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ethereal-navi · 1 year

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Valuable Lessons

Pairing: Ao’nung x Sully! Reader

Summary: You teach the chief’s son a few new things

Content Warning: Nothing but enemies to lovers trope

A/N: So the vibe of this piece is Jake and Neytiri in a different font. Also this takes place before Ao’nung and his friends pick on Kiri.

“Hey fish lips, wait up!”

Ao’nung spun around at the annoying and slightly insulting nickname. His eyes rolled at the sight of you jogging up to him.

“Oh, if it isn’t the tree hugger. Don’t you have a ilu to fall off of or something?” His ridiculing statement along with his smug look caused your eyes to roll as the soft sounds of waves filled the air.

Ever since your family arrived at Awa’atlu, Ao’nung and his friends had been giving you and your siblings a hard time about adapting to the water. So why not try and give him a taste of his own medicine and have him try and so something forest Na’vi excel at.

“Actually since you and your sister are teaching me and my siblings your ways, I wanted to teach you something.”

He scoffed.

“What could a forest girl possibly teach me?”

Your hands moved to pull a bow from behind your back and hold it out to him. His eyes studied it in your hands with confusion. The people in Awa’atlu use various spears for weapons so there would be no reason for a bow, let alone the knowledge to shoot one.

“I figured since you’re sooo amazing and clever shooting would be easy for you .” It was now your turn to host a smug look while he looked at you with slight panic in his eyes. That panic was short lived as he tried to cover it up with a laugh.

“How hard can it be if someone like you can do it?” The sea boy was reacting just as you’d hope.

“So let’s have you give it a try, hm?” You suddenly grabbed his hand and held it open to place the bow in his palm.

“And why should I? I have nothing to prove to you.”

You shrugged. “You’re right. I guess you’re too much of a baby, so I’ll go see if Roxto can instead.”

As you went to grab the weapon back he quickly closed his fist against it and scoffed.

“Give me an arrow.”

A smirk stayed on your lips while you handed him one. In this moment he started to feel intimidated. Once he was given the arrow he immediately tried to act like he knew what he was doing and placed it against the bow string.

You stood on the side and watched his actions with your arms crossed.

“Aim for that tree stump, genius.”

A look of confusion started to appear on his face as he struggled to figure out how to pull the string back. It seemed that the thickness of his arms was a obstacle for him. You watched him decide to wing it and shoot it completely wrong.

In result of that the arrow barely shot out and fell onto the sand.

“Wow, Ao’nung. That was… something.” You laughed at his failure just as he did to you. His cheeks began to heat up in embarrassment.

“You show me then.”

A chuckle left your lips while taking the bow from his hand. Your fingers briefly caressed his palm during the exchange, causing his eyes to linger on your frame when you went to pick up the arrow.

Without hesitation your hands found their place on the weapon and shot the arrow meters away in a flash. The two of you watched it plunge itself intro the stump. Ao’nung had no choice but to stand there in awe, mouth threatening to fall open.

“So much for being a tree hugger, right?”

He paused for a second before responding.

“I wanna go again.” Surprised by his statement your eyebrows lifted before handing the bow back to him. Your fingers pull another arrow out of your pack then handed that to him as well.

After grabbing it he tried to replicate what he had seen. You shook your head and walked up to him to fix his posture.

His teal skin shuttered at the feeling of your hands gently lifting his arms to straighten his shoulders. The two of you were now face to face with the bow in between. He used this moment as a opportunity to study your foreign beauty while you looked forward at the target.

Bright yellow orbs met his gaze when you turned to face him, causing a slight dark blue blush to appear on your cheeks. Both of you stared for what felt like an eternity til you brought back your focus and clicked your tongue, telling him to turn his attention to the tree stump.

He took notice of the sudden reaction and it left him with more confidence. This allowed him to actually shoot the arrow this time. It managed to land right underneath yours causing a big smile to appear on his lips and a chuckle to leave you.

“Guess you’re not as bad as I thought fish lips-“

“Y/N!”

Your head turned towards the sound of Lo’ak’s voice. “Dad wants us back.”

Ao’nung went to give the bow back but was halted.

“Keep it for a couple days. You need the practice.” You grabbed the pack of arrows then placed them on the bow in his grasp.

You flashed him a quick smile before jogging up to your younger brother. The interaction between you two had Lo’ak staring at him with a hardened look before going to follow you. Ao’nung stood on the beach, awestruck. He gazed down at weapon in his hand.

Perhaps he had finally met his match with you.

#avatar fanfiction #avatar imagine #avatar x you #avatar fluff #avatar x reader #avatar the way of water #aonung #ao’nung

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dilucsfav · 2 years

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idk why and how I’m even doing this I somehow am requesting stuff from you like three times a day- 😭😭 I hope you will hear me out tho. like cyno went on a super long mission and what if cyno’s S/o died and then later he was packing her stuff to his office so that he could at least have a little bit of her left and he found a letter that she wrote that was her parting letter to him just in case she died? I hope you get my point and anyways thank you if you actually can tolerate me and will write this 😭

I LOVE WRITING ANGST SGXHHXHX.

i won’t talk too much but i had a lot of fun writing this! you guys really love cyno huh i don’t blame you PLSSJDJD MY WHOLE INBOX IS ALL OF CYNO AKKAKAKJ.

enjoy the fic!! and dw, i love taking requests even if you request multiple times! i apologize to anybody who sends a request if i’m slow to write it !! although i love writing, it takes a lot of energy so just excuse me !!

In Anger and Guilt

warning(s): heavy angst, death, self-blame, blood

word count: 1.6k

It all happened too fast, too quickly, too painfully. Cyno’s eyelids that were too heavy were suddenly easy to keep open as he stared at your fragile body. His deep purple eyes watching as you fell silently in the sand, your head slumping to the side to stare right at him—

—To stare right at Cyno. Your eyes dulling, turning nothing but grey. Your tilted brows and your scrunched-up face slowly relaxing as you stared at the man. Your fists slowly released to where your palms were touching the bare sand. Your lips dry from the terribly hot dessert.

Cyno’s mouth was gaped open as he saw your lips press together in an attempt to not cry. His eyes quickly went up to stare at the primal constructs and the eremites who did this to you. He gripped his spear in his hands, running to slash them as quickly as he could.

How could he have let this happen? His mind raced with thoughts as he grunted, hitting and ripping the machines and people apart with as much energy and strength he had. When he saw them break apart, his eyes darted back over to you.

Cyno dropped his spear to run over as fast as he could. He dropped to the sand, taking your forearms and inspecting your wound— right in the middle of your stomach. He could see the blood stain the sand underneath of your limp body.

You barely had enough strength to even look at him— Cyno grabbed your cheeks, holding your face and looking between your eyes desperately. His mind went blank as he stared at you, wanting to say something to you but unsure of how to say it. It was like he had forgotten how to talk.

Cyno couldn’t even tell you that he loved you, as much as he’s ever loved anybody in his life. He wanted to tell you that you were wonderful, and that he couldn’t continue on without you, and that he would try harder to protect you from this cruel world— but all he could do was stare at you.

Your hand slowly held his arm in response, your fingers barely holding onto him. Your voice was a whisper as you stared at Cyno.

“You… look. Handsome. Underneath the sun— like this,” you quietly said, barely able to curve the ends of your lips up as your voice cracked and shook. “It hurts, Cyno. Make it stop…”

His eyes widened and he let go of your forearms, ripping off the cloth that hung on his shorts. His eyes and hands were desperate as he tried taking the cloth, pressing it onto your wound to try and stop any more bleeding. He knew he was too late, but he could never give up.

One of your arms quickly grabbed one of his bloody hands that were at work. You grunted, as if the quick motion you took had taken all the remaining strength out of you. “Cyno— stop.”

And that was it. Cyno’s widened eyes watched as your arm fell at your side, your eyes dimming and your breathing stopped. Your mouth was still open and you were still staring at Cyno.

He knew you had died, he knew you had already left from this world when he saw your expression turn into nothing. He just couldn’t admit it, couldn’t bring it to terms with himself.

He’d seen this before— when his companions died on a mission he would scream, talk to them to comfort them when he knew they were going to die. And when they did, he’d mentally accept that fact and close their tired eyes. And he’d pay his respects by grieving in his own way.

But Cyno couldn’t with you. He couldn’t form any logical words when he watched you die, and he didn’t know how to assure you it was alright and that he could save you. He knew he couldn’t protect you this time, and yet, he couldn’t process what had just happened to you.

(Y/N) dying? You could never. You were the most brilliant and charming person he had ever laid eyes on. You were the person Cyno was always with, the person who he swore that he would protect.

But he couldn’t protect you this time. If only he wasn’t so exhausted and he just got over it, maybe he could have done better to protect you. His exhaustion from the lack of sleep and the build-up of missions caused his last words to you to be in anger and not of love.

But he could have fixed that when you were dying. He could have assured you that he loved you, he could have apologized and kissed you sweetly to show that he didn’t mean those offensive and wrongful words. He didn’t mean to make you feel like you had to fight the primal constructs and eremites by yourself. He didn’t mean any of the words as you two walked together on the mission.

But it was too late.

He backed away from your lifeless body, his eyebrows furrowing. Only then did he start screaming and yelling at the glimpse of you. Your gray eyes staring up at the beaming sun, which made him become louder. He had never reacted like this before.

He quickly went back up to you, picking you up and slumping you on his back, running as fast as he could back to Ardravi Valley. Tighnari could fix this, he could fix anything.

Only it was too late. He should have done this when you were first struck by the enemies, then maybe he would have made it in time to save you. Just as he always promised you, that he could protect you. How could it end like this?

As he ran with the look of sheer panic on his face, fighting back the exhaustion as he screamed as loud as he could for you, he thought about the promises he made to you. That he would be your savior and protector.

A promise that he couldn’t keep with the person that meant the most to him.

Days of grieving turned into weeks of grieving. He turned sour at the thought of you, and he tried to take his mind off of you, but every little thing reminded him of you. It went from always being with you to never being with you.

As expected, Tighnari couldn’t do anything to bring you back. Tighnari had to grieve over you in his own way whilst also having to hear Cyno scream about how you could still be saved.

Truthfully, it was a lot to deal with for everybody. Collei couldn’t get out of her bed for days, Candace was the comforter but cried in her own time, Nilou canceled multiple performances to mourn.

Once Cyno finally found enough strength to go into his small office to collect your belongings and place them somewhere more protected, he found so many things.

Pictures of you littered the office, your papers and belongings scattered everywhere. Cyno took a deep breath as he searched through a drawer, your drawer, filled with many familiar things— except for one.

It was an envelope that was addressed to “My darling.” It didn’t take Cyno long at all to realize that it was your handwriting.

He wondered what it was and it took a lot of courage to open it. He wondered why he had never seen it beforehand but quickly pushed this confusion aside when he pulled the letter out.

Carefully, as if the letter would rip as soon as Cyno’s fingers touched it, he took a deep breath and read it quietly to himself.

And finally, his weeks of guilt were slightly tamed.

“Cyno,

Thank you for always being my guide, my friend, my companion and truly, the only person I could be with all the time. I could never understand why or how I am the person you have decided to be with. Somebody as strong and powerful as you would never be somebody I pictured to have a strong bond with. But for some reason, I’ve had this aching feeling in the pit of my stomach for far too long. In fact, it’s been ever since we established our connection with one another. Maybe the archons above forbid the almighty Cyno to be with the traveler, (Y/N). Or perhaps we’re not meant to be together by fate that is causing this empty feeling in me.

Truth is, I feel like I’m going to die soon. Or leave, or go away, or disappear, or something bad is going to happen soon. I can’t understand this feeling, it almost feels like the dendro archon is telling me. Or perhaps, maybe it is fate. But if this letter finds you, it means you’re going through my drawer of things and something has happened to me. I know that whatever has happened to me or to us, it is not your fault, nor could it ever be your burden to bear. Whatever fate has decided to do to us, I don’t quite care, because I love you.

I love you, Cyno. With everything I’ve ever had, I love you. And I could say that until I take my last breath of air, I am in love with you.

Your sins will forever be forgiven in my favor,

-(Y/N)”

#cyno x y/n #cyno x reader #cyno genshin impact #cyno #cyno x gn reader #cyno x gender neutral reader #cyno imagines #angst #genshin impact #genshin x reader #genshin fluff #genshin fanfic #sumeru #genshin cyno

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notmuchtoconceal · 10 months

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( o ) goodimpressionofmyself

he would lose himself staring out at the wide blue vista of the sea

in the shade, warmed by kaleidoscopic bursts of the setting sun, he stood still as the rocky cliffs which dwarfed the beach. chest caressed by the salt breeze, his musculature glistened with beads of sweat, carved by the same brine and water which shaped the shoreline. the waves gently rocking, crashing in his skull. thought and sensation ran as one with the ocean in his eyes. he was flesh. metabolic heat. fatty tissue bound to bone and muscle. by what degree did the salt of his body differ from the salt of the sea? the mineral of his bone from the mineral of the sand? he could stand perched on this beach in his suit, bound to his board forever. the porous material of polyurethane and neoprene no different in texture to the spongy tissues of his marrow and brain. the heat and moisture would rot any soft membrane, but if he were stone, the animal shape of his body could endure here for millennia

the snap of the camera broke him from trance

his bro was laughing at him for spacing out again. he looked so serious when he got lost, but he was just a goofy guy inside. he smiled, more playful than ashamed, and his bro punched him on the arm.

his suit pulled down too, if he held him close their bodies would be two sculptures in the same tableaux, abs chiseled from exertion on the waves, strained red, pulsating and flesh. when his bro looked at him, smiling back a second too long, he got his arm around his head, and threw him into the sand where they wrestled and laughed, grazing the soft, matted hair of each other’s pits with excited, probing fingers

they were back out on their boards before dark

it was a game they played, he guessed. his bro loved to watched him stand still. admire the serenity of his features, the untroubled contemplation of his lips and brow. at first it was something they did to relax after a long day out at the beach. his bro’d talk to him in that lilting voice until he fell asleep. wake up to find his bro wrapped around him, all coconut, bay spice and musk. with the windows open, the air blowing in from the sea, they’d still sweat huddled up together, and he’d nudge his bro in the ribs so he could get up and get a glass of water

said it was because he was such a deep sleeper, it was something he wanted to share, and he couldn’t say if it was the feeling of being out on the water, the coastal village ambiance or the way his bro would talk, but his arrival at this place already felt like a half-remembered dream

the night they met around the bonfire, he could see something in his eyes. they snuck away from the party alone, and to the crashing of the waves, the faint echoes of distant laughter, spoke late into the night. until moonlight faded from the water. until pale blue twilight succumbed to the red sun creeping along the edge of the world. at the diner, the air stale with smoke, drinking coffee and impotently spearing pancakes with a fork, in the haze of beer and lack of sleep, their glances grew longer, quieter and more intense

his bro knew all the best spots. secluded. two of them could be alone, especially this early in the season

one night, his bro’d glimpsed him in profile and blurted out

you’re beautiful

to that he could only laugh and tell him to shut up. he was all nah, nah, i mean it, still. hold that pose. lemme get the camera. he stood there for he didn’t know how long, feeling compliant and stupid

what if he just shifted ever so slightly to see if he noticed? struck a different pose, or kept this same pose on the opposite side of the room? what if he did an irish jig the moment the flash went off? would he crack him over the head with the lanyard or tackle him against the fridge?

when his bro came back, and he heard him snapping the pic, he said you got it? you got it yet? and when he said yeah, yeah i got it, he did a lil bow which his bro matched with applause and asked if that was so bad

yeah, sure. whatever gets your rocks off, bro

and he was talking in that way he did

motion was around him, but glancing back through the fishbowl of memory, he couldn’t tell if his bro was walking toward him, he was walking toward his bro, or if the earth had conspired by tectonic rift to bring them together

he was falling

falling

falling down

all he knew was that he was standing by the window,

looking out at the beach

and he didn’t want to move

he felt the warm lapping of water over his body

his bro’s hand on his shoulders,

whispering hibiscus sweetened words

hard, stable and handsome as the cliffs

he glimpsed canyons in the strata of a conch shell

cities in the filament of a seagull feather

an aurora in the muck of dinoflagellate blooms

a caress lingered down the small of his back

you make such a beautiful statue, bro

over that summer, his bro posed him on the deck, the rocks, the grass near the bay. on docks, on ferries, on main street in the dead of night. pioneering on park benches, swinging from street lamps, dueling in the thinker pose with the other slabs and sculpts, plastic, granite and bronze, matching them inertia for inertia

how long was i out that time?

almost two hours

you gotta be kidding me bro,

haha

on the night when the moon was gone, he’d pulled his suit down until there was barely anything left to the imagination. not that his bro hadn’t seen it all already, sharing one couch and bathroom with another guy, but he still froze him mid-laugh, capturing his bashful smirk

he didn’t know why he approached so slowly, moving with the timid grace of a lil boy up to a leviathan half-beached on a sandbar

there was awe in his eyes as he reached out to touch a body with no baseline tremor, no wobble from the imperceptible vertigo of an upright stance. the warmth of his skin, the beat of his heart, the tan which had only deepened over the many hours spent out in the sun, all proved that he was still flesh, and his smell was proof enough that nothing more need be staked, all was already, here and now, forever already claimed

fingering the downy brown pubes peeking out at the base of his v-taper, his bro wrapped his arms around his flank, and whispered

i think i love you?

it was always that photo at the cliffs his bro kept coming back to. said it reminded him of the poise he had on his board, like it was a part of him. standing upright. an object like a bro and a bro like an object

something about the stillness he could achieve on a good wave made him appreciate the motion, and the motion the stillness.

mutual reinforcement. everything was in balance.

and his bro moved into what he knew was headlock position

i like you when you move me too, bro

that photo would preserve the moment, tho not for millennia. they could transfer it to film. keep it sealed under plastic. it could sit on a hard drive, float around the beetle tubes of the web. it could outlive him, that image of a body in its prime, the contemplation of the moment and the yearning for the eternal. as his stubble thickened to a full beard. as his muscles filled out and he bought new suits. bigger suits. as he continued to grow. until he began to age. until his skin weathered and sagged. until his hair turned grey and fell to the floor. until his bones splintered and cracked. until he was rotting down somewhere beneath the earth, his bro nothing but motes in the light of a foreign sun. until the electronics shortened. until bit rot ate the data. until the atmosphere broiled a dead earth and the stars burnt out like marquee bulbs never to be replaced

like it was the night the world grew dark and he left the beach for home

#silence #state of flow #can't move or speak #feels right #statue #bro love #entropy

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incompleteth0ts · 4 months

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American Pie 🥧

SUMMARY: Chap. 1 Chap. 2 Chap. 3 Chap. 4

Dying wasn’t as painful as he feared it would be. After fighting all his life, Jason was sure his death would be long and drawn out on the battlefield alongside enemies and allies.

____

Jason Grace is dead and his life flashes before his eyes

WRITTEN FOR Percy Jackson Gift Exchange Winter Solstice 2023 OFFERED PROMPTS THAT WERE USED🏃🏾♀️💨

1)"We will not go quietly."

2)Major Character Death

3)"Pity not the sword, nor its wielder."

__Bye-Bye, Miss American Pie__

Dying wasn’t as painful as he feared it would be. After fighting all his life, Jason was sure his death would be long and drawn out on the battlefield alongside enemies and allies. Jason could envision so many battles that should have ended him. The battle with Krios, the prophecy of 7, talking to Frank in the morning before he brushed his teeth; anything but traveling on the back of a venti pushing 30 m/ph in a duel to inevitable death, not to mention while on a Yacht with at least one arrow in each limb hundreds of miles away from New Rome

Anything but dying alone.

But Jason knew he had to keep going. It was him or Piper; he wouldn’t let her die on this ship. Jason lifted his sword and prepared for another lap around the too-small jousting grounds. The lack of space made Tempest even more stressed and the metallic scent of blood clogged Jason’s senses. With his gladius raised to the mighty heavens of his father Jason made one last oath as Tempest reared up for another challenge, ‘Let it be known that neither Piper nor Apollo will die on this ship.’ A crack of lighting broke the sky.

Tempest and Incitatus galloped past one another once more. Incitatus kicked at Tempest with his golden front hooves jostling Jason’s heavily injured body. Tempest responded with bursts of electricity that left a battery tased in Jason’s mouth and scorched the evil stallion's white flanks.

As Jason and Caligula passed by each other Jason turned and caught the fallen god's eye from across the ruined throne room. “Go!” He screamed at his ex-girlfriend and God. “Remember!” Jason desperately pleaded. It may be selfish but he needed Apollo to pull himself together and save not only himself but Piper too. He was willing to end his life for them earlier, hopefully, he was still holding on to that hero mentality.

