widen. “I hate her. I think she is miserable and you are far fucking prettier than aphrodite and you don’t have to worry about the goddess making you marry your dad because I will be marrying you. No goddess or god could keep me from you.”

“Oh yeah?”

“You’re stuck with me. And I need you to stop being to fucking mean to yourself. You hear me?” He asks seriously. “Because that’s the love of my life you are talking about.” 

“I can try.” 

“Good. Now lets get another round and wait this fucking gala out. Then lets go get actual food because I know you skipped lunch.”

“Sounds like a plan.” You smile before a flash blinds you once more, making you both whirl to the man with the camera. 

“You fucker-” Roy begins to stand as he dashes off. 

- 

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

It's me, hi, I'm the problem, it's me

It's me, hi, everybody agrees, everybody agrees

- 

You both end up at a late night potato stand, sitting on one of their benches as you both laugh at the memory of the auction that had taken place. 

“A fucking grandma bid on me. You know how embarrassing that was?”

“Hey! I bid on you too!” You laugh, body shaking from laughing so hard. “And Keeley!”

“Keeley was pissing that little wanker off.” He huffs, rubbing your thigh gently as you keep his blazer wrapped around you. “Thank you for coming with me tonight.”

“Thank you for bringing me. I am sorry I upset Nate-”

“Stop saying sorry. You have nothing to be sorry for.” He mumbles, leaning to dig his spoon into your baked potato and take a big mouthful of it. “Fuck. That is good.”

“You say that about anything I get! You always do this!” You laugh, pretending to pull the potato away. 

“You always choose better!”

- 

It's me, hi (hi), I'm the problem, it's me (I'm the problem, it's me)

At tea (tea) time (time), everybody agrees (everybody agrees)

I'll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror

It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero

- 

“Fuck!” You wake up to the sound of Roy yelling from the kitchen, rushing to wrap yourself in the sheet left on the bed from last night as your feet pad across the floor to find where he is at. 

You find him sitting on the couch with a cup of coffee, glaring at his laptop, until he sees you coming out of the bedroom in just a sheet. 

“Fuck.” Unlike his last curse this one is said with a lusty tone, setting the coffee down as you come closer to the couch and move to sit by him. 

“What’s got you so mad, handsome?”

“They posted a picture of me and they said I’m retired. What fucks.”

“Is it a bad idea? To be retired?” You ask, moving to straddle him before he can pull an attitude. “You would have more time with me. More time to hang out and cuddle and sleep and…. You can finish the rest.” 

“.....Fuck.”

[princessbrunette]

brother’s best friend!rafe is on my mind every minute of every day 😵‍💫 fucking in the most obvious places & reader is trying her absolute best to not make a sound, but rafe isn’t having it - he literally goes to POUND TOWNNN & the moans just pour out her poor mouth !!! :(

also, can i be clawdeen wolf anon? (i love monster high❤️‍🔥).

i misread the request i know i know pls

🎀🩰♡🌸୭

“i swear, you wanna get caught, don’t you? yeah, that shit gets you off, doesn’t it?” rafe pants, his dresser banging against the wall rhythmically from where you’re sat on top of it, his hips thrusting into you. he hadn’t even shut his bedroom door.

you’d been outside with sarah all day, lounging by the pool. rafe wasn’t that discreet about his attraction towards you, wandering out onto the the porch to stare you down in your little bikini. sarah had quickly shooed him away, yelling something about him being a perv which he didn’t deny — turning back around in disinterest with an eye roll, sipping his drink as he meanders back inside. but now, after you’d told her you had to grab something from your bag in her room — she’d left you to her own devices inside tannyhill.

“no! we — we can’t, i feel— mmph— feel terrible!” you whimper, wrapping your arms around his shoulders as he destroys your little cunt, bikini bottoms pushed to the side, toes curling at his lower back.

“really? really. ‘cos to me it seems like you feel pretty good.” he whispers, smirk threatening to twitch at his lips as he switches over to rolling his lips languidly instead of thrusting incessantly. your jaw drops, forehead falling to press to his shoulder and you watch him fuck into you, whining as quietly as your body will allow you.

“she can’t know.” you reiterate in a shameful whisper, trembling when his hand presses between you, thumbing at your clit.

“wont know unless you tell ‘er.” he pants, speeding up again chasing his own high. “hey, you’re the one that likes sneakin’ around so much maybe we should tell her huh? — oh saraaaah!” he calls fairly loudly, turning his face to the open door knowing his sister was outside, likely not to hear him.

you gasp anyway, slapping at his chest making him lose his rhythm and he chuckles boyishly, grabbing you a little tighter so you stop fighting him. “you’re fine.” he reassures, lips hovering over yours as he continues to fuck you, about to kiss you.

“the fuck do you want rafe?” sarah’s voice is suddenly not far at all, half way up the stairs and your eyes widen in panic, shoving him away and jumping off the dresser. he presses his lips together in irritation, yanking his shorts up, sure to tuck his erectjon the right way, so that it wasn’t apparent. as her footsteps draw closer to the already open door, rafe grabs you by the shoulders and stuffs you behind it — opening the door fully to conceal you. she arrives, and he comes up with some bullshit excuse, saying he didn’t need to ask her what he was going to ask before.

she asks if he’s seen you and he shrugs, probably way too exaggerated and theatrical with his mouth turned downwards.

“why the hell would i know where she is, huh?”

sarah’s eyes subconsciously glance around his room. “she said she was coming upstairs to get something from her bag. did you say something to her? it’s bad enough you stare at her all the time like a total creep, but i swear to god rafe if you said anything to—”

“the fuck are you pointing fingers for? i said i haven’t seen her.” he argues back, more convincing this time. “last time i did see her in the house, she was saying she didn’t feel too good. maybe you just missed her.” he explains slowly, calmly. you barely breathe behind the door.

the explanation wasn’t quite adding up, and sarah’s brows furrow, eyeing her older brother. he stares back, knowing if he looks away it’ll be a cause of concern. she’s distracted by his overall appearance, the usually well groomed boy stood before her a little sweaty and red in the face, hair dishevelled and stuck to his forehead.

“whats up with you?” she asks in disgust and he rolls his eyes, waving her away.

“nothing is up with m— get out of my room, go.” he walks her back and she rolls her eyes, storming away.

“i’m not in your room, idiot.”

“shutup.”

he watched her disappear before slowly closing the door, turning to you with a growing smirk.

“i’m going to hell.” you whisper.

“well until then, she thinks you’ve headed home so… guess i got you to myself for the rest of the evening.” he closes in on you, pressing your back to the door and cupping you over your bikini bottoms once more, free hand pawing at your tit. “gotta be quiet though, alright? stakes are higher now. don’t wanna ruin all the fun.”

🎀🩰♡🌸୭

[six-eyed-samurai]

Hello!! I saw ur taking requests, so u wanna know if you’d do a Giyuu x reader with koji and his little sister (if I remember correctly in the last fic, koji had a baby sister) where the little sister becomes bestfriends with a little boy at daycare but koji and Giyuu are being overprotective even tho she’s a baby😭😭 I thought this idea was so cute!! I’m really hoping you’ll have time to make this, make sure to drink water and thank you!!🤍🤍

-💽

SUMMARY: Like father like son - Giyuu and your eldest boy Koji are not happy at all your baby girl's made a new...ugh, boy friend. A/N: KYAAAAAAAH I can't believe you remembered, usually people only read 1 and 2. I'm so excited about this, it's so cute and TYSM for being my first request! Be sure to drink water too lovely! You can read this as a standalone fic, or part of: I, II, III WARNINGS: Fem reader, mentions of sex education. Post-war timeline SUNNY'S TAGLIST: @abadonkori @therabbitthatpostthings @ezekieleen (lemme know if you wanna be added or removed) MASTERLIST/PREVIOUS FICS My inbox is still open if you would like to request for the event!

Man-eating demons. Comrade deaths. Yet nothing was as scary to the stoic Water Pillar when his firstborn suddenly appeared behind him whilst he was polishing his sword on the engawa and announced the dreaded six words.

"Dad, I have something to ask."

Giyuu froze, brain momentarily drawing a complete blank. The sword clattered to the ground, forgotten as Giyuu slowly turned his head around. Dear Kami-sama, he did not think this day would come so fast. He was just almost six, for goodness' sake; he'd been praying it would be another six years before he'd have to answer. Where were you? Crap, crap. You had gone to go pick up Sumire from daycare and now he'd have to deal with this himself.

Alright, he could do it. It's been six years as a dad. He could pull it off.

Koji waited for his father to nod before continuing, the serious face he shared with Giyuu creased with a frown. "How do you know-"

"Koji, it's a normal part of puberty everyone goes through, so naturally you'd be curious, and I'm very happy you trust me enough to come talk to me about it, but whatever sex jokes Uncle Sanemi has been making you want explained you should go ask your mother because I don't think I'm good enough at explaining what adults do at night or how babies are made at this stage," Giyuu blurted out. Exactly like how he had rehearsed it - Giyuu privately congratulated himself for not messing it up.

Two dark blue eyes blinked at him. "What?"

"What?"

"I-" Koji shook his head in confusion. "I dunno what you're talking about and I don't care how babies are made."

"Then..." Giyuu wanted to sink into the ground. "What...did you want to talk to me about?"

"Sumire." Koji wrinkled up his nose in a disgusted expression when he said his sister's name, padding up to his father and plopping down next to him.

"...is she asking you about these things then? I'm not too sure how to explain the jokes to a two year old either but I can try. Or you could just tell her babies come from storks," Giyuu offered helpfully.

"Wait - what? No, that's not what I was going to - what?"

Ah, for the days when Giyuu didn't open his mouth to talk much and eventually embarrass himself. "...sorry, go on."

"Yeah sure." Koji seemed a little distracted, even for a six year old. "Y'know the daycare? She made a new friend."

"That's...nice." At least she isn't taking after Giyuu? What was the problem here and how could he stop his ears from burning red at his not once but twice blunder?

"It's a boy. They keep playing together, sharing meals, nicknames and stuff. She even gave him -" Koji shuddered, narrowing his eyes. "A matching bracelet."

"A...boy?" Giyuu had long retired from being a slayer after the war and he probably wasn't too good with fighting with one arm, but hey, he was polishing that sword for a reason. He couldn't believe how he never spotted it before: Sumire had kicked up a huge fuss at being sent to daycare originally but recently had seemed almost...ecstatically eager to go. Too eager.

His own eyes narrowed. "Tell me everything."

***

"How's Sumi?"

At the sudden question you glanced behind to where your husband was pressing his forehead into your back, one arm wrapped around your waist as you cooked dinner. Not unusual behavior, but didn't Giyuu just see his daughter a few minutes ago?

"Fine, pretty happy at the daycare all things considering." You slid the salmon onto a different plate, unable to keep the suspicion out of your tone. "At least we don't have to keep fighting another war just to get her out the door like last time."

"Koji says she's making friends there."

"Was he supposed to say anything else?" You rolled your eyes. Now you knew where this was coming from. Of course.

"I don't like her friend," Giyuu said plainly. He let go of you to help carry one of the dishes out of the kitchen with you, doing his one-armed best to assist you in setting the table.

"And why is that?" You nodded along, as if you didn't know why. How long would it be until Giyuu cracked? "Koji! Sumire! Time for dinner!"

"He's a boy. Someone trying to steal her away from us. He already gave her a bracelet!"

"Yuu. Yuu, look me in the eye right now." Once your husband finally turned to meet your face he could clearly see you were struggling to hold in your laughter. "One, you're a boy yourself. Two, she's, well, two. Three, Sumire gave him the bracelet."

"Yeah, but I'm her dad! So what if she's two? It's too early for her to fall in love. And a bracelet is basically an engagement jewelry already."

You couldn't help yourself anymore, doubling over in laughter at Giyuu's quiet whining. "Koji put you up this, didn't he?"

"He told me," Giyuu admitted. "But no boy's allowed around Sumi."

"Shion's not that bad of a kid," You countered. "It could be worse."

Giyuu nearly spat. "Wh-what? You know his name?"

"Obviously, Sumire won't stop talking about him."

"And not me?"

"Yuu, look at how overprotective you're acting right now and say that again." You bit down your giggles watching your husband scrunch up his face and attempt to find a way to defend himself as your two children ran in and took their seats.

"I'm not overprotective!"

***

Perhaps slightly protective. Nothing more.

At least Giyuu wasn't being as openly hostile as Sumire's elder brother, who was sitting judgmentally from the corner, glaring at Shion over his book. Giyuu wasn't glowering per se, but you would probably have to save the poor boy soon from under the weight of two penetratingly unnerving stares.

Sumire didn't notice, beaming with literal stars in her eyes at her playmate (Giyuu had been the one to invite him over, which was extremely fishy, which was why you had decided to stay and watch as well). "Hi, Shion-kun! Mama made mochi, wanna go eat?"

"Sure." The freckled face boy stepped through the doorway, following your baby girl into the kitchen. Giyuu eyed him from behind the steaming cup of tea. "Hi Tomioka-san! Is it true you used to be a samurai? Sumi-chan told me a lot about you!"

You strategically interrupted right then before Giyuu could say something awkwardly honest by dumping the plate of sakura mochi onto the table. "Help yourselves, there's plenty to go around!"

So on went the playdate, Sumire suggesting games to her new friend who did his best to act normal and not nervous under Koji's sarcastic quips and Giyuu's pointed stare, oblivious to the fact her brother and father weren't ready to give her up yet (a trait she clearly got from Giyuu) - despite the fact you had spent half an hour before this drilling into their heads Shion was not here to go kidnap Sumire.

You made the mistake of leaving to go clean up the mess in the kitchen later on, however, under the relieved thought that maybe Giyuu had gotten over his little temper tantrum over the boy. Big mistake, because next thing you knew-

"GIYUU WHY ARE YOU HAVING A DUEL WITH A THREE YEAR OLD-"

"He wanted to learn how to use a sword," Giyuu said blankly, pausing in his movements. It certainly seemed innocent and safe enough, seeing as they were using wooden swords and were outside. Sumire excitedly stood by Shion's side, ever the cheerleader.

But you knew your man and son a lot better than that. There was no way they hadn't planned this, not when they were sharing a look.

"I wanna try be like Tomioka-san! Sumi-chan said he used to fight demons and even fought their king. That's so cool!" Shion piped up excitedly. You were going to murder your overprotective husband for this later...if Sumire didn't beat you to it.

"See, Ma? It's all fine," Koji smirked from the sidelines. "Begin!"

***

Predictably it ended with Giyuu slapping Shion with the flat of his blade, causing a scraped knee as well as Giyuu muttering to the fallen "Don't you even think about doing anything to her" when Sumire panicked and rushed over to her friend.

Luckily you managed to usher Shion out to be picked up by his dad in a flurry of apologies, pleasantries and assurances that it was lovely having him over while Sumire burst into tears and asked him not to go yet (you heard Giyuu's almost inaudible "Hmph" when Shion too cried and said the same thing).

Giyuu and Koji were feeling pretty good about themselves, sharing a victorious glance at each other - Team Tomioka 1, Scum Boy 0 - until you slammed the doors shut, calmed down your precious Sumire with the promise of all the leftover mochi in the kitchen before bedtime and then turned around to fix the both of them with your intense glare.

"Koji! Grounded, now!"

"What did I do?!" Koji threw up his hands but stomped off to his room.

"I saw you push Shion, don't act innocent!" You grabbed Giyuu's arm and began to haul him off to the privacy of your bedroom. "And don't think I forgot about you as well, Tomioka Giyuu!"

Damn, you did forget how pathetically kicked puppy-like Giyuu could look when he was playing innocent. "I didn't intentionally beat him up, you know."

"I know you didn't, Yuu," you said sweetly. "But I didn't know you were into fighting with little kids as well!"

"I just don't want anyone taking away Sumi."

You groaned. Once again Giyuu has melted your heart into a slushy mess with his blunt sincerity and expression. You leaned into his hold, grudgingly allowing him to pull your head into his chest but hit him with your fist still. "You're still not supposed to pull that kind of stunt, alright? No one's taking Sumi away from us. You and Koji are really idiots sometimes."

"What if I told you Koji likes a girl too?"

Your head snapped up. "WHAT?!"

"Yeah. He met her at school. Someone named Yuma," Giyuu said casually, as if he didn't know you would be reacting this way. He hummed, playing with your hair. "That's why he took your mochi, by the way, to give it to her."

"Why didn't he tell me?!" You wailed, suddenly forgetting how you had scolded Giyuu for this exact behavior. "I'm his mom! He's growing up so fast!"

Giyuu attempted to continue with his revenge plan but ultimately failed: you both wound up cuddling the rest of the night disappointedly lamenting how fast time flies.

***

BONUS:

"Onii-chan, what are Mama and Daddy doing in there?" Sumire pressed her ear close to the door, munching on her dessert.

Koji froze. "Uh...babies come from storks, Sumi."

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hello! This is my first time requesting.

The Straw Hats finding out that Eri!Reader never celebrated her birthday/doesn't know her birthday, so they invite everyone to throw her a birthday party (They considered the day that Luffy rescued her to be her birthday).

Bonus: They compete to see which present(s) Eri!Reader loves the most.

-It started off as a question when Sanji set the birthday cake down in front of Nami to blow out the candles, decorations hanging around and all sorts of tasty food laid out.

-When the cake was served your eyes were sparkling brightly at the delicious but refreshing taste of the mikan flavored cake, enjoying it as everyone was celebrating together.

-Nami noticed your curious look and she beamed at you, “What’s up Y/N?” you looked up at her and unintentionally, you made the party come to a grinding halt, “When is my birthday?”

-They all looked at each other, unsure of how to answer that exactly before Robin spoke, “Do you not know your birthday Y/N?” you shook your head, “I don’t- Over- he never celebrated anything like that with me.” A few glares went around at the mention of Overhaul, as they all knew how badly he had treated you.

-The party continued, everyone eating as Nami had gotten the same thing from everyone, bags of money, except from Robin who got her new pens and notebooks and paper for drawing maps, but the discussion was now on when your birthday should be.

-Luffy, as captain, made a smart decision for once, and declared that the day he found you would be your birthday and your eyes lit up brightly, hearing this news, now having a birthday of your own!

-Your birthday was in about a month, so plenty of time to prepare as you wanted to know all there was to know about birthdays, other than cake and food.

-Usopp and Franky told you all about different birthday celebrations they had in the past, and many others did the same, giving you all sorts of ideas, as Robin and Nami had told you to start thinking of things you wanted for your birthday, from food to activities.

-As it drew closer you were sitting with Ace and Sanji in the galley as Sanji showed you the menu, he had prepared for the giant birthday picnic you had asked for, wanting everyone, all your grandpas, all your big brothers and sisters, your adoptive parental figures, to be there with you as you wanted to see all of them for your birthday.

-They all thought it was sweet that you wanted everyone together, and the invitation had gone out a few weeks ago, so everyone could arrive at the spring island that was perfect for a picnic.

-This declaration of yours, wanting to see everyone on your special day, caused several heart related incidents all over the Grand Line, but you were elated as the responses started coming in, all of them agreeing to meet.

-When the big day arrived, you were kept inside by Brook, who kept you distracted, something he did tell you honestly, while everyone was getting everything prepared. You had fun with Brook, coloring and he played music and taught you a new song until Sanji came to get you both.

-Your eyes were wide as he brought you onto the island, seeing everyone there, cheering loudly as they saw you, wishing you a happy birthday as there were all sorts of balloons, streamers, and other decorations around, picnic blankets everywhere with huge tables filled with all kinds of food, including a massive birthday cake that had apples cut into the shape of bunnies, your favorite, in the center of all of it.

-You felt almost too overwhelmed to cry, seeing everyone looking so happy to see you as you went around, hugging and greeting everyone, your elation keeping your happy tears at bay.

-The food was delicious, and everyone was behaving, as you were unaware that Nami threatened everyone to not fight during your party, or else, and they knew that she would follow through on her threats if any of them upset you.

-When it came time to cut your cake, Luffy held you up to the candles on a lower level, so you could reach and you blew them out, making a wish, something Chopper told you to do and when they were all blown out, everyone cheered loudly again.

-While the cake was being cut up to be served, Nami and Ace directed you to a massive pile of presents that everyone brought and you could only stare with wide eyes, completely stunned to see this.

-You got picture books, coloring books, all sorts of new clothes, some decorations for your room, stuffed toys, and all sorts of practical gifts, perfect for a child your age.

