expo7001

[andr0nap-wf]

doggoframe 1999: the protopuppers

[evilgwrl]

ExHusband!Simon x Reader

You Want a Divorce? (Two)

Note: I feel like this is so bad im sorry!!!!

CW: Angst, titty sucking, passionate asf sex, simon missed ur pussy and you very much and vise versa, breeding kink, PIV (no protection, pls use it irl), squirting, simon eats the FUCK out of ur pussy, multiple orgasms, praise, hint of degradation, possessive!simon, OVERSTIMULATION, slight daddy kink… sorry

Part One

It was a quiet ride, the subtle sweeps of cars fleeting by as Simon gripped the wheel, eyes trailing off to the side to look at you briefly. Your head was leaned against the window, your knees knocking together anxiously as your daughter babbled in the back, cooing about how Mummy and Daddy were now back together.

You tried to hide the shed of tears that filtered across your iris, every small childish mumble like a stab to the gut as you listened to the genuine happiness in her tone. You would turn around occasionally with a small smile as you reached out to tickle her foot, giggles filling the car.

Simon pulled in, the car bouncing slightly as it hit the gravel carpark, his hand swerving into a spot before he turned to the back. “You excited, baby?”

Ella’s face lit up as she fumbled to take off her seatbelt, “Get me, Daddy! Get me! I wanna see the lions!” It was refreshing knowing she still viewed Simon as her hero, no matter how distant he was in their lives. You knew that even though your ex-husband was rarely around, his time with them did everything it could to mend the time apart. Toby woke up at the commotion, the toddler having slept the whole way there despite his older sister’s constant bickering about what animals she had to see first.

Everything seemed to flash past you as you walked inside, the whir of kids and noise sending your brain into overdrive as your eyes flickered to Simon with Ella swinging around on his shoulders and Toby kicking his legs in the stroller. You looked away; breath shaky as you attempted to compose yourself. This was supposed to be a happy day, for all of you, yet seeing him with your children, something that was supposed to be normal, felt so distant and unknown. Gathering yourself, you plastered a fake smile, hands reaching out to pinch your son’s cheeks as you grabbed the stroller.

Your heart hammered in your chest for the remainder of the day, fingers tingling with anxiety that bled into your veins, consuming your lungs with what seemed like everything but oxygen. It was a series of squeals and commotions from your young ones, their elation evident through the bright glow of their face, soft red resting on the apples of their cheeks. As the day quieted down, Toby slumped in the stroller as you tucked him into the car seat, his new plush crocodile cradled into his arms, mouth wide open as subtle breaths snored out.

Ella was cradled into Simon’s shoulder, her shoes half hanging off as she clutched onto him, dead asleep. You settled into the ride home yet your anxiety only seemed to heighten. You were alone with Simon, with no kiddish voices to break the tension, brown orbs glaring into the side of your face.

“Should we talk about this morning?”

You scoffed. “You have some nerve asking to talk about this morning,” you screamed into a hush, “What you did was completely disrespectful. Not only did you break into my house and kick my date out, but you left our kids in the car! What the fuck were you thinking?”

He cleared his throat, almost like he wanted to hold back how he felt. You noticed the white in his knuckles as he gripped the wheel, right eye twitching as he stared at the squiggles of tar ahead. “I don’t want our kids growing up thinking it’s normal for parents to separate. They need their mum and dad together, y/n.”

The world silenced for a second, the screams of the wind rushing past you seemed to slow as your voice cracked, seeps of emotion pouring out as you choked on your breath, “Then you should have fought for your family, Simon. There is no us anymore, it’s just them. They’re all that connects us now.”

You felt like all the ivory had been sucked out of your eyes, endless pits of your pupil consuming you whole, blurring your vision with fog as you blinked, hot streams of liquid salt spilling onto your cheeks, brimming at the cracks of your lips as you sniffled. You could feel his hesitation as he looked at you.

His words regurgitated in his throat as he stammered, tangled limbs reaching out to grip yours as you pulled away.

“Just drop us home.”

Your eyes had dried now, soft stains of bare skin caving through your foundation as you smudged your fingers against it. Simon stuttered as he pulled up to the driveway, tyres screeching to a halt as you sat in silence.

The soft strum of fingers caught your attention as you turned around, the innocent face of Toby looking back at his parents, tongue blabbing out of his mouth. “Dadda! You have dinner?”

“No, sport. Daddy’s gotta go-“

“Yeah, baby. Daddy will have dinner with us.”

You blinked at your own words, Simon’s surprised expression meeting yours. The wrench in your heart would never subside, the entirety of the beating organ still belonging to your ex-husband, but being a mother was a sacrifice. And you would sacrifice yourself in every existence you become one if it meant your children didn’t have to battle the same internal wounds.

“They’re tucked in,” Simon said, voice soft as he noticed your withered body in the couch. Your hair was messy now, strands spitting out as you anxiously tucked them back in, smoothing them down with the dampness of your palms as you ran around all night, ushering to the demands of your children.

“Thank you.”

You felt ill, your tongue cascading down your throat as you palmed at your knees, desperate for him to leave yet desperate for him to stay. Simon stilled, keys jangling in his hand before he sat down next to you, his weight disrupting the couch as he shuffled around.

“I need you to know that I did want to fight for you, y/n. I have counted every single day since you handed me those papers, waiting by my phone every single night on deployment hoping for you to text me, call me, fuck - blow my phone up. I never wanted the temporary absence that we had apart become permanent. Everything I said,” he breathed, voice cracking slightly as he looked away, “Everything I said on October 6th, 7 years ago, I meant. You weren’t supposed to get away from me - I shouldn’t have - I shouldn’t have let you get away from me.”

It was strange. Simon was never one for feelings, the brutality of his job allowed for any harsh emotions to crack through his fingers as he pulled a trigger, any dampness of tears would sweat through his skin as he pummelled a blade into an enemies head.

But it was you. And you weren’t violent, or any enemy, you were his wife, the person he vowed his entirety too.

Your anxious cascade cracked as you whimpered out a sob, chest heaving as you buried your face, tight with tears, into the pillows of your hands. You felt warmth spread through you, the texture of Simon’s fingers burning through you like wildfire, every ember he felt scorching through your flesh as he pulled you in.

Arms tangled together, intwining like wool as he wrapped you into his chest nimbly. A zephyr ran through you, your wrists clutched in his hands as you straddled him, the weight of you feeling like the grandest treasure upon him.

It was nothing strange, nor sexual but Simon recognised that cry, the differing pitch as you shuffled your frame into his. Simon knew you like the back of his hand, every crevice, every crease, every scar. He knew your backstory, and the one you made up to impress people. He knew the hex of the colour of your eyes and the print of your thumb. No papers would take that away from him.

Soaked eyelashes clumped into one as you looked up at him, orbs resembling once of a doe, innocence seeping through every inch of a salt-stained tear. His eyes met yours, apertures of cocoa reflecting your weary frame as you gripped onto him.

“Let me come home, please.”

Simon’s voice was desperate, it was raw, any shed of arrogance erased through the lines, eyebrows knotted together as he rubbed at the small of your back.

Your nod was subtle, but he could practically hear it, calloused hands gripping at the plush of your cheek and seeping through the tip of your spine, thumb rubbing at your earlobe as he clutched onto you.

Hot, seething pricks ran through your limbs as your lips connected, saline lining your mouth as he lapped at the heat of your tongue, rough groans leaving his lips as he savoured the taste.

Any diffidence left your body as familiarity sunk back into you. Hands pawed at the globe of your ass, gripping the flesh as anguished limbs wrapped around Simon’s waist.

With an easy tug, he lifted you, your hands wrapping around his neck as he pulled you in closer, teeth kissing. You never questioned Simon’s strength, and you wouldn’t start now as you felt your back hit your mattress.

He tugged at his shirt, the black fabric pooling on the floor as you sucked in a breath. Your eyes traced every scar, lighter flesh engraved into the skin of his torso, a short trail of hair disappearing into his pants as you stared at his burly physique.

Simon gripped at your shirt, the material practically ripping before his hands were at your chest, grabbing at your flesh desperately as you tangled your fingers into your bra, sliding it off. His mouth was hot on your chest, the sound of moans and pants filling the air as he positioned himself between your legs, teeth grazing the hard nubs, sucking with fervour as you whined, your hand at the base of his head, cradling it.

“Missed these so fucking much,” he practically whined, groping your tits as he pinched your nipples, lips sucking deep marks of possession into the soft skin. Your pants were desperate, begging him for more as you pulled his hair, fingernails clawing at his scalp.

Your hands fumbled with your pants, hips raising as he slid them off, clumsy fingers chucking them across the room as you laughed, lips connecting once more in a giggly state as his thumb pushed against the wetness of your panties.

“Missed how fucking wet you got for me. Such a good fucking girl,” he groaned, fingers rubbing at your heat through the thin cloth eliciting a pained moan from you.

“Simon - I need more, been so long.”

He choked out a laugh as his fingers hooked into the fabric, lace dribbling down your leg before he mewled at the sight of you. His hands held your thighs apart, your soaking cunt on display as it throbbed, slick folds glistening in the poor lighting.

“Prettiest fucking pussy,” he choked out to himself, placing your legs over his shoulder as he knelt down. Your back arched as you felt his tongue lick a long stripe of your pussy, his body seething for a taste of you as his lips found your neglected clit.

He lapped at you mercilessly, your cries and moans moulding into one with the filthy squelches of his mouth against your heat. Long digits circled your entrance, teasing you, before they curled in.

Your eyes rolled, pools of ivory exposed as you let out a guttural moan, your thighs tightening around his ears as he smirked against your pussy. Cocky fingers rubbed at the right spot, favouring the clench of your tight hole as he pulled every noise he could get from you.

You were barely cohesive as he lapped at your slick, the throbbing of your clit edging him on as he soothed your g-spot with the pad of his fingers. The coil you had only ever felt with Simon began to build, the familiar sensation pooling in your stomach as you stuttered out a whimper.

“Si- too much - I’m gonna-“

“That’s it baby,” he cooed, pulling away from your pussy for a second to take in your expression as you came, your face contorted with pleasure as your legs jerked, pussy wrapping tighter around his abusing digits as he fucked you through it with them. You looked down at him, saliva and your slick coating his mouth and chin as he grinned.

You stammered out a groan as his mouth attached back on your pussy, slurping up your liquid gold as you attempted to push his head away in overstimulation.

“Oh my- fuck - Simon - too much,” you whimpered your words commanding him to continue as he guzzled around your clit, teeth grazing the sensitive bud as your legs shook uncontrollably.

It wasn’t long before the continuation from your previous orgasm rose again, heat swarming your lower belly as you screamed out, your hand slapping over your mouth as you felt Simon’s spare hand wrap around your thigh, squeezing tightly.

You pulled at his hair, tugging at the ashy roots before you were gushing around his fingers and tongue again, sloshing liquids soaking your sheets as he groaned at the taste, mouth lapping it up with vigour. You whined in humiliation, the overwhelming pleasure becoming too much as you heaved.

“Si - no more -“

“I’m sorry baby, too fucking good. Will never get enough of your pussy.”

His words were filthy yet only held the truth, his continuous slurps against your heat causing your body to jerk as you relentlessly bucked your hips. Simon’s abuse continued on your pussy, your pussy gushing and coming another 6 times before he was satisfied, the sheet under you drenched in both your slick and squirt as Simon milked your overwhelmed cunt, claiming he was “making up for the months lost”.

You were dry heaving, throat dry as he captured your lips in a kiss, the taste of you infiltrating into your glands as you groaned, his hands reaching to tug at your breasts as he took in your fucked out state, legs jiggling and twitching as your pussy convulsed at the number of orgasms he dragged out of you.

You felt like you had been lying here for hours, yet you weren’t satisfied. You would only be content when he was inside you, stretching you to the brim as he pumped a load inside your worn-out hole.

“Simon - please - I can’t… I need you now,” you were practically crying, tears shedding at the brim of your eyes, bottom lip jutting out as he tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear, slicking back the sweat on your forehead.

“I know baby, done so well for Daddy, hm? Even after all that you still need to be plugged full of me don’t you?”

You nodded as a harsh slap landed against your clit, your body jolting as you squeaked. “Yes, please,” you cried, “Please Daddy.”

His hands were like clockwork, tearing at his jeans as they released his cock, a satisfied groan leaving his body as he gripped at the tent in his pants, a sticky wet patch soaking the material before his length throbbed out, angry tip slapping his stomach as a trail of precum glistened against the base of his cock.

His dick was flushed red, begging for release as he ran it through the squelch of your sopping folds, rubbing against your manipulated clit as you moaned.

Your hands gripped his head as he leant down to kiss you, his arm holding him up while the other positioned himself at your entrance. He stilled for a moment, cock almost pressing in before he whispered, “I love you.”

“I love you.”

The words were soft yet meaningful, your eyes interlocked as he began to push inside, your mouth gasping open as you clutched onto his shoulders. It was hard when you were together all those years to get accustomed to his frightening length, and now it had been a year and the stretch was searing through you.

“I know, sweet girl, you can take it. Such a tight cunt for me, so fucking good.”

Fingernails clawed at his back as he pushed in, your whines muffled by the palm of his hand as he held himself up his elbows. “Holy fuck,” he spluttered as he bottomed out, his lips connecting to your neck as he sucked, resting inside you for a second as you whimpered.

The burn slowly faded as you rutted against him impatiently, the tip of his cock resting against your sweet spot as you gasped.

“So fucking impatient, always been such a slut for me. Haven’t you?”

You nodded, whining as he began to move, moving his hips slowly as he rubbed inside you perfectly, your mouth wide open as your head lolled back. A series of expletives tipped from your tongue as you choked on the air, Simon’s pace picking up at your dramatic noises.

“Fuck - taking me so well-“ he grunted, hands groping at your tits as he watched your pussy absorb his length. It was an obscene sight and he loved it. Every fibre of your being belonged to him and it was something he constantly craved.

“All fucking mine - shit - my fucking pussy,” he grunted, thumb rubbing at your clit as you mewled, twitching below him as he spat, “my fucking wife - got the tightest fucking cunt just for me.”

You clenched around him at his words, knowing it was true as his balls slapped against your ass, skin spanking against each other as the sound filled the room, ecstasy roaring through both of your veins as you made love.

The squelch of your pussy was taboo as he lapped in the missed sound. His eyes took in the way your body reacted to every movement, no matter how small. He took in the way your breasts bounced with each thrust, lower stomach bulging as he pounded into you.

“Fuck - Simon - oh my God,” your words were a mere blabber, barely making sense as you clutched onto him, pulling him down to meet your lips.

“I can’t pull out, baby - fuck - gotta cum in this pretty pussy. Give you another kid, hm? - shit -“

His hips didn’t falter as his pace fastened, chasing his own high as he rubbed at your clit, your breaths growing shallow as your orgasm began to build. “Gonna fill you with my cum until it takes. Need your belly round again and your tits full - such a good fucking mum, makes me so fucking proud.”

His words were the final straw as the build up in your stomach popped, your whole body convulsing as your pussy clenched around him, a loud groan leaving his throat before you felt the hot splashes of his cum pumping inside you.

“That’s it baby, milk my cock. Such a good fucking girl for Daddy, gonna break you apart everyday on my cock until you never forget who you belong too.”

He didn’t pull out immediately, his cum plugged inside you as some seeped out, rolling down the crevice of your ass below you. Your eyes shut, gentle pants leaving your lips as you felt Simon’s absence before a soft cloth was wiped gently across your sex and masculine arms were gripping onto you, carrying you into the guest room before engulfing you into a thrill of heat, Simon’s chest against your back as you fell asleep.

TAGLIST: @kiiwiipie @nijiru

Disclaimer: im sorry if this is disappointing im super tired :(((

[scribblesofagoonerr]

Mascot Memories | Never Grow Up

this is the first part of the small 3 part series that i have lined up next

summary: remi is 3 years old and she is a mascot at leah's game for the first time during the world cup in 2027

pairings: leah williamson x reader

“Someone’s excited to be a mascot at Mummy’s game today, aren’t you?” You couldn’t help but beam with a smile as you bent down to your daughters’ level.

“Yes!” Remi’s eyes are dancing with excitement at the prospect of being able to be a mascot in England's opening game of the World Cup that is being hosted in Brazil, “I’ll be the best mascot ever, Mumma!”

You press a kiss to the top of your little girl's head and smile at her, “I’m sure that you will be, baby girl,” You pause as you pick up the small jersey hung up on the hanger, “Do you want to get changed into your football shirt?”

“Wear Mummy’s number?” Remi asks, curiously.

“You bet, Remi Roo!” You nod encouragingly, helping your little girl shed her previous t-shirt in favour of the football jersey with Leah’s number written on the back of it, “You look just like Mummy now.”

“There’s my baby Gooner!” Leah’s voice appears out of nowhere, walking into the changing rooms as she’s almost tackled to the floor by Remi.

“Mummy!” Your 3 year old crashes directly into your wife’s legs. 

“Ooft,” Your wife let out a grunt of pain when the whirlwind of a toddler ran into her, “When did you get so big?” She questions, crouching down to your daughter’s level.

“Mumma keeps feeding me all of them veggies that ‘ou don't like,” Remi retorts cheekily, poking fun at Leah’s childish food palette that limited her to only a several few things that she seemed to like to eat – The only veggie she will eat being peas, and even those she thinks are too exoctic to eat.

“Of course she does,” Leah chuckles in amusement as she takes a look Remi donned in her own Jersey with her name on, “Well don’t you look the part.”

“I look just like you do!” Remi grins, dressed in a tiny England jersey to match Leah’s with her hair pulled back into two playful pigtails, and a pair of white Nike trainers, “Even Mumma said that I did!”

“You do indeed,” Leah replies in agreement and holds her hand out for your little girl to take, “It’ll be time to line up soon, do you want to come and stand with me? I bet you we’ll hear the roar of the crowd from there!”

“Yeah!” Remi bounces up and down on the balls of her feet, her excitement palpable as you can indeed hear the noise coming from inside the stadium, a mixture of England travelling fans and the fans of the home team. It’s a feeling that leaves you with a buzz of your own excitement.

“Alright then,” Your wife smiles and turns in your direction, “Say bye to Mumma and Essie and we’ll make our way out there.” She tells her, gesturing to your 8 month old baby girl Esme Beau Williamson, born in September 2026.

“Bye, Bear. Bye, Mumma. Love ‘ous!” Remi rambles quickly with energy bursting through her, leaning over to give her little sister a kiss on the head and crash her little arms around you.

“I love you too, baby girl,” You tell her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, “Have fun out there with Mummy, okay? We’ll be watching you!” You add, gesturing to the fact that Amanda and Jacob, Leah’s mum and brother were joining you to watch in the stands.

“She’s going to be absolutely fine, love,” Leah reassures you, sensing your initial nerves due to the fact that Remi would be walking out onto the pitch with your wife for the first time and you are worried about how she might take that overall, “I’ve got her. I love you.”

“I love you too,” You respond, pressing a gentle kiss against your wife’s lips, “Good luck out there, superstar. Make us all proud!” You add, moving to fix the captain’s armband around your wife’s arm and kissing it for good luck, a ritual you’ve come to do every game that you attend.

“I aim to just do that,” Your wife grins, a flash of cockiness taking over her face for a second before she peppers small kisses on Esme’s forehead, “Bye, Essie Bear. I hope to make you proud too. I love you.”

The stadium erupts into loud cheers as you watch your wife hold Remi in her arms as they make their way onto the pitch, your daughter is waving enthusiastically out to the crowd of England fans as there’s not a single trace of shyness in her demeanour.

Leah, ever the professional, keeps her focus with her stern game face plastered but even she can’t help the smile that tugs at her lips every time she gazes at her daughter. For the first time you’ve ever witnessed, your wife actually breaks her stern expression as the spotlight is on your daughter.

“Remi looks so grown up,” Amanda speaks aloud from where she’s standing in the stands amongst you, Jacob and Esme, cradled against your chest, as she watches in adoration of Leah and Remi on the pitch.

“Don’t say that too loud or Leah will freak out,” Jacob jokes, regarding Leah’s fear of Remi growing up too quickly. It’s now become a somewhat ongoing joke in your family now.

“Speaking off, look how proud Le looks,” You say, watching your wife and daughter with tears welling up in your eyes.

“This is definitely a moment to treasure forever,” Amanda chimes in, wiping one of her own tears away.

“I swear she might even relent from her usual stern frown,” Jacob jokes watching as Leah stood tall and proud in her captain’s armband, her face glowing with both excitement and pride, “Rem looks adorable though!”

“I mean, there’s always a first,” You remark in amusement as you watch your wife and daughter on the pitch, feeling insanely proud of them both.

The sun shines brightly over the sprawling stadium in Brazil, where the energy of the World Cup is palpable. Fans gather in vibrant colours and flags fill the stands, creating a sea of excitement and anticipation just as the national anthem plays and you can’t help but smile looking out onto the pitch while you look at your daughter who is beaming with an infectious smile.

“I think I might cry,” You murmur, overwhelmed with pride watching them as the National Anthem begins to play.