‘Just one more round,’ he thought, holding Apollo’s gaze. ‘If I can make it through one more round then they should be able to’

Caligula threw his spear.

The weapon landed in between Jason’s shoulders shoving Jason’s body into Tempest's neck. From what felt like a much further distance Jason heard the sound of Piper's scream of terror. Jason’s eyes widened.

5 pounds of gold made itself home in the ex-praetor's rhomboid muscles. Jason slumped forward into his stead and wrapped his arms around Tempest's neck to keep balance. “Get them out of here. Please, Tempest, save my friends.”

The spirit did not owe him anything, but Jason prayed Tempest would give him this.

Jason felt his vision swim. It was like his life was falling through his fingers like sand on the beach. ‘How embarrassing,’ he thought. ‘I used to wrestle with wolves and now I’m going to die on the yacht of a lunatic nicknamed Little Boots.’

Jason began to lose strength as his body fell off the wild Venti.

Jason Grace died before his body even hit the floor.

When Jason came back to himself, he was face to face with a beautiful man.

“Hello, Jason Grace. How are you feeling?”

How was he feeling? That was the issue, that Jason couldn't feel anything. He tried to wiggle his fingers and toes the way the nurses at his school told him to when he passed out after a long day, but he wasn’t even sure if he had them anymore.

Was Caligula known for taking the toes of his enemies?

“The correct answer, Mr. Grace, should be nothing.” The man straightened up from his bowed position and pulled out an iPad. The man wore a dark toga layered with various sashes, and on the man's back grew two mighty wings as black as night. He was dark-skinned with meticulously kept dreads that were pulled into a bun against his nape.

“You’re lord Mors, aren’t you.” The god stopped what he was doing on the iPad and returned to Jason.

“Yes, I am Mors. I will admit I did not know how to approach you at first. My other half and I were in disagreement for a while, trying to figure out what form was the most appropriate to appear in. After all, nowadays you're neither fully Greek nor Roman.”

Jason almost felt like he should apologize to the Death God because not even he knew what he was.

Mors put the iPad back in his messenger bag and pulled out an envelope that read, ‘Jason Grace, express shipping to the Underworld, first-class packaging’. Jason was feeling more and more important by the minute.

“If you want I can change the color, but we must get going.”

“The color is fine, you're right, let's get going.” Jason didn't know why the color of the envelope mattered- well he didn't know until Mors pinched at his shoulder the way someone would with a dirty sheet. There was a loud ripping sound, and then everything went dark.

Jason was in an airport.

Sure the airport had horrible lighting, was crawling with ghosts and ghouls alike and the only security dog onsite was a giant three-headed hellhound. Still, it was most definitely an airport security station. Jason watched as once-living men and women were guided through the velvet rope lanes. Children who died with their parents were ripped from the screaming arms of their mothers and carried down a separate path. A skeleton wearing a dark gray jumpsuit with the words, ‘Dog walker’, in bold black lettering held at least ten leashes in each hand. Golden retrievers, Dobermans, Pinchers, and Poodles dragged the poor man of bones through a gate marked as, ‘Easy Elysium’.

Jason looked at the ghouls in front and behind him searching for the young faces of Meg and Apollo, he was relieved when he couldn’t find either of them haunting the line. His heart grew lighter when he also failed to see Piper anywhere in the line.

The prophecy had come true. Jason was dead, but Piper had been saved.

“Next in line please.”

Jason had unknowingly made it to the front of the line. How long had he been standing here? Two minutes, an hour, a week? Stepping forward with his chin held high Jason tried to look more confident than he felt.

“Hello dear. If you could give me your name and godly parents I’ll get you sent off to where you need to go.” The woman had a strong Jersey accent and a high pouf. If she had solid flesh it would probably be coated in an ugly orange spray tan, but wisely Jason kept those very personal thoughts to himself. The last thing he wanted was to be sent to the fields of punishment or worse, the back of the line.

“My name is Jason Grace, Son of Jupiter.”

The receptionist began scrolling through her screen without a care in the world. She’s probably gotten far used to greeting sons and daughters of various Olympian and minor gods.

“Ok, here you are dear; Jason Grace, you have been scheduled for our express shipping.”

The Dead Jersey woman printed out what looked like a train ticket and stamped a red express seal of authenticity on it.

“Take this and go down that path,” She pointed off towards Jason’s right where the earthy ground of the underworld turned into a red carpet. “Give this ticket to the conductor and he’ll take you to meet the judges.”

Unlike Jason's walk to the kiosk, his walk to the train was devoid of others. Looked like not many people were able to get express shipping to meet the Council of the Dead.

When Jason made it to the station he was taken aback. The platform was made of carborundum that had been ground down into a flat and polished flooring. Four 20-foot columns of neptunite worked together to form a pavilion of pink ivory and diamonds, most of the architecture was marked with a Delta symbol like the one on Annabeth’s laptop.

None of the history books in Camp Jupiter talked about a train station in the afterlife.

“Ticket please.”

Jason embarrassingly tripped over himself. He hadn’t heard the conductor approach until he stood over Jason’s shoulder. The train driver wore a uniform that reminded him of ‘The Polar Express’. His name tag identified him as, ‘Jeff’, and Jeff was made entirely from bone.

The underworld truly was an interesting place.

Giving the skeleton his ticket Jason watched with rather childish amusement as the conductor punched several holes into it with his teeth.

“Stand back please.”

Jason backed into one of the back columns as the ground began to shake. A loud train whistle broke through the underground silence announcing the arrival of his travel vehicle.

The train was gorgeous. It was an all-black steam locomotive with golden wheels and doors, hooked to the back of the coal cart were eight passenger cars. It was the type of vehicle that you would see rich people in the UK ride on to get from one side of the country to the other.

“All aboard.” Even though Jason was visibly the only passenger waiting at the station the skeleton waved its arm in an urgent arc as if to say. ‘One at a time now and no pushing’.

The inside was just as expensive looking as the outside. The booths were either covered in black velvet or leather. The tables were numbered 1-20 events on the right and odds to the left. Lining the path were lanterns full of hackmanite. Jason sat down as the train began to speed through the underworld. During the trip the train made no stops, they were moving so fast that the long almost still-standing lines of ghosts blurred by like pavement markings.

In under five minutes, the train managed to cut across the underworld and stopped at the only other station lining the railroad.

“Now arriving at your final destination. The judges await you.” The doors opened with an ominous hiss. Jason walked through the doors and entered a room that looked like the courtroom on SVU.

In the judge's seat sat three men—the three judges of Pluto's court.

The three kings of the past, Minos, Rhadamanthus, and Aeacus sat on elevated thrones carved from black cassiterite. To Jason’s right sat an empty jury and to the side of the three kings sat a court reporter. The witness stands were composed of men and women wearing Nobel clothing from various periods. There wasn’t a bailiff present for the trial because once a person died they couldn’t be harmed until after they’ve been sentenced to an afterlife. Nothing Jason said or did in here mattered, nothing in his life would change. He’d either land someplace or the other and that was that.

Judge Aeacus slammed his gavel against his sandalwood sound block. “May the court rise for the judgment of one Jason Grace, son of Lord Jupiter and the deceased mortal Beryl Grace.” Around him, several undead witnesses rose to their feet awaiting the judge's next orders.

“Mr. Grace steps forward and enters the witness stand.”

Jason approached the stand on light feet. He did not fear what awaited him once he left this courtroom he was a soldier and a good one at that. He’s done plenty of amazing things that others would have crumbled under. Jason had nothing to fear.

The witness stand, rather than being to the left of the three judges, was built in front of them allowing the three kings to stare down at Jason like he was a bug under a microscope.

“May the plaintiff present all the evidence the court will acquire for today's hearing.”

A shawled figure crept into the room holding a black briefcase. Long purple chains dragged behind the plaintiff's legs and made a sound equivalent to a sword scraping against a stone.

Jason recognized the metal as Stygian Iron. It was the same material his young friend Nico Di Angelo’s sword was forged from. The people in the witness stand hissed at the glowing chains. Jason personally felt incredibly lucky that he was guarded on the witness stand.

The plaintiff presented the metal box on the judge's table, handing Aeacus the key before leaving the courtroom just as silently as they got in. Inserting the key into its designated slot Jason waited with bated breath at what he knew the kings were about to pull out.

A golden light bright enough to rival that of Apollo’s sun illuminated the room. When the light died down enough for Jason to gaze upon the judges again his breath caught in his throat. Lying in the palms of Judge Aeacus was a golden thread the size of Jason's

“I present to the court the unbiased life of Jason Grace.”

____

Ik this chapter is short but each of the chapters get longer😤

Toward the end of writing this I was remembering minor details of the original series and Daedalus and his 'punishment' came to mind

You can also find this fic on my Ao3 under the same name and user

WORD COUNT: 2,192 Words

#pjo hoo toa #jason grace #trials of apollo #piper mclean #meg mccaffrey #apollo #lester papadopoulos

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gloamingdawn · 1 year

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November 20 - Day 1 Instinct / Neglect

Ashraniel had been a handful since the day he’d come into her life; the first child born in the city at the turn of Silvermoon’s new year, something Meryn had taken the liberty of confirming with every hospital and clinic behind the Shepherd’s Gate. The noblewoman witch she’d been working for had deemed it auspicious. It annoyed her that it probably was, greater forces than her had an awful hard time leaving her family alone, and Lyn had warded his room and their small cabin as best as she could against the outside looking in — whether friend or foe.

He was three this year, and full of the mischief that grew off of the terrible twos. Sunny blonde hair fell in soft waves to his shoulders, but she could see where the red undertones had started to fill in from the platinum he’d been born with. Part of her hoped desperately he’d keep that flaxen color, maybe time would be kind and he would. It felt inevitable as the freckles that had started to appear on the swells of his cheeks, the bridge of his nose and the rounds of his shoulders that in time he’d be as ginger as she was.

Summer had always been their most idyllic time. Ash toddled full speed into the kitchen in his pull on shorts, carrying a small foraging pail and shovel, a gift from his uncles, and proclaimed at a volume well beyond their ‘inside voice’ lessons, “Mommaaaaa I want to go to the BEACH!”

This was not unusual; he’d loved the sea and the sand as much as she had since he had been old enough to really appreciate it. Lyn sighed and nodded, “Alright, you can be out there until it’s time for lunch, okay? Will you find me four shells?” They had been working on counting, and it was something to keep him occupied while she cooked.

Ash counted on his fingers until he got to five, then backed off back to four and nodded, “Four. Okay!”

His excitement was palpable as she propped open the cabin door and walked with him out onto the porch that descended directly into the sand and then the surf a few yards beyond, “Remember Ash, stay where I can see you from the windows, and if the waves can touch your feet…?”

“I am too close!” He nodded emphatically before taking off down the shallow slope, bucket and shovel bobbling in his hands.

Some would call this gentle supervision neglect, but their small spit of coastline was safe enough and it let him have some independence — similar to the kind she’d had growing up deep in the woods, able to go on grand adventures without either of her parents around to keep an eye.

She was only about halfway through the mornay sauce for his ‘macaroni cheese’ when a toddler shriek erupted from outside; he wasn’t old enough yet to be able to split the difference in tone between ‘extreme fun’ and ‘being murdered’ and in a flash she was out the door, conjured spear in her runescarred hands. By the time she’d made it to where he’d plopped down in the sand, the crying had started, and Ash managed through pitiful sobs, “Momma it bit me.”

A blue strand crab sat frozen in the bottom of the bucket, both claws out in defense and ready to pinch again.

Lyn sighed and dismissed her spear, heart rate settling. There was a lesson here for him, too, she knew. He held up his arms and she scooped him up, letting him sniffle into her shoulder as she gathered up the bucket holding the fair caught, decently sized crab and a couple shells, “I’ll take a look once we’re inside and we can put some ice on where it’s hurting. After we’re done with lunch we can go back out and I’ll help you find more shells, okay?”

It was enough for now, and he’d be able to settle a little while she re-made the sauce and steamed his catch. He was still picky and only wanted the cheese and noodles, but she was looking forward to having a little extra protein with hers.

@daily-writing-challenge

#novemberdwc2022 #novemberday12022 #gloamingdawn

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nemeseos-noctua · 3 years

Note

For Xiao, Zhongli and Albedo: what if their s/o (separate) made a song for them https://youtu.be/n8g-LdDf-pA note: S/O isn't immortal haha but they made the song in case they probs leave just to reassure their beloved loses them and uses it as some lullaby for them or something--

𝐅𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: xiao, zhongli, albedo (separate) x gn!reader

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: mentions of death, xiao & albedo & zhongli story spoilers, not proofread

𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: for those wondering: the song is abt finding ‘you’ (the characters in this case) over and over again, even after death. bc you (reader) are never truly gone bc u were in their (the characters) hearts

also srry if i trailed off w this request!! i didnt know whether u wanted an angst or fluff ending!

stares at u menacingly

is this. FORESHADOWING. that ur gonna DIE. hello?!

once you clear it up that it’s just merely a song because you’re a mortal and he’s not, he’ll relax a bit

but then he’ll get a lil sad 😔

he knows. he knows death is inevitable, even for someone like him. he knows, one day, one day he will be alone again

but he wishes it didn’t have to be this way. the adeptus xiao, wishing for a happiness so unobtainable...

Xiao was silent as you sang him your melody. The lyrics were so concise—yet, he felt as though you had rammed a spear into his heart multiple times.

He knew you were not permanent. That you were but a temporary, fleeting mortal soul, a soul who’d disappear like a wisp in the wind.

Your song—it reminded him of the Dihua Flute he had heard all those millennia ago. It reminded him of the eons he had spent, alone, the eons he had spent, cold.

All of those memories he had hidden in the corner of his brain, racking up cobwebs ever since you came. You were the light that’d pierce through the darkness of the night, the darkness of his mind. You were someone so, so much more than a ‘mortal’ he had dubbed you as.

And yet, he wished he could dub you as anything, anything but ‘mortal’. Mortals meant temporary, mortals meant erasable.

But you, you were not erasable. Never, never, ever. For as long as he’d live, as long as his name was ‘Xiao’.

You—you were the person whom he’d fallen in love with. [L/N] [Y/N].

he’d memorize the lyrics and tune of your song

though—as long as you live, he never wants to hear it again. hearing it once had already sent him into a dysphoric state, a state of which he seemed to mourn the future, to mourn what was about to come

and though—and though xiao knows, he knows you will leave him, that you will disappear like the rest...

he wants to believe. with his arms wrapped around you, with his hand clasped in yours, he wants to believe you will be by his side for eternity

The moon was silent, opening up a pathway for the Vigilant Yaksha as teal strands of hair fluttered with the wind, dancing like a needle and thread.

Long ago, you were by his side. Long ago, you had sang these same words to him—

“I’ll love every version of you.

And you’re never truly gone

As long as a part of you in me lives on.”

The world was quiet without you.

Maybe because—because it wasn’t you who was singing the song.

zhongli will have a bittersweet smile etched onto his face

he, like xiao, has come to accept the fact that you are but a fleeting life in the sands of time. and though it pains him greatly—zhongli has suffered many, many losses

though, that does not mean yours is numb to him. goodness, no! if anything, yours would sting him for an eternity

but zhongli knows, for his wisdom is unmatched. he knows that he should take this time with you and spend it to the best of his expenses. he knows that though you may not be with him for the next hundreds of years, to have you in these mere decades is enough for him

and though his heart is already beginning to brace itself for a swan dive into the future, he—he, the mortal zhongli—will love you in this lifetime, and the next, and the next

“Did you arrange the lyrics yourself? They are quite beautiful, love,” Zhongli smiled, though, you did not miss the way his amber eyes flickered in melancholy.

“Hehe, yeah! I made this song for you, Zhongli! Because I know...” You trailed off, rubbing the back of your neck bashfully as the consultant wrapped his arms around you, the warmth of his body and the beat of his heart pounding against his chest.

Walking among mortals—Zhongli is reminded, time and time again, life is temporary. It always is, and always will be—even to someone such as himself.

Eternity was impossible, unreachable, but the ex-archon must admit...

He wanted to spend eternity with you.

albedo had told you of his concerns, of how he’s afraid to one day destroy mondstadt

it was obvious how he hinted the fact that he may break up with you. not because he fell out of love per se, but for your own good.

and, a part of you had wished he had given you a chance. yet, you knew, you knew he did. he loved you, he loved you like how he loved alchemy, he loved you like how the sun would nurture and care for plants after the darkness of the night—

yet once again, albedo pulled through. he did it for you, he stopped loving you for— you

but you will never stop loving him.

Albedo sat in the corner of his camp, the fire doing nothing to alleviate the cold of his heart.

He was alone. Again. The alchemist somehow always found himself in this situation—lost, forgotten, tossed away like a used beaker.

But then he remembered, hah. It wasn’t him who was tossed away, it was you. It was your crestfallen face when Albedo ‘broke up’ with you, stating how he was ‘busy’ with experiments that you knew were just him shielding you from his inevitable doom.

Somehow, his mind always trailed back to you... as it always did. Whenever he felt powerless, the mere thought of your voice and laugh somehow brought him back to the known, back to hope.

“But my love, I will hold you close to me.

‘Till you fade from my arms peacefully.”

The melody of that song you had strummed just for him still replayed in his mind like a broken stereo, like an endless music box that’d be played whenever he fell down.

Never before has Albedo wished to forget you—but, during this time, during this freezing snowy night,

He wished you never brought him warmth, for he feels colder than before.

— constellations! 💫

#genshin x reader #genshin headcanons #genshin scenarios #genshin imagines #genshin impact #genshin impact headcanons #genshin impact scenarios #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin #xiao x reader #albedo x reader #zhongli x reader #zhongli #xiao #albedo #constellarations

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writings-of-bored-gal · 3 years

Text

Protection - Part 10

Jaime Lannister x Stark!Reader

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

Part 10/?

Summary: Jaime and his wife make it to Sunspear, but what will be waiting there for them when they arrive?

Author’s Note: Hi everyone! so….it’s been a while. I never wanted to leave this fanfic unfinished and I promise I will eventually get to finishing it, I just needed to know where it was I wanted to go with it and in all honesty, the way the show ended kind of put me off thinking about that. I am going to give this another go though, and Protection will be finished one way or another (else it might haunt me for the rest of my days). I have also started writing more original content which can now be found on Dreame and the link is in my Masterlist! Thank you all for the continued support and I hope you’re all staying safe. Thanks for reading- Abby x

Protection Tags: @mikariell95, @evyiione, @sleepylunarwolf, @wnygirl2012, @purpose4fan-fiction, @mmmcchan, @lxdyred, @duvetsandpillows, @d34d-0n-th3-1ns1d3, @bshelley322

Masterlist | Buy me a coffee!

_______________

Jaime wrapped the child in a blanket, clutching it tightly to shield it from the sand that whipped around them in the wind. It had cried, it had screeched as its mother fell to the ground, her arms unable to take the weight of the tiny being.

She was now slumped over the front of Bronn’s horse, Bronn’s arms showing veins where the strain of holding her up was getting to him. It hadn’t been pretty, but she had done all she could and she had the child before fainting in exhaustion and dehydration. Jaime tried not to let his fear show, tried not to disturb the sleeping infant in his arms, but he couldn’t help but let it eat away inside of him. They had to reach the Martells before it was too late for her. Bronn had managed to bring a maester, who lingered behind them on his own horse. He seemed hesitant to help them until Jaime had explained that she was not of Lannister blood, but the daughter of Ned Stark. The argument had persuaded the master, but Jaime was not sure if it would sway the Martells to his cause. They would be happy to let her die even if it was just to spite him.

Whilst the journey to the Martell’s residence was a short one, it felt longer than any of their time at sea. Jaime looked down at the child in his arms, a young boy. Cersei would be disgusted. A new Lannister heir. He didn’t really care what Cersei thought. The boy looked strong and healthy, despite the heat he did not seem bothered, his chest rising and falling in a soft rhythm of sleep. Jaime looked over to his wife, her eyes flitting open for a moment before closing once again. At least she was still alive.

The edges of Sunspear became visible above the dunes. The tips of its golden spires were visible above the large walls that surrounded the building. There were guards at every entrance, all sporting the Martell crest of the spear bursting through the sun. Jaime thought back to Oberyn, the way he fought the Mountain with a spear and his courage. He had nothing but respect for the Martells, but he could not say they would feel the same way about him.

