#ashy watching: secret life

[ashiyn]

the pure scream of terror this man manages to let out is equally impressive as it is incredibly fucking funny

[faithshouseofchaos]

The high life— Oscar Piastri x mild stoner!Girlfriend reader

Tagged — @ashy-kit @alwayzbeenale @astraeaworld @67-angelofthelordme-67 @a-casual-romantic @badassturtle13 @bblouifford @bbtoni @barcelonaloverf1life @charlesf1leclerc @crashingwavesofeuphoria @dark-night-sky-99 @dudenhaaa27 @ironcowboycopnickel @faithm120701 @f1ln4dr3cl16mv33 @norrisleclercf1 @lightdragonrayne @lollypop90907 @laura-naruto-fan1998 @toasttt11 @amatswimming @purplephantomwolf @hollie911 @hrts4scarr @vivwritesfics @vellicora @venusisnothere

This was a lot better in my head

One of your characters is a stoner and the other has never smoked before. Show the stoner shotgunning the smoke to the other so it doesn't burn so bad.

At 22 years old Oscar could say he never did any type of drugs until he met you. You were different from the other girls he dated. You were a lot more bold and braver than he was. Oscar knew that you had smoked weed and had eaten edibles before. It was only when you period cramps got the better of you but still never around Oscar. He thought long and hard about it and had decided that he wanted to give it a try.

“Can I ask you something?” Oscar said out of the blue.

“Sure Oscar you can ask me anything” you replied sitting up in bed.

“Do you think you may have some weed or edibles that I could try? I know that you used it to help with your period cramps. I have never smoked or done any of that before but I think I would like to try some. I thought I could ask you. I trust you. Is that ok?”

“Are you positive that you want to try? I don’t want to pressure you into doing something that you really don’t want to do” you asked double checking.

“I am certain! I have been thinking about this for a while now. I want you to share your high with me and let me feel what it feels like. I really like you. I trust you. I want to do this! So what do you say?”

As you see the glimmer in his eyes and his eager smile. You decide to help the boy out. You get up from your bed and open your drawer. You go into your secret stash. You pull out a pre rolled joint and a pack of edibles.

“Ok since you never actually smoked before I’m gonna have to shotgun it” you said.

Your words confuse Oscar. He has no idea what shotgun means. He sits down next to you and just waits to see what you’re going to do.

“What does that mean?” Oscar asks a bit anxious. The feeling of the first time nerves creeping up his spine.

“Basically I’ll take a hit from the joint and gently blown it into your face so the burn in your lungs doesn’t hurt as bad you explain sitting in Oscar’s lap.

Your body against his was making Oscar nervous. He tried to remain stoic but your beauty made him squirm. It was the first time he has been this close to you. He couldn't help but notice how pretty you were.

“Oscar relax I won’t let anything happen I promise” you reassured him.

He smiled at you, your words soothing his anxious thoughts. He relaxed, sitting back against you and waiting for you to start.

As he watched you take a hit off the joint he couldn’t help but notice your perfect lips and the way you slightly bit your lip. This made the butterflies in his stomach fly in circles.

Oscar watched as you took a hit of the joint and leaned closer to his face. Oscar’s heart skipped a beat as he faintly felt your lips brush against his as you gently blew the smoke into his face.

As the smoke entered his body Oscar could feel his body beginning to tingle. The sensation was unlike anything he had felt before. The tingling turned to warmth as he looked into your eyes and the way you were looking at him made his face begin to flush.

He noticed your eyes becoming glossy. You didn't say anything for a few moments just staring at him smiling. You leaned in closer to him and held his cheek with your hands. Oscar felt a spark of electricity between your body and his.

“You okay Oscar”? You asked

The world was spinning for Oscar. The sensation of the high combined with your proximity made his body feel like it was on fire. He tried to focus but the words you spoke sounded fuzzy. All he could focus on was your lips and the feeling of your hands caressing his cheeks.

“I feel weird.” Oscar manages to say. As he looks down at you, you take another long drag off the joint and you lean in closer to him. The smell of your perfume and the feeling of your breath on him made his senses go wild.

“Thats normal” you said taking another hit.

As you exhaled the smoke from your breath. The warm air hitting Oscar’s cheek sent his body into euphoria. The way you were acting and the way you looked at him made Oscar feel as if he was in a dream. A beautiful dream he did not want to wake up from.

You held Oscar's head and gently began to move your lips towards his. Your eyes closed as you began to lean in, your lips almost grazing his. The smell of your breath combined with the warmth of your breath hitting his skin made Oscar close his eyes and lean forward also.

As your lips meet each other, the high kicked in instantly. The warmth that filled his body was indescribable. Your lips were soft and gentle on his. A sweet sensation that sent his body into an eruption of pleasure. This was the first time his body felt like this and he didn't want it to end.

Pulling away from the kiss you looked at Oscar briefly before asking

“Do you want to continue or stop?”

As the words exit your mouth and enter Oscar’s ears. He gets filled with a rush of emotions. His mind is telling him to stop but his heart won’t let him. He looks at you and nods his head yes.

“Words pretty boy” you teased

Oscar couldn’t help but blush at your words. You were a tease. You made him nervous, he didn’t know what to do. He got embarrassed and laughed. “Pretty boy!? I’m not even close.”

“Yes pretty boy!” You giggled as you grabbed the back of his head to pull him closer to you. Your hands ran through his hair as you kissed him. You could feel the heat rising in his body, the feeling was making your breath short.

The feeling was intoxicating. A feeling he has never experienced before. Every cell in his body was filled with pure pleasure and it was only getting stronger. The feeling was making his head dizzy, his knees weak and was giving him butterflies in his stomach.

As you and Oscar were kissing each other passionately. He began to pull you closer to him and the feeling of your body against him was getting more intense with every second. The kissing was turning more aggressive and sloppy. Oscar wanted to be as close to you as he could possibly be.

[iovesia]

✧ ˚ ༘ ⋆ 𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐁𝐔𝐘 𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐘.

dark!kevin lomax⠀x⠀wife!reader.

𝒔𝒚𝒏𝒐𝒑𝒔𝒊𝒔. you've finally had enough of kevin's lies and secrets, and you ask for a divorce. unfortunately, some secrets come back to bite as kevin threatens to leak compromising footage of you.

—⠀੭୧⠀warnings⠀· ˚ ༘⠀extremely dubious consent. heavy angst. hate sex. p in v. forced breeding. blackmail. revenge porn. infidelity. forced established relationship.

𝒙𝒐𝒙𝒐, 𝒋𝒐𝒔𝒊𝒆ִֶָ 𓂃 ⊹ this is a dark fic, i can't stress this enough so please read the warnings. i know a lot of y'all requested the blackmail/sextape trope with kevin, so i kinda combined all the asks into this fic— hope you enjoy ♡ !!

#. keanu reeves masterlist. | main masterlist. | request rules.

THE MUFFLED MELODY OF the record player echoed through your dark, and empty apartment. You rested the wine glass against the side of your head, letting out a soft sigh as you closed your eyes. The lifeless walls, that were painted in all the wrong colors, had begun to repulse you over the last few weeks. You spent most of your days trapped alone in this apartment, trying to keep yourself busy with any menial tasks.

Whether it be repainting the walls several times (only to receive no words of acknowledgement from your husband), or filling up the place with random plants— as a poor attempt to bring any form of life back into the soulless place you now called home.

At first, you couldn't bear to tell Kevin how much you despised New York. You missed the warm Florida sun, you missed the cool breeze on your face and the quiet roads when you'd drive to work in the early mornings— Hell, you even missed the tiny condo you and Kevin used to live in. It was small, there was hardly any hot water, and the neighbours were noisy as all hell, but it was home. And Kevin was actually around enough for you to be able to call him a husband.

"Jesus Christ," you mumbled to yourself, glancing upwards. The moonlight shone through the curtains, illuminating the clock hanging above the ashy fireplace. 3:07 am. You take a final swig of your wine, chugging down the last few drops, before slamming the glass hard enough on the coffee table that you almost smashed it.

The sound of keys jingling and the door creaking startled you from your thoughts. A murmured "damn" whispered from a masculine voice, as he tried to be as quiet as possible. You kept your eyes firmly focused in front of you, and almost as if on cue, your husband stumbled into the living room.

"Why are the damn lights off— Shit!" He jumped when he flicked the light switch on, revealing you sitting across from him, cross-legged on the leather couch. "Baby, you scared me, I thought you'd be ‘sleep by now," he lets out a small laugh, the southern twang leaking into his voice.

"Did you have fun?" Pain bubbles up in your throat, scalding, and you swallow. You knew where he was. It was the same excuse every night ("Sorry, baby, I have to stay late tonight at the office, this case is a real-pain in the ass"), and part of yourself wished you could just delude yourself into believing his web-of-lies. Yet, deep down in the crevice of your broken heart, you knew he was with her.

The red-headed Italian beauty, Christabella Andreoli. You'd been formally introduced once, at one of Kevin's bosses extravagant parties that he'd dragged you along to. You hardly missed the way she eyed your husband hungrily.

Her slender hand wrapped around his upper arm, her long maroon nails digging into his suit. With a cheshire grin hanging on her lips, she began to pull him away from you. "Hope you don't mind if I just steal him for a moment, just some shop-talk," she winks and you watch them disappear among the numerous figures of suit-cladded businessmen and lawyers.

That was your first red flag. Kevin promised you —crossing his heart— that she was just a colleague, who was a natural flirt.

"I don't know if I'd count shifting through endless piles of New York's city health codes fun," he smirks, taking slow strides closer to you. The couch dips as Kevin takes a seat next to you. He presses numerous little kisses along your shoulder, down to your neck. “I missed you, ba—”

“Just stop it!” You snap, rising from the couch as you slapped away your husband's hand. “Christ, Kevin! How stupid do you think I am?” 

You watch as Kevin’s face contorts to confusion, his brows furrowing as he licks his bottom lip. 

“Baby, what are you talking about?” He stands from the couch, still completely oblivious to the painstaking heartbreak written on your face. Kevin’s hand reaches for you, and again you slap it away, completely repulsed by the man who you used to crave.

“I want a divorce.”

THAT WAS TWO DAYS AGO.

After wailing, and shouting till the early hours of the morning, you locked yourself into your shared bedroom. Kevin begged and pleaded with you to open the door.

“Baby.. baby, please talk to me,” you ignore his muffled pleas. Sitting on the floor with your back to the door, you sob hysterically in your hands—  all the more crushing bits of Kevin’s heart. 

“Open the door, honey..”

At some point during the sunrise, the joyous early morning leaving a bitter taste in your mouth, Kevin had left the apartment. You wandered through the empty apartment, noticing the dishevelled couch where he frequently resided after a fight.

Since the fight, you’ve been seeing Kevin more in the last two days than the entire year you have been living in New York. When you once prayed for an ounce of his attention, you now avoided him like the plague.

Every attempt to touch, hug, kiss you was met with running in the other direction. You couldn’t stand to look him in the eyes— those dark, brown puppy dog eyes, knowing that he did all those things with another woman.

“Baby, nothing happened! I promise you!”

“Promises mean shit if you never keep them!”

THREE DAYS LATER, you had pondered the idea of looking into divorce lawyers. You prayed someone in New York would be willing to go against Kevin Lomax. His infamous reputation of having never lost a case, unsettled even the elites in the business, so your search was nearing fruitless.

But, Kevin is your husband (soon to be ex), surely he would grant you this last gift of mercy by just signing the papers— without the courtroom hassle.

You waited impatiently in the elevator, watching the numbers light up with each passing floor. Your heel clicked anxiously against the floor, as you held the pile of divorce papers to your chest. 

It was going to be over. Five years. Five years completely down the fucking drain. All because your husband couldn’t keep it in his goddamn pants. Or so you thought.

The silver doors finally opened, revealing the equivalent of the devil incarnate.

Christabella Andreoli.

“Mrs. Lomax, what a ple—”

“Don’t. Just.. don’t,” you interrupt, shutting your eyes as painful images of your husband and her begin forming in your mind. Christabella awkwardly clears her throat as she moves to the side, allowing you to pass her. “Do you know where Kevin is?” you ask, venom laced in your voice.

“He’s on the top floor, I’m going there now.”

“Great,” you quip with faux enthusiasm. “Do me one last favor —aside from fucking my husband— and hand him this.” You push the papers into the redhead's arms, her eyes staring at you with a similar confusion as Kevin did.

“Mrs. Lomax, I have no clue what yo—"

YOU DIDN'T EVEN NOTICE KEVIN sitting on the couch as you arose from your slumber. Kevin’s oversized law school hoodie and undies were the only thing covering your otherwise naked figure— an unfortunate habit you haven’t managed to break yet. Embarrassment bloomed in your face, hoping he wouldn’t notice (he did). You rubbed your tired eyes, shifting away from the lawyer. The pile of divorce papers lay sprawled across the coffee table, with the thick line at the end left unsigned.

“I’m not signing these,” Kevin sighs, running a hand through his black, slicked hair. 

“Kevin, we’ve been over this. I want a di–” you were rudely interrupted by Kevin reaching for the remote and switching it on. The TV static appears for half a second before cutting to what looks like CCTV footage. Labelled in the bottom right corner, this was footage of Kevin’s office floor. 

Squinting your eyes, the colour drains from your face as he fast forwards. Slowly fast forwarding to you entering his office, after hours, and the CCTV caught everything through his glass office doors. Every last second from you coming inside, kneeling down, and wrapping your lips around his cock.

Conveniently enough, the camera frame ends just above your head, preserving Kevin’s anonymity.

“What the hell? Where did you get this?! Why do you have this?!” The questions blurted out all at once, fury bubbling in your chest. Kevin was always one to fight dirty, but you never thought you’d bear victim to it.

“Security team is very amoral if you haven’t noticed.”

“So they actually gave you this footage?!” 

He smirks, pausing the TV on a particularly graphic frame. “Money talks. And I know those underpaid security people have no problem giving footage to whoever talks the most.”

“You know what? Keep this sick shit if you want, I’m done. Sign the papers, don’t sign them, I don’t care! I’m getting a goddam lawyer,” you whip around, hurriedly rushing towards your shared bedroom.

Kevin’s footsteps trailed behind you, loud and faster as he boomed “So that’s your big plan?”

You ignore his words, reaching for the first small suitcase you could find. Kevin enters the room, and slams the door behind him. You were too distracted looking for shirts to hear the quiet click of the lock.

“You think I’m gonna just let you leave?”

“Let me?” You barked, fists clenching and damn near smoke coming out of your ears. “You’re a cocky asshole if you think you’re letting me do anything. I’m leaving you, Kevin. We are over—”

A pain shocks your wrist as Kevin snatches it into a tight grip. You struggled against him, and with a huff, he pushed you onto the bed. Hastily, you try to crawl off the masterbed, only for Kevin to snatch your ankle and pull you back towards him. You feel his weight on top of you as he straddles you, both his hands pinning your hands down.

“Baby, I made a lot of mistakes..” the dark-haired man mumbles, his eyes piercing into you.

“K-Kevin, you’re hurting me—”

“But, you’re not leaving me. No, no, no, baby,” Kevin's lips met your neck, making your chest tighten as you kicked your legs to try and get him off you; but to no avail. “You think you’ll find a single goddamn lawyer that’s gonna help you when that tape gets out?”

You freeze.

“What did you say?” your voice was so quiet, he almost didn’t hear you.

“All the judge will see is visual evidence of you being a cheating whore— fucking another man in your doting husband’s office, no less,” Kevin smirks against your jaw as he continues his kisses. “Or at least that’s how I’ll make it look..”