“You and me both, darling,” Amanda replies in agreement, her eyes are misty.

“Can you see your Mummy and your big sister, Es?” Jacob holds Esme in his arms like the proud uncle he is and points his index finger in the direction of where Leah and Remi are standing on the pitch amongst the rest of the England team, “Look, there they are!”

“Mummy! There’s so many people!” Remi’s voice is quiet and in awe, her eyes gazing around the stadium at the several thousands of fans in the stadium, “Are all these people here for ‘ou?”

Leah chuckles fondly as she keeps a gentle grip on your toddler, “Only half of them, baby Gooner,” She pauses as she points with her index finger in the direction of where you all sat in the stands, “Over there is Mumma, Essie, Nana and Uncle Jacob over there? Give them a wave!”

“Will they be able to see me from this far away?” Remi asks, curiously as she waves brightly in the direction and you can’t help but smile in adoration of the pair together, “It's so far away!”

“I bet they will,” Leah nods in agreement, spinning slightly to look over in the direction of the giant screen and then towards a camera, “Do you see that big screen over there? There’s a camera on the pitch and Mumma will be able to see you, even from all the way over here.”

“Wow,” Remi’s eyes widen in amazement as she eagerly waves in the direct eyeline of the camera and her mouth forms the perfect O as she sees herself on the screen for the first time, “Mummy! I’m on the screen with ‘ou!”

“You are,” Your wife couldn’t help but laugh faintly as the end of the National Anthem played, which meant that it was time for the coin toss and captain duties, “Do you want to come do something extra special with me?” She asks.

“Uh huh!” Remi’s eye’s gleam with excitement at the prospect of doing something extra special according to your wife as she continues to carry Remi over to where Leah stands  together with her teammates, with Remi perched on her hip to take a photo.

“Remember to smile, Rem,” Beth, one of Leah’s fellow team mates for club and country, reminds your little girl as she ruffles her hair playfully, “Don’t be frowny like your Mummy now.” She jokes, poking fun at your wife’s impartial need to always scowl during a team photo.

“I don’t frown all the time,” Leah retorts, scowling at the blonde.

“Yes you do, Mummy!” Remi’s little voice replies in agreement as she giggles, “You don’t scowl at me or Bear though!” With those words in mind, Leah can’t help but crack a laugh and the official photographer manages to capture the moment, history is changed that your wife actually broke her stern expression during a team photo.

“Mumma!” Remi shouts running across to you as fast as her little legs will let her, “Did ‘ou see me out there? I waved at ‘ou!”

“I did see you, baby girl!” You scoop her up into your arms, twirling her around as she giggles with delight, “You were amazing! The best little mascot I have ever seen!”

Your eldest daughter continues to bounce up and down in excitement, “I was on the big screen with Mummy!” 

“We saw that, Tiny,” Jacob grins, ruffling your daughters’ hair, “You looked like a champ out there!”

“We’re so proud of you sweetheart,” Amanda chimes in, pressing a kiss to the top of Remi’s forehead.

“And I even got to take a photo with Mummy, Auntie Beth and everyone else!” Remi continues to ramble, a tone of excitement in her voice still as she slumps back to sit on Amanda’s lap to watch the match play out.

“Mummy’s gonna win!” Your little girl declares, confidently.

“That’s the hope, baby girl,” You agree with her, brushing a loose strand of hair out of her face, “We’re going to cheer her on though, no matter what. Mummy is a winner to us, no matter what. Right, Remi Roo?”

“Right, Mumma! I will be the best cheerleader ever!” Remi exclaims, nodding enthusiastically in agreement, “Mummy’s the best footballer I know!”

This game might have just been one of many in Leah’s career, but this day certainly was special and one to cherish, being able to watch your wife and daughter walk out onto the pitch together. 

A memory that you will always remember, shining bright in your heart.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[to-thelakes]

fuckin' calculus (lip gallagher x reader)

content warning(s); brief reference to weird teacher-student relationships (SUPER BRIEF), typical shameless themes (smoking, gratuitous swearing), that's it! (this is just 1.7k words of gratuitous fluff/comfort for lip)

summary; monica coming back really fucked lip up but he only lets himself cry when he's alone with you in your bedroom.

series masterlist

in celebration of my beloved jeremy allen white's win, here is a lil lip gallagher one-shot

You knew something was wrong from when he stepped into the hallway. Lip had this sober look on his face and it was the tell-tale sign he was hiding something. His mom had come back so that had to be part of it but you didn’t say anything. 

Instead, you walked with him to his locker where he grabbed the shit he needed for class. It was quiet for a moment, you stood beside him while he stuck his head in his locker, rummaging through the crap that had piled up. You were watching him, talking about something aimless.

“You know I really think Miss Davis wants to fuck Eddy. I mean, I don’t get it and I mean, come on, he’s like 15 and she’s fucking 40 but fuck, not the weirdest shit that’s happened. You know-” Your rambling was cut off by Lip’s hand slamming into the side of his locker. 

The noise reverberated around the hallways, eyes drawing your way and you went silent. Lip had always been so calm and collected around you. It scared you - only briefly -, your eyes widened as you took in his frustrated expression.

His eyes were lined with tears, mouth set into a frown, his fingers curled up into a tight fist.

“Fucking’ Calculus,” He ground out under his breathe. You frowned but it was like you weren’t even there. 

“Use mine. I’ve not got Calc today,” You responded with a tentative smile. For a minute, you were convinced he had forgotten you were even there.

“Yeah, sorry, what were you saying?” He was quick to apologise. Though he only ever apologised when it wasn’t necessary, when it didn’t mean anything. Otherwise, he found it hard to spit the words out. 

“Nothing important,” You said as you pulled your backpack over to your front, pulling out your Calc textbook. You had only brought it in because you had it 4th period but he didn’t need to know that. 

“You sure it’s okay?” He asked, taking the textbook tentatively from your grip. You nodded.

“Course,” You reassured him. You then leant forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek, smiling softly. You glanced at the clock, it was getting dangerously close to class time. You knew that you could get to class with enough time even after the bell rang for first period but you loved to be early. Lip knew that, “Gotta run to World History but got a free house until late if you wanna come over,” You asked. Lip nodded.

“Yeah, yeah, that sounds fun.” He sounded distant and you weren’t entirely sure he was listening but you let it go. You squeezed his bicep with your free hand and then disappeared down the hallway to class. ***

The walk back to yours had been quiet. Lip hadn’t said much all day. From the moment you got out of school to the moment you reached your front door, it was like he was somewhere else. It was a classic Lip Gallagher shutdown. It had happened a few weeks ago when Frank had tried to go sober. You couldn’t blame him.

“Bedroom?” You asked softly as you both kicked off your shoes and he stubbed a cigarette out on the porch, “Or I can heat us up some leftovers?” You added. Lip shrugged and you knew what that meant. So, you walked over to the thermostat and cranked it up a little before shedding your layers. Braving the Chicago cold was not for the weak.

Lip shed his coat and scarf, placing them on the hook before you grabbed his hand and coaxed him upstairs.

“Need to piss,” He muttered. You nodded and let him go before heading into your room. You picked up a few pyjamas and clothes that had been strewn across the floor. Your room wasn’t a mess but you couldn’t help but want everything to be neater for Lip. He lived in such chaos, you didn’t want to feed into it even if you were used to that same chaos too. You wanted to be his oasis.

You fished one of his hoodies you’d stolen from the closet and draped it over the back of your desk chair before you stripped off and changed into shorts and an oversized shirt. 

“Left a hoodie out for you, gonna lie in bed,” You called into the hallway just loud enough that he could hear in the bathroom. You didn’t get a response but you knew he heard you. You were quick to go back to room and crank the radiator on before sliding under the covers. The best thing about an empty house was the peace and quiet.

All you could hear was the muffled sounds of Lip washing his hands, wiping them and then coming out of the bathroom. 

His figure appeared in the doorway and he looked somehow more downtrodden than he had all day. He didn’t say anything as he changed into just boxer shorts and the hoodie. He rifled through his bag for a moment before pulling out the calculus textbook you lent him and placed it on the desk.

“You had Calculus 4th period,” He stated. Your eyebrows furrowed.

“Huh?”

“You needed the textbook.”

“Oh, yeah, but it’s not that big of a deal. Just looked over Maggie’s shoulder. She gets it better than I do,” You waved off his words with a small smile. He frowned and you tilted your head, “Come ‘ere,” You requested. Your voice was soft and quiet. He didn’t need to be asked again and when you pulled the edge of the covers up, he crawled into bed.

But rather than lying beside you, he lay on top of you. His head rested on your chest, your tits acting as a cushion. Your fingers slipped up into his hair while the other wrapped the duvet around the both of you.

“Why’d do you lie about Calculus?” He asked, voice muffled into your skin. You gently scritched his scalp.

“People do dumb things for the people they like,” You admitted softly. He buried his face further into your chest. You tilted your head forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead, “Can’t help myself when it comes to you. You make me silly.” He rolled his eyes and tilted his head to the side. His cheek resting against you. One of his hands moved and began to draw patterns across arms. 

“Don’t get why she can just walk in and pretend none of it fucking mattered,” He said after a moment, “It’s bullshit. She fucks off and leaves us with dad and comes back and expects us to accept her with open arms. She didn’t fucking raise me. She didn’t care. Never sent me a fucking birthday card. None of that shit. Now, she’s trying to take fucking Liam? Who the fuck does that? Some fucking bullshit,” He ranted. It was less angry and more sad. You had known Lip since before Monica fucked off which meant that you knew the anger about her leaving had long turned into quiet contemplation and exhaustion. You knew that the constant questions plagued him and you knew that even though he had managed to let you in, he lived in fear that you’d fuck off too.

Not that you ever would.

It would take the strength of the Gods to separate you from Lip. You didn’t care what anyone said to you. 

“Want me to tell her to go fuck herself?” You asked, half-joking. He let out an amused huff before he shook his head.

“Nah, no point. She’ll do that herself,” He muttered. His eyes had gotten glassy and you continued to slowly run your fingers through his hair. He hated crying. Lip hated crying but he found it harder not to when he was with you.

“I got you, baby,” You whispered softly when you heard the first telltale sniffle of tears. He squeezed his eyes shut, curling into you. It was a subconscious attempt to hide himself away but you didn’t care. You ran your fingers through his hair and whispered sweet nothings as the tears continued to fall.

Lip didn’t say anything, there was nothing else he felt like he could say. So, instead, he cried in your arms as you gently shushed him and promised him that you’re right there with him and urged him to let it out. 

You weren’t sure how long the two of you stayed curled up together but by the end of it, Lip had fallen asleep against your chest. His breathing had evened out and the lull of your heartbeat had pulled him into the dream world.

And he stayed like that for hours. You didn’t mind. It gave you a chance to read and so you balanced your book and stayed with him.

At some point your parents came home and when they passed your bedroom door, they simply smiled.

“Everything okay?” Your dad had mouthed to you. You had simply nodded.

“Gallagher shit,” was all you had mouth back. He nodded and gave you a thumbs up. He mimed dinner and you nodded. Then he pointed at Lip and you nodded again. If you were gonna wake Lip up it would be with good food.

“Thank you,” You mouthed and your dad simply nodded and headed downstairs to talk with your mum. It was peaceful and you were glad Lip trusted you enough to allow himself to feel at least a semblance of that peace too.

You pressed a kiss to his forehead while he continued to sleep.

“I love you,” You whispered to him. You’d never dare say it when he was awake but you could tell him now. You were brave enough to say it now while he was completely unaware and content.

[wanderer-six]

Sleepless Nights

AN: Had an idea for the reader as the batch's Jedi General finding it hard to sleep when she's on Kamino with them (their room is probably so miserable and also the couch is the only open real estate LOL), turned into cute drabbles for every member of the batch! Enjoy ♥♥

Relationships: Did a drabble for every member of the Batch individually; established relationship for all of them!

Summary: You are the Jedi General for the Bad Batch. On a rare stay on Kamino, you find yourself restless in the Batch's barracks. You sneak away in hopes of making yourself sleepy, but with little luck. Thankfully, your favorite clone sweetheart finds you and does his best to help.

WARNINGS: They are all just fluff EXCEPT HUNTER bc he is a whore (fingering, dirty talk) - put him last in line to be safe/in case u do not want to deal with him (VALID)

Word Count: About 2k per boy, ~6.5k total!

Try as you might to fade off to sleep, you can’t do much more than stare at the ceiling.

In an event nearly as rare as a cool day on Mustafar, the Bad Batch had returned to Kamino for a brief stay. Though the visit wouldn’t last long—just enough time to refuel and restock—you now find yourself staying overnight in the Batch’s barracks. Since you’ve become their “de facto” Jedi General, they were kind enough to clear some space in their very cluttered room so that you had a place to sleep on the couch by the window.

And, as considerate a gesture as that was, the stiff Kaminoan furniture fails to bring you the same comfort as your bed in the temple.

Sighing quietly, you loll your head to the side, making out the room in the faint light. Unlike you, it seemed all five of your companions slept soundly. Tech had passed out, datapad in hand, while Echo slept bundled under a dozen blankets in his makeshift hammock. Hunter’s long hair was a complete mess, and Crosshair was about as quiet and stiff as a corpse. Wrecker, in contrast, snored so loudly that you weren’t certain how any of you ever got any rest. But even with how loud he was, the other four had all managed to lapse into their dreams, getting all the rest they needed before you were to set out in the morning.

So even among the odd ones out, you were odder, still.

Wearily, you rub your eyes, turning away to look up at the window. Little drops of rain flecked against the transparisteel, and watching them roll down eased your mind. When you were younger—back before the war—rainy days on Coruscant were something you looked forward to. Your master would kindly allow you to stay in for the day, trading your studies for many hours spent reading with a hot cup of tea at your side. Though you couldn’t enjoy such luxuries anymore, the rain still brought you a warm feeling of nostalgia… a comfort that could rarely be replicated.

It makes you wonder if such a feeling could be the cure for your insomnia.

With one last glance at your companions, you gingerly shed the blanket you’ve been resting under. Careful not to make any noise, you step into your slippers and get to your feet. Though the chilly temperature of the Kaminoan facilities isn’t exactly pleasant in your shorts and tank top, you grab your blanket and power through it. Having spent as much time on Kamino as you have during the war, you’ve found a few places that you like to run off to every now and then—and you know that the spot you have in mind will make powering through the cold more than worth it.

Carefully, you tiptoe through the piles of electronics, mementos and trophies that litter the Batch’s room, making sure not to disturb a single thing as you make your way to the door. When you reach it at last, you let out the breath you’d been holding. With one last peek over your shoulder to ensure you haven’t disturbed any of your friends, you open the door—closing it just as swiftly when you’re on the other side.

Though they remain lit in a blinding white, the halls of Tipoca City are largely empty at this hour. You’re more than thankful for that, since you can’t imagine the looks you’d get walking around in your pajamas. You wind through the corridors, eventually making your way to a secluded elevator. When you enter, the door closes behind you, and you’re lifted up to your destination.

The elevator releases you into a small, quiet room with a large overhang and a window open to the elements at the far end. You would describe it as a “viewing deck”, but it was unlike the Kaminoans to build anything for sentimental value. Even still, the room served such a purpose for you, and that was good enough. You walk inside, and the room darkens as the elevator door shuts behind you. Only the ambient glow of the grey, stormy night over Kamino remains, and you couldn’t appreciate it more.

You roam a bit closer to the exposed window, and just as the cool breeze strikes you, you stop. Gently, you take a seat on the floor, facing the open sky. You deeply breathe in the smell of the rain, filled with memories of better days. The raindrops strike against the metal roof, and for a while, you simply sit in silence. Bundling your blanket around your shoulders a bit more tightly, you pout—though you feel more relaxed, it seems sleepiness is still not in your stars. It’s frustrating to say the least, and you can’t help but sigh.

You wonder if you’ll ever be able to rest tonight.

After a short while, something catches you by surprise. Without warning, you hear the quiet hum of the elevator doors. You’re nearly worried that the Kaminoans have come to chastise you for sneaking off into some secret lab of theirs. But when you look over your shoulder, peering through the yellow glow of the elevator lights, you see…

WRECKER

… the large frame of Wrecker, who stumbles into the room.

The poor thing’s eyes switch between half-lidded and fully closed, and it’s clear from the way he wobbles as he walks that he isn’t fully awake. However, that fact obviously hasn’t dampened his resolve to find you—something that you find all too adorable.

“Wrecker?” you call to him. In the sweetest way, he perks up when he hears your voice.

“... little tooka?” he grumbles, referring to you by the adorable nickname he’d given you when you first met. Rubbing one of his eyes, he tromps over to where you’re sitting. Before you can say another word, he plops down beside you, swiftly burgling you into his lap. You giggle in surprise—more so when he wraps you up tight in his big arms.

“Wrecker…!” you beam, wriggling in his embrace until you’re able to kiss his cheek. “What are you doing up, handsome? It’s late!”

Wrecker heaves a heavy sigh, keeping you snug in his embrace.

“You… you were gone…” he murmurs, rubbing his cheek absently against your head as he speaks. “Missed you…”

His voice trails off into a quiet hum, and he sets a gentle kiss on your temple. You’ve always enjoyed being in Wrecker’s embrace—short of being a Wookiee, he’s the biggest and cuddliest man in the whole galaxy. But with the war going on, you often find yourself hugging him when he’s wearing his cold, hard armor.

Tonight, however, he has no gear to speak of. With him in his blacks, you aren’t separated from him by a layer of plastoid-alloy composite. You can feel the warmth of his broad chest beneath the soft fabric, and his muscular arms make you feel safer than anything. He gives you soft butterfly kisses all over your face, lazily petting your head. You smile softly—he treats you just as kindly as he treats his Lula.

“I’m glad you came up here, but… you didn’t have to come looking for me, handsome,” you assure him. “I would’ve come back to the barracks eventually. I was just feeling a little restless, is all.”

Wrecker nods slowly, though with the way his eyes are firmly shut, you have no doubt he missed every word you said.

“Yeah, uh-huh…” he mumbles. He pauses for a moment, drawing a deep, steady breath. “... I love you so much.”

With a bright smile, you kiss his cheek. “I love you, too, Wrecker.”

Those words, in particular, manage to break through his sleepy haze. He dons a big grin—one so sweet you can’t help but giggle.

“I just wanna hold you like this forever,” he sighs. For a moment, his eyes open, and with the sweetest, meekest tone, he asks, “Will you always be my little tooka?”

Your heart aches with overwhelming affection for your poor, sleepy sweetheart. Gingerly, you drape your arms around his neck, drawing him in for a long, loving kiss—one that you hope tells him you’ll always be his better than words ever could.

When your lips part, he smiles again, bumping his nose awkwardly against yours. You laugh, giving him one last quick peck.

“Wrecker… as long as you stay this sweet, I’ll always, always be your little tooka,” you assure him, resting your forehead on his. “And nothing will ever change that. I promise.”

Overwhelmed with love, Wrecker lets out a big, happy sigh—cuddling you even closer against his chest.

“Little tooka… you’re the best girl in the whole galaxy,” he hums with the utmost contentment, “I love you so much, it… it’s not even funny.”

Though you smile at his outpouring of affection, you find yourself yawning for the first time that night. Something about the way Wrecker holds you so close, the rhythmic way his fingers run across your scalp, the warmth of his body against the cold of the stormy night…

Against all odds, you think your sweetheart is just the one to coax you off to sleep.

The two of you sit quietly for a short while, exchanging sweet nothings to one another as the rain turns from a churning storm to a gentle shower. When your eyelids feel about as heavy as Wrecker’s, you look up to him with a smile, setting your hand on his cheek.

“Well, sweetheart… we should probably head back to the barracks,” you whisper. “We don’t want the others to think we’ve gone missing when they wake up.”

With an obedient nod, Wrecker gets to his feet—carrying you in his arms all the while. Just as tired as he was when he came up to find you, he hobbles back to the elevator, though not without a kiss on your forehead along the way.

Wrecker carries you all the way back to the barracks, and though you expect him to lay you back down in your spot on the couch, he instead keeps you in his arms all the way to his bunk. Even as he retreats back under his covers, he holds onto you, making sure you’re snug as a brindlebug when he settles down at last—and in Wrecker’s arms, how could you be anything but?

With you cozy against his chest, Wrecker smiles down at you, giving you one last kiss on the forehead.

“Goodnight, lil’ tooka,” he whispers, “I love you.”

With a bright smile, you nuzzle your head into his neck as you wrap your arms around him (well, as close to “around him” as your arms can reach).

“Goodnight, Wrecker… I love you, too,” you answer.

And at long last, you fall asleep—finally comfortable in the arms of the sweetest boy in the galaxy.

ECHO

…Echo, whose bright eyes soften when you meet them. Though he clearly came to find you, he looks almost shy as he enters the room, stepping softly as he approaches your side.

“Mind if I join you?” he asks, rubbing the back of his neck.

You smile. “Of course, Echo.”