The maester rode up to meet the level of Jaime and Bronn. He stepped down from his horse and went to check on Jaime’s dear wife, still slumped over Bronn’s horse and mumbling something Jaime could not hear. He attempted to give her some water, but she laughed, batting the vessel away in delirium. Jaime was no maester, but even he could see she was delirious. He felt panic rise inside of his, the child sensing it and fussing in his blankets. He watched as the maester stepped ahead to the two guards, murmuring something to them as they nodded, one turning and making his way into the walls of Sunspear as the maester returned to Jaime and Bronn.

“They have asked that she enter Sunspear alone with the child,” the maester told Jaime.

“You expect me to give my wife up to my family’s enemies so freely? No!” Jaime replied, his voice rising in anger. He would not leave her. She would not die alone. “Put me in chains for all I care, but I am following her in there-“

“Jaime,” Bronn’s voice, level and calm felt like a bucket over water, washing away his anger and bringing him back to the present, “you’re going to be no good to anyone in chains, mate. Let her go in.”

Jaime wanted to take out his sword. He wanted to fight. That’s what he knew, what he had always known. That was where his strengths truly lay, but he also knew they would not serve him here. He was not here to fight the Martells. Whatever his intentions before, he was now there to beg for their help.

“Take her,” he murmured, “and him…” Bronn’s eyebrows shot skyward. He had not known the child was a boy, and he understood the implications. His wife was taken on the horse whilst the maester took away his son, leaving Jaime and Bronn sitting uselessly with their arses in the sand as they leaned up agains the walls in the shade, waiting for word from the palace.

After hours, the sun remained high in the sky, but the guards had changed. Bronn and Jaime had mainly been sitting in silence, Jaime staring into the distance, Bronn drawing crude shapes into the sand in some attempt to entertain himself until he could not hold onto his thoughts any longer.

“So, a boy,” he said to Jaime, clicking his tongue in thought. Jaime scowled, but it did not deter him. “What’s going to happen when Cersei gets a word of this then?”

Jaime sighed. “I’m trying not to think too hard about it. I’m more concerned whether they’re alive in there.”

Bronn shrugged, “they’ll let you in eventually, just need to assess the threat first.”

“There’s one of me and a thousand of them, how much of a threat can I be?”

“Aye,” Bronn smirked, “but you’re the Kingslayer.”

___________________

She awoke as the sun was setting, her mouth dry and everything sore. A maester was stood aside from her, whispering to a tall, slender woman with a mouth that seemed it would permanently be turned downwards in a disapproving manner. Her hands fluttered to her belly, still swollen but empty now. She remembered the desert, she remembered the searing pain, but then she had no clue. Had her child survived?

She wanted to cry, but her eyes couldn’t sacrifice losing the little moisture they had. She shut her eyes. She had not seen Jaime, but she hoped his was not far from her. He had promised her protection, hadn’t he? But protection did not mean safety, not anymore. She’d seen her father protect her mother as best as he could, but neither of them had ever been safe, not when there were so many threats.

“Lady Stark?” It was the tall woman. Her voice should have been comforting. She had always liked the lilt of the Dornish accent, but her name had come out as more of bark. All she could do in response was nod, her throat too dry to croak out some sort of response. She had not been a Stark for a long time, but the name was like a childhood blanket, and she clung to it for comfort.

The woman came closer, holding up a flask so that she could take a drink, speaking to the girl who called herself Stark whilst she drank.

“We did not think you would manage to wake up so quickly,” she told her, “you were on the edge of madness when my maester bought you to the doors of the palace.”

“The child?” She managed to choke.

“The child is safe and well. I’ve had someone nurse him, although I imagine he will need his mother soon.” She smiled kindly, but it did not reach her eyes. “Your husband is going to be a problem for us, though. He waits for now outside the walls but his patience will not last forever.” She examined the woman lying down, as if assessing if she was a threat despite the fact she could hardly move. “I think perhaps we could allow him inside with the necessary precautions, but you will stay here with us whilst he can take residency in a cell, I think.”

Part of her wanted to protest, but she knew it would be useless. The best she could do for now was try and figure out what the Martells wanted from them. It was her turn to protect him.

#Jaime Lannister #jaime lannister imagine #jaime lannister x reader #jaime lannister x stark!reader #jaime x reader request #game of thrones #game of thrones fanfiction #game of thrones imagine #game of thrones imagines #lannister #ASoIaF

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autumnleaves1991-blog · 3 years

Text

Little Sparrow - Oberyn Martell/Ellaria Sand/F! Reader

A/N: I sat down to write Sleepy Sex with Oberyn because @wasicskosgirl had me thinking some thots today and this is what came out. It’s not sleepy sex but I really hope you like it. Thank you for reading, reblogging, commenting, and liking. There will be at least a part two to this, possibly more.

Pairing: Oberyn Martell/ Ellaria Sand/ F! Reader

Warning: 18 + (Language, smut, vaginal sex, kissing, oral (F! receiving) mentions of blood, violence) It’s Game of Thrones....

Word Count: 3.8 K

My Masterlist

Part One

It was a beautiful day, the sun high overhead, the ocean waves crashing against the Cliffside as you held your arms across your waist. The boats in the distance swayed in the gentle breeze, and behind you the excited chatter of the spectators fill the stands. The lions on the banners seem to come alive as they snap in the wind. Growling at you and causing the pit in your stomach to grow deeper.

Oberyn was insatiable last night training in the room, twirling his spear in preparation for the fight of his life. You’d escaped with an escort to walk the shit smelling cesspool of Kings Landing to this very spot where you had seen him. The Mountain. Man after man being cut down as his sword sliced through them like bread. His deep baritone laugh sent a quiver through your heart.

You jump as Oberyn wraps his arms around your waist, his chin dropping to your shoulder. Both of you watching the water. “Why do you look so worried my little Sparrow?” he coos pressing a kiss to your neck. “I am going to kill that man. I am going to get him to confess to raping and murdering my sister and her children. I will win, for Elia, for my family, for you.”

He turns you in his arms and brings your hands to his neck like that night so long ago. His forehead coming to rest upon your own. You let out a shaky breath, “I refuse to lose you, Oberyn.”

He pulls away slightly started, “You only call me Oberyn when you are cross or in insane pleasure my love, and since I’m not buried in your delicious cunt, I believe you are angry. Is that correct?”

You look into the depth of his eyes before dropping them to the ground. “Keep your eyes on me. Never look away from me, do you understand?” You nod and he lifts your chin before kissing you passionately. His arms coming to engulf you completely.

“You’re going to fight that?” Ellaria’s alarmed voice breaks the moment, the tension in your shoulders returning. He kisses you softly again before going over to the table and taking a sip of his wine.

“I’m going to kill that,” his confidence is electric and you step closer to Ellaria. Her hand reaching for your own as you both watch him with bated breath as he comes to stand before you. “Are you worried?” he teases her and she scoffs before pulling him close.

“Don’t leave us alone in this world,” she begs before kissing him. Their tongues twisting together and you feel your mouth water at the site. He pulls back as the crowd roars to life.

“Never,” he looks from her to you and back. “I love you.” He spins the spear and turns on the charm, the crowd eating out of the palm of his hand. You watch as he taunts the Mountain of a man before him, before the Viper strikes.

The scene replays over and over in your head. The moment he stabbed his spear through the thick armor of his belly. The way your heart clenched in elation at after so long receiving his most treasured of wishes. Seeing the man who brutally raped his sister and murdered her children confess his sins. Then in a moment, the elation bled like the golden skin of your lover. He was overturned and laid beneath the giant, a breath away from being crushed to death. The gloves the size of two golden pumpkins on a harvest feast table began to crush the head of the man you loved.

Ellaria screamed, grasping her head in horror, Tyrion standing there in shock. You don't think, running across the courtyard, unsheathing the knife from your thigh, and plunging it through the head of the giant. Blood spurting from his wound as the tip of the knife exits through his eye.

Shocked, he fell to the ground, dead, Oberyn using what strength he had left to push him off. His face a mess of blood and sweat, left eye wide and dazed. Jaw most likely broken from the punch to his face. The right closed tight and crushed from the thumb of the monster you'd slain. The crowd erupts into outrage as your chest pants and anxiety sucks the air from your lungs.

Ellaria ran over to you and embraces you as you collapse to the ground before your Prince. His broken body reaching out for you both. You feel his hand graze yours and look into the beautiful brown iris of the man you love. The roar of the crowd fading as you focus on him, feeling him pull you from the water as your lungs re-inflate.

The maester comes and declares the Mountain dead before you are ripped from the arms of Ellaria and Oberyn by the King's guard. By order of the Hand, you are to be imprisoned by meddling in a match to the death. You let out a breathless scream as Oberyn tries to get up, and Ellaria reaches for your hand. The ghost of her fingers slipping through your own. The Dornish guards coming for her to pull her back. One paramour is lost they would not do if both were to be taken. You fix your eyes on Oberyn as the doors shut in your face, and you dragged away to the dark, desolate dungeons of the lower kingdom.

Two days. Two days of shivering in the darkness. The constant drip coming from outside as a summer rain drags down upon the concrete walls of stone, driving you mad. This must be what insanity feels like. No reprieve in sight for the unending torment you shall endure at the hands of these Northerners. Footsteps in the distance sounds, and you lift your head from your knees. The golden yellow dress adorned with the Martell suns now dirty and covered in filth. Your beaded headpiece you borrowed from Ellaria is cradled in your hands, your fingers grazing over the beads, soothing to the touch.

You remember the night of the wedding when you went to bed with her. The way she watched you through her dark lashes as her tongue buried itself in your cunt. You laid bare for her in nothing but the beaded headdress against the soft pillows and furs. Oberyn standing in the shadows watching, his mouth curving into a smile as he takes a sip of his wine. The memory fades, and you look upon the cell door to see the vision of your fantasy, Ellaria, draped in a dark cloak, almost blending in with the shadows.

"Little sparrow, are you alright?" her voice coos among the harshness that surrounds you. You crawl to your knees and stand on shaky legs. "You look pale. Have they fed you?" You shake your head no and place your hands through the bars, reaching for her hands. She lets out a gasp at the chill of your skin and furiously rubs your hands between her own.

"Is...is he alive?" your voice is hoarse from disuse, but she knows who you mean.

Nodding, "Yes, very much alive and raising absolute hell. He has been advised by the master, you know the old fat one who you said made your skin crawl?" You tremble, thinking of how his beady eyes followed the curve of your breasts in your dress. "He told him to rest, but he will not until you are released and in his arms again. He wanted to come here himself, but that Lannister creature refused, thinking he would release you and run away into the night."

"How are you here then?" you ask, holding tightly to her hand as the other runs across the skin of your cheek.

"I am like a cat in the dead of night; no one would suspect me to come and see you. I brought you some things." She releases your cheek and brings around a satchel from under the cloak, removing a chunk of crusty bread, some hard cheese, and a small pouch of wine." You eagerly reach for the food taking a bite of the bread and uncapping the wine, taking a large gulp.

Food had never tasted so good before, the cheese you placed in the fold of your dress for later with the other half of the bread. Who knows how long you would be in this hell before you found reprieve and were rejoined with your lovers.

You may never see them again. You may never see your daughter again. The gravity of the situation sinks in, and you feel the sob swell in your chest before it breaks free. The tears falling freely down your cheeks as she shushes you, cupping your cheeks through the bars.

"Sweet love, we will get you out of here. You do not need to fear; Oberyn and I will return home to Dorne with you very soon." You sniffle as she rubs your tears away, pulling you toward her and placing a delicate kiss on your lips. "I have something else for you," she whispers against your lips before kissing you again and pulling away to reach under the cloak. "This is from Oberyn."

She holds it out to you, and you tremble hands shaking as you reach for it. Hand opening and closing in hesitance before you touch the envelope. The smooth parchment warm under the icy fingers clenched around your throat. "Does," you look down at the paper, "Does he hate me?"

"What are you talking about? Did you not hear me tell you he is tearing Kings Landing apart to get you out of here?! Why would you think such a thing?" her hands grasp yours, and you look up at her through your tears.

"I denied him an honorable death; I wounded his pride. He is the Red Viper of Dorne and his, whore, is the one who killed the Mountain. What if he is only trying to save me so he can kill me himself?" Speaking your fears from the last two days aloud made your heart splinter and crack.

Her hands tighten, "My sweet sparrow, please," she begs, "read the letter. Let it ease your mind and heart." You hear the sound of footsteps down the corridor, and she tightens her grip, "I must flee, back to our Prince, but please do not despair. You will be back in our arms and bed soon." She pulls you closer and kisses you again, slipping her tongue past your lips as her fingers glide against your skull. She pulls away abruptly and disappears into the darkness of the night.

You retreat to the shadows of your cell as a guard passes the door and sneers down at you, spitting into the cell, "Dornish slut." He walks off, and you let the tears fall like gems down your cheeks pulling the envelope close to your face. The smell of fresh citrus and bergamot drifting into your nostrils, and they flare as your transported back to your first night with him.

*******

A light mist from the ocean drifting over your heated skin as you looked upon the night sky, stars twinkling like gems, each one unique and special upon the ebony backdrop. You hear the gentle footsteps behind you; he wants you to know he is coming. The Red Viper could easily sneak up on you before he strikes, but every click of his heel is intentional. Your eyes droop closed as you feel the warmth of his chest behind you, enveloping you like a cloak as his arms come to wrap around your shoulders and clasp around your chest. His chin coming to rest upon your shoulder as you drop your head back and lean it against his own.

"I wasn't sure you would be here," his moist breath tickles your neck, and you shiver.

"I wasn't sure either, but I can't deny that I want this. That I want you," you slowly open your eyes and turn in his embrace, his hands coming down to your hips.

"What made you change your mind?" his thumbs rub gentle circles against your waist, and you look up into his russet eyes, deep and velvety.

"I realized I was only living half a life. Going through the motions but never really existing, until you touched me. My Prince, your touch ignited the flame deep inside me, and I burn for you," he takes your hands in his and brings them to his shoulders and up to his neck. His fingers trailing down your arms and towards the gentle swell of your breast. Breath catching as his thick fingers grazes the edge of your heated skin.

"Will you promise to be mine then?" his voice, accented and thick, send a tremble down your spine as he steps closer and places a kiss on each of your cheeks, his mustache tickling against the soft skin. Pulling away, he is but a breath away, his lips a ghost against your lips as his eyes bare down into your own. "I am a selfish man; I will want you all to myself."

"What about Ellaria?" you feel his lips graze your own, and he smiles.

"Do you want her to join us, my little sparrow?" He kisses you softly, and you emit a small gasp as he slides his tongue against the plumpness of your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth and letting go with a light pop.

"I want all of you," you whisper, "and that includes her. She is as much a part of you; the moon belongs to the night sky." His eyes glow in the moonlight, and he moves his hands down to the clasp of your wrapped dress, dark blue in color, such a contrast to the warm golds and yellows that surround you.

"May I see you?" he murmurs, and you nod. His fingers move deftly to unclasp the small hook on the side of your dress, pulling it open. Your nipples hardening as the chill runs across them and his eyes widen at finding you bare beneath. "Exquisite," he lets out a breath and allows the dress to slip over your shoulders and down to the floor. He steps away and circles you, your skin vibrating as the viper prepares to strike. His hands leave a blazing path as the pads of his fingers rough run over your flesh. When he comes around full circle, his eyes have darkened obsidian, and he reaches for your hand.

Taking steps backward and leading you back into the room. The bed in the center of the room is large enough for five people, and you are sure it has held many more than that before. "Lay on the bed," his voice is low and deep, and you do as your told, falling back amongst the plethora of pillows and rich furs. "Spread your legs," you drop your thighs to the bed, and he groans as your cunt is displayed before him, glistening in the moonlight.

He takes his time and strips off his robes, letting them drop to the ground in a heap. Your heart-stopping and restarting in quick succession as you see his impressive member. Thick and long curved up against his belly, he strokes himself as his eyes devour you whole. Mouthwatering as he pumps himself at your body bare before him. "Where do you want to fuck me, my prince?"

He growls before taking a step toward you, "everywhere." You clench, and a whimper escapes you as the bed dips, and he kneels between your legs, looking down at you. He starts at your neck and trails his hand down over each swell of your breast, his fingers twisting a nipple and eliciting a gasp as you feel the coil tighten in your belly. Lowering them to your stomach and down your thighs. Stopping at your knees before coming back to the place you want him most.

His fingers gliding among the seams and then slowly dipping into the heat pooling at your core. Collecting your slick onto his finger and bringing it up to his mouth to taste. "Seven hells you taste better than the sweetest Dornish red," he moans, and you watch with bated breath as he licks his finger clean, his tongue sweeping out to collect your pleasure. "I want to taste you little sparrow, make you take off into the heavens on a cloud."

You whine, "We have all the time in the world, my Prince, please, please put your cock inside me. I'm weeping for you," you've never begged in your life, but you don't seem to care as he lets out a small chuckle.

"You are soaked for me," his finger running back and forth between your lips, making you drench him. "Should I give this little cunt my cock? Do you think she's ready?"

You nod, biting your lip, and he leans forward, notching his cock at your entrance, his body hovering above you. "Don't close your eyes," he whispers, bringing a hand to your chin, "You will keep your eyes on me this whole time, do you understand?"

"Yes, my Prince." He smiles as he slowly pushes inside of you, both of your moaning as he sinks deeper into your tight heat, and his eyes burn into yours. You bring your hands up to his arms and squeeze as he moves further in, inch by glorious inch until he's seated fully inside you.

You'd had a couple men over the years. Quick fucks in the stables or the woods where you once lived in the North. Stable boys who finished before you'd even begun or been too drunk to keep it up. Not a single one had made you feel as full and complete as the man above you. So deep, you could feel every ridge of his cock press against the soaked confines of your pussy. "Does that feel good little one?"

"Yes," you gasp as he pulls out slowly and then quickly shoves back in. The delicious snap of his hips against yours as your skin develops a thin sheen of sweat. He continues his slow, torturous pace until you are withering beneath him in agony. "Seven Hells, please move faster, harder; I want you to fuck me, Oberyn."

He stops, eyes widening in surprise, "What did you call me?" Your hand goes to your mouth in shock, you'd never called him anything but Prince since your first meeting, and you worry that you've offended him before his voice drops an octave. "Say it again."

Eyes never leaving him, you whisper, "Oberyn."

"Louder," his hips start to move faster but still not enough.

"Oberyn," you say it louder this time, nails digging into his broad shoulders.

"Louder," he brings a hand down to rub at your clit between you as he moves faster.

You moan, "Oberyn," it's louder this time, and you feel the heat coming to a crescendo as he shouts at you again.

"Louder!"

"OBERYN!" you scream his name as he pounds into you furiously, sure to leave bruises on your flushed skin as you cum, squeezing his cock and gushing around him. He works you through your orgasm, rubbing your clit in time with his thrust before he slows down and moans above you spilling inside. His cum hot and thick, painting your walls as you squeeze him tight, milking him for all he is worth. He collapses to his forearms, and you exhale shakily, trying to catch your breath.

He slips out of you and collapses next to you on the bed, his hand on his waist. And his other arm coming to wrap around you and curl you closer to his chest. You take a deep breath inhaling the sweet scent of citrus and bergamot that clings to his skin. His fingers tracing patterns on your back. "Would you come take a bath with me, little sparrow?" He looks down at you, his eyes alight with mischief.

"That seems foolish, my dear Prince," you grin deviously at him.

"Why is that?"

"Because I have a feeling we will just end up dirty again," he lets out a booming laugh, and you smile at seeing the joy split across his face.

"That is very true, but please, indulge me. I want to lay with you in the hot water and wash your beautiful body with my soap so that everyone who gets within in a foot of you will know your mine." He bites the tip of your nose before smiling and getting up to draw you a bath. Watching his backside walk away, his golden skin gleaming in the moonlight.

*******

The tears drip onto the envelope, clenched tight in your palms. The edges cutting into your soft skin marred with the dirt from the floor. You squint in the dim light of the fire to see your nickname written in his elegant scrawl.

Little Sparrow

Your fingers trace the letters as you turn it in your hand and dip it below the wax seal, a golden sun of house Martell breaking it. Your hands tremble as you take out the letter unfolding it. Your chest feels heavy as though a thousand rocks lay precariously, waiting to crush. You heave as great sobs swell, and the tears flow down your cheeks, almost making it impossible to read in the dim flickering of the light but somehow you manage.

Little Sparrow,

I faced death. I could hear the screams of Ellaria, the light closing in as that monster lay above me, crushing my skull beneath his fingers. The sun peaked through, and I prayed to the seven that I would one day see you and Ellaria again. My children flashed before my eyes smiling and running through the gardens of our home. Until I heard the sound of a goddess charging in battle with a cry, and the great evil was slain. The sun returned to my vision, and above me stood you, my golden goddess.