“You sick bastard!”

“You’ll lose the rights to everything by a landslide, and you’ll be left with nothing,” Kevin sighs, faux-sympathy laced in his devilish voice. His head moves back and hovers directly over your face, his brown puppy eyes piercing into your teary, fury ones.

“Nobody’s gonna believe that,” you murmured, trying to sound sure, but deep in the pit of your stomach.. He was right. Kevin had all the money, power and connections to screw you over. 

“Baby, they’ll believe whatever I want them to believe,” he rests his forehead against yours, ignoring the tears that are brimming your waterline. You struggled once more, desperately wanting out of his grasp. 

“Baby, baby.. please,” Kevin’s hand trails down your torso, his cold wedding ring touching against you, making you twitch. Another devastating reminder that the man you love, the man you married, was holding you down and blackmailing you.

“You’re fucking evil—” A choked sob escapes your lips, simultaneously as his hand dips under your waistband. “Oh my Go—”

“Let me make it up to you..” his honey voice echoes in your ear. Your voice dies in your throat when Kevin’s fingers start to toy with your clit, and you hate the way your body reacts to his touch. Arching your back, you continue to squirm out of fear.. and desperation. Your body betrays you as you feel yourself getting wetter. “Let me make you feel good, baby, hm?”

“Fuck you,” you spit angrily, not before being interrupted by a measly gasp as his fingers continue working against your bundle of nerves.

“I love you so much, sugar,” Kevin pressed his soft lips to yours, only you kept yours in a thin line. Two fingers were plunged into your wet cunt, and you let out a small gasp, giving him the perfect opportunity to slide his tongue in and capturing your lips in a passionate embrace. “There’s no line in the world I wouldn’t cross for you.”

“I-I hate you,” you mewled weakly, biting on your lower lip to ignore the feeling in your core. Kevin merely chuckles, eyeing the way you bend to his will as he rubs your desperate bud faster.

Suddenly, the tearing sound of your undies made your heart drop. You purse your lips, stopping the involuntary moans from leaving your lips. The tip of Kevin’s cock slides up and down your cunt, before parting your pussy lips. 

“I-I hate you.. Oh fuck— K-Kevin..” you whimper, his cock stretching your pretty pussy deliciously. His slow thrusts were agonising, and made your head swirl, a warmth blooming from your lower region. 

“I’m gonna be around more, baby, I promise you,” he pants against your ear, his hot breath hitting your face. Stray tears fall down your cheeks and Kevin kisses them away. One of his hands letting go of your wrist, trailing down to the back of your thigh. He presses one knee up to your chest, allowing him to thrust his cock even deeper inside you— you swore you could feel him in your stomach. “I’m gonna make you so happy.”

Your toes curled with each thrust and your fluttering walls clenched at his words, only making you more ashamed by the minute. His laboured breaths mixed in with your own as he continued nipping your neck, leaving small love bites. 

“It’s gonna be you, and me.. and a baby.”

Your eyes widened at that, and immediately you tried to sit up, only for Kevin to push more of his weight down on you, keeping you firmly in your place. You were practically speechless, your bambi eyes frozen in shock. “Kevin, wait— don’t come inside—”

“Sh, sh,” he coos. “I’m gonna fill you up, mama. Don’t you want that?” You mewl at his sudden harsh thrust, the sound of skin slapping echoing in the room. Blinded by your tears and the overwhelming pleasure washing over your body, you nod weakly.

A sick grin hung on Kevin’s lips as he poured into you, and you let out a sinful moan as you clenched hard around him, mixing your cum with his. Panting, you don’t resist when Kevin traps your lips with his.

“You’re the only woman I’ll ever want,” he whispers your name sensually, you can’t help the chills that arise on your skin.

“And, I’ll be damned to hell before I let you leave me.”

໒꒰ྀིྀི ੭ ˃̵ᴗ˂̵ ꒱ྀི੭ — taglist : @desoolate @hamburgerslippers @alwaysinblck @emosludge @nwheregirl @beansricejc @sughcashsaiki @namjoons-crabssss @scream-queen-25 @slutforsoldierboy @hamburgerslippers @redhotelroom.

let me know if anyone wishes to be added !!

[mulberrysilk]

Illicit Affairs | Z. Yeager

Zeke Yeager x f!reader

summary: an unspoken love hidden from others. An involvement with the Zeke Yeager was akin to a sweet dream. It was reckless and was bound to be tragic with what the Wonder Boy’s ambition will bring. Yet, every time, none dared to speak the three words that might change everything or nothing.

cw: canonverse. unprotected sex, hinted corruption kink, secret relationship. creampie, possessive Zeke Yeager, kinda angsty? praise, zeke calls reader good girl. Zeke is only soft to reader, okay i guess this fic is lowkey sweet but more so bittersweet

wc : 5.3k

a/n : it has been very long while and I'm mid away S4 part 2 of AOT but am now watching Bleach just cause. So here is a Zeke fic that's been sitting in my drafts for a long time with a lot of other drafts. I will also start posting some fics when I make an ao3 acc! Again, I'm sorry for being gone for a long time but I'll try to write more because I do miss it and I miss interacting with everyone here too.

Special thanks to @iwaasfairy for beta-reading this! ♥︎

That’s thing about illicit affairs  and clandestine meetings and longing stares

It’s born from just one single glance but it dies and it dies, and it dies

A million little times

“How about you?” The ravenette nodded at your direction, a gentle yet playful smile adorning her face. The sleepy and calm look in her eyes was ever present but now had a shimmer of curiosity. 

“What about me?” 

“Have you been seeing anyone?” Pieck’s grin widened, especially when you froze momentarily. All fell eyes on you now. 

You nervously laughed and played it off by pouring yourself another serving of wine. Little did you know, two pairs of eyes were curiously keen to know the answer, they stared at you with anticipation, and Pieck knew this. 

“Yeah, let me know, so I could beat him up. Give him a good scare,” Galliard smirked, clenching his fist and flexing his bicep to further his point. 

“You won’t have to scare anyone,” you interjected immediately but like being shot with an unexpected arrow to the back or as if being caught sneaking around to steal something, you tensed. The all too familiar burning stare made your skin prickle and your body shiver. Swallowing the lump in your throat and maintaining your composure, you continued. “There’s nobody.” 

To make it even more believable you offered your friends a smile.

The blond across you exhaled as if he held his breath. “If there was somebody, she would tell us. We don’t have to pry like this.” 

Pieck pursed her lips, eyes teasing and in disbelief. “Oh? Well, I’m just teasing her, Reiner.” 

You chuckled and reached to the back of your neck, your senses tingling from the knowing feeling of what it’s like to be in his presence. 

“Plus, people know better than to go after our Y/N.” Porco huffed, leaning back into the cushioned booth seat,  a strand of ashy blond hair falling from its slicked body. “We’re not letting some good for nothing idiot anywhere near her.”

“How protective of you, Pock.” Pieck mused, your ears not picking up a lot as your head buzzed with the effects of wine. “And do you think you’re not a good for nothing idiot?” 

He was here. You could feel him. As you stared into the glass, the still body of deep red reflected your face. 

“Hey, kid.” A hand gently squeezed your shoulder. The warm touch made you shudder as your teeth clenched. Don’t call me, kid. Something about that made your heart sink a little and yet his touch lingered as everyone acknowledged his appearance. 

“What’s Pieck tormenting you with this time?” He asked, voice void of sarcasm one would really think he was serious but that’s him. He says some things seriously with a humour he only understood. 

“I’m not tormenting her,” she giggled, glancing at you as Zeke causally stood behind you, not taking a seat in the booth you four were sat. “Just asking about our dear little crybaby’s love life.” 

“Oh?”

“There’s not much to tell because she claims she doesn’t have one.” 

His thumb gently drew circles on the back of your shoulder, your heart picking up at the gesture. You raised your gaze from the wine and up to him. His defined jaw and the sinews of his neck as he spoke were the first thing you gathered before moving to his lips, his cheekbones, his nose and his eyes.  You weren’t sure if it was the buzz of the wine getting to you, making you feel all soft and fuzzy but this was a face you had gazed upon many a night. Sometimes you wondered why he hid his handsome face with his golden beard. Not that you were complaining, oh no. The hair that framed his mouth and jaw added a kind of wisdom to him, it made his overall countenance even more unreadable. 

“How is she supposed to have one when you’ve got these two,” he tilted his head slightly to the direction of the two men sat across from you. “…Colt and even the kids, guarding her like a hawk?” Zeke jested. 

How indeed. 

“She could be having a secret love affair?” Pieck suggested with a sly smile, winking at your direction.

But all you could think about was how you disliked it when Zeke called you kid. 

Soft linen kissed the bare skin of your back and your head rested upon a cloud soft pillow. Your whole body tingled as if slowly being set aflame, sparks ignited with every single caress from callous yet gentle hands. The bitter taste of tobacco lingered on his pink lips that you’d never imagined to be this soft and yet there was a sweetness to them that you can’t quite place but you craved for more. 

His hands run down your sides and paused at your hips, giving them a gentle squeeze, feeling them as if checking that he was really touching you as his lips refused to leave yours. When they did he found himself wanting to kiss every part of you and he had the rest of the long night to do so. Your lips parted slightly with a soft gasp escaping when his lips, hot, kissed and suckled at the curve of your neck. Your legs shivered to close, wanting to rub against each other for some kind of friction but he was between them as he pinned you beneath him, worshipping you with every kiss and caressing you with adoration.

He felt the way your thighs tried to close, squeezing his waist gently. He couldn’t hold back the smirk that formed on his face as he continued to kiss you, bringing his knee up to your mound.

“Z-Zeke!” You had gasped, your hands gripping his shoulders squeezed him at the sudden pressure of where you began to ache.

“That’s a beautiful rendition of my name, sweetheart,” he murmured against your skin. “I’m looking forward to hearing more.” 

Zeke didn’t know what was awoken in him to even try with you. All he knew was he wanted you and that every time you had to leave after being with him and your shared friends, he’d rather go home with you than watch you go. He sought after you in ways he shouldn’t and believed he couldn’t care for. He didn’t know what exactly it was. Was it because his term with his Titan was ending? Maybe he just wanted to live a little? Let loose before he dies? He was too intoxicated by just you to even contemplate an answer, it’s even more difficult when he could feel your supple soft skin beneath his calloused tainted hands, hear your titillating breaths and feel warmth emanating from your body. 

It felt like a crime to be this close to you. To touch you. He couldn’t help but be audacious when he had seen you from across the room, seated by the bar and in  a conversation with Pieck. He had wondered what she had said to you that made you flush and bloom so prettily that the sudden idea of other parts of you being that same shade of flush crossed his mind. He could’ve stayed away. He should’ve. But when you caught him staring at you from afar and you held his gaze, he knew that something was lit aflame. 

Then it happened over and over again. Longing stares, a glint in his eye and a soft nod of your head and a smile to silently acknowledge him. Over and over til small talk became in depth conversations, til soft short touches lingered and became bolder. 

Till it all filled a chalice that was full and now was overflowing endlessly. All that so he could now feel your skin against his, your lips on his lips and be completely and utterly drunk on all of you. 

“T-take these off.” You huffed when you lied back down, annoyed with the fabrics that separated the two of you. 

“Impatient are we?” He grinned, leaning back to full height and kneeling between you. You rolled your eyes at the smug look on his face but when he discarded his blazer and his fingers worked the buttons of his shirt, you let out a deep breath. It was a shame that his clothes hid away such a toned frame, a body that was trained rigorously for years and one that harnessed a Titan. 

“You were the one who kissed me first,” you pointed out, still admiring his physique illuminated by moonlight. 

“I couldn’t hold myself back anymore.” He threw the shirt away before bringing his attention, not like he wasn’t before, back to you. There you laid on his bed, hair beautifully a mess, only in your shell satin slip,pliant and anticipating, looking up at him with those eyes of yours. He wished he could take a picture. 

“See. You’re the impatient one.” 

“Guilty as charged.” He surrendered easily to you and only you. 

Without wasting another precious moment, his lips claimed yours and he would claim it over and over again if he had to. You were sweet. Too sweet. Too much of a good thing that he shouldn’t ruin because God knows the sins he had committed. But at the end of the day, he was also a man. A temptation as promising and as beautiful as you was worth a bite. 

Zeke’s hands roamed the expanse of exposed skin, finding that he adored touching the skin of your thighs as he pushed the satin fabric higher and higher, enjoying the way your breath hitched when he caressed your inner thigh. 

“Have you ever had someone before?” He asked, grey eyes looking through long, pretty, dark golden lashes.

“Why?” You caught your lip between your teeth finding the question amusing as you hid your smirk. “Do you want me to say you’re the first?” 

His hands squeezed your thighs, his jaw tightening as he glared. “You’re teasing.” 

“Am I?” You ran your fingers through his blond hair, pushing it back to see his face. He looked agitated and antagonised, and the way he looked at you like this made you want to push his buttons more. Did it bother him if someone else did touch you? Was he a territorial kind of man? 

His thumbs dug into the flesh of your thighs. “Answer my question.” 

You kept his gaze and let your smile unfold, and he didn’t like that. But you looked so god damn beautiful, smiling down at him like that with your secrets and leaving him on the edge, wondering if you’ll indulge him with what you hid behind that confident expression.

“Why?” You weren’t letting up, your fingers untangling from his locks, his eyes followed  your hand and how it traced your collarbone then slowly down between the valley of your breasts. “You’re wondering if I’ve been touched here?” 

“Yes.” He replied, hands sliding up to grip your hips now. 

“No...and nowhere else.” 

Zeke muttered a swear and your smile remained, finding it amusing how the great Zeke Yeager, the Wonder Boy and War Chief, was acting. You’ve never seen him like this or even imagined him to be like this. 

“Good.” He spoke, moving up so that his face was levelled with yours, his frame caging you. “Because I would make sure you’ll forget whoever it  was.” 

“Didn’t know you were so possessive, War Chief.” You batted your lashes, leaning up to kiss the corner of his mouth.  “It’s a new look on you.” 

“You are a tease.” 

“A secret love affair?” Galliard scoffed as if the possibility of it was so far-fetched. He was in denial of it.

“Is that so hard to believe?” Pieck smirked knowingly at  Porco’s reaction. His annoyance was written all over his face at the thought of someone else getting to you first. “Well, is it?” 

The ravenette was met with silence and you gave your two male friends in front of you a sheepish smile. You weren’t going to say anything. You couldn’t. Not with how things were. 

Far away from peering eyes and gossiping lips, you were his. You knew that. He made sure you knew. It was hard to not remember when every time you two would meet, your skin would have evidence of your time together. His lips would kiss and brandish your skin with marks that would take days to fade and if they did, he’d make sure  to kiss and nip at you again. 

In the privacy of his apartment, he was yours in the way every woman dreamed a man could be. Dressed in his shirts that smelled like him, you’d wander the rooms, going through his collection of books and sometimes making the two of you meals. He freely doted on you and flirted, took care of you and was a different person with you. On the other hand, Zeke could watch you forever but he had never confessed that out loud. Watching you go about his home as if you lived there too, as if you and him were in a world where nothing constrained him, had glimpses of  a future cross his mind. Zeke reminded himself that they were nothing but fantasies. An impossible dream. 

You were his and he was yours, and yet at the table, or in public, you didn’t know what you two were supposed to be. 

