#just saw a man on the train who had a tattoo of a naked woman being bound gagged and entered by a snake just very graphic on his arm

[yuri-for-businesswomen]

men getting a tattoo of a bound and gagged woman be like how do i let people know im a total creep before even talking to them

#just saw a man on the train who had a tattoo of a naked woman being bound gagged and entered by a snake just very graphic on his arm #he looked at me and i just frowned and tried to look at him judgingly lol #like its giving sex pest its giving pornbrain its giving misogyny its giving you should be jailed #mine

[scuttling]

Present

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairing: Aaron Hotchner/Spencer Reid/Latina OFC Sophie Cortes Word Count: 4,598 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Voyeurism, Masturbation in shower, Sexting, Oral Sex, Dom/sub, Protected Sex, Established Aaron/Sophie Summary: Sophie sends Aaron a sexy video while he’s away on a case, Spencer watches it, and smut ensues. Collection: Part 1 of 5 of Present, Perfect, Patient, Promise, Pretend series Note: This is a previously published work from A03, just moving it over to tumblr because I was thinking about it today. 🤤 Link to A03 or read below! “I sprained my ankle. I’m not injured, not really. I can even walk on it,” Sophie assures as she pours them each a cup of coffee in the break room. She sets the carafe down, takes a step, wobbles, and Aaron catches her around the waist with a raised eyebrow of judgement. “Okay, so I can’t walk that well, but I can certainly sit in a conference room bouncing ideas around and drinking coffee. That’s all Rossi does, anyway.” He chuckles softly, knows she’s still… warming up, to Rossi and his idiosyncrasies.

“You know the rules.”

“Yeah, because we’re so good at following the rules,” she teases with a smirk, running her hands down his stomach, stopping at his belt. He looks over at the bullpen out of the corner of his eye, shoots her a warning look that makes her sigh and pull away.

“Think of it as choosing our battles,” he suggests, hoping that might get her back on track. “If you want to continue making out in my office, you have to stay here this one time.” She smiles, crooked, nods her head.

“Okay, when you put it that way, I’ll take the make outs.”

“I thought you might. Plus, you get to spend all day with Garcia. I figured that would be like a dream come true.”

“It is, definitely. It’s more the long, cold, nights that I’m worried about.” He sighs, because she’s being so dramatic, but he doesn’t want to give her the satisfaction of making him smile again. He can’t be looking as smitten and infatuated with her as he is all of the time. “I’m going to be so lonely.”

“Oh, I think you’ll manage without sex for a few nights,” he teases, and she looks scandalized, as if that wasn’t exactly what she was getting at.

“It’s not about sex, it’s about intimacy, comfort, sharing my bed with a big heavy man who scares away the bad dreams.” She grins lecherously and he prepares to roll his eyes. “And who has a dick that won't quit.”

“Like I said,” he enunciates, taking his travel mug of coffee for the road, “you’ll be fine for a few nights. If you do decide to touch yourself, though, make sure you send me a present,” he reminds her, because they aren’t separated often, but when they are, a couple of racy pictures or videos almost always exchange hands. He bends for a quick kiss on the lips, brushes her cheek. “I love you. Behave.”

“I love you,” she murmurs, all tenderness and no heat, now. “Be safe.” Two days after taking the case, the team is on the jet for a night flight home. Spencer is tired, but he can’t sleep; JJ is stretched out on the couch, Morgan and Emily are slumped over in their seats up front with pillows and headphones, and Rossi has been snoring softly since they took off, so it’s just him and Hotch awake. They are in seats next to each other, Spencer by the window, because he knew he would be a little restless, and that Hotch wouldn’t sleep, so it seemed like the safest bet if he didn't want to disturb anyone’s rest.

He also enjoys the comforting presence of the older man, always, but especially in the calm, quiet atmosphere of the flight home.

He tries to listen to music, a podcast, but he eventually pauses it and just rests his eyes, his head, listens to Hotch as he flips pages or taps away at his phone. He’s probably texting Sophie, who’s home with a sprained ankle and who hasn’t stopped grumbling about it since. He smiles at the thought, likes when she’s comfortable enough to complain to him. Likes being someone she turns to.

He sighs. Feelings are complicated. Sometimes he hates being part of such a tight-knit team because it makes the things he feels all the more confusing, especially when the two objects of his (totally manageable) affection are in a relationship together; he feels like the odd man out, as always, can’t deny that it hurts sometimes.

He’s drifting in and out of the not quite asleep stage when he hears sound coming from Hotch’s phone, shuffling, ambiguous noises. He lifts his eyelids just slightly to see a video up on the screen, a wall that looks vaguely familiar, like a bathroom, maybe. There’s nothing particularly intriguing about that, but then he sees a pair of smooth, bare legs standing inside a bathtub and his interest is… piqued.

There’s another sound, unmistakably a shower being turned on, and then the woman—it is Sophie, no doubt; even if he can’t see her face, the tattoo on her forearm is easily identifiable—squats down, and she is so gloriously naked that he just… freezes. His body and his mind are suspended in a conflicting state of this is wrong, I shouldn’t be seeing this, and this is the best thing I’ve ever seen, and why is Hotch watching this right now, with me right next to him, and hnnng.

She pulls the shower head into view, lets it pour over her hair from what he can see of it, then down her breasts, her stomach, arms and legs; after that, she adjusts it to a stream that is harder and more controlled than one would typically use in the shower. He wonders why, thinks it could be uncomfortable, until she moves it to hover over her pussy, moaning softly, and then he really, really gets it.

His heart is racing as she runs her hand over her body, thumbing at her nipples, sighing at her own touch. She rocks back and forth a little so the stream of water hits her clit, then lower, between her lips, against her opening, and Spencer swallows hard.

“Mmm,” she sighs, and the sound goes straight through him; he feels himself getting hard as she murmurs, pressing her hand against the rim of the tub for leverage. “Mmm, yeah.” He can see that Hotch is breathing heavily next to him, eyes fixed on the screen. It’s too dark in the cabin to see his lap, but he knows he must be aching in his pants, too, wonders what it would be like if he reached out and touched him there.

Sophie is incredibly gorgeous as she works to reach her climax, bouncing lightly on her heels as the pressure builds, her moans longer and louder, but it’s when she stops moving and presses the shower head closer, directly over her clit, that he knows she’s almost ready to come.

“Oh, yeah, yeah,” she whines, pinching a nipple, arching her back, and her voice is high and breathy and addictive. He would give anything to be in the same room as those sounds, to pull her wet body close and help her get off. “Fuck, mmm,” she purrs, bringing the stream even closer, and she comes, short, loud moans that sound like they’re being ripped from her throat as her thighs shake, her chest heaves.

She drags a slow hand down her body, like she’s soothing herself, and then shudders, pulls the shower head away like maybe the pressure is too much where she’s sensitive. With a sigh, she reaches for the phone, tilts it so her face is in view, cheeks flushed and wet hair clinging to her shoulders. She turns up her lips in a coy smile. “See you soon.” The video ends.

It takes Hotch a moment to lock his phone, and he looks a little dazed when Spencer risks a glance up at his face—with good reason. If he was on the receiving end of videos like that, he would never be able to focus on anything.

The rest of the trip is quiet, certainly uneventful in comparison. Spencer makes a show of opening his eyes fully, stretching, thinks it would be too awkward now to admit he saw and heard every incredible second; Hotch looks over at him with an expression he can’t read, and then flips open a new case file.

When they land, he and Hotch are the last two to grab their bags, and Hotch brushes up against him in a way that feels purposeful, but is probably wishful thinking. “Do you have anything going on for the rest of the night?” he asks, and Spencer shakes his head.

“Nope, nothing.” Maybe masturbating—definitely masturbating—but he doesn’t need to know that. Hotch nods, thoughtful.

“You should come home with me.” Spencer looks at him with wide eyes.

“What?”

“We both know that you saw the video,” he says in a low, no nonsense tone that makes him gulp. “I told Sophie, and she seemed… interested in the prospect. So you should come home with me. If you want to.”

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—” Hotch raises a hand, halting his train of thought.

“I may have had a suspicion that you were awake when I chose to play the video, so don’t be so hard on yourself.” Spencer looks at his face, trying to determine if he’s saying what he thinks he’s saying. He did that on purpose? He knew that Spencer was watching? “No pressure, if you don’t want to come over. I would never want you to do something you don’t want to do.”

“I do want to… do… whatever it is we’re doing,” he rambles awkwardly, and Hotch chuckles.

“What we're doing is having sex. And I won’t touch you, or anything, if you don’t want that. It can be me and Sophie and you and Sophie.” Spencer swallows hard again, so turned on and breathless that it makes him feel bold.

“What if I do want you to touch me?” he asks, and Hotch leans in slowly, hot breath at his ear.

“Then I’m going to touch you.” When he pulls away, his fingers brush over Spencer’s jaw. “Do you want to come home with me?”

His answer is an emphatic yes. Aaron is due home any minute, and Sophie is vibrating with nervous energy, puttering around the apartment in her robe, couldn’t sit still if she tried. She waits for him on nights he has to work late and can’t bring it home, sure, but it’s almost never like this, where they are apart for days on end. It’s seriously affecting not only her sex drive, but also her mental state, which she hadn’t expected; she feels clingy, needy already, wants to smell him and touch him and taste him and be caged in by him, and it’s frankly getting a little out of hand.

It doesn’t help, she guesses, that she sent that video, but she was horny and wanted his attention… and boy, did she get it, had several texts come through a couple of minutes after she sent it, all very sweet and dirty and good.

Then she saw one about Reid, wanted to be mortified, but she just… wasn’t.

A: So, Reid saw me watching your present.

S: Oh, really? Did he like it?

A: Yeah, he liked it.

A: I bet he’d come pretty quick if he got to see the real thing.

A: Touch you… taste you.

God, how can this calm, controlled man make her such a whimpering mess with just a couple of texts? It’s unfair, is what it is.

S: Maybe we should invite him over sometime.

S: I’ve seen him looking at you, too.

S: Imagine how pretty he would look between us.

That was about an hour ago, and the only thing she received in reply was a brief message letting her know they’d landed and that he was on the way home. She hopes she didn’t upset him, knows that he’s mentioned being interested in men but that he’s never slept with one, hopes she didn’t hit a sore spot. She promises herself they will talk about it when he gets home.

But when he gets home, he kisses her so deeply she feels faint. Her body is lit up in an instant, suddenly desperate for more of him.

“I brought you a present,” he says, so low and sexy, and she grins, breathless, wraps her arms around his neck.

“Ooh, you know I love presents. What is it?”

“It’s not a what, it’s a who,” Spencer says, then, from the open doorway, and she glances between them, bites at her bottom lip. He steps inside and closes the door.

Fuck.

“Hey, Spencer,” she greets, but she can hear the tremble in her voice when she does. He looks to Aaron, and Aaron reaches back, wraps a hand around his wrist, guides him closer.

“I told him what you said, about how pretty he would look between us. He happened to agree, so I figured, why wait?” He looks her over intently, like he’s making sure she’s okay with this.

She is so okay with this.

She wants to speak but she’s so out of breath, her heart beating so fast, that she just pulls him down for a kiss, messy and graceless, and then she reaches for Spencer’s shirt and pulls him close as well, doing the same. She takes turns kissing them, ten kisses each, probably, until Aaron pushes her back gently with a soft laugh.

“Easy, baby. He’s going to stay the night; we have time to go slow.” Her chest is heaving, and he walks around so he’s standing behind her, unties the sash of her robe, pulls it off to reveal the lacy black bra and panties she thought would be a sexy surprise.

He kind of outdid her in the surprise department, but she’ll forgive him this once.

He runs his hands over her panties, her stomach, her boobs, and she bends her neck back, arching up for his lips, moaning against them. Spencer approaches, a bit hesitant, puts his hands on her hips and kisses her exposed throat, her chest. She feels like she’s died and gone to heaven, two pairs of hands on her, two mouths, her body pressed between them tightly. She thinks offhand that she’s glad her ankle doesn’t hurt anymore, because she could stand between them all night long, if they keep this up, would be content to never move again.

Then one of Spencer’s beautiful, incredible hands slips down the front of her panties, and they stop kissing her to kiss each other, and she whimpers, and her knees give out anyway.

“So dramatic,” Aaron whispers teasingly in her ear as he holds her up, big hands on her body, and she shakes her head, wets her lips.

“Not being dramatic. This is so fucking sexy.” Spencer—apparently not worried about the fact that she almost collapsed on them because Aaron wasn’t—slides two fingers over the slippery wet lips of her pussy, and she groans. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to take all the attention,” she murmurs, moving her hips against his hand. “Kiss some more, please.” Spencer huffs a laugh and leans in, catches Aaron’s lips with his. From her point of view she can see the slide of their tongues, lips pressing together, and she groans again.

“If it’s okay with you,” Spencer says to her when they separate, “I would really like to eat your pussy now.” He kisses her softly on the cheek, and she exhales, shaky.

“Yeah, please—please do that.”

“I’ll hold you,” Aaron whispers, lips at her ear. “I’ll be right here, I promise.” She hums, leans back against him, and Spencer drops to his knees, guides her panties down. She’s so wet there’s slick on the insides of her thighs, and when he lifts one leg to hook her knee around his shoulder, he licks it away. She shudders.

She feels like she should have known how hot and skillful his mouth would be, because he talks so fast sometimes that his brain—his incredibly high-functioning brain—can’t even keep up, and she usually finds his mouth cute, but right now she finds it sexy, will probably never be able to look at it without thinking of the way he feels with his tongue in her pussy.

He is very enthusiastic, licking her quick and deep, with one hand on her waist and the other rubbing her clit like he’s got a PhD in bringing girls to orgasm, and she knows she’s moaning like a slut, gets even louder when Aaron bites at her earlobe, kisses her neck, squeezes her breasts. “Fuck, oh fuck, yeah,” she pants, reaches a hand down to wrap it in Spencer’s hair, making him groan; she rocks against his delicious mouth, which he encourages, moving his hand to her ass and guiding her closer.

“Come for him, baby,” Aaron urges, hand inside the cup of her bra to pinch her nipple. “Isn’t he pretty, down on his knees for you?” She drops her head back against him, brings a hand to his hair, too.

“So pretty.” He stoops down to kiss her as best as he can, and Spencer’s looking up at them, gorgeous, and she comes tugging on both of them, panting into Aaron’s mouth.

When Spencer stands up and kisses her, mouth soft and wet after working her through her orgasm, and then Aaron leans in to taste both of them on her lips? It’s a wonder she doesn’t get weak in the knees again. Sophie is soft and pliant after she comes, clinging onto them, and Aaron lifts her into his arms and carries her to the bedroom, Spencer following closely behind. He sets her on the bed, unhooks her bra and pulls it off; Spencer watches closely as he does, kneels down to kiss her, brush his hands over her bare breasts, and she sighs at the treatment.

“What do you want to do?” Aaron asks them, getting down on his knees as well, and he kisses them, thrills at the similarities in their soft lips, soft skin.

“I wanna suck you both,” she says, and he touches her face gently.

“Are you sure you’re up for that? You look a little fuzzy.” He didn’t think that she would get submissive so quickly, since he hadn’t actually dominated her, but can see how feeling at the mercy of two men might make her go to that place; he just wants to make sure he does what’s best for her while she’s there.

“Might not be able to get you off, but I want them in my mouth. Can I?” She looks up at him, then at Spencer, who swallows visibly. Aaron gave him a little insight on the way there about how they normally interact with each other, how she likes to ask for permission and he likes to give it—or deny it, depending.

(Aaron Hotchner’s crash course on having a submissive girlfriend—he might have to find a way to monetize that, somehow.)

“You can, for a couple minutes. Then what do you want?” He looks to Spencer to see if he has anything in mind.

“I don’t—I’ve never done this,” he says quietly, and he and Sophie both touch him, and she nuzzles against his shoulder.

“Neither have we, it’s okay. You want to, though?” He looks at them with soft, open eyes, and nods without hesitation.

“Yeah, I want to.” Aaron takes his face in his hands, kisses him deeply.

“Okay, good. Sophie,” he says softly, touches her face too, “do you think you would be alright being with both of us at the same time?” She licks her lips and frowns a little like she’s confused.

“What do you mean?”

“Maybe we could lay you down, and one of us could be inside your pussy, and one of us could be inside your mouth. I’ll take your mouth,” he decides quickly, because she doesn’t like it too fast or rough and he knows her limits, doesn’t want to hurt or overwhelm her. “You’ll be full of us, baby. Do you think you want that?” She closes her eyes, nods, and Spencer touches her throat with long, gentle fingers.

“You’d give us that?” he asks like he’s in awe, and Aaron gets it, knows how much it means that she trusts them with something like this. “You’re incredible, Sophie,” he murmurs against her lips, and she sighs, pulls him closer.

Watching them make out is a very enjoyable thing, made all the more so when he decides to come up behind Spencer to unbutton his pants, untuck his shirt. The younger man moans at the feel of his hands helping him undress, and he presses back against Aaron’s chest, panting and eager. He guides him to stand, gets him naked, and wraps a hand around his long, hard cock, stroking it a couple times.

“You want her mouth on you while I get undressed?” he asks, and Spencer bucks up into his hand, nods quickly. Sophie reaches for him, pulling him closer, and she licks at the head, moans. “Gently,” he murmurs in Spencer’s ear, “let her be in control.” He nods seriously, presses a hand to Sophie’s cheek when she takes him in.

Between the two of them, their moans are so filthy, wanton, that he craves the heat of their mouths, so he captures Spencer’s in a kiss when he can, pulling off his clothes slowly so they can enjoy the time together. “Sophie,” Spencer murmurs, and she looks up at him, and Aaron’s arms around him, and whines. She pulls off of him, licks her lips looking hungry.

“I’m ready for you guys.” The simple sentence makes his dick throb, and he lays her back on the bed, kisses her soft and sweet and slow. Spencer curls around them, kisses them and rubs his hands over their bare skin.

“Spencer, can you get in that drawer and take out a condom?” he has presence of mind to ask, glad that the ones they have should fit him, and he stretches up, all long, lithe muscles, grabs one and tears the wrapper open, rolling it on. Neither Aaron nor Sophie can take their eyes off of him, and when he’s finished, Aaron moves out of his way so he can settle between her legs. She hitches up her knees, and he knows first hand how inviting that can be, understands completely when he shivers with pleasure.

Aaron kisses Sophie a few more times, whispers sweet, loving words into her ear, and then he crawls up by her head, the tip of his dick at the same level as her mouth.

“Are you okay, baby?” he asks, running his hands over her breasts, and she nods, puts her hands on Spencer’s hips and pulls him closer until he is fully sheathed inside her; he keeps still, panting, and Aaron leads forward to brush his hair back. “You’re so gorgeous, Spencer,” he coos, and then he presses into Sophie's mouth, sighs.

She takes him in hand, guiding him in and out at a pace she’s comfortable with, so he just lets her take the lead and runs his hands over her body, Spencer’s fingers where they press against her thighs. He is pumping into her deeply now, an easy rhythm Sophie matches with her hand, and the room is filled with a symphony of soft, wet sounds and moans and hums that Aaron doesn’t think he’ll ever forget.

He is wholly unsurprised when he is the first to come, because watching Spencer’s hips move against her, his hands careful where he holds her down, and feeling her moan around his cock because she loves feeling full, it’s all too much for him. He spills with a groan, and Spencer watches his face like it’s art, which makes him feel warm in his chest. Something to explore at a later time.

Sophie lets go of him, panting, and he slides down to his belly so he can kiss her mouth, caress her. He looks up at Spencer, who appears to be trying so hard not to come, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, and he rubs Sophie’s clit to help get her close, so he’ll stop trying so hard and just let himself feel good.

“Oh, god,” Sophie whines, brings her hands up to squeeze hard at her breasts. “This is good, so good, mmm.” She starts bucking hard against him, her neck stretched long, and he knows the instant she comes, her mouth opening in a wordless moan before she all but howls her pleasure. Spencer groans, shifts his legs a little so he’s hovering over the both of them, and he thrusts for a few more seconds before finding his own orgasm. “Hmm, yes,” Sophie sighs, and he kisses her slowly, passionately; Aaron rubs both of their bodies as they shiver with aftershocks, and they all sink into the mattress, deeply spent.

They cuddle together for a few minutes, until Sophie complains she has to pee, and she and Spencer go into the bathroom together to take care of business. Aaron runs a hand through his hair and exhales long, because this is the absolute last thing he expected to happen, while also being one of the most unforgettable nights of his life; he knows they’ll look to him for guidance about what to do next, and he’s really not sure what to say when they do.

When they amble back into the room, they’re both smiling softly, and Aaron smiles because he can’t help it. They climb back onto the bed, Spencer in the middle, though Sophie reaches across him to rub at the hair on Aaron’s chest.

“So that’s a thing that happened,” Sophie says eventually, propped up on her elbow, looking over at their two blissed out faces with nothing short of affection. “Is it a thing that’s going to happen again, or a thing we swear up and down didn’t happen?—No pressure, only asking so I know how to compartmentalize my many, many thoughts.”

Aaron looks to Spencer and can’t help but feel like there’s something more worth exploring, there. He thinks Spencer feels the same when he pulls him in for a tender kiss.

“I think it should happen again,” Spencer murmurs, and Sophie leans down to kiss him too.

“Yeah, it should happen again.” Aaron sits up, smiles at his girl, guides her mouth to his.

“Okay, then.” They kiss again, easy, sweet, and he breathes a laugh. “We owe you for this, you know: you and your little shower performance.”

“Oscar worthy,” Spencer says with a grin, and Sophie shoves him playfully.

“Hey, a girl has needs.”

“And we’ll help you meet them,” Aaron promises, running a hand suggestively along her body, and she covers it with hers.

“No way. I’m tapped out, buddy. Unless I get sleep or pizza, no more sex from me tonight.” Aaron feigns hurt, pulls away, flops onto his back with an exaggerated sigh, and she crawls past Spencer to straddle his waist. “So dramatic,” she teases, leans down for a kiss, then climbs off the bed altogether. “I’m good with pizza—I don’t want to go to sleep just yet, not when I’ve got two pretty boys in my bed.”

“I second pizza,” Spencer murmurs, his face pressed against Aaron’s bicep. Sophie pauses in the doorway, a thoughtful look on her face.

“Do you think they’ll do a third veggie, and a third pepperoni, and a third Hawaiian? Or am I gonna have to order two pizzas?” She comes back over to the bed, kisses them both soft, affectionate, and smiles. “Always complicating things, Spencer Reid.”

#aaron hotchner x original female character #hotch x original female character #latina original female character #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader #spencer reid x original female character #aaron hotchner x spencer reid #aaron hotchner x spencer reid x original female character #spencer reid x reader

[littlemisslipbalm]

Little Border Town

Summary: It begins with a man and a woman, as it always seems to. One lives in France and the other lives in Italy, technically, but they’re also neighbors. Various issues arise between these two and they can’t ever seem to see eye to eye on anything. Will they ever move past their petty fighting or is the little town they live in doomed to only gossip about what Harry and Y/N are fighting about today?

AKA: Harry and Y/N are neighbors that fight all the time, the whole town wants to know when they’ll just fuck. 

Featuring italrry as well as mustachrry! and running italrry... I hope y’all like! this is just part one, so much more is in store so pls let me know what you think :) lots of love - first fic that’s not named from a quote said in the story I’m shook!! the growth, the range...she has it apparently! side note: i had to change the gif from italrry/mustachrry bc something is whack with the formatting and either the keep reading or the title keeps disappearing so i tried some stuff to resolve it *sobbing*

Word Count: 8.5k | Warnings: swearing, mentions of relatives death, bickering, otherwise tame for now?

Pt. 2

-

There’s a little town that straddles the border between Italy and France. It’s just a little ways from Nice on the French side and Ventimiglia on the Italian side. The population is rather small and the tourists who come are usually either returners or are very very lost. One street you’re in France and the next you’re in Italy. It can be confusing to newcomers, but the locals love it -- for the most part. These streets are easily delineating as French or Italian by the little country flags that hang above all the shops or in the windows.

It’s a coastal town with cobblestone everywhere and bright painted buildings. The water is a soft blue and the wind barely ever brings any waves greater than a foot high. There’s a shop for everything and it seems to be frozen in the past from the outside, thankfully if you step into the tiny bed and breakfast there is wifi. The sun almost always shines down on this sweet piece of paradise, the winter does however bring gusting winds and thunderstorms. Those storms rattle the little town and afterwards you’ll find the residents picking up the pieces that have fallen off the shops.

Now, this little border town, with its streets separated by French and Italian customs, well almost all of them, it seems imperative to mention. There, in the exact middle of the little town, is one street that is split down the middle, half in France and half in Italy. The locals from the French and the Italian sides love that street the most because it has this certain dynamic spark of change that brings them together, makes them unique. Except for two locals that seemingly hate this street. These two locals aren’t actually true locals either. They both moved there a couple years ago.

Harry, from the Italian side, owns the shoemaker and repair shop. He hailed from England and moved to the little town when his great uncle, Joe, had sent him a letter pleading for him to take over his shop so that he could retire. Harry, ever the traveler, hopped on the next flight out to Italy and then traversed by train and bus until he reached his Joe’s home. Like most of the shops, there was a living space above the shop area. Harry lived there with Joe until he passed away a few years back leaving Harry to tend the store alone. He didn’t mind too much, being left there alone. He had always loved Italy and to get to live in the countryside in a little cobblestone town and own a shop was a dream come true. After living there for two years, he had bought a sailboat that he would take out when the shop was closed. He also had bought himself a motorcycle that he would ride to the next greatest city if he was ever in dire need of more of a nightlife as a 26 year old. He loved it, his own slice of paradise… except for his thorn in his side.

Y/N, from the French side, owns the bookstore, which carries lots of vintage books and records. She had moved there after college. In school, she had studied French and taken a year abroad in Paris and had traveled down to Nice for a month. While in Nice she had made a few friends and one of them had come from the little border town. They had insisted they all go there for a weekend. When Y/N stepped foot onto the street she now lived on a few years before, she fell in love. Seeing the little Italian and French flags in the windows and potted plants with a view of the sea had been so endearing to her.

She was drawn to the bookshop and had chatted up the old French woman who ran it. The woman had reminded Y/N of someone but she couldn’t quite place her finger on it. It was strange for her because she often found these connections with older people, she felt like she had known this woman her whole life. Y/N went back into the store the next two days she was there to talk to the woman again, Marie, she had learned. Before she left the little town she left her number with Marie and kept in some contact with her. After about a year though, their communication fell off. Y/N was sad but understood that life can be busy for people and that she obviously wasn’t the most important woman in the little border town bookkeeper’s life. Or so she thought. In the middle of the summer after she graduated college, Y/N was backpacking through Iceland and got a call from who she assumed was Marie. She was ecstatic and answered the call immediately. Sadly, it wasn’t Marie, instead a friend who had been given her will to execute. In her will she had left Y/N the bookshop. Her reasoning was similar to why Y/N had liked Marie so much, she said that Y/N had reminded her of her sister who had died unexpectedly in her teenage years. Being so far from home at the time and completely consumed with love and loss, Y/N had agreed to take over the shop without any hesitation.

She got home and informed her parents of her choice and moved to the little border town as soon as she could. She lived in the little area above the shop that Marie had also gifted to her and she tended the shop downstairs. The living area hadn’t really been cleaned out and Y/N had found an old collection of vinyls in the corner of the bedroom. As much as she wanted to keep them to herself, she thought it would be a good addition to the shop and had made a section for records in memory of Marie. She loved France and the coast, she bought a little car and would drive to Nice every so often or to the more sandy beaches along the French coast. It was quiet and different from the life she had maybe expected, but taking over a bookshop because a kind stranger had gifted it to you as one of their dying wishes wasn’t something Y/N could ever turn down. Her soul was too sweet. At least it was for most people, not for her neighbor though.

Her neighbor was the shoemaker, Harry. Their shops lived against one another even though he was on the Italian side and she was on the French. They were located exactly at the split between France and Italy. With less than a foot between the buildings, they saw a lot of each other. On their first interaction, Y/N had seen too much of her neighbor, meaning she had seen all of him. Their shops were similar to track homes, meaning they were built completely the same only mirrored. This meant that the windows of their bedrooms matched up exactly, she wondered who had thought that was a good idea after her first night. When Y/N had first moved in it was August, she left her window open and without the shade down to let as much fresh cool air in as possible. With her jet lag, she had found herself wide awake at about three am. Pacing around her room in the pink silk tank dress she had decided to sleep in, her eyes froze on her window - or rather, who she saw through her window. The light from her room and the moon were strong enough to illuminate the tanned and tattooed skin of the naked man in the room next to her. He held a bowl in his large hands that he seemed to be spooning cereal into his mouth from.

His half-lidded eyes flickered to the light coming from the place next door. The bookshop had been closed all summer and no one had been living in the upper area for a little longer than that so he had gotten into the habit of leaving his window open. He was half drunk after stumbling his way home from the tiny bar down the street. He had decided a naked cereal run would be a good idea to tide over his cravings. But upon seeing the girl wearing lingerie a mere two feet away from him, separated by the screens on their open windows, he realized that wasn’t actually true. His eyes widened only slightly as he saw her, his drunkenness allowing him to keep his blushing to a minimum. His drunken confidence kept him from covering himself as he lifted a single brow and made a salute with his spoon hand before going back to his bed.

She stayed at the window for a moment after the naked man disappeared and then quickly ran back to her bed. She shut off her light and tried not to think about everything she had seen. She tried to not think about his toned arms that flexed as he moved around his food, or the tattoos that lined every part of his body (the tiger and ferns seared into her mind specifically), or his tousled chestnut hair, or his searing green eyes, or the full mustache that held a little milk from his cereal. She tried, she really did. But how was she supposed to face her neighbor ever again after that. Maybe he wasn’t her neighbor, she reasoned, maybe he was an acquaintance her neighbor had just spent the night with. That wouldn’t be better! Her hands grabbed her other pillow and shoved it over her face trying to force herself to go to bed.

The next day, she had been working out front of the bookshop, beginning to repaint the windowsills of the shop with some navy paint she had found in the back to give it an updated look. It was early and she hadn’t expected to see anyone at all. Her jet lag still ailed her and caused her to be up bright and early. This was her second run in with the shoemaker, this time though, both to her dismay and joy, he was fully clothed. He wasn’t watching where he was going and almost toppled the both of them over as he left his store front, locked the door behind him, and then set off down the street. His large body, covered in short black running shorts and a mesh grey tank top, bumped into her almost immediately. He was still fiddling with his music on his phone as he began his run. She jumped back and dropped the paintbrush from her hand. She yelped as his body collided with hers and he stopped in his tracks. His eyes scanned her and took in the light wash cuffed jeans and moss ribbed tank top she was wearing. They widened when he recognized her face, the expression of shock similar to that of last night when she had seen him in his bedroom. He smirked and took out one of his earbuds. She grabbed her paintbrush from the ground as he extended his hand to her.

“I’m Harry,” his hand is greeted with hers. He speaks to her in English and she decides it’s probably best to follow along with whatever someone else began with. She worried that she’d run into a lot of Italians who didn’t know French or English and she’d have some trouble. His eyes flicker to the bits of blue already littered on her hands and in her hair.

“Y/N.” She nods, avoiding eye contact with the man she had already seen too much of. At least he’s not your neighbor’s lover, he’s just your neighbor. She also notices how he doesn’t apologize for running into her.

“You were spying on me last night,” his hand returns to his side and his smile quirks up again as he watches her face flush. His nicely groomed mustache twitches, trying to contain his laughter.

“I was not!” She finally looks up at the taller man and takes in his tanned face that is even more attractive in the morning light and up so close. The hat he wears is funny, a blue trucker’s hat that read “If you ain’t a fisherman, you ain’t shit!”, and she would laugh if she couldn’t already tell he was going to be extremely annoying.

His smirk continues and he barks out a laugh. He removes his sunglasses to really look at her now. “It’s alright, I work hard for this,” he gestures to his body, “glad someone appreciates it. Just means I’ll need to be installing a shade now, I guess.”

“You don’t have a shade and you walk around your room naked?” She ignores his first bit of conversation. She can’t think about his body or how it had looked last night. She sets down her paintbrush and folds her arms across her chest, trying to figure the man in front of her out.

“No… but it’s not all my fault. You had your shade open too! Who’s willingly up at that time of night anyway? I was just fixing myself a snack after the pub.” He raises his brows triumphantly at her, feeling confident that he has gotten the upperhand in the conversation.

She narrows her eyes at him as she finally registers that his accent isn’t Italian or French. He’s British and she wonders what he’s done to get himself in this little border town. He also seems to own the shop beside her since he locked the door behind him. He was peculiar, but she couldn’t dwell on what she thought about him since he had just accused her of being a peeping tom.

“Someone is up at that hour because she just moved and has terrible jet lag and can’t sleep. The place has been completely closed up for months and I needed to get as much cool air in as possible before the hot day. That’s why I was up and that’s why my shade wasn’t down.” She stands up straighter and rolls her eyes at him, muttering something in French to herself about annoying men. She smiles to herself when Harry doesn’t seem to understand. He obviously can tell she said something, but he doesn’t know exactly what. He could understand a good bit of French and he could speak some, but if someone spoke quickly and quietly, like she had just done, he wouldn’t be able to make it out. He figured it was something rude, though, with the way she sounds and begins to turn from him.

“Are you here to stay?”

“Yes.”

“Well, welcome to the best place in the world. It was so nice, two countries couldn’t decide who got to keep it and decided to split it.”

His arm sweeps out around him, gesturing to the street around him. She smiles up at him before following his arms movement. His arm had more tattoos than she had realized from her eyeful last night. She noticed the intricacies of all the black ink and again she had a million questions that she had to keep to herself. He was arrogant, conceited, impatient and a little bit odd and she knew all of this after barely one conversation. At least they could agree on one thing, they loved this town.

He looked back at her after scanning the street and saw her smiling in wonderment at everything around her. This brought a fleeting genuine smile to his face, knowing she was happy to be there. He had known Marie and was sad to see her go less than a year after his great uncle. He had always thought that Marie and Joe were both secretly pining over each other. Constantly stopping into each other’s shops and waving from their windows at each other, but Joe had always shaken his head at Harry when he mentioned it.

