#let me roll around in the mud in peace!

[greykolla-art]

Cw: suggestive as heck ofmd art!👇🌹🔞

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I am aware of all the cute art suggestions I’ve gotten!❤️

but I simply must feed the gremlin in my brain that has been going: “brrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!” ever since episode 6.🙏

Can you imagine moving on after this???

I’m proudly waving my asexual flag while staring, disrespectfully!👀

[hedgehog-moss]

Pirlouit experienced unimaginable torment at breakfast this morning.

The worst kind of bullying a donkey can go through. Someone tried to steal his hay.

(It's hard to take photos of Pan mid-crime because he is so fast. He's a shadow. A dream.)

(Or rather, a donkey's worst nightmare.)

To be fair, Pandolf clearly wasn't trying to steal anyone's hay. He wanted to kiss Pirlouit's cheek (he learnt this from Poldine), and was only going to do it once, but then Pirlouit freaked out at this blatant attempt to steal his mouthful of hay, and Pandolf thought Pirlouit's reaction was very funny, so he did it again five hundred times. (It gets funnier every time)

Are we having fun, Pirlouit?

If Pirou looks dirty it's because he rolled around in the mud first thing this morning. It was soft and refreshing and lovely, he thought this Tuesday was starting in a most auspicious manner.

But then Pandolf tried to steal his hay.

Eventually, Pampelune the Llamatriarch intervened, full of majestic authority.

I took Pandolf with me to lock him in the barn for a bit and let his friends eat in peace—but when I turned around I saw Pampe spit on Pirlouit to ban him from the communal pile of hay!

Pirlouit looked simply crushed under this avalanche of injustice.

[yawneneteyam]

・゜゜・．mawey, oeyä yawne — ( neteyam )

summary: neteyam returns from his duties and is shocked to find out his young daughter has found her 'mate' [1.2k]

pairings: dad!neteyam x fem!omaticaya!reader

notes: "sorry im obsessed w the idea of baby daddy neteyam😭😭‼️what if,,, he meets his 9 yo daughter's first boyfriend" was the request. translations are at the end of the piece.

Ni'awtu was Neteyam's atan. His littlest love that Eywa had blessed him with. She was perfect and from the moment she was born, she filled Neteyam's heart with more love than he could have ever imagined.

Giving birth to Ni'awtu only made Neteyam fall more and more in love with you. You were strong, a warrior. Neteyam made tsaheylu with you during your labour period, he could only imagine the pain you were in through the small slither he was able to save you from. You were enchanting, his mate, mother of his child.

It seemed that time slipped away quicker than Neteyam ever thought possible. Ni'awtu was eight, she could no longer fit in the palm of his hand. She was strong and mighty, she would make an excellent Olo'ektan when the time was right, but she was still his baby.

"Oeyä txe’lan you need to stop running through the tent with mud!" You shouted, "Your father will not be happy". Ni'awtu ran through your home, filling the canopy with laughter and light, another pair of little feet padding along after her.

Ateyo had become Ni'awtu's closest friend over their years of knowing each other. He was a good boy, clever and funny. You enjoyed seeing the bond that they shared with each other so young. You often found yourself laughing alongside Ateyo's parents at the thought of them growing up together.

Neteyam had only been able to meet Ateyo a handful of times, his duties as Olo'ektan kept him busy. When he found time for his family, it was peaceful and quaint- just the three of you. It wasn't that Neteyam disliked Ateyo, Neteyam disliked any boys who went near his Ni'awtu. She was his baby, too young to belong to another man. 'You are a warrior, oeyä tsawke. No boy will ever change that, so do not let them' he would tell her.

Ni'awtu and Ateyo quickly stumbled over small apologies before running back outside of the tent, their laughter was contagious. You couldn't help yourself but smile.

Eclipse was coming soon, you knew that Neteyam would be home to help you cook dinner for your small family. You tried your best to brush the mud outside that sat on your floor. Neteyam pulled back the curtain of your home, letting himself back into his safe space, ready to finish his day with his two favourite people.

"Mmh," Neteyam snaked his arms around your waist, holding you close to his chest. You felt his heart beat against your back. His tail playfully wrapped itself around your leg. "I missed you, yawne" He almost purred in your ear, his chest softly vibrating at the comfort you radiated.

"I missed you too," You turned your head to the side, so Neteyam could kiss your cheek. "You will need to go roundup the children for dinner, I will start cooking soon,"

"Children?" You felt Neteyam's tail loosen its grip in confusion.

"Yes," You chuckled, "Children, we have Ateyo joining us for dinner tonight,"

You felt Neteyam tense in your embrace. "Ateyo? As in Ateyo te Nafyu Ratsay'itan"

"Don't go all serious on me and use his full name, you know who he is, 'Teyam" You rolled your eyes, lightly pulling yourself from his embrace.

"She is too young to be hanging around boys," Neteyam followed you with fire in his step. "Boys are bad influences at this age," He argued, "I should know,"

"You weren't" You turned around to face him with a pointed look.

"Yes but-" He huffed, trying to find the words, "Argh!" He hissed, turning away quickly. "I don't like him, yawne" Neteyam shook his head.

"He's a child, Neteyam!" You tried to find it in yourself to not laugh, but you couldn't help it. "Ni'awtu is allowed to have friends,"

"She has many friends! So why does she need him?" He began to raise his voice in panic. You chuckled at his reaction.

"You are threatened by a child," You rested a hand on his chest, feeling it puffing underneath your touch, "Don't be a baby,"

"I am not a baby," He turned away quickly, a scowl on his face. You heard Neteyam mumble, "I am a mighty warrior".

"Yes, yes you are" You reminded him, "So start acting like one,"

"Daddy!" Ni'awtu's voice broke Neteyam out of his anger, for she was the cure for all impurities in his world.

"Syulang," He crouched down, engulfing her in his warm embrace, "I missed you,"

"I missed you too," Ni'awtu smiled, you watched as Neteyam held her closely. Your eyes shifting to the shy boy slowly trailing behind Ni'awtu.

"Ateyo, how are you?" You smiled at the young boy, reminding Neteyam that you were in the presence of guests. Ateyo looked down, bringing his hand from his forehead downwards.

"Oel ngati kameie," He said softly. You looked to Neteyam with a wide grin on your face, "Thank you for welcoming me into your home for the night Tsahik and Olo'eyktan"

"You are welcome whenever," You told him with a smile. You watched Neteyam's hard exterior soften at the respect he was shown by the young boy. Neteyam was raised to treat people the best that he could, a small part of him saw his younger self in that moment. Maybe he could grow to tolerate Ateyo.

"Mama, today Ateyo asked to be my mate!" Ni'awtu beamed.

"WHAT?!"

..Or maybe he wouldn't.

"What do you mean he is your mate?" Neteyam pulled Ni'awtu away from Ateyo. "You are too young to even think about things like that, do you understand?" He lectured her.

"Ateyo, you do know that Ni'awtu is not your mate right?" You crouched down to his level, bringing his hand into yours. "You both are babies, you are not ready- or old enough to even be talking about that,"

"Well, my Mother said that your mate is someone you like spending all your time with," Ateyo sheepishly looked from you to your husband, nervous by the Olo'eyktan's reaction. You let go of a breath you didn't know you were holding in. Relief filled your chest at the little ones misinterpretation, "And I enjoy spending my time with Ni'awtu, if that is okay with you,"

"No!" Neteyam, hid Ni'awtu behind his legs, " No, it is not-"

"Mawey, oeyä yawne," You glared at Neteyam. "Ateyo, let me tell you something" You looked back at the child with a soft gaze, "A mate is a lot more than someone you enjoy spending time with," You smiled softly, "You will learn that one day, but you and Ni'awtu are not mates," Ateyo began to nod slowly, "But for now, you are great friends- that is what you are and that is what matters,"

"Okay," He smiled softly, shuffling his feet "I am sorry to have made you both upset,"

You let out a breathy laugh from your nose, "You have not upset us, Ateyo. You just didn't know what it meant to be mates, it was a mistake, but you have not upset us," You tried your best to reassure the younger boy, a warm smile on your face.

"Then why does daddy have those big lines on his forehead?" Ni'awtu held her dad's hand, looking up at him confused.

"He's getting old," You whispered with a smirk.

"Excuse me," Neteyam interjected, "I am leader of this clan," He picked Ni'awtu up and threw her over his shoulder, "And I will have respect!" He began to tickle her. Ni'awtu's laughter filled the tent once again, Ateyo's too.

Over the years, the two of them laughing together in your home would become a familiar sound- much to Neteyam's dismay.

© 2023 yawneneteyam

translations (atan / light) (oeyä txe’lan / my heart) (oeyä tsawke / my sunshine) (yawne / beloved) (syulang / flower) (oel ngati kameie / i see you) (mawey, oeyä yawne / calm, my beloved)

[jobean12-blog]

Wood You Be Mine?

Pairing: Lumberjack!Joel Miller x reader

Word Count: 2,667

Summary: Your work and Grandmother bring you away from the city and into the mountains and you find more than just some peace and quiet.

Author's Note: I'm really enjoying these AU's with Joel! Been fun to explore and he wears enough flannels LOL Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the lovely @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰

Warnings: it's fun and flirty and reader is sassy and Joel is grumpy and it's fluffy and soft too!

Joel Miller Masterlist

After several miles of driving along a bumpy dirt road, the cabin appears. A puffing chimney tops a two-story log house, and red checkerboard curtains line the windows. You park your car in front of the porch. The only other vehicle you see on the property is an old blue pickup truck.

When you step out of the car, a rhythmic pounding echoes from the backyard, somehow in tune with the abundance of sounds from the surrounding woods.

You sneak around the side of the porch hoping to catch a glimpse of your newest client. He’d reluctantly agreed to have his cabin featured in your magazine but only because the story was about eco friendly homes built by their owners.

You round the corner of the house and stop dead in your tracks. You had no idea what the man looked like from the front, but from the back…well you liked what you saw.

His strong arms raise an axe high above his head, then crush it down on a log propped on another stump. The corded muscles of his forearms flex with every movement and his biceps are barely contained by the rolled-up sleeves of his flannel.

Faded and worn blue jeans hug his ass and thick thighs and a pair of scuffed up work boots complete the ensemble. A real-life lumberjack.

He stops momentarily, leaning over to grab a rag, and wipes the handle of the axe. He swings the axe again, splitting the log in front of him, and the two half pieces tumble to the ground.

Whatever noise of appreciation comes out of your mouth was not meant for his ears but suddenly, his head whips around and he levels you with an aggravated glare.

He drops the axe to the ground and stalks over to where you stand, his dark brown eyes narrowed and his soft lips tight with his gritted teeth.

“Can I help you with somethin’? Since you’re trespassin’?” he rumbles.

His eyes rake over you and he glances toward the sky.

“From the city?”

You bristle. “Yeah, and what’s it to ya?”

He snorts. “Those boots look real practical darlin.’ I’m sure they’ll come in handy for the next snow storm.”

You look down at your heeled feet. “We plow snow in the city. Super convenient. You know since people like to get a life. Do things. Instead of hiding away in the mountains.”

He raises a bushy eyebrow. “Uh huh. Well, good for you. Any reason why you’re interrupting me.”

“Just here to take the pictures for Mountain Living magazine.”

You rummage through your bag and pull out some papers, passing them his way. You can’t help but notice how his hands dwarf them.

“So you’re the photographer.”

“Yep,” you answer, popping the p and giving him your name.

“Joel Miller,” he grunts and stands to his full height, crossing his thick arms over his broad chest.

You smile brightly and bat your lashes.

He scowls.

“Let’s go inside so you can take your pictures. And then you can get back to your fancy city life.”

You follow him inside, careful to avoid the mud puddles. A loud, keening screech shatters the silence and you yelp in surprise. You slide in your boots and bump into Joel, grabbing his thick bicep for safety.

A huge bird swoops by and lands on a nearby tree branch, ruffling it’s feathers and eyeballing you. Your fingers flex on his muscle and you gasp.

“What is that? It looks like a dinosaur! Is it going to eat us?”

“It’s just a hawk darlin’,” he answers with a shake of his head. “Shit, don’t they have any birds in the city?”

“I mean sure,” you begin, “but they are small and hop around a lot.”

He stares at you, unmoving. “Well, you’re not in any danger. Unless it decides to take a shit on your head.”

He says it without cracking a smile.

“Aren’t you hilarious,” you scoff with a roll of your eyes.

“Why exactly are you up here in the wilderness?” he asks. “You don’t seem too excited about it.”

“Other than work…I’m visiting my grandmother. She lives up here and I’m staying with her for the next month. Getting some fresh air and all that.”

“Just as you step up onto the porch you hear a whining noise. A fluffy yellow lab ambles over and sits on your boot, wagging it’s tail and looking up at you with big brown eyes.

“Who’s this?” you ask as you lean down to pet the dog.

“That’s Winston.”

“He’s a lab right?”

“Yep.”

You cough to hide your laugh. “He’s very cute but I thought it was mandatory for all people living here to have some huge breed like a Pyrenees or Saint Bernard.”

“Does your grandmother have some giant dog?” he asks.

“Two Swiss Mountain dogs actually. Bert and Ernie.”

He surprises you with a huge smile. His whole face lit up, his eyes even crinkling at the corners.

“Nice names. I like your grandmother.”

“She’s the best. Even if she worries too much about me. She wants me to move out of the city and come up here for the cleaner air!”

He opens the front door and ushers you inside. “She has a point. It’s much healthier here.”

“And boring-er.”

The door bangs shut behind him.

“That’s not a word.”

“It should be. At least up here.”

He doesn’t look amused and instead walks over to small desk in the corner and shuffles some papers.

You take a look around and blink in surprise. It’s gorgeous. The granite fireplace is surrounded by hand-made wooden furniture and the high ceilings and large windows create a rustic and beautiful scene.

“You look shocked,” he chuckles from behind you.

“Oh,” you startle. “It’s just…it’s so beautiful. How did you do all this?”

He smiles again. “It took a lot of time and sawdust.”

You walk around, running your fingertips over the curves of the furniture and firing off the names of all the different woods it’s made of.

“How do you know so much about that?”

“I’ve taken enough pictures of furniture and asked enough questions to know most types of wood,” you explain.

“Well, now, isn’t that funny. City girls knows all about timber but is scared of the outdoors.”

“I never said that!” you grumble.

“I could see it all over your face when the hawk flew by! You look around like somethin’s gonna jump out and eat ya!”

You narrow your eyes and step closer to him. “That’s just not true. I’m not scared of the woods…I’m simply afraid of…of…certain large mammals that might enjoy life in the woods…you know rubbing up against trees, eating berries and honey and maybe an occasional human!”

“What in the world…?” Joel smirks.

“I’m afraid of bears!” you say as you sit on his couch and slump back.

He tries to stifle a laugh. “I’m guessin’ there’s a story hiding somewhere darlin’.”

“I’m guessing my grandmother is expecting me for dinner. I better get started on the pictures so I’m not late.”

You shuffle with your camera equipment until you’re satisfied then start snapping shots. You’re in the zone and hardly feel Joel’s eyes on you as you work. When you’re done you pack up and hold out your hand to him.

“It was nice to meet you Joel.”

Your hand is engulfed by warm, rough skin and so much strength. You peer up into his face and expect a snarky smile but instead you gasp softly at the winded look you find. He blinks slowly and he tightens his grip before tugging on your hand.

Your boots slide across the hard wood floor until your inches away from him and his gaze drops to your mouth.

Your knees buckle when Winston slams against your legs and wiggles his body between the two of you.

Joel sighs. “Damn dog.” But he leans down and affectionately rubs behind his ears.

Winston sits on your feet and presses his body weight against you, relishing the ear rubs.

“Winston,” you coo as you join in.