“I’m going to call it a night.” You yawned, slowly getting up feeling your lover's hand slip down your back. His touch was gone briefly and you already missed it. What an idiotic, lovesick fool he’s made you. “We should do this again sometime.” 

“Definitely.” Reiner smiled your way and you returned it, unaware of how his expression softened to quiet adoration but a pair of steel grey eyes knew that look too well. 

“I’ll walk the lady home.” Zeke casually announced, not raising any alarms in anyone’s heads. Meanwhile, your heart skipped when he had said that. 

“Sure you won’t stay? You haven’t even sat down to drink?” Galliard asked, hoping he could take over the duty of walking you home. 

“Just saw you all from the window and decided to drop by. Can’t drink tonight, I have a meeting with the top brass tomorrow morning.” Zeke declined courteously, the younger warriors nodding in acknowledgement.

“There’s always next time.” Pieck chirped, not thinking much of how the blond helped you with your coat. Everyone knew how Zeke took care of you. It’s always been like that ever since you all were young. 

“Next round is on me.” He placed a couple of bills on the table, Porco cheering at the treat as you waved at them and excused yourself for the night, Zeke following you three steps behind.

The streets were empty at this hour, dim yellow lights lit the road with white blankets of fallen snow on the ground and that same white was sprinkled on the rooftops. You could feel his gaze on your back and smell the thick scent of tobacco from the cigarette between his lips. You wished he was closer but you didn’t ask for too much with all the unanswered questions of your relationship with him.

“Where’s your scarf?” He asked.

“Oh, I must’ve—,” 

He draped his arm around your shoulders and pulled you close, the intimacy and the sudden closeness catching you off guard. “You’re going to catch a cold if you keep forgetting.” 

“Mhm.” You nodded. That was all you could manage from your shock and fluster. He didn’t pull away after passing four street lamps, he continued to walk by your side as if he should be and as if this was an everyday occurrence, but to you it was so much more. You wished your heart could stop beating so fast so you could really cherish the moment.

“Yours or mine?” He asked when the two of you reached the cross section, his arm still pulling you close to his side, his warmth keeping you from shivering from the cold. 

“I thought you had a meeting with the top brass tomorrow…I don’t want to keep you up.” 

“Mhm, but you will.” He responded with a playful sing song voice all you could was shake your head and softly laugh. 

Your place wasn’t much compared to what he has as Marley’s Wonder Boy and War Chief, and yet when you least expected it he’d drop by, saying he was just passing and then you let him in for coffee or tea which always led to you and him tangled in the sheets. The same goes for his place, except there it felt more like home to you. Somewhere completely safe and guarded. 

“Yours.” You answered, leaning your head against him and he gently squeezed you tightly as a response before turning left, to the direction of his home. 

In the dim hallway, the keys rattled against each other as he unlocked the door, his half embrace around you gone for the time being. You rocked yourself on the balls and heels of your feet watching with butterflies in your tummy as he opened the door. Like a gentleman, he held it open and gestured for you to head in first. 

You shook your head, smiled, and stepped in. You looked around the apartment, very minimalist as always but homey in its own way. You removed your coat and folded it neatly to hang on the armchair. Plain white curtains, sand coloured sofa with matching cushions, a coffee table with books stacked on its surface as well as several folded newspapers from the days before and a crystal ashtray that had been your gift to him. 

The door clicked shut  and locked behind you, you exhaled feeling the comfort of his home wash over you. You turned to him. 

“Should I make coffee for the both—

You didn’t finish your offer as his lips on yours stopped you from doing so. His hands held your waist and pulled you against him. 

“No coffee, just you.” He managed to say in between kisses, his hands sliding down to the curve of your ass and even lower, a signal you knew all too well. You did as he asked, bouncing once so he could support you in wrapping your legs around his waist.  “Good girl.” He hummed with praise, before clashing his lips against yours again, easily carrying you to the direction of his bedroom. 

God, you loved hearing every praise that poured from those lips of his. 

Clothes came off quickly and were discarded along the way. His hands roamed the expanse of your body, caressing every curve and every spot that he had memorised would make you shiver in the sweet way you do. He knew your body and soul, and you’d be lying to yourself if you said you didn’t love him. It was hard not to, especially when you’re lying on your back, breathless from hot kisses and heavy petting, on the edge of anticipation, caged beneath his frame with his handsome face hovering inches away from yours. He’d always, even in the heat of every passionate moment, have a little pause as if just to look at you, to savour the moment. It never failed to make you blush. To be subject to his intense gaze laced with desire and something that you could not read. 

Why did it have to be Zeke Yeager? 

Little did you know, in his head, every time he gazed upon your flushed and glistening face, he wondered about how you could’ve been with Galliard or Reiner, any other man you wanted. The thought of anyone else looking upon you and touching you like this made his chest sizzle with green jealousy. He wanted you to be his and in this moment, when you’re lying beneath him, plush lips parted and waiting for more, he’s reminded that you were his. 

Zeke hissed softly, torn from his epiphany when he felt the softness of your fingers wrap around his length, gliding up and down gently. You lined his cock to your entrance, the man before you amused by your impatience. He could feel the dampness leaking from you on his hot tip and it took everything in him to not grab your hips and fuck you then and there. 

“Z-Zeke…” you whine, pouting up at him. “P-please?” 

“How badly do you need me?” He asked, sliding his length beneath your folds, a breathy moan leaving you as it brushed against your clit. 

“B-bad.” You managed to say, your hands resting on his back. “Please.” Your lips trembled with want, Zeke unable to maintain his composure. “I want you. Need to feel you.” You began to rock your hips against his length, trying to get some sort of relief from the searing ache he had caused. God, he loved it when you were like this. 

Obliging to your cute sweet begging, he entered you painfully and deliciously slow. The heat of your walls wrapped snugly around him, fluttering and tightening at the intrusion, making him groan softly against your forehead while you moaned at the sensation of being finally filled. Each and every time, the beginning was a spreading warmth of euphoria.

Zeke’s teeth gritted against each other and he swore as he bottomed out, remaining still to just feel you. His pelvis pressed against yours, soft moans fell from your lips at the sensation of him inside of you as if all your secret trysts hadn’t made you used to him. How were you able to make him feel like this? So desperate, hot and bothered, and insatiable for your touch and attention. A rough hand gripped your hip, while the other steadied him to prevent him from crushing you with his frame. 

“You gotta let me know if I can move, sweetheart.” There was a hint of tease in his voice but he needed your green light as always. The last thing he wanted was to hurt you. Your arms tugged him close, allowing you that comfort. He listened as you took a shaky breath, your hips wiggling to have a feel. A moan left you as you did, giving him the answer he needed. “I swear,” he muttered, his hands assisting your legs to wrap around his waist. “You’re gonna be the death of me.” He wished that could be true. 

Your heart skipped a beat at his words but that sweetness was overtaken with hot passionate need, when he rolled his hips, cock smoothly sliding between your walls. Your back arched into him, breasts pressing against his chest as you moaned and shuddered at the sensation. God, you needed more. 

“Good girl.” He kissed your cheek, thrusting and began to set a steady pace, all restraint leaving him with the way you tightened around him with the praise as his name fell so sweetly over and over from your lips.  

Shared soft moans and the sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room. The city outside was silent and the heat of your bodies fought off the cold bite of the winter breeze. Your nails sunk themselves in the skin of his back, the throbbing pleasure within your walls toe curling good. Zeke rather adored the marks your cute little claws would leave, he would always glance at them in the mirror post-sex when he has a chance before his regeneration makes it fade. 

If you had any sort of shame within you, you’d be embarrassed at how you panted and moaned for him. Your desire for him was painfully obvious. His hips rhythmically colliding against yours emitted obscene wet squelching, your cunt greedily welcoming his thick length as you felt every inch of him against your plush walls.

“You’re only this wet for me aren’t you?” He teased, his hand on your hip assisting your left leg to hook around his hips, allowing him to angle himself in the way that you liked that all you could do to respond to him was whine. “That’s it. Good girl.” The praise fell so enticingly smooth from his lips, his pace steady but fast. 

Pleasure bloomed through you, the tightening feeling in your core cooling tighter and tighter, close to snapping. The heat, his skin, his voice, everything. You wanted it. You wanted to be his forever. You wantonly begged for more, your nails carving crescent dents into his back as he rolled his hips over and over with burning lust. This was the closest you’ll ever be with him. The closest he’s going to allow you to be with him. 

“Fuck, I’m close.” Zeke grunted, hips not faltering from its pace and hands gripping your hips tighter. The blond chased his high, slamming his pelvis against yours, driving his cock into your plush pulsating walls and watching how you stared up at him with those lustful heavy lidded eyes. “You’re close too huh?” The sound of his voice made your walls tighten around him, Zeke groaning at the feeling. “Tell me what you want, sweetheart.” 

“You. Want you…make me come please.” You whined, brought closer to the edge when you felt one his hands leave your hip to splay itself over your lower belly, palm pressing against your skin and his thumb against your clit. You moaned out his name, your hips bucking at the added stimulation.

You didn’t have to tell Zeke twice. You were so good. So obedient. So sweet. So cute even like this, moaning and whining with pleasure, your breasts bouncing with every thrust and  the lips of your pussy split by his cock, walls hugging him so snugly. He can never get tired of this, of you. 

Zeke’s pace stuttered. Your walls squeezed him tighter and tighter, so close to your climax. Your voice was getting higher and louder too. His name fell from your lips like chants from a devoted worshipper begging their God to grant them their wishes. It boosted his ego as if it wasn’t already big enough, and he continued to rub circles on your clit, watching your lips part in a silent scream, your eyes shutting as you succumbed to your climax. 

No. He wanted you to look at him. 

The hand that remained on your hip, wrapped around your throat, your eyes fluttering open. Your brows furrowed as you huffed and panted, you looked up at him as if to ask what he was doing. His darkened unwavering gaze told you exactly what he wanted and your shoulders dropped, relaxing as the piling build up of your orgasm doubled. Zeke gently squeezed your pretty neck, surprised to feel your walls tighten around him. Did you like that? “C’mon, just keep looking at me, sweetheart. Let me see you.”

Your head was spinning from pleasure, your thoughts being nothing but how good his hot length moved inside of you and how you were tingling intensely with pleasure. The circular pattern when he massaged your clit quickened and the next thrust he gave kissed your g-spot so suddenly, the tightening coil within you snapped. 

Zeke groaned at the wetness that coated his cock as your walls spasmed around him, sucking him in he could only shallowly thrust, your legs wrapped tightly around him. He was so close, so damn close and  there it was. That drunken lustful look that haunted his dreams and appeared in every impure fantasy. His fingers left your throat, opting to cradle your face as he managed a couple more thrusts before completely forgetting himself, already lost the moment his skin kissed yours. 

You sucked in a deep breath, never breaking from his gaze and watching his eyes shut in bliss. His blond hair glistened in the dim room, strands stuck to his forehead gleaming with perspiration and his soft lips were parted ever so slightly, his face just completely relaxed and rapturous. You were so caught up in your own haze that you didn’t fully register the unfamiliar warmth that bloomed in your insides. 

Zeke doesn’t separate his hips from yours, he instead wrapped his arms around you, wanting to pepper your chest with kisses before nestling his forehead into the curve of your neck, still in his high. You wrap your own arms around him, your hand caressing the back of his head, running your fingers through his golden locks, just relishing this closeness. Your heart was in your throat, torn from saying the three words you don’t dare to say but would die to hear from him. 

The two of you stayed like that for awhile, your body already felt the fatigue catch up. As you slowly drifted to sleep, you could still feel Zeke lazily kiss along your neck. You fell asleep easily, remembering the sensation of his lips on each eyelid and him softly saying that he’ll take care of you before you fully passed out. 

Only then did Zeke slowly untangle himself from you, pausing when he realised his cock was still buried inside of you. “Fuck.” He cursed under his breath, pushing his hair back as he scolded himself for his mistake. It was careless of him. He couldn’t believe he lost  control like that.   Not letting himself lose composure and not wanting to wake you, not with how peacefully you slept, he slowly pulled out. His mind was blank as he stared bewildered at a sight that should’ve felt like a sharp slap  in the face, instead he felt hot to his core. Between your puffy lips, milky white leaked from your hole and unto the bed. He should be ashamed of himself… not like this. Gently with his thumb, he split your folds apart just watching as whatever of his seed overflowed from your full womb. God, why was that thought driving him mad? He could feel himself getting hard again at the sight. He had always, always, pulled out…finished on your skin, either your back, your ass, your tits, your stomach, your face. Never inside. It was against his creed. But fuck, he wanted to do it again. 

“Mhm…” you hummed in your sleep, shifting a little, fingers sleepily feeling the bed for the duvet. 

Zeke was snapped out of his trance, his eyes moved to your face, seeing you still in peace. The post sex glow lit your features and he’s reminded to go grab a towel and clean you up. Knelt again before you, he softly swiped the cloth along your inner thighs, his eyes drifting to your pussy stained with his cum. He should clean that up first.  

He didn’t know if he should apologise. He probably should. What he did was beyond careless. It was irresponsible. It’s against everything he fought for…and yet, that image of a happy family flashed his mind again. You, him and a babe in this apartment. He hasn’t got long so he shouldn’t even think about it. He should never think about it. 

“Zeke…” you murmured his name, eyes still shut, your hand heavily sliding itself on his side of the bed, brows furrowing ever so slightly at the emptiness. 

“I’m here, sweetheart.” He answered softly, resuming to clean up the mess he made. 

“Come…sleep…” 

“I’ll have a smoke first.” He gently dabbed the towel on your sensitive core, successfully having fought the curious urge to shove his cum back into your cunt with his fingers. What were you doing to him? 

“Okay…” your voice grew softer, turning to your side. Zeke covered your naked body with the duvet so that he's not tempted…

Out in the balcony with his trousers hanging low on his hips,  he inhaled deeply the fumes of the cigarette, finding comfort in the small little stick. What was he doing? He turned his thoughts over and over like pages in a book in search of pieces that would fit together to give him a solid conclusion.

In that ten minute smoke session he knew one thing for sure.

He was screwed.