His smile faded when her eyes came back to his fac face face. Her smile disappeared as well. “Right, so, see you around…?” He said, already forgetting her name. She scoffs when she realizes what happened and then repeats her name. He nods curtly before replacing his sunglasses and single airpod and starts running again. She calls after him, “Thanks for the apology!” and then mutters to herself, “le con” knowing she shouldn’t shout that down the street where other people speak French. He doesn’t hear any part of it, his music up high enough to drown out the sounds of the world.

-

Y/N settled into the bookshop fairly easily, but she never failed to mention how unhelpful Harry had been:

“Yes, well, it’s been going pretty good...except for this one man. Well, I’d hardly call him a man -  a boy. My neighbor, actually, he owns the shoe shop...no, nevermind that, he practically made it his mission to make my move the hardest thing in the world...Harry -- yes, that’s his name, Mama… well I don’t know, It’s just Harry. - it doesn’t matter! He’s been in my way at every turn… yes, both physically and metaphorically...I’m not kidding! And I’m not being dramatic… Well, It was nice talking to you. Love you, talk soon.”

That was her first telephone conversation with her mother since arriving in the little town. Maybe ten days after she arrived. Naturally, she had it in the downstairs area of her home, the bookstore. And naturally, Harry had wandered in, to discuss one of their shared planters, and overheard her entire side of the conversation and gathered the rest from his own imagination. When she had laid eyes on him after setting down her phone, she rolled her eyes at the smirking Chesire cat look on his face.

“You would be the kind of man to eavesdrop, hm?” She restacked a group of books that were already in order.

“Thought I was a boy?” his smirk remained on his face. He strided closer to the counter she stood behind.

“Like I said...What can I help you with?” Her voice drips with venom as she finally turns her eyes to look at Harry. His smirk still remains on his face now that she is making eye contact with him. He’s clad in a t-shirt that has some baseball team on it with burgundy corduroy flared jeans. She notices the strain of the shirt over his chest and biceps and avoids the scoff of how vain he must be to keep himself in that good of shape for tending a shoe store in the South of France, or rather Northern Italy…

“Right, Thought I’d pop in and tell you that one of our planters is shared. So you’ll have to talk to me before replanting anything. I noticed you coming in with tulips the other day.”

“The ones on the front of the street?” He nods as her head turns to glance out the front window. “Why the hell do we share a planter?”

“Because, my late great Uncle Joe and Marie fancied each other.” Her eyes went wide at his words, trying to think of Marie having a crush on someone. “They were never together, never admitted the fancying, but they always did the planters together. They each had one of their own and then bought the third together, said it made sense to make the shops look nice...I know it was just so they had more to tend to - together.”

She hums, taking in everything that he said and how his eyes shine slightly just at the mention of his uncle. His voice had perked at the story he had just spun for her and she smiles thinking about the idea of love and loving someone so much that you’re content with simply planting flowers together. It seemed really old-fashioned to her, but it also brought even more charm to the town she now called home. Romance was still alive here, or so she hoped.

“Okay, I’ll make sure to let you know when I’ve decided what flowers I want to put in there.” She turns around, assuming the end of the conversation and getting back to work. She doesn’t really find a reason to entertain Harry anymore than necessary. Like she told her mother, he was constantly in her way or being naked in his room, something she had chosen to leave out of her conversation with her mom.

“You’ve misunderstood me. Maybe my English is getting rusty, I rarely speak it since everyone else knows Italian.” She flips around at his rude comment, eyes alight with fire once again. “If you want to replant anything, which I don’t understand why you would, the flowers I put are wonderful, we’ll have to discuss it. It’s not you just telling me you’ll be doing it. We own it equally and I won’t let you bulldoze my hard work.”

“On a planter?!”

She sticks on a sickly sweet smile as she tries to refrain from laughing. “I guess the countryside really can make some people enjoy the simpler things in life…” With that she walks to the back of the shop, leaving the stunned Harry to see himself out of it. When the little bell rings, her stifled laughter can be heard among the books.

-

It doesn’t matter what it is, Harry and Y/N are able to make a fuss about anything and the whole street, if not the whole town, had quickly figured that out. No one had a problem with Y/N, they welcomed her with open arms. Marie had told the entire French side and a good amount of the Italian side how wonderful and tenacious she was. How Y/N reminded Marie of her sister and upon meeting her, many agreed. But the first time Harry and Y/N had a public row, at the bakery in the center of town, on the French side, everyone was quick to realize that there was bound to be trouble between the two. It was a stark contrast to the loving comments and endearing looks the previous owners had always engaged in when they were still alive. This fight was maybe a few days after the planter business and Y/N had tried in the following days to get him to change the planters to no avail so she was in an especially pissed off mood towards Harry.

“Could you be taking any longer?” Y/N rolled her eyes as she stood behind her tall neighbor, her foot impatiently tapping a beat against the stone floor.

Harry stood hunched in front of the display case, scanning for exactly what he wanted and desperately trying to remember what he had come here for. He was a bit more dressed up that day, his mother had been coming to visit him for the first time in a while and he wanted to look nice and have a special treat for her when she arrived. His trousers were a deep navy that matched the navy of the stripes on his sweater vest, the blue pinstripes of the button down underneath was a slightly lighter shade, but blue nonetheless. He had rolled up his sleeves past his elbows, showing off his various tattoos and sinewy arms. As his eyes scanned over the case again, he ran through his mental list and bit at his lip, knowing he was forgetting something. He barely even heard her drawl out her insult, the tapping of her foot eventually getting his attention due to its faltering.

She straightened upright from her hip jutted position when he didn’t even bite at her unkind words. Her foot stopping its melody. As she was about to give another go, Harry turned around and she gave him her full look of displeasure.

“Country life requires a bit of patience. I doubt you’ve ever had to wait your turn in your life, but you’ll have to get used to it here.”

Her eyes roll instinctively. She noticed that they seemed to do it just at the mention of his name or the sound of his voice. She had always thought herself a lover of the British accent, citing Downton Abbey and various famous musicians - Freddie Mercury, George Harrison, Elton John, etc. - as members of that little island who were formative to her identity, loving them for their talents as well as their accent. Yet with Harry’s deep meandering British voice, she found herself wishing to be anywhere but in its presence. She found that he took so long to ever get out an actual full thought and when he did it was barely coherent. He also never failed to let his sarcasm or smugness drip into his tone, causing her to audibly be aware of the smirk on his face even if she couldn’t see it. The image flashing across her mind no matter what.

“You’ll have to let me know when you’ll be here again…” His eyebrows quirk at her odd response and it’s her turn to smirk up at him. She’s already satisfied with her quip even though she’s only gotten half of it out. His mouth opens to question her, but she finishes her thought. “That is, so I can plan around you. If I have to alot a whole day to the boulangerie just waiting for you… I’ll never get settled.”  

Harry scoffs and a fleeting expression of actual offense flashes across his features before turning around to finish his order. The others in line and the worker are all equally wide eyed and she hears some hushed whispering behind her, but it’s in Italian so she can’t make it out. The worker eyes Y/N as she rings up the rest of Harry’s chosen items. The worker smiles softly at Harry, feeling for the man she had known long enough to know that he wasn’t as rude as he was being with Y/N. She was also taken aback at Y/N’s response, but hadn’t seen her be rude otherwise so she had to assume it simply had something to do with the man.

When Harry is all set, he turns to leave and pass Y/N again. His eyes narrow and his words once again are turned nasty. “I wouldn’t mind if you never got settled,” he said before muttering something in Italian under his breath and leaving the store. She assumed it to be nasty as she eyed the couple behind her giggling, before walking to talk with the worker.

She shook her head trying to rid herself of her cold exterior that she kept having to conjure up for Harry. Now smiling, she asks for her items in French, happy to be speaking the language that brought her so much joy rather than English which seemed to be reserved only for Harry now. She hadn’t gone to the Italian side very much yet and the people she had met over there so far had spoken French to her once she had introduced herself.

As the worker finished with Y/N’s order, she asked in a hushed tone, in French, “How do you know Mr. Styles?”

“Harry?” Y/N guessed, not actually knowing Harry’s last name until now. The girl behind the counter smiles quickly before nodding. “Mon voison” she sighs and contains the accompanying eye roll when she sees the girl blush at the idea of being neighbors with Harry. “He’s a brat,” she continues and the girl laughs lightly before saying, “I think he’s rather sweet… not bad to look at either.” She looks out the window of the shop wistfully, like Harry’s still there and Y/N whips her head around, afraid he knew that she was talking about him. Thankfully, he was gone and Y/N laughs to herself when she feels the anxiety that had gripped her for a moment dissipates. Shaking her head at the girl, she grabs her items and change from her before making a break for the door.

It was soon after that incident that Harry and Y/N’s squabbles became notorious throughout the little town. Drama wasn’t common there and any sort of excitement was the talk of the town. It made sense that this was snapped up by the gossipers from the French and Italian sides alike.

Anne, Harry’s mother, was stopped the next day, when she was out for coffee and Harry was still at the shop, and was asked why her son was so angry at the new bookshop owner. She thought it made sense for her to drop into the bookshop next to her son’s shop after hearing that. Walking into the shop, she was greeted with the smell of lavender and the sweet melody of a love song. She immediately smiled at the charm of the bookstore, feeling like there was a bit more life in it then there had been the last time she had come in. Harry had told her that Marie had passed, but not that someone new had taken over and she was eager to meet them, especially now that she had been told about the town gossip.

A messy haired, but bright eyed Y/N came trotting out of the bookshelves at the sound of the door opening. A smile beamed on her face when she saw the mature brunette woman standing just inside the doorway. “Bonjour! Bienvenue!” She greets as she smooths some of her unkempt hair. Y/N had been digging around the back shelves of the store searching for a specific book one of her other customers had asked about yesterday. And much to her dismay, she wasn’t being very successful. When the woman only says “Bonjour” and makes no inclination that she plans to speak more French, Y/N believes it’s safe to assume she’s a tourist and switches to English. “Can I help you?”

Anne laughs happily to hear English and walks over to the counter that Y/N had walked behind. “Yes, Hi! My son lives here and I’ve just come to visit him. He didn’t tell me someone had taken over Marie’s shop.” Y/N perks at the name of Marie and she smiles sincerely at the woman now. Not quite a tourist, yet not quite a local, she noted for herself.

“Yeah, I’m Y/N. I was a friend of Marie’s, so to say, and she left me the place.” Pausing, Y/N turns over the vinyl that had just finished side A, and then returns to her place at the counter. “I’m still really new, but it’s a small town. I don’t know of many other people who weren’t born here who live here, though, who’s your son?” She rests her elbows on the counter and leans on them while staring at the kind woman. She had noticed the British accent, but hadn’t connected the dots yet. It wasn’t uncommon for people to have a British accent when they spoke English so it didn’t necessarily mean she was from England. But maybe Y/N should have noticed the light eyes and brown hair, maybe that should have been an indicator as well. Or the way she had said ‘my son’ and nodded in the way of the shoe shop. But no matter what, it came as a shock when the woman with the coffee in hand said what she said next.

“My son is your neighbor! He runs the shoe repair shop. His great uncle, my ex-husband’s uncle, left it to him a couple years ago.”  Y/N’s eyes widen so much so that she has to blink a few times to assure herself they haven’t popped out of her head.

“Harry...is your son?” She speaks slowly and Anne smiles at the girl. She nods and Y/N nods back, taking the news in. He has a mother...she guessed she should have expected that. It had been unlikely that her theory of him being sent straight from hell to make her life just like it was accurate.

“Here you are mum! What are you doin’ in here?” Harry rushes through the door when he sees his mother inside from the window. Y/N rolls her eyes on cue, but still notices the soft adoring look on his face while he gazes at his mother. She supposes she can concede that he isn’t the spawn of satan now. His look hardens when he turns to Y/N, who has straightened up to her full height upon his arrival.

“I was just meeting the new bookshop owner, Y/N!” She looks between Harry and Y/N. “What’s this about you being angry with her?” She asks more to Harry, but Y/N hears easily. Harry’s eyes flash at Y/N and her eyes widen once again, but shrugs to Harry, having no idea where his mother had gotten that idea.

“What did you say-”

“I didn’t say anything! I’d just realized she was your mother right before you walked in!”

“It’s true. Someone said something about it to me at the coffee shop. Of course, I didn’t even know the book shop even had a new owner, so I decided to come by.”

“It’s nothing, mum,” Harry insists.

“Harry and I...we just don’t exactly see eye to eye. But, I’m sure we’ll warm up to each other eventually,” she easily lies through her teeth, knowing she really couldn’t see herself ever being friends with this prick. “Feel free to look around the shop, it’s not exactly to my liking yet, but then again, I am just getting settled. Otherwise, you two should enjoy your time together. I’m sure it’s not often you can make the time to journey all the way out here.” She smiles sweetly at Anne, choosing to ignore Harry completely.

“Thank you, Y/N. Harry can be an acquired taste for some, but just below that exterior of his, he’s a giant softy.” Harry groans at his words, Y/N’s smile only grew.

“Au revoir! Good Day!” She calls when they leave the shop rather swiftly. It seemed to her that Harry was desperate to get his mother out of the shop as soon as possible, while Anne was happy to browse and look at what had been changed in the shop.  

-

Their early unhappy encounters were now months ago. But encounters of a similar caliber happened at least once a week. It’s hard to avoid a neighbor who you seem to find anything they do to be an annoyance, even their existence. They saw each other around town and at their shops and in their bedrooms. Even though they didn’t particularly like each other, hated was actually the correct word, the drawing of the shades was a near impossible task with the heat that plagued the little town between August and Mid-October.

They had fought over who could leave their shade open and who couldn’t because Harry believed only one of them had to close it to maintain privacy but then he wouldn’t settle on an agreement on taking turns closing shades. Y/N argued that they could both leave them open if he would agree to stop walking around his room naked all the time, but he refused that as well, at first. He conceded after a week of having his shade drawn that he would wear boxers. Therefore, practically every night, Y/N and Harry would see each other before bed since they actually seemed to have the same sleep habits. Sometimes she would have to yell at him to close his window if he came home with a guest and he would yell at her to turn off her light if she was reading or watching television in bed too late.

Thankfully, it was approaching the end of October and the weather would begin to change. There wouldn’t be a reason to have the window or shade open and they at least wouldn’t have to see each other right before bed.

This morning, Y/N is up early, she found it amazing to wake up early here, something she had never done before this little border town. It was teaching her new things about herself and changing her, but she liked it. In deep forest green flared pants and a long sleeved rainbow striped shirt, Y/N is watering the planters in front of her shop as well as the little ones attached below the windows. It was always a little cool in the mornings, but she had checked her weather app and seen that it was actually going to be the first cold day of the season. The first cold day since she had arrived actually. As much as she liked the sun, she also loved fall and winter, so she was excited to experience them for the first time in the little border town.

She smiles to herself as she moves around gracefully. In her back pocket, her music plays softly, Paul Simon sings lovingly to her. She hums along and moves to deal with the planter at the edge of the sidewalk. But she’s foiled by a man she seems to think about far too much for how much she says she dislikes him. Harry jogs back a half step upon realizing he has run into her yet again. One would assume that one of them would either change their routine or know to step out of the way or really just be a little bit more aware of their surroundings with how many times this has happened since Y/N’s arrival. Of course, their stubborn personalities actually require them to be unrelenting in this area of their lives as well. Much like the shade debate, the who was in the way of who debate is still majorly undecided.

“Oi!” He looks down at his shirt and it has a substantial wet spot on it. She had spilled some of the watering can’s contents.

“Excuse you!” She says simultaneously, not realizing she’d gotten water on him.

“I’m not the one who just threw water on someone.”

“Neither am I. You ran into me, it’s not my fault you never look where you’re going.”

“You’re just always in my way. This has been my route for ages, I’m not going to change it just because you moved in next door.” His hands fly around in annoyance and anger.

“You’re unbelievable!”

“Well! I can’t stand you!

“Clearly!” “Cleary.” They’re both huffing out insults that don’t seem to really be going anywhere. Harry has straightened his posture for once and she actually finds his true height slightly intimidating. They both breath for a moment, finding no other words to fill the tranquil morning silence that they had just disturbed.

“Are we ever going to have a conversation where we’re not at each other’s throats?” She sighs, feeling upset that the nice Fall day was suddenly ruined for the rest of time just because of this.The bickering with Harry was tedious and she couldn’t keep going like this. Being in a completely new place and running a small business was hard enough as it is. Something snapped in her just then, hoping to squash a part of her life that is causing her stress and exhaustion.

Harry’s expression falters, his eyes losing that glint of angered passion for a moment, he wasn’t expecting that response. It wasn’t necessarily mean, it was more like she was resigned. Simply done with the conversation. He felt his anger and annoyance slip away rather quickly at her question. She sees his mustache twitch, which she realized happened when he was either amused or confused. She didn’t think what she said was funny so she presumed he wasn’t sure what to make of what she had just said. Her head tilts to the side and waits for his response. Her watering can falls to her side now, making herself a little more comfortable and leaving only a small amount of air between her and Harry.

“Tired out already? Thought you were more of a competitor than that.” He mirrors her by tilting his head as well.

“I didn’t realize we were in any sort of competition.” She stepped forward and straightened her posture a little, feeling challenged by the tone he had taken. She may have a kind and soft exterior for most, but she was nothing if not fierce in her core. She was an Aries afterall. She wondered what Harry might be, she wasn’t super into astrology, but she was sure that he wasn’t an Aries. Aries were fiery and passionate and were very unwilling to admit defeat, so he had just hit the exact right note to keep her from squashing their now long-standing quarrel.

“We’re not. I just thought I had met my match, guess I was wrong.”

He looks off in the distance to be nonchalant, like he wasn’t trying to bait her even if that’s exactly what he was going for. Sure, he found her annoying, for whatever reason. But he had realized when she had posed the question, that he hadn’t had this much excitement in a while. Nothing and no one really challenged him in the little border town, his work was easy enough, money wasn’t tight, friends were easily made, and partners for the night were easy to find. He didn’t dislike any of those facts, truly, he counted himself lucky and was overjoyed that he lived there. But the verbal sparring he engaged in with Y/N fulfilled a need he hadn’t realized was going unsatisfied. He would never admit it, but she was often a highlight of his day. Getting into a little quarrel with her brought a smile to his face when he recalled it later. The bird she had started to flip him before bed made him genuinely laugh. He liked it, so when she seemed to want it to end, he did what he knew would make her change her mind. Tease her.

“I see...bonne journée, cul.” She decided to bid him farewell, knowing he didn’t plan on apologizing any time soon. She turned her body from him and Harry understood enough French that she had ended the conversation with a “good day”. He also knew that she had called him an “ass” as well. His brows raised for a moment at the insult before giving a flicked salute in her direction and jogging off for his morning run.

For some reason, after a moment of knowing Harry had gone she glanced up in his direction and watched his retreating figure. And for some reason she found herself looking back down at the flowers and smiling to herself. Somewhere inside her she was glad Harry hadn’t given into her veiled request to stop fighting. It was a strange sensation because as tiring it was to bicker with him, she feared if they stopped then they would stop talking at all and her heart panged at the thought. She didn’t know why and she didn’t care to know why either.

-

The bell of the book shop chimes and Y/N pops up from behind the counter. She had been crouched out of sight trying to organize the books of notes on customers Marie had left that Y/N had only just found. She hadn’t realized the cabinet existed in the counter so when she accidentally slid it open she was a little taken aback. Still, she was quickly distracted by the new customer. Her cream collared shirt was unbuttoned to where her collarbone and decalotage were on display, some gold medallions hanging around her neck today. Her worn light wash blue jeans were barely visible behind the counter due to her height. In her hair was a classic red bandana, pulling back her hair out of her face save for the strands that worked themselves free on their own accord.

Her smile was wide, happy to see the first customer of the day as she pinched at her shirt to make sure it was in place. Her posture slumped immediately when she realized that her first customer wasn’t a likely customer at all, instead who else but Harry. A mischievous glint in his eyes as he strolled in and right up to the counter. He leaned his large body down to rest his head in his hands and look up at her. He crossed one ankle over his other, getting comfortable as he stared wickedly up at her.

She wet her lips and took a step back. It was her first look at him today, apparently missing him on his morning run. Maybe she should have thought something of that after their encounter yesterday, but she didn’t. Like most days, his trousers were high waisted, Gucci likely - how he afforded them, she had no clue - and his usual shirt had now been accompanied with a striped red, black, and yellow open cardigan. His hair looked wet like he had just taken a shower, most of it was pushed up but a few strands fell over his large forehead. His mustache looked freshly trimmed and the rest of his facial hair had yet to leave any shadow after his obvious shave.

“Harry.” She says definitively, regarding him with even contempt.

“Ice Queen.” He levels, eyes narrowing.

She scoffs immediately. “At least give me something original...or accurate maybe. I may not like you, but ice queen? Hardly.”

He genuinely chuckles at her quick response and nods, agreeing easily with her for once. “You’re right. It was weak, I’ll admit. Feel like you need a nickname though, thought something really rude might upset you.” He smirks cheekily. His agreement doesn’t make her feel like she’s won at all, unsurprisingly.

She rolls her eyes at his comment. “Care to let me know why you’re gracing me with your presence today, Mr. Styles?” Moving around the counter, she begins to walk to the back of the shop, assuming Harry would follow her if he needed to. He apparently did and walked after her after realizing she wasn’t coming back.

He gives a half-laugh, “Yeah, I came in for a new record. I saw you decided to restock them...thought I’d pop in. It’s easier to get them here than order online...Curtain-hater.” He adds the name as an afterthought.

She glances at him from the bookcase she’s standing at, her eyes shifting to meet his. A smile fades into her features as she can’t contain the giggle at his new attempt at a nickname. She then wrinkles her nose, “That isn’t good either, but proficient try, I guess.” She gives him points for actually relating the name to her in some way, but it still doesn’t incite any anger in her which she knows is what he is going for. She probably should question herself why she’s helping Harry to nickname her something rude, but alas, she doesn’t. He nods solemnly, knowing she’s right again. He needs to find a nickname for her and he doesn’t know why, but he’s glad she seems alright with him giving her one, so long as it is fitting.

Her body shifts from the bookcase over to the boxes she had gotten to hold the vinyls. She had a small collection since the place was small overall, but Marie’s old collection had sold successfully so she had restocked afterwards, this time choosing some of her personal favorites.

“I’m not sure of your taste...I know you bought Marie’s Ella Fitzgerald album last time.” She sifts through the records, trying to find something she thought he might want. Like she said, she didn’t know what he liked, but she prided herself on knowing music and as an owner helping a customer, she wanted to please Harry. She knew he liked Ella from his previous purchase and she knew he liked Marvin Gaye in the evenings when he had guests - how very cliche she would add. “I mostly got in 70’s/80’s rock...Elton, Queen -”

“Got any Paul Simon?” Harry cuts her off and she looks at him surprised. Her fingers stopped when she looked up at him, their tips placed on the peaks of the albums covers. “Thought I heard it here the other day?”  

Her face perks up at the mention, she loved Paul Simon. “That was on my phone, but I do actually. Well, it’s Simon & Garkunkel. I can order something from just Paul Simon whenever I have to order again if you want?” Their gazes are holding each other’s, her fingers still rubbing over the pointed edges of the two albums she had between her hands. Harry’s watching her and leaning against the table the boxes sit on.

He nods after a moment. “That’d be great.”

“You’ll have to tell me which records of his you already have so I can order something new for you.” She grabs the Simon & Garfunkel album and flips it to Harry so he can look it over.

He regards the Parsley, Sage, Rosemary & Thyme cover reading over the fine print with all the tracks listed on the bottom right. “Thanks,” he mutters out after another moment of silence. It was rarely this quiet between these two, so it was different. “I’ll take it, Shrimp.”

“Oh my god!” She gasps before bursting into a fit of laughter. He had actually made her laugh and his eyes widen at the sound, almost confused that she hadn’t scoffed. Her laughter was far louder now then the half-hearted chuckle she had given earlier, which really was probably just another scoff. This laugh was loud and unbridled, but melodic and fun. In the back of Harry’s mind, he noted that he liked it. The first bullet point on a list that was likely to grow.  “That works, just the perfect amount of rude. I love and hate it at the same time.” She finishes before walking back to the front. Harry saunters after her, pleased with himself.  

“I’d like to say I wasn’t looking for your approval, but I guess I sorta was,” he ponders out loud as she takes the record back from him to type in the correct spelling into her relatively new computerized system. She twists her mouth to the side of her face to refrain from smiling anymore and then hums. Her eyes flit back up to Harry’s triumphant smile and for once she doesn’t want to slap it off of him.

“People-pleaser…” She prods him easily. His smile falters only slightly, not out of unhappiness, but of borderline jealousy.

“How do you come up with that so easily? It just rolls off the tongue,” He asks seriously, confused by the woman before him. This time she laughs as she hands him back the record and a copy of his receipt.

“I’m well read, that usually helps, but maybe it’s just my intrinsic wit that gives me an edge,” she raises her brows slightly, before beginning to walk off now that their exchange is done. She’s surprised she doesn’t want to rip her hair out after that encounter, but she figures she should simply count her blessings. “Au revoir, trouser-boy!”

He rolls his eyes as he turns on his heel and exits the shop, amused rather than annoyed with the bookkeeper.

-

enjoy! lmk what you thought :) part 2

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #once the slow burn ends #harry styles angst #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #enemies to lovers!harry #enemies to lovers #slow burn #the france italy one is a fever dream au #little border town #not proofread at all

[jaxsteamblog]

Druk

Click here to read the entire fic on AO3

Dragons.

Katara stared, open mouthed, from her spot far below the suspended walkway. Red and blue scales rushed around Thuy and Zuko, bringing tears to her eyes.

Red and blue.

“We felt it was almost prophetic,” One of the Sun Warriors next to her said. “When the Fire Lord married a Waterbender Queen.” 

“I can see why.” Katara said hoarsely. 

“And with the Avatar being a native water element, it was equally auspicious.” She went on.

“Okay, sorry, I know you’re trying to say something profound,” Katara said, still watching the entwining dragons. “But those are dragons.” 

The Sun Warrior chuckled. 

“I can see why a Spirit chose you. You have the appropriate amount of reverence for these things.” She said.

Katara did turn then.

“Pardon?” She asked.

“Iroh related to us what kind of person you were, to let us make a better judgement. You are soul bound to the Spirit La, correct?” The Sun Warrior asked.

Katara said nothing. Thuy’s shriek of joy snapped through the air and Katara faced upward again. 

“Are those spirits?” She questioned instead of answering. 

The dragons rushed back into their respective caves and Katara tried to follow the pair down the long stairs with her eyes.

“Ran and Shaw are ancient beings, but they are not spirits.” The Sun Warrior stated.

“But they don’t live forever.”

“No.”

“That’s a shame.”

“Not quite.” The Sun Warrior said and Katara looked over at her. The woman’s smile was coy, which made Katara frown.

Nothing more was said about it until dinner. Thuy and Zuko had talked nearly non-stop since they were within earshot on the stairs. Zuko was near tears for parts of it, as he spoke about feeling his inner fire connect with the dragons when they passed by. Thuy, who was part way through her training with Zuko, had worked through her mental block around the element. 

“Fire is life, Auntie.” Thuy enthused repeatedly. “The sun feeds the grass, fire bakes our bread, it’s all connected.” 

“You sound like those musicians Suki likes.” Katara said gently and Zuko laughed at that. 

As the revered sun set, the equally sacred torches were lit to illuminate the dining area. Fire dancers appeared in the square of beaten earth, and they only vaguely resembled the ones Katara had seen at other festivals in Caldera. The face paint made her think of home and the drums became hammers to drive the feeling to heart. 

The men and women who danced told a story in a language Katara didn’t understand, but she knew what it was meant to evoke. It was a shared fear of the dark, of the dangers that lurked in the unseen spaces around the safety of their hearth. It was a call for the sun to return. 

As both Zuko and Katara were caught up in the emotion, a train of dancers covered by a dragon stamped into view. The drum beat changed and the dancers became more grounded, and the Sun Warrior from earlier approached their table.

“Avatar Thuy, I humbly ask for your wisdom.” She said, bowing low. 

Thuy looked over at Katara, who nodded, and cleared her throat.

“Of course.” She replied.

The Sun Warrior stood and gestured. Two men came over, carrying a chest on a small palanquin between them.

“A prophecy stated that the blood of an Avatar would be required to bring back the dragons. But as their return is to bring balance, balance would be needed as well. We have looked for a man and woman, light and dark, yin and yang, and we believe you will lead us to the prophecy.” The Sun Warrior said. The two men lowered the palanquin in front of her and she opened the chest. From her seat, Katara could see a glittering gold egg.

Thuy shifted uncomfortably.

“I’m…” She started. Zuko stopped her, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Her spirit and her body is that of a woman. Nothing else.” He said, his voice firm. 

“My most sincerest apologies, Avatar Thuy, I did not mean that.” The Sun Warrior said, bowing lower.

“Maybe you could skip the formalities and just speak plainly?” Katara offered. 

The woman smiled.

“That would be wise, yes.” She said. “Thuy, I have recognized your transition and I believe you are able to find the ones who make a balance, not that you are that person. I don’t think the prophecy speaks of one person, but of two.”

“We did try Hikaru and they couldn’t do anything.” One of the palanquin bearers said, mostly to his companion. Thuy heard him and snorted.

“I appreciate that, really. And, I know it might seem obvious but…” Thuy looked down the table at Zuko and Katara.

“What?” Zuko asked.

“Us?” Katara added incredulously.

“We had the same thought.” The Sun Warrior agreed. 

“What?” Zuko repeated.

In bed that night, Zuko and Katara sat up with the egg between them. It was warm to the touch and Katara could feel something hum inside of the shell.

“Do you think this is an actual, for real dragon egg?” Zuko asked.

“They say it is.” Katara said, looking at the egg. 

“And we have to hatch it?”

“I guess?”

“How?”

“Does it look like I know how to hatch a dragon egg?” Katara shot back, bewildered. 

Zuko frowned, also staring at the egg.

“Why wouldn’t Ran and Shaw hatch it?” He whispered.

“Is it their egg?” Katara asked.

Zuko looked up at her.

“I don’t even know what gender they are.” He said in naked confusion. 

“But why would they need a Waterbender to hatch a dragon egg? Dragons were the first Firebenders!” Katara continued in exasperation.

“I think.” Zuko started, but stopped short, staring hard at the egg again. “I think it’s a spirit thing?”

“But that’s not a spirit egg.” Katara said, but sat back. “Do spirits lay eggs?”

“Augh!” Zuko fell back on the bed, his hands in his hair. “This is so frustrating!”

“You know, I really wasn’t expecting our marriage to become some sort of fated, prophecy fulfilling sort of thing.” Katara said. 

“Dealing with the political nightmare is enough for me really. I don’t need prophecies added to it.” Zuko muttered.

Katara crawled up toward him, laying down next to him with the egg nestled between them. It certainly felt alive to her. 

“It’s still nice, being here with you.” She said softly.

Zuko rolled onto his side and started to brush her hair back from her face with his hand. He was searching her face, looking for something or simply trying to memorize it. This was becoming a habit, now that they were fully entrenched in their schedules. 

“Three months is such a long time.” He said, just as quietly. 

“How did we handle the separation before?” Katara asked.

“I feel like being married should’ve made me more comfortable with it.” Zuko said.

Katara leaned in and kissed him lightly. He held her face and she relaxed under the warmth of his touch. 

“I am glad we got married though.” She said.

“Oh me too, absolutely.” Zuko said and she huffed out a breathy laugh.

“Even if it’s not fate, I’m glad you are who you are. Loving you, being able to love you, kinda helped a lot of other things in my life.” She said.

“Because I’m the son of the man who murdered your mother?” Zuko asked wryly.

“I mean, sorta, yeah.” Katara quipped and made him laugh. 

“Maybe that’s the point of this.” Zuko said, lightly tapping the egg with his knee. “Healing after violence.” 

“You have to cultivate life in order to heal.” Katara said, quoting one of Iroh’s many wisdoms. Zuko smiled, gazed into her eyes again, and then kissed her. 

“I love you Katara, much more than I thought I could ever bear.” He said.

“I love you more than I ever wanted to again. It scares me.”

“Why?”

“What if I lose you? I would die.”

“No, you wouldn’t. You would go on.”

“How do you figure?”

“The love doesn’t go anywhere, Katara. As long as you’re alive, my love for you will exist. Just like how your mother’s love still exists.” Zuko explained. 

Katara touched her fingers to her necklace and Zuko brushed his thumb over her cheek. It was only after she felt the cool dampness left behind his movement that she realized she was crying. 

“I don’t think we’re hatching this egg.” She sighed. 

Zuko looked down and shrugged.

“It’s pretty though. We can keep it in the palace.” He said.

Reaching down, Katara pulled the egg up to their chests. It was almost like a swaddled fat baby, if she squinted. 

“Let’s just keep it warm and in the morning, we can tell them we tried.” She said.

“That’s fair. Well, goodnight baby dragon.” Zuko patted the egg and Katara rolled her eyes.

“What would you name a dragon? Fang Jr.?” She asked.

Zuko snorted. “That’s as bad as Mister Whiskers.” 

“Oh hush.”

“Maybe Druk.”

“Druk?”

“It means thunder dragon. And, I mean, when I think about our elements together, a storm isn’t out of the range of possibilities.” 

“I like it. Druk.” Katara repeated the name. Then, wrapping her arms around the egg, she pressed her cheek against the gold shell. “Goodnight Druk.”

It took them a while to fall asleep. The bed wasn’t very large to begin with, and the egg took up a lot of space. But it wasn’t too foreign; the living aura it gave off made Katara feel like there was just a third person in the bed with them. When she did fall asleep, the sounds of drums and heartbeats tattooed rings of color in her head.

“Katara.” Zuko whispered sharply, sounding terrified. “I broke the egg.” 

Adrenaline shot through Katara’s muscles and she was upright before she was even awake.

“What?” She slurred, looking around.

Zuko shushed her, putting his hands on her shoulders and yanking her down.

“I think I rolled over it in my sleep. It’s broken.” He said. 

Looking down, Katara saw the silvery, mother-of-pearl sheen of the inner shell. Large, rounded pieces were still between them, with flecks of gold scattered around the bed. 