Reassured by your words, Echo takes a seat to your right, heaving a long sigh as he stares into the storm pouring over Tipoca City. At first, he keeps quiet, as though not wanting to interrupt your peaceful silence. But when you lean your head on his shoulder, batting your eyes at him with a kind smile, he finds his courage.

“Can’t sleep?” he guesses.

With a lazy nod, you sigh.

“Yup. Just couldn’t keep my eyes closed,” you lament. “Usually, listening to the rain helps me get tired, but even that’s not working tonight…”

Echo chuckles. He wraps his arm around your waist, drawing gentle circles on your side with his thumb.

“Yeah… I’m right there with you,” he says. “If it’s not nightmares about Skako Minor, it’s Wrecker’s snoring. Either way, I’m lucky if I can get any rest.”

You flash him a sad smile, dotting a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth as a means to share your sympathy. With all he’s endured, you know just how hard Echo has had to fight on and off the battlefield to keep himself afloat. He’s told you time and again how much your love helps, and you hope he knows just how happy you are to give it.

“Well… I guess we’re in good company, then,” you smile, nuzzling your face further into the crook of his neck.

Softly, he presses a kiss to your forehead.

“Yeah… insomnia isn’t half bad with you around,” he chuckles. After falling silent for another moment, Echo hums quietly. “You know, back in my old battalion, my brothers and I had a game we’d play whenever we were up late and trying to pass the time.”

“What’s that?” you ask with a tilt of your head.

“We would take turns naming as many planets as we could think of. If it was your turn, and you couldn’t name a planet, you lost,” he explained. The ghost of a smile formed on his lips, his gaze falling as memories of brothers long passed warmed him. “We used to go for hours. I don’t know that I ever won… half the time, I’d fall asleep before we even got to the end.”

The thought of young Echo, diligent and tenacious, spending long hours racking his brain for the name of just one more planet sent you into a fit of giggles. Echo’s smile warms beside you.

“What?!” he demands, hand squeezing your hip playfully.

“Nothing, nothing,” you insist. “I just can’t believe how cute you are, sometimes.”

Though a blush fills Echo’s cheeks, the bashful grin he wears below it lets you know your little compliments are working.

“Heh… I know you’re just trying to get my guard down so I might go easy on you,” he teases. Playfully, you raise an eyebrow at him.

“Oh, go easy on me?” you scoff. “I spent years memorizing planets at the temple. You should be hoping I’ll go easy on you.”

Echo rolls his eyes, though the smile never falters on his lips.

“All right, then…” he chuckles. He pauses for a moment, as if he really needs to think about how he plans to open. “... Coruscant.”

“Wow; bold choice,” you snark, earning a chuckle from him. “How about… Kamino?”

“Raxus,” he returns immediately.

“Mandalore,” you shoot back.

“Ryloth.”

“Naboo.”

The two of you go back and forth, on and on, for what feels like hours. Given the number of planets you name, it probably is hours. Echo hadn’t been kidding about his experience—as many hundreds of planets that you know of from your studies at the temple, he seems to know even more. In a strange way, it’s really charming. Being able to name a thousand planets probably has next to no real-life applications, but it speaks volumes of that competitive spirit hidden in Echo that you admire like nothing else.

Eventually, the quickfire pace the two of you had kept up at the beginning slows to a crawl as fewer and fewer planets come to mind. You have to scour the farthest corners of your memory in hopes of remembering anything. 

“...oh! Hoth!” you manage. Echo swears under his breath, and you laugh. “You can give up any time, you know. I won’t gloat too much.”

With a fierce grin, Echo’s brow furrows. He seems to focus harder on this than on anything he has in his whole life.

“...Endor,” he says. When you don’t answer for a moment, Echo turns his head to you, finding a coy smirk on your lips. “...what?”

“I’m pretty sure Endor’s a moon,” you answer.

Echo’s eyes go wide.

“What? No way,” he spits. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty sure,” you repeat.

“Well… maybe it’s both!”

“Or maybe you just don’t want to admit you lost.”

“No, it could definitely be both!”

The two of you look into each other’s eyes for a long moment.

“... Tech would know,” you both say in unison.

As soon as the words leave your mouths, you both burst into laughter. You rarely have the opportunity to spend time like this anymore—just the two of you enjoying one another as people, admiring all there is to love about one another. But as you settle down from your giggling fit, enjoying the sight of Echo’s warm eyes as they gaze back at you, you thank the stars for every moment you have with him.

And you see fit to thank him with a kiss—one he eagerly returns.

When you pull away, the soft smile on Echo’s lips warms you to your core. He doesn’t go far, leaning into you as his forehead touches yours.

“You know… whenever those games didn’t work, or whenever I was alone… I had something else to help me get to sleep,” he confesses.

“Oh?” you ask. “What?”

He bumps his nose affectionately on yours, almost hesitant to share.

“Well… on those nights, it always helped to think about you,” he whispered.

The gentle tone of Echo’s voice kicked your heart into overdrive. With a bashful grin, you abruptly pull Echo into your arms, squeezing him so tight he can barely breathe.

“Oh, Echo…!” you coo. “When did you get so sweet?!”

Echo chuckled sheepishly. “Heh… sometime between nearly dying and now, I guess.”

Holding onto him for dear life, you can’t help the weariness that overcomes you. When a quiet yawn escapes your lips, Echo smiles.

“Finally tired, huh?” he asks.

“Mmm-hm,” you hum. Your weary eyes find his, filled with affection. “Thanks to you, handsome.”

Echo’s smile softens. Gently, his scomp link lifts your chin, and he offers you one last loving kiss before getting to his feet.

“Come on, then. Let’s get back to bed while we still have time to sleep,” he says. Once he’s standing, he offers his hand down to you, helping you to your feet all the same.

Hanging on Echo’s arm, you walk to the elevator, working your way back to the barracks. Once you settle back onto the couch, and Echo into his hammock, Echo reaches out to you. With a warm smile, you take his hand. Fingers intertwined with his, you finally drift off to sleep, warmed wholly by the love you share.

TECH

…the glare of Tech’s goggles against the dark room. You squint as your eyes adjust, shielding your face with one hand until the elevator doors close.

“Tech?” you call out as he makes his way over to you. “What are you doing here?”

He takes a seat beside you, perfectly casual.

“Looking for you, obviously,” he replies. “And now, I’ve found you.”

Without missing a beat, he produces his datapad in his hands, idly tapping away on it without a care. You find a smile on your lips—he’s nothing if not predictable.

“Looking for me? Aw, Tech,” you coo. “Were you worried?”

Tech hums. “Worried? Not so much. As a Jedi Knight, you are more than capable of defending yourself—far better than I could, I am sure. No, I was merely wondering where you had run off to. And why.”

You sigh softly, hugging your knees close to your chest.

“Well… I’m just a little restless tonight, that’s all,” you explain. “It happens every once in a while, I just can’t sleep. No idea why.”

“Hmm. I see,” Tech says. Not even bothering to look at you, Tech slides closer to your side. He wraps his free arm around you, beckoning you to rest your head on his shoulder as he knows you love to do. You smile, obliging him gladly—even if he does not show it in the way others might, he is still perfectly affectionate. “It could be any number of things.”

“Like what?” you ask.

He adjusts his goggles, clearing his throat quietly before he speaks again. Your eyes can’t help but drink in his every little action. The two of you have been close for some time now, but even before you expressed your feelings, you’d grown so fond of all of his mannerisms. Just watching Tech be Tech calms you like nothing in the galaxy.

“Barring more severe medical conditions, insomnia can result from a number of different causes—many of which are, regrettably, found in our typical living conditions,” he explains. “For example, disturbances in the form of loud sounds can prevent or disrupt someone’s sleep…”

“Wrecker?” you interrupt, causing him to glance at you. When he sees a small smirk on your lips, he matches it.

“Precisely,” he nods. “In addition, bright lights can disturb the brain’s circadian rhythm. Which, er…” He pauses, glancing warily between his glaring datapad and you. Awkwardly, he tilts the screen away from your face. “...sorry.”

With a laugh, you shake your head. “It’s okay, handsome. You were saying?”

Tech nods curtly, before continuing to list more and more of the conditions that might be affecting your sleep. The more he talks, the longer he rambles, you find yourself leaning further and further into him. Something in the way he speaks has you captivated, soothing you like a lullaby. He articulates himself so wonderfully, every consonant he strikes sending shivers through you.

It isn’t long before Tech catches on to the way you cling to him. He tilts his head curiously.

“Is something wrong?” he inquires. With a lazy smile, you shake your head.

“No… I just like listening to you talk,” you murmur.

Tech blinks, looking uncharacteristically flustered. “You do?”

“Mmhm,” you sigh. Batting your weary eyes at him, you lean forward just enough to kiss the corner of his mouth. “Will you keep talking, handsome?”

“W-Well… what about?” he asks.

You shrug, shutting your eyes again. “Whatever you want. Maybe ways to help me cure this little bout of insomnia?”

Tech looks over you with such fondness, eyes soft on you as you nuzzle your head into his shoulder. With a kind smile, he sets his datapad down beside him. He surprises you when he repositions himself, laying his legs out flat and allowing you to rest your head on his lap. Though you look up at him with uncertainty, he meets you with a kiss on your forehead.

“I would be glad to enlighten you, my dear,” he smiles, his voice now just above a whisper. “It is funny you should mention it. For some people, white noise is helpful to induce sleep. Things like the sound of the rain, or…” He pauses, awkwardly clearing his throat. “...or someone’s voice.”

You beam up at him, and he smiles shyly back at you. Gentle and sweet, his fingers begin to trace all along your head, soothing you with every last touch. Your eyes flutter closed, utterly lost in his attention.

“Hmm… does it work extra well if it’s the voice of the sweetest man in the galaxy?” you murmur, a teasing smile on your lips.

“I would not think so,” he answers. “But, if I am the man you are referring to, I am inclined to give my best effort for you.”

You chuckle. “Of course I’m referring to you, Tech. I love you, you know…”

Opening your eyes just as long as you can manage, you gaze up at him with the overwhelming affection in your heart. Gently, he cups your cheek with his hand, pressing a delicate kiss on each of your eyelids.

“And I love you more,” he answers, not a hint of doubt in his voice. “Now, just relax. I will take care of you.”

Never have you trusted anyone more than you trust him. With a nod, you close your eyes again, fully submitting to Tech’s care. His voice and his touch relieve your every worry, and before long, you finally find yourself drifting off at last.

You sleep with a smile, his kind words carrying you to your dreams.

CROSSHAIR

… the piercing gaze of none other than Crosshair. When his eyes find you, his usually stern expression softens just slightly.

Wordlessly, he crosses the room, quiet as a lothcat. He approaches you from behind, sitting down and pulling you between his legs. You giggle as his lithe form all but engulfs you, his chest against your back and his chin atop your head. When his arms snake under yours and wrap around your waist, you rest your hands on his, falling fully victim to his embrace.

“Well, hello to you, too,” you smirk. “Did you miss me?”

Crosshair exhales sharply.

“Hm. Not really,” he replies, though you can hear the grin on his lips.

You lean further into him, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck.

“Aww, not even a little?” you press him.

Crosshairs grip on your waist tightens. He squeezes your sides just enough to make you squeak.

“Not in the slightest,” he fibs.

With a warm smile, you sigh into the cold night air, perfectly content in Crosshair’s arms.

“Well, I missed you… and I’m happy you found me,” you assure him.

He hums a quiet affirmation, before the two of you fall silent, enjoying the gentle ambience of the storm. You can think of very few people you’d feel so comfortable with in this situation—any other silence would beg you to speak and dash it away. But with Crosshair, you feel no obligation to talk for talking’s sake. Neither one of you had much patience for people who just liked the sound of their own voice. No, you two could communicate more than effectively without a word.

And with how he holds you now, you fully understand the depths of his love for you.

The two of you remain in comfortable quiet for quite some time, until at last, the gentle purr of Crosshair’s voice meets your ear.

“Can’t sleep?” he murmurs.

Sighing, you nod. “Mmhm.”

“Hmm.”

He falls quiet again. Idly, his nimble hands trace along your waist. You let them roam—you would never point it out to him, given how sensitive he can be, but you’ve grown quite fond of the way his hands seem to trace you when he holds you like this. He has so many little quirks, and you’ve come to appreciate all of them in your time together. It’s what makes him the man you love, after all.

“You should take my bunk,” he says.

“Hm?” you ask. “Then where will you sleep?”

“On the couch. Obviously.”

With a pout, you crane your head to look at him, only to find him already gazing back at you. The way he looks at you always draws a blush to your cheeks—it’s so intense, so sincere… you never feel more safe, nor more vulnerable. “Sweetheart, I’ll be okay,” you promise. Gently setting your hand on his cheek, you smile. “I can fall asleep eventually. You don’t have to give up your bunk just for me…”

Crosshair huffs—that cute little sigh he heaves whenever you argue with him.

“It’s fine. Between Wrecker and the storm, I wasn’t getting much sleep, anyhow,” he assures you. “Besides, you need the rest more than I do.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Hey, I’m a Jedi, remember? I can last a lot longer without sleep than you can.” Your gaze softens, and you run your thumb along his cheekbone. “And you never get a good night’s rest. You deserve it, Cross.”

Despite your affectionate words, Crosshair frowns. He narrows his eyes at you, before closing them entirely. With a weary groan, he presses his forehead against yours.

“Love, can you please stop being so stubborn just this once?” he grumbles. “I know it’s hard for you, since it seems your favorite thing to do is argue with me. But please.”

Now it’s your turn to frown. You bump your nose against his.

“It’s my second favorite thing, thank you very much.” Tilting your head, you kiss him softly, pulling away with an emphatic ‘mmwah’ to his utmost embarrassment. “That is my favorite. But okay, you win. I’ll take your bunk.”

For a moment, he seems satisfied, the slightest grin creeping onto his lips. He leans in to kiss you again, but before he can, you speak once more.

“If…”

Crosshair’s brow furrows. “If what?”

“If you sleep there with me.”

Immediately, his eyes go wide. You feel his body tense up around you, and he rears back just slightly. You know it isn’t the prospect of sharing a bed with you that has him so worried—the two of you have more than grown familiar with each other by now. Rather, he fears those who will awake to find you sharing a bed together: his brothers. If there’s one thing Crosshair cannot stand, it’s giving anyone the upper hand on him, even for something like a little teasing.

Cupping his face in your hands, you meet his gaze with warm eyes.

“Hey,” you assure him, “if they say anything, I’ll beat them up. Okay?”

Crosshair utters the softest chuckle, the ghost of a smirk on his lips. Begrudgingly, he sighs, setting his hands on yours before leaning in to kiss you.

“... fine,” he concedes at last.

You beam, touched as always by the way he’s always so willing to compromise for you. Getting to your feet, you take his hands into yours, helping him up all the same. When he stands, you keep his hands in yours, pulling him just low enough so you can kiss him once more.

“I love you, Cross,” you whisper. He gazes down at you, eyes alight with such affection that you know he only reserves for you. Tenderly, he presses a kiss atop your head, allowing his lips to linger there.

“I love you, too,” he returns.

When you finally return to the barracks, you find yourself cozy and snug in Crosshair’s bunk. Given it has an actual mattress, it’s far more comfortable than the couch by the window—made even more so by the embrace of your beloved sniper. In his arms, sleep finds you more easily than it has in years. The gentle caress of his hands is the last thing you feel before you finally drift off.

HUNTER (NSFW)

… Hunter, whose tired eyes light up with a smile when he spots you.

“There you are,” he hums, with the most handsome gravel in his weary voice. “I was wondering where you ran off to…”

You smile warmly at him as he saunters up beside you. He takes a seat next to you, not shy at all to wrap his arm around your waist when he does.

“How’d you find me? I thought I covered my tracks very well,” you ask with a grin. He smirks back at you.

“Really? All those sleemos I’ve tracked down on our missions and you want to know how I could follow you here?” he teases, pinching your cheek playfully.

With a giggle, you shake his hand off of you. “Hey, it never hurts to double check.”

Hunter presses a kiss to your temple. His lips feel warm, even more when compared to the cold breeze from outside.

“What are you doing up so late, cyar’ika?” he asks you softly. With an awkward smile, you shrug.

“I wish I knew,” you sigh, gaze falling to the floor. “For some reason I just can’t sleep tonight. I don’t know why…” You pout, hugging your knees against your chest. “It’s annoying, that’s for sure.”

Hunter nods solemnly.

“Yeah, I can imagine,” he hums. “This war’s exhausting, but I still find it hard to close my eyes some nights…”

He falls quiet for a moment. The sound of the rain and the warmth of Hunter’s embrace fill you with a sense of peace.

“What about you?” you ask.

He tilts his head. “What about me?”

“What has you up so late, huh?”

A sly smirk forms on Hunter’s lips. He shrugs a shoulder, all too casual.

“Well, I was sound asleep, but a little someone saw fit to leave me all by my lonesome in the barracks,” he sighs. “Guess I just got restless.”

You grin, narrowing your eyes at him.

“Oh? Your brothers weren’t good enough company?” you tease.

Hunter chuckles; the hand on your waist lingers lower, his fingers skirting the hem of your shorts and making you shiver. He leans in close to you, lips nearly touching yours.

“Well… they’re not the kind of company I’m after tonight,” he purrs.

A blush fills your cheeks. Unable to resist his charm, you close the gap between you, meeting Hunter in a kiss that deepened by the moment. As his tongue slipped between your lips, you felt him hoist you into his lap, facing you away from him. He parts from the kiss with a low growl in his chest, before trailing more softly down your neck.

“Hunter…” you breathe, eyes falling shut as he lavishes you with affection. 

His warm lips come second only to his warm hands that have since found their way under your shirt. His every caress causes heat to rise beneath your cheeks—even more when his palms land firmly on your chest.

You hum his name again, breath hitching as his fingers toy with your breasts. Behind you, his chest presses against your back. Even without all his armor, he feels so strong… so big. You know that, in his arms, you would always be safe. Well… safe from the other dangers of the galaxy—certainly not safe from him.

“You know what helps me when I can’t sleep?” he asks, breath tickling your neck. You manage a chuckle—although a moan quickly overtakes it when Hunter’s teeth bear down on your flesh.

“I could wager a guess,” you tease. You feel Hunter smile against you.

“Really?” While one hand continues to coddle your breasts, another meanders slowly down your torso. “Why don’t you tell me, then?”

Though you wish to continue playing hard to get, Hunter’s attention makes that difficult. Your words stick in your throat when his hands breach the waistband of your shorts, fingers creeping over your panties. When he strokes over the wet spot in the fabric, you whimper in spite of your best efforts. Deft swipes offer just enough friction to drive you mad with want, but his strong arms hold firm against your attempts to rut into his hand.

“Well? Out with it,” he growls. His lips press to your ear, your heart thrumming against your chest when he adds, “Tell me what you want.”

With the way Hunter’s fingers work you outside of your panties, he must know that you hardly have the composure to make such a request of him. Your groans as you vye desperately to speak the words he wishes must still fill him with some satisfaction—enough that you can feel how hard he is against your back.

“Hunter… please…” you manage, biting your lower lip when he deepens his pressure just slightly.

“Don’t be shy, cyar’ika,” he purrs. “Say it.”

Meeting his gaze with hazy eyes, you sigh.

“Make me come, Hunter…”

You can practically hear the grin on his lips when those words leave you at last. He presses a soft kiss to your temple.

“Heh… anything for you, love,” he smirks.

Swiftly, Hunter pushes your panties to the side; when his hands touch you, now with nothing in the way, the mewl he draws from you sounds so pathetic that you thank every star for the raging storm outside to drown you out. His calloused fingers draw circles around your aching clit, now drenched in the wetness that resulted from his teasing. Only he knew you this well—well enough to have you trembling in his lap, babbling half-formed thoughts of your desire, completely and utterly helpless.

As if you couldn’t get worse, Hunter’s other hand soon joins the first. Not once stopping his motions on your clit, his fingers find your cunt, slipping inside of you with ease. Your walls clench around him, your every sense overwhelmed with ecstasy. The sound of your wetness against his hands, the taste of his needy tongue, the smell of his sweat and yours, the sight of his half-lidded eyes, and the feeling… it was all too much to bear.

Edging closer and closer, your hands reached behind you, finding purchase in Hunter’s hair. You rest your forehead against his, struggling to meet his gaze, but needing to all the same.

“Hunter…” you breathe, a whimper interrupting your train of thought. “I-I…”

Knowing exactly what you want—what you need—Hunter grins. He runs his tongue along your bottom lip, meeting you in one last longing kiss.

“Go on, cyare—come for me,” he whispers. The sensual rasp of his voice combined with the magic he works between your legs has you obeying his orders with ease, tension building to your climax. “That’s it… beautiful…”

You come hard on his hands, your cunt fluttering around his fingers as they pulse into you still. The movements on your clit do not relent, either, elongating your orgasm into something unbearably pleasurable. It feels like minutes before he’s done with you—and minutes before you’re done, as a result. But, eventually, his touch slows, bringing you down from your highest high and lulling you into your warm afterglow.