-This is where the party started to get heated however, as everyone started trying to one up each other on their gifts, fighting on who’s present you liked the best, which was a bit flustering for you, as you didn’t want them to fight.

-To be fair, many were surprised that many of the guests had made it this far without starting a fight, and while many started brawling, away from the picnic, Sanji served the cake and you sat facing away from the fighting, so you wouldn’t get upset, enjoying the delicious cake.

-When everyone was bruised and battered, they returned for their own slice of cake, but many were curious about what gift you liked the best and they all asked you this.

-You looked around at your gifts before you paused and you smiled, pointing at Luffy who looked a bit confused, pointing a finger at himself as you came over and he kneeled, picking you up, “Luffy’s my favorite gift- because without him finding me, we all wouldn’t be here!”

-You were dangerous and adorable as you instantly gave more heart issues to everyone who quickly collapsed at your words, but they were quick to realize that this was true, without Luffy, none of this would be possible as you hugged your big brother who smiled softly, hugging you back, happy that he had found you.

[herstoryheaven]

Descendants James Hook x Reader: Melting Under His Gaze

Request: Hi, me again! You don't have to do this lol, but I was wondering if you could do one where Elsa's daughter / us go to Auradon or more so Merlin Academy and meet James.

Reader: Female

Word count: 4307

Average reading time: 15 min 40 sec

Category: Hurt/Comfort

Warnings: This story contains themes of grief, self-doubt and fear of losing control. If you are sensitive to these topics, please read with care.

Author's note: Due to the time period of the movie, the reader is Elsa's sister instead of daughter.

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

Disclaimer: All events portrayed in my stories are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual events is purely coincidental. Any actions or behaviours portrayed by the characters may differ from reality and cannot be connected to any actual person. This work is purely fictional and intended for entertainment purposes only.

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

Y/n had always known her place in Arendelle. As the middle child, she was neither as responsible as Elsa nor as carefree as Anna. But like Elsa, she was burdened with a secret. The same icy powers coursed through her veins, a frosty magic she was taught to suppress. "Conceal, don't feel." had become her mantra, whispered to herself during sleepless nights and quiet, lonely days.

After the devastating news of their parents' death at sea, the castle felt emptier than ever. The corridors that once echoed with laughter now held only the heavy silence of grief. Elsa, at eighteen, was suddenly thrust into the role of queen, while Y/n, at sixteen, found herself struggling to keep her emotions and her powers in check. Anna, fifteen and still full of youthful innocence, tried her best to lift everyone's spirits, even as she dealt with her own heartbreak.

Tonight, as the sisters sat together in the dim light of the castle’s drawing room, Y/n unfolded a letter she had received earlier that day. The parchment crinkled in her trembling hands, the weight of the words inside pressing down on her.

“What’s that, Y/n?” Anna asked, glancing up from the embroidery she was working on. Her voice was light, but there was a trace of concern in her eyes.

Y/n hesitated, her gaze flickering to Elsa, who sat quietly by the window, lost in thought. Elsa met her eyes and gave a small, almost unnoticable nod. Y/n took a deep breath and forced a smile. “It’s... just something from school.” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

Anna’s face lit up with curiosity. “School? Are they starting classes again? It must be a distraction at least, right?”

Y/n nodded, though her thoughts were far from the normalcy of schoolwork. “Yeah, something like that.”

Anna frowned slightly, sensing something was off, but she didn’t press further. Instead, she returned to her embroidery, her movements slower, more distracted. Y/n could tell that Anna was still struggling with their parents’ death, just as they all were.

As the evening wore on, Anna excused herself, saying she was tired. “I think I’ll head to bed.” she said, standing and stretching. “You two should get some rest too.” She leaned down to hug Elsa first, then Y/n, before slipping out of the room with a soft, “Goodnight.”

The moment the door closed behind Anna, Y/n let out a shaky breath. She unfolded the letter again, staring at the elegant script. “I’ve been accepted to Merlin Academy.” she said quietly, more to herself than to Elsa.

Elsa turned her gaze from the window to Y/n, her expression a mix of pride and concern. “It’s a great opportunity, Y/n. You’ll be able to learn so much about your powers, about yourself.”

Y/n’s voice trembled as she spoke, the fears she had kept buried for so long surfacing in a rush. “But what if I can’t control it, Elsa? What if I hurt someone? What if they find out?”

Elsa stood and crossed the room to sit beside Y/n. She took her sister’s hand in hers, her touch cool but comforting. “I know it’s scary. I feel that fear too, every day. But Merlin Academy is where you’ll be safe. It’s where you’ll learn to control your powers, to understand them. You won’t be alone.”

Y/n nodded, but the doubt lingered. “And what about Anna? She doesn’t know. How can I leave without telling her the truth?”

Elsa’s expression softened with sympathy. “Anna has already lost so much. I think it’s best if we keep this between us, at least for now. She doesn’t need another burden to carry, not right now.”

Y/n’s heart ached at the thought of keeping such a big secret from Anna, but she knew Elsa was right. Anna was already struggling to cope with their parents’ death, adding the truth about their powers might be too much for her to process.

“I’ll write to her often.” Y/n said, her voice thick with emotion. “I’ll tell her it’s just a regular school. But Elsa... I’m scared.”

Elsa wrapped an arm around Y/n, pulling her close. “I know, Y/n. I’m scared too. But you’re strong, stronger than you think. And no matter what happens, we’ll always have each other.”

Y/n leaned into Elsa’s embrace, drawing strength from her sister’s calm presence. The path ahead seemed intimidating, filled with uncertainty and fear. How could she hide what she was for an entire school year?

-----

When Y/n arrived at Merlin Academy, the grand stone castle seemed to tower over her, its ancient walls full of mysteries and magic. The place was alive with energy, a big contrast to the quiet halls of the castle in Arendelle. Here, students openly showcased their powers and talents without fear. Fire danced on fingertips, water swirled effortlessly, and the earth itself seemed to respond to the commands of one particularly enthusiastic student. But Y/n, true to her promise, kept her powers locked inside, her heart frozen with the weight of her secret.

Everywhere she looked, there was something magical happening, yet Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling of being out of place. Her steps were cautious, her demeanor guarded, as if any wrong move might shatter the fragile control she had over her powers. She avoided the crowds, keeping to the edges of the bustling groups, hoping to remain unnoticed. But she quickly realized that in a place like Merlin Academy, secrets were hard to keep.

It was during one of those early days, as she wandered the academy’s grand gardens alone, that Y/n first encountered James Hook. The moment she saw him, she knew he wasn’t like the other students. He stood out in every possible way. His crimson coat, tailored perfectly to his tall, lean frame, contrasted sharply with his dark hair, which fell in unruly waves just above his sharp, blue eyes. There was a dangerous sort of charm about him, the kind that warned of trouble even as it invited you closer.

Y/n had heard the rumors, of course. Whispers that followed him wherever he went about him being a ruthless pirate, about the lost treasure he was supposedly seeking within the academy’s walls. She knew enough to keep her distance, but it seemed that James had other plans.

While Y/n tried to find a quiet spot to study, she heard a voice behind her, smooth and laced with a hint of amusement. “What’s a delicate thing like you doing all alone out here?”

She turned sharply to find James leaning casually against a tree, his piercing blue eyes locked on her with a gaze that felt almost predatory, yet strangely protective. Her heart raced, a mix of fear and something she couldn’t quite place. 

“I prefer it that way.” she replied, trying to keep her voice steady. “Less… complicated.”

James’s lips curled into a sly smile as he pushed off the tree and came closer, his boots crunching softly on the gravel path. “Less complicated, hm? Or less risky?” He tilted his head, his gaze never leaving hers. “You don’t strike me as the type to avoid a little danger.”

Y/n swallowed, instinctively taking a step back. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Oh, I think you do.” he said, his voice dropping to a low, teasing tone. “I’ve seen you, you know. Always on the outside, watching, but never participating. It’s as if you’re afraid of your own shadow.”

Her heart pounded in her chest. How could he have noticed her when she’d tried so hard to go unnoticed? “I’m not afraid.” she lied, lifting her chin slightly, trying to appear more confident than she felt.

“Is that so?” James mused, stepping even closer until he was just a few feet away. He looked her over, as if trying to unravel the mystery she had so carefully wrapped around herself. “You don’t fool me, Y/n. There’s something different about you. Something… intriguing.”

Y/n’s breath hitched at the way he said her name, like it was a secret only they shared. “What do you want, James?” she asked, trying to keep her voice from trembling.

He smirked, leaning in just enough that she could catch a hint of the sea on his clothes. “Maybe I’m just curious. You don’t seem like the other students. You’re too… restrained. It makes me wonder what you’re hiding.”

“I’m not hiding anything.” she insisted, her voice sharper than she intended. She could feel the cold creeping into her fingertips, and she clenched her hands into fists, trying to suppress the icy magic that threatened to reveal itself.

James’s eyes flickered down to her clenched fists, a glint of understanding or perhaps amusement crossing his features. “Everyone has something to hide, darling.” he murmured. “The trick is knowing when to reveal it.”

Y/n felt a chill run down her spine, and she stepped back again, desperate to put some distance between them. “I need to go.” she said quickly, turning to leave before he could say anything more.

But James wasn’t one to be dismissed so easily. “I’ll be seeing you around, princess.” he called after her, his voice laced with a promise that made her heart skip a beat.

As she hurried away, Y/n couldn’t shake the feeling that James Hook was more dangerous than she’d first thought and that he had already set his sights on discovering her deepest secret. But there was something else too, something that lingered in the back of her mind, unsettling and confusing her. The way his gaze seemed to see right through her, as if he understood her fear better than anyone else. Y/n found herself questioning whether she could truly keep her powers and her heart, frozen.

-----

One afternoon, Y/n sat near the sea, trying desperately to lose herself in the pages of a book. The rhythmic sound of waves crashing against the shore had always been a way to calm herself, a place where she could momentarily forget the icy storm brewing inside her. But today, no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t escape the thoughts swirling in her mind, the fear, the loneliness, the unbearable weight of her secret.

The book in her hands was just another attempt to distract herself, but the words blurred together as her anxiety crept up, tightening its grip around her chest. Just as she was about to close it in frustration, a shadow fell over her, blocking the sunlight and pulling her back to reality.

She looked up to see James standing before her, his familiar smirk playing on his lips. His dark hair was tousled by the sea breeze, and his blue eyes sparkled with a mixture of curiosity and something else, something that made her heart skip a beat, even as her fear bubbled beneath the surface.

“Mind if I join you, princess?” he asked, but without waiting for her response, he settled onto the bench beside her, his presence both comforting and unsettling all at once.

Y/n stiffened, clutching her book tighter as if it could shield her from the emotions threatening to spill over. “I was hoping for some peace and quiet.” she murmured, her voice betraying the fear she was trying so hard to hide.

James leaned back, completely at ease. “Aye, I could tell.” he said, his voice smooth and warm, like honey. “But it’s the quiet ones who always have the most interesting stories.”

She kept her eyes fixed on the book, even though she knew she wouldn’t be able to read another word. “There’s nothing interesting about me.” she replied, her tone flat, hoping to end the conversation before it could begin.

“Is that so, princess?” James raised an eyebrow, his smirk softening into something more genuine, though no less intense. “I’ve seen the way you look at the others, like you’re afraid to get too close. What are you hiding?”

His words hit her like a punch to the gut. He was getting too close, digging too deep, and Y/n felt her control slipping. She stood up abruptly, the book nearly falling from her grasp. “Nothing that concerns you.” she snapped, her voice sharper than she intended. Panic was clawing at her now, threatening to break free.

But as she turned to leave, James reached out, his hand catching her wrist with a gentle but firm grip. His touch was warm, so different from the cold she carried within. “I think it does concern me.” he said softly, his voice losing its usual playful edge. “I can see it in your eyes, darling. You’re afraid, but of what?”

Y/n tried to pull away, but the warmth of his hand, the sincerity in his gaze, it all made her want to crumble, to let go of the iron grip she had on her emotions. She could feel the cold creeping up her spine, could sense the frost forming on her skin, and she knew she was losing control. “You wouldn’t understand,” she whispered, her voice trembling with the effort to keep herself together.

“Try me.” James urged, stepping closer, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in a soothing, almost tender gesture.

But it was too late. The storm inside her was raging, and she could no longer hold it back. The fear, the loneliness, the crushing weight of her secret, all of it surged to the surface. A cold gust of wind whipped around them, and before she could stop it, frost began to spread across the ground, spiraling out from where she stood. The book in her hand fell to the ground, forgotten, as she clutched at her arms, trying to contain the icy power that was slipping out of her control.

“No, no, no…” she whispered, terror lacing her voice as she backed away, but there was nowhere to go. The ice was curling around her like a cage, and she couldn’t stop it. She felt the cold seeping into her bones, the frost creeping up her arms, and she knew she was seconds away from losing herself completely.

But instead of backing away in fear, James stepped closer, his eyes locked on hers, determent. “Y/n.” he called to her, his voice cutting through the chaos in her mind. “Look at me.”

She did, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her vision blurring with unshed tears. The ice crackled and snapped around her, but James wasn’t afraid. He reached out, cupping her face in his hands, the warmth of his touch chasing away the cold that threatened to consume her.

“You don’t have to be afraid.” he said, his voice low and steady, grounding her in the here and now. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

Y/n’s breathing was unstable, the panic still clawing at her insides, but James’s touch, his words, they were like a lifeline pulling her back from the edge. “I—I can’t stop it.” she choked out, the tears finally spilling over and freezing as they fell.

“Yes, you can,” James whispered, leaning in until their foreheads touched, his warmth seeping into her skin, melting the frost that had begun to form. “You can control this, Y/n. I know you can.”

She wanted to believe him, but the fear was still there, gripping her heart in a vise. The cold was still there too, a deadly force she had never been able to fully tame. “I’m going to hurt you.” she whispered, her voice breaking with the weight of her fear.

“You won’t.” James murmured, his thumb brushing away the frozen tear on her cheek. “Not as long as I’m here.”

And then, before she could protest, before the fear could take hold of her again, he closed the distance between them, capturing her lips in a kiss that was both gentle and firm. The world around them seemed to freeze for a moment, literally and figuratively, but then the ice inside her began to melt, slowly, as if his warmth was thawing the cold she had kept locked away for so long.

The kiss deepened, and with it, Y/n felt the storm inside her calm. The frost that had been spreading across the ground withdrawing, the biting cold in her veins dulled, and the panic that had consumed her began to fade. All she could feel was James, his warmth, his strength, the way he held her like she was something precious, not something to be feared.

When they finally pulled apart, James rested his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling in the cool air. “You’re not alone anymore, love.” he whispered, his voice full of quiet determination. “You never have to be.”

Y/n let out a shaky breath, her heart finally starting to slow to a normal rhythm. The ice inside her had faded, leaving only a faint chill that she could handle. She looked up at James, searching his eyes for any hint of fear or regret, but all she saw was warmth and an unexpected tenderness that made her want to cry all over again.

“Thank you.” she whispered, her voice still trembling but stronger than before.

“Anything for you, princess.” he replied with a soft smile, stealing one more kiss that made her feel a warmth she hadn’t known in years.

As the warmth of James’s kiss lingered on Y/n’s lips, the tension that had build up inside her began to loosen. The frost on the ground had melted away, leaving only damp patches where the ice had once spread. For a moment, the world felt still, as if holding its breath with her. But reality crept back in, the weight of what had just happened settling heavily on her shoulders.

Y/n took a shaky step back, her hand still entwined with James’s, but her mind already racing with a thousand thoughts. What had she just done? She had lost control, let her powers loose in a way that could have endangered him, and yet… he wasn’t afraid. Not only that, he had calmed her, brought her back from the brink, something no one had ever been able to do before.

“James,” she began, her voice hesitant as she tried to find the right words. “I… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I could have—”

He silenced her with a gentle kiss on her hand, his eyes soft as they met hers. “You don’t have to apologize, Y/n.” he said, his voice steady, reassuring. “I told you, you don’t have to hide from me. I’m not afraid of what you can do.”

His words were like a balm to her unsettling nerves, but they also stirred something deeper within her,something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel in a long time, hope. Hope that maybe, just maybe, she didn’t have to carry this burden alone anymore.

“But you should be.” she whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of the waves. “Everyone else is. They always have been. Just like they have been of Elsa… She tried to protect me, to help me, but I could see it in her eyes. She was scared too.”

James’s expression softened even more, his gaze filled with understanding. “People fear what they don’t understand, love. But I’m not like them. I see you, really see you. And I’m not going anywhere, other then being by your side.”

Y/n felt her heart squeeze painfully in her chest. She wanted to believe him, wanted to hold onto the warmth he offered, but the fear was still there, gnawing at the edges of her mind. “But what if I lose control again? What if I hurt someone?”

“You won’t.” James said firmly, his grip on her hand tightening just enough to ground her. “Not as long as I’m here with you. We’ll figure this out together, okay? You don’t have to do this alone.”

The sincerity in his voice, the confidence he had in her, was almost overwhelming. Y/n felt the last of her defenses crumble as she nodded slowly, her heart aching with a mixture of fear and gratitude. “Okay.” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

James smiled, a genuine, warm smile that made her heart flutter in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. “Good ” he said, pulling her into a gentle embrace. She hesitated for a moment before leaning into him, letting herself be held, letting herself feel safe.

For a few minutes, they stayed like that, the sound of the waves crashing softly in the background, the world seeming to fade away. Y/n felt herself relax more with each passing second, the ice within her settling into a quiet, manageable calm. 

But as the sun began to dip lower in the sky, casting long shadows across the shore, Y/n knew they couldn’t stay here forever. She pulled back slightly, looking up at James with a mixture of resolve and uncertainty. “What now?” she asked quietly.

James tilted his head, considering her for a moment before responding. “Now,” he said, “if we’re going to figure all this out, maybe it’s time you started practicing, really using your powers.”

Y/n held her breath, her eyes widening slightly as she looked at him. “You mean… now? Out here?” The idea of intentionally using her powers, after everything that had just happened, sent a shiver down her spine, but not entirely from fear. There was a part of her, buried deep, that longed to be free, to see what she could truly do.

James nodded, his expression earnest. “Why not? You’ve been holding back for so long, love. What if you tried letting go, just a little? You don’t have to be afraid. I’ll be right here.”

His encouragement, so simple yet so powerful, struck a chord within her. Maybe he was right. Maybe it was time to stop hiding, to stop fearing herself. She took a deep breath, feeling the familiar cold rise within her, but this time, she didn’t push it away. She let it fill her, let it flow through her veins like a river of ice.

“Okay.” she whispered, more to herself than to him. She closed her eyes, focusing on the sensation of the cold, on the power that had always been a part of her. The air around her began to chill, the wind picking up as she let the ice take form.

James stepped back slightly, giving her space, but his eyes never left her. There was no fear in his gaze, only wonder and something that looked very much like admiration. “Don't fight it.” he murmured, his voice low and steady. “Just feel the ice course through you and work with it, not against it.”

Encouraged by his words, Y/n opened her eyes, her heart pounding as she raised her hands, palms facing down toward her clothes. With a gentle flick of her fingers, the cold surged outward, wrapping around her like a second skin. The fabric of her clothes shimmered and began to change, the colors deepening into a rich, icy blue. The material lengthened and flowed like water, forming into a dress that sparkled with the light of a thousand tiny snowflakes. The bodice hugged her figure, intricate patterns of frost weaving themselves into the fabric, while the skirt flared out in an elegant, sweeping train. Even her shoes transformed, the delicate heels now made of glistening ice, as strong and tough as winter itself.

When she finally lowered her hands, Y/n could hardly believe what she had done. She stared down at herself, at the beautiful dress she had created, and for the first time, she felt a sense of pride in her powers, in who she was.

James, who had watched the entire transformation in awed silence, let out a low whistle. “Y/n.” he breathed, his voice filled with genuine admiration. “You… you look absolutly stunning, I have never had the honor to be in the pressence of such a beautiful and powerful woman.”

His words made her blush, the warmth of his gaze almost overwhelming. She glanced up at him, suddenly shy, but the way he looked at her, like she was something you would only read about, made her heart skip a beat. “Thank you.” she said softly, her voice tinged with a mixture of gratitude and disbelief.

James took a step closer, his eyes never leaving hers. “You should never have to hide this, Y/n. You’re amazing, and what you can do… it’s indescribable how beautiful it is.”