You saved my life. I have always loved you, from the moment I laid eyes upon you to the moment I believed they would shut forever. I will always love you. I will tear this shit hole of a city apart brick by brick and kill anyone who gets in my way before I let them take you away from me.

They will rue the day they touched a hair on your perfect head. The Red Viper lays in wait, my little Sparrow, and soon, very soon, he will strike, and you will be back in my arms. We will be home with Ellaria, the girls, and our beautiful Serena; she will know what a fearsome warrior her mama is.

I love you more than words can express. Soon, my love, I will show you all the ways I love you. Soon.

Your Prince

Taglist: @josepedropascal @mrschiltoncat @mrsparknuts @ghostwiththemostbitch @zannemes @xjaywritesx @oldstuffnewstuff @yespolkadotkitty @heythere-mel @justanotherblonde23 @artsymaddie @anetteaneta @lunarthoughts @aellynera @lucifer- @houseofthirst @phoenixhalliwell @chicken-ona-stick

#oberyn martell x reader #Ellaria Sand #Ellaria Sand x Reader #Oberyn x Ellaria x reader #Female Reader #Oberyn Martell #Pedro Pascal #Game of Thrones #Autumn Writes

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lord-explosion-baku · 4 years

Text

Tempting Tempest (Shark!Bakugou)

Shark!Bakugou x mer!reader

warnings: yellow sour fruit, dubcon, blood, violence, strange as fuck words I’d only use while writing monster smut idfk, silly ending

A/N: I know I said I wasn’t gonna force this one out, but sometimes you gotta. This was kinda fun to write, but idk how sexy it is to be QUITE honest. The next time I write mermaid p*rn outside of tempting tempest, it’s definitely gotta be with at least one human, ama. also the ending is a little wacky, pero it made me smile so like maybe it’ll make you smile too. ha...? okiee here’s the thing...vhjdsvhjd

Violent fury compelled you to tighten your hold on your weapon. Like a spear, you flew through the water, firing towards the shark. Too bad for you, he had fast reflexes and as soon as you were close enough, he whipped his tail around and slapped you in the face.

Colliding with the sand bed and a large kelp-covered rock, you struggled to right yourself, when the merman gripped onto your waist. He pulled himself up so his head was leveled with yours. He bared his teeth at you and snapped at your neck. You hissed and swiped your knife at him, missing his chest and cutting into his side. He growled when blue blood spilled out into the water, swirling around the two of you as you wrestled for dominance.

The merman slammed your wrist into the edge of the rock next to you, forcing you to relinquish your dagger. Sharp fingers curled around your neck, quickly stopping your waterways. You dug your nails into his toned arms so fiercely that even more blood flooded around you. Despite the obvious pain you inflicted on him, the merman gave you a sharp, threatening sneer.

“Looks like you do have more fight in you after all.” He teased, tightening his hold. He licked his lips and brought his free hand to your mouth. “Should say I’m grateful that you’re not gonna make this boring.”

Figuring that it was no use clawing at your opponent, you threw your hands down on the sand bed, searching for your lost weapon. Thinking that you were going to throw sand in his face again, the shark let go of your neck and grabbed your wrist, quickly pinning it to your side.

“Not gonna let that happen again, little guppy,” he grumbled. The hand at your mouth squeezed your cheeks together as his hungry, crimson glower bore down on you. “You’re gonna have to learn some new tricks fast.”

You bit down on his narrowed webspace between his pointer finger and thumb, making him jolt back. That offered you enough slack to quickly wiggle out from underneath him, but not enough time to swim away.

Rounding you, the shark took hold of the flimsy part of your tail, sending an excited shock up to your neck. You whined and flipped your tail at him, attempting to hit his face, but he only laughed as he dodged the attack.

“That was cute.” He mocked as he approached you again, ushering you against the giant rock. “That little cry, I mean...think you can do it again for me? Huh, guppy?”

You hissed at him, the fins on the side of your head flaring in an attempt to make you look more threatening. He pushed you back against the wall, your skin grating against the rugged edge of the flat. You winced while he growled, deep and low, baring his sharp, ivory teeth. You couldn’t help but flinch, your fins falling back with a huff. At this, he chuckled, closing the gap between the two of you, his shark’s tail triumphantly swishing from left to right.

“Not so tough now, are yah?” Your body trembled as he grazed his lips against your neck, slowly bringing them up to your ear. “All bark and no bite.”

The purring came back—that deep, mesmerizing rumble from his chest. You hated how easily it got to you—how it made your muscles relax and your mind fuzzy. You scowled at his chest, too afraid that if you looked him in those beautiful, ruby eyes, you’d be lost to him again

The shark put both of his arms against the rock, caging you in with him as your prison bars. “Whatsamatter?” He asked. “You some kinda mute or are you just being a bitch?”

“Oh, bite me!”

“Is that a command or a request?” He gave you his insolent shark-grin as he leaned closer. “‘Cause I will,” he said in a teasing tone, but you knew it was a promise. The heat of his tongue reached the sensitive part of your ear, licking it for just as long as it took for goosebumps to erupt across your arms. He purred, “even if you don’t ask nicely.”

“I’m not asking you for anything except for you to leave me alone!” You barked out, albeit weakly. His chest rumbles were echoing inside your head, lulling you into a trancelike state you didn’t want to fall into.

“Since when?” He inquired impudently. His hands fell down near your hips.

You gestured pointedly behind him, indicating the updraft of sand and blood whirling in the space the two of you previously occupied. He glanced back only for a moment, not willing to take his eyes off of you for a second too long. He smirked, finally closing his hands on the part of your body where your torso met your fluke. They were rough, calloused from experience—hunter’s hands. You fought off impending thoughts of having those hands graze every inch of your body.

“Thought that was just foreplay.” His whisper was husky with provocation as his thumbs circled your hip bones. He took the hand you were using to point at the aftermath of your fight with into his. “It’d be no fun without any chase.” He lightly bit down on the carpal side of your palm, his dangerous eyes daring you to react. You merely shuddered against him, an act he seemed to enjoy.

“Foreplay?!” You squawked, bemused. You tore your hand away from his lips and quickly dug your fingers into his side, right below the place you’d cut him. It was healing fast, but some sapphire oozed out, nonetheless. “I cut you!”

He laughed, making his abdomen tighten underneath your touch. You inhaled sharply, and pressed your palm into him, enjoying the feel of his tight stomach. Gods damn you, he was hot.

“What’s one more scar?” He took your hand and moved it up his chest, satisfied to know you liked the feel of him. His skin riveted underneath your fingertips as he drew you over his various markings from previous fights. “I’m sure there’ll be plenty more where that came from—at least, if you’re the kinda mate I think you’ll be.”

“I don’t even know you,” you said, though that was a weak riposte. It wasn’t like you were around long enough for any merman to bring you pearl bracelets and hidden treasures just to have you fall into their embrace. Though, if you had, you wouldn’t be dealing with a shark right now.

“Katsuki,” he said smugly. “Figure you should know the name you’re gonna be moaning for the rest of your life.”

“As if.”

“And you are?” Katsuki completely ignored your retort. “Honestly didn’t think that ‘Guppy’ was all that fitting for a cute, little mermaid like you, but if that’s what you prefer-“

You scowled, ignoring the way your heart stuttered when he called you cute. His lips tilted sideways.

“Nah, you’re too high and mighty for guppy, aren’t you?” He continued, wedging himself closer to you. You felt cool gusts of water blowing against your shoulder and down your back as he drew nearer, his low purring reverberating down your tail. His lips were against your neck as he suggested, “right, princess?” You shuddered against him again as he kissed the sensitive spot on the skin below your gills. “Oh you like that, huh-“ his voice dropped an octave-“princess.”

Despite yourself, you groaned, turning your head so he could angle himself better, suckling on your tender flesh. You slanted your hips into him, hands moving up his strong, muscular back, to his neck, weaving through the surprisingly soft, ash-blonde hair. You tugged, and his growls mixed in with the rumbling only grew louder as he continued to kiss you.

Something thick and heavy pressed against your belly and through foggy eyes, you saw two massive erections, each with jelly-like fluid seeping out from the tips. Your mouth fell open on a moan as you imagined either of the two—if not both—entering you, all previous resignation sinking into the sand beneath you.

Your free hand trickled down his abdomen, loving the way he twitched at your soft caresses. You touched the tip of one of his dicks, and he grunted, a bit of white spurting into your palm. Enjoying his reaction, you rubbed your hand up and down his shaft, squeezing his base as he wrapped an arm around your back.

“Fuck.” He rasped, rutting into your hand. “Touch my cock like that and I’m not gonna be able to control myself.”

“You’re controlling yourself?” You mocked uneasily, tail slapping against the rock.

His nostrils flared. “More than you know.” The hand behind you moved down to your backside. He drew circular motions in the thickest part of your tail behind you, squeezing your flesh, making your fluke shake with anticipation.

“Tell me to fuckin’ stop,” he murmured noncommittally, pressing his cocks harder against your tail. With both hands now on your tail, he moved one over to the puffed out slit below the middle of your hips. He dipped a finger into you, testing out the undoubtedly viscous truth of your velvety walls. He moaned, loving the feel of you, loving the way you whimpered as he touched you. You watched as his pupils grew large, dark, and predatory, as he added a second finger to curl in and out of you. “Tell me you don’t want me to wreck your sweet little pussy right fuckin’ now, or I’m not gonna stop. Once I’m inside you, baby, there’ll be no turnin’ back—even if you beg me.” Something low and animalistic echoed out of his throat at the thought. “Though hearing you fuckin’ beg doesn’t sound half bad right now.”

“Katsuki-!” You started to mewl, but were cut off by his lips descended onto yours. It was a desperate kiss with strong, erratic tongue. He tasted you like you were meant for him—frantic, like he couldn’t get enough of you. Not knowing much about what to do with yourself, you squirmed against him, but he hardly seemed to care. If anything, your resistance only spurred him on.

Grasping onto your wrists, he pinned them against the rock behind you, using one hand to lock them into place. His now unoccupied hand cupped your face as he deepened the kiss. He traced his touch down to your neck, your collarbone, and found ménage at your breasts. He tweaked your pert nipples until they were hard and dark from arousal.

You felt him smirk against you when you finally touched your tongue to kiss—the first of the many triumphs he was going to hold over you. He swallowed your downing moans with fervor, biting down on your lower lip when you attempted to resist again. You cooed.

“Goddamn, you’re fuckin’ gorgeous, you know that?” Katsuki’s hands slid down your torso, lingering around your navel when you let out a little squeak. He chuckled. “So ready to be mated, too. You liked being chased around, didn’t you?”

“I-“ you breathed, your heart racing with both excitement and dread-“I don’t know!”

“So coy all of a sudden.” He snickered, grasping onto one of his clasper-pricks. He gave it a couple pumps, letting tendrils of the thick, white seed flutter around in the water. He pushed his member against your slit, letting your own slick membrane cover his thick cockhead, readying him to take you. “That’s okay,” he muttered, “looks like your cunt already knows for you.” He exhaled. “Say my name again—like you did the first time.”

“Kat...suki…?”

“Good girl,” he purred, pressing his cockhead into you, biting back a groan as he did so. Gods, it was unbearably huge. You shot him a panicked look, but that only made him all the more hungry.

“Wait-!” You wiggled, unprepared for the stretching you felt as he pushed into your tight hole. You cried out as he thickened, even while constricted by your walls, not even at his hilt yet. “Wait, please, I can’t—!”

“What’d I tell you, princess?” His voice grated against your soft cheeks, warmed from fluster. “Said there’d be no turnin’ back, didn’t I?” Even still, he pulled back, easing into you slower the second time, pressing in, inch by withering inch.

“God damn, you feel so good wrapped around my cock, hon,” he grumbled thickly, mesmerized. He pulled back once more, and when he pushed in again, he grooved his hips up, pushing even more of his girth deeper inside of you.

“Fuck!” You cried out, attempting to twist away from him. “It’s too much!! I can’t take it!”

“Relax,” he crooned gruffly, petting the erect bud above your slit. His touch sent waves of unfamiliar pleasure rippling through your body despite the terrible corruption battling inside you. You tightened around him and he groaned.

“My gods, baby. The hell are you doin’ to my cock?” Katsuki nestled into your neck, licking at your gills. “Such a good girl—so fuckin’ tight for me, huh? You’re gonna take me so well, I know it.”

Your body wavered—almost complying. Katsuki began rolling into you at a charitable pace, caressing your body, thumb encircling your clit, stimulating you just enough to keep your mind away from the pain. However, when he lessened his hold on your wrists, one of your hands broke free. You pushed against him, writhing and feral.

That was when he bit you.

Scorching affliction shot through your shoulders, down your spine. Your tail spasmed against his, your soft scales scraping against his fine exterior. You wailed and dug your nails into the thick muscles of his back, but that did nothing to tear Katsuki away from you. His grip on you was vice, impervious to any sort of protest. In fact, the more you tried to get away, the closer he pulled you, rutting into you faster, your bodies spinning through the ocean as he locked you into matehood.

Just as you thought you couldn’t take any more of the tremendous cutting feeling his shark’s teeth had your neck, the burn mitigated. He wasn’t holding back—if anything he was digging deeper into you—but as his mark melded into your skin, your body relaxed and you began to enjoy the pain. The feeling was purely hypnotic.

Katsuki began to push more of himself inside of you, and you easily accepted him. Your tail twisted around his as his hips slapped against yours. You arched your back, feeling your walls fluttering around, and you sighed his name on a moan. His arms curled around your waist, squeezing your sides, loving the feeling of your bodies, hot and needy, pressed together.

“Mmmmfuck.” Katsuki pulled away just in time to see your crimson sanguine swaying out and away from his toothy grin. His pupils were so dark and wide that you could hardly see any of the red left in his iris. He was loving this.

“That’s it, baby.” He praised you, licking your cheek. He reached around his back to move your arms so they were around your neck. He groaned when he buried his girth to his hilt, making sure that you and him were as close possibly. “You’re all mine now, aren't cha? Mine-“He speared himself into you with each clipped word. “All. Fuckin’. Mine.”

“Fuck...yes, Katsuki,” you moaned, feeling a tight, aching coil inside of you as his large palms roved over your body. He squeezed your curves, kissed your chest, all the while sweltering inside of you.

“I knew I fuckin’ wanted you the moment I saw you hidin’ away from all those loser fishdicks bringing those mersluts trash just to get some tail,” he panted. “Thought you were sneaky, huh? Thought you wouldn’t be noticed?”

Katsuki pulled your hair, forcing you to face him head on. “Nah, couldn’t let a cutie like you slip away. Couldn’t let any other bottom feeder try to take you, neither. Fuck, you’re gonna be my perfect mate.”

Your inner walls quaked as he ran circles around your clit. “W-what is…?” You began to ask on a hard thrust that hit you perfectly. Your coil bursted and you convulsed around him, squealing as he rutted into you harder and faster. You clenched, again and again, as you pooled over and out with each of his world-ending thrusts, ecstasy completely enveloping your entire being.

“Oh, that feels fuckin’ great, princess,” he growled into your hair. “Good girl, cummin’ for me so soon like that. Fuck,” he rasped, “bite my neck before I fill you up, baby.” He leaned back a drew a finger ong his gills, indicating exactly where he wanted you. “Be my girl.”

You leaned up to drive your tongue up his neck. He shuddered at the contact, still fucking you relentlessly, dragging against your thickened walls. You bit down, hard enough to draw blood, to leave your mark, while you wove your fingers through his soft locks.

“I’m gonna fill you up with my cum. Is that what you want, princess? You wanna feel all of me?”

“Yes, gods yes!” You cried, bucking into him, needing more.

“Say my fuckin’ name, angelface. I wanna hear that sweet voice of yours.” He grunted, biting harshly into your shoulder, tail swishing, hips stuttering.

“Katsuki, please, give me your cum. I wanna feel you baby. Please! Please!

Katsuki came with a roar, lining your walls with his thick, hot cream. He buried his cock inside of you, emptying himself completely, still managing a few more languid thrusts as he planted sloppy kisses to your lips. He groaned into your mouth, loving the taste of your more than compliant tongue.

“Gods, that was-,” he exhaled, lifting himself off of you. He took your hand and guided you up with him, pushing your head into his chest. “-that was god damn hot. You’re gonna be a lot of fun, huh?”

You watched as he shook his two dicks, mesmerized by the residual pink and white swirl of the both of yours’ wash, before his members folded back into his pouch. You parted your lips on a question that didn’t come.

Katsuki snickered. “What?”

“Were they both-“ you festered down below his stomach-“inside of me?”

“Tch! If I had both of my cocks buried in you, I promise you’d know it.” He rolled his eyes before kissing your forehead, suddenly all too familiar with you. “Why? That wasn’t enough for you? I can go again if you aren’t already full to the brim.”

“Oh no!” You glanced down, unsure. “I mean...I don’t know, I was just curious…”

Katsuki chuckled, tilting your chin up to bring you into a kiss. “You wouldn’t be able to handle it, princess.”

“You don’t know that,” you barked back, suddenly all too familiar with him. “I can handle fucking anything you throw at me!”

“Filthyy language, baby. You kiss octopi with that mouth?”

“Are you kidding me?!” You choked. “Hypocrite!”

“Man, you really are gonna be a lot of fun, aren’tcha? So easy to tease.”

“I was just curious!” You threw your hands up into the water and spun around, casting out a sardonic, “you’re incredible.”

Katsuki wrapped his arms around your torso, bringing you back against his chest. “I know.” He kissed the back of your sore neck. “If you really think you can handle it, I sure as hell don’t mind findin’ out.” He brought both of his hands down to your stomach. “After we get you something to eat. You weren’t gonna catch that marlin all by yourself, anyway.”

“I was before you interrupted me,” you bit out, leaning into his touch.

“You think so?” You felt him grin against your skin. “Alright then, let’s find you a marlin and make a deal: if you can take it down all by yourself, I’ll fuck you so good, you won’t be able to swim straight—with both of my cocks.”

“The hell kinda deal is that-?!”

“And if you need my help-“ he continued-“you’re gonna hafta suck them both off.”

You snorted. “In which of these scenarios do I profit?”

“The one where you get a nice meal, a hot mate, and a nice kelp bed to lay in.” He shrugged.

“Kelp bed?” You turned your head at him, looking hopeful.

“You have such nice lips, I can’t wait to know how they feel wrapped around my cock.”

“Kelp bed?” You reiterated, shrugging him off, trying to figure out which direction that marlin swam off to. “Which scenario has a kelp bed in it?”

“Both of them, idiot. I’m not gonna let any mate of mine sleepin’ on some fuckin’ coral or whatever the hell you’ve been doin’ while tryna hide. Do we have a deal or not?”

“Dunno-“ you swam out farther, trying to be nonchalant about your new pursuit-“do you have said bed?”

“You’re really not sneaky,” he snarked, already swimming after you.

“Maybe not,” you laughed as soon as your eyes narrowed in on a giant fish, “but I am fast.”

(Try again...?)

No more tag list, sorry.

#bnha x reader #bnha reader insert #reader insert #bnha imagine #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou x reader #katsuki x reader #mermaid!bakugou #mermay #tw dubcon #tw blood #bnha au #lemon #tempting tempest #merman x reader

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systlinsideblog · 3 years

Text

Part 4

I still lived.

I was, I thought, greatly in the minority. The woman Systlin had judged warrior after warrior, and warrior after warrior had met his end at a quiva's blade.

A great many of the sentences were carried out by the hands of the freed slave girls of the warriors. The number of these astounded me, as did the ferocity with which many of the girls fell upon their masters.

It is a Gorean saying that a woman cannot be free until she has been a slave. It is said that a woman wishes to be conquered, that she cannot respect any man save for the man who can reduce her to nothing.

The girls fell upon their masters with a fury I have rarely seen, and blood flowed until the grass was slick and red with it.

A few girls did not take up the quiva. These men, once sentence of death was passed, the she-sleen on the Ubar's robe killed herself. Her face was untroubled by this, unworried, and there was even a hint of vicious pleasure in those cold eyes as she swung the sword to remove their heads.

Those warriors who had taken Free Companions and who had children, the she-sleen ordered all material goods be split equally between the Free Companions, the children, and the freed slave girls. There were many sour faces among the Tuchuk women at that, but to my shock many more who accepted it without question.

When night neared, scarce three dozen warriors of the Tuchuk still lived, myself included. It was us and only us who had not admitted to owning slaves, and who had no slaves to call out our names.

A very few men..two or three, in all...had been spared by the request of their slave girls. These men were whipped, and the she-sleen commanded ash be rubbed into the whip wounds.

"I would have them remember." She had said, eyes cold and face passionless, even as the warriors held back cries of pain. "I want them to remember their crimes, and to remember me."