Breathless and spent, you collapse against Hunter, nuzzling your face lazily into his neck. He brings his wet fingers up to your lips, and you lazily allow them into your mouth, gently sucking them clean for him.

“How do you feel?” he asks, a warm smile on his lips. When you open your mouth to answer, a yawn is all that comes out, making him chuckle. “See? It always works. Come on,” he wraps you up tight in his arms, before getting to his feet, “let’s get you to bed.”

Though you want nothing more than to cozy up to sleep right now, you pout up at him.

“What about you?” you ask, hating the thought of leaving him without all the attention he showered you with. With a smirk, he planted a soft kiss on your forehead.

“Don’t worry about me; as long as you’re ready for bed, I got what I came for,” he explains. He raises an eyebrow, grin turning mischievous as he adds, “And… I’m sure you’ll have time to make it up to me before we deploy in the morning.”

Giggling, you leaned up just far enough to give Hunter a soft kiss. He returns it happily, even as he carries you back to the elevator to make your return to the barracks.

“You know I’m good for it,” you hum. With a soft sigh, your eyes fall shut. “I love you, Hunter…”

Though you’re fading fast in his arms, you feel his lips on your head one last time.

“I love you, too, cyare.”

You’re asleep before the elevator doors can close behind you.

AN: Thank you so much for reading!! I hope you enjoyed - pls tell me which was ur fav LOL I like them all for different reasons but I think Tech ASMR and Wrecker Hugs are my fav. And as always please lemme know if u see any tagging/formatting issues✨✨

"""taglist""" - @shinyshayminflower @starrylothcat

[fairy-writes]

Here is my second request!!

Could I please get a kaneki ken with the action prompt 7? Fluff please!

STITCHES AND KISSES

Reblogs and Comments are greatly appreciated!!

__________________________________________________________________________

Fandom(s): Tokyo Ghoul

Pairing(s): Kaneki Ken x Gender Neutral!Human!Investigator!Reader

Prompt: Bandaging/washing their lover’s wounds after a fight (Action Prompt #7)

Notes: This is like… post-Jason Kaneki

This is for my 1K followers event! It’s going on between June 8th and June 22nd!

__________________________________________________________________________

By definition, your relationship with Kaneki Ken was forbidden. 

The infamous half-ghoul and the prodigy of Arima Kishou? That was almost as good as being a Montague and a Capulet. 

You got lost in thought as your lover hunted through your apartment for your first aid kit.

Would the CCG be the Capulets if this were indeed a Romeo and Juliet story? They were the ones who had more power, after all. They were able to walk around freely during the day, freely hunting down their prey while ghouls hid in fear for their lives.

A gentle caress on the back of your head made you jump and look up from your spot on the side of the bathtub.

Kaneki Ken stands illuminated by the bathroom light, but you swear you’ve never seen anything more handsome. The harsh luminescence makes his white hair almost transparent, and his dark gray eyes are overshadowed as he bends his head and sits beside you. 

“You found it?” You ask, and he nods, keeping quiet, and you don’t miss how he doesn’t say a word. 

He’s angry. That much is obvious. 

You don’t want to argue, don’t want to fight. So you wordlessly unbutton your white work shirt that’s coated in your own blood and shed it, tossing it in the bathroom sink. Then, you turn around so he can see how bad the damage is. While he doesn’t say a word, you hear the almost inaudible gasp that escapes him. 

And you know how bad it is.

The kagune of the Aogiri Tree ghoul had cut deeply into your shoulder blades and spine. It wasn’t lethal. You could still walk and everything. It had been a tough fight, with you getting the injuries protecting a small child that had almost been a midnight snack for the ghoul. He—or she, you couldn’t tell with the mask—had been an Ukaku type, with wings of reds and purples that you, frankly, found beautiful. 

It almost hurt you to kill them. 

But you had to remind yourself that all ghouls weren’t like Kaneki. They weren’t all like Anteiku. Some of them are simply man-eating monsters, people or not; that wasn’t something you could forgive that easily. 

The sting of antiseptic has you jolting from your memories, and you hiss in pain against your attempts to keep quiet. Ken murmurs a soft “sorry” but doesn’t stop cleaning the gunk and grime out of the gash. 

“You’ll need stitches.” He says in that quiet voice of his. You hum,

“I trust you.” You whisper, and he doesn’t respond. 

He’s been so silent after everything with Jason. But you still hear soft cries when he thinks you’re asleep. You still see the almost invisible shaking of his hands when there’s a loud, unexpected noise. 

You still see how broken he is because of it. 

But you also see how strong it made him. He loves fiercer, holds you just a few seconds longer every time he hugs you, every time he kisses you. 

The pain of the needle dipping in and out of your skin and muscles has you biting your knuckle to keep quiet. While your neighbors knew what you did for a living, that didn’t mean they had to know you were in agony. 

Ken, luckily, makes it quick. He ties off the thread and cuts it before leaning in to press a gentle kiss to the wound. His lips are soft, and when he leans his forehead between your shoulder blades, you can feel how worried he is. 

Because he almost lost you tonight. 

If your partner had been a few seconds slower or hadn’t gotten you away from the ghoul in time, you would have died. Would have left him alone.

“You don’t have to be so gentle.” You say and feel him shift, wrapping a strong arm around your waist and pulling you tenderly into his chest. 

“Yes, I do.” He says, and you hear his voice crack, “Someone has to be.”

And that breaks your heart. 

Because you know it’s true. 

Your hands are perpetually coated in red and covered in harsh calluses and blisters from handling your quinque. Your body is hard with muscle from endless fights. 

You aren’t gentle with yourself. You know it. Ken knows it. 

Abruptly, you realize he’s talking. 

“My bounty is as boundless as the sea, my love as deep; the more I give to thee, the more I have, for both are infinite.” He whispers, and you smile. Weren’t you just thinking about Romeo and Juliet? You lean your head back and turn it so you can kiss his hair.

“Is that a roundabout way of saying you love me?” You ask and feel him chuckle, feel the vibrations against your back.

“I suppose so.” Is all he says. But he doesn’t need to say more. 

Because you can tell he loves you.

[adhdnursegoat]

Assault on Arkham

cw: fluffy goodness 😊

word count: 986

Edward leans against the doorway of your shared living room, the top few buttons of his white shirt and his tie loosened. He looks as smug as ever. You’re curled up on the sofa, flipping through a magazine while sipping on a cup of tea. As soon as you notice him, your eyes light up, and he gives you that smile—the one that sends a thrill down your spine, even after all this time.

“Welcome home, husband,” you say with a teasing lilt, setting your cup down on the side table.

He arches an eyebrow and strides over to you, sliding to the couch beside you. “Thank you, wife,” he replies smoothly, eyes twinkling behind his glasses. “Now, indulge me, my dear—how was your day?”

This is the ritual. Every time he comes back from his “work”, he asks you this question. It doesn’t matter that his life is filled with puzzles, schemes, danger, and heists, while yours is a mundane nine-to-five. He listens to you as if your day is just as thrilling as his. And for a moment, it feels like it is.

You stretch out your legs across his lap, getting comfortable. “Ugh, let me tell you what Karen did today,” you start, already feeling the irritation bubbling up at the mention of your co-worker's name. Edward’s attention is wholly focused, as if he’s about to hear the most intriguing riddle of his life. “She’s at it again—trying to take credit for my work! I mean, can you believe her?”

He makes a noise that is somewhere between a scoff and a chuckle. “How dare she,” he drawls, pinches the bridge of his nose as if this affront to you offends him on a personal level. “The nerve of that woman. Really…” Edward’s tone is casual, almost conversational, but you can see the glint of mischief in his eyes. He dramatically clasps one of your hands. “Should I pay her a visit, my love?”

You roll your eyes, pulling away from his grasp and swatting him on the arm. He flinches away with a cheeky grin. “No, you will not pay her a visit. I can handle Karen just fine on my own, thank you,” you say firmly, though you can’t help the smile that creeps onto your lips. You know he is joking… but you also know he is not.

It’s almost ridiculous how protective he can get, even over the small annoyances in your life. It’s also endearing and makes you feel like you are a queen.

“Very well,” he sighs, leaning back against the sofa. “I shall refrain from enacting my brilliant yet terrible revenge upon this Karen… for now. But do go on, I live for these tales of your daily conquests.”

You laugh, feeling the tension of the day start to dissipate. That’s the magic of this ritual—no matter how insignificant your problems seem in comparison to the criminal mastermind sitting next to you, he always makes them feel valid, important. It’s as if your grievances are his fun little puzzles to solve, and he savors each one with the same intensity he reserves for his grand schemes.

You continue, recounting every petty slight, every ridiculous email Karen sent, and every snarky comment she made. And Edward listens, nodding along, his eyes never straying from your face. He interjects now and then, offering his own brand of sarcastic commentary that has you snorting with laughter.

When you’re finally done venting, you feel lighter, like you’ve shed the weight of the day. “Honestly, I don’t know how you put up with my whining,” you say, shaking your head. “I’m nothing special… Just an office drone complaining about office drama.”

Edward shifts, twisting to rest his elbow on the back of the couch, a fist against his cheek. “Now, that,” he reaches out, gently taking your hand in his other, thumb brushing over your knuckles, “is where you’re entirely wrong.”

You blink at him, surprised by the sudden seriousness in his voice. “I am?”

“Absolutely,” he declares, a sly smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You are everything to me. Your stories, your frustrations, even your hatred of Karen—they’re all pieces of you. And you, my dear,” he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles, “are my favorite little puzzle. Always changing, keeping me on my toes.”

Your heart skips a beat, the warmth of his gesture seeping into your skin. How does he always do this? How does he take something so mundane and make it feel like the most significant part of his world?

You squeeze his hand, feeling a rush of affection for this man who, despite his less-than-ideal ‘career,’ makes you feel like you’re the most important person in his life. “I love you, you know that?”

His blue eyes gleam, and he nods, releasing your hand only to slide his arm around your shoulders, pulling you fully into his lap. “I do,” he whispers, his lips brushing against your ear. “And I love you. This”— he gestures between the two of you— “is the best part of my day. I assure you.”

You snuggle further into his touch, resting your head on his shoulder as a contented sigh escapes you. “You’re pretty amazing,” you murmur, closing your eyes.

“I know,” he affirms with a chuckle, resting his cheek on top of your head.

In the quiet of your living room, with the weight of the day melting away, you hold onto this moment. The ritual of recounting your mundane life, of being with him, of knowing that no matter what, he’ll always be there to listen and make you feel like you matter. It’s these small, everyday acts of love that make up the intricate, beautiful puzzle of your marriage with Edward. And it's a puzzle you’ll never tire of piecing together.

[dalisman127y]

Mha girls x reader onsen trip

A/N:I had a theory that during the time that my hero academia was set, a monkey called "japanese snow monkeys" probably went extinct.

You happily sat in the water Wich was up to your chin.

You loved soaking in hot springs. Especially with your japanese snow monkey friends before they were hunted to extinction.

Just then you hear the door open and the girls of class 1A walk in.

"oh, sorry girls. I didn't know that this is the girl's bath. I'll get out" you said getting up.

"no, no. it's ok,babe" momo said getting in. "we want you to join us"

The others nod in agreement and step in.

The girls were talking about stuff while you sat on the opposite side of the hot springs.

You have memories of when you sat in hot springs with the last of the japanese snow monkeys and two of them groomed you, a male monkey with a scar on his left eye you named "scar" and a female monkey with no hair on her arms due to Mange named "swoop".

You often protect the troop with scar or collect food with swoop.

But then one day when you got home from school.

"hello? Scar? Swoop?" You said looking around for the snow monkeys. You walk thru town to find them face to fang with a pack of feral dogs. You can only watch as the dogs massacred the last of the japanese snow monkeys, one by one.

A law was then passed to never have feral dogs in their town.

They chased all the feral dogs out of the town.

You look at the fatal injuries almost all the monkeys took and you held a monkey's hand.

"NOOOOO!!!!!!" you yell and the memory ends.

You snap back to reality as toru hagakure touches your shoulder.

"hey, honey. How about you join us. You seemed lonely " toru said.

"oh, um. It's ok,toru. I like being by myself." You said sinking into the water.

"aw,C'mon, ribbit " tsuyu said swimming to you.

"ochako, do the thing" mina said

"ok" ochako said before she gives you the puppy dog eyes.

"oh,oh my god, ochako stop! no,no,no,no. " You said looking away.

She gets closer to you with her puppy dog eyes.

"d'oh all right all right all right all right! Just stop it already." You said.

You blush wildly because.

1. you're serounded by pretty girls.

2. you're feeling highly uncomfortable

And 3. It. Was. Hot!

"AHHHHHH!!!!" you screamed in your head.

"Soo, reader-chan. Was it true?" Mina asked

"what was true?" You asked.

"that you did this with japanese snow monkeys?" Ochako said.

"uhhhhh, yeah, I did." You said.

"would it be ok if we asked some questions?" Momo asked .

"oh yeah sure." You said.

"ok, first question" kyoka said "what does a japanese snow monkey look like?"

"well, a japanese snow monkey is a type of monkey who love to live in snowy areas of Japan. They have white hair and red faces. They also love hot springs. Because it keeps them warm." You said hugging yourself.

"next question" momo asked " how did the Japanese snow monkey go extinct ?"

"well, there are different ways they went extinct." You said pulling out your sketch pad.

"for example... Being exposed to the rabies virus, wildlife conflict, illegal hunting/poaching and habitat segregation all played a key roll in the extinction." You said drawing on the sketch pad.

"no one has seen a japanese snow monkey in 10 years we'd have to be very lucky to actually see one let alone a whole group." You said looking up from the sketch pad.

"well reader chan, we won't have to look very far." Tsuyu said.

"look up there!" Mina said quietly.

You turn to see a white fluffy monkey with a red face.

The monkey jumps off the fence and it walk to you.

It started to groom you.

"umm, what's it doing?" Toru asked.

"it's grooming me." You said "monkeys often groom one another"

You then noticed a similar scar over his eye.

"what the... Scar? Is that you?" You asked.

The monkey jumps for joy and hugs you.

"awwww. I missed you too,old friend." You said returning the hug. Momo sheds a tear.

"how? How did..." You asked.

Scar makes incoherent noises.

"uhhhh, what's he saying?" Jiro asked.

"he's saying.." you said translating, "my troop was ran out by a stronger troop of japanese snow monkeys. We had to move out of the forest and into the local town."

"but then we were ambushed by a pack of feral dogs. We had to go. I ordered a few of my troops to hold back the monsters so we can sneak away. And sneak away, we did. We traveled for months for a year until we found this place." You said still translating.

"I see, but why?" Momo asked.

The monkey chitters and you nod. "They were looking for me this whole time." You said hugging scar.

"awwwwwwwwwww" the girls said.

Scar climbs out of the water, and hoots.

A female monkey with no hair on her arms comes out holding two babies in her arms.

"hey, it's swoop." Jiro said.

Ochako gasps "oh my god! she has babies!!!"

"congratulations,swoop. With these babies you'll most certainly save your species" you said.

[sassenach77yle]

||COUNTDOWN || SEASON 4 EPISODE 08 || WILMINGTON ||

#83daysofoutlander☆

“What’s the matter with you?” “I thought you’d found someone else! Your letters, the last few months … and then that last one. I was sure of it. It’s that I want to beat you for—not for lying to me or going off without telling me—for making me think I’d lost you!” She was silent for a moment. Her hand came out of darkness and touched his face, very softly. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I never meant for you to think that. I only wanted to keep you from finding out, until it was too late.” Her head turned toward him, silhouetted by the faint light from the road outside their refuge. “How did you find out?” “Your boxes. They came to the college.” “What? But I told them not to send those until the end of May, when you’d be in Scotland!” “I would have been; only for a last-minute conference that kept me in Oxford. They came the day before I left.” There was a sudden spill of light and noise as the door of the tavern opened, disgorging a knot of patrons into the road. Voices and footsteps passed by their refuge, startlingly close. Neither of them spoke until the sounds had disappeared. In the renewed silence, he heard the sound of a conker falling through the leaves, to bounce on the leaves nearby. Brianna’s voice was oddly husky. “You thought I’d found somebody else … and you still came after me?” He sighed, anger gone as suddenly as it had come, and wiped the damp hair off his face.

I’d have come if you were married to the King of Siam. Bloody woman.” She was no more than a pale blur in the darkness; he saw the brief movement as she leaned to pick up the fallen conker, and sat toying with it. Finally, she drew a very deep breath and let it out slowly. “You said wife beating.” He paused. The crickets had stopped again. “You said you were sure. Did you mean it?” There was a silence, long enough to fill a heartbeat, long enough to fill forever. “Yes,” she said softly. “In Inverness, I said—”

“You said you’d have me all—or not at all. And I said I understood. I’m sure.”

Her shirt had pulled free of her breeches in their struggle, and billowed loose around her in the faint hot breeze. He reached under the floating hem and touched bare skin, which rippled into gooseflesh at his touch.

He pulled her close, ran his hands over bare back and bare shoulders under the cloth, buried his face in her hair, her neck, exploring, asking with his hands—did she mean it? She gripped his shoulders and leaned back, urging him. Yes, she did. He answered, wordless, opening the front of her shirt, spreading it apart. Her breasts were white and soft. “Please,” she said. Her hand was at the back of his head, pulling him toward her. “Please!”

“If I take you now, it’s for always,” he whispered.

She scarcely breathed, but stood stock-still, letting his hands go where they would.

“Yes,” she said.

The tavern door opened again, startling them apart. He let her go and stood up, reaching down a hand to help her, then stood with her hand in his, waiting while the voices receded into distance. “Come on,” he said, and ducked under the drooping branches. The shed was some distance from the tavern, dark and quiet. They stopped outside, waiting, but there was no sound from the back of the inn; all the windows on the upper floor were dark. “I hope Lizzie’s gone to bed.” He wondered dimly who Lizzie was, but didn’t care. At this distance he could see her face clearly, though the night washed all color from her skin. She looked like a harlequin, he thought; white cheek planes slashed by leaf shadows, framed by the dark of her hair, her eyes black triangles set above a dash of vivid mouth. He took her hand in his, palm to palm.

“D’ye know what handfasting is?”

“Not exactly. Sort of a temporary marriage?” “A bit. In the Isles and the remoter parts of the Highlands, where folk were a long way from the nearest minister, a man and a woman now would

be handfast; vowed to each other for a year and a day. At the end of it, they find a minister and wed more permanently—or they go their own ways.” Her hand tightened in his. “I don’t want anything temporary.” “Neither do I. But I don’t think we’ll find a minister easily. There are no churches here yet; the nearest minister is likely in New Bern.” He lifted their linked hands. “I did say I wanted it all, and if ye did not care enough to wed me …” Her hand tightened, hard. “I do.” “All right.” He took a deep breath and began.

“I, Roger Jeremiah, do take thee, Brianna Ellen, to be my lawful wedded wife. With my goods I thee endow, with my body I thee worship …”

Her hand twitched in his, and his balls tightened. Whoever had worded this vow had understood, all right.

“…  in sickness and in health, in richness and in poverty, so long as we both shall live.”

If I make a vow like that, I’ll keep it—no matter what it costs me. Was she thinking of that now? She brought their linked hands down together, and spoke with great deliberation.

“I, Brianna Ellen, take thee, Roger Jeremiah …”

Her voice was scarcely louder than the beating of his own heart, but he heard every word. A breeze came through the tree, rattling the leaves, lifting her hair.

“…  as long as we both shall live.”

The phrase meant a good bit more to each of them now, he thought, than it would have even a few months before. The passage through the stones was enough to impress anyone with the fragility of life. There was a moment’s silence, broken only by the rustle of leaves overhead and a distant murmur of voices from the tavern’s taproom. He raised her hand to his mouth and kissed it, on the knuckle of her fourth finger, where one day—God willing—her ring would be.

40 VIRGIN SACRIFICE ~DRUMS OF AUTUMN

[punkassfrance]

Love and Dopamine - Tess x Joel x Reader

NSFW, 18+ ONLY Usually, Tess and Joel have to try not to wake you when they come home late. Tonight, you couldn't sleep anyway. This work contains: Threesome - F/F/M, AFAB reader, Cunnilingus, Masturbation, gender neutral reader, Smut, slight mommy kink, Established Relationship, Sleepy Cuddles, Implied Age Gap

The first few times Joel and Tess came home after a run, they made no effort to stay quiet. They’d never had a need to before, after all; you were a relatively new addition to their lives. Bags and coats hit the floor without regard to noise, bottles of whiskey clattered against glass as shaking hands poured drinks. Then they’d flop into bed beside you, each kissing you wherever they could reach before dozing off. His arm would wrap around your side and tug you closer, she would cuddle up and press your face into the crook of her neck. Maybe they just took you in to be their personal bed warmer, but you weren’t complaining if this is where it got you.

  Once you asked them to quiet down a bit, it was nice at first- until the bed dipped and hands grabbed for you with no warning every time they came home. 

  Tonight, you can’t sleep.

