#BUT WHY did fox have to make it so damn painful

[heartfullofleeches]

Fletchers reaction to foxboy willingly kissing him for the first time

Yan Farmer Rabbit + Fox Hybrid Reader

[Reader has no mentioned gender but they are referred to as wife]

-

"Damn it!"

The knife clatters to the kitchen floor with a dull thud. Chest heaving with each pain breath, you fall to your knees - shirt clutched painfully tight in your claws as wetness drips down your cheeks.

Three weeks... Three weeks you've lived with the farmer and he hasn't asked you to lift a finger. This is it.... isn't it? It's finally happening. You were a such an idiot to think it wouldn't. He's testing you... A trial to see how useful you'll be to him in the long run.

"Hey, Sweetness. Something came up down at the general store. Shouldn't be gone long, but- think you can cut up the potatoes for dinner while I'm out? It's not hard. I'll show you how to do it."

He made it look so easy. Each slice against the cutting board so neat, precise - perfect. Just like him. What does he want from you? Does he actually think you'll make for a good partner? You can't even cut up vegetables to save your own tail- Just what the hell does he want from you?!

"Hun? That you?"

Shit. "Fuck, fuck, fuck-"

You wipe at your eyes with the backs of your palms, scrambling to pick yourself off the floor before he sees you. He can't see you like this- The thunder of his footsteps fills you with a kind of terror you haven't felt since you got locked in that kitchen coop.

"Y/n?"

Your back hits the cupboard wall. Fletcher's large, imposing figure hovers at the door frame. Two steps into the kitchen is all it takes for him to march up to the table. To see your mistakes. Too thick. Too thin. Sliced indiead of cubed like he asked. The farmer takes a breath. He kneels down in front of you, hand perched on the tile a hairline away from your shivering legs.

"Hon-"

"Don't-" You bite. "Just don't..... I missed up. I always do. Why do you even want me here? I can't do anything right... I'm a terrible wife."

"Hey!-" Fletcher grips your shoulder, tugging you against his chest. "Don't you ever, ever talk about yourself like that. You're fine. It's okay. All you need is a little practice. Just calm down."

Liar- He's a fucking liar. "What if I don't get better with practice?! What if all I ever am to you is dead weight?"

Fletcher kisses the top of your head, voice small - crushed by the sounds of your sobs against his chest. "That's fine with me too, Sweetheart.... That's fine with me too. I didn't bring you here because I wanted a maid. I just wanted you. That's all I have ever wanted since I laid eyes on you. I love you- Always have, always will."

His hold on you lessens as your whines and sniffles crawl to a still. Your puffy eyes cross his as you lift your head from his chest. He tries to smile - delicately raising his enormous paw to the fuzzy flesh of your cheek. He rests his nose against yours - just like he always did when he was trying to comfort you or feel a connection, lips inches from yours.

"Whether you can dice up a thousand potatoes or not at all. Even if you make a mess of everything you touch. I'll always be here for you no matter what. I'll always love you - no matter what."

Your arms creep up to his neck, the space between you null as your lips ghost over his. Fletcher stiffens, unsure - fearful of scaring you off now if he takes the dive for you. And so you take it-

The kiss is hesitant. Gentle as the hand stroking at your back, washing away any doubts left of his conviction towards you. Tear drops fall at your skin, but you have none more to cry. Is he?... You pull away as the droplets drip from Fletcher's chin into his already stained tee.

"My bad." The farmer barks out a dry chuckle, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to stop the flow. "Now's not the time to get emotional, but I just- I'm so glad to have you here. With me."

"I know... I'm glad to be here too now, but um... Fetch?"

"Yeah?"

Your ears lay flat against your skull as your stomach whines in hunger. "Can we... finish up with dinner now?"

The laugh Fletcher bellows is far less restrained. "Sure. What kind of man would I be if I let my wife starve? I'll tell you some more tricks will we're at it. You'll be a head chef in no time, sweetheart.... And even if you aren't - I'll cherish you all the same."

#Fletcher my oc #yandere oc #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere x you #yandere insert #yandere x reader #yandere scenarios #male yandere #yandere blurb #yandere #yandere fluff #yandere farmer #Yandere hybrid

[rileyslibrary]

Meal, Under-the-Stars

Summary: Simon’s inability to show affection irritates you. Until Valentine’s Day arrives.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,360

Notes:

angst/fluff

*sighs* it’s almost Valentine’s so *gestures aggressively at the fic*

i made sure it’s the least amount of cringe, pinky promise

Want more?

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You collapse in your bus seat, travelling home after another long day at the office. The chair feels too stiff, and the ride is too bumpy. That’s what you get for missing your bus and taking a different route. Damn it. Your neck is tense from the hours of hunching over the computer, and a pulsing pain has settled behind your eyes, threatening to rip your skull apart. As if your physical agony wasn’t enough, the bus’s noises aren’t helping. Without your headphones, you’re left to suffer in silence and listen to the people around you.

The two women in front of you talk nonstop about their upcoming Valentine’s Day plans. The first, with a smug look, reveals how her boyfriend has planned a romantic getaway to Europe. You can almost hear the silent “aren’t I lucky?” that hovers at the end of her sentence. Her friend humbly brags back about her partner taking her to a jewellery store where she can pick out whatever she wants. You suppress a groan and roll your eyes instead.

You turn to your left. Your attention is drawn to a man whose face is concealed by a towering bouquet of flowers. The sight of him and the enormous gift next to him makes you wonder. Could it be chocolates? The package seems too bulky for that. Lingerie maybe? It looks too heavy for delicate lace. Perhaps it contains the embodiment of his love for his significant other, ripped from his soul and transformed into a tangible form, you ponder sarcastically.

The image of Capitalism, dressed in a three-piece tailored suit and hat, sitting on a throne made of kitschy teddy bears, comes to mind. He sips a glass of wine made from rose petals and sneers at the spectacle before him: people spending their hard-earned money on unnecessary gifts and experiences, all in the name of love. When did a simple and sincere “I love you” become insufficient? When did it become necessary to spend a fortune on extravagant trips, sparkling diamonds, and wrapped boxes filled with empty promises? Did your grandparents go to such lengths to express their affection, or is this just the plague of your generation?

And why does this all bother you so much? Could it be that Simon’s inability to express his affection for you is causing your bitterness? You recall Aesop’s fable about the fox and the grapes. Like the fox, you cannot grasp what you want, so you try to convince yourself that what others have is, like the grapes, sour. Admit it: you’re envious of those who are happily celebrating Valentine’s Day, surrounded by love and affection, while you’re on your way home to a strained relationship, where love is shown through practical acts like fixing the thermostat or reminding you to take an umbrella on a potentially rainy day.

You knew he was reserved and guarded the moment you met him. “A mystery wrapped in a balaclava”, you used to jokingly call him. It took months of building rapport and earning his trust before he finally revealed his face to you. But, despite this, you find yourself wanting more. Wasn’t this enough? Get a grip, sweetheart; Valentine’s Day is for the rest of the world, not you two.

As the bus pulls to a stop, you rise from your seat and step off, feeling heavy and reluctant as you make your way home. The weight of your expectations slows your pace as if you are afraid to face reality—that the love you seek may not be the love he is capable of giving...

You reach the front steps, the cool metal of the key turning in your hand as you unlock the door. You push it open, the emptiness inside greeting you like an old friend. Something on the floor catches your attention; military bags and tactical gear are neatly arranged near the entrance. You look across the kitchen table to see a map with checkmarks on it. Has he been summoned for a mission and forgotten to tell you? No, it cannot be; this is far worse than you expected.

As you make your way down the hall, the noise coming from the bedroom fills the silence. The door is slightly ajar, and you push it open to find him standing before you, freshly showered and wrapped in a crisp white towel from the waist down. Droplets of water cling to his damp hair, with strands hanging over his forehead. His towering stature is imposing, his muscles resembling those of a Greek statue carved by a master artist. Like faded memories of battles fought, scars are dotted across his body, each telling a tale of modern warfare.

He smirks as you enter the room, but you can’t help the flare of anger that rises within you.

“You’re late,” he says, continuing to dry himself.

How dare he.

“Traffic,” you respond, trying to steady your voice. “Where are you going?”

“We are going,” he corrects you nonchalantly.

Huh?!

“W-we?” you stammer. “Simon, where are we going?”

“Out,” he says with a smirk.

You frown at him. You’re exhausted—tired of work, tired of the long trip back home, tired of his mysterious demeanour. You need answers—complete, coherent, straightforward answers—and you need them fast. Now.

“Care to explain further, Simon?” you ask, trying to compose yourself.

“We're going camping,” he says as he starts putting on his gear.

Your heartbeat quickens. Suddenly the grapes are not sour anymore. They seem sweet again.

“So, camping, huh?” you ask with a cheeky grin. “Why?”

“Don’t make me say it,” he says sternly. “I’ve seen enough atrocities to know what today is.”

“You never struck me as the romantic sort, Mr Riley,” you reply.

“Oh, but I am romantic, my love,” he corrects you. “Just not the cliché type.”

But, of course! That’s why you fell for him in the first place. He’s not your typical guy. He may not serenade you, but he’ll fix things with his own hands. And he won’t kneel on one leg to recite poetry, but he’ll ensure you’re warm, safe, and fed.

Fed. Food. Did he think about food?

“I’ll prepare something quick to take with us,” you tell him.

“No need to,” he replies. “I’ve prepared an outstanding variety of MREs for us.”

What a guy.

“What about me?” you ask pointing at his gear. “I don’t have the appropriate clothing for this.”

He looks amused. “That’s weird,” he comments. “I’m sure I saw something at the entrance earlier today.”

You stare at him, confused, dash to the front door, and inspect the gear you saw earlier. To your surprise, it’s all your size.

You slip into the gear, feeling its weight and texture against your skin. The material is rugged yet flexible, allowing you to move easily. You run your hand over the pockets, checking to ensure everything is in place, before returning to the bedroom.

As you enter, Simon looks up from his bag, and his gaze travels down your form. You stand tall and proud; sure, you’re still tired and in pain, but at least you’re happy. You twirl for him to get a better look.

He nods his approval with a smile. “You look like a proper camper,” he says jokingly. “I had no idea you had it in you.”

“Come on, Simon!” You shout, fists clenching at your sides as you stand in the doorway. “It’s Valentine’s Day,” you implore, your voice growing softer. “At least say something nice.”

He regards you, his lips curling upward in amusement. “Alright, alright,” he says, holding up his hands in surrender. “You want something nice?” He asks, and you nod, smiling.

“You got it.” He steps closer, towering over you, and gazes down with warm and tender eyes. “You look beautiful,” he says. “Absolutely stunning.”

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#simon ghost riley x f!reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #call of duty #modern warfare 2 #cod mwii #cod ghost #cod mw2 #simon riley

[enigmatist17]

He remembers the day he was first called Kote.