“Sorry about him. He’s a big fan of affection.”

You clear your throat. “Isn’t everyone?”

His eyes level with yours and you get caught in his gaze, a warmth spreading along your skin.

“I better get going. I’ll be sure to e-mail you the proofs of the pictures so you can be part of the selecting process.”

You fly out of the house and into the car, tearing down the dirt road then peeking in your rear-view mirror to see Joel standing out on his porch.

“I need a drink,” you mumble before turning toward the small town.

Joel runs a hand through his already disheveled hair after he pulls into the parking lot of the general store in town.

He knows a hot cup of coffee will help and one of those muffins that the owner’s wife bakes.

The general store has it all…coffee, muffins, dog biscuits, a new axe…and you.

There you are, smack dab in the middle of the aisle stocked with wine. You grab a bottle and round the corner toward the register.

The owner, Mark, chats you up as you check out.

“Celebrating something tonight miss?” Mark asks.

“Actually no, just visiting with my grandma but I needed a drink,” you explain to Mark.

“Not sure that’s somethin’ your grandma should be drinkin’.”

At the sound of that familiar deep voice you grit your teeth and turn to face him.

The look of indignation on your face almost makes Joel laugh, the corners of his mouth twitching with his suppression.

“Grandma loves her wine Mr. Miller. And she’s old enough to enjoy it!”

Joel can’t hold back any longer and lets out a bark of laughter.

“What’s so funny?”

He steps closer and gives you a once-over before taking a sip of his coffee and raising an eyebrow.

You want to stomp your feet. “I’m surprised you even have wine in this town!”

“It’s not the middle of nowhere. We have electricity, indoor plumbing and the internet! It’s all very modern.”

“Oh yeah sure it is,” you tease. “That explains the jars of penny candy then! And if that’s what you call coffee…well…”

You look to Mark standing at the cash register, “no offense Mark.”

“None taken,” the old man says kindly, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“Thank you Mark. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to go enjoy this with my grandmother!”

You grab your bag of wine and march out the door, this time feeling the heat of Joel’s stare at your back.

“Is there anywhere else you want to go before we head back Grandma?”

She smiles and asks you to take her to the general store to visit Mark and get some coffee, telling you it’s been ages since she’s been in to see him.

“Sure Grandma. I’d get coffee too but I think I’ll pass…”

Your Grandma chuckles and pats your knee, still smiling.

As you walk around the store and listen to your Grandma talking with Mark you can’t help it as your thoughts wander back to Joel and the undeniable heat you feel whenever you’re near him. When you make it to the register your Grandma and Mark are talking in hushed voices, glancing your way and looking suspicious as you get closer.

“What’s going on?”

Your Grandma looks at you knowingly. “Mark here was just telling me that you took the pictures of Joel’s cabin for your magazine.”

Your eyebrows come together. “But how did he know that?”

“Joel told me,” Mark explains. “Said you took fantastic pictures. Really captured the heart and soul of his place.”

You smile at that and your Grandma’s face brightens.

“He’s a good man. A bit gruff, but good. Better than most actually.”

You look at your Grandma, letting her words sink in as you become more confused. “You know Joel?”

“Everyone knows everyone ‘round here baby,” your Grandma says. “And when I tell you Joel’s one of the good ones you best believe it.”

“Why should it matter to me?” you ask as realization dawns on you.

Your Grandma and Mark share an entertained expression.

“OH NO!” you say, far too loudly. “No way! There is no way in hell I’m getting involved with a big, cranky, grumpy, Lab-owning, house building, bearded lumberjack who lives in the middle of nowhere!”

Both your Grandma and Mark smirk and glance over your shoulder.

“Hi Joel,” Mark says. Good to see you again.”

You narrow your eyes at Mark. “Funny. You expect me to believe that he’s standing behind me?” Just how naïve do you think I am!”

A low rumble in your ear raises every hair on your body.

You turn until Joel’s face comes into view, his beard, complete with patches of gray, only inches from your lips.

“For the record, I’m only grumpy when people trespass on my property.”

He smiles and places some dog biscuits down on the counter before walking off down another aisle.

Your Grandma cackles. “Oh he definitely likes you.”

Mark nods enthusiastically in agreement before you look between them both and stomp off in a different direction.

Unfortunately that direction takes you smack into the hard chest of your grumpy lumberjack.

“Oof,” you mutter, closing your eyes when his strong hands close around your waist.

“You ok darlin’? You were comin’ round that corner so fast I didn’t have time to move. Sorry.”

“I’m fine,” you whisper, slowly opening your eyes until your vision is filled with the soft brown color of his.

“And by the way,” he continues. “I might be slightly grumpy, a lab-owner and a builder but I ain’t no lumberjack.”

“Really,” you muse, still standing close enough that you can feel his chest brush yours with his inhale. “Let’s see,” you point at his flannel shirt. “Plaid shirt. Check! Axe? Saw you use one of those! Check! Beard,” and you glance at his chin, your fingers slowly lifting until your brush them over his cheek.

“Check.” The last one comes out breathy and light.

Joel chuckles, dipping his head until his warm breath fans your cheek and his lips brush the shell of your ear.

“What do you say to lettin’ me take ya out for a bite to eat? There’s a local dive that makes decent food and I think they even have wine.”

You pause, trying to steady your shallow breathing.

“Well, I guess that might be okay. Considering there’s wine…and Grandma says the college boys are really cute here in town.”

Joel frowns. “College boys? I don’t think college boys would know how to satisfy a sophisticated city woman like you.”

He strokes his callused fingers over your soft jaw. “I think you might need a real man for the job.”

You still beneath his touch, then let out a slow breath.

“What makes you think I’m looking for a real man? Maybe I’ve sworn off all men for a while.”

“I don’t think you have any idea what a real man can do for you darlin’.”

Your eyes linger on his mouth and he clears his throat, but his voice still comes out gravelly and strained.

“Lumberjack men don’t fool around. What you see is what you get. And when we see what we want…”

He stares at your lips, pouting and inviting. “We take it.”

Your lips part on a breathy gasp before you recover and sass him with, “but you said it yourself, you’re no lumberjack.”

He just smiles and waits, softly tracing the outline of your jaw.

You run your tongue over your lips and stare at him.

“Okay. You can take me out.”

He grabs your hand and turns on his heel, pulling you right past the register and out the door.

(Don’t worry, Grandma got a ride home and is safe and sound- neither Joel nor our reader would never leave her hanging).

@pedritosdarling @lorilane33 @hiddles-rose @blackwidownat2814 @justkinsey @littleseasiren @laineyreads @beccablogsthings @kmc1989 @hallecarey1

[hope-drunk]

- wicked games | abby anderson

| you disobey abby, and she teaches you a lesson

| content warnings: daddy kink, spit play, hunter prey kink, top!dom!abby, bottom!sub!reader, abby’s kinda mean, f!reader, penetration, use of strap, pet names (baby, princess, sweetheart, sweet girl), spanking, voyeurism, oral for like 4 seconds, i proofread this like one time so if you see mistakes avert your eyes.

| word count: 2.4k

You liked playing games with Abby.

It was the first clear day in weeks, the sun was shining, and the mushy ground wasn’t an issue to you. You wanted to go outside, see the sun, do anything, really. Abby, however, had told you it was too dangerous. The scars would be out because it was clear, and she didn’t want you caught in the middle. You, obviously, didn’t listen to her.

You found an old picnic table that was under a tree. Walking over, you made sure the wood wasn’t rotted before you sat down. You decided it was good enough and took a seat on the top of the table, opening your book to read in the shade. It was peaceful out, despite the humid air, and you were enjoying your alone time, easily getting sucked into the novel that was in your hands.

It was calm until it wasn’t, Abby burst through the back door of the building and it felt like a different type of storm had rolled in.

“Shit.” you mutter under your breath. You get up as quietly as you can from the old creaky table, and wander behind one of the large tree trunks, peering around occasionally to see if Abby is close.

“I know you’re out here, if you come right now, I won’t be mad.” Abby says, but she certainly sounded like she’d be mad. She sounded like she was mad.

Whether it was fear, or a secret desire for her to find you, you stayed put behind the tree. 

“I’m going to give you about ten more seconds to come out, or I’m going to come and get you.” 

You moved, but not to Abby. You walked further into the bulk of trees, and you could hear Abby counting in the distance. Once she had gotten down to one, it was scarier than when she was actually counting. You stood as still as possible, not knowing where she was, too afraid to look past the trunk.

“You wanna play games? Fine, but you better not let me find you.” Abby said, and you heard her combat boots start squishing in the mud. 

Panic swarmed your head. You knew you didn’t have anything to actually be afraid of, Abby would never hurt you, but she didn’t take well to you directly disobeying her. You find it in yourself to look out, and you see Abby at the table where you were sitting, inspecting the book that you had forgotten in your hurry. You try to think of the best strategy, but nothing seems good enough. It was useless to try and hide from her. The book makes a distinct thud on the table.

“C’mon, baby. This is useless. Come out, now.” 

You want to go towards her. The pet name along with the dominant tone of her voice makes your head swirl. But you only rush further into the woods. You run your hands over your face, trying to calm yourself down. You can hear her getting closer to you. 

Abby lets out a scoff. “You’re leaving footprints in the mud, sweetheart.” she yells. If she saw how close you two were, she would realize she didn’t need to raise her voice for you to hear her.

You’re quick to glance down at your feet, eyes being met with dirty shoes. You go to look around the tree, ready to give yourself up, but Abby isn’t there. You find yourself tracking her footsteps now. If you had had the upper hand at any point, you certainly didn’t now. For a moment, you wonder if she’s left you out here. But then, you feel her strong hands on your hips. She pulls you against her, your back against her chest, and you feel the familiar bulge in her pants rub against your ass.

“Found you.” she whispers in your ear, sending chills all over your body.

She uses her grip on your waist to turn you around. Abby’s gray eyes were now almost black. You felt completely boxed in by her. 

Cowering under her gaze, you let out a simple, “Hi, Abby.”

She scoffs at you, “The innocent act isn’t gonna work now, princess. Turn around and put your hands on the tree.”

You stood and stared at her. Partly trying to process her words, but also wondering if she was really going to do something to you in public. The thought of it sent a wave of warmth throughout you.

“Did I stutter?” Abby said, and you scrambled to do what she asked of you.

She hummed in contentment, rubbing her hands over your body again, before she’s bunching the dress you have on around your waist. She moves you slightly, arching your back so she has a better view of your backside. 

You feel the wind hit your ass and you suck in a breath of air. 

You crane your neck to try and look at her. “Abby, what if someone sees?”

“No talking. Here’s what you’re gonna do. You’re gonna stay still with your hands on the tree, and the only sound that comes out of your mouth is gonna be you counting how many times I spank you. Got it?”

You nod your head, turning to stare at the bark on the tree. 

The first slap comes hard, it has your body lurching forward, and a quiet whimper comes out of your mouth.

“Count.”

“One.” you say in a broken voice. 

Another slap.

“Two.” 

And another.

“Three.”

You get to six before you start crying, and on the ninth you’re shifting your weight between your legs, trying to send a hint to Abby that you’re reaching your limit without actually telling her. 

She understands your movements, “Last one.”

She lands a harsh smack to the right side of your ass, one so hard that you can't help the sob that you let out.

“Ten.” you say in a soft voice.

You stand up straighter, letting the dress fall back down, the fabric feels rough against the bruising flesh. You turn around to face Abby, and her eyes soften for a second as she sees your wet eyes and cheeks. 

You sniffle, “Sorry I didn’t listen, Abs.”

“Mm, I bet you are. We’re not done yet, though.”

She connects your lips, and it’s hard to keep up with her speed. She puts your hair into a makeshift ponytail and yanks your head back, earning a gasp from you.

“Open.” she says.

Your mouth falls open easily, not wanting to displease the dominant woman again. Abby lets a long string of spit run into your mouth, and you swallow it without her asking.

She coos at you, “If only you were this good earlier. Get on your knees.”

Your knees meet the slightly muddy ground, and you wince at the mess that’s gonna be left on you. Abby unzips her pants, not bothering to even push them down her legs. The strap bounces out from where it was bound, and you swallow harshly.

“Open up, baby. You’re gonna get my cock all wet for me, yeah?” your head grows fuzzier at her words, and you look up to her with wide eyes before your jaw goes slack.

Abby’s quick to run her hands through your hair, getting a good grip before she’s inching your wanting mouth closer to her strap. You try to remember to breathe through your nose as she forces you down on the plastic dick. Abby holds your head down on it for a few seconds before pulling you all the way off. You gasp for air, trying to regain your composure. There’s drool hanging out of your mouth, and through your blurry vision you can see it start to drip to the ground.

“One more time, princess.”

She moves your head back to her cock, barely giving you time to adjust to the thick length back in your throat. When she pulls you off again, you can’t help but cough. She doesn’t let you recover though. Before you can do anything, Abby’s pulling you up from the ground. Once you’re standing, on wobbly legs, Abby bends down to remove your panties. She lets out a small laugh at the wet patch on them, and runs a quick finger through your folds before she shoves the cotton fabric into her back pocket.

“You get off on me chasing you, baby? You wanted to play a game, huh?”

Your face heats up, and you try your best to avoid eye contact with Abby’s threatening gaze. She stands to her full height and grabs your chin, forcing you to look at her.

“Tell me, you liked it, didn’t you? You were getting off on it. I think you wanted me to find you, isn’t that right?”

The words slip off your tongue, “Yeah, wanted you to come and get me, Abs.” 

She looks down between your bodies, “Well, I’ve certainly got you now, babe.”

That’s the last thing you hear before everything gets muffled. Abby’s strap fills you up to the brim, and you let out a deep moan of pleasure, the fear of someone hearing you no longer crossing your mind. It’s you who’s looking down now, Abby has one of your legs hiked up around her waist, and you can see the strap disappearing and reappearing from the bottom of your dress. Whines are falling out of your lips at Abby’s fast-paced thrusts.

“Oh– God. Please.”

“What, baby? That feel good?” Abby laughs at you. “Tell Daddy how good it feels.”

“Feels really good, Daddy. Think m’gonna–” 

Before you can finish your sentence, Abby’s pulling completely out. You let out a no along with a cry.

Abby sports a faux frown, “Girls who run from their daddy don’t get to cum.”

“But— I said I was sorry! Please Daddy. I’ll be good, please.” You’re clawing at Abby’s broad shoulders, bucking your hips back towards the glistening strap. 

You don't think you’ve ever been this attracted to her. Clad in a green tank top and her cargo pants. Such a simple outfit, but it makes you feel like you’ve been caught for a real crime. Your head keeps growing fuzzier as you whine and buck at Abby. She wipes a stray tear that falls on your cheek, then you’re full again. 

A pornagraphic moan comes from deep in your chest. Abby lifts you up completely this time, and you waste no time wrapping your legs around her hips. Her strong arms are holding your thighs, keeping you steady against the tree as she bucks into you at a ruthless pace. She’s placing sloppy kisses along your neck, letting out grunts as she does so. You try not to make the mistake of telling her you’re about to cum again, scared of losing the impact of her strap on your gummy walls. But Abby knows your body better than you do.

“Y’wanna cum, don’t you, sweet girl?” 

Figuring it’s better to tell her the truth, you say, “Yeah Daddy, wanna cum really bad.”

Your eyes are getting glossy again as you try to hold in the bubbling feeling in your stomach. 

She hums, pulling away from your neck to look at you. “You gonna be a good girl if I let you cum? Gonna listen to me?”

Abby starts thrusting impossibly harder. 

“Yes! Gonna be good, I’ll do whatever you want, please.”

In the moment, it’s true. The only thought in your head is pleasing Abby, you would do anything for her, and let her do anything to you.

