#they can only walk when blood flows to their legs and stiffens them up
Lads I’m sleeping on the sofa tonight. There’s the biggest spider I’ve ever seen right above my bed, I know I’m being a baby but just look at it
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23 + Ray
Another prompt that broke my heart. This fic is a “what if” I’ve always wondered about: what if you actually used the key card Rika gives you, as soon as she gives it to you? What if you went looking for him? What if, against all odds, you found him?
say you need me
Ray X Reader, T, Words: 1996
The plastic key card clutched in one trembling hand, you open the door for the very first time.
There is no one in the hall. You’re not sure what you expected—a battalion of cloaked guards, perhaps, or at the very least an alarm that would blare the second you set foot outside.
But there is no such thing. You shake your head, letting the door fall shut behind you. You’ve given yourself delusions of grandeur, you think, since coming to this place. No one is paying attention—you are not the center of anything.
You walk cautiously down the long hallway. Though the mysterious, beautiful woman (soft voice, frightening eyes) said that you had access to the rest of the building, she didn’t tell you how to actually get anywhere. It’s late—too late, even, for the people here (who seem to keep strange, almost inhuman hours) to be pacing the halls. You’ve spent days listening to the sound of footsteps—you know when there are people around. At this time, the halls are silent.
You turn a corner. This hall is the same as the last: ornate and dimly lit, lined with unmarked doors. You’d be curious, under normal circumstances—but tonight, you won’t be swayed. There is only one place you want to go—just one person you want to see.
But that place is forbidden to you—and, perhaps more importantly, you’ve no idea how to find him.
You pull out your phone, fingers dancing nervously over the screen. You are afraid to call—scared that if you speak out loud, one of the heavy-footed, hooded figures will appear from around a corner and lead you back to your room with its pretty light and rounded edges.
You reach the end of the hall and are faced with flights of stairs going both up and down. You realize—with some frustration—that you don’t even know what floor you’re on now.
Finding him could take all night. And even though you are technically allowed out of your room now, you are certain that someone will find you and deposit you back where you belong before the sun rises.
You call him.
The phone rings and rings and your knees tremble. Most of the time he picks up right away—but his voice, when he called you last, was so weak. Your heart races. Please, you think—a prayer, a supplication. Please.
Ah: and you can breathe again. He sounds as though you’ve woken him from a deep sleep, but you know better.
“Ray,” you whisper—cupping a hand around your mouth to muffle the sound. “Where are you?”
“Where am…I?” He sounds like he doesn’t know whether he is dreaming or awake. His words are a little bit slurred, and you think warily of the medicine he told you he’d been given. If only you could…
“I’m coming to find you,” you say—and he inhales sharply, as if he’s been slapped. “Don’t say no. Just tell me where you are.”
“You can’t…you shouldn’t…” He’s barely even here, you think. And you’ve been so calm for the last few days—so brave, so strong. But now, all of a sudden, you feel afraid.
“I have an ID card now,” you tell him. “I’m allowed. So tell me…”
“You can’t come here!” There is a scrambling noise in the background: he is standing up, you think. You hear the whirring and buzzing of computers. “This place is…someone like you shouldn’t…”
“Fine,” you say. You can’t argue with him—not when he sounds like he’s hardly holding on. But you are stubborn; now that you’re here, you’re not turning back. “Tell me what floor you’re on and come out in the hall.”
“I’m not supposed to…” He trails off, sounding dizzy.
“Do you want to see me, Ray?”
Another sharp intake of breath. His heart, you think, is made of paper—you have to touch lightly or it will tear.
“I want to see you,” he whispers, his voice hoarse. “I want to see you so much.”
“What floor?” you ask again. You try to keep your voice steady, but your muscles are tensed as if readying themselves for flight.
He pauses. You listen to his ragged breathing. You tap your foot anxiously on the cold stone floor.
“…five,” he says.
“And what floor am I on?” you demand, already half-running to the staircase at the end of the hall. You’ve got to catch him, you think, before he changes his mind.
“Two,” he murmurs, as if against his will.
“Come out in the hall,” you hiss, hanging up and taking the stairs two at a time. You have the horrible, nagging sense that time is running out—that you’ve created a liminal, magical moment in which you will be able to access him, and if you wait too long it will have closed for good.
Your legs burn and your heart stutters as you run up the stairs. Five days sitting perfectly still has not been good for you—but you are here now, and your muscles will work (because you need them to).
You count the flights as you run—one, two, three—and then veer sharply off the stairs, nearly running face-first into a wooden door. Of course, you think—this whole floor must be locked.
You are breathing so hard you can’t see straight. With very little expectation of success, you wave the key card over the sensor beside the door.
To your immense surprise, it unlocks for you with a soft, satisfying click.
Without stopping to think, you tug it open and take off again—ignoring your aching muscles, your racing heart.
This hall, too, is empty. You scan the shadows as you run, gasping, balling your sweaty hands into fists. Empty, empty, empty…
You turn a corner, and he is there.
He stands at the end of another long, gloomy hallway, his face in shadow, his hand on the doorknob behind him as though ready to retreat. He sees you, and his eyes go wide.
You say his name.
Forgetting restraint or caution or fear, you run to him. You don’t mind that your hair is stuck to your neck with sweat or that you’re gasping for air. He looks small and fragile, like even a gentle breeze would whisk him away.
He waits for you.
“Thank you,” you pant as you reach him, your vision swimming as you try to catch your breath. “For letting me—”
His voice is rough and firm, like you’ve never heard it before. Caught off guard, you freeze as he tugs open the door behind him with more force than seems possible for someone who looks like he’d break if held him too tight.
His light eyes flash and you follow him. You can’t see anything in the little room—no screens, no whirring computers. So this isn’t his office, but…
He shuts the door behind him and it is pitch black: dead silent.
“Ray?” you whisper, feeling shaky. “Where…?”
“Closet,” he mutters. He is breathing heavily now too, as if he is succumbing to unimaginable exhaustion.
It’s so dark that you can’t even see his face, but you can smell roses and rain and you can practically hear his racing heart.
“Oh,” you say. He is trying to protect you, you think—trying to keep you hidden. Because in spite of everything he has said, he knows that you are in danger here; because in spite of his devotion and fixation and misled adoration, he doesn’t trust anyone after all. “Are we safe here?”
“I don’t know,” he says. His voice breaks. “Not for very long. You shouldn’t have come here. Not for me.”
“You scared me,” you tell him. “When we talked earlier, you sounded…”
You lift a hand, reaching for him in the darkness. You feel soft, thick fabric: the sleeve of his coat. He flinches at your touch, but he doesn’t pull away.
“You don’t need to worry,” he whispers, “about someone like me.”
He coughs, and you feel the way his body shakes, as if caving in on itself. You inch your fingers up his arm: find his shoulder, hold it till his coughing subsides.
“This medicine you took…” you say (testing the waters)—but he cuts you off.
“I have to take it,” he says, “so I can be stronger. If I don’t, there’s no use for me.”
With a fumbling hand, you find his other shoulder. You have him between your hands now, and he seems so unbearably brittle. You draw nearer, wanting to see him—and his breath on your cheek makes you realize just how close you already are.
“Oh,” he says. He feels it too, you’re certain—he shudders, and for a single, wild moment, you want to press your lips to his searing skin.
“That’s not true,” you whisper, your head swimming. Closer, closer—the scent of him floods your senses. You want to float away on the ocean you can imagine in his eyes. “Don’t say things like that.”
He stiffens, and for a moment you think you have upset him—but then you hear it too: footsteps in the hall. You freeze, trying to silence your breath. Ray is still as stone.
The footsteps recede. He shivers.
“You have to go back downstairs,” he says—there is terror in his voice, and it shakes you to the core. “You can’t be caught up here. Please, please…”
No, you want to yell. No. Let me stay with you instead.
But you don’t like to think what would happen to him if you were discovered here: practically pressed up against each other in this dark, musty closet.
“I’ll go,” you say. Your eyes are adjusting, and you can almost make out his face. His eyes are cloudy and too bright, the way they get right after he takes the medicine that makes his head spin and his words slur.
“I have to,” he repeats weakly. “Or else no one will have any use for me at all.”
“Ray,” you say. He tenses again—more footsteps. You can feel the blood flowing through your veins.
“Go,” he whimpers. “Please, please go.”
“Ray,” you repeat. You cup his feverish face in both hands and his skin practically burns you. “You’re wrong.”
“I need you, Ray.”
He goes still. The hall is silent. And you don’t know what you’re thinking, but you lean in—and you mean to press your lips to his cheek but it’s dark and you’re shaking and you kiss the skin beside his eye instead. He makes a sort of strangled sound and you pull away before he can see the longing in your eyes.
You go to the door and pull it open; light streams in. And you are about to take off down the hall, when—a hand on your elbow.
“You do?” he asks. And you haven’t been outside in days, but you look at him and feel as if you’re seeing the sky.
“I do,” you say. “More than you know.”
And then his hand falls from your arm and there are the footsteps again: heavy and solid, their owner just out of sight.
“You—” he whispers.
“I know,” you say.
And you run.
You run, your muscles screaming and your heart aching. You run down the hall—down the stairs—away, away, away.
Every cell in your body protests. You have a horrible feeling about retreating—a dark foreboding about leaving him alone.
Ah, but the look in his eyes when he caught your sleeve: clear water and ocean air. Light and round and painfully alive.
Almost—not quite, just barely—like being free.
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You know that I'm soft for Ezra, like always. Sooo I was thinking I could request him! Maybe something with the prompt "Yell at me again, and I'll give you a real reason to scream" Take that however you want. I love you, sweet girl, it's always fun to see my bestie create
A/N: Anything for you my love.
Pairing: Ezra x F! Reader
Warnings: 18 + Only for rough sex, language, mentions of pregnancy, and angst. But a happy ending, I promise.
“You promised! You fucking promised Ezra!” Angry tears stream down your cheeks, and you try your best to breathe through them. “This last job was going to be it, no more prospecting! We could start a family, have a life! But instead, you took another stint on the Green!”
He’s as angry as you are, his nostrils flaring, “I promise, Little Bird, we will be swimming in riches when I return! We are going after the Queen of all aurlec deposits! I’ve worked my whole life; I need to finish this!”
“You will never be satisfied,” you turn away from him, your voice hollow, “I will never be enough.”
“Birdie, listen to me! I’m doing this for us,” he follows close behind, “why can’t you see that.”
You slap your hands on the kitchen counter and turn with a glare, “this is not about us! This is about you! Chasing some stupid fable, there is no Queen’s nest, or someone would have found it by now. Why can’t you see?! I just want you to be home, stay with me, please.”
You step towards him, putting both hands on his cheeks and keeping his eyes on you. He sighs and closes his eyes, hands coming to wrap around your wrists. “Birdie, I’m going to the Green.”
When he opens them, his eyes harden, watching you take a step back, hands retreating from his face. Your lip quivers, and you bite down, “then I can’t promise I’ll be here when you get back.”
He takes a step towards you, and you take a step back. Him advancing on you until your back hits the wall, he leans down close, his breath warm on your cheek, “so that’s it?” His nose grazes your cheek, “you’re going to tarnish our whole life together; leave me, a man without a Queen.”
“You’re making me do this,” you whisper, turning away from him. His lips are pressing softly to your cheek, and you bite down hard on your lip to prevent the whimper. “You left me first.”
“But I’m coming back, coming home to you,” he groans, pressing his lips to your neck. His hand pressing into the wall as he leans in closer, “you’re leaving me and not coming back. Or did I misunderstand that, Birdie?”
You push on his chest and step away from him, “fuck you, you will not make me feel bad when YOU are the one leaving.” He tries to retake a step towards you, but you hold out your hand, “No! I will not let you convince me otherwise! I’m leaving you, Ezra; I’ve had enough!”
He growls, “yell at me again, Birdie, and I’ll give you a real reason to scream.”
“Oh yeah?” You take a step towards him, pressing a finger to his chest, “what are you going to do?”
“This,” he closes the space between you, slanting his mouth over yours. It’s not a gentle kiss between lovers but a kiss out of passion and anger, a mesh of tongues and teeth. You gasp when he slams your back against the wall, and he rucks up your dress; you moan low when he dips his fingers down your panties to find you soaked. “I always knew you had a thing for quarreling Birdie; let me make you feel good.”
All you can do is nod, allowing Ezra to take the lead and give your pleasure. His fingers are skilled as he circles your clit, his tongue dipping between your lips to taste you with a quiet groan. You’ve always been a quiet lover, Ezra making enough noise for the both of you. “Cum for me, Birdie, sing for me,” he mumbles, biting down on your shoulder hard enough to leave a mark.
You tighten around his fingers that he dips into your cunt and let out a gasp. He keeps your right leg wrapped around his waist, the left on the floor for balance, and he quickly shifts down to unbutton his pants. His mouth fused to your own as he swallows your sighs of pleasure. When he notches his cock at your entrance, you only have a moment before he’s snapping his hips inside you to the hilt.
It’s quick and dirty, nothing like the languid lovemaking he usually offers. No, this is an act of passion, desperation, and fear. You can almost feel his fear, drowning the two of you in the unknown of what’s to come. And when you flutter around him with a whimper, cumming on his cock, and him cumming deep inside you, the two of you are silent.
He stays there for a moment longer, your leg beginning to cramp from being held up for so long. “Ezra, I need-“ but he already knows. Slowly he lowers you back down to the floor, his hands on your hips, lips on your forehead. He presses them together, taking deep, shuddering breaths.
The tears fall down his face and sit on his cheeks like fresh spring rain. “What-“
“Please,” his voice cracks, “please don’t leave me. I need you, Birdie. I know I fractured your trust by accepting this job, but I mean it, after this one, I am done—no more prospecting. We will move onto one of those smaller moons and live by the sea in a house we own, raise a couple of cubs. Just please, please don’t leave me.”
“You are a fool, Ezra,” you whisper, his head rising, his eyes meeting yours, the question on his lips. “I may be upset with you, but I’d never leave you. I love you too damn much. Even when you piss me off.”
“You promise to be here when I get back?”
“I promise. Just make sure you come back.”
Ezra stands outside the door, his feet shifting nervously back and forth. It was excruciating on his body to walk up the fifteen flights of stairs to reach the door of his former home. But he didn’t have the guts to use the elevator; he needed time to think.
A million thoughts run through his head. He was supposed to be gone six months; it’d been two years. Did you wait? Or did you realize he’d befallen a terrible fate and moved on?” His heart pounds, and he feels like he’s going to vomit when he raises his left hand to the door.
He knocks three times and waits, and waits, and waits. The blood fills his ears, and his heart shatters; every moment on that god-forsaken moon, he’d dreamt of you, thought of you, and you were gone. Nothing more than a memory.
“Are you looking for the girl?” Ezra turns to the older man coming out of the lift.
“Yes,” he stutters, “do you know where she is?”
“She and that boy are off, something about going to the park,” he tosses his hands forward, “she’s always out with him somewhere.”
Ezra can’t breathe, so you did move on without him; he needs to see. “Which park?”
The sun is bright today, one of the few warm days that befell this planet. You’d always wanted to move somewhere like this every day, near the ocean. He was going to give you that, everything and more.
He’s not sure what he’s going to find in this park, but he continues to walk around. He passes lovers in a warm embrace, older men playing holo-chess, and children running in the distance, climbing onto one of the giant metal playgrounds.
That’s when he sees you, and he falls in love all over again.
You turn your head; your body stiffens as you search the sea of faces. Your skin hasn’t prickled like this since he left.
He’s dead now.
Two years in the Green with no communication, everyone told you, you were a fool for staying here. A fool. That’s what you’d called him that night when you promised him you’d stay and wait for him and a fool you were.
You drop your head and feel the burn of tears. The feeling of being watched burns, but you ignore it. You’re not alone anymore; you smile as your son toddles over to you, his hands grabby towards your legs. Fuck, he looked just like his daddy.
A distinctive nose, warm brown eyes, and hair with just a tussle of blonde in the front. You didn’t realize it was genetic as if you had any doubt who the baby’s father was. Three months after he’d gone, you found out you were pregnant, and you tried to get ahold of him. Even trying to buy passage on a ship to the Green moon yourself, but no one would take you, especially someone in your condition.
So you waited, like a fool.
“Hello, love,” you coo, reaching for him and tucking him close. The sweet scent of baby oil and lavender lotion clinging to his skin. “Do you wanna get going home? I’m going to make us some macaroni and cheese for dinner.”
“Mac, Mac, Mac,” he chants with a toothy grin.
“Let’s go home then,” you hoist him higher on your shoulder and lean down to grab the diaper bag, but another hand shoots out first. You slowly raise your eyes and almost drop the baby as you gasp. “Ezra?”
“Hello, Birdie,” he mumbles out the words, never breaking his eyes from yours.
“Burd, burd, burd,” your son repeats, and Ezra's eyes shift to him.
“Is this?” His throat catches, struggling for air, “Is this, my son?” He swallows down his sobs, the relief of finally having you so close and finding out the boy you’re always with is not another man but his son.
You let out a watery giggle, “you can’t tell.”
He laughs, his tears flowing freely down his cheeks, “oh Birdie, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t here for you.”
You take a step towards him, reaching a hand out for his cheek, “but you are here now, hell, you’ve always been here. Where have you been? I have so many questions.”
“And I will answer all of them, but first, please let me kiss you, Little Bird because I have dreamt of nothing but your lips for two years.” You smile, the salt of your tears in your mouth, as you sniffle.
You put down the baby and reach for him, “I’ve dreamt of you too, Ezra.” His lips finally touch yours, tears and sobs escape your chest as you hold one another for the first time in two years. “I love you,” you sigh, “so fucking much, Ezra, I never stopped. I kept my promise; I never left.”
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Naoya, you say?
warnings: very, very terrible & problematic behavior, oral, SMUT, unhealthy relationship, mentions of mind break, tw.dubcon, tw.abuse/violence, tw.implied misogyny, look, what i’m trying to say is: TW.NAOYA ZEN’IN
fetishes/kinks - he’s an impatient man. there’s little time for build up or foreplay and if you’ve made it this long & this far into the Zen’in compound, you know that.
he likes to summon you; enjoys the corded power that sits behind something as simple as a ringing a bell; looking up to see you framed in the fusuma's entry, your body stark under the flowing lines of your ashen yukata.
you should have taken more time with your hair, he thinks distastefully. it’s unkempt at the top, evidence of your rush to answer his wordless beckoning; but it will do, he supposes. after all, you’ll be mashed across the tatami soon, your body pinned over the stiff rushes as he splits that robe of yours open, his fingers eager to stroke, pinch, and mar.
he likes leaving the evidence of your couplings behind; he likes it better still when you bleed. once, his teeth nicked a scar into the supple flesh of your inner thigh and he wants to taste it again - to see if he can make it bigger.
there are rules once you step over the threshold, and your toes twitch within the confines of your uwabaki, waiting for him to speak. the only sounds you are permitted to make on his side of the compound are the ones he allows, so you nibble the inside of your mouth, hoping your face is impassive; watching from lowered lashes.
Naoya is an impatient man, but this part of the transaction he likes to savor. and why shouldn’t he? he paid good money for you. even though you’ve yet to whelp him any offspring. but what do you expect of a lowly concubine? someone from a family so weak in cursed techniques they barely fall under the Zen’in... no, his notice.
“Get in here, slut,” he breathes; smirking when you bow and your knees automatically hit the flooring. you’re so well trained it’s almost disgusting.
he spreads his legs, crooking a finger and you quickly slot yourself between them, icy hands maneuvering past the folds of his kimono. but when you lower your head to take his half hard cock into your mouth, he strikes you.
“Wrong,” he intones, snatching your stinging cheek between his thumb and forefinger, lifting your eyes to his. “Did’ja ask if you could suck me off? Did I tell ya’ it was ok for you to touch me? Don’t blink up at me; like yer’ some dumb cow. Speak, bitch.”
“I didn’t ask,” you grit, tongue broken and bleeding from the suddenness of his reprimand and the sharpness of your self-inflicted bite.
“And what did we learn?” he laughs, releasing your jaw so he can palm at his stiffening dick, working slick drops of pre-cum over the flushed head.
“May I?” you ask, gulping some of that bitter iron down your throat.
“May ya’ what?” Naoya sneers, free hand grabbing at your face again, forcing two fingers past your lips and over your teeth, mixing your saliva and blood between his digits.
“M-ugh mhya ‘uck oo off?” you grunt, resisting the urge to clamp your canines on his impertinent touch with a heavy gulp.
“What did I just say? Making me repeat myself... Speak up. Fuck, yer’ dumb.”
you jerk your chin back, dislodging his fingers, and try again. “May I suck you off?”
“May I suck you off... what?” he taunts, already shoving your head down, humming when your warm breath ghosts over his throbbing cock.
“Sir,” you begin, tracing the tip of your tongue over his leaking slit; hating that you love the way he ruts forward, his greedy hips already asking for more. “May I suck you off, sir?”
tldr: my guy has a biiiiig degradation kink, as well as an engrained proclivity for marking. if you’re fucking him, or if he wants you, you’re his. no if and’s or butts about it.
you are also the lesser. he is firm in this & will remind you of it. after all, any woman who doesn’t walk behind a man should be killed in his mind, and if you, someone he’s gone through so much trouble to train to his preferences, put even one foot wrong - well, i don’t see it ending prettily.
he’s the kind of fucker who would love to see you bruised. it’s just another way of saying you’re his.
*spritzes you with holy water*
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Kaze ga Tsuyoku Fuiteiru Chapter 7 - The Qualifiers (Part 3)
After this chapter I have officially finished 50% of this book...yeah that’s right after 2 years I have finished half of this book...
Next chapter is pretty long, we might be staying there for a while folks
Full list of translations here
1. A “one-two finish” refers to members of the same team winning first and second place
Previous | Next
When Kakeru reached the finish line, he was handed a water bottle by a staff member and ordered to move; if he stayed near the finish line, he would become an obstacle to the later runners.