The pride had swelled in his chest so much he smiled, a real smile as vod alike hugged him after they were allowed to rest after a brutal day of training. Sure, his nose was broken and still bloodied, but the adrenaline of being named was enough to drown out the pain as he and his brothers celebrated with stolen rations and a drink of unspoken origin.

Kote remembers the day his name changes to Cody, hidden under the title of Commander as the war begins.

He's not sure why it has to change, but figures the Jetti they now finally serve don't understand the name. The one called Kenobi hadn't had trouble with it after he had chased Jango and his kih'vod off and away from Komino, but the longnecks say he is Cody, so now he is. Commander Cody's reputation spreads from the beginning of the war with both how quickly he takes to leadership and with the particular Jetti he serves, his yellow armor a beacon for most when he and the 212th charge across the battlefield. He's the first of 4 to be promoted to Marshal Commander, Cody grinning underneath his bucket at the cheers from his men, and the joy radiating from his General as he pins the commendation on his armor.

Cody remembers the day Obi-Wan said his name softly, walking beside the commander toward whatever they had been doing.

They never did make it to their final destination, instead, Cody nearly kicks down the door to an empty room and drags the Jetti inside. Lips meet before their brains catch up, and that damn cloak he's always dropping on the battlefield is now in the way as he aches to hold Obi-Wan close. He can't remember when he started wanting Obi-Wan, the man who understood his normally neutral mannerisms without the need to ask, and completed him in a way he never knew he was incomplete. Cody could melt when Obi-Wan cups his face, saying something but going unheard as he drank in those dazzling eyes and reddened cheeks, smiling for the first time in a long while. He's never been a selfish man, but Cody can't help but think that Obi-Wan is the first thing he's ever wanted for his own, and hopes that it will be easy to make this clear. Of course, Cody doesn't have to try, Obi-Wan always knows, calling him dear and darling after they eventually leave their little spot away from the world.

Cody remembers the first day he was just Cody to those he loves, Commander by day to clean up the corruption and devastation from a war finally ended.

It was a long process, just because the Sith behind it all was gone did not mean his collaborators were just going to stop, but it was fulfilling. Clankers were cut down with ease now they didn't have the drop on the clone troopers, and the rapidly dwindling numbers meant more time away from the front lines. More time to see worlds he had only seen in snippets or brief times on the surface, time to see survivors they'd help save, time to sit in the Temple on Coruscant and listen to Obi-Wan be a leading force towards a better Republic. Cody still finds it strange that most natborns were less hostile as the days pressed on, and sometimes sits with Fox to wonder if the Sith could control so many people on the neverending planet, to which they both shrug and agree that the Force was too weird to try and figure out.

Cody remembers the first time little Luke and Leia called him Ori'vod Kote, the little tubies scooped up into his arms with matching giggles.

Kote enjoys living on Naboo whenever he can drag Obi-Wan away from his work, chuckling when Luke usually traces his many scars while Leia asks for stories with an intense look on her face. He wonders how quickly a tubie can become a Senator, a question that causes Padme to launch into laughter and Skywalker to cover his face with his hands, which in turn makes their children laugh. Kote sometimes thinks of having his own tubies when he and Obi-Wan leave the planet after their visits but knows that their work needs to be finished before that can be allowed, as none of his will live in such a dangerous universe. Still, his (slightly still dangerous) life that Kote has is as perfect as it can be for now, and that's all he really needs.

---------

Happy 2/2/24 day to my favorite Marshal Commander!

#cody day 2224 #coday #commander cody #cc 2224 #star wars #codywan #kote #commander kote

[cc1010fox]

Gree, stepping into Fox's office: See? I told you he would be too busy. He's not going to do whatever it is you said would entertain us. Cody, following after him with the others: He's never too busy to entertain his brothers. Trust me. Rex: Yeah, just give him a minute. Wolffe: He's like a caf machine. You just have to wait a minute for it to deliver. Bly: TELL US YOU DIDN'T SLEEP WITH STONE! Gree: What!? Fox, standing up: I have a meeting with the chancellor. Commander Thire will arrive shortly to finish my flimsiwork. Cody: So...no episode today? Gree: Episode? Bly: Look, we'll come back tomorrow, and you'll understand. You'll feel dirty and wrong, but you'll understand. Thire, entering right as Fox makes his silent exit: What are you five doing here? Did Fox schedule a meeting with you? Wolffe: Uh, no, sorry. We'll just get out of your-- Thorn, walking into the office: Thire. Thire: Thorn. Fox is in a meeting. Thorn: I know. I also knew you would be in his office. Cody: You clever-- Rex: The confrontation! Bly: Do they know about Stone? You have a common enemy, guys! Gree: Why are you talking like they're not in the room with us right now? Thire, Thorn, do you need some priva-- Thire: Are you trying to intimidate me? Do you know what it's like to work with senators all day? Thorn: I would never try to intimidate you. You're Fox's best friend, and I want you to stay best friends. Thire: Say what you really mean, Commander Thorn. Gree: ...Damn. I understand what you mean, Bly... Bly: It feels gross and invasive, doesn't it!? Gree: Yes... Cody, pulling snack packs out of his utility belt and offering one to Gree: Do you want a snack? Gree, eagerly accepting: You know I do! Thorn: I said what I really meant. Fox needs you. He needs you as his best friend. Fox is...a lot as a partner. He's a lot of pleasure, I know half of the Coruscant Guard knows that, but he's also a lot of pain...I don't want that pain to ruin your relationship... Cody, munching on a snack: This is why I'm Team Thorn. Rex, holding out his hand for a snack: You told me you were Team Stone after episode four. Cody, pouring one into his hand: OH! Right. Yeah, because he's hot. Damnit, but so is Thorn! Wolffe & Bly: What about love? Bly: ...Team Love? Wolffe: Team Love. Gree, eating a snack: I need a list of the teams. Thire: I have been living with that pain for as long as I've known Fox, and it has never hurt our relationship. Rex, whispering: Team Thire. Thorn: That's because your relationship has never been as serious as ours. All of his sleeping around takes on a different meaning when he tells you he loves you... Bly: ...I don't want Thorn to be with Fox anymore... Cody, Rex, & Wolffe: What!? Bly: He's making it sound like Fox is hurting him... Wolffe: ...Ok, but it's Fox. Thorn knows the consequences of being with Fox. Rex: Team Love is breaking up! Cody: That's because Wolffe is Team Fox Finding Love. Thire: He has told me he loves me... Thorn: I mean like a lover, Thire. Thire: So do I. Cody gasps and starts to choke on his snack. Rex steps behind him to give him one hard squeeze around his middle, dislodging the snack. Wolffe, patting Cody on the back: That line took my breath away too. Rex, Bly, & Gree laugh. Thire: So nothing has changed between us. Thorn: ... Thire: The difference between us, Thorn, is that I'm willing to give Fox what he needs to survive this disappointing life. I'm willing to share him. Are you willing to do that? Thorn: I...am willing to get back to my office. The new troopers are arriving! Thire: It really is that time! Run! What will they do without you? Thorn, laughing while running out of the office: The shinies need me! Gree: That...was whiplash... Wolffe: WHY IS IT ALWAYS A CLIFFHANGER!? Bly: A HEARTBREAKING CLIFFHANGER! Cody: It never gets easier... Rex: Are we really not going to talk about how this series almost killed you? Cody: Worth it.

Episodes: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4

#Commander Fox #Commander Cody #Captain Rex #Commander Wolffe #Commander Bly #Commander Gree #Commander Thire #Commander Thorn #Vencuyanir ‖ Queue

[norel-ravenclaw]

The Ikepri routes as dark, twisted fairytales~

Fandom: Ikemen Prince (otome game)

Featured characters: All 13 & Cyran

Genre: Dark angsty fairytale romance

Rating: 12+

Word count: 1295

WARNINGS: | big bad wolf | dub-con elements | mentions of abuse | angst | mxw |

Leon - Cinderella

The truth was, he had seen her before. Seen the cobwebs in her lovely hair, seen the bruise on her temple when the breeze blew her scarf back. And he was smitten. Her shy smile, her surprising wit, her wise words, soft touch. She did not know who he was, but that wouldn’t stop him from taking her away from that place. She would be his. Even if he had to try that remarkable glass shoe on every woman in the kingdom. She would belong to him, a slave no more.

Chevalier - Beauty & The Beast

Trespasser. Interloper. Fool of a woman. Surely her trembling fists and burning eyes in a show of courage against his rampage is merely… more favourable than silent cowering? Surely the lonely years of seeing faces only in furniture is the sole reason her expressions while reading are so… amusing? Surely, seeing her in the late Queen’s golden gown is entirely… Entirely captivating. Surely, the last petal will fall before she would ever claim to love a beast… like him.

Yves - Sleeping Beauty

The abandoned prince. Not in a cottage in the woods, but in a foreign castle. Blood of enemies in his veins. And her, an outsider who would go up against anything or anyone to protect his smile. No dragon, or beasts, or years of navigating thorny paths could stop her from pouring all her love into a kiss upon his rosebud lips. The Beauty deserved his chance to rule the kingdom he loved, as much as deserved to be loved himself. And she would stop at nothing to see it happen.

Jin - Snow White

He had wanted this. He had suggested the decree that would banish the gentle maiden from the palace forever. The King’s folly had driven him to act thusly. But now, seeing the tears streak down her face, the cruel blow about to be struck, he could not… He couldn’t… But wouldn’t her pain be worse if he didn’t? Such a delicate creature, lost in a hostile place. There was just one solution; one made in a final, damning moment of irrepressible impulse: He would be her protector.

Sariel - Aladdin

They never saw through his smiles. His schemes and lies and manipulation. No one that is, except for her. Blazing eyes and chin held high. A worthy prize if ever he saw one. But he would tame her, holding that proud chin in his hand. He would make her love him, adore him, serve him. It was only a matter of time. No filthy street rat could hope to steal his wish. No one’s power was greater than his, after all - not even the king’s. And the most powerful and worthy woman in the kingdom would belong to him, bow to him; just as the very moon and stars would.

Nokto - Little Red Riding Hood

How many delicious morsels have wandered this forest? How many have fallen prey to the cunning fox that stalks its paths? And so why, why is this one different? This bold, sweet treat with honeyed hips and spiced tongue. Why is she the one who gets special treatment? Hunted so much more carefully, yet recklessly, yet satisfyingly… Of course he won’t let her go. No, no. He is a nasty beast, after all. He intends to devour her like all the others. …Perhaps she’ll even taste sweeter.

Licht - The Snow Queen

The wounded prince, hidden away for all this time. A stranger even to his twin, once his closest companion. All are certain he will wither away to nothing, chipping away at his own heart until nothing remains. Until she arrives. And she makes a flower bloom in the vast field of ice that shrouds his scars. The warmth of unconditional, unwavering love is the only thing that can thaw his frozen heart. Only she can bring spring to his eternal winter. And all the kingdom will revel in the flowers that bloom in his smile.