“Hmm, I don’t know. Do you think you deserve it?”

Your legs wrap around her waist tighter, trying to pull yourself down to Earth and answer her question, but all that comes out of your mouth is incoherent babbles, pleas for her to let you finish. 

“Alright, okay. Give it t’me, baby.” 

Your orgasm washes over you, and it feels like time slows down. You can still feel the strap slipping in and out of your dripping cunt. You whine at Abby’s pace, realizing she’s not slowing down at all. You try to get away from her, but it’s near impossible from the position you’re in. You aim for pushing her shoulders instead, still not able to form a sentence. 

“Nuh uh, don’t try to run again. You’re gonna cum again f’me.”

“Daddy– can’t. Too much.” you mumble, still trying to push her away.

“Hey, you said you’d be good, right? That you’d do what I want? I want you to cum again, so you’re gonna do that. I know you can, sweetheart.” 

You give her a weak nod, along with a sniffle.

“Okay, I’ll get you there, just focus on me, yeah? Gonna get you there, gonna make you feel real good.” she says. You think the last part was mostly to herself, but the thought slips from your head as soon as you start focusing on the thick fake cock inside of you again.

Your moans only get louder, and so do Abby’s grunts. The familiar feeling starts moving into your stomach again.

“Daddy, gonna cum. Please, please, can’t hold it.”

“That’s alright, baby. Go ahead, been so good for me.” she says while planting a sweet kiss to your cheek. 

If you thought the first orgasm hit you hard, the second one was like nothing you’ve ever felt before. This time though, Abby did stop her thrusts. Through your blurry vision, you could see her panting hard. She brushes a hand over your forehead, getting rid of the sweaty hair that lay there. She holds you up for a moment longer before slowly letting you back down. You wince as the slick runs down your legs, and once you’re fully on your feet, you groan, putting your chest against Abby’s and wrapping your arms around her neck. 

She lets out a chuckle, “You’re okay, promise. Did such a good job.”

“Never gonna run from you again, gonna be good.” you say, it’s muffled from how you’re standing, but Abby still hums in acknowledgement, rubbing a comforting hand up and down your back.

You both stand there like that, trying to catch your breath. When your mind feels clearer, you let out a small giggle.

“What?” Abby says.

“Why’d you wear the strap out here? What if I wasn’t even outside?”

“Manny saw you come out here and told me, I knew where’d you be.”

You pull away with a gasp, “That little snitch!”

She laughs again, “You can give him hell later. Let’s get you cleaned up, princess.”

[in-my-shifting-era]

Not In The Mood

(Draco Malfoy Angsty but ends Fluffy)

Summery: Having a playful academic rivalry with Draco Malfoy results in some mainly playful banter. What happens when reader has a bad week and Draco is the only person to try and fix it.

Warning: Some mature language. Maybe some strong language. Draco is kinda a softie in this.

Authors note: Draco won my poll! This is my first blurb of him for let me know what we think.

————————————————————————————————————————

You’ve been having a bad week. On Monday you got detention for being late to class because your alarm didn’t go off. Tuesday you spilt ink on your brand new uniform shirt. On Wednesday you snapped at your best friend and she’s giving you space. Then on Thursday you lost 15 house points for laughing at a prank pulled on Snape during class. When Friday came around you prayed it would be a good day. All was good throughout the day. That was until you got back your Transfigurations test from the last class and getting a bad mark.

To get away from the week you’ve had you decided to hide away in the Hogwarts library to try an escape into your new book. This plan didn’t last very long because a smug laugh interrupted your peaceful moment. “How did I know I’d find you here? A bore like you would spend their Friday evening in the library.” You looked up from your book to see Draco with his signature smirk as he leaned against the shelf you were sat by. You gave him and exhausted sigh and closed your book. “I’m not in the mood for your shit Malfoy; I’ve had a bad week.”

Your voice was flat. You didn’t really sound annoyed or rude with your words. To the blonde you just sounded numb. He wasn’t getting the rise out if you that he wanted. He shifts himself off the shelf to stand closer as his playful gaze softens. “Yeah I’ve kinda noticed you’ve been in a mood all week. I even heard you called Granger a stick in the mud. I actually want to talk about what happened their?” He’s pushing at your buttons but you won’t give him the satisfaction of his comment getting you to talk back to him.

Rolling your eyes at his comment you look at him fully now “Seriously Draco leave me alone. I’m on a streak of saying things I regret and I’d refuse to apologize to you if I hurt your feelings.” Your tone was playful this time making Draco’s lips turn up into the slightest smile. You take this moment of neutrality to get up and put your book back into your bag. You start to walk around him. You’re stopped when You from walking past him by stepping in your way.

“Go for a walk with me. Going for a walk always helps me clear my head” A look of uncertainty falls onto your face not knowing what to think of Draco’s offer. Draco notices your hesitation and sighs softly. “Don’t be a stick in the mud now. I promise to play nice.”

A smirk finds its way back to Draco’s face as you roll your eyes and give him a playful glair. You push your shoulder against him playfully as you walk past him towards the door. “ Can you do something nice for someone without making a snarky comment Malfoy?” He smiles to himself seeing your attitude return and follows behind you. “What would be the fun in that? My snarky comments are part of my charm darling.” You roll you eyes at him and let out a small laugh as you walk out of the library with him.

The comfortable silence that followed as you two walked the empty corridors brought you a small moment of peace. You look at the blonde and see his usually tense and guarded demeanor is replaced with an comforting presence. His eyes scan the many paintings that line the halls of Hogwarts. He turns his head having felt you staring into him and cover yourself by asking him a question.

“How did you know about my test score? We don’t have Transfigurations together so I know you didn’t see it some how.” Draco looks down lightly and let’s out an awkward laugh. “Uh Blaise actually told me. He sits near you and he told me you looked disappointed when you got your test back.” You give him shocked look. “Do you have your friend keeping tabs on me Draco?”

Draco scoffs lightly and rolls his eyes. “ No I don’t. He knows about our academic banter and he was telling me to leave you alone on this one. I had to still poke my fun but I wanted to make sure you were okay. Failing a test is not like you at all so I figured something more was going on.” He gave you a sympathetic smile as he says this. Something you’ve never seen often from the tough Slytherin.

Your demeanor softens and you smile up at him. “You’re the only person to notice I was struggling this week so thanks Draco.” A soft smile fall onto his face Draco’s face. He hold your gaze with his gray eyes staring into yours. “I may like to get under you skin sometimes but never aim to intentionally be cruel do you.”

In this moment you’re seeing a side of Draco you’ve never seen before. The burning blush that hides on your cheeks as you both bicker back an fourth if fully dusting your cheeks a rosey red. Talking like this with Draco feels nice. You like seeing this side of Draco. Truly you bring it out of him. Through he would never admit that.

[echo-goes-mmm]

Ambrose and Elliot #26

Masterpost

Previous

Next

Warnings: dehumanization, conditioning, murder mention, referenced past torture

Elliot woke up alone. The space beside him was cold; Master had been gone a while. Probably off to get rid of the body.

He buried his face into the pillows, squeezing one of them to his chest.

Master Ambrose had killed someone. Murdered a man. For him. 

Elliot thought Ambrose was the kindest man in the world, but Horneswood’s screams last night told him that wasn’t true.

What did that mean?

Elliot rolled over, and sat up. Thinking was so hard, always, but he had been clever last night. He’d been right; there was a before time. Before his old master had gotten his hands on him.

His cleverness frightened him. It was so much easier to be stupid and dumb. It didn’t give him headaches like being smart did.

Elliot got out of bed and straightened the covers, smoothing out the wrinkles. 

He was good at making things neat. He liked it; cleaning made his head quiet. 

He should check to see if there was any blood left on the floor.

Elliot slipped out of the bedroom, but the sitting room floor was spotless. The furniture was back in its place, the rug spread out again. A part of him was disappointed; he wanted a distraction from last night’s revelations.

Elliot made his way downstairs. There was no sign of Ambrose.

He made himself a bowl of oatmeal and ate slowly. The hot food and late morning sunlight made him feel a bit better. 

There was dried mud on the floor, and he didn’t know what it was from, but he welcomed the opportunity to scrub something away.

He grabbed a dishrag from the kitchen and a bowl of water, and got on his knees to wash away the mud. It was good work, and satisfying to see the dirty floor become shiny again.

The front door opened, and he knew from the sound of the swing that it was Ambrose.

“Hey,” he said. “How’re you feeling?”

“I’m fine, Master.” He kept rubbing away the dirt.

“Fine?”

Elliot paused. “Yes, Master. Just fine.”

Ambrose’s footsteps came closer, until he was standing right next to him. Elliot leaned into his leg, sighing. Master Ambrose put a hand on his head.

It was nice. 

No matter what happened before, it felt… right to kneel at Ambrose’s feet.

“You called me Master. Twice, now.” 

Elliot pulled away. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s just-” Ambrose sighed. “Are you sure you’re alright? Last night was a lot.”

Elliot stared at the streak of mud left on the floor. “I don’t know. But, um, I’m glad he’s gone.”

Master hummed. “Me too.”

“What- what if you get caught?” Elliot hadn’t really thought about it, but now…

“Oh, I already talked to the elders. They understood.”

Elliot blinked, and looked up at Ambrose. “What?” He wasn’t sure he heard him right.

“I took care of it. They know, and it’s fine.”

“They just… let you kill people.”

“I mean- no- but, well. I’ve been here a long time, and they trust me. And it’s not like Horneswood was a ‘beloved member of town’ or anything. I did have to tell them about… what he did to you. I’m really sorry about that.”

Elliot thought it over. Gods, he was tired, and so mixed up inside.

He didn’t want a bunch of people hearing about his old master, but if it kept Ambrose from getting into trouble it must be fine.

“Okay.”

He picked up the rag and went back to scrubbing the floor. Ambrose watched him for a moment before wandering off.

Elliot let his thoughts melt away, and felt at peace.

___________________

It was only noon-ish, but Ambrose poured himself some wine. An old bottle from before he moved to Little Wood; a good year.

He didn’t drink much, but he felt he deserved a little treat.

Elliot didn’t seem any different. Still quiet, still not-quite-there when he wasn’t being addressed. He just drifted around like a ghost. Doing housework. As usual.

Ambrose guessed that was the best he could hope for. A part of him wished Elliot would be less jumpy, more relaxed, but that still seemed to be in the far future.

He began to work on some soup while he sipped on his drink. He needed something to do to take his mind off of the lingering horror of last night.

Wordlessly, Elliot caught on to what he was doing, and joined him in the kitchen.

For someone who often didn’t understand kindness, he was plenty observant of everything else.

Elliot grabbed some of the vegetables he’d pulled out and started to roughly chop them as Ambrose took care of the aromatics.

“Do you want some wine?” Ellie didn’t drink, but it was polite to offer.

“Okay.” Huh.

He poured him a glass and they worked in silence.

Ambrose poured some oil into the pot and added the onion and garlic, listening to it sizzle. When it began to smell nice, he put in the ground beef mix he had set out. 

Once it was browned, Ellie added the chopped tomatoes, celery, carrots, green beans, and potatoes. Ambrose stripped some dried herbs off their stems and tossed it in while Elliot fetched some stock.

Soon it was simmering, and Ambrose finished it with some pepper and coarse salt.

Ambrose ladled out two bowls, and Elliot took their wine to the table.

The soup was good and comforting, and the tension in Ambrose’s shoulders gradually bled out of him.

Elliot didn’t seem interested in getting seconds, which was odd. He pushed around a scrap of meat with his spoon, head on his hand.

“Are you alright, Ellie?”

“Why are you so kind to me? You don’t have to be. I wouldn’t do anything if you weren’t.”

Ambrose sat back in his chair.

“Everyone deserves kindness.”

“What about Mr. Horneswood?” Ambrose swirled the wine in his glass.

“I’m a hypocrite,” he shrugged.

Elliot didn’t smile at the joke. It wasn’t really a joke anyway. Ambrose turned to look out the window. Gray, dirty slush sat on the ground, matching the gray, sad sky. He took another sip of wine.

“How long will you let me stay here? I’ve only ever caused you trouble.”

“That’s not true.”

“It is. I’ve broken your dishes, I’ve gotten in a fight, I haven’t stopped crying and taking up your attention, and you just murdered someone for me,” listed off Elliot.

Ambrose didn’t quite know what to say.

“You help me out,” he said. “And I like you. You can stay as long as you need to.”

“And when I don’t need to anymore?”

“You can still stay.”

Elliot bit his lip and put down his spoon. He took a sip of the wine in his glass.

“Do you love me?”

Ambrose stared at him. Elliot met his gaze, and this was the most exhausted Ambrose had seen him since the first few weeks.

His hair was longer now, bangs brushing just above his blue eyes. It was clean and fluffy, still stark white like snow or clouds. 

Elliot had even put on weight, and looked nearly healthy.

Aside from the deep dark shadows under his dead, dead eyes. Usually they were vacant and fleeting, but now that he was focused and alert (despite the wine, somehow), Ambrose could see the damage in his soul.

He looked away.

“I had a husband once, did you know?”

Elliot looked down at his bowl, shoulders sagging. Ellie shook his head.

“No, Master.” There was that title again.

Ambrose poured himself more wine.

“One day he just left. Didn’t say goodbye. A long time ago, but-” he shrugged. “-Still hurts. Then I moved here.”

“I didn’t know,” Elliot whispered.

“All that to say, I love my husband. I wish he’d come back.” Ambrose reached out, his hand on Elliot’s. “I can’t love you that way-”

“I don’t mind.”

“-But there’s more than one way to love someone, and I care for you deeply. I’ve been incredibly lonely since he left, and I value your company more than words. I hope you’ll stay, even when you don’t need me anymore.”

Elliot didn’t move. “You love me?”

“Mhm.”

“No one’s ever loved me before.”

“You mean, you don’t remember.”

“No. I mean no one has.” Elliot looked up at Ambrose, his eyes shiny with tears. “If someone loved me, they wouldn’t have let my old master do those things. They would have come for me. Right?”

Ambrose didn’t have an answer.

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[pinkskytwst]

A Pirate King's First Mate

Childhood Friend!Au

Leona/Reader (not Yuu)

============================

The first time Leona met you at five years old, you both got into a screaming match that quickly devolved into a physical scrap that ended with the two of you covered in mud, bruised, and him limping.

Your parents – a pair of female nobles that were friends with Leona’s mother – just groaned while Leona’s own cackled brightly and pulled the both of you under each of her arms to haul off to the healers.

Leona insisted loudly that he never wanted to see you again.

The queen invited you back the next day.

Leona threw a fit. He refused to come out of his room until his mother came personally and in a calm but firm voice instructed her son to unlock the door. He did, of course, but didn’t hide the glare that he sent you from where you stood just behind her. He puffed up even more when you stuck your tongue out at him, nose scrunched up and obviously as happy about being there as he was.

The queen proceeded to leave you both to ‘play together nicely’ in his room and absconded with your mothers for a private teatime.

Leona waited until he couldn’t hear the adults’ footsteps any longer before spinning around stalking out of his room in the opposite direction. His ears twitched when he heard you scrambling after him.

“Hey! You can’t just leave me! Your mom said you have to play with me!” you demanded, more angry at him abandoning you against his mother’s wishes than actually wanting to play together.

“Go away, I don’t play with herbivores.” He said, raising his chin like he saw Farena do when he was trying to act like their father.

“I’m not a herbivore!” you stomped your foot, “And your mom said-“

“Do you always do everything your moms tell you?” he snapped, glaring over his shoulder.

“Of course, I do!” your voice utterly offended.

Well…Leona hardly ever went against what his mother wanted either but still…you were a baby herbivore, and he didn’t want anything to do with you, so it wasn’t the same.