He wondered how the others were doing. He was worried, so he lingered under the trees next to the finish line to check on the situation. There was another cheer, and he caught a glimpse of a Kansei uniform on the other side of the crowd—it was Kiyose.
“Haiji-san!” Kakeru shouted and leapt out onto the pathway that the runners who finished passed through to get to the lawn. Kiyose was crouching. Startled, Kakeru ran over to him.
“Are you okay?”
He didn’t seem to be breathing too much. The runners who finished in the top rankings had that ability; they were able to run the race at their own pace and with ease. There was no way they would be gasping for breath and unable to move after reaching the finish line. “It’s your leg, right?” Kakeru judged after checking Kiyose’s breathing.
In order to lessen the burden on his muscles even just a little bit, Kakeru poured water from the bottle onto Kiyose’s shin. After Kakeru lent him a hand, Kiyose stood up and started walking with a slight limp in his right leg.
“Kakeru, good work.”
Kiyose’s first words were words of appreciation towards Kakeru. Is this really the right time for that? Kakeru felt like crying.
When he hung his head, Kiyose laughed and ruffled his hair.
“Let’s go cheer on the others.”
“But, we should cool your leg imme—”
“It’s not a problem. Let’s go.”
Kiyose slipped into a gap between the spectators. Kakeru followed him, saying, “Excuse me.”
At the finish line, there was a close race for eightieth place. Since the results were decided by the combined times of ten people, everyone was desperate.
“It’s the twins, it’s the twins!”
Kakeru spotted Kansei uniforms in the tight group. On the other side of the course, Hanako was jumping up and down.
Jouta and Jouji both gritted their teeth and crossed the finish line. After them, Yuki, Musa, Nico-chan and Shindou finished in the eightieth to ninetieth places. King fought bravely and finished in one hundred and twenty-third place.
“Good. That’s a good pace,” Kiyose murmured. Prince, however, was nowhere to be seen. Among the regular schools, there were more and more that had all ten people finish the race.
“It’s not looking good for us at this rate.”
Kakeru stamped his foot. He almost wanted to run one more time himself. Is he here yet? Is he here yet? Then, from behind the trees, where Kakeru had been staring as if in prayer, Prince appeared.
“He’s staggering…” Kiyose furrowed his brow. Prince had already passed his limits, and his eyes were unfocused.
“Prince-san, run! The finish line is right in front of you!” Kakeru shouted, trying to at least guide him by ear.
“I know that.” Prince struggled forward, fighting the nausea that was rising up. Sweat was flowing from him and his fingers were unpleasantly cold. Where did the blood go? Prince vaguely wondered. My face is probably pale as a sheet of paper right now.
He was clearly anemic, but he couldn’t collapse here. There were twenty meters until the finish line. If Prince stopped running, Kansei, which only had ten people, would be eliminated from the qualifiers. If Hakone was a no-go for them because of him, his collection of books would surely be burned. He had to avoid that.
Prince summoned up all of his willpower. As soon as he did that, his stomach squeezed, and he finally felt an unendurable nausea.
He no longer cared about the several hundred people watching him. As Prince ran, he threw up with all his might. He could hear the female spectators along the route letting out cries of “Kyaa!”
“This is no time for throwing up! Run!” Kiyose’s angry voice rang out.
Are you a demon or something? This is why I hate sports clubs. Prince cursed at him in his head, wiping his dirty mouth with his hand. Of course, he had no intention of stopping his feet. He wondered why he was doing sports, something he wasn’t good at. He wondered why he had been doing all this running practice like an idiot.
It was to participate in the Hakone Ekiden.
Because I thought it would be nice to share in you guys’ muscle-headed dream for once…!
Prince crossed the finish line in one hundred and seventy-sixth place and lost consciousness on the spot.
Everyone in Chikusei-sou had fallen flat in their encampment on the lawn. Less than half of them had the energy to even check their wristwatches for their times after finishing. Yuki had given up on the attempt to clearly grasp the ten’s combined times.
The tallying and calculation of intercollegiate points took up more time than expected, so the results were to be announced at around eleven o’clock. They had to wait at least another hour after all the competitors had finished running.
“We’re in a delicate position.” Kiyose calmly calculated while icing his shin. “When averaging our positions, we’re probably in the mid-eighties. That’s borderline.”
“Depending on the intercollegiate points of the schools that are also borderline…”
Nico-chan glared at the sky with a difficult look on his face.
“It’s possible we won’t qualify,” Yuki said.
Oh no, the twins moaned. Shindou and Musa were quiet, looking like they were praying to their respective ancestors and patron gods. King was plucking at the grass. Prince didn’t so much as twitch, still lying facedown on the grass. Hanako and the shopping district people, who were surrounding them, were unable to give any careless encouragement, and could only wait for the results.
Kakeru suddenly looked at Kiyose’s hands; the ice they had brought in the cooler box was melting in the plastic bag.
“I’ll go get some ice. Maybe they’ll give us some at that store over there.” Wanting to escape from this oppressive atmosphere, Kakeru stood up. Musa seemed to feel the same way.
“I shall go as well,” he said and followed him.
They cut across the lawn and headed for the store with the red roof. It was easy to tell which schools were confident that they would qualify by the expressions on the runners’ faces; it was the borderline schools, like Kansei, that were exuding a sense of high tension, but the schools that had clearly ranked lower were generally calmly waiting for the results to be announced. Among them, there were teams that were happily picking at the multi-tiered bento boxes made by their female managers.
There are all sorts of people, Kakeru thought. For those people, their goal was to make it to the qualifiers. They knew the outcome from the beginning, so when they were finished running, they made it into a picnic-like event and enjoyed themselves. There’s nothing wrong with that, but we’re different, he felt.
I don’t want it to end the qualifiers. I want to see even greater heights. I want to be an even faster and stronger team and compete in the Hakone Ekiden. That’s what I’ve been training for, and that’s what I’m going to keep training for.
“I wonder what will happen, Kakeru,” Musa spoke to him worriedly.
“We can get to Hakone,” Kakeru assured him. Burning magma was gushing up from the pit of his stomach. Everyone had run the qualifiers with all their might today; there was no way they could lose.
Musa’s eyes widened at his forceful words.
“Kakeru, you seem to have gotten stronger somehow.”
“That’s not true.” Kakeru shook his head. “We ran pretty hard, didn’t we? So I just think we’ll be okay.”
Musa nodded. “You are correct. We are going to Hakone. All together.”
When Musa said it, it sounded like the happy ending of a fairy tale, or a reliable prophecy.
When Kakeru and Musa asked for some ice, the shopkeeper readily gave them some. Since they came empty-handed, the shopkeeper put the ice into a paper cup. “We were careless,” Musa said. A group of spectators walked by behind him.
“Another black runner. It’s pretty unfair to bring in foreign students.”
“With a bunch of guys like that, then Japanese runners won’t be able to compete.”
Musa’s face stiffened at the whispered comments that they intentionally let him hear, and Kakeru was about to turn around and object.
“It’s fine, Kakeru,” Musa stopped him. “I have heard a lot of comments like that today alone.”
“We can’t let them say something so one-sided!” Kakeru still tried to chase after the spectators that were getting further away, but Musa seized his arm.
“We must not get into quarrels. They are talking about foreign students who came here because of their talent in athletics. I am embarrassed. I am embarrassed of myself. They don’t seem to be able to tell the difference, but my legs are not fast. I am just a foreign student with no talent to be envious of.”
“That has nothing to do with this!” Kakeru was indignant. “You, me, the people who took first and second place today, we all ran the same course. And yet…”
He didn’t know how to say it, but Kakeru was frustrated. He felt like Musa, who he lived with, Kakeru himself, and the international students from other schools he had never exchanged a word with were all being insulted. That’s right, I can’t express it well, but it’s an insult to everyone who’s taking running seriously. Kakeru squared his shoulders.
“It’s just as Kurahara said,” someone said. When he turned around, he saw a lanky man with a shiny and round head. “But let it go. They’re amateurs who don’t know what running is.”
Kakeru and Musa watched as the man bought oolong tea at the store. Kakeru had seen him before. Without letting his guard down, he searched his memory in a panic. I recognize this shiny head.
“Rokudou’s Fujioka! …san,” Kakeru deduced the answer.
Rokudou University had won the Hakone Ekiden several years in a row. This was their captain, Fujioka Kazuma. Kakeru had only met him at the TSU meet in the spring, but he wondered why someone like him would come to the qualifiers.
“I’m here to observe our opponents,” Fujioka said, perhaps reading Kakeru’s question. “Kansei has become quite strong. It looks like you’re going to make it to Hakone.”
Fujioka had the complacency and presence of a champion.
“Thanks to everyone’s hard work.” Kakeru’s natural competitive spirit reared its head, and he answered back proudly. Fujioka let his gaze collide with Kakeru’s, not taking a step back, and then looked at Musa.
“You shouldn’t care about people like that. It’s a ridiculous opinion.”
“Which part of it is ridiculous?”
Kakeru stopped Fujioka, who was about to leave while drinking his tea. The way the spectators talked about Musa made him angry. However, he couldn’t figure out exactly why he was angry, but Fujioka seemed to know what was causing this annoyance.
“Please tell me,” Kakeru pleaded.
Fujioka stopped and stared at Kakeru with interest. “Alright then,” he said and turned to Kakeru and Musa again.
“There are at least two ridiculous parts. One is the reasoning that it is unfair to include foreign students in the team because Japanese runners can’t compete with them. So what about the Olympics then? What we’re doing is a competition, not a kindergarten field day where we all hold hands and one-two finish. (1) It is natural that there would be individual differences in physical ability. But on top of that, sports are about equality and fairness. They have no idea what it means to compete on the same field in the same sport.”
Musa was silent, attentively listening to Fujioka’s words. Kakeru was just simply overwhelmed by Fujioka’s quiet analysis.
“Their other misunderstanding is thinking that winning is good,” Fujioka continued. “If a Japanese athlete takes first place, if they get a gold medal, is that all that matters? I firmly believe that isn’t true. That shouldn’t be the essence of competition. Even if I win first place, it isn’t a victory if I felt that I lost to myself. Things like times and rankings change rapidly from competition to competition. Who decides who’s the best in the world? It isn’t because of that, but because we have unchanging goals and ideals within us that we continue to run.”
That’s right. Kakeru felt his hazy, pent-up feelings clear up. I got stuck on these things and they made me angry. Fujioka’s amazing. What Kakeru felt and wanted to say were extremely easily untangled and put into words.
“You haven’t changed at all, Fujioka.”
Before they knew it, Kiyose was standing behind Kakeru and Musa.
“An outsider said something unnecessary.” Fujioka bowed to Kiyose in a stoic manner and left this time.
“No, you were helpful.” When Kiyose said that, Fujioka turned his head over his shoulder and a corner of his mouth lifted into a smile.
“Looks like you’ve got quite the lineup.”
“Well, I suppose.”
“I’ll be waiting at Hakone.”
With a resolute attitude befitting a champion until the end, Fujioka disappeared between the trees. It’s like he said “I’ll be waiting in nirvana,” or something. I wonder if he’s not going to wait to see the results announced even though he came all the way here, Kakeru thought, but he hurriedly bowed towards Fujioka’s back.
Musa also said, “Thank you very much,” and bowed deeply. Fujioka’s words had energized Kakeru and Musa, like dispelling thunderclouds.
“I came after you guys because you left without taking the bag.” Kiyose lifted the plastic bag.
“Sorry,” Kakeru said and accepted the bag, then transferred the ice he got from the shopkeeper to it. Kiyose was already walking without dragging his leg.
“Is he called Fujioka-san? He is an amazing person.” Musa seemed deeply impressed.
“I guess that means you need emotional strength and wisdom in the true sense to continue winning Hakone,” Kiyose laughed a little. “Well, he’s always been strangely calm; as a high school student his nickname was ‘Trainee Monk’. It's a bit unpleasant, isn’t it?”
Kakeru and Musa looked at each other and nodded, saying, “That’s true.”
Spectators and runners were beginning to gather at the large display board near the finish line.
“It’s almost time for the announcement.”
Musa jogged back to Kansei’s encampment. Kakeru matched Kiyose’s pace as they made their way across the lawn. He was curious to see what the results would be, but they had come this far and there was nothing they could do about it now. What occupied Kakeru’s mind at the moment was Fujioka’s figure.
The power to change thoughts into words. An eye that calmly analyzed the hesitation, anger, and fear within you.
Fujioka was strong. His running speed was extraordinary, but the mental strength that supported it was incredible. When I was just running recklessly, Fujioka must have been analyzing himself in his fast-moving head and pursuing running on a deeper and higher level.
Kakeru felt both battered and inspired with a strange kind of excitement.
What I’m lacking are words. All I do is let my hazy feelings stay hazy. But I can’t do that from now on. I’ll be as fast as, no, even faster than Fujioka. In order to do that, I need to know my running self.
That was definitely the “strength” Kiyose had spoken of.
“I feel like I’m starting to get it,” Kakeru murmured.
“Is that so.” Kiyose seemed satisfied.
A student in a gakuran carrying a megaphone climbed onto the stage. He reverently opened the memo with the results of the qualifiers. He was a student member of the administration committee from the Inter-University Athletic Union of Kanto, which organized the Hakone Ekiden. His assistant, a female student, stood by the display board while the gathered people listened attentively with anticipation and anxiety.
“We will now announce the qualifying schools for the Tokyo-Hakone Round Trip University Ekiden Race. First place, Tokyo Sport University.”
The TSU crowd gave a loud cheer. Kakeru saw Sakaki being given a spank of joy by his senior. The TSU runners hadn’t come apart, reaching the finish line in a good position together; it was a victory of total strength that displayed the depth and closeness of the runners.
The female student pulled out the first place card on the display board. The name “Tokyo Sport University” and the total time of ten people were written in the first place column: ten hours nine minutes and twelve seconds. The average place for the ten runners was forty-ninth place.
“As I thought, it was a pretty fast-paced race,” Kiyose groaned in a low voice. The expression on his face showed that they were in a difficult situation to qualify. Kakeru curled his hands into fists.
“Second place,” the announcer dispassionately read the memo aloud. “Koufu Academy University.”
Cheers erupted from another corner. “Hmph,” King sniffed.
“That announcer is putting the perfect pause between ranking and the school name.”
“Don’t act all important, get on with it,” Prince, who had finally come back to life, immediately complained.
“Aah crap, my heart feels like it’s gonna explode.” The twins and Hanako were huddled together, quivering like young birds that had fallen from their nest.
The announcement had proceeded to fifth place, but Kansei’s name was not called. Up to this point, all the schools had been Hakone regulars; if they couldn’t get into sixth place, the seventh to ninth places were likely to be different from the total time order of the qualifiers because of the intercollegiate points involved.
“Please please please!”
Their desperate prayers were in vain, and the announcer said, “Saikyo University.”
“Are we done? Are we done?”
Nico-chan and Yuki looked up at the sky. Kiyose was staring at the display board in silence. The glint in his eyes suggested that he was looking through the white cards that still hid the seventh to ninth place columns.
“In accordance with the rules, seventh place and below are determined by subtracting each school’s intercollegiate points from their total times. Seventh place, Jonan Cultural University.”
Kakeru felt like he was losing the strength in his legs, but he managed to hold on. They still had a chance. There were two more participation slots to be filled. He felt a pain in his right shoulder, and he looked to see Shindou’s fingers digging into it. Musa’s face was half-buried in Shindou’s arms, and he was mumbling something in his mother tongue.
It’ll be okay. It’s going to be okay. Kakeru stretched out his arm and gently patted Shindou and Musa’s backs.
“Eighth place, Kansei University.”
He thought he misheard. King leapt upon them. Kiyose raised his arms to the sky with a rare full-faced smile. Shindou and Musa weakly sat down on the grass. Nico-chan and Yuki high-fived each other, and Hanako and the twins screamed as they slapped Kakeru all over his body.
While being mobbed, Kakeru looked. At the display board, where the words “Kansei University” shined brilliantly. At Prince, who shed a single tear outside the circle.
We did it. The truth finally reached his brain. We are going to be in the Hakone Ekiden.
The next thing Kakeru knew, he was bellowing from the pit of his stomach.
Kansei University’s total time was ten hours sixteen minutes and forty-three seconds. The ten’s average place was eighty-sixth place.
Jonan Cultural University, in seventh place, had the actual time of ten hours seventeen minutes and three seconds. The intercollegiate points put them ahead of Kansei. The school that just barely passed in ninth place was Shinsei University.
Their time was ten hours seventeen minutes and eighteen seconds. Kakeru looked up at the time written on the display board and exhaled with relief and joy. Kansei University had successfully obtained their ticket to Hakone on their first attempt. And they even finished in ten hours and sixteen minutes, which was good enough for seventh place.
There were cries of surprise everywhere.
“Kansei actually did it.”
“And I heard they only have ten people on their team.”
“That’s the school where the third place and sixth place guys came from, right? I already learned their uniforms.”
“Me too. It’s black with silver lines. It’s kind of cool.”
As they were cleaning up their encampment on the lawn, they were asked to give a few words to the close coverage cameras, but Kakeru’s mind was dizzy and lacking oxygen. He was more tired than when he was running and his feet were unsteady.
We've only passed the qualifiers; the actual race is next January. The Hakone Ekiden is in approximately seventy-five days. Even though he told himself that, happiness filled his chest.
Kiyose once said this: “Hakone isn’t a mountain in a mirage.” That really was true. The residents of Chikusei-sou had finally reached the point where they could see the mountain as a real entity.
While feeling excited, Kakeru swiftly folded the plastic sheet. Jouta and Jouji were sitting on the grass. They were frowning for some reason as they peered at the notes of the results they had copied from the display board.
“What’s wrong?” Kakeru called to them. The twins looked up at him.
“Haiji-san said we’re going to the top,” Jouta muttered.
“Mm? Did he?” Kakeru responded lightly, but Jouta wasn’t convinced.
“He did say that. But, this time…”
“What about it?” Kakeru put down the plastic sheet and crouched down next to the twins. “Let’s clean this up quickly and go home. I’m sure we’ll have a party tonight.”
“Kakeru, doesn’t ‘top’ mean winning?” Jouji asked with a grim face. “Our total time is ten hours sixteen minutes and forty-three seconds. TSU, who qualified in first place, has a time of ten hours nine minutes and twelve seconds; that’s a difference of seven and a half minutes. And yet, this is still the qualifiers, right? So, how fast do the runners of the schools that win Hakone run twenty kilometers?”
“If we practice, can we get to that level by New Year’s?” Jouta asked him seriously. “Hey, what do you think, Kakeru?”
Kakeru couldn’t answer anything.
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nanami kento // gn!reader
just being honest but I think about nanami fucking his assistant all. the. time.
imagine being his little intern. you’ve been dealing with heartbreak after heartbreak—simply due to men being immature and only going after you for sex.
one day you end up confessing to him about just how DOA things have been and you’re just over it. and nanami offers to take you out dinner. it’s an innocent enough proposal, knowing him you’re sure he’s just trying to be a nice and a gentleman, plus it’s almost closing time...so you accept.
but when you both go out it’s like you see an entirely different side to him. usually he’s so work oriented and unexpressive, but he’s giving you a small smile. placing his hand on the small of your back as you walk. he pulls your chair out for you before he sits down. you’re shocked at just how gentle he is? despite being, well, nanami...he’s got a warmth to him and you’re able to actually open up to him.
and while you’re venting about what’s been going on you make a joke about how the dudes go after you for sex and can’t even fuck...you see him visibly stiffen up. For a moment you’re worried maybe you went too far, but he just gives an almost silent laugh.
“Is that right?”
you’re relieved he’s amused by it and the topic seems to burn out there as you move onto another, but you can tell what you confessed has changed things—even just slightly. the way nanami eyes you from his side of the table makes you have to cross your legs in anticipation.
anyways. he takes you to his place. and of course, he blows your mind.
he’s slow. there’s no rushing to his place and tearing off your clothes. he lets you take your shoes off, helps you with your jacket and hangs it on the coat rack before doing the same with his. his glasses come off too, neatly placed in a case on his coffee table. then, his full attention is on you. he cups your face in one of his large hands and gives you a deep kiss, letting you just melt into him. there’s no awkward tumbling into the couch either. he takes your hand and leads you to his bedroom.
and even still, he’s slow. nanami let’s you fall against the bed then leans into you. you can almost grind yourself against his thigh, and you try, but you’re barely getting enough stimulation while his tongue’s down your throat. usually, this type of situation would make you bored, but each passing moment just fills you with more anticipation because you know he’s going to take care of you.
and he’s so considerate. despite him having a raging hard-on he’s completely focused on you. he asks for permission before taking off your clothes and touching certain areas—when his fingers dive between your legs you’re not sure if he’s just asking to tease you or if one man can genuinely be so thoughtful. ￼he’s careful not to just shove his fingers inside you and wiggle them around. nanami gives a gentle kiss to your collarbone before carefully slipping one finger into you. you moan and lean into him and he just whispers about how pretty you are before working you open. he’s pressing kisses into your skin as he drinks in your moans, simply getting off to the fact you’re enjoying yourself.
he’s intent on making you cum first too. when he can tell you’re getting relaxed nanami’s lips move in between your legs. and for once, you’re embarrassed. having your boss with his face to your most inimate area...it’s definitely a new experience for you. but he assured you there’s nothing to be ashamed of before carefully gliding his tongue against you.
his movements are light and gentle at first as he explores the area. he tests what makes you feel good—which movements he makes that makes your breath hitch, toes curls, leaves you moaning in that cute high pitch he never expected to come out of you. and then he starts working his fingers into you as well and you’re seeing stars. despite them being so thick, nanami’s fingers are nimble, careful to find the right spot to press inside you and curl into you. how fast you cum onto his face is legitimately humiliating. you’ve never been that quick, your thighs snap to cage his head and he lets out an mmph!, before quickly adapting and licking whatever he has access to while the feeling flows through you. the way your thighs shake and body quakes afterwards has you wondering if he sucked your soul out along with the orgasm.
when you peer down in between your legs, nanami’s face is shiny with a mix of spit and cum, and you feel the blood rush back to your cheeks again. he’s usually so clean and put together, but the way his hair is tousled and your juices dribble down his chin...it’s a sight to behold. he gives you a few more licks, holding your thighs apart despite how much your body fights to close them, before coming back up to face you again.
you want to apologize for...all of that. but his lips stop you, repeatedly kissing you and stealing your breath away. you hear his hands unzip his pants and clamber to pull them down and kick them off. all of a sudden, it’s pressing against your thigh, and you just know he isn’t anywhere near done with you yet.