Y/n felt her breath catch in her throat. No one had ever spoken to her like this, had ever made her feel like her powers were something to be celebrated rather than feared. The sincerity in James’s voice, the way he looked at her with such affection, it was almost too much to take in.

He reached out, gently taking her hand in his. The warmth of his touch melted the last of her doubts, and she found herself smiling, really smiling, for the first time in what felt like forever. “I don’t know what to say.” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You don’t have to say anything.” James replied, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in a gesture that sent a thrill through her. “Just remember this feeling. This is who you are, Y/n. Not the fear, not the doubt, this.”

The intensity of his words, the raw honesty in his eyes, made Y/n’s heart swell. Without thinking, she stepped closer, drawn to him by something she couldn’t quite name. And when James didn’t pull away, when he instead cupped her face with that same gentle touch, she knew, this was where she was meant to be. Y/n found herself glancing at James, feeling something new, a warmth that had nothing to do with her powers and everything to do with him.

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

Copyright: All stories contained herein are the intellectual property of the author. Unauthorized copying, reproduction, or distribution of these stories, in whole or in part, without explicit written permission from the author, is strictly prohibited and may result in legal action. Respect the creator's rights and creativity. For permissions or inquiries, please contact: herstoryheaven@gmail.com.

Request Guidelines: When submitting a request, please ensure that your request does not contain any explicit sexual content or graphic depictions, and avoid any form of extreme violence or graphic descriptions of violent acts. I appreciate your understanding and cooperation in maintaining a respectful and inclusive environment for all readers. If you're unsure about your request or want to request about someone I haven't written about yet, feel free to ask me anytime.

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

Requested by: @GlitchyDaRat

[vodika-vibes]

👋

Hi Vod'ika! I adore your writing. I've only just come across it recently, but I especially love your Crosshair & Echo stuff 🥰

If you're still taking requests, would you mind doing something along these lines? Totally okay if not, there's no obligation!

I'd love to see Crosshair with a crush or pining - but he doesn't really realise it. It takes his brothers pointing things out to him to make him aware. With a non-Jedi fem!reader pretty please (who of course reciprocates his feelings).

Bonus points for brothers and omega being good wing-siblings?

Extra bonus points for them to all be happy and healthy together living their best lives with an alive Tech?

Sending you all the love 💕

The Other Side

Summary: Crosshair doesn’t have a crush. He’s above such things. Unluckily, his brothers and kid sister don’t agree.

Pairing: TBB Crosshair x F!Reader

Word Count: 1035

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly @kimiheartblade @mire-draws-things

A/N: I wrote this without being on coffee, after being very sick all weekend, so I hope it's not too bad. Happy reading~

“You should ask her on a date!” Omega says cheerfully from where she’s sitting on a stone wall near where Crosshair is working on the speeder. This is normally Tech’s job, but Crosshair needed something to do with his hands, and Tech is on a date with Phee.

He sighs and pulls away to look at the petite blonde, “What are you talking about?”

Omega grins at him, “The pretty doctor. You should ask her out.”

Crosshair frowns, “No.”

“Oh, come on!” Omega hops off the wall and almost bounces over to Crosshair’s side, “You have a thing for her. We all see it.”

“You’re seeing things then,” Crosshair counters, “She’s a friend, no more and no less.”

She crosses her arms, “Well then, you won’t care that I invited her to dinner.”

“Does Hunter know that you’re harassing the Islands only Pediatric Surgeon?”

Omega opens her mouth to argue with him, only to pause when a soft laugh reaches their ears, “Well now, I can’t say that I’m feeling harassed. And I do prefer not having to cook.”

Crosshair’s gaze flickers towards the walkway in front of the house he shares with his siblings, and a small smile lifts his lips. “Lucky for you, then, that Wrecker loves cooking. And he always makes too much.”

“Too much food is never a problem,” She counters with a teasing smile as she steps around the fence and walks up to him and Omega, “I do appreciate the invite, Omega.”

For her part, Omega beams at the doctor, “I remember you mentioning that you spend most of your time alone, and thought you might appreciate it.”

“That is true,” she shrugs, “to all of it.”

Crosshair shoots her a look, “What’s wrong, Doc? No Boytoy for you to spend your time with?”

“Alas, I only have interest in one Boy and he doesn’t seem all that interested in being my toy.” She wanders to Crosshair and peers over his shoulder, “What are you working on?”

“You know speeders?” He asks with an arched brow.

“I know they’re supposed to go forward and back.” She counters with a grin.

Crosshair shakes his head and lightly taps the Doctor’s forehead, “You have that big brain and you never bothered to learn about speeders?”

“My big brain is dedicated to medicine.” She leans against his side, “So teach me.”

“Do I look like a teacher, kitten?”

“Mm. You don’t look anything like my university professors, no. They were much less good-looking.” She counters with a laugh.

Crosshair pauses and the only reason he doesn’t drop anything is from sheer stubbornness, “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe.” She shrugs again, “Come on, teach me.”

“I’m not teaching you how to take care of a speeder. This is Tech’s thing, not mine.”

A pout crosses her face and she drops her chin on his shoulder, “Please Crosshair?”

“How about I teach you how to shoot instead?”

Her pout becomes deeper, and then she grins, “Deal.”

“Oh thank kriff.”

“I heard that!”

“I’d be surprised if you didn’t, seeing as you’re using me as a chin rest.” Crosshair counters snarkily.

“You’re not a very good chin rest, you’re very bony.”

“So sorry for having a working skeletal system.”

“Apology accepted.” She pulls away and favors him with a bright smile, “I’m just going to head inside, is that alright?” She asks Crosshair, and Omega, who is watching with a growing grin on her face.

“We’re eating outside, actually.” Hunter calls from the porch, “Around back. Omega, come help me get things set up.”

“Oh, but—”

Hunter glances at Crosshair and then over to the Doctor, a small grin on his face, before he looks at Omega, “Now, Meg.”

“Oh, if you need any help—” Crosshair’s pretty Doctor starts, only to be cut off when Hunter waves her concerns away.

“You’re a guest. Crosshair, entertain her.”

“What am I, a clown?”

“You look like one.” Hunter counters, and then he dodges the filthy rag that Crosshair throws at him, “Be nice! We have company! You don’t want her thinking that you’re a violent criminal do you?”

“I hate you.”

“I’m okay with that. Come on, Meg.”

“Coming~”

Crosshair rubs his face with a heavy sigh, “Right, so I’m supposed to entertain you until dinner starts.” He wishes the others were here…but he’s also glad that they’re not. After all, all of his brothers have been bugging him about asking her out for weeks now.

It’s beginning to become infuriating.

“I have an idea!”

“I’m not pulling out my rifle for you to learn how to use it.” Crosshair warns.

“That wasn’t what I was going to say,” She says brightly, as she moves so she’s standing in front of him.

“No?”

“Nope.”

“Alright, let’s hear it.”

She grins a bright expression that makes his heart skip a beat. And then she steps closer until she’s in his personal space. She raises on her toes and lightly brushes her lips against his, and then she takes a step back, a nervous smile on her face.

Crosshair blinks at her, twice.

She looks even more nervous, absently twisting her hair between her fingers.

He’s genuinely speechless. The sensation of her lips, soft and warm, pressing against his seems to be the only thing he can think of. And he can’t help but think that it wasn’t enough. That he wants more.

“...I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that—” She says as she averts her gaze, “It’s just…I thought that…” She trails off, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t,” Crosshair says, “Don’t apologize.” His hands move to cup her cheeks and he tilts her head so that she’s looking at him, “Do it again.”

She blinks, “What?”

“You heard me,”

“You don’t have to—” Crosshair cuts off her sentence with a heavy press of his lips against hers, and he presses himself against her as her arms come up to wrap around his neck.

Seems like his brothers were right about this whole thing, Crosshair thinks as he backs her up to sit on the hood of the speeder. He’s never going to tell them that, though. 

And then her tongue slides against his lips, and Crosshair can’t think of anything at all.

[highwayorgantrade]

Safe House

Pairing: Female Reader! X Soap

Request: Nooo

Summary: Oh no! A bunch of soldiers posted up in your farmhouse bed and breakfast?? Whatever shall you do!! Should you fuck them??

Word Count: 4.4k

Warnings: Overstimulation, begging, volume (keep quiet), unprotected sex, cervix kissing 

Author's note: Okay listen y'all I did not plan on doing this whatsoever. I was in the middle of writing a Graves thing when I got this idea and I knew I just had to get that damn little brain worm out before it ruined my life further. This is gonna be a series!!!!!

The mission had gone wrong. Oh, so horribly wrong. 141 thought they were smart by teaming up with Los Vaqueros again to take down a trafficking ring - “Positive international relations,” Price had called it. “We even got imported muscle.” He grinned, referring to the 6’10” man they had called in, after hearing of his ability to do his job and keep his mouth shut.

 However, the ring had decided on the same tactic, bringing in a nearby cartel to defend their location. Quickly, way too quickly, the group was overwhelmed, frantically phoning in to Laswell for extraction.

“Don’t worry,” She sighed, after directing the seven men to a relatively safe area, the black-tinted SUV already flying gravel. “I have a friend.”

You had just so happened to be the friend. Well, the relative was more accurate, being her sister-in-law. You knew what she did for work, but you never thought she would call on you for help with it.

“Please, (Y/N), it’ll only be for a few days, I swear. A week, tops.” She called you early one November morning. “I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.” And you knew she wouldn’t. The fact was simple: You had lived relatively nearby, and the bed and breakfast you operated and lived in certainly had the facilities to house eight people, and it so happened to be the off-season.

You were eager to accept, happy to help your sister, and it would be nice to have some muscle with the chores that needed done around the property. When the SUV pulled up, you quickly regretted your decision. You had expected a house full of military boys, tearing around like a pack of dogs, but out stepped six of the most attractive men you have ever seen, all completely different, but equally as handsome and rugged. Two were masked, but Christ, were they big anyway. As they loaded packs out of the van, you stepped into the grass, the cold air causing you to draw your cardigan tighter around yourself. When you approached, you kept a safe distance - partly because you didn’t know them, but also because you were afraid that if you got too close, you’d get lost in the intricacies of their faces.

“Hey!” You spoke finally, the rustling of the dying leaves nearly drowning you out. “I’m (Y/N), I hope the trip out wasn’t too awful!” You internally cringed at yourself for giving them the usual spiel you reserved for guests, but continued anyway. “Come on in, all the rooms are pretty much the same, but you can pick, so… that’s something.”

“Ay, don’t worry lass, better by miles than where we’ve been.” One of them finally spoke, casting a friendly grin your way, and you turned quickly to hide the burning on your cheeks. 

You were proud of the way your property looked, hidden well off the road in a small forested area, the whole thing had kind of an eclectic feel to it, but you still felt kind of strange leading them into the common area. 

“Okay!” You clasped your hands together, and tried to remember that you were only a housing opportunity - they had more important things to focus on. “Well, uh, I’ll stay out of your way as much as I can, but you might see me flitting about here and there. What’s mine is yours.” Some nodded their thanks, others were making quick work of checking their bags for God knows what, and one, the one in a skull mask, merely stared down at you, his large arms crossed on his chest.

Okay… You took that as your cue to leave, and you quickly stepped out the back door, hoping to make progress on your chores before the sun set.

The frigid air felt nearly unbearable compared to how hot you were burning in their presence - you didn’t even realize that you were slightly sweating. With a sigh, you reminded yourself of your responsibilities. Repaint the gazebo, refill and hang the bird feeders, and fix the greenery so everything is in full bloom by summer. Leaves crunched under your step as the half-painted gazebo came into view. You could hear voices coming from your house, a few with different accents, mostly British, but you could pick out a Scottish, a vaguely German, and a couple Spanish lilts. A booming laugh echoed, and you relaxed your tense shoulders at the sound. 

“Don’t make me regret this, Kate.” You mumbled as you settled into the grass and popped open a paint can.

She was pretty. It was the first thing Soap had noticed. It looked like she belonged here, in the woods, with the wind blowing her hair and birds singing in her presence. No doubt she kept them well-fed. He had barely listened when she spoke - he was much too focused on how her sweater wrapped tightly around her body, or how her eyes seemed to physically sparkle with curiosity. She had said something, Soap had no idea, but he responded anyway. Something about the drive? The rooms?

“Ay, don’t worry lass, better by miles than where we’ve been.” He answered, stabbing that it was an appropriate response. The way she averted her eyes and a hint of a smile played at the edges of her lips told him that he was successful. When she turned around to lead them into the safehouse, Price gave him a nudge and shook his head ‘no.’ No fucking Kate’s pretty little sister? Might as well ask him to walk on fucking water, next. 

She had promised to make herself scarce, and Soap was silently thankful. He didn’t want this woman caught up in what they were doing, and he didn’t want her to know something that could get her in trouble - Laswell would never forgive them. When she left, Alejandro was the first to speak.

“Nobody talk to me about this mission tonight.” He grumbled, and Soap recognized that as a request long ago, based on the way his jaw was clenched nearly the entire drive to the location, muttering what Soap assumed to be expletives every so often. He trudged up the stairs with his bag, Rudy trailing not far behind. 

“Right, then.” Ghost spoke, rolling his shoulders and pulling out a map of the enemy facility and laying it on the wood table, and Soap nearly laughed at how out of place it looked. “If they’ve gotten support from that gang, it eliminates them from support from anyone else, and makes them a target to others, not just us.”

“We need to get to them first.” Konig’s hand landed on the map, gesturing vaguely at an entrance. “This was lightly guarded.” Soap stared at the location, before his eyes flitted out the window to see you approaching a gazebo outside, and he itched to get this out of the way.

“Aye, they might reinforce that entrance since they know it’s weak now. Leaves somewhere else open to vulnerability.” Soap strategized, his eyes lingering on how your hands ran through your hair, and JESUS, how did it still look perfect after that? A light thump on the back of his head pulled him out of his thoughts, and he looked back to see Gaz with a raised eyebrow, the corners of his mouth turning upwards. 

“No-go, mate. Red zone. Laswell would have your head on a stick.”

“Might be worth it.” Ghost chimed in, following his gaze to the woman.

Price pointed a warning finger to Ghost, his face stony.

“Ghost, stop instigating. Gaz, leave Soap alone. Konig…” He took a breath, considering the man had nothing to do with their antics. “Good job. Soap, I wish I had control over who a soldier decides to sleep with, but I don’t.”

“That girl in Ibiza left a bad taste in your mouth, Cap?” Soap retorted, recalling one of his more infamous hook-ups, and Price laughed loudly.

“Lesson for the inexperienced,” Ghost turned to Konig. “Remember your date’s name or she will throw a knife at you.” Konig shook his head at this, and slung his bag over his shoulder, ready to call it a day.

“Sounds like my kind of woman.”

Soap had already tuned the ribbing out, and when Ghost packed up the plans, he was already tracing your path, walking out the back door to meet you.

A rustling of leaves caused your head to perk up, and you turned to see the one who had spoken to you earlier, a small smile on his face.

“Need any help?” He tilted his head at the gazebo. “More hands make less work ‘n all.” You looked back at your work, having made minimal progress since you began. 

“Oh! Yeah, sure. If you want.” You responded, pulling the paint tray out in front of you so he could take the spare paintbrush. A moment of silence passed before he spoke again.

“I’m Johnny. Most of the guys call me Soap, though.”

Soap? The nickname seemed to come out of nowhere, and you crinkled your nose at this.

“Why do they call you that? You shower more than everyone else or something?” He laughed at this, reaching up to cover the underside of a railing in white paint, and you fought to keep your eyes from lingering on his arms.

“Good at cleaning house, love.” Soap corrected you, your lips pursing at the nickname. “How long have you had this place?”

You shrugged, simply happy that he was making conversation with you.

“Coupl’a years. Since I was twenty. Bought it as a dump and flipped it.” He makes a noise of approval and takes a deep breath. 

“Your, uh, boyfriend live here with you, does he?” At this, you can’t help but allow a laugh to tear through you, both in recognition of what Soap was doing, and out of pure shock that he was doing it.

“Not sure where my boyfriend lives, I haven’t met him yet. Let me know if you find him, though, yeah?” Soap shook his head.

“I don’t think I will, but thank you for the offer.”

The back and forth with Soap left your head reeling, and you considered your options as you painted in silence. Kate would kill you if she found out, but she doesn’t need to find out. It has been terribly long since you’ve even been on a date, or even had sex for that matter, and Soap certainly isn’t the worst looking man in the world. He clearly had a great body, and you delved down the rabbit hole of how his arms would look pinning your arms above your head, his battle-worn dog tag trailing cold electricity down your chest.

A flash of yellow light pulled you out of your musings, and a firefly landed on your knee. You took a deep breath and turned to Soap, his attention garnered by your sudden movement of waving the small bug away.

“Do you wanna have a drink tonight? With me?” Your face was comically serious, and Soap let out a soft chuckle as he replaced the lid on the paint, taking the brush from your hand.

“Aye.” He stood, sighing a bit at the noise his knees made, and handed you the paint tray.

“I’ll, uh, go put this up and meet you inside.” You offered him a small smile, and his head tilted at you, trying to hide his own.

“Yes, ma’am.”

Soap had to stop himself from running back into the house. Giddiness coursed through him, and he burst through the door to see Gaz, Ghost, and Konig sat in various places around the living room, the TV tuned in to the local news.

“Get the fuck out.” He stated simply, his eyes wide and a dumb grin on his face.

“Pardon?” Ghost barely spared him a glance, and Konig automatically stood, silently confused as to where he was supposed to go. Gaz merely stared up at him.

“I said,” Soap wrapped his hand around Ghost’s bicep and pulled, forcing the man to stand, and Gaz followed. “Get the fuck out.”

“You sendin’ us to bed, then, eh?”

Soap picked up Ghost’s bag for him, and shoved it into his chest, nearly pushing the men up the stairs.

“I am.” He turned to Gaz, his mouth already open to protest, and pointed a finger in his face. “If you fuck this up for me, I will end you.” 

The second the three men shut the door to their respective rooms, you stepped back into the house, locking the backdoor behind you.

I raised an eyebrow at the television, and grinned at Soap.

“Did you turn on the news?” I ask, grabbing two glasses and a bottle of wine from cabinets, pouring us both a fairly full glass.

“Yeah, it’s a new form of foreplay.” He laughed, taking a sip. “Learnin’ that we world is shite.” 

“Oh, so foreplay is important to you?” And that question was your first step. He glanced at you from across the kitchen island, and you could just see the gears in his mind turning, figuring out the best way to get himself into your bed. Honestly, he could have asked to bend you dead over the kitchen counter, his large hand pulling your hair as leverage as he thrusted into you from behind.

But your imagination always runs wild.

“Mm. ‘S very important.” You cocked your head at his answer, and he shrugged. “I prefer to have a girl simply beggin’ before I even think of finishing.” He took a step around the island, not quite in front of you, but leaning on the side. You sipped your wine again, trying to cover your reaction to his answer, but there was no wine glass big enough to cover how you pressed your legs together, one hand gripping the counter with slightly more force than necessary.

“How do you do that?” It was an effort to keep your tone even , trying not to show how badly he was affecting you.

“Eh.” He set his wine glass down, finger lightly circling the base of the stem. “Usually have ‘em coming a few times before I get my own.”

Holy fuck. You needed Soap, and you needed him bad.

“Ah, so only good reviews then?” Damnit, why is your voice suddenly higher? You cleared your throat to try to get it to return to normal, and the fucking bastard smirked at you.

“So far. Tell me, love.” That damn nickname again. “When was the last time you were fucked?” You opened your mouth to answer, but it didn’t matter as Soap began talking again. “Ah, lemme revise that. When was the last time you were properly fucked? The last time someone had you cryin’, had you just stupid on their cock?”

You were buzzing, shaking slightly at Soap’s vulgar words. His accent got lower, rougher as he spoke, and you could feel your arousal tying a knot in your throat.He simply stared at you, waiting for your answer with a dumb smile on his face, like he already knew.

“Oh, no, don’t tell me…” He began, in mock sympathy. “Never?” You shook your head at him, not wanting to tell him the truth.

In all reality, you’ve never orgasmed with someone else. It was all only you, and you learned quickly not to say this, as all men would try to be the first. Then you’d end the night by lying, and they would go with their egos inflated.

You both stood, the tension in the kitchen more than you could bear, and just as you were about to dismiss yourself for the night, Soap wrapped a hand around your forearm - Not tightly enough to worry you, but just enough so you looked up at him, your faces inches from each other.

“Love, I don’t like to, uh, think I’m all that, y’know?” He cleared his throat. “But I’d like to try. Show some thanks to our host.”