He scoffed and wound his way through the halls, ignoring the guards and any passing servants as you continued to chase after him stubbornly.

“Go away, I don’t play with babies.”

“I’m not a baby! I’m older than you!”

“You’re shorter, so you’re the baby.”

“That’s not fair! Your ears don’t count!”

“Of course, they do, they’re me, idiot!”

“You’re the idiot!”

The bickering continued as he couldn’t manage to lose you in the garden.

Your patience apparently ran out, though, as you threw yourself at him again and you both went down. He struck back, of course, sending you rolling but – the same as the time before – you ended up on top of him, victorious smile on your face.

“HA! Pinned ya!”

“Let me go!” he complained, trying to wiggle away. “I’m a prince you know! You can’t treat me like this!”

You just stuck your tongue out again but did eventually let him up, still smug smirk on your face despite his glower.

“You’re a very uncute herbivore!”

“Well, you're a rude prince!”

His face screwed up in a pout, ready to go at you again, but instead he just huffed and climbed to his feet, brushing off the grass stains and dirt smudges as best he could. He turned and continued on to his favorite tree to nap under and proceeded to climb it.

You scampered after him again but gaped as he made himself comfortable in the branches completely out of your reach.

“Hey! Hey, that’s not fair!” you stomped your foot, going to the large tree trunk and trying to follow after him.

Your climbing skills were nothing to his, though, despite his young age, and you barely got your feet off the ground before you toppled back and landed in the dirt. A grunt escaped you and you rubbed at your backside with a pout, eyes narrowing at the smug smirk from the boy above you.

“Looks like you really are an herbivore if you can’t even climb a tree.” His tiny fangs flashing in his grin.

“You…you-ugh!” you threw your hands into the air and stormed off, giving him some actual peace and quiet again, thankfully.

You returned a couple of minutes later, arms covered in mud and proceeded to throw a huge sludge ball right at his stupid, prince face.

To say your ‘friendship’ had a rough start was an understatement.

The ‘play dates’ continued like that for months, only ending when you were both either having to be dragged to the healers again or so filthy you had to be carted off by servants to be hosed down and given proper baths before being able to be seen by polite company again.

You were the bane of Leona’s existence, and he did not understand why his mother didn’t grasp the insurmountable trials she was putting him through. She would just smile fondly and brush her fingers through his hair and completely change the subject by telling weird stories about how she and his father would fight when they were children.

What did that matter!? He didn’t care about how stupid his dad was for not seeing how awesome his mom was as a kid! It just confirmed that he was an idiot! It had nothing to do with the trauma your very presence was inflicting on him! Why couldn’t she just order you to not come back! Clearly if she loved him she wouldn’t force him to suffer your bullying!

But no, she would just chuckle and kiss his forehead and promise that one day he would understand and forgive her.

No, he was certain this was the one thing that he wouldn’t be able to forgive his mom for even if he could never stay mad at her.

It was favoritism! Why couldn’t she torture Farena with an annoying herbivore and let him hang around Njeri instead? She deserved better than being betrothed to his jerk of a brother anyway! She definitely had better taste and wouldn’t actually agree to marry him when they were older! He might not want to marry her but it would still be better being around her than having to put up with the brat that kept shoving his face in mud!

Not that they could actually beat him or anything! He was going easy on them, that’s all!

More months passed, a couple of birthdays, and still he was stuck putting up with you at least three times a week. A common complaint that he brought up to his mother every chance he could.

He would detail out all the horrible things about you and how you always bullied him and never treated him like a prince the way you should and they should praise him for going easy on you because that’s the only reason they found him trapped under you again as you ruthlessly braided flowers into his hair so that he would look like a ‘real prince’.

Really! He was just being nice and letting you win!

He was a prince after all! He should be shown respect even if he wasn’t going to be king! You were anything but respectful! Clearly he deserved a better ‘friend’!

-

After the funeral, you were the first person to find him.

“Hey.” You said, voice cutting through his deafening thoughts that were dragging his soul down deeper into the tar of despair and self-hatred.  

“Go away.” He muttered, burying his head deeper into his arms and claws digging into the black sleeves of his kanzu to the point that the luxurious fabric began to rip.

Not that he cared. Not that it mattered.

Nothing mattered anymore.

“No.”

He couldn’t even work up the energy to lash out as he felt you sit beside him under the tree. His tree he always hid away at.

Where you were always able to find him.

You sat there in silence for an undetermined amount of time that dragged on like hours.

It grated on his nerves. Raw and stinging as he couldn’t figure out if it would be better if you would say something or if he didn’t want to hear your voice.

He didn’t want to listen to anyone. The thought of being around others, feeling their stares heavy on his shoulders like accusing fists suffocating him, of hearing the hissed whispers that now followed his every step like poisonous snakes sinking their fangs into his heart. It all made him sick. It made him want to rip off his own ears, to claw his eyes out.

It made him wish he had died instead of his mother.

“You know…” you finally said, breaking him from his sludge tar thoughts again. “If you want, we can go be pirates.”

Leona looked up from his arms, staring at you.

You pointed to your own eye, the one that mirrored the scar that now slashed over his own, mostly healed but still an angry red.

The one he had gotten from the assassin before his mother had thrown herself at the female with a vicious roar that felt like it rocked the very ground beneath them.

“You look like a pirate now. You want to be a king right? We can go be pirates and you can be a pirate king. I’ll have to come too, of course, since you’re useless with out me but I guess if I have to follow a pirate king you’d be a good one.”

Leona just stared up at you.

You were ten now and he would be in a month, but you were still a little taller than him. He hated it. He complained to his mother all the time about you growing faster than him.

She always told him to be patient.

She’d never tell him that again.

He didn’t realize that he was crying until you reached out with your sleeve and started to scrub them away. You weren’t gentle but you were also not as rough as you normally were.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!”

No one should touch him! It wasn’t safe! He would kill you just like-

The breath left his lungs as you were suddenly right there and wrapping your arms around him.

He struggled, tried to pull away, did his best not to let his hands land on you.

The hands of a killer.

“Shut up! You’re being dumb!” you snapped, your voice wobbly in a way he’d never heard it before. “It’s not your fault! It was that bitch’s fault for attacking you and your mom! It was your guards’ faults for not stopping her!”

Leona froze, his mind still as his thoughts circled around one thing.

“Your moms will be mad that you cussed.”

He felt your breath shutter against his chest, the beat of your heart dragging him back down to reality.

“I’m practicing.” He muttered into his neck, the stubborn tone returning to what he was familiar with. “We’re going to be pirates, remember? I decided. We’re going to be pirates and you’re going to be the Pirate King and I’m going to be your right hand pirate because all Pirate Kings need a right hand pirate.”

“Idiot, they’re called ‘first mates’.”

“Well, I’ll be your first mate then, you jerk prince! But only I get to be so you can’t go off and be a pirate without me, you got it! It was my idea so it wouldn’t be fair! You can’t leave without me!”

Leona swallowed thickly, not understanding what was happening but also…maybe he didn’t mind listening to your voice as much as he thought.

It wasn’t a horrible voice after all. And he supposed you weren’t ugly even if you were still an annoying herbivore.

“I can’t touch you.” He finally whispered, keeping his hands hovering away from you.

The feeling of sand beneath his fingers still snapped him into a cold sweat and haunted his nightmares.

“Stop saying stupid things.” You refused to pull away from him and just tightened your grip. “Who cares if you can turn things to sand, hm? You think you’re so amazing, you idiot? You’re 9! I’m older and smarter and I’m telling you that your sand powers won’t hurt me! If you’re so scared we’ll get you gloves. Pirates wear cool gloves all the time anyway. An eyepatch too. Maybe covering up one of your eyes will make your aim better!”

Leona couldn’t breathe again.

He didn’t understand. He didn't understand, but he didn’t want you to leave.

His touch was feather light, terrified and ready to rip away in an instant.

You didn’t flinch. Your heart didn’t so much as speed up as you continued to hold him.

You gave a small, annoyed huff.

“Idiot.” You muttered. “Pirates cry too so it’s fine. It’s only me anyway.”

Suddenly he was clutching at you, broken sobs wracking through his body as everything he had been holding in, trying to hide, forcing back behind a mask to escape everyone in the palace that could no longer look at him without seeing a murderer, came flooding out.

He cried himself to sleep.

You carried him to the palace on your back and snarled at any servant or guard that looked at him wrong.

You pushed him into bed and kicked off your own sandals before climbing in to join him, curling around his smaller form.

It was the first night since he watched his mother die that he didn’t wake up screaming.

-

Lots of things changed over the years. Some bad, some good.

The constant in Leona’s life, though, remained you. It was you since the day when you were both five and it would be you until the day one of you died.

When you were both accepted to Night Raven College he wasn’t surprised. He was a genius after all and you were…passable at least. Not as good as him – though you’d never admit it no matter how many times he shoved it in your face – but definitely better than the plebians that filled the rest of the world.

He’d never admit to the relief he felt when you were placed in the same dorm.

With all the trouble you got into it was just easier to make sure you didn’t get in over your head if he was at your side.

School was boring but with you there at least it was at least bearable. It was better than being at ‘home’ where whispered still followed – though less when you were at his side – and he could escape the obnoxious cub of a nephew his brother had so generously gifted him.

Cheka loved you, of course, and you doted on him like he was your own and it was the most annoyingly sickening sweet thing he ever saw that he tended to just snag the brat by the back of his shirt and throw him out of the room whenever you were around.

No one wanted to see that!

He didn’t really care about doing too well, though he would allow you to drag him to class every now and then. It wasn’t like grades were going to change anything about his future and he knew all the information already anyway. School was just to enjoy and despite the lectures you might give him every now and then you gave in enough that he knew you didn’t mind it all that much.

It also helped that he was now much taller than you and he took every chance he could to use it against you by dragging you down for a nap or just throwing you over his shoulder to cart off to the botanical gardens.

Of course, when he noticed that others didn’t always treat you like you deserved – he was the only one that could tease or call you names – he quickly took action and when your Housewarden had shrugged off his words with: “Maybe if they were stronger they wouldn’t be a target.”

Well, needless to say he was the new pack leader of Savanaclaw and the old was in the infirmary for three weeks before he was allowed out of bed.

After that no one in the dorm dared to try anything with you and the rare time that you couldn’t take care of yourself against someone from another dorm he dealt with it for you.

“It’s my job to take care of my first mate.” He’d shrug before ruffling your hair and then throw his arm around your neck to drag you back to his room for a nap.

That changed in your third year during the first break back home.

The two of you had enjoyed a day out, a rare occasion for Farena to not keep him swarmed by guards the entire time and just allowed for a ‘chaperone’ – who was definitely a guard in disguise – and you had dragged him to the ‘Watering Hole’.

It was a centralized tourist spot with a large lake and surrounded by expansive shopping and restaurant districts. Entertainment avenues of theater and movies and clubs, and all absolutely swarmed with people.

He hated it.

You thought it was great.

You might not have been royalty, after all, but you were still a noble and your parents were pretty protective as well so you rarely got to just go out and explore places so public.

You couldn’t keep the beaming smile off your face and he guessed he could put up with it for one day.

You were a trouble magnet, though, so he had to keep a firm hold on your hand the entire time.

No doubt you’d go and get tricked into some unmarked van with promises of free candy and kittens otherwise, so he was only being responsible like his brother always nagged him about.

The worst thing was…it didn’t even have to happen.

If he had been paying attention.

If he hadn’t been so focused on watching the way your eyes sparkled with excitement over something as simple as samosas from a street vendor…

The next thing he knew your treat was on the ground and you had thrown yourself at him, shoving him as hard as your strength could manage.

Energy sizzled through the air, electric shocks brushing over his skin and sending his nerves on end.

He snapped into defense mode, pen out and already throwing up a shield while holding you close.

They were nothing - street thugs that only one of them even had magic at all. It was barely a flick of his pen before they were all thrown into a nearby store’s wall and knocked unconscious. The police and guards would handle them.

The smell of charred flesh reached his nose.

His heart stopped as he looked down at your unmoving form in his arms, back smoking as your clothes had been burned away by the blast that you had taken.

The blast meant for him.

He tasted sand on his tongue.

The black, jagged streaks traveled along your spine and painted your skin where the outright, open wound weeped crimson.

You weren’t breathing.

Leona didn’t remember much after that. Sirens, maybe, people trying to pull you from his grasp, definitely, but the next time he was really aware he was sitting at your bedside in the palace’s private hospital wing. Your hand clasped between his white knuckles and his eyes locked on your face and his ears focused solely on listening for every beep to confirm that your heart was still beating.

The healers said it was a miracle you had survived. Your mothers had sobbed in relief and then horror at the knowledge that you may very well never walk again.

The thought didn’t make sense in his mind.

You were…you were so small. Why did you look so small?

How could someone like you, someone who could do so much, was meant for so much – meant so much to him – look so tiny and weak.

It wasn’t right.

And it was his fault.

It was always his fault.

You would be safe if it wasn’t for him.

If he had never been brought into your life.

Leona took a deep breath, swallowing back the taste of sand and lightning before he delicately laid your hand down on the stark white, hospital sheets.

He had to fight but eventually he released your fingers and stood from the plastic chair. He forced himself not to pause at the door, forced himself not to look back at your unconscious form.

He didn’t deserve to.

He left.

Leona didn’t leave his room for weeks, though he ordered his guard to notify him of any change to your status. He barely left his bed and ignored all cries from Cheka outside his door.

He didn’t have the energy to deal with him.

He didn’t have the energy for anything.

It felt like his heart finally started beating again when he heard you had woken up for the first time.

He wanted to rip it out when he had to growl to his brother that he wasn’t coming even though you were asking for him.

Every day you asked for him.

Every day he wished he could just die instead of having to deny you.

But he couldn’t see you. He couldn’t let you be a part of his life anymore when everyone he ever lo-ever cared about would be a target. Would be eventually ripped from his arms and leave him alone.

It was only when you refused to eat until he came to speak with you face to face that he managed to force himself out of bed.

“You look like shit.”

Those were the first words you said to him, sitting propped up in the hospital bed’s many pillows and connected to more wires and tubes than he had seen on anyone before.

“Speak for yourself.” He said before he even had a chance to bite the words back, hating himself instantly.

You only smirked at him, though it was exhausted as if merely being awake was more than you could handle at the moment.

“Stop being an idiot and eat. You-“

“Shut up, jerk, you don’t get to give me orders when you left. You left.”

Your expression fell, twisting into something more pained and hurt than he could ever remember coming from you.

You were in a hospital bed from an attack that you took for him and instead of being angry at him not protecting you as he should, you were angry that he wasn’t there when you woke up.

“I-“

“WE MADE A DEAL! I’M YOUR FIRST MATE! YOU DON’T GET TO LEAVE ME BEHIND!”

You were crying.

You were crying and it was like someone was clawing his heart out all over again.

Without thinking, without even pausing to contemplate any kind of consequence or fall out, Leona was at your side, leaning over you and cupping your face as you struggled to breathe through the sobs and the pain shooting through your body that came with them.

“Y-you’re my Pirate K-king.” You whimpered, hands pressing his against your cheeks and eyes looking up at him desperately. “You can’t leave me b-behind.”

He was helpless. He realized there was never anything he could ever refuse you. He would do anything to take your pain away, make the tears stop.

“If I’m your King then you have to follow my orders.” He said lowly, voice raw. “You can’t leave me either. What am I supposed to do without a first mate?”

You gave a wobbly sort of chuckle, still trembling from the tears.

“You’d be useless.”

“Yeah.”

A small smile pulled on your lips and suddenly he was leaning in desperately, claiming them with his own.

You let out a small sound of surprise but his heart leaped when you instantly returned the kiss without hesitation, meeting his tongue with your own eagerly.