239 notes · View notes
"I'm Blaze. The new wilder of the Dragon Miraculous!" The new superheroine announced.
Blaze took out her sword and stood in a fighting stance, her hair flowing behind her. Ikari Gozen raised her bokken and attacked Blaze. With her natural reflexes, Blaze blocked the villain's attacks and pushed her backwards. Ikari Gozen stumbled but regained her balance and attacked Blaze again. Knowing not to underestimate the new superhero, Ikari Gozen reared on her hind legs and threw herself on Blaze using all her force to push down on Blaze. This time, Blaze was having a hard time fending off the villain.
She stumbled and fell to the ground. Ikari Gozen captured her and threw her into her mouth. Blaze fell in and was strapped to the seat in between Chat Noir and Kagami.
"There she goes." Ikari Gozen laughed.
"What if this was my plan all along?" Smirked Blaze.
"Marinette...?" Whispered Chat Noir immediately recognising the voice that belonged to his Princess.
Blaze heard it and smiled at Chat.
Chat gasped when she turned around and smiled at him. Her midnight hair looked darker and luscious as it tumbled down her shoulders in heavy locks. The mask brought out her bluebell eyes and strong waves of the power she possessed rolled off of her in strong currents.
Blaze shifted her position on the seat as she felt the wound in her knee reopen with her movements. She knew that the suit would keep in the blood but it still hurt.
"Hold your breath. And Chat? Take Kagami out of her as soon as possible. I need you and your Cataclysm." Explained Blaze.
"Blaze," Blaze said introducing herself.
"Okay, Blaze." Said Chat Noir.
"Water dragon!" Cried Blaze warning both Chat and Kagami.
She felt her body dissolve into water as the inside of the villain filled up with water. Chat Noir and Kagami held their breaths as they drowned under the water. Feeling water drip from her joints, Ikari Gozen spat out Chat Noir and Kagami while Blaze continued to choke the villain. Once she saw Chat Noir leave with Kagami, Blaze reverted to her physical form. She noticed that two of the strips on her chocker were gone and that she was down to her last three minutes.
Chat Noir came running back, Cataclysm in hand aiming at Ikari Gozen's bokken.
"Chat Noir! Wait!" Shouted Blaze.
Chat Noir halted and ran back to Blaze.
"Why? What's the matter? Does your leg hurt?" Asked Chat Noir, worried.
"No, silly kitty. I'm fine. But Ladybug isn't here now. She has lost one of her earrings and it's up to me and you to finish this fight. We have no choice but to Cataclysm the Akuma because I'm sure that Ladybug won't get here in time." Sighed Blaze.
She hated lying to Chat Noir but it was for their own benefit.
"So, how are we going to get the Akuma out?" Asked Chat Noir holding the hand with his Cataclysm.
"We fight." Smirked Blaze readying her sword.
Chat Noir grinned at his Princess and took out his baton.
"En garde!" Shouted Blaze and Chat Noir at once stepping in front of Ikari Gozen.
"Alright, then." Laughed Ikari Gozen holding her bokken out in front of her.
"Get ready, kitty. We're both almost out of time." Warned Blaze.
Chat Noir couldn't care less about his time limit. He was only concerned about Marinette. Even though her suit was protecting her, Chat could see her wince every time she jumped or turned. Chat knew that she was only standing because of her determination, and most of all, he was furious at Ladybug.
He was brought back to reality when he heard the sound of clashing metal. Ikari Gozen and Blaze were locked in combat with Blaze trying very hard not to push off of her right leg. Chat Noir watched as Ikari Gozen reared up on her hind legs and kicked Blaze across the street. Blaze slid across the hard concrete and lay still, her hair spread out on the road.
"No!" Screamed Chat Noir.
He had had enough. He ran towards Ikari Gozen and jumped up delivering a roundhouse kick straight to the villain's face. She stumbled back but managed to keep her ground.
Chat Noir saw Blaze stir out of the corner of his eyes. Still, he kept on battling the villain. He saw Blaze struggle to her feet as the final warning of her Miraculous went up.
"Get out of here!" Yelled Chat Noir pushing Ikari Gozen back.
Blaze stumbled to her feet and jumped behind a bush just as a red glow marked her detransformation.
Marinette, despite all her injuries, took out her Ladybug Miraculous and transformed into Ladybug. Knowing that she'd need an item to restore the city, Ladybug called on her Lucky Charm. She didn't throw her yoyo in the air but kept it close beside her trying to hide her identity from Chat Noir and the villain.
Ladybug peeked through the bush as Chat Noir brought out his baton and slammed it onto Ikari Gozen's sword arm. Howling in pain, the villain dropped the bokken onto which Chat Noir jumped, breaking it in two. He saw the Akuma flutter out of the bokken and captured it in his hand reducing it to ashes.
"Miraculous Ladybug!" Shouted Ladybug throwing the Lucky Charm in the air while Chat Noir was distracted.
Ladybug watched as the ladybugs repaired all the damage and swooped in towards her to cure her. She felt all of her wounds close up and sighed as the tingling sensation left her body. Ladybug quickly detransformed into Marinette and sat behind the bush.
Despite his ring giving off his second warning, Chat Noir ran over to Blaze who was still hiding behind the bush.
"Marinette?!" Sighed Chat Noir relieved to see that all her wounds were gone.
Chat Noir jumped behind the bush and wrapped Marinette in a tight hug. Chat sighed into Marinette's hair and stroked her back gently reminding himself that she was okay.
"Don't do that to me ever again, okay?" Asked Chat pulling away from the hug.
Marinette smiled but her smile turned into a frown when she heard Chat Noir's ring flash his second to last warning.
"I better get going. But I'm coming back." Said Chat jumping out of the bush and running into an alley.
Chat Noir's final warning ran loud and clear as he detransformed into Adrien. Without a word, Plagg zoomed into Adrien's pocket to grab some Camembert. Plagg emerged with a full stomach after a few seconds and floated in front of Adrien.
"Say the words." Said Plagg.
Adrien was shocked to hear those words from Plagg since he was the laziest cat Adrien had ever seen. But without hesitating, Adrien once again transformed into Chat Noir and leapt back towards where Marinette was.
Meanwhile, Marinette placed the Dragon Miraculous in her side purse and transformed into Ladybug. So when Chat Noir returned, he saw Ladybug leaning against a tree waiting for him.
"What is wrong with you?!" Shouted Chat Noir.
Ladybug stiffened at the boy's tone. She had never seen him this angry. He was stomping towards her, fists balled and mouth twisted into a frown. His eyes were slits and burned with pure rage.
"Ch-Chat?" Asked Ladybug taking a step back but hitting the tree she was leaning against.
"Where is she?! Where is Marinette?!" Yelled Chat capturing the attention of some bystanders.
"She's safe. I took her home." Whispered Ladybug looking down at the ground.
"Why did you do it?" Asked Chat Noir tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.
"Chat... Can we go somewhere else? People are looking..." Mentioned Ladybug still not looking Chat in the eye.
"Fine..." Sighed Chat taking out his baton and leaping onto the nearest house not bothering to wait for Ladybug.
He vaulted onto the Eiffel tower and leaned against its metal railing till Ladybug decided to drop in.
"Why did you do that? She was clearly injured and bleeding and what did you do? You straight-up just asked her to fight a villain in that state? You happy now that she got thrown across the street because of what you did?"
"No. No more excuses. No more 'I had to do it to protect Paris'. And no more 'It was for the greater good'. You endangered a civilian while you're supposed to protect them. She was resting at home and you just gave her a Miraculous? Asking her to fight a supervillain? Didn't you have anyone else in mind? Anyone else other than my Princess?!" Yelled Chat.
"She fought with such confidence despite the pain she was in and did you even care to make an appearance? No. Now, I know that you lost one of your earrings but still, it was very reckless of you to do that to Marinette. I mean, I wouldn't have stopped you if you wanted to give her the Miraculous at any other time. But she was wounded! I don't even know how she managed to stay conscious throughout the fight." Said Chat finally calming down.
Chat turned away from Ladybug and held his hand above his head on the metal of the Eiffel tower. Even though Marinette was right in front of Chat Noir as Ladybug, she felt bad about herself seeing Chat so worried and angry.
"Chat, pl-" Ladybug started.
"No. Everything's fine. I shouldn't have yelled at you. I'm sorry." Apologised Chat jumping from the Eiffel tower.
"I messed up." Sighed Ladybug heading into an alley to detransform.
"So, where are you going?" Asked Tikki seeing Marinette head in the opposite direction of her house.
"To Master Fu. I've got to return the Miraculous." Sighed Marinette safely tucking the Dragon Miraculous deep within her purse.
"Thank you, Marinette. I knew you'd make the right choice." Said Master Fu placing the Miraculous back in the box.
"Goodnight, Master." Yawned Marinette heading back home.
She walked along the empty streets and reached home exactly an hour after Chat's little temper tantrum. The entire bakery and the neighbourhood seemed to be drowned in darkness and Marinette pulled out her hone to turn the flashlight on.
Looking back and forth and behind her, Marinette reached home and pushed the door open. The bell jingled alerting Sabine of Marinette's arrival.
"Marinette? Is that you?" Asked Sabine coming into the living room, candle in hand.
"Yes, mama. Power cut today?" Asked Marinette.
"Yes, sweetie. Here take this." Said Sabine offering the candle to Marinette.
"Thanks, mama. I'm going to seep." Said Marinette dragging her legs up her stairs.
She pushed open her trap door and was enveloped with darkness. Her entire room was pitch black with only two green orbs glowing by her desk. The candle in Marinette's hand flickered and died because of the wind blowing from her open window. Marinette slowly climbed into the room groping around for her light or anything to grab onto.
Marinette looked at the green orbs which seemed to be fading in and out of view. Thinking it was just her night light, Marinette didn't question it and continued to blindly grope for a flashlight or her phone. Suddenly, the lights turned on and Marinette was blinded by the sudden flash of light in her eyes.
She instinctively stepped forward, covering her eyes from the harsh glow. But her leg was hooked around a stool and she tripped falling face-first onto the floor. Marinette braced herself waiting for the impact that never came. Instead, she felt tough fabric underneath her instead of the hard wooden floor.
Marinette lifted her head to see Chat's glowing green eyes staring at her from under her. His arms enveloped her and held her tight against his chest. Marinette stared back into his green eyes that reflected hers in the light of her room. Marinette felt Chat's tail curl around her left leg while his cat ears perked up feeling the tail's movement.
"Princess..." Welcomed Chat Noir.
"Hello, Kitty." Giggled Marinette.
Chat let go of Marinette and pulled her up with him.
"Where were you? It's been an hour since you detransformed." Questioned Chat while Marinette guided them to her chaise.
"I had to wait for Ladybug to return the Miraculous." Smiled Marinette sitting on the chaise.
"So, umm. How are you feeling?" Asked Chat taking a seat beside Marinette.
"Ladybug's power healed me. So, I'm alright. Thanks for taking care of me." Thanked Marinette looking Chat in the eye.
Chat Noir blushed because of the simple 'thank you'. Marinette saw that he was sad for some reason although he was doing his best to try and hide it.
"Listen, Chat. It wasn't Ladybug's fault. She did the right thing." Said Marinette placing a hand on Chat's shoulder.
"How did you know that... Ladybug and I-" Asked Chat looking up at Marinette but was interrupted by the bluenette.
"I was hiding in that same area, remember? She didn't know that I was injured. She simply brought be the Miraculous and I accepted it." Explained Marinette.
"I really messed up, didn't I? I ruined our friendship, our trust." Sighed Chat.
"Not at all, Chat. I'm positive she isn't mad at you or anything. I met her on my way home and she told me everything. She's still willing to be your partner. That is... If you want to only." Sighed Marinette speaking from her heart.
"Of course, I do! I'll apologise tomorrow."
"Apology accepted. I mean! She said so! I clearly didn't say that. She did." Marinette laughed nervously fidgeting with the white T-shirt that she wore under her black jacket.
Chat chuckled and placed his hands on top of hers on her thighs.
"I'm glad she said so before I even apologised."
Marinette giggled and opened her mouth to say something when she was interrupted by the ringing tone of her phone. She saw that it had landed in one of her fabric baskets near the sewing machine.
"Oh! Gimme a sec, Chat." Sighed Marinette getting up to retrieve her phone.
"Hey, Luka." Said Marinette smiling to herself.
Chat felt a sharp stab to his heart when he heard Marinette say the blue-haired boy's name so cheerfully. He watched as she smiled to herself while talking to Luka about how her day had gone. Chat thought that Luka was being nosy for asking how his Princess was. Chat clenched his fists and grit his teeth in an attempt to not grab Marinette's phone and throw it out the open window.
Marinette paced around the room constantly looking at Chat out of the corner of her eyes. Luka, as usual, wanted to know what was going on in Marinette's life. He didn't consider it as a violation of privacy and neither did Marinette. But Chat Noir was getting red in the face thinking of ways to murder Luka. Chat was enjoying his time with Marinette and was about to get in trouble if he wasn't home before his father arrived from his business trip. And here was Luka trying to ruin the little time Chat had to escape from his house and model-boy life.
It wasn't like Luka to call Marinette and ask about her day. He's the type of guy who would walk all the way from home to school just to drop off his 'friend' at her house which is just across from the school. Marinette only felt the longing for her bed only when she started talking to Luka. The events of the day rushed through Marinette's head while she filtered most of it out. She was having a massive headache and really, really wanted to curl up into a ball on her bed. But she knew that it would be rude of her to hang up on Luka mid-conversation.
Instead, Marinette turned to Chat who was observing her very closely. Chat looked up into his Princess's eyes and saw how tired she was. Her eyes drooped despite Marinette's attempts to stay awake.
Seeing an opportunity to separate Luka and Marinette, Chat used his best Sabine voice and called Marinette.
"Marinette! Dinner's ready!" Called Chat perfecting his Sabine's voice.
Marinette stood, mouth agape not knowing what to say except "Wow".
"I mean. I have to go, Luka. See you tomorrow!" Sighed Marinette as she hung up.
She ran to Chat and wrapped her arms around his chest mumbling a simple thank you. She didn't register what she was doing until she felt Chat's arms around her, carrying her to bed.
"Goodnight, pretty Princess." Smirked Chat lowering Marinette onto her bed.
"Goodnight, silly Kitty." Smiled Marinette welcoming sleep with open arms as Chat Noir left through her trap door but not before placing a soft kiss on her forehead.
Only a Fling? | [NSFW, 18+]
This is a re-upload from a past blog!
Word Count: 1,474
Warnings: Fem! Reader, charmed sex (Eve is a succubus). Characters are 18+. If you aren't comfortable with NSFW content please block lezzy actions. Unedited. NSFW underneath the cut!
Parties were never your thing. Being a joyous spirit for the Christmas theme? That wasn’t as hard but there were so many people at this party. A popular KPop group hosted the party for fans and close friends to take part of. You hesitated but accompanied a friend because they begged you to do so.
You glance around the crowded room, regretting the decision to accompany them. You walk away from the overjoyed people and walk outside the building. The cold air slaps your warm flesh, making you shiver immediately after contact. The cooler air was welcoming from the stuffy inside.
“Oh, hello there.” A seductive tone rings out behind you. You jolt, turning to look who was speaking with you. Evelynn, one of the hosts of tonight’s party. She bore a smile and slowly walked to stand beside you. “It’s too cold out here to stand by yourself. Want some company?” She asks, not looking at you. It wasn’t like you had much of a choice, she already made herself inserted into the conversation.
“I wasn’t wanting company, but it’s fine.” You admit with a small laugh, peaking Evelynn’s attention. “I came with a friend and ended up getting ditched. I apologize if I’m not the best of company, it’s because of that.” You inform her dryly.
“It’s okay darling.” Evelynn looks at you, noticing the bubbly desires inside of you. “Allow me to help. I can take away all the frustration.” There was no charm, yet. She hungrily licks her lips, hoping you would agree to the proposition without the charm. She was starving and you needed some assistance. It was a win-win situation, one that was better than her finding some random person. She wasn’t going to kill you, just take a tiny amount of your desires and a snack for the night.
“Um..I don’t need any help but thank you.” You appreciated the concern, but having to owe Evelynn something wasn’t a smart idea. She frowns at your answer and grasps your arm, turning you toward her. Your gaze meets hers, the golden hue taking away your breath. The frustration soon melted off your shoulders in waves.
“I believe you need assistance, darling. Accompany me inside?” Evelynn questions. You agree, mentally screaming at your actions. The single part of your body that was controllable was your mind. Your body follows her, closely, and she leads you into a barren room. Only a few tables were set up but nothing was on top of them. She motions to one of the tables, patiently waiting like the perfect huntress.
“Take a seat here darling.” Evelynn eyes never leave your body once. You take a seat on the table and she walks in between your legs. She hums in delight, using her nail to graze the skin of your jaw. She moves allowing her head to hide into your neck, inhaling the intoxicating scent she’s been wanting. She places an open mouth kiss on your neck, sharp canines slowly digging into your flesh. You groan, squirming underneath her actions.
Evelynn moans quietly at the taste of your blood, it faintly coated her tongue. Her hands roam your body, her claw like nails ripping the clothes in their path. You whine quietly, protesting in your thoughts because you had no jacket. She’ll give you another top later. Her impatience of the game she planned wasn’t intended. It’s been quite the time since she’s had someone smell so delicious. You feel her hands roam your body, resting on your thighs.
“What do you want darling? I am what you desire.” Evelynn whispers, kneeling in between your legs after spreading them wide. Your body moves automatically, hands resting on her shoulders to urge her to come forward. Did you truly desire the touch of a stranger? She refused your small demand and looked you in the eyes with a smirk.
“I want you. I crave your touch, please..” You beg, making a fool of yourself. You wanted to run away but your body stayed where it was. Spread open and waiting for Evelynn to touch you. She gives you a half smile before leaning forward and kissing your covered inner thigh. You shiver in delight when her warm lips faintly touch you. You couldn’t stop the whine from slipping past your lips, you wanted to feel her lips on your bare skin not the clothing.
“Patience darling, I have no intention of rushing this game.” Evelynn coos. Her fingers grip your pants, slowly bringing them past your ankles and into the floor. Her golden eyes are fixated on her future prize. She shakes her head before gently biting on the now exposed skin of your thigh. You moan quietly at the small burn, soon to be slight pain when her canines pierce through fragile skin.
Evelynn’s fingers flutter on your thigh, slowly reaching your covered sex. The graze over the fabric, teasing your impatient soul and eliciting a whine from your lips. She removes her mouth from the area she made faint bruises and licks over it. Her free hand scratches over your thigh before reaching up and groping your breast. She removes her hand from your sex and brings it to accompany her other one. Your back arches into her hands as your gaze stays trained on her.
Evelynn doesn’t mutter a single word as she reaches behind you and exposes your breasts. She hums in delight, standing from her kneeling position. She watches in amusement as your nipples harden from the coolness of the room. The urge of wanting one in her mouth was too strong, she leans down for a moment and takes a single bud into her waiting mouth. You moan out, reaching up and tangling your fingers into her silver locks. You tug on her hair and press her closer to the mound of flesh.
The charm Evelynn had on you wasn’t as strong as what she normally uses. She feels a twitch of your finger and stops what she’s doing, letting the erect nipple go with a soundly pop. Her golden eyes slowly trail up to your own and an eyebrow raises with a small smile.
“I love the ones who resist the charm. The ability to fight it, even at a low potency is astounding.” Evelynn praises. Her hands give your breasts another squeeze before she steps away, eyes never leaving yours. You couldn’t look away from her gaze. Its piercing contact was latching to your very soul. She watches the whites in your eyes slowly disappear and she wickedly smiles. There was no harm in having some fun was there?
Evelynn walks toward you, a new grip on your soul. She stalks toward you like a hunter and stops once she’s just in front of you. You were very obedient now, not that you weren’t before, and there were no sudden movements from you. She grasps your face and leans forward.
“I lo-” Evelynn’s words were cut off by the opening of the door. She sighs and looks toward the sound, a certain ninja entering her gaze. Akali can easily tell the mood went from steamy to annoyance in seconds. “What?” Evelynn growls, fully turning her body toward Akali.
“It was just your idea to have this party too, you know. Get your ass out there and leave the innocents alone. It’s not the time to be feasting.” Akali crosses her arms, frowning at succubus. Evelynn scoffs, refusing to let go of the grip she had on your soul. There was something different about yours and she wanted more.
“Fine, leave so I can break the charm.” Evelynn suggests and Akali doesn’t move. When did she get brave enough to hold her ground against a succubus? Akali motions for her to get on with it and watches carefully. She didn’t need to be the next one charmed by Miss. Cranky. Evelynn turns and takes a long look at your nearly naked form. She could still see the areas where she bit you, the faintest blood flow was visible.
Evelynn gets closer to you and leans down, “We’ll meet again darling. For now, enjoy the party and life.” Her hot breath leaves your ear and she walks over to Akali. She loosely wraps an arm around the ninja, who stiffens in return. They leave the room, immediately after they do the clouded feelings leave your brain.