Those of us who had survived the slaughter had been unchained and taken to wagons, and allowed to eat and rest.

"So." Kamchak had survived the culling, and his face was set and cold. "We are free, then?"

"You are not slaves." Systlin had smiled a little, a cold smile that did not reach her eyes. "But if you seek to flee, or to move against me...well."

Behind her, I could see women chaining hunting sleen outside the wagons. Each was given clothing to smell; I noticed with a start a discarded tunic of my own among the items. The sleen began to pull and hiss, eyes bright.

"Say, rather, that you are prisoners for the time." Systlin continued. "I've much to do, and I've no time to be worrying about one of you burying a knife in my back in my sleep." Another humorless smile. "I'm not fool enough to think that all...or any...of you are paragons of virtue. I'll get the truth in time."

Kamchak spat. "You," he informed her, "Are the most disagreeable and wrenched wench I've ever had the misfortune to meet. There will come a day, where you meet a man to bring you to heel." A smile. "I wish to be there to see it."

I felt my heart sink; they were unwise words, but then Kamchak was Tuchuk.

To my surprise, the woman Systlin threw back her head and laughed, as if at a wonderful joke.

"Ahhh!" She wiped tears from her eyes at last, as I stared, stunned. "When I find my way home, I will tell Foicatch that." Another laugh. "A woman isn't brought to heel. We can choose to be a partner, or to bide our time and pretend until the time is right, but brought to heel? HA! You saw that, I think, today." Another terrible grin. "I saw your faces, when the women turned on your warriors. You did not expect that, did you?"

"Foicatch?" Kamchak, ever keen, inquired.

"My husband." Systlin said this lightly, easily. "Father of my daughter."

"Good god, you are married?" The words were out of me before I could think better of them. I tried to imagine what bedding such a woman would be like, and thought to myself that it would be much like the risk taken by the male of the praying mantis of Earth; what sort of man would marry such a creature?

"Yes. Goodnight." She shut the wagon behind her.

There was a moment of silence. Then, Kamchak spoke.

"It is probably a bad time, Tarl Cabot," he said. "To mention that Kutaituchuk was not the Ubar of the Tuchuks."

"What?"

It was surprising, Systlin thought, how many of the Tuchuk women had been willing...eager, even...to take up weapons and stand guard at her wagon.

Not to her. No. On Ellinon, the children of the Lady would have found the ideas of the men of this 'Gor' incomprehensible, unlawful, hearsay, and downright suicidal. But to many of the women of Gor themselves, Systlin thought, the sheer thrill that came when picking up a blade or spear was new.

She tried to picture what would have happened had Stellead found herself in this shithole of a world. Death, absolutely; her aunt had little talent in any form of Power, but she had won her place as Arms Master of Stellas Keep and as a Commander of the Bloodguard through sweat and skill.

Even now, Systlin could only best her aunt blade to blade perhaps two matches out of three.

If anyone...man, woman, even the gods themselves...had tried to bring Stellead to heel, she'd spit in their eye and disembowel them.

Systlin smiled to herself. It was a stubbornness and force of will that she herself shared, and that her aunt, mother, and father had always fostered.

The women did not know quite how to hold a spear, of course. Systlin had tried to gently insist that she didn't need an armed guard, more because she knew full well that they'd not yet be up to a fight than because she believed that. But they had insisted, and in the end she had simply advised them to stick to knives for the time being.

The rugs and cushions and furs in the wagon were quite comfortable, and she was quite tired, but sleep was elusive.

All of this...the rugs and furs, the sound of animals outside, the sound of low voices from the camp, the smell of dried dung fires...it was too similar to her time with the Rabi, with Sura, before Sura had become Queen of the Sands, when she'd simply been the leader of her clan.

Sura's laugh, bright as a bell, and the taste of pomegranate wine. The light of the brazier catching glints of copper and red off of Sura's black hair, which gleamed almost blue in sunlight.

The rugs beside her were cold, and she suddenly felt very alone.

Her throne would be empty. She'd held the North together through sheer grit, guile, charisma, and the edge of a sword, and beaten it back into working shape after the War of the Crown had nearly destroyed it.

Her daughter was only a girl. Foicatch, dear Foicatch, would do his best, she knew, but he was at heart a soldier, not a monarch.

Her sister would step in, at least. 'Sina was capable. But she didn't have the fear and respect of the lords of the realm and the love of the common folk the way Systlin did.

"Why am I here?" She whispered this in the dark, at the roof of the wagon.

No one answered.

"I have my own place. People who will miss me." She scowled at the dark, and anger rose hot and furious. "Responsibilities! I've not got time for...this!" She waved a hand randomly, indicating everything about this strange place.

No one answered. But Systlin had met gods in her time, and she knew that if they cared to, they could hear.

"Send me back!" She hissed this at the darkness, not sure who she was angry with. "Have I not done enough? Send me home! I do not want this!"

Nothing.

Exhaustion, at last, won out, and she slept.

She was, in her dreams, not surprised at her visitor.

The Lady's face could never be seen. The most that could be gathered was an impression of poise, of stately calm. It was impossible even to place what color Her hair was, or her skin, though the hair floated around her like a cloud and she was nude.

"You?" In her dream Systlin could still feel her anger, though it was a hollow ghost of what she'd felt while awake.

Me. It wasn't a spoken word; it was felt.

"I should have known at once." Systlin growled. "Have I not done enough? Can I have no peace?"

A laugh, chiming and musical, but which shook the very bones. You were never made for peace.

And that was true. Systlin knew it, felt the truth of it in her soul. It was impossible to deny it, not before the Lady.

She felt an answering whisper in her soul, as the slumbering power of what had once been the Lord of Night and Void, the God of Endings, the Fallen One, God of Conflict, Lord of Justice and retribution, stirred within her.

Sister. The word was pointed, and almost mocking. Who denies still that you are.

"I saved my world. It needs me; you know that damned well. I don't want to be a god."

Want. This word was definitely mocking. There is no want, sister. There is 'must'. My brother failed his duty, and corrupted it. You hold it now. In time, you will realize. Goddess of War, Goddess of Justice, Goddess of Protection, Goddess of Night, Goddess of Death, Goddess of Endings and rebirth. I do your duties for now, sister...but not forever.

Systlin clenched her fists, and pointedly ignored this. "My people need me, damn you."

They are safe.

Systlin closed her eyes. "You'll not send me back until I finish here." It wasn't a question.

You could send yourself back whenever you wished, if you accepted your new place.

Systlin glared.

Another smile. So stubborn. No, I will not. Good luck, sister.

She woke.

Within her, the power of the god she'd killed stirred again, and was once more silent.

It was morning. She could see the sunlight under the door, and could hear the cheerful bustle of camp outside.

"Gods damn it all to the pits." She muttered.

The hardest thing about training the women of the Tuchuk in combat, Systlin soon found, was ingrained survival habits.

Her aunt, in the long-ago days when Systlin had been a lanky youth still growing into her arms and legs and new to a training sword, had always said that the hardest thing about training older students was fixing ingrained and detrimental habits.

Stellead had been referring to habits picked up from lesser arms masters...letting your shield drop, footwork that was less than flawless. Systlin wondered how her aunt would have dealt with this, as she interrupted a woman to correct her form and the former slave cringed and dropped at her feet, begging forgiveness.

"I am sorry!" The woman was almost tearful. Systlin had been angry since she came to this cursed place, and she felt that knot of red rage flare. "I am sorry, I forgot..."

"It's all right." Systlin squatted, propping her elbows on her thighs. "Hush. It's all right. Here now." She offered her hand, and the girl hesitantly took it. Systlin stood, drawing the girl back to her feet, and then bent, picked up the dropped wooden sword, and offered it back hilt first. The girl took it.

"Do you know," Systlin said, keeping her voice light and conversational, "how long it took me to become good with a sword?"

The woman blinked. "I...no, Ubara."

"I started training at thirteen." Systlin smiled fondly in memory. "I first killed a wraithen at nineteen. I first killed men in battle at twenty five. that was two and a half decades and three wars ago." She tossed her own wooden sword in the air; it spun precisely one turn before she caught it again by the hilt. "Training takes time, and practice. You will make mistakes. I will never fault you for them; you simply correct them and keep training."

The girl nodded slowly. Systlin had given the same speech to many girls over the last three weeks, but the habits learned to survive the men of this Pit of a planet went deep. It would be slow going yet; she knew that.

"Fifty?" The question was unexpected.

"Hm?"

"You are fifty?"

"Close enough, yes."

"Your world then has brews of youth as well?" The girl seemed curious.

Systlin blinked. "I...no. But we're descended from the Lady, the goddess and mother of all. We live long." She considered the woman before her; she appeared to be perhaps in her late twenties. "How old are you?"

"Oh. Sixty, I think? My masters have given me the brews of youth three times."

The yawning pit of cold fury in Systlin's soul howled.

"How many years of that," Systlin kept her voice carefully level. "Were you kept as property?"

"Since I was...oh, sixteen?"

The world went abruptly white before her eyes. The yawning spectre of the power she'd pulled from the soul of a slain god roared; goddess of justice, goddess of protection....

Fury, she was furious, and for a moment she knew, knew that it would be so, so easy, to rise on the wind and come down on the people who had done this. To become a storm, a furious reckoning, to scour this world clean in a night...

...No. No no NO. I will not. I have to teach them. They must take it themselves, for all I might lead them. Or it will all be for nothing...

By the time she fought it down and came back to herself she was on her knees, clutching the trampled grass with white knuckles. Sweat was soaking her, as it never did even if she fought all day. Her breath was coming short and sharp.

"Ubara!" The voices were panicked, and she realized dimly that there were at least a dozen women around her, patting at her cheeks, offering water.

She looked up, and saw worry, and fear, and as the god-soul inside her stirred, she saw more. She saw desperation, and so, so much pain, oceans of pain, seas of injustice, rivers of innocent blood spilled.

And as the women of the Tuchuk looked at her, worried, she saw deep in their eyes hope.

"Ubara?" It was Sabra , the brave girl, who'd taken quite well to a spear. "Ubara?"

"I'm all right." She wasn't, not quite; her voice sounded rough to her own ears. "I'm all right. Keep practicing."

The hovered until she got to her feet, but once it was determined that the Ubara was not about to die, they slowly went back to their drills.

Systlin moved a bit away, absently climbed the nearest wagon, and sat cross legged, looking out over the makeshift training grounds without really seeing.

She'd always been a protector. Since they'd been children, and her sister's dreams had driven little 'Sina to cry and scream in her sleep. Since her father had nurtured that, and taught her that a Queen's people were her children, that her sacred duty was to protect and serve them.

Since she'd torn the North back from the hands of the greedy and the corrupt, who'd sought to carve it apart for power and profit.

Since she'd faced a god, putting her own body and soul between her people and the Fallen Lord himself.

Since she'd faced a second goddess, and demanded the Lady return her daughter from beyond death.

It was who she was, in the end. She knew it in her bones, even as she looked down at these strange people in this strange world, and felt it, that what she must do.

"Pitting hells." She muttered this softly, and somewhere felt the Lady smile.

For some weeks now, the routine had been much the same; Kamchak and I, and the other men, were kept chained and carefully watched. Some men, after a measure of time should they demonstrate a contrite enough demeanor, had their chains removed and were allowed to move about the camp; they did so, casting their eyes aside from those of us who were still chained.

I watched one man brush a bosk one evening, and oil its hooves. A slave girl should do such work, and he was clumsy at it. A girl was watching, wearing the leather trousers that had become fashionable among the women. Her hair, which was very long, was braided up and pinned in a coil on the top of her head; it was unflattering, I thought. She corrected him, and showed him how it was done properly, and he meekly listened. She smiled at him, and I thought that in silks and with hair loose she must have been quite a beauty. He smiled back, a bit tentatively.

I snorted in disdain. There are always men that are so, those that are more akin to women than true men.

She heard, and turned on me. There was a fierceness in her eyes.

"See." She pointed at me, mocking. "He thinks himself better than you, Sarthak. He thinks himself too good for work about the camp, thinks it should be done only by women in chains." She laughed, and spit in my direction. "And yet he is still a prisoner in chains, while you are a free man. So who, then, is the better man?"

Sarthak grinned at me. He wore no scars, and scant weeks ago he had likely been unregarded utterly by the Tuchuk.

"You speak true words, Lena." He agreed, and turned his back on me. She gave another laugh, and she turned back to their task. I realized with some surprise that the looks Lena was favoring the unscarred young man with were warm.

"Disgraceful." Kamchak was chained to the other axle of the wagon, and he too was regarding the young man with distaste. "Have they made a slave of you already, boy?"

"He's a free man." Lena didn't look around. "All free men and women of able body must do their share of work. You shall too, should you ever be trusted and set free."

Kamchak spat again, and leaned his head back against the wagon wheel.

"It was a sad day," said the Ubar of the Tuchuk, "That that she-sleen came to the Tuchuk, Tarl Cabot."

"Yes." I agreed. I wondered still how many she had slain in that night, through sorcery. The pyres had burned for two days and nights.

We watched the girl teach the young man to grease the axles of the wagon. We had little else to do.

As the evening meal was brought, we were finally given some surprise to rouse us from the deadly tedium that had marked the weeks.

The she-sleen had a cloak now, made of red larl-hide. She wore it pinned at a jaunty angle, thrown back over one shoulder. She was wearing a leather vest over her strange scale armor today. She regarded us for a moment, her hand resting on the hilt of her sword. I'd examined that weapon many times now, and I still could not place the make of it; it was no Gorean style I knew of, and the silver-blue of the blade was unlike any alloy I knew on Earth. It was somewhat shorter than most blades I had seen, perhaps thirty-six inches in all in total length. A great polished amethyst was set into the pommel, the most darkly violet stone I'd ever seen.

It was viciously sharp. I knew this.

"You." She said to me. The word was said in Gorean; she was learning quickly, it seemed, for all her strange magic did seem to translate for her. "You'll come with me." She nodded at the girl following her...I recognized her, I realized, it was the girl Dina I had seen around camp before, the slave reputed to be the best at the running game...and Dina brought out a ring of keys.

Dina's hair was braided, as was Systlin's. Dina wore leather trousers, as did Systlin. Dina wore a quiva, as Systlin wore her long dagger, and had stood and rested her hand on the hilt of the quiva in conscious imitation of the strange woman.

It seemed to be a fashion, I noted, that many of the freed slave girls and even many of the Tuchuk women had taken up.

I said nothing. It had not been a request, of course, and I had little choice. My leg was healing, but I was far from my top form.

My chains were let loose. I stood, with some difficulty, and Dina's help. She was, I noticed with some surprise, quite strong. There were muscles through her shoulders that I'd never before seen so developed on any Gorean woman, and her hands were tough.

I knew that well; my own hands were callused thus from the hilt of sword and the haft of lance. It was surprising that a slave girl had developed such in such a short time.

I was led to the great wagon that Systlin had claimed as her own; the wagon that I knew, now, was not the true wagon of the Ubar of the Tuchuks.

Inside, a meal of roast bosk had been laid ready for us. Systlin sat cross legged on the cushions; the maleness of the gesture still grated at my sensibilities. Seeing it preformed by one who might look quite well kneeling in silks was wrong, quite wrong. Dina helped me, somewhat ungracefully and with some pain, to sit.

Systlin did not touch the food at once. She was watching me, and the gaze was keen and direct. I said nothing, but examined her in return.

I am an observant man. It is one of my strengths. But I could gather little from her, save that which I had already deduced; she was strongly built, for a woman, all solid wiry muscle. Her hands were tough, those of a swordsman. Her gaze was intelligent, and I could not place her origin; the bone structure and shape of her eyes was subtly foreign, but not of any place I knew. She could have been beautiful, perhaps, were she arrayed instead in silk. She never, I noted, let her weapons stray far from her hand.

She was used, I thought, to fighting. Used even to being attacked in the most secure of surroundings. She had said before that many men had tried to kill her; what sort of creature was this that sat before me?

"You're wondering why I brought you here." She broke the silence. Her tone was crisp, and it was not a question.

I said nothing.

"The answer is because you are not of these people. I know that the Wagon Peoples usually slay outsiders. That means you are unusual, and I'm wagering it means you're quite skilled at arms." She examined me again, much as I'd examined her, and I saw her noting the callus of my hands. "Your accent is not like that of these people, as well. They say you are Koroban, wherever the fuck that is. I've heard that you have, apparently, traveled."

I said nothing.

"That makes you potentially useful." She informed me of this without a hint of emotion. "I know very little of this world, and while I'm learning, I suspect that you know more than most."

I had heard her say such things before. I am quite well acquainted with such matters, of course, being once of Earth. "Of this world?" I said at last.

"Of this world." A horrible humorless smile. "You know full well I'm not from here. This whole place is a nightmare and a travesty. You're lucky my aunt Stellead is not here; she’s less merciful than I. She'd have castrated the lot of your slavers and rapists, slow roasted the genitals, and fed them back to you a bite at a time. And to be honest, I did consider that."

I could not help but cringe at the thought.

"From what I have gathered," she continued, "No part of this world is not at the mercy of monsters who hold humans as livestock and use them as they please. It's that, I think, that I've been brought here to end. And you, Tarl Cabot, are going to give me information as I do it."

The shock of her words was immediate. "Sent? The priest-kings...."

The wave of a hand, dismissive. "I've heard of them. No. Gods, no. I don't care a whit for them. If they interfere I'll deal with them. No, it's a power higher than them that's sent me."

I blinked at her in shock. The priest-kings are feared and worshiped as gods on Gor, with reason. They are advanced beyond any human designs, and are exceptionally powerful. Yet I saw not a trace of fear in her.

"They are very powerful," I said. "And your powers may bring their wrath yet." I hoped it, of course. They can burn a man to ashes on a whim.

A laugh. Another cold, humorless laugh. "Maybe." She said. "But I've slain gods before. What are a few more? No. You are going to give me information, Tarl Cabot, on this world. And then I am going to conquer it. Every last damned corner of it."

I stared at her in horror, and she simply smiled in return.

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bloodycassian · 3 years

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Levithan pt 2. Cassian x reader. Reader saves Cassian.

He flew straight into the side of the Levithan's neck. It came out of the water with such force it made waves of its own. It was everything Rhys described only worse. More horrid, louder, slimier. The smell of its maw as it opened was enough to nearly put you on your ass. Its teeth were a bevy of fangs, thin and in rows. The sound of water falling out of the mouth was like a waterfall. It's bellow was a screech, deafening you momentarily.

"Run. Run now." Cassian grunted his wings flailing wildly as he tried to regain balance on the Beast's side. He had a death grip on the massive scales, and was trying to climb to the spined back. The dragon like face eyed you, its yellow marble eye adjusting to focus on you. Then, its forked tongue lashed out - trying to wrap around you. Your heart thundered, you flew higher.

You didnt listen to Cassian. Watching him struggle on the side of the beast, you dove. Sword in both hands straight out, folding your wings in tight and speared yourself at the Levithan.

An ear splitting roar sputtered out of it. The green scales of its face staining a black slime of its lifeblood. You left your sword embedded next to its eye, cursing your aim being slightly off. You went straight to Cassian as he struggled on the beast's back. His hands were bloody, siphons glowing a hot red. The beast began to sink under the water. You pulled him sharply, knowing the water would take you if you failed to get airborne.

Once his wings were moving again, you set off with him. High into the sky. You reached for a sword at his side. He put a hand on yours, stopping you. His blood smeared on your hand, your wrist. "We cant kill it. We need to go." Cassian panted, wings beating shakily. His clothes were icing over already in the cold air.

"We can, for Rhys. So we can fly without threat again." You shuddered to think of re encountering the monster. The water began bubbling, and Cassian was dragging you higher into the sky. You wrenched your arm away. He let go, weak with exhaustion. You saw it then, the pain in his eyes. He was lying about Rhys' encounter with the Levithan.

He saw your understanding and pressed his lips together before saying "It cant die. It's spelled for a never ending life, even if we managed to kill it - it would come back." He grabbed for your arm again, and you let him. His siphons hummed dull in color, already draining. A weak shield wrapped around you, hiding you from the sea monster. He was weak, and tired from the freezing water spraying him. And in no shape for an argument. You let it drop.

Your own hands shook while flying, the small amount you had gotten wet was enough to sting. "There, we can rest on the peninsula." You tugged him to the bank of a small island. He landed without much grace, stumbling into the tall grass, then wobbling back to the sand where he nearly fell on his ass, arms wrapping around his knees. The island was sparse for resources, only a few trees and dead shrubs scattered on the bank. Cassian held himself, body shaking violently. His teeth were chattering, siphons almost completely out.