First mate indeed…

-

Farena didn’t bother asking why he failed that year, or the year after.

You were still recovering, still learning to walk again and regain what you had lost from the attack.

It took two years and while he kept his dorm running and in line, he made no effort to progress with school.

There was no point without you there after all.

It was hard to get up the energy to get out of bed most days, anyway, so he just didn’t bother. Most of the time he was awake he was texting or calling you.

Ruggie was really a life saver at that point, keeping things mostly orderly and him from just growing moss in his sheets.

But when you were finally recovered enough to return to school – and he made absolutely sure that Crowley understood that you would be welcomed back to school no matter how long it had been – he attended the first opening ceremony since he had become Housewarden.

Technically since it had been so long, the Headmage insisted you had to be resorted.

Not that Leona understood why.

You belonged at his side, no where else.

Of course, you were sent to Savanaclaw once more, and he was proud to be able to watch you join your fellow dorm members under your own power after all the hard work you had put into relearning to walk.

You might have been a little more clumsy than before, a little quicker to tire, but to him it only showed just how strong you were.

If he was protective before, it was nothing compared to now.

He still hated class but more often than not he would go if for no other reason than to insure that you got there safely and had someone to help if you were struggling.

Days that the taste of sand and lightning suffocated him, you would crawl into bed with him and wrap your arms around him so he could listen to your heartbeat.

When the pain overpowered the potions you took, he would carry you back to his room, fill a hot bath, and hold you as you cried and tried to let the heat soothe the pain in your legs.

The one time someone tried to say something about you being a ‘burden’ to him, he nearly ripped their throat out and it was only a passing Crewel that managed to prevent him from succeeding.

Needless to say no one ever said anything negative about you again.

You lectured him, loudly, in the Savanaclaw lounge while you cleaned his busted knuckles and wrapped them. Not holding back as you told him just how stupid he was and how you didn’t know why you put up with his idiocy.

The other Savanaclaw students just stared in both awe and a little bit of terror at how you so fearlessly told off the prince that had almost just committed murder.

Leona propped his cheek up with one bandaged fist and flashed a sharp, fanged grin that sent everyone scampering away.

Any insult to you, after all, was an insult to him.

When he dragged you to his rooms and locked the door, you didn’t even bother doing more than rolling your eyes before letting him press you into the pillows and show just how sorry he was for upsetting you.

In the end…he supposed he could forgive his mother for forcing him to be friends with a weak little herbivore.

He could be strong for the both of you.

When you finally got fed up with his teasing and shoved him over to climb on top of him and take exactly what you wanted, he supposed you weren’t really all that weak to begin with.

=====================

Hope you all like it! <3 A little angstier than Riddle's but let's be real, no matter what childhood Leona had it would be filled with angst.

@miss-hyoko

[parisiterileymoon]

Angel dust x male reader

Set in the 40s, Im a sucker for a good forbidden romance. (We are all freinds of Dorothy here;])

C/W:mafia, period accurate homophobia, suggestive material(implied fornication), murder, someone gets dragged by the hair, major character death, guns, google translate Italian.

~~

Anthony. His name rolled of the tongue. Anthony. An~tho~ny. When you looked at him, your stomach twisted in knots. You both got out of having to serve in the war due to belonging to the mafia. If anyone found out about your little affaire, you would surely be killed. You looked down to see your beloved Tony curled in the fetal position away from you in bed. "What, was I that bad?" you asked him, only half joking. "Nah toots, I'm just tired. It's...damn what time is it?" "uhhh- how do you not have a clock somewhere in here?" you rolled out of bed with a thunk, pulling on a pair of boxers and looked for your watch. "HA! Found it. Itssss 1:00 AM? Good god!" you laugh, placing your watch back on the floor with the rest of your clothes. All of a sudden you hear footsteps. Not like light and quick like Molly's but heavy and slow like... Henry. Anthony's father. You see, Molly was the only person who knew about you and Anthony. You frantically look around, hopping into the closet. His father bursts into the room. "Anthony, who is in here." you watch your lover panic. "Nobody, pa! I swear! It's just me!" "Questa è una fottuta stronzata Anthony e lo sai, don't lie to me boy!" he begins to look around and his eyes land on the closet. It's as if he can stare straight through your soul. Your palms begin to sweat and tears well in your eyes. Henry pretty much tares the door of the closet off. He pushes you to the ground. "YOU! YOU TURNED MY SON INTO A QUEER" you look at Anthony, sweet Anthony. For a split second you look in his eyes and feel safe. But than Henry kicked you in the stomach and grabs your hair. "PA STOP HE DIDN'T DO NOTHIN'" Anthony cries and drops to the floor, cradling your face. Henry kicks him away from you and begins dragging you outside. "NO PLEASE- PLEASE LET ME GO I'M SORRY" Anthony tries to run after you but his father pulls a gun out of his back pocket "you step one foot closer to me and I shoot you and the fag." "no..." tony falls to his knees. "No pa please..." "anthony I'm gonna be ok" you say, crying. Henry Yanks your hair. "WHO SAID YOU COULD SPEAK QUEER" he pulls you outside and throws you into the mud. He points his gun at you. "No son of mine... No son if mine will be a damn queer. I'm doing the world a favor by making sure you turn no more good men. Any last words?" you look over Henry's shoulder at your lover, screaming and protesting for his father to stop, and you smile at him. "Anthony," you reach out for him "find me on the other side". The last thing you see is your beloved Tony sobbing as he falls for his knees, crying your name. Your life flashes before your eyes as you feel a sharp and unbearable pain in your head. Than, almost like magic, you feel an odd sence of peace. You feel warm and comforted. You see a light. It was almost blinding. Somehow you knew... This... This is heaven.

Would he find you? No. No he wouldn't.

~~

A/N: if you have any gripes, please comment! Constructive criticism is highly appreciated<3

[zablife]

As Long As I Live (Part 1)

Tommy Shelby & Amelia Holland (OC) x Bonnie Gold

Summary: Tommy's long lost daughter appears at Arrow House and quickly becomes a beloved part of the family. What happens to their relationship when that peace is shattered by his newfound political aspirations and the only way to protect her is to send her away again with the one person she cannot abide?

Author's Note: Requested by the lovely @kpopgirlbtssvt.

Warnings: language, fighting, use of a weapon, mention of blood, mention of a curse

“I know you stole it!”

“I did not!”

“Give it back!”

“Can’t steal what was mine in the first place, stupid cow!”

“You lying, thieving little bitch!” 

The shouting could be heard from across camp, voices of two teenage girls turning to shrill cries as a fight broke out between them. The oldest, Tess, gave a forceful shove to the younger girl who had so brazenly stolen from her that very morning. However, Tess underestimated her smaller, but more aggressive opponent who rushed her, forcing them both to the ground with a great thud. 

At sixteen, Amelia had been in enough fights to be considered a decent brawler. Had she been a lad, she would have been making money at the fair instead of entangling herself in silly squabbles at camp. Her temper left her little time to think of consequences, however, as was the case today. 

While the girls wrestled, Tess clawed at Amelia’s neck threatening, “Give it back and I won’t scratch your eyes out.” Using her weight to roll them both through the mud, Amelia climbed on top of Tess, planting her knees firmly into the soil and spitting in Tess’s face.

“It’s mine!” Amelia asserted through gritted teeth, remembering how the jewelry used to shine brightly as it hung from her mother’s neck. She placed both hands around Tess’s throat as a blinding rage overtook her and Tess’s eyes grew wide at the constriction of her airway. Desperate to save herself, her hand shot out from her side and yanked down hard on Amelia’s long, dark hair with enough force to move her entire body. Amelia’s scalp burned with a searing pain as Tess came away victorious with a large clump of hair. “Worried you’ll be uglier than you already are?” she taunted. “No one wants you anyway, pathetic little orphan.”

Amelia scrambled to find her footing, thinking only of revenge, and shoved her hand into her boot, searching for her flick knife. As Tess’s fist connected with her side, Amelia let out a soft grunt. Hunched over, the blade of her knife was concealed from view and Tess never saw the swift motion as Amelia swiped up and cut Tess across the cheek. Stumbling backward and clutching her face, the girl screamed, forcing several people outside to investigate.

Amelia’s aunt Zelda was one of the first to see what had happened, gasping at the sight of blood dripping from Tess's face. Realizing the severity of the incident, she pulled Amelia away by her elbow to the privacy of their vardo as quickly as possible. Once inside, she slapped her across the face asking, “What the bloody hell have you done now, Amelia?”

The sting to her cheek brought her back to reality and Amelia gulped, suddenly aware of what she’d done. “She…she said I stole her necklace. But…but...it's mum's, Aunt Zelda. She stole it first!” She said, words rushing out in hopes she would be believed.

Zelda closed her eyes, exhaling a long, loud sigh. “Christ almighty, Amelia!” she said with a shake of her head. “We’ve talked about this, girl. You can’t be fightin’ no more!”

“But…didn’t you hear me? She stole mum’s necklace!” Amelia wailed, trying to explain herself one final time.

“No, she didn’t,” Zelda insisted. Amelia looked on in confusion. Her mother had been very clear when she was ill that the gold necklace with the beautiful blue stone was the one possession that was not to be put on the fire. She wanted to leave part of herself with her daughter who would be all alone in the world with no parents or siblings to comfort her.

“I sold it,” Zelda said matter-of-factly. “Times have been hard. You know that."

“You had no right to sell what was mine!” Amelia cried, closing her fist over the pendant. 

“The hell I didn't! I’ve been doin’ my best to raise ya and it’s a thankless job. You do nothin’ but cause me trouble.” As she spoke, she began to gather Amelia’s things, packing them hastily. "I have my own little ones to think of, you know."

“Are you throwing me out? Where do you expect me to go?” Amelia’s head swam as she watched her aunt move in dizzying circles around her.

Finally slowing her movements, Zelda plopped down on the bed and brought a hand to her forehead. She exhaled deeply before answering, “I need to tell you the truth about something.”

“About what?” Amelia asked hesitantly.

“Your father. He didn’t die in the war like your mum told you,” she waited for a moment as Amelia took in the new information, then continued. “He might as well have. He couldn’t care for you back then, but I hear his circumstances have changed.” Standing from the bed and handing her the bag she declared firmly, “It’s time he took some responsibility.”

“That’s crazy, I don’t know anything about him. He doesn’t know me,” Amelia argued. 

“Still, he’ll do what’s right unless he wants a curse on his head,” Zelda warned. Amelia didn’t dare continue when her aunt held that look in her eye. She had seen what her aunt was capable of and didn’t wish to go against her. The decision had been made and there was nothing to do except take the horse that was given to her and ride off with the directions she was given to start a new life.

——————————

Tommy stood at his office window, listening to the crackling fire and the gentle whistle of the wind through the chimney. There was no one else awake this time of morning besides the chef preparing a lavish breakfast Tommy had no intention of eating. As was his habit most mornings, he would neglect the ample offerings on the dining table in favor of his cigarettes and coffee. Today would be no different as he had stacks of paperwork to review before returning to London later in the week. Despite the waiting obligations, Tommy had an anxious feeling crawling under his skin as he looked out over the thick fog that blanketed Arrow House. Something about quiet mornings always made him uneasy as bitter experience had taught him to be wary of such things. 

He tried to shake the feeling as he returned to his desk and sort through some paperwork, but outside Johnny Dogs and a few of the junior peaky boys had taken up Tommy’s watch. As the sharp, hollow clip of horse hooves grew louder, Isaiah turned to Johnny with a fretful gaze. “Thought you said there weren’t any visitors expected today, Johnny.”

“None that Tommy knew about,” he replied, craning his neck for a better look down the road. However, the fog made it impossible to tell who might be approaching. Isaiah checked his gun in case of trouble as did two of the other men, ready to defend the house if necessary. It was a time of peace for the family, but they could never be certain as new threats didn’t give them the courtesy of a formal announcement. 

As a white stallion appeared between the stone pillars at the end of the long drive, Isaiah walked out to meet what appeared to be a female rider. The horse ambled toward him slowly until Amelia stopped completely looking down at the man in her path. “Is this Arrow House?” she asked.

“Depends on who’s askin’, love,” he said with a smile, taking hold of the horse’s bit. Amelia set her jaw determinedly, tired and sore from riding. She didn’t wish to play games.

“My aunt sent me, Zelda Holland,” Amelia conceded.

“That name doesn’t mean a thing to me,” Isaiah said, suddenly stone faced and suspicious of her motives. After the business years ago with the crazy Russian woman, he knew women could be just as treacherous as men. He had half a mind to interrogate her thoroughly before sending her back where she came from even though she looked exhausted and ready to fall from her horse at any moment.

“If you would let me pass, I’ll prove I have business at this house,” she said more firmly. The cold and damp had set into her bones and she longed for the warmth of a fire, but she wouldn’t beg for charity. 

“No one here knows you, girl. You're obviously lost. Why don’t you turn around and go home where you belong,” he suggested, guiding the horse to face the opposite direction and giving it a slap on the haunches. The horse trotted a short distance before Amelia stubbornly turned back and galloped toward the assembly of men at full speed, her eyes blazing with anger. As she approached, the horse reared up on its hind legs making them scramble out of the way before its hooves pounded back down to the ground. "Are you fuckers going to let me inside or do I have to break down the bloody door? I'll not ask twice" she yelled, chest heaving with indignation.

“Now just who do you think you are lass?” Johnny asked, feet shuffling through gravel quickly. He tried to place the young woman with dark, free flowing curls and olive skin. He was immediately struck by her large, crystalline blue eyes and he mumbled, “Izzy, is that you?” Everyone knew Isidora Holland was dead and yet here was a woman who looked just like her with a temper to match.

“No, my name's Amelia. I'm her daughter,” she said with a toss of her head, letting the wind blow the hair from her face.

“Well I’ll be damned. Why didn't you say so," he said with an astonished grin. Then turning serious he chided, "We could've done without all that, Amelia," gesturing with his hand in the air toward the horse, referring to her theatrics. Amelia looked away, embarrassed by her brief show of emotion. She accepted Johnny's hand as he offered it, easing herself down from her horse with a groan. Johnny helped with her pack as Isaiah came to stand next to him, confusion evident in his expression. “What in God’s name are ya doing here, child?” Johnny asked.

“I came to meet my father,” she said, turning her head in all directions to take in the grand estate before her. A harsh wind whipped Amelia’s skirts as she gazed upon the biggest house she’d ever seen. Bitter cold nipped at her fingers as she took up her bag from Johnny and slung it over her shoulder, head held high as she asked, “Where can I find Thomas Shelby?” 

Read Part 2

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[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unexpected 14

Sequel to Unsolicited

Warnings: non/dubcon, pregnancy, pegging, Lloyd being the worst, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

As you choke down the iron tablets with a glass of prune juice, you wrinkle your nose and let out a noise of disgust. Worse than the vitamins and the constipation, you feel the shirt tight across the new curve of your stomach and how it peeks out in an ungainly fashion. You're only happy no one is around to witness how gross you are.

Lloyd's absence has been peaceful. A mission which has stretched on two weeks and left you anything but lonely. Quiet mornings and similar nights, only briefly interrupted by his check-ins. You keep the phone close if only stave off any concern or further interruption of your solace. You might be alright if this is the usual. If you could count on a respite from the torture of his existence.

You rinse out the glass and burp up a nasty mouthful of prune flavoured reflux. You cringe and put the glass in the rack. You have no plans but you aren't restless.

You find little things to do. Sometimes you walk on the treadmill and watch a reality show about women with overinflated lips, other times you settle down with a book, rolling your eyes at the ridiculous thrillers Lloyd keeps in perpetuity, or you simply zone out in front of the television. With your cravings running wild, your time is merely counted as hours between meals.