You hop off the table and get dressed the best you could. The one you wore was torn and not wearable anymore. You sigh and look around, seeing a jacket on a chair near the exit. Evelynn was kind enough to leave that for you. You put it on your shoulders and sigh quietly. You were tired and ready to leave. It was unfortunate that you needed to wait for your friend.
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Hola querida! We need a story where brainy says something along the lines of “touch her and I’ll kill you” or “don’t you dare touch her..” we don’t see many instances of protective boyfriend brainy.
- I was trying to think of a scenario for this for a while, but 6x03 gave me an intriguing idea. Thanks for the prompt! x
Brainy had expected this task to be easy.
After all, compared to every other thought track currently running simultaneously through his mind, gathering a box of belongings from Lena’s old workplace hardly needed space for consideration.
Brainy understood why Lena didn’t want to face Luthor Corp again, certainly not to collect the meagre selection of knick-knacks that one of her old assistants had no doubt scooped into a piece of cardboard for her to carry out with her tail between her legs. It was a cruelty, plain and simple, and Brainy was beginning to learn how much such cruelties stung.
So, when Lena had mentioned with offhanded distaste what she needed to do that day, Brainy was more than happy to volunteer to go in her steed. It worked in his favour, after all. Alex had been pushing him to get out of the lab for some fresh air for nearly eighteen hours - now he could fulfil her request.
With one thought track focused on reformatting Nia’s training simulation, and another remotely accessing the Phantom Zone data map for any new leads, Brainy found he had far too much of his mind left wide open - places where far more dangerous thoughts were now encouraged to grow more often than not.
Perhaps a distraction was exactly what he required.
The office should have been empty. That’s what Lena had said, that’s what Luthor Corp’s security feed had suggested. Brainy hadn’t considered any alternative outcomes, and so the moment he’d spied Lena’s belongings sat on the table by the sofa, he’d headed there immediately.
“Not even a week without her assets and I see my sister’s already wrangled someone into doing the heavy lifting for her.”
The sound of that voice sent every nerve in Brainy’s body on edge.
He’d been doing better. Over the last few days since his talk with Lena, he’d been doing better. Giving himself an emotional outlet, allowing them to flow from him instead of being boxed inside, turning to toxic waste in his gut. He’d even found it easier to switch his attention from the television when Lex’s face predictably appeared for one of his seemingly never-ending publicity stunts.
But, that was television. That was circuits and screens, separating them from one another.
Now, Lex was stood there in the room with him, Lena’s desk acting as their only partition.
Brainy could feel Lex’s eyes on him, shark-like and hungry, waiting for his response. And so, Brainy kept his jaw locked tight, focusing his line of sight on the box and nothing else. Of picture frames and other keepsakes.
A photo of Lena and Kara stared up at him, their smiles so pure and genuine it nearly stung.
The acid in Brainy’s lungs swelled.
Aggravatingly, his lack of response only made Lex that much more talkative.
“It was an impressive hack, by the way,” Lex continued casually. “I assumed you were the mastermind behind it. Reminds me why I wanted you on Team Lex to begin with.”
Brainy stiffened. “I was never on your team.”
He shouldn’t have spoken. Shouldn’t have given in. But suddenly, all that he had done to free himself of his emotional backlog hardly seemed enough. It surged from the very depths of his uninhibited mind, hissing and spitting like vitriolic acid.
Which only seemed to make Lex’s confidence grow.
“Is that what you tell yourself?” Lex asked. “Does it help you sleep at night?”
Brainy bared his teeth.
“Oh no,” Lex said, fake sympathy dripping from his voice. “Something tells me it’s not working.”
Brainy pursed his lips, instead reaching once more for the box. His arms trembled with wasted potential, but he ignored their protests. He had a task to do. Unexpected interruptions aside, Lena was counting on him to carry it out. And he would not fail.
“Maybe it isn’t for you at all then,” Lex wondered aloud. “Maybe you sell that story for your girlfriend’s benefit.”
An ugly flash of red tinted Brainy’s vision.
“Nia, isn’t it?” Lex asked innocently. “I hear she works for CatCo, quite the up-and-coming journalist. Although, CatCo is such a troublesome place of work, isn’t it? Always getting destroyed in the crosshairs of city-wide threats. Just how long can that place go without another casualty?”
Brainy could hear the barely disguised threat behind Lex’s words.
Fresh rage bubbled inside his chest, inching closer and closer towards his heart. The box blurred from his line of focus and, in the next instant, Brainy found that he was staring directly at Lex, his fingers clenched so tightly he felt the sharp prick of his own nails digging against his flesh.
“Touch her and I’ll kill you,” Brainy said, his voice so low he barely recognised it as his own. But it was his voice, and he realised all too soon that his threat was very real.
After all, he could do it. He knew exactly how to do it. Multiple ways, in fact, flashing through his mind with startling precision, each one more elaborate and gruesome than the last. Watching the light extinguish from Lex Luthor’s eyes… nothing would make him happier.
His ancestors would revel in it. They already were, louder than ever before, melding with the rage that was corroding his lungs with every breath he took.
Some quiet part of Brainy’s mind startled at such inclinations, such a desire to be one like the bloodline he had fought so hard to renounce.
But what was one whisper against a hoard of enticing cheers?
Lex only stared at him, with that smile that never quite reached his eyes, urging him to the very edge of his emotional barriers. “Empty threats, Brainiac-5.”
That was all it took.
Brainy didn’t remember clearing the room, only that when he was fully aware of himself again, he was stood in front of Lex, his right hand gripped firmly around his throat. Every implant inside of him was fired up, ready to snap his neck at the slightest provocation.
When a gleeful laugh tumbled from Lex’s lips, the red staining Brainy’s vision only grew stronger. He growled out, slamming Lex’s body against the reinforced windows with enough force that they shuddered inside their fixtures.
All he needed to do was activate his implants to their highest capacity, activate his ring, and he could take Lex high into the sky. He could watch the oxygen drain from his lungs. Watch his eyes bulge and swell.
Or… or he could simply drop him. Drop him down into the city he nearly destroyed, allowing him to fall with such velocity that the only thing that might remain of him on the sidewalk would be a smear of blood and bone. Like he had never been a person at all.
He had never been a person at all.
Brainy bared his teeth, looking his enemy in the eyes.
Which was when he saw it.
There was no fear there. In fact, if anything, Lex only looked deeply satisfied with what he’d done. What emotions he’d brought to the surface.
Brainy’s eyes flickered back and forth uselessly over that expression, trying desperately to make sense of it. But it… it didn’t make sense. He was threatening Lex’s life and… and he didn’t care.
No. It wasn’t that he didn’t care. He was enjoying this. This game. This…
The red film washed from Brainy’s eyes all at once.
He let go of Lex’s throat, stumbling back a pace, gripping uselessly at Lena’s old desk, squeezing it numbly.
Brainy’s chest heaved.
This wasn’t him. He’d spent months now hiding from his truest self, allowing the rage of everything Lex had put him through to fester into a corrosive bile inside his chest and stomach.
But, he was not a killer. He would not turn to the darkest version of himself. He had fought far too long and hard to prove that he was not his kin. That he would never follow the path of his clan.
Lena had let Lex go. And now… now Brainy knew he must do the same.
Lex had crumpled when Brainy had removed his hand, holding tight to his throat between dramatic gasps of air. Still, he was smiling, something crazed shining in that expression. Something... desperate.
Ah. Now, Brainy believed he understood.
Lex needed this… this sick form of attention. Without his sister, without Supergirl, he had run out of enemies to aggravate.
Perhaps it had not been happenstance that this office had been inhabited when Brainy had arrived, after all.
“You aren’t worth my attention,” Brainy said through his teeth, trying to draw in from the emotionless façade he had pulled in the past. It was far more of a struggle than it had ever been before, but it was enough to keep his voice steady. Brainy took a step forward, watching Lex quizzically, as though he were nothing but an animal inside a cage. “My friends,” Brainy continued levelly, “my loved ones, we protect each other, but who would protect you?”
Lex blinked, the smallest furrow creasing his brow, a murmur of confusion.
Brainy’s lips twitched. “If I were to kill you, who would even care if you were gone?” He smirked. “No one.”
Brainy turned away from him then, ignoring the angry red handprint that still painted Lex’s throat, ignoring his enemy’s attempts to goad him even as he headed out the door.
Instead, he took Lena’s box.
And he walked away.
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an unfinished piece: akaashi
pairing: waterbender!reader x bloodbender!akaashi
contains: atla au, akaashi being withdrawn and jaded, persistent and fed up reader
a/n: god this one has such potential,, here’s how this story was supposed to go: reader finds akaashi in an attempt to strengthen her bending abilities to save her family back home, so he helps her after finally giving in and they grow closer and closer until they’ve fallen for one another. but all that is good must come to an end--a terribly bloody end
It was a path of words, whispered rumors said on a breeze about the man who could bend blood.
It was a path that curved with village secrets, winded with tribal myths, where there were never two of the same fable--never a steady map to follow when the fog shrouded your steps or the rain blurred your vision.
It was a path of lies; but it was also a path of hidden truths.
Soft moss conceded beneath your steps, leaves crumbling as you ducked under a low branch and continued on the rock laden trail, vines obscuring ancient symbols carved long ago in a forgotten language lost to the world. Judging by the angle of the sun to the tree line, you’d been scouring this beaten path for nearly two hours, attempting to locate the blood bender whose existence was often used as a threat toward ill-behaved children; a ghost of stories shared in the dark of night. But considering the amount of exhaustive efforts, precious time, and trickling money placed into this venture--you had no intentions on returning home with empty hands.
“It’ll be your downfall, dear.” Your mother had told you one evening, chastising you for your stubbornness as she poured tea from a clay pot, clicking her tongue disapprovingly, “And, in turn, it’ll be the downfall of us all.”
Walking along a rotted log, you mulled over the odd memory; it was a shame you never quite understood her crypticism.
The gentle sound of rushing water caught in your ears, pulling you from your thoughts like the tides of the river pulled at the banks, ebbing to and from. You followed the stream, careful in the way you avoided rain-slicked rocks and wet mud as you wandered alongside it, watching the strange pattern of ripples. A few more aimless steps farther into the forest and you could see the beginnings of a clearing, thick trees giving way to patches of flowers and neatly kept grass, tilled soil and crates of freshly picked produce, a house no bigger than a cottage and--
A man at the edge of the river, where the current sluiced dangerously close to an array of crops.
A man who stood so soundly, steady on his feet as if willing the river to flow around the new sprouts.
Except, he was.
To the untrained eye, the light flicks of his wrist and fingers could easily be mistaken for a twitch, a hand tremor left untreated, but you knew better.
Bribery and meddling on the people of the non-bending village nearby had led you here, to him, to the supposed waterbender who held an affinity for blood.
You couldn’t afford to be wrong.
All of his fingers moved in tandem now, the water mimicking his control with an ease you envied greatly.
It’s him. It has to be him.
It has to be--or the steep price of everything you gave was for nothing at all.
The pace of your heart had quickened, your mind racing with every doubt, every thought, every word you wanted to scream to spite the world. Instead, what slipped from your throat was something you hadn’t intended.
“It’s you.” Your voice was quieter than the fluttering of a sparrow’s wings, as frantic as them, too.
Instantly, the river swilled into the mounds of the crops, pooling in the soil as the man’s body tensed and his attention was no longer on the flooded plants--it was pinned to you. Cold blue eyes found yours, narrowing in the way they scrutinized you as your instincts told you to run, run far away and back to your family’s awaiting arms; run and don’t you dare look back.
Sighing, a scowl contorted his face before glancing back to the drowned seedlings, “Whoever you think I am,” he began, crouching down to drag his touch along the water, “I’m not.”
You remained at the clearing’s edge, too frightened to move toward him, too stupid to move away, “You’re the bloodbender.”
“You have the wrong person.” His tone was indifferent, using his clothes to wipe away the water on his hand.
Braving a step forward, you persisted, “You were water bending just now, I saw you.”
“Then you must’ve seen wrong.” He turned his back to you then, plucking a satchel off the ground.
It has to be him.
You were already moving before you could fully process the consequences of your actions, “Wait! I can water bend, too, I just--”
He halted, whirling around to incline his head to you in an almost condescending manner, “Then you shouldn’t be here, should you?”
You opened your mouth to speak, but the man was quicker.
“Go back home. If you know what’s good for you, go back home.” And then he was gone, slipping into the old house and closing the door surely behind him.
A caustic laugh of disbelief from you was the only other sound that meddled with the chirping of birds and the sloshing of the river. And for as much as you wanted to rage, to kick down the man’s door and demand he hear you out, you simply stepped up onto the front porch and knocked sharply, “I just want to talk--please.”
There was no response from within the house.
You exhaled shakily, slumping against the wall beside the door as you ran a hand across your face. Truly, you had nothing left to lose; and that creates a desperate person.
“Look, I know I’m nothing but a stranger to you, but I’m not asking for your hospitality--I can get that at the neighboring village if I wanted to.” Your head fell back against the wood, “I’m asking for your help. As a fellow waterbender, I’m simply asking for your help.”
On the other side, the man leaned into the wall with a shoulder, arms crossed as a scoff echoed through the mostly bare interior. He owed no loyalty to any waterbender or their tribe; he owed no one anything. Not for the way he was banished from his people, not for the way he was demonized and vilified, not for the way he scoured and scraped to sustain himself when his own family would rather watch him burn.
Not even for what he did all those years ago.
“But,” you breathed, barely audible through the barrier, “it’s been suspected that the fire nation will raid our area soon. They don’t know when, only that it’s believed they’ll attack when the sun is at its strongest.”
He waited for you to continue, brows furrowing as he contemplated your words.
You were a long way from home.
“I need to get stronger so that I can fight. My abilities are subpar at most, disappointing at the least. I had to teach myself whatever I know now, no one was around long enough to give me proper lessons--there was always something to be done in the village.”
It was pitiful.
You, pleading with a nameless man, a stranger, who was nothing more than an old wives’ tale to the outside world.
Sliding your legs up, you wrapped your arms around them, resting your forehead against the tops of your knees. “Please,” you whispered, so quietly, so pathetically, to the man who wasn’t listening.
You stayed curled up like that until the sun slipped beneath the horizon, giving way to a starless night, clouds roaming over the dim glow of the moon until it, too, disappeared as the sun once had. Soon enough, thunder could be heard above, brief flashes of lightning peeking from your peripheral as the first wet beads of rain fell to the ground--fell to you. Water droplets left strands of hair sticking to your forehead, clothes clinging uncomfortably to your cold skin.
Yes, it was pitiful, choosing to suffer rather than find shelter because you simply couldn’t bring yourself to care at this point. Your only goal was dangling in front of you, separated by a wooden wall, and you were so close, yet so far at the same time.
Engrossed in your own penance, you didn’t notice how the rain no longer pelted your soaked clothing.
“Get inside before you catch a cold.”
Somehow, the callousness of his voice was colder than that of the storm’s onslaught, sending a light shiver through your body. You lifted your head to find the man standing over you, a single hand held up as he diverted the rain to fall outside of an invisible barrier that encompassed the two of you.
You stared at him, convincing yourself that this was a trick of the mind, this is how your broken dignity would cope.
“Or you can stay out here, it’s your choice.”
No, it was him.
Your muscles stiffened in protest, joints popping, as you rose from the ground, your eyes dragging from the wood panels beneath your feet to the eyes of the man who held your stare only briefly before turning to walk back into the house. You followed behind him, lugging your ruined pack through the threshold of the door and inside where warmth enveloped you.
But you were so tired.
You were exhausted, and if you could, you would simply collapse onto the threadbare rugs and curl up in a deep sleep.
“Let me take that.”
The man was at your side now, holding out a hand for you to slip the pack into. And as much as you wanted to unload the weight, you kept your fingers wrapped tightly around the strap. You may have been weak, your body spent from a lack of rest and proper meals, but you weren’t naïve--your pack held vital supplies as well as a multitude of weapons that made up for your lack of expertise in your own powers, weapons that you’d honed yourself under the watchful eye of a village elder.
“If you can’t fend for yourself with what the gods gave you,” he had said, whittling away at a stone dagger, “you fend for yourself with what they didn’t, like the rest of us.”
You shifted the bag to rest more comfortably on your shoulders, “I’ve got it, but thank you.”
His brows rose slightly, a sign that he didn’t quite believe you, but he acquiesced, waving a hand to the living room where a fire burned beneath the stone chimney, “Make yourself comfortable, I’ll go get you a dry pair of clothes.”
and once again, that is where i stopped,, sadly,, i would’ve really liked to continue this one but the drive to do so just isnt there anymore
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*anxious but happy croissant noises*
Hello! I was wondering if you could perhaps do Law with a fem s/o who confesses to them that she wants him to be rougher and kinda hints at being into bondage?
If not have a lovely day!! I love your blog!!!
kyaaaaaa~ I had so much fun with this!!!!! I’m sorry it took me forever to write this, but I made sure to make it a bit longer in compensation. Enjoy!✮
Warnings: f!reader, slight bondage, breast play, teasing, fingering, he liiiiiiightly spanks you once, unprotected sex (don’t do this, be safe!)
Despite his cruelty towards his enemies in the battlefield and those who opposed him, Trafalgar Law was a total softie when it came towards his crewmates. Especially, especially with you, his beloved girlfriend. He couldn’t bring himself to approach you without being completely flustered and nervous, despite the fact that he had already seen you naked hundreds of times, since he had to check up on you anyways. But whenever you two are making out and you take your shirt off, he simply averts his gaze or embraces you to kiss your shoulders, trying to hide himself from you. Of course, he was lovely and romantic most of the time, but as of lately, you wish he could loosen up just a little. After all these years travelling together, you expected him to be more comfortable around you, to be able to tell you his fantasies, to do other things with you, to do things to you, but he never took the lead, it was usually you made the first moves.
Now was the perfect time to talk with him. Just as you were heading to the medical bay, you spotted him in the hallway on his way to your shared room. You swiftly went to his side and hooked your arm on his own, catching his attention. “Oh hey (name), I didn’t see you coming” He said, looking at your arm. “Were you coming to talk to me?”
“Yeah, there’s something we need to discuss, it’s been bugging me for a few days now”
His entire body stiffened, looking you in the eyes now with a panicked expression “Sh-should we go inside my office?”
A soft laugh left your lips. “No need, our bedroom is the best place for this kind of conversation. Let’s go, darling”
Law’s cheeks heated up at your pet name, still not used to it being directed at him. He held his hat over his eyes and released a simple “Sure” before walking the few steps towards your destination. Once you two arrived, he opened the door for you and let you in first before closing and locking the door for more privacy. He thought that if you wanted to talk here, then it must’ve been really important.
You took a seat on the border of the king sized bed, crossing your legs to get rid of your shoes. His form approached you, doing the same before taking the spot beside you.
“You know, we’ve been together for a few years now…” You started, his nervousness didn’t go unnoticed, imagining that he was overthinking. “I think it’s time we start to spice things up a little”. Frowning, he locked eyes with you. “What do you mean? Are you unsatisfied with something?” “No, Law. You’re an amazing boyfriend, and an incredible lover, you always take good care of me” He felt like his face was going to boil at your compliment, but he would’ve never expected what came next.
“If you’re comfortable with it, I’d like you to get rougher with me”
His mind went blank, unable to process your words properly. It took him a few seconds of staring at you like you were some weird creature from the Grand Line to direct his gaze to the floor. “Is there… something wrong with uh, being vanilla?” You scooted closer to him, hugging his arm and rubbing your head on his neck. “Of course not. It’s just that I feel that it’s getting a bit repetitive” You reached your hand to hold his face, making him look at you again. “I believe it’ll help you relax and enjoy yourself a lot more” He closed his eyes. “I do enjoy myself. Trying something we’ve never done before won’t change a thing”
“We don’t know, we haven’t tried it yet”
“I…” He paused, taking a deep sigh. “I don’t want to hurt you” He freed his arm from your grip to hold you close to him, your face fell to his chest. “I trust you. I’ll immediately tell you if I feel uncomfortable”
He sighed once more, admitting his defeat. “Alright, but if I’m uncomfortable, we will stop”
A slight smile adorned your lips. Unable to contain your happiness, you moved to kiss his neck, but stopped in your tracks at the sensation of his hand wrapped around your throat. Throwing your head backwards, your eyes rolled back and a sigh escaped your lips as you gripped his shoulders in amusement. Using a bit of strength, he pushed you to lay you down on the bed, earning a soft gasp that resonated in your throat.
Law moved so he was now straddling your hips, allowing himself to get his shirt off, revealing his toned abs and chest, before you could lower your hands to touch him, he grabbed them with ease, and held them on either side of your head, not allowing you to move at all.
“Is this better?” He huskily asked.
“Much better. But don’t hold back, you can even tie me up if you want to”
For what felt like the hundredth time today, he froze again, before snickering at your response. “You’re crazy. Maybe I do need to tie you up”
This time, it was your turn to freeze. A warm sensation travelled through your body in anticipation. It felt like a dream come true.
He quickly ordered you to take off your shirt and bra, and went to remove his leather belt. Taking advantage of the fact that you had to sit up, once you were done, he reached behind you and used the belt to tie your wrists behind your back, making sure to let the blood flow through your veins. Once he made sure you were okay, he hungrily kissed you, once again holding your neck, giving it a few squeezes every now and then. His other hand grabbed one of your breasts, tightly holding it.
He then laid you down once more, directing his mouth towards your hardened nipple, earning a few soft moans when his tongue started circling your bud. Both his hands gripped your sides as he continued his ministrations on the other one.
You felt the need to move your legs against each other, barely achieving anything due to his strong legs around them. When he felt movement underneath him, he released your nipple with a soft pop, and looked at your shaking form. He was a bit embarrassed about this situation, having you like this, it felt as if you were more reactive, more sensitive. Every small touch made you shudder, eliciting gasps that were starting to drive him crazy. Law soon realized that he was actually enjoying being in control of your sensations, and seeing the mess you were right now, turned him on more than anything you’ve both ever done in your time together.