In one last attempt at quieting down your own perverse thoughts, you set your wine glass down, and looked at the floor.

“Ah, you don’t need to thank me Soap.”

“I absolutely do,” He responded immediately. “I really do need to. Nothin’ better than a pretty face while I work.”

You bite the inside of your lip, considering all the ways this could go bad. Every single one was overrun with the way Soap was searching your eyes, silently pleading for you. With a purse of your lips, you poured the rest of your wine down the sink, and smiled.

“Absolutely.”

You barely got the words out before Soap wrapped his arm around your waist and lifted, slinging you over his shoulder and making his way up the stairs, searching for any room that didn’t look like it was already occupied.

“Mine’s on the other end.” You breathed in an effort not to laugh at his eagerness, and he turned on his heels toward a door that was differently painted than the rest. He placed a hand over your head, protecting you from a bump as he ducked through the doorframe, and less-than-gently set you on your bed, locking the door behind him.

When he turned, you didn’t see the sweet man offering to help you with painting, you saw a soldier. A soldier tuned into your every breath, every movement, and every thought. He kneeled in front of the bed, between your legs, and began planting lighter than air kisses on your ankle, untying your shoes and setting them to the side haphazardly.

“Red means stop.” He whispered against your skin, traveling upward to your knee. “Yellow is slow down, green is good. Repeat it.”

“Red is-“ You were cut off by your own gasp as he delivered a light bite to the inside of your thigh before kissing it again, and you could feel him smile against you. “Red is stop. Yellow is slow. Green is good.”

“And where are we now?” He breathed against the spot right where your thigh met your most sensitive area, and you felt your stomach jump.

“Green. So, so green.” A whimper escaped you, and Soap tsked, like he was about to scold you.

“Stay quiet, lass.” Teased Soap, as he slid your shorts down, along with your underwear, and he whistled lowly. “A Chriosd ann an ifrinn, seall ort, a nighean bhòidheach.” And with that, he licked one long, thick strip up your cunt, dipping down to tease your hole with his tongue. Soap was eating you out like a man starved, and you were obsessed. 

Light, breathy moans left you, ever so aware of how quiet everything else was. 

“Tell me what feels good, love.” He punctuated his command with a nip to your thigh, pulling your mind out of the pleasure-induced haze. His tongue traveled through your folds, eyes trained on you to see your reaction to his ministrations. Soap’s lips wrap around your clit, fingers toying with your soaking entrance, and it felt like all rational thought had left you. You didn’t care about who exactly was between your legs, nor if his team could hear your desperate mewls.

The pressure inside you was building, and your movement was strange - trying to wriggle away from the incessant barrage against your clit, and trying to grind impossibly closer to Soap’s lips, and by his huff, it was clear he had enough of that. One large arm wrapped around a thigh, his other pressing down on your abdomen, and the only noise Soap could muster was a few low groans as he continued devouring you.

The knot inside you was getting tighter and tighter, and it felt like it was going to snap any second. A split moment of panic ran through you as your back arched off the bed, Begs and cries tumbling out of your lips before you could think of them.

“Soap, please, please.” You cried, hands aching from gripping the sheets. “Please don’t stop, please…” Staying true to your direction, Soap was unrelenting against you, the combination of his sucking, biting, and licking at your clit had dizzy spots appearing in your vision. With one hard push on your abdomen, and a particularly slow drag of his tongue at your entrance, you felt that snap, and you finally understood why it was called the Little Death.

Your mind had gone completely blank, mouth open in a silent scream, and your thighs clamped around either side of Soap’s head, where he still had yet to stop drinking you. It felt like your heart had even stopped beating, until the pounding was heard in your ears. As Soap continued, you felt your body lurch upwards, fingers tangling in Soap’s hair until he finally looked up at you, his hand coming back to slide a finger into you.The sudden intrusion forced a gasp from you, and he gently kissed your thigh, where you noticed the ache that predates a bruise.

“How we doin’, love? We okay?” His voice was impossibly sweet, a complete 180 to how he just made you feel. You nodded, despite feeling like every single sense in your body had been blown out. His finger continued sliding in and out of you, your walls pulsing around him.

“Green.” You confirmed breathily, and he smiled a wolfish grin before adding a second digit into you, his pace quickening. A quick flash of aggravation and desperation coursed through you, and you knew how to get exactly what you wanted. 

You looked down at him, eyebrows upturned in a pleading look, and your doe-eyes were working overtime. 

“Please, Soap, just fuck me.” You said, voice higher and more gentle than you thought it would come out, and he groaned, rolling his head against your leg. His fingers took on a ‘come here’ motion, and your eyes rolled in the back of your head at the feeling.

“Ah, I know what you want. You want these…” Soap planted a kiss on your thighs, interrupting his own speech. “God, these pretty thighs pinned behind your head, taking me so well, takin’ me so good.” He looked absolutely pussydrunk, his eyes darting between your eyes and his fingers, tsking and offering a slight noise of false sympathy when a tear rolled down your cheek. Your walls pulsed around his fingers, and you could feel that fire building inside of you again. “Christ, love, you wanna come again, huh?” You nodded furiously at his question, one hand coming up to absentmindedly play with your tits. A bright look crossed Soap’s face, and while his hands continued, his mouth met your hands.

His lips wrapped around your nipple, and before you could think, he bit down - the orgasm that crashed through you was stronger than the last, and the muscles in your thighs screamed from being clenched so tightly. You felt his fingers work their way out of your pussy, hissing at the feeling of your walls clenching around nothing.

“You want me to fuck you now, pretty thing?” His face was almost smug as he climbed up on the bed, one hand going to your lower back to effortlessly raise you, and he peppered light kisses on your sweat-covered face. Of course you want him, how could you not? Your body was buzzing with the aftershocks of two orgasms, and here he was, lining himself up with you.

“God, yes, please.” You breathed, hands coming to rest on his back. Soap brought his lips down next to your ear, sending another shock straight to your core.

“Beg better.” He punctuated his command by rubbing his cock through your folds, and you twitched when the head ground against your already sensitive clit. Beg better? Fuck you, Soap. 

You took his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you and, hopefully, how serious you looked.

“Fuck me, Soap. Now.” 

The simple instruction was all it took for him to push inside you, and it was like it activated something in him - Soap simply could not shut up.

“Ach, mo Dhia, tha thu a 'faireachdainn cho foirfe timcheall orm. So perfect.” He planted a kiss to your temple. “So perfect, my pretty girl.” 

You brought your lips up to his neck, kissing the curve where it meets his shoulder, and his babbling only continued as his cock dragged against nearly every nerve, your broken moans echoing through your room. God, his slow pace was nearly agonizing, you wanted more, you needed more. It was like Soap read your mind as he paused, hooking your knees above his shoulders, effectively pinning you into the mattress. He flashed you a wicked grin before he began his jackhammer pace, and this new position had him reaching impossibly deep inside you.

A vague, low ache began in your abdomen every time he bottomed out, his head kissing your cervix every single time. The depth combined with his pace, his groaning and endless praise in your ear - it felt like it was all culminating in a perfect storm, one that was threatening to break down every fibre of your being.

“Fuck, Soap, I’m going to-” You interrupted yourself with a low, hoarse groan, your admission only spurring him on as he replaced his hold on your knees with his hands.

“Look at me, love, I wanna see it, I wanna see you.” His stuttering hips told you he was in the same spot as you, and you both were not going to last much longer. “Come for me, pretty girl.” He growled, and that was all it took for you.

Your legs shook uncontrollably as you released around him, and your ending brought his own on. Curses left him lips as he buried himself inside you, collapsing next to you.

“Ach, come ‘ere.” He breathed, reaching his arm out to hook around your waist and pulling you to him, one leg wrapping around his waist. One hand rested on your jaw, planting kisses on your forehead, cheek, anywhere he could get access to. Your body felt numb, and you knew he stayed true to his word - you were fucked absolutely stupid. You wanted to talk, you wanted to ask where this left you? Would you ignore that this happened? Would it recur? Would he tell his team about it? You wanted to ask, and yet you didn’t - The song of crickets and his heartbeat was a lullaby, and one that you couldn’t fight.

The snare of sleep overtook you as your heart rate evened out, and only one thought was on your mind before you gave up the fight for consciousness:

You really fucking hope you don’t regret this.

[atlasthegreatest]

A Not-so-Quiet Visit / Talia Al Ghul x Daughter! Female Reader

Which, Talia’s eldest daughter — Y/n Al Ghul— decides to check on Damian, shocking the Batfamily, who mistakes her for an enemy. With Bruce intervening, the truth of her identity leaves the others unsettled — another Al Ghul is now in play.

Word count: 4542

A/n: This was requested by an anon. Hope you like it!

The low hum of the Batcave’s computers filled the cavernous space. Barbara sat at the console, tapping away on a keyboard while Dick Grayson and Tim Drake poured over reports from Gotham’s streets. Damian had been unusually quiet tonight, even more so than usual. He sat on the edge of a metal workbench, his face drawn in thought, occasionally glancing toward the time on the Batcomputer as if waiting for something—or someone.

“He’s more brooding than usual. Impressive,” Dick muttered to Tim, who snorted quietly.

“Maybe he missed a test question or something,” Tim replied under his breath.

“Silence, imbeciles,” Damian snapped, but his heart wasn’t in it. His eyes flickered toward the Batcomputer again. He seemed restless.

At that moment, the distant sound of heavy footsteps echoed from the upper levels of the Manor—Bruce’s office. Damian froze. He knew who it was.

Before he could say anything, the sound of boots clicking confidently on the cave’s metallic stairs made everyone spin around in alarm.

Barbara’s hands instinctively reached for a defensive position, and Dick moved smoothly into a combat stance. Tim swore under his breath and quickly drew his bo staff.

The figure emerging from the shadows was a young woman, older than Damian but bearing the same sharp, angular features and a gaze far too cold for someone her age. She had a regal air about her—like she belonged here. Her black combat suit hugged her form, with weapons resting at her hips, though she made no move to reach for them. She didn’t seem concerned in the slightest.

Her hair was tied back tightly, and her striking green eyes—so much like her brother’s—swept the Batcave with a calculating sharpness.

“What the hell—?” Tim started.

“Intruder!” Barbara announced, fingers hovering over the console to trigger security protocols.

“You dare.” The words left her mouth with the venom of someone who was used to being obeyed. She lifted a hand in a small, dismissive gesture that mirrored Talia Al Ghul perfectly. “Lower your weapons, now.”

“You’re with the League of Assassins,” Dick said, his voice low, tense. “What do you want?”

She gave him a condescending look, the kind that told him he was so far beneath her notice it was almost laughable.

“I am not here to deal with you,” she replied coolly, her accent a faint echo of her mother’s. “I am here for my brother.”

“You mean Damian?” Barbara asked, her confusion deepening as she eyed the young woman. “Who are you?”

Damian shifted uneasily, but the tension in his shoulders melted just a little. “She is my sister,” he said with the certainty of someone revealing a fact he thought should be obvious.

The entire room froze.

“Your what?” Tim said, blinking as if he’d misheard.

“Sister,” the woman confirmed smoothly. “The eldest child of Talia al Ghul. Damian’s superior, and unlike him, far more patient.” Her gaze flicked back to Damian. “I came to ensure you were unharmed. There were rumors circulating among the League—none of which I liked.”

“What rumors?” Dick demanded.

“You don’t need to know,” she replied with a dismissive glance. “It is a matter for the family. Not… outsiders.”

Barbara took a step forward. “You can’t just walk in here and—”

“I can. And I did.” The woman raised a brow, unimpressed by the outrage gathering in the room. She stood perfectly still, making no move to draw her weapons. Her poise was absolute, the very picture of a leader accustomed to giving orders without needing to raise her voice.

Tim gave Damian a sharp look. “You have a sister? And none of us knew about her?”

“Correct,” Damian said, standing up and walking toward her without hesitation.

“You’re just now telling us?” Barbara asked, still reeling from the revelation.

Damian shot her a look that was both arrogant and irritated. “My personal affairs are none of your concern.”

The woman gave a faint, approving smile. “At least you remember that much, little brother.”

Before anyone could press further, a deep, familiar voice called from above.

“Stand down.”

Bruce Wayne descended the steps slowly, his shadow stretching across the cave floor. His gaze locked immediately onto the woman. His face betrayed no surprise, no confusion—just an unreadable, neutral mask.

“You knew,” Dick accused, disbelief written across his face. “Of course, you knew.”

Bruce didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he stopped a few feet away from the woman and gave her a nod—small, almost imperceptible, but it was there.

“Talia is upstairs,” he said to her quietly. “You could have used the front door.”

The faintest trace of amusement curled the corners of her lips. “I wanted to see how well your security has held up. It’s lacking.”

Tim muttered, “She is related to Damian.”

The woman ignored him entirely, stepping past Bruce with a fluid grace. Her attention remained solely on her brother as she reached out to clasp his shoulder—firmly, yet with an unspoken sense of care. “You’re well?”

Damian gave a sharp nod. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t look it,” she murmured, studying him with narrowed eyes.

“It’s nothing.”

For a moment, there was silence between them. It was the kind of silence that spoke of familiarity—one born from years of shared experiences, of battles fought side by side, and of a trust that did not need words to be confirmed.

“You’ve been holding back again,” she whispered in a low tone, meant only for Damian. “Mother will not be pleased.”

“Mother isn’t pleased with many things,” Damian retorted, his expression softening slightly in a way the others rarely saw.

From the background, Dick and Tim exchanged glances. None of this made sense.

Barbara, still processing everything, crossed her arms. “So, let me get this straight—you’re some kind of… shadow sibling we were never supposed to know about?”

The woman turned her gaze on her, expression unreadable. “I prefer to think of myself as the one who handles things you cannot.”

“That’s comforting,” Dick muttered sarcastically.

Bruce gave her a look that was equal parts warning and understanding. “Are you planning on staying long?”

“No. Mother and I won’t linger.” Her eyes flicked upward, where Talia undoubtedly waited in the Manor. Then she glanced back at Damian. “But I will return.”

There was no goodbye, no ceremony. She gave Damian’s shoulder one final squeeze before turning on her heel and walking toward the exit with the same effortless confidence she had entered.

Just before she disappeared into the shadows, she paused and looked back, her piercing green eyes locking onto Bruce.

“Take care of him,” she said, her voice softer this time. There was no malice in her tone—only a quiet command, laced with something dangerously close to affection.

Bruce gave a subtle nod. “I always do.”

And with that, she was gone, as suddenly as she had arrived, leaving the Batfamily standing in stunned silence.

“Well,” Dick finally said, breaking the tension, “that was… something.”

Tim groaned, rubbing his temples. “We just found out Damian has a sister, and Talia Al Ghul is upstairs having tea with Bruce. What even is our life right now?”

Damian smirked. “You’ll adjust.”

Barbara shook her head, exasperated. “I really hate this family sometimes.”

From the shadows above, faint laughter echoed—like the sound of a ghost, a whisper of a life none of them knew existed until now. And somehow, it felt like that wasn’t the last they’d hear from her. Not by a long shot.

———————-

The Batcave settled into uneasy silence after the mysterious sister’s departure. Dick ran a hand through his hair, still processing the bombshell that just landed on them, while Tim leaned against the workbench with a scowl, looking like he’d been hit by a truck.

Barbara sat back at the console, shaking her head in disbelief. “So, you’re telling me that Talia al Ghul didn’t just have one kid with Bruce. She had two. And nobody thought to mention that.”

“Not even Bruce,” Tim muttered bitterly. “You know, typical Bat fashion. Gotta love family secrets.”

Damian shot him an icy glare. “She isn’t your business. My sister is loyal to the League, unlike certain people.”

Dick snorted, crossing his arms. “Well, she did just waltz into the Batcave, acting like she owned the place. Kind of a red flag, don’t you think?”

“She wasn’t going to harm anyone,” Damian snapped, clearly agitated. “She came to check on me, nothing more.”

“Yeah? Because that’s what people do—check in by sneaking into top-secret caves full of vigilantes,” Tim shot back, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Super normal sibling stuff.”

Barbara leaned back in her chair. “The bigger question is, how did she even get in? We would have noticed if any of the cave’s systems were breached.”

“She’s League-trained.” Damian’s tone was dismissive, as if that explained everything. “If she wanted to sneak in, none of you would’ve known until she was standing right behind you.”

Dick rubbed his forehead, already tired of this conversation. “Okay, let’s take a step back. Who is she exactly? How old is she? And—”

“Her name is not important,” Damian interrupted coldly. “And what you need to understand is simple: she is my sister. My responsibility. Not yours.”

“You know that’s not how this works, Damian,” Barbara said, glancing up from the console. “If she’s aligned with the League of Assassins, she’s a potential threat to all of us.”

Before Damian could respond, Bruce’s heavy footfalls echoed as he approached the group, his expression still unreadable.

“I suggest we leave it there,” Bruce said, his voice low but authoritative. “She’s not here to harm anyone.”

Tim threw up his hands. “Oh, great. Now Bruce is doing the ‘I’m not going to tell you anything important’ thing too. Awesome.”

Bruce ignored the jab, addressing Damian directly. “Go upstairs. Your mother is waiting for you.”

Damian hesitated, but only for a second. With a curt nod, he turned and made his way toward the stairwell leading back into the Manor, leaving the others behind to stew in their confusion.

“Bruce,” Dick said after a beat, “you can’t seriously expect us to just let this go. Damian has an older sister. That’s—kind of a big deal.”

Bruce’s gaze remained steady, but his silence was answer enough.

Dick’s eyes narrowed. “How long have you known?”

Bruce exhaled as if the weight of the conversation was something he had long anticipated but hoped to avoid. “Since the moment she was born.”

Tim threw his hands up. “Unbelievable. You knew, and you didn’t tell any of us?”

“It wasn’t your concern,” Bruce said calmly, though there was a trace of something weary in his voice. “She’s not part of this life. Not in the way that matters.”

“Then what life is she part of?” Barbara asked. “Because the way she walked in here, it feels like she’s pretty comfortable with all of this.”

Bruce’s jaw tightened, the smallest crack in his usual composure. “She was raised to be Talia’s heir. The League is her world. She keeps to her duties there.”

“And now she’s here.” Dick folded his arms, frustration clear on his face. “That’s a problem, Bruce.”

Bruce’s gaze darkened slightly. “It isn’t. She’s not an enemy.”

Tim scoffed. “Not yet, maybe.”

“Enough,” Bruce said sharply, cutting off further argument. “She came here to see her brother. That’s all.”

Dick wasn’t ready to drop it. “And what happens when she comes back next time? What happens when she decides the League’s business is our business?”

Bruce’s silence lingered, heavy and impenetrable.

Barbara shook her head, clearly unsettled. “You really think this won’t blow up in our faces? Because I’ve got a bad feeling it will.”

“Let me handle it,” Bruce said quietly, a hint of finality in his tone. “When the time comes, I’ll deal with her.”

Tim crossed his arms, unconvinced. “Right. Because that always works out so well.”

Dick let out a breath, tension still clinging to his shoulders. “Whatever. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”

They all knew what that meant. In their line of work, things rarely stayed quiet for long. And now, with Damian’s sister lurking in the background, things were bound to get more complicated.

Upstairs in Wayne Manor

Talia al Ghul sipped her tea from delicate porcelain, her poise immaculate as ever. She sat gracefully in one of the high-backed chairs in Bruce’s study as if she were a guest rather than a dangerous woman from his past.

Damian stood near the doorway, arms crossed over his chest. Y/n leaned casually against the wall beside him, her expression cool and distant. The siblings shared a silent understanding as if words were unnecessary between them.

“You’re staying for long?” Damian asked his sister quietly.

Y/n shook her head, her green eyes flickering with a softness reserved only for him. “No. Mother’s business here won’t take much longer.”

Talia’s gaze remained on Bruce, studying him with that familiar intensity. “You should feel fortunate, beloved,” Talia said smoothly. “Our daughter was quite insistent on seeing her brother.”

Bruce leaned back in his chair, his eyes never leaving hers. “And you let her walk into the Batcave.”

Talia gave a small, amused smile. “She wished to test your hospitality. Clearly, there is room for improvement.”

Bruce didn’t rise to the bait. Instead, he looked toward the girl standing silently beside Damian.

“You know where you stand,” he said quietly. “If you ever need—”

“I don’t,” Y/n interrupted, her voice sharp but not unkind. “I stand with him. That is all that matters.”

There was a long pause.