  It’s got to be around three or four, but you can’t be certain. You just know the sun set quite a while ago. Rain patters at the window in your bedroom, one of the FEDRA floodlights casting a stream of light across your bed from down the street. Some nights, it was nice. Tonight, it kept you up. You’ve tried everything. Counting sheep, a glass of whiskey, half of a blunt tucked under the floorboards, and just lying there like a corpse. Before the outbreak, you might have gone for a drive, or maybe a walk. You would never know.

  The front door opens.

  Tess and Joel had trained you to keep a sharp ear, even at rest, which was the only reason you actually noticed someone enter. Joel had greased the door so it stopped squeaking, but he hadn’t gotten around to fixing the swelling frame yet. 

  “You go lay down, I’ll put everything away.” It sounds like Tess. Then, a quiet smack. “...knock it off. You can grab my ass all you want in the morning, go warm them up. Try not to wake them.”

  “I know, sugar,” Joel whispers, his footsteps approaching the bedroom door. 

  Dim light from the kitchen illuminates a silhouette in the doorway for only a moment before it’s shut out again, fabric shuffling as he takes off his coat. He hardly makes a noise as he undresses, only his belt buckle jingling as his jeans hit the floor. The bedframe creaks as he crawls into bed behind you, pulling up a blanket you weren’t using, arm wrapping around your waist as his bare chest presses into your back. Chapped lips kiss your shoulder blade before he shifts and pulls you in.

  “Hey there, cowboy.”

  He freezes. “I didn’t know you were up…sorry if we woke you.” 

  “You didn’t. Couldn’t sleep.”

  He sits up on an elbow, hand skating over your hip as he tries to get a look at your face. “You feeling alright, hon?” You hadn’t slept right since you fled the Baltimore QZ- if the memories of the things you saw didn’t keep you up, they would wake you before long. Joel and Tess, somehow with the patience of saints, put you back to sleep time and time again.

  “I’m alright, just got energy to burn off. Can’t settle in.” You reach for his hand, squeezing it. “But aren’t you such a doting boyfriend?” 

  He grunts and turns his head into the pillow. “Too old to be your damn boyfriend.” You giggle at him being his usual self as the door cracks open. Light from a passing patrol tank shows you Tess, shutting the door behind her. She looks tired and worn, a few fresh scratches scattered across her face. Her lips curve into a subtle smile as she looks at you, eyes shutting for a moment before she bends down to tug her boots off and shed her pants. White cotton underwear and a soft stomach draw your eye as she pulls her shirt over her head, reaching back to undo the clasps of her bra.

  She steps over to the window, taking a quick glance over the streets before drawing the makeshift blanket curtain. Something firm presses against your ass as she turns to you and drops her bra on the chair, Joel eyeing her as she approaches the bed. Your mouth dries a bit, the same thing on your mind. 

  “I think someone wants you, Tess. Either that or he’s got something in his pocket.” You wiggle your hips to make a point. 

  Darkness hides any expression on her face, but you can hear a soft chuckle as she eases into bed beside you. “What else is new, kid?” Her hand reaches behind you to caress Joel’s face. “He's insatiable lately.” She sighs and presses her face into your neck. Her teeth nip at the tender skin, kissing at your jawline. Fingers comb through your hair.

  “Awful outside, today.” Tess grunts. Joel huffs.

  “No shit.” 

  They cut the conversation there thankfully- they both know how anxious you get hearing about their close calls. Joel’s hand trails down your stomach, lifting your shirt and resting on your stomach. His hands are warm and rough on tender skin.

  Tess pulls back and grabs your chin, tilting your face up as she goes in for a kiss. Her lips are less chapped- you’re pretty sure Frank sets aside lip balm just for her- but she’s no more gentle than Joel. Gentle has never been a word to describe her. Neither of them are the nurturing type; any of that melted away within days of the outbreak. Every once in a while, you’re sure you can see it- but those moments are fleeting.

  Two of her fingers press into your underwear, and you’re not even sure when her hand got down there. You shudder and arch your back, and she takes the opportunity to hold you tighter with her other arm. You feel more kisses along your shoulder blades, Joel grabbing your hip to grind himself on your ass. Tess slides down your body, fingers tucking into the waistband of your underwear to pull them down. 

  “Tess…you both just got back, you should relax.” Your breath hitches as she drags her tongue over your cunt, then kisses your hip.

  “This is how we relax, sweetheart. Or at least, how I do.”

  Joel squeezes your ass before he scoots away, pulling you to lay on your back to give Tess a better angle. His hand grabs your thigh and pulls your leg up toward him, spreading you out for her to enjoy. Hearing her hum at what she managed to see in the thin light, your pussy feels warm and wet as she puts her mouth back on you. 

  "You ought to be up when we get back more often, sugar. This is a nice way to unwind. Dontcha think, Tess?" He hasn't even pulled his cock out, grinding against the underside of your thigh in his boxers.

  Tess grunts and flicks her tongue over your clit, pulling up for a moment to lay kisses along your thigh. In the sliver of light, you can see a shine on her face. "Couldn't agree more." She blows gently before going back down, the temperature change sending shudders up your body. 

  You hear noise, moans and grunts trailing upward, mostly likely yourself. Tess has always blown your mind with her tongue, and lucky for you, she seemed to love giving oral more than she loved to breathe. As she grips your thighs and pulls herself closer, she twirls her tongue around your clit and moans like it’s the best meal she’d ever had. 

  You reach down to grab her hair gently as your climax hits, the desperate noises in the room getting louder. There may be some pounding on the wall by the headboard, but you’ve never cared about that. It’s a strange confidence, walking through the halls of your apartment covered in hickies, with everyone you pass knowing how satisfied your partners leave you. 

  Tess pulls off your cunt and presses gentle kisses to your stomach, whispering praises as you come down from the high.  Once your senses come back in waves, you feel the bed shaking as Joel fucks his fist to completion. Something wet hits your thigh, another reason to wash the sheets (again).   

  “Sorry, sweetheart. I think we’re both too tired to fuck you properly.” Tess crawls up to kiss you, tugging on your lip as she pulls away and wipes her mouth. She seems to like doing that- you’ve grown used to the taste of your own cunt by now. At the least, she sure seems to adore it. “You can choke on momma’s cock in the morning.”

  Joel sighs and flops over, pulling you to lay on his chest. Tess situates herself behind you, snuggling in. 

  “Get some sleep, babydoll.”

Hope you enjoyed! Check out my masterlist with all of my info and other works! Comments are always appreciated c:

[yorutsuki]

「 ✦ Surreptitious God ✦ 」

[ Mha x God!Reader ]

↳ The summary is; your a God, the God of balance—the Yin and Yang. You can bring life or death to anything and everything. But when it comes to war...could you really be called the God of balance?

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───────

War. The bloodshed is unbearable—left and right, below and above is death. Nothing but destruction in it's path. You'd live for hundreds of years but still couldn't bear the weight of the losses on the battlefield.

During your lifetime, you've experienced countless of battles from the moment quirks were brought into the world. But nothing could prepare you for this..

The destruction around you was nothing like you've ever encountered. Life forms were dimming almost to nothingness as the unraveling wrath spreaded like wildfire.

"How amusing, a God-related quirk user on the ground, their life dependent on the outcome of what I decide. How ironic isn't it? For all of time, everything known to exist were at your mercy. But how the tables have changed." The voice was rasped as his white haired danced from the ashes of destruction. "Y'know, we've been watching you for so long, but guess what? You're not the only powerful being of destruction." He sneered, following with a chuckle which then boomed into a manic laughter.

As the man grabbed your chin, he harshly forced it up before moving it to the side. "Look at all of this..all the blood-shed and destruction..and it wasn't just me who caused it." He chuckled sadistically, "your quirk controls anything destroyed as well can repair, so in contrary, this was your doing as well."

Your eyes gazed around the collapsed and burning buildings, the ashes that flickered throughout the wind—the fires that had spread all around—that dance in the wind almost seeming to taunt you.

As you watched your chin was roughly turned, as your eyes landed on blood-lusting red ones. The kind that can send chills just by a meekly gaze, ones that sadistically taunt you with no remorse.

"So tell me, descender of the God of Balance, how do you feel? Remorse? Guilt? Maybe even fear?" Tomura questioned amusingly before sighing as he shook his head. "No matter, in honesty I don't give a damn. I'm going to end you along with all those revolting 'heroes'."

His face etched a manic grin as he brought his hand closer towards your head.

For most of your life, you've never felt or shown fear..but this, this was different. For the first time, you weren't just scared, you were beyond mortified.

You've grown so close to everyone thats hurting—fighting to protect everything and yet, here you were...a literally fucking God, whose on the ground unable to even stand. How pathetic—a God who sustains unimaginable power at will is at mercy of others, a God who has control over life and death itself can't even help those around them, instead, watch as some succumb to their wounds.

Can you really call yourself a God? Nonetheless the God of balance.

Tears of fury, sorrow and fear all clouded your vision as the on slaughtering background noise diminished to only white as your ears rang. And then it finally dawned onto you,

You were useless..

.

.

"You don't really think that do you?"

You head slowly lifted. Your eyes widened as you no longer the midst of destruction, instead, you laid on bright grass as nature gleamed around you. Water rushed down a small rock formation into a minor lake, glistening. You got up with ease which confused you. Looking down at your body, you noticed you barred no scars.

As you looked around, your memories start fading back as you recalled this plain being a sacred meet up spot.

Your head shot towards a light chuckle, only to be met with the Goddess of nature, Kami.

"Worry not {name}, this plain is a conscious escape." She reassured. Your muscles relaxed as you walked towards her before sitting down at the makeshift-rock table. You sighed as you felt calm as weren't in midst of battle, yet in a place of solace. Though you couldn't help but feel anxious of what was happening in real time.

You were snapped from your state of worry as the Goddess began to speak. "You've done so much and worked quite the ways to get to where you are. Why would you think your useless?" She cocked her head to the side with a light smile.

"I..theres war going on. I'm the one responsible and the one in control of destruction and creation itself, to keep it all in balance, no? If I fail to do my job correctly..who am I to be called a God?" You looked down, fidgeting with a small carving of a star within the rock.

"But you are fulfilling your role. You aren't the God of peace, you are the God of balance. War is one of the factors—the other side of the positives. If destruction doesn't occur, then theres nothing life can contrast to." She informed, reassuring you as well. Getting up, she made her way towards you, a light smile of reassurance and encouragement placed on her lips as she sat down next to you.

"You may not see it yet, but even with your doubts you'll be able to find a way to tip the scale to make it equal. With this war, you'll find life, one way or another. Trust me on this."

You sighed before looking up towards her. "Thank you for this. I know you can't help physically but your words are just as encouraging."

Her smile seemed to brighten, "of coarse." She nodded.

...

You quickly summoned a dagger before quickly stabbing it through Tomura's hand. The man retracted his hand as he staggered back, clutching it in pain as the dagger dispersed. You were thankful time in the plain turned to be nothing int he overworld.

"You bitch!" He hissed, but as he looked up, you were gone. As your blade was about to strike down to his neck, he quickly countered it, grabbing ahold of it as it crumbled to dust.

...

A/N:

[Hi! Soooo as you can see this is clearly unfinished and quite sloppy towards the end. And thats because it is unfinished. Honestly might go back to this later but in the meantime I don't have a clue how to finish this off. I cannot write fighting scenes for my life without it sounding horrid. If you have any ideas on how this should end, please comment it and if I can use it, i'll tag you along with credits! ^^ Also rq, about shigi referring to her as a 'descender of the God ___' and her being a God isn't a writing error. Anyways, yea, use your imagination to however you'd like the ending to be.]

(I haven't watched or read the war-arc yet so I have no clue of Shigi's fighting style.)

......

[ Masterlist ]

[ashintheairlikesnow]

The Roughest of Waters

Sigh Not So | Secrets Hid Away | Shed Tears Aplenty | Fire Down Below | Rolling Down | Won’t You Go My Way? | The Seas No More | The Nightingale’s Song | Bones in the Ocean | For She Was Afraid | Time for Us to Leave Her | To Unchain Me | A Good Time Coming | I Long to Hear You | The Low Road | Handfuls of Laurel | The Roughest of Waters |

CW: Brief transphobia (it really is very brief, a couple paragraphs and then poof it’s gone), captivity, creepy whumper

Kira came to a sudden stop in the doorway to the massive dining room. Nadette nearly walked into her from where she followed close behind, bumping against her back.

"Oh, sorry, Miss,” Nadette chirped, but Kira didn’t respond. She had become an immovable wall. 

The siren sat at the breakfast table as if he were simply another man, and yet he so clearly was something far beyond a man. 

The sun shone through the windows, touching the siren with edges of gold along his nearly-shorn hair and warm skin. He seemed less of a living thing than a kind of painting that had stepped off the canvas into the world. He sat, a loose white shirt hanging oddly on him, as if he weren’t quite comfortable in it. He was looking down at an empty plate, but his eyes flickered up to meet hers.

Kira found herself a little lost for words at the sheer unbelievable beauty of him.

“Miss?” Nadette touched her shoulder, briefly. “Miss, are you all right?”

Kira swallowed, realizing her mouth had gone oddly dry. “Nadette-... do you… see him?”

Nadette peered over her shoulder, then gave a little laugh. “Of course, Miss. He arrived late last night - oh, you must have already gone to bed, though, so you didn’t see. You were feeling a bit poorly last night, I believe.”

She’d been locked inside a room against her will, literally dragged screaming up a staircase more like, but… clearly Nadette remembered things differently. 

Kira glanced back, and saw Nadette looking at the siren with a cheerful, almost glowingly joyful expression. No terror like she had shown the night before when she interrupted the siren’s song, not even a hint of worry. “... but who is it that-... as you say, that arrived last night? What-... who do you see?”

“You can’t see the resemblance?” Nadette giggled, girlish and sweet, and Kira felt new horror rise in her at the sound. She found herself rapidly developing an entire library of complicated, complex ways to feel disgusted and uneasy in this place. “It’s Lord Wentworth’s son, of course! Guilford Wentworth the Fifth! Although he just goes by Ford. Sweet boy he is, polite as can be.”

Kira’s mouth simply hung open for a moment. “His-... his son?”

“Yes! Go on, then, His Lordship will be in for breakfast in just a moment, he had to have a look at the stables after the storm.” She pushed Kira, gently, forward, and Kira had to set her shoulders as she stepped across the threshold, listening to her unfamiliar boots make soft clicking noises as her heels moved against the hardwood floor. 

The siren’s eyes followed her, barely blinking. 

“Your hair is shorter,” She commented, choosing a seat directly across from the creature so he couldn’t surprise her. She had never missed her magic kit more - a simple protection spell she could do with her hands no longer seemed like enough. 

The siren didn’t answer. He only watched her, face impassive. Kira was vaguely aware of Nadette bustling around the room, of a cup of steaming hot coffee being placed in front of her. She felt her lips move in automatic thanks, her fingertips against the beautifully-painted porcelain with its fresh cream as she poured some in and then added sugar. The clink of her spoon as she stirred.

The siren never looked away from her, not once.

“You don’t drink coffee, I suppose,” Kira said, just to break the silence, to lift a little of its weight. To her surprise, the siren’s lip turned slightly up at the corner. He shook his head, and tapped a water glass to his right. “Ah. Well, my sympathies. Coffee is the only thing that keeps me from going to jail for murder some days, you know?”

He tipped his head to the side. “Who would you kill?”

The question was so simply asked, with such genuine open curiosity, that she realized the siren had no idea she was only joking. Although... was she?

Kira, aware Nadette was just out of earshot, chanced a slight smile of her own. “Our illustrious host, for one,” She murmured, barely moving her lips. “First on my list. So everyone trapped here might go home. Including you. Especially you."

If she had felt the siren’s gaze intense before, it barely held a candle to how he looked at her now. 

Where before he had seemed perhaps vaguely hostile but otherwise unmoved, now he looked at her with a desperate hunger that made her lean back in her chair, as though he would fling himself across the table at her. It made her think of the way his jaw had opened too wide, there had been so many sharp-edged teeth only an inch from ripping out her throat.

This hunger was different, and yet the same. A need to flee, more than a hundred years in the making if the portraits on the wall were accurate. He swallowed, and she tried not to watch his throat move as he did, tried to blunt herself to his otherworldly beauty. 

The moon had made her children something truly incredible to behold, impossible to believe really existed.

“In the night-” He started, his accent thick, his eyes finally leaving her and looking down. He looked almost ashamed of himself. It was a strange expression, one he wore uneasily, as if he weren’t used to having regrets. Or didn’t know how to show it. 

“I understand,” She said, voice low. “I-”

Nadette was at her elbow, placing a scone on her plate with a beatific smile. 

“Thank you, Nadette,” She said politely, and picked the scone up. “As I-... As I was saying, I understand the journey from the colonies is quite arduous this time of year.” 

The siren’s eyes moved to Nadette and then back to her. He didn’t bother to even attempt a smile or a lie. 

Kira dipped her scone into her coffee. Buttery and with little currants to create bright jeweled beads of tart sweetness, it was incredible. 

Then again, Wentworth probably used magic on the best cooks in town, too…

Nadette bustled away again. 

“You… understand?” He sounded like he didn’t believe her. She didn’t blame him.

“Of course I do.” She dipped her scone again, then chewed, closing her eyes. “I would do the same, if I could. If it meant getting away from this place. I meant what I said - stop trying to force me and I will do what I can to help you." She took another drink, swallowing a little too fast just to feel the hot coffee burn just a little down her throat. 

When she opened her eyes, the siren had a strange, unreadable expression on his face. While she couldn’t begin to say what that look meant, she knew that whatever he thought of her, it was no longer apathy.

“You... are here to make the magic strong on me again,” He said, voice low. Kira tried not to notice he was given no scone, nothing to eat. That Nadette never directly acknowledged him. What did she hear, see, think, feel? Would she even remember this breakfast later in the day? 

Would she remember this moment, later, or would it be taken from her?

The thought sent a frisson of cold up and down her spine and she straightened up, nervously pressing her lips together. She met the siren’s gaze. “I know. I think… I think I am here for more than that, though, aren’t I?” She tried to smile again, but found it faltering this time beneath the weight of her nerves, her fear. Beneath the weight of his eyes.

The siren tipped his chin - not quite a nod, but close enough. 

Kira inhaled slowly, held the breath, exhaled over five long, slow beats. Then she sipped her coffee again. “Which of his wives were like me? Any of them? Magicians?”

The siren - Areyto, she had to start thinking of him by a name - looked thoughtful, now. “The second one,” He said, voice low. She felt like his eyes on her face had a tangible weight, and it was a strange, squirming, unfamiliar sort of nerves the idea sent racing up her spine. “And the third. The fourth had no magic, but she was important to my master to have. The sister of the prince’s friend.”

“The now-king?”

“Yes. She had no magic, but she had other things he wanted. With the first, the woman who made me like this for him-”

“Atabei Montgomery.”

He visibly startled, spine straightening as he sat up. “Yes. You know the name?”

“There’s a painting of her in my room-” Kira winced. “In the room I’m being kept in, I suppose. Nadette told me she was-... the first Lady Wentworth’s… companion-”

“Yes. Her lover. They loved one another, as you humans do. Atabei Montgomery came to my master and when he asked her, she made me a slave to the man’s desires. Then she was made into one herself. They both were. But he allowed them to still love each other.” There was no pity in the siren’s voice, for their fates. No regret for what had happened to them. Kira wasn’t sure she blamed him for not mourning, and yet it felt… strange, to see him care so little about his own words.

Then again, he wasn’t human, was he?

“Did she really go mad when her-... when Lady Wentworth died?” 

“My master told me she must go mad,” The siren said, emotionless. The words were just sounds he formed, they meant nothing to him, they held nothing within their form and shape. “And so she did. All I did was give her back her mind, and let her know what all had been done to her, to her lover, and what had happened to the child. It was enough."

“Gods above,” She whispered. Her fingers were trembling, holding onto her cup, and she set it down with a clink that was just a little too loud, startling herself and discovering she’d nearly finished her coffee without realizing it. 

He might have had a shadow of a smile on his lovely face, for just a second. If he did, it was gone as soon as she looked directly at him again. 

“W-wait, the child? Which one?” Her mind raced back to the portrait of the first Lord Wentworth’s happy family, Eliza’s dazed dreamy smile and the sharper, quietly miserable expressions of the children.

“The one Lady Wentworth had before he had me remake her mind,” Areyto replied simply. “There was a daughter who was kind to me.”

“A-and what happened to-”

“I don’t know. I told her to run, and I told my master she was dead.”

Kira nodded. "That was-... kind of you."

"Maybe. If she lived."

"You don't know?"

"No."

"Oh. I-... oh." Nadette was back, refilling her coffee with cheery helpfulness, and she thanked her in a quiet, distracted way. She had a hundred questions, a thousand even, all fighting to be the first she asked.

But then she saw Areyto straighten even more and his eyes go back to his plate, and she knew what it meant. 

Then a hand landed, heavy and slightly damp, on the back of her neck. She shot upright, gasping in surprise at the too-familiar touch. “Lord Wentworth!”