You began taking your weapon strap off, then your tunic. The soft inside flipped outward, you hung it on a nearby branch. Wordlessly, he let you help him out of his wet clothes. You brought his hair back, wringing it out and patting it down with your dry tunic. Thankfully, his hair didn't hold too much moisture. His body seemed to shrink with how cold he was. You wrapped your clothes around him, debating if you could leave him alone or not. His lips were blue.

That made your decision for you. His siphons were nearly dead and he would be too without extra warmth. "I'll be right back, let your wings dry." He nodded as much as he could, letting his wings slowly unfurl. Your own hands shook as you placed a few nearby rocks in a circle a few feet in front of him.

You then gathered small twigs and dry shrubs as quickly as you could. Enough to just get a fire started. And you hoped to the Mother that the fire wouldn't attract anything worse than the Levithan.

Cassian still shook even when the fire was roaring. His teeth chattering against each other was loud enough that you finally sighed, getting up stiffly from your spot across the fire and going to sit beside him, wrapping an arm around him. He held his hands out to the fire, attempting to warm them.

His lips were no longer blue but his wings were stiff, freezing in the slight wind coming off the glacial waters. "Mother above, Cassian." You scolded, adjusting yourself to cover him with your body more fully.

"I h-hop-e that f-fuck-er d-dies" He chattered, then groaned as you folded his wings in for him. They weakly stood in place on his back. "B-buy me a drin-k f-first" He huffed a laugh, pulling your tunic around him more firmly. You doubted he could feel his fingers despite being right next to the fire.

"Lay down, asshole. We're going to make this... weird." You got up as he followed your orders, his body trembling. His siphons no longer glowed. He had nothing left. You gathered sand and pushed it against him once he got comfortable, burying his side beneath the dry white grains. It would at least keep him protected against the wind.

You found more rocks, and began cocooning his feet with them. Trying as best you could to keep them protected as well. Sand on top of them, you doubted it would stay but it was as much you could do for his lower half. He was too big for you to cover his full body with your own.

"Alright, I'm going to be behind you. Let me know if.. I need to adjust anything." You said, delicately moving his lower wing. He sucked in a sharp breath. Either at the touch or at your warmth, you didn't know.

You wrapped your wing around the both of you, shielding you from the heat of the fire but the radiating warmth from your body heat was a more through heat source. He sighed in relief, flexing his fingers. The wind snapped at your back, rustling your feathers.

You knew you wouldnt be able to sleep anyway with him so borderline. His shaking slowed, slowly but it eventually stopped. The fires heat warmed your wing enough to occasionally bring it further in and press to him. You felt his hot breath coast along your broadfeathers. At least he was breathing.

The process was working excellently, until he fell asleep. Then a hand of his went into your wing, grasping gently. And you squirmed behind him. Thankfully he didn't rub or pull at all, but just held you softly. It still made the blood rush to your cheeks at the sensitivity. Like in Illyrian culture, wings were usually off limits in Peregryn societies as well. Unless there was sex or death involved.

His slow breathing was a comfort, and you caught a glimpse of those siphons charging up again as he rested. Their dim glow reflected off the light feathers of your wing. The rolling of the tide was a perfect white noise, along with his soft snoring. And you found yourself drifting to sleep with him in your arms.

#cassian x reader #cassian fic #acotar fic #cassian #acotar

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alice-angel12x · 3 years

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Leech Twins X Gem! Reader

It was another slow and cold winter in the Coral sea, as the icebergs slowly blocked out the sunlight from the surface. Yet lately many Icebergs have been falling apart lately, they would suddenly collapse and reveal the sun's rays from above. Azul and the twins would wonder why that's been happening lately. Out of the many years, they lived there this was not a normal occurrence during the winter season.

"I don't mind it, finally we get some sunlight down here in the winter," (child)Floyd sighed.

"It fine I guess, but I don't like the banging noises it makes when they start falling apart. Plus it makes it dangerous to swim near the surface when that happens,"(child) Azul groaned.

Suddenly the iceberg above started to screech and whine as two large icebergs scrapped against each other. The three covered their ears as the sound became unbearable when suddenly that was a loud bang above the surface. Large chunks of ice fell into the water as it revealed an opening to the surface, letting in the sunlight from above.

"Ahh, warm sunlight,"(Child) Floyd smiled.

"What is that?" (Child)Jade asked as he pointed to a sinking figure.

"Probably just some unfortunate human, but I don't think humans are supposed to sink that fast. Jade, Floyd catch them," (Child)Azul said simply.

Jade and Floyd shrugged and same to catch the figure, which was surprisingly heavier than they expected. The twins managed to softly land the figure on the soft sand, and when they stepped to examine the figure they gasped at the sight. The figure had a lovely face, but what was off was the large cracks that ran down her face, and her hair didn't look like anything they've seen. It gave off a beautiful shimmer of Aquamarine.

"Nee, Jade this person is so shiny,"(Child) Floyd smiled as he hugged the figure, " But not so squishy, they're solid as a rock,"

"Careful, you might shatter them,"(child) Jade said with a smile.

"Jade, Floyd what is it?" (Child)Azul asked as he swam as quickly as he could.

He looked over the figure and gasped at the large cracks on her face. Thankfully Azul was able to fix it with coral sap, making the figure look good as new. Suddenly it began to stir as its eyes slowly fluttered open. Revealing beautiful ocean blue eyes she stared blankly at the three faces.

"W-who are you?" The girl asked nervesly, " Where am I?"

The poor girl had lost her memory, and couldn't recall who or what she is or even where she even came from. So Azul simply gave the girl a name, Y/n, but Floyd would nickname Y/n as Aqua or Aquamarine at times.

Y/n was a freak of nature to the twins, she wasn't soft and completely made out of precious stones, from her hair down to her feet. She didn't require food to keep her going, or even air for that matter. She just required sunlight or light from glowing jellyfish.

"Nee, Aqua-chan try this, it's Takoyaki. It's delicious,"(Child) Floyd smiled as he shoved food in Y/n's face.

"O-oh, no thank you, Floyd," Y/n smiled as she feeds it back to Floyd. He happily chomped down with a smile.

"You never eat, are you sure are okay?" (Child) Jade asked.

"As long as I have light, I should be fine," Y/n smiled as she patted Jade's head.

Floyd and Jade smiled as they hugged her arms. Y/n was nothing Like Floyd or Jade had seen before, so they like to drag her around everywhere they went. As they glided through the water Y/n quickly followed behind as she ran across the sandy ocean floor.

"I don't see why I'm needed to go to school with you," Y/n said as the twins pulled on her arms.

"Cause school is so boring, We want you to be by outside," Floyd said as he pulled at Y/n.

"Plus it will be interesting to see how our classmates react," Jade laughed.

The powder that covered Y/n's arms, legs, and face soon washed off revealing her gem surface underneath, but as time went on Floyde and Jade grew. Once small children that were half of Y/n size grew to be taller or longer than her. The twins and Azul grew to be handsome young men, but Y/n seemed to be forever frozen in time and remained the same.

-----------

As Time went on as the twins and Azul started to prepare for the expected arrival of the black carriage. Y/n's mind began to wonder, as she began to wander near the town edge of the Coral Sea, but the Twins don't let her wander too far from them.

"Nene, Aqua-chan what are you doing all the way out here?" Floyd asked as he hugged her from behind.

"Yes, home is the other way. You wander off again," Jade smiled.

"Oh, I'm sorry, but shouldn't you two be making your way back to shore soon?" Y/n asked the twin.

"Huh? You're not going to see us off?" Jade asked with a pained expression.

"You want me to come to see you off?" Y/n asked.

"Of course, you have to be there," Floyd said as he nuzzled Y/n's neck.

Jade picked Y/n up bridle style as they swam to a nearby shore, where Azul was waiting for them. Y/n staring up at the blue sky with wide eyes, this was the first time she saw the sky and sun in 9 years. She slowly wiggled out of Jade's grasps and took her first steps on land in what felt like forever. The microscopic organisms inside her gem body started to make more energy than it has before, she had never felt more awake in so long.

"Nee, Aqua-chan slow down," Floyd whined as Y/n turned to see Floyd and jade slowly crawling up the beach.

As they tried to stand on their new legs, Y/n chuckled and quickly tried to help the two stand. Yet the three once merpeople simply clung to the gem girl for support. So for the first few days, was full of Y/n helping them walk on their own, and watching them fall over many times, but they soon got the hang of things.

-----------

The time arrived when the carriage arrived, and Y/n though this was where they would part ways. Nope, Jade and Floyd managed to drag her into the carriage with them and bring her to the school, claiming she was the twins Familiar. Surprisingly the headmaster was okay with this, seeing that there was a couple of other students who had similar "Familiars". As the twins and Azul sat with the other students Y/n looked around the room to see other people like her. Near the Scarabia dorm students stood a girl with diamond hair, by a red-headed Heartslabyul student stood a girl with ruby hair, a Pomefiore man had a girl with Ametrine hair standing next to him, a girl with obsidian hair was holding a tablet that the Ignihyde dorm leader spoke through. Savanaclaw had a girl with long hair made of bort. Heck, the Headmaster seemed to have an assistant with Rutile hair.

Y/n simply stared in awe at the many varieties of gem people in the room. When the ceremony finished everyone funneled out of the room, as Y/n walked she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned to see it was the diamond girl from the other dorm. The two chatted away when they had to part ways into the dorm. The Octavinelle Dorm reminded Y/n a lot of the Coral Sea, and the sense of sleepiness came over her at the sudden lack of bright sunlight.

"Nee, Aqua-chan who was that other girl you were talking to?" Floyd asked as he hugged Y/n from behind.

"That was Dia, and she told me that rutile plans to put us to work and we will be helping around the school," Y/n explained.

"So you won't be staying by our side then?" Jade frowned slightly.

"Awww, that sucks, I was hoping to have Aqua-chan by our side the entire time," Floyd whined as he rested his chin on her shoulder.

_______

So while Azul and the twins studied in the classrooms, Rutile leads the gems outside to help around the school. From wiping down the windows to mowing the grass in the fields. One day during P.E while the 2nd and 1st-year students ran laps the Gem girls were on the side slicing grass with some obsidian blad and while Vargus had to step out of a few minutes. As the students rested, Y/n noticed something odd in the sky.

"Riddle, what is that?" Ruby asked.

"I don't know, Ruby," Riddle said as the rest of the students stopped to look as well.

As everyone watched in awe as the sounds of instruments could be heard. The black cover vanished revealing something odd.

"It's so pretty," Obsidian awed.

"I don't know, something is off about it," Idia whispered.

"What even is that?" Vil wondered.

Y/n stared up in wonder when memories flashed in her mind as fear started t wash over her. The figures in the sky drew their bows and readied their spears and tossed them down on the gem humans below. A spear sliced through Ruby's neck like butter, time slowed as everyone watched Ruby's head and body fall to the ground. Everyone screamed in panic as more arrows and spears rained from the sky.

"We don't have our pens!" Leona growled.

"Everyone back to the school !" Jamil shouted as everyone tried to run.

But when they tried to run spears and arrows cut them off. Y/n turned back to see Riddle trying to carry Ruby's body with him.

"Riddle!" Trey gasped as he hurried Riddle and let ruby's pieces behind.

Y/n looked down at her blade and back up at the attackers in the sky, suddenly her body acted on its own as she ran towards the cloud.

"Y/N!" Jade and Foyd gasped.

"What is she doing?!" Azul gasped.

As Arrows and spears rain down she deflected them with a swing of her sword and tossed some of them back at the enemy. suddenly weird golden lines that ended with hooks and gem spheres. They quickly extended down and wrapped around a fellow gem Ametrine, and quickly dragged her closer to the cloud.

"Ametrine!" Vil cried out.

Ametrine dug her heels into the ground to stop herself, the moment she struggled and pulled. The pins in the gem spheres were pulled out and exploded. When the smoke cleared, Ametrine was blown to pieces. Everyone watched in horror as a few figures from the cloud climbed down to collect the shattered gem pieces. Dia quickly acted and sliced through the enemy. Bort and Y/n jumped up to the vessel and began to slice away at the enemy, who poof away once defeated.

Y/n ran to the tall enter figure and sliced it in half with ease, but more grenade hooks shot out from the bottom half of the figure. Before they could wrap around Bort, Y/n quickly pushed them out of the way and grabbed at the rope. She hopped down from the vessel and pulled at the rope above the pinned hooks. Dia quickly helped Y/n pull as they ripped the center figure off the vessel, causing the who thing to poof out of the air, but not before a pin was pulled causing the grenades to explode.

"Aqua-Chan!" Floyd called out.

Vargus and Rutile ran out to see the shaken students and shattered and Damaged gem figures.

-----------

"Y/n, Y/n please open your eyes," Said a familiar voice.

"Aqua-chan," Said another voice.

Y/n's eye's opened slowly as her vision slowly came to her. Staring down at her were a pair of 2 mismatched eyes staring down at her.

"Floyd...Jade?" Y/n groaned as she slowly sat up.

But was tackled back down in a bear hug from the twins.

"Your back!" Floyd smiled.

"What happened to.. outside?" Y/n asked.

"Rutile came and put you and everyone back together, while Vargus took the human students back to the school. You were asleep for a week. You managed to defeat the strange enemy from the sky," Jade explained.

"What were you thinking, running towards danger like that. That was stupid Aqua-chan," Floyd pouted.

"As long as I can be put back together, I cannot die-,"

"They wanted to take you away from us," Jade said as he pulled Y/n close to him.

"They were going to steal you from us. Your our treasure, no one else's," Floyd said as the twins sandwiched the girl in a hug.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x you #houseki no kuni #floyd leech #jade leech #floyd x reader #jade x reader

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morgana-ren · 2 years

Text

Sic Infit

“Si vis pacem, para bellum.’ Fight me if you will, courier. You can have your little war. If a power struggle is what you desire, I will deliver one-- and you will lose.”

Vulpes Inculta/Courier

Yes, I am acutely aware no one gives a shit about this horrible, despicable man on here (and we are better for it), but I know there’s one or two folks who enjoy him, so here you go. Had this one kicking around for a while. It sucks, it’s wordy, and I wrote it high off my gourd. Enjoy.

Warnings: Dubcon, cruelty, sadism, noncon mentions, typical legion dickery, forced kissing, sexual harassment, bad bargaining and as per the usual, dreadful writing. Reader is courier or your OC is courier or whatever you want, I left it vague. Fuck I hate this guy.

Thin, cruel fingers dig into the hollow of her cheeks, a bruising hold on her jaw as she struggles against his iron grip; He yanks her head to the West- to the glittering city of New Vegas- forcing her eyes to the tide of crimson that advances like an endless wave against the gates of the strip. Their arrival is a harbinger of ruthless slaughter and carnage. This is only the calm before the storm-- A preemptive death rattle.

They haven’t broken the gate yet, but the courier has seen enough to know it is an inevitability. Only a matter of time with a slight tilt on sheer luck. Legion vanguard are felled by the Securitron defenses but for each that sacrifices himself, two more take his place until the machines are dogpiled and hacked into scrap metal by freshly sharpened machetes and spears.

The silence of it all from the tower he’s trapped her on is deafening. Fear is tangible across the landscape, the air stagnant and rotten and vibrating the low, dreadful hum of unmistakable terror. Behind the wall, civilians chant their prayers to lost Gods that long ago turned their back on the wasteland and cower behind pleas of mercy that will fall on deaf Legionary ears.

No, it won’t be a battle. A battle implies there are two sides in a war-- That there is, in some form, a fairness to it. A chance.

It will be a massacre.

Death comes on a pale horse but his armor is red.

To her back, Vulpes Inculta inhales hard, nostrils flaring as his mouth slashes a jackal’s grin. “Do you smell it too, little courier? Of course you do. You’ve been on the opposite side of it enough to be familiar, haven’t you?” He hisses into the shell of her ear the way a lover might, and a shudder rolls her spine at the sheer malevolence of it. “The scent of a war already won.”

The gaudy Caesar’s armor that adorns his chest digs into her back as he holds flush against him and the warm breath that moistens on her nape curdles her stomach into blossoming nausea. She doesn’t need to see him to know the smug expression he wears. The same snarling smirk he presses against her temple now is the very same he donned at Nipton: Cruel in his ill-gotten victory and every bit as arrogant in it.

“The dying screams of your city will be the death groan of the West. A town of ghosts and spectres--” He muses beneath a slight chuckle. “--that are already dead but too foolish to know it.”

She offers him no banter. He always did like to hear himself talk.

“The arrival of my Legion heralds the swan song of your little attempt at civilization.” He continues, undeterred by her lack of engagement. “This absurd little experiment you’ve spent years protecting is no sturdier than the shifting sands of the Mojave, courier. While you and your little friends were playing at greatness, I was rising to it. These heretical monuments to greed and lust you fought so vehemently defend will crumble all the same as the rubble beneath the boots of my army. You know it to be true as well as I do.” He twists her arm when she doesn’t respond once again, practically purring at her quickly stifled cry of pain. Hate burns an agonizing hole in her throat and the urge to tear him apart with her bare hands is overwhelming, her vision blinking black with bloodlust. Frustration sits thick in the fog of it all because no matter how she struggles, he is bigger and stronger and faster than she is, and he has no qualms about using that against her. Without her gun, she’s as helpless as a babe in his arms. Close quarter combat is not her strong suit; It’s his specialty.

“You are despicable.” She spits, if only so he will stop abusing her arm. She’s no use to anyone with crippled limbs. “Don’t talk to me about shit like greed and the ‘sins of the dissolute' as your army murders a clear cut path through the land and enslaves the innocent. Your Legion is nothing but indoctrinated boys running rampant under the guise of some twisted take on manifest destiny, and you yet another despotic, tyrannical man doing what men have always done best! Watering the ground with blood and then wondering why nothing will grow!”

“Innocent?” His chest bubbles with cold laughter as his hand finally releases her forearm, sliding up to plant firmly around her neck. “My sweet courier, how can you call anything raised in the brutality of the waste innocent? The Mojave makes monsters out of men. This is an immutable truth that you cannot deny. The difference is I give those monsters a duty-- A true purpose. I use their destructive urges for the betterment of man while you encourage them and let them fester and putrefy behind your glimmering walls of vice and sin.”

“New Vegas has its faults, but how dare you pretend you’re better than me when we all know what happens behind the gate at Fortification Hill. The violence, the brutality, the rape-”

“My officers are given wives. It’s not wanton debauchery like you believe it is.” “Yes it is! You take women as slaves and throw them to your officers like a piece of meat! And those are the lucky ones! I’ve seen your slave pens, seen what happens after you take a town! You crucify the men and let your contubernio run rampant on the women! Some of them don’t even make it out alive!”

“I cannot deny my men the spoils of war from a victory hard earned. As the blood of your people runs cold on the streets, ours pumps hotter than ever, just as Mars intended.”

“You might be able to fool your men with that bullshit about Mars and the divine right to conquer, but drop the act with me, Vulpes. You and I both know you’re too smart to actually believe old Caesar’s Roman gimmick. He’s dead now.”

“Perhaps.” He considers. “Maybe it all is a lie, but the sight before you isn’t. It raised the finest military the new world has known, and will give way to the most successful empire in history. You judge me, courier, but the ends justify the means. Finis coronat opus.”

“Oh, fuck that--” “And what of your lies? You’ve spent the better part of the last five years batting away the NCR and telling your beloved New Vegas that you could keep them safe; They could be independent and free despite being beset on all sides by threats. You knew this day would come, you simply didn’t know if it would be the bear or the bull with blood on its teeth.”

“I--” She starts, the dam breaking open with the swelling of guilt. “I had a plan! I--” “You know what they say about good intentions, and I think it’s fair to say you’ve paved the path to Hell in pearls.”

“The Legion was supposed to die!” Her voice breaks, cracking in the face of her failure. “After Caesar-- After Lanius--” “But it didn’t, did it?” He sets her jaw loose, brushing away a strand of hair from her face as she tries to crane away. “It united under me. ”

“I should have killed you at Nipton when I first laid eyes on you.” “But you didn’t. You showed mercy-- Weakness . And here we are.”

“No matter.” She shoves it down deep into the pits of her gut, stoppering the emotion before it can crest. “Don’t talk down to me when your damned empire is built on the backs of boy-soldiers and the women they violate to breed your disgusting slave army.”

“Their desire is righteous, dear girl, as is mine--” Vulpes tightens his grip on her throat, constricting her airway just enough to assert his dominance over her. “--and I will take what is rightfully mine. Just as I have taken the Legion, just as I am about to take your precious city. There is so much that is ripe for the taking--” His thumb caresses her pulse-point and he revels in the spike in her heartbeat as she realizes the soft lull of his voice does not lend itself to a swift and merciful end, but rather something much more sinister. “--including you.”