“Oh we are in so much trouble.” She whispered. 

“But now we know it was empty.” Zuko said weakly, picking up two of the largest pieces. He looked up and met Katara’s eye, his face pale and sick. 

“I don- OW!” Katara’s shoulders seized as something sharp dug into her back. As she went to slap whatever freakish Fire Nation bug had bitten her, the sharp bites moved upward. 

Her hand was lightly nipped and her eyes widened. Staring forward, Katara watched Zuko blink.

“What. Is on. My shoulder.” Katara said slowly. 

“Druk.” Zuko said.

The thing perched on her shoulder gave a small trill. Something leathery and warm wrapped around the back of her neck and Katara felt her throat dry. A thin red whisker floated up into the corner of her vision.

“Oh. Cool.” Katara said and her breath quickened.

“So, uh…” Zuko leaned forward, holding out his hands. Druk, still unseen, trilled again and beat small wings against Katara’s face.

Moving her hands slowly, Katara pushed the back of the dragon’s small body.

“It’s okay.” She said and Druk protested, but hopped forward. 

Zuko’s hands dipped under the unexpected weight, but Katara was focused on the dragon.

Druk was the size of a cat owl kitten; much smaller than what she expected to be in an egg of that size. His scales were a deep crimson color, seemingly purple in the low light. He had a crest of pale yellow fur on his head and his whiskers seemed to have a mind of their own. 

Wrapping his tail around Zuko’s hands, Druk postured nobly and shot out a burst of fire. 

“I’ve heard most couples get a pet before they have kids.” Zuko said, looking up at Katara.

She moved her hand slowly to the dragon, lightly petting the fur on his head. Druk chirped, flapping his wings, and Katara yanked her hand back quickly.

“How long until he’s as big as them?” Katara asked, holding the hand she had pet Druk with tightly in her other. She looked up and Zuko looked pleased, which annoyed her.

“I don’t know. I don’t know much about dragons at all.” Zuko said, smiling. 

Druk flapped more, lifting himself out of Zuko’s hands. He hovered for a second, but then darted right to Katara. She caught him, anxious, and held him to her chest. His front claws came up toward her collarbone and she held him there.

“We brought dragons back.” Zuko said in awe.

“How?” Katara asked, confused.

Zuko finally looked at her, putting both hands to her cheeks and kissing her deeply. 

Katara understood then. The Fire Nation had not just hunted dragons after all.

Druk chirped indignantly, shoving his head in between their faces. Zuko leaned back but gently stroked Druk’s fur.

“I guess he has a favorite.” He said.

“Mom is everyone’s favorite, at first.” Katara said, tilting her head to look down at Druk.

“Good morning, Druk.” She added.

Druk stretched upward and nipped the bottom of her chin. 

Of course he was a brat.

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#zutara #fanfiction #jax writes #zutara month #modern au #the fic that prompts built

[sweeethinny]

sirius/hestia: sirius being romantic and love's fool

hello anon thank you so much i love writing about them

I took a while, but then I thought a lot about this scene, and I loved how this fanfic turned out, so I hope you like it.

*It's 1995, just before Jily and Harry need to go to Grimmauld Place

They had fought over something stupid, honestly, Hestia knew it was something too silly for the two of them to take so seriously.

But of course it hadn't been stupid at the time, and the two of them took fights very seriously, so when they had to go to that stupid Aurors dinner, they weren't trying very hard to show that they didn't want to be there and that they had had a fight a few minutes ago.

Hestia couldn't even remember who started the fight, but she was irritated with work and Sirius kept being pessimistic about this stupid dinner, listing everything that could go wrong, and she freaked out because she didn't need to think about someone being rude with them, because she had already spent eight hours listening to people being rude to her, and being mean to her because they thought they knew better. She needed to have some faith that for at least two hours she was going to be able to smile and have fun, even the slightest bit.

She had gone into hiding in the bathroom when one of the Aurors came to talk to Sirius, she didn't have the patience to deal with Mr. Santiago, however well intentioned he was, Hestia didn't want anyone asking her if she was getting pregnant in the next few years, or she would wait to get older.

Sirius would handle it better than she did, she knew that. Santiago was his boss after all.

Sitting on the toilet, she sighed, glad to finally be silent.

She wanted to quit, wanted to tell Sirius that it had been a mistake that they had moved from their quiet, cozy house to a more central apartment, wanted to call her dad and yell at him for being a jerk last week when he saw her and Sirius at the market and ignored him, she wanted to tell Lily that it wasn't fair that she was so far away and she wasn't allowed to see her best friend because a lunatic nearly killed her son even though she knew it wasn't her or Potter's or Harry's fault.

Hestia buried her face in her hands, wanting to disappear.

When the bathroom door opened she was ready for her cabin door to open too, it was probably Sirius wanting to see if she was alright, and Hestia felt ready to be able to lie and say yes, even if he wouldn't believe it.

He knew her too well.

But instead, she heard female voices, cheerful and full of life, probably not expecting anyone else there; ''He's beautiful.''

''Yes, so, so beautiful.'' The other sighed passionately, which made Hestia chuckle softly, remembering when it was she, Lily and Marlene doing that, running to the bathroom of the muggle ice cream shop that was on the corner of her house, only to daydream about Elliot, the boy who works there. Older, charming, helpful, and very polite.

Hestia still remembered how they all screamed and jumped when Marlene kissed him.

"I'd give anything to kiss him," Girl A said, and the noise of things being placed on the marble sink made her believe they were both touching up their makeup or something. She had done so much with Lily and Marlene to forget what it felt like to just worry about looking pretty.

There was no war, people dying, hidden friends, nothing, it was just them putting on lipstick and making sure they were all perfect to try and get someone to kiss in some dark corner of Hogwarts by the end of the night.

Hestia remembered when Sirius saw her doing this. The two of them on James's seventeenth birthday, after making out warmly in his bedroom, Sirius showed her the bathroom and watched her touch up her makeup. It was so silly and natural when she thought about it, because he still does it, he still watches Hestia like it's for the first time.

''You know what I wanted? Kiss every tattoo of his.” Girl B said, and Hestia almost laughed when she heard her sigh loudly, imagining she was fanning herself. "So sexy."

‘’He's usually already a hottie, but when does he show off his tattoos? Urg, I feel like I'm going to die.” Girl A moaned irritably. "I hate that he's married."

Uh, married men, she had been through that with girls too, not that Hestia liked Johann, but she couldn't help saying he was hot. Lily was the one who thought he was most beautiful, she melted when he got close to her. It was funny, she should send her a letter talking about it.

''These days I saw him training, they were the best ten minutes of my life. '' Hestia chuckled softly, thinking of the times she had gone to the gym only to see Sirius sweating and exercising, every now and then he would lift his shirt to dry his face and make her feel on the clouds. It was her weakness.

"Lucky his wife who sees him naked every day."

"He bought her flowers yesterday, I think it was their birthday." Woman B said.

"He always buys it, or flowers, or something she likes to eat." They were silent, probably breaking up. "I heard one of the Aurors who works with him flirted with him."

‘’Yes, Felicity. She asked if he didn't want to go along with her to the convention in France… I mean, I understand, he's a hot guy, but he's married, hold your pants woman!’’

''Do you know what he said?'' Girl A looked curious, and Hestia was too, because Sirius was going to this convention in France and he didn't say anything to her about it, and he usually told her about Auror gossip.

‘’No, but she didn't look happy when she left his office. But Juan told me that Ester told him that he told her not to let her into his office anymore, and that he looked kind of furious. Not that Felicity was happy, of course, I think she expected him to agree to go out with her.”

“Ah, he would never do that, he's clearly in love with his wife.” Girl A laughed. ''Once, during one of our trainings, he told me that when they were at Hogwarts, he only started paying attention in Muggle Studies classes because of her, and that his favorite class was DADA because they sat near one of the another.'' Hestia frowned, thinking that this could only be a bizarre coincidence.

"Yes, I've seen them talking, and seriously, I hope that one day someone will look at me the way Mr. Black looks at her." They sighed, and Hestia became more attentive to their conversation. ''He has a picture of the two of them in his drawer, I once went there to get a paper for a meeting he asked for and I saw it, they are in a mountain of snow, and she is without her glove showing her ring.'' Sirius still kept this photo? It had been so long now, they were twenty-two and he had asked her to marry him.

“So cute.” The noise of makeup being put away resounded through the silent bathroom, and Hestia fingered the ring that had a lovely diamond set in it. Their names were still delicately engraved on the inside of the ring.

‘’Do you think that's why Felicity won't travel to the convention? Because did she flirt with him?” B asked.

''Probably. Not that I think he would cheat on her or anything, but he probably wants to avoid drama at all costs, you know how he hates it.” Sirius hates drama? Hestia didn't really agree with this, but probably because at work he was much more serious and reserved than at home, because she still remembered him saying that he would die after getting a fever and vomiting from eating bad food.

"Yes." The two continued talking, but now the voices faded as they exited the bathroom, soon leaving her alone in the bathroom again.

Hestia knew Sirius was a hot guy, she remembered how she had almost drooled every time she was admiring him in the common room, sitting sprawled on the couch as if he didn't realize that the more he tried not to draw attention, the more people looked at him, his chin resting on his hand as he watched Peter and Remus play chess.

He was handsome even when he didn't want to be.

Like the first time they slept together, and when she woke up she saw him sleeping. With his face scrunched up and his hair pinned up, so fluffy and helpless it was hard for her to decide to wake him up - but she was getting really hungry and she couldn't remember where her clothes were.

But she didn't know anyone was flirting with him. With her man.

And she didn't want to think like that, because she was an idiot, but it was the thing that was going through her head at that moment. Imagining some woman, much prettier than she, flirting with Sirius. Touching his hair, his face, his tattoos.

Hestia loved kissing his tattoos, all of them, and she liked to remember that he had made one just for her. But it disturbed her peace to think of someone else doing it.

And why hadn't he told her about Felicity? Hestia had met her once before, a nice and kind woman with short black hair and a body to envy.

"Hey, where were you, I was-" Hestia wouldn't let him finish, she'd come out of the bathroom on a mission and their stupid fight wasn't going to get in the way. Ignoring his coworkers and what Mr. Santiago was saying, she cupped Sirius' face as she had been doing since she was seventeen and ran away from home at night on winter break to meet him, and kissed him.

Hestia still felt those butterflies in her stomach when she did that, like she felt when he kissed her near the Potters' house in the rain, or when he took her for a walk in Muggle London, even though none of them knew where to go. She still remembered how she had jumped for joy in Lily's room, telling her and Marlene how he had made her jump over a gate so they could enter an old amusement park, the two of them going to sit on the old Ferris wheel, sharing an ice cream he had bought.

"Wow, okay." Sirius blinked as she pulled away, her hands still on his face. ''Hm, this is good... Where have you been?’’ He placed his hands on her hips, pulling her farther forward as she smiled. "Is this your way of calling for a truce in the fight?"

"Fuck the fight." She stared at him, feeling her chest burn. “Coming with me to get a drink?” She looked away quickly, just to check that the other guys had left them alone. It looked like Santiago had managed to drag everyone over to the cold cuts table, which was a good thing, because she didn't want his co-work to think Hestia was dragging her husband aside to have mad sex with him.

As much as they had already done it.

And as much as she was a little mad at this talk of someone flirting with him, Hestia wasn't making a big scene in public. Never.

"Of course." Sirius still looked a little stunned, but he followed her wherever she pulled. Hestia could see that there were indeed some people giving Sirius a second check, only to look at her afterwards as if wondering what he had seen in her.

She didn't take away their reason, she had already asked that same question to him a few times during her crises.

"You know you don't have to lie to me, don't you?" She asked as they reached the farthest part of the room, no one seemed to notice the two of them there.

"I know… Did something happen?" Sirius put his hands back on her hips, a smirk on his face. '’I thought getting a drink was code for getting laid, or for going home to get laid until we lost our wits, but I think I got it wrong?'’

“Don't be an idiot, I'm on my period.” She rolled her eyes when she heard him chuckle.

"And I don't care." He shrugged. "So what's this about me not lying?"

"Felicity flirted with you?" To his credit, Sirius looked confused for a few seconds before letting out a oh. ''Is that a yes?''

"Doll, don't mind that, it was the most shameful thing I've ever been through, and there's no need for you to worry." He grimaced at the memory. ‘’I didn't tell you before because it doesn't matter, I didn't even remember it. Who told you?''

"I heard it in the bathroom… It seems like there are a lot of people who think you're hot," Hestia said, trying not to be affected by the closeness Sirius was putting between them, his mischievous smile growing.

‘’Jealous babe? I thought we were past that stage.” His smug smile was the worst, his gray eyes gleaming as if he were a beast and Hestia his next prey. "I don't really care what other people think, you know that."

"I know," Sirius kissed her, gentle and calm as he did whenever he was teasing her. "And I'm not jealous, I was just curious why you kept it from me… Afraid I'd do something, Black?"

"Nah, I can handle you and calm your beast."

“Don't be cocky.” She lifted her chin to let him kiss her neck, smiling at the feel of his lips there.

"I didn't tell you because it was Valentine's Day and I wasn't going to spoil our dinner for something as dumb as that." He looked at her, hands firm on her hips. ‘’It's idiot, you know I only have eyes for you. But if you must know, I hated every second from the time she walked into my office, until she left."

"She's not that good then?" Hestia bit her lip as he kissed the sensitive flesh near her collarbone.

"She's not you, Hestia." Sirius raised his head, as if it were the most obvious thing.

“Urg, you're so cheesy.” It wasn't a real complaint, but she liked the way he smiled when she said it. "It gave me a toothache." They chuckled, Sirius returning his hands to her hips, creating a space between them. Hestia knew what he was going to ask even before he opened his mouth.

''What happened today? You don't just look like this.” Hestia grimaced, not wanting to talk about it now that they were all right again, but she knew if she didn't, he would make her talk sooner or later. It turned out that the two of them always needed a little push to talk about their feelings, and the other almost never liked the silence that came between them when that happened.

"It was a shitty day at work, and… I don't want to work there anymore." She accepted his embrace, laying her head on top of his heart, feeling Sirius kiss the top of her head. "I miss Lily, I don't like living in that apartment and…the drama with my dad last week?" She looked up at him, wanting not to cry but not able to keep the tears from stinging in her eyes. ‘’I thought it was over, it's been almost twenty years, why does he continue with it? I'm so tired… And today listening to those girls in the bathroom, I don't know, I know you won't cheat on me, that's not it, but… what are you still doing here?’’

''Like this? I'm here because I love you, where else would I go?’’

"To the arms of a prettier woman with a less troubled family?" She ventured, dropping her face back into his chest because she felt ashamed for saying that, and for feeling that. She didn't like to look him in the eye when one of her crises started, Hestia was always silly afraid that she would see in Sirius that disgusted and slightly annoyed expression she had seen in her father's eyes when that happened.

“I don't think there's a woman prettier than you, and about your family, it's not like mine is a bed of roses, is it?” He hugged her tighter, like he did when she was sad. Hestia knew Sirius would never look at her with that accusatory look that she was going crazy. "You know what I thought when Felicity walked into my office and started telling me about how Paris was a romantic city and all?"

''What?''

"That we never went there, which is ridiculous because it should have been the first place for us to go together." He chuckled softly. ‘’Paris is indeed a very romantic city.’’

"Yes, you're right." She sniffled, tears stinging in her eyes again.

‘’I don't care if someone is flirting with me, or I don't know if there are women talking about me in the bathroom. Sure, it's really good for my ego, you know,” Hestia chuckled, rolling her eyes. "But none of them are you, and I'm not saying this because I want to convince you to have shower sex later, because you know we're going to-"

''Disgusting.''

‘’-You love it. But it's because I love you Jones, and for you I can put up with your father pretending I don't exist for hours if it'll make you happy, and, I can find a way to get you inside Lily's house without Dumbledore knowing and staying talking to us about everything we already know. She needs you too, James told me she's feeling pretty lonely... And I don't like that apartment either, and Joe is looking to sell his house, so we can go visit if you want.'' Sirius was quiet, his chin resting on top of her head, his arms holding her securely in his embrace.

"I hate feeling like this," Hestia grumbled.

''If it's any comfort to you, last week I thought I'd cut my hair because you told me about that guy from your job.'' He admitted, and when Hestia lifted her face to look at him, Sirius' cheeks were flushed. "Don't look at me like that, it's been a tense week."

"Noooo, you're perfect like that." She brought her hands up to his hair, smiling at the familiar feel of his silky strands. "It's the only reason I married you, so if you don't want to deal with the divorce bureaucracy, don't cut it."

Sirius chuckled, looking pleased to have gotten her out of that cloud of self-deprecation. He was very good at it. ‘’Don't worry, I don't want to deal with these papers anytime soon.. Hope never actually...want to go home?’’

“Are you going to get that massage you promised me two weeks ago?” His gray eyes sparkled, his cheeks still a little flushed and a beautiful smile on his lips. Hestia remembered the girls talking about how he looked at her, and she didn't blame them for wanting that either.

‘’Of course, and then we can enjoy the shower-’’

"No way." They laughed, Sirius sighing in defeat.

"I'll still convince you and you'll regret not listening to me sooner." They intertwined their fingers, Sirius pulling her towards the exit, nodding casually to his coworkers, a little hastily.

'I'll let you try, but I promise nothing…'

#sirius x hestia #my babies #sirius black #everyone lives #marauders #padfoot #hestia jones #my fic

[secret-engima]

This. Has been a perfectly terrible day. Can I beg you for a ficbit or a snippet from one of your works, like Team Gremlin or Noctscar or something ? I just - they’re beautiful, and I just really, really need something beautiful right now.

SURE. I don’t have much in the way of snippets, but lemme see what I can find. I might have to throw in something from BNHA cause that’s the fandom the muses are chewing on this exact second.

...

Team Gremlin:

     It had been … a very bad few weeks for Qrow all told. And that was saying something. Everything had seemed fine one day, business as usual. Tai was back from his requisite number of missions to keep his license and teaching at Signal again —which he genuinely seemed to enjoy for some reason—, his nieces were as adorable as ever, and Summer was sometimes talking his ear off about maybe taking a teaching position somewhere herself after running a few missions to keep her own license active —she’d been busier lately with the girls than running around kicking butt, but it wasn’t like Qrow blamed her for that—.

     Then Leo was found dead in his office. Knifed in the neck, one round discharged from his weapon in the direction of the guest couch, blood pooling all over the chair and low table where the investigators said he’d been dragged from and laid on the floor in some kind of pose. No one unusual had been seen going in or out, there had been nothing on the office cameras —covered by a Semblance of some kind, it was decided, because of the fading, glass-like Aura shards on the floor—. The only warning had been the sound of Leo’s single shot before he died. Qrow had arrived as soon as he could to help investigate, since the primary suspect would … not be one the police even knew to look for. He had helped Dyna —poor woman had been wire tense with rage rather than her usual calm self, and it was no wonder—, search for clues the police would miss, then searched the secret tunnels for good measure.

     They had found a Grimm inside one of the deeper antechambers, far too deep to have gotten there by accident, a strange, jellyfish like beast that had been surprisingly hard to kill for something that small. They’d never seen it’s like before, and the thought of it being under the school, where kids were, where Oz and his inner circle were supposed to hold sway-. He’d never seen the otter Faunus more furious as they stood amid the fading Dark dust, her lips twisted, brow wrinkled in a way that had made the black line and red dots of her old bandit tattoos look more pronounced.

     They’d found no other signs that Salem knew how to get into the school tunnels, but they rechecked them all and trapped several of the ones leading outward as temporary security measures. With Dyna in place as the new —temporary on paper but soon to be permanent— Headmaster, Qrow had gathered up what evidence they could pry loose from their police contacts and gone back to Oz so they could try to sort this out.

     Of course, Qrow’s first impulse was to blame Salem, but Oz had listened to the report of a jellyfish Grimm under the school and his expression had folded into something pained. Knowing. He must have known what kind of Grimm it was, but hadn’t elaborated yet, just told Dyna to investigate all of Leo’s documents, Scroll calls, and communications over the past year, and insisted he would not explain until there was either evidence or not for his theory, for fear of making them biased.

     So, with Salem seemingly not the automatic culprit, they had started hunting for info. Summer had offered to come back and help, but Oz had told her to stay on her chosen mission instead.

     The pen had been an unexpected complication.

...

Always I Dreamed verse

     Summer ducked past her into the shower as Raven left it, pausing to stare at Raven’s tattoos for only a moment before chirping a quiet good morning and asking if she was okay after yesterday. Raven just grunted, because she was combat functional and frankly that was all that mattered. She had already pulled on her clothes from yesterday —all their possessions were in her inventory and she didn’t want questions on where it came from, she’d have to stuff it all in a duffel bag and hide it in the den to explain that away later— by the time Taiyang got up and Raven remembered the uniforms. Raven nudged open the bag while Qrow ducked out of their den and peered over her shoulder, “Everybody has to wear that stuff?” Qrow sneered as Raven pulled out the first button down shirt, “Hardly looks sturdy.”

     “It’s just for the school grounds I think, we have our combat gear for training missions and stuff anyway.” Taiyang said as he pulled out a shirt of his own from a different bag. Raven took a moment to glance at his bare torso. He slept in pants but not a shirt apparently, which was stupid, but better than being entirely naked at night. He had a decent build, which she knew from watching him fight yesterday, and a truly appalling lack of scars. Her life had been saved by somebody who had probably never had a truly decent fight in his life before that day. Wonderful.

     He also had tattoos, and Raven squinted at them for a moment because despite the differing size and placement, they all looked very much like the ones Raven and Qrow had gotten during a rare moment of total drunkenness at fifteen. He was missing the large asian dragon outline that wound up Raven’s own torso, but he had the blue crow perched as if about to take flight that Raven had, the running blue wolf who’s lower half dissolved into petals, and she thought she glimpsed a blue clockwork rabbit under his right arm. When he turned around briefly to put his back to them, she saw that most of his back had been taken up with the stylized outline of a raven in flight.

     She shook her head and looked away. Whatever. Summer possessed a tattoo on her arm similar to the asian dragon winding up Qrow’s arm from elbow to shoulder. Some tattoos were just popular, and blue ink was easier to come by for fill-in tattoos than the black used for outlines.

     Qrow must have remembered Taiyang’s words last night about Raven’s uniform being at the top, because he was already rooting down to the outfit right beneath hers —there was more fabric in the bag than that, but Raven wasn’t going to worry about why just yet—. He yanked out a shirt and jacket that looked his size, then blinked when something short and plaid tumbled out with it. Snatching it up, he unfolded it and made a face, “Is this a skirt? With my uniform?”

     Summer poked her head out of the bathroom, a wash of steam following her —oh right, hot water showers were a thing, darn— while Taiyang looked from Qrow to the skirt and back. Qrow was busy staring at the skirt, so he missed the expression of pure glee that flickered over the other teen’s face before he casually said, “What, that? It’s a kilt, man. Old Vale tradition.” Raven blinked very slowly, because that was a surprisingly good lie even though she knew it was nonsense —her memory on early canon was fuzzy, but she would have remembered the male characters running around in skirts—. She debated calling him on it for a moment, but she was from outside the kingdoms like Qrow, so technically she had no way to know that Taiyang was lying.

     Besides, if Taiyang wanted to poke the bear that was her brother’s temper, better he do it now and get it over with than later when they were training.

     Qrow was still making annoyed noises under his breath as he examined the “kilt”, and a glance at Summer slipping out of the shower in a towel showed she was fighting down laughter. Silver eyes met Raven’s with hopeful amusement and Raven looked away. She was still angry that the Story had forced itself into place in her life. With a shake of her head, Raven finished yanking out her uniform —one of? There was so much fabric in there, did the school really waste money making multiple outfits for each student?— and started pulling off her old clothes to put it on. Taiyang made a noise like someone had knifed him just as she dropped her shirt to the floor and she looked up in alarm. Taiyang had whipped around to put his back to her, and she could see the flush of color crawling up his neck and the backs of his ears. He didn’t look hurt or anything, but when Summer wandered in and dropped her towel onto her bed to put on her uniform —huh, she had the same tattoos as Raven, Qrow, and Taiyang, just with the perched crow as a large outline that went down to her mid back and a large blue raven in flight over her abdomen that looked like the smaller one on Qrow’s back—, Taiyang made the dying noise again, snatched up his bag of clothes, and rushed for the bathroom.

     Raven had the feeling she should understand what that was about, but she didn’t get it, and when she risked a glance at Summer, the other girl actually looked just as baffled. So maybe it wasn’t some social thing she’d forgotten. Maybe it was just a thing with him specifically.

...

Feather-Light and Fire-Bright verse (BNHA)

     Which was why, the next time she spotted a little red feather slinking over to place a trio of shiny buttons on the park bench she liked best, she hastily caught it with one hand. It was very soft, wiggling slightly in her grip, twitching and fluttering almost like a frightened living thing, so much so she shushed it gently on instinct, “It’s okay, I won’t damage you.” Taking out the note she’d spent days agonizing over, she skewered it to the quill of the feather, “I need you to take a message to whoever controls you.” She let it go and the feather wiggled erratically in the air, like a cat trying to wiggle free of an unfamiliar collar before flitting away. Fuyumi resisted the urge to chase it and see where it led. She’d sent her note, now she would wait for a reaction.

     She absently took the three coat buttons and put them in her pocket before going home. It would be stupid to leave them as litter in the park, but it also felt like a bad idea to throw them away and possibly anger whoever was watching her. Besides, she had a collection going now, she almost had enough matching buttons to make a full set for a long coat.

     A week went by with no sign of her shadow before she finally spotted a red feather again. It lurked on the edges of the park, flitting out into view as she walked by before slipping off in the direction of a more sequestered part of the park. Fuyumi hesitated, saw the feather come back and swirl around her a few times like an excited puppy before rushing off again and decided she was either about to meet someone shy or about to be kidnapped and potentially murdered. Slipping her hand into her handbag to grip the small pro-grade taser inside just in case, Fuyumi followed the feather into the copse of trees that shielded that part of the park from the street and the rest of the grassy area.

     The feather slipped away to rejoin … a lot of other feathers, and Fuyumi paused on the edges of the little forested nook to get a good look at her mysterious shadow for the first time. Golden eyes, piercing and almost predatory in intensity, flitted up to meet her gaze as he stood up. He was about her age she would guess, maybe a year older, so lean that if she hadn’t been able to see the muscles of his bare arms she would have called him scrawny. He was wearing a sleeveless hoodie that looked like it had lost a few too many rounds with a washing machine, clean but all faded and stretched and worn looking. His hair was all tousled and pale gold, and the red feathers were clustered on his back in huge wings that looked like they belonged on someone about twice his size and weight. He smiled a little, a practiced thing that was too nervous to be real, but if Fuyumi hadn’t lived her entire life around Pro Heroes and the children of other such elites, she would never had known.

     He held up her note between too fingers, not commenting on the wary distance still between them nor making any moves to close it, “Um, I’m not a stalker, just wanna get that out of the way. Sorry if I … came off that way? I’m, uh, not good at introducing myself and I didn’t … really know what else to do.”

#SE asks #hamelin-born asks #snippets #snippet #Secret Engima Rambles #Melodies and Manuscripts #Team Gremlin verse #Always I Dreamed verse #Feather Light and Ember Bright verse

[lunavadash-creates]

The real pleasure

Warning: NSFW, explicit, first time Also all my works can be found on    AO3  "Lass, have you ever been with a man?"

Shay's question was hanging in the air as you looked at him completely stunned. The sudden silence that surrounded both of you was awkward and you felt like every beat of your heart was as loud as thunder. You had no idea how your friendly, funny conversation became this weird.

Shay was your best friend, a fellow member of the Templar Order, one of your favourite people out there. You could rely on him, trust him and you thought you had no secrets from each other. Yet now you felt embarrassed. You had never expected to hear a question like this from his mouth.

For a second you wanted to turn it all into a joke like you usually did. But after one look at his handsome, worried face, you have changed your mind. One deep breath later you decided to simply answer his question.

"Yes, I have been with men before. Few times but I..." You stopped, biting your lower lip as you searched in your head for an appropriate word. "I have never truly enjoyed it. And to forestall your next question, no. I have never reached an orgasm with a man."

You reached for the glass of wine and took a sip, enjoying the taste. You had stolen the entire box of authentic Italian wine from the ship of the assassin you had been hunting together. It wasn't a big reward but definitely a sweet one.  

After a moment of

silence during which Shay never took his eyes off you, he asked another question, one that made you choke on your wine.

"And with women?"

"Oh god, Shay!" your face blanched as though you had just seen a ghost. How could he read you so effortlessly?  

"I don't know..." Shay rose his eyebrow, giving you a nod, encouraging you to continue. "I was with a woman once. I was completely drunk then, and I don't remember anything after the moment my ass hit the bed. I only remember that I was so fricking wet the next morning and both my head and throat hurt like a bitch. How about you?"

"If you are asking about my sex life then I haven't been with any men, but I know how to pleasure women."

He spoke with a purr, looking at you as a hunter would at his prey. A promise of divine pleasure was hidden in the twinkle of his eyes as he focused on your lips, redden from the way you had been biting them.

There was no denying it - Shay was a man made of dreams; he was as sweet as poison, as tempting as the most promising lie and as handsome like the work of art, a sculpture made by Michael Angelo himself. Everything about him was irresistible, from his dark hair, a scar on his face, his voice, his eyes, his lips, body, muscles, even his outfit.

You swallowed hard. It felt like something large was lodged in your throat, making you unable to speak. Was it a proposition? Suggestion maybe? Did he really want... or was it just a joke?

You waited for a second to see if Shay would burst out laughing, but it never came.

"Shay, do you want to have sex with me?" you choked out a question, still worried that you’d fallen for his trick like a novice, but once again, his eyes were expressing more than thousands of words. He reached for his wine, emptying the glass and wiping his lips with the back of his hand.

"I’m asking if you would let me show you the real pleasure. You deserve more than those useless bastards who don’t have a first clue on how to pleasure a lady." He paused, his eyes boring into yours. "Especially when she’s as remarkable as you"

Once again, you ended up stunned and speechless. You wanted to say yes, but you had so many doubts right now. Perhaps it wasn't about those men? Maybe it was you and your body? You never really doubted your look or features. You were healthy and strong, well-trained and you definitely had an appearance that earned you look from envious women and lustful men. Yet you had doubts. Maybe you were silent for too long as Shay let a sigh and shook his head.

"Forgot I asked. I'm sorry, Y/N. I never wanted to make you feel uncomfortable. Probably it's just...

"I want it Shay," you interject, suddenly coming back to reality. You couldn't waste that opportunity, especially since you had feelings for Shay. You hid them, of course. Your lives were far too dangerous, to ruin you relationship with love would be silly.

Bur if he wanted too…

"I just... I'm nervous. I haven't done it in such a long time, and I don't know if it's not just me being terrible at it."

"Shh," Shay was at your side in a blink of an eye. He gently stroked your cheek, looking straight into your eyes, before he leaned down to gently kiss your temple.

"I will take good care of you. I promise Y/N."

Before you knew it, he simply lifted you from the chair and carried you to his room. You were spending the evening at his home in New York – he’d proposed you stay with him instead of looking for an inn. And now, for the first time, you were in his bedroom. You have always been curious about it but never had the opportunity to sneak in, especially since you respected his privacy. And now, when you finally managed to find your way in, you had no time to look around as his lips were soon on yours.

Oh god, his lips were so much better than you imagined. Despite the first impression they were soft and warm, gentle even. He kissed you for the first time as though he were afraid he could hurt you. He held you so close, slowly devouring your mouth. You moaned silently, feeling the wave of heat spreading inside your body and cumulating between your legs. He broke the kiss for a second, resting his forehead against yours.

"I wanted to kiss you for so long y/n. You are far sweeter than the best wine."

Before you could answer he kissed you again, his tongue brushing against your lips, asking for entrance. You granted it gladly and in no time your tongues immersed in a dance of dominance and passion until you both ended up breathless.

With shaky hands, you reached for his coat to start to unbutton it and for the first time, you wondered, why he needed so many layers. At the same time, he reached for your coat, it was easy to open, you only had a few simple black buttons and a belt in the middle, so it was on the floor in no time. Shay took your hands away from his coat and kissed every single of your fingers, giving you a wink before he focused on undressing you again. Your shirt, trousers and boots soon joined your coat on the floor, and you laid back on the bed dressed only in your dusty punk slip and marching drawers.

Shay licked his suddenly dry lips and took the hem of your slip to get it off your body and then a loud gasp escaped his lips as he saw your beautiful, perfect body. He loved everything about it, your breasts, already protruding nipples, your skin and...

"I had no idea you had a tattoo."

You made it a long time ago to hide a particularly ugly scar. In its place was a tattoo of an Yggdrasil tree. Shay smiled and took off your panties before he started to undress himself. The floor was covered in clothes now, belts, coats, boots, underwear. And finally, you could see Shay naked and as beautiful as ever.

That man was perfect and that thin line of his black hair starting under his navel and reaching up to his cock that was already semi-hard made you gasp. You reached out to touch his body; you wanted to feel muscles of his stomach under your palm, to trace your fingers over his scars, especially that one on his stomach and under the collar bone. You knew the story behind those two, the wounds inflicted by his friends from the Brotherhood. He twitched when you touched one of those scars, but he didn't move away to begin with.

"Wait. Aren’t I supposed to take care of you? Be a good girl and lay still for me."

You did. You laid your hand on the cover and let Shay kiss you again. This time it was a short kiss, he soon moved on your neck to kiss and suck it gently. His hot tongue was tracing complicated patterns on your skin as he moved down until your collarbone where he left a little red bitemark. You inhaled sharply, letting out a moan as you moved your legs, trying to gain some stimulation with the wetness accumulating between them.

The next thing you felt were those warm lips closing around your left nipple. This time you moaned shamelessly. He sucked on it hard, licking the hardened nub, enjoying how resistant it seemed against his tongue, once he even bit on it. His free hand was in the meantime taking care of your other nipple, caressing it with his fingers, pinching it, twisting, pulling. You tried to cover your mouth to silence all those sounds you were making but he groaned, taking your hand away.

"Don't. I want to hear everything."