Rio - The Little Mermaid

She is a beacon. The only light on a rocky, desolate shore. She is joy and goodness and a treasure more precious than anything he’d ever held before. How cruel then, that he cannot tell her of his past. Of the shadowy tentacles that threaten to drag him back to whence he came. The villains and oppression and darkness of the ocean palace. No, he refuses such memories. His life is here now, with her. He will serve and protect his princess with everything he has. Even if his voice fails him, his heart will not.

Clavis - Alice In Wonderland

Oh, how curious his new toy is~ Curious and shy and clever. No matter that she is beginning to get fed up with the nonsense. Nonsense! She will come to love it, just as she will come to love him! Naturally, he is the most handsome fellow in Wonderland. It’s only natural that she will turn to him at last, crying in his shoulder until he can feed her something sweet to make it all go away. Sweet thing, they’ll have tea parties every day! And she will love it. And she will love him.

Luke - Goldilocks

She should not have come here. A broken, raging, raving, beast lives here. And shells of memories, carefully preserved. She sits in her chair. She sleeps in her bed. She holds a lovingly sewn bear to her heart. And she cries. Perhaps… perhaps this sweet girl with wide eyes, could use the protection of a big bad bear. Just for a little while. Until it’s time for the bear to go hunt. …Just until then.

Keith - Princess & The Pea

She was a stranger from a distant land, obviously not one that belonged in the grand palace. She was too sweet, too delicate, too naïve. …Or so he thought. She noticed him, there in the shadows in his eyes. Only she was sensitive enough to notice something so simple was off. Only she was kind enough, wise enough, to meet him on both sides. And so, he was determined, only she would be his queen. Whether she was a princess or not.

Silvio - Rumplestiltskin

Money solves all problems. So he made her spin gold for him. But he never expected that she would see him. (He never gave her the time.) And yet she did. She saw the rose-tint in his face and the pain hidden beneath his glittering, distracting façade. Only she could see the gold in the straw-stuffed cracks of his heart. Only she could ever speak his truth - a new name for a new part of his heart he never dared open before.

Gilbert - Rapunzel

It was too easy, really. To take her. To steal away with her gentle, naïve, heart in the night. To take her away to a dark castle, and lock her in the tallest tower. No one would ever see or touch the bunny again. …Until she discovered his secret. Then, no tower would be high enough, secure enough to hide the only person who would ever see behind his mask. No, Bunny, no prince will dare to try to get you down.

Cyran - 12 Dancing Princesses

His master was a madman, there was no denying it. And there was no denying the Belle of the nightly ball… was her. Every day he would sneak medicine and ointment into her room to pass around to the women to use on their sore, blistering feet. Until her strained smile, trying so hard to hide the pain, the confusion, the fear - secured his resolve. He would free them - her - from this cruel experiment. No matter what it would take.

I will write for the winning poll choices soon! (I made the clavis one as a joke lmao, how am I actually gonna write that??)

#i’m completely obsessed with this #norel writes #ikepri cyran #ikemen prince #cyran rose #ikepri #ikepri sariel #sariel noir #ikepri keith #keith howell #ikepri jin #jin grandet #ikepri chevalier #ikepri nokto #nokto klein #ikepri licht #licht klein #ikepri yves #yves kloss #ikepri rio #rio ortiz #ikepri leon #leon dompteur #ikepri clavis #clavis lelouch #ikepri silvio #silvio ricci #luke randolph #ikepri gilbert #gilbert von obsidian

[moreespressoformydepresso]

As much as I love the idea of Fox being forced to shoot Fives because Palpatine threatened the Coruscant Guard, I feel there’s a lot of unexplored potential in him being under the chip’s control. For one, imagine being shunned by everyone you know and love for something you don’t remember ever doing. It’s gotta add another layer of guilt and pain to not remember the reason as to why you’ve lost everyone in your life, because you know something happened. You may even know what happened, but you don’t remember the actual moment. There’s just… nothing. You go through all that emotional angst and there’s nothing you can do about it, you can’t even explain why you did it, because you don’t remember. Also, I imagine Fox would feel pretty detached from the situation. He doesn’t remember, and in the video his helmet is on, so it would probably be pretty hard for him to truly feel remorse when his actions don’t feel like his (because they aren’t, really). He’d probably come off as a coldhearted bastard, since he doesn’t show any regret for killing Fives, even though that’s because he can’t get himself to feel like he did that even when he tries.

Another thing: Fox wasn’t in control of his actions (in this version of events), but… how do you begin to explain that? Fox didn’t hear what Fives was rambling about, and Rex didn’t believe him so he probably isn’t gonna bring it up while he’s grieving. So Fox has no idea why he couldn’t control his body, he just knows that he couldn’t. How do you tell someone that without making them think that A) you’re bullshitting them to get away with your actions or B) you’re losing your grip on reality? I cannot think of any way, because most people will question what was controlling your actions then, and Fox would not have an answer. So either he tries to tell someone and is not believed, in fact people will probably think he’s a slimy liar too which effectively makes things worse, or he doesn’t even bother and people think he’s a heartless monster because he murdered a fellow clone when he didn’t have to and doesn’t even bother attempting to explain his reasoning. He’s damned if he does and damned if he doesn’t.

#star wars #star wars: the clone wars #clone wars #commander fox #either way #fox needs a nap #clone commander fox #cc 1010 #inhibitor chips #mind control #thoughts #arc trooper fives #idk if I should tag him but he’s relevant so eh #idk how to tag this #shrug emoji #the art of navigating through mindfuckery #that’s a tag now

[1wishand1thought]

MY SNEAKY LITTLE FOX| PART 2

Kaz Brekker x Fem. Y/N

Here you have part 1, in case you haven't read it yet: part 1

Summary: Kaz struggles to keep y/n out of his mind, her absence making him worried about the possibility of losing his most secret investment. The uncertainty of her presence in Ketterdam forces him to get into deep waters, using his knowledge to get to where she lives, only to find himself lost in the sound of her voice.

Warnings: NSFW/ Nudity descriptions, naughty vocabulary(is that even the right word? I only see this as poetic writing lmao, OKAY SORRY. let's continue).

A/N: OH SAINTS THIS ONE WAS A WHOLE CHALLENGE GUYS. I had a clear path to write this, and then a million Kruge stepped in my way avoiding me to keep going. Seriously, I lost motivation like Jesper lost money when betting. Anyway I hope you like it, it's a bit longer than the first one, I'll put the word count later. LOVE YOU, TKYSM FOR 114 NOTES IN PART 1🫶🏻🥹

Wordcount: 3417.

A week had passed since the incident. A whole damn week where her inner struggles to not think of him just got worse.

The night washed over the city, only with the twilight and the stars flickers enlightening the dark and empty streets of the city. She was in her house now, an underground place in Ketterdam.

Y/n paced back and forth as if she was trying to solve a puzzle to finally ease her thoughts, but instead, failed every time. Her mind kept replaying his voice, as she had memorized every detail, treating it like a meticulous plan: no flaws or loose ends. All she wanted was to forget him, to comply with the words that left his mouth like a hundred bullets:

"You better keep your mouth shut and never bring this up in a conversation ever again, y/n... Or else you'll regret it for the rest of your days," he had warned her back then, as he covered his bare hands with a pair of leathery gloves.

She regretted everything about that night; the way his neck seemed so tight, as if he was a disguised thief, holding back a painful scream. She remembered how the vein on the side of his forehead pumped fiercely as if it was trying to break free from his face. Anger rose inside her.

Why did he let her watch?

Was that a sort of "taunting you because I know all your secrets" improvised joke? Because yes, she felt the heat and arousal bubbling inside her when he fidgeted with his shaft that night. She even felt as if she was the damn cock in his hands.

But did he know all her secrets? Did he know that she hadn't reached the climax in years? Perhaps he even knew where she lived. It aggravated her that he let her see him in such a vulnerable state, so intime, so... appealing.

A tattoo was carved into her frightened mind. Did he do it to taunt her, then? Does he know all about her?

She discarded every suggestion. The only personal information she had divulged to Kaz was her name and skills. She had also warned him to keep her recruitment a secret, and maybe she had even mentioned how she preferred to keep to herself rather than socialize with the people of Ketterdam. So all her personal information was deeply buried in her mind.

What she had yet to realize was that Kaz had her entire birth chart stored in a well-guarded section of his restless brain. He always found a way to know everything, as he couldn't bear not knowing it all.

He somehow, and with the help of his witty brain, managed to get her full name and the address to her place. He had also discovered details about her lineage and parents, who were long gone either to hell or with the saints. It wasn't much, but considering the time it took him to obtain such valuable information, it was certainly something.

Y/n hadn't even sneaked near the Barrel to eavesdrop from outside Kaz's office. Her eyes were glued to the stonewall in front of her now, and the cold moonlight brought back memories of Kaz's figure. His image haunted her like a nightmare, constantly invading her thoughts for the past seven days.

She needed to let go, but she was certain she couldn't do it. She hissed in frustration, her back landing on the bed behind her. The cold bedspread sent shivers through her warm body. She was only wearing her underclothes, as she was alone in her home.

The place had no walls dividing the spaces except for the bathtub and toilet in the corner, where no natural light reflected on the porcelain washbasin or bath other than the warm light of the candles she had spread there.

Her gaze drifted back to the long, narrow window that looked out onto the bustling street above. In the morning and through the murky glass, she could make out the feet of pedestrians as they hurried past. It was a small connection to the outside world that faded at night. No pedestrians were outside now, mostly because all the nearby buildings were full of early workers and showmen waiting for the early hours to head back to their workspaces.

A few candles illuminated the dining room placed a few steps away from the kitchen, the warm light spread only to the border of her bed and collided with the cold tone of the moon. Still, the kitchen was dark, as the candlelight reflected on the only tall furniture in the kitchen. The stone step separating the table from her bedroom space prevented her from having a clear view of the entrance.

Back at the club, Kaz's stress had accumulated in the last few days and had now reached its peak. He fidgeted with the crow head holder of his cane as he sat in his office, his eyes fixated on the wall, his breath coming out in short, heavy gasps. His free hand tightly gripped the edge of his desk, causing his knuckles to turn white beneath the fabric.

To his right, a half-empty bottle of brandy sat on his desk, and untouched papers and bills piled up in a messy tower before him. He couldn't focus on them, not with her image haunting his thoughts.

《Where are you?》 he wondered as his mind drifted back to her face. He could recall the subtle movements of her thighs, the panic in her blushed cheeks as she tried not to get caught. It was all too appealing.