“Good morning, Miss Losna,” Guilford Wentworth said, and his fingertips brushed the nape of her neck beneath her heavy braid before he moved away. It felt like he left a smear of some terrible slime behind. She had to catch her breath as he took his seat at the head of the table, Areyto his right and Kira his left. “Did you sleep well?”

She raised her chin, meeting his gaze despite the way her skin still prickled with distaste from the sheer memory of his touch. “No.”

“A pity.” Guilford Wentworth held up his cup and Nadette was already there, pouring fresh coffee, looking as though her life’s ambition was fulfilled now that she was serving the lord and master of the house. It made Kira sick to see it, knowing it wasn’t Nadette’s real mind, her real feelings. “I trust you will find yourself sleeping more easily as time goes by. Everyone does.” He smiled, the slug, he smiled at her as though they kept some private joke together. “And you’ve met my-... son?”

Kira’s nose wrinkled. “I met your siren,” She said, voice flat. “Again.”

He chuckled, sipping his coffee with a sparkle in his eyes that made anger rise in her throat, nearly choking her, especially when his eyes shifted downward and then back up to her face. Openly. Right here in front of-... well, the siren wasn’t human, but Nadette certainly was, and so was Babbage, both of whom were in the room right here, right now, well able to see him ogling her like so much meat in a butcher’s window. “You look quite different when sleeping, Miss Losna. Or is it Mister-”

“It’s Miss,” She said, voice flat as a plain, as hard as a diamond and sparkling with the same icy colorlessness. “So it was you, then?”

“It was.” His slick smile widened. The siren sat in stony silence, but he seemed to shift uneasily. Kira chanced letting her eyes go to him, watching the creature’s gaze cut to the side towards Wentworth himself. Kira saw the way Wentworth’s arm shifted, though, and swallowed as she realized his hand was on the siren’s leg under the table. 

She found herself oddly glad he wasn’t touching her, and then felt immediately guilty for being happy he was harming someone else. 

“It was me,” Guilford said, and took another sip. “I thought I should get to have a good look at what I will be bringing into my home. I was more than a little surprised at what I found, especially between-”

“Lord Wentworth.” She cut him off sharply and set her chin just so. She would not lose her temper, not here and now, although her skin burned to lash out. He had her magic kit hidden here somewhere, and she had no chance of making it down the road to the city if he did not want her to, not with the high iron fences that encircled his property on the outside. “Such talk is less than polite and I won’t have it.”

Guilford Wentworth’s eyebrows raise nearly to his hairline. He pushed his glasses up and leaned towards her. “I don’t believe this is your home to dictate what we do or do not discuss, Miss Losna.”

At least it was Miss.

She smiled without any warmth or humor - it was closer to baring teeth. “Then I shall take my leave of it and discuss whatever I wish anywhere other than here.”

He paused, and then he burst into laughter, shaking his head back and forth as though she had told an uproarious joke. The siren stayed silent. When cooked eggs and slices of bacon were laid on their plates by Nadette, the siren received only a seared fish, which he stared at with some distaste. “Lovely, Miss Losna. Lovely. I do enjoy having a wife with a sense of humor.”

“You just-...” She hitched in a breath, folding her hands tightly in her lap until the pain of her own grip cleared her mind from the bright flash of fear. “You just tried to say I am not-... wife material, so to speak-”

“You clearly can fix that little problem.” Guilford shrugged.

"I cannot bear children."

That did give him pause, and he considered. "Oh. Well. Mistresses can be had for that purpose. In any case, you are a beautiful woman, Miss Losna. I have had many women, more than a few who used magic or cosmetics to achieve their beauty. And you had a beautiful face without magic, too. It softens, when you sleep.”

“I will try not to be seen sleeping by you again.”

He chuckled. “You will, though. And you’ll thank me for my regard, soon enough.”

Kira tried not to look at the siren, and failed. Areyto did not look back at her, not now. She picked up her fork and stabbed ineffectually at a bit of egg. “We shall see. I suppose I don’t need to tell you that I dislike being held prisoner, no matter how richly decorated my prison cell may be. I do not consent to marriage.”

“No one ever does, at first,” Wentworth replied, waving one hand, dismissing her protest as meaningless in a way that made fury flare inside her. “They all come around. You’ll come around, in the end.”

“Who is it-” She cleared her throat, and hated herself for the way it made her seem weak, the way it made Wentworth grin at her as though he’d won their little game already. “Who is it I will officially marry, Lord Wentworth?”

“My son. Guilford Wentworth the Fifth.”

“And… does the young man actually exist, or…?”

“Of course he does.” Guilford waved his hand, a bit of egg on his fork. “I ensure my bloodline carries on. My children know their money, their power, their place in the world depends on this magic. They will say nothing. And should my son visit and want to meet his bride, I suppose I shouldn’t stop him. Trust me, Miss Losna - you won’t mind by then.”

It was one thing to be told she would marry against her will to this odious monster of a man, but the idea that he should pass her around to his son on some sort of whim, and that she would be happy to be treated like a toy tossed between ham-fisted children, a prize that belonged to anyone with the last name Wentworth... it was too much to bear.

“How dare you,” She hissed. 

Kira hadn’t realized she was squeezing the fork until she felt magic sparking through her fingertips and looked down to see the silver melting under her fingers, dripping down over the eggs and bacon. She was breathing hard, chest half-heaving.

When she looked up this time, she caught the siren staring at her openly, eyes wide with surprise. 

Even Guilford Wentworth looked shocked at the sight. "How did you do that?"

“How dare-...” She pushed her chair back and stood, chin set and shoulders back. Wentworth’s eyes lingered too long on her chest and she picked up her plate and threw it at him, cooled silver, cold eggs, and bacon flung across the white lace tablecloth and sticking to his perfectly tailored shirt. It hit his face, it flung further even. The chandelier above her head began to sway as if blown by her rage. Candles went out, the drapes fluttered over the windows. “How dare you!”

She turned to storm away, and made it to the doorway before Guilford snapped a command in a low voice and she heard the siren begin to sing a moment later.

This time, there was no slow communication, no pleading, no gentle relaxation. Only the hint of some sort of regret in the song, and then Kira Losna dropped like a stone.

Darkness closed in before she ever hit the floor.

-

Taglist: @grizzlie70 @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @theelvishcowgirl @whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump @bloodinkandashes @squishablesunbeam @mj-or-say10 @apokolyps @wildfaewhump @shrimpwritings @there-will-always-be-blood @latenightcupsofcoffee

[loop-hole-319]

What mythical horse centaurs I think the batfamily would be.

Bruce - Thestral / Batpony

Ties in well to witnessing his parents death. I think he will be able to control his invisibility although if you have scene death you will be able to see through it regardless.

Dick - Peryton

Specifically that one image of the one with the peacock tail. I just think it fits his flamboyant personality and is so colorful. It would also be dishonorable to give him something that couldn't fly.

Jason - Nightmare

I like to think it was a normal centaur but then something bad happened transforming him into a nightmare. I have a vivid image of him entering a building while wearing a smirk with a giant gun on his shoulder. With every step he takes embers fly from his feathering and a magma like texture spreads from his glowing hooves.

Tim - Kirin/Quilin

His appearance would be similar to the ones in My Little pony. With a horn that looks similar to an antler and a set of sharp fangs from dragon-like traits. With a dark red coat and gold scales with a gold horn and highlights. Also keep the setting itself on fire when pissed off cuz it's funny and opens up a whole bunch of scenarios for him.

Damian - Shadhavarr

Combined with constantly being mistaken for a unicorn with the fact that his horn seems to serve no other purpose then as a noise maker has put a damper on his mental health. After all, a wind instrument being stuck to your head is not beneficial to an assassin. He was supposed to have wings, he was supposed to be a Thestral. Although he did inherit his father's black coat and fluffy ears.

He does eventually find love for music in this AU mirroring his love for drawing.

Cass - Thestral / Batpony

Not much to say for her other than aesthetics and that would look badass. Although she is much more fluffy than Bruce.

Steph - Unicorn

Her highly pigmented shiny purple coat and yellow mane almost make up for the fact she can't use magic.

Babs - Hippocampus

Being a Ichthyocentaur on land would be a lot more upsetting if her tail was paralyzed because some asshole The Joker purposefully ran her over with their boat.

Duke - Descendant of Skinfaxi

Despite lacking a horn Duke has the most magic out of everyone in the herd. He can do basic light manipulation and his coat is extremely reflective.

Alfred - A White horse

The one death rode in on.

Jason likes to keep Dicks antler sheds so they can play fight with them later in the year.

Duke and Jason form a glow-in-the-dark club.

Jason likes to piss off Tim to make him flame up. Damian secretly thinks the flames are pretty.

Dick likes to make feather jewelry with his feathers.

Despite being partially paralyzed, Babs is extremely mobile in her wheelchair although she cannot swim.

Steph paints everyone's hooves she needs help with her back feet.

Despite three family members having wings, they rarely use them. Dick uses them the most by giving himself extra air time with jumps.

Despite being an extremely lanky awkward foal, Jason is a Shire. His running has been described as thunderous.

Jason once kicked a man's head off

When Bart met Tim he got extremely excited over 'horsey' and jumped on his back. Tim immediately bucked him off.

Tim kicked Kon in the nuts (thank you invulnerability) once on reflex because he smacked him on the ass. Kon later defended himself by telling him that he lived on a farm and he gave the horses butt pats all the time and it was ingrained.

Jason likes to play Rodeo with his friends. No one has stayed on for more than 4 seconds.

Once out of the assassin Colt Damien takes a deep dive into music and learns like seven instruments.

[etherealiss]

Midnight Whiskey Confessions.

Izogie x Black!OC

Summary: After a hard day of training, Izogie’s daily whiskey indulgence led her to a face-to-face confrontation with her destiny.

Warning: There’s romantic yearning, good old fashioned pining, some whiskey-induced fluff kisses.

Word count: 4.3k

A/N: For all of my Izogie stans, I see you. This is for you. It is a simple addition into the beautiful pond of writing I’ve seen so far in the tag alone. I hope my contribution is enough. The gif credit belongs to filmreel. Enjoy! 😊

Starry nights spent under the Dahomey skies were beautiful. As the stars danced against a dark blue backdrop, the moon cast her milky white light over the entire village. The townsfolk bathed in her wonderful glow, feeling eternally grateful to see her performance up close.

Around this time, the Agojie—Dahomey’s strongest female warrior brigade—had successfully wrapped up another long day of sword combat with its newest recruits.

Izogie, the head teacher of various combat lessons, took great pride in her reputation of sharpening the senses of each new warrior. They were malleable clay in her eyes.

She was General Nanisca’s firm right-hand. Her relentless spirit in the heat of battle would only add to her legacy. Her brute strength in the daily bouts against the male guards were the talk of the village. Many of the trainees aspired to become like her. Every eye in the village square refused any attempts to make eye contact whenever she sauntered past.

There was a rule spreading throughout the town of how commonfolk were expected to act in the presence of an Agojie warrior.

“The king doesn’t allow us to look upon the Agojie.”

Except there was one person who worked on bending that sacred rule.

Deja was part of the kitchen staff stationed inside of the palace walls. As one of the main cooks on duty, her job was albeit a simple one: feed as many Agojie soldiers and trainees until the night ends. After tedious preparation, she would serve the food alongside another member. But on some incredibly rare nights, she would assume the role alone to scoop up servings into bowls like a well-oiled machine.

Tonight was that kind of night.

The line of soldiers wrapped around the small structure stationed out in the open near the dark red clay buildings. Combat practice ended without a hitch as the women’s stomachs touched their spines from hunger. Without missing a beat, Deja scooped up the portions into the offered bowls, casting a quick upward glance in assurance of its contents making it into their hand before looking back down.

She would usually tune out their passing conversations, respecting the sanctity of the sisterhood’s gossip. Though it was the sound of three distinct voices which made her throw several glances in their general direction.

“Ey, you’ve got to admit it! Nanisca has gotten a bit softer towards Nawi since we scared the Oyo with our tribute!” Amenza laughed, pushing her elbow into Nanisca’s left arm.

The general rubbed her temples with nimble fingers, the weight of exhaustion softening her rough exterior. “She was disobeying direct orders of a plan I set forth. She could have gotten herself killed. Or worse.”

Deja’s eyes flitted towards the third individual standing behind Nanisca and awaited her response with bated breath, not realizing the distraction impacted her usual flawless performance.

“I remember when you would toss me, a little trainee, across the ground if I even parted my lips with an objection. Little Tsetse is clearly buzzing her way around into your heart, Nanisca.”

From Izogie’s lips, she emitted tiny buzzing noises and earned the boisterous laughter of the two women in front of her. It was in Deja’s line they would shed the load of their strong demeanor and embraced the softness of each other’s company.

The sharpness of their spears were replaced by the presence of Izogie’s snide jabs at their obvious character flaws. Even Deja found herself giggling quietly at their banter each time they came around.

Deja’s year-long, one-sided crush on Nanisca’s right-hand ailed her spirits. She couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when these feelings came to fruition. Or how astute her senses were when Izogie floated across the palace floor. All she knew was the sound of Izogie’s stern voice delivering a command rattled her entire foundation. The more she would sneak glances at Izogie, the stronger her feelings grew. Her only choice was to lock them away inside of a cold gated prison. Above all else, Deja knew the rule.

“The king doesn’t allow us to look upon the Agojie.”

It haunted her beyond reason.

Deja shook her head twice to regain her focus of the task at hand. These feelings belonged on a high shelf from her mind’s reach. It was a danger to her work. And Izogie could never see her as a romantic prospect. Their worlds were light years away from each other. That was the natural order.

As the line continued moving forward, the three women finally landed in front of Deja’s pot with audible growls singing from their stomachs in perfect harmony.

“My favorite part of the day,” General Nanisca said through an easy smile. She handed Deja her bowl, watching her scoop the rice and meat with careful intent. Deja glanced quickly at her hand and offered a silent head bow.

Amenza’s mouth watered. “It is a gift to partake in Deja’s wonderful cooking with our sisters-in-arms. Don’t you agree, Izogie?”

After serving Amenza back her bowl, Deja choked on an inhale once the next hand extended forth her dish in pure anticipation. Her acute senses as a cook failed her. She no longer smelled the many spices she used this morning to prepare for dinner.

The heavenly scent of freshly scooped shea butter mixed with palm oil permeated the air around her in silent waves. It belonged to Izogie. It was her signature scent to command.

Deja tilted her head up slightly, even if it meant bearing witness to the illusion of Izogie standing there with trained eyes focused solely on her.

“Yes. Everyone knows I will only eat on the nights Deja cooks. She knows exactly how I like my meat,” Izogie answered, looking straight ahead at the sweaty cook. Their eyes locked on each other immediately.

It didn’t dawn on Deja that Izogie knew her name. Or how the intonation of Deja’s name rolling from her lips reminded her of freshly poured honey. Knots unfurled in Deja’s stomach upon taking an eyeful of Izogie’s hunky appearance. If she was going to commit to breaking a sacred rule, she would relish the forbidden taste of the bounty before it was snatched away.

Izogie wore her warrior outfit with pride. Her biceps protruded from under the gold band adorned on either side, which was accompanied by a simple shell band. Numerous scars from battle and training alike were dusted across the canvas of her rich dark skin. Two particular scars caught Deja’s attention.

One was imbued on the right side of her neck, extending down towards her collarbone. The second scar was carved above her right shoulder blade. Seeing them up this close made Deja question their existence. If they could talk, they would whisper the many tales of Izogie the Conqueror, the undefeated champion of Dahomey.

The gods took their time with this one, Deja thought.

Izogie licked her lips, a dangerous act to initiate as a warrior. Deja was the first one to break eye contact and forced herself to gaze upon her hand instead. Long nails sharpened to a fine point piqued her interest further. Even after she knowingly broke the king’s only rule, Deja’s courage dissipated. She held the bowl out for Izogie to reach and willed herself into breathing normally again.

What the cook wasn’t expecting was for Izogie’s fingers slowly gliding over hers, delivering the final blow to Deja’s resolve. The painful pang inside of her heart resonated through her bones. These feelings only caused trouble. Deja needed their existence extracted from her body altogether.

“Thank you, Izogie,” she finally spoke, taking heed of the rule by casting her eyes downward. She hoped Izogie wouldn’t see through her facade. Their dance would soon be over after this exchange. “I’m always happy to hear any reviews of my cooking. Your kind words are not lost on me. I’ll strive to make an even better meal tomorrow.”

After tidying up the kitchen area on the training grounds, Deja hurried back to her room. The ticking time bomb of tears was uncertain. But being in Izogie’s presence earlier was the obvious catalyst for their near arrival. Once she entered in the familiarity of those four walls, Deja permitted herself to crumble completely.

Large teardrops clouded her vision, which signaled the commencement of her nightly sobbing session. No one ever told her how intense it was to shoulder unrequited feelings. She never weighed the price of losing her physical strength to be in close proximity of her crush. Her heart never carried this big of a burden before.

On beautiful starry nights like this, Deja was curled up in her bed. Her beautiful dark skin contrasted the green patterned dress she wore as she bathed under the slivers of moonlight. She wished for the gods to take away the beating of her heart.

And soon, sleep washed her tears away.

It was well past midnight as most of the king’s guard was snoring the night away. The halls should have remained quiet. But two hours into her slumber, she woke up to a pair of noisy bare feet stomping across the smooth clay floor. Then, a disembodied voice—the same voice she spent an hour crying over—spoke up in a failed whisper.

“Deja, I request your company at once! You and I must speak now.”

As she stirred from her bed, Deja thought it was still the plot to one of her many vivid dreams. Her headwrap fell off in the middle of her thrashing, revealing her messy shoulder length twists. Usually Deja hid them away, but a touch of sleep convinced her this was part of the dream.

She walked to the cloth separating her room from the hallway and pushed it open with one hand, completely unaware of her heart stuttering at the sight in front of her.

Izogie was still radiant in her warrior attire, but her two machetes weren’t attached to either side of her hips. She was never unarmed during her nighttime patrol. Her oiled black skin shimmered in the fractals of lit palace torches, the forbidden sight meant to be consumed by Deja’s eyes. Her usual hardened stare softened the moment she lay her eyes upon the sleepy cook. Something must have happened.

Deja leaned forward to make sure no one else was awakened by Izogie’s loud announcement, fixing her gaze to the ground. “Izogie? This couldn’t wait until sunrise?”

“Y-Your hair,” she coughed. “I’ve never seen it like this before.”

“Forgive me, but I heard how urgent you were calling for me. Have I done something to upset you?”

“Yes. May I come in?”

Her brisk answer silenced Deja. She held the cloth and stepped to the side to grant Izogie access across her sacred threshold. The faint smell of distilled alcohol wafted past Deja’s nose, piquing her curiosity further. She heard from another staff member, Cerys, about the cases retrieved by the soldiers. Never once did she think about how Izogie would indulge in its rancid taste.

Alcohol was known for altering realities.

Once inside, Deja released the fabric and positioned herself to stand in front of the soldier. Her eyes fell again to the red floor. There was a brief silence shared between them, neither willing to break away from it.

Soon, Izogie cleared her throat. “Do you know what you did?”

Deja shook her head slowly, refusing to look up. Izogie blew a large gust of wind from her mouth before letting out a chuckle.

“You looked at me, Deja. You broke the king’s only rule and I deserve to know why.”

She swallowed down the dry bubble in her throat. “I cannot say.”

“You will.”

“Izogie. Please, don’t make me say it.” The tears bubbled to the surface and threatened to fall again.

Her fingers gingerly cupped Deja’s chin, forcing her to meet the pool of chocolate browns she could spend hours getting lost in. The thought of being guided under her slight hand wasn’t lost on Deja now.

Izogie was Deja’s undoing.

“There it is,” Izogie whispered, allowing her shaky thumb to graze the corner of Deja’s lips. She was teetering closer to danger. “The look in your eyes tells me everything I need to know.”

“I’ll get rid of them, Izogie!” Deja blubbered out, fresh tears spilling down past her cheeks. “I’ll banish my heart far away from my reach and never look at you again. If it is my punishment, I will obey.”

Izogie blinked in astonishment and halted her thumb over Deja’s lower lip. She took in Deja’s tears, committing the scene to memory before shutting her eyes for a moment. “Punishment? You thought I came here tonight under the cover of night to punish you?”

“It’s the only reason I can dream you into being in front of me now.”

Izogie opened her eyes. “What do you mean dream?”

Deja brought her hand to Izogie’s wrist, wrapping her fingers around it. “I’ll tell you why I broke the rule. I’m sure you’re dying to know why a second-rate cook took a chance and stole a glance at the general’s best soldier.”

Izogie remained silent as Deja went on. “These feelings inside of me, I can’t quite describe it. All I know is I would like to be in your presence all of the time. I want to feel your fingers caress me and collapse into your warm embrace at the end of the day. I want to be able to make you laugh. I want to be the reason behind your smiles. I want to keep feeding you until you tire of my cooking. I wish to be important to you. I’ll wage a thousand wars and endure punishment from the gods if it means I can look at you. And I don’t want anyone else. My heart desires you. I like you. There, I’ve said it.”