With newfound confidence, he sat up, grabbed you by the waist, and forcefully flipped you on your stomach, lifting your hips in the air. Since you were still tied up, your face dug into the mattress, being supported only by your upper chest. You were definitely shocked, it was your first time with Law in this position. You could only feel his rough hands as he pushed down your pants alongside your underwear. Your breath hitched when he started rubbing your folds up and down, giving special attention to your clit, massaging it in circular motions. He then proceeded to slowly insert his index finger, wiggling it around as he put a second digit in. With the help of your juices, they easily slid in and out, curling them every once in a while to hit your most sensitive spot.
When you started to squirm and moan, Law stopped his motions, harshly grabbing your buttcheecks to keep you in place. Leaning over your body, he whispered in your ear. “You must be desperate, aren’t you? Beg for it”
A shiver ran down your spine, whimpering a small “Please”. He leaned back to give you a mild spank, commanding you to speak louder. “Please, Law, I need you, please!”
Satisfied with your obedience, he took off the rest his clothing, releasing his throbbing cock, quickly lining it with your entrance. This time, he didn’t waste any time, and immediately began thrusting into you, dragging moans out of your throat that were muffled by the several pillows beneath you.
Once he picked up his pace, he grabbed your binded wrists, using them to rock your body into his. You could hear him grunting and moaning behind you, he was definitely enjoying this, and you felt proud for being the cause of it.
He suddenly grabbed your hair, lifting your head up. “I wanna hear you when I cum inside you”. He was close, and so were you. A familiar feeling was building up in your lower regions, tightly embracing him. His seed soon filled your insides as he let out a loud grunt, but he didn’t stop. Bringing his hand to your clit, he started rubbing it once again. You felt yourself tremble as your own orgasm washed over you. Only then, he let your poor pussy go.
Once he steadied his breathing, Law untied his belt, letting you roll over to your side to rub your wrists. Your teary eyes locked with his, he saw your state, but before he could speak, you cut him off. “We should do this again. Maybe with some ropes for next time” You couldn’t suppress a giggle when you saw the clear embarrassment adorning his face.
“I see you’re okay” He said before sighing “Do you… want to take a bath with me? I’ll wash your hair” You didn’t need to be told twice.
Sitting up, you gently held his face in your hands to connect your lips with his. Law sneaked an arm under your legs and the other around your back, lifting you up once you broke the kiss. He then began to walk towards the bathroom, both of you silently contempt with how things worked out in the end.
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Sneak Peek into my upcoming fic 😍
The hunt for hocruxes take longer than expected, the trio are well into their twenties but they tirelessly continue their efforts to vanquish The Dark Lord.
It is by an unfortunate misunderstanding that Ron gives away their location.
Giving her friends a chance to escape and continue their journey, Hermione makes the ultimate sacrifice and surrenders herself to widely proclaimed Angel of Death.
Her terms of imprisonment are strange and baffling to her.
She is to be well cared for and educated. Her captor, Draco Malfoy and his family are entrusted with her care, a decision that does not sit well with the ice blonde man now nearing twenty five years of age.
Voldemort has plans for her, he harbours a strong infatuation that he keeps hidden, except when they are alone.
He keeps his advances to subtle touches and lingering glances but does nothing else to thwart the headstrong woman he holds captive.
Hermione devises a plan, she decides to seduce the young handsome Malfoy into bending to her will and letting her leave.
She entices him with her clothes, secret glances and lingering touches but her advances go unnoticed, it frustrates her that he is immune to her charms.
He notices her alright, it takes all his will power to not kneel at her feet and claim her for himself.
She looks, smells and probably tastes like a forbiddenly enticing fruit.
Hermione puts her plan into motion on his birthday and bites off more than she can chew.
Her body betrays her shamelessly and he takes his birthday present in the form of her orgasm on his tongue but after the deed he leaves her to mercy of the shadows with her cum dripping down her thighs as a reminder of the dangerous game she's playing.
Her existence isn't harrowing, it's the best one could hope for.
It isnt until Narcissa's famous Malfoy Christmas ball and the untimely appearance of Theodore Nott that Draco loses his composure and cracks.
T : "Is that Hermione Granger?"
D : "Yes."
T : "The ugly duckling has blossomed into a beautiful swan."
D : "If you are into that sort of thing."
T : "You have eyes, Malfoy."
He did have eyes and Granger looked stunning in a flowing dark green gown that hugged her neck in a high halter and left her entire back exposed teasing the rise of her shapely arse.
It was obvious his mother had taken it upon herself to dress Granger for the occasion. Malfoy family jewels glistened around the former Gryffindor's neck and wrists.
He didn't appreciate Theo's lustful eyes roving over her body.
T : "I fancy a dance."
D : "She's for show only."
T : "Is that jealousy I hear?"
D : "Granger's fate is in the hands of The Dark Lord."
T : "Indeed, but excuse me, I want to get to know the most beautiful woman in the room."
D : "Theo, I'm warning you."
T : "Fuck off, Malfoy, you have no control over my actions."
Draco simmers in unadulterated fury as he watches Theo approach Hermione and engage her in conversation.
The bloody nerve of her, he narrows his eyes and glares as she touches Theo's arm and throws her head back in laughter.
Hermione locks eyes with a pair of icy swirls of grey, he looks positively good enough to eat.
Handsome is a word wasted on Draco Malfoy such is his presence, she gravitates towards him unwaveringly but tonight a willing good looking man is paying her attention and it feels refreshing and oddly satisfying.
Theo leads Hermione to the dance floor and pulls her close to his body, his fingers tease her exposed skin, she willingly moves in and let's her hand slide around his neck.
She peeks a look over Theo's shoulder at Draco, he continues to stare at them unblinkingly, his body radiates anger and a reddish glow emits from his fingertips.
From afar, Draco watches Theo's slow movements on the woman swaying in his arms.
Theo bends to kiss Hermione"s cheek and Draco stiffens.
The song ends, Theo kisses Hermione's hand and with the promise of a walk under the moonlight, they part ways.
She grabs a flute of champagne and walks into the wide terrace. The night sky is particularly pretty with many stars scattered across the heavens.
Her thoughts linger on Ron and Harry.
Soon, I'll be free.
A voice of pure steel cuts through her thoughts.
D : "Having fun, are we?"
H : "The best one can hope in prison."
D : "Did you enjoy him touching you?"
H : "As a matter of fact, I did."
H : "It gets so lonely and Theo is a distraction I wholeheartedly welcome."
H : "He says he's spending the night, perhaps we can get to know each other better."
D : "Like hell..."
Draco closes the distance between them, pulls her roughly to his chest and apparates them away.
Their feet touch solid ground and Hermione pushes Draco away angrily.
H : "Get away from me, don't fucking touch me."
Draco tosses his jacket aside and begins to unbutton his black shirt.
D : "You don't mean that."
He stalks towards her purposely and Hermione steps back at once.
H : "I'm warning you, Malfoy."
D : "I've been meaning to do this all night."
He grabs her around the waist, pulls her to him and claims her swollen lips hungrily.
Hermione stills as his kisses invade her body and mind but she has some fight left in her.
She struggles, manages to free a hand, bringing it across she slaps him hard with all her might.
The slap echoes through the quiet confinement of the room, her fingermarks stain his pale skin and even in the dim light it stands out.
Draco touches his lip and his fingers glisten with blood, he grins at the woman in front of him.
Her fiery spirit turned him on, but when he took her it would be with her consent and not otherwise.
Hermione stares at her trembling hand and then at the imposing man before her.
She breathes rapidly to calm her shattered nerves.
He turns to leave but a small hand grabs his arm in an ironclad grip, he turns to face her and is momentarily blinded by her mane of thick brown hair.
Hermione grabs Draco by the collar and kisses him fervently.
Their need urgent, they shed their clothes and caress and touch every inch of their naked bodies.
She is impressed by his length and girth, the sight fills her with a sensation she is not familiar with.
It presses into the skin of her inner thigh and she closes her eyes in anticipation.
He trails his fingers along her body, tracing the luscious curves of her full body.
Draco sucks on the delicate skin on her neck, he grabs hold of his rock hard cock and guides it into her entrance.
Without a second thought, he rams into her hoping to make a lasting impression, the wanting to stand out from her former lovers is strong.
Her fingers dig into his back and expensive sheets, a pained moan rolls off her tongue.
A whimper follows and Draco stills as her tight walls clamp down around his dick and the tip tears through a barrier.
He brings his head up and stares at the woman beneath him.
Words desert him....
D : "You're a virgin."
He had already taken her, Hermione almost let's out a laugh.
Boldly, she locks eyes with him and runs her fingers through his silky fine locks.
H : "Not anymore."
D : "Granger, fuck...why didn't you tell me?"
H : "Does it matter?
D : "Yes, I shouldn't have been your first."
H : "Why? What difference does it make?"
D : "Forgive me."
H : "There's nothing to forgive, I wanted this."
H : "I want you."
He claims her lips passionately.
D : "Everything about you is special."
D : "I want to ravish you slowly."
H : "Finish what you started, Draco."
Hearing his name coming out her mouth was explosive, it went down to his core.
He slows his pace and pleasures her until they are bathed in sweat and completely spent.
Draco withdraws reluctantly, throws his long legs off the bed and strides naked into the massive ensuite.
He opens the gold plated tap, takes his cock in his hand and stares at it.
The tip is covered with blood and semen.
Her blood, the evidence of her virginity and purity.
It was pure and untainted, not a drop of mud or discoloration to it.
She was his.
It was nothing like he had ever experienced, he was well versed in bedding a woman, but this, being with her felt as if he was reborn from the ashes.
The roaring feelings from his core scares him, it paralyzes him and he holds onto the porcelain sink to steady himself.
The generations old magic flowing through his veins speak to him, it pulls at the strings of his heart and propels him to her.
Their union is an unexpected one, a forbidden love in dark times.
Draco narrows his eyes at his relection and smirks, he would protect her, cherish her and love her with all his being.
Hermione touches her body, it was mere minutes but she craved him again, her heart aches for his presence, she couldn't understand what was happening but it felt glorious.
The need to be surrounded by his warmth engulfed her, she closes her eyes, throws her head back and groans in frustration.
Large hands palm her ripened breasts and teeth graze her sensitive skin.
He pushes his throbbing cock into her tight cunt and pleasured moans escape their lips.
He growls protectively, "Mine."
She sighs in content, "Yours, always."
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Stars must not fall
Hewwo!! So this is my first work for this fandom and I haven’t written anything non academic for years so please bare with me but I wrote this in honor of the wonderful game @ataleofcrowns for the prompt ‘like a star falling you drop without warning’.
also special thanks to @strawbebyjam who deals with me asking if I wrote well and edited this
The Crown must be perfect.
Every action is measured and evaluated. Nothing is above scrutiny. The people around the Crown may treat the Crown as a friend, but they will never be scrutinised the way everyone will the Crown. Eyes will always look up at the Crown, so the Crown must not falter, must not be weak.
But she’s only human.
Maharlika feels it, the way eyes are drawn to her presence as soon as she enters. It doesn’t matter if she simply passes by or she has wandered in unintentionally. The moment she enters all eyes are on her, the weight of their expectations doubling down on her mercilessly.
Expectation shackles her from wrist to wrist, with weighted bracelets made of gold, while the hopes of the people tighten her robes and she wonders how she has not choked.
When she was younger she had dreamed of becoming the Crown. Living a life where she could do what she wanted and lived somewhere without constantly running. Now, now she feels the strains under the shackles of their beliefs and needs. How their hope seems to bind her to the throne, carrying the weight of a promise she doesn’t know if she can uphold.
Day in and out, the idea of being the Crown torments her ceaselessly. Dreams once of ash and blood now add faces of people staring up at her with desperation and adoration she feels she does not deserve.
In the rare moments she’s alone when her thoughts don’t crash into each other, she hears the whisper of a few faint melodies from her memories. The quietest of whispers that slip from her fingers when she tries to reach out and grasp them.
What little she does remember, are the towns full of vibrant life, noises she could only hear and never be a part of. The symphony of life in a place where people could always come back to and call it home.
Rising above the noise of the towns were the sweetest voices she’d ever hear. It doesn’t matter where she’s gone but she remembers hearing voices that float above the din. Their voices full of strength and love, or perhaps sorrow if they sing ballads.
In her memories street performers shine with enough magic and power they rivaled the sun. Her mouth agape whenever they’d sing a song.
“More!” The crowd would roar. “More!”
So the performers gave more. Their voices somehow rising above the voices of the people. She can’t remember most songs, not even the slightest sliver in her memories. Except for one, a small melody she hums without meaning to. The origin of the song long gone but it leaves the melody as a small ember in her mind.
Crowns are like stars, they should not fall.
She remembers reading a page from a book “gods do not fall gracefully,” it said. Maharlika wonders if Crowns when they fall, fall gracefully. If she fell, would she?
Her dreams are marred by nightmares. Of fire and ash, of the blood on her hands, of the corpses of her parents and of the people she had passed to get here. It chokes her, filling her throat with the same acrid smell of burnt bodies and flesh—she’s left gasping for cold air.
Even when she wakes she tastes it at the back of her mouth. The fear and the smell lingering beyond, knowing that if she closes them for a moment they’ll all come flooding back in. Not wanting to alert anyone, she slips out of her room, barefoot, into halls illuminated by the moonlight that fills from the windows, and walks desperate to put as much space as she can away from the confines of her room.
She makes sure her footsteps are quiet, and her breathing slows as not to get caught, though her steps are more rapid at every breath. The layout of the palace is still confusing but she’s determined to learn. Her gait is quick and she doesn’t dare turn around, afraid to see her nightmares manifest, almost hearing them snap at her heels as she almost runs down the hall.
“Who are you?” The voices from her nightmares whispers. “Who do you think you are?”
Her heart thunders in her ears and she doesn’t realize her breath has picked up or her legs started aching.
“Who are you to think that you can hold your head up higher than your fellow men?”
Fire burns under her feet, the heat scorching her soles and the walls suddenly seem alight with red flames. Licking at the edges of her vision and she makes a beeline to a set of doors, desperate to escape.
Rozerîn wakes up with a start.
Unease rolls in her stomach and what little hope of sleep she has disappears. The air feels different, buzzing with energy she couldn’t place. It moves anxious and terrified, lingering just at the edges of her senses so she can’t tell what it is.
Or who it is.
Pressing against the space, agitated, Rozerîn realizes that the spirits are restless. Pushing and pulling like the tide, their ebb and flow a reflection of the current state of the person they’re attached to.
In this case, the Crown.
The realization makes Rozerîn grab a night robe to wrap around her before she leaves her room. Once secured she steps out, peering into the hall, Maharlika’s name resting at the tip of her tongue.
Moonlight pours in through the windows of the hall, bathing everything in a silver glow. By all appearances, the hall was unchanged. Yet Rozerîn feels the tingle of magic in the air and just out of earshot hears the lingering voices too faint to properly make out.
She strains to hear them, to glean anything from the spirits. But they were too far from her reach, pulling away when she almost brushes against them. Cold sweat builds up at her back and she wonders if she should wake Ashti and look for the guard.
Yet something tells her not to.
It’s a small niggling voice at the back of her head, barely above the whispers, so she decides to simply follow the source of the disturbance. Following the blasts of heat and cold that seem to randomly emanate from the halls.
The closer she gets the thicker the magic feels. Like a storm about to come, the hair on her arms rise and as she pushes open a set of double doors, she finds Maharlika sitting by the fountain, her back facing the the doors as she looks into the water.
“Maharlika?” Rozerîn calls out hesitantly, watching as the water in the fountain shudders. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine,” Maharlika replies, her voice rough and she doesn’t turn to address Rozerîn. “What are you doing here?”
Rozerîn shuffles in her spot, wrapping the robe a little tighter. “I was out for a walk,” she explains. “I woke up and couldn’t sleep,”
Silence descends between the 2 of them and Rozerîn after a while walks a little closer, taking a few steps at a time. Gauging from the spirits, they seem a little calmer now, and the fountain (thankfully) no longer violently shaking.
“Why are you up?” Rozerîn decides to press. “Are you well?”
Maharlika stiffens, and Rozerîn is ready to apologize but the words die in her throat when Maharlika finally turns to look at her.
“No,” the admission is pained, a whisper of the word that Rozerîn would have missed if she hadn’t seen Maharlika’s mouth move. “I am not.”
“Talk to me?” She asks, stepping as close as she dares, hands reaching out to hold Maharlika’s balled up fists. For a moment Rozerîn wonders if she had overstepped her bounds but Maharlika reaches out to hold her hands in return.
Rough, calloused, Rozerîn remembers the feeling of bark when she holds Maharlika’s shaking hands on her own. It was comforting, holding hands that make her own small. Despite the trembling and the cold, Rozerîn feels safe, hoping she would feel safe as well.
“Maybe.” Maharlika speaks up and Rozerîn looks up to see Maharlika chew her lower lip--a quirk she will remember to look for when she’s in distress--before sighing. “Walk with me?”
“Of course,” Rozerîn smiles warmly. Her hands still holding onto Maharlika’s, feeling the rough palms above her own slightly calloused finger tips. “I can show you the gardens,”
The corners of Maharlika’s lips curl upward slightly at her suggestion. “I’d love that,”
“Then, my Crown, follow me,” Rozerîn says and as soon as the title leaves her lips she sees Maharlika wince.
Her expression must have been obvious because Maharlika turns away, looking to her right, unwilling to meet Rozerîn’s.
“My apologies, I didn’t realize…” Rozerîn says and holds onto the hands a little tighter. “Perhaps we could stay here instead?”
“Yes...I’d like that more,” Rozerîn feels a small sense of loss when Maharlika pulls her hands away from hers and instead focuses on following the Crown to one of the stone benches on the side.
A heartbeat passes between them, that stretches out to a minute, to a few more. Rozerîn feels the tension ebb away but it’s replaced by something else. Something that moves in the undercurrents, a deep ache that has long lingered.
She considers speaking when Maharlika breaks the silence instead. Shifting a little to face her when she does. “Do you think I’d fall gracefully?”
A joke weasels its way to the forefront of Rozerîn’s mind but the situation at hand doesn’t call for it. Perhaps if she had Xelera’s audacity she might have made it.
“Fall gracefully? What do you mean by it?”
Maharlika hums, contemplating her eyes distant for a while before she meets Rozerîn’s gaze. “If I failed to be good enough, what would happen?”
The ache in her voice and the worry tugs at Rozerîn’s heart. She remembers looking at Lady Zerya with the same pleading eyes, the desperation to cling onto someone for reassurance.
“As long as I am here, I will do my best to make sure you do not fall or stumble.” Rozerîn promises. “Not while I’m here.”
“It feels like I’ve failed already,” Maharlika admits. “It feels as if I’ve failed to be the Crown,”
“There is no Crown born perfect, no one can ever be ready to be the Crown. That’s why we have your tutors, your mentors, the perfect Crown does not fall from the sky,” Rozerîn replies, her hands letting go of Maharlika’s as she does. “Well--except for you. You came to us quite unexpected and when we needed you the most.” She smiles trying to reassure her.
For a moment she wonders if she had overstepped. But the smile Maharlika manages, chases those worries away. “Thank you, Rozerîn,” she says and this time it is she, who reaches out to take Rozerîn’s hand in her own.
Suddenly everything feels so warm, and Rozerîn looks away with a shy smile, before looking down to see Maharlika squeeze and play with her fingers.
“You’ve got really pretty hands,” Maharlika murmurs absentmindedly. “They’re nice to hold,”
Rozerîn laughs, covering her mouth with her hand. “Maharlika, please!”
“It’s true!” Maharlika says and whatever seemed to plague her had disappeared completely from her mind, “I like holding them...I’d hold it forever if I could,”
The idea of forever with Rozerîn makes her heart squeeze and Maharlika could see it. Stretching hours of fleeting eternity between them when they have the time. Stolen moments when work does not call to them.
The Crown must be perfect.
But it never said that the Crown can not fall in love. If Crowns are like stars, then she willingly falls, unexpectedly into the unknown if it means going back to Rozerîn, to home.
“Well—in that case...Maharlika—I...well maybe! If you desire that!” Rozerîn stops in her tracks when the implication of what Maharlika said sinks in.
Maharlika laughs, a deep joyful sound and Rozerîn is torn between hugging her and simply wishing for the spirits to take her away from here.
“I mean, I do desire that~” Maharlika purrs pulling Rozerîn’s hand to her mouth and gives her a kiss, without breaking eye contact.
Words seem to fail her in that moment and Rozerîn doesn’t know what exactly to do. Her heart feels like it’s about to hammer out of her chest with the way it thunders.
“But...genuinely, thank you.” Maharlika gives her hand one last squeeze before letting go. “You...you mean a lot to me, Rozerîn. I hope you know that,”
Rozerîn smiles, the most genuine smile she can muster in this moment and with no hesitation replies.
I care for you too
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Grow Old With You - Reykha’s Birth
IF YOU ONCE READ THIS FIC AND WANT SOME CLOSURE HERE IS A LINK FOR YOU/OR IF YOU’RE WONDERING WHERE THE HECK THE REST OF THIS FIC IS IT IS EXPLAINED HERE
Summary: lol this is the last thing I wrote for Grow Old With You/Build a Home With You. I felt y’all deserved to read it cause I do really like how it turned out. Also Ara and Din are space MILF and DILF that deserve the world.
Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x OFC (Ara Obagh)
Word Count: 3.7k
Warnings: fairly graphic depictions of birth and labor, major fluff, a lot of feels, Ara’s glorious return
With one hand, Ara gripped a rung of the ladder while the other tried to soothe the underside of her belly as another spasm ripped across her abdomen. It was the worst pain she had ever felt. She had been stabbed, shot, and tortured. But nothing compared to this. Her lower back now throbbed. The weight, and pressure of the baby against her pelvis nearly made her knees buckle. Her mouth opened in a silent groan as the pain peaked, her belly stiffening in her hand, and then it slowly began to fade.
For a moment, she believed it was over. The doctor had warned against false pains that could be mistaken for real labor. Something similar happened at the beach just a few days earlier. She hoped that was what it was. Ara wanted to have the baby back home on Naboo. In the solace of her own bed. Not on the Razor Crest, a cold ship that left much to be desired when it came to comfort.
But then she felt a soft pop between her legs. Like a balloon filled with too much air. Then a sudden gush of liquid between her legs. Did I just wet myself? Ara thought. That would be an embarrassing thing to have to explain to Din and Cara when they got back. But when she looked down at the floor to the small puddle she now stood in, her eyes widened at the sight. There was a tiny amount of blood mixed in with the clear fluid.
“Oh no,” Ara whispered.
Her water just broke. On the Razor Crest. On Denon of all places.
The next contraction hit about thirty minutes later. She hadn’t moved from her spot in front of the ladder, afraid that would make the now constant ache even worse. Pain, like an iron belt wrapped around her middle, coursed through her stomach and into her spine. Ara whimpered as she swayed back and forth, her free hand rubbing soothing circles into her abdomen. Hot tears, which she felt betrayed by, built up in the corners of her eyes and threatened to fall. She had felt pain before. She had been through worse. But Maker this kriffing hurt and she had no idea when Din was going to be back. And the more she thought about that, the more her tears blurred her vision and her lip began to quiver. She didn’t want to go through this alone. What if something went wrong? What if the baby was breach or something worse? Ara rested her forehead against the cool metal of the ladder as her tears finally fell.
“Just a little bit longer, fierce girl,” she whispered, voice trembling, “Please.”
Ten minutes. Another contraction. They were getting closer together and the pain was getting worse. Both hands on the ladder, Ara breathed through it as Vaisha had told her to do. But she couldn’t stop the choked sob that broke past her lips. Din should be there. Breathing with her and massaging her back to help relieve the pain. He should be whispering encouragements in her ear. But he wasn’t. She prayed that he would be back soon, even as she gathered all her courage and moved her hand between her legs.
She was about halfway dilated. It was almost time.
“I get that you wanna go in there blaster first — but we need a plan,” Cara argued as they walked back to where the Crest had been parked.
“Fine,” Din relented, feeling agitated, “Make a plan. Attack his safehouse first thing in the morning.”
Cara agreed with a slight nod of her head as they approached the Crest. Din pulled the comlink from his belt and held it up to his helmet. “Ara, we’re back. Release the ground security protocols.”
Nothing. Complete and deafening silence.
Din felt panic, like a sudden harpoon through his chest. He took a deep breath to calm himself. Maybe she was asleep. Or perhaps the comlink ran out of batteries. He could always just pound on the ramp if all else failed. She was fine. Perfectly fine.
He repeated, quieter, his voice strained, “Ara?”
The Crest hissed to life as the ramp popped open and then slowly lowered. Din heaved a sigh of relief as Cara slapped him on the back. She knew everything was fine. Ara was way too capable, even when she was about to have a baby, to let something happen to her. But then they both got a good look at Ara standing at the top of the ramp. She was soaked in sweat. Her cheeks red. She stood hunched over, her knees buckled, one hand against the wall and the other clutching her stomach. Tears had stained her cheeks. Her entire form flinched as her face crumpled in pain. The concave of her back bending even further.
Then she looked up at them, desperate and in agony before whimpering, “Din…”
Cara had seen the Mandalorian move quickly. It always impressed her how hard he could haul ass with all that armor on. But in this instance, he truly surprised her with how swiftly he moved. He was up the ramp and inside the Crest within seconds. One arm supporting Ara’s back while the other wrapped around her middle to keep her upright. Cara stared for only a moment longer than either of the Mandalorians liked.
“Dune!” he shouted, “Get in here!”
She quickly did as she was told. Scrambling up the ramp and it was immediately closed behind her.
“What’s happening?” Cara asked, voice edging on panicked. A new emotion for her. Stars, is she dying?
“Baby…” Ara struggled to answer, grunting in pain and clutching at her stomach, “The baby…”
Oh shit, Cara thought, eyes gone wide.
Ara panted, tears of sweet relief now flowing down her face, as Din lowered her slowly to the floor. Back leaned against the now-closed ramp and her knees bent. The pain was nearing on constant now. She felt like she was going to vomit or pass out because of it. Din quickly whipped his cape off his shoulders and threw it down on the floor. Followed by his gloves. Then he started working on getting his vambraces off, and it was only then that he noticed Cara still standing there. Staring at Ara like she was about to explode.
“Can I…Help?” the ex-shock trooper asked unsurely, eyes still trained on Ara who threw her head back against the wall and groaned loudly in pain.
“No.” Din grunted as he finally pulled one vambrace away from his arm. His fingers fumbled and shook as he began working on the other one. “Get into the cockpit and set course for Naboo.”
“Mando, you can’t be serious — ?”
“Just do it!” he shouted roughly, shocking even Cara with his harsh and frantic tone, “And stay up there till I say.”
As soon as he heard the hatch up into the cockpit slide shut behind Cara, Din ripped his helmet from his head and took in a massive lungful of air. His entire body seemed to shake as an autumn leaf in the breeze, ready to break free from its father branch and fall to the ground in silence. Did this have to happen now? Right now? When he was so close to getting Gideon and ridding them of their fears for good? Maker, he wasn’t ready. He thought he would have more time to prepare for this. To prepare for helping Ara, for helping the baby, for being the firm foundation that both of them needed right now. He worked, hands trembling, on getting at least the top half of his armor removed. The first time he held his Creed-born child, he would not be covered in the armor he showed the world. He would be just himself. What if he did something wrong? He had gone over the procedure a million times with the doctor and had bothered Vaisha with far too many questions. He wanted to do this right. He wanted to be there for Ara. He wanted her to be comfortable. And Maker he really wished they were not on the Razor Crest, on some foreign planet where a man who wanted them dead was located. This was not like anything he had pictured.
Fear, as worm in his brain, wiggled and took hold of him. He wasn’t ready. He couldn’t do this. He needed more time.
“I-I’m sorry,” Ara panted from behind him, “But I — mmm — I knew this would happen.”
The next contraction crescendoed and Ara’s steadily increasing pants for breath turned into a scream. Throat exposed and a vein popping out on her forehead as her sweaty palms scrambled for purchase. Din turned immediately and knelt down before her on his knees, taking her hands in his and letting her squeeze till his own mouth dropped open in pain. Her screams reduced to panted groans and her grip on him relented as the contraction subsided. But the pain never fully went away, only became less intense.
He looked deep into her face. That beautiful face that still threw him into a state of shock and awe. Covered in a layer of sweat, red-cheeked, pinched in agony, and she still looked like the sun-rise. Constant and devastating in its beauty. It didn’t matter that Din wasn’t ready. It didn’t matter that Ara wasn’t ready. This baby was coming. The circumstances were not going to change. Ara needed him. The baby needed him. And he was always going to be there for them. No matter what.
It was on this ship that they were delivered from a burning Mandalore. And it seemed that on that same ship the next generation of a planet burned would be born.
“How far apart are they?” he asked as he let go of her hands and flexed his fingers.
“Three minutes — I-I think — Maker, I don’t know,” she whimpered.
“It’s okay. It’s okay,” Din reassured, reaching up and unwinding her scarf from her head. Her hair was drenched in sweat. But she needed to be fully uncovered when the baby was born. “Just take deep breaths. Just like that. You’re doing great.”
“Did you — Did you find Gideon?”
Of course, she would still be thinking about that at a time like this.
He debated, for an instant, if he should lie and tell her that Cara’s information had been wrong. But he always had been a terrible liar. Or Ara had always had a way of seeing right through him to the truth.
He sighed, his chin dropped to his chest before mumbling, “Yeah.”
He lifted his head just in time to see guilt take over her face and a fresh wave of tears build up in her eyes. They wouldn’t be able to attack his safe house now. Din wouldn’t stand being parted from her or the baby once she was born. And Cara couldn’t take down that squadron by herself. They could wait a few weeks and come back, but by then Gideon might move to a different safe house. Who knew what kind of rotations he and the other wanted Imperial warlords had going on. And as each of them felt the familiar pull of takeoff, they knew Gideon was slipping through their fingers once more.
Ara’s lip had begun to bleed with the abuse her teeth had been putting it through. She tasted copper in her mouth as she let go and whispered, “M’sorry.”
With a shake of his head, Din reached out and pressed his thumb flat into her chin. Nothing to apologize for.
He then pulled down her underwear and checked how far along into labor she was. “You’re almost completely dilated. I’ll go get the supplies.”
Ara didn’t want him to leave her. She whimpered slightly as he got up from the floor and made his way into the refresher. He got a few towels and a bowl of hot water. In this moment alone, he paused. Turned to the west on instinct, he began to pray. Ara always had been better at it than he was. But right now, she needed his prayers more than ever. So he tried to remember the words.
Protect my child whose name I’ve yet to know as mine, but so desperately want to. If I must die in order for that to happen, let it be. Protect Ara, who is one with me when together or parted. By the Star, you created all, and by it, you shall destroy. And by the Star, you will give us the strength to deliver this child into the world. Please…Keep them safe. I can’t lose them.
A peace that he would never be able to bring himself washed over him as he opened his eyes. Another scream echoed through the Razor Crest. And Din, with this newfound peace and confidence, stepped out of the refresher with the needed supplies. A bowl of warm water. A few towels. The sheers from the medpack.
He quickly kneeled back down between Ara’s bent legs.
The legends say that when a warrior died honorably in battle, paint across his helmet and blood upon his chest plate, it was the closest anyone could get to holding the Maker’s star in their hands. To holding the greatest power, the greatest glory, and the greatest light in their mortal grasp. But when that baby slipped from Ara and into Din’s steady, awaiting hands — screaming and squirming and covered in fluids — the legends were proven wrong.
All of time seemed to stop. The entire universe tilting it’s chin to get a better look at the life that had just been born. To hear the joyous, in-awe laugh that bubbled from Din’s throat.
“Ara,” he whispered, cradling the tiny body in his much larger hands, “It’s a girl.”
He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the babe in his hands. In those sinner’s hands that had caused so much destruction. And yet he had made this most precious thing, with Ara, with the breath of his life. This perfect, fragile thing that all at once told him that life was so fleeting and that life was so very beautiful. He didn’t need the warrior. He didn’t need battle paint on his helmet. He didn’t need honorable death to hold a piece of the heavens in his grasp. She was right there. Wiggling and screaming at him for being born.
Tears, testaments to his absolute joy and rapture, spilled from his eyes without his permission. But he wasn’t going to berate them or curse them. As he had his entire life. He welcomed them with open arms.
Ara finally broke him from his revere with her panted reply, “A girl?”
Din looked up into his wife’s face and laughed again. A quiet, breathless thing as he pushed himself up and placed the wailing baby in her arms. She looked exhausted, pale, but happy. Tears fell from her eyes as well. Ara cradled the baby in her arms and laughed softly. She was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
A tuft of dark hair on her head. A small, squished face that was angry red. But her screams turned slowly to whimpers, and then faded out completely in her mother’s arms. Ara reached up a weary finger and brushed a knuckle over her soft cheek.
The air had suddenly become thick as the baby slowly opened her eyes for the first time. Ara’s ragged breaths seemed far too loud in her uncovered ears. But the air became caught in her throat when the baby looked into her eyes for the first time. Dark and endless, just like her parents.
So this was what it was like to be seen. To be really seen by someone else.
“Hello, my fierce girl,” Ara whispered, voice horse even at such a volume, “I know your name as my child — Reykha.”
Din made quick work of snipping the umbilical cord and cleaning the baby off with the warm water.
“Mm — Din,” Ara grunted while he cleaned the fussy baby.
He looked over his shoulder to see her face pinched in pain. Legs tucked back up against her chest with her hands.
“Afterbirth?” he questioned, laying Reykha down on a towel and drying her off.
“Mm-hmm,” she hummed back.
The pain wasn’t as intense, but it still kriffing hurt. And she was tired. So very tired.
“Shit — okay.”
Din couldn’t find the blanket they had packed. He could have sworn he had grabbed it from the baby’s room before they left. And he could have sworn he had dropped it down to the floor along with the rest of the birthing supplies. But the blanket Yasima had gifted to Ara, with their signet stitched into the soft fabric, was nowhere in sight. Din cursed under his breath as he looked back over at his wife. Her face pinched in pain and resisting the urge to push again. He really did not want to clean her placenta up off the floor. But Reykha needed to be wrapped up in something to keep her warm. But what? He forgot the damn blanket and Ara was never going to let him hear the end of it —
There. His cape balled up in the corner. That would do for now. He quickly snatched it from the floor and swaddled the baby up in it. Then, cradling the baby in one arm, he pushed the empty bowl he had grabbed between Ara’s legs just in time.
“You forgot the blanket didn’t you?” she panted as she let her legs fall back down to the floor.
“Shut up,” he grumbled lightly, taking the bowl in his free hand and sliding it across the floor towards the refresher.
Then she got a look at them. Unannounced tears pricked at her eyes. Little Reykha, bundled in her father’s cape and tucked into the crook of his elbow. Safe, fast asleep, not even five minutes old. Din, half of his armor tossed carelessly onto the floor, hair disheveled, and sweat sheening on his brow. Safe, tired, a smile quirking his lips and creating a singular dimple in his cheek. Good Maker, he’s beautiful. Ara’s mind had gone blank of anything else in the universe. Her heart couldn’t decide if it wanted to go at lightspeed or stop altogether. She couldn’t help but take in the little scar across the bridge of his nose, the one on his top lip. Evidence of years of fighting, of resentment, of a life that felt like a deep and distant dream.
After all this time. After all the waiting. After the heartache of losing Mandalore, the rage of being with Ran and his crew, the monotony and restlessness of their years with the Guild, the fear and running from the remains of the Empire. All of it was leading up to this. Kha’s last command, last request on a dying Mandalore — You must carry us with you always — and you must keep Mandalore alive through the warriors you will raise — she waited thirty years for them to fulfill their vow. And now she could march beside her fellow warriors in peace. And Ara could feel it, feel that eternal peace wash over her as Din sat down beside her and placed Reykha into her arms.
“I wish the kid was here,” Ara commented as she leaned into Din’s shoulder.
“Me too,” he whispered back, unable to look away from the little pink face poking out of his cape, “But we’ll be home in a few hours.”
“Maker, I hope he likes her.”
“He will. We’ve been talking about it.”
Ara looked over at him with an incredulous smile. “You have?”
“Mm,” Din grunted, reaching out and tracing his fingers over Reykha’s hairline, “How he’ll be a big brother. The responsibility — the care. How she’ll need a lot of your attention.”
Ara stared at him a moment. At the way his kind, warm, brown eyes were transfixed by the babe in her arms. At the soft smile adorning his hard features. At the crook of his nose. At the soft tumble of his hair. At the love and peace and warmth that seemed to radiate off of him.
In Mando’a there are two words for breath. One of them is kar’am. This word translates into Basic as the literal air inside a being’s lungs. The breath of life. The thing that can get knocked out of someone during a fight or stolen from them in a moment of emotion. The other word for breath is haal. This word has no direct translation. A rough sort of definition is that haal is the thing that gives you a reason to breathe. The thing, beyond air, beyond oxygen, that gives one meaning and gives one a reason to keep going. The life-force, the light, the purpose for drawing air into your lungs. Even to say the word, haal, it sounds like an exhale. A declaration that what one is calling their breath owns it.
“Kiss me,” Ara whispered softly, too softly, “Ner haal.”
Din looked up at her with raised brows and wide eyes. But then his every feature softened. He was her reason to keep going. The man who had given her everything she had ever desired. Who had painted the picture of their lives with her at the center of it. Who worked to the point of breaking his back nearly every single day. A man who lost everything and now had all that he had ever desired. The love of his life at his side. A Foundling and a Creed-born child of his own. A house with transparisteel hanging above the door and his armor stowed away in a shed. He was the very breath inside her lungs. Her very reason for living.
With a tender hand, Din reached out and cupped her cheek in his calloused hand. He marveled in the way she leaned into his touch. Then he kissed her. Slanting his lips against her own and molding his mouth into her own softly, reverently, slowly. He pulled away just enough to whisper back to her, ner haal, letting his breath mingle with her own. Tying them together like the breeze through forest branches.
A breath of life shared between them.
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hiii! :). can i request a fic where hendery or yangyang have y/n over at place and she accidentally gets period blood on his bed but after taking care of her, and assuring she’s okay they face another challenge at the store when they try and buy some period items/snacks for her. :) ty!
Pairing ~ Yangyang x Fem!Reader
Genre ~ Fluff, Humor
Warning ~ uhh very light mentions of a slight panic attack not really but really two ig if you count yangs,, also unedited
A.N ~ Sorry took me so long to answer 😅 hope you like it!
W. Count ~ 1.4k
The bright rays of light bleed into the room in which you and your boyfriend of a year sleep peacefully, that is until yangyang throws his hand towards your face in his sleep, slapping you awake. You jolt awake from the impact, “Yang what the fuck.” you spit angrily throwing his hand back on him. “Fucking bitch.” rolling your eyes before closing them you start twisting and turning trying to find a comfy spot to go back to sleep until you feel something wet between your legs.
Your eyes fly open instantly as you curse internally praying that you’re just overthinking and you sit up looking down to see that what you feared was really happening. Your period had decided to come on in the middle of the night and not only that but you had heavily stained YangYang’s sheets and partially his comforter. “Fuck!” hopping out of bed you start silently panicking pacing back and forth wondering how you’re gonna hide this from YangYang.
In the midst of your panic you didn’t notice that the very person you wanted to stay asleep had woken up. “Babe, what are you panicking about so early I can barely dream with all of your pac-” he stops mid sentence sitting up on the bed as if he had noticed something and instantly your heart drops as you cease all pacing, “Baby,” he starts out slow, “Are those my joggers? I have been looking for those everywhere, shoulda fucking known you had them.” Standing up he walks into his en suite bathroom.
A breath leaves your lips as pure relief floods your bloodstream and it’s as if someone lifted a brick off your shoulders. You swear you had never stripped a bed of its dressing so quick in your life trying to get it into the washer before YangYang comes out. Gathering everything in your arms you start to trudge your way out of the room, the end was near you could see the finish line just a few more steps and you’ll-. Yangyang’s hand lands on your shoulder causing your body to stiffen immediately and he makes his way in front of you grabbing the bed set out of your hands.
“There’s some bath water in the tub for you, I’ll take these to the washroom real quick then bring you a towel.” He then leaves the room without another word closing the door softly behind him. The panic that quickly filled you at the thought of him probably seeing the stain on the back of his pants when he walked out of the bathroom leaves just as quick as it came when you realize that he had probably already known the whole time. In its place was an indescribable warmth accompanied with butterflies at the thought that he pretended not to notice because he knew how stressed out you were about it.
Making your way to the bathroom you grab some clothes to change into. The bubble bath that rested in the tub could only be described as fit for a queen; you could even see the freshly opened and used powdered bath milk packet resting in the garbage can. Stripping yourself you sit in the bath filled with water at the perfect temperature and you could feel all of the tension in your muscles loosen.
You hear YangYang walk back into the room and then the bathroom standing at the door looking at you. “I hope the bath water temp is cool. The comforter should take a hour or two and I can order you some food if you’re hungry.”
Looking down at the bubbles that rested above your hands, “Thanks for not making a big deal out of this. You’re the best.” YangYang nods with a ‘Damn right I am’ falling from his lips, and a bright smile splits his face before moving to make his way out of the doorway until your voice calls him back.
“By the way what did you do with that pad I left here last time? I forgot to put another emergency one in my backpack.” At your question the smile that once threatened to tear his face falls and a guilty expression takes its place.
“Uhhh about that..” he trails off, averting his eyes, his right hand reaching for the back of his neck, “I kinda used your last pad to wipe up my Arizona Green Tea when it spilled.”
“Yang I- YOU WHAT?!?”
“I’M SORRY. THEY’RE- they’re really absorbent okay?” A silence falls between the both of you and you finally look back up at him staring him dead in the eyes a serious expression taking over your face.
“I take it back, you aren’t the best.”
“WHAT NO?!? You can’t take that back away from me. It’s undeserved, I had nothing else to clean it up with cause we were out of paper towels.”
“No, it is deserved because now what am I supposed to do? I can’t just sit in the tub until my period goes off.” You say giving him a deadpan expression.
“I’ll go to the store and get you some more, okay? I’ll even get you some snacks, what do you want?”
You give him a list of snacks and tell him explicitly what type of pads to buy, “And if all else fails you can always just call me and I’ll tell you which ones to get.”
Yangyang scoffs, “I’m not stupid how hard could buying some measly pads be.”
“What the fuck is we doin?” Yangyang drawls out at the sight of all of the pads. “So many words and I have no idea what any of them fucking mean.” he whispers. He picks up a box of pads, “Ok I’m pretty sure the wings are those flappy things that got stuck to my hand when I was wiping up the tea. So that means she wants them to have them, right?”
“Super absorbent..Heavy flow. Does y/n have a heavy flow? I assume so from the amount of blood she got on herself and the bed this morning, so I should buy these right? Wait, but they say teen and she’s not a teen.” putting the box down he picks up another.
“Maxi, overnight, Super Pads? What makes these super? What the fuck is all of this?!?” Meanwhile Y/n is at the house saying I told you so because she can feel his distress all the way from the store.