As he said that, he started to suck on your other nipple, making you squirm and wiggle on the bed. The pleasure was more intense than you have ever imagined. You felt jolts of pleasure spreading in your body, weird, almost unknown heat accumulating between your legs. His hand pinched on your nipple harder than before and you bent over the bed with a loud cry, that soon turned into a moan when he started to move his nail on the very top of your wet and hard nipple, now swollen from all the attention it received. You had never played with your nipples before, so it was such an alien feeling that made you all horny.

"Shay, God..." you moaned again as you felt his hand wandering lower, in between your legs. He just moved his fingers up and down your sex, and a wide grin appeared on his face. His raised his hand, and you could see his fingers wet and glossy from your juices, and that made you blush harder than ever in your life. But what made you almost faint was when he licked his fingers, giving you the most sensual purr, you have ever heard.

"So, wet for me. And so sweet. You won't deny me such a dessert, will you?"

You could only nod in response. In a matter of seconds, Shay positioned himself between your thighs and gave you a long lick before he closed his mouth around you. He sucked firmly on your clit while his fingers were caressing the insides of your thighs. You dug your fingers into bedding, squirming uncontrollably. You couldn't stop all the sounds escaping your throat as he was pleasuring you in ways you could never imagine. He moved his lips slightly to suck on your labia, then dug his hot tongue inside you.

In the beginning, he simply wanted to simply make you wet and well prepared for more. But then he heard your moans and screams, the moment he saw your face in pure bliss, he decided that this night would be unforgettable. He wanted you to cum for him and because of him. More than once.

He moved back to your clit and after a few more licks, the heat that was accumulating in your body for the past few minutes exploded. You back arched hard, screaming and digging your heels into the bed as he led you through your orgasm. You fell on the bed almost breathless and saw his face with a smirk plastered on it. His lips were still wet as he looked into your eyes.

"Hey lass, it's just a little foreplay. Don't tell me that’s all you can take." He was clearly mocking you, and you wanted to say something, but then he kissed you again. You could feel your own taste on his lips. His hand reached lower and he pinched your clit, making you jerk and moan again.

"Relax."

He disappeared between your legs again and you felt his fingers moving between your labia, gathering your juices and saliva before he slipped one finger into you. He moaned, feeling how tight you were. Your insides were clenching around his finger and he wanted to bury himself whole into you. But now he knew he needed to prepare you and he didn't hesitate for a second.

He started to suck you again, moving his tongue around your over-sensitive nub, while his finger was moving inside. But suddenly he stepped back and caught your hips to turn you on your stomach with a quick move.

"Shay?!"

"A little bit of trust," he muttered and lifted your hips higher. Soon his fingers were once again inside of you at his tongue danced around your most private area, making your breath harder than before. After the strongest orgasm of your life, you had trouble with formulating words, but Shay didn't mind. Your body was telling him everything about your pleasure, and that made him proud.

He slid inside you his second finger, searching for your sweet spot. You felt stretched and weird, penetration always made you feel uncertain, but somehow Shay was making it bearable. It wasn't the best feeling in the world at least until another shock shook your body. You moaned, rocking your hips as you wanted him to do this again. He brushed something inside you, making your muscles twitch. Another jolt of pleasure spread in your body, and this time you felt it even in your nipples.

"Do it again, please do it again!" you moaned, unable to resist the urge to feel it again and again. You heard Shay's chuckle as he added a third finger and brushed that spot again. His tongue returned to your clit and he started moving his fingers fast and hard, spreading and flexing them inside. He found that a little thickened and rough spot inside you and pressed it with all his fingers, at the same time biting in your clit.

The pleasure that overwhelmed your body was divine and your orgasm powerful and sudden, and your scream was so loud it could wake up all the dead in the city. Shay once again led you through it and you simply collapsed on the bed, your body trembling and twitching in post-orgasmic shock. You could heard Shay laugh and then the smacking sound as he licked his fingers clean once again.

"You are beautiful when you cum. And your voice could lure sailors at the sea into the doom. But that was only two... I wonder if you can take one more?" he purred, lying next to you. He gently ran his fingers over your spine, making you shiver. You turned around to face him, your breathing was still hard and you felt like your thoughts were shattered but you didn't mind at all. you looked at his beautiful body and then noticed his hard cock, waiting for more. You realised that all this time he was delaying his own pleasure and orgasm only to satisfy you and now... now you had to return the favour. You sat up and with a reassuring smile, you helped him sit. You wanted a different position as he already did so much to you. Now he will be the one moaning...

"Lean against the wall," you ordered and moved between his legs.

Actually, you had never sucked a penis in your life but you wanted to moisten him beforehand. You licked your lips and took his hot cock in your hand, stroking it gently a few times before giving a little lick on the tip. Shay's hips jolted in anticipation and you looked at him with a grin. You gathered all your courage and started to suck him. At first, it was very gentle and focused around the tip, but soon you started to be more confident with all Shay's moans and grunts. You dipped your tongue into the slit of his penis, while your hand was playing with his balls. Then you tried to make your way down, swallow as much of you as you could but he was just too big for you and soon you choked a little as you hit back of your throat.

"y/n don't overdo it. Use your tongue more. You can suck harder and by the gods, don't use your teeth." the last part came a bit shaky from his throat as you sucked hard on his head and wrapped your tongue around his hot shaft. In the same moment, he put the hand on your head, gently controlling your movements. You could feel the precum leaking from the tip, it was salty and weird but somehow it made you excited for more. You eagerly played with his shaft and balls, making him nice and wet. You even tried once more to take him deeper but then he stopped you. You left a disappointed moan, as a child that lost its favourite toy, but Shay just gave a smile and wiped the saliva from your chin. You had no idea you had made such a mess and immediately your cheeks became red, making Shay laugh.

"Don't be shy. There is nothing sexier than seeing your swollen lips wrapped around my dick."

 "Is that so?" you asked mockingly, moving closer to him. You kissed him hard, grabbing his dick and directing him into you. You lowered yourself, impaling himself on his cock. You both left moans of pure pleasure as he filled you up so perfectly. You needed a second to adjust to the feeling of being so stretched before you started to move. Slowly at first but with every thrust, your movement became faster and stronger. You needed to lean against a wall as you work your hips hard. This time it was Shay moans that filled the room. He grabbed your breast, sucking on your nipple while his other hand was holding your hip. It was messy sex, fast and furious, but you both needed it.

Suddenly Shay slipped out of you and put you on all fours on the bed, making it clear in what position he wanted fuck you.

He entered you, grabbing your hip firmly and start moving, now hitting your sweet spot with every thrust. He was slipping out to the hilt and slamming back in you so hard that the whole bed started to move, hitting the wall with a metal bed frame.

His grunts became louder as he was getting closer and your screams were shameless now. You didn't care if the whole New York heard you. Now you were in your personal, sexy and rough heaven, reaching your third orgasm that night. And as you did you clenched around his cock so hard and he barely made it out of you before cumming all over your ass.

His breath was heavy and hard as he nearly immediately collapsed on you. Your heart was pounding in your chest, your body was devoided of all tension, you lost your name, your purpose, words and everything. The only thing you could feel on that moment was his warm body, his heart beating as hard as yours, his breath on your neck.

He moved off you with a moan and laid on his back, grabbing you and moving you to his side. You complied, wrapping an arm around his stomach. But then you felt something weird digging into your arm so you moved slightly to grab this thing. Surprisingly you found a piece of a wall. You both looked at it shocked and looked at the wall. In the place where the frame was hitting it, there was a whole reaching to the bricks. And on that moment you both burst out with laughter that filled the room.

"Now you can say that only one man made you cum," he said when both of you calmed down.

"The very best man I  dare say. It was... my God. Shay, it was... divine."

"Well... If you wish we can do this more often. You are so beautiful Y/N. And you have no idea how long I've been dreaming about holding you in my arms. I wish to be the only one who can see you like this."

"I won't complain Shay. I wanted you for so long but I was too afraid to admit it."

He grinned like crazy and kissed you hard and passionately like he wanted to fill you with all emotions he has been hiding from you. He took your hand, rested it on his chest and smiled.

"Now I'm yours, y/n."

"And I'm yours, Shay."

"And I'm never again staying in this house with the two of you" Haytham entered the room, looking at you both with disappointment. He threw a damp cloth at Shay

"Clean yourselves. I expect you both well-rested, we have work to do."

As soon as Haytham left the room they both exploded in laughter once again.  Well, it was so easy to forget about Haytham’s presence in this house...

#shay cormac #ac rogue #luna writes #asassins creed rogue #shay cormac x reader #shay x reader #haytham kenway #reader insert

[valhallasubstitute]

The Things You Deserve

--Sihtric x reader

After the re-taking of Dunholm you go to find Sihtric. When you do he’s a little bruised and more than a little upset - that doesn’t stop you from loving him though. While you help him bathe Sihtric reveals some of his past and you begin to understand how a man like him deserves to be treated.

A/N: So this is set just after season 2 ep 4, I thought this version of Sihtric would work real well but it ended up really sad so I’m sorry anon, I hope I did your vision justice.

WARNINGS: Mentions of past abuse, mentions of injury, angst? fluff – some real lovin’ being given to our Dane boy who may or may not resemble a rat but he is sad. Really fuckin’ sad

Wc: 1599

It was dawn and Dunholm was quiet. You stepped over many drunken, sleeping forms as you moved through the main yard. The feasting had been magnificent as it always was in Uhtred’s victory, ale had not stopped flowing for many hours and you had no doubt that the celebrations would continue today and into the night once more.

You had partaken in drinking and games with your fellow warriors, enjoyed the buzz of victory and the end of a blood feud but you weren’t oblivious to the look in your lovers eye. Nor how he had left your side as you slept not ten minutes ago.

You hadn’t been with the quiet Dane for long, a few months at most, but in that time you had become inseparable. If he was sitting you would be found in his lap, if he was playing games you would be found beating him, and if he was in battle you would be found at his side.

You had kept a close eye on Sihtric as the square was made for Ragnar and Kjartan. You watched him bask in Ragnar’s revenge, Ragnar’s justice and Ragnar’s broken rage.

You also watched it break him in ways neither of you were expecting.

You saw the way his eyes watered, how he flinched as Ragnar just. Kept. Stabbing.

He had been quiet for the rest of the night. He never refused a cup of ale handed to him and he never denied your touch but barely a word passed his lips, physically your lover was there but the look in his eye was far away and it pained you.

The guards at the gate let you pass without argument, with Kjartan dead there was no threat.

Not right now.

You found him at the lakes edge. The sun was rising and you admired his silhouette, the light seemed to glide over the sharp angles of his cheekbones and jaw, even his arms. It softened them and bathed him in pale gold.

He did not hear you approach, and the way he flinched as you slipped your hand into his made your stomach lurch.

‘I did not mean to startle you, my love.’ You spoke the words quietly, his eyes were wide like a startled deer’s. You made small circles with your thumb over his knuckle and the movement seemed to pull him back to the present. He swallowed deeply, blinking rapidly before he spoke.

‘I came bathe…’

‘I shall leave you to it then, I only came to see what pulled you from our bed.’ You turned to leave with a smile but his grip on your hand tightened.

‘Stay Y/N. I would like you to stay...’ You could see his tears then, too stubborn to spill but they danced in his eyes regardless.

‘I will not leave you Sihtric.’

He nodded and started to remove his armour. As you were unlacing your own you heard him hiss through clenched teeth. He dropped his arms in defeat, half snarling at the garment as you stood in front of him. You started to remove it yourself and Sihtric didn’t stop you, his eye would not meet yours, instead he watched your fingers work. You loosened the ties with care, unbuckled the belts with trained efficiency and on your tip toes you pulled the main bulk of armour over his head with only the smallest indication of pain.

When he stood naked before you couldn’t help but take a sharp inhale, even with the purple bruise that was covering his ribs, he was a sight to be seen. There was little blood but the wound would still need to be cleaned. You bent slightly, taking your dress in hand and ripped a piece from the bottom, Sihtric looked down at you, confusion clear as day on his face.

‘You can buy me a knew one with all that sliver Uhtred keeps promising you. Now get in the water, I need to undress.’ He did as he was told with a small nod and the ghost of a smile. He still wasn’t himself but it was something.

Sihtric stood waist deep in the water, his face towards the sun once more. You announced yourself as you approached, a small cough and light splashes of water against your thighs. Only his head turned in acknowledgement, his eyes roaming over your form freely as you came to his side.

Neither of you spoke as you started to wash him, the rag of your dress was soft even soaked in water, the fabric glided over his skin smoothly, washing away the grim and dirt of battle. He smiled properly when you washed his face. He had closed his eyes in anticipation for the cold water not your warm lips on his cheek. You watched his eyes flutter open as you washed down his neck, following his tattoo down to his shoulders and chest.

He seemed to relax at your touch but not completely. Once the front of him was clean you moved to his back. It was broad and muscular and you admired it as much as you did the front of him. You took your time cleaning his wound, it had undoubtedly been cause by a fierce whack of a shield, only the tense of his muscles showed you how much it hurt. You brushed your lips over it once, twice, three times before you heard a tiny breathless laugh from above you.

‘I am no child Y/N.’

‘I know but even the most accomplished warriors deserve kisses.’

You went back to aimlessly running the cloth over the expanse of his back, eventually replacing the rag with your finger. Despite the chill of the water his skin was still warm and you found yourself humming, lost in the intricacies of his skin.

You joined every freckle with an invisible line and traced every scar with interest. You knew the story behind most of them, it was inevitable when you participated in pillow talk with one of Uhtred’s men. There was one scar that you hadn’t noticed before now. It sat just beneath his right shoulder blade and it was long and faded. Even so you could tell that at the time it had been nasty. Painful.

Had anyone else been watching they would have thought that running your finger over it caused Sihtric pain even now.

His whole body tensed. It was like his entire being collapsed in on itself and the scar was an vacuum, sucking him in.

‘Sihtric, what’s wrong-‘

‘Kjartan.’ His voice trembled slightly and your heart shattered. Grief and guilt and relief was the cause of Sihtric’s distance and tears. You chose not to speak, instead you pressed your cheek into his back and wrap your arms around his frame gently. ‘Kjartan was not fond of me – his bastard. He…he would beat me as punishment or as entertainment. For grieving my mother he had me lashed. It left that one.’ There was forced indifference in his voice.

‘That one … has he left many marks on you?’ Sihtric did not answer, you could feel as well as hear the shaky inhale he took. He took one of your fingers in his large hand and placed it up to his chest. He dragged the pad over the skin, enough pressure that you could feel the slight dip of another scar. When he lifted your hand you had expect him to place it back but instead he placed it onto another on his chest, and another on his thigh and another and another. Some where worse than others, all of them old enough that you hadn’t seen them.

Once he had traced the last of them he took your entire hand in his and brought it to his center of his chest. You forced your tears to stop and the lump in your throat to disappear.

‘You did not deserve such mistreatment. You do not… you do not.’

‘I was his-‘

‘There are no excuses for what he did to you. Bastard or not you were his son and you are a man that deserves many things and that- that was not one of them.’

‘I do not know what I deserve.’

‘Then I shall tell you Sihtric, if you trust me to be honest.’

You removed your head from his back and gently tugged him to face you. He did with little resistance and together you walked back to land.

The two of you sat in your under-garments on the shore line, Sihtric lay between your legs as you re-braided his hair. You told him again that his father was wrong in his mistreatment of him. You told him that he deserved respect and renowned as a warrior. You told him that he deserved the love and loyalty of Uhtred. You told him that he deserved the love of a good woman and many beautiful children , children that he was capable in loving in a way his father never was. And that was because he was a better man.

‘The things you deserve Sihtric are all good and they are endless, my love.’

-*-*-*-*-*-

And in the years to come, despite the battles and the politics and the questionable haircuts Sihtric came to believe your words. The scars of Kjartan faded to sliver and memory, new ones covering them but he didn’t mind. While he never came to believe that he deserved you he would never deny you kissing his wounds better, once, twice, three times just as you had done in the lake by Dunholm.

#the last kingdom #the last kingdom fanfic #tlk #sihtric x reader #sihtric kjartanson x reader #sihtric kjartanson #kjartan the cruel #uhtred #uhtred ragnarson #ragnar ragnarson #angst #lil fluff #inga writes #anon request

[uzumaki-rebellion]

“Black Boys Bloom Thorns First: Volume 2, Chapter 29″

"Oh my, time heals all but you outta time now (Now) Judge gotta watch us from the clock tower (True) Lil' tear gas cleared the whole place out I'll be back with the hazmat for the next round We was tryin' to protest, then the fires broke out Look out for the secret agents, they be planted in the crowd Said, "It's civil unrest," but you sleep so sound Like you don't hear the screams when we catchin' beatdowns Stayin' quiet when they killin' niggas, but you speak loud When we ride, got opinions comin' from a place of privilege…"

"Lockdown"-- Anderson.Paak

Califia stood before the march organizers and read off the things the group wanted to pass along to other protestors. Erik sat next to her on a chair and listened to her tick off each item.

"People should bring protective gear if they can. Goggles or sunglasses for pepper spray. If they have access, they can use the heavier gear for tear gas. Masks or bandannas for the face. Milk and water is good to have on hand to flush out the eyes if tear gas is used. Tattoos and other identifiable markings need to be covered. They should wear plain clothing or gear that doesn't have identifiable brands. A woman was arrested in the States because the Feds were able to trace a T-shirt she bought online at a specialty site. We have advised everyone to bring extra t-shirts and other clothing to switch out so they can disappear if surveillance photos are taken and the streets get hot. Confusing the enemy is the name of the game. We learned a lot from Hong Kong protestors in the past. Phones need to have GPS turned off and if possible, passcodes placed on them in case they are confiscated. No sharing selfies or uploading images…"

The list was long and her fellow organizers nodded in agreement with all the actionable items she shared.

Soliel stood next to her and read off her list of protest roles that would be fed out online to give everyone interested an opportunity to participate, especially those with disabilities and even those who wanted to march but were afraid of losing their jobs or being harassed by their own families.

"As long as we all fight in our own way, we can move this city and this country forward. The whole world. We expect the state to use whatever tools they can to make us look bad, so we must squash any groups that try to disrupt our peaceful march. There will be plants among us. We know this. But we can't allow them to bait us into a situation that would allow them to use violence against us. That is what they want. We'll have our shield soldiers briefed on how to defend us if the federals act out. Our flag bearers are young and move fast, so we will be made aware as soon as possible when the federals arrive in various locations. We have range soldiers, fire squads, and barricaders trained to act. There will be medics available, and as long as we follow our plans, we will have a safe and successful march," Soliel said.

Califia's chest eased with the tightness she had after talking with Erik. He listened on the chair and even asked a few questions about their safety if the police there took them to jail. They had bond pledges ready and lawyers on stand-by, but they hoped it wouldn't come to that.

When the meeting broke up, she walked outside to check on N'Jobu, Bakari and Besouro who opted to stand watch outside. As the organizers left their home, N'Jobu walked up and down the street. She worried that the spies sent to watch their house would take pictures of him, but he assured her that his kimoyo beads would mess up their tech. He planned on using a protective shield on her when they marched.

Besouro said goodnight, and her father and Bakari turned in for the night. She sat outside with N'Jobu and Erik.

"You feel comfortable?" N'Jobu asked her, tossing his arm around her shoulder.

"Yeah. I think we have it all down. The people just have to show up."

"How are you feeling?"

Looking into his eyes, she saw worry in them.

"Quiet…um…settled I guess. It's like the feeling I get when I used to dance at school. You rehearse and practice and understand your role, and now it just comes down to the performance. You hope things go well."

"They will," Erik said.

He sat on the small step that led up onto their tiny porch.

"Did we forget anything in there?" Califia asked, giving her son a smile.

"You had it all covered, Mom. Good job."

"Thank you."

His eyes glanced around the street. Then rested on N'Jobu.

"Baba, what's the matter?"

"Nothing. Just thinking about the march and us returning home."

Erik walked over to N'Jobu and rested his arms around his father's shoulders.

"I like having you around like this all the time. It's been fun here," Erik said.

N'Jobu stroked Erik's hands.

"I've enjoyed myself too, Son. What will you and Marisol do while we are at the march?"

"We'll watch it online, and then make dumplings with Auntie probably. She promised to make them on Saturday."

"Don't eat too many, you always get bad gas," Califia said.

"No, I don't—"

"You don't have to smell yourself when you go to sleep and start ripping bombs," she said rolling her eyes.

"Slander!" Erik said pushing on her arm. She pushed him back.

Down the street someone put on music in their home and Erik wiggled his hips and did a couple of backflips. Tapping his father's knees to get him to play, Erik hopped back from the porch to give N'Jobu room.

N'Jobu slid off his shoes and did an assertive swagger step that circled Erik. The boy's eyes kept watch on his father's hands, expecting the attack to come for his chest and not his feet. Erik stayed on the balls of his own bare feet, hopping up and down each time N'Jobu passed behind him. N'Jobu lunged forward but dropped to his feet tricking Erik into using his hands to go for his father's face. The moment Erik did that, N'Jobu cartwheeled into a side handstand using his legs to knocked Erik aside.

"Clever!" Erik shouted, hooking his fingers and jabbing N'Jobu with hard hits into his thighs. Their motion was fluid, and N'Jobu didn't allow it to move too fast.

"Alright little warrior, time for bed," Califia said.

Erik gave his father a hug.

"If you take a shower, try not to make too much noise, okay? Grandpop is having a hard time sleeping, so any noise keeps him up," she said.

"Okay. Night."

She kissed his cheek and watched him enter the house. The street was quiet then, and there were no more spies that they could see watching their home. The unmarked cars were gone.

Califia sat next to N'Jobu on the sturdy wooden chairs they propped out on the porch. Life felt good in that moment. She reached out and held his hand.

"When we have the vibranium, people can be protected from all police. All types of violence. We can create sources of energy that will lower the cost of living for everyone. People can really live. Sit on their porch and just watch the stars at night with their families and not worry about bills, or putting food on the table," N'Jobu said.

He cradled her fingers and kissed them. Califia stared into his eyes. She believed every word he said because the conviction in them was infectious. She had so many plans for when they began to remake the world. She wished Lia was alive to participate in shaping the future.

"Free education for all at any level. And that education will be equitable in quality everywhere. We can transform healthcare and the education of doctors and nurses on what true health and healing is. No more fossil fuels corroding the earth. People can work at what makes them happy, like my people at home. Wakanda isn't perfect, but we know how to run a society that treats people like humans and not capital gains."

She kissed his lips.

"What was that for?" he asked with a teasing quality in his voice.

"All that sounds so sexy coming from your mouth."

"This mouth right here?" he said pointing to his lips.

"Yeah."

"Are you sure?"

"Let me test it again and see."

She climbed onto his lap and he held her sideways. Lowering her head, she licked his lips then suckled his top lip before going full open-mouthed kissing with him. His hand slid up and down her back and she felt a little something growing under her.

"We should take this to the bedroom," he whispered rubbing on her backside.

"We can't. Erik's sleeping in there, remember? Grandpop has his bed—"

"And Bakari's on the couch…yeah…that is a problem," he sighed.

They kissed longer, and when their necks began to shift left and right as their passion grew, N'Jobu broke away from her wet mouth. They didn't have a car, and the house was so small inside, they would wake up everyone even if they tried to sneak into the bathroom or kitchen.

N'Jobu's eyes darted to and fro, and then he had her lift up.

"What are you doing…babe…no…"

His jeans slid down to his thighs.

"Pull down your jeans, girl."

His erection was hot against her naked thigh. Dragging his fingers up and down her slit, he teased out her wetness.

"It just looks like your sitting on my lap," he whispered. His tone had gone heavy. He was ready.

She couldn't resist and sat down on his length and when she felt his balls, a groan escaped her lips and he covered her mouth.

"Shh, c'mon now. Let's pretend we're back in your grandmother's living room. You know how hot you get when you have to be quiet. Mmmm…shit…Califia…see, you do remember what that was like. Riding my dick. Up and down. Just like that. Give me what I want Califia. I'm your throne…I'm your throne…fuck!"

Califia shifted her weight and let it drop on his lap, allowing his dick to penetrate her deeper. He had her at his mercy, but she switched that up quickly.

"You like that Your Highness?"

His eyes grew big then narrowed with lust. This man. That royalty talk made him grow even stiffer. She rotated her hips in slow agonizing circles as she kept direct eye contact with him, biting her lip and pouting whenever he said her name in submissive whispers.

"You like that Your Highness?"

His head tilted back and his lust-filled eyes gazed up at the heavens filled with stars. She rocked forward and back letting his dick hit her walls with a different energy in the movement.

"I love it!" he gasped clutching at her covered breast.

She began a slow calculated bounce and his right thigh shook under her.

"Dammit!" he cried out while burying his face in her neck, gripping the skin there with his teeth.

"Bite me," she panted, wanting those gold panther teeth of his to dig into her throat and make her feel drunk with his power to weaken her flesh.

His loving never got old or boring or repetitive. N'Jobu's dick aged like fine ebony wine and he could still bring tears to her eyes when they made love. The tasty fucking he was giving her on the porch had her eyes swimming in water already.

"Fuck me Prince N'Jobu."

She whimpered when his eyes fell shut and he held her down on his lap so he could thrust up into her. She leaned forward again to adjust the side angle he had her in and allowed him to slam his dick into her with a faster rhythm. Her cheeks began to clap loudly and she worried that her family inside could hear it. N'Jobu gave no care to whoever heard him. He was inside his woman. That's all that mattered.

"Your Highness, fuck me harder!" she blurted out in a rush of desperate air.

He gave out a loud moan that he couldn't hold back, and now her loud ass cheeks were joined by the sound of her wet pussy being stirred like creamy cake batter. She didn't even have to play with her clit to keep it stimulated, the side fucking tugged on her stiff bud.

"Yes! Baby…harder…"

Tears dropped from her eyes and her mouth started to dry out from being open and yelping every three seconds. When she began to squeal and squirm from all his thrusting, she dug her nails into her knees and let go.

"I'm cumming Prince N'Jobu! I'm cummi-!"

She slammed her hand over her mouth as the contractions in her walls took over. She stood on tippy-toe as her pussy did all the work of milking his dick. He shouted a curse word in Wakandan and the swelling of his length released a torrent of hot semen. He shoved his dick into her deeper and allowed his release to coat every inch of her slick interior.

Panting, N'Jobu pulled out of her and she felt the back rush of his excess cum drip from her folds. She pulled her underwear and pants up.

Wiping his sweaty brow, N'Jobu stared at her face and they both laughed.

"We are a mess," she said.

She watched him slip a single bead from his kimoyo bracelet as he walked to the front part of their tiny yard. Digging a small hole with his index finger, he dropped the bead in like a seed and tapped it twice. Califia's eyes caught a slight bright afterimage in her retinas that felt like a muted camera flash.

"What was that?" she asked.

"Security. I just activated a surveillance sensor. It will protect the house and alert me of anything outside."

He tapped another bead on his arm. Their house popped up as an image floating above his arm. It rotated 360 degrees. She could see her father, Bakari, and Erik asleep inside.

They snuck into the house and took a shower together. Crawling into bed next to their son after changing into shorts for him and a nightie for her, they spooned Erik on either side of him, the child's snores giving Califia relief that he heard nothing.

N'Jobu stared at his son's sleeping face. Califia' stroked the boy's hair.

"I will give him the world," he said.

Califia nodded, but her man had to know that he was already their son's world.

Erik had it whenever his father was next to him.

###

At the starting point of the march, N'Jobu slipped a kimoyo bead inside the pocket of the black jeans Califia wore.

If any trouble occurred, he would activate a protective camouflage shield around her and him and escort her out. She seemed anxious but eager after Soliel's parents dropped them off and took Erik to stay with Marisol. Erik appeared disappointed once more that he couldn't participate, but he kissed them goodbye and N'Jobu felt relief that his son would be away from potential harm.

The weather was agreeable and he watched Soliel and the march leadership give final instructions to the large crowd that listened to them speak through megaphones. Califia passed out water bottles from the medic supply tent that was set up at the starting zone. There would be others dotted along the march route.

Despite the sad memories of losing Lia, there was a palpable sense of celebratory vibes wafting off the marchers. Some had posters with Lia's face on them, others had posters of other victims of police brutality and police misconduct. Califia wore a brown and beige Steampunk mask that covered the bottom half of her face with attached goggles with dark lenses that protected her eyes. Once Soliel stopped speaking, she too covered her face with a bandanna and dark sunglasses that obscured her face. The family of Lia would be direct targets, and relatives were advised to blend into the actual march and not center themselves for any reason.

More supporters arrived and by the time the march started at three, there was plenty of media and the frenzy to try and capture trouble wafted off of the press. Chants of Lia's name and Brazilian protest songs were sung, and N'Jobu felt proud of the family for keeping Lia's name and work alive.

Two hours in and miles of bodies marching through the streets, word spread through the crowd from flag bearers that the police were moving in to contain pockets of protesters who had broken off from the main march. There was to be a rally at the end in front of the city hall, and the joyful energy in the crowd shifted into caution mode. N'Jobu held Califia's hand and kept her next to him as they walked. The surge in numbers of people grew, and N'Jobu began to feel as if he should remove Califia and the family. Something didn't feel right.

His military skills went into hyperdrive and he searched roofs for snipers and spotted some along the route. They were near the front of the first wave of marchers, and he could see police barricades already blocking access to city hall and limiting the space they had been given permission to occupy.

The crowd grew tense.

Soliel chatted with some women who were to speak in front of the mayor's office and she signaled for Califia and N'Jobu to come next to her.

"They don't want me to speak," Soliel said, "there are some police here who many think we're part of the assassination of Lia."

"You have a right to speak without fear for the family," a young man said who was in charge of the speakers line-up scheduled.

Soliel's face was creased with worry.

Another woman held up her cell phone.

"A group on social media have threatened to make trouble," she said.

"I won't be scared off," Soliel said even though her voice shook. She looked at Aunjanue. Bakari caught up to them.

"There are some people near the middle of the line that are instigating trouble. Some police are getting a little heavy-handed," Bakari said. He scrolled his burner cell.

"Besouro and some drummers are trying to help contain it when I left."

"What do you want to do, Soliel?" Califia asked.

"We should speak. I will speak. They silenced my sister a year ago. We can't allow that to stop us now. Intimidation tactics are what they are known for. I won't bow down to it."

The rally commenced.

N'Jobu and Califia watched speaker after speaker give testimony about Lia and the work still being done to combat the problems of police brutality and the inequities in the city. Califia checked in with Soliel's cousin who babysat the children and things were fine. Soliel closed out the speeches and gave a fiery address. N'Jobu watched her pull off her t-shirt and standing in her bra, she showed everyone her old bullet wounds in her chest and arm. Her voice was guttural and Califia translated her words as fast as she could for him.

"They put a bullet in my sister's head, and they tried to kill me too. Look at me! Look at me! I am a Black woman fighting to honor my sister's memory. I have dedicated my life to doing work that helps my people just like my sister did. My family is still watched by the police. I get email threats every week since my sister has been gone. Why? Because they do not want anyone else to rise up and challenge injustice. The police do this. The same police who allowed my sister to be murdered by their own are out here standing among us. They are not here to protect and serve the people. They are here to uphold the will of the state. And the state says that Black people are not worth anything…"

The crowd booed and some made catcalls to the police surrounding the mayor's office.

"…they say we are not human beings who deserve to live dignified lives. My sister dared to speak truth to power and…"

N'Jobu watched the crowd carefully and then kept watch over the police on alert.

"Oh shit…" Califia said.

"What?"

"She named names. Told the crowd we know the individuals who killed Lia…."

Soliel held up her cell phone and scrolled it.

"She's now naming cops in the line up here and telling the people reports of their misconduct records…"

N'Jobu felt the energy around him get amped up. The anger was swelling from the marchers. The cops looked tenser. A few left their posts and threaded away from the protestors.

"I'm glad she did it, but that was not part of her original speech," Califia said.

Loud chanting started behind them and N'Jobu swiveled his neck to see where it was coming from, but it seemed to erupt from everywhere in a spontaneous show of power.

"Fuck the police!" Califia shouted her fist in the air.

N'Jobu's eyes darted around. Many cops had their hands on their weapons ready to discharge them as they held up riot shields to push back people. He slipped his fingers on his kimoyo beads. One false move and he would make Califia and himself disappear from sight. Califia caught his fingers on the beads and she clutched onto his arm.

"Soliel," she whispered.

"I slipped a bead into her jean pocket," he said.

Califia pressed her head onto his shoulder. The relief spilled from her.

"We are not afraid of you. You should be afraid of the power from all of us. We will change this city for the betterment of all. The world is watching us right now. My sister, Negra Li, she is watching all of us right now. Our ancestors are watching over us right now. Justice will come. Justice is here. I thank all of you for coming—"

An organizer rushed over to Soliel and tugged on her arm. Soliel stared down at her cell phone.

"I just received word that my home was firebombed. My home was attacked—"

"N'Jobu! The children!" Califia shouted.

N'Jobu grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the crowd.

###

Smoke rose up from the destroyed back half of Soliel and Aunjanue's home, and as it drifted up to the sky, the setting sun made it look monstrous like a snarling dragon sitting on top of it with a heated white-gray breath. Adrenaline coursed through N'Jobu. The fire department and police tried to hold him and Califia back as they all stared in disbelief at the destruction.

His heart began to beat again when he saw Soliel's cousin who was in charge of caring for the children standing near an ambulance with Marisol. The little girl was given fresh oxygen. That relief was short-lived.

"Where's Erik?" Califia screamed.

The cousin, Ines, began to cry with a bruised face and Califia shouted out in agony and lunged for the wrecked house again. N'Jobu grabbed her and held her tight, but she fought him. "Is my baby in there?! Is he in there?" she screamed at the firefighters.

There were already firemen going through the rubble in the back. He dragged Califia over to the cousin and Marisol.

"What happened?" N'Jobu asked trying to contain his anger.

"I was cooking and Marisol was with me in the kitchen. An explosion blew up the back….we were thrown onto the floor. I covered Marisol up…but JaJa, he was in the bedroom playing a video game. I called to him, but I couldn't get him because we were covered in debris and the house was burning…"

Ines burst into uncontrollable tears and Califia tried to comfort her as her eyes pleaded for him to find Erik.

"Go get him!" she demanded.