It was for the best that he cut the emotional ties with her. He had a club to run, money to make, and he couldn't afford any distractions. But he needed her for the job. He needed her unique set of skills. The way she could vanish into the shadows of Ketterdam like Inej once did. The only difference between them being a few distinguishable features.

He considered going to check if she was there, fearing that she might have left Ketterdam after their last encounter. He needed to be certain of her presence, otherwise, he would have to find someone else to do her job, which he didn't want to do.

As time passed, his anxiety grew, and he was unable to shake the memories of her from his mind. His thoughts were in turmoil, and he knew he needed to find a way to focus before it was too late. It shouldn't have been difficult to concentrate, given that he didn't like her.

Kaz didn't even realize when he left his office, unconsciously stepping out and leaving his cane on his desk. He didn't scold Jesper for flirting with Wylan at the bar when he was supposed to be working. Of course, the couple wondered where their boss was going, but neither of them dared to ask him about it. He seemed lost in thought as his leg wobbled a bit from the imbalance. His frown was deeper than usual, and one of his gloved hands was clenched into a fist at his side.

Fortunately, her place was not too far from the club, but it was far enough that, as if by a miracle, her slightly warm body became warmer, her cheeks flushed, and eventually, after a few minutes, she found herself breathing heavily. Her hands moved in time with her thoughts, and the images of Kaz, so vivid in her mind, only served to fuel her fire. She had done this a few times in the last week to try to free her mind of the torture his image spur her to do, at the same time that she put all her efforts to release the moan fighting to come out. This time felt different, as if her body knew something she didn't.

Unbeknownst to her, Kaz was nearby, clenching his teeth so tightly that it made his jaw hurt. It made him wonder if it was due to her absence from work, or the way she made him feel that produced this sort of reactive action.

He knew a knock on the door would be odd, considering that she told him she was not a very social person, hence didn't have any friends.

So, he decided to use his brain. He made sure to see if there was any visible light reflecting into the streets from the visible lower window almost glued to the floor. No light was visible. Good.

He knew she lived unseen in Ketterdam.

Like a fox hiding from the danger, without knowing the danger it held inside. He new it though, probably why he called her that.

He would just leave an envelope with the tasks he had for her and then he would leave. If she read it, she would show up in his office. If not, then she had made her choice very clear.

His lockpicking skills gave him easy access to her place. He tried to keep his limp as light as possible so as not to make his presence obvious. He opened the door with little noise, which was surprising considering it was a wooden door. However, the floor was made of pure stone.

He noticed the dark, small kitchen and immediately took in the warm light of the candles illuminating the rest of the space.

He thought she might have left the candles on, so he didn't take a wider glimpse of the room. He left the envelope on the dark counter and right after reaching for the door handle, he heard it.

His feet locked to the floor, and his chest stopped. Kaz turned his head to the side to take in the sound more clearly. It was as if someone was having a nightmare, with uneven but barely audible breaths. The table and chairs of the tiny dining room obstructed his view, preventing him from seeing the full scene.

His feet moved as a reflex, after silently closing the door before him, he took some cautious and slow steps forward. And then, when he got a clear view, a flame that he feared had been extinguished was ignited from the ashes, burning fiercely inside him. Evaporating all his senses of destruction and vengeance, and replacing them with a gutting desire.

He took in the scene, his hands were sweaty, his mouth slightly opened, and his chest heaving.

Whimpers.

He froze, not making a sound; like a sculpture, he didn't move a muscle. He just stood there, transfixed by the sight before him, his eyes locked on it.

On her.

She was caressing herself, one hand occupied with her breasts, fidgeting with her nipples, and the other under her panties. Her eyes were closed, portraying pain and torture, but deep inside her arousal increased with every touch.

She unlocked a part of her mind that allowed her to visualize Kaz in front of her. As she seemed to have found her only inspiration that may allow her to finally cum. Something she had avoided the last week.

She tried before touching herself thinking of something else, making up someone else’s face in her mind, failing relentlessly every time.

Now, in her mind, a bulge was evident in Kaz's usual black pants, his hands bare, and his cheeks flushed. The image made her wince from pleasure. Her lower lip was tugged between her teeth. Each brush of her hand made her body quake.

A few seconds later she opened her eyes, and she swore she saw her boss's face.

There, in the darkness.

He was staring at her intently, and for a moment, she stopped, bewildered. Her red cheeks acted like fire in her body, burning her entirely with embarrassment and excitement.

《Why are you stopping? I didn't stop when you caught me jerking off》 He thought. His brain took such action as offensive, breaking the pleasant view.

"Don't," the shadow spoke, panting, desperate, and begging almost.

Kaz Brekker wasn't the type of man who begged, not even when he was staring death itself in the face. But now his mind betrayed him, his words being a reflex to his needs.

His dark figure leaned closer to the bed, finally revealing his pale temple. Y/n's heart hammered in her chest as if it was trying to escape like a frightened child. "Don't... don't stop, y/n," There it was again, his voice roaring. His thoughts now sprinting out of an opened cage that would be too hard to lock again given the view. His hoarse and needy voice echoed along her soft gasps.

It took a few seconds for her to realize it wasn't a trick, it wasn't a hologram, something impossible to touch. Kaz Brekker was in front of her, his jaw looked tight, his expression sharp like a blade cutting trough her; his gaze taking in every inch of her skin.

He was like a starved animal waiting to finally get its prey after several failed attempts. He watched every movement, enjoying what he had craved several times where only his imagination was able to put it to work. Now, being real and having her in flesh and bones before him, he didn't want her to stop, nor would he allow it.

It felt as if the candles turned into a hundred torches. The heat around them was both pleasing and hurtful. He wanted to touch her, but somehow his hands were blocked to each side of his body. Loose strands of hair fell over his eyes, but it didn't act as a distraction, his focus being only on her figure. The drip of the several candles blended with the sound of her wet pussy.

His sharp blue eyes found their way to hers, an invisible string forcing to look each other, making it impossible for any of them to break eye contact.

Kaz made his way in front of the bed and sat in the nearby wooden chair. His Adam's apple wobbled as he swallowed hard. The bulge in his pants was evident now, just as y/n had imagined minutes ago.

"What...," her voice cracked, making it impossible for her greedy self to form a full sentence as she was overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment. He cut her off sharply, in a demanding tone.

"Shush," he growled, the usual gelid expression covering his face entirely. He was fighting the urge to take his glove off and replace her own hands with his.

Oh, he wanted to squeeze those tits and lick her nipples so badly.

However, his hands still wouldn't move. He felt like a prisoner in his own body, struggling to break free. The uncertainty of how his body would react when he touched her still lingered in his mind.

"Just keep doing it," he demanded, his eyes moving from her face to between her legs, as to try to send her an indirect message of what to do next.

She pushed her underwear aside, mostly due to the desperation taking over her entire body, and for the hint she caught in his eyes. Her wet cunt being visible now.

Y/n closed her eyes, enjoying how she felt when she fingered herself, just as he enjoyed watching her doing so. Her mouth gaped as the shivers she felt took her higher with every touch, the orgasm closer with every passing second.

"Open your eyes," Kaz urged, his voice growing deeper and more desperate. He felt his dick pumping, trying to break free and holding back the urge to cum right then beneath the black fabric.

An inner fight with his mind allowed him to move again a few moments later. A pair of eager hands unbuttoned his pants, showing his greedy bulge over his black boxers.

Y/n complied with his orders and opened her eyes, only to catch him with his gloved hands now full of his cock, just like the other night, adding the fact that she was also with her hands occupied doing the same to herself.

He didn't even bother in taking his gloves off; he just needed to stroke it.

It went on for a few more minutes, with him watching her thrust her fingers in and out of her pussy faster, and she watched him stroking his dick. Both of them, with their arousals and voices, provided the only sound that bounced off every wall, echoing in their ears and carving like an unforgettable memory inside their minds.

With their eyes locked onto each other, their hands fully occupied, and a layer of sweat on their faces under the warm light of the candles, they finally came. Kaz was the first one, and he was more silent this time given all he wanted to hear was her, as he'd imagined: her voice breaking, her legs squirting, her chest going up and down as if she had just run a marathon throughout all of Kerch. He wanted to hear her say his name.

Y/n came a few seconds later, her voice breaking, the sound louder than ever between the walls, she finally gave in, letting the moan out. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head, and the next words would carve in the deepest part of Kaz's mind, like a catchy song that only he could give himself the pleasure of repeating. "Fuck— Kaz!" She yelled, not so loud but enough to make Dirtyhands bite his lower lip.

He compared what he had imagined to the view before him, they were quite alike, except for the lack of Kaz's touch on her skin.

It took a few moments for Y/n to ease her breathing. Her eyes were fixed on the ceiling. Embarrassment washed over her as she didn't dare to look at the man in front of her.

His lips twisted and contorted into a crooked grin, revealing his satisfaction with what he had just seen. His usual dark eyes betrayed little emotion, but deep down he was afraid to accept the eagerness that burned within him. He wanted her and hoped to make her his right then and there, but the option of him panicking when touching her frightened his mind. It aggravated him: to have her in his gaze and not be able to feel her skin.

Hidden inside Kaz's heart, the flame was still on. He longed for the day when he would finally take his naked hands and feel how wet she was, with no intrusive thoughts in their way.

He took his right glove—now covered in cum– off, whilst still glaring at her body on the bed.

"I need your presence for the job," he muttered, ignoring the fact she was still naked, panting slightly, and her eyes lost in her thoughts.

She wasn't mad about him changing the topic. She hadn't yet found the words to say something anyways.

His normal façade cut sharp like a knife. He knew it was for the best. He tried to convince himself that there would not be a third occasion, given that, if he stood any longer, he would not cum over his gloves but on her stomach. And his hands would not be holding his cock but her hips, keeping her still in the bed.

"If you still want to work for me, I'll be expecting you tomorrow night at the usual time," he said, tilting his head toward her direction as he turned around to leave, taking her utter silence as a reply.

On the other hand, Kaz didn't want to say what echoed in his mind. An uncontrollable pull was trying to stop him from leaving, encouraging him to just give in to her. To finally betray his mind and let something other than revenge and money in his heavy heart, allowing his hands to touch someone else's skin.

He wanted to feel hers under his fingertips, to taste her breath in his mouth. Something that through the passing of months he never accepted until now. But words failed him as they often did, forcing him to repeat the same romantic situation he had with Inej years ago.

So, with the clicking sound of the door closing behind him, they gave an end to their interaction, which would allegedly be the last one, and both let out a long sigh of relief.

Putting an end to his torture of not being brave enough to touch her, and to her torment of not being able to feel his touch.

HII!! So, as I wrote at the beginning, writing this was a love-hate relationship considering my sudden motivation loss. I was so motivated writing this and then BANG, my mind goes blank as fast as Kaz's heart when he sees Inej haha.