Apparently Y/n isn’t the only one who can sense his distress because another boy walks into the section scanning the boxes with precise eyes grabbing one confidently and on the way to the counter when he sees a panic ridden Yangyang. “Hey, bro do you uhh need help or something?” he asks a chuckle falling from his lips.
Yangyang’s head shoots up looking at the man as if he was a god, “Bro please I have no idea what the fuck any of this means and my girlfriend offered to facetime me if I had trouble but I ran my mouth about how I didn’t ne-”
“Need help and now that you do you don’t wanna call her and hear the I told you so? Yea I know that feeling and I refuse to let another brother feel the same.” The stranger's hand falls on Yangyangs shoulder as a father would his son as he guides him in the ways of the sanitary pads. When he was done Yangyang knew not only of pads but tampons as well and with his chest puffed out he made his way to the counter with the snacks and the pads ready to tell Y/n how he didn’t need help picking out some freaking pads...well not her help anyways.
“Wow, you actually got the right ones.” you say walking into the room flopping down on the bed beside Yangyang. Opening one of the snacks he got you you lean back on him waiting for him to press play on the movie.
He clears his throat drawing your attention up to him, “Is there something you would like to say to me?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “It rhymes with Shime Shma Shmest...”
Smacking your teeth you roll your eyes, “Fine, You’re the best.”
Wrapping his arms around you pulling you more into his chest he nods, “Mmhm I sure am. Don’t forgot okay?” you shake your head at the saying he picked up from his roommate Haechan.
Yangyang proceeds to press play on the movie and you get a couple minutes in, “Yangyang.”
“I know you got help from someone cause I- mmgmhhmhMMSHSHMMHM” Yangyang’s hand flies over your mouth covering it in order to mute what you’re saying.
“What’s that I’m sorry babe I can’t hear you. Did you say I’m the Best? Oh, okay thanks so much babe I love you too.”
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That's the first thing Moroha noticed as she slowly woke up. The bounty hunter let out a soft groan, pushing herself up from the ground and trying to get her bearings. Head aching slightly she began to rub her temple gazing the surrounding area before her eyes landed on a familiar figure. Once it clicked on who it exactly was a shiver of fear shot through her.
"Oh Gods....! Hisui!"
She breathed trying to get up onto her feet. Moroha stumbled before hitting the ground again, making her hiss in pain. Refusing to give up the teen began to crawl towards the demon slayer, determined to get to him. To make sure that he was okay.
'Just hang on Hisui, I'm coming.'
She begged as she slowly but surely made her way to him. After much effort and strain she finally made it to the unconscious boy's side. Moroha reached a shaky hand towards him and turned him over to face her only to bite back a gasp. Blood was flowing from a head wound, staining his face crimson. Moroha's heart stopped.
She prayed as she slowly lowered her head to Hisui's chest to listen for a heartbeat. She about sagged in relief when the familiar thudding of a steady heartbeat filled her eardrums. Lifting her head up Moroha was quick to try and stop Hisui's head wound. Using the end of her cape she slowly began to dab his forehead, cleaning up the blood. As she did this Hisui groaned lowly and with a small amount of effort opened his eyes. Dark blue hues blinked hazy, before meeting with relieved dark brown ones.
"Moroha....? Ah, my head...."
Hisui croaked out flinching as the cape cleaned his face off.
"Thank goodness, you had me worried you jerk!"
Moroha said in a shaky voice. Hisui blinked again before an understanding look crossed his features.
"I'm sorry for worrying you. I'll try to not do that anymore."
He said offering a small smile which was more of a grimace. But Moroha didn't mind, just seeing Hisui awake and talking to her put the demon at ease. However the ease didn't last long as Hisui finally took in their surroundings.
"Where are we.....?"
The demon slayer asked slowly pushing himself up into a sitting position despite Moroha's protests. The bounty hunter frowned a look of unease on her face as she tried to figure out where exactly they were. All she could make out was darkness, and a few vines here and there.
"I don't know. It looks like some kind of cave....."
Moroha answered trailing off. Hisui's eyebrows furrowed in worry, a foreboding feeling welling up in his chest. For some reason the cave they were in was making the young teen anxious. The hairs on the back of his neck raising slightly as the silence surrounded them. Looking at Moroha he could see that she was feeling it too, her priestess abilities making her much more sensitive to these things.
"We need to leave Moroha. Now."
Hisui stated already forcing himself to his feet despite the headache he was getting. Moroha went to follow with him before she let out a hiss of pain. Hisui looked over at her and noticed that her leg had been injured. Moroha looked at her leg as well and cursed, she must have hurt it when she'd fallen to get to Hisui earlier. The bounty hunter didn't get a chance to think about it more as a pair of strong arms helped her up. Hisui despite his own injuries was helping her walk.
"Hisui don't you-"
Moroha protested only to be cut off.
"I'm not leaving you. No way. I can handle this I'm a demon slayer. Now just lean on me and let me help you."
Hisui said his voice hard and determined to get them out of here. Moroha stared at him stunned for a brief moment before giving in with an annoyed huff.
"You're so stubborn I swear."
She grumbled under her breath as the duo started to make their slow journey out of the cave. The two stumbled every once in awhile, trying to help the other in anyway they could before they'd finally seen a light ahead of them. Relief filled them as they struggled to get to the mouth of the cave, once they'd gotten there they stepped outside into the light. Stretched before them was a large field surrounded by trees. Moroha couldn't help but feel a small sense of deja vu hit her. Something about the field seemed familiar in a way, yet unfamiliar as well.
"Let's go see if there's a nearby village somewhere and get help. Once we're patched up we'll go looking for Towa and Setsuna."
Hisui said, his tone firm. Moroha just nodded dazed like before letting Hisui hobble them away from the cave and into the field. The sun shore down on them, making Moroha feel more relaxed. She always liked the sun on her skin, it made her feel warm and comforted in a way. As they limped along Moroha snuck glances at her friend. Hisui was staring ahead, his eyes shimmering in the sunshine and his hair even messier than it usually was. His head wound had thankfully stopped bleeding, instead leaving behind a nasty gash in its place. His jaw was clenched, his mouth set into a firm yet determined line. If Moroha was being honest at that moment she'd admit that he looked attractive at that very moment.
The bounty hunter felt her cheeks heat up and she quickly looked away from him, trying to stop her racing heart and her intrusive thoughts. As she calmed herself down she suddenly felt a tugging sensation hit her, drawing her attention to the far off side of her and Hisui. The girl turned her head to the side, dark brown hues scanning the trees while Hisui stopped having noticed her sudden movement.
"Moroha? What's wrong?"
Hisui asked already feeling himself tense up. Moroha didn't look away from the direction she was staring at, instead sniffing the air. Almost immediately a horrid scent hit her nose nearly making her recoil in disgust. Letting out a threatening growl Moroha stiffened already going for her sword.
She hissed in a sharp tone, her fangs bared. Hisui was quick to respond to that already grabbing his Hiraikotsu from his back and somewhat pushing Moroha behind him a bit much to her annoyance. Moroha was about to lecture him about his actions when Hisui held a finger up to his lips to shush her.
He said in barely a whisper. The priestess went quiet listening and realized that the forest had went silent. Not a single sound could be heard. Just the breeze and the slight movement of the grass. The two exchanged a small look before turning back to back with one another, weapons drawn and ready. Even with their injuries Moroha and Hisui were terrifying fighters and were more than ready to take on a possible threat. It didn't take long before the demon made its first move, a large vine like limb shooting from the ground and launching itself at the duo. Moroha was quick swinging her blade down.
"Crimson Dragon Wave!"
She shouted as her sword hit the ground hitting the vine like limbs with a deadly red power lash. Hisui flung his Bone Boomerang towards the other set of limbs.
Hisui shouted as the boomrang went flying severing several limbs at once. The demon who attacked them let out a pained snarl before more limbs shot from the ground and towards them. Moroha and Hisui quickly jumped away from one another as a limb went downwards to crush the two of them. Moroha landed on her injured leg and let out a swear before quickly gaining her footing back. Hisui was a few feet away from her, his eyes lit with anger when he saw she'd landed on her leg.
The demon screeched as it swung its root like limbs at them. Moroha grabbed her bow and an arrow when she noticed one of the limbs going to attack Hisui from behind as he took down several more limbs with the Bone Boomerang.
"Heavenly Arrow Barrage!"
The arrow shot out, whizzing through the air like a firecracker before exploding and shooting several other arrows into the limb that was behind Hisui. The demon let out another series of shrieks before turning its attention to Moroha.
"Priestess.....you have it.....! Give it too me.....!"
The demon roared finally showing its full form. It was a nasty looking thing, a body seemly made of different demon parts, it's limbs shooting out in the direction of Moroha. However not one touched her as a familiar weapon flung itself in the way of its attacks.
Hisui's voice filled the air, the demon slayer protecting the bounty hunter just as she'd done with him. The demon at this point was furious at the duo's teamwork and attacks. With one last final roar it swung out all of its limbs determined to hit at least one of them. It'd succeeded as Hisui was hit harshly against the chest flinging him like a rag doll as Moroha watched in horror.
She screamed only to be yanked up by another limb and thrown into the air. Time stood still as a sudden shooting pain shot through her side. Letting out a pained scream as the tree like limb pierced her, Moroha turned murderous brown hues towards the demon. With a look of defiance she quickly dug her claws into her wound and slashed at the demon.
"Blades of Blood!!"
The bloody blades went flying slashing the demon in the eyes. It let out a pained and enraged scream as it dropped Moroha onto the ground.
"E N O U G H-! I W I L L H A V E I T-! I W I L L H A V E T H E J E W E L-!"
It bellowed murderously. Moroha barely had time to stand back up before she was hit again making a startled and pained yelp come out of her. Her body hit the ground again, rolling a good bit before coming to a stop. The bounty hunter let out a wheezing wet gasp as her body screamed in pain. The demon still blinded continued to attack uselessly. Moroha fought the pain and forced herself to get up, turning her head in the direction Hisui had been thrown. The demon slayer was laying a good ways away, once again unconscious and his wound reopened. Moroha felt her heart pound with rage.
The demon child forced herself to her feet despite the agony she was feeling.
'Hisui's hurt because of me.'
With shaking hands Moroha reached into her fire rat robe's pocket and pulled out a small compact.
'I have to protect Hisui. I won't lose, not when he needs me.'
Popping it open Moroha swiped the bright red lipstick inside it, painting her finger in it to apply it. The red pearl gleamed brightly in the sun, its power radiating slightly. The demon felt the aura and turned its head towards Moroha. The teen however didn't pay it no heed.
"I don't know what the seven hells you're going on about, but you hurt my friend and you pissed me off. So now you're going to pay. Now prepare for Beniyasha the destroyer of Lands!"
Moroha roared as she put it on. The demon didn't stand a chance after that. Moroha completely destroyed the demon, the blood of her demon heritage singing in her veins as she killed the demon. The demon fell its limbs denigrating.
"I....must have it.....give it to me......give me the.....Shi......"
The demon croaked out as it tried to reach out for Moroha before it perished. Moroha didn't stick around, instead while she could she ran to Hisui. She was only a couple of steps from him before her Beniyasha left her. The girl collapsed next to the unconscious boy. Fighting the pain and exhaustion Moroha reached out her hand to him and grasped his in a weak grip.
'It's okay now Hisui.....we're.....okay......now.....'
Moroha thought as she finally succumbed to the exhaustion and fell into a deep sleep, her clawed hand holding onto Hisui's as they laid there side by side.
"Are we close??"
A young woman asked as she clung onto her companions back.
"Yeah we are. The scent of blood and demon is getting stronger."
A gruff young man answered, running and jumping through the tall grass and trees. The duo had been out and about when the he'd caught scent of the blood and demon. Once he'd told his friend she'd practically begged him to help whoever it was. Which led them to now. The young man finally came to a stop as a familiar field met his gaze. The young woman recognized it as well as her expression now went from concerned to cautious.
"Isn't this where....?"
She asked her friend just to be sure that what she was thinking was actually it.
"Yeah it is. Whatever it is can't be good."
He growled lowly in response. The two cautiously went into the field and began to follow the scent of blood. To their shock the body of a freshly killed demon laid out in front of them along with specs of blood. The woman looked around before a sudden tugging feeling hit her. Turning her head into the sensations direction her gaze landed on two unconscious and bleeding bodies. She couldn't help but let out the horrified noise as she rushed to their side. The man shouted her name before quickly following behind her and caught sight of what caused her distress. His nose crickled up as the scent of blood and something else that he couldn't identify hit him full force.
"What in the seven hells happened here?"
He asked baffled. The woman just shook her head in a dazed manner before getting down on her knees and quickly checking to see if they were alive. To her relief they were though they needed immediate treatment.
"Help me please. We've got to get them to the village!"
She begged a bit. Her companion gave an annoyed huff before going to help her gather the two injured teens. As she reached out she noticed the boy's clothes and the weapon that laid nearby. A shocked feeling hit her.
'A demon slayer....? There's no way.....!'
She thought shaken before her eyes landed on the girl. The young woman paused as she took in the weapons she carried and the bright red ribbon and robe she wore. They looked so familiar......
"Oi, let's go! We shouldn't stay here any longer than we have too."
Her friend's voice snapped her out of her thoughts. With somewhat difficulty she managed to pick the girl up and pulled her onto her back. The teen was surprisingly light which made carrying her much easier. The man had grabbed the boy already as well as his weapon which now sat upon his back along with the teen. Once they gathered the two, the duo quickly left the field not wanting to stay there any longer. As they vanished from view they failed to notice the figure hidden within the forest watching them. He stood there silent as a grave and pondered everything he'd seen.
"Those two.....could be very useful in the future."
He mused softly. He'd keep an eye on these two teens, and keep note of their progress. With that plan in mind the man disappeared into thin air.
*What's this? An actual coherent Yashahime fic??? You bet your asses it is!!! I had a lot of fun writing this! I kinda just went with a small thought and rolled with it honestly lol. I have no idea if I'll continue this since I've already got a shit ton of other series going on. Also if you can guess who the three characters are in the ending here you get a cookie. Anyways if any y'all read this I hope you enjoyed it!!!*
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Rodrigo Mendoza x Nurse!Reader
A little late, but this is a birthday present for Miss @pichyfan ✨ HAPPY BIRTHDAY GIRL I LOVE YOU 💖✨
TW: smut, swords, weapons, talks of battle, injury, mentions of blood, mention of death
Word Count: 2.5k
"AH!" Rodrigo chokes back a yell, quickly walking off the pain of the sword that just met with his hip.
He had been teaching some of the villagers to sword fight and make weapons for the upcoming battle with the people that threatened to take away the community that the Jesuits worked so hard to set up. Despite Rodrigo being a devout student of Christianity and disciplined in the rules of the Jesuits, he found it was more important to revoke his Jesuit vows so that he could teach the village people to fight in battle. They all worked tirelessly in hopes of defending their home.
The sword injury in question came from a young boy Rodrigo was sword fighting so that he could demonstrate some important technique to the group. The boy knew he wasn't supposed to land any hits on his teacher, but he accidentally swung too hard and put a hefty gash in Rodrigo's flesh.
Upon seeing the way the cloth of Rodrigo's pants split and blood started to pool, everyone decided it was a good idea that their best warrior go get checked on by the village nurse. Luckily they had brought gauze and splints and other medical supplies with them for the village to use.
Rodrigo hobbles up to the little medicine shack leaning on one of the teenagers for support and surrounded by a huge group of kids. All the kids just love Rodrigo, so naturally they all flock to him since he's hurt.
One of the kids knocks on the door, and you hear Rodrigo's voice shyly call, "(Y/N)?"
You walk over, swinging the door open, shocked at what you see. Rodrigo has quite a bit of blood flowing down his leg at this point. "RODRIGO! What happened to you?!" You rush down the steps and get under Rodrigo's other arm, helping him up the steps and into your nurse's station.
"I, uh, hurt myself," he chuckles. He could never blame a little kid for this accident, it was already sad enough that he had to teach them to fight.
You help Rodrigo to sit on a cot, and he lounges back on his elbows, not wanting to bend his hip too harshly. As you turn around to find your little stool that you sit on, you see that the room has filled up with little kids wanting to make sure Rodrigo will be okay.
"Alright, alright, I don't need an audience while I do my job," you laugh at the kids, "I need a bucket of water from the river, could one of you run and get that for me?"
A little boy at the back of the room simply runs out the shack, grabbing a bucket on his way to the river. One little girl grabs Rodrigo's hand as you try to shoo them out.
"It'll be okay, my dear. The nurse is gonna fix me up," he kisses her knuckles, and turns to all the kids, "I'll be okay! Miss (Y/N) is very good at what she does. Go ahead, go play! We've got training to do when I get out of here."
And with that, all the kids shuffle out, a few of them trying to linger for as long as possible, especially the little girl who was holding the man's hand.
"I think you've got a little admirer," you point out while you turn your attention to Rodrigo's injury.
"Yeah, she's got a little crush on me, I think," he chuckles again before taking in a sharp breath.
"Does that hurt?" you ask.
"Yeah, it hurts a bit, but I didn't want the kids to see me making any faces," he explains.
"Hmm, well you must trust me then, letting me see you in pain." You just can't seem to get a good look at the cut, so you have to ask, "Rodrigo, can you take your pants off for me? I need to get better access so I can clean and dress this wound."
"I, uh..." Rodrigo suddenly becomes shy, which really isn't like him, "Are you, um, are you sure that would be... appropriate?"
"Rodrigo," you coo, "I've delivered babies before, and I've healed warriors just like you. You aren't the first and you certainly won't be the last patient I've seen undressed."
"Well... Alright," he sighs and slowly stands up.
"What? Is a big strong man like you scared to get naked in front of me?" You joke, turning around on your stool to give him some privacy.
"Only for what I might do to you..." he whispers to himself under his breath.
"What was that?" you pipe up.
"Nothing," his voice chimes in a cheery tone.
After some audible struggling and a bit of hissing when getting the fabric off his wound, Rodrigo settles back onto the cot.
You turn around and have to pause to take in the sight of him. His pants were discarded on the floor, ruined from cuts and blood. He opted to take off his tunic and use it to cover himself. So there he was, completely naked, lounging back on this cot, nothing but a thin piece of fabric laid over his groin. You had no idea he had muscles like he has: big shoulders and swollen biceps, toned chest and abs. It really shouldn't have surprised you; you heard the stories of him hauling a net full of heavy armor up the steep cliff...
You snap out of your thoughts and move back over to Rodrigo, inspecting his hip.
"For a nurse who's seen a lot of people naked, you certainly did hesitate upon seeing me," Rodrigo says, looking down at you with a half-smirk.
"I bet it's been a long time since you've made a cocky comment like that to a woman," you look up at him from where you were gently poking around at his hip. He gives you a confused look. "I heard about how you were before you came here," you return that same half-smirk.
A little knock at the door breaks your eye contact. You walk over and crack the door open, the little boy from earlier lifting a heavy bucket of water to you. You thank him and return to Rodrigo, "Okay, stand up again, please."
"What's that for?"
"Just to get the blood off of you. You act like you've never been hurt before," you say sitting next to him with the bucket and a wash rag.
He stands up, wincing did just a second at the pain, "Well... I haven't."
"You haven't, what? Been hurt before?"
He shakes his head no, as you bring the wet wash cloth up to his side, squeezing it to let water run over the cut. Rodrigo grits his teeth and tightens his grip on the shirt in his hand, because it stings a little, before saying, "A good warrior doesn't get injured."
"You must not be a very good warrior then, getting bested by a child," you look up at him and with a sweet smile.
"I'll ask him for a rematch," he gives you a warm look before hissing again at the sting of the water. After drenching the wound a few more times, he's ready to be all bandaged up.
You go over to a little cabinet to mix up some different herbs and natural ingredients that will help heal his wound. Quietly, you apply the salve, while Rodrigo watches you work intently.
"Okay, Rodrigo, I have to wrap this bandage and you. It has to go around your thigh and your waist so it'll press on your hip."
"Okay," he stiffens up a bit, not moving.
"Okay... So, I'm gonna need you to move your hand," you refer to the hand still clutching the shirt in front of his sex.
He lets out a sigh, looking up at the ceiling for a second before dropping his shirt on the cot but quickly replacing it with his hand, gently cupping his privates and desperately avoiding eye contact with you.
Despite him being difficult, you still try to wrap the fabric around him, starting with his waist. You have to work around his arm, but it's not too big of an issue. He scrunches his nose in pain as the bandage presses down on his split skin. You got around his waist several times, as low as you can go, even brushing through the man's pubic hair a few times.
When you get to his thigh, you have Rodrigo turn his back to you and lift his sex up and out of the way. You work quickly to finish this up, but you can't help but take a moment to admire his muscular back and, frankly, plump behind. You tuck the fabric into itself, tying off the bandage.
For your next move you decide to take a little risk, patting him twice on the ass, telling him, "Finished!"
"Did you just-" he quickly spins around towering over you.
"Just what?" You look up at him innocently. "Could you sit down for me, please?"
"I think I should be going, (Y/N)."
"Without any pants? Yours are practically unusable."
He looks at his pants all tattered on the floor, and back at you, before he resigns to sitting down in the cot and covering his lap with his shirt again. You sit on the stool in front of him, placing your knees between his.
"Can I look at it?" You say, pointing to him.
"Look at what? I think it would be inappropriate for me to expose myself again."
"Your bandage, Rodrigo. I didn't get to see how it looked from your front side," you reach out, moving the fabric off of his hip and taking his upper thigh into your hands, examining it. It looks like the bandage is placed correctly, but he's already got some blood peaking through the cloth in a few spots.
"You'll need a new bandage every day at least. Maybe twice a day until it's healed," you inform the man.
"Mhm," Rodrigo says curtly, looking away from you once again.
"So you'll have to come see me, okay?"
"Yeah," he says, trying to conceal his deepened breathing
"Look at me."
He turns his head and does as he's told. He has a bit of a desperate look in his eyes.