Then Talia rose gracefully from her seat, setting her cup aside. “Come, children. We have work to do.”

Without a word, Y/n followed their mother toward the door. But just before leaving, she glanced back at Bruce one last time, her expression unreadable.

“Try to keep him safe,” she said softly, her voice almost a whisper.

And then she was gone, a shadow disappearing into the night, leaving Bruce to wonder how long it would be before she returned—and what would happen when she did.

The door to the study closed softly behind Talia, Damian, and Y/n, leaving Bruce in silence. He exhaled slowly, staring at the spot where they had stood moments before, a familiar weight settling onto his shoulders. This wasn’t just a fleeting encounter. He knew it, and so did they.

He remained seated for a moment longer, letting the quiet of the Manor stretch around him, before rising and heading back toward the Batcave. There would be questions, distrust, and arguments waiting below. And this time, he wasn’t entirely sure what answers he could give.

Outside Wayne Manor

The night air was crisp and cool as the trio walked toward a sleek black car waiting in the driveway, guarded by two of Talia’s elite assassins. The League’s presence was discreet but felt, even here on neutral ground.

Y/n walked in measured silence beside Damian, their pace synchronized without effort. They had fought together enough times to move like two halves of the same whole.

“You didn’t have to come,” Damian muttered, his voice low, only for her ears.

Y/n’s sharp gaze flicked toward him. “I always come when I hear you are in danger.”

“I wasn’t in danger.”

“Not from your enemies,” Y/n replied calmly, “but you forget—Mother and I know how this family operates.” Her green eyes, so like his, glimmered in the moonlight. “You are surrounded by people who distrust you. That is danger enough.”

Damian’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. He knew she was right.

Talia, who had been walking slightly ahead, glanced over her shoulder with a knowing smile. “The two of you should remember,” she said in a light tone, “family bonds are precious things. And fragile.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” Y/n replied without missing a beat.

Talia’s smile lingered. “Good.”

They reached the waiting car, and Talia turned, brushing a hand lightly over Damian’s shoulder—a rare, fleeting gesture of affection.

“We will speak again soon, my son,” she said softly. Then her gaze drifted toward her daughter. “And you—ensure your brother remembers who he is.”

The young woman gave a curt nod. “I always do.”

Talia’s lips curved ever so slightly in satisfaction. She stepped gracefully into the backseat of the car, leaving her children to exchange one last glance.

“I don’t need your protection,” Damian muttered, though there was no real heat in his voice.

“You’ve always needed it,” Y/n replied dryly. “Even when you think you don’t.”

Damian scowled, but there was something akin to fondness in the way his gaze lingered on her.

“You’ll visit again?” he asked quietly. It wasn’t quite a question—more a statement of expectation.

“Of course.” Y/n reached out, briefly ruffling his hair with the ease of an older sibling who knew she could get away with it. Damian glared, but she only smirked. “I’ll be back sooner than you think.”

With that, she turned and slipped into the car beside their mother. The door clicked shut, and without another word, the car pulled away, its taillights vanishing into the shadows.

Damian stood alone in the driveway for a moment, watching it disappear into the night. Y/n always came when he needed her. Even when he didn’t realize he needed her.

With a quiet breath, he turned and headed back toward the Manor, feeling strangely lighter despite the storm brewing inside the Batcave below.

Back in the Batcave

Bruce stepped down the last stair into the cave, and as expected, the conversation had only grown more heated in his absence.

“Bruce, we have to talk about this!” Dick was saying, his voice raised in frustration. “You can’t just let League-trained assassins walk in and out of our house like it’s nothing!”

Tim shook his head. “For all we know, she’s playing a long game. Damian trusts her, but that doesn’t mean we should.”

“She didn’t come here as an assassin,” Bruce said, his tone calm but firm.

Dick turned toward him, exasperated. “Then what did she come here as, Bruce? His sister? Do you believe that’s all she is?”

Bruce’s expression didn’t shift. “Yes.”

Barbara crossed her arms, skeptical. “Even if that’s true—and I’m not saying it is—what’s stopping her from dragging Damian back into the League’s messes? What happens if Talia decides it’s time to reclaim him?”

“She won’t.” Bruce’s answer was simple, certain.

“And you know that… how?” Tim challenged. “Because she said so?”

Bruce’s gaze was unreadable. “Because her loyalty isn’t to Talia. It’s to Damian.”

The silence that followed was thick with unspoken questions, doubts, and frustration. But Bruce knew none of them could fully understand the dynamic at play—not yet.

“You have every reason to be cautious,” Bruce continued. “But she isn’t here to fight us. Not today. She’s here because she cares about her brother. That’s enough—for now.”

Tim looked like he wanted to argue, but Dick held up a hand. “Fine. For now.” He shot Bruce a meaningful look. “But we keep an eye on her. If she comes back, we need to know about it.”

Bruce gave a small nod, though he knew that watching her would accomplish little. She had been raised by the League. If she didn’t want to be found, they wouldn’t see her coming.

Barbara sighed, rubbing her temples. “I don’t like this. Not one bit.”

“None of us do,” Tim muttered.

Dick glanced toward the empty stairwell where Damian had disappeared earlier. “So, what now? We just… wait?”

“For now,” Bruce said quietly. “We wait.”

————————

Somewhere in Gotham

In the backseat of the car, Y/n stared out the window as the city lights blurred by. Her hands rested calmly in her lap, but her mind was far from still. This visit had only been the beginning.

“I assume you found what you were looking for,” Talia murmured beside her, watching her daughter carefully.

“I did,” Y/n replied. “Damian is… as he should be.”

Talia smiled faintly. “And the others?”

Y/n’s lips curved into a small, knowing smirk. “They’ll never trust me.”

“Good,” Talia whispered. “It is better that way.”

Y/n didn’t reply, her thoughts already drifting ahead to the future. This was just the first move in a long game.

She had no interest in Gotham’s petty power struggles. But Damian was part of this world now—and that meant she would be too, sooner or later. Whether the Batfamily liked it or not.

And when the time came, they would see just how far she was willing to go to protect her brother. No matter the cost.

Bonus Chapter:

The lights in the Batcave hummed softly, the enormous space unusually quiet. The others had gone for the night—Tim back to his apartment, Dick out on patrol, Barbara working from her own space. Bruce was still upstairs, giving Damian some time alone after the tense encounter earlier.

But Damian wasn’t alone for long.

He sat at the edge of the platform where the Batmobile was parked, legs dangling over the side, a rare moment of stillness in his life. The cave felt different tonight like something was unsettled, but not in a way that put him on edge. It was the kind of quiet that came before a storm—calm, expectant. He welcomed it.

Out of the shadows, Y/n came, her presence so subtle he almost didn’t notice. Almost.

“You should be gone by now,” Damian muttered without looking up, though there was no real annoyance in his voice. “Mother doesn’t like waiting.”

Y/n’s soft footfalls echoed faintly as she approached. “Mother can wait.”

She sat down beside him, silent for a few moments, her gaze scanning the depths of the cave. “It hasn’t changed much,” she observed.

“No,” Damian replied. “It hasn’t.”

The two siblings sat side by side, neither saying much, but the tension that had hovered over the Batcave earlier was nowhere to be found between them. This was their space—a quiet corner of the world where they didn’t need to pretend.

“Does it bother you?” Y/n asked finally, her voice softer than usual.

Damian glanced at her. “What?”

“Being here. With them.” She didn’t say the Batfamily, but the implication was clear.

Damian considered the question carefully, not out of hesitation, but because it was complicated. “Not anymore,” he answered after a moment. “It did at first. But it’s different now.”

Y/n hummed in acknowledgment, though her expression remained unreadable. “That’s good.”

Damian tilted his head slightly, watching her closely. “What about you?”

“I’m exactly where I need to be,” Y/n said with a faint smile. “Though that may not always be the case.”

Damian frowned, sensing the deeper meaning beneath her words. “You’re not leaving the League.” It wasn’t a question—just a fact.

“No,” Y/n confirmed. “But that doesn’t mean I’ll always stay away.”

Damian folded his arms, his gaze sharpening. “If the League ever moves against Gotham—”

“It won’t be by my hand,” Y/n interrupted, her voice steady and sure. “Not against you, Damian. Never against you.”

The weight behind those words was palpable, a silent vow spoken aloud. They might serve different masters—Damian, the Bat; Y/n, the League—but their bond ran deeper than any allegiance.

Damian gave a short nod, satisfied. He knew she meant it. “The others will never trust you, you know.”

A soft chuckle escaped Y/n’s lips. “Good. Trust makes people weak. Distrust keeps them sharp.”

“You sound like Mother.”

“I’ve had good teachers.” Y/n smiled, a rare glimpse of warmth breaking through her otherwise cold demeanor.

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment longer, the kind that only siblings shared. No need for explanations. No pretense.

Then Y/n shifted, brushing her shoulder against his in a way that felt oddly affectionate. “Do you want me to teach you something new?” she asked lightly, a playful glint in her eyes.

Damian raised a brow. “Like what?”

“Something the Bat hasn’t shown you yet,” Y/n teased. “Mother taught me a few new techniques you might find… useful.”

Damian’s lips twitched, the closest thing to a smile he ever allowed in front of others. “Alright. Show me.”

They stood together, slipping easily into their familiar rhythm. They’d sparred like this since childhood—silent, fluid, understanding each other’s movements in a way no one else could. For a brief moment, it was like they were children again, back in the League’s hidden training grounds, fighting side by side under Talia’s watchful gaze.

But this time, they weren’t sparring as weapons of the League. They were just two siblings, enjoying a fleeting moment of peace in a world that never gave them any.

The cave was theirs tonight, and for now, that was enough.

Upstairs in the Manor

Talia sat at the window of the guest room, watching the moonlight spill across the grounds. She could hear the faintest echoes of movement from the Batcave below—her children, lost in their own world.

Bruce stood in the doorway behind her, silent, his presence as familiar to her as her own shadow.

“You always wanted them to be close,” he said quietly, stepping into the room. “And they are.”

Talia’s lips curved into a soft, wistful smile. “They are all we ever did right, beloved.”

Bruce didn’t respond. There was no need. In some ways, Talia was right. Damian and Y/n were both products of worlds built on shadows and violence, but in each other, they had found something rare—something unbreakable.

For a moment, the silence between Bruce and Talia was easy, like slipping into an old memory. They had shared countless battles, betrayals, and regrets. But tonight wasn’t about the past. It was about the fragile peace hanging between their children—and the delicate threads of trust that might one day hold them together.

“Will she stay away from Gotham?” Bruce asked after a while, though he already knew the answer.

Talia didn’t turn from the window. “Not forever.” A pause, then a knowing smile. “She’ll come back when Damian needs her. And perhaps, one day, when you do as well.”

Bruce exhaled slowly, running a hand down his face. “That day may come sooner than any of us want.”

Talia rose gracefully from her chair, crossing the room to stand in front of him. She rested a hand lightly on his chest, just over his heart.

“You raised Damian well,” she murmured, her voice softer now. “But don’t forget—I raised Y/n.”

There was no threat in her words, only a reminder. A quiet acknowledgment that their daughter was both a product of love and war, molded by both of them, yet ultimately beyond their control.

Talia smiled one last time and brushed past Bruce, her scent lingering in the air like a fading dream. “Good night, beloved,” she whispered, and with that, she was gone, disappearing down the hall like a ghost.

Bruce stood alone in the dim room, his gaze drifting toward the window and the moonlight beyond.

He knew, without a doubt, that Y/n would return. The only question was when—and what side she’d stand on when the time came.

For now, all he could do was wait.

[themotherofhorses]

Vic!! I have a request pretty pls hehehe,

Creepy dark! Aemond forcing his way with fem!reader as she sleeps after stalking him for many moons? PWEASEEE

what was mine is still mine, regardless of time.

pairing: soft but dark!aemond targaryen x fem!targaryen!reader

warnings: explicit language. nsfw smut. slight breeding kink towards the end. consented abduction. aemond is (as usual) obsessive and possessive but is actually kinda a sweetheart in this.

notes: ok so small thing: i kinda put my own twist to this request, because this sort of idea has lived in my head RENT FREE since forevvaaa. hope u enjoy it :)

masterlist

Dragonstone was quiet when arrived, the sea tide calm and peaceful.

Aemond Targaryen could not remember the last time he stepped foot in the castle, if he ever did at all, having spent the entirety of his life behind the bronze doors of the Red Keep. He did not care for the damned island, nor did he hold any love for its people, but his twentieth nameday was fast approaching, and his mother was insisting more and more that he take a wife soon.

“Now, where will you be,” he mumbles to himself as he rips off his riding gloves and tucks them into his belt.

The castle hallways were without light, and no houseguards stood afoot. Aemond smirks. It would be much easier for him to find you, tucked away in your own chamber.

Your personal chamber was nicely furnished, in the colors and style of your shared noble house, and had an aura belonging only to a Targaryen princess. Thick wool carpets covered the floor instead of harsh black stone, and your windows were cracked open just a little, with pretty drapes swaying from the light ocean breeze. The walls were hung with different tapestries, all of horses and dragons, and the doors were flanked by Valyrian sphinxes.

And to the corner was your bed, where you, his niece, lay atop, fast asleep.

Aemond wills his heart to continue beating, and for his cock to behave.

He has not laid eyes on you in almost a full decade, ten years too long for him. Both your parents whisked you away to Dragonstone when you were still a child, soft-faced and in the mid of girlhood.

They refused his mother’s offer for a betrothal between the two of you, and broke his heart to the tiniest of pieces that he wondered if they were still scattered around the Keep. But that was so many moons ago, and time slipped by him.

“Gods be good,” Aemond whispers, moving closer.

What has happened to that little girl, that kid niece of his? In her place sleeps a living goddess, too lovely for mankind. You’ve grown beautiful, a mirror image to your mother, his eldest sister. He bends to kiss your bare shoulder- just a simple and tiny kiss- and you stir in your sleep. It is cute, he admits, but he also can not wait another second longer.

Only the gods above know how much he’s wanted you.

With a hard yank, Aemond draws back the bedsheet covers, causing you to jolt up from the bed. You look around, confused and scared and still half-asleep, purple eyes clouding from drowsiness. In front of you sits a stranger, a man- silver-haired and cloaked in black riding leather. Across his eye, an eyepatch.

Your heart quickens at the sight. “Aemond…?” you call out, unsure.

He smiles, teeth and all. “You do not know how happy it makes me to know you are still able to recognize me, my niece. After all, it has been awhile- ten years, has it not?”

You shrug, trying to wipe the sleep away from your eyes. “What…what are you doing here?” you ask, while patting down the bed, looking for the sheets to cover your chest. “Should you not be at King’s Landing? Why are you here?” Your eyes grow as wide as a dinner plate as you soon add, “Oh no, has something happened? Is it my grandfather?”

But Aemond scoots closer, bringing his face to yours. “Do not fret, nice. I’m here on my own wishes,” and he twirls a thin strand of silver hair around his finger, humming as he watches it fall back around your shoulder. In that sheer Dornish nightgown, you look good enough to eat, and the princeling is feeling beyond ravenous.

“I’m here to collect a debt.”

Lucerys…you think, a sinking feeling in your chest. His stolen eye, that night on Driftmark…

Ten years and Aemond still seeks revenge.

“No,” Aemond says, shaking his head. He moves even closer, grabbing at your shoulders. His palms are rough and callous. “I would dare not hurt you. Anyone but you. You…” he sighs, “-you were promised to me, back when we were children. You were meant to be my wife, and they stole you from me. The only good fucking thing in my life, and it was taken away…”

He studies you, his eye running across your face, down your neck and to your chest.

That Dornish nightgown clings loose to your body, and he can see your nipples perk against the fabric. It sends blood rushing between his thighs. “Tell me, niece, what did I do to deserve that?”

“Aemond…”

“No!” he hisses, tightening his grip on you. “No! You have not the slightest idea of the fucking torture I’ve endured these years. The nights I stayed up, begging to the gods that I might have you. I thought…maybe if they heard my pleas, saw my faith, they would…but no. Ten years, and not a single glimpse of you.” Your breath hitches when he meets your gaze, “I dreamt of you, every damned night. Fought the urges to fly over and collect you from here…”

You shake your head. “Aemond…” you say, softly. “I’m betrothed to another, this cannot be.” You press your hand against his cheek, feeling him lean into your touch, and kiss his forehead. “I have missed you greatly, uncle, but it has been years! So many years. I’m to be married soon.” You pull back, “It is best if you return home, and start finding a lady of your own choosing.”

Aemond sighs, and inside his chest, he feels his heart being ripped apart again.

“You are right, my dearest niece. My sincerest apologies for waking you up, it was quite wrong of me. I shall see myself out,” and he kisses your hand, brushing his lips against your knuckles. “I wish you all the luck in your marriage, and may your husband love and appreciate you till the dying days of his damned life.”

You smile at him, though a bit sad now. “Thank you, uncle. To you as well.”

The princeling turns to leave, and you sit up watching as he makes his way to your door, before sinking back into your bed. “Goodbye, Aemond,” you call out, one final time before your eyes close, failing to see him pause and turn around to look at you.

What was he doing? Foolish man, he thinks. Foolish, stupid man!

Was it in his nature to admit defeat so easily, and to some unnamed wastrel cunt of a man? No. Throughout his life, Aemond suffered nothing but tremendous losses, while being denied the goodness and fairness that a child should’ve had. His lips pucker at the thought.

You were right there, close enough for him to finally claim.

And so he did.

“Shhh, keep your voice down,” Aemond tuts next to your ear, a heavy arm slung over your naked breasts as he holds you as close to his chest as possible. It feels as if he is frightened to let you go, worried you would disappear before his very eye, with another ten years slipping by until he finds you again.

His other hand lies between your trembling thighs, fingering you with such an intensity and speed that it leaves you utterly ruined and in tears. “Aemond…” you hiccup, nibbling at your bottom lip as he groans. “Fuck! You sound so good when you say my name like that. Gods be good, you are wet. Absolutely soaking my fingers. Doesn’t this feel good?” he asks, using his thumb to rub at your clit. “Yeah…it does, doesn’t it?”

You sniffle, fat tears streaking down both cheeks as you nod.

Oh, it feels good. So good, but so wrong as well.

You were to be married in less than a fortnight, to a highborn lord of House Stark, handsome and kind. How would you explain this to him? Or to your parents, who proposed the marriage between you two? How would you tell them that you were ruined? And it was your uncle’s fault.

“Please, Aemond…”

Aemond grabs at your jaw, cradling it in his hand before pulling it close to his face. “Shhh, it will be alright, my love. Do not fret. You will be okay, just give in,” he whispers, quickening his fingers as he fucks them into you, curling two to hit your sweet spot. You almost scream, so overcome with pleasure that it hurts. “This is where you are meant to be, darling, make no mistake in believing that. My bride, my love.”

My woman, he thinks gleefully, watching how your face scrunches up. Your eyebrows furrow and your mouth press together in a tight line, and it is the most beautiful sight.

My woman, made for me. Made for my love and protection and seed…

Goosebumps prickle along your arms as wet sounds echo across the chamber, followed by a strew of whimpers and moans. It sounds so dirty, so sinful and wrong that you pray to whichever god was listening in that no one would overhear such, especially your parents and siblings. Your father would have Aemond’s head, no doubt, and your older brother might rob him of his only other good eye.

“Oh, fuck…” you moan, flinging your head back, “-don’t stop, don’t stop, please don’t stop!”

A minute or so later, your vision blackens, the room spins, and your jaw slacks as you cum plenty around his fingers, all with such a high-pitched shriek that Aemond slaps a hand over your mouth to muffle the noise. “What did I say? Stay quiet!” he hisses before chuckling, smearing the mess around your folds while you make an attempt to catch your breath. “Very good, my love. You did so well for me.”

He brings a finger to his mouth, to suck at the taste. “Your taste is heavenly,” he moans, swirling his tongue around it. He then brings two to your mouth, swiping at the tiny bit of drool pooling before stuffing them in. “Suck. Taste yourself now.”

“Dirty girl,” Aemond hums, a smirk curving on his lips as he watches the way you lick and suck at his fingers. “You are digging a grave too deep to escape, darling.”

Ruin me, you want to say. If I’m to die, I rather it be in your hands than anyone else’s…

He lays you back down on the bed next, making sure your head rests comfortably against the pillows. Ten years, Aemond reminds himself. Ten fucking years. He can feel his resolve slowly weakening by the second. You’re too beautiful, too soft and womanly and perfect for him. Every fantasy he dreamt up during boyhood never claim as close as to this. “I dreamt of this for fucking years,” he admits while kissing your pink and pouty lips. “All the possible ways to take you, to fuck this pretty cunt of yours.”