[ipoxcky]

🕷️

spider-verse_headcanons

MILES MORALES:

whenever he gets nervous/embarrassed, he'll turn part of himself invisible, like maybe he'll stick his hand in his pocket and make it go invisible

SCENARIO: at the college admissions office, rio would tell the lady, "he makes sure that he recites his time tables every night so that he can't mess up on those challenging calculus problems!" and then he would do the invisible thing and go "stop, mami, she doesn't need to know that..."

he'll also put his head on the desk with his hood up and turn his face invisible in school if he's bored

he would probably also do that when he's crying

did the invisible hand thing with fake blood to prank ganke on april fools, ganke freaked out and almost called an ambulance before miles told him it's a prank

had a shoe-collecting phase at some point

aggressively tender headed bc his hair is always nappy from putting on the suit and his mom goes CRAZY with the comb

got little twists in his head when he was younger, but now he keeps it out. his mom will still twist his hair occasionally just for fun and he hates it

secret SoundCloud rapper whose account has like 20 followers and it's him just freestyling. the only person he told about the acc was uncle aaron who's his number one fan

PAVITR PRAHABKAR:

always pulls the "is it bc i'm _____?" card, ESPECIALLY with hobie just to mess with him and hobie would go "don't chat to me mate i don't even like the u.k. myself"

talks with his hands definitely

has seen every romance movie known to man and forces the others to watch them with him if they can

VERY facially expressive, throws the STANKIEST faces at people he doesn't like, yes he's good at reading others but it doesn't take much to read him

falls over when something shocks him bc it's like his little joke

laughs to himself a lot but doesn't tell anyone why

knows a bunch of horror stories on command, the first spiderpeople sleepover he freaked everyone out and miles couldn't sleep without the light on

just dance GOD

can raise both eyebrows individually

GWEN STACY:

had an agressive minecraft phase when she was 8 where she got the creeper hoodie and never took it off

definitely had a full pixie cut at some point

theater kid, definitely goes to watch broadway shows with her dad every so often, has met famous people because of it, her favorite one is probably dear evan hansen (idk i haven't seen it)

ben platt worshipper

drums on anything she can get her hands on

music blaster

tried electric guitar for a blip of a moment

morning person, stretches anywhere and everywhere

her favorite thing is DESTROYING pointe shoes because she can take out all her anger. this one time it got to a point where after her shoe destroying sesh she started crying because she didn't realize she had so much pain built up inside her

tutu hater

takes french and already knows a ton from ballet

wheeze laugher

pastel note taker

really pretty handwriting when she tries, chicken scratch when she doesn't

HOBIE BROWN:

surprisingly good american accent

knows a bunch of magic tricks to entertain kids experiencing homelessness on the street

headphones always on so they're absolutely demolished and holding on for dear life, too bothered to get a new pair

REALLY good with kids, does anything to help them preserve their childhood because he feels like his was gone too quickly

good whistler

beats everyone in board games

knows a lot about politics for someone who doesn't rlly like them

can judge people's character based on first glance

black nail polish never leaves his fingers

goes on really long rants about the state of the world

reads self help + philosophy books

hops the subway/metro thingy

lips always moisturized, but his hands and knees r lowkey ashy sometimes (i'm blk it's okay y'all)

doesn't drink soda

tries to be vegetarian because of the stuff he's seen (worked at a fast food restaurant and was grossed out about the stuff they were serving), that and he loves animals so

natural remedy kind of guy who would drink chlorophyll water

dreams of being a tattoo artist

uses sound effects of random things in his music, raps/sings his poetry about capitalism and stuff

keeps tin jars and cans

doesn't kill bugs and instead lets them go free

[lootsofathousandsworld]

Life of a Pirate Chpt 8

Here's another chapter for you all! :D

Hope you like it and sorry if grammers are wonky.

Warning a small hint of anxiety

    After an hour or two of rest, I was up and about. After eating a quick snack, which its the bread, I was relieved my stomach wasn't sick anymore thanks to the medicine.  

Making my way up the deck to continue my chores, I find Billy waiting for me. I bite my lips to see him walking over to me. About the time he came, he asked.

"Feeling well, lass?"  

I nod slightly. "Yes, sir. It was just an enteriumn sickness?" 

After my reply, he hums. "I thought so, many pirates and spacers tend to get this sick. Mostly when it's their first time.

My eyes widen to hear that last part. "Their first time?" 

"Aye," Billy pulls his cigar out with a lighter." I swallowed. Not knowing this sick was pretty much a way of saying it's your first time going on a voyage. Felt my worrying coming, I asked another question. 

"So does that also mean...even let's say.. spacers go on many voyages, they tend to get sick?"  

"Aye?" After Billy blew smoke out, he looked at me now puzzled by my act. "Something wrong, cabin girl?"

"Nothing!" I gasped, almost making my voice loud. "I-I mean nothing, sir. I was um, wondering that's all." He looked at me long and I forced myself to make a smile, hoping that'll somehow distract him.   

Soon Billy frowned and said. "Wipe that grin off yer face. Get back to your work and I don't want any more accidents you hear?"    

"Yes sir," I nodded fast and didn't hesitate to pass him. While he wasn't looking, my hand was on my chest to ease my heart which was beating rapidly.  

"It's alright," I muttered to myself. "You shouldn't be worrying about this. Your overreacting. It'll be okay," I took a couple of breaths before heading over to do my work. 

Third person POV

After watching her walk away fast, he raised his eyebrow in suspicious. The way the woman tensed after he mentioned the sickness. And that smile she made was something every man does when they feel guilty over something.   

"Now why would be feeling guilty over being sick?" He muttered before inhaling his cigar.   

Ash POV

After finishing my work. I took this opportunity to relax until Billy assigned me to do another job. So I casually walk and scan my surroundings. It honestly feels a little strange to walk on the ship. In the movie, it was all broken down with hoards of gold.  

This time era is not, instead, the ship is in good fair condition. And I find it now hard to remember what this ship was like when it was shipwrecked. Then I passed the crewmen who were like me taking a small break.   

I had my head down to avoid their gaze but I caught a glimpse of a monkey alien giving me a death glare. Guess he didn't let go of the grudge about his pants. Swallowing, I walked fast until I didn't see them anymore.  

Sighing heavily, slowing my walk, I stop at the edge of the ship. I looked out beyond the galaxy and couldn't help to smile. Since I've been staying on a ship. I didn't get a chance on good glance out at the wonders of the universe.  

It was breathtaking. The enteriumn universe is beautiful. I couldn't get my head around how I'm able to breathe in space. And it was my lifelong dream of seeing the galaxy up close. I sighed and followed my gaze up until I saw the red sails along the black pirate flag being carried by the wind.  

I stared at the Jolly Roger flag. Where it towers over the ship and gives full appearance to its mortal enemy. The more I looked at it, the more I felt my fear of how long I could keep my secret hidden. While being surrounded by gruesome pirates under the order of Flint.    

With this much worrying I tore away from it. Rubbing my arms, I sigh heavily. "I wish the merchant ship comes soon,"  

"Hi, Ashy!" I gasped in startle and turned around to find B.E.N beside me.  

'Oh you scared me," I said. I watch him rub his robotic back neck. 

"Didn't mean to scare you, I just want to see how are you doing," He smiled sheepishly. "I heard you weren't feeling well," 

I nodded. "Yeah but I'm better now," I smiled a little, kind of glad he was here to talk to. Wanting to keep this conservation going I asked him.  

"So are you on your break?"  

He shook his head. "Eh not really, the only I can come out only if Captain Flint is out with me." I looked over his shoulder and sure it was his Captain was standing by the helm with the other pirate that was steering. 

"Oh, I see," I gulped and glanced back at him. "He doesn't give you much freedom?" 

He shook his head, "He only does if I fetch him something." I look at him with sympathy, I couldn't imagine how horrible it feels to be trapped under him. Being watched over like a hawk. 

"I'm sorry," That's all I can say. Then B.E.N made a laugh.

"Sorry? Dont be. At least I'm feeling safe, no men would dare to take me away."  

Like how Flint did. I thought as I recall, he stole him away from his former owner or his own free will. Whatever it is, I find this unfair he has to suffer this for more years until 100 is up. He didn't deserve this. He should be out enjoying life.    

Then B.E.N clears his throat. "So Ash I wanna ask you something,"

"Yes?" I question.  

"Are you really from Montressor?"  

I blinked but felt uneasy. "Um, yes? Why you ask?" I wish I'd taken back my ask that my face grew pale when he told me this.

"Well one member, Pew admits you weren't from there." 

"What?" I asked

"He has this powerful scent where he can sense a person's location. He caught your smell and...he says you're not from that planet."   

B.E.N finishes, looking at me with a hurt expression. "Ash, why did you lie to me about where you come from?" My breath was shaken and I caught my glimpse over his head on Billy walking up to Flint. My heart was pounding hard as I watched him speaking to his Captain about something. 

My mind was already set on him talking about me. The way he says on my acting earlier. Right when Flint turned to where I was I froze for a second. I glance back at B.E.N as he waits for his answer.  

Feeling much terrified I back a little. "I-I need to do some dishes," I spun and ran to the gallery. 

"Ash?!" I heard B.E.N shout with confusion. "Ashy wait!" I didn't listen as I splint down the gallery.

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

As I made it I clenched my head and was breathing rapidly.  

"Keep it together!" I muttered under my breath. "H-he doesn't know anything." I pace back and forth to calm myself. 

"Ash!" I perked up and saw B.E.N with a worried look. "Ashy what's wrong? Did I say something to make you upset?" 

"No you didn't do anything," I breathed. "I just.." I shut my eyes and finished. "I just want to get out of here," I sat on the bench. I felt him sitting beside me and my face was planted on the floor. Unable to look at him.  

"I know it's scary to live on his ship but I promise once you get used to it like me it won't be bad.." He tries to reassure me it'll be okay but I clench my teeth and interrupt him. 

"I don't belong here!" He was taken aback by my voice raising. Feeling my heart sank at his expression I let out a sharp sigh. 

"Please B.E.N try to understand I can't live here. Pirate's life is not for me. I want to go home,"   

"I understand," B.E.N sighed. "Everyone has a different taste," He looked down. "And I thought this was my chance to have a best friend on board." My heart felt heavier at his words. Feeling like a bitch as if I'm ditching him for selfish reasons.    

Then I made this decision to tell him the truth. I felt he had a right to know why I was desperate to leave. 

"B.E.N, I do want to be your friend really. I'm sorry I lied to you." He turned his head to me and I smiled at him sadly " The reason is that I wasn't sure you could be trusted but you proved me wrong. "

"But you can trust me," He replied. "I'm good at keeping secrets, 

I nodded. "I know, that's why..."I stop when we hear a man shouting from out of the gallery. 

"Captain! Merchant ships straight ahead!" My eyes lit up and I looked at B.E.N with my heart beating with happiness. "It's here. I'm going home."   

"You are," He looks down glumly. Before I get up to leave I hug him. He gasped in surprised as I spoke gently.

"I promise we'll see each other again. I will never forget you," Slowly I felt him returning my embrace.  

He tries not to break the tears he says. "Then I hope I'll see you soon Ash." I let my arms free and he gave me his sad smile.   

"I'll see you soon too friend," I give him the same expression for a second and with that, I left the gallery. 

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

When I got out, I saw men running and preparing but I didn't pay attention to them. Right now, my paraly is coming to an end and my freedom is this close.   

I found Flint still up with the helm I came up to him. As I reached him, his eyes were set on his men. 

"Captain our bargain?" I reminded him. "Remember you promise no plundering while I aboard the ship?" I watch his facial unfazed. Slowly he turned to me and I felt uneasy the way he looked at me. 

"They're a bit of change lass," 

Not like the way he says it. I asked quietly. "What do you mean?"   

"I mean is about your little paraly. I'm breaking the deal." My eyes widen to hear this, and he finishes it with his eyes glowed. 

"Yer staying on my ship. This is your home now," 

[braxiatel]

To See the Story Through

(See content warnings or read the fic on AO3 here)

The thing is – the thing Grian had forgotten – is that people die when you kill them.

The thought occurs to him, as solid as newly formed obsidian  – and hissing and spitting just as much – as he watches Mumbo stumble through the woods, clinging to every tree he bumps into for support and leaving bloody handprints in his wake.

 “Mumbo!” Grian calls after him.

 (This is a mistake).

Mumbo half turns to look over his shoulder, and Grian can see the blade wedged into his back move. He screams.

A survivor. That’s what Grian is: a survivor.

That is the only reason he is following Mumbo. A survivor would not assume his would-be killer will die just because a wound looks fatal. Looks can be deceiving, and Mumbo might… might have potions or something…

Backup! He might have backup waiting in the direction he’s stumbling… not that he is managing to maintain much of a direction.

 …

But Grian needs his sword back too! he won’t let Mumbo get away with stealing it, a redname like him certainly doesn’t need any more weapons!

Mumbo stops in his track and Grian braces himself for an attack. He might still have end crystals, or he might be keeping a crossbow hidden up his sleeve, or-

Mumbo keels over.

Grian has seen his fair share of blood and gore in his life. Has shed it, has been the one to die the slow, agonising deaths. He was still a child the first time he killed, and he has never had any qualms about doing what it takes to come out on top.

So why he flinches when Mumbo lands and makes the most awful sound he has ever heard another person make – wet and wailing – he cannot tell.

Grian is a survivor. He is a survivor. It was kill or be killed.

 …

 (Except…

 … Except, Mumbo had been running).

And Now? Now Mumbo was lying on his side, his blood seeping into the ground, clumsy hands indecisive as to whether they should try to staunch the bleeding or tug feebly on the blade.

(He is crying).

(It is Grian’s fault).

Oh Void, what has he done?

“Mumbo,” Grian repeats, crouching at the other’s side. “Mumbo, can you hear me.”

“Shouldn’t… get close,” Mumbo slurs. “I’m dangerous redname, you know.”

“I can see that,” Grian tells him, easily batting Mumbo’s hands away so he can inspect the puncture.

(When he made his diamond sword he had made the blade long, but slender. It would be able to take less strain, but with Grian’s small stature, it was a necessary accommodation if he did not want to give his enemies the advantage of greater reach).

There is several inches of the blade protruding from the centre of Mumbo’s sternum, bobbing and letting another blob of thick, dark blood flow from the wound every time Mumbo draws in another shaky breath.

“You’ll be fine,” Grian says out loud, feeling Mumbo’s eyes on him. “You’ll be just fine… Just… need to drink a potion.”

Mumbo hiccups.

(It is a horrible squelching sound Grian knows will keep him up in the dead of night until his lives run out).

“Go… go on then,” Mumbo tells him.

(Grian thinks he has to look as ashy as Mumbo does. Or perhaps it is just that he always had an active imagination, and he reckons he must have paled at those words).

“You don’t have any potions?” Grian asks.

Mumbo remains quiet for so long Grian thinks he might have passed out. When he finally speaks he sounds sheepish.

“Can I tell you… a secret?” he asks, making Grian look up with a start. Mumbo flashes him a smile, more red than white. “I’m a bit pants… at the whole red- redname thing.”

(Mumbo is going to die).

Potions might have saved him, but the best thing Grian has to offer is food, and even if it would help he doesn’t think Mumbo would be able to eat.

Grian realises, as always at the worst possible time, that he loves Mumbo.     Really loves him.

His mind screams it at him, screams at him to do something!  

But what do you do when someone you love is dying and there is no way of stopping it? What do you do when it is all your fault?

“I don’t know, you gave me a pretty good fright,” Grian hears himself say.

His hands move in front of him, reaching out to lift Mumbo off the ground. He is careful not to let the bloody hilt of the blade – just a little to the left of Mumbo’s spine – touch anything as he manoeuvres Mumbo into a position he imagines to be comfortable, lying in his arms. Once satisfied Grian presses his free hand down on the wound, knowing full well that staunching it is of little use when the entrance wound is bleeding just as much.

“Really?” Mumbo asks with lights in his eyes.

“Definitely,” Grian tells him.

“What makes you… think I won’t just… go for the kill… now, then?”

Grian smiles at him, clenching the wet and sticky fabric of Mumbo’s shirt between his fingers. “I don’t think you will. Not when I tell you I’ve got a secret to share.”

“Oh?” Mumbo inquires. His head has lulled against Grian’s shoulder.

“Mhm,” Grian tells him, giving up on his futile attempt at stemming the flow of blood and instead taking one of Mumbo’s hands in his. He rubs circles with his thumb on the pale skin, painting bloodred roses in his wake. “Want to hear it?”

“Sure,” Mumbo tells him. It’s strange, Grian thinks, how he feels no fear at all. He thinks he should be scared of rejection, of making himself so vulnerable. Instead, he just feels an odd sort of calm.

(Is this what people refer to when they talk about the eye of a storm?)

“I love you, Mumbo,” Grian says. “And I think you love me too.”

Mumbo laughs.

…Okay, so perhaps Grian is a little scared of rejection after all.