You make your way to the door and ease it open. Spring is coming, the snow is thawing to mud, and the air smells like rain. You take a seat on the simple white bench and rub your back as you watch the sky. You wince as the speaker beside the doorbell clicks.

"Enjoying the view, peaches?" Lloyd asks from his remote observation.

"Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere," you grumble, "I'm not that fast."

"Aw, baby, I know you're not gonna run," he taunts, "I'm just... enjoying the view myself."

You sigh and slap your thighs before you stand. You grown, keeping a hand on your hip as you move slowly. The extra weight, not much at all, is already straining in your back. You squint at the doorbell where you know the lens is.

"Dick," you utter as you pass by and go back inside.

"I didn't say you couldn't go outside," his echoed voice follows you inside, "wait, peaches... Mrs. Hansen. Give us a turn."

"Lloyd, leave me alone--"

"Wait, wait," he speaks, the noise of his fumbling rubbing against the mic, "better angle. Well, well, well, look at you. Is that junior I see peeking out beneath your shirt?"

"Stop," you hug your stomach, trying to hide it as you spin, dizzily searching for the seamless cameras.

He's quiet. You wait. The empty static dies and you think he's gone. You shake your head and go to the living room. You flop down and lean your head in your hand as you search through the menu for something to put on and fill the void.

As you hit play, the door flies open and jolts you from your comfort. You crane your head to look over your shoulder as Lloyd struts into the entryway, "honey, I'm home. And horny!"

"Jesus fuck," you snarl and turn back to the screen.

"Aren't you happy to see me, peaches?"

"Could've warned me--"

"Where's the fun in that?" He taunts as he comes behind the couch. As you drop the remote beside you he bends and kisses the crown of your head, "honey bee, I got an idea."

"Uh huh, that's always a good sign."

"Yes, you're a woman, you like simple things," he leans down and crosses his arm across the back of the sofa, "let's go shopping."

"Nah, I'm not really--"

"Look, baby, as much as I love seeing that soft tummy, you're gonna need something that fits and you're only going to get bigger."

"You think I don't know that. Lloyd, please, don't act like you care."

"Well, I do care. About my dick and how you make it feel, but nonetheless, I think by the time I get you in a cute little maternity dress, I'll be at full staff--"

"If I agree, will you be quiet?" You snap as your ears burn.

"I'll try but you know me well enough, peaches, I don't exactly know when to stop."

"For all your flaws, self-awareness isn't one of them," you mutter and push yourself to the edge of the couch.

Lloyd comes around and offers his hand. You haul your ass off the cushions and stand straight.

"Don't worry, baby cakes, I know you missed me," he winks, "that's what I like about you, the emotional repression."

💎

Your feet ache, even in the Vans you convinced Lloyd to buy you on the way in. New shoes are never comfortable but preferable to the unreasonable heels he keeps in good stock. You traipse behind him, nonplussed at the prospect of new clothes. You've never been a shopper and the last time you tried….

Well, you met him.

The memory chills you and floods your current reality. The realisation that a singular mortifying encounter became your foreseeable future. He sure had a way of ruining even the most mundane things.

Several stores down and you could collapse already. Even as he carries the load, you feel as if you're bogged down, hauling a boulder across the desert. You struggle to keep up with his long strides.

"I think we got enough," you puff, "really, not like I go anywhere."

"There's one more stop, then I'll take you home and rub you down," he winks as he nearly bowls over another shopper, his shoulder hitting theirs with an indifferent force, "get you oiled up and relaxed."

You sneer at him, even as the suggestion bubbles beneath your skin. No, he's not going to get to you. He interrupted your you time. One more he's ruined it all and for what, so you can buy stretchy leggings.

He turns into a black fronted shop, the pink moniker sending your heart into overdrive. No. He doesn't stop.

You trail behind him reluctantly. Shameless as always, he stops before the table of thongs and drops the bags by his feet, he stretches a lacy vee and faces you, holding them up to measure.

"Low rise so enough room for–"

"Lloyd, jesus," you cover yourself instinctively, "we're in public."

You feel the steady boil, the tingle that creeps up your thighs and ensnares your chest.

"Never stopped me before," he goes back to fishing through the displays, messing up the carefully folded piles, "satin… now what's the point in these?" He raises a thong that's little more than string, "well, if the point is to get me hard–"

"Quit," you beg as his words carry and the associates giggle at each other. Your cheeks burn even hotter, the sudden surge in your core surprising you.

"Let's find something to try on," he gathers the bags with one hand, several pantites clutched in the other, "hello," he greets the women behind the counter, both young and dressed in sleek back, "do you mind if we leave these? We're gonna have a look around."

"Uh, yes, sir," the blond chirps, "we'll keep an eye on them, no problem."

"I'm sure you will. Gorgeous blues," he compliments, "and that smile."

You frown. That's not cool. You're standing right there. It's not jealousy but the fact that he has no regard for you. That these young girls must assume you're some nag of a wife, easily forgotten for a pretty face.

You roll your eyes and strut away. He follows and chuckles. He's not dumb enough to think you care, surely not. Or that you would even think of dragging him out a fucking him in the backseat--

Because you wouldn't.

He take a leather corset and tests the resistance, "guess this is probably too much, we need something flowy."

"Whatever you want," you shrug.

"What's wrong, baby?"

"Nothing, grab what you want and let's go. I'm sore and hungry and tir–"

"Horny? Ah, okay, okay, sorry, I just thought… it's been two weeks."

"Don't," you growl, "I'm hardly in the…" you pause and stare at his hand as he grabs a baby blue teddy with an open front. It's like you can feel his touch already, "...mood."

"This," he wiggles the teddy, "looks cozy. Easy to rip off you."

"Sure," you swipe it away, "whatever gets me outta here." You go back to the girls at the desk, "hey, can I get a fitting room, please?"

"One sec," the blonde jingles her keys on her belt.

She comes around and you follow her to the back area. She lets you into a stall as Lloyd wanders up.

"You go to school?" He asks as you pull the curtain shut.

"Uh huh, law."

"Oh, sexy, a lawyer," he flirts, you can picture him stroking his dumb mustache, "freshman?"

"Sophomore," she replies as you strip down.

You shake your head as you pull on the teddy. You don't like how much of your stomach shows or how your tits feel like they're gonna fall out of the cups. You peek in the mirror, oh great, they also look humongous.

"Lloyd," you call as the girl giggles, "can you help me with this?"

"Yes, honey," he returns, "sorry, wifey's expecting and she's not as limber as she used to be."

"Aw, you're so helpful," the girl praises shrilly, "just let me know if you need anything else."

You face Lloyd as he comes through the curtain and you grab the front of his jacket. He blinks and gives a startled grunt, "hm?"

"Shut up and sit down," you swing him around and shove him onto the bench, "I'm should fucking smack you, you know that?"

"You should," he say brightly.

You narrow your eyes at him. He watches you boldly, mockingly. You hate him so bad but you also can't think of anything else but the way his shoulders look so broad and his chest strains his jacket tautly. You grab his belt and fumble with the buckle.

"Wait–"

"Shhhh, you'll get us in trouble," you hiss.

"Baby, it's not me making trouble for once," he sits back with a grin.

[ragingbookdragon]

When It Rains, It Pours

Rudy Parra x Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 1.6K Warnings: Explicit Language, Mature Themes

Author's Note: ;) -Thorne

**********************************************************************

They’d all scattered into the wind like bats out of hell when Graves and his team had opened fire on them. She had been one of the first to start moving back the second Graves’ tone had changed, only turning tail and running when the gunfire started. She didn’t know how far she’d run but when she stopped, there were no Shadow’s tailing her, and she was on a side of the town she hadn’t seen before.

Hiding in an alley behind a dumpster, she took out her scanner and tapped at the screen, trying to pinpoint Ghost and Soap’s locations. Nothing would come up and the rumble of thunder echoed in her ears, signaling that if she hadn’t already lost tracking ability, she was about to. She tried once more for their locations before switching course of action and pinging Alejandro’s and Rudy’s. Alejandro’s hadn’t moved much from the former location, and she cursed, knowing he was either dead or captured. Rudy’s however was moving quickly out of town.

She put the device away and started out towards the street when a jeep pulled up beside her. “Ah shit,” she muttered as two of Graves’ Shadows crawled out and pointed weapons at her.

“Drop your weapons!” one shouted, the other coming around the vehicle.

“C’mon boys, lets just pretend we didn’t see each other, yeah?” she asked. “I mean, I don’t want to do this, you don’t want to do this. Neither of us really want to do—"

The one stalked towards her, rifle pointed. “I said, drop your fuck—”

She grabbed the barrel of his rifle, shoving it down before she sunk her forearm into his throat, shoving him sideways when the other opened fire. His body floundered from the impact, gargles escaping him as his teammate gasped in shock, and she grabbed her knife, throwing it as hard as she could. It sunk into the Shadow’s eye, and he jerked, hitting his knees, body pitching forward onto the concrete.

Taking the knife out, she wiped the blood and brains that had come with it on the poor bastard’s back. Sheathing it, she slipped into the driver’s seat, not bothering to move the body as she drove over it, though she did wince as she heard cracking and squelching; one handheld the steering wheel as the other felt around for her device again. Rudy’s location had moved much farther, and she followed it, hoping that it was him driving whatever vehicle he was in and not a Shadow.

***

By the time she’d pulled up to the small building, the rain had started pouring, lighting scattering across the sky as thunder shook everything in its path with reverb. Rudy’s location had fallen off the map about thirty minutes prior, and there was no vehicle in sight, part of her wondering if she had followed wrong. She got out of the jeep, turning it off before stowing the keys under the driver’s seat. Rain drenched her clothes as her feet sunk into the mud as she walked around, barely managing to avoid stepping on a pressure plate in the front. Nope, she was in the right place.

She looked around for an entry to the building, seeing an open window across the wall; hurrying over, she shoved some of the wooden boxes closer and stepped up, pulling herself up the ledge. As she cocked her leg over, the mud on her boot slickened the ledge and her grip slipped, a sharp gasp escaping her as she fell head first onto the floor.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” she muttered with a groan, and she rolled over, forearms and elbows aching from the brunt of the fall—at least she’d managed to not break her neck, what a shit way to go that would be for her friends to find out. She gathered her things, intent to stand when a red light flickered on her chest and she muttered, “Fuck me.” She lifted her hands slowly beside her head in an act of peace. “Easy, buddy,” she said loud enough for whoever was up in the back to hear. “Graves is going to want me alive, not dead. You shoot me and he’s not going to be happy.”

“Empress?” someone called, the red light sliding off her chest and she squinted in the dark as a head appeared from the side.

“Rudy?” she returned. “Is that you?”

“It’s me,” he replied, dropping down from the ledge to walk over.

She couldn’t see him in the dark but every time the lightning streaked the sky, she saw his face; he knelt beside her and she reached up, pulling him into a hug. “Estoy muy feliz de verte,” she breathed into his ear. “Dios estoy feliz de verte vivo.”

His hands wrapped around her waist hesitantly and he murmured, “Estoy feliz de verte vivo también.” He pulled back slightly, gazing at her. “Where are Ghost and Soap?”

“I don’t know,” she answered. “Couldn’t get their locations to show up on the scanner. Ghost would’ve done away with the tracker and Soap’s may have fallen off.”

“Trackers?”

She reached up behind him and snagged something out of his hood, showing it to him. About the size of a thumb nail and no longer beeping red like it usually would’ve. “I tracked you here.”

Rudy pulled away from her to take the tracker from her. “When did you put this on me?”

She stood to her feet and stretched. “Remember that time I told you that your time on your knees was next?” she asked. “That’s when.”

He stood too. “Oh, so it was a ploy to put the tracker on me?”

“Oh no,” she replied with a smirk. “I’m still one hundred percent serious about you, cowboy.” Walking away, she looked around. “Where are we?”

“Alejandro’s safehouse.”

“Hmm…doesn’t feel very safe. Feels more like storage.”

“Storage for his gear.”

She started tugging off the gear she had on, yanking off the sopping jacket she had on. “Rain’s coming down like a goddamn flood. Get me a clean shirt if you can find one.”

“Sure,” he said, sounding like he almost tripped over himself when the tight, black shirt came off too; he returned moments later with a clean white shirt, a size or two too big but it would work until hers dried out. “Aquí.”

She took it from him. “Thank you, Rudy,” she murmured, taking it from him; he stood there, and she looked at him. “I’m going to take my bra off, Rudy.”

“What?”

“My bra. It’s wet too.” She blinked. “I mean, I have no issues with you staring at my girls. They’re pretty. And pierced. But I mean, I figured I’d warn you before I stripped more.”

“I, uh, Dios mío,” he breathed, spinning around with such a speed it made her head spin.

As she lifted the sports bra, she asked, “Rudy, eres virgen?”

He spluttered. “Qué!”

She wrung the water from her bra. “You are, aren’t you?”

“No soy un virgen,” he flustered. “He tenido sexo antes.”

“Uh huh,” she doubted. “Well it was either terrible or it’s only happened once because you still act like a virgin.”

“Or I act like a man who wants to show a woman respect,” he retorted.

Slipping the white shirt on, she nudged him in the knee and he turned around. “How many times?”

Rudy cleared his throat, looking past her at the wall. “Sólo una vez.”

“What was it? High school girlfriend? A girl you met in basic training?” she couldn’t see it, but she knew his cheeks were reddening. “Basic training, wasn’t it? Was she older?” his foot sunk into the dirt as he scuffed his boot. “Oh, she was? Rudy, tú perro picaro,” she chastised. “You slept with your superior.”

“It was only once,” he admitted. “We were drunk and flirting and it—”

She grinned at him and crooked a finger at him; Rudy stepped forward like his feet were full of lead, breathing quickening when she grabbed the side of the table and inched herself to the edge until her knees were tucked snugly on either side of his thighs. “There’s no need to explain how it happened when you can just show me, Rudy.”

“Ay Cristo, ay mierda, ay joder,” he started muttering to himself, hands into fists like he was trying to keep himself from grabbing her.

She let her hands come up, teasing beneath his vest. “Take a breath, Sergeant Major, you look like you’re going to combust.” He swallowed thickly and she added, “if you want to stop we can always consider this just…light-hearted teasing.”

“No, quiero esto,” he blurted out and she fell silent; Rudy then took a deep breath. “Simplemente no quiero hacerlo aquí.” Finally, he found his hands, and reached up, warm fingers brushing along the column of her throat. “Te mereces algo más que una mesa dura.”

“Oh, honey, I’d take a dirt floor if it meant I’d get you.” Her hum made the tips of his fingers tingle and she cooed, “But please, be a gentleman. Lucky me. Most guys would jump at the chance.”

“I am not most guys,” Rudy retorted, fingers clenching at the nape of her neck.

“No you’re not,” she said, and reached up, curling her fingers in the opening of his jacket. “Now if you’re not going to absolutely ruin me, kiss me at least?”

He leaned down, let her close her eyes, and he stopped, lips brushing hers as he warned, “Oh, te voy a destruir, pero no aquí, Emperatriz.”

She grinned, wrapping her arms around his neck to pull him onto the table with her. “Ooo, I like it when you find your guns, cowboy.”

[second-axis-point]

Pairing: Joel Miller x Male!Reader

Warnings: None!

Content: Hurt/Comfort (Sort of), Baths, Sleepy Cuddles, Soft!Joel

Washing up and cuddling with Joel. That’s all. Short and sweet. How you guy enjoy this while I work on requests.

Comfort

You and Joel just came back from patrol. It was raining pretty hard and Joel had fallen in the mud. Your group rode back Jackson and stabled your horses. Tommy laughed his ass off when he saw a grumpy Joel covered in mud and dirt. Joel flipped him the bird and the two of you made your way back to your shared house. Joel slowly started to peel his dirty jacket off and make his way to the bedroom.