Your legs wrap around his hips as he pushes his cock inside you. It is painful- undeniably painful- yet he swallows every cry and wince and moan that you give. Your fingernails dig into his skin from the terrible pain- the stretch and the sting and the weird feeling growing deep within your tummy.

“It is too much…!” you whimper against his lips. “Hurts!”

“Of course it hurts, darling, it is your first time. Every woman hurts when a man takes her first blood. But you can take it.”

“No,” you whine, trying to shove him away. “No, Aemond, it hurts too much-” But Aemond only kisses your temple, sweet and gentle and lovingly, while rocking his hips against yours. “It’ll feel so good soon, my love, trust me. I would never do anything to hurt you, not my precious and sweet girl,” he coos, leaning to rub your noses together, “-my brave girl.”

Ten years.

He could not stop, even if he wished to. No, not now that he finally has you, underneath his body and wet and ripe for his seed.

“I’ll give you our child,” he mutters beside your lips as he pinches your nipple between two fingers and keeps his thrusts hard, deep, and fast. All of it makes your face twist in a soft gasp, your body tightening as you feel that thick rush of pleasure from before, right before you creamed over his fingers.

“Take my seed and have our child. I promise to take you back to King’s Landing and marry you," he vows through ragged breaths, "and spend the rest of our lives making up for those ten years.”

“Aemond,” you pant, clutching onto his shoulders and dragging his face down for a kiss. His skin is sweaty and flushed, and he has never appeared so beautiful before. You love him. You love him so much, how did you spend ten years without seeing him? It makes no sense. You understand his woes now, clear as day, and you want to rid of them forever.

“I love you! I love you, I love you, make me your wife, please. Please!”

He feels your cunt tightening around his cock, and he is ready to give you everything: his heart, his soul, and his seed.

Come the morning, his son will be swelling within your belly, and he will have you seated atop Vhagar, flying back to the Keep to make you his wife, in both the eyes of the gods and the laws of the land.

The next day, at dawning, Rhaenyra Targaryen’s only daughter does not join her family to break fast together. Her three half-brothers and two half-sisters raise eyebrows as they munch quietly on their meals but keep silent, all until little Joffrey asks where his older sister might be. Rhaenyra does not know, and neither do the houseguards, the men of the small council, and the maesters, and it worries her greatly.

Her husband, though, is quick to remind her that the princess- ever their trueborn child- enjoys morning rides on dragonback. “Give her a few hours and she will surely return with a new story to tell us,” Daemon says, while sipping on his wine.

But a few hours turn into the rest of the day, and soon evening creeps by.

A raven arrives from King’s Landing, bearing the family a note:

“I’ve taken what was owed to me. Such a pity you all forgot that what was mine is still mine, regardless of time.”

[l-in-the-light]

Through the Looking Glass, and What Luffy&Katakuri Found There (2/2)

Part 2 of my analysis of Luffy and Katakuri's similarities, done on request from @mewiyev. Part one is here, in case you're interested: https://www.tumblr.com/l-in-the-light/763628387804856320 (you can read it in any order you want, but part 1 is meant to be the first chronologically).

To continue from where we left off, to understand Katakuri and his vow and what kind of a person he actually is, we need to do things in reverse. By starting with analyzing his talk with Brulee and his flashback.

Brulee removes the hat from Katakuri's face like it's not a big deal, despite what she just said. And of course she does, because she prefers him when he isn't hiding how he looks.

She seems genuinely more curious than disappointed. Also she came back here because she was worried about him, brought first aid with her as well.

Katakuri on the other hand finally says something he has been keeping a secret from everyone.

Seeing from his reaction, he also kept it a secret from Brulee as well. This is the first time he realizes she already knew. She's also so happy that he's sharing it with her, that *she* doesn't have to pretend not to know as well.

Brulee thinks Katakuri did it for all of them and she's very touched by that. We learn that Katakuri, long time ago, didn't care to make friends, he wouldn't put on appearances or get along with people who make fun of him. He just wanted to be himself, inside and outside, completely transparent. He would always beat up people who made fun of him too.

And then he learned actions come with consequences. "It was my fault it happened to Brulee".

And this is his resolve as the result of it. "I was too soft, too naive!". He decided to be perfect from now on, show no weakness. But let's stop here for a moment. Because how exactly "showing no weakness" or "being perfect" is gonna help prevent similar situations from happening? We can't really reach any conclusion here, unless we go back and ask the question Katakuri himself asked as well: "Why did they go after his sister?"

The answer to that is, surprisingly enough, revealed if we compare Katakuri's flashback to Luffy's. After all, just like accident with Brulee shaped Katakuri, the same way accident with Shanks losing his arm shaped Luffy. There's a clear parallel here so let's look deeper into it.

How did it happen in Luffy's case? Oh, right. Luffy was the one who started the fight with the bandits, because they were talking bad stuff about his friend (Shanks) and he stood up for him. Mountain bandits were just drinking, minding their own business and talking trash about the thing with Shanks that happened the other day. Luffy, who looked up to Shanks, but also just really loved him, couldn't just sit and ignore what he heard.

We're led to believe that the bullies "got revenge" on Brulee, but Katakuri is taken aback. That clearly never happened before. Let's look at what Brulee said after that "Don't worry, it doesn't hurt. If you ask me, you're fine the way you are". No one asked anything about that, why did she say that? We should ask this question and draw a parallel to Luffy. What actually happened was probably Brulee overhearing the kids trashtalking her brother, she told them to take it back, said that Katakuri is fine the way he is and demanded that they apologize to him. Which the kids wouldn't do and some struggle happened, Brulee probably tried to force them to follow her, the situation escalated fast and someone took out a weapon and she got hurt.

She doesn't want Katakuri to know that she got hurt while defending her beloved brother. She didn't want him to worry or blame himself, because she knew Katakuri is actually a gentle kid. So she instead blamed it on the kids, Katakuri can get his revenge and everything will be fine, was probably her reasoning here. But she didn't realize Katakuri figured out the truth. He realized that his attitude of "I don't care what others say about me, I will just beat them up" was naive. That's because he thought it only concerns him. He didn't think it could also affect people he actually cares about. Not only because of the potential revenge, but them trying to defend him as well.

In world of One Piece (but often in our world as well), when you love someone you don't want to hear others say trash about them, you know you need to defend them, take their side. By doing that, you can often endanger yourself to violent situations like this. The only way to prevent this from happening is to reduce reasons for others to try picking fights with you, so people are too scared to badmouth you, and also eliminate all possible reasons why they would make fun of you (in Katakuri's case: covering his face serves that purpose. If they can't see his mouth or witness him eating, they can't laugh. And as the consequence no one needs to defend him and get hurt in the process!).

The same can be said for Luffy, btw. Luffy understands why Katakuri hides his face and what he's trying to protect by doing that. And he approves. Because Luffy is the same. When Shanks saved Luffy, Luffy also blamed himself, just like Katakuri did. Katakuri decided to hide his true nature as the result, from everyone. Never showing his weaknesses, vulnerability, not even his own emotions (enjoyment of eating, for example). Luffy also vowed to himself that he won't show weakness again, won't ask anyone for help, basically won't make the same mistake he did before.

Except it happened again and that wound is still quite fresh in Luffy's mind. In Dressrosa Law, Luffy's dear friend, almost lost an arm because of Luffy's actions. The result wasn't that drastic, because they could still restore Law's arm, but it defnitely gave Luffy quite a scare. Who knows what answer would Luffy reach if he didn't meet Katakuri? What kind of vow would he make to himself to make sure nothing like that ever happens again?

Maybe the very same vow Katakuri once made. "Show no weakness. Make them fear my perfection!" so that no one has to risk their wellbeing for Luffy ever again. Seems Luffy reached a different conclusion in the end and even convinced Katakuri that This Is Not The Way. Do what you have to do to make sure things don't become like that again, but don't close yourself up to the people who are actually dear to you. Everyone deserves a safe haven. First thing Katakuri did after the fight was to tell Brulee the truth (and probably only to her).

You can’t change the past, but you might learn something from it, says Alice from Through the Looking Glass.

The only way to achieve the impossible is to believe it is possible. Is another lesson Luffy relearned in WCI.

And Luffy rediscovered the old truth: there are some things he can't do (like cooking, navigation, fighting with swords etc.), but there is one thing he can do: beating up the biggest threats and fighting seriously. Luffy started the arc and went through it trying to do things in different ways than usually, but only realized that he still sucks at them and can't do them no matter how he tries. (I wrote more about that in this post: https://www.tumblr.com/l-in-the-light/762470814037819392, you don't have to read other posts in the series to read that one).

By the end of the arc Luffy accepts again that he has to rely on others. It feels like nothing really changed after Whole Cake Island, Luffy is still the old Luffy. But sometimes reaffirming who we are is as important as making big changes and decisions. Luffy faces a lot of anxieties about growing up in this arc, just like Alice from Through the Looking Glass does. Both of them start to understand the rules of the "adult" world, are confused by them and proceed blindly through as they learn by making mistakes. And both of them walk out of this experience without dramatically changing themselves. The change will come inevitably either way, no one can avoid growing up, all they can do is to watch it do it's thing in due time, while trying to stay themselves.

Nothing happened, but at the same time, so much happened. Not many are strong enough to keep on being themselves despite hitting the magical adulthood's treshold, right? We try to adjust ourselves to fit other people, like Katakuri did his whole life. He became a people pleaser, thinking that keeping appearances is more important than who he actually is. But he actually doesn't have to be perfect, he can allow himself to fall flat on his back, and it won't mean he broke his vow to protect his siblings. He will still hide his face though to prevent people who care for him from getting hurt for his sake. But he realized that he can prevent it without hiding himself from everyone. He will for sure no longer try to hide from Brulee. She's his new safe haven, where he can act openly like himself, he doesn't need to be perfect for her. I wonder if Luffy will eventually find his safe haven too? Because we all know not all Luffy's smiles are genuine, often he smiles just to make others stop worrying.

Let's go back to Brulee for a moment. She is kinda coded to be Katakuri's most important person, according to my own theory of pirates and their treasures. They both have matching marks on their faces, Katakuri has his mouth ripped from ear to ear, Brulee's scar literally rips her face in half. He hides his mark, Brulee wears hers proudly without trying to hide it, like she is fond of it. And of course she would be, if she earned it defending her most favourite brother in the world, right? One Piece Red shows us beautifully who is her most beloved person, when Nami lures her out of the mirror by saying "you will be stuck here forever if you won't help us, and you will never see your family again!" and Brulee appears, crying "Even my older brother Katakuri??" and upon getting affirmation Brulee decides to help them.

Actually, seeing Whole Cake Island through the lens of this theory significantly changes motivations of Brulee and Katakuri, so let's take a closer look, shall we?

The very moment it's revealed that Brulee was made into unwilling accomplice, Katakuri declares that "there's no way to stop things" anymore. He won't let it slide, after all. He can't let it slide, even. He's the perfect brother meant to protect everyone.

"I'm the victim here, brother!". Big Mom wouldn't care for that excuse. Many times through the arc other characters and Brulee herself mentioned that if Big Mom finds out, Brulee will end up dead. That's why Opera lied (which ended up working in Luffy's advantage too), to save himself from punishment. The said punishment is clearly hinted to be most likely death.

This puts Katakuri in a tough spot. He should punish Brulee or allow others to do it. What he does instead though, is keeping her close to himself at all times.

He takes her to the Sunny with him, he fights Luffy in the mirror world, and I think it's all because he wants to keep an eye so that no one tries to execute punishment on her. He's also making sure it looks like she's making amends for her blunder, which might or might not help. The bottom line here is: he's protecting her by bringing her with him everywhere.

Also that motivation he shares here? "Strawhat Luffy needs to be snuffed out now"? A big fat lie. You can see that Katakuri's eyes are shaded (in One Piece that often means that a character isn't completely honest!). His true motivation is getting revenge on Luffy for manhandling his sister. That's why he waits on Sunny for Luffy to arrive, that's why he tells others to retreat. This fight is personal for Katakuri, it's payback. Would he do the same for any other sibling? Maybe yes, maybe not, but I think Brulee is Katakuri's most beloved person in the world and he would do just about anything for her.

But, you might say, Katakuri cares for all the siblings, he's the perfect brother! Yes, he does. But that doesn't mean he can't have one special sibling he cares about the most, right?

Both Katakuri and Brulee care for their family a lot. Their care is reflected in each other like a mirror image.

And just look how fond he is of her. He's teasing her that she's just gonna sleep all day (is that something that actually happens often, because it sure sounds this way). She's kinda out of the loop here, but he doesn't even acknowledge this because he doesn't have to. He knows Brulee is one tough cookie. We also know that thanks to the flashback. And of course the person who would defend Katakuri like that would become His Most Favourite Person in the world.

Brulee is also always observing Katakuri in this fight. She's worried, but she won't assist him, she knows better than to interefere in his fights. And it's not because she is afraid of punishment or Katakuri disliking her. Oh, if his life was truly in danger, she would easily have done that, she has the guts. She doesn't act just because she doesn't want her brother to suffer the consequences. Let's look at things from her perspective. Once upon a time she defended her brother and got hurt as the result. That was the last time Katakuri showed his face, despite the fact that Brulee loved his face and told him as much. She probably reached conclusion that the change in him is Brulee's fault, she wanted well but caused him pain instead that he doesn't want to experience again. She doesn't want a repeat of that so she doesn't try to interfere anymore.

They both act this way. One is protecting the other by withholding and pretending. Brulee knows Katakuri didn't truly change, thanks to her devil fruit's ability she can peek at him anytime she wants, but she won't call him out on his lie and will play along. They both play the pretend game, which reminds me of polish novella "The Waistcoat", in which wife and husband keep on lying to each other to spare their beloved one pain and ligthen the burden.

"I will pretend to believe your lie and will play along with it, to help you and to keep your spirit up!", is what Brulee is truly doing here.

Also Brulee isn't so weak, and yet she fails to fight Luffy and his crew properly, mostly just trying to sabotage him indirectly. Why? Because he probably reminds her of Katakuri. In One Piece it's a reccuring theme, when one of the characters can't fight someone that reminds them of a dear person or some impostor pretending to be them. Brulee in that frame above almost sounds *worried* for Luffy or unusually interested in him (though she also just wanted to lure him out, not gonna deny that).

Katakuri changed his attitude in that fight after Luffy's return. He realized probably that Luffy would never harm Brulee and he might be grateful for that, and his initial anger for them misusing her kinda dissipated.

On the contrary, suddenly Katakuri seems like he's trying to teach Luffy how to fight, getting disappointed in him when he doesn't deliver. At first he wanted to defeat Luffy in fastest way possible:

It's clear Katakuri's motivation changed in the middle of this battle.

Till it finally reaches this point. What is actually going on inside Katakuri's head? At first, he wants to make up for the blunder of Brulee. He's monitoring the situation outside the mirror world closely. He knows that if they get the Strawhats, Brulee's blunder will get forgotten and he will deliver his revenge at the same time, just like he wanted.

After he realized that Luffy won't hurt Brulee, he decided for another way out of this situation. If they all lose to the Strawhats, Big Mom would have to punish all her children, which she won't do. So if Katakuri loses to Luffy, he will save his face and protect Brulee from punishment at the same time (her blunder wouldn't stand out anymore if they all lose!). That's why he takes the loss against Luffy despite being stronger than him. All of Luffy's last punches miss him while every single one of Katakuri's is landing. Katakuri easily accepts the limit of Luffy's current strength. That's also why he asks him to come again (once he's stronger, too), so they can have a rematch, without the "losing face" shanenigans coming in the way. He allows himself to voice his wish to fight someone strong, just because he wants to fight him in an even fight, not doing it for his family or for keeping appearances.

Just look at this. He's anticipating Luffy "doing the unthinkable". It's like he wants to see it, despite claiming he should probably eliminate him before that happens. In the middle of the fight, with his resentment gone, he started to kinda root for Luffy, he wants to see how far he can take his observation haki in such a short amount of time.

And Katakuri is actually a strategist, we can see that when he tries to manage the situation at the tea party/wedding. Trying to prevent the biggest disaster scenarios, telling his other brothers to assemble two squads to go after Bege and Strawhats while he himself goes to the final goal and waits, so their targets get surrounded from all sides. Even standing guard at the entrance to the tea party proves that he chose the most strategic position to avoid any bad things and twists happening:

He sales it as his haki's premonition, but he truly doesn't need that to know what this guy is planning. He knows Big Mom and her usual modus operandi (and we know it too thanks to explanation from Pekoms), anyone who refuses to attend the tea party (no matter the reasons) will receive a special "gift" - a severed head of someone close to them. Katakuri claims it's his haki at play here just to instill fear and so no one questions him. He strategizes his strong points for maximum impact, and it works fantastically well.

Brulee claims she won't forgive Luffy for hurting Katakuri, even though she knows already that Katakuri is very fond of him. Katakuri doesn't even answer, because what could he say? He did everything there for her and he's still not gonna admit that openly. Brulee doesn't need to see the future to guess Katakuri's reaction either, she knows him so well she doesn't even need that ability. That alone proves she's his favourite sister, imo.

Also, here's a thought. Katakuri might have also realized that Brulee was unusually fond of Strawhat Luffy through this arc, definitely going easy on him. Heh, indeed.

Fun food for thought: Luffy probably wanted to master observation haki just so nothing bad ever happens to someone dear to him on his watch, without him knowing. I bet you anything that's why Katakuri ended up mastering his observation haki too, so the tragedy never repeats again and so he would have a chance to prevent it if it ever does anyway.

This marks the end of my meta on Katakuri :) This one is sooo long. Whoever lasted to the end of it, I hope you enjoyed!

There's more Katakuri and less Luffy here, mostly because I already did the full analysis on Luffy in Whole Cake Island here: https://www.tumblr.com/l-in-the-light/762470814037819392

[angelzdaydream]

he's obsessed with you | Marcus Baker

plot: Marcus and reader have been in a secret relationship and they have been hiding it well from Max, but when she finds out she laughs because she knew he was obsessed with you.

requested by: @xtom-darling-x17

warnings: slight smut but no details

Marcus sneaking through your window at night had become a habit for the past few months, but on this particular night you decided you'd be the one doing the sneaking.

You took extra caution to be quiet not wanting to draw attention to yourself as you shimmied your way up the house and into the Baker household. As much as you didn't want his parents catching you, the thought of his sister Max who just so happened to be your best friend was much worse.

You smiled at the sight of your boyfriend sleeping soundly in his bed, his sketchbook sprawled against his chest and he pencil he was still in his hand.

You walk over to him, carefully grabbing the pencil out of his hand and the sketchbook to put it away. You go to close the sketchbook but before you could the drawling he was working on catches your eye. Your heart begins to flutter when you realize it was of you.

Marcus stirring in his sleep snatches your attention away from the drawling and you close the sketchbook before placing it on his nightstand.

"This is different. Normally I'm the one doing the breaking and entering." Marcus's voice startles you a bit.

"Figured you shouldn't be the only criminal in the relationship." you grin before leaning down with the intentions of kissing him gently, but the moment your lips touch, he's pulls you on top of him making you gasp at the sudden motion. Marcus uses this to his advantage as he slides his tongue into your mouth, deepening the kiss.

The moment you pull away for a breath of air, Marcus's lips are against your neck sucking and pressing needy kisses against your skin. "You drew me." You moan shakily.

"I did." Marcus replies before sucking on the sweet spot on your neck making your eyes roll back. "How about you be my muse again and give me something else to draw of you?"

"Please." you beg, already so needy for him and before you know it, Marcus is detaching himself from your neck and flipping the two of you around so he's on top.

His lips crash against yours as he grinds his hips against yours, causing the both of you to moan. Both of you were too consumed by each other that you both failed to hear his door open.

"Mom wants to know what you want for dinner- y/n? Holy shit! Holy fucking shit, my eyes!" Max screeched before slamming his door closed and running off.

All you can do at first is look at Marcus in horror. "Shit! How mad do you think she is?"

"She didn't try to kill me so maybe not as mad as we expected her to be." Marcus replies sitting up off of you.

"I'm going to go talk to her." you stand up off his bed fixing your hair and clothes.

"You want me to come with?" he asks reaching for your hand and kissing it reassuringly.