Anyway, I really, reaaally hope you like it and if you don't then it's okay we can pretend that this doesn't exists 🫶🏻🤣

Tag list ( the lovely users that asked for a part two):

@outlawqueen17 @bunneex

@tiana76 @freddycarterswife

#kaz brekker x y/n #kaz brekker oneshot #kaz brekker smut #kaz brekker #six of crows #six of crows one shot

[vodika-vibes]

what went down at The Works tho? how did Fox get those bruises??? did Cody go after the Chancellor....????? #PA AU

Alright, so I had to read backwards a couple of days to remind myself of what I set up and then...forgot about, lol. My bad.

"Commander!" Fox pauses as a Captain runs over to him, his armor is minorly scorched, and it looks like he had to rub soot off of his visor, before giving it up as a lost cause and just tugging his helmet off, "Glad you're here, sir!" "So I can see," Fox replies turning to give the Captain his full attention, vaguely aware of Thorn and Thire running around in the background giving orders, "What happened?" "Rakghouls, sir!" "...Rakghouls don't breathe fire." Fox says slowly. His brother's grin is wide and slightly manic, "No sir. But they do burn pretty damn well. Sir." "Did you hit your head, vod?" "Was thrown into a boiler, sir! Why?" "Just making sure. Stop by the medic before you head back out." "Yessir!" He hurries over to the medics, and Fox turns his attention to the rest of his brothers, and then he sighs. All of them are loading up flamethrowers. This is going to be a pain. Four hours later, after getting thrown around by several very large rakghouls, Fox ordered his men to burn everything that moves. Within reason. And then he sends a message to Yuu to make sure that they're willing to tend to his bruises.

As for Cody

Cody walks into the Jedi temple and makes a line directly for General Mace Windu. He's calm, very calm, too calm for the fact that he's internally screaming. "Commander?" Master Windu intercepts him before he can get too far into the temple, "Is everything alright?" "No. Not really." Cody says brightly. "Well, yes. It was a rhetorical question, I can sense that you're in some...distress." "I have reason to believe that Chancellor Palpatine is the cause of the war." "...I'm going to pretend you didn't say that-" "Simply because," Cody continues as if the older man hasn't said a word, "his Personal Assistant came to me and asked me how I would go about making someone disappear. And we both know that they're the reason Mas Amedda is missing." "There's no proof of that." "You really think that Fox is going to let Yuu end up in jail? Really?" "There's no proof that I'm willing to act on." Mace clarifies, "So...I'm ignoring this. Because I need to ignore it for my own well being." He pauses, "We never had this conversation. I'll send Ponds to you." "...are you asking me to assassinate-" "Nope! This conversation isn't happening. Good day, Commander!"

#star wars #star wars au #PA AU

[tricks-n-illusions]

{ @askoinari } So, your one true wish in this whole entire universe is to die, hm? Tragic, pitiful really. All this fuss and a temper tantrum because you couldn’t win mommy’s love? Even your own god does not grant you the peace you so desperately long for, stringing you along like a puppet. Do you honestly think your death will solve all your problems? Knowing your god, they’d probably spite you back to life in the form of a ghost for a laugh, wouldn’t that be ironic? I suppose nobody else would care about your death considering your track record for violence, but what of your No-so-apparent companion here? Wouldn’t they mourn you, at the very least? Judging from your charming nature, probably not! Good luck on your fools’ errand. - Yako

Silas's ears flattened as he backed away from Yako, for the first time it seemed he was fearful of someone. Though you couldn't place why... But, Silas knew, he knew exactly why, it was that damn mask, the posture, the aura, the way their tail seemed to become a wisp. It was like looking at a ghost. Once he realized why Yako scared him Silas couldn't do much but freeze in place and squeeze his eyes shut, hoping they would just leave. His fear response became painfully apparent as the moments passed. All he could muster up was a feeble anxious whimper, maybe that would magically make them spare him from the incoming verbal assault. Then they spoke. It sounded just like her. In his terror it WAS her.

Seance's tone was mocking, something Silas was guilty of doing... or maybe he was just copying her the whole time. Even so, she just quietly hummed in thought, looking over him as she ever so slightly inched closer and closer.

"Even after all these years, you're still chasing after her love? Desperately hoping one day she'll forgive you for all the pain you caused her?" Though Seance's voice was soft, her words were not. "I told you, She doesn't love you and she never will. Why can't you get that through your head?" She paused, giving her words a moment to sink in before she spoke up again. "Silas." She sounded upset. "What did I tell you about not looking at me while I'm talking to you?" He cringed at that but didn't reply.

When he didn't do what she said, she just gave a soft, "Tsk." Well, He always was a coward, of course he didn't have the guts to even look at her. She gently brushed a claw over his face before finally letting go with an annoyed sigh. Despite Seance's words, Yako's voice was still loud and clear, mocking him along with her. Her voice seemed to compliment theirs perfectly.

Seance quickly broke into laughter at the thought of that herself.

"Isn't that right, Little fox?" Truth always hurt. Silas couldn't deny it, Yako was right. Seance was right, every word every insult was right. When tears finally began to well up and Seance's voice faded, Silas found the courage to speak. His voice was soft and faint. A mere whisper compared to the onslaught of words from Yako. "Please..."

Silas's words obviously went unheard. His claws just dug further into his skin, blood beginning to trail down his arm, the moment it finally seemed like Yako was going to stop talking, Silas broke from his fearful trance. In one quick sweeping motion, Silas threw out a Night Slash.

"JUST SHUT UP ALREADY." He shouted. "You have NO right to TALK DOWN to me like I'm beneath you! I AM NOT BENEATH YOU." He sounded unsure. "You don't know who the fuck I am, and I don't think you want to find out. So, Shut the fuck up or I'll make you! I have no fucking problem with killing you right here. Unless you want to be gutted I suggest you FUCK OFF." Silas lowly growled, his teeth bared, a blatant attempt at aggression, though his behaviour portrayed more fear than anything. Yako obviously touched a nerve with his words.

He didn't care. Finally, after everything the tears began to flow, all he could do was sniff and wipe them away. "...Fucking pathetic." He grumbled, his words seemed to be addressed to Yako but it quickly became clear it was for himself.

→ Yako has been added to the relationships page. → Seance has been added to the characters page. → Silas is now injured and will stay that way until he addresses it.

[ Ask from @askoinari ]

#Long post #very word heavy #tni: chrono #tni: silas rune #tni: seance #tw: gore #tw: blood #I tried to leave it open ended about attacking yako cause #Silas essentially just threw a night slash + his own blood at them so could be anything really #simply a blood splatter? who knows #if you feel like replying Silas is at your mercy do whatever you please to him #I got backup plans for my backup plans /hj #...And ah yes this is the famous way seance died - picking at silas till he just flipped out on her #dudes seriously unstable Silas can dish insults out but he sure as hell cant take it when they target him so personally #Thank you so much for sending this ask I was so excited for it! #Chapter 1: The Introduction

[takami-takami]

Ignore the character backgrounds because they can be used to psychoanalyse me 👀👀👀

The first one is a Jellyfish-based quirk named whose hero name is Jellia. She was my main OC around the time I introduced myself as one of your anon hence the anon tag. Her hair can take shapes into any jellyfishes she's ingested in the past (I fr think she'd vibe with Suneater and Fat Gum) and inherit their attributes and she's sort of buoyant in air and she kisses the floor that Gang Orca walks on. If there are no more Gang Orca fans in this world it's because she's dead. Originally made her to have the same age range with Hawks but now she's in the same age range with the students but has no pairing considering she's a child and I think it fits her jellyfish motif to be ace. She's got unresolved mommy issues. Like. How can she resolve it when her mum is dead? Also her maternal grandad hates her and compares her a lot to her dead mum lol.

BUT my now main OC is Miss Chief who I literally based all my c.ai RPs on is Miss Chief who has a Kitsune XI quirk (she's the most traumatised amongst my BNHA OCs because her entire family lineage is built upon quirk marriages 💀 she's the biggest Endeavor anti only 4th to Dabi, Natsuo and Shoto. She's not related to the Todoroki's but she'd fit right in). Literally a government dog (don't call her that tho she's not a dog :( she's a fox meant to be free in the wilderness (ok dog)). Trained in the HPSC with Hawks as a teenager so you can imagine why she's extra spicy in the head. My thought process of developing her is literally "Jellyfishes don't go into heat/rut cycles :( ik Hawks' quirk is not actually avian based BUT I gotta cover all bases and make her compatible with fanon Hawks too!!!" and so Miss Chief was born. Dug around my brain and remembered I had a nine-tailed fox OC once and was like !!! Oh. Yes. Anyway, she's crazy but she's best friends with Hawks so I feel like she has every right to be

Last one is just. ✨Me✨. It was a coping mechanism I was reaching a point in my course where I'm trying to study and understand pharmacokinetics and going like "damn why am I here just to suffer" so I made an OC whose quirk amplifies the pharmacokinetics of a person when she smacks her DNA into them. Think of it Stain does it. She's the least problematic since she's Recovery Girl's granddaughter. Her only problem is that she's fucking socially awkward around Hawks because she has the biggest fattest crush on him but cannot act upon it because he was her patient 💀. She met Hawks in the hospital while he was recovering and he was complaining about how his pain medications haven't kicked in yet and she just stares at him blankly, licked her palm and gave him a SMACK and was like "ok my job here is done" and he's just there like why did you smack me tf "unlike my grandma I don't kiss patients bye" and scuttles off and had to beg her manager to send her off for an early break and then put her somewhere else later. Literally drew and made lore about her in between me making notes from lectures LMAO

OHHHH I LOVE THEM I LOVE THEIR DESIGNS!!!!!! ADORE THEM.

#💌 asks #JELLYFISH EMOJI LORE.....

[whump-tr0pes]

Hate in My Heart

(This was supposed to be an assignment for an anthropology class, but I couldn't help but make it whumpy. Hope you guys enjoy me being a goof.) Rhaeti (Ötzi the Iceman) thinks it would be a good idea to spend a few days in the mountains.

Contents: historical fiction, hand gore, neolithic field medicine, revenge, murder, major character death, spoilers on a 5300 year old murder

~

Rhaeti’s right hand stung. This cut was deep, far deeper than any cut he had suffered before. He cursed the gods, and his luck – but it wasn’t his luck to blame, it was his damned slow bones. And that damned boy Breun. Rhaeti had known the boy was going to get into trouble someday, he just hadn’t figured the trouble was going to be trying to overpower him. And over the ownership of a damned bow. The boy could make his own damned bow if he wanted one so badly, or just have Isar make one for him. He didn’t need to take Rhaeti’s.

Damn, damn, damn.

Still, it was good that Rhaeti was giving the boy a few days to calm down. Rhaeti had beaten him soundly after Breun had come at him with a hatchet, damaging his hand – his good hand, gods damn him. Staying away from the village was the careful thing to do. And you didn’t live as long as Rhaeti had by not being careful.