He moved with a swiftness as Dante and Soliel's parents arrived. Soon enough Bakari and Soleil showed up with many organizers.

"My son is in there get off of me!" he yelled pushing on a policeman. He kicked aside wood and concrete, shouting for his boy, his eyes filling with smoke…

"Baba! Mom!"

N'Jobu turned to find Erik running up to his mother. Califia grabbed him in a tight hug, lifting him off of his feet.

"Where were you?" N'Jobu said clutching for him too.

Guilt was on his face.

"I left the house…I snuck off to go to the march…"

His eyes took in Marisol and then he stared at the destroyed rear of Soliel and Aunjanue's home.

"What happened?" Erik asked. His eyes were wide like a baby owl.

Califia kissed all over his face.

"I should be angry with you, but being hardheaded saved your life!" she scolded.

Erik walked up to Marisol who was in the arms of Soliel.

"You okay?" he asked.

Marisol burst into tears.

"We thought you were dead!" she wailed.

The little girl said what they all felt and Erik hugged her.

Califia wiped her eyes.

Soliel lost it.

"They tried to kill my family again!" she shouted.

Aunjanue tried to hold her and Marisol's face crumpled.

"The police did this! The police did this!"

Soliel's parents pulled her and her family away from the ambulance and ushered them to a waiting car. N'Jobu grabbed for Erik and Califia's hands.

"Let's go," he told them with Dante and Bakari on his heels.

He hailed a cab two blocks away and Califia called Soliel's mother to see where they were headed. The new family home was the destination. N'Jobu checked their own rental property and it was intact.

"This is crazy," Bakari uttered.

The ride in the cab only lasted five minutes and they took refuge inside a single-story home. Both the children were checked thoroughly and Marisol was sent to go rest. Calls were made and fears were heightened. Califia's hands wouldn't stop shaking and N'Jobu rubbed her back.

"JaJa," N'Jobu said.

"I know you told me to stay at the house, but I watched the march online and I just wanted to be there. I caught the bus but a lot of streets were blocked off, so I just walked around until I found some marchers. I walked and then I came back."

Fate.

Fate had a way of working on N'Jobu, and he thanked Bast for whatever got into his son's head to leave.

"Poor Marisol, and Ines," Califia said.

"Shit," Dante said.

Califia's father walked to the front door and they all followed.

Groups of angry people were storming down the street yelling.

"This isn't good," Bakari said.

Erik tried to peek at the action but Califia pulled him back and took him to the room where Marisol rested.

N'Jobu heard bottles breaking outside. Soliel's father Andres closed the front door.

"We stay indoors," Andres said.

"They destroyed my home!" Soliel shouted. Aujanue tried to calm her again.

"We will go salvage what we can in a couple of hours, but right now, we stay here."

Andres's voice made things sound final.

The rest of the night was spent watching the news of the firebombing, screening phone calls from the police and media.

People took to the streets and whatever feelings of goodwill and hope that the march provided ended in anger and destruction of public property. Government property was targeted and they all watched in horror as the Sao Paulo community that peacefully assembled to celebrate Lia broke down into hopelessness. Hundreds of arrests were made. N'Jobu and Califia saw young people throwing Molotov cocktails at the police who shot back with rubber bullets and real ones. Complete chaos. Supporters stood outside and protected Andres's home.

Califia was able to slip his kimoyo bead away from Soliel when she changed clothes and returned it to him. N'Jobu spoke with Erik about what he saw in the streets. His son only reported positive things and he felt good about being a part of the memorial march.

"Will they be able to fix the house back up?" Erik asked when he rested between him and Califia for the night in the spare bedroom of Andres's home.

Bakari was camped out on the floor next to the bed on a small cot, and Dante was curled up in a sleeping bag directly on the floor to help his back.

"There was too much damage to save it," Califia said with bitterness lacing her voice.

"Are you guys still mad at me for leaving?"

"No, Son. We are happy that everyone is alive and well. Homes can be replaced. People cannot," N'Jobu said.

Erik rested his head on his mother's stomach.

"Why do bad things happen to us here?" Erik asked.

Califia looked at N'Jobu for the answer.

"Powerful people with ill intent often don't like to see good people change the world. They are afraid of losing their power to control others," he said.

"Marisol was so scared. I shouldn't have left her."

"Don't worry about that. You are safe and sound and here with us," Califia said.

"Will she have to see someone like Dr. Davis? Like I had to talk to someone about…you know…"

"Probably. Don't think about that. Get some sleep, okay?" Califia said.

"Will they stay out in the streets all night? Because of what happened to Auntie's house?"

"Most people have gone home. Luckily, no one was killed by the police—"

"But that woman got shot in the leg, Mom."

"She'll live, son. Everyone is upset and hurt by what happened. They had to act out those feelings. But it's calm now."

Califia smoothed hair from Erik's eyes.

"Somebody needs a haircut," she teased.

"You!" he said pulling a clump of her hair.

"Ow! Boy!" she chirped slapping at his hand.

Erik giggled.

N'Jobu was glad that he wasn't traumatized by the shocking events of the day.

Erik fell asleep and Califia eased him off of her belly and tucked him between them. N'Jobu reached over and stroked Califia's arm.

"I'm still so angry. If they were watching all of us, then they knew there were children in that house. They didn't care. Willing to kill our babies—"

"Shh, Califia. Not now. Don't wake him."

She stared at her hands.

"Look at my hands. They still shake. God, I want to strangle whoever did that to us. I just saw that rubble and knew Erik was under it."

She grew quiet.

"Califia?"

"You think he's okay? He seems calm about all of this."

"I think he's fine. No one was seriously hurt and we all came together quickly. There was no chaos like…like last time."

"I needed to be here for this…"

"But?"

"Maybe it was a mistake. Bringing him here. I could've come by myself…"

"We needed to be here together. All of us—"

"Don't just say that to make me feel better, N'Jobu."

"We can't control the actions of our enemies. The march was an overwhelming success."

"But after the march, we'll get blamed for what happened."

"People acted out of legitimate frustration and anger about what happened to Soleil's home. It was another attack on Lia's good name, and if people destroyed a few police vehicles and buildings, so be it. Why are you smiling?"

She shook her head, her smile deepening.

"What would the old N'Jobu say about you talking like this?"

"The old me was naïve and corrupt."

"Corrupt?"

"Corrupted by privilege. Isolation. Willful ignorance."

Her eyes rested on their son.

"He'll really be okay, right?"

"Yes."

She eased her head on a pillow and closed her eyes.

He drifted in and out of sleep. Their journey into the future would begin soon and he fretted about it until he saw Bakari wake up and go into the kitchen. N'Jobu followed him.

"Couldn't stay sleep," Bakari said pouring himself some instant coffee.

"Me neither. Part of me wants to run out and just beat the hell out of anyone affiliated with the police, and another part of me knows that it could be anyone out there against Black people."

Bakari nodded.

They sat at the kitchen table together and listened to the loud ticking of the grandfather clock in the living room.

"Erik?"

"Good. So far. He wasn't there so he's only concerned about where they will live. Marisol and Ines will have to process this."

"Marisol was laughing with Andres last I heard before I went to bed. Ines said she's been through worse, so…I don't know. Maybe this will pass by for them without much scarring."

"Bakari. When we return to the States, I will need your help with some legal things."

"Like?"

"I'm planning some things and it involves my family. I'll give you more details when there aren't so many ears around, but it's very serious and I need your complete confidence and discretion."

"Whatever you need man."

N'Jobu walked into the living room and peeked out of the large front window. He could see a few neighbors standing guard outside the gated yard, and not much foot traffic or cars rolling through since the police blocked off access near the house. He hoped things had really calmed down, but his gut told him to be ready for anything.

###

The local news was in a frenzy, but the story about the firebombing was picked up on international channels. N'Jobu laid low indoors with Erik. Califia moved in and out of the house to make statements with the press alongside Soliel. Later that day the family went to salvage personal items from the destroyed home. N'Jobu watched the children and cooked for them, checking his kimoyo beads for Califia from time to time.

The march organizers had a debriefing meeting that Soliel insisted on participating in that evening. Dante had a return flight back to Oakland, so goodbyes were given and Califia saw her father off in a cab before she headed out with Soliel. They were gone for hours, and when he didn't hear from them after too much time had passed without a check-in, he grew concerned. He asked Bakari to watch the children while he set out to track her with the kimoyo bead planted on her.

He tried Califia's cell phone, but she didn't answer it. Soliel didn't answer hers either and when he drove a few blocks away from the house, Califia's phone number popped up on his cell.

"Califia?"

The voice on the other end spoke rapid Portuguese and N'Jobu couldn't make out the words. It wasn't his woman speaking. He pulled over and parked. He saw a police vehicle on the corner and there were people lingering outside as the evening settled down.

"Hold on. I don't understand…too fast…slow down…vá mais devagar! Where is my wife?"

The voice became shrill. The only thing he understood was his name and Califia's.

"Hold on for a minute, please!"

Clutching the phone to his chest, N'Jobu swept his eyes back to the police car ahead of him. Something made him leave the car where it was and walk discreetly back to the house.

"Erik, come here!"

Erik bounded out of the bedroom. Bakari stepped out of the kitchen.

"What's up man?" Bakari asked wiping down a plate.

"Someone's on the phone and I can't figure out what they're saying. They're using Califia's phone."

Bakari reached for the cell.

"I can talk to them."

"It sounds urgent and Erik's Portuguese is better."

Erik took the phone.

N'Jobu tapped his beads and he could see that Califia was alive and stationary, but she wasn't where she was supposed to be. He wished he had given her a 4D bead, but he couldn't take the chance of his brother scanning it and discovering his whereabouts or seeing Califia with it.

"Baba, this woman says that the police raided Mom's meeting…the phone cut off."

N'Jobu felt his heart leap to his throat.

Andres and Soliel's mother stepped into the house carrying bags of groceries.

"Mestre, I need you to call Califia's phone back. Something has happened."

Andres took the cell and put it on speakerphone.

The woman answered again but her voice was quieter like she was trying to whisper.

"Turn on the TV!" Andres shouted.

Bakari snapped on the television and N'Jobu's eyes and ears were split between the cell and the news.

"Okay, that was one of the organizers—"

"Mãe," Erik said holding onto Soliel's mother whose hands shook.

N'Jobu held onto the woman's arm and helped her sit down on the couch.

"What is happening?!" N'Jobu demanded.

"The women were having a meeting and the police went there to charge Soliel with inciting a riot and there was shooting. An officer was killed and—"

All eyes went to the TV as reports of the dead cop was announced.

"Where are they?" Bakari asked.

Three women were seated on the curb of a street in handcuffs and N'Jobu recognized them from being in his house days earlier. There was no sign of Califia or Soliel. Aunjanue wasn't seen either.

"Shoot out?" Andres said with an incredulous voice as the TV reporter made ridiculous claims, "My daughter would never have a weapon—"

"Shh," Mãe said patting his arm.

"Baba," Erik said.

His son stepped next to him and held his arm.

"It's okay, Son. Your mother is fine."

He almost convinced himself.

The threads were coming together to tell a story that N'Jobu didn't like. Cops raiding Soliel's organization. He could imagine Califia or Soliel popping off and the cops retaliating for accusations and calling out names for Lia's murder. They had to be on the run if that many police were parading in front of the TV cameras. They would've ditched their cell phones to keep from being tracked.

When the news report went to commercial, N'Jobu turned to face Andres.

"They won't be able to come here. Where can they go that will be safe?" N'Jobu asked.

He couldn't let on that he had the exact location of the women. Picking them up from wherever they were would not be a problem for him, but if they were in deep and actually did kill a cop, he'd have to get Califia out of the country.

"They would head out of the city," Andres said.

N'Jobu held onto Erik's hand. His eyes glanced at N'Jobu's beads and then they were on his father's face. The boy was quick.

N'Jobu ran through plans in his head. They would have to leave all of their belongings at the rental property. There was nothing there they needed. Erik had his mother's laptop there with him. N'Jobu would leave it with Bakari to take back to the States.

The landline rang.

They looked at one another and then Andres answered it.

The man listened to whoever was on the line and his body language relaxed. He hung up and took a deep breath.

"They are fine, but hiding out with Besouro in his apartment. They can't stay there long because the police will probably start locking down streets since a cop was killed. There is now a manhunt for them."

That meant they had names.

That also meant that Califia couldn't leave the country by plane or car. She was stuck.

Unless…

"We can get Aunjanue and Soliel to the Mantiqueira Mountains, but Califia would have to stay with them," Andres said.

Erik's body grew tense against him.

"No. I will get her out of the country," N'Jobu said.

"Man, how you gonna do that? They will have this place crawling with cops, and they will be out for blood," Bakari said.

"Baba," Erik murmured.

Marisol walked into the room rubbing her eyes. Mãe ushered her back into the room she came from napping in.

"I will get her out of here."

N'Jobu's words were final.

###

He was taking a huge risk.

N'Jobu had War Dog allies all over the planet, but what he was attempting to do now could risk the greater mission if it failed.

He stayed secretive as he rode in a cab with Erik and Andres.

Favors had been called in from Andres's cadre of capoeira supporters and close family friends. Spiriting away three wanted women was going to be a delicate task. The police already had a woman in custody who was Soliel's right-hand soldier and she wasn't speaking to anyone but a lawyer. Bakari stayed in Andre's home contacting lawyer friends back home and discreetly checking to see if there was someone who could help him with Brazilian law where it pertained to American citizens accused of crimes.

Changing cabs a few times and walking for the last leg of getting to Besouro's apartment was tough, especially for Erik whose anxiety about his mother spiked tremendously. Entering the back of the twenty-story apartment building, N'Jobu used his kimoyo beads to scramble cameras outside the apartment and inside as they rode an elevator.

He was able to breathe normally the moment Califia was in his arms.

"Jobu!" she cried out when she saw him.

He hugged her so hard that he squeezed the breath from her chest.

"Don't talk about anything, not in front of Erik," he whispered in her ear.

She nodded and he released her to comfort their son. Erik did his best to appear brave but it didn't stop a few tears from trekking down his face once he was back with his mother.

Time wasn't wasted and Andres gave Soliel and Aunjanue wigs that Mãe sent with him and a change of clothes. They waited an hour and then one of Andre's friends called from a hidden car out on the street.

"Cali," Soliel said.

All the women hugged. There were no tears among them, just reassuring touches and kisses. Andres ushered them out.

Besouro cooked for them and they watched the news. Erik held onto his mother until she made him go lay down in Besouro's bedroom.

"Show me your roof access," N'Jobu said.

Confused, Besouro took him to the stairs of the apartment and they walked up ten flights.

"How will you leave here?" Besouro asked.

"I have a plan. We'll be leaving later tonight."

"Why do you need to see the roof?"

"Don't worry about."

"Don't worry about it? Are you insane? How can I not? I have to make sure Califia and Erik—"

"I will take care of my family."

Besouro's eyes look heated.

"They are my family too. They all are. Even you."

The man's voice grew soft.

N'Jobu held out his hand and Besouro clasped it in his and shook it.

"Thank you for protecting them. I promise you; I will take care of them and send you word when we are safe."

Besouro nodded, but N'Jobu could see great doubt there. The man was terrified. And he was putting his own life on the line for harboring fugitives.

"I'm going back down," Besouro said.

N'Jobu watched the man leave. When he was certain that he was alone he tapped his kimoyo bead.

"Lixesha lokuba ndimke."

Indeed.

It was time to leave.

"Your Highness, we shall arrive in exactly one hour. We have your coordinates."

"Thank you, Yonela," N'Jobu said into his beads.

He walked back down to the apartment and joined his family inside Besouro's bedroom.

"Listen to me carefully," he said standing in front of Califia and Erik as they sat on the bed.

Their questioning eyes made him smile.

"We are leaving the country. At midnight."

"I can't get on a plane, N'Jobu. I can't even drive out of Sao Paolo," she said.

"What about our stuff at the house?" Erik asked.

"That can be replaced later. When we get to Oakland we'll have to stay at my apartment. Understand?"

They both nodded.

He touched Califia's hair and she wrapped her arms around his waist.

Ten minutes before midnight, N'Jobu gathered his family and walked them into the living room.

"Don't follow us," N'Jobu warned.

Erik and Califia hugged Besouro and he looked so lost and helpless to N'Jobu.

"Send me word," Besouro said.

N'Jobu nodded then herded Erik and Califia out of the apartment.

They all stayed quiet walking up the stairs and when they reached the roof, they stared at him.

"What's going to happen Baba?"

Erik's earnest eyes made N'Jobu pat his shoulder.

"You shall see, my Son."

Califia's eyes just took in the roof.

"Baba!"

Erik touched the gums on his lower lip. Califia stared at her arms and hands.

N'Jobu could feel the vibration in his body too and turned to face the sky.

"Mom, look!"

Erik pointed above them as streaks of neon blue lit the black sky.

"What…?"

Califia couldn't even finish her sentence as the sky above them appeared to ripple as if someone threw a pebble into a placid dark lake. They were all enveloped in the ticklish field of the multi-spectral camouflage shield. Erik held his fingers up to try and touch the shield but then a loud gasp escaped his throat and Califia's as a Wakandan Battle Cruiser shimmered into full view above them.

"Oh my God! Oh my God!" Califia shrieked.

N'Jobu enveloped her hand in his.

"Baba!" Erik shouted jumping up and down.

The large Cruiser spun around and hovered at the edge of the roof. A large ramp silently eased out from it and two soldiers walked down the ramp.

"Your Highness."

Captain Yonela Majola greeted him with gentle eyes. Her second in command Lt. Deyi looked around the roof to make sure it was secure. His eyes took in N'Jobu's family and when he stared at the Prince, he gave a respectful head nod in deference.

"No matter what happens, you did not see these two. Understood?" N'Jobu commanded.

"Yes, your Highness," they said in unison.

They stepped aside making room for him and his family.

"Come," N'Jobu said holding Erik's hand. Califia walked right next to him, the ship overwhelming her senses.

"I can't believe this," she whispered.

Onboard, the rest of Yonela's crew bowed to him.

"Where would you like to sit, Prince N'Jobu?" Yonela asked.

Erik's eyes made N'Jobu chuckle.

"In the front for now," N'Jobu said.

"We are on course to rendezvous with a Royal Shadow Fighter in Guyana in good time. We will have to stay in hover mode for a day before we can transfer you," Yonela said, "It is the only way I can keep this operation covert."

"That is fine, Captain," N'Jobu said.

Lt. Deyi guided Erik and Califia to empty high-backed gray seats behind the Captain's floating chair.

"Baba, it's not attached to anything. How is that possible?" Erik whispered.

"I will tell you later. We have to leave right away. Califia, are you comfortable?"

Califia sat back in her chair. She looked around for a seatbelt and then her eyes regarded his. He sat next to her and took her hand.

"Whoa," she yelped when the gravity belts secured them.

Her eyes gazed down at her waist and then she touched her shoulders.

"I feel something, but there's nothing here," she said.

Yonela took her position in the floating chair. The chair turned around to face them.

"May I, your Highness?" Yonela asked.

"Proceed," N'Jobu said, taking delight in his family getting a feel of his old world.

Yonela's eyes took in his family.

"You do not exist," Yonela said.

Erik's eyes were bright. Califia was cautious and a bit nervous.

"We are loyal to our Prince. We would die for him. We will get you home safe…"

Yonela's English was simple and clear. She slowed down to make sure they understood every word. She handed them kimoyo beads from her bracelet.

"Keep these on you. They will hide you in plain sight on board this ship. I can communicate with you while you have them. Understand?"

They nodded.

"Good. Welcome aboard."

Yonela floated back around

"At your stations!" she commanded.

The other soldiers took their positions and Yonela swiped her hand in front of her face. Touching a glowing magenta rectangle near her right hand, she took her index finger and thumb widening the rectangle. As she did that, the viewscreen window before them widened.

"Wow!" Erik said.

Califia's eyes were wider too as they took in the landscape of the city.

"May I proceed, Your Highness?" Yonela said.

"Proceed," N'Jobu said.

Yonela's left hand swiped another small floating screen and they all felt the engines rev and the Cruiser floated forward.

The smooth ascent gave them more spectacular views of Sao Paulo. Califia pointed to their left.

"Those are the Mantiqueira Mountains," she said.

N'Jobu held her hand.

"They'll make it, my love," he said.

"Erik," Yonela said.

"Yes?" he answered.

Yonela tapped Lt. Deyi's shoulder and the man stood up from his floating seat in front of Erik.

"Would you like to sit next to me?"

Yonela's eyes twinkled as she turned her head to look back at Erik. The gray hair peppering her short dark curls were the only give away that she was much older than she looked. She was sixty and barely looked forty.

"Can I Baba?"

N'Jobu's eyes met Yonela's. He hadn't been openly forthright with letting her know that this was his own family. He had told the Captain that they were a mother and child he was close to and that they needed help escaping undetected.

Yonela's eyes looked even gentler after she received confirmation.

"Go ahead," N'Jobu said.

Erik wiggled in his seat, and the gravity belt released him. He jumped onto the floating chair.

"Easy, JaJa," Califia said, still holding N'Jobu's hand.

"You see that button there?" Yonela asked pointing to a glowing yellow circle.

"Yes."

"Tap it two times," she said.

Erik did and the lights inside the ship grew dim until it was almost completely dark and just the glow of the night sky and the lights of the city enveloped them.

"Good job, young Prince," Yonela said.

Erik's eyes gazed at the woman, and then he looked back at N'Jobu in wonderment.

Yonela's fingers moved swiftly across her floating controls.

"Stealth mode engaged. Radio silence maintained…"

The rest of the soldiers went about their normal duties.

Yonela kept the cruising altitude low so that Erik could watch them travel over the country of Brazil. N'Jobu felt Califia squeeze his hand and when he looked over at her, there was water in her eyes.

"Come with me," he said releasing her from her seat.

He took her to the upper level of the ship where there were showers and sleeping quarters. Grabbing fresh white cotton loungewear from a closet, he waved his hand for privacy and several soldiers moved away from their section.

He helped her remove all of her clothing before taking his off and led her into a shower stall, locking the shower door behind them. Fully lit with plenty of room for the two of them, he took soap and shampoo from the dispensers and lathered her hair and body as she wept, the stress pouring out of her. He held her, and when she was rinsed off, he made her sit on the shower bench with him. Rocking her in his arms he allowed her to cry until no more tears came.

He pulled her into the body dryer and when they were ready, they dressed in the comfortable and clingy loungewear.

"This way," he said.

She followed him to an empty wall in a corner and watched him wave his hand over a section of it and a bed slid out from the wall.

"Lay down."

She crawled onto the small comfortable bed and he climbed in after her and wrapped his arms around her.

"When you are ready, tell me everything."

She nodded and fell asleep on his chest.

The hum of the ship rocked them both into a much-needed rest.

Chapter 30 HERE.

###

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#Black Boys Bloom Thorns First Vol. 2 #N'Jobu #Killmonger #Little Killmonger #Erik Killmonger as a kid #N'Jobu Fanfiction #Black Panther Fanfiction #N'Jobu Smut

[sunnieskies02]

Corrupted Faith

OneShot; Demon Bakugou x F!Reader

Trigger Warnings: NSFW, Degradation, non(dub)con, teasing biting etc

Word Count :4.1k

______________________________________________________________________________

“ Sister (y/n)!” A small group of kids run towards you happily and wrap their arms around your legs. “ We missed you so much! Are you feeling any better?” You stop wiping the altar and place your hand on top of the little boy's head and squat. “Yes little Theodore. Im doing amazing!” He smiles back at you and in response you pinch his cheeks and pull them turning his face red.

He giggles and runs off with the other children. *What did I do to deserve such an angel like Theodore* Becoming a nun was one of the many things that made your previously glum life exciting. Taking care of the orphaned children, baking for them and giving them a loving environment where they can grow. It made your heart warm, especially since you did this work alongside your best friend Brother Eijirou. You and him have been friends ever since you met each other at the training, and you two have been known as an inseparable pair.

Apart from caring for the children, you have another job at the church. Exorcisms. For an unknown reason, since your birth you’ve been able to see spirits and demons. When you were younger, once these spirits caught on to the fact that you could see them they started to pester you. Making you trip and fall, lifting up your skirt, pulling your hair; it never ended. And because of these pestering spirts, you decided to become a nun, a person of the church who has the power to rid of these spirits.

So for 5 years of your life, you learned how to be a respectful nun, and an exorcist at the same time. The work was grueling, but you were happy with the outcome because it was worth it in the end, you wanted nothing more than to free people from these spirits that cause nothing but trouble. You were a powerful exorcist, a strong one who could do away with and spirits with one simple verse. And with this amount of power you possessed, it was sooner than later that Lucifer’s followers would start to surface.

But none had come. You were surprised, you thought yourself so much as a badass that not a single demon came. Weeks prior after days of exorcising spirits, you thought one of them would surface. You were tense and on guard the entire time just in case one of Morning Star’s followers came up but… they never came. So you were left with one or two things to consider, 1) being that, you aren’t so much of a threat that you thought you were or 2) that they were planning to send someone ridiculously strong. Either one of those thoughts made you lax, * Any spirit that they send my way. They’d be gone in a flash.*

You wake up early on a Sunday morning at 4:30am to get started on breakfast for the orphans. As you grab your caddie and walk down to the bathroom you hear a low creak down the hall. You know that the church is old and that it is still settling as the years go one so you continue inside. You twist the knob for the shower and let it heat up, and as you do so you start to strip down. While you are naked in the bathroom, you turn to make sure that the water is hot and you step inside. You sigh under the scalding heat, hit your back and run through your hair. You stay in the shower for a few minutes, lather up in lavender soap and rinse it off.

Moments later you step out of the shower and continue your morning routine. Now it was 6:00 and you were making your way to the orphanage when you saw him. A tall ash-blonde male with wings as dark as tar and eyes as red as blood covered in tattoos and scribes. You gasp and he darts you a look, without hesitation you relax and try not to make it noticeable that you can see him as bright as day. As you walk past him, you can feel his eyes burning into the back of your head, you take a deep breath in and a deep breath out and open the doors to wake the children.

You were shaken to your core and the image of the demon never left your head. You had not noticed Brother Eijirou walk to your side while you were washing the plates after breakfast , “Hey, y/n you there.” You jump back and look at him, to laugh and punch him in the shoulder and say “Don’t scare me like that Kirishima. You nearly knocked my socks off with that.”

“Well I had to, all the kids said that you’ve been acting strange and out of it. What happened.” You parted your lips to speak but closed them. You could tell that he was concerned because when you look back at him, he showed his puppy dog eyes. ‘Jesus, why does he have to be so cute.’ You roll your eyes and tell him “I-i saw a demon this morning Kiri. And he looked...strong. Really strong.” He rubbed your back and said “Well I’m pretty sure that he was scared by a hot mama like you! And you shouldn’t be scared of anything as long as you have me around right?” Look at him and blow some of the suds at him, “You’re right. As long as you're by my side there should be no--”

You sentence was interrupted by the children’s screams “ SISTER Y/N! BROTHER EIJIROU! Somethings wrong with Theo, he’s acting weird and Brother Midoriya has been trying to help him but its not looking good.” Then an eruption of tears and wails came from the children, you looked at Eijirou, nodded and he headed off. You had to stay behind and calm all of the children down, once you pushed them back into their rooms and told the eldest to keep them in check you ran back outside and froze.

You see Eijirou and Midoriya, covered in dried blood and burn scars. They were really trying to go against Theodore without truly hurting him and that wasn’t all. Your heart tore to pieces when you looked up at Theo floating high into the sky casting down spells and rites around him, he wasn’t the sweet doe-eyed theo from the day before. Theo was covered in caked blood that wasn’t his own and fixtures were swirling all around him. He was simply possessed, but by what? When you got a closer look at him you saw the same eyes again, “Well well well, it's the nun I've been looking for.” Theodore floated down to your eye level and grabbed at your throat, his grip was tight and felt your trachea start to close. With the strength that was left within your body you speak a rite but Theo’s grip got even tighter.

He pulled you to your knees and asked “You saw me this morning right?” You kept your lips shut and spat in his face, he snapped his face back after catching the spit on his cheek, you saw Theo’s body fall to the floor but you still made eye contact with the monster presented before you. He pulled you closer to his face, wiped the spit from his cheeks and licked it. He smirked and said “For a nun who looks so much like a slut under their robes. You taste pretty good.” You gag at his words and he lets you go, you fall to the floor and gasp for air. While you're on your hands and knees, your head is yanked up by your veils and he says “Remember this name, Bakugou Katsuki. This’ll be the name that you will become a slave too.” You smirk and say “You can go straight to hell, Bakugou Katsu--” Your words were cut short by the demon's lips crashing onto yours, his lips were hot and he forcefully pushed his tongue into your mouth exploring every inch of it.

You let out a small moan as his lips parted from yours and your eyes were welcomed to a part of lidded ones. With saliva still connecting your tongues he smiled at you and threw your head back into ground beneath you then vanished, you laid on the ground ashamed that you couldn’t take him down. Out of the blue you were scooped up by Kirishima and he smiled at you, ‘That smile made everything feel amazing.’ You looked at him and smiled, you always got a good kick out of him when he got flustered. Izuku, followed behind the two of you holding Theodore.

Theodore was conditioned with a high fever after the possession and you hated yourself for letting it get out of hand. ‘Why didn’t I handle him when I first saw him?’You rubbed your hands over your face as you sat next to his bedside, you grabbed his hand and rubbed it. You cursed at yourself and felt the hot tears roll down the side of your face, ‘You weren’t strong enough, idiot. You were scared and someone got hurt because you hesitated.’“Yea, shitty woman! That brat got hurt because you bitched out. »

Your head snapped furiously at the door frame and the same demon from earlier was at the door looking down at you. You huffed out a breath and asked “What do you want you heathen? Why go so far to hurt a child than to take me on.” He chuckled and flew close to your face and sneered “Just to make you shrink. You thought you were hot shit from hearing your thoughts, so I decided to take you down a few pegs.” He stopped hovering and placed his feet on the floor and got close to your ear and whispered “And make you work for me instead of this man you claim as your god.” You rolled your eyes, to try and make sure that Theodore was sound asleep to make sure you focused back on him. When you looked back in front of you, he smiled slyly, still looking at you. You emitted a low growl from your throat that then turned into a breathy gasp, you looked down and saw that his hand was under your robes.

You let go of Theodore’s hand to try to move Katsuki’s from your lady parts but when you tried to you felt his calloused finger rub against your clit. A shock ran through your body as he pressed against it, you started to take deep breaths to get focused on removing his hand but the more effort you put into removing his hand the more shapes he drew around your clit. “Your really sensitive you slut. You’re letting a demon assault you while you watch over a bed ridden child. How uncouth of you.” You winced as you felt his finger start to rub between your lower lips while still abusing your throbbing clit. Katsuki released a feral growl as he moved your panties to the side and rubbed his fingers along your lips covering his digits in your slick.

You breathed out hastily as he moved his fingers from under your robes and presented them to you.“Look at what your dripping cunt did to my fingers you whore. Open your mouth.” You clenched your jaw tightly, but to no avail, his hand went under your chin and forced your mouth open, as he shoved his digits in. Without thinking, your tongue rolled around his fingers and you bobbed your head back and forth, with lidded eyes you looked back at his vermillion ones. He moved his digits out of your mouth and pushed them into your pussy. Your head hit the wall as he pushed his fingers deeper into your wet folds. You had to move one of your hands away from his pistoning wrist to cover your mouth, you felt tears prickle at the corners of your eyes.

You looked over at Theodore who was sound asleep with a high fever and you cursed yourself “I’m so sorry, I’m so so sorry Theo.” “You are sorry. A sorry slut for allowing a demon to thrust into your clenching hole.” Your eyes snapped back to his and before you could return his harsh words you felt the coil in your stomach tighten up as he curled his fingers into your sponge spot. You let out a silent moan, and allowed your eyes roll into the back of your head in pleasure, you felt so awful about the situation. But it felt so good.

As a nun, you aren’t allowed to have sexuaal relations with anyone, so you are touch deprived ( sexually). That’s why you and Kirishima would try to keep your hands to yourselves because at a point in time you two were all over each other. Exchanging kisses, rubs,holding hands, anything that wouldn’t make you feel alone. But this was different.

The heat that surrounded your body was scorching. Your entire body felt as if it was set aflame by Katsuki’s unrelenting movements into your pussy. Then his smell made it even worse, he smelled like burnt caramel, and the spice it reminded you of your life at home. You wanted to give in, you wanted to give up all that you worked hard for to become a nun. But there were kids here, like Theodore, who needed your help and needed a motherly figure to guide their lives in the right direction.

“S-stop you spawn of satan. I-I’m not mmphf~” You came. The coil that grew hot in your stomach was released all onto his hand. You grabbed onto your robes, working to catch your breath and you looked up at him to see him sneering down at you. “Wow. Look at what you did to my fingers ‘nun’” He held his fingers to your face and spread his fingers out showing how you cum made his fingers sticky a mess. He moved his hand back towards his mouth and licked it, and once he finished licking it he stepped towards you. Your throat was grabbed, you were brought to your knees and you looked up. “I’ve never met anyone who tasted so delicious~” He nibbled at your cheek and licked from your jawline to your ear.

He put you down and said headed towards the window, “Breaking you and converting you will be fun, princess. But until next time.” Then he vanished, you looked to see that Theodore was still asleep, you kissed him on the forehead and prayed for him.

o0o

Sometime after Theodore's possession, you started to see more and more of Katsuki. And when you did or didn’t acknowledge his presence he would make sure to play with your slick folds. You hated yourself for the fact that you would already be dripping without him even being there. It made you upset that you aren’t strong enough to fight him off because when he would see you his hands would go straight to your lower lips.

If you were in the middle of a lesson, he’d be toying with your behind, giving it little smacks with his explosive power making you wince. If you were at the altar handing out or helping with communion, how would kneel down under your robe and eat you out furiously. You’d try to stay quiet or keep a straight face but that was no help whatsoever. The more you wanted to hide your moans and faces more the more he wished to bring it out.

You’ve had enough of his tricks and schemes. For months on end after you met him, he would invade your dreams, your work and your bathtimes. You couldn’t get a break, and you didn’t want to admit it to yourself but you were slowly wanting him to come. The more he came to you, the less you resented his advances, you felt your morals fall little by little the more he came to you. You started to realize the more time you spent with him, the more unholy you started to act, lying, cheating the whole nine-yards. So you decided to confess.