“You’ve a funny… way of showin’ it,” Mumbo grins, blood and spittle streaking down his face and into Grian’s jumper. The stain will be impossible to remove, a thought that sounds silly only a moment later when he realises far more of Mumbo’s blood is on his clothes, his hands, in his hair, under his fingernails, and beneath his layers.

“Maybe I could have thought of something better,” Grian admits with a smile that can only be described as exhausted. “But in my defence, you weren’t much better. Laying traps? trying to get me with those end crystals?”

“Maybe I just wanted to impress you,” Mumbo wheezes. Grian isn’t sure if it’s worse if the shallow gasps are better or worse than the rattling heaves of before.

Worse, he decides, watching Mumbo’s eyes widen in panic as the lack of air to his brain begins to set in.

(Mumbo is smart. Far too clever for his own good. Far too good for a world like this).

“Thought dying was supposed to be less painful,” Mumbo whimpers, and he can barely distinguish the words. “Aren’t you supposed to lose sensation? ‘I can’t feel my legs’ isn’t that how it goes… Oh, Grian, I don’t think I can feel my legs-”

Grian reaches up and cups his cheek. “Mumbo, look at me,” he requests. “Shall I give you something else to focus on? Make you feel something?”

“Please,” Mumbo begs.

Grian leans down, careful to avoid the pointed tip of the blade.

He wonders what the kiss might have tasted like had it not been blood and tears. If they had shared it under the starry skies of the Southlands, in the dying heat of a campfire, or perhaps between the sheets of one of their beds, hidden from the rest of the world.

Mumbo’s lips are soft, parting easily to Grian’s tongue. Grian thinks he might have been a good kisser, extraordinary even, if not for the part where he was going limp in Grian’s arms, his death rattle the symphony of their love.

Grian pulls back just enough to look Mumbo in the eyes, smiling at him even as tears make his face blurry.

“Grian?”

(He knows this is it. These will be Mumbo’s last words, and it is his fault, and they’re for him anyway).

“Yes?” he asks.

“Wouldn’t it be nice if we could still be friends?” Mumbo asks. “Just you and me against the world?”

“It would, yes,” Grian agrees. “It      would     have been nice.”

“Mhm,” Mumbo hums.

For a split second Grian thinks he sees something change in his eyes – from dull carmine to bright crimson, nearly glowing with redname bloodlust – but then cold hands pulls him into a lover’s embrace.

There is a sword sticking out of Mumbo’s sternum.

There is a sword sticking into Grian’s gut.  

He opens his mouth to speak (to scream) and there is only iron, only red, only stars burning out as the universe does what it always does and takes.

Grian wakes up.

There is no blood on his hands. No warmth of a kiss fading from his lips. No arms of a lover lost holding him one final time.

(Had Mumbo meant to kill him? Or had Grian simply been collateral in the last death throes of his love? Had it been the desperate possessive passion of red wanting red in Mumbo’s eyes, or had it been the light fading as Grian finally got his kill?)

Grian shakes his head and ignores the way his heart clenches, finding that he does not like any of those questions very much at all. They are the sort of questions that can only lead to heartbreak.

Grian is a survivor. And what do survivors do? Well, they don’t curl up in their beds and cry about lost lovers, that’s for sure!

Another thing Grian is now, is a redname.

He can kill.

(He has killed-)

Come to think of it, he would like that an awful lot, in fact.

Past the haze of red, the fog of bloodlust, one final question presents itself: how much blood will he have to shed to outpace the force of entropy?

(More than he ever could-)

Well, there’s only one way to find out.

Grian stands and stretches.

He has a game to win.

[finch-the-foolish]

Welcome back to "aeron writes prompts late at night for fun", on today's episode we've got day 7 of @black-rose-events event. Again, little editing, praying this all sounds ok. Also, for context, Villain can sense when people are lying :)

TW/CW for drugging, implied general harm

“I.. I love you.”

The words hovered in the air, coated in a sickening sweetness, a desperation which clashed against Hero’s usual demeanour. Villain faltered, taking a stumbling step as their pacing came to a halt.

“What?” A question, a sharpness, a plea for the truth, golden on their tongue and mind, to turn ashy with falsehood. “Hero-”

“[Villain]. You know it's true. I love you. I have for a long time.” Hero stared at them from where they sat, partially restrained—it had been odd how little effort they'd made to escape—just.. watching, with those damn eyes of theirs. The kind of eyes that could melt your heart even as they ripped it out. The kind that could make a lie taste like the finest wine, like a ray of sunrise overlooking the bay.

“Oh- oh [Hero], no. No you don't. You can't. Don't.. don't tell me those things.”

“Why not?” Hero pulled against their restraints, staggering to their feet. “Why can't I?”

Villain shook their head, clutching the vial in their hands a tad tighter. “You're a liar, [Hero]. Stop- stop lying to me. We can't have that, no matter what you think. There's too much at stake.”

Hero took a step forwards, confident even now. Gods, Villain hated that confidence, that self-assured look, those eyes like a well of dark secrets that would only drag you in and drown you. Villain couldn't drown. Villain couldn't be reckless. Not now.

They glanced at the clock hung on the wall, cursing softly at the time. They didn't have time for this. They didn't have time for lies.

“We.. we could try, [Villain], we could make it work. Just let down your walls. Stop destroying things and build something true for once.” Hero was.. closer than Villain had thought, one hand reaching to grasp their shoulder.

Villain flinched away, grimacing as the vial in their hands swished lightly. “I can't, [Hero]. I don't have time for truths.” The words were bitter, but right all the same. How could Villain love, let alone love someone like Hero? How could they let their guard down for them of all people?

How could they love when every second felt like their life’s decay, every second a reminder of the death that was approaching. They had to go, they had to leave, they had to-

Hero grabbed their wrist, and Villain froze, staring at them.“Please. [Villain]. We.. we can fix things. We can make time. I'll.. I'll help. Okay?” There was almost.. sincerity, almost truth, twisted in their words. It made Villain sick.

Villain sighed, soft, still staring into those eyes, those drowning wells of dark water, a face which had seen more blood than it had any right to. “O.. okay.”

Slowly, carefully, they lifted their free hand, as if to cup Hero’s face in their palm, as if to show some shred of kindness, as if to become the creature reflected in the depths of those wells. Then, face just as reluctant as before, they shoved Hero back, away from the entry to the lab, their free hand smashing the vial against the floor as they sprinted off. The door slammed shut, locked in their wake, silencing panicked shouts as they morphed into frantic coughs, dulled silence.

They'd nearly run out of time. God only knows what Supervillain would have done if they hadn't paid their debts. Hero would have to pay in their absence, it seemed. Villain stalked down the hall, even as guilt churned in their gut, even as the familiar voice of their boss echoed through the corridors, even as they heard Hero’s muffled screams.

It was better to be a liar than admit their love, they supposed.

[rayisatadbitcrazy]

XVI The Tower

silly little secret life fic about lizzie dying that I haven't posted to ao3 yet

Fandom: Secret Life SMP

Characters: Ldshadowlady, Dangthatsalongname (Scott smajor)

General tags/warnings: Major character death, canon compliant, angst, trying to kill a man just cause your husband asked you to

Word count: 1424

Lizzie smiled as she hopped down the steps, her space buns grazed the cold stone. The target followed behind her, every few steps she cranes her back to look at Scott.

“Lizzie,” he didn't sound nervous. Good. False sense of security or something, “We've been friends for a long time.”

Oh? “We have.” The rough granite provided a good break of emotionless gray.

Scott took a breath, Lizzie could almost feel the staircase closing in on them as tension cut through the air, “I need you to be honest with me.”

“Yes.” Honestly, she didn't frame it as a question, a warm welcome for Scott to continue speaking. Something short. Something to just show she was listening.

“If I walk in here am I gonna die?”

“If you walk in? Like–do you think it's trapped?” She hadn't actually thought about that. What if it was trapped? She didn't trap it, but that wouldn't stop someone who'd been spending a lot of time in the end from trapping the end portal.

“Maybe.”

“Do you want me to go first?” Jeez, how long is this staircase? It seemed to go on forever, “And I'll show you it's not.”

“Eh, I think I want to go first.”

“You want to go first.” The smile was evident in her voice, although she could be far from happy, “Okay, you go first.”

Finally, they made it to the portal, Lizzie had become quite desensitized to the glow and whispers that came off from the eyes in the frame. It was creepy. But Lizzie loved creepy. And cute things. Cute-creepy! The portal was creepy-creepy, though.

“I can't believe I'm fulfilling all of my dreams by having people come to the end and my slumber party! Why couldn't everyone do this last week?” She sighed as she stepped up the stone brick stairs, a black void filled the middle of the portal, specks of green and blue and purple came out from it.

They nodded at each other, promising to see each other on the other side as they jumped into the slimy substance that transported them to the end.

The purple atmosphere greeted her, her heels clicked as she landed on the obsidian platform. This has proven to be a dangerous place, when she'd been here before to watch the dragon fight.

Scratch that thought. This whole world had proven to Lizzie that it was unforgiving.

She was murdered. That wasn't kind or fair. She didn't deserve any of the crap she got slapped with last week. Today she swore revenge on everyone.

Everyone but Joel. Joel. That's why she's here. To kill Scott for Joel.

Scott was already across the cobblestone bridge that led from the floating stone to the main island. The yellowy endstone was bright in contrast to the almost ashy-purple air, she squinted as she balanced across the two-block wide bridge.

Click. Click. Click.

“Ah, do you remember when we were last here, and the Ender Dragon was here? Wasn't it great?” She reminisced, following Scott up a makeshift staircase that had been mined out for the sake of easy access to the mainland.

Scott held out a hand, helping Lizzie up before she took off running, “Now follow me, just over here!”

Lizzie laughed, leading Scott to the furthest cliff side of the floating island. Honestly, she would've thought Scott smarter than this. Following a red name, to the end, to the void, to the edge overlooking certain death, was kinda stupid.

Oh well, if he wanted to make her job easy she wouldn't complain.

“There's something I need you to see!”

“To be fair, this works for me,” Scott's monotone voice almost echoed here. “because Jimmy's been hunting me down all day. So…”

“Oh yeah, he's never gonna find you here!” She bounced, leaning up and down on her heels as she waited for Scott to catch up. “Nobody is ever going to find you here!”

Scott laughed, his hand shot up to cover his mouth and his eyes crinkled as he closed them, “Why'd you say it like that?”

“Say it like what?”

He looked away, the beginnings of a sentence he'd never finish left his mouth.

“Okay! Follow me!”

This part of the island ended in a point overlooking the vast emptiness of purple. Just purple.

“Oh, this looks like the edge of the world.”

“Yeah it's just down here, “ Lizzie fished an ender-pearl out from her bag, holding it in her hand. “Follow me.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, follow me. It's just–is it?” She peered over the edge, pretending to search for something specific. She only found a void.

“I don't think I want to.”

“It is! It's right there!”

Scott is smart. Whatever she thought before was a lie. He walked over, water bucket in hand, “Can I place some water down? To be safe?”

“I was gonna give you an ender-pearl to be safe!” She huffed, holding up the small crystal-like balls. 

“Oh, yeah? That'd be good. Yeah, I'll take that.”

“Just in case. Here's the ender-pearl.” She dropped it down on the edge of the cliff, watching with wide eyes as Scott swiftly went to collect the item.

The moment he turned his back, she grabbed her axe and swung, the metal of her weapon clanked against his diamond shoulder plate, leaving a wicked dent in the blue armor.

“Lizzie!” He gasped, slipping past her.

“Oh.” She looked guiltily at her feet, shifting them slightly. “This has not gone very well.”

“You did three hearts of damage!”

Oh! “Wow! That's quite a lot!” She swooped in and attacked again, this time she didn't hit as hard as she meant to, leaving a scratch on an elbow pad he wore.

She almost hit him off the edge. She saw the fear in his eyes. And oh gods. It was delicious. Fear and tension fed her as her eyes darted all around Scott. Pairs of glowing purple eyes shine from behind him.

If she killed Scott, not only would Lizzie be getting revenge for herself, but she'd be helping Joel. It was a win-win for the only two important people involved.

“That was one heart of damage.”

“Oh…” She looked down, “That's not a lot…”

“No–” Scott tried to begin, but was shoved to the side.

Lizzie screamed, large hands gripped her throat. She met Scott's gaze for a moment before she was thrown backwards. Her elbows scrapped the uneven ground, cutting open the skin that grazed the stone. Her blood stained the ground as she slid across it and off the edge. She tried her best to grip the side, but the creature came for her throat once more.

The enderman banged her against the ground, beating her face into the stone. She wildly gripped for something—anything—ws she got pushed closer and closer over the sudden edge of the island. It grabbed onto her as they fell into the void, forcing its hands around her throat. Tears welled up in her lashes, she clutched the goopy item in her hand, the calming blue-green failed to do anything.

She stared at it in its ugly distorted face, its glowing purple eyes, stunning it for enough time to push it away from her. 

She fell, only being able to attempt to catch her breath as the creature flailed just next to her, more concerned with the fact that the was void eating away at it than how Lizzie glanced at it.

Scott stared down at Lizzie as she fell, watching as the oxygen left her lungs and the void consumed her.

Her hands were the first things to numb in the cold, turning purple. It hurt. It hurt so badly.

This is all a bad dream, she decided. All a bad dream.

She's going to wake up at her sleepover, the whole server surrounding her, Joel holding her hand, cake with candles in the middle of her house.

The tingling pain moved from her fingertips to her bloody elbows, then her shoulders and chest. Her lungs collapsed. She couldn't breathe. The creature had stopped screaming. Maybe it accepted its death.

She couldn't think straight, the lack of oxygen got to her, making her dizzy. She had to force her eyes to stay open.

The ender-pearl! She knew it wouldn't work, but she tried anyway. Throwing it as hard as she could, up at the island.

This was embarrassing. Her whole life was embarrassing.

The last thing she heard was an explosion, muffled by the noise of the wind in her ears. 

[bisexualboysbroadcast]

okay, are you ready? here’s my be mine superstar melt:

1. I am unbearably obsessed with the personality “swop” that happened between these two actors. going from fiat our little sunshine brat in dsn to Ashi our regal serious actor in bms and Leo our serious big boy protector in dsn to actual puppy sunshine baby punn in bsm -> getting a swop like that shows me their range as actors but also just different sides to their acting personalities and how well they know each other which is pure magic in romance

2. I’m OBSESSED with the way they met. like yes punn is madly in love with ashi as a fan boy (the little poster kiss really ruined my life), but to have an accidental bump in meet-cute and then (as far as it looks like the plot is heading) to end up working together is a delightful start to their story (cause it alludes to plot directions like “oh fuck I’m in love with you what am I supposed to do with these feelings??” , and “secret relationship eras (my beloved)” and “how can you date him you’re just a student intern and he’s a superstar” and “but I love him. I love him.”. can you tell I’m ready for this?)

3. the sets for this show seem to be out of this world. not just in relation to the period drama ashi (and co) are acting in but also the cafe where punn met his friends, the bar where doctor and superstar met (HAH!), punn’s mom’s cafe, dad’s art studio. all of it is so good. and from what I can see they really seem to be using the lighting and set structure to show personalities which is incredible in and of itself. (e.g. if you notice the lighting and set is pretty light/airy/flowing when punn is the central focus (that shower scene speaks for itself); but quite dark/wood/sort of solid when ashi is the focus)

4. the costumes, oh good god, the costumes! firstly just how beautiful the period drama stuff is ! ashi’s white cloak? and title’s full princely (guard?) suit? IMMACULATE. but also their casual clothes. ashi being so neat, tidy, and elegant always. versus punn who is soft and comfy (that lil grey cardigan did so much for my heart). as far as I can see (and probably because there’s been so many costume changes as a result of ashi’s job), there hasn’t been any colour coding between him and punn (yet?). so not much to say on the blue boy/red boy (/other colour variations) connotations. they may just play this out in style more than colour which is always less obvious but satisfying all the same, but I guess that’s just a waiting game.