Gods, but his hand hurt.

He drew in a slow breath, pushed out a gusty exhale. The afternoon was warm, the sun beating down on the naked rocks around him, warming him through his leather clothes and bearskin hat. His grass cape kept off the breeze. He needed his cape this far up; the trees offered no protection. They did not grow, this close to the sun. Still, he liked it up here, where he could see the mountains stretching farther than any man could see. He didn’t mind waiting up here, where no one but the gods and the wind could hear him, while that damned fool boy cooled down from his stupid ideas of having Rhaeti’s bow for himself.

His hand was throbbing, though, so he settled himself down on a rock. His knees and back ached. He knew he would have to return to the healer to have more tattoos drawn on him to stave off the pain. The tattoos helped for less and less time, now. Still, he was grateful that he was old enough to have sore knees and a stiff back. It meant he was still alive.

He dug through his pack and pulled out the large, soft mushroom the healer had given him. He took a small bite and ground it to a paste between his teeth. Gently, he smeared the paste in his cut, wincing as he did. He pressed bog moss over the poultice to bandage it. Still, the medicine did nothing to stop the pain.

Damn that boy and his damned envy.

He stretched out his legs, groaning as he did, and reached into his pack again. A meal of deer meat, ibex fat, and bread would do him good after his hike up into the mountains. His legs were strong, but he wasn’t the young man he once was. As he ate, he hoped his stomach wouldn’t hurt after it so often did when he ate ibex fat. Still, it made him strong. He would not give it up, just because of a little pain. He sighed as he tilted his head back and let the sun warm his face, wondering how much farther he would hike today.

-

Venos’s heart leapt as he laid eyes upon his target. He ducked behind a large rock, grateful for the cover in this land of no trees. He peeked around the rock, hands tightening around the bow he held – his father’s bow, the one he had taken from his home, swearing to his father that he would take his revenge.

Rhaeti – the gods damned old man who had crushed Venos’s happiness in a single afternoon – was staring up the mountain, away from Venos, his foot up and braced against a rock. He was about thirty meters away, but Venos’s eyes were sharp; it was why he was celebrated as the village’s best hunter, why he came home with ibex, red deer, fox and beaver, enough to keep everyone well-fed and healthy. Enough to keep the old man standing on the slope above him clothed in his fine pelts, outfitted with tools he did not even know how to make. All so that he could take away Venos’s joy, then escape into the mountains as if it meant nothing.

Not today. If the gods did not punish Rhaeti for his sins, then Venos would. He blinked tears from his eyes as he nocked an arrow to his bow. The old man had not moved, but still looked upward at the terrain above him, as if looking for the best route up. Venos drew the string back. He took aim at Rhaeti as if he were an animal, ready for slaughter.

“For you, Breun,” he whispered as he let the arrow fly. It struck Rhaeti behind the left shoulder. The old man crumpled to the ground.

Venos leapt towards the fallen old man, clambering up the rocks and reaching him in what felt like a breath. Rhaeti lay on his stomach, his left arm collapsed under him. Blood poured from his forehead from where he’d struck it on a stone. He moaned as Venos grasped the arrow and twisted.

“My brother died from his wounds this morning,” he hissed, his voice shaking. “You killed my brother, old man.”

“Please,” Rhaeti mumbled.

“I have nothing but hate in my heart for you,” Venos said through his teeth, tears flowing freely now. He jerked the arrow from the wound he had made. It was fatal, he knew, but he would not grant the old man the relief of a quicker death than this. “And I’m not wasting one of my arrows on you.”

He turned to go, wiping his eyes on his sleeve so he would not slip on the rocks as he made his way down the mountain.

#historical fiction #Ötzi the iceman #field medicine #hand gore #revenge #murder #major character death #spoilers #I actually did an unreasonable amount of research on this so please be nice #I'm just being silly here

[enigmatist17]

When the general public and enemies aside learned that clones had wings, a lot of them were confused. Why give an army such a vulnerability? Was it just to show that the investment (which had been a secret from everyone apparently) was worth the money?

No matter, most detested them on the grounds they were clones from the start, so most either didn't pay attention to the wings, or would try and get a feather (unwanted or otherwise). Over time however, those who were more of a cruel nature began to realize that certain colors meant certain things, and the color red scared them far above the others.

Red was the color of protectors, of those who were far more willing to act outside the GAR purview if you invoked their wrath.

Some had red peppered among their base color, bright streaks of red found highlighted in Cody's golden feathers alongside the ombre of grey that colored Wolffe. They were the ones to speak loudly and use their words to send someone running or spilling apologies like a broken dam, and were of the few that held more restraint than others.

It was the darker shades of red you really had to look out for.

Neyo was one to make citizens who hurt his brothers just vanish, and while he could never be connected, no one dared go against the clone with the stark white wings shadowed with an almost blood red. Rex hadn't had the dark red clashing for a while, but after Umbara, the red had cascaded over the lower parts of his wings nigh overnight as he kept a close eye on his men, wishing deep down inside he'd killed Krell himself for all the pain left behind.

No one however, matched Fox and his feathers all the same shade of ruby.

The sight of them in the halls of the Senate building incited a feeling of dread of those who took pleasure heckling and treating the clones like they were the scum found in an alley. While Fox rarely did more than speak in a monotone voice after corning a particular person in offices or back hallways, there were a few times he had done much much more.

An attaché from a Separatist-aligned senator that had attempted to kidnap a shiny, claiming they had been promised one after a game of sabacc, vanished shortly before he was to return home. After several hours of intense search, they were found in the morgue of a lower levels precinct, witnesses saying he had fallen to his demise. The shiny was relieved to hear the news, and only some of the senior officers noticed the dangerous smile Fox had, only coming off as a kind one to the shiny who didn't understand.

Well, understand yet

News broke one morning of a gang that had been wiped out, the only thing that was any clue was half of a red feather. Countless clones were hounded but none were ever confirmed to have been anywhere near the former gang hideout, but in the underworld it was known these particular people had found sadistic glee in trying to de-wing the patrolling Corrie Guard. They had been successful only a few days before, leaving a clone without either wings after wrestling him out of sight, so for them to wind up dead so quickly made the Corrie Guard shifts turn into just endless walks around, those who even look at them wrong fleeing before the men could do more than shrug. The wingless clone knew who had done it when Fox remained by his side day and night, letting out a Force be damned laugh when the wounded man was informed of their demise.

Red was a color civilians and their enemies feared, and for the men it appeared for, it meant safety.

Funny how that works out.

#personal #star wars #clone wars #the clone wars #winged!clones au #commander fox #commander wolffe #commander cody #captain rex #commander neyo #I am feral for feral clones #even more so for the protective ones #and Fox is the most protective of all #we stan commander fox here

[queerregulusablack]

I don't like that you and i started talking :/

Leave fae regulus alone, NOW! Okay so he's a feral child that eats spiders and chews on cinnamon bark, so what if the kids his age pick up on his otherness? So what if sirius did the bad thing??

Regulus will befriend the barty boy that keeps wanting to kill him (he mistakes him for a fae but no, it's just a sick human child. He thinks all children should be like barty). He meets Pandora whose grandmother was half-fae and greets him by pricking his finger and kissing the small bead of red that comes out of it. Regulus returns the offer of friendship by plucking a strand of her hair and eating it.

Sirius will not be forgiven. Not for a long while. Because sirius will learn the way of the fae just as regulus learned to be human. He will go with regulus into the forest and he will be taught. He will understand. He'll be as human as can be but he will have to learn what his brother is. He will know why. He will know how. Will Know who his brother is, and earn the right to call him as such. The first time sirius, not even saying his name, calls him little brother again he almost gets a finger cut off. Even that's not allowed of him anymore. Sirius finds out that fae regulus had been granting him his wishes. Had been healing his wounds. Had fixed his wand when he broke it. Had been his shooting star, all along.

The reason why moony took a great liking to padfoot immediately was because so much of fae regulus' magic was rolling off of Sirius. like calls out to like. wild calls out to wild. And rarely, danger resonates with danger.

Mainly, he learns, that regulus stays for him and him only. That regulus can leave and the rest of nature will welcome him with open arms, greet his return with the sprouting of flowers and rabbits offered at his feet by wolves that want to play. For years, regulus has cherished him and entertained his humanity. Now, he must return the favor.

An attempt to fix his ignorance. An endeavor to be worthy of the love he so recklessly threw away. It will never happen again.

Crossing paths with a fox lady who regulus was unaware was following them ends up with him having two stolen ribs that sirius immediately offers to replace them.

"Take mine, please. I know I'm not forgiven yet, but I'll be damned if i let you walk with missing bones. I won't have it. If you want to rip my throat out, go ahead but make sure you get the ribs that you need when you're done."

Sirius whites out the pain of having his bones ripped out from him but when he opens his eyes, fae regulus has two bone daggers in his hands. He hands one to sirius.

"We hunt." Regulus says.

And they do.

When all is said and done and regulus is whole again, regulus attempts to turn the daggers back into bone, to give it back to Sirius. But sirius doesn't want them back anymore, because he already gave them to regulus and they would always be his.

It was the first time, since the day he lost the right to call regulus by his name, that his brother looks at him. Really, looks at him and realizes what he's been trying to do these past six months. Yes, he thinks, I'm trying to earn my place back into your life. Let me in, please.

For a while longer, he sits longingly at the fringe of his brother's life. His affection. His trust. His respect.

And one day, he's let back in. The name of his brother rolls off his tongue. Regulus.

Magic, untamed, otherworldly, curious, sharp, family.

And Regulus, his brother, his star, and his moss, gives him a name to go with Sirius. A fae name, just for him. He guards it with his life.

THERE. HAPPY ENDING. NO MORE SAD.

'No more sad' who do you think I am.

I'll grant you a reprieve for now but this isn't over. 'No more sad'. HA. As if.

#owl post #placeholder sasha tag #fae regulus #I'll get you later

[sucuretcannelle]

A little bit of dialogue practice, getting to know their new personalities more 😐

"You're tense...You really shouldn't worry. Honestly I'm surprised no one's gotten drunk yet. I think that's what Kuji would really want."

The princess shook her head and smiled weakly. The dark circles and creases under her eyes were rather prominent today, despite not a hair of hers being out of place.

"I'm not worried."

"I can see right through you. Worst comes to worst, he smites you like Zeus, you stay dead for a bit, and then you can go back to your fiancé and your boyfriend."

She laughed dryly, "You know, you'd make a great jester. You're funny, but I don't think you're joking."

The air between the two Sins rapidly turned sour after that interaction. Aibreanne turned her back to her and walked away. She sighed a breath that she didn't know she was holding in and rolled her shoulders back before approaching Nash. She tapped him on his shoulder, and he turned around. The bounty hunter was near the buffett, holding a barbeque rib in one and a chicken wing in the other.