Her adrenaline skyrockets, her vision whirling into a black-edged tunnel that feeds on the pooling dread of his implication. She claws at his grip, tallies of flesh that trail her fingers flushing white and into red as she rakes her nails down the pallid skin of his hand in an effort to pry herself free. He doesn’t relent, even as little bubbles of blood begin to form in her wake. Instead, he laughs as if it’s the most adorable thing in the world.

A wandering hand brushes against the hem of her pants in a manner purely meant to taunt and it breathes new life into her struggle. “I would rather fling myself from this goddamned tower than let you have me, you filthy fucking Legion mongrel!”

“If you intended to do so, you should have done it the moment the sun rose above the horizon on the day of my grand victory. I warned you that this fight was futile, yet-- stubborn little thing that you are-- here you stand. Though soon, you will kneel before your new lord.”

Her gut churns as she contemplates his words, realizing now that his lingering gazes and suggestive threats over the years were more than a simple gambit to make her uncomfortable and knock her off her game. Under the late Caesar, he was a rabid dog, but he yielded obediently to the master who kept him tight on a leash pulled taut and firm by a heavy hand. He would not act without the permission of his Caesar, no matter how he wanted to; No matter how he longed .

She had freed him from this final cage of restraint by hunting down his overlords and now she and the entire Mojave would pay the price for it.

“You will be my consort.” He strokes the rounds of her neck possessively, saying the words matter-of-factly as if simply speaking them is enough will them into existence. “And then, when you learn to behave-- and you will-- you will take your proper place at my side as my wife.”

“I would rather die than marry you!”

“And how many will die too, courier? How many sacrificed at the altar of your pride? Your hubris will bring so much unnecessary bloodshed.” He leans closer, coaxing her again toward the city with a nudge of his chin. “You’re a smart girl-- it’s part of why I chose you-- so think about this pragmatically. You can save them-- Save them the anguish and humiliation of defeat and the cruel fate of the cross.”

This gives her pause. Legion men swarm the gates, and it’s only a matter of time before his army overruns the city. Her heart pounds in her chest; She is running out of time.

“The profligates listen to you. Convince them to lay down their arms and yield to the Legion.” He sings his blasphemous whispers into her ear, silken voice soft and seductive. “Be my Venus; Sit by my side and be the voice of my mercy. Spare your people much unnecessary misery and keep their blood off of your hands. You are responsible for the surge of hope they feel. You must be the one to snuff it out for their sake.”

He inhales sharply against her scalp, taking in the scent of her, desire pulsing a hot course through his veins. She recoils away, her disgust only serving to amplify his need. “Or has the beloved courier finally run short of that legendary selflessness?”

“Spare them death only to usher them into slavery? They trust me and you ask me to hand-deliver them into servitude and tell them to be grateful for it after I promised them freedom and then add insult to injury by pledging myself to the very man who enslaves them.”

“That was your folly, and a mistake you must own. You have my word they will be fed and sheltered.” He vows. “I cannot spare them pain, but it is more than you could ask of any other invading army, and more favor than I give to most because of my fondness for you.”

“You ask me to deliver them to a fate worse than death!”

“Is it truly worse than death?” He asks, motioning toward his great army once more. “You have seen the death the Legion offers. The crows will pick from their carrion, the sun bleaching their bones. I will leave them rotting in the streets as a lesson to anyone else who defies me. My men will ravage the weak and leave them to bleed. The strong will be bent until they break. I will adopt the young into our army and raise them as my warriors, brought up to revere Legion values.”

She had seen the children of the Legion army. They trained with machetes from the age they were old enough to hold one and were ruthless and single-minded in their devotion to the cause by the time they reached adulthood, already adapting to the cruelty of war before the onset of puberty. She has seen the slaves they take with their blackened eyes and broken, bloody bodies. The empty stares and blank expressions, devoid of all light or hope. This is the salvation he extends to her as an olive branch.

Yes, they would be fed and sheltered because he is true to his word, but at what cost? Perhaps the mercy of death, even a prolonged one, was better than the hospitality the Legion offers.

“I can’t, Vulpes. I won’t. I won’t do that to them.”

“Then they will die.” He states without a hint of remorse. “Senselessly and violently and without mercy. I will let loose the hounds of hell from their leashes and you will see what a devil war makes of men. I will take you into the throng of death and you will be made to watch and forced to listen to their screams and you can tell them as the light leaves their eyes that they suffered because of you .”

Vulpes is a monster, but he is a monster of his word. If he tells her he’ll do something, he will see to it that it’s done. If he says he’ll make her watch, he will pry open her eyes with his own hands.

“Kill me with my people, then. When your bloodlust is satisfied, end me with them. I won’t betray them. Or just throw me off of this damn tower right now.”

He does something akin to a giggle and it is extremely disconcerting. “Oh, I don’t think so. Your fate is sealed, no matter which path you choose. I’d have you willingly, but I welcome a challenge all the same.”

Revulsion curdles her gut. “I’ll not be your whore, Vulpes! Kill me-- Shoot me, stab me, nail me to the dam, whatever. But I will not idly by your side while you rip a new hell and ravage my city.”

“You will obey me because you have no other choice.”

“There is always a choice, and I am telling you no!”

“It is not your choice to make.” His arms enclose around her, slipping to her waist and squeezing her against him even as she tries to squirm free.

“They’ll fight you-- They will!” She snarls, all ferocity and iron will. “You will get nothing from us. The people of New Vegas would rather die on their feet than serve on their knees.”

“Lucky you.” He chuckles at his own morbid humor. “You get to serve on your knees.”

“You foul, repugnant, repressed little cunt of a man!”

“You should be honored by my proposal, courier.” His voice is liquid velvet cloying down her throat: Suffocating and smooth. “I find you worthy.”

He arches over her, hands sliding down to grip ominously at the low of her stomach. “Your body will bear the sons of a God-King. Demigods-- Conquerors. From your womb, the rise of a new nation. A powerful, unending empire-- The warriors birthed from your hips and my seed will be legendary--”

Bile rises in her throat as she is forced to imagine bearing Vulpes’ children. His spawn, every part the cunning, cutthroat killer their father is-- Being made to watch as they grow up ruthless and amoral and cruel, practically born with a machete in one hand and the throat of the world in the other. “You’ll not touch me or I’ll cut you from navel to neck--”

“You are most certainly welcome to try. I always liked a bit of fight in my women. Yet another reason I’ve wanted you-- Why I turned down every wife Caesar tried to cast my way. I have waited for years for you. To have you; To taste the woman behind all the sand and armor. I will not be denied now that I finally have you.”

“You do not have me! I said I’d rather die and I meant it!”

“Si vis pacem, para bellum.’ Fight me if you will, courier. You can have your little war. If a power struggle is what you desire, I will deliver one-- and you will lose.”

“Fuck--” “You will bend for me, or you will break .

He whirls her around to face him, grating her back to the wall and pressing himself firm against her in a show of force. He is so close that he can breathe her air, smell her, inhale her rage and righteous indignation and sate himself on it. His feral warrior woman; His courier. She is the mercy of the Mojave, a swift death incarnate trapped in a cage of his limbs and she is all fangs and fury and fear as he backs her into a corner.

“I will have you. This is inevitable and there is nothing you can do to stop it. I will have you when and where I want, when I want, and how I want. I have been patient and plotted every move painstakingly over years at the mere memory of you and today my plan culminates in a glorious triumph, and you will be my prize. There is no other way. You belong to me. You have always belonged to me. Since the moment I laid eyes on you, you have been mine.”

“You are out of your fucking mind--” “Call me what you will. It does not change the truth.”

“Saying something is true doesn’t make it so!”

“Acta non verba.”

He shoves his mouth against hers so hard it hurts-- a clash of teeth and bone that leaves them both aching. She tastes of blood and rage and scalding hatred that sings to him, passionate and unrelenting. The promise of her was enough to keep his fire burning in the dark years that followed Caesar’s death and now that she is finally his , he refuses to waste a moment of it, relishing in every little bit she offers up to him.

Her kiss is as raw as the desert sand and twice as unforgiving. Brutality unrivaled: Snapping and biting and fighting him every step of the way in a heated expression of her hatred until her energy runs dry and she relents to his advances. Somewhere along the way, her disgust transforms into a beast of a different breed and she finally lets his tongue slip past her teeth, allowing him inside of her to indulge in her taste. She absolutely despises him but she was made to be his and on some level she must understand this, he thinks, because she eventually melts into him, mewling in the low of her throat.

Her infuriated hits against his chest with her furled fists slowly lose their strength until she is clawing him closer, her fingers twisting into the cloth of his tunic to draw him near and devour him whole with equal fervor. Her teeth sink into the swell of his bottom lip until he tastes copper in her wake and he groans, primal and animalistic against her. He returns the favor but a few seconds later and she exhales a ragged moan into his open mouth, chest heaving and puffing for air.

“I’ve waited so long for you--” He growls deep in his chest between sloppy, open mouthed assaults . “--Needed you-- Dreamed of you-- And now you are finally mine--”

“Not yours--” She shakes her head vehemently, still dragging him near as he wraps his hands around the back of her thighs to hike her legs up around his hips. “--Never yours--”

“ Yes -- You are-- Give in to me, woman--” He pants against her, the pressure building at the base of his spine to unbearable levels. “You have-- no-- other-- choice--”

She whines as he pulses his hips to emphasize, silencing whatever protest she may have been forming. It doesn’t stop her trying to pull her head away, but he doesn’t allow for it.

Two titans locked in a struggle for dominance with each other overlooking the blood red horizon at the crossroads of impending battle of their conflicting worlds: The Monster of the Mojave and its Caesar’s Wife. “Call off your army.” She heaves, whooping in air as she pulls away from him. “Call off your men and I’m-- I’m yours. Take the Mojave, take the Nevada, I don’t care-- But leave New Vegas and the freeside. Let me keep my promise and I’ll keep one to you in turn.”

“A beacon of freedom in a sea of Legion red-- My sweet little courier, I thought you were so much smarter than that. You must learn to think more than two steps ahead if you are to be my equal.” He coos derisively, trying to tame the fire thrumming in his blood and regain control of himself once more. If he doesn’t, he’ll have her here and now. “Do you intend for your people to live packed atop one another? Because once the Legion advances beyond New Vegas, vagrants and stragglers will come from near and far to seek shelter behind your walls, and you are too wea-- soft hearted to turn them away. Resources will run thin and quality of life will drop, people suffering and dying because of your shortsightedness.” “I’d find a way--” She tries to unweave her legs from around him but he doesn’t allow for it, keeping her tangled against her will. “On top of attending to your wifely duties?” He practically purrs. “I think not. I don’t need your attention divided from me.” “Wifely duties? Are you mad?” She shoves at him hard and he crows as he stumbles back, dropping her back to her feet.

“New Vegas exists in its current form because it is exclusive. It carries a high price to even walk the streets, and that isn’t counting the caps needed to enjoy the services. When you let everyone in, you destroy the illusion that separates the elite from the common, and New Vegas becomes another filthy hovel refugee camp.”

“So be it!” “Those at the top of your totem will not take kindly to that, and you’ll have a civil war on your hands. A war you will not be present to preside over, as you will be at my side at the capital where you belong. Your streets will run red with blood until your untethered beast tears itself apart with its own teeth and claws with me. I’ll not even have to lift a finger to destroy it.”

“I--”

“But hypothetically, for the sake of argument, let’s say you somehow do manage it through some miracle of fate. You think I could stand for a profligate capital in the middle of my territory? The men are faithful and strong, but they are still men . The temptations of your New Vegas would prove too much to resist. They would sneak inside and corrupt their bodies and minds, causing cracks in the foundation of my army that I cannot abide.” Her eyes on him are sharp and calculating, but he does not miss the sheen of helplessness to them. She already knows. She is railing against the inevitable. Howling her sorrow to an uncaring and cruel moon. “If your men are as disciplined as you claim them to be--” “Men are human, and to be human is to be imperfect by nature. There are many that would stay true, but even a single soldier is not a price I am willing to pay for your foolish play at anarchy.”

“It’s a city of free people and you would destroy it! And for what? Pride? Glory? What, Vulpes, explain it to me! Make me understand!” “For the sake of progress and the only true chance at civilization. It’s a small price to pay, my dear wife, and in time, you will come to see I am right. You are a clever sort, and once you see the true power of my Legion-- the life and the fulfillment only I can offer you-- You will devote yourself to me wholeheartedly and unquestioningly.”

“You’ve lost your fucking mind! You’d enslave countless people-- families, women, children, everyone in New Vegas and beyond-- for your bullshit delusions of grandeur, and you’ll murder them if I refuse you! I could never understand such a sadistic, greedy need for power and I don’t want to! You-- You are a monster! A despicable, empty shell of a human. I could never--” “In time you will. You will see. As I’ve said, you don’t have another choice.”

“Like hell! Not good enough, Inculta. No deal.” She spits clean at his feet, wiping angrily across her mouth as if she could erase him from her flesh. Her lips rise in a vicious snarl; A whirlwind of disgust and self loathing and impotent rage as she glowers at him with a renewed contempt. “First chance I get, Vulpes, the very first and I am bolting. You look away even once and I am gone and you can send all the goddamned Frumentarii after me that you’d like, I will die rather than come back to you. You might be able to manhandle me off of this tower and let’s suppose you even manage to get me back to your shitty capital and chain me to your fucking throne. I will never be your wife in more than title and I will never-- could never-- love you. Never. ”

“We will see.” He says, sounding so certain in it that it rattles her to the core. His eyes are aflame with lust, heart pounding behind his ribs as he reaches for her again, unable to stop himself any longer. A cacophony of screams begins to rise to the west as the gates of New Vegas finally crumble at the hands of the Legion bombardment. The sounds of his warriors' battlecries reaches his ears and his very soul sings with delight. As with all things he wants, his will becomes real.

“And I suppose--” He pinches her chin straight back to him as she turns in abject horror to witness the slaughter, kissing her softly once again as the tears slip down the curve of her ruddy cheeks. The sliver of hope she held so dear falls in defeat at his hands and so too does her beloved city. “--I best not look away then.”

#See warnings please #not tagging for obvious reasons #but it's me so you know what's up

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babybottlepop96 · 3 years

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Always: Shikamaru x Reader

Warnings: death, sadness, fluffy shit.

A/N: this one is about 2.2k words, it kinda got away from me lol enjoy and request!

Being Naruto Uzumaki's fraternal twin sister had its perks. I mean, the excessive amount of friends, ramen 24/7, always having a best friend that would be there for me and have my back no matter what but would also put me in my place if he had too. Being born five minutes after the infamous jinjuriki he was also so protective. Threatening any guy that would just have the nerve to flirt with me, the sister of the future Hokage.

We only had each other for so long, sure, our relationship took a bad turn for a while. While he was usually ignored and looked at as a monster, I didn't get the kind of treatment. Being the "normal" one of the twins, I was treated with more respect because I didn't have a tailed beast to host. I always felt awful for that and no matter how many times I stood up for my brother, he refused to accept my sympathy. The Chunin Exams came and went when he finally came to me after a few weeks of ignoring me. It was after Saskue had left and he was a mess. He cried into my shoulder and told me he was sorry. I just held him close and told him that I was never mad at him. I could never bead at him for how he felt about everything. It was unfair to him to be treated that badly, unfair that he had no say in being a host and I told him that he was so strong and had such a kind heart and people would eventually see that. I mean, they had to right? He was going to be the future Hokage.

When he left for those years with Jiryia, it was hard. It was like half of me was missing and I felt kind of lost without him. While he was out training, I had passed the Chunin and the Jonin exams. I was so proud of myself, but it would've felt even better if my twin was with me.

When he came home, I wasn't there to greet him. I was on business with the Kazekage. Gaara became a close friend, he accepted my friendship because he felt like he could trust me. He became like a little brother. And then everything happened with the Akatsuki and I ended up losing an arm trying to save a few children from a clay bomb. I laid in one of the beds while everyone was trying to get Gaara back and I felt like I failed. I was a fucking Jonin for kage sake and I couldn't protect or retrieve Gaara. It hit me hard.

When Temari, Sakura, Kakashi and Naruto arrived, they went straight to Kankauro. That poor boy was in such pain from the poison, it hurt my heart when I heard him scream from the extraction. I was so focused on not paying attention I hadn't realized Naruto had made his way over to me and held my left hand. Once I felt his hand touch mine, my eyes flew open and he had tears in his eyes.

"I'm so sorry, (y/n)! I should've been here to protect you! I failed and I'm so sorry you got hurt." He his head dropped to the side of the bed and cried.

"Hey, hey it's okay Naruto. This shit happens you know that. And it is not your fault, okay? You had to go and train. This was just a mission that turned wrong. But you're here now! And I just know you're going to go after Gaara and bring him home. And I'll be rooting for your success.. believe it!" I smiled, small tear trails staining my own cheeks. He looked at me and gave a small smile.