Deja drew out a long breath and dropped her hand from Izogie’s wrist, thinking the dream sequence ended here. But the cloudy haze of sleep robbed her of witnessing Izogie disappear as an apparition. Instead, the real Izogie stood in place with her thick brows raised from shock.

“I am not asleep, am I?”

Izogie shook her head, the same face adorned with pure confusion only few can produce from her.

Before she could explain her way out of the wordy confession, Izogie dropped her hand and fell to her knees. Deja came down to her level and clapped her hands together to slide them in front of her mouth. Whether it was a prayer to the gods or a repentance from the woman she loved, Deja knew everything was ruined.

Her first thought was to shift blame onto the alcohol.

“You drank from the white man’s port, didn’t you?” she questioned, finally scanning Izogie’s eyes for a hint of truth.

Izogie gulped. “It is the only good thing they brought. It is called whiskey.”

“What does it taste like?”

“Bitter at first. Though, I find the taste turns sweeter as you drink more from the bottle.”

“And how much did you drink tonight?”

“Enough to get me here to you.”

General Nanisca’s right-hand was properly intoxicated. She sat in front of Deja, willing to answer any question thrown her way. For the first time ever, the odds shifted in her favor of winning the unofficial war they sparred in.

“Who did you drink with? You couldn’t have possibly had this whiskey drink alone.”

Izogie traced the remnants of the clear liquid with a swipe from her tongue and giggled. Her demeanor was unlike the brute soldier she presented herself as every day. “One of the trainees I brought in from town, Nawi, took a gulp and puckered up her face like a fish. Can you believe it? Finally, I found a way to shut that tongue up!”

“Ey, the poor girl was tricked! She didn’t stand a chance against you.”

“The first rule of training: always obey Izogie,” she patted the middle of her chest, accepting the whiskey’s effects with open arms. “I am Izogie!”

“You are a terribly loud influence,” Deja groaned.

“And you… You are incredible, Deja.”

Deja stared incredulously at Izogie as she swayed side to side, showcasing her drunken smile. She couldn’t understand the depth of Izogie’s reaction.

“The power you exude hasn’t been stolen from you. I can see it,” Izogie said as she steadied herself, eyes holding the cook’s gaze. “How is it that you can stand there and profess your love for me when I’ve come to tell you, the keeper of my heart, that I am rendered powerless against you?”

Deja’s prayer filled hands dropped into her lap, a sigh escaping her parted lips. “Keeper of your heart?”

Izogie crawled forward, resigned to surrender under Deja’s careful, tender touch. She rested her head on top of Deja’s opened hands as the weight of her body relaxed to the floor. Here it was, she experienced the most serene moment of existence. She was home.

“I came here tonight to tell you how I couldn’t hide my feelings any longer. Seeing the way you looked at me during dinner, I was weakened. I win every single challenge thrown at my feet. But for you, I am at your mercy.”

“Izogie, you can’t mean that,” Deja whispered.

“Whether you believe me or not—and I sincerely hope that you do—I have been looking your way ever since you started working at the Dahomey Palace. But you never looked at me. I assumed it’s because you heard of how the townsfolk can never look directly at us,” Izogie paused. “I broke the rules a long time ago when I found myself falling for you.”

Deja pulled her hands from under her crush’s head and fiddled away at her short nails. In the distance, thunder boomed across the sky. The downpour of rain would shower over the village grounds soon. And Izogie’s words were out in the open for Deja to see, but she wouldn’t receive it.

“What does that mean for us?”

Izogie lifted both of her hands and grabbed Deja’s arms. As she tightened her grip, the sharp tips of her nails punctured tiny holes of blood through Deja’s skin. It wouldn’t leave behind any scarred tissue.

“Deja,” Izogie baited her with the likeness of her name rolling off her whiskey coated tongue. She waited so long to hear it from her lips. “I like you. Everything you said in your confession is what my heart desires for us too. You don’t have to banish your feelings away from your heart anymore. I want to be with you. I wish to explore this love by your side.”

“But behind these walls, I am not allowed to look at you. I know the rule. I am not an exception.”

“You are mistaken,” Izogie breathed out a sigh, her hands releasing their hold and returning back to her sides. “The king’s rule only applies to the outsiders. Once you pass through those doors and live within the palace halls, your eyes are free to roam wherever.”

Deja didn’t know that part. “This whole time—”

“We could have locked eyes every waking moment over the past year. There would have been no judgment. And there is no punishment I wish to inflict on you after finally looking at me.”

The air returned to Deja’s lungs once she sucked in a quick breath. There was no special circumstance to a rule given from the inside of a palace. Its existence was nullified. She was free to look at the love of her life without living a life shrouded in shame and tearful regret.

“Then why did you come here?”

“My punishment needs to be delivered by your hand,” Izogie admitted, her teeth sinking into her lower lip. “I should have loved you out loud. You can blame the whiskey if you want, but I wish to make a small, selfish request for my sentence.”

Deja ushered her to continue with a stern nod. “I want to spend a lifetime with you. This time, I’ll be the one waging a war against the gods. If it is my punishment, I will obey.”

She placed both of her hands on Izogie’s face, carefully, allowing her thumbs to rub around the apples of her cheeks. Soft patters of a light rain against the roof drummed away the rest of Deja’s worries.

“Punishments can wait. Nothing in this world would make me happier than being yours.”

Izogie’s smile was a sight to behold. Her happiness was infectious to those in her vicinity. “You were always mine.”

Deja’s fingers traveled down to the side of Izogie’s neck and slid over the mark which caught her curiosity earlier. The smoothness of the scarred tissue beneath her touch was nothing close to what she imagined. Deja held Izogie’s attention, her eyes searching for the unwritten answer among the stars.

“I must be honest about my fascination with your battle scars. They are my favorite part of you. I wish to familiarize myself with the existence of every single one of them. Every story behind them will be mine to carry.”

“Ey. Don’t make such bold statements. You are not under the whiskey’s influence.”

“No. Just yours,” Deja said in the midst of a smile, gliding her fingers along Izogie’s hard collarbone. “Since we’re making our requests known, can I ask you for something before the whiskey’s magic spell wears off?”

“My love, you could ask me to burn the world in your name. I would do anything.”

“My world has already been set ablaze,” she chuckled. “Am I allowed to kiss you now?”

Izogie blinked away her surprise. “Do you really need to ask?”

“I’m giving you the chance to oppose your destiny. I was told a warrior’s consent is the bridge used to build the most sacred bond of trust.”

“Who told you that? Amenza?” Izogie arched one of her perfect thick brows. “Are you aiming to be part of the Agojie?”

“No, no, no. I want you to honor me as the keeper of your heart. Now,” Deja leaned down, maintaining a healthy gap between their lips, “do I have your permission to kiss you?”

Uncontrollable laughter bubbled from Izogie’s mouth and shook her entire body, serving as a reminder of why Deja yearned to be next to her in the first place.

“Yes. A thousand times, yes.”

Deja closed the gap between their mouths in one fell swoop, commencing the drums of their heartbeats together on one accord. Even with closed eyes, their hearts guided the movement of the kiss. There was an insatiable craving stirring inside of her. Maybe it was the softness of Izogie’s lips which coaxed it alive. Perhaps, it brought Deja’s hidden desires off of the highest shelf and delivered it straight into her tattered hands.

Their lips parted to regain the rhythm of their breathing, but the dance began again as the bitter, intoxicating taste of whiskey on Izogie’s tongue consumed Deja’s thoughts. She slid the tip along Deja’s upper lip, briefly poking it into her mouth once their lips connected.

The warrior learned how much pressure would be necessary to unravel the poor cook, easily stripping her lover of the strength she once possessed. Deja knew her opponent studied the nature of her delighted reactions, especially when she was this close to her target. She broke away from their intense kiss in a heated daze, pressing a series of pecks along Izogie’s jaw and brought them over onto her right cheek.

Izogie went and found the purest source of unrefined sugar disguised as the gorgeous black angel hovering above her. The unsuspected move to shower her face with wet kisses rendered her speechless. She broke out in fits of laughter, enveloping the two lovers in state of unbridled bliss.

The war ended on a mutual agreement to establish new terms for peace. Kissing Deja was Izogie’s new purpose. And Deja promised Izogie a lifetime of learning the stories behind each scar, old and new. The world would go on without them.

And Izogie savored her reward with great reverence.

Deja pulled herself back, finally mustering enough willpower between the two of them. Izogie’s eyes slowly batted open as her signature sheepish grin wiped away any ill thoughts of the day before. The sight of her covered in the various kiss marks earned a nod of approval from the artist herself. Deja loved her new canvas.

“You should prepare yourself for early morning training, my golden warrior. We’ll discuss the parameters of your punishment during my lunch break.”

Whiskey was a truth-telling serum delivered overseas. It was the only thing the traders deemed worthy because of its magical properties of subduing the tongues of even the strongest soldiers.

“And I will obey,” Izogie said. “All I ask is that you will remind me of this moment. When I wake in your quarters a few hours from now, I fear I won’t remember what damage has been done on this battlefield. Or which one of us emerged victorious.”

Deja dragged one finger over her brow and pressed another kiss against the bone with an air of ease. She watched as her love flipped onto her side with closed eyes, nuzzling her cheek against Deja’s thick thigh. The whiskey’s magic spell was slowly lifting. Sleep would come for her soon.

“I promise you, Izogie. I won’t let you forget to collect your spoils from war.”

[hereforthefanficsandromance]

The Way He Looks at You Series II:II

Act II: The Way You Look at Him Chapter 2: The Way You Resist Him

Read on AO3 Read on Blogger Read on Tumblr Story Master List: The Way He Looks at You Series

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Chapter Summary

You lose all your privacy after facing a ghost from your past. Rating: 18+ Words: 2.9K

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The Inquisitor offers you his large hand, the prospect of touching him disgusts you forcing you away. He withdraws his hand slowly, and you tip your head back as another sad expression crosses his face. You feel guilt for his response, but you try to remind yourself that the man before you does not have the capacity for kindness. This is surely an act to get to Theo.

The Inquisitor said that Theo unfortunately lives, meaning he must have tried to kill him previously. You feel a deep sense of dread that your boyfriend is being directly hunted by the Thirteenth Brother. Your ex-boyfriend your remind yourself, still not believing the words.

Surely the Inquisitor is tricking you to eliminate more Jedi from the galaxy. What other motivation would an Inquisitor have to hold you hostage? He said you’re pregnant with his child, but Fifth Brother said that you were pregnant with Theo’s child. So which is it? Which Inquisitor is telling the truth?

You can’t fret over the possibility of being pregnant right now. Not when Theo’s location is unknown, and you are stuck with the Thirteenth Brother for the next six weeks. You only agreed to the time frame for intelligence on the Empire and bring it back to the Rebellion. Or at least that is the reason you are telling yourself.

You refuse to face how your heart ached when this man shed tears. Perhaps it’s a testament to your character; that you can feel empathy for the enemy. Maybe it has nothing to do with the way your heart reacted but how your body reacted to his dark expression. The way he looked at you.

You shake your head once to clear the traitorous thoughts before standing. As you move towards the exit, the Inquisitor wraps his long fingers around your upper arm. You glare up at him and try to pull away, but he does not relent.

“Considering you just tried to kill me, I’m afraid that I can’t trust you to walk on your own.” He says.

You huff in response and allow him to guide you off the ship and onto the windy catwalk. Your cloak whips violently around your body, but the hood stays in place, like magic. You are grateful for the privacy offered by the thick material.

Large battered doors slide open to allow you both inside. The room is cold, large tiles make up the floor, the Inquisitor’s boots echo noisily. Your head rotates, trying to take in any useful information until the sound of another pair of boots draws your attention.

The Inquisitor adjusts his grip to push you behind his body, blocking your view of the unannounced visitor. You try to peek around him, but you feel the familiar sensation of being Force held in place.

“Thirteenth. This must be the woman I’ve heard so much about. She seems well after the accident.” A familiar yet terrifying voice sounds.

A lump forms in your throat as you bite back tears, having never forgotten this cruel voice. Adrenaline surges, urging your body to flee the monster of your past, the Grand Inquisitor.

“Yes, she woke less than an hour ago and I���m afraid she is not the best company at the moment. I would like to get her back to my quarters to rest.” The Thirteenth Brother says.

“Of course, I understand. We are all at her service. Lord Vader is quite excited for two Force-sensitive children to be born into the dark side. If we train them young, they may become the most powerful Sith Lords the galaxy has ever seen.”

A lot of information is hitting you and your mind disassociates to protect itself. The rest of the conversation becomes white noise as dizziness and nausea overtake you. You become lightheaded and have to rest your forehead against the Inquisitor’s back.

He notices immediately and ends the conversation as he turns to scoop your limp body into his arms. You want to protest, but you are not physically able as the world is spinning around you. You close your eyes and breathe deeply through your nose as the Inquisitor carries you through the long corridors, then through two sets of doors.

You mentally scold yourself for missing hugely important parts of the journey that could benefit the Rebellion. But your body overheats, bringing you back to your breath. Before you fully lose consciousness, you sink into a soft mattress as the Inquisitor frees you of your cloak, boots, and woolen socks.

Your body finally cools and you feel better, the room no longer spinning. After laying still with your eyes closed, you risk opening them. The Inquisitor sits at the edge of the bed, his forehead wrinkled with worry. You look around the plain room, accented with boring black furniture.

You move to sit up, realizing how odd it feels to be laying in an Inquisitor’s bed. The man leans forward to press you back down and you shoot him a terrified look as the blood drains out of your face.

“Do not move too quickly. You shouldn’t have left the hospital yet in your condition.” He says. “I’ll have a physician come here to check on you in the morning.”

You feel your face heat at the infuriating way he is treating you. Surely, this is all a ploy to keep and use you for information. There is no chance you are pregnant with an Inquisitor’s child, let alone two children.

“My condition! What condition is that exactly, pregnant? I don’t believe you!” You yell, daring him to lie.

“You think I’m lying to you?” He asks before settling his face from the confusion and smirking. “You don’t have to believe me, as your pregnancy will become obvious soon enough.”

You scoff, and he narrows his eyes, sending a wave of butterflies through your stomach. The desire to maintain eye contact wanes as you feel shy when looking into his fierce expression. He notices your change in demeanor and lets out a small chuckle.

“Tonight, you may shower if you’d like and then have dinner.” The Thirteenth Brother says.

“I’d like to shower.” You say, excited at the prospect of time away from this cocky man.

He only nods before turning to offer his hand again. You reject the gesture and stand to prove your independence, but the victory is short-lived as you see stars and stumble. The man catches you against his firm chest and holds your shoulders to steady you. Your face burns in shame, and you don’t dare look up at the cocky expression on his face.

He guides you into the beautiful bathroom; the sight halts your steps as you take in the oasis in this lifeless tower. The Inquisitor does not push you to continue forward, instead allowing you to decide.

You turn to look at him; he has a small smile on his face. You take a step away from him and reach for the door. His boot prevents the door from closing, and you narrow your eyes.

“You can leave. I’ve got it from here.”

He shakes his head and darkens his eyes, causing your stomach to flip again. He takes a step forward and you mirror him by stepping backwards. You complete this dance a couple more times and, to your horror; he closes the bathroom door, locking you both inside.

“Absolutely not! I am not showering with you in here.”

“I’m afraid your inability to stand on your own requires my presence for safety.”

“Then I won’t shower.” You cross your arms.

“Fine. Don’t shower.” He replies, a smirk teasing his lips.

You glance at the beautiful shower and desperately want to clean your dirty hair from the weeks without care.

You exhale. “Fine. I’ll shower, but you can’t watch me.”

He tilts his head. “I will keep my eyes on yours only, but I will watch you shower. You are a hazard to yourself.”

“No, you said you won’t make me do anything I don’t want to do!”

“Precisely. I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do. However, there are stipulations for each action. I will not force you to shower. If you choose to shower, I will watch you to ensure your safety.”

Your mouth drops open and your eyebrows pinch together as you shake your head.

“Worry not. I’ve seen you naked before, and it is always a pleasure.”

Your heart palpitates at his words and you feel moisture between your thighs. You look down and walk towards the shower to figure out how to activate the hot water. The Inquisitor leans against the bathroom counter as steam fills the room. He doesn’t break eye contact as he removes his armor, placing it on the counter behind him. You nervously glance between him and his growing pile of discarded outerwear.

“I am only trying to find comfort from the rising temperature. I will not be joining you.”

He quirks an eyebrow. “Unless you would prefer it.”

“Never!”

He only shrugs and busies himself by removing the rest of the dark-colored armor. You stand there awkwardly, knowing that you need to remove the revealing dress to shower. Frozen by indecision, you watch as he disrobes.

The Inquisitor reaches behind his neck to reveal a fitted black sleeveless shirt under his long-sleeved one. Your lips part as you take in his muscular arms. The pale skin contrast against the black fabric he wears. You feel a longing to run your fingers across those toned arms.

The handsome man looks up into your wide eyes in amusement. You turn away and try to convince yourself to untie the dress. The possibility of turning away enters your mind, but then you wouldn’t be able to ensure he keeps his word.

You don’t want his eyes roaming your body, so you take a slow breath and meet his eye. He stares right back, making no move to look elsewhere. You reach up behind your neck and untie the chords that hold most of the dress together. You allow the fabric to fall, catching on your hips.

The Inquisitor keeps his gaze locked on your eyes, despite your now naked upper half. You find it hard to breathe, but continue on, pushing the elastic of the waistband down, exposing yourself completely.

You step into the gorgeous shower, trying to find some way to hide your naked body. Obviously, clear water won’t do much, but it eases your discomfort. The hot water feels nice and you almost close your eyes to enjoy it. If you were not being watched by an Inquisitor, you would find solace in this peaceful bathroom.

You break eye contact to locate soaps as you clean yourself, noticing his eye contact is becoming less distressing. You imagine that same fierce expression in a more intimate setting. His attractive face hovering inches from yours, looking into your soul as he pumps into your-

You look away, closing your eyes for a moment, trying to shake the thought. The realization that he can now look over your body forces your eyes open again. To your surprise, his intense stare stays fixated on your face, though, he his head is now tilted.

As you wash, you pause while cleaning the area between your legs. A look of horror briefly overtaking your face, before trying to hide the expression. You swear that the Inquisitor’s mouth twitched upwards in response. The entire area is slick, and you curse your body for its betrayal before attempting to wash away the evidence of any attraction to this man.

But he seems privy to your reaction and shifts his weight, his hands gripping the edge of the counter, flexing his biceps. Your eyes travel down the exposed skin to his fingers, long and slender. Perfect to slide inside your aching-

You rip your eyes away from the seductive digits and return to the staring contest. He looks pleased, and it infuriates you.

“Do you need anything else for your cleanliness? You’ve been in there so long I can’t help but wonder if you enjoy being watched.”

You scowl and turn off the hot water, reaching for a fluffy towel to dry yourself. You feel better being covered by the fabric and wrap your hair as well.

“Are there clothes for me? Or do I have to wear that again?”

The Inquisitor guides you to a door at the back of the bathroom, opening into a large walk-in closet. One side of the closet is endless rows of black clothing.

The other side has a small array of dark colors; black, burgundy, deep plum, sapphire, emerald, and magenta. The fabrics are all beautiful, a variety or silk, satin, velvet, and cottons. You’re taken aback by the clothing options that you have available. You whip around to see the man’s face, suspicious of his closet.

“Why do you have so many clothes for women?”

He almost smiles, but settles his expression. “I bought them for you while you were in the hospital. I wanted you to have more than one dress.”

You narrow your eyes but turn back to walk along the selection of clothes, noting that nothing will cover you completely. Each piece revealing some part of your body to the world.

“Is there anything modest in here?” You ask, your tone short.

“You are welcome to wear my clothes. I’d quite like to see you in them.”

You grimace and don’t move towards his side of the closet. There is no way you would give him the satisfaction of wearing his clothes. Instead, you search for something comfortable that you could sleep in.

Finally settling on an emerald cotton crop top with a deep v neckline and long sleeves. You try desperately to find pants to wear with it, but discover they are only available on the Thirteenth Brother’s side. Your pride keeps you firmly on your side and you huff before selecting a too short black skirt.

“Is there underwear?” You ask.

“I don’t see the need. It gets in the way.” He says.

“What if I get my period? I’m supposed to just bleed?”

“You’re pregnant. If you’re still here after the pregnancy, I’ll buy you what you require.”

All you can do is continue to glare at the infuriating man. He allows you to finish your silent temper-tantrum. You drop the towel on the floor as a last act of disobedience and slip into the revealing clothes. The Inquisitor never allows his eyes to drop to examine your body.

“If you won’t look at my body, why have me wear these clothes?” You say and stomp out of the bathroom to finish getting ready.

He stands nearby, making eye contact with you through the large mirror as you work. “Because at some point, you will ask me to look at you. When you do, I’d like to ensure I see your body exactly the way I want.”

Your mouth hangs open, and you stare at him in shock. “I will never ask you to look at me.”