You know that your friend Midoriya would be up and normally does confessions at nine in the morning. So when you saw him walking into the booth you sat right in the opposing booth. You both sat in a lingering silence until he spoke, “Good morning Sister (y/n). I hope your morning does you well.”

“It does, Brother Izuku. I hope your morning has been swell as well,” you responded.

“What has you so troubled Sister (y/n)?” he asked. You play with your thumbs and bite your bottom lip. “Well, there is a demon that has been following me and--” Your words stop while you see Katsuki walk through the curtain of the confessional smirk and kneeling. You feel his warm hands slide under youryour robe and reach further up your thigh. You swatted his hand and continued to speak. « He has been making me perform out of character. I’m pretty sure you’ve seen communion or how my face would randomly become flushed.”

You look down at Katsuki and see him pulling you panties down and biting into your inner thighs. You bite down on your finger and whimper as you see his face get closer to your heat. In the moment you totally forgot what Midoriya was saying but snapped back into the confession when he called your name. “Y/n? Y/n?” “Yes Izuku. I-I’m here.”

“Well, why haven’t you got rid of his spirit then? Your very strong exorcist, what has been holding you back?” ‘Why haven’t you!’ It dawned on you that you haven’t tried to expel him. So as you started to open your mouth to speak the rite your lower lips were welcomed with a very thick and wet tongue.” You gasp and look to see Bakugou eating you furiously, his tongue would flick against your clit making you whine is pleasure. Catching your lewd noises, Bakugou stuck out his long, slick covered tongue and thrusted it inside of your folds. Your breath hitches as you felt your walls stretch to the size of his tongue.

Remember that you were confessing, you answer Izuku with a breathless response. “I-I don’t kn-now why? I guess it didn’t cross m-my minnnndd~” At the end of you staggered sentence, Bakugou continues to lift up your robes and reveal your throbbing, wet folds. He gets close to your ear and whispers “Make sure you answer him. Or I won’t let you cum.”

You looked at him and saw that he was hiking you leg up to the side of your face with your cunt dripping onto the floor of the booth. Bakugou shuffles behind you and relaxed his heated cock from his trousers. His cock was thick and tamed with the tip swollen red, pre-cum leaking at the tip. He slowly started to thrust his cock against your folds making you wince. As his cock rubbed against your pulsating clit, Izuku spoke and said “Well if you need help riding of him, I’ll always be here!” He sounded so cheerful, ‘He shouldn’t have to hear this.’ “Let him hear. He’s thought about fucking you. Getting between your thighs and making you moan his name.” You hissed at him trying to resist his thrust up against your

clit you mocked him by saying “Izuku would never be so foul. He’s one of thé purest people I know.”

You felt him smirk near your ear and he said “Well the people and god you believe in are liars behind closed doors. And I’m willing to open you eyes as long as you...submit to me.” You scoffed at his words but suddenly felt the tip of his pulsing cock enter you. You’ve never felt so full. A breathily moan escaped you lips but you hurried to cover your mouth. Izuku called out to you and said “You okay Y/n? Are you sick.” You lied through your teeth, “Ye-yes Izuku. I-I um, I’m fineEEE!” Bakugous thrust deepened into you to the hilt, you scratched his sweat covered chest as he made more thrust into your folds.

It was a feeling of euphoria, but so shame full. You were a Nun, a dignified woman of the church and you were sitting legs wide open with a demon's cock deep within you. “Your Pusey is so fitting for my cock.” A low groan came From Katsuki’s mouth as he moved his hand to the mounds that were trapped within a bra. He ripped it off of your chest and fondled them. You moan lowly as Izuku still was offering his aid in eradicating the demon. Bakugo's hands were warm, and the calloused tips of his fingers pinched your nipples till they became perky. This was so wrong.

His thrust were deep and fast. Every stroke of his cock allowed the vein under his shaft brush against your spongy spot. HE moaned in your ear the faster he got, you cried to him “ N-no, please stop (a/n: Imma virgin…. Aaaaah).” Bakugou licked your cheek and whispered in your ear “Your mouth isn’t honest at all, but your thoughts and your body are.” You whined aty how he was telling the truth. You liked this feeling, he was your first and he was stretching your pussy so gracefully.

“ IN addition to that Y/n, I think you should finally tell Kirishima how you felt about him. Because I know you’ve told me before that you’re into him, but feared rejection. Apart from the demon I could help you with that too. “ Midoriya’s words rang in your head, Eijirou’s name bounced through your brain as you suddenly remembered the fact that you loved Kirishima. His smile. His laugh. His smell, everything about Kirishima you adored and wanted to save yourself for him. Remembering your hidden love for Kirishima rose your spirits to try to get off of Bakugou was viciously shot down by him grabbing your hips and slamming you down onto his cock. You moaned and Izuku asked “ Are you sick y/n? Do you need me to help you back to your chamber?”

“If you don’t answer him princess, you won’t be coming at all.” “N-no! Im fine just a little h-hot under my robes is all.” Izuku sighed, “Well that's good. You and Kirishima would make a beautiful couple with the cutests of babies.” The thought of having children with Eijirou was a pipe dream that you wanted so badly. Going home to his smiling puppy face was what you wanted. Katsuki’s thrust became more harsh, the sound of wet skin slapping against each other was, and could only be heard by you and Katsuki. Because Izuku heard it, who knows what he would’ve done, but you slowly felt a heat pool in your stomach. It was on fire, hot and heavy, your head leaned into the crook of the neck and panted like a hungry, thirsty dog.

Katsuki continued his thrust and as he continued to abuse your pulsating clit what matches the pace of your heart beat. Bakugou bared his fangs and with one final, deep, shapr thrust his teeth sank into supple skin, with small beads of blood pricking the new wounds, a silence whimper escaped your lips and you still felt thick ropes of his cum spill into your womb. He unsheathed himself from your clenching pussy after being filled to the brim, and gave you a tender kis on the temple.

You were outr of breath, panting, quivering and ashamed. You, a powerful nun was lowered to the standards of a mere slut with a cock as fat as your forearm. You felt the hot tears slide down your face and Katsuki looked down at you and pointed to a marking on your right shoulder. It was a capital letter of a tattooed B.K and as he walked out of the booth he said “Sooner than later princess, you will submit to me and become my little slave. And you won’t even see it coming,” he walked back and cupped your face in his hands and continued. “With every thought of me, you sweet pussy will become slick and hot. And you'll need me to fix it for you.” He smirked and disappeared into thin air.

This was going to be one helluva job being a nun with a demon like that.

@lady-bakuhoe @monst @itsmangoose @denkithot @smittenkitten143

#bhna x reader #katsuki bakugou #midoriya izuku #kirishima eijirou #bhna smut #oneshot #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bakugou katsuki #bhna bakugou

[elisende]

Wild Game (1/3)

Characters: Halsin/OFC, Halsin/OMC, Kagha Warnings: Dubcon, implied drug use Rated: E

Words: 1285

Part I

What no one understood about Halsin was that he was a man of great, if not inexhaustible, forbearance.

To the initiate convinced his master was secretly one of “the lizard folk” in a cunning disguise, Halsin proffered a barely raised eyebrow.

He merely sighed when Glinzel, a half-drow lay priestess, lobbied him for an idol of Silvanus for her bedchamber, and dismissed her with a terse wave when she suggested that his fine person might be a reasonable substitute to decorate it, if the idol was needed elsewhere.  Though he allowed that he had growled a bit when she added “preferably nude” to her request.

And when a minor riot broke out at breakfast between a halfling, two initiates, and a semi-crazed boar over a bowl of honeyed wheat berries, he hardly raised his voice--only enough to be heard over the din of hooves trampling over the halfling’s hammered breastplate.

But even his considerable patience was not without limits.  And that patience dried up all the faster when certain needs went unmet for too long.

Worse, the Druids could sense his hunger, and like lascivious Glinzel, many sought to offer themselves up as tribute to his desire.  But he’d walked down that road before--too many times--and had vowed never again.  What began as an innocent dalliance all too often ended ugly, creating disharmony in the Circle: accusations of favoritism, dinner-ruining recriminations, and general ill feeling that hung about like a persistent, swampy fug.

Kagha had been his last--and he swore to himself, final--mistake, nearly four decades ago.  Every time his needs threatened to overcome his judgment, he reminded himself of the sight of her jilted lover--a high elf he had been, and from a rather good family in Evermeet--running bare-arsed through the grove, covered in pseudo-mystical symbols and pig shit he’d mistaken for woad, howling some laboured rhyme about Kagha’s tits.  It was only by Silvanus’s sweet grace he longer recalled the words of that poem.  

Nearly a decade after that final incident and his self-imposed vow, the situation had seemed nigh intractable--for his needs, and the bear’s needs, were inescapable, yet discord, if not outright chaos, was sure to follow if he bedded another member of his Circle.

The answer was so obvious.

It came to him on a journey to High Forest.  The Wood Elves there were his people, though the kingdom where his kin once ranged was long, long abandoned.  Elves had left for Evermeet, goblins proliferated, humans pushed them back, then elves returned and reclaimed their lost land, as the centuries passed.  Much of what had been was lost, but some traditions remained, in the deep wild of southern reaches.

None more beloved to his people than Aerith Av’in.  The Wild Game.

In truth, he’d nearly forgotten the Wild Game of his youth.  He might have lost even those distant memories if he hadn’t stumbled onto the huntress that moonstruck night.

She wore her auburn hair in a long braid down her sinuous back; the tip just brushed the swell of her buttocks.  Naked, she was, and he only guessed she was a hunter because of the long, deadly bow she carried, its tips spiked in thorns.  

Her eyes, gold-ringed like a goshawk’s, scanned the shadowed pines of the grove, but he saw her long before she noticed him watching her.  He took her in, mystified: at once so defenseless in her nakedness, yet so alert, and armed.  And then he remembered the Aerith A’vin, the Wild Game of his boyhood.

It was consecrated to the Leaflord, though religion, per se, was the last thing on his mind when he hunted the Aerith A’vin as a youth.  As he watched the huntress thumb her bowstring, his loins twitched with the sudden, visceral memory: an arched back, a wordless moan, the first, sweet plunge into a woman’s wetness.  He gasped and there in the present, the huntress had spun and drawn her bow taut, eyes wide.  Her form was perfect in every way.

He didn’t lift his hands.  Didn’t trust himself even to breathe.  His eyes held hers, showing he understood.  

That look, the recognition exchanged between hunter and prey, was part of the ritual--of the immortal hunt, between elf and beast, and of the Wild Game.  Valatoth khalgith, the life-giving glance.  His life and body had been forfeited to the huntress, and were hers to command--in whatever way she wished.

She had taken him in the richness of the pine duff, and forever after the scent of pine pitch would call back the memory of the huntress, gold-ringed eyes fixing him to the ground as she rode him, hunting knife to his throat.  A trickle of blood as she lost control, pleasure overtaking her senses, and the strangled cry that escaped his throat had drawn others to them, others who claimed him in turn. 

The ritual was repeated, twice, thrice, and again, until the moon dipped low in the sky and left them all gasping, a raven haired warrior with tattooed snakes writhing up his forearms knelt over Halsin, gripping him around the shoulders like a wrestler, his final thrusts and Halsin’s pleasured groans punctuating the end of the night of worship.  

Never was the ritual spoken of beyond the night, always the waxing sixth moon of the year, and if he should chance upon the raven haired elf later in his journey, neither would speak of that night when Halsin had been prey under the hunter’s eager hands.

Now, when the six month approached and Halsin’s unslaked desire threatened the harmony he cherished, he undertook his journey.

“I don’t understand,” Kagha said, watching him pack a few necessaries.

Simple healing potions, a jar of lavender oil to help him relax into his evening meditation, some dried chamomile for his tea, a pinch of the greenleaf for recreation, and a pretty feather he liked, plucked from a sleeping lyrebird.  Kagha scowled at Halsin even as her eyes begged him not to leave.  

“It’s not required that you understand,” he answered, too sharply.  His patience was now worn to a brittle veneer that shattered at the slightest probing.  Her expression closed, but not so quickly that he missed the hurt that flashed across her features.

“You are the most talented Druid I’ve trained,” he said in a more measured tone.  “That is why I’m leaving the Circle in your care.”

Her eyes lit up--too eagerly, she was ever too ready to assume power, and he hoped that this brief taste of the trials of leadership would cure her of at least some of her overweening ambition.  

“I will keep the Circle strong,” she said, already standing straighter, lifting her chin.

“You will quickly learn that the best way to do that,” he said, “Is by keeping it in harmony.  And to listen more than you speak.”

She opened her mouth as though to launch into one of her tirades but stopped herself just in time, replying with a simple, “Yes, Master Druid.”  He winced, as though the words were a lash.  She’d called him that in fun, many years ago, with honey dripping from her fingers, her unbound hair, her breasts--

He turned abruptly to his pack, decided the thing was useless after all, and tossed it into one of the illimitable crates they left laying around the sanctum, as though it were a warehouse, not consecrated ground.  

“Well then, Treefather’s blessing to you,” he said, clapping her on the shoulder.  Anyone else in the Circle he might have hugged, but he couldn’t bear to see her pull away from him.

She bowed her head, and because he was already gone he didn’t see the tears that glistened in her eyes, unshed.

#halsin #bg3 #fanfiction #fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #bg 3 #halsin/omc #halsin/ofc #bg3 halsin

[destroyyourbinder]

the day i was a man

In the summer of 2019, I decided to fully shave my head into a buzzcut, something I had never done before. I had a lot of feelings emerge and re-emerge at the time. While I was still visibly female in my day to day life- something that felt uniquely frightening given the utter dykeyness of my haircut- I accidentally discovered one day in August that my haircut could allow me to pass as male. While I had deliberately tried to “pass” in an earlier life, at the height of experiencing gender dysphoria, I was never taken to be a man except by chance (such as from behind or from afar). So potentially being able to pass as male was a new and disorienting experience, one I felt compelled to explore out of multiply perverse kinds of curiosity. As a context note: I mention my partner frequently in this piece, who has detransitioned from her transition from female to male, but chooses to handle her situation through continuing to pass as male at work and in public. Her experiences unavoidably framed my experience trying to pass for a day, and this experiment changed permanently how I see both her passing persona and the public presentation of female transgender people. If you can pull it off, and perhaps even if you can’t (a different, but also nervewracking experience), I recommend women try this at least once, especially if you claim to understand the experiences of transgender female people. It is a female experience to which there are truly few comparisons, and to which even the majority of living gender non-conforming lesbians cannot relate. Having largely recovered from gender dysphoria, I cannot imagine having to permanently live my life this way nor finding it affirming to do so, and I am disturbed that this experience was one I once aspired to and envied. However, I am glad I had it, and I plan to try again sometime in this upcoming summer when I can cut my hair without freezing. My partner now knows I did this, and I am especially curious what it might be like being seen together.

I wrote this the day I chose to do this experiment. My goal was to take public transportation to a shopping center so I could check out some shoes I was considering buying. The first part (in present tense) I wrote before leaving the house and while dressed in preparation, the second part (in past tense) was written after I returned, using my memories of the experience. It has been mildly edited for readability and to include a few details and pieces of context.

----

I am scared of what happens not if I pass but if I don’t pass. In trying to become a man I have become a woman I am afraid of and afraid for. It’s often the same thing when you are a woman watching women. I am having trouble breathing under three sports bras when I usually wear none. My chest is flat unless I actually stand up straight and proud. I have to be ashamed to become a man, although they say men are confident and becoming one will make you so. I debate whether or not to put some kind of fake dick in my pants, although I doubt that will do anything, and I shudder to think what will happen if I do and it doesn’t work. Being a woman with a dick stuffed in your pants: at best I’m pathetic, at worst I am a monster.

I don’t know how to explain this to my girlfriend. I don’t know how to explain that I had to do this, at least once. I don’t know how to explain to her something she already knows.

I wonder if I’ve been watching too many music videos. I wonder if this is about sex. I don’t know how I can wash our dishes while being a man, but I decide I should try before I try something bold like letting people look at me.

The danger of not passing is violence. The danger internally is that it would be deserved. I realize there’s no real way to justify wanting to do this, nonetheless actually doing it. I think wanting to transition is sublimated fear. I wonder if this will help me with my social anxiety, because this fucking sucks. This is not the exposure therapy the doctor ordered. It feels familiar to be ashamed of myself and hold my body this way, like an old chair molding around my butt, like stepping into old shoes. Dykes go to the outdoor store but do bulldykes go there? I realize I don’t know anything about bulldykes. I understand why so many trans people are so preoccupied with being fake vs. real, false vs. genuine. There is something intrinsically very fake about passing. You are faking the other sex. Of course you feel fake. It is a pretense. It feels very odd to pretend so seriously, so people pretend that they are not pretending after all. I am fixated on the small things all over again. I find myself wondering when I tie my girlfriend’s boots to my feet whether or not men have ankles like mine. My laces are too wide at the bottom, too small at the top. I worry that this will lead me to be discovered or worse, mocked. I know this is absurd but in this state I don’t feel like I can take any chances, like I would even know what chances to take. When I went to get the bus I thought I saw my coworker. It ended up not being her, but I crossed the street and circled back because I didn’t want her to see me so strange, doing something so weird and incomprehensible. I understand now why people change towns, friends, abandon their family. This is difficult to explain, even if you say you are “trans”. It doesn’t make sense, fundamentally, to anyone with a grounding in their body. The bus driver was a big black woman, serious face, tattoos. I think she was a dyke. I got the sense she was looking at me out of the side of her eye when I got on the bus, but that might be paranoia. I didn’t know because I didn’t want to look her in the face too hard. I get why my girlfriend’s so avoidant in public. You don’t want people to know what you’re doing, you don’t want people to see your face. It’s real hard to know what emotion to put on there when you’re a dude. It’s real scary to not have the barrier of a woman’s smile or laugh anymore. It almost feels nice to not have to do it, but how do you handle anything? I’m the type of woman who’s been able to get away with this gender weirdo shit throughout my life because I gave an oh-shucks smile at the end of it, that little woman’s laugh that means I’m not a threat, not serious, not anything at all. When you’re “a man” you can’t do that anymore. You’re naked under six layers of clothes. When you can’t do that anymore you’ve got nothing except sheer bravado and nothing to back it up. What if it doesn’t work, what if you suddenly become the type of girl who doesn’t smile? I get why my girlfriend doesn’t look anybody in the face, even though she looks real fucking shifty sometimes. You can’t look a man in the face and not be able to back it up. Men are like reactive dogs. They’ll get fucked up if you look them in the eye. On the bus I realized all of the sudden even though I’ve read a billion passing guides, and I’ve stared down dudes real jealous my whole life I do not know how a man sits. I had fixated so much on the legs and where they go that I didn’t know what they did with hands, elbows; how do you look out the window if you’re a guy? What do you look at? I snatched glances at the dude up front, an ambiguously brown teen who could probably pass as white in the right places but not the wrong ones, a dude with a big mop of floppy curly dark hair and what looked like a serious case of apathy. He was scrolling on his phone, and I could see the divots of acne scars forming on the side of his face. Guy didn’t look like he could grow a lot of facial hair but probably made up for it with encyclopedic knowledge of Fortnite or some shit. I knew he had a life, but he seemed like most men, kind of constitutionally dull. He wasn’t looking at anything, really, I guess only kids and women really look at stuff. Which made it hard to do the whole clandestine observation thing, I decided, a guy who looks at stuff is not really a dude. I tried to look kinda dumb and wasn’t sure where my jaw should go. The girlfriend does this thing sometimes with her mouth that makes me cringe when she does it at home. Sometimes she phases in and out of her passing persona if she’s talking about work or feeling threatened for whatever reason, if she’s in a different place and time than the place and time where she’s home and a wife and all that. She does a little underbite, doing that thing that internet FTMs do in the pictures they take; I figured she learned to do it like a little bird puffs itself up, it makes her little head look bigger and squarer. I tried to do it when out and about; my teeth don’t fit together that way. I’m sure I looked like a moron. But men do dumb shit all the time.

I transferred to the train, and when I got off at the station I ended up walking kinda the wrong way for a while. I imagined all the people in the cars staring at me. I hate walking on the sidewalks along highways and strip malls. I dunno if they look, and if they do, what they see. I was real nervous but I figured I didn’t know any of them anyway and made it into the shopping center where the store was. It occurred to me that if this was an adventure it was quite a stupid one, but it was an adventure nonetheless, complete with the actual lack of excitement and the actual presence of fear. I had never been in this particular store before and everything was displayed so tastefully. I was dismayed to notice the presence of a million salespeople, and realized I didn’t fucking know which gender of shoe I even wanted to try to look at because I didn’t know how I was coming across. I was not going to be a dude who asks for women’s shoes, a.k.a. a woman who’s obviously doing something real weird asking for women’s shoes nonetheless. And at this store you gotta ask for the shoes, and I didn’t want to use my voice because I’m pretty sure I’m obviously female by voice. So I just stared awkwardly at the shoes, mostly, I checked the prices and the clearance racks, and they were too expensive anyway. At one point I realized I was looking at the women’s shoes (which seemed like a huge fucking big deal) and I went to cross over to the men’s shoes, there was a group of bros standing in front of the men’s shoe wall and they parted like the red sea when I went over. I think this was passing because frankly I’ve never had men ever get out of my fucking way. I ended up circling around the store and leaving because no way was I going to afford any of the shit in there, and they didn’t even have very many shoes of the kind I was looking for. I went into the chain pet store next door and wandered around in there. There was a young person working the register who was a young lesbian or a trans kid or something. Every time I saw a woman I felt guilty, it was real weird to be separated so much from women. I had thoughts of jumping out, you know, and saying “boo”, following a woman a bit too close to see what would happen, even though I knew that would be real fucking mean. But it would be the test. See how women react to you: are you still a woman yet? What happens when you’re not a women to women anymore? It seems real fucking lonely. I was already lonely, and it had been maybe three hours. Men are real rude to other men. Some old white sales guy was like,“excuse me”, real curt and direct in a way I’d never got before, not gentle but not with the contempt-force they use towards a fucked up woman. It was empty of all the shit I’d learned to expect. How men deal with the emptiness I don’t know. They must fill it with all sorts of nonsense just to pass the time, just for kicks, is that why they want to hit each other and fuck things? There was a little girl with her family outside the stores, she had a floppy autistic hand and was wearing cargo shorts, I wished her luck inside my head but couldn’t smile at her and my heart broke.

I walked around and tried to find the other location of a store I used to work at. I knew it was around there somewhere but couldn’t find where the building was. My stomach was grumbling and it occurred to me that if I needed to use a bathroom I’d be screwed. Even if I was still plausibly visibly female I was female in the way that’d get me bathroom trouble, and I wasn’t quite dudely enough to stride into the men’s. The store I used to work at had gender neutral bathrooms, and I realized a hell of a lot of trans people must be in a huge pickle all the time. I understand the bathroom resentment even if trans people project their validation shit onto it. It’s easier to believe you’re being invalidated than that you’re scared because you’re doing something real weird and you’re in hiding all the time. I don’t know how people live like this full time. There’s got to be a lot of grief, nihilism, resignation when you finally make it so you can’t go back. The tension’s unbearable: I imagine a lot of trans people think that the tension will be resolved if they make themselves undiscoverable, if they just push themselves more towards perceptibly male.

The sports bras were hurting me. It was hard to walk so much in this get up. I found I was breathing with my mouth open a lot to get enough air, and the word “mouthbreather” kept occurring to me. I realized the shit that I had to knock out of me as an autistic woman was double-edged as someone trying to pass. A lot of it actually helped, a healthy and hamhanded disrespect/disregard for etiquette is very male, but I realized I was still real weird with weird motivations and weird in ways that would make me stick out even as a dude. I understood why the girlfriend has a persona-- she says he’s some nobody, a stoner dude, a guy who doesn’t have all that much to say and of course it’s kinda stupid if he did-- to cover the incongruities. Before I got back on the train there was this young black woman with a swagger, wearing what looked like men’s pants, wandering around the platform. I figured the universe was fucking testing me today because she might be gay too. She was talking on her phone in a video chat, getting way too close to the edge. She wobbled over the edge a couple times, then decided to sit on the fucking platform with her legs out over the tracks . Some shady white guy wearing gloves was doing some weird shit with the ticket machines, a lot of coins were coming out and he was rustling around. I figured he had some kinda scheme and decided to leave him very alone because I didn’t know how the fuck I was supposed to react as a fellow guy if he wanted something from me. The woman didn’t look up when the train coming the opposite way signaled, and I got scared I was gonna have to drag her off the tracks, like maybe she wasn’t doing good and she was gonna try something. I realized I didn’t want to die as a man, didn’t want that woman to be saved by me as a man, what if they called up my girlfriend and said I was some dude, what if she found me in three sports bras and three shirts in the hospital, what would everyone think. Swagger gal jumped the hell out of her skin and scooted away when our train was coming, so I didn’t have to worry about it. When I got on some family plopped down in front of me, and I felt that grief again. If I was a man I couldn’t look at kids with the same gentleness, there was no solidarity with the mom and her weariness, I couldn’t take the load on my hips alongside her. I didn’t want to do this any more. I had planned to catch the bus on my way back but the bus wasn’t going to come for a while. I decided to walk from my home train station and see if I could catch my girlfriend at work but realized I didn’t want her to see me like this. I didn’t know who I was, walking through the dark back into the neighborhood. I peeked into a dark bar with sports on the televisions, a lot of normal heterosexuals doing their thing. But back on the main drag it was trendier heterosexuals everywhere. I stopped beside a dark park to take off two of the bras and tucked them in my pockets. I had no idea what the fuck I looked like when I was walking somewhere more familiar, didn’t know where to put my chin, didn’t know whether I was incongruent, incomprehensible, or I was just myself. My clothes were all mine except the beanie and the boots. It was nothing crazy but I felt crazy, I felt split in two, schizophrenic in the old-school definition way. If my coworkers saw me they’d know me, but maybe I wouldn’t know me in return. When I got to my girlfriend’s workplace I realized she wasn’t in the building; she had stepped across the street to take a break and get some air. I don’t think she recognized me coming across the street. I felt all fucked up for a long hot second until she broke into a smile. I couldn’t tell if she was astonished I was out and about in the area at that hour or that that body was me. I wandered on home, got an Arizona iced tea, went up to the corner pharmacy all weird in the head and high on drag to get some mascara to see if I could make me a beard someday. The people at the pharmacy usually know me, and I didn’t want to be some weirdo who was trying to be a guy in front of them. The guy who I think’s a manager was around, then a barely-outta-adolescence woman with a bob of orange hair and strange makeup and a big old nose ring. These days they make eyebrow mascara, in each brand there were a million different kinds. Who knew, and who knew it cost 12 bucks for a little tube. I went around the corner feeling lucky: there was some in the clearance section. Why someone like me’d buy mascara for your eyebrows, who knows. I was titillated by the tiny brushes. The young woman at the counter wanted to talk to me about my nose ring, hers was only a tad bigger, and she told me she must’ve hit a nerve when she stretched. Her piercings were nice, I was happy to have a conversation with a woman as a woman of some sort even though she was a different kind of woman all in all. When the wall comes down it’s terrible. I can’t imagine that wall all the time and what that must do to women behind it.

#writings

[elmidol]

Three Small Words (NSFW)

Three Blind Tooke Part Two Precarious Harmony

Read on AO3

Warnings: sex, angst/complicated feelings; oral; face sitting; slight emotional manipulation

Three Blind Tooke

Part Two: Precarious Harmony 

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Three Small Words 

The man who slept next to you was not the creature who had impaled you with the plasma blade; he was not the monster that had dragged you away from the flames that would have promised death. While the body did indeed belong to the one who had stolen your virginity and tortured you, there was something different about him as well. Rather than shying away from the name of Ben Solo, he was seeking to embrace it. Not as his current self either. A portion. Kylo Ren was adamant that the past should die. Even should he have begun to use the name Ben Solo throughout the rest of his days, that would never be the Ben Solo from the days prior to turning to the Dark. He would not be the person Rey would be made to believe she could save. Kylo Ren would be manipulating her, maneuvering her into a position where she could be used. Only then, when she proved herself ready to fight alongside with him, would the Force user offer her a place at his side as ruling body over the galaxy.

 Like the Sith, you had whispered. Kylo Ren had paused, his brown orbs searching your face as his expression softened. He had not needed to say anything further at that point. This was beyond the Sith. No Jedi either. You were unaware as to what Kylo Ren intended to call the new order that would arise from the joining of their powers. This was not a question you had posed.

 Ren had not redressed when he had finished toying with you. His nakedness was concealed by the blankets, one of which possessed a loose thread you were tugging at. You sometimes loathed when plans were made for the future. They were emotionally exhausting. This perhaps best explained why you had been frantic and desperate to kill him originally. He had robbed your future. You pushed your right hand underneath the covers to touch your scar. The finger with the name Ben Solo tattooed on it twitched. The next moment you curled your hand into a fist, which remained on your belly. There would forever be a hole in you. All choices had been stripped away. Not quite all; you had options that revolved around Kylo Ren. Killing him, strengthening him… You squeezed your eyes closed as the unbidden addition of loving him entered your thoughts.

 It was not quite love so much as caring; you told yourself this, and knew that it was a half-truth. You doubted that you could ever love him completely and romantically. That would have entailed not only forgiving, but putting all the times he had raped you completely in the past.

 Let it die.

 A hand of ice seized your heart as Kylo Ren’s voice wormed its way into your thoughts. History helped to create the present, offered up a means of shaping the future. You gagged at that final word. Future. Turning over onto your side with your back to the man, you curled your knees towards your midsection. The second sob broke through your attempts to swallow it down. After but a single gag, the horrid, pathetic noise erupted from your mouth. The mattress shifted, which is what you had feared would occur. The man behind you turned, his chest pressing against your spine.

 His mouth was at your ear then. Hot breath blew aside strands of your hair as he spoke to you. “Are you afraid, tooke?” A spasm caused your body to undulate along with his. Kylo Ren set three fingers on the back of your hand, rubbing up and down. “You have become aware, haven’t you? Once I am Supreme Leader, Rey will be the new Master of the Knights of Ren. We will destroy the Resistance. The Sith. The Jedi. All of it—gone. And you… You will have to let the past die.” His fingers stretched further, his entire hand eclipsing yours. “I could have loved you…and I can still, tooke. I told you. I marked you as mine.” Ren’s voice had dropped to a whisper now, intimate, for your ears only.

 You shuddered at the thought of it. Kylo Ren in the place of Supreme Leader Snoke. This girl Rey where Ren now was. As for General Hux—you toyed with the idea that the Force user was planning to use him in a similar manner that Snoke was. The redhead was, after all, a great tactician. It would be foolish on Kylo Ren’s part to dispose of such a tool. You grit your teeth at that thought. Snoke would no longer be the puppet master. That would fall to Kylo Ren. It would not be Kylo, Hux, and you being moved around the board. It would be Rey, Hux and you. All the wile Kylo Ren would be holding your strings.

 He was far worse than the creature that had taken your virginity. Kylo Ren was now the one who wanted you by his side.

 “You don’t love me,” you croaked, your words sounding almost hollow as the desperation from the past returned. There was no utterance of I do nor Not yet nor anything at all. His tongue, hot and wet, was on your ear. The underside drew a line downwards, and you jerked away from him, curling up further.

 “Soon you won’t need to live in the past.” His words slipped out like a promise, and it was one you did not wish to believe. The sort of love he was insinuating was one of blind devotion. Adoration and worship—this was the monster you had sworn to kill, and it had sprouted more heads while sharpening its fangs. “I saw it in your eyes, tooke. You have never met her—is she the first woman you have ever craved?”

 His filthy words had you shuddering. You swatted at him, shaking your head and whispering for him to stop. You wanted nothing more than for that silver tongue to become still.

 “She has feelings for the traitor.” Ren traced your hip with two of his fingers. The bare flesh on your naked skin, his ghost touches encouraged your body to respond. Somehow you had become an instrument, and he was the only player who knew how to stroke your strings in the ways that caused sounds to be produced. The soft gasp followed by a staccato of breaths. The fingers had traveled from your hip to your lower belly, on which he traced patterns. His name. The girl’s. Kylo-Rey-Ben-Kylo. Between each, a pause, his hand cupping you, rubbing you. “You used to imagine your allies fucking you when I was inside your body. Do you think her tongue would feel like mine?”

 “I…” You gulped, your mouth too filled with saliva. It was difficult to know what to say to him when you were confused about your own feelings. Your attraction to this woman—and, stars, how obsessed with you did he have to be to have noticed?—confused you most of all. You had never met her. Yet you loved her. It was not lust. You had no idea what she looked like. What color eyes did she have? What shape was her face? The picture that was being painted in your head with every word that slipped from those lips, however, complicated you. But… He had always been skilled at that, hadn’t he?

 “Would you like to call me Rey while I taste you?” Kylo Ren purred, his finger slipped past your lips and inside of you. He stroked you from within, small, quick rubs that had your toes curling. The hand that had been on your scar now caught his wrist. “Just a Jakku scavenger, tooke. How starved she must be. How thirsty. Imagine how greedily she would drink you up.”

 Kylo removed his finger, bringing it to his lips and greedily slurping at the sticky substance that had gathered. That taste of your juices made him groan. His hands were again on your hips, this time to push you until your ass hit the pillow. Kylo jerked your legs open. His thumbs started to dig into the flesh of your inner thighs. His mouth remained inches away from you. You could hear him blowing as much as feel it. That thin line of air from his pursed lips. It hit against your clitoris. Your body felt as though it were pulsing, heat spreading through you. You shielded your eyes with one hand.

 “Do you prefer Ben to Rey?” that husky voice asked you. The moisture in your eyes had not disappeared, however there was nothing new gathering. His teasing irritated you. It aroused you. It distracted you, blissfully so, from the feelings of desperation that had earlier plagued you.

 The truth was that you preferred whichever of them—Ben or Rey—that would be able to put a stop to Kylo Ren’s plans. If he became the Supreme Leader, you feared that the Resistance would be destroyed. Supreme Leader Snoke had been teaching his pupil that sentiment was a weakness. Kylo Ren was using that against Rey. Against you. All the while somehow displaying moments of sentiment and compassion. That cold, unfeeling creature that was Snoke… You had somehow led yourself to believe that it would be far more terrifying than Kylo Ren. How mistaken you had been.