After everything that happened at the sand and Gaara's return home, no longer a host for the one tail, things seemed to go somewhat better. I got a fake arm that works well with my chakra and I had been training non stop with all my friends. But I mostly spent time with one particular ninja the most. A cute, lazy Pineapple haired Nara. You see, Shikamaru and I had been close and dating for about a year at this point. We never particularly told anyone, but people seemed to know. Well, all except Naruto. He was so oblivious to it all, he didn't realize how close Shika and I were until Pein attacked the Hidden Leaf. So, that's where I'll begin this little tale.

~~~~~~~

"Shit shit shit!" I was running around trying to get civilians to safety, grabbing children and pushing other civilians towards the Hokage head mountain. A building was starting to crumble and fire and explosions were coming from everywhere it seemed. Once I felt like I got everyone I could I ran back to where the main event was happening. Thankfully Naruto wasn't here, I wouldn't even begin to imagine what they would do if they had captured him. I mean, they killed Gaara, but Lady Chio had that special secret jutsu that she took to the grave. I couldn't bear to lose my brother.

To fight was lasting so long, there was no way to tell when it would all be over. I was separated from Choji, Ino and Shikamaru when everything began. The three started fighting while I helped get the civilians to safety, but I knew they had to be around here. Alive. They just had to be. Things were seemingly going fine until I heard a small child scream. I snapped my head to the sound so fast I swore I got whiplash. A small girl was cowering against a wooden wall, the enemy heading toward her. I ran as fast as I could and snatched the girl away. I tossed her to the side gently and told her to run. She just looked at me, her big brown eyes filled with tears and a worried look on her face. "It's okay, you go to the mountains and find your family. Okay? Go!" She nodded and took off. I fought off the enemy for as long as I could. My chakra was running extremely low, so low that I wasn't able to dodge the wooden spear that came hurtling towards me. It went straight through my chest, pinning against the wooden wall behind me. I coughed up blood and my vision started to go a bit fuzzy.

"Your time is now over. You were a decent Shinoni, but you were still weak." The enemy spat out. I didn't say anything as I clutched the wooden spear that pinned me to the wall, trying to take in air. It felt like I was drowning, I could feel my lungs filling with blood and tears start to run down my face. I would never see my friends again, see my brothers happy go lucky smile while down bowl after bowl of ramen. I would never be able to Shika that I loved him. Everything was fading to black, my head dropped and my arms went limp by my side.

I woke up in a dark place, no longer in pain. I was dead. "Hello little one." A voice spoke and I looked around to see a small light. I ran towards it, hoping maybe I'd wake up for real and I was alive and well. That this was just a sick dream or a gentusu. But what I saw when I reached the light was unbelievable. I saw the fourth Hokage with a woman with red hair.

"Welcome, (y/n)." The woman came over to me and gave me a hug. "I'm your mom." She whispered in my ear and turned to the man. "And that's your dad." To say I was crying was an understatement. There was a river flow of salty tears streaming down my face as I hugged them both.

NARUTO'S POV

I ran back towards the village at full speed, I just had to get back. I had to protect my friends and mentors. I had to protect (y/n). I saw the massive crater when I returned to what was supposed to be my village. Injured and dead ninja and civilians alike were being gathered in a clearing. I ran ahead, I had to find them, I had to find everyone. I spotted Sakura first and ran towards her, "Sakura!" She turned her head, tears running down her face and I stopped in front of her. "Where is everyone?" She pointed to our group of friends, everyone is there except for Kakashi-Sensei and my sister. "S-Sakura? Where… where is Kakashi and (y/n)?" She sobbed louder which caused all of our friends to look over. I walked towards them and the moment I spotted Shikamaru on the ground holding someone, sobbing, I froze. I knelt down and looked over him. He was holding my sister, cradling her head in his lap. Her body was paler than normal against the red stain on her shirt. I didn't move, I didn't cry, I just stared, not convinced that she was actually gone. After a few moments I got up and made my way towards the true enemy.

"N-Naruto? Where are you going?" Sakura asked me, her voice meek and breaking.

"To end this."

SHIKAMARU'S POV

The enemy had retreated for a bit, allowing us to gather our injured and deceased. I was frantically looking for (y/n) I had to make sure she was okay. "(Y/n)!!" I heard Ino yell from behind me. I ran towards her voice as fast as I could. Once I reached her, my blood ran cold. There she was, the one that I truly cared about and loved, pinned against a wall, spear straight through the chest. I tentatively reached out and touched her and my instantly moved back as I felt her cold, stiff, lifeless body. I stood frozen. The rationalist inside me was gone and I then pulled the spear from her form and caught her in my arms and she limply fell. The cry that ripped from my throat was inhuman, angry and broken. I fell to the ground holding her close to my chest. "W-wake up, please!" I cried even harder knowing it was useless. She was already gone. Passed onto the afterlife while I was here to deal with the heartbreak. The pain. I knew this love thing was a drag, but I endured it for her. She made my days brighter, the sun burn hotter, she made everyday so much better.

"Sh-Shika? W-we should get her to the others." Ino whispered, scared her own voice would break, as she gently put a hand on my shoulder. All I could manage was a small nod and tried to suppress my cries. I carried her to where everyone was putting the deceased and all our friends stood there with wide eyes and I carried their closest friend in my arms. Everyone was shocked, too stunned to say anything as I put (y/n) on the ground. But I still cradle her head in my lap, I couldn't let her go just yet. The tears still slipping down my cheeks were enough for everyone to know this was real. When Naruto showed up I sobbed, he was just in shock as the rest of us. When he left to go confront the real Pein, none of us stopped him. If anyone could end this. He could.

YOUR POV

Talking to my parents had been the most calming time of my life. Well, afterlife. They told me stories about what it was like before they died, how Kakashi was like another son to him. How they never wanted Naruto to host the nine tails. I told them how life was growing up, how I was dating Shikamaru and my dad gave me a whole lecture on safe sex, even though I was dead and I wouldn't have to worry about any of that. Well, until I started to glow. "Looks like you still have a full life to live my sweet." My mother smiled and I looked at them with a smile and tears in my eyes.

"I love you both." I said as I faded back into the darkness. This time though, when I opened my eyes I saw a face I never thought I'd be able to see again. "Shika?" His eyes snapped open and he stared down at me, his eyes wide and mouth open. He stared at me for a moment, not believing what he was seeing. His dead girlfriend, breathing. Alive.he held me so close to his chest and sobbed even louder. Ino and Choji were all giving him sad looks until they saw my arms wrap around his neck and held him closer.

"OH SHIT!" Choji yelled as the other dead bodies were coming back from death. I sat up slowly and grabbed Shikamaru's face and kissed him. I kissed him like it would be the last time I ever would.

"I… I thought I lost you for good this time." He spoke softly.

"I will always come back for you." I smiled at him, tear glazed eyes staring into his own. "Always." We kissed again, pulling each other close. We stayed like that for a moment until we heard a certain obnoxious blonde yelling at us.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK YOUR DOING?! SHIKAMARU THAT'S MY SISTER! WHEN THE HELL DID THIS HAPPEN?!" Causing everyone to let out a laugh. Resting his forehead on mine Shikamaru spoke quietly. "I love you."

"I love you too, Shika. I love you too."

#shikamaru nara x reader #naruto #choji akimichi #sakura #ino #fluff fluff fluff #death #sad

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tilltheendwilliwrite · 3 years

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Star-Crossed: Bound by Blood

Chapter One

Master List

Pairing: Mando/Din Djarin x OFC Baast’Mal

Warnings: I'm making this up as a go, Canon divergent from the series during chapter 13, mild violence

A/N: I make this stuff up as I go along, if I screw something Star Wars-y up, apologies in advance, I didn't do it on purpose, but I'm new to this Fandom. I will be cross posting this story between AO3 and Tumblr except the smutty bits. Those chapters will only be available to registered users on AO3. (I'm trying something new for people who want to read here on Tumblr, but to also avoid the smut for minors controversy. We'll see how it goes.)

*I do not have a tag list* Please follow the story on AO3 if you want email updates, or follow @tilltheendwilliwrite-library where I post the new/latest chapters of all my stories.

***

In the sweltering heat of the jungle, Din Djarin crouched to better scan for tracks in the rotting foliage at the base of the tall trees. Pools of light made it difficult to adjust correctly for the shadowy depths; add in the thermal activity of the plants and animals in this stinking sewer of a planet, and he was having a hard time tracking his quarry.

When he'd accepted the puck, he hadn't known what he was getting into as her chain code was surprisingly sparse. The only additional information he had was her name - Taa Marel - her last known location and face.

And what a face. Even on a holo, she was stunning, not that the Mandalorian would let that sway him one way or the other.

He'd tracked the stolen ship from Bogano, where she'd initially been hiding out to this skug hole of a world that was made to torment men in beskar, causing them to swelter in their helmet.

The kid, however, loved the place.

Constantly cooing, riding in his pouch, he touched everything he could get his chubby green fingers on. Leaves, flowers, bugs; those, of course, went straight in his mouth. By this point, Mando accepted the womp rat could and would eat just about anything.

Upon arrival, they'd found the ship nose down, destroyed, and abandoned, but the crash landing had created just enough space for Mando to set the Razor Crest down. Then the hunt began.

After three hours of slogging through the heat, he was ready to kill her. After four, he decided death was too good for someone who made him sweat this hard. After five, he was determined to make her suffer. But they were closing in. He could feel it like an ache in his bones.

Tracks led forward, but something didn't sit right with that. They were too obvious. After hours of following such a well-covered trail, this was an insult to his skills. Footprints led straight down a game trail like a beacon meant to lure him astray.

It wasn't right, too easy by far, and the skin on his nape crawled.

He looked up, straight into the eyes of the woman he was hunting. Even through the distorted colour of heat vision, he could see they were a vibrant green.

He moved on instinct, whipcord shooting out, wrapping around her shoulders, and dragging her out of the tree.

She screamed the battle cry of a hunting cat, an inhuman sound before she twisted mid-air and landed lightly, crouched but on her feet.

"Taa Marel, I can bring you in warm, or I can bring you in cold," he warned her, hand hovering over his blaster.

"That is not my name. And I choose option three."

Her voice kicked him in the groin and made his dick twitch. Stunned, he could only watch as her hands came up and nails like talons shredded his whipcord.

Someone had left a few things out of her chain code.

"Put the child down."

Mando blinked. "Why would I do that?"

What did she want with his foundling? Had she heard about him? Would she attempt to take him?

"I intend to kick your ass, Mandalorian, but I do not hurt children. Put him down."

Surprised, Mando reached for the strap across his chest instead of his blaster. "You're not going to run?"

She lifted a proud chin. "You will continue to hunt me. I would rather die than return to that hell hole, but I will not go easy. I will fight."

She was beginning to impress him with more than just her face.

Din lifted the strap over his head, his eyes fixed on the target, studying her outside of the holo he'd memorized.

She stood with her chin raised, body slightly turned in a stance that bespoke proper training. If one could call it that, her green tunic had no sleeves, crossed over her breasts, tied just beneath them, and ended a few inches thereafter, baring the wealth of sun-darkened skin over tightly packed muscles. Pants hugged slim hips, billowed at her thighs, and tied tight to her calves thanks to the soft, short boots that went to her knee.

Sweat gave her a sheen that made her glow, her vibrant eyes shadowed behind thick, long lashes. Her face was a treasure trove of sculpted brows, sharp nose, and high cheekbones over lips that looked like ripe fruit, begging for teeth.

A mass of hair, the colour of sand, fell in heavy waves to her hips. It began to darken toward the tips until it was as black as the deepest corner of space.

As he moved the kid, she untied a thin cord from her wrist and slowly began to bind her hair in a low tail.

He'd never met a woman like her, a bounty like her, ever. This one - fugitive or not - had honour in her.

The kid cooed and waved. Her lips twitched into a smile as she winked and waved back.

"Fear not, Mandalorian. Should I kill you today, I will raise your foundling as my own."

Din's blood ran cold. "You won't get the chance."

He hung the child's satchel on a low tree knot and drew the beskar spear from his back in the same motion. Though he'd won the spear from magistrate Morgan Elsbeth on Corvus and helped the Jedi Ahsoka Tano defeat her forces, the Jedi held no answers when it came to the kid. Though, Din wondered if that had more to do with him than the little green monster. She'd told him to seek another Jedi, someone with more training than she, but had given him no direction in which to search.

"He is rather cute," she smirked. "But his kind age so slowly. You will be long dead before he is grown."

Mando paused. "You know of his kind?"

She arched a brow. "You do not?"

He lowered the spear and held up his off-hand. "I am tasked with returning him to his people."

Her posture never changed, but her eyes filled with sorrow. "He has no more people. The last of his kind, or what was thought to be the last, died some years ago. Master Yoda was his name."

"I'm to help him find the Jedi," Mando murmured.

Her eyes lost their sadness. "I cannot help you."

"Will not."

"They are one and the same," she whispered.

Lightning fast, she rushed him. Mando barely blocked the first swipe of her claws before the second clanged off his pauldron. He used the spear's shaft to knock her back, even as she kicked him in the ribs, bypassing the beskar.

"Do you know the life you condemn me to, Mandalorian, if you return me to that horrible place?" she asked, crouched once again, a few feet away.

"You're a bounty. I don't make deals," he stated, watching his quarry while keeping his body between her and the kid. His ribs smarted, but he'd had worse.

"No. You just work for the people who Purged your planet!" she spat, leaping and clawing.

She was fast, damn fast. Barely able to keep up, it was all Mando could do not to lose ground until he saw an opening and swept the butt of the spear at her leg.

She jumped back, breath coming hard.

"I didn't ask who the bounty was for." Greef Karga offered him the chance for a big payday, and right now, they could use it.

"You work for the Empire," she sneered. "Returning me to torture and experimentation. Do you think I was always like this!?" She stood and held out her arms, flexing fingers tipped in dark claws. She bared her teeth, revealing wicked-looking canines, then lifted a portion of hair to reveal a sharply pointed ear.

Again he paused, a thing unheard of, to ask, "What are you?" Her chain code said human, but she was certainly not that.

Her proud chin lifted in defiance. "Do you know what a Zentari is, Mandalorian?"

Din inhaled sharply. "That's not possible. They were wiped out."

"All but one. I am Baast'mal, last of the Zentari. The Empire took me as a child and used my gift to ruin me. They bound my blood to the Corellian Sand Panther and Manka Cat. They have so thoroughly defiled my biorhythms that if the constellations were kind enough to cross my path with that of my mate, I do not know if I could bond with him." Pain flickered across her features. "I am sullied, broken. I am a monster," she whispered before shaking herself free of the melancholia and raising that proud chin once more. "So kill me if you can, Mandalorian, for I will not go willingly."

The beskar spear fell from his fingers as Din dropped to a knee and bowed his head. "I am a Child of the Watch. I must offer aid, Zentari. This is the Way."

"The Way?" She took a step back. "The Mandalorians no longer follow the Old Ways. They no longer conceal their face from all but their riduur and ad. The creed is long dead."

He shook his head. "My Tribe is one of zealots. We hold to the old ways of Mandalore. I only recently learned of this as I was raised with them in hiding. The Purge took much, but the ways of the Zentari are remembered in the covert."

She hesitated, eyes wary. "I have faced Mandalorians before. They knew not the Way."

Din stripped his gloves from his hands and held them out, palms up as if catching water. He raised them above his head and brought them down over his helmet, appearing to another as if he washed with air. "Zentari of the Bright Star, may the constellations bless this warrior with a treasure greater than beskar that they would be mine. Cyar'ika. Ka'rta. Riduur."

She inhaled sharply. He watched her fight tears, lip trembling before she closed the distance between them and knelt. She dipped her fingers into his cupped palms as if they held water, brought them to her brow and stroked them down over her eyes and out along her cheeks.

Her hands shook as she lifted them toward his helmet and laid her palms lightly on the sides of the beskar.

His hands gently grasped her wrists, her skin warm and soft beneath his fingers. She wouldn't remove it, that he was sure of, but it was an instinct he couldn't deny when someone touched his helmet.

Her voice was whisper soft when she spoke. "Mandalorian, Holder of the Creed, blessed of the constellations. May you raise warriors strong in the Way and find your riduur. Your cyar'ika. Your ka'rta."

"This is the Way," he murmured, shaken by the encounter.

"This is the Way," she agreed as she drew him forward until his helmet lightly kissed her brow.

The shudder that raced through her raced through him with equal intensity. The Zentari race was a myth, a legend, a beautiful dream. They were so lost to time Din felt like his heart would burst with joy.

"Have you ever removed your helmet, Mando?" she asked softly.

The shortened form of address made his heart skip. "Not before any living thing." The Droid on Nevarro didn't count, and no matter what Bo'Katan said, the creed was his way. He would never show his face to any besides his wife or children.

Let Koska scoff as she liked at his traditions. She had not found a Zentari. She likely wouldn't know what to do with the Zentari if she did.

Din rocked back on his toes and pushed to his feet, surprised when she followed him with equal grace. "Zentari, we should return to my ship. The Alor will want to meet you. The covert will rejoice."

"Baast."

He froze as her hands landed lightly on his beskar covered chest. "What?"

"To you, I am Baast." She stared into his visor as if able to see his eyes.

"Baast," he murmured, wishing he could speak her name without the modulator.

"Yes, Din Djarin," she smiled.

He still held her wrists, and his hands became her shackles. "How do you know that name?" he demanded.

Long lashes swept her cheeks, a coy smile curling her lips. "Grogu told me."

His grip tightened more. "Who is Grogu?"

She tilted her head to look past him at the kid cooing at them. "He is Grogu."

"You can understand him?" Din asked, his shock registering even through the modulator.

"Not in words, but he speaks to those who can listen. Images. Impressions. The Force is strong in him," she smiled at Grogu. "He loves you."

"He's okay." Mando was grateful for the helmet that hid his foolish grin.

"You fool no one," Baast chuckled. She gently twisted her wrists, reminding him of her bondage.

He let her go and stepped back to pick up the spear.

"You are a man blessed of beskar," she murmured. "You must be a great hunter."

"Something like that," he murmured. It still shamed him how he'd acquired his armour, but if he hadn't turned in the kid - Grogu - he wouldn't have been as well-equipped to get him back and keep him safe as they ran from the Empire.

Baast headed for Grogu, her smile growing as she lifted down his carrier and situated the baby against her chest. Grogu giggled and babbled something Mando didn't understand.

"Oh, I see," Baast chuckled, casting a side-eye his direction.

"What?" Mando muttered.

"Clan of the Mudhorn. A clan of two." She flicked her claws over his sigil. "I wondered. Grogu explained."

Mando glared at the kid- Grogu. "Don't tell her all my secrets."

Grogu cooed. Baast cuddled him and smiled slyly. By that look, he was pretty sure it was too late for his secrets.

He turned to go, heading back the way he'd come. It would take hours to return to the Razor Crest, and it was already getting dark.

***

They didn't make it back to the ship before nightfall, but he found a hollow tree in which to spend the dark hours. Creeper vines had choked the life out of the behemoth, leaving them in a cage of vines and dry, dead bark with a wealth of firewood to choose from.

The fire burned brightly, drafting well, casting shadows across Baast's face and keeping the larger predators at bay. She slept curled around Grogu, lips gently parted. The air had finally cooled at sundown, but now he could see the shivers and goosebumps developing on her flesh.

Slowly, he leaned forward to remove the cape from his back. Then, just as quietly, he rose, rounded the fire, and draped it over her and Grogu. She stirred but didn't wake, and Din returned to his watch on the far side of the fire.

A Zentari. He could scarce believe it.

She was a myth made flesh—a beautiful dream. Once, when Mandalore still followed the old ways, Zentarus was where many warriors sought their mates, their most cherished riduur.

A Zentari was always fast and strong and incredibly rare. They grew quickly but aged slowly, their years stretching out into eternity, some said. Fine in face and form, when they met their match, they bonded, taking on traits of the other and giving a few as well.

A Mandalorian could live a very long time with a Zentari mate.

But most Mandalorians came home empty-handed as a bond with a Zentari could not be forced, but those who the stars smiled upon, those most blessed with a cherished mate, bonded in ways that grew legends. It was said their children were the most incredible of warriors.

Baast'mal was everything he imagined when told stories of Zentari as a child new to the Tribe. It didn't hurt that she was the most mesh'la female he'd ever seen. Fast. Strong. Deadly. He wondered at what the Empire had done to her, how they could force the blood bonds on Sand Panthers and Manka cats, and just what other mutations they'd caused.

He also wondered at her Force sensitivity. What she felt or even what she could do had not been discussed, but Mando knew there was more to her than he had yet discovered.

But it was the ache in him, the growing need to once again touch her skin that concerned him.

It was primal. Feral. It clawed at him. It had him itching to be closer - much closer - to her. He wanted to show her his face and hope she found him as pleasing as he did her.

Din had nothing to go by in comparison. He'd seen his reflection before, of course, but he had no way of knowing if a woman would think him handsome. He'd had encounters before, ones in which everyone walked away satisfied, some paid for, others freely offered, but the helmet and the beskar never came off.

With her, he wanted to be bare, stripped off all trappings. Din wanted to feel his naked skin against hers. He wanted to taste it.

"You are a very loud thinker," she mumbled, bright eyes glowing softly beyond the fire.

Mortification filled him. "I'm sorry, I-"

"I do not know your thoughts, Mando," she clarified, "just feel a gentle buzzing from the beskar. It restricts what I pick up from you."

Relief almost had him sagging. Baast closed her eyes, but he was loath to let the conversation end.

"How old are you?" She looked young, maybe twenty-five.

Her brow twitched, amusement in her smile. "It is rude to ask."

"I wondered how long the Empire had you," he explained.

Shadows darkened her eyes. "Forty years."

"But they've only been around for thirty," he frowned.

She gave a hollow laugh and sat up. "They have been around much, much longer. I remember the day they came for us. They slaughtered all who fought, men and women. Every child they could catch was rounded up and taken away." She looked away, down at dark claws. "I was the only Zentari to survive the experiments."

"I'm sorry." He was. "I know what it's like to lose everything."

She tilted her head. "You were a foundling."

It wasn't a question, and Din didn't answer her.

"They began experimenting with my blood almost immediately. I was ten when they bound traits of the Manka to me. I was fifteen when they brought in the Panther."

"How? Why?"

Her eyes burned into his. "Because they could." She flexed her fingers. "Because they are depraved. Because they are monsters, who turn others into abominations."

"You're not."

She looked at him in surprise.

Din shifted until he stood and made his way around to her side, where he offered his hand. Baast took it and joined him in the shadows as he led her a few steps away from Grogu. He stripped his gloves from his hands, the need to touch her no longer under his control.

Slowly, he reached up to caress her cheek. He pushed her hair back, revealing the pointed tip of her ear. Her eyes gleamed from behind heavy lids when he stroked his fingers down her tricep and finally cupped her elbow.

He closed his opposite hand around her nape; his thumb pressed to her spiking pulse. "You are no monster."

"My blood is sullied."

"Perhaps. But you remain unbroken," he murmured. "You lived. You escaped. Mesh'la, you are a beacon of shining hope to my Tribe. If there is one Zentari, perhaps there are others."

She closed her eyes. "There is not."

"How do you know?"

A tear trickled down her cheek. "I felt the last die three years ago. It was what gave me the strength to escape."

"Mishuk gotal'u meshuroke, pako kyore," he murmured, rubbing his thumb on her pulse.

"Pressure makes gems; ease makes decay?" A small smile twitched her lips. "Am I a gem, Mando?"

"No."

She arched an amused brow.

"You are something more precious than any gem," he murmured.

Colour dusted her cheeks. "A Mandalorian who has a way with words? I truly have seen it all," she teased.

He sighed and made sure it echoed through the modulator. "Get some rest." He attempted to move away, but she grabbed him by the belt.

"Stay."

"Baast?"

"Stay." She took his hand, led him closer to Grogu, encouraged him to sit against a fallen chunk of tree, and then curled up beside him, tucking herself under his arm.

"The beskar is too hard," he worried.

"No harder than a prison cell, and you are much warmer. I have not known the comfort of another since I was seven," she admitted.

He sighed again but gave in, curling his arm around her.

"Thank you for your cape."

"Hm."

Her chuckle was more of a low purr. When it rippled through him, Din swore he felt something inside him purr back.

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#Star-Crossed #mandalorian #Mandalorian fanfiction

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