"You scared the dogshit outta me."

Her tail flicks behind her, "I've been working on my stealth."

She glanced at his mouth and snickered. She even went to turn her head away from him before he could ask her what she noticed.

"I thought you came here to be respectful and mourn Mr.Acheron's death. Sounds like the food caught your eye. And your mouth."

She pulled a handkerchief out of the top of her dress and wiped his mouth right before he could question her.

"Do what you want, but when the gates open, you better be on your best behavior, understood?"

"Yeah, yeah, heard you."

She threw the handkerchief at his face, "And leave the gluttony to Lacuna, it's not a good look on you."

When he caught the falling handkerchief, he had a certain shimmer in his eye. He picks his head up to look back at her, "Damn, just come for my whole lineage why don't you?"

"I'll think about it."

The two looked as if they were about to say something, but Aibreanne turned to leave once again.

Am I being too snarky? Is snarky the right word? Sarcastic? Gods, I feel like Lexi.

She placed her hand across her mouth.

I think he'd say fiery. Not on purpose, but he'd notice it after I'd point it out.

"Head's cloudy?"

"Did you even need to ask?"

"It's polite to, Mrs.Saorise—"

Desire immediately felt a sharp pain when her tail whipped him. His arm went to rub his waist, which would soon become bruised by the attack.

"Oh, was I wrong? Are you keeping your last name?"

He was hushed as soon as he finished his sentence, "Would you quiet down already? You'll cause a stir like you always do, and everyone will shift their attention to me instead of the person who's clearly the most important here."

"I'm sure you like the attention. Plus, I think Akuji would've liked the drama."

She shook her head and closed her eyes, "And here I thought he lived up to his fables. 'Reticent and humble' they said."

"He was, just not when it came to some of us."

They sat in a comfortable silence for a few moments.

"Do you miss him?"

The smile that caught his lips was somber at best, "Of course I do. I wish these funeral traditions would end so we could put his name to rest, it's been so long. Nash was still aging by the time he died."

The goddess hummed in understanding.

"Do you miss Alexi?"

"Don't make me answer that."

"I wonder how your vows will go if you're that stubborn about affection."

I'm not stubborn. Wait, when did he change the topic?

He laughed to himself, "I'll be taking my leave. Try not to take this too seriously, alright?"

Sly fox.

"He can be a lot. I'd kill myself if I had to see him as often as you do."

"Velleitie, that is extremely unprofessional."

"But you fantasizing about your house himbo isn't? Okay."

He got me there.

"Have you seen Phthonus?"

"Nope. Haven't seen her."

"Tell Duke and Joule to open the gates, we can start without her."

As Wrath moved to the front of Akuji's statue, the large gates near the front swung open. The eerie silence that drowned all of the visitors turned into loud chattering from the public and camera clicks from their cameras. The noise was loud enough that it signaled all of the other Sins to come to the front as well.

Do I really have to do this? I never even knew him.

Nash and Aibreanne locked eyes for a second, so he mouthed to her, "It's good for your reputation, just do it."

I'll be really surprised if the cameras didn't catch that.

If asked by anyone there, they would've said the speech was formal and well prepared. At worst, it lacked passion and inspiration.

How many times will interviewers bring that up?

Much to her dismay, they would have a field day with that one. It's unfortunate that from the front gates, people could get a clear shot of the grave.

Perhaps that's what he wanted. He was the first Pride to die from an outside force, having the spotlight on him makes sense.

She waved to her colleagues as they teleported out. Facing away from the gate, she carefully seated herself on the base of the statue.

When one of us dies, where would they put us? Probably nowhere near him. Unless one of us suddenly chooses to become as heroic as him. His reputation rivals Archangel Michael's, and anyone would say that his achievements are impossible to surpass.

...That's what I would say if I had no plot significance.

"Why are you sitting here as if you have nothing to do?"

She looked up at Anasuya, or Phthonus who was crossing her arms. It seemed like the little time she had after her mission was spent looking for a dress that was far more creative and alluring than Aibreanne's.

"You look beautiful, as always."

Like many girls do after getting a compliment, she does a small half-turn on each side, slightly lifting her heels off the ground as she shifted.

"I know, you didn't have to tell me. Oh, and there's pockets, I'm tired of you just shoving everything in your bra."

"That's for me?"

"Isn't that obvious? Hadn't it been, I wouldn't even be here. Initially, that is. The Morningstars asked me to check on you."

Both of them?

"And my suggestion is that you get moving. You might turn into stone too if you just sit there overthinking. 'Hang out' with Charlotte or that judge you like to hang out with," she sighs, "He's rather attractive, don't you think? I'm sure he'd make you feel better."

"No comment."

"Understandable, I don't see how you can just stay so loyal to one man," She turned her back to her, beginning to pace in the other direction, "With how you look, it'd be considered a waste of beauty to—"

By the time she looked back, the princess was gone.

"...I may have worsened the situation."

#ocs: sins #oc: Akuji Acheron #i wrote this at 2 a.m let me live

[littleperilstories]

The Prince of Thieves: I'm Nobody, Who Are You?

Mood Boards | Chapter Titles | Also on A03!

Warnings: Fantasy-esque prison setting, blood, aftermath of flogging, mention of attempted sexual assault, mention of death/execution, lady whump

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Word count: 1851 || Approx reading time: 7 mins

I'm Nobody, Who Are You?

Teaser: If I hadn’t screamed at Michaelson to stop, if I had just done as Hatchett said, held my tongue and fucking obeyed, none of those marks would be splashed across his back like gruesome brushstrokes. There would be no drops of red sprayed across the now-filthy bandage on his shoulder. He wouldn’t be sitting so utterly still, afraid to move lest he wreak more pain upon himself.

Bree

“Good people… I haven’t met many of those.”

 Fox’s face cycles through a few expressions that are difficult to read, as if he’s considering trying to argue that there are, indeed, more good people out there than I think. He doesn’t, though, and I’m glad. Too much of my life has been defined by the wicked choices of other people.

It is a relief when he broaches a new subject. “What should I call you?”

His voice… It’s so exhausted. I wonder how much it took out of him to haul himself across the floor, and part of me wishes I hadn’t asked. The state of his back makes my stomach turn: grisly, stained with blood, swollen and angry where the skin isn't broken. Every seeping wound—none of them, it’s quite obvious, have been cleaned or even looked at—twinge in phantom sympathy on my own back.

I did that.

If I hadn’t screamed at Michaelson to stop, if I had just done as Hatchett said, held my tongue and fucking obeyed, none of those marks would be splashed across his back like gruesome brushstrokes. There would be no drops of red sprayed across the now-filthy bandage on his shoulder. He wouldn’t be sitting so utterly still, afraid to move lest he wreak more pain upon himself.

I did this to him, and there’s not a damn thing I can do to help him.

“Hey?” He lifts his head, turning to glance at me. It makes him wince. “You all right?”

He is asking me. Fox, broken and bloodied and locked in here for who knows how long. How can he say those words in earnest? Without cursing me for being the cause of his newest injuries? I close my eyes. “I’m fine.”

A lie, and we both know it. He lets me cling to my delusion.

“What should I call you?” It’s only as he repeats the question that I remember he’s already asked it. “Does he… Do they know your name? He called you ‘Miss Cooper.’”

“Yes. Please don’t call me that.” No point in trying to hide the bitterness from my voice. “I’m Bree. It’s not a secret. He… They know who I am.” A memory stirs… Did you know that, Fox-thief? “They know you’re Fox?”

          “Mmm-hmm.” The softest whimper slips out with this confirmation—he is turning again, I realize with horror, to look at me while we talk. “That’s… That’s all they know, though. And I’m going to keep it that way.”

The bruises, the bandage, the flogging—they all take on a new, sinister significance. “They’re… He’s….” They’ve been torturing you.

“Trying to get me to talk. Yeah.” The hand of his uninjured arm clutches the bars between us. I wonder if that death grip on the metal is the only thing stopping him from collapsing. “Trying being the important word. It’s why I’m not dead.”

But soon I will be. The unspoken words hang between us.

“And no matter what they do… I won’t tell them anything.”

Hearing the resolve in his voice makes me want to rest my hand over his, lay it like a blanket where his fingers curl over the iron bars. As if I could possibly offer a single speck of comfort to this beaten, bleeding man who’s been sentenced to die—who is beaten and bleeding because of me.

I don’t move.

“Do you…” He draws a long, agonized breath, as if turning to face me has winded him. I wish again I hadn’t asked him to come closer. “The others… Do you know…?”

He glances toward the corridor. Checking for listening guards.

I don’t understand at first what’s he’s asking, then it clicks. The inner circle. He wants to know if they’re all right.

“I only saw her,” I mumble, racking my brain for a way to say it. “She, uh… You know. Her. All eight legs intact. She was safe. I think.”

He frowns for a moment, working out the riddle, before releasing a sigh of relief. “Good.”

Something impossible happens then: the tiniest hint of a smile, rife with mischief, tugs at his lips. “So how’d you get caught? Was it a big fuck-up, or what?”

Perhaps if his wasn’t the only friendly face I’m going to see before I shuffle off this mortal coil, I’d be insulted by the blatant rudeness, the flippancy of the question. Instead, I answer honestly, because what would be the point of alienating the last friend I will ever have? “Yes.”

Clearly not expecting the bluntness, he chuckles, which elicits a wince. “Really? You fucked up?”

“I didn’t think.” I hate, hate that every word is true. “She…slipped me a warning. Told me to get out when I could, with or without the, uh…stuff. I decided with, but I was scared. Careless. And they caught on.”

Fucking Lila, sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong.

“I’m sorry,” he says, and I think he actually means it.

“Don’t be.  I should have been more careful.”

Silence falls between us, and in the lull, his eyes drift closed even though he’s sitting up. Is that a bad thing? Should I be worried? Should I let him rest? I’m not sure, and in a panic, I blurt out the first question that comes to mind. “What happened to your shoulder?”

He snaps his eyes open, more alert again, grimacing as he answers. “You heard him. I tried to break out.” His voice is flat, all traces of amusement gone. “It didn’t work. One of them got a little knife-happy.”

The thought of one of those constables sinking a blade into his flesh makes me shudder. Everyone out there, Cook and Lila and everyone else in this godforsaken city, believes that the constables are good men, that they do what they do to keep their citizens safe.

How, then, would Cook and Lila and the rest explain the battered body I’m looking at now?

“So I know a thing or two,” he says, bringing back that weak smile, “about not thinking things through.”

One smile should beget another, but I cannot make my lips turn upwards. I cannot un-imagine the moment of Hatchett or one of his men stabbing this boy in the shoulder. Just as I cannot unsee or unhear the sharp crack of dense cord cracking across his back and drawing blood.