 If you could orchestrate a means of Kylo and Rey assassinating Snoke while either Rey or even General Hux killed the Force user who was now kissing your knee then it would be a risk worth taking. Rey would be able to defeat Hux so long as she received proper training from Luke Skywalker.

 There were far too many factors, too many pieces. How had Snoke become such an effective puppeteer?

 Kylo Ren distracted you from this question by tugging at your strings. He nibbled at the side of your knee, up your thigh. Sucking your flesh, his tongue laving at the skin between his teeth. Your hand moved away from your face. You gripped the bed sheets, the leg that was not occupying his mouth now outstretched. His fingers dug further into your thigh. It hurt. It amplified the sensations of pleasure. Ren pushed himself up onto his hands and knees, shifting towards the side and tugging you along with him. Your feet touched on the ground directly after his.

 His hands on your wrists, Kylo yanked your arms up above your head and pinned you to the wall. You stared at him with wide eyes, your chest rising and falling as you attempted to control your breathing. You recognized the fire in his eyes as animosity. Not against you, but instead directed at your attraction to Rey. The familiarity of this stemmed from your interactions with General Hux, all of Ren’s reactions to them. The zealous nature of his obsession with owning you had you jerking your eyes off of his face and staring at the wall. In his passion, he said things that you wished could be taken back. You were granted glimpses of the monster that had hunted down your allies; the creature that continued to slaughter your comrades on the battlefield. This was not the man who housed the memory of Ben Solo, not in these moments.

 The pressure on your wrists waned. As though realizing his mistake, Kylo Ren stepped nearer to you. His lips were feather-touches on the heels of your hands. Did he, you wondered, expect you to put aside the memories of these moments with him if he succeeded in his plans? Let the past die. As though he could control what clung to your mind, what shaped you into who you were to become, and what you would guard yourself against. The time he had spent with Snoke had the exact outcome you had dreaded.

 “You’re so cruel,” you said, sniffing then parting your lips to inhale more deeply. Ren’s mouth was now on your left wrist. A kiss. Not an apology. This was simply him changing tactics. “I thought things had changed with you after Starkiller was destroyed. They haven’t.”

 Rather than respond to your words, to the accusation, Kylo Ren muttered out for you to remain still. His hands left you, and you obeyed simply to see what it was he wanted from you. This was not solely about sex. Had that been the case, he would not have sobered when you responded to him with apprehension. You allowed your head to loll, rolling your shoulders and considering the scars he had obtained during his battle with Rey on Starkiller base.

 He, meanwhile, was staring at your scar. Kylo Ren reached forward to trace around its edges. “You’re terrified to watch the Resistance fall. There is no Resistance for you, tooke.” You were aware that he was not being literal so much as underlining the fact that the Resistance would never allow you to join in the fight again if you somehow, miraculously, managed to escape the First Order. The best place you could be, ironically, was still at Kylo Ren’s side. “You don’t want her. You don’t want Rey—you want me.”

 Your lips pressed tightly together as you frowned at him. Admitting that you did not know what you wanted would give him too much power, and so you chose to instead remain silent. Your mind wandered to how General Hux had been treating you. Passively. As though you were side entertainment for when he was not busy; and he was busy…which meant that the Resistance was suffering countless losses. It was much the same as when he had ordered the Starkiller weapon to be fired, when he had caused your mother’s death. General Hux never backtracked as a means of appeasing you so much as changing tactics to better manipulate you. With Kylo Ren, though the majority of his actions were similar, there was the key difference that he did, on some warped level, care for you.

 “I do want Rey.” His mouth twitched, the man beginning to scrunch his nose as though ready to bare his teeth. “I want her to defeat you after you kill him.” Kylo moved ever closer. He set his forehead against your shoulder, shifted nearer, and had his face buried in the crook of your neck. You could feel his eyelashes brush against you as he closed his eyes. “The Ben Solo from the past is dead. I’m not stupid, Ren.”

 “She won’t believe that,” the dark-haired man rumbled. You hummed in acceptance of his words. “Perhaps your feelings for her will help put her at my side. I will have to teach her the ways of the Force. She hardly knows how to control her powers. To the Knights, she will be a stranger, an amateur. But, tooke, her potential is great.”

 The way he spoke, you imagined he had managed to convince himself that the only way Rey could fulfill her potential was to join him, to study under him. It was much the same as how he treated you when it came to the differences between the First Order’s views and those of the Resistance. It was always his way that was best, or so he deluded himself into believing. This was not a man who could be saved, you thought for the umpteenth time. He did not want to be saved. He craved power. The son of your beloved General Organa was self-entitled and dark. He was dark.

 You lowered your arms to your sides, the strain having started to make itself known. You were allowing your mind to drift to how things would proceed if Kylo Ren did succeed in all his plans. Not only would he be Supreme Leader. Rey would be the Master of the Knights of Ren, and they would assist in claiming the galaxy. The New Republic was destroyed, the shambles housing the remnants of the Resistance. Kylo Ren had taken you from the Resistance. What was to stop him from doing the same with the entire galaxy? Rey. The girl Rey, and Skywalker if the legendary man did indeed return.

 You covered the scar from your lightsaber wound with both hands, one atop the other. “You don’t like it when I think of anyone but you.”

 Lips curled into a smile, his eyes shining with that hint you knew to be his streak of possessiveness, Kylo Ren straightened and stared you in the face. “If Rey from Jakku would thirst for you, tooke… If she would drink you up so greedily…” The man was lowering himself onto his knees in front of you, his hands on your thighs, nudging them, albeit less forcefully than he had been not long before. “Tooke…” His tongue traced his lips. Slowly. With purpose. You swallowed thickly, your body clenching, legs trembling. Kylo whispered your name as though it were a prayer. Softly. With something that would have been described as love if not for the fact that, at this moment, the two of you did not love one another. Your lips parted at that. There was something impossibly thick in your throat. Emotion. “I’m parched, tooke.”

 You removed the hand that possessed the tattoo of Kylo Ren from your belly, using it to trail your fingertips up his face. Mere hours before he had encouraged you to call him Ben Solo. He had wanted to play make-believe with you. All practice to lure Rey to him. To ensure that he would be able to eliminate Snoke when the opportunity presented itself, when the apprentice was ready to surpass the master. Though Rey would be beneath Kylo Ren in terms of position—Master of the Knights of Ren serving the Supreme Leader—you knew that he would treat her as more of an equal than Snoke now treated him. But for now… Now he was begging for your approval.

 Deciding to play along again with the knowledge that it would be best to appease him for now—the two of you constantly finding and exploiting openings in the other’s defenses—you shifted your fingers down to his mouth. Kylo Ren parted his lips, wrapping them around two of your digits and sucking at them. You thrust them forward, began to draw them back, and offered them to him anew when his growl threatened to turn into a whimper. His tongue waggled its way between your fingers. You added a third into his mouth, again rocking them back and forth, fucking his mouth with them. Ren moaned, bobbing his head and staring up at you with those eyes. Desperation. Desperate for approval, your approval.

 You pinched his tongue, catching it between your middle and ring finger. It was an awkward hold, though one he allowed to keep him. “Beg for it, Ren.” His eyes began to narrow. He was not exactly pleased by the level of boldness that you were displaying. Given how much he had teased you, however, you had no sympathy. You snatched your hand up, your fingers leaving his mouth with a wet pop. You raised your hand to your face and observed the way they glistened. “You don’t have to. Unlike before, I am willing to touch myself now. I don’t need you.”

 “Let me taste you,” Ren said, his voice breathless. You could hear the slight rumbling afterwards. His growl. His hands on your thighs allowed you to feel the way he was trembling. Kylo Ren held himself back from taking what he wanted from you. He had, when telling you of the Rule of Two that well described your relationship with him, placed you as his equal in certain respects. When you did not grant him permission, his fingers dug into your thighs. There would be bruises there. You lifted your hand to your mouth and kissed the tattoo of Kylo Ren. “Let me show you how parched I am.” His shoulders rose and fell with his heavy breaths. He was rocking a little, swaying. You watched his tongue flick out for a second time.

 “You want something wet?” Kylo Ren was looking up at you with his eyes alone. There was a hesitancy to his actions now. His eyes dropped to your pussy then raised back to your face. You parted your thighs, spread your legs enough to where his face would be able to fit, and stroked his hair. “Who are you right now? Ben? Rey? Kylo Ren?” You snickered. When he bowed his head, you took pity on this man who had been your enemy for so long. You used your foot, rubbing its side along his hip. “What am I supposed to moan if you’re any good?”

 “Ren,” he said, all traces of shyness and indecisiveness gone.

 You hummed, replaced your foot on the ground, and placed a hand on the back of his head to urge him forward. His nose brushed against your pubic hair. You felt his tongue against your outer lips, slipping through, parting your folds. Your mouth formed a small o as Kylo Ren licked from your entrance to your clitoris, where he paused to suck at you. Tilting back his head while keeping his mouth on you, Kylo Ren stared up at you. You met his gaze, rocking your hips forward. With a moan, he opened his mouth wider, his tongue again finding your entrance. You could feel him working that organ against you, gathering your juices and drawing them into his mouth.

 There was the sensation that something was swimming inside of you, going around and around in your lower belly, threatening to shift down to your cunt. Ren groaned against you when he opened his mouth again. The vibrations had the sensation growing. Your free hand slammed flat against the wall. The sound of the slap echoed in the room. Those brown orbs were peering up at your face. Your eyelashes fluttered. Kylo Ren’s teeth grazed your clitoris.

 “Mm…Ren…g… Go… Bed…”

 You were left against the wall, breathing hard and legs wobbly. Kylo Ren climbed onto the bed without any further prompting. He laid on his back. His hand was on his cock, thumb tracing his length as he turned his head to stare at you. You kept your hand on the wall as a guide. Lifting one leg then the other, you moved climbed onto the bed as well, crawling then swinging a leg over. You straddled his face. Ren greedily opened his mouth. His hand was pumping his cock now, quick flicks of his wrist matching the pace at which you were rolling your hips. Your hands were in his hair.

 “Ah! R-Ren! Uhh….mm…” You leaned forward, feeling his nose nudging your clit as his tongue thrust up inside of you.

 Earlier you had pretended Kylo Ren was the man from his past. That he was Ben Solo, someone who could in actuality not be saved. Now you allowed yourself to play make-believe anew. This time, however, it was you toying with the future he had painted. You somehow killing all history that was preventing a loving relationship from forming. The rapes. The times you tried to kill one another. The way he had used you to hurt your mother. You pretended that none of those things existed. You pretended that Snoke was dead.

 You ground against his face, bowing your head and looking past your shoulder at the way he was pleasuring himself. Your jaw dropped as you came. His tongue was working more vigorously against you now, lapping at your cum. His hand was moving faster too.

 “Don’t cum,” you groaned, earning a moan of approval.

 Kylo Ren helped you off of him, holding your shaking body and laying you down so that your head was on the pillow. You kept your legs spread. He climbed between them, gripping himself and rubbing your wet cunt with the head of his erection. He rocked forward thrice, fucking your outer lips until you demanded, breathlessly, that he fuck you. You arched your back as he entered you. Your hands were on your breasts, toying with them. You pinched your nipples, tugged at them. You cupped your breasts from the side, thumbs and forefingers clasping your nipples.

 When he moaned, it was not the nickname he had chosen for you. It was your name. You whispered out a desperate yes.

 “I’m going to kill him one day, tooke,” he said. “And you’ll see. You will choose me.”

 You gripped his hair at the back of his head, tugging him down to kiss you. Your other hand left your chest as well to instead splay across his. You ran the sides of your fingers against his nipple. With a grunt, Ren grabbed onto your hips with both hands, the man picking up his pace. You broke the kiss, nipping at his jawline. When he said your name once more, you threw back your head. Swearing, you grabbed onto his shoulders and looked down at where your bodies were joined. His cock slipped in and out of you.

 You bit down on your bottom lip, swerving your hips so that he hit your g-spot. Kylo rested his forehead against yours. He was watching as well. One hand trailed from your hip to your lower back. He drew circles on your spine. Next, his name. Your entire body was trembling. It felt good, now that he was not teasing you out of jealousy but instead out of—you did not know what to call this. This was not love. He could not love you, not yet. That would interfere with his plans to defeat Snoke. That was something both of you desired.

 “Oh, fuck, Ren!” Your second orgasm crashed over you, and you could feel that the way your inner walls tugged at his cock made him cum too.

 The two of you laid down on the bed together, you in his arm. You closed your eyes and decided to play make-believe for a little while longer. Would this be your life with him if you did renounce the Resistance once he killed the Supreme Leader? Laying in his arms, satisfied on a sexual level…yet missing something. You clenched your jaw. Your right hand was on your abdomen. The scar. The hole in your life. The future that you could never have; a decision that should have been yours stolen away. The arm that was wrapped around you shifted. His hand found yours and rested atop it.

 He had killed that part of your future. Now he was asking you to kill your past.

 Rey was the one thing—person—you could cling to. The idea of her. You did not know what decision she would make when it came time. If she did choose to side with Kylo Ren, you doubted that you would be able to stop them. You had vowed to kill Kylo Ren or die trying. Perhaps you did need to stop living in the past. You would toy with the different possibilities of the future while also taking a day at a time. Relearn your body, as you had been doing, and sharpen your mind so that you would be able to stay ahead of Kylo Ren.

 “You’re mine, tooke,” he whispered. It was not the first time, and you doubted that it would be the last time he said those words. The sound you made was dismissive, and so the man tried again. This time it was not tooke. He said your name. Using your name, he claimed that you were his. He rubbed the back of your hand. “You admitted it before. You are mine as much as I am yours.”

 “That was not out of love,” you countered. Then, seeing an opening, you said with a sigh, “Besides, I thought we were going to let the past die. Those word were in the past.”

 “Then say them again.” He was infatuated with you. This man you had trained to kill. This man who had promised you not long ago that the two of you would work together. You being allowed to find chances to kill him. He using that as a means of growing stronger. Now he wanted you to reciprocate his other feelings for you. The ones he was masking during most of his waking hours. The ones General Hux would use as a weapon against the both of you.

 Would it be prudent to kill General Hux first? Or did you need to keep him as a failsafe to eliminate both Rey and Ren if the woman from Jakku joined the man who was in bed with you?

 “Do you want to be mine, Ren?” Here his hand curled around yours, his fingers wiggling until he was able to entwine them with yours. “You are volatile. Erratic. I can’t have that right now. My own body doesn’t even work like I’m used to.”

 “And…General Hux?”

 “He killed my mother, Ren.” There was venom in your voice. His thumb began to rub you again. Back and forth along the side of your hand. As though he did wish for you to be calmed.

 You wanted to tell him that you would not betray the Resistance; yet you had already agreed with him that there was no Resistance. There was you. There was him. Hux. Snoke. Rey. People who were pieces.

 “Right now I can’t kill the past. My past is filled with the dead. What you’re asking me to do—you’re wanting me to forgive you for breaking me. Repeatedly breaking me. Now you’re telling me that you can love me in the future. Isn’t sentiment a weakness? I thought you didn’t have compassion for enemies of the First Order.”

 Kylo Ren shifted onto his side. His hand did not leave yours. You kept your body as it was on your belly. This time when he said your name, you looked over at him. The two of you remained there, lying together, and watched one another. Now that the conversation had died away, the game of make-believe began anew. This was what it would be like to allow the past to die a thousand deaths. To accept the offer of his future affection. You would be in his arms.

 “Do you want to play a game of make-believe, Ren?” you asked. He blinked, his nod something you nearly missed. “Pretend.”

 With how long the two of you had been together—back when he had been your only form of social interaction, he had learned the language of your body so well—you did not need to elaborate.

 “You will call me Supreme Leader,” he said. Your eyes dropped to his lips. Biting down on yours, you weighed your options. Play, your mind said. You’ll get hurt, your heart whispered. Your mouth formed around the words that he had spoken, you uttering the title. “You don’t think I can do it.”

 “You’re doubting yourself.” For once, you did not want his uncertainty. You needed him to believe he could complete this task. “So: pretend… Supreme Leader.”

 “I love you.”

 The truth was in-between the lines. The silent will always present. This time you believed him. If he succeeded in his plans, he would love you.

 That hurt most of all.

#kylo ren x reader #kylo x reader #kylo ren smut #kylo ren imagine #three blind tooke #elmidolfanfic #precarious harmony

[chicagocityofclans]

Scorpius Getta → Jake Gyllenhaal → Vampire

→ Basic Information 

Age: 1378

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Straight 

Birthday: December 2nd

Zodiac Sign: Sagittarius 

Religion: Satanism

→ His Personality Getta is practical and down to earth with strong ideas about how vampires should be in this new age. He is orderly, organized, systematic and controlled, and once committed there is no stopping him. Getta has a great capacity for loyalty and affection, considering vampire nature. Being a calm and methodical individual, Getta is mostly in control of his emotions. He rarely loses his temper, but has a great capacity for violence when pushed. Getta is courageous and a true survivor, he is the builder and the foundation of the Underground, and his hard work and values paid off; the Underground is booming and he has one of the largest seethes in America. It's also his ‘fuck you’ attitude that links up with his sucess. Getta is unconcerned about being viewed as ‘the bad guy’ and sees his actions as a means to an end. He is often secretive and can be somewhat of a trickster, but is honest and direct. He is headstrong, persistent and passionate. Getta downright refuses to accept authority and has a stubborn belief in himself and his dreams. 

→ His Personal Facts

Occupation: Master of Chicago Seethe 

Scars: None

Tattoos: None

Two Likes: Blood with Pepper and Business

Two Dislikes: Vampire Movies and Bananas 

Two Fears: Being Forced to Feed Off of Himself and Naked Zombie Grandmas 

Two Hobbies: Enhancing the Underground and Inventing 

Three Positive Traits: Innovative, Lively, Extremely Confident  

Three Negative Traits: Sassy, Maniacal, Disconnect 

→ His Connections

Parent Names:

Ulfrik Göransson (Father): Getta enjoyed his father and if he had been given the chance he would have changed him into a vampire.

Bon’Ginnever (Mother): Getta doesn’t remember much about his mother beside the fact that she had blonde hair and an unusual eye color. Bon’Ginnever died from an infection. He was sure it was over the loss of Aleigha, his little sister. She was never the same after and death took her months later.

Emmalee (Step-Mother): Getta didn’t approve of his father remarrying. Since Emmalee was around his age, Getta tried his best to ignore her to keep from showing her any disrespect and disappointing his father.

Sibling Names:

Eirikur Ulfrikson (Brother): Eirikur was born several years after Getta. Getta doesn’t remember much about Eirikur as a child but he remembers his little brother all grown up and being a ladies man. Eirikus died mysteriously in his sleep. Getta is now sure he must have caught an STD or something. 

Aleigha Ulfrikdotter (Sister): Just like Eirikur, Aleigha was born several years after her brothers. Getta was nearing his late teens when she was born. Sadly, Aleigha was sold off to pay their debts and Getta still has no idea what faith laid out for her.

Bryleigh Ulfrikson (Half-Brother): Getta was out of the castle when Bryleigh was born. Getta never had the chance to meet Bryleigh. He only knew his name and the random updates his father would send him.

Children Names:

Ulfric Scorpiusson (Son): Ulfric was named after Getta’s father, following the old Nordic practice, before hereditary surnames were introduced. Ulfric grew to be a spitting image of Getta’s father with the same attitude to follow it. That’s probably why they get along so well. Getta turned Ulfric, on his request, into a vampire on his 20th birthday. He is still alive and married with his own seethe in Sweden.

Bjorn Scorpiusson (Son): Bjorn was named after Solveig’s father, following the old Nordic practice, before hereditary surnames were introduced. Getta doesn’t know where Bjon got it from but he is absolutely unpredictable. He was well on his way to become a shadow vampire when Getta stepped in and killed him. Bjon was always Solveig favorite and Getta still mourns the both of them.

Kjersti Getta née Scorpiusdotter (Daughter): Kjersti was named after Solveig’s mother, following the old Nordic practice, before hereditary surnames were introduced. Kjersti was unexpected but wanted. Getta made sure she didn’t follow the same fate as Aleigha and kept her close. She was the 3rd person Getta changed and he doesn’t regret it. She now holds rank in his seethe.

Romantic Connections:

Solveig Pelledotter (Wife): Getta wasn’t in love with Solveig but at the time it was his duty to marry and continue his bloodline. After marriage, they became close friends. If given the chance, Getta was sure they would have eventually fallen in love. Solveig had taken her own life after Getta was changed.

Platonic Connections:

Alva Ebba Getta nee Garbo (Daughter-In-Law): Alva married Getta’s son Ulfric over a thousand years ago. At first he did not approve of her but thought a wedding would be good for overall morale. Over time Getta learned to love her as one of his own. Getta especially likes it when she puts his son in his place.

Geralt Getta (Son-In-Law/Progeny): Geralt was an orphan on the streets Getta fed from. Getta adopted Geralt and he was Getta's first vampiric progeny. Getta sees him more like a brother and best friend than a son, especially after Geralt married his daughter, Kjersti. 

Winona Fili (Progeny): Getta had originally turned Winona into a vampire for his son Bjon. He should have known better because the two hated each other. Frankly, after the way his son reacted Getta knew Winona deserved better. Getta still cannot accept that Winona is gone and is trying his hardest not to fall into a depression. Losing Winona was worse than losing a limb or death itself. Getta still expects her to be there when he turns around or wherever he gets a brilliant idea.  

Aleksander Mazur (Progeny): Getta found Aleksander when Aleksander was at his lowest on the streets of London. Aleksander tried to rob Getta and failed. Instead of killing him or turning him to the authorities, Getta fed him, gave him fresh clothes and offered him a new life as a vampire. They have a well built relationship that is not exactly a father and son type but close enough. 

Raphael Caron (Progeny): Getta saved Raphael's life. Raphael was dying from Leukemia when Getta gave his parents the terms and conditions of vampirism. Their relationship is stronger than ever nearly two centuries later. Getta enjoys Raphael’s creative side and allows him to use him as a test subject.

Fiona ‘Fi’ Marz (Progeny): Getta does not like sharing the story of how he found Fi but she has been with him since she was a 6 years old human. Getta held out on changing her into a vampire until she was mature enough. After living and dealing with Fi for centuries, nearly a millennium, Getta has turned from an overbearing father to a cool understanding brother and to a best friend. Getta can switch to whichever role she needs from him at the time without making it awkward.

Dan Prior (Vampire Son-In-Law): Getta couldn’t hate Dan if he tried nor can he blame Dan for Winona’s death. Dan's first few years were tough on Getta, he was the new master of his seethe, lost his closest companion and progeny, and had a suicidal baby vampire to watch over. Getta feels like Dan and Fili are the only things he has left of Winona. He has been better about separating them from her but something in him always feels like it's snapping when he does.  

Richard Fili (Vampire Grandson): Fili was changed by Winona many years ago. Getta has always been accepting of Fili and even fatherly at times. Getta puts up with Fili’s bullshit, only getting pissed if Fili messes up big time, and he knows that is enough to make Fili grateful and undeniably loyal. Fili seems to be the only one that has taken notice of Getta keeping himself busy and staring off into space since Winona’s death; Fili is worried for him but Getta isn’t ready to talk yet.

Audrey Ann Wallace (Vampire Granddaughter): Audrey was turned into a vampire by Garelt when Kjersti started mourning the loss of ever being a mother. Audrey reminds him a lot of Kjersti and can be mistaken as their biological child.

Petra Chak (Best Friend): Petra and Getta have an unlikely friendship. She had originally come to Chicago to take over Getta’s seethe for her own master but somehow Getta had won her over. Over the years they formed an unbreakable bond and Getta trusts Petra with his life and the lives of their entire seethe. 

Sadie McCoy (Good Friend): Sadie randomly showed up one day… Or at least Getta finally noticed her and was too ashamed to ask anyone who she was or where she came from. Sadie hung out with Winona and by default hung out with Getta. It didn’t take long for him to grow fond of her and to constantly want her around. She became his muse and little soldier girl. She took Winona’s death as hard as Fili, Dan and Getta’s other progeny.  

Morana ‘Ana’ Vickors (Old Friend): Ana was a part of Getta’s seethe before he became the seethe master. She saw the destruction their old seethe master caused and quickly jumped on his support train when he took over. Getta considers her a trusted and loyal friend. Getta is also close to Ana’s husband and daughter. 

Sven (Old Friend): Getta met Sven a few times in Europe and again in the New World. Sven was always a loner and some considered him to be a feared shadow vampire. It took Getta a while but he convinced Sven to join the seethe he was apart nearly 300 years ago. Sven came and went as he pleased but Getta is happy to see that lately Sven has been making a permanent home for himself in Chicago. 

Chiara Ricci (Friend): Getta knew Chiara’s adopted vampiric parents. When he asked them to come teach for them, he was aware that they had changed a woman to be their child but never figured it would be someone with Chiara’s personality. She makes Getta laugh and can retell stories about himself better than he can. 

Hostile Connections:

Nick and Ray Hamelin (Hate): Getta doesn’t hate easily nor does he have a vindictive streak but the Hamelin brothers live to test his restraint. Vampires are not widely liked among the mortal supernaturals and Getta understands that. What Getta doesn’t understand is why the rats are constantly trying to enter the closed section of the Underground or why the rats cannot leave them in peace. After the poisonous gas accident Nick and Ray attacked the Underground killing multiple orphaned and neonate vampires. Getta was tempted to retaliate but put the entire seethe needs ahead of his own. He and Petra have tried to explain that the closed section of the Underground is semi poisonous but their pleads have gone unheard. 

Pets:

None

→ History Scorpius Getta was born Göran-Skorpionen Ulfirkson. He changed his name to Scorpius Getta after he was changed into a vampire and a widower. He no longer wanted to associate with his human past and this was especially so after changing all of his biological children to vampires also. Getta travelled the world, finding those he bonded with or those he thought deserved another life and changing them. → The Present Getta plans on expanding the Undergrounds and opening an above ground full service Hotel made especially for vampires. The only thing holding him back are key features and trusted human or supernatural construction workers. The key features are shutters and windows that completely block out the sun which are currently out of reach. Getta has already begun employing witches and warlocks to help, and his dreams seem closer to reality. Getta plans on naming it Hotel Winona. 

#Scorpius Getta #Taken #jake gyllenhaal

[thebiasrekkers]

Doberman, PT 2 || KWS

Plot: Revenge is always sweet.

Rating: R 18+ // NSFW

Genre: modern day // mafia!au

Pairing: Kim Wonsik x Female OC (Kokia)

Warnings: Strong language, sex, violence, death

Links: FAQ || VIXX Masterlist || Admin L’s AO3 || [ REQUESTS ARE OPEN ]

Word Count: 2,564

AN: For Admin E! I wrote this a while back and now that we have a space for VIXX, I figured I would go ahead and post it! PART 1

© thebiasrekkers (Admin L). All rights reserved. Reposting/modifying our work is prohibited. Translations are not allowed. Plagiarism/stealing is not tolerated by any means. Legal action will be taken in instances of theft.

He reported back that she was dead. 

The boss smiled at his results and laughed, relief overflowing his features. The Hunter didn’t like the news but his neutral face betrayed nothing as he stood there and watched the man laugh like he had just conquered something. The history between the Wolf and the Boss had been spread all through the gang for years now. Even the newest person knew about them. So when it came about that she had betrayed him, they all knew that they couldn’t go against the Head. His anger was overflowing to the point that he was wrecking anyone that dared to approach him.

He had taken up so much of her so when she retaliated, Ravi had to marvel how hurt the Boss seemed. He saw that it was all chalked up to reputation and ego, bruised heavily by her. Personally, he saw it coming but he didn’t step in because she was the only one keeping the whole operation afloat. So when she was betrayed, he just sat back and watched. 

Honestly, he should have helped her then but she had done such a good job of shaking things up herself. And he knew that the proud Wolf didn’t want any help. 

So when she had the hit put out on her, Ravi nearly didn’t take it. Deep down, he didn’t want to harm her when it was completely justified but orders were orders. He took the time off to track her down, every little thing that he sniffed out like the Doberman he was. He was the Hunter, the dog of the Boss that always fixed things. He wasn’t going to give up until he had cornered her, which he did. 

Ravi had finally found her. Her wonderful dark skin, eyes narrowed as they honed in on him. She had sized him up and it sent a thrill through him that he never would have admitted to anyone but her. They threw themselves at each other and after several rounds, he had destroyed her. Over and over again, he topped her and fought with the Wolf until they were both spent. Their talents both at an even playing field until an opportunity had presented itself.

Now, he was paying for that choice. Ravi’s face fought to keep neutral as his Boss gloated over the loss. The loyal dog was now disgusted with himself as another, more compliant woman danced her way over to him. It was as if she had never existed and that made him want to bare his teeth even more. Loyalty was everything to him and to see it disregarded like that--he wanted to kill them both. The Doberman was no longer loyal to its master. The hand that fed him had disturbed him for the last time. 

But he had hoped that he could make things right, for the first fucking time.

He finally tore his eyes away from the sickening couple when the phone buzzed. Ravi stood stock still in his corner as he watched the Boss smash the button out of aggravation. 

“Boss, there’s someone to see you.”

“The fuck? I don’t have anyone here so tell them to get lost or die.”

His boss jerked his head after hanging up on the poor man and he walked over to the door. Ravi waited by the door to see who it was but instead, he heard a couple of gunshots. The sound alarmed the Boss as he stood up, the woman almost falling to the floor. He couldn’t help but grin as he opened the door, letting whomever in. His Wolf waltzed through, a gun in her hand and sporting the most beautiful dress he’d ever seen on her body. 

The color would have put the royal family to shame with how brilliant the purple was on her body. The dark color of her skin accentuated the color and hugged every part of her body that he lavished not too long ago. That night when he had finally cornered her and absolutely fucked her until they had both finally given up on energy. He could feel the heat on the back of his neck as he thought back to her naked body beneath him and the absolute horror of his boss when he realized who he let in.

That was a rush for him just as much as her walking in with that sinful dress. The man sputtered, skin splotchy with red as he tried to form angry words towards the both of them. The door clicked shut with a quiet sound, his hand gently closing the door after the entrance of his Wolf. After locking it, Ravi walked over to the desk and grabbed one of the cigars that the man had been smoking on. Clipping off the end near the neat gold end, he stuck the thing in his mouth and pulled out some long stick matches to light the thing with. Ravi then sat down on the desk, his dark eyes watching her walk up to him. 

“Kokia! He told me you were dead!” 

A smile broke out on her face slowly and growing to the point where her canines were showing. The smoke from the cigar wafted up as he took an inhale, eyes still trained on his former boss. Kokia reached him and pressed her body against his, lifting her hand up to take the cigar from his lips. Her other hand caressed his chest, reaching in to feel the warm skin that was underneath his black silk shirt. Her fingers played with the area where his tattoos were as they ghosted over the taut muscles. Goosebumps peppered his skin where she had been touching it but he knew that if he took his eyes off the disgusting man--then he would try something. 

“Oh, Wonsik…. You told him I was dead? Well, that’s not far off.” She put the cigar in her own mouth, dark red lipstick staining the end of the cigar like a promise. “Well, I am dead. Dead to you.”

Kokia let the smoke ease out of her mouth like tendrils and he never wanted to fuck her more than in that moment. He even had the mind of letting the pig watch as he took the beautiful woman, showing him how it was actually done. He stood up and wrapped an arm around her waist, roughly pulling her to his pelvis to show off how turned on he was at the moment. Her eyes got wide before understanding what he meant, a smirk of his own growing on his own face. 

“Leave before you die.” Kokia spat at the woman, who gathered her things and practically ran out of the door. Ravi reluctantly left the warm spot to lock the door again, making sure that they wouldn’t be disturbed. He heard two quick gunshots and the man yelling in pain. Turning around, he saw that Kokia had shot him in the knees--the man spilling out onto the floor from it. 

“You won’t survive after this! I’ll make sure of it!” Ravi crossed the space in what seemed like seconds to grab the man by the collar and throw him into a chair. He took his own tie and the other’s to secure him to that chair, not that he could walk very far regardless. “And you! If I die, the whole gang will come after you!”

“Shut the fuck up. I don’t work for you anymore and I’ll kill everyone else who decides that Kokia isn’t fit for your job.”

She sat there, perched on her new desk and watched him work as she smoked. He pulled at the man’s hair, yanking his head back as his legs bled before making him look directly at her. She stood up and stalked over, gun in hand before kneeling before the former boss. One hand slid up his thigh before grabbing the man by the balls. 

“This is what I think of your gang.” She put the gun directly on his crotch, moved her hand and shot. He howled in pain, trying to squirm away from her affections. “I’ll make this place my bitch and do it better than you. Oh wait… This isn’t news.”

She laughed as she stood up but the moment she did, Ravi pinned her body to his. He was unchained, unbound and willing to lay at her feet. Grinding himself on her, he bent down to whisper in her ear--a naughty thought that had been running rampant in his mind since she entered. 

“Let’s give him one last show, love.” Nipping at her earlobe, Ravi trailed kissed over her jaw and onto her neck. He sucked on that sweet spot there until there was a visible discoloration from where he left his lips. Her body responded to his as she pulled at him with the same ferocity that he came at her with. But the pout on her face is what stopped him, for the moment. 

“He doesn’t deserve to see my body any longer.”

Ravi immediately took the gun and cigar from her hands before popping the smoking thing in his mouth then popping a bullet into the man’s forehead. He then turned to her, placing his forehead on hers as he blew some of the smoke out downward like a dragon. She grabbed his face and threw the cigar away, hitting the corner before devouring his lips. Ravi growled in response as a hand dived into her front, grabbing one of her tits and massaging it in his large hand. The other hand hiked up her dress, exposing her long legs. She then removed his hand and jumped up into his arms as she attacked his mouth again. 

He held her up easily as he walked to the chair that was previously occupied by the dead man. Kokia, once Ravi had sat down in said chair, looped her legs through the arm rests to get a better position on top of his lap. He watched as she untied the back of her dress, letting her top half fall free of the constricting fabric. Her perky tits bounced only for him and he reached up to give them the attention that they deserve when she smacked his wandering hands away. Her mouth trailed down his neck to the exposed skin, unbuttoning several parts of the shirt. 