You shake your head no. "I think I should go alone in case she's super pissed. You being there might make it worse."

He nods his head in understanding before you make your way to Maxines room.

You knock on her door, and it doesn't take long before she tells you to come in. You quickly do, shutting the door behind you but never moving from in front of it. You look up at Maxine who is already looking at you. The two of you go a moment without speaking when all of a sudden Max burst into a fit of laughter.

You stare at her wide eyed, unsure if she was so pissed it was coming out as laughter or if it was for another reason. You really hoped she wouldn't make such a big deal out of it, you loved and cared about both Marcus and Max in different ways and you never wanted to hurt either of them.

It goes on for a few minutes before her laughter finally dies down. "I'm not mad." Max speaks after catching her breath.

"You're not?" you question, gaining the courage to move away from the door to sit next to her on the bed.

"I mean it hurts a little that you didn't tell me, but I figured something was going on between the two of you and that you'd tell me when you were ready. I've seen the way you two make googly eyes at each other and honestly, I've never seen him as happy as he is with you. He cares about you a lot, it's disgusting really. Not as disgusting as what I just seen though." Max scrunches her nose up in disgust.

You giggle. "Sorry about that."

"As you should be, I'm scarred for life." she says before giggling too and pulling you into a side hug.

A weight feels like it had been lifted off your shoulders now that you and Marcus no longer had to hide your relationship from her and that Marcus cared as much about you as you did him.

-

idk about the ending but hope you guys liked it <3 feel free to send me request!

[rollingsins]

all hers, part xix

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi | part vii | part viii | part ix | part x | part xi | part xii | part xiii | part xiv | part xv | part xvi | part xvii | part xviii | part xix | part xx | part xxi | part xxii | part xxiii | part xxiv | part xxv | part xxvi | epilogue

summary: Vindicated, Tara comes back home.

warnings: (+18), Tara is Ghostface, mention of murder. Smut: strap-sex, pussy-eating, light choking, possessiveness.

word count: 4.7k

a/n: i'm alive! and pookie is free! thanks for all the love and patience with this chapter, hope you all enjoy :))))

You ride with Sam to the police station. 

What you thought would feel like a euphoric victory suddenly feels hollow. 

There’s two. 

Of course. Why wouldn’t there be? It was always two. And you’d just murdered someone’s partner in crime, no doubt there would be retribution. 

It feels different this time. 

Wes had sent you spiraling, but Richie’s death leaves you almost unperturbed. 

He’d tried to kill Tara. Take her away from you. 

And you’d given him exactly what he deserved. The justice he thought he was delivering to you. 

It’d be scary, your nonchalance towards murder, if you didn’t have much more pressing matters. Namely, your girlfriend sitting in a five by seven jail cell. 

She’s still in there when you arrive. 

You can see her looking over at you through the bars. 

She looks terrible. Dark circles under her eyes, messy, tufted hair. She’s very the same clothes as she’d been brought in with and she’s staring right back at you, something in her face akin to fury and relief all at once. 

When they finally draw her through the doors she all but knocks you over in her flurry to get to you. 

You gasp. She’s tiny, but she lifts you off the ground with no qaulms. Presses you down and kisses you, a little rough. 

Then she drops you and rounds on Sam. 

“What the hell were you thinking?” She snarls. 

“I was thinking my baby sister is in jail and I needed to get her out.” Sam answers, smoothly. She presses a hand to Tara’s cheek, rubs at one of the circles under her eyes, “Are you okay?”

“No I’m not okay,” Tara snaps, batting her hand away, “I gave you one job and you-”

“-Killed him,” You interject. You draw her in closer, try and soothe her with a kiss, “It’s okay, baby. We got him.” 

One of them, is what you should say, but Tara’s so anxious you think it might send her right off the edge. 

She looks over at you, look in her eyes frosty. 

“Don’t even get me started on you,” She says, voice curt, “You’re in so much trouble. If you think I’m letting you out of my sight ever again-”

“I was worried about you too, baby.” You press a kiss to her hand, “Come on. Let’s go home.” 

-

Sam drives. 

Tara pulls you into the back seat with her, tugs you into her lap and pulls the belt around both of your bodies. 

You would think she’d been gone six months and not six hours by the way she kisses you. Desperately. Needy. Her hands roam wildly, like her sister isn’t in the front seat. 

Sam clears her throat. 

“Can you two not fuck in the back seat of my car?” She asks, “I just had the leather reupholstered.” 

It’s a perfectly reasonable request, but Tara glares at her like she’s just killed her puppy. 

“How could you not know you were fucking Ghostface this entire time?” Tara asks, gripping your hips, “You brought him into our lives, Sam, jesus.” 

You press your hands to Tara’s face, smooth her dark hair back. 

“Don’t you think I know that?” Sam says, voice quiet. 

“Tara,” You whisper into her ear, “Your sister has just been betrayed by someone she thought she loved. A little empathy wouldn’t hurt.” 

Tara’s quiet a long moment. 

Then she kisses your cheek. 

“Sorry,” She says to Sam, somewhat awkwardly, “I know it must be a shock. It’s not your fault, Sam. Are you okay?”

Sam peers into the backseat, face awash with surprise at Tara’s newfound empathy. 

“Don’t worry about me,” She says, “What we should be worried about is his partner. Mindy’s right, Richie wasn’t Ghostface the night he attacked you. It was someone else.”

You fiddle with Tara’s fingers, nervously. The very thought of there being someone else who wanted to hurt Tara out and about and walking around in the world made you want to cry. 

Tara rubs your back, reassuringly. 

“So we’ll catch whoever it is and dig them a grave next to Richie,” She says, more to you than Sam. She presses a kiss to your cheek and lowers her voice, “Are you good, baby?” 

She’s referring to the murder you’d just committed, no doubt. 

She has fears you’ll freak out again and jet off to a cabin with your family like last time, you can tell by the look in her eyes. 

But Richie isn’t Wes. 

Richie was guilty, and somehow it makes all the difference. 

“I’m fine, Tara.” You assure. You press a lingering kiss to her lips for good measure, “I’m just happy you’re coming home.” 

“It should have been me who did it,” She says, eyes mournful, “I’m sorry, baby.” 

You can feel a pair of eyes on you. You clear your throat, tilt your head into Tara’s neck. Sam’s watching, eyes squinted from the front seat. Like she has questions she needs answered. 

“Richie said you deserved to pay,” Sam says after a long moment. She’s looking at the two of you through the rearview mirror, a little confused, “He said if I knew what you did in your spare time, I wouldn’t be trying to protect you. What did he mean?”  

You swallow. Tara tilts back in her seat. 

“Who knows what he meant?” Says Tara, “The guy was a nutjob. Maybe I told him to fuck off out of my house one too many times.”

Sam hums. 

“You were a little harsh on him.” She says, absent-mindedly. 

Tara balks. 

“A little harsh on him? He was Ghostface, Sam.” She all but hisses. 

Sam waves her hand. 

“We didn’t know that at the time.” She says,. 

“You didn’t know that at the time,” Tara says, crossing her arms, “I knew it from the minute YN was attacked.”

She did, you remember all at once. So much could have been avoided if you had just believed her. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t take you more seriously, babe.” You say, pressing your hands to her cheek. She leans up and kisses you. 

You press your nose to hers.

“Was it horrible?” You ask, brushing the hair out of her face, “Jail?” 

Tara brushes it off. 

“It was fine,” She says, “It was fine until I heard over the radio there had been an attack at the school.”

You kiss her, soft. 

“I’m sorry, babe,” You say, “It was the only way to get you free. And it worked.” 

“You broke your promise to me, Sam,” Tara says, an edge to her voice, “You promised me you wouldn't lead her into danger.” 

“I’m sorry, Tara,” Sam says, “I knew it was the only way you’d go without a fight.” 

“You lied to me.” Tara says, and you squeeze her hand. 

“I’m sorry.” Is all Sam says. 

She parks the car, looks over at her sister. 

Tara clicks her seatbelt off. 

“Whatever,” Tara says, “But if you think I’ll trust you with her ever again-”

“I’m not a dog, Tara,” You say, frowning, “Going there was my choice too.”

“And you need to promise me you’ll never do something like that again.” Tara says, voice serious. She holds out her hand, “Please baby. Do you have any idea what I’d do if I lost you?”

“I thought I’d lost you.” You say. You press into her side, kiss her once more, “I thought the Sheriff had taken you away from me for good.” 

“She’ll never keep me away from you.” Tara says, voice stern. She presses a long kiss to your forehead. 

“As sweet as this is,” Sam says, tilting her head to the porch, “We’ve got a welcome party.” 

-

Chad, Liv and Mindy are waiting by the porch when you enter. 

You let them all in, watch as Sam triple locks the doors, and head to the den where Mindy sets up camp once again. 

She has a fresh powerpoint with a list of suspects. It’s a little impressive - and Sam rushes off to the kitchen to fix Tara a meal as you all settle down.

“What was prison like, Tara?” Liv asks, wide-eyed, “Did you have to join a gang?”

“I was there for less than six hours, Liv.” Tara says sounding exasperated, “And they didn’t take me to prison. Not a real prison. Just the holding cell in the Sheriff’s office.”

Liv nods, seriously. 

“I’ve heard in prison you have to exchange what you have for what you want,” She says, “We can bring you cigarettes, if you go back. My cousin Tammy said she exchanged sexual favors with some of the guards so she could get extra time on the phones.” 

Tara looks aghast. 

“I’ll keep that in mind, thanks Liv.” She says, nose wrinkled. 

You climb into her lap, kiss her softly. 

“She’s not going back there, Liv.” You say, “They have Richie now. He’s to blame for the killings.”

“But he’s not the only one,” Mindy says, voice serious, “And that brings me to my presentation.” 

She clicks play. 

Tara rolls her eyes. 

It’s a series of floating images; faces. Yours, Tara’s, Richie’s, Sam’s. 

It has everything. The exact times of the attacks. The weapons. The final slide is a picture of Richie, side by side with a giant gray question mark. 

“Richie has a partner,” Mindy says, “But the question is - who?” 

“Who was Richie close with?” Chad asks, sitting up. 

“No-one.” Tara says, “He stayed at home all day playing video-games in his boxers. He didn’t have any friends.” 

“He had at least one friend.” Mindy says, lowering her voice. She jerks her head towards the kitchen, where Sam is preparing food. 

Tara groans. 

“Mindy, not this again-” 

“It works.” Mindy says, voice hushed, “My baby-sitter theory. She comes back into town, the attacks start happening. We catch her boyfriend red-handed-”

“You’re forgetting one thing,” You say. Mindy tilts her head, “Sam was in on the plan. To catch Ghostface. If she was in it with Richie, why would she let him get caught?” 

Mindy pauses. 

“Maybe she was sick of him?” She suggests, “Maybe she wanted to break up with him but didn’t know how to do it?” 

“So she had him murdered?” Tara asks, eyebrow raised. 

“If she is Ghostface, she’s a psycho, Tara.” Mindy insists, “If she’s Ghostface she’s trying to kill her own sister. Why not her boyfriend?” 

“This is stupid,” Tara says, sounding tired, “Sam’s not Ghostface. She’s my sister. I think I know my own sister.” 

“I thought I knew Richie,” Sam says. Your head jerks over to her. She’s leaning against the doorframe, frown on her face. 

“Sam.” Mindy says, blinking, “I didn’t hear you come in.” 

Sam gives her a look. 

She settles down against the couch, beside Liv. 

“It’s fine,” She says, “I get it. I’d suspect me too.” 

“No one suspects you, Sam,” You offer, “Mindy just gets over-excited. Right, Mindy?” 

“I’m just considering all the options,” Mindy says, voice a little high. 

“And you should,” Sam says, “Right now, we should suspect everyone. Everyone except Tara and YN.” 

Silence fills the room. 

Chad looks up. 

“What if it’s Wes?” He suggests, a little hesitant. Mindy stares. Your heart flips at his name. Suddenly, your hands are clammy. Tara squeezes your hip, subtle as can be. 

“Wes?” 

Chad shrugs. 

“They never found a body. They never even found evidence of a crime. What if he skipped town, faked his own disappearance to get off the radar?”

“I really doubt that, Chad.” Tara says. 

“Why would Wes want to hurt Tara and YN?” Sam asks with a frown, “You guys were friends, right?” 

“Right.” You say, voice a little tight. 

“Wes had a crush on YN, everyone knew that,” Chad says, shrugging, “Maybe that’s why this Ghostface hates Tara so much. 

At this, Tara’s head snaps around. 

“What?”

Chad blinks.

“Yeah. I thought you knew?” He says, head tilted. He looks over to Mindy, “Right?”

Mindy nods, stern. 

“Everyone knew.” 

You wince as Tara’s hand tightens around your waist. 

“Well, no-one told me.” Tara says, eyes ablaze. She looks over to you, face enraged, “Babe, did you know?” 

“Of course not.” You say. You squeeze her hand, try to calm her down, “It’s Wes, babe. He never would have done anything.” 

And he’s dead. You leave that bit unsaid. 

It doesn’t seem to help. You recognize it immediately. It’s the Rage taking over. Tara’s chest heaves. Her eyes spark like fire. 

“Asshole.” She gasps, “Fucking asshole. He was supposed to be my friend-”

“Tara, it’s not his fault,” Liv says. She reaches out to touch Tara’s arm but Tara retracts like Liv’s burned her, “Really. You can’t help who you fall for.” 

“You can not have a crush on my girlfriend.” Tara says, sounding outraged. She looks around the room, to the sea of taken aback faces, “Anyone else have a crush on YN? Mindy? Chad?” 

“No.” They both say flatly, in unison. 

“Baby-” You touch her again, but she’s too far gone to reason with. 

“Sam? You’ve all but moved in. Made best friends with her parents. Do I have to worry about you as well?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Tara.” Sam says, rolling her eyes, “Can we focus? What do the police have on Wes?”

“Nothing,” Mindy says, sounding a little gloomy, “No body, no evidence. I mean, they arrested Tara for his death so I guess he’s assumed dead?” 

“Put him on the slideshow.” Chad says, sitting up, “If we’re considering everyone, that is.” 

The rest of the afternoon is almost unbearable. 

Mindy and Chad bicker over who their top candidates are. Sam joins in, here and there. 

And Tara sits, arms crossed, pouting like a storm cloud ready to spark lightning over everyone.  

Chad and Mindy are halfway through an argument about what the next plan should entail when Tara stands suddenly, bringing you up with her. 

“It’s been a long day, can you all please leave, now?” She says, abruptly. 

Mindy looks over to her, apprehension on her face.

“Tara, is that a good idea? I mean, with Ghostface still out there and all? He could be back again tonight.” 

“We’ve got enough locks to house a small prison and Sam walking about with an arsenal like she’s Lara Croft. I think we’ll be fine.” Tara says, sounding tired. 

Chad looks over to Liv, touches her head. 

“You want us to stay?” He suggests, “We could all camp out in the living room, like a sleepover.”

“We’re good, thanks Chad.” Tara says, voice firm. She’s still annoyed, you can tell by the tone in her voice. What had been an offhand remark about Wes for Chad she’d been toiling with for the last two hours - you can tell by the look in her eye. 

“Are you sure?” Chad presses, “If Ghostface attacked you again and we could have done something about it-”

Tara cuts him off, voice curt, “I said, we’re fine, Chad. Besides, I’m about to nail my girlfriend and would rather you weren’t all down here listening.”  

“Tara.” You hiss, mouth open. Sam wrinkles her nose and sees herself back off to the kitchen. 

But it works. 

Chad blinks back at her, and without a word, leads Liv and Mindy to the door. 

And then Tara takes you by the hand and all but drags you upstairs. 

There’s a dangerous look in her eye. Foreboding, almost. Her shoulders are drawn, her eyebrows knit tight in a frown. 

It’s The Rage. 

And you need to get rid of it, fast, before she does something she’ll regret. 

“He’s dead, babe.” You say as she closes the door. You reach for her, but she withdraws from you, instead moving over to the window, watching her friends leave. 

You’re exhausted. The day has been brutal - the morning worrying about Tara and the afternoon putting a bullet through Richie’s brain. You want to collapse onto the bed, take Tara into your arms and not think about the days to come. 

The days to come with another Ghostface to contend with. 

But Tara has other plans. 

She’s pacing. Like she’s about to put on her Ghostface outfit and pry Wes’ body out of the river she threw him in. 

“How did I not know?” She says, eyebrows pinched, “Babe, if I didn’t know about him, who else do I not know about?” 

She chews her lip. 

“Mindy, I bet it’s Mindy. Mindy has a crush on you. Chad too, why not? He’s all brawn and thinks he can get any girl in this town. Hell, I bet Liv’s thought about you too.”

“Liv’s straight.” You say, voice stern, “And you sound crazy right now.” 

She looks over at you, eyes wild. 

“Do you like Mindy?” She asks, moving a little closer, “Do you think she’s cute? Would you fuck her, if I wasn’t around? Would you leave me for her?” 

She’s tiny, 5’1, but at the moment she looks seven feet tall. Shoulders drawn, she almost towers over you. 

Menacing. 

“Tara, you’re scaring me.” You say, taking a step back. 

She blinks. And then drops her shoulders. 

“Sorry,” She says, after a moment, “I’m sorry, babe.”

She brings her hands to her own face, and then sinks down into her mattress. 

“It’s taking over me, I can feel it.” She says, sounding mournful, “I’m trying to fight it, baby, I am.” 

You swallow. Move over to her and wrap your arms around her shoulders. 

“It’s okay, Tara,” You say, “Look at me.” 

She looks up, brown eyes wide. It’s still there, The Rage, you can see it swimming in her eyes. You lean down and press a kiss to her lips. 

“I don’t want anyone else, it doesn’t matter who it is,” You say, voice firm, “So tell The Rage to fuck off. It isn’t needed. No one is going to take me from you.” 

You kiss her again. Her hands grip around your waist, holding you tight. 

“Promise?” She asks. She looks so vulnerable. Like a child asking for her favorite toy. Her brown eyes are wide, mournful. 

“Promise.” You whisper and kiss her once more. 

She sighs against your lips. 

You curl your hands around her neck. 

She feels so good against you. Warm and solid and there. Not in a jail cell, facing life in prison. With you, under you, where she belongs. 

You push her back onto the bed and climb on top of her. 

You missed her. Less than six hours and you missed her. Like someone had cut off your arm or something much worse. 

Your kisses climb. You slip your knee between her thighs and press down onto her. 

She squeezes your hips. You slip your tongue between her lips. You move your body against hers. 

Her smell, her taste encompasses you. 

You move your hands down to her waistband. Fumble with the buttons on her jeans as you hurry to slide them off her. 

You manage to half pry them down her legs before she’s rising up and flipping you over onto your back. 

If getting you naked was an olympic sport - she’d win gold every time. 

You don’t even know how she does it so quickly. 

A single tilt of her wrist and your bra is unclipped, your shirt being pulled off in one quick swipe. Then, your skirt. Down your legs with your underwear faster than you can moan her name. 

She has the precision of a sniper. 

She spreads your bare legs and clambors between them, helping out your fruitless attempts to get her out of her shirt in seconds. 

Then she’s back on top of you, warm, naked, kissing you like she’s still in prison and you’re her last meal. 

She juts her hips out, hits you in just the right spot. 

You curl your hand around her neck, fingers gripping at her dark hair. Her lips don’t give you a moment to breathe. She’s kissing you desperately, hands on your hips, gently thrusting into you in that way that makes you soak. 

You moan her name, once, twice, before she’s pressing a final kiss to your lips and moving down your body to curl her hands around your thighs. 

It’s embarrassing the way she never needs to tease you. 

You lean back into the mattress, close your eyes as you feel her lips press to your inner thighs. 

“Mmm.” She murmurs as she grazes her lips over the inside of your thighs, “Looks like someone’s ready for me.” 

“Shut up.” You say, touching the back of her head, trying to press her into where you need her the most. 

“That’s not a very nice way to talk to your girlfriend,” She teases. She darts her tongue out, smoothes over the milky skin of your inner thigh. You let out a harsh sigh, thighs closing around her shoulders. 

“Baby, please.” You beg. 

She smiles. Presses one last kiss to your thigh. 

“That’s better,” She says, “Missed you too, babe.” 

Her tongue works against your folds, darting and licking up traces of your arousal like a hungry cat lapping at its milk. 

You lean back onto the mattress and sigh, taking your own breasts in your hands. 

It isn’t long before she’s trailed her way up to your clit, licking gently in the kind of way that makes you ache with desire.