“Um, where do you think you're going?”

You asked your filthy husband. He turned to look at you, confused.

“Changing?”

You shook your head and stepped closer to him.

“You literally have mud caked in your hair.”

You point out. He dusted his hand through his hair.

“Come on big boy, let’s get you cleaned up.”

You grabbed his arm and gave him a warm smile, pulling him towards the bathroom. He sits down on the toilet lid while you draw a hot bath. Once the water was a decent temperature, you moved back over to Joel and started undressing him slowly. He got in the bath and you started to leave, letting Joel enjoy his bath in peace.

“Why don’t you join me?”

You turned around to see him leaning his head back against the wall, waiting for your answer. You didn’t say anything, instead only walking back into the bathroom and shucking off your shirt. Joel leans forward and you scoot in behind him. With Joel sat between your legs, he leaned back and rested his head against your chest. The sight of your husband would never stop making your heart flutter. He looked so peaceful against you, despite still being dirty. You wrapped your arms around him and rested your chin against the top of his head.

“Y’know I should probably actually wash all this off.”

He leaned forward and off of your chest. You absentmindedly traced patterns on his lower back while he quickly washed himself off. He peered at you over his shoulder and smiled. He backed himself back into your chest once again and closed his eyes. You leaned your head back against the wall and closed your eyes as well. The two of you enjoyed each other's company for the next few minutes.

“We should probably get out. The waters starting to get cold.”

Joel grumbles. You nod your head but make no attempt to get up. Joel slowly pulls himself from your grip and gets out of the bath. He extends a hand to help you out and gives you a towel. Instead of using it on yourself, you toss it over his head and rub at his hair. He laughs and you wrap the towel around his shoulders. He smiles at you and you pull him closer. Your lips press against his and he kisses back.

“You’re dripping all over the floor.”

Joel takes the towel and wraps it around your waist. You chuckle and follow your husband out to the bedroom. You pull on a pair of boxers and flop down on the bed. Today’s patrol had really drained you and you were ready to turn in for the night. You felt the bed dip behind you as Joel laid down next to you.

“You alright, darlin?”

Joel brushes his hand over the gunshot scar on your shoulder. You leaned into his touch and rolled over.

“Just tired.”

You replied. You opened your eyes and saw Joel in a pair of your sweat pants. He pressed a kiss to your forehead before he cuddled closer. He laid his head in the crook of your neck and sighed deeply. You loved when Joel got affectionate. You ran your hand through his clean hair and drifted off to sleep with your husband in your arms.

[kalevalakryze]

Mar'e'yi'manda

A quiet night under the stars on Lothal, Shin's laying in the grass next to Sabine, "What does it feel like?" They ask, risking a glance over to the other woman in the silver light of the moons.

"what does what feel like?" Sabine hums, fingers twiddling where they're clasped over her stomach.

"To be you?" There's something vulnerable there, something that tells Sabine not to look at them, so she focuses her golden eyes into the reflection of the light that reminds her of Shin so much.

"Everything sings," Her hand raises, open towards the night sky, a gentle breeze skirting past open fingers as her other hand drops from her stomach and to the grass, caking mud under her nails when she sinks the tips of her fingers into the dirt, to the still rain-damp layers below the surface.

"Sings? They question, and Sabine can hear them rustling in the grass, rolling onto their side so they can look across the foot of empty space separating them.

"Music is in everything, y'know?" The Artist shrugged, letting her risen hand finally drop back to the ground to twist grass up between her fingers.

"The wind in the grass, the ships coming out and going in, the life in the cities, the life we can't even see, all of it; and thats just who I am."

"I am the wind echoing across stone and I'm the sun melting away shadows, and sometimes I'm the color and the world is just waiting on me to paint it; I spent too long living in monochrome prisons to be anything but this.. this life,"

"Maybe that's sappy," Sabine huffed out with a tired smile, moving her dirt streaked hands back over her stomach, clasping them together once more, as if physically holding herself in and against the earth beneath them.

"To a Mandalorian, everything is handled in song- The Manda is everything we are; past, present, and future. It's this collective of all of our brothers and sisters, the songs of the lives they've lived. I can't be me without mentioning them, and the songs they wove into this life-"

Offering a sheepish smile, Sabine dares a look back at Shin. Their gaze is cast towards the moons in thought, their gloveless fingers twirling the padawan braid in a self stimulating movement, the ball of their gemstone sliding between the lightsaber calloused pads of her fingertips.

They seemed to be deep in thought, so Sabine let her words fade into the calming silence. From the tower, she could faintly hear Ezra, fumbling as he tried to navigate their home in its new state, with the most naggy occupant in the form of a territorial Loth-cat.

When peace and good company had finally begun to lull Sabine into a near sleep-like tranquility, accent thick in thoughtful words. "The force is like that too," They were contemplative, head held up in one hand, while the other traced a line of smell pebbles hidden in the grass.

"Singing?"

"Ah... Perhaps," Shin's nose crinkled. "I do not hear the music you are referring to, but-" The wolf sat up, legs crossing beneath them and hands dropping to the dirt caught in her greaves. "I can hear the stories." When Sabine's gaze flickered back to them, she found the pebbles, suspended in the air above their palms.

"Not the echoes in the force, more..." A slow exhale, the furrowing of their brows, and a tingle of anxiety as it melted into the cosmos around them. "Your music, your manda; that is the force, for me... My Master taught that everything was the will of The Force, like the Jedi; that we are conduits of the force and executors of its will... and the force has to have wants based on experience, right?"

A smile flickered on Sabine's lips as she watched the pebbles raise higher, the stars reflecting in their eyes as they followed the bottommost stone. Even after everything, Shin never did get talking much; Sabine learned long ago to take every moment their passion and drive for understanding was allowed to surface.

"The Force is written by the lives of all, these stones were once boulders, and in the Force, their pieces can be found; they never stop Being. They will always have a story, even when we cannot see them anymore."

"Funny, Jedi and Mandalorians have a long history of fighting over things like this, when they're so similar," Sabine shook her head as she finally sat up, brushing grass out of her hair.

The pitter-patter of soft paws in the grass tickled her ears, though before Sabine's head could turn, Nix was already making his way to clamber into Shin's open lap. "Little beast," They greeted with a sigh, allowing their pebbles to drop into their hands, setting them down back into the dirt where they had been found.

"I always had a hard time understanding the 'Force is life' thing; But I get it, I think;"

"There is no true way to get it. However you interpret it, so long as you are acknowledging the life it has and the impact you have on it all, that's what it is." Silence fell over the two women again, Sabine allowed her body to lean, shoulder drifting until she was pressing against the smooth leather of the jacket she would never hope to get back. "Thanks for that; I think sometimes, I need the reminder of how big it all is, and how we're all significant despite the size of it."

"Well, you cannot punch it, paint it, or blow it up, so I doubt you would have understood it alone, Mandalorian,"

"Why you little-!" Sabine shoved into Shin, sending Nix hissing and darting off into the tall grass as the wolf and the moon rolled in the grass.

"Hey guys! The Noti are hungry and I think I set your kitchen on fire!" Ezra called, squinting at the plume of smoke from the upstairs door wafting into the night sky.

"Little brothers," Sabine shook her head as she came to a stop, pinned into the dirt with a near smiling wolf.

"Jedi," Shin agreed, rolling their weight off and offering a hand up to the purple haired woman; Force, Manda, whatever it was, both would be rich with the songs and the stories of Ezra Bridger, the Jedi who ignited a bowl of ice-cream.

[finn-m-corvex]

Whumptober Day 25: Storm

Day 25 and it's another movie-verse fic! This one is a bit of a different vibe to the other ones but you know what? It's 3 am as I am scheduling these and I do not care. You will either enjoy it or you can wait another hour.

Taglist: @splinnters @abigailxoxo @tornoleander @mondothebombo @ghostwalloper @toastingpencils37 @lightning-chicken

Words: 2k

Jay used to love storms.

Every time he would hear the crack of thunder across the sky, he would beg his ma and pa to let him go outside. After promising to stay away from all of the junk piles (which were struck quite frequently), they would bundle him up in a rain jacket three sizes too big for him because it was one of Pa’s that shrunk in the dryer before finally letting him loose.

He would always run until he was out of sight of the trailer, waiting for the rain to be directly overhead before shedding the rain jacket and letting the water fall on his bare skin. The lightning zigzagging across the sky felt like an old friend, and Jay remembered reaching up and trying to grab it out of the clouds. He only did this more after his old school had a mythology unit, and they learned about the gods and their domains and their powers.

People forget that Zeus was the ruler of the gods for a reason.

Maybe it was foolish to try and compare himself to Zeus, of all people. Maybe it was fate. All Jay knew was that if Zeus ever had to deal with the bullshit that came with using electricity with a straight face, then he was a stronger soldier then Jay ever could be.

He felt ridiculous in his current position, but some things just had to be done.

“Jay,” Zane called, standing at the open door to the garage, “is there a reason why you are standing out in the rain holding a frying pan?”

“Because elemental powers suck and I just need it to strike me already,” Jay answered, raising his pan even higher and continuing to walk in a circle. Walking gave him the illusion that the pouring rain wasn’t hitting him as much as it actually was.

“You are trying to get struck by lightning?”

“Yes, Zane. I am trying to get struck by lightning.”

“That does not seem very wise—”

“Well then it’s a good thing that wisdom is not my wheelhouse,” and Jay knew how stupid he looked, walking around with a pot on his head and a pan in his hand. He probably looked like some circus clown. “Look, can you just leave me alone to suffer in peace, please?”

Zane sighed, but abided by Jay’s wishes and went back into the warehouse. Jay kept walking around and around and around, waving his pan like a crazy person. The lightning was crawling under his skin, writhing and waiting to get out, but the problem was that Jay didn’t know how to let it out, exactly.

These elemental powers were for the birds.

He never saw Kai sticking a tong into a campfire to try and channel his element, or Nya constantly throwing herself under the shower. Cole wasn’t rolling in the dirt and mud like a wild horse, and Zane was only caught in the freezer once, but that was before any of them had their elements. Jay didn’t even know how Lloyd would begin to channel his element of green into an actual physical thing.

So yeah. Elemental powers sucked.

With every storm that thundered overhead Jay could feel his element spring to life, twisting and snapping like a wild animal waiting to be released from its cell. Jay did everything that he could think of to try and release it: he tried to force it through a car battery, he tried to channel it into some wires, he even stuck a fork into an electrical socket just to see if that would do anything. He still had the small burns on his hands from the last stunt.

Maybe there was some secret way to let loose that the others weren’t telling him, but Jay was too scared to ask. Besides, if they really knew something, then they would’ve told him by now, right?

There was a small clanging sound behind him, and Jay turned to see Nya standing at the mouth of the warehouse rather than Zane. Feeling his heart start to pound in his chest, Jay flushed when he truly realized how ridiculous he must look, and it took every bit of self-restraint to not fling the pan away.

“You okay, Sparky?” Nya chuckled, holding an umbrella to keep the rain from landing on her. Jay thought that she would’ve just been able to control the rain, but maybe that wasn’t the case.

Sighing, Jay brought his pan down to his side. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just trying to get struck by lightning, you know, the usual. Even a little jolt would do at this point.”

The rain seemed to stutter, starting and stopping in place before resuming its normal rhythm. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?” Nya asked, leaning against the wall.

“No,” Jay admitted, “but it’s the best one I’ve got.”

“I’m pretty sure someone as smart as you would have better ideas than to stand outside in a thunderstorm wearing pots and pans to try and attract one of the deadliest things to humans in the world,” Nya deadpanned.

And was Jay just now realizing how foolish his plan was, with his long-time crush looking over at him with a fond but exasperated expression? Yes, yes he was. “It isn’t what it looks like!”

Now what on earth would’ve possessed him to say that? He was so stupid, he was so so so stupid—

In hindsight, he really should’ve been paying more attention to his surroundings.

The bright flash was what reached him first. It burned what felt like permanent holes into his retinas and Jay saw stars swim across his vision, dark against the white light of the lightning bolt. And then the pain hit.

It was all-consuming, running through his nerves with the force and speed of a freight train, and Jay barely had the breath to scream as the air was knocked out of his lungs with a baseball bat. It felt like every single one of his limbs was being blown off. He started violently twitching, panicking, but the true fear set in when he instinctively felt the lightning bolt try and jump Nya. The bolt was desperate to ground itself, and Nya was the next closest host.

With a strength that Jay didn’t even know he possessed, he grabbed the lightning bolt and tossed it the other way into the raging sea. It fizzled out without a fight, but Jay was crashing to the ground before he could see it fully disappear.

Someone called his name but he couldn’t hear it over the ringing in his ears. His head smashed against the concrete on the docks, and Jay just laid there, stunned. There was no feeling in his outer extremities, and he only had a view of the hand that he threw the lightning with; it was blackened, definitely burned but at least all of his fingers were still there. Was he paralyzed?

Gentle hands grabbed either side of his face, and Jay was blinking the rain out of his eyes to glance up at Nya’s worried face. Actually, worry was too weak of a word; Nya looked terrified, eyes raking him up and down as Jay tried to kick his brain back into gear. She was saying something, and Jay’s lip-reading skills left a lot to be desired but he could’ve sworn that she was calling him an idiot, which was totally fair in this situation.

“Nya?” he slurred, his tongue tasting like ashes. Finally he was able to wiggle his toes, but he still couldnt move the majority of his leg.

“Yeah, Jay,” she sounded somewhat relieved, “it’s me, I’m here.”

“I’m okay,” he tried to assure, but she suddenly looked angry. Jay shut his mouth instead.

“Walker, you are literally smoking,” Nya growled, but her hands stayed gentle as they cupped his cheeks and rubbed the tears away from his eyes. When did those get there? “I better not hear you say that you’re okay again or I will kick your ass.”

“That’s not very nice,” Jay commented, before his back arched suddenly and his mouth opened in a silent scream. All of the pain was rushing back into his body at once, and his hands scrabbled for something to grab onto as he was overwhelmed with sensations, feeling the lightning race around under his skin faster than it ever had before. Nya was holding him down by the shoulders, still saying something, but Jay only grabbed at her arms in a desperate bid to ground himself.

It wouldn’t stop. It just wouldn’t stop. Jay was sure that he was gripping hard enough to draw blood, but Nya only held him tighter when he started convulsing, the world going dark as Jay seized. Pain like nothing he ever felt before was blossoming across his skin, and the storm only whipped itself up into a frenzy around them, the lightning glowing brighter in its streaks across the sky and the rain smashing down with a vengeance. The wind whistled in his ears, and Jay didn’t know where his pan was, but at this point he needed Nya to grab him and knock him the fuck out.

The lightning was attracted to Nya, and it took every ounce of Jay’s willpower to keep it contained inside, but it still smashed and raged against his skin like something possessed and Jay didn’t know how much longer he could keep it together—

A warm hand landed on his back, and Jay felt the lightning break through his self-control and go through the hand. But the hand didn’t pull away, instead gripping Jay’s hoodie tighter and drawing both him and Nya into a warm chest. Jay would recognize the scent of the person anywhere: Cole.

“I need both of you to calm down,” said his best friend, his voice ringing out loud and clear despite the chaos swirling around them. “You’re making the storm worse.”

“How the fuck am I supposed to calm down?!” Nya asked angrily, “Jay just got struck by lightning!”

“Yeah, I know,” Cole grunted, “and that was pretty stupid, but you do realize that the whole water ninja thing means you’re controlling the rain, right? I need you to get a handle on it before you drown the entire east side of Ninjago City.”

But Nya was scared, and Jay knew that. He hid his face in the crook of her neck, ignoring the wispy smoke still curling off of his palms as he hugged her. “Nya,” he said softly, “I’m okay. Lightning ninja, remember? It won’t kill me. Can you try to calm down, please? For me?”