5. so so happy with all the touching we’ve had. and I don’t just mean punn and his delusional body pillow cuddling (although that’s so relatable). but also between doctor and superstar (I really need to get to their names lmao) -> their entire scene was iron melting! the thumb swipe across the bottom lip, the finger brushing against the hand, the dancing (holy fuck), and then naturally the sex. SO GOOD. but also yes punn and his little prayer to his ashi poster, punn and his brother pai fighting (ah sibling love), even the touching between the three superstar friends. I like that the intimacy of touching is already being shown in a full range of ways. parents to children, sibling to sibling, friend to friend, love interests, lust. EATING SO GOOD!

anyway, now that I’ve talked y’all’s ears off, I am so happy to have a Monday night (more like Tuesday morning) watch for the next few weeks and I’m beyond excited for wherever this one will take us !!

[ashiyn]

ill never forget your hole bigb 😔 that thing is huge and dangerous and scary‼️ i almost fell in it 💔 i literally almost fell in it like i.. ☹️

[bloodsworn-marshal]

Writing Prompt: Contravention Word Count: 1540 Bandit AU

It all started around ten years ago. 

When a teenage lalafell of an unknown background started to cause havoc for Ul’dah’s wealthy—but not nearly the lucrative job it would turn out to be later down the line. It started with your basic thievery. Pickpocketing here and there, stealing from merchant stalls when they were not looking or making a run for it when taken notice. Just little things here and there, with the help of some other unknown friends of theirs.

For the times he was caught, it usually ended with either a slap on the wrist due to age or a night’s stay in the gaol to try and frighten the squad of individuals who were involved in the petty crimes. Nothing serious or anyone hurt, just your common band of thievery people expected out of impoverished livelihoods. Punished but never helped. Let go and never knowing where they would go after.

Except none of them were officially from town. Their hideout far, far beyond the great walls and hidden deep within Thanalan’s desert. What goods and coin they managed to steal stowed away in these secretive locations to prepare for something more down the line.

Some years later, when they had reached adulthood and the pack of thieves had swelled… they were no longer regarded as an empty threat. Word was starting to get around of an organized group of bandits starting to make some headway in the local area. They were no longer resorting to petty thievery—they were outright starting to target those of the upper echelons.

These bandits, unable to find a foothold in Ul’dah quite yet, had started attacking traveling caravans full of merchant wares or known to be owned by those of high wealth. Stealing what they could and either selling things off discreetly, or slowly but surely growing their base of operations. Adventurers and sellswords would be sent after their lot but would either be knocked out if protecting someone’s possessions or they just could not locate the bandit’s base. It was that well kept a secret… no one knew where they went or where they hid.

There were, however, slip ups. And mainly made by one infamous young man in particular.

“Watch over him, soldier.”

“Aye, sir!”

The recently formed band of Immortal Flames had been instated within all of Thanalan’s grasps in preparation for trouble arising all over Aldenard. Wars were being waged with Garleans and castrums that were popping up like flies. The likes of a couple bandits were the least of their worries, but they had kept an eye out regardless. And so did they catch a suspicious young-looking man they would likely interrogate and see where they stood.

But before that, they had been captured and thrown into the gaol of which a certain Zura Calderon had been stationed on night watch. No questions asked of his superior, he merely stood guard as was necessary of him.

The unruly looking man appeared to be about Zura’s age in fact. Dressed in torn cloth and desert wear, not in the best of shapes as ratty ashy blonde hair pooled out from beneath their bandana. Dark menacing eyes that seemed to look so done with the world.

Zura couldn’t help but wonder what would lead someone down such a path that they ended up looking like this. So depraved and worn looking, as though they were lost in life. Against his better judgement, he couldn’t help but be curious.

“What are you in for…?”

“What’s it to you?” The man tilted his head as he sat upon a stool in his gaol. “They just think I look suspicious. Too close to their makeshift base or whatever. I wasn’t even doing anything.”

“You should know that it’s unwise to be anywhere too open at the moment! Lots of dangerous going on in the realm at the moment, so they’re checking just about anything and everywhere to make sure there are no Garleans in our midst—”

The guy simply rolled their eyes. “Do I really look like a warmonger to you?”

“Not exactly.”

“Well there you have it then.” They scoffed as they crossed their arms. “It’s just an excuse. Bet they’re locking up anyone that looks them the wrong way.”

Zura couldn’t exactly defend nor deny. He had yet to debut on the field after all and was just a simple private who had been but recently recruited. There to help as the crisis grew around the realm! So… one couldn’t help but feel a little bad if the guy was apprehended for no good reason.

“I’ll make sure to put a word in with the others if all is true and you’ve done no wrong. What’s your name, by the by?”

“Pipin Tarupin.” A name no one would soon forget in the near future. “Remember it, I won’t repeat it twice.”

This was but one meeting between the two that would result in many more down the line. 

As they made small talk, Pipin made himself out to be naught but an innocent bystander. And indeed, when no evidence of any wrongdoing could be found on his person at the time… he would be released in the morning and warned to stay away from the Immortal Flames encampments that weren’t official strongholds like Drybone.

Since then, no particular troubles had occurred until after the Calamity. The realm torn up as it was and in dire need of assistance from their neighbors, the great city-states focused on themselves and the alliance. Attempting to rebuild whilst burying the insurmountable amount of dead from Carteneau.

…That was when the bandits finally upped the ante and made their presence known.

For in the wake of the calamity, those of nobility and wealth hoarded a majority of resources for themselves in Ul’dah while the people suffered greatly. It wasn’t unheard of the lower class hitting rock bottom, hardly having anything to eat or coin to get by while the Sultanate made laws that benefited themselves.

It was then that the bandits targeted the great Ul’dah houses one after another. Breaking into homes and stealing off into the night, a band of thieves who had grown in great number since many years ago. Everything they stole of great worth and weight in coin… yet it was not fully distributed amongst themselves.

No, it was given back to those of lesser fortune. Secret agents of theirs would target those in great need and give to them a portion of the riches. Slowly growing in size and number of those they helped without there being a clear connection of where it came from. Their reputation grew in popularity amongst the impoverished in quick succession. To the point they were being aided in new ways and given the foothold they always needed.

And their leader? None other than the mysterious Pipin Tarupin. Who would get captured here and there on the off-chance that his banditry didn’t go fully to plan… but would always escape one way or another before he could be met with actual punishment.

Whether it be slipping out of his gaol, sweet talking the guards, or simply having a secret aid within the Immortal Flames; he would always get away with it. One way or another.

…So too would he clash blades with that selfsame soldier who had been promoted countless times over the years. Except now with knowledge that Pipin was the one who was orchestrating the bandits, Zura gave the man no mercy.

A thorn in each other’s sides they were. But sometimes. Sometimes they’d talk! Whether it be during a bandit run or if they’d happen to run into one another privately. Zura would try to get to the bottom of why the bandit leader was the way he was. Trying to make him understand that what he was doing wasn’t beneficial to anyone, to which Pipin would always laugh and prove otherwise.

Enemies… rivals… many ways to describe their relationship. As easy as it would be to kill the other, they would hardly shed blood. Nor did it help either’s moral predicament when Pipin’s main code for his bandit crew were that they would shed no blood. They were not to kill under any circumstance unless backed into a corner. And even when they were, they opted not to unless they were under attack by other rival gangs.

It was impossible for any regular Ul’dahn to hate them. They were the robin hoods that saved those of lower wealth from having a worse fate. Just in a not so legal fashion. To a point that it started to look bad on the Immortal Flames for giving them as much trouble as they did—even if it’s their job to actually do so!

It put Zura in a rough predicament thanks to the bandit leader’s reputation. Oft did he try to sway the leader to see his side of things or at least stop him from having such a stronghold on the citizens, but never would Pipin listen. Instead finding fun and amusement in seeing Zura squirm.

Regardless, Pipin Tarupin was wanted by the law for his many violating actions. Good intentions or no, he would eventually be brought to justice!

…Or would he?

[science-lings]

Intro to my Phoenix!Phoenix AU

One thing I love about 'Phoenix being an actual Phoenix' AU's is that everyone can kind of put their own spin on it, maybe he has feathers and can talk to birds or is immune to fire, but because making a humanoid character into a mythical reincarnating bird is already deviating from every type of lore out there, you can just do whatever you want with it, which is my favorite thing to do.

The most important part of my particular Phoenix AU is his blood. In this au, his blood is what bursts into flames when he dies or is jumpstarted by an outside source of fire. It glows like molten metal to heal wounds and can even be transferred to another host to give them a bit of a magical healing boost in extreme situations.

continue on if you want to see the full informative essay lmao

He can set his blood on fire to jumpstart his own rebirth to skip the whole 'dying' thing, but that comes with its own consequences. It leaves him extremely weak and feverish for days afterward. In this AU he did take Dahlia's poison pills, and he ate the necklace, though because he almost died too recently, he still gets scars from the glass and the subsequent surgeries, he just wasn't strong enough to heal completely. It's why he gets away from eagle river with just a cold, he caught some of the debris of the flaming bridge and that ultimately saved him during the impact. Or at least kept him from having to fully die.

The fire fueled by phoenix blood is an unnatural blue and gets so hot that it melts metal and sets things around it aflame really easily. It extinguishes itself once Phoenix is healed but leaves behind scorch marks (both anywhere it touched and on Phoenix's body) and the normal fire that spawns from it needs to be dealt with more normally. Being reborn won't completely burn his suit off, but will leave ashy black marks in the places he was injured. idk how to logic that one out, I just think he deserves the mercy of not having to wake up from dying to be naked on top of everything else.

Phoenix can change forms, but as he wants to keep his mythical status a bit of a secret, he rarely does so and isn't good enough at transforming to do it during more urgent situations. His fear of heights also makes him less inclined to go birdmode. It's only after his disbarment that he becomes more comfortable testing out his own abilities and even joins Trucy in her magic shows as a flaming bird assistant. When he wants to watch his junior partners' trials, he occasionally attends in birdmode and hangs out in the courthouse windows. Sometimes he will swoop down to defend his kids from Taka as he has a bit of a grudge against the bird. He appears like Mia in times when hope is lost to scream a little, because he is a bird. (Trucy and her bird dad art)

Physical indicators of his true nature can mostly be hidden by his clothes, he has patches of small iridescent black/blue/indigo feathers like soft scales on his forearms, shoulders, back, hips, and lower legs. His hair is not quite made up of feathers but kind of supplemented by more featherlike bits of hair that only become obvious when touching it. He still has plausible deniability about his weird hair. His nails are naturally matte black and his eyelashes are long and dark enough to be noticeable but not too unusual.

Pre-Trucy he's trying his best to hide this part of himself but he gets more relaxed about it during his disbarment. when before he would refuse to roll his sleeves up even on the hottest of days, he gets more open about it with her. By the time he gets reinstated, his secret is kind of out so he sees no reason to try so hard to hide it.

One thing I'm still mulling over is how his immortality works. Either he can be good at being able to revive himself before he fully dies which causes him to reincarnate/regenerate into a new baby form with no/few memories of his life before or he could die, but only fully reincarnate every hundred or so years. This is all to say that I want his previous form to be Ryuunosuke. There are just core pieces of his personality that continue on, like being gay for his best friend and becoming a lawyer for him, and also his weird hair and big puppy eyes.

Also with all the talk about blood, I think a spinoff AU with Edgeworth being a vampire would just be fun. But I don't know how phoenix blood would affect a vampire... like would it reverse the vampirism? Would it partially reverse it? would it reverse the undead part but keep some of the silly vampire features? I haven't decided yet but it sounds funky to consider.

now to figure out what to call it... maybe Blood of the Phoenix (BotP AU), idk I'm taking suggestions now lmao

[traditional-with-a-twist]

xlix. Beauty and Her Beast

<<Previous || first arc || second arc || third arc || AO3 || Next>>

Lightning never strikes the same place twice.

That was what they said, anyway — yet here Obi finds himself in Tanbarun, at an inn, once again facing that feline smile across the room.

Obi’s face makes no secret of his disinclination for conversation. Anyone else might shy away from contact with the barren expression he presents: narrowed eyes set above a grim mouth, black hair shading in stark contrast against ashy skin.

Anyone might, but her.

He could run, but he knows she would only chase him. 

Instead of joining the raucous crowd at the bar, Obi lays down money for one night. Then he pivots and stalks towards the courtyard. 

...

A few minutes later, a woman with long, burnished hair and bold eyes saunters out to admire the stars on a cold, clear, winter’s night.

...

Obi has changed since she saw him last.

Torou takes her time observing him, marking each new detail as she would assess a fortress.

Gone is the light from his eyes — this is not the softer Obi she met once. Nor is he the fierce, wild man she partnered with long ago, but something colder and darker.

He bears unmistakable signs of neglecting himself on the road, a carelessness as culpable as a knight leaving his sword to rust.

Altogether, she is not sure whether to consider him less dangerous … or more.

...

Unless the question is whether he has become a danger to himself— on that point, Torou is very clear.

...

She advances on him in the night, this time resolved to test him not with blows, but with words.

“A legend!” Torou hails her old partner. “Tired of the quiet life, Obi? All the taverns are buzzing about you.”

This was no mere raillery. “People are talking about you” was not a compliment, in their line of work.

...

Obi regards her grimly. Like everything else, Torou is tied up with memories he would rather forget — thoughts he cannot bear, yet cannot escape.

He looks away, wondering how long before he can be rid of her. 

“If you’re looking for a rich man to entertain you,” he says, in a flattened tone impossible to mistake for banter, “you’ll have better luck inside.”

...

So he doesn’t want to play, Torou thinks. Then again, he hadn’t the last time they met either.

Still, there is something different. That time at the inn, he had been not impatient, exactly, but engaged. He had wanted to be left in peace because he had something else to do, something absorbing his time and attention.

Tonight he is utterly without direction — not roaming free, but lost.

She has never seen Obi lost before.

...

“What, back there?” Torou flips her hand at the warm light spilling through the windows behind them.

Shaking her head, she declares, “I’d be bored to death — too safe.”  

She doesn’t need to emphasize the last word to be sure that he’ll get the message.

...

Even so, he gives no sign of it, not a twitch of the eyebrow in response.

He only leans against the wall and folds his arms. “Is that so.”

...

Torou is not one to give up easily. She may have a wandering eye, but once something has caught her attention, nothing will dislodge it.

She presses on, pressing in, shortening the space between them.

“But you — I’ve been hearing all about you,” Torou purrs. “Up and down the road, there’s talk of a dangerous man, asking for more danger.”

His eyes shift away. 

“Is that why you came,” he says, in that expressionless voice.

...

He wonders why she won’t just leave him alone.

...

A new feeling wells in her as she watches him disregard her warnings. She steps closer, inside his circle of movement. 

She has entered the danger zone now, where a strike given or received could be lethal.

The proximity triggers a physical response in Obi, sparking his defensive reflexes. His pulse accelerates, preparing for explosive force.

Although he would rather look anywhere else, be anywhere else, he can’t resist the impulse to keep the threat in view.

His eyes slide to her face by force of habit.

...