He smirks and reaches to unbuckle his pants. The panic in your eyes calms when you see the black sweats sitting on the counter. You hadn’t noticed him grab them earlier.

Unlike him, you don’t avert your eyes, and watch as he undresses. It’s no surprise that his underwear is black and your gaze accidentally drifts across the bulge at the center. You try to look elsewhere and instead take in his muscular thighs.

He changes slowly, allowing you to get a good look before he slips on the sweatpants. His boots and pants discarded on the bathroom floor.

“Are you hungry?” He asks.

“What?” You ask. Horrified at his question after your longing gaze at his lower half.

“Are you hungry? You haven’t eaten solid food in weeks.” He asks again, clarifying.

“Oh! Um, yes, I’m hungry.” You say, now timid.

He leads you through his quarters and into his kitchen. You stand there looking lost as he pulls out food to make your meal.

“You may sit and rest while I prepare the food. However, you may not leave my sight for the time being.” He says, his focus now on the ingredients before him.

You nod and turn to look around the room. There is a couch that is within eye-shot and you move towards it. Not wanting to make any further intimate eye contact with the Inquisitor, you turn to look out the window while he works.

Your thoughts drift to Theo, trying to make sense of your experienced timeline with the timeline that the Thirteenth Brother provided you. Before you have pieced together much of anything, you hear plates being placed on the kitchen table.

You walk over to sit at the table, across from the man who claims to love you. He nods once and you find yourself unable to resist the siren song of the meal. You eat quickly and grow sleepy from the fullness in your belly. The Inquisitor notices as he cleans up the mess.

“You will sleep in my bed,” He says.

You shoot him a weary look.

“I will not sleep in the bed with you without your consent.” He says as he finishes cleaning.

You nod and allow him to guide you back to the bedroom. You climb into the bed and curl up under the covers. He sits in the nearby chair, placing his lightsaber on the side table nearest him.

“You’re going to watch me sleep?” You ask.

“I cannot let you out of my sight for now.” He explains.

“Whatever.” You say and turn your back on the intruding man.

There is quiet for a while as you drift off. The last thing you hear is a short mumbled poem. “Goodnight, sleep tight, my little Light.”

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Next Chapter: The Way You Don't Belong to Him

[emotionalsupporthufflefluff]

fancy excuses that shed some light

Ominis Gaunt x GN!Hufflepuff!Reader (MC = Eliza Fig, Gryffindor) part seven of the fancy series - [ToC]

Summary: Eliza has something she needs to show you- but could what she has to say really make up for her wrongdoings?

“You know, I got to thinking,” Eliza said, roughly manhandling you down the deserted path away from the Beasts’ class. “See, at first I was just going to avoid you for the rest of the year. There’s not much time left, after all, and once we graduate from Hogwarts I doubt that I’ll ever see you again.”

Your heart was pounding wildly and your spare hand was down the pocket of your robes, twirling your wand in hand. You probably would’ve done something about this situation already, but you could feel the hard poke of Eliza’s wand on the side that she pressed herself against. Your mind raced, trying to come up with solutions. Poppy was most likely, if she turned around and noticed you gone then she would definitely go looking. Ominis was currently in a Potions tutoring class, not even nearby a window that you could pass by. You weren’t sure what class Sebastian was in- if he even was- but you figured if not he was likely to be found in the library. No, you’re only solution here would be to fight her yourself if you had to.

“Then, I realized that since you were the reason I lost my friends,” It was almost painful to hold back your scoff, but you managed with the hard press of her wand against your ribs, “Then you could also be the one that restores their confidence in me.”

“How could I do that?” You were confused, shaking your head blandly, but Eliza pulls your arm roughly and the wand digs into your skin.

“By following me and shutting up, actually.”

The rest of the walk was done in silence, arm in arm as if you were the best of friends. You didn’t pass by anyone until you were long past Hogwarts, halfway down the path to Hogsmeade. You had already passed the main entrance to the forbidden forest- thankfully- but Eliza still seemed bent on following along the side of it. As the path you traversed bends away from the forest, Eliza pulls you off the road toward the trees and your heart begins to race. Your breath starts coming in pants, and you hear Eliza’s annoyed sigh next to you.

“Oh calm down. If I’m here nothing will happen to you. There’s just something I need to show you.”

The forest was creepy. It was dark, crowded with trees, and full of spiderwebs. Every so often you would hear a spooky, sourceless noise emanate from the surrounding area and you’d pull yourself tighter against Eliza. At this point she wasn’t dragging you along anymore, you were willingly following her because she was your way out of this place. You tried to keep track of the steps you took, but after five minutes the entire place looked the same. You could’ve sworn you passed that white, skeletal tree once already- you picked it as a landmark because it looked unique, but you spy another down the way and now realize it was anything but in this place.

“Here, get down,” Eliza’s voice was quick and whispered, pulling you down by the hood of your robes. She finally lets go of you, pushing her way forward through a bunch of brambles before turning around and waving you forward. With Eliza pushing the way through, you were barely poked by the thorns that grow among the brambles, wondering how Eliza was standing it all. She eventually stops and you bump into her back, her hand flying backwards to stabilize you before taking hold of your robes in her fist and pulling you up next to her. You hiss in pain as a stray thorn scratches your cheek, and Eliza shushes you in response.

“Look, there. Just inside that tree- oh, she’s walking out.”

You look where she’s pointing, into a glade ahead of you. There was a large tree in the centre of the glade, hollow in the middle in a large arc that likely acts as a den. Sunlight was dappled through the leaves above, shining down in dots and swaying leaves onto the floor of the glade. As you watch, a brilliant pearlescent unicorn walks out of the tree, entering into the sunlight and kneeling down to eat some grass. You’re in awe, holding your breath at the sight. This was something that most people went their whole lives without seeing, and Eliza just brought you straight to this place.

You felt Eliza slowly slip her arm around your waist and tighten her hold, and you begin to wonder why. It wasn’t like you wanted to disturb the unicorn at all, you were thankful just to be able to be graced with its presence. But then- that’s when you heard the noise.

A group of men were laughing boisterously, pushing their way loudly through the brambles that surround the glade. The unicorn neighs loudly in alarm, turning around to run before suddenly a spell is shot through the air, pausing the unicorn in mid-stride. Three men burst into the glade, laughing and pushing against each other. No, they were going for the unicorn!

You tried to push forward but Eliza held you down, practically climbing on top of your back to hold you still. “Just watch, you’ll see.” Her voice was whispered with hatred into your ear, and you cease struggling once it seems futile.

“Let me save her, we still have time. We can surprise them-”

“Just. Watch.”

One of the three men restabilized the spell to hold the unicorn still, another pulled out a dark, gleaming blade that reflected prisms onto the ground below it. The last one, laughing, pulls out a pouch and sets it atop the unicorn, flipping the front flap open. Right in front of you, they begin to harvest the unicorn’s blood. The gleaming blade is used multiple times, the cut healing itself after one small vial is full and they move to the next. Their mumbles were unheard by you, but they seemed to be having a good time. They had an ease to their movements that showed how often they did this.

“I don’t want to see this,” You whisper, tears burning your eyes.

“Watch. This is what you need to see. This is why I do what I do.” Eliza’s voice felt sinister, sending shivers of dread down your spine. You begin shaking your head, trying to break free from her again with no success.

“I’ve seen enough, I get it.” You pull again and Eliza pushes you down farther, the thorns poking into your stomach. She keeps you down on the ground for another long while, until the mumblings from the poachers fade away to nothing. When she finally lets you back up, the unicorn is laying on the ground of the glade, breathing but exhausted. Tears fall down your cheeks and Eliza begins to crawl away. “Shouldn’t we do something? Heal her?”

“If you want to give her a heart attack, sure. Do you really think she wants a wizard with a wand near her right now?”

You sigh and turn, following Eliza out of the crawlspace she made. You followed behind her steps as she led the way out of the forest, your mind racing with the horrible scene that you just witnessed.

“Now do you understand?”

“I’ve always known poachers were horrible people, Eliza.”

“No,” She stops, turning to face you with a serious and concentrated look. “Do you understand why I do what I do? Why I cast those spells on them?” You were quiet, eyes darting back and forth between her own, and she raises her voice when you don’t answer. “They deserve it! They harvest blood from a unicorn, the most majestic and good being in this entire world!”

“Eliza,” You begin, but she cuts you off before you can even begin to speak.

“No! You can’t tell me that they don’t deserve it! You saw it, you watched the whole thing! They do that every day!”

“Why haven’t you stopped it then?” You furrow your brow, tilting your head in confusion. You see her face begin to turn red from rage, stepping forward and poking your chest roughly.

“What are you saying?”

“Nothing, I just wondered-”

“I was waiting. Watching. I want to know where they came from so I can destroy them from the source. If I kill two ants trying to steal a crumb, ten more will appear.” You draw in a breath, trying to understand her reasoning.

“How long has this been happening that you know it happens every day? How long have you sat there and just watched a unicorn be tortured?”

“It’s not my fault!” Eliza screeches, disbelief colouring her voice. “I’m not the one doing it, they are! I’m working on it, I’m planning! You can’t tell me that- no, it’s you! You’re the horrible one, twisting my words and actions around to seem evil.” She sneers at you, poking your chest roughly once more. “It’s you, with all of it!”

“Eliza, I didn’t even know this was happening.” You huff angrily, the overwhelming feelings from watching the unicorn bubbling up once more. “You’re the one that’s been watching this for so long that you know how often and when it happens. You’re the one that didn’t do anything to save that poor unicorn, you’re the one casting unforgivables on people, and you’re the one that lost your friends. None of this is my fault, Eliza, I did nothing to you! You didn’t even know I existed until my friends gathered you to save me from those damn poachers! You’re just looking for an easy excuse, anything or anyone to blame so that you’re not the one at fault!”

“It can’t be my fault!” Eliza screamed back, turning and marching away. You follow quickly, not wanting to be lost, but Eliza keeps up her rant as she walks. “None of this can be my fault because that would mean every single decision I’ve made was wrong. That everything I’ve chased my whole life was for evil and I can’t handle that, I can’t allow that to happen.”

“Eliza, it’s never too late to admit your mistakes and do better-”

“I’ve made no mistakes!” She threw her hand out, turning her head to glare at you before pushing forward again. “I can’t afford mistakes. I can’t have someone coming into my life and pointing out every single flaw I have. I have responsibilities, I have people that count on me!”

You were quiet after that, unsure what to say. Maybe the stress was getting to her? ‘She still cast Crucio…’ Your mind supplied, and you shook your head while staring at the leaf-littered ground. There was no excuse good enough for that one. No matter what she showed you, what she believed her reasoning to be, she had willingly and joyfully cast that curse. Tortured someone for her own pleasure. Nothing can change that.

You finally break through the edge of the forest and you gasp in a sigh of relief, rushing forward away from the trees. The sunlight on your face felt nice, and you close your eyes with your face skyward to feel the heat sink into your flesh once more. You hear Eliza approach next to you, then stop. You halfway hope she would disappear like she did before, but when you opened your eyes she still stood next to you, studying you intently.

“So, are you going to tell them?” You tilt your head again, crossing your arms.

“I’m sorry?”

“Tell them. Tell Natty what you saw, that I was justified in my actions.” You drew in a breath, thinking it over. This woman was dangerous and already threatened you once. Saying no to her, especially here when you both stood alone, was a death sentence. You bit your lip, then nodded once, your shoulders relaxing at Eliza’s obvious relief. You’re quick to speak, unsure if you want to lie fully to her.

“I’ll tell them what I saw. I’ll let them draw their own conclusions.”

“That’s all I ask,” Eliza assures, a smile crossing her face finally. Her smile was soft, almost gentle if you didn’t know any better. You could easily see how she fooled people into believing she was good, it was hard to argue with that face. “We should get back to the castle before we’re missed.”

“Right,” You agree quietly, walking next to her down the path. Close to Hogwarts, Eliza pulled a broom from seemingly nowhere and turned toward you.

“I have an errand to run, but I think you’re close enough to the castle now.” You nod, watching her wearily as she mounts her broom. “Remember what you said.”

“Of course.”

You were unsure where to go when you finally returned to the castle. Your class had long since been over and you couldn’t find Poppy anywhere near the pens. You stopped by the potion’s classroom on the way inside, but it was empty aside from Professor Sharp in the back, and you walked on. You checked the main areas, but they were too crowded and you found yourself doubting you’d find your friends there. The library was a bust as well, and you checked the small area above the transfiguration courtyard where you first spoke to Ominis, finding it in much the same state as everywhere else. You let yourself walk down the bridge slowly, entering the Defense Against the Dark Arts tower.

You hum to yourself, wondering if they might be in the Undercroft. Ominis might, at least. You knew you could always just leave and search somewhere else if they weren’t, so you began the descent to where you remembered it was. Approaching the cabinet you hesitated, lifting your wand and looking down the hall to make sure no one was watching. You were unsure which places to press, but you tried your best to replicate what Ominis had done the night before. Thankfully, the door swung open.

“No one can find them anywhere,” Poppy exclaims, and you smile hearing her voice. You try to hurry your feet to meet with them, listening to their conversations.

“I couldn’t find Eliza, either. She wasn’t in our common room or any other place I could think of in the castle.” That was Natty’s voice, and you were halfway surprised to hear her there.

“Y/N is powerful and knew that this was a possibility. I’m sure they’re okay,” Sebastian assures, and you turn the corner to finally enter into the room. A group of five were huddled around a table, half of them leaning on the table while one person paced back and forth.

“No, they thought it was empty threats,” Ominis challenged, turning to continue his pacing. Sebastian stood nearby, anxiously watching his friend. “They didn’t think anything would happen, especially so soon. They would’ve been open, vulnerable- Salazar, I should’ve been there. I should’ve watched them.”

“It’s not your fault, Ominis,” Natty tried to assure, Poppy’s head lowering farther toward the table.

“I’m sorry,” She whispers, pain evident in her tone, and your chest clenches. You begin walking forward, wanting to reassure the group of them. Ominis immediately stops, turning away from your direction and toward Poppy.

“Hey, don’t be. We’ve been over this Poppy, it’s not your fault at all. We just need to work together to find them-”

“Found them,” Garreth interrupts, raising a hand to motion toward you. You didn’t realize the ginger had seen you, though, granted, you were watching Ominis and Poppy closely. Everyone spins to face you, and Ominis lifts his wand immediately to show his pulsing light.

“Y/N!” The group of them called out, and you smile in return. You were about to respond when Ominis takes long strides forward, practically tackling you into a hug.

“Merlin, Y/N,” Ominis’ voice was heavy with emotions as he buried his face into your neck. “We were so worried.”

“Ominis was ready to tear this castle apart,” Sebastian adds helpfully with a smirk, walking back toward the table and circling around to where Poppy stood. You finally see a large grin across her face, but guilt still coloured the edges. Sebastian’s hand raised to her back, rubbing back and forth in a comforting manner. Your arms wrap around Ominis, holding him close as you speak to the rest of them.

“I’m fine now, sorry to worry you all.”

“‘Sorry to worry’-” Garreth repeats incredulously, crossing his arms. “Are you trying to say you wandered off on your own accord?” The group fell quiet, confused. You shook your head the best you could, smiling toward the bunch of them in an attempt to reassure them. Your eyes lock with Poppy, trying to send her, specifically, a reassuring look before you spoke your next words.

“No, Eliza found me.”

“What?” Natty called out, immediately taking a step forward before hesitating in her movements. She crosses her arms, a stubborn look crossing her face. “Well, what did she want?”

“Did she hurt you?” Ominis asks, pulling back and waving his wand down your form. You could feel the tickle of a diagnostic spell that you were surprised he knew but shook your head in response once again.

“No, I’m not hurt. She just…” You trailed off, eyeing each of them with an unsure look. Ominis raises his hand to your cheek and trails his thumb against your skin, then when he pulls away you spot blood. You had forgotten about the scratches you received from the brambles, but as Ominis raises his wand and mumbles something, your skin knits together like nothing had happened in the first place. ��Well, she just wanted to show me something.”

“Show you something?” Garreth repeats again, and you nod blandly. Natty studies the ground in front of her, unable to meet your eyes.

“She wanted to show me her excuse. The reasoning behind her actions.”

“The reason she cast Unforgivables?” Natty spat out, turning to walk a few steps away from the group. You could tell she was hurting and you begin to wish you knew her better if only to comfort her now.

“Yes,” You answered, watching the back of her head. She stiffened in response but said nothing. It was Sebastian who ended up breaking the silence.

“So what was it that she showed you then?”

“A unicorn.” Your answer brought a gasp to the lot of them, aside from Natty who only blandly turned to face your direction again- still unable to meet your eyes. “She brought me into the forbidden forest. Led me directly to a secluded glade where a unicorn’s den lay. The unicorn walked out, and she-” You breathe through the pain, the memory of those poachers flickering through your mind.

“You can’t tell me she did something to the unicorn?” Poppy calls out, her momentary guilt suddenly vanished. You couldn’t help the smile you threw towards her at her obvious interest. She was bouncing on her heels and her hands fidgeted as she waited for an answer, and you were quick to reassure her.

“Oh, no. We didn’t go into the glade at all.” You looked up to the ceiling, thinking. “In fact, she created this little space among the bramble that we could sit in.” You begin to tell the story, every detail that you could remember. How Eliza held you down before the poachers came, what they did and her excuses for keeping the both of you from stopping them. You watched the faces of your friends sour as you told your story, stopping your tale before the screaming had happened, before you had argued with her.

“Why didn’t she stop it?” Natty finally asks, meeting your eyes with a watery gaze. “If this has been going on for so long- so long that she knew the exact time that the poachers would be there- why hasn’t she stopped it already?”

“She said she was watching, waiting to follow them back to their hideout to strike them at the source. So they couldn’t regroup and go back.” You were repeating what you had already explained, but you tried to reason with Natty. The Gryffindor’s face just sneers, taking a step closer to you.

“That’s no excuse, she could’ve followed them the first time she saw the lot of them!”

“Hey,” Ominis interrupts, moving a few steps to stand between the two of them. He held his wand up in front of him, the end pulsing with his usual charm. “Don’t shoot the messenger. I’m sure Y/N doesn’t agree with Eliza’s excuses.”

“They certainly haven’t said as much.”

“I was just trying not to colour your guys’ opinions with my own,” You reply gently, pushing past Ominis to approach Natty carefully. “Eliza asked me to tell you all the story. She believed that what she showed me, mixed with me telling you, was the key. She just wants her friends back.” You bite your lip, feeling a bit sorry for her. “I’m not excusing any of it. In fact, we had this very same fight right after the poachers had left.”

Natty’s aggression drained out of her and her shoulders visibly slumped lower. “Oh,” She whispers, shaking her head as her tears finally begin to fall. “Yeah, she would. She always had a habit of thinking everything was a game.”

“I’m sorry, Natty,” You whisper to her, swallowing roughly. The girl’s eyes shoot up to you in surprise, confusion marring her features. She roughly wipes her tears away with a fist when she responds.

“Whatever for?”

“I know you two were close-”

“None of this is your fault, Y/N,” Natty reassures, reaching forward to place a hand on your bicep, squeezing it in reassurance.

“I told them as much,” Ominis mumbles behind you. He had approached sometime during your conversation, taking the last few steps to close the distance and place a hand on your lower back.

“I know,” You say with emphasis, eyeing both Natty and Ominis, “That it’s not my fault. Eliza has made her own choices, and something like this was bound to happen sooner or later.” You lock eyes with Natty, expression falling. “I was apologizing out of empathy, not guilt. I would hate to lose a friend like that.”

“Well, thank you.” Natty nods, taking a few steps back toward the table. “So, what are we going to do?”

“Do?” Garreth questions her, placing his hands on the table to lean against it. “What do you mean? Y/N was found, safe and sound.”

“I mean about Eliza,” Natty continues, eyeing him before approaching the table fully, turning to the rest of the group. “She’s going to be upset once she realizes her little stunt didn’t work. She might target Y/N again- or she might even go after one of us, ourselves, if she feels threatened enough.”

“And what are we supposed to do about all of that?” Poppy questions, leaning back into Sebastian for comfort. You take Ominis’ hand, leading him closer to the rest of the group to participate in the discussion. “We’ve all seen how powerful she is- and she’s not afraid to use Unforgivables. How are we going to compete with that?”

“Well,” Sebastian inserts, tilting his head back and forth, “There does happen to be six of us, and only one of her.”

“One of her, and her big, all-consuming, ancient and most-powerful magic,” Garreth replies sarcastically, leaning back to cross his arms. “Yep, seems like a fair fight to me.”

“We just need to plan,” Ominis finally inserts, one hand holding his wand out while the other slides from your back to your hip, pulling you against his side. “Even the largest foe has a weakness, we just need to find hers.”

“What are we even trying to get done here?” Garreth questions once more, throwing his hands out. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for a plan to fix everything, but what is the ultimate objective? Get Eliza to stop using Unforgivables? Get her to leave us all alone?”

“The objective, Garreth,” Natty inserts, looking him in the eyes, “Is to get her put into Azkaban where she belongs.”