He was still very much in pain, and he doubted that was changing any time soon, but he would rather not be wet and in pain. Nya returned his hug, her breathing ragged, and Jay pushed down his own panic so he could focus on her. “I’m trying,” she whispered, and Jay felt the guilt pour into his chest at his past thoughts about how in control all of his friends were of their elements. It was a stupid assumption on his part, if this rain was anything to go off of.

Finally, after a few minutes of careful breathing, the rain started to let up and the dark clouds overhead began to dissipate. Cole sighed in relief, his hold around the other two still as solid as a rock. Jay realized that Cole must’ve been using his earth powers to help channel his lightning and give him an outlet, but Jay jumped as Nya slumped onto him. She was exhausted, and he was more than happy to be her pillow for a little while.

Cole kissed the back of Jay’s head. “You burned your hand pretty bad, bluebell.”

Oh yeah, he did manage to do that, and his hand was hurting very badly now that Jay was thinking about it. “I know,” Jay whispered .”I threw a lightning bolt, isn’t that cool? I thought it was pretty cool.”

“I’m sure it was, but you know what would be cooler? If you two never did this again, and I never have to see you do the chicken dance with a pot on your head in a thunderstorm for the rest of my life."

[fantasyqueen502]

"I am a husband now, a father, and damn good one."

A/N: Jaskier x male Y/N who is a Cyclops. Story idea that most likely has grammatical errors. Let me know. Feel free to comment, like, and enjoy.

Summary: Jaskier's time after the fight and separation with Geralt.

Rated: PG-13

Fighting, blood, swearing, injury and mentions of sex.

A hooded man carries barrels of ale on his shoulders like nothing. "Bout time. It’s a full 'ouse, and we’re running low!'' a very short and greasy man rants.

"Forgive me." comes from the pitch-black hole in place of his face shielded within the hood. Stocking the barrels onto the rack with each thundering step.

"Forgiveness," the small man scoffs.

"This is a bar, not Sunday school," he corrects. Scurrying out of the way as the large man walks to his horse with a cart of more barrels of his finest ale, whiskey, and wine "Brew too good for royalty". If only. This was the only bar that paid him; it was below any other winery, but he didn’t have the choice of getting what he deserved.

"Do you know how many others beg for me to do business?" he inquires. That was a lie. "I just might take up on their offers if you disappoint me again," he threatens.

"Won’t happen again." The man grits his teeth, trying his hardest not to growl, imagining wringing his hand around the small man’s throat and giving him some peace. Hoisting two barrels onto each shoulder, whimpers sound, catching the small man’s ear.

"You brought that runt again," he groans. "All it does is wail and squeal, causing my patrons to leave because they can’t even hear themselves think. "Thing sounds like it’s dying. Half the--" the man chokes as the large man punches his arm clean through the barrel of ale. A stream pours from it as he fills a mug.

"This shipment is on me," he whispers, extending the mug into the small man’s trembling hands. "Ale’s on the house!" he bellows, the crowd cheering and rushing over to fill their pints. "I’ll stock the basement in peace if you don’t mind," he continues darkly.

"D-Don’t take too long," he tries to threaten.

"Wouldn’t dream of it,"

With the party going on above, the soft whimpers turn into loud cries. As the large man rolls his neck and shoulder.

"Shhhhhhhhhh," The hooded man says, taking off his cloak and looking over his shoulder at the red-faced babe. Balling her small fists into his back as she wailed. Loosening the sash and cradling her in his arms. "What’s the matter, Tola?" he calmly wondered.

Tracing the horrific scars that stretched across the left side of her face, he smiled as her cry stalled, taking his finger in her fist. The scars were even on her entire left arm. "I wish I could take the pain away." He holds her close. Resting his forehead against hers. She had thick lashes and a doe-brown eye looking up at him. A song starts, and she calms. He is in bewilderment as she seems to smile crookedly, tilting her head towards the strumming of a lute.

Walking up the steps, he looks at the stage and finds a man who is a personified peacock. Strutting about while belting out notes with so much passion, he hears a muffled coo from Tola under his cloak. He chuckles, feeling her snuggle her chubby face between his shoulder blades. Taking a seat in the back. She needed a good nap, and he needed a moment of peace. Folding his arms one over the other and resting his head on them.

With a yawn, he readies his horse, which whinnies and pulls away from him. "What’s wrong, girl?" he asks, stroking her snout. Following her line of sight, hearing pained grunts. Following them to a dark alley. Two men stand beside a man throwing up on all fours in the mud.

"Serves ya’ right!" one shouts, spitting on the man.

"Fucking! Cocksucker!" the other screams, winding up his foot and kicking the man in the stomach. Crawling onto his knees.

"I'm all for presentation and the art of building up suspense, but for my sake." He sways forward, stumbling back and looking up at the men. Groaning as his head pounded, he was sure his brains were knocked loose. "Get the fuck on with it!" He hissed. Tilting his head back to laugh. His teeth were stained pink from the blood that flooded his mouth. "Just… I'm begging you." His breath hitches, and his lips tremble into a frown. "Put me out of my misery." He sobs. "Just kill me." He begs, holding up his hands in prayer. The men snickered, exchanging looks with sick glee. Socking the bard in the face and laying him out flat on his back "Since you asked so nicely." Unsheathing a Buck knife, the cloaked man grabs the man by the back of the neck. The man yelps, striking his knife into the dark figure's shoulder to the hilt. He seethes, throwing the man into the brick wall, his head painting it red. The movement caused his hood to fall. The cloaked man grunts, yanking the knife from his shoulder and turning to face the second man, who trembles. He roars at the burn of his wound, causing the man to run away as fast as he could in fear. Calming his breath, he hears the bard's groan.

"I should have known." The man rants, struggling to his feet and holding his arms out to his sides for balance. "You don't have the balls to—" he trails off, trailing his eyes up from the worn boots. Meeting the giant that loomed over him in the moonlight. Jaskier gawks as he meets the giant man's eyes—well, one big eye in the middle of his face. "A cyclops." He gulps, his eyes widening in horror. The man grunts, waiting for the man to either run away screaming like humans normally do or lunge at him to attack. But the bard was just full of surprises. His eyes rolled back along with his body, which fell to the ground once more.

The bard groans as his hand goes to hold his head. Slowly sitting up from the couch he laid on. A warm fire; it was night, and he gasped at a steaming bowl and cup of water. Scooping the warmed potatoes and meat into his mouth.

"Didn't think you'd wake up."

He freezes, staring into the corner of the room, trying to make out the figure in the shadows. He gulps, tumbling as the stranger steps into the light, poking the fire.

"A-are you going to kill me? Use my meat for stew and my bones for bread."

"You're thinking of Giants." He corrects. "I'm a Cyclops."

"Oh." The bard sounds

"Humans are too gamy anyway." He chuckles at the bard's horrified eyes. The bard laughed awkwardly, not knowing if the one-eyed man was joking or not.

Following the squealing cries up the stairs, pushing open a cracked door to a nursery. Peering over to see a screeching infant. The bard couldn't help but coo, his brows furrowing with concern. Half of her face was scarred.

"You want your daddy?" He asks. "He should be back soon." He hushes. "How 'bout a lullaby? Works on all the ladies." He swings his lute from his back to his front. Strumming a tune.

"If you're happy and ya know it, clap your hands." He sings and claps his hands. "If you're happy and ya know it, clap your hands." He does so, making a face and causing the infant's cries to soften just a bit. "If you're happy and ya know it and you really wanna show it, If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands." He finishes looking at the babe to see her quietly whimpering. Poking her bottom lip, her big brown eye with her thick lashes soaked with tears. The moment is interrupted by thundering footsteps.

"What are you doing?" He demands in a growl.

"I heard her crying and you weren't around," he tries to explain being shoved as the father inspects the babe, who resumes crying.

Trying to console her as she screams louder than before. Looking at the fallen lute, he picks it up, shoving it into the bard's unsuspecting arms.

"Play!"

The bard couldn't hear the father over the piercing wails, but he could easily read the desperation in his eyes. He cleared his throat, strumming his strands to find everything in tune.

"If you're happy and you know it, clap your hands." He sings with an ear-to-ear grin, and the small babe's screams soften. Her big doe eye watched him with curiosity. Ending the silly children's song, her heavy eyelid closed as she fell asleep with a crooked smile.

---Years later---

Downing the remnants of his drink and passing the glass off to a barkeep. The last of the drunken parents now vacated the pub that was with life moments ago.

"Bard." causes him to whip his head, and a scoff leaves his lips. "Witch."

"What are you doing here?" he sneers. "And what fresh hell did you just crawl out of?" he gestures to her disheveled appearance. Damp hair and dirt smudged her face and apparel.

"Sewer," she answers plainly, taking the first step. "What’s your excuse?" she jabs back, quickly closing the space between the two.

"A sewer," he cackles. Never in a million eons did he find himself in better standing than the witch that terrified him. He took his chance. "I always knew you were a blood sucking, joyless—" he bites his tongue as her tiny frame pulls him in for a hug.

"--hugger?" he states in confusion. "Hugging. We are hugging," he announces, trying to convince himself that what was happening was indeed happening.

"Oh, gods," he sighs, holding him at arm's length. "I missed the days when my biggest problem was an ever-present sing-songy twit," she smiles.

"Uh, drink? I’m gonna drink," he stammered, squirming out of her grip. "I’m not having this conversation unless I’m drinking." He makes his way around and behind the bar. Placing two pints onto the counter, looking to the witch who takes a seat.

"You’re the Sandpiper."

"What? No. Yes. No," he yelps, frantically trying to play it off. "How do you know that name?"

"You pick up a thing or two when you’re in hiding."

"You’re in hiding?" He snorts, his brows quickly shooting to the skies. "Because you’re part elf… Yennefer, I completely forgot. I’m so sorry," he says genuinely. "I would not wish that fate on my worst enemy, and, yes, you are…" he searched for the right words. "Firmly lodged in that category, it has to be said, but… What they’ve done to you and your people is… Unspeakable."

"But some people are speaking."

"There are anonymous benefactors working behind the scenes, helping me, helping us, helping us make this right. I was at the great oak, Bleobheris, when it was raided. The Seat of Friendship, as the druids called it. Where every free thinker was welcome, no matter their race, their creed…they come for the elves, Yennefer. They’ll come for the dwarves. And sooner or later, they will come for everyone." He stares off, swallowing thickly. "Anyone that they deem the "other," so… Eventually… No artist is safe."

"Why help? What’s in it for you?"

Opening his mouth to answer the creak of the front door. The bard's face lights up at the sight of who stepped through. Yennerfer turns to see a small child. In a powder pink shoulder cloak. Hood up as she took each concentrated step.

"My heart." He smiles, kneeling before the child, who lifts her hands high to be picked up. He does so resting her on his hip. "Where's daddy?" He asks, pushing her wild bangs from her eye. She coos, snuggling into his neck and playing with the lace of his blouse. She points to a far window as Jaskier nods. "Want. Coin. Want. Coin," She babbles.

"Whose this?" Yennerfer couldn't help, but smile.

"My heart, Tola." The bard smiles. "My daughter."

"Pleasure to meet you, Tola." She extends her hand as the small girl takes it. "I'm Yennerfer." She smiles.

"She's usually quite shy," he comments, somewhat impressed.

"Children are great judges of character."

"Coin!" She continues.

"Again?" He asks with an overdramatic expression, holding her high above his head. She nods adorably.

"Toss a Coin to your Witcher." He smiles as she giggles. "O’ valley a plenty."

Seated in a jail cell after a failed transport and an interrogation with a man wielding fire. Escape with Yennerfer only to be caught and interrogated again by guards.

He now stood before the Witcher himself, who tore out his soul and left him on a mountain, asking for his help.

"Jaskier---" the brute grumbles.

"No, Geralt!" He cuts off, surprised to see the white-haired man meekly biting his tongue. "I am a husband now, a father, and a damn good one!"

Walking out of the jailhouse, taking cover through alleyways. Geralt stops, and the hairs on his neck stand on end.

"What's the matter?" Jaskier asks.

"Quiet!" He hisses, throwing the bard behind himself and readying his sword as a familiar figure steps from the shadows. The figure roars, charging.

"Ger---" Jaskier reaches, but the Witcher bellows and charges. "NO! STOP! STOP!" he shouts, his heartbeat in his ears, as Geralt swung his sword, and the figure dodges and knocks the sword away with sparks from his metal bracers on his forearms. Lifting his arm, Jaskier holds it back.

"Fuck off, Jaskier!" he growls, shoving him onto his ass. The dark figure looks at the fallen bard with concern. Taking the opening, the Witcher drives his sword into the beast's shoulder. With an exclamation of pain, Jaskier scrambles to his feet. Geralt yanks back his sword, lifting his sword high for the finishing blow. Swinging it, he stops. The Witcher's sword nicked the bard’s neck, standing between him and the beast. He swallows, and fear holds him stiff.

"If you want to kill my husband, you'd have to go through me."

His yellow eyes narrowed. Gritting his teeth Jaskier slowly raises his hand, moving the sword away.

The Witcher growls, sheathing his blade.

"Y/N, Geralt, Geralt, the love of my life." He smiles as the pet name dampens the flame of seeing the bard’s teeth stained pink and the scabbed-over cuts on his lips and brow.

The men both grunted their greeting.

"I do have a type, don’t I?" He mumbles to himself.

At home, Jaskier demands that Geralt watch their daughter. The cyclops growls at the thought of his precious gift in the hands of a Butcher. "I trust him." He assures him with a hand on his chest. "He's a right softy with children."

Running a bath, the bard returns with an armful of rags and a bottle of alcohol. Assisting his husband with his cloak and shirt, his eyes watered at the grunt of pain from lifting his arm. "I'm so sorry," he mumbles, holding the alcohol-soaked rag to the wound. The hisses and guttural groans from his chest "This is my fault," he croaks.

"My dandelion." He coos, holding his cheek, forcing him to look into his eye. Reading the bard like a book. "Who do I have to make suffer?" He growls. His bruised temple and stained smears of dry blood around his nostrils.

"I'm fine." He assuredly swatted away his husband's hands, going to test the temperature of the bath. Hissing as he shakes his injured hand that touched the warm water. Stepping out of his trousers into the bath, Y/N takes his hand and ignores his recoil, finding it covered in red blisters and giving each finger a tender kiss.

"Little Tola won't have nightly lute lullabies." He sighs.

"Your voice is music enough." He assures.

"Must you always shower me with compliments?" He breathes. Y/N chuckles, locking his strong arms around his waist and forcing him into the bath, joining him fully clothed in the water. Jaskier exclaims, but laughs, sighing with content eyes flickering from his husband's eye to his lips.

"What of me, my dandelion?" He whispers huskily. The bard rests his total weight on him.

"Hmmm." He hums in thought, running his nose along the scruff of his jaw. Looking with big eyes. "Make me forget." He pleads.

Sitting up and holding him close.

Geralt stoically sits in the living room. Slowly closing his eyes to block out the sound of squeals from the bard and rhythmic banging. Spending his fair share of nights at brothels and whorehouses that seemed not to be so loud. Water begins to drip from the floorboards.

Feeling a tug at his pants and looking down to see the small, one-eyed girl. Black hair in a messy bob. Staring up at the ceiling as the bard's pleas for God rode the air.

"Suppa'. Suppa'." She babbles.

He stares at her.

She stares back.

He stares at her.

She stares back.

He stares back.

She points to her open mouth, causing the Witcher to exhale through his nose. Walking into the kitchen with the girl holding onto his leg. Giggling, he makes her a simple loaf of bread with butter. Handing it to her with hesitation. She gingerly takes small bites, hopping happily in place.