She would have anticipated as much; it is her business to make herself impossible to ignore.

Now she has him.

For the first time, Obi really looks at her.

...

Torou is startling when roused. Her nostrils flare; her color rises. It is like an ember blazing to life.

He would never have guessed it of her — the coquette, who played with her food before she ate it and troubled herself only for money or amusement.

He had always supposed he was just that to her — a source of amusement, a curiosity that caught her interest as fleetingly as a gleam of light or spare bit of string.

She was steel wrapped in velvet, a kitten with sheathed claws. Now, suddenly, she bares herself to him.

...

A possibility forms in Obi’s mind — the possibility of a distraction, presenting itself in a new shape.

...

Torou jabs a finger in his chest. It isn’t a calculated gesture. 

She is just angry.

He watches her bemusedly, surprise offering some variety to the slog of anguish and despair that has weighted him for endless days and nights.

...

“You keep chasing death long enough, Obi,” Torou whispers, “and someday you’ll catch it. Believe me, I’ve watched it happen.”

Then she backs away, a strange smile on her lips. Her passion has banked to embers, subsiding as quickly as it came.

She leaves him standing there, alone in the dark.

...

Inside, voices rise and fall.

Laughter, drink, a crackling fire, all dwindle to ashes.

Hours pass, and the tables empty.

...

Obi never makes a decision.

He only allows his feet to carry him up the stairs, down the hall, until he reaches a door left unlocked.

It’s almost too daring — an invitation for trouble, issued in defiance of anyone who accepts it.

Then again, perhaps it’s an invitation for one troublemaker in particular.

...

He places a finger on the wood and eases it open.

...

At the sound of the hinges, Torou smiles to herself.

She is seated before her mirror, her long hair loose and gleaming, a brush in her hand. 

Her wrist moves in slow circles, languid as a tongue on fur. Smooth and unhurried, the brush polishes gleaming auburn to bronze.

...

She wears only a robe — divested of the apparently casual but carefully arranged layers of their trade.

People in the underworld dress for stealth. That meant ordinariness, unremarkable townspeople clothing, as often as it meant the camouflage of gray night shadows or forest greens.

They dressed also for protection, but not the sort that would attract attention. Armor, guards, sheaths, and the other trappings of warrior trade tended to make a target jittery, a law enforcer suspicious.

Instead, they clothed themselves in thick, loose weaves. Apparently for comfort, the thick material actually served for turning aside a blade, dulling an arrow’s point. Scarves and gloves masked the vulnerable, sensitive skin at their throats and wrists.

...

Torou has shed all of this. 

Only thin cotton drapes from her shoulders to the floor, open at the neck and elbows. Her skin is warm and glowing in the lamplight.

Something sweet and smoky burns in the air.

...

Her eyes meet his in the glass.

They are amber on gold, fox to cat, caught in a dance that has just turned interesting.

Torou’s smile widens. “Hello, Obi.”

[ke-119]

FALLOUT - Chapter 1

Chapter: 1 of 18

Rating: T+

Warnings: Canon-typical violence/blood/gore

Characters/Pairings: Poe Dameron/Finn, Karé Kun, Iolo Arana, Leia Organa, BB-8, OCs.

Summary: Still reeling in the aftermath of Crait, Poe Dameron and Finn are sent to a secret Resistance base tucked away on Lothal to serve as acting generals. Their numbers dwindled to barely a handful, and with General Organa’s order grounding all surviving Resistance personnel to heal and regroup, morale is at an all time low. Poe grapples with his inability to sit still; the First Order looms, an ever-encroaching threat to what remains of the Outer Rim’s free space; intimate feelings grow impossible to ignore and a shocking return promises devastating consequences not only for those stationed on Lothal, but for the Resistance and galaxy at large. 

A/N: An AU adventure, a side-quest of sorts, to account for some of the time between TLJ and ROS. Stormpilot centric. Canon up until the end of TLJ (but does not take into account Resistance Reborn or the Finn/Rose arc).

Masterlist

CHAPTER 1

The pilot didn’t lose control right away. But as each current of air viciously battered and shook the ruined craft, it could only be a matter of seconds. 

Poe Dameron’s stomach flip-flopped as he watched, powerless from the ground, as the X-Wing locked into a final tailspin. He flicked through the patrol schedule in his mind. It was shift change—could be any one of six pilots he didn’t know very well. A fleeting moment of relief: Iolo and Karé weren’t back on shift until next morning. 

“Is that… one of us?” Next to him, Finn watched in rapt horror. 

The ship careened out of view from the patch of sky above Kothal’s bustling market square and north, toward the edge of town. 

Poe broke into a run. Without looking back, he knew Finn was hot on his heels. 

Even if they got there fast, there was no telling what the impact would do to the pilot. Crashed spacecraft mangled bodies in unimaginable ways and the ghastly images flashed unbidden through his brain. He shoved the intrusions aside. 

Travelers and locals yelped, jumping out of the way as Poe and Finn tore between market stalls and down the alley toward Kothal’s edge, tracking the smoking fighter above as its descent built in speed. Buildings thinned and long, reedy grass sprung up alongside sporadic trees that thickened into a forest, towering over Poe and Finn as they ran. 

They felt the impact more than they heard it, the monumental THUNK of durasteel meeting earth nearly knocking them off their feet. Poe urged his legs on faster, boots beating a frantic rhythm along the forest floor. Several trees thundered down ahead, kicking up a shockwave of dirt and smoke. The X-wing’s overtaxed frame gave one last, mighty screech then skidded to a standstill, nose burrowed in the dirt, silent. 

The wall of charcoal smoke made it impossible to see, at first. Poe and Finn fought their way through the debris of downed trees, coughing. Snapped trunks stuck out like spikes guarding a fortress. The crash would have been heard for miles, but Poe yanked his commlink off his belt and thumbed it to life. 

“This is General Dameron. I need all available medics, Silver and Bronze Squadrons one klick north of base. Now.” 

As they scaled the smashed left wing of the fighter, the canopy hydraulics hissed as it opened. 

“They’re alive!” Finn said. 

Poe bit back his instinctive response. Smash those things hard enough, they just popped open. No guarantee the pilot was still alive. In fact, chances were slim to none.

But Finn was right. 

The pilot’s helmet was busted in on the right side, chin to their chest, but their shoulders moved up and down in a stuttering, ragged movement of breath. 

Poe wedged his boot in the space between the flight console and canopy seal, the other against the back of the cockpit and reached in to slide the pilot’s helmet off as gently as he could. Ashy blond hair flopped out, and the pilot lifted his head. 

“Torin!”

Ten months prior, before Crait, before Jakku, before Finn… Resistance pilot Torin Baz had left on a simple recon mission in the Beta Rhama system and never returned. Squadrons deployed to canvas the area and surrounding sectors, without success. Torin Baz was up until now considered missing in action—really just an evasive way of saying dead. 

Years ago, they stood shoulder to shoulder in formation each morning at the Academy, the complete antithesis to each other: Poe, with his curly, obsidian hair and short, athletic stature; Torin, the towering, ruddy Tanaab farm boy who’d never left home until he enlisted. Like Iolo and Karé, he’d followed Poe to the Resistance.

Torin coughed, crimson flecking his lips and chin. 

“Poe?” he gasped, and relief smoothed some of the pain etched into his brow. The left half of his face was a bloody mess, like a bucket of it had been dumped down from his hairline. The gash there gaped and Poe gulped back the quiver of nausea at the bright white sliver that had to be skull. Torin’s chin dropped to his chest once more. 

Poe looked down at Finn, who searched his face, mirroring the immense shock he could hardly yet register. 

“Hang on, kid.” Poe turned back to Torin. “Help is coming.”

* * *

“You’re going to Lothal.”

“Come again?” 

“I need you and Finn as acting generals there.” Leia folded her arms and leaned against the holo-projector. The swampy air of the Klosslands made everyone else on base shiny with sweat. Somehow, Leia just continued to glow. “Karé, Iolo and Vrees will be joining you. You leave tonight.” 

“Now just hold on a second.” Poe raked a hand through his hair. “Why are we being sent to the middle-of-dusty-nowhere-Outer-Rim? You need us here, where the action is.”

Leia chuckled. “They need you out there. And there will be no action for the time being. This is the time to re-group. We need every base up and running smoothly.”

“No action—You’re grounding us? Everyone?”

“Yes.” A smile played at the corner of her lips, but didn’t brighten her eyes. “This one’s going to be a hard one for you. But there is a time for offense and a time for defense. Right now is the latter.” Her features darkened. “Crait was a big blow. Most of the galaxy has bowed to Kylo Ren’s threat to anyone showing allegiance to the Resistance. We don’t have the manpower to launch an attack at this point.”

Poe had to agree, as much as it devastated him. “So what is it you want us to do out there, General?”

“Regular patrol. The First Order has been eyeing the Lothal sector for weeks now.”

“Just like the good old days, huh?”

“Keep the mayor soothed.” That mischievous glint in her eye briefly peaked through the weary gray. “You’ve got your work cut out for you with that one.”

“I’m sure we’ll get along just fine.”

Leia paused, turning to look out at the holo-map suspended above the projector. “Do you remember Torin Baz?”

“Of course. They ever find him?”

“Still missing. Kothal Base has been struggling to keep their heads above water ever since. They could use some new faces.” 

“You’re not budging on this.”

“No.” She gave his shoulder a squeeze. “This is where the real work lies, Poe. Not in covert recon, not even in bombing Star Destroyers. This is where you’re really going to need to dig deep.”

* * *

And she was, of course, right. 

Poe’s life had always been a revolving door of staying busy. Now, time stood still. At least that’s how it felt when you’d been in active combat for the better part of a year and everything just slammed to a stop. It was the worst place for him to be. He didn’t thrive here; he floundered. Poe Dameron did not flounder. If there was a bright side to be found in any situation, no matter how dim, he’d run with it. Recently, not so much. He paced. His leg bounced under tables. Last week, their mess hall table had vibrated with the incessant rhythm. And he’d nearly jumped out of his skin when Finn’s warm palm landed on his knee to stop it. 

They’d been at Kothal Base for three weeks now (was it four? He’d lost count. Every day looked the same). In the last seventy-two hours, he’d been awake for sixty-five. It was the quiet. The quiet was the problem; it was endless. At night, it tiptoed under his skin with little, spindly legs and sat there, an invisible itch that would finally drive him up and out of bed after hours of tossing, turning and flipping his pillow to the cool side ad infinitum. 

Sleep had always come to him so easily. For months prior, he’d found it where he could, dropping in and out of it on command; in corners, on cold floors, you name it, he was out like a light. But now that he actually had the time and the safety (illusions be damned) to clock those glorious, full eight hours; it refused to come. 

Tonight again, instead of sleep, Poe had sought out his perch on top of a building that perimetered Kothal’s market square. It was as close as he could get to space without being in his cockpit. The tower, by far the tallest structure in town, was the first distinct shape he’d picked out as they made their first descent into Kothal. Its roof was an enormous cupola with a derelict scouter’s platform big enough to fit three people. From up here, the purple aurora in the Kothal sky turned the night to black liquid speckled through with glitter. 

Poe slid off his perch on the roof and scaled back down the side of the building. The smack of his boots echoed through the somnolent market square as he took the long way back to base, so his walk would take him past City Hall. The mayor’s face, curled in that snide, trademark snarl popped into his head, and it chipped away at the confidence Poe had been building all week, brick by brick, steeling himself for their meeting now just a few hours away. 

Mayor Jordance Greer remained on good terms with General Organa, but the same couldn’t be said for the fighters actually stationed on Kothal Base. The disdain Greer held for them was palpable in how little time he allotted to meet with Resistance command staff regularly and the distaste on his face he made no effort to conceal whenever they did. 

Worse still, was Greer’s immovable stance on Kothal’s weapon prohibition. No energy weapons of any kind were permitted within the city limits–a law firmly in place since the fall of the Empire, created by Greer himself. A cause near and dear to his heart, clearly. For Poe, so was keeping his people alive. Leia had been sugar-coating Greer’s temperament. Feathers were going to be ruffled at some point, why not bright and early in Poe’s tenure as general here? 

If he wanted any hope of swaying the man later today, he had to sleep. Lack of sleep made him a little too quippy. Mayor Greer didn’t do quippy.

* * *

When Poe’s alarm dredged him from the fitful sleep he’d dropped into an hour prior, he was not in the mood. At this point, he’d need nothing short of a miracle to channel Leia’s diplomacy with Mayor Greer. 

Finn was waiting for Poe when he returned from the first patrol shift, Iolo and Karé flanking him. He tamped down on the flutters in his belly when he caught sight of Finn, leather jacket tucked under his arm, hands in his pockets as he leaned against a fuel station several ships down.

“General.” Finn’s smile was infectious and had the instant effect of brightening Poe’s mood. 

“General.”

His hair had grown significantly since they first met. What used to be close-cropped, tightly coiled curls were twisted into short locs on top of his head. Poe liked it. To be fair, there wasn’t much he could say he didn’t like when it came to Finn. He followed the trajectory of Finn’s hairline to the rich, sepia-brown skin of his face, his ample nose. Full, soft lips. Poe’s heart fluttered. Gorgeous just didn’t quite cut it— 

“Big day!” Finn clapped him on the back, snapping him back to the present. “You ready for this?” 

“You bet.”

“You didn’t sleep, did you?”

“Nope.”

They entered the central hallway of base and wove their way past the mess hall, where Iolo and Karé were already digging into trays at a table to the right. Poe returned Karé’s wave with a small jut of his chin, pointedly ignoring the playful grin and bounce of her eyebrows, as he and Finn followed the passageway to the sleeping quarters. 

Kothal Base had served as a satellite post for troopers during the Empire, and though it had long been repurposed, it retained the sterile, Imperial-white walls. The corridor tapered, lights dimming. They stopped in front of Poe’s room.

“Give me a second to change and we’ll head to City Hall.”

A group of Sullustan engineers bustled up the corridor, so engrossed in their conversation they didn’t bother with hallway etiquette. Finn stepped forward to not get trampled, so close Poe could smell the earthy freshness of his aftershave. After the engineers passed, Finn looked up. They met each other’s gaze. Poe could have leaned forward and touched Finn’s nose with his own … Or his lips…

The intercom broke the spell, the loud blare of the call for the next patrol squadron to report to the hangar bay for shift change. 

Finn stepped back. 

Poe remembered how to breathe again. “I’ll just–I’ll be right back.” 

Once safely shut in on the other side of the door, Poe melted against it with a long exhale. The pleasant yet disconcerting fluttering inside his diaphragm, like the flap of dozens of tiny wings, was new to him in its intensity. He’d never felt this way before about someone, of that he was certain. It was exhilarating. Also, terrifying. It made him sweat. 

He and Finn had shared a striking connection from the moment they met. Minutes turned to hours when they got to talking, and many nights to morning, without either noticing. Every time they touched, it was electric. For the first time in his life, he just couldn’t find the words for it. No hiding behind a quick quip, no smartass retort. They knew most things about each other they’d never told another being before in their lives. So why was it so impossible to tell Finn how he felt? The possibility of rejection? That he’d imagined it all? That the overwhelming pull he felt for Finn was just a fleeting product of their tumultuous meeting–having cheated death together… Multiple times. 

Poe decided (again), as he yanked a shirt over his head, he’d add this to the list of things filed away for consideration when he’d slept and the resulting throb in his temples was gone.  