You curl your hands in her hair and moan, softly. 

She presses a final loving kiss to your thigh before she’s moving up and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. You make a noise of protest, but she leans down and quiets you with her lips. 

Then she’s retracting, eyebrows raised.  

“Fingers or strap?” She’s asking, eyes dark like she already knows the answer. 

“Strap.” You all but beg, and she gives you a wicked smile before rolling over and fumbling through your top drawer. 

Sam’s still downstairs, you think vaguely as you watch Tara slip into the harness. Sam’s downstairs and Tara’s looking at you like she’s about to make you scream so loudly the neighbors might complain. 

Tara climbs between your legs, a dirty grin on her face. 

She’s reaching over your body for the lube bottle but you touch her hand. 

“We don’t need it,” You say, voice graveled. She ducks down and kisses you. 

“We need it,” She promises. She bites at your bottom lip, a little playful, “I’m about to fuck you so hard and I want you nice and wet and ready to take it. I love you baby. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

You groan. 

She coats the tip of the dildo, then reaches her hands between your legs to massage it into you. You let out a sharp gasp at the cool of the liquid, but she makes it better instantly. Thumb on your clit, rubbing slightly and she sinks her fingers inside you. 

“Good?” She teases as you flush red. 

You’re in no mood for joking. You grab at the head of the dildo and tug her forward, pulling her on top of you and taking her lips in a desperate kiss. She slips her tongue into your mouth, distracted, only slightly, before she’s spreading your legs with her knees and reaching between her own legs to guide herself inside. 

Her mouth presses against your neck. 

You gasp as you feel it: the tip of her cock against your entrance, her hands around your hips keeping you from running from her. She sinks in slowly, biting her own lip as she looks down to admire her work. 

The stretch feels incredible. You dig your nails into the skin of her biceps, tilting your head back onto the pillows as she fills you up to the hilt. 

She’s still a moment, letting you adjust, before she’s leaning down once again to kiss you. 

“Does that feel good?” She murmurs, pressing her nose to yours. 

You nod. Curl your hands around her shoulders, burying your face in her neck. 

“Tell me.” She insists, tilting your face back up to her. 

“It feels really good, baby.” You say, voice high. She kisses you once, and then jerks her hips back. 

“Fuck.” You gasp. 

Her hands grip tight suddenly around your neck and your stomach flips. She thrusts her hips towards you, pulling back slightly to build a steady, hard rhythm. 

You’d gasp but her fingertips are tight around your neck, eyes ablaze with lust, and want and the kind of possessiveness that makes you spread your legs a little wider. 

“Nobody else will fuck you this good,” She says, jerking her hips forward once more, “Nobody. Not Mindy and her micro-strap, not Chad and his carrot dick and certainly not my sister and her-”

“Can we not talk about your sister when we’re fucking?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed. 

Tara slams into you a little harder, making you cry out. 

If Sam didn’t know what the two of you were doing up here, she certainly does now. 

But Tara doesn’t care. She pounds into you, her slow rhythm out the window. 

“Tell me you’re mine.” She growls. Her hands are back around your neck, “Tell me who you belong to.”

“You, Tara, only you.” You gasp. 

“Good girl,” She purrs. She drops her hands from your neck and leans down to kiss you, slow, “That’s my good girl.” 

She pulls back slightly, and you groan as part of her length slips out of you. She hushes you with a gentle squeeze to your thigh, before she’s taking your legs in hand and placing them over her shoulders. 

She slides back into you, pressing a feverish kiss to your lips. The position means she’s so deep it almost hurts. Her belly presses flush against your own, her hips moving only slightly as she settles into place. 

You reach out to touch her face, curl your hand around her cheek as you tug her down to kiss her. She shifts her hips slightly and it makes you gasp. 

You moan her name again. 

She kisses you fiercely, and you know that kind of kiss. It’s the kind she gives you before she’s about to let loose on you. It’s like a warning, and it makes you flood with arousal and grip the back of her neck tighter. 

She pulls back from your lips, eyebrows furrowed, determined look in her eyes, and then she’s holding onto your thighs and fucking you as hard and fast as her hips will move. 

The bed frame squeaks. She’s gasping, you’re moaning, the only kind of choir that could ever make you believe in God. 

It builds in you quickly - her furious fucking, the sight of her red lips and messy, hair sticking to the sweat on her forehead. 

You cry out, gasp her name and then stars are exploding behind your eyes as you cum. She grips your thighs, tight, not far behind. With a final messy thrust, her eyes are clamping shut as she gasps out and collapses against your body. 

Your ears ring. You wrap your arms around her body, press a kiss to her sweaty forehead, rubbing her back as she comes down. 

“I love you.” You murmur, “And I missed you so much.” 

She kisses you. 

“It was only six hours, babe.” She says, voice playful. 

“Worst six hours of my life.” You say. 

Her eyes sparkle. She nudges her nose against yours. 

Then, sparking you out of your love-filled bliss, there’s a knock at the door. 

“Tara. YN’s parents will be home any minute,” It’s Sam, sounding aggrieved, “You’re making the ceiling shake and the two of you sound like something out of a bad 80s porno. You might want to tone it down a bit.” 

Tara rolls her eyes. 

Embarrassment flushes through you.  It stains the tips of your ears and your cheeks bright red. 

“Thanks Sam, fuck off now please.” Tara asks. 

You groan, and push her off you. 

She sits up on her side, pout on her lips. 

“Don’t worry about her, she’s just mad she’s not getting any.” Tara says. She leans forward to place a gentle kiss on your lips. 

You pull her into your side, press your lips to the top of her head as she settles against your chest. 

The events from the day weigh over you like a wet blanket. But you can’t bring yourself to worry about them, not tonight. Tonight, all you want to do is be with her. Love her. 

Make your parents probably hate her even more. 

Judging by the way her hands run up your thigh, she’s on the same page. 

Ghostface is tomorrow’s problem. But tonight? Tara’s naked, and beautiful and yours and in your bed. 

Ghostface can wait.

[fuxuannie]

oooooh if u need any ideas id love to read a fic where serval plays matchmaker for reader and gepard and its all mushy and cute

also random idea but maybe gepard draws one of his (lovely!) portraits for reader looll

* pairing : gepard x gender neutral reader

* prompt : servals main job is a performer, but who knew that she also works as cupid? (request ♡)

* authors note : I LOVE GEPARD AND SERVAL LANDAU SOOO MUCH those two are literally my faves.. gepard pls come home, clara appeared on my screen and i love her but baby pls <\3

SERVAL looks at her brother GEPARD as he paints in his room, humming to himself as she leans on the doorframe as she silently watched him decorate the canvas with his creativity and paint. At first, what he was painting was unrecognizable, but once those little details came to life through his art - it wasn't hard to see exactly who he was painting.

"Oh? I didn't know you were such a passionate painter, Geppie." Serval giggled, watching him jolt at the fact someone was watching him the entire time. "Serval? What are you.." He clears his throat, trying to cover the canvas. "..Doing here.."

"It's my workshop, why else would I be here? The real question is, why are you trying to hide an obvious crush from your sister?" She says with a smile, walking past him and having him move away from the canvas. It was just as she suspected, those little details.. the choice of eye color, the smile and how they matched your features.

"Please don't do anything.." Gepard sighs, and Serval lets out a fake offended gasp. "I have never done anything of the sort!"

..But she never agreed.

In the next few days, while Gepard was with his sister outside, he'd find her talking to you. And Serval making some fake excuse about practice and leaves you with her brother. The first few times seemed purely coincidental, but Serval doesn't seem like the type to simply forget one of her greatest passions.

Next was how she was now more often than not talking to you and Gepard about things about each other. "Oh! (name), are you aware Gepard just loves to grow flowers? You should see what he's blooming in our garden!" or "Gepard! Do you know that (name) really likes to eat at this place called.."

But Serval wouldn't do this for just a crush. She appreciated how much joy and smile you brought to her dear brothers face, and it wasn't often that he broke his serious, Silvermane Guards leader routine. But when he talked about you, it was like he was describing the beauty of an Aeon. He truly loved you, respected you and would surrender his loyalty for you.

So she was absolutely overjoyed when you began to open up about your interest in a certain blonde, and now that she knew you both were interested, it was the final step.

"Geppie, meet me at the fountain today! Got something suuuper important to tell you."

"(name), I'd like to give you free tickets to my next concert today! Just meet me at the fountain."

And there at the agreed meeting place, Gepard grumbled to himself, his back turned to the city as he stared at the small letter glued to the fountain. "Hehe, I lied to you lil bro. ♡ Go tell them how you feel, maybe they have something to tell you too."

He was initially confused on what the other half of the letter meant, until the sounds of footsteps and a disappointed sigh came from behind him. "Servaaall.. you lied to mee.." Gepard paused, and immediately crumpled the letter in his hands. "Damn it."

You then notice Gepard standing by the fountain as well, a little confused with how busy he usually is and especially at this hour. "What brings you here?" You asked, seeing him turn around while pinching the bridge of his nose. "Nothing.. My sister.. I assume she set this up."

Ohhhh.

You blinked a few times and giggle. "Sounds like Serval.. You're usually not this available, wanna talk?" You asked, sitting on the basin of the fountain as he instead leaned on it slightly. "Sure.."

There were a few moments of odd but comforting silence, watching those of Belabog pass by. Underworld and Overworld now together as children who thought that clouds were but fairytale dreams now get to see the bright blue sky after pure darkness all their lives.

"Thank you." You said out of nowhere, kicking your feet as Gepard turns to face you while you were still focused on the people passing by. He smiles a little at how gentle and relaxed you looked. "For what?"

"For all you do. The people you protect.. the kindness you give.. everything." You say with a smile, the very same smile of every portrait he ever painted of you, how it radiated a sense of comfort and warmth that made his heart skip a beat.

He knows he's turning red, and you giggle a little at it. Your head shifts to lean on his shoulder, a small gulp coming from his end as his arm slings around your shoulder.

"You're.. you're welcome."

[six-eyed-samurai]

I saw your requests were open so I was wondering if you could do a Gyutaro fic? If you’re going to make it heart wrenching angst then PLEASE have like teeny tiny bit of comfort or something otherwise my heart cannot take ittt

SUMMARY: Trust fall: in which you slip and let go on purpose, hoping - no, knowing - that someone will catch you in the end. A/N: It was 3am and I was delirious and thinking about that one demon from Judge from Hell that died to protect his girlfriend from Venato and you can see what spawned from there - but as requested the ending is...uh... better WARNINGS: suicide, Gyutaro's usual self harm

Daki had warned him, hadn't she? Stay away from that human or it'll be bad for the both of them - three of them, including her.

But it was kind of like trying to separate two magnets with opposite poles: they kept inching back together until one of them enters the field and they’re practically glued together. Gyutaro couldn’t stay away if he tried (not very hard), using any excuse however pathetic and unbelievable to even just walk past the door and see the shadowy figure behind moving about. Stolen trinkets he claims Daki no longer wants placed on the windowsill, leaving his sister’s body to take a walk on the roofs as the Red Light District burst into color during the night, when it was no one but Gyutaro and-

“Oof - ! It’ll be so much easier to walk up the stairs if I could open my eyes, you know.”

“Walk more slowly then!”

Speaking of a walk…is this how it’s going to end? He’s lied, but only to Daki, himself and maybe denied everything in the face of Kibutsuji-sama’s wrath. He’s a demon who deals in poison, but the ones pouring out of Gyutaro’s mouth tastes worse than anything, bitter and stinging and if he could, he’d take it all back, let go of the hand he was holding, force the one he was leading to turn around and run, run, run far far away. Both from here and from him.

Because Daki was right all along. He should’ve nipped it right at the bud, eaten the human like any good, loyal demon would and Gyutaro wouldn’t be sullenly watching these events fold with something akin to…emotion? Negative human emotions?…rising up within him.

“Can you at least tell me where we’re going?”

“You already know.”

“Up to the roof, then? What’s got you so secretive about it then?”

“It’s a surprise.”

Maybe he should be nicer, Gyutaro reflected in the only part of his mind that isn’t torn between fear of Kibutsuji-sama and regretful tension of what he’s doing. Yeah, he should be nicer, seeing as it was his last chance to do so. He pulls at the hand faster instead.

Nice. That was a word completely foreign in Gyutaro's dictionary. He'd just planned on toying with the gullible human, play around and push around until it broke and paid for the crime of being fortunate and beautiful. It must already have been broken, because what other human would eagerly await his presence every night, thread fingers into his tangled hair and comb it out, force a festival mask on him in order to blend in with the crowds during walks? Gyutaro despised the Red Light District, even though as both a human and a demon he called that place home; but around his plaything - human - love - something he could take pleasure in the parades, vibrant lights and lively night.

He must be broken too, because what other demon would chase and fall for their prey?

Nice. Gyutaro really has let himself go. Forgotten what he is and forgotten what he owes to Kibutsuji-sama.

Unintentionally his nail digs a little too deep, deep enough to draw blood.

“What's so special about this roof?”

“Nothing. View's better.”

Better is the word, Gyutaro agreed in his mind. Just not to describe the view. Better height. Better for them both.

Kibutsuji-sama’s voice was still fresh in his head. He knew exactly how to play, how to toy, how to push Gyutaro’s buttons until he was tearing scars all over himself to watch them quickly heal themselves and be reminded of how if he didn’t do as the Demon King said the next time he’s slashed it won’t even be a slayer’s Nichirin blade or the sun’s rays that does it. No, it’ll be Kibutsuji himself who does it, for demons are not supposed to be friends - in love - with humans, degrade themselves to those imperfect insects in the dirt. And Gyutaro has just done that, whatever his vehement denials.

It all amounts to nothing in the end. Not nothing, exactly, but in the end the choice was between having Daki killed and him punished or kill the human and all will be forgotten; Gyutaro can’t actually even be sure Kibutsuji will keep that promise of letting the human be. Is it a selfish choice? Probably, but a choice where at least two people are still alive albeit miserable and the third can…can…can do it in a way that won’t leave Gyutaro a raging mess. Do it on their own terms. So, well, nothing.

(Better if neither of them had met in the first place.)

“Why are you being so secretive? That’s no fun, come on, tell me!”

“Nehh, stop nagging, it won’t be a surprise otherwise. Go ahead and turn back if you don’t want it!”

“Oh shut up, you know I do, as long as it’s you.”

“Shut up.”

“Heh, you’re blushing, I can tell!”

Would the truth, or some vague suspicion, inkling of it, not make an appearance soon? Please turn around, please run away, and I won’t follow and I’ll make my excuses and everything will be - just turn around, run away -

There were plenty of other opportunities to run, and Gyutaro would’ve given up a lot of things for it to have happened. If the other would not run, fine, he would run, run far far away from everything that led up to this moment of him coaxing and pulling that hand up the stairs and past everything, beyond anyone who could hear or see or understand.

The stupid human should’ve run from all the nights they spent together, run before he even showed up. But Gyutaro was the one who should’ve run away that night - the first night they’d met.

He’d been out hunting, searching for a good, pretty meal as usual. Beloved Daki had been too picky and greedy and now it was going to take them a while before their house had more beautiful humans to devour. Hungry, he’d stolen off with someone and was finishing up the last of them when damn, had a stupid, scrawny cat really started everything?

The animal had just run into the alley he had squatting and using the shadows to blanket himself with, yowling like it had a dog on its heels, but maybe that was just because it had a stolen treat in its mouth. He should’ve killed the cat right there, to keep it quiet, because the next thing he knew a human had appeared, out of breath and the chaser.

“Oh…is the cat yours?”

He was too stunned to reply, honestly. Gyutaro was ugly. Gyutaro was a demon. Gyutaro had just eaten a human. Usually that was enough to deter anyone.

“My bad, have a good night!”

And after that he should’ve run away instead of stalking and watching and tracking and leaving gifts by the window just because he became a little obsessed over the smallest interaction with someone who did not first notice his looks.

“Okay, at least tell me what's so special about tonight then?”

“We're celebrating.”

Or he’ll be celebrating, alone, for decades and decades to come because demons are immortal and fixable but humans, weak, ugly things, were not. The one he was leading now, trusting blind lamb following the big bad wolf, was anything but weak and ugly if only in unconventional ways, so Gyutaro wondered if they were - could - be different.

Maybe he could make them a demon? Too late, Kibutsuji-sama would still have his head for that; throwing away his precious gift of blood for love, of all insane and worthless things. And it was for the same reason Gyutaro never did it before: change. He was terrified of a potential monster who could only think of its stomach, a bloodthirsty shadow of- damn, he really was going soft, humane. If he were Kibutsuji-sama he would’ve killed him on the spot, so he supposed he should thank whoever was listening for this small mercy.

Humans are so, so delicate. Why would anyone willingly choose to be one? Why was he so besotted over this one, the one trailing after him, excited at imaginative fantasies and expectations for yet another night together, uncomprehending of the truth. A part of Gyutaro wondered how his more unforgivable crimes during his time as a demon weighed less than this act of humanity on his mind?

Humans are weak, ugly things but the one he was leading now was anything but, so Gyutaro wondered if they could be different.

But a human, no matter how beautiful or amazing or strong or everything could survive falling off the roof.

“You can open your eyes now.”

The moon, the sun, the lights of the Red Light District all dim when those eyes open, but for once they darkened enough to rival instead of dominate. “It’s a…nice view, but it’s nothing we haven’t seen before.”

“This roof is taller.”

“Yeah, I know, but what -” The measurement from here to the ground finally clicks. His secretive behavior, his sudden affectionate nature, his irritation when asked, it clicks. The way he had carefully guided the hapless lamp to the very edge, where he wasn’t even holding out an arm for support. “Gyutaro. Look at me.”

“I didn’t ask for this,” he replied roughly, scratchily instead. “It was either you or me.”

Gyutaro likes to make himself sound more selfish than he actually is, doesn’t he? Because me here means me, Daki and you, doesn’t it?

“…Was this always your plan…then?”

“No!” Gyutaro backed away. “It’s punishment - ‘m a demon, you’re - you get it? It wasn’t supposed to happen so I gotta end it. I should’ve just eaten or poisoned or killed you that night.”

“But you didn’t.”

Tense shoulders relax. Gyutaro hardly dared to - he didn’t know what to think. This was more than he could comprehend, more than he could take, demon instincts and attachment warring against one another. He took it out on his face.

“It’s that demon, isn’t it?”

“Maybe. Don’t make this harder.” Gyutaro’s never brought out his sickles before, until now, but he’s holding it up more like a shield than a weapon meant to kill. “This was better. He would’ve done worse to you. You can do it yourself - I’ll be here, I can do it for you - just do it -”

“Why here?” He’s thankful that forgiving (why can’t it be accusing? It’ll be so much easier, so, so easier) gaze has wandered over the ledge and not at him.

“Because everyone else got thrown off as well. It’ll be - it’ll be if you didn’t.”

Also because this was the roof when two broken things watched the sky break from fireworks and lights and laughter below as well.

“Okay.”

It’s too quiet for him. “SAY SOMETHING!”

Gyutaro doesn’t think he deserves that understanding, forlorn smile. “I’ll do it then. If you’ll hold my hand halfway.”

He’s got nothing to say to that so he does it anyway. The human looks like it does (it’s eight letters, starts with I and ends with U, but none of them can say it because everything is-).

“We’ll see each other again, somehow.”

At least no one’s there to witness that one traitorous droplet leaking out of Gyutaro’s yellow, bloodshot eye when the hand slips and - and -

In the midst of the screaming at another body found on the ground Gyutaro retreats and returns to the back of Daki’s mind.

Somehow.

***

“WATCH OUT!”

The kid with the too-big raincoat and scowl on his face barely heard the warning in time before he’s stumbling back and falling on his butt into a puddle. The instigator’s a speeding calico cat with a bell jangling around its neck, so he vents his rage at the rapidly approaching owner instead. “Your stupid cat knocked me over!”

A giggle is the last thing he expects. “Sorry! He’s new and we just brought him home, so I guess Chachamaru is excited.”

“My shoes are full of water,” He tries to complain.

“Oops -” The cat’s scooped up, meowing, and the kid squints at it indignantly. “Sorry again. Do you wanna come in and dry them off then? My mom made dorayaki!”

“That’s not going to make you my friend or anything!” But the boy sulkily tromps after anyways. “…can I bring some back for my sister?”

“Sure!” How bright can that smile possibly be? “What’s her name and what’s yours?”

“…Ume-chan.” He hunched his shoulders, averting his eyes. “’m Gyutaro.”