“Well, welcome to hell,” he says. Half mumble, half sigh. “It’s nice to have someone to talk to. But I’m sorry for you.”

No one made me join. No one made me seek out the girl who dropped a wooden coin in my pocket. No one made me say yes to the offer she presented. “It’s not your fault.”

Repeating his words back to him, the ones that comforted me every time I felt I’d never be able to escape the memory of that man’s hands on my body, sends a bolt of lightning right through me. He blinks too, the glazed look in his eyes sharpening slightly.

What prompts me to do it, I can’t explain. Perhaps I’m just a fool, exhausted and miserable and terrified. But I cannot stop myself from clasping his fingers, still braced against the bars, within my own. They feel so cold.

He stares in surprise for a moment, at my mildly grimy hand pressed over his dirt-crusted one, rusted iron scraping against our skin. But he doesn’t pull away.

What words are there? I want to say, It’s going to be all right. That would be a lie. What comfort can I give that is not wildly deceitful?

If I can help it, I won’t let you die alone.

As the thought drifts into being, thin and fragile as spider’s silk, my throat aches with unshed tears. It is as true as it can possibly be—but I can’t say that, either.

When I open my mouth, the whisper that comes out is, “If Baden Hatchett were standing here in front of us and I had a knife…I’d go right for his throat.” Does he remember giving me that advice? I doubt it.

He smiles anyway, and a bit of light flickers into those exhausted eyes. “What about straight in his heart?”

Shaking my head, I say, “That wouldn't work. He doesn’t fucking have one.”

He laughs—actually laughs. And though he jerks with the pain the laughter brings, the spark in his gaze doesn’t fade. “You’re right.” He grins wickedly. “Well, maybe there are a few other places that would be good for stabbing. Or cutting off.”

He fucking winks.

A hysterical giggle escapes me. “So vulgar!”

“What? I’m talking about his ugly, enormous nose.”

On my next laugh, a bellow erupts down the corridor. “Shut the fuck up in there! Both of you!”

The shout makes me jump, and my hand falls away from his. Fox doesn’t look surprised or frightened, just annoyed.

“Come in here and make—” He stops midway through the challenge, his gaze landing directly on my face.

“Sorry,” he says. “That’s probably a bad idea.”

“You think?”

We both wait with bated breath, wondering if the guard is going to come rushing in here to tear Fox apart. By some miracle, the corridor remains quiet.

In unison, we sigh with relief.

Slowly, he lies down on his side, resting his head upon his good arm. His face stays turned toward me. “Will you do me a favour?”

I blink. “What is it?”

“Don’t… Don’t try to…” He screws up his face as if he can’t find the words he means. “Please. Don’t put yourself in harm’s way. Like you did today. Not for me.”

Deep within my chest, my heart breaks.

“You saved my life,” I remind him. I mean for my voice to be strong. It comes out trembling. “And he was hurting you.”

It sounds so stupid when I say it out loud. Why should I care so much if they hurt him? I don’t know him. I might never have known him if I hadn’t gotten caught.

He’s nothing more than a stranger.

A stranger whose hands have touched mine, from whose face I have wiped dark, streaming blood.

“They’re going to keep doing that.” His eyes close. “Don’t try and stop them, and maybe they won’t hurt you, too.”

They’re going to kill me, anyway. Both of us.

“Please.”

I nod, then remember he can’t see. “All right. I… I won’t.”

I do not tell Fox that I have a poor history—and a poorer reputation—when it comes to keeping promises. Or that the thought of Hatchett raising a fist, a cane, a whip, or anything else against him makes me want to scream.

When he speaks again, his voice is distant, as if he’s falling asleep. How he can find rest in such a place as this, I do not understand. It sickens me that he is now used to sleeping in such squalor. “I’m so sorry you’re in here, too, Bree.”

I wrap my arms back around my legs and cannot bring myself to answer.

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Tagging: @starlit-hopes-and-dreams, @gala1981, @kixngiggles .

[Banner ID: A narrow horizontal, rectangular banner featuring a barred archway. The bars and the stone walls evoke the feeling of a dungeon or prison. There are burning candles on either side of the archway. The title of the story, The Prince of Thieves, appears in white text in the centre of the image. The author's username, abbreviated to LPS from littleperilstories, appears in the bottom right corner in partially transparent text. End ID.]

#lps the prince of thieves #whump #dungeon whump #whump writing #whump story #whump fiction #original fiction #original writing #original story #original content #whumpblr #whump community #writeblr #lps-writes #oc Bree Cooper #oc Will Wardrew #oc Baden Hatchett #oc whump #dungeon #prison #flogging #blood #angst #lady whump

[la-grosse-patate]

Pain in the ass (WIP)

@inafieldofdaisies, @yokobai, @cassietrn, @whatwouldvalerydo wow, I did NOT expect this level of interest 😆 thank you! apologies this took so long. also, english is not my first language, so there might be some errors

Isabel almost recoiled. “Absolutely not!”

If the pilot took offense in her unusual reaction, he gave no sign of that. Face serene as ever and eyes full of mischief, Roger almost begged.

“Come on, this is a crazy opportunity! We can’t let those fuckers get their greasy hands on those materials.”

The captain pondered the thought for a moment, then slumped her shoulders in defeat.

He had a point. Whatever the highwaymen had found on that ship had to be valuable, and that only made them stronger.

She fumbled with the loose thread on her glove and twisted it between her thumb and middle finger, wishing it was someone’s neck. “No, I guess we can’t,” she replied, tone deflated.

“And dis is why we need to go. Aweille,” Roger pressed, voice now softer, as if trying to reason with a rabid fox. “Tell me when you’re ready.”

Unable to stop her eyes from rolling, she feigned looking at the sky instead. “I’m not doing this, Roger.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke.

The woman didn’t dare meet his gaze. She knew that if she did, she would fold like a ping pong table. Roger had that gift, and those baby blue eyes that probably matched the harsh winters in Quebec he usually spoke about. And despite their color, they only made her cheeks burn brighter.

“Tabarnouche...” he finally murmured, sighed, taking off his aviators and neatly folding them before sliding one of the temples inside his breast pocket. “I thought we were making a good team.”

The tone sounded almost accusatory, like a teacher disappointed in one of his best students, and she hated how those words stung. Isabel knew he was using every trick up his sleeve to try to coax her, and damn it to hell, she was losing ground.

“You beat their ass last time, so why would this time be any different, hm?” the pilot inquired, tilting his head to try to meet her gaze.

Her heated cheeks could easily put the pink verbena flowers outside Prosperity to shame, but the vivid memories of dodging bullets and rockets swiftly drained the color from her face.

“Because last time I almost died!” she blurted, the sound of her own voice startling her. She didn’t mean to raise her tone, but she had to get her point across somehow. “You have no idea how lucky you are to be alive right now.”

Roger took her outburst in stride. “That wasn’t luck, ma cherie, that was pure skill,” a beat, then a chuckle. “And maybe a bit of adrenaline.”

Oh, how she wanted to strangle him, because, apparently, talking just didn’t seem to do the trick.

Yanking him by the sleeve of his uniform and dragging him after her, she crouched next to the helicopter to point at something that looked frighteningly similar to a bullet hole in one of the doors.

“What is this? What does this look like to you?” she demanded.

“That one was already dere.”

Isabel scoffed in disbelief. “Oh, don’t give me that bullshit.” She stood and spun on her heel, clearly done with the conversation. “If you really wanna die, find someone else to do it with you.”

She barely made it a couple of steps off the helipad before his hand closed around her bicep in a surprisingly firm grip.

“Ey, wait a minute,” Roger interjected. “Where you going?”

To hell, she wanted to snap at him, but it didn’t matter.

It didn’t matter, because whatever witty comeback the captain had for him, it froze in her throat when she realised just how close he was.

“Listen,” he spoke softly, gaze lowering to her lips for the briefest of moments before lifting back to meet her own. “Captain, if we do dis,” he squeezed her arm for emphasis, “we might put a huge dent in their operations.”

Maybe her mind was playing tricks on her. Maybe the tingling sensation creeping to her mouth was just her imagination. Maybe her blood sugar dropped again, she thought.

“Who knows,” Roger shrugged. “Maybe they give up altogether. Maybe we get rid of an entire highwaymen chapter, ah?” he ventured. “What do you say?”

At this, she right out laughed. “Did you smoke Selene’s magic tea leaves?”

“Maybe I did,” the pilot chuckled softly.

A subtle smirk tugged at his lips as he fixed her with his crystalline eyes once more. Waiting, watching for any type of reaction from her. It made her feel warm. It made heat creep up her neck and towards her ears. Slowly starting to realize it wasn’t her blood sugar acting up, but something else entirely.

Her free hand flew to her bare neck on instinct. “Why don’t you take Hurk with you?” she finally suggested, voice just as small as she felt.

Isabel could almost see the proverbial gears crashing instantly inside his head.

 “Quoi?!” he squeaked, finally letting go of her arm. “What are you saying?”

“He’s got more experience than me,” she shrugged, content to have regained her voice. “And besides, he’s always eager to go on your little adventures.”

With renewed confidence, she decided to meet his eyes, to assess the damage. But Roger stared at her like she’d sprung another head.

“Don’t do this to me,” he begged. “That guy is crazy, he's a disaster on two legs!” he protested.

“Perfect match for a crazy, flying disaster such as yourself,” she quipped, surprised with how mean that sounded out loud.

But Roger didn’t mind. In fact, he took her jab in stride, and she could’ve sworn his eyes started gleaming with something.

Was he enjoying this?

“You’re lucky I like you, captain” the man chuckled, voice low in his chest, almost threatening. “But right now...,” he shook his head, in defeat perhaps? In disappointment? Isabel couldn’t tell. “You’re a pain in my hass,” he concluded.

At his admission, the captain didn’t know whether to feel amused, offended or proud. All she knew was that it only fueled her fire. Gaining the upper hand over his fleeting glances and dirty tricks felt like a huge victory to her. It made her feel bold. Perhaps too bold.

“Then add more lube.”

The words flew past her lips before she could stop them.

Holy shit, she did not just say that.

Sweet baby Jesus, she did not just say that!

But judging by the stunned look on Roger’s expression, she did just say that.

Ears on fire, heart in her throat, she could only hope for thunder to strike her and vaporise her on the spot. But the sky was very much clear, in spite of her desperate prayers. Clear and blue, just like the eyes staring at her crimson cheeks. Eyes she did not dare meet.

“Rush needs me I g-gotta go” she blurted in one breath, nearly making a run for it.

#roger cadoret #roger cadoret x oc #roger cadoret x isabel #far cry new dawn #wip #fcnd #fc:nd #fc5 #my oc #my writing #work in progress #writing #fanfiction #isabel is so chaotic when she's flustered djkfhjf #god help her #answered #inafieldofdaisies #yokobai #cassietrn #whatwouldvalerydo