* * *

Clothes swapped for less conspicuous garb than his bright orange flight suit, and his heartbeat slowed to a more reasonable rhythm, Poe joined Finn again. They made their way back the way they’d come, then past medbay and incident command, to a door at the very end of the winding hallway. Poe tapped the datapad on the wall beside it and it slid open into a dusty alleyway just a few paces from Kothal’s market square. 

Built into the base of a craggy mountain side, Kothal, the colloquially known “supply run” town, once crawled with Imperial troops who bled the town dry. With the Empire gone, Kothal had returned to its sleepier, pre-Empire state, feeding and replenishing a steady flow of travelers and Lothalites alike. 

At this hour of the morning, the square teemed with activity: vendors shouted over one another, children played, little feet stamping across the cobblestones, overlapping conversations and laughter echoed, with the faint burble of the fountain at the center underscoring it all. Poe and Finn turned westward, away from the busyness and toward City Hall. 

“Poe!” A familiar voice sounded behind them. “Hey, Poe!”

Kemi Lum, long, sandy braids swishing, jogged up to join them. 

“Hey, Kemi,” Poe said, slowing just enough for her to fall into step behind them.

“Where are you going?” 

“City Hall. Where are you going?” Finn chuckled. He had more patience for the kid than Poe could muster. She was excited about something today, a little breathless, skipping along behind them to keep up the pace. 

“I need to ask you guys something.” The words tumbled out. 

Poe stopped so abruptly she almost smacked into him. Finn looked equally surprised. “No.” 

“No—What do you mean no?!” Her ever-wide eyes were enormous with indignation. “You don’t even know what I was going to—Just like that?”

“Yeah, just like that.” 

“Hey…” Kemi scampered up alongside him as he resumed his stride toward City Hall. “Hey—Wait!” 

“You’re sixteen—”

“I’ll be seventeen in eight months.” 

Poe stopped again. His frustration was probably as poorly concealed as it felt because her mouth slid shut at the look on his face. He blew out a breath, softening. “Kemi. You have your whole life ahead of you. This isn’t a game, or fun—it’s dangerous. Even more so right now. The Resistance is no place for a kid.” 

Her eyebrows drew together in disappointment. “I bet you were my age when you realized your world was too small for you.” 

He had to hand it to her; she was good. “Yeah. It was way too small.” He shook his head at the radiant smile tugging up at the corners of her mouth. Finn laughed out loud, and the sound melted more of the tension between Poe’s shoulders. “You can be our eyes and ears in town. But no tailing, no sneaking in places, no fighting – nothing like that, you hear me?”

It was clear Kemi heard nothing past the first part of what Poe said, but she nodded vigorously, beaming, and sauntered off back in the direction of the market. 

* * *

When the First Order annihilated its way through any and every treaty they had signed with the New Republic, Lothal held its breath. Then, they watched, powerless, alongside the rest of the galaxy, as entire planets were decimated by weapons devastatingly similar to those older Lothalites were still trying to forget. The younger generations had only heard the stories, but the fear in their elders was tangible enough to impress even on them the gravity of the galaxy’s current political state. 

The zero-tolerance, no weapons law was Greer’s first act as mayor, right at the fall of the Empire. The constant threat of violence, the blaster-rifles slung over every shoulder; it had to end there. They had suffered too much. 

The fines were steep—jail times could be even steeper. General Organa agreed to respect this precedent: the Resistance were allowed weapons on base, outside the city limits, on patrol. Poe couldn’t fathom this law holding up even in times of peace—let alone all out war. 

He’d hoped sharing Leia’s title of Resistance General might do a little of the work for him. Was he ever wrong. Mayor Jordance Greer, with his big-jowled face and layers of ostentatious robes (who wore that many layers on a hot, dry planet?), was a tough nut to crack. 

And he didn’t like Poe. To be fair, Poe had been dead-set on bypassing Greer’s precious weapons clause from the day he set foot in Kothal. He couldn’t allow his people off base unarmed, not with Lothal in the First Order’s sights. 

But that wasn’t all, and he wisely chose not to share this part of his argument with Greer. The faith the galaxy had in the Resistance had taken a blow with the news of Crait. There weren’t many chomping at the bit to join anymore, even less who wanted anything to do with the Resistance at all. It was a miracle the mayor had even agreed to their meeting. Maybe the scales were finally tipping in Poe’s favor. 

No sooner did Finn and Poe arrive at City Hall were they ordered to wait outside by the grumbling Ugnaught standing guard at the doors. Not the warm welcome Poe was hoping for, but he couldn’t let that dampen his resolve. 

Then, they waited. 

Twenty minutes passed. Then thirty. Poe tapped his foot. Paced a circle into the dust. Stood. Sat. 

Finn stifled a chuckle. “You good?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m good.” This was taking too long. Self-doubt was creeping up. 

Finally, the mechanized door slid open with a hiss, and a human male hobbled out, too-large robes dripping off his frail form. The mayor’s aide. 

“Generals. The mayor has come to his decision. There will be no exemption granted.”

Heat flushed up Poe’s neck. “I was under the impression we were meeting the mayor to discuss this.”

The aide wrung his hands. “Yes, sir, but Mayor Greer has made his wishes clear. He simply has no exemptions to give.”

“Thank you.” Finn side-stepped between the trembling aide and Poe, spinning him around by the shoulders and down the steps. 

Poe let himself be pushed along back towards the market square, seething. “That’s it, huh? No discussion?”

“We’ll take another crack at it. Give him time… Let’s see how Kemi’s liking her new job, yeah?” 

Poe composed himself, if only a little. “You’re right. Besides,” He patted the metal concealed at the small of his back. “What Mayor Greer doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

* * *

The market was the busiest they’d ever seen. The canvas stalls lining the edges were packed with sentients, brimming with supplies and food. Even the alleys and doorways jutting off between the stalls in haphazard places were filled. The patch of sky above streamed glinting slants of sun into the fountain. Not a cloud in sight. 

“Looks like Kemi is taking her job very seriously.” Finn nodded toward the eastern corner of the market, ahead of them, where the craggy mountain face spilled out onto the cobblestones. Where two stalls were split by the rock, Kemi perched atop the little slope, eyebrows scrunched in concentration as she surveyed the crowd. 

“This should keep her busy for a while,” Poe said. Finn just laughed, and Poe found himself smiling. Maybe slowing down wouldn’t be such a bad thing. After all, it only meant more time with Finn.

A gasp from across the square startled them, and the hubbub of the market dropped at the harsh echo. It belonged to a man leading a nerf through the center. He’d stopped his animal and was looking up at the sky, shielding his eyes from the morning glare. 

Others were looking up now, too. Murmurs rippled across huddled groups, tight, anxious. Collective horror built from gasps to shouts. A zing of adrenaline coursed through Poe’s legs, ready to propel him into a fight as he followed the frantic crowd’s eye-line to the air.

Tumbling out of the sky was the smoking outline of an X-Wing T-70.

[laxyaklovesloz]

The Legend of Zelda: Real Courage | Chapter Twenty-Eight: An Unexpected Request

The sound of many voices woke her, a distant rumble reminiscent of Castle Town. It was actually quite relaxing. It was something Lila wasn't familiar with, but she thought she could get used to it. Her bed was very comfortable, so she didn't want to leave her curled-up position.

She thought about the day before. Her trial. She had passed, and now was officially the Hero of Courage. What did that even mean? And Zale was the Son of Wisdom? Lila had never heard that term before, or even the reverse gender version of the Heroes past. Perhaps there were just as many secrets of heroism as being a spy.

Reluctantly, she pushed the covers off her and sat on the bed. Her clothes had been changed, so her tunic and accessories lay on a nearby table, freshly clean. She was glad to have clean clothes but hoped her caretakers kept her modest.

A few of the other beds around her still held a few Hylians from the previous battle. She even recognized a younger man who had yet to wake up. He looked thin, and his skin was a bit ashy-colored. Lila's gut twisted; she had been on the wrong side all her life, and these people had to pay for her lack of courage. She couldn't let anyone else be harmed because of her. For the first time, she felt what Zale consistently told her could be true. She would use courage to keep others safe.

As Lila pondered, her nurse came by with a drink of water and some bread. The woman no longer looked at her with fear, but with something brighter, something Lila had never seen before... except maybe on Zale. She asked, "How's Zale?"

The woman smiled softly and chirped, "He's resting soundly. He's ever so peaceful when he sleeps. Looks just like the Goddess, only more handsome," she finished with a giggle.

Ignoring the bit of confusion brought on by such an odd statement, Lila asked, "Is there a place I can change privately?"

The woman nodded and pointed to an opening on Lila's left. "You can leave your sleeping gown on the bench."

"Thank you," Lila said, gathering up her things.

A few minutes later, Lila stepped outside the hospital tent to feel a gentle breeze in the lazy afternoon sunlight. Although the many people displaced by Ganondra were now sharing tents in a forest, Lila could sense a new energy about them. She saw smiles, watched children play, and occasionally heard singing. The singing reminded her of some of the few times she felt happy growing up. The Gerudo women loved to sing, whether alone in their homes or performing errands. However, Lila had never joined them.

As she wandered around the camp, she saw a keese perched on a little girl's shoulder. Lila did a double take, wondering why a keese would be outside a cave. Then she realized it must be Mori and little Zelda. The girl looked almost exactly like Zale except her eyes were green, and her hair was done up in a few braids. Most of her yellow-blonde hair hung loosely though, down to her waist. She looked to be around ten or eleven years old. Lila noted the lack of regalia on the princess. One other woman stood by, probably the princess's handmaiden.

"Mori, it's good to see you again," Lila greeted as she approached. Zelda and the maiden stopped their conversation and looked at her with confusion.

Seeing Lila fit and walking about, Mori flew quickly to her side. "You're okay! How'd the trial go?"

Lila showed off her bow. "Not as bad as people made it out to be. Are you going to introduce me to your new friends?"

"Oh yeah! Ella," he said the name pointedly, "do you remember Lila?"

Zelda nodded shyly. "It's nice to meet you, Hero."

Lila blushed and waved off her politeness. "I'm no one special. Did you get out safely, um, Ella?"

She nodded again with a broad smile. "Thanks to you and Mori. Nellie met us at the bottom of the stairs. I'm glad she was also safe, and I would have been lost without her."

"I'd have been so upset if you got hurt," said the maiden, "or worse." Nellie appeared older than Lila, but only by a few years. She had soft brown hair braided into a bun and caring brown eyes. She seemed to focus on Zelda but also watched their surroundings. Lila thought she must be great at keeping her ward out of harm even though she didn't look particularly trained in combat.

Lila lowered her voice for her next question. "Is your identity still a secret to everyone?"

A worried look appeared on Nellie's face, but Zelda seemed unphased. "Yes. It was one of my father's last orders, or so I hear." Her tone lowered in sadness. "No one knows where he is."

"Don't you worry my lady," said Nellie. She placed a small hand on the girl's back. "I'm sure we'll find him well soon enough." The sentiment didn't revive Zelda's spirit, and Lila wondered how many times she had already heard it.

Mori fidgeted uncomfortably, reminding Lila of his lack of experience on the subject. She tried turning the conversation to something lighter by asking what Zelda and Nellie liked to do in their spare time. She learned Zelda had an extensive sewing collection at home, and Nellie most enjoyed caring for stray animals around Castle Town. They were both sad to be away from home. Lila sympathized, but leaving her own home was one of the best choices she ever got to make. She briefly wondered how much freedom Zelda had but decided it probably wouldn't help the mood.

As the sun hung lower in the sky, Lila said goodbye to the other three. Mori seemed to like being with Zelda, which she didn't mind. It was nice to have a bit more time to herself. She wandered deeper into the forest, letting the silence embrace her. She breathed in the earthy smells, strangely comfortable smells, much damper than those of the desert. She thought to herself, This is where I could live.

Soon she heard a small, soothing tune arise. It sounded familiar – though she couldn't place where she'd heard it before. The song felt like it was both a welcoming home and a setting free for adventure. Then it was joined by voices as the melody shifted and danced. Before she knew it, she found herself crossing into a village.

The village was considerably smaller than both Castle Town and Gerudo Village, but not just in area. The homes were grown right from trees, but the roofs were only a little bit taller than Ganondra herself. Everything from the homes to the quiet brook was toned in green, making it all feel alive. Even the dust mites in the air seemed to twinkle along with the music.

In the center of the village were half a dozen children dressed in all green similar to Lila's own tunic. Multicolored lights flickered in the air, dancing and whirling around them. After a moment she realized the lights were fairies. Nabooru had told her they were nearly extinct, and if she ever found one to bottle it and bring it to her. Seeing their joyful movements and happy companions, it occurred to her they were far too precious and filled with goodness to go anywhere near him. She wondered, even, if he had an active hand in their loss in numbers.

As she grew closer, the fairies stopped moving and twittered with bell-like voices. The children stopped their playing to look. Their eyes went wide at the sight of Lila, but they didn't move from where they were standing. They stared at Lila with wonder but also fear, and Lila looked back with a half smile.

She raised her hand and gave a small wave. "H-hi. My name is Lila. I'm sorry I disturbed you; I just heard your music and instinctively followed."

The fairies conversed excitedly with the children listening in. Lila occasionally picked out a few words, particularly "hero" and "courage."

Finally, one boy and one girl stepped forward like they were the ones in charge. The boy spoke first.

"You don't belong here," he said flatly.

The girl quickly hushed him and shoved him lightly. "Mido, don't you see who it is?" She added to Lila, "Don't listen to him. He's still jealous."

"Am not!"

"Are too! Anyway, you must be here for a reason. The Hero of Time hasn't been seen for centuries."

Another child piped up, "I thought the Hero of Time is a boy."

"He is, or – was," the girl answered. "She is a different Hero."

"Oh, right." Though the child said it like he understood exactly what she was talking about, his face showed otherwise. "So... she... was a he... in a past life?"

"Basically," the boy said with a sly look. Lila blushed.

Unperturbed, the girl stated, "We are the children of Kokiri Forest, and these are our fairies." She waved to the lights floating around them. "Do you know why you're here?"

Lila answered, "Only that I heard your music. Why? Are there monsters that need killing? That's about all I'm good at."

The girl smiled, but her eyes turned down to the instrument in her hands. For the first time, Lila paid attention to it. The wooden object was small, about the exact size for her hands, with seven holes. The body was round like a goose and had a pipe on one side, presumably for blowing into. She vaguely remembered a picture of one of her predecessors featuring a blue version. To her surprise, the girl held it out to her.

"This is a fairy ocarina. You may know of something called the Ocarina of Time. I gave the Hero of Time a fairy ocarina just like this before he got it. I never saw him after he helped me awaken as the Forest Sage. I want you to have this one."

"Me? I can't take that—"

"To play it, put the long piece to your lips and blow," she explained over Lila's protest. "Put your fingers over the holes in different combinations to make each note."

Lila held the instrument with reverence. "But what will you play?"

She nodded and smiled gently. "I have others. Unfortunately, the Ocarina of Time is currently missing. Maybe this will help you recover it."

"Okay," Lila replied, "I'll find it for you."

"Thank you," the girl said. "It's time to go. If you find the Ocarina, come back to this forest. We'll be waiting for you." The girl and the other children each took a step back and waved.

Lila waved back. "I'll do my best. I'm glad I got to meet you." She turned around and retraced her path back to the Hylian camp. The music faded faster than it had appeared. She looked back, but no sign of the village or its inhabitants remained. Though she felt like she was in a dream, the fairy ocarina reminded her of her new task. Unsure of where to start looking she decided to ask Zale about it later.

Lila hoped she'd be able to return the artifact.