“No. You’re gonna sit here and take it.”

He nearly groaned at the sound of her husky voice, completely submissive for her in that moment. Ravi knew that she needed to get that out of her system, needed to have some semblance of control back so she could move on. And if she used him in the process? So be it and he would die a happy man. 

She made quick work of getting his belt off the black slacks he had on, wiggling around to expose what was underneath. A moan slipped out, the friction only making him harder but he obediently kept his hands to the side as she worked. The dress she had on was making it a bit hard to do what she wanted so he actually reached up and ripped the dress, allowing her more freedom to grind against his crotch. Kokia grabbed his face, anger in her eyes but he didn’t waver on that subject. 

“I’ll buy you a better dress but for now, please fuck me.” He almost whimpered to her. Her eyes softened at his low words and took him in her hands, stroking him almost agonizingly slow. Ravi knew that she was going to have her revenge for tearing the dress and he accepted it. He just craved the way she felt, the way that she pressed her body against his. The way that his own body carnally wanted her, in every way that he could think of. He would have been harder even faster had the windows actually had people looking, showing them what all she was doing to a killer like him. 

His beautiful killer.

Once she was satisfied with touching him, Kokia lifted herself up just enough to slide his member in all the way. She took him in slowly, every inch had him panting and eager for more. He tried to lift up his own hips but as powerful as they were, Kokia slammed her own hips down and ground him deeper than before. He gave out a cry, a soft keening sound as he threw his head back. He didn’t see the grin on her face before she did it again, working him up and down. Holding onto his shoulders, she bounced on him--the slickness making sounds in the now quiet room. Aside from their heavy breathing, nothing else could be heard since Kokia went on her rampage earlier. Everyone that would have had a problem with them, were now dead and he was so fucking close to losing his mind as she kept the brutal pace going. 

He couldn’t take it anymore, the proud and deadly killer started to beg. His deep voice took on a whine as he chanted for her to keep going. Harder, faster--Ravi moaned loudly as she moved, arms twitching with the determination of keeping them to the sides. He allowed her to bruise him, to touch him and to drive him so close to the edge that it nearly broke him. She brought him so close, then took it away to watch the absolute dejection on his face. Her skin had taken on a light sheen from the effort of chasing that high with him, one that he would gladly indulge in again if she wanted to . 

Finally, with a quick adjustment, he snapped and his arms wrapped themselves around her. He wanted that fucking friction, pounding up with his hips. He wouldn’t take that moment from her but he would help her along the way. Her own cries of pleasure mixed with his breathy moans as the chair kept bumping into the desk with each movement. Ravi finally grasped her hips and pulled them down so hard as he came up--he saw stars. The final movement had her grasping all around him, clinging to the hardness that was currently inside of her. It was over quickly for Kokia but Ravi had other plans. 

He kept rolling his hips, using her overstimulated clit as a buffer for his own chase. Even having his thumb join in to keep her pleasure going. He was so close to finishing inside of her that every little touch she provided was making his brain foggy. A kiss there, a nip and suck there. This time, it approached them both with a vengeance as it washed over them--his hips stuttering from the effort. 

They clung to each other, both gasping for breath to regulate themselves. Her head landed on his, gently knocking them together. Ravi chuckled, peppering her face with small and sweet kisses. 

“Are you ok, love?” He asked her, eyes shining only for her. She nodded, not wanting to say another word about it. He knew that she was hurting from what happened and needed a release but never saying anything to her unless she spoke first. He let her do things at her own pace and only stepped in when needed. He was her Guardian Devil and a dog he would be...

...For her. 

#kwordsmiths #smutcentralnet #btspocnet #kwritersworldnet #ksmutclub #vixx #kim wonshik #thebiasrekkers presents #vixx ravi #mafia!au #Admin L

[warofshadowstheorder]

Chapter 04

The flow of the Atlantic Ocean was calm and steady.  Airplanes flew overhead as different boats and ships floated by on their way to various destinations.  Underneath the waves, the various marine life forms that populated it went about their daily lives and saw to their needs.  In the sky, a Peregrine Falcon gracefully and swiftly soared through the air.  It flew through the sky and away from the populous nations that surrounded it.

The bird’s path instead led it far away from the nearest logical established landing place and far into the Atlantic in a region very seldom traveled.  An island measuring five miles around, located approximately 100 miles northwest of Ireland, shrouded in mist was the bird’s final destination.

The falcon flew directly into a mist off the coast of the island and perched on a high tower.  The tower was a parapet that was part of a 20-foot high wall encircling the island like a giant snake protectively coiling around its eggs beginning approximately 20 yards inland with the Atlantic Ocean forming a natural moat.  The island varied in elevation, the lowest points being by the ocean, the rest of it was mainly rises that rose into hills and back down again.  The highest part took up most of the northwestern, northern, and northeastern sectors of the island.  It was a mountain rising up to 3,000 feet with a prominent ridge at 1,200 feet.  The locals called the mountain Mount Titus, the ridge they called Gideon Ridge.  Together, they formed an impenetrable barrier from the part of the island.

There was a large quarry not much farther inland from Mount Titus.  Several teenage boys were inside hard at work harvesting ore, under the supervision of a few older men.   Not far beyond that was a mine shaft with more teenage boys occasionally entering and emerging from it.  On the western coast of the island, there was a small hydroelectric plant set up that used the flow of the ocean to generate electricity.  Further inland, various structures dotted the landscape.  Several homes ranging in size so that the human inhabitants could see over the wall surrounding the island were the most numerous.  In the midst of the homes were a few other buildings dedicated to various tasks.  All of the homes and buildings branched out from a prominent hill, whose peak was dominated by a large breathtaking church built after the manner of a Gothic Cathedral.

The soil on the island was the most fertile imaginable.  Over parts of the island not taken up by man made structures corn, potatoes, turnips, spinach, lettuce, carrots, apples, oranges, and various other forms of vegetation thrived alongside cattle, horses, chickens, pigs, and other animals grazing freely over seemingly endless fields of grass.  On another part of the island falcons, pigeons, doves, and numerous kinds of birds flew through the air; sailing on the winds before perching on some of the various trees in the dense woodland that began just after where Mount Titus ended.

The island was a hive of activity.  Little children ran around playing in the warm open air.  Elsewhere, activities ranging from boxing training to lessons on Renaissance art and how to cultivate the various kinds of plants found all over the island were in progress.

One of the buildings inside the Monastery was a dormitory with various bedrooms on multiple floors.  Nearby was a dining facility with a kitchen and an adjoining area for people to eat.  A few different gymnasiums were close by as well.

The Cathedral was the focal point of the island, with the chapel at the center.  The chapel consisted of pews for a congregation, an organ, and a podium for a speaker with an elaborately carved symbol consisting of a red background with a dark colored circle on top with four white beams inside of it in a plush shape extending from the center to the edges.  Another part of the Cathedral housed the chambers of the one they called the Apostle, who oversaw everything, and was also used for some specific rituals.  Another room was something unique to the monastery.

At the top of a high tower was an empty room except for several large cauldrons placed all along the floor.  The cauldrons were black with large handles on either side and filled with water.  Besides the handles there was nothing particularly unique about them other than their mere presence.

The room was still and quiet, with a black duffel bag resting on the ground near the front.  By the duffel bag was a small table where two young women dressed in dark gowns resembling Habits without Wimples sat.

The woman sitting closest to the cauldrons had long red hair and beautiful blue eyes.  The other woman had long light blonde hair and big chocolate brown eyes.  The brunette, Alicia Bruce, waited with barely contained patient anticipation.  The blonde was her friend Sara.

“How much longer do you think you’ll be here?” Sara asked slightly concerned with a Dutch accent.

“Until he gets back,” Alicia answered in a Scottish brogue with a tone reflecting the fact that she’d been in that room for several hours, “I have Gifted McAllister looking after the boys and I don’t want to be relieved until my Odin gets back.”

“You sure do love him, don’t you?” Sara asked with a hint of admiration.

“He’s the man of my dreams,” Alicia answered “I hope that someday you can find the man of yours.”

“Some of us aren’t as fortunate as you,” Sara said, “the perfect man isn’t just brought into the Order and then given a love-struck girl to show him around the place.”

“Oh please,” Alicia said, “I completely loathed him when he first got here.  I didn’t like how he was cocky and arrogant and such a smart-aleck.  But,” she got a far-off wistful look on her face, “in time I got to see that he had dedication, persistence, and charm as well, and that when taken together…he was everything a girl could ask for.”

“Hmm,” Sara said, “if the first step to having the man of your dreams is to loathe him, then I should say that I have a good start with about half the Knights here.”

The two of them laughed heartily and were almost at the point of tears when they heard a sound like a rock splashing into a pond emanate from the nearest cauldron.  They both paused and looked at the cauldron, ripples forming in the water.

“You take it,” Sara said, “we both know that you would rather get the news than me.”

Alicia smiled and walked over to the cauldron.  She pulled back the sleeve on her robe and put her arm into the water.  She felt around at the bottom of the cauldron until feeling a rock resting there.  A watertight bag with a note inside was wrapped around the rock.  She undid the rope and read the note:

Dieter and Olcán in USA, convenience.

Alicia’s heart sank enough that it was visible to Sara as she read the note.  She walked up and gently took the note from Alicia.

“Do we have any higher priorities right now?” Sara asked.

“Not at the moment,” Alicia answered, “we should have time to bring them back.”

“Okay,” Sara said, “I’ll prepare the cauldron.”

Sara walked to the cauldron.  She then put the tip of her finger into the water, closed her eyes, and concentrated.  After a few moments, she slowly moved her finger in a crisscross pattern before stirring it in the center.

After removing her finger, she opened her eyes.  She looked into the water and saw it begin to swirl in a whirlpool motion before stopping and moving back and forth.  In a moment, the reflection of the water began to change and distort until the image in the water was of a tiled ceiling and what appeared to be a storage area in someone’s basement.

In a moment, she saw Dieter’s face in the water.  He looked into her face and a smile made its way across his features.

“Guten tag Sara,” Dieter said into the water, “you’re just looking for any excuse to see me naked aren’t you?”

“Just keep telling yourself that spierkop,” Sara answered, “Alicia and I are here and right now you two are our top priority.”

“Olcán’s right here,” Dieter said, “und we are on our way over.”

“Fine,” Sara said slightly annoyed, “we have your Brussels package here, and tell Olcán we’ll have a towel and clothes for him.”

“Well stand back,” Dieter said with a smile, “because you know that I am too much of a man to not cause an overflow.”

“Yeah,” Sara said rolling her eyes, “your ego takes up too much space.”  She then stepped back from the cauldron before Dieter could say anything else.

A moment later Dieter rose out of the cauldron, with a significant amount of water splashing out as he did so.  He came up with a gasp and shook some of the water off his head before rubbing his eyes, the water dripping off his immensely muscled body as he stepped out of the cauldron.

Many of the people at the Monastery, including Sara much to her chagrin, were so impressed with Dieter’s physique that they thought he looked like a comic book character or some kind of Hellenic deity.  Every inch of his body was solid muscle and looked like he had been sculpted out of pure Granite.  His body was so chiseled that it seemed as though someone had made a conscious effort to organize each muscle so that they weren’t crowded together.

His body was adorned with ten geometric symbols on his shoulders, chest, back, and abdomen.  He also had a tattoo on his left forearm that read:

124872

לעולם לא

The most prominent mark was a large black circle over the left side of his chest.  It had been burned onto his skin, the borders of the dark circle surrounded his flesh.  Within the circle, four beams extended from a smaller circle to the borders of the larger one.

He was completely naked with the exception of a metal Star of David medallion with each corner fashioned into a razor-sharp blade around his neck.  It was three inches high, an inch and a half wide, and an inch thick.  It had a silver color, with the exception of red beams that rose above the middles of the beams that made up the Star with a prominent rise and point at the center of the symbol.

“Like what you see,” Dieter said confidently to Sara, who threw the duffel bag at him.

“Just hang tight,” she said, “you have to join Duncan in Brussels for your assignment as soon as Olcán gets back and I can get the water prepared.”

“I love how you are able to mask your feelings for me,” Dieter said confidently as he walked forward to take the duffel bag, not bothering to dry off.

“Whatever,” Sara said, “Nigel says not to bother cleaning Bathsheba or Solomon since he took care of that for you.”

“Ah,” Dieter sighed wistfully, “I will have to thank him personally when I get back.”

“In the meantime,” Sara said trying to sound disgusted, “do us all a favor and cover up.”

Just as she said that, Olcán came out of the cauldron in a similar fashion to how Dieter had earlier.  Olcán also had a muscular build, but it was more trim and toned compared to Dieter’s large and chiseled form.

He had the same marks on his body that Dieter did, in addition to nine more.  His medallion was in the shape of a Celtic Cross with red beams and bladed corners similar to Dieter’s.

Several scars also adorned his body, including a long jagged one up his right side, and a smaller one over his heart.  He also had a Japanese character burned onto the base of his neck and wore Odin’s crucifix next to his own.  Olcán climbed out of the cauldron as Sara tossed him a towel.

“Go raibth maith agat Sara,” Olcán said as he dried off his face and ran his hands through his flat hair to put it back up into a flattop.

“I’m not surprised to see you here,” Olcán said when his eyes found Alicia, “don’t worry, Odin should be fine.”

“Oh thank God,” Alicia breathed out, “when the note said that it was just you and Dieter I thought that…”

“He is just going to be a little late,” Dieter chimed in, “he volunteered to stay behind and distract the authorities who were there while Olcán und I slipped out.”

“Do you have any idea how long he’ll be?” Alicia asked concerned as she took the crucifix Olcán handed her into her hand and held it tight.

“We told him that the longer he was away, the more worried he would make you,” Dieter responded, “but you know as well as I do that how long he stays locked up is his decision.”

“He’s in jail?!” Alicia shrieked out catching Dieter and Sara completely off-guard.

“Jah,” Dieter replied after a moment, “but we got the message out that he will need legal counsel, so he will be fine.”

“I’m sure he will,” Alicia said getting a smile on her face, “he always finds a way to get back here.”

Olcán smirked as he thought of his old friend and comrade and remembered some of the many missions the two of them had undertaken.  One particular event that he remembered with fondness was when they went on a mission to rural Mexico and had to go on the run afterwards.  They wound up in the desert eating whatever Rattlesnakes and other animals they could catch as they moved to where they could get back to the Monastery.

At about that time, Sara had again placed her finger into the water and gotten it back to normal.  She then put her finger back in and concentrated until the image in the water changed from a reflection of the room known as the Cauldron Chamber, to a cellar somewhere in Brussels.

“It’s ready now,” Sara called out, “now get out of here Dieter.”

“Auf wiedersehen,” Dieter said grabbing the bag, “try not to miss me too much fraulein.”

“I will manage,” Sara replied callously.  Dieter then jumped into the cauldron feet first holding the bag above his head.  He fell into the cauldron and didn’t stop dropping, and he didn’t come up in the monastery.  Sara looked into the water inside the cauldron and saw Dieter’s face in it looking back at her.

Once she saw that he had made it there, she put her finger back in the water and cleared it.  Olcán had already dried off and dressed in a black undershirt and shorts along with the dark Cossack that had been provided for him.

“Why’d you cut him off like that,” he asked, “you’re supposed to wait for him to confirm his safe arrival?”

“I probably should,” Sara answered, “but I don’t want to give him a chance to talk more than he already does.”

“Hmpf,” Olcán lightly grunted, “I imagine the Apostle wants to see me?”

“You imagine right,” Sara answered, “you should probably tell Chloe and the boys that Odin will be delayed.”

“I’ll do that,” Olcán replied as he walked up to Alicia and gently put his hand on her shoulder, “I’ll see you around Alicia.”

“Thanks Olcán,” she said as she softly put her hand on top of his, “I’m glad that my Odin has a friend like you.”

He then left the room and made his way down a stone staircase a short distance from the door.  He walked down the staircase slowly, knowing that he didn’t need to hurry.  He got to the bottom of the stairs and walked through the back end of the chapel to a staircase leading to the Apostle’s chambers, stopping for a moment to look into the chapel.

The chapel was very simple, but it was all that the residents of the Monastery needed.  The floor was made of stone, as were all the floors in the Monastery that weren’t earth, and the pews were simple wooden hand-carved benches.  An organ rested behind the makeshift pulpit, and stands for a choir were on either side of it.  Despite its simple nature, the atmosphere inside the chapel instilled feelings of reverence, humility, and solemnity in the hearts of anyone inside.

The only somewhat elaborate decoration similar to something that would be in a similar structure was a large circle carved out of a thick block of wood with the center removed.  Four beams forming the shape of a plus sign extended from the edge of the circrcle, they converged on a solid dark circle in the middle of the larger one.forming the emblem of the Order.

Olcán looked to the front of it and paused for a moment to let the feeling of the place sink in.  He thought for a while about what he had done, and what he would continue to do, in the service of the organization he belonged to and the ones he served.  After a while, Olcán genuflected and walked across the chapel to ascend the stairs to the other tower.

When he reached the top of the stairs, he saw a familiar face coming out of the only door.  It was a man about his age and height, with long brown hair down to just past his shoulder blades.  He was very handsome, and had a dashing appearance akin to figures depicted in swashbuckling films and books.  He also had alluring grey eyes.

“Dang it Tadeas,” Olcán said, “when are you going to get a real haircut?”

“I’ll get a ‘real’ haircut,” Tadeas answered with a sly smile and accent-free voice while making quotation marks with his fingers, “about the same time that you fail a mission.”

“If that’s true,” Olcán retorted, “then your hair will be tickling your heels before you know it.”  The two of them laughed and then hugged.

“It’s great to see you again,” Olcán said after they came apart, “how did your assignment in London go?”

“Jolly good,” Tadeas answered with a perfect English accent, “it was difficult to find the targets,” he reverted to his real voice, “but after Jamuike and I found their hideout the rest was pretty easy.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Olcán responded, “is Jamuike in there now?” he asked gesturing to the door.

“Yeah,” Tadeas answered, “the Apostle wanted to go over a few things with him before we left.  You caught me on my way out.”

Tadeas and Olcán had gone on several missions and a few holidays together.  They both had pictures together from various parts of the world they had visited.  One favorite of theirs was them standing on the Great Wall of China wearing old-time Chinese hats.  They were disappointed that they didn’t get to see as much of each other as they would have liked, but they did their best to make up for it whenever they got an opportunity.

“Are you planning on staying here for your next holiday,” Olcán asked, “or are you going somewhere off the island?”

“Olcán,” Tadeas said calmly as he patted his old friend on the back, “when have you ever known me to stay around here when I have holiday time?”

“Touché brother,” Olcán answered, “where do you think you’ll go this time?”

“I’ve wanted to go back to Monte Carlo for a while now,” Tadeas said, “I figure that now’s as good a time as any.  Are you up for a little Monte Carlo adventure?”

“Thanks,” Olcán said, “but I really don’t feel like traveling.  Besides, Odin got arrested on our last mission and…”

“Why does that not surprise me?” Tadeas asked rhetorically while rolling his eyes, “He’s got to learn to be less reckless and more focused.”

“Hey,” Olcán answered, “we all have our shortcomings.  Odin’s happens to be discretion.”

“We can both agree on that,” Tadeas said, “but I’m sorry for interrupting you, what were you saying?”

“I was just saying that while Odin’s gone I should really stick around and help Chloe with the boys while Alicia’s waiting for him.  Plus, I should check up on Declan and see how much he’s progressing.”

“All work and no play Olcán,” Tadeas said “you shouldn’t take yourself so seriously.”

“I don’t,” Olcán answered as the door to the Apostle’s office opened, “but I take this work very seriously.  Jamuike.”

Olcán greeted a large black man with a shaved head and muscular build who came out of the office.  Jamuike had had a serious look on his face when he came out, but at the sight of Olcán and his greeting, he immediately brightened up.

“Olcán,” he said in a Nigerian accent as the two of them shook hands and patted each other on the back with their free hands, “I take it the American assignment went well.”

“It did,” Olcán replied, “the only damper is that Odin got arrested when we were trying to get out of the hot zone.”

“Really,” Jamuike asked surprised, “does he have an escape plan?”

“We took some precautionary measures when we loaded up for it,” Olcán replied, “so I have every confidence that he’ll get out fine.”

“Let’s hope so,” Jamuike answered, “if he’s away too long Alicia will kill him when he finally does get back.  Worst case scenario, she’ll have the kids take her name.”

“I doubt it will come to that,” Olcán said, “but he should be getting back soon enough.”

“Olcán,” a voice came from behind Jamuike, “coe in here please.”

“I guess you’d better get in there,” Jamuike said, “the Apostle has been expecting you.”

“Right,” Olcán turned to face Tadeas and patted his shoulder, “I’ll see you when you get back.  Have fun in Monte Carlo.”

“Thanks,” Tadeas said as he patted Olcán on the back, “I hope you have fun hanging out around the island.”  Olcán smirked and then turned to Jamuike.

“Always nice to see you Jamuike.”

“Same to you Olcán,” Jamuike answered.

Olcán walked through the door Jamuike had been holding open and heard it close behind him.  The chambers of the Apostle, unlike the chapel, were adorned with various decorations.  The most prominent features were three large paintings and two other wall decorations.  One of the paintings was a depiction of Da Vinci’s “The Last Supper” in a condition that appeared as though it was fresh from the artist’s canvas.  Another was a depiction of a man dressed in Roman armor with a shield and long spear, and a black man almost as large as Dieter holding a sword with a flaming blade facing some kind of huge monster in a barricaded area near a small village.

The third painting depicted a man kneeling on top of a high cliff overlooking a vast ocean.  The man on his knees had the sword from the other picture resting on top of his hands while a majestic celestial being standing before him reaching forward to take it.

The other wall decorations were two large plaques with an elaborate collection of symbols engraved on the top portions.  Several nameplates were underneath the symbols, along with more adjoining plaques with additional nameplates.  One of the plaques had considerably more names than the other.

A dazzling array of different artifacts from every region of the world, most of them priceless, decorated the walls and rested on several shelves around the Apostle’s chambers.

A man sat behind a desk set up at the far end of the room.  The man looked to be in his late forties or early fifties and had a full head of brown hair that reached down to the base of his neck, along with a short beard that matched the color of his hair.

His eyes were green and had a constant look of compassion and nurturing.  He spoke with a voice that was simultaneously calm and comforting but also strong.  He was sitting comfortably and smiled as Olcán entered.

“Olcán,” the man said standing up and pointing to a chair in front of the desk, “please have a seat.”

“Yes sir,” Olcán said as he gave a respectful half bow and sat down in front of the desk as the Apostle did the same.

“I was expecting Odin,” the Apostle said calmly with a strong voice, “but I’m sure that you will let me know why I have the pleasure of addressing you.  Now, you know what I want to hear, so let’s have it and we can both move on.”

“The mission was a complete success,” Olcán said in his usual tone, “the target was taken out and no one else.”

“Good,” the Apostle answered simply, “I have to commend you and the others on the execution of this mission.  When I first heard of it, I was worried about our chances of success.  The mission itself must have been difficult.”

“This is what I do sir,” Olcán answered with his usual tone, “and that man had to be taken out.  Anyone who makes a deal with the Devil has forfeited his right to share this world with those who follow God.”

“Do you hate them Olcán,” the Apostle asked in a strong voice mingled with mild concern.

Olcán was silent.  He sat still in his chair staring forward, never breaking eye contact with the man across from him.  The Apostle mirrored Olcán’s stare, knowing that eventually Olcán would answer his question.

“Sir,” Olcán answered still maintaining his usual tone, “you know that the mission is always my first priority.  I will never let any ill feelings I might have interfere with that.”

“I understand that,” the Apostle answered, “but I need to know that those ill feelings will not overpower you.  If we harbor anything apart from pure feelings, then we are no better than what we are called upon to fight.  It’s…”

“The price we pay for doing the work of God,” Olcán finished, “I know that sir, you’ve told me many times.  You know that I’m focused.”

“It’s not your focus that concerns me Olcán,” the Apostle answered, “but your motives.”

“They are pure sir,” Olcán said.

“And what of the other group that bears your disdain,” the Apostle asked in a strong voice with a hint of concern, “do you harbor ill feelings toward them as well?”

“I’ve come to terms with the past.” Olcán answered.

“Have you?” the Apostle asked making a slight gesture to Olcán’s right side earning a slight wince.

“I have enough,” Olcán answered quickly and spitefully.

“I couldn’t help but overhear you talking outside,” the Apostle said inwardly deciding to move on with the interview, “and your presence here rather than the man who was in charge of the operation prompts me to ask what happened to Odin.”

“Everything went as planned up to the escape,” Olcán said inwardly grateful to be moving on and returning to his usual tone, “Dieter was in his seat and made sure that there was validity in the voice recordings that we used.  But when we met up with him after the mission,” Olcán paused, obviously a little embarrassed at admitting what happened next,  “our exit route was blocked and we realized that there was no way we were going to be able to walk out without leaving the rifle or some innocent bodies behind.”

“I see,” the Apostle said, “and what was the result?”

“We realized,” Olcán continued, “that one of us was going to have to distract the security at least long enough for the rest of us to get out.  We knew that Dieter needed to be back here as soon as possible and couldn’t risk being caught.  Then Odin volunteered to go and I didn’t have time to argue with him.”

“I take it that Odin did the best he could at being a distraction,” the Apostle said already knowing the answer.

“And I ‘m sure that he is continuing to be a distraction in the penal system,” Olcán said, “I’m sure I’m not alone in hoping he gets back soon.”

“We all feel the same way,” the Apostle said, “but I am glad to know that the mission was successful.  I can only imagine what would have happened if he had become President.  I don’t know if we would have been able to stop him had he reached that point.”

“We would have found a way,” Olcán answered, “but it would have been a lot more difficult and probably with a larger body count.”

“That,” the Apostle replied, “is one of the many reasons why our Watchers are so invaluable to this organization.”

“They have their uses,” Olcán replied with a hint of resentment, “few though they may be.”

“Olcán,” the Apostle said firmly but doing his best to convey honest concern, “you can’t let what happened in the past forever control how you feel and act.  The past is gone, and it is essential that we learn from it., but you must live in the present.”

“My past,” Olcán responded, “is what has made my present.  I act the way I do because I have learned from the past.  I can’t help it if the results are somewhat undesirable.”

“Very well,” the Apostle said knowing full well from previous conversations that this issue wouldn’t be resolved any time soon, “you have two weeks of holiday starting tomorrow.”

“I will only take one,” Olcán answered in his usual strong voice.

“Do you want to spend it off the island?” the Apostle asked.

“No,” Olcán answered, “I’m fine here.”

“You concern me Olcán,” the Apostle said, “it’s been years since you’ve left the island for any reason other than a mission.  I encourage everyone here to use the resources we have to go out and see as much of this beautiful world as possible.  Why don’t you take advantage of this?”

“With all due respect sir,” Olcán answered in a respectful tone, “I have seen much of the world already, and I prefer to stay here.  I have all I could ever need right here, and I should help out with Xander, Angus, and Malcolm until Odin gets back.  I would also like to see how Declan is progressing in his training since I will be vouching for him soon.”

“I see your point,” the Apostle said, “although if you ever have some time when you have holiday and no obligations here, I suggest you tag along with Tadeas.”

“I will think about it,” Olcán answered.

“If you have nothing further to add,” the Apostle said, “you are dismissed.”

“Thank you sir,” Olcán said as he stood up and the Apostle did the same, “I will be around here if you need me for anything.”

“Enjoy your holiday,” the Apostle said, “with all you did for your last mission, you have certainly earned some time off.  May the light within…”

“Drive away the darkness without.”  Olcán replied before turning around, walking to the door, and beginning to open it.

“One more thing,” the Apostle called out to Olcán, “stop by the Combat Room.  O’Connell will want to know that you are back safely.”

“I will be sure to do that,” Olcán answered, “thanks for letting me know where he is.”

The Apostle nodded, and Olcán exited the chamber.  He walked back down the stairs and made his way over the grounds, overhearing teachers inside various classrooms as he passed them.  Some of them were talking about traditional subjects such as math, science, or history; others were talking about subjects as diverse as military history and modern vernacular.

He made his way across a patch of open ground where several people were sitting on benches reading, talking, and otherwise engaged.  Olcán moved by unnoticed until he was spotted by a small group of children.  Three skinny red-haired boys were out in the field playing together when they spotted him approaching.  In no time at all, the three boys ran over to Olcán and wrapped their arms around his neck.

“Hey boys,” Olcán said happily as he hugged the three boys when they came up to him.  They were Odin and Alicia’s three sons, Xander was nine, Angus seven, and Malcolm five.  They knew Olcán very well through his friendship with their father, and they all loved him.

“Have you been good for Gifted Murphy while your dad and I have been away?” Olcán asked the boys.

“Yes,” Xander answered in a voice that was equal parts Scottish and Australian while his younger brothers continued to squeeze Olcán, “is dad back yet?”

“No, not yet,” Olcán answered, careful to keep the same upbeat tone he had been using, “but he told me that he will be back soon.  Until he gets back, you three need to keep being good for Gifted Murphy and stay out of trouble.”

The three boys laughed and nodded, then Olcán stood up.  Malcolm and Angus continued holding onto him and laughed as they went up into the air with their arms wrapped around Olcán’s strong neck.  Olcán spun around once and then wrestled them to the ground, loosening their grip by tickling them until they released him.

“You boys go and play,” an older silver-haired woman said in an Irish accent, “Mr. Olcán needs to be going.”

The three boys laughed again before running off to another spot on the grounds and starting to play with some of the other kids.  Olcán walked up to the woman and the two of them embraced.

“Hello Gifted Murphy,” Olcán said once again speaking in Irish Gaelic, “was Xander telling the truth?”

“Oh yes,” she answered in the same language, “they’ve been perfectly well behaved.  They just have so much energy” she sighed, “I’m getting too old to handle children.”

“Please,” Olcán scoffed, “Odin’s boys can be a handful, but you’ll never be too old to handle children.  Mother Theresa would’ve had trouble with those boys.”

“That’s probably true,” she said laughing, “they’re so much like their parents.”

“What makes you say that?” Olcán asked.

“They’re wild and energetic like their father,” she said, “and at the same time they’re polite and well-behaved like their mother.”

“You’ve got a point there,” Olcán replied, “complementary opposites really do make for the best combinations.”  Gifted Murphy nodded.

“Are you going to see O’Connell?” she asked, Olcán nodded.  “I know he’ll want to be seeing you, go on down.”  Olcán gave her a kiss on the forehead and was on his way.

There was a staircase leading down inside the building adjacent to the open ground.  As he went down the stairs, he could hear the sounds of fists, feet, and legs hitting punching bags, jump ropes repeatedly striking the ground, several men yelling out instructions and criticisms, and bodies slamming onto mats.

Olcán got to the bottom of the stairs where a simple door stood against a wall of stone.  Above the door was an intricately carved wooden sign with the words “Abandon all hope ye who enter here” carved in large imposing letters and surrounded by relief-carved skulls with a large fire behind them.  Olcán pounded the sign with his fist before opening the door and walking into what was officially known in the Monastery as the Combat Room, but what Olcán and the others who trained there called The Pit.

Hard Rock and Heavy Metal music played over speakers throughout the room.  The walls were decorated with various posters.  Some were of boxers, including Olcán’s personal favorite Rocky Marciano.  Other posters showed Bruce Lee and other famous martial artists and MMA fighters.

Very little floor space in the room was visible.  There was a full-size boxing ring in one part, with a complete Mixed Martial Arts-style octagon-shaped cage at the other end.  There were four traditional punching bags, four Thai-style ones, a row of Mook Jongs, and half a dozen speed bags distributed about the room.  There was another area that was entirely matted where several men and boys of different ages were practicing rolls and throwing moves, wrestling and grappling each other in hard and almost inhumane brutal training.

The only feature in the room not specifically dedicated to combat training, was an interlocking series of wooden plaques with several name plates screwed on.

A few older men around the room were coaching and offering instruction.  Olcán walked toward a man a few inches taller than him with scraggly silver hair that went down to the base of his neck, a similar build to Olcán, and an appearance so grizzled that he looked as though he had been living in the woods since St. Oliver Plunkett's final sermon.  He was standing outside the boxing ring barking out instructions to a sixteen-year-old boy sparring inside.

“Keep your guard up,” the grizzled man barked out in an Irish brogue that matched his appearance, “chin down and hands up boyo, remember that!”

“You’d better do what he says,” Olcán spoke up loud enough for anyone nearby to hear, “if you get him really mad he will jump in there himself and make sure that you never ignore him again.”

The man paused for a moment, and then looked at the stopwatch he was holding.

“Time!” he yelled out, “go in the corner and relax for a bit!  But don’t spend too much time sitting on your arse!”

“Little wolf,” the man said in Irish Gaelic after turning around to face Olcán.

“O’Connell” Olcán said and the two of them shared a strong embrace.

“So I take it that the mission was a success?” O’Connell asked continuing to speak in Gaelic.

“Now I thought you knew me better than that,” Olcán answered in Gaelic as they came apart, “after all, I was brought up by the best.”

“You give me too much credit Little Wolf,” O’Connell answered with a smile as he placed a hand on Olcán’s shoulder, “but I’m glad that whatever you learned from me you are putting to good use.”

“Absolutely,” Olcán said before turning to look into the ring and getting his first good look at the boy’s sparring partner, “Declan?”

“Oi master,” the sparring partner, a twenty year old boy with long red hair tied back in a braid and brown eyes said in an Irish accent, “when did you get back?”

“Just now,” Olcán answered, “what are you doing here?  Is this the best way you can get ready for your trials?”

“Oh no,” Declan said quickly and apologetically, “I had some time off and O’Connell asked if I could help him with Nathaniel for a while.”

“Okay,” Olcán said turning to face O’Connell, “once you’re through here would you mind if I take Declan off your hands for a while?”

“Not at all Little Wolf,” O’Connell said, he gave Olcán a smile then turned to face Declan and Nathaniel in the ring, “GO!”

He then hit the stopwatch and the two of them went back to sparring while Olcán watched and helped O’Connell with his advice and critiques.

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