"Are you alright?" you ask.
Rodrigo simply shifts uncomfortably, and judging by the movements of the pile of fabric on his lap, you can tell what the problem is.
You gently place your hand on his lap, feeling his growing member through the shirt.
"(Y/N)." He grabs your hand roughly, "I can't. My vows."
"You revoked your vows, Rodrigo."
He lets out a breath, feeling your hand squeeze his length. His eyebrows furrow, "I shouldn't. I only revoked my vows to help protect the village."
"And you deserve to be rewarded for all you for our home."
Another squeeze; his hand tightens on yours.
"I would be going back on all the progress I made since I converted..."
"You revoked your vows, Rodrigo. Not just one, all of them. You're allowed to do this."
Another squeeze, and Rodrigo's hips buck into your hand. He's as hard as he can be and starting to soak through his shirt with precum.
"Just because I'm allowed to, doesn't mean I should."
"But you want to, and that's okay. You're a changed man, a better man, but still a man, and men make mistakes, and they sin. You won't go back to the person you used to be just because you allow yourself a bit of pleasure."
With that, Rodrigo's resolve breaks. He firmly grips your hand and ruts up into it, while his head rolls back and lets out a moan.
A moment later, he looks back down at you, and rips the shirt off his lap, then you both find yourselves with a hand pleasing the hard cock in-between you.
Your free hand guides Rodrigo's hand away from his length, intertwining your fingers. You continue to work on him while you look up at him, appreciating the overwhelmed look on his face for just a moment before you kick your stool out from under you, get on your knees, and start placing kisses on his sensitive tip.
"Oh God..." Rodrigo certainly felt like he was in heaven.
Your lips envelop his sex in warm, wet pleasure. The man's fingers lazily caress the back of your head, as he becomes a moaning mess.
You take as much of him as you can, his cock hitting the back of your throat and your hand handling the rest. He helps your head bob up and down for a while; unfortunately though, he can't take very much before he's pulling you off of him--it's been a while for him.
"What?" you giggle, "Not good?"
"No," is all you hear before his lips crash into yours. He pulls you up to him, pushing your pants down in a rush, then getting you in his lap.
Rodrigo is practically growling and digging his nails into you, becoming a bit animalistic as he seats his dick inside you. He'd nearly forgotten how amazing it feels having contact with a woman this way.
You make your own series of noises as well, taking his big length. You want to make him feel good, so you muster all your skill while riding him. Rodrigo stands up, grimacing with pain from his hip, but keeps fucking into you.
"Be careful!! Don't hurt yourself, my love," you please with him.
"I won't. But I am gonna finish this off like a man."
Seconds later, your back is hitting the cot as Rodrigo's hips slam into you agressively. You'd never seen him be so forceful; he'd been nothing but sweet and compassionate in his time in the village. But this is a man desperately in search of achieving the ultimate pleasure, a pleasure that he couldn't have any more.
He rips your tunic open, lips meeting with your breasts. Breasts. Rodrigo missed breasts. He worshipped them, praised them, until his carnal desire is satisfied as he orgasms, spilling his seed in you with a few rough pumps.
After lying his forehead on your chest for a moment, he looks up and meets you with the sweetest kiss you'd ever been given. The way he squeezes you in his arms and softly presses his lips to yours again and again makes you feel, well, loved.
You both lay on the little cot, cuddling and placing kisses all over each other's faces.
"Hey," you whisper.
"Hey," he mimics you.
"You don't... Do you think I'll get pregnant from this? I'm sorry- it's just, I'm a nurse, so I worry about these things," you ramble nervously.
"Well, I don't think it matters. We may not make it through the battle." There's a long, quiet pause between you as you realize you might be facing your mortality soon. "But if we do make it out alive, I'm gonna marry you... since I can take a wife now."
You look up at him, tears threatening to form in your eyes, as he nuzzles his nose against yours.
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Summary: What if only one person could actually use Ruby's demon killing knife and that person was you? Part 1 Part 2
Dean Winchester x reader
There was a firm and methodical knocking on your apartment door. You turned the TV off and left to open it and there stood a handsome man in an impressive looking suit. He had a young face, too young to be looking so official, he seemed to be your age after all. There was a confident look in his bright green eyes that made up for any inexperience he might have for his young age. You met his confidence with equal stubbornness and crossed your arms at him.
"Hello ma'am. I am agent John Bonham of the FBI." His deep voice sent a chill down your spine. He pulled out an authentic looking federal badge to verify his position. You eyed him cautiously as you mulled over his name. You knew it was the name of a Led Zeppelin's drummer. He was giving you a fake name and a fake ID. Last time you checked only top ranking criminals were cocky enough to pull something like that off. You stopped yourself from making such a harsh accusation and decided to just monitor his actions.
"Are you (y/n) (l/n)?" He questioned in a firm tone. As he put his badge away you noticed his left coat pocked hung lower than the other; an obvious tell for someone caring a small hand gun. If he was an agent, maybe that was a good thing, but still you felt your stomach become unsettled at the thought of him pulling that out on you. FBI agent or not, you could not trust him with such a deadly weapon on his side. You had to play along and call the cops once he left.
"Yes. I am (y/n). What's wrong agent Bonham?" Your words burned your tongue as you forced them out as naturally as possible.
"You'll have to come with us. You're in danger." He stepped aside and motioned for you to step into the hall. You stood firm and challenged him openly.
"If you want me to follow you, I at least deserve an explanation."
"At least walk with me as I explain." He said, trying to meet you halfway. You decided to give him one last chance. If he gave you a convincing answer, you would willingly go with him. He set a fast pace as you moved down the halls, clearly in a rush to retrieve you. Despite his long legs, you were able to keep up with him by increasing the speed of your steps. You could tell he was thinking out every turn and move he made as he navigated the hall. He was tense did not start explaining himself until you reached the lobby.
"You're special and because of that we believe someone is after you."
"How am I special?" He slowed down long enough to open the front door for you and continued at a slower and less suspicious pace.
"There is a...dangerous group out, attacking innocent people around America." He cut himself off before he talked again on another tangent. "My partner parked the car a couple blocks down to avoid being recognized."
"You know your explanation is getting pretty cryptic." You pressed him, needing more information. You follow him down hidden side streets and waited patiently until you entered alley way. "Agent Bonham!" You demanded his attention and tugged on his jacked to get it. He looked down to you with slight surprise on his face.
He was use to people being flustered and tongue tied around him; scared beyond belief due to the dangerous nature of the situations he was usually in. You, on the other hand, were not phased. At the moment he was not sure why he was so impressed by your reaction, but now looking back, he knows everything about you impressed him.
"Look sweetheart. You're special because you can kill demons and we need someone on our team like that. Problem is the demons are now trying to kill you first--" You missed the rest of his explanation as alarm bells rang out in your head. He was the definition of psychotic or maybe a sociopath.
You put all the weight and power you could muster behind your fist as it landed right on his jaw. He stumbled back in shock and you heard him curse under his breath as he rubbed it. His cursing only got louder when you ran off. Based off his delayed reactions and mumbled curses, you would have guessed running off was only a mild inconvenience to him. You were nothing to really worry about, just an easy catch.
You ran out of the alley and took a hard left to get away from the man and your home. Your home did not feel safe anymore, it felt tainted and you could not return to it with a clean conscience. Not long after your escaped you ran into another man of impressive stature and build.
"Sir! Can you please call the police? There is a crazy man chasing me." The warm comfort of security was quickly stolen from you the moment you locked eyes with the man. His eyes went black and were filled with malice intent. Heavy waves of hatred flowed off the man and hit you like an overwhelming force. A teasing smile appeared on his lips as he looked down at you with pity.
"And here I thought you would be smarter than this, running away from the only person who could save you." He pulled out a black spear head knife that was over nine inches long and looked it over with a smile, before he focused on you. "Thanks to you and your brilliant decisions, it looks like your only options are to die by my hand or come with me. Need a second to choose?"
All you could do was take small steps back as the rest of your body locked up. You would have liked to blame your reactions on the demon, but deep down you knew you were freezing up because you were afraid. The situation, the information and the threat all being real was too much for you to take on at once. You slowed your breathing and mustered the most confident voice you could, though you were sure it was shaky just like your stance.
"I'd rather die than help someone evil like you." You stared him down and looked straight into his burning eyes.
Another sharp blood covered blade brought the demon to his knees as it forced its way though his chest. A deep yell was ripped from his throat as he gripped the blade and slowly started to pull it through his own chest. Behind him stood the man who tried to warn you about this whole situation.
"Hurry! It only stuns him." His command ripped your focus off the wounded demon. The fear fell right off of you as you ran just behind him, towards a black Impala. Behind the wheel was an impatient looking man with short brown hair and brown puppy dog eyes.
You crashed into the back seat since you jumped into the vehicle aimlessly. The pain from the impact traveled right up your spine. You struggled to sit up right as the car sped off and easily threw you to the other side of the vehicle. Agent Bonham already sat upright and was buckled in while you scrambled for the seat-belt. You needed something, anything to make you feel safe.
The moment you were upright and settled in your seat, you looked back at the demon you could barley recognize in the distance. You watched the man open his mouth and a dark cloud fled out of the body in a dark torrent. The body and knife that was plunged into him fell to the ground uselessly. You stared at the knife and guilt and fear came over you as you realized all you had done.
"Sorry about your knife...and punching you in the face." The man let out a sudden choke, from being caught off guard, then laughed in response to the humorous statement. Agent Bonham just grumbled at him to "shut up". You tugged at the end of your shirt sleeves in response to your sudden feeling of embarrassment and kept your eyes on the ground.
"Don't worry about the knife, we can pick it back up and as far as Dean goes, I am sure he deserved it. Probably came off too strong or aggressive." The young man reassured you with a smile. "I am Sam by the way and this is my brother, Dean Winchester."
"(y/n), but you already knew that." You replied in a joking fashion. Sam kindly smiled at your bad joke, while Dean ignored you completely. Noticing the discomfort, Sam stepped in to start a happy conversation.
The moment the car stopped the peaceful tone Sam had instilled in you dissipated. The comfort and trust had vanished the moment the audible click of a hammer on a gun sounded. Dean held the gun, a small but intimidating hand gun, and aimed the barrel at you. He kept it at his eye level for a moment to make a point, before lowering it to hip level. You immediately stiffened and glared at him, completely forgetting about the gun.
"I thought you were here to help me." A harsh accusation of deceit underlined your statement in an attempt to make him feel guilty. Sam opened the passenger side door for you, so you could leave.
"We are. We need to know we can trust you first." You scoffed at his statement and found it to be very ironic.
"Trust is usually a two way street, wouldn't you say?" Dean seemed to already be done with your words as he rolled his eyes and had a bored look on his face. His voice took on an intimidating husky tone as he spoke.
"Yeah, but I have a feeling you'll get over this, so come on Sweetheart. Just makes it easier on us." He sounded so sure of himself. At the time you did not realize he was speaking from experience since he had went through this routine many times with other people and always had the same result; forgiveness and trust. Despite his confidence, you highly doubted you could brush off such an encounter.
He motioned with his gun for you to get up and you obeyed. You followed Sam, who opened any doors that impeded you from getting to your destination, and Dean stood behind you to coax you to move with his gun.
They shut you up in a small box of a motel room. It was obviously a cheap one, with thing walls, outdated appliances and the smell of cigarette smoke embedded in the room. You sat in sat in the only chair in the room and waited for them to explain to you what the hell was going on. Instead, they left you to run "errands".
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Operation Ghost Leopard, Part 14
Lysaedion Spy au
> ogl masterlist
Lorcan had phoned Aelin from Aedion’s line to ensure she was in her rooms, and within seconds, the two of them were walking swiftly toward her quarters. Come to think of it, Lysandra had never visited that area of the castle. Her time spent in Terrasen’s palace usually involved the war room, Aedion’s rooms, and the occasional common area. She focused her mental energy on guessing what Aelin’s living area would look like; the decor, the furniture, etc.
Anything to prevent the panic rising in her throat.
Lorcan’s long legs proved to keep her out of her thoughts, too, as she scrambled to keep pace with him along the way. If he noticed, he didn’t care. His speed remained constant, so Lysandra made sure to school her breathing so that he didn’t hear her panting next to him. Before long, they were in front of Aelin’s door, waiting on an attendant to let them inside.
“Been a while on cardio, Ennar?”
So much for that.
“Fuck you,” she spat, ignoring Lorcan’s rough chuckle.
The door opened, and they walked through with little ceremony. Aelin was seated near her window, reading over some type of report and sipping her morning tea. She was the portrait of unruffled calm as she eyed them curiously.
“It’s a little early for you, Lorcan, but it’s nice to see you, Lys.”
The commander rolled his eyes, but his voice was professional. He filled her in on the events of the morning: Evangeline’s arrival, Vaughan’s role undercover, and Aedion’s absence. The news of Vaughan’s involvement had Aelin’s eyes widening, but she saved her comments for another time. Lysandra was sure to add the detail of Aedion’s dog tags that Vaughan had given her and reiterate the ultimatum that she’d been given by Arobynn.
The princess took the information in with a furrowed brow, but she gave no other indication of her inner thoughts. There were times where Lysandra envied Aelin’s game face, but at that moment, it only served to stoke her emotions. She huffed in annoyance, earning a subtle tilt of Aelin’s chin in her direction.
“Just wondering how we should proceed, is all. This seems rather time sensitive if Aedion has turned himself in to Arobynn.”
“Do we have confirmation that he’s done so?” Her voice was calm, unaffected. “I get he delivered his dog tags to Arobynn’s assistant, but do we know that he stayed?”
“Well... no,” Lysandra stammered. “But all the signs point to him having done that.”
“Hmm,” Aelin mused, turning her head to look out the window. “Before we do anything, I think we need to take the time to figure this out. If Aedion’s made a move, he obviously has a plan. Acting too quickly risks throwing a wrench in all of it and putting him in further danger.”
Lysandra gawked at the back of Aelin’s head, then turned to Lorcan to see a quizzical expression on his face. He seemed to be just as conflicted by the princess’ reaction, or rather, her non-reaction. Lorcan cleared his throat.
“I know you’re no stranger to rogue side missions, but I would prefer if we mediate this sooner rather than later. There are too many loose ends.” There was a slight bite to his words, but Lysandra couldn’t blame him for it.
Aelin’s head whipped in his direction, but Lysandra spoke before she could lash out at the commander.
“Aelin, I hear you. I do, but you and I both know Arobynn well enough to know we don’t have time to see how it all plays out. I can’t pretend to know what Aedion’s thinking, but—“
“What did his note say, Lysandra?”
She could only blink at Aelin’s cool words. She knew it wasn’t genuine curiosity that fueled them considering she’d already told her. No, there was calculation behind those turquoise eyes. Lysandra pretended it didn’t hurt to look directly into them with Aedion’s fate being unknown.
She remembered suddenly that she had fisted the note on the way out of Aedion’s rooms. Stepping toward the princess, she shoved it in her general direction without a word. To open her mouth meant risking her various frustrations flowing out of her. She watched as Aelin’s eyes scanned the small piece of paper, pretending the words weren’t imprinted on the back of her own eyelids.
Please trust me, Lys.
Keep practicing. I love you.
“This doesn’t seem like the note of someone without a plan, Lys.” Her voice was soft, a glimmer of emotion showing itself.
Lysandra released a sound of frustration nearing a full growl. Lorcan’s head snapped her way as Rowan’s tall form walked through the doorway to join them. His eyes scanned the room, taking them all in, as he moved to take the seat across from Aelin.
“Why should we honor his fucking plan, Aelin? Have you forgotten that we all had a plan? This whole court? He didn’t honor it, so why do we let him do whatever he sees fit? He’s putting himself in danger that he didn’t need to face alone. How can you be so complicit?”
“Why do you think he did it, Lysandra?” Aelin demanded, her voice raising. “I hardly agree with his decision, but I have to trust his intuition and his skills. We have no clue where he is in his plan, and if we intervene now, we risk his blood on our hands. I won’t do it!”
All she could see was red in her field of vision, and she was only mildly aware of anyone’s presence other than the princess’. Her voice dropped in lethal calm.
“Fine. I can’t talk you out of supporting this self-sacrificial bullshit, but I don’t have to accept it. If we’re all doing whatever the fuck we want, I’m going after him. I’m late for work, anyway.”
She spun on her heel, and the attendant already had the door open for her exit. Without even the satisfaction of slamming the door behind her, Lysandra headed for the lion’s den.
The door to the Keep was locked when Lysandra pulled the handle, causing a sense of absolute dread to flow across her skin. She retrieved her employee ID from her tote and scanned in. Annie sat at her usual desk, smiling tensely at Lysandra as she approached her desk.
“Why’s the door locked?” Deep down she knew, but she wondered what the story was around the office.
“It’s been a weird day already,” Annie lamented, loosing a heavy breath as she looked up at her. “It was really chaotic this morning, but it got really quiet all of a sudden. Not sure what that’s about, but Arobynn ordered lockdown protocol. Only people with IDs or ordered explicitly by Arobynn can come in or out.”
Lysandra’s stomach dropped to the floor, but she mastered her face into indifference.
Her tone was as nonchalant as she could muster. “You never know around here. It’s always something.”
Annie huffed a short laugh. “Indeed. Well, I think there’s some coffee left if you’re interested. Other than that, Arobynn asked that I direct you to conference room 4 as soon as you’re able.”
“Mustn’t keep him waiting,” Lysandra mocked, trying to keep the air around them as light as possible. “Thanks, Annie.”
On heavy feet, she forced herself to maintain a casual pace as she walked toward the conference room. Her heart thundered within her chest at twice the pace of her footfalls, leaving her feeling chaotic and unnerved. She paused with her hand on the conference room door and took a long, deep breath. It was best to prepare herself for anything she may see, but even in the event that she couldn’t, she told herself she only had to manage her external reaction. Her internal reaction was her own and an entirely different story.
Hauling the heavy door toward her, she watched as the latch clued her colleagues to her presence. Her eyes locked onto Tern’s, but she saw Mullin’s and Harding’s on her from the periphery. They regarded her with grim annoyance, but before she could ask what the fuck their problems were that day, Arobynn’s voice shook her from her thoughts.
“Nice of you to join us, Olivia. Perhaps this day will prove more productive now that you’ve arrived.”
“Conference Room 4” was a pretty moniker for the Keep’s interrogation room. The set-up emulated a lecture hall on a smaller scale, complete with long tables staggered in height to allow for numerous attendees to see the platform at the front of the room. There was an aisle of stairs between them, leading down to the pit. Her colleagues were scattered at various tables, seemingly spread out in case ground needed to be covered quickly.
What caught her breath in her throat; however, was when she looked toward her boss’ voice at the base of the stairs. There was a certain arrogance etched into his features, but more nerve-wrecking was the flash of golden hair she saw over his shoulder thanks to her elevated perspective. She didn’t dare look at him immediately for fear of what she would see, but she swore his posture stiffened at Arobynn’s words.
“I was chasing some leads this morning. I apologize for the delay. What do we have here?”
She hated the indifference in her voice, the taunt that she aimed toward Aedion. Deep down, she knew he would see it for the show that it was. At least, she hoped he would.
“It seems your charge snuck away to do some investigating himself this morning. He showed up first thing to speak with Tern, but I wasn’t made aware of his presence until a couple of hours ago.” The irritation he aimed at Tern was laced through his voice, and Lysandra didn’t envy her colleague for it. She turned her attention his way, if only to rip her temptation away from looking at Aedion.
“What business did he have with you?” Lysandra demanded, jutting her chin toward Tern.
She moved to one of the conference tables, setting her things down and getting settled. She chose one on the same side of the room as the doors, even with Tern who was on the other side of the aisle. Harding and Mullin flanked the aisle as well, placed a couple of rows down from the two of them.
“He came inquiring about you, actually,” Tern responded as if Aedion didn’t exist at all. “According to him, you’d arrived at the palace pretty shaken, and he felt like you were holding back. I told him that you’d been having more one on ones with Arobynn lately, but that’s all I knew.” He paused to allow her the chance to respond. She didn’t take it. “The interesting part was that he seemed surprised to hear that. Apparently, you’d only shared with him that I’d been giving you a hard time.”
She swallowed thickly, wondering for the life of her why Aedion would have chosen to share that news with him. Her heart crumpled for the man before them who had been so blinded that he’d walked straight into Arobynn’s web. His desire to avenge her had outweighed—
Wait. That wasn’t right at all, was it? Aedion Ashryver wasn’t a man who went in blind or sold her out to her colleagues by telling them she was sharing intel. There was a reason to this.
“That’s not exactly what I’d told him, is it?”
Hopefully she could get Tern to fill in the gaps for her, to lay out the narrative Aedion had presented. Her odds of doing so with Tern were far greater than being able to do it with Arobynn. That was her next clue that everything happening was very much by design.
“No. That’s the part I can’t figure out,” Tern responded, his jaw and shoulders tense. “He said I’d made advances at you, that I’d made you uncomfortable by coming onto you. Maybe you can tell me what that’s about.”
Shit, could she? She dared a quick glance at Aedion, but he was staring resolutely at his lap with a grave look on his handsome face. She hoped it wasn’t obvious to the others how badly she wanted to smooth his wrinkled brow.
She scoffed in Tern’s direction. “Don’t get so worked up, Tern. He was badgering me about what was wrong, and I gave him an excuse to keep him from asking more questions. How was I to know he’d bust in here to play the part of hero?”
Her colleague’s jaw ticked in irritation as he considered his next words. “It’s odd that you picked me for your lie when it’s you and Arobynn who have been having all these secret meetings together without the rest of us,” he spat. Lysandra dared a glance toward their boss. His face had gone totally blank, but his eyes were fixed on Tern with a predator’s focus.
If the man noticed, he didn’t let on as he continued talking. “I told you I knew you were up to something. Now is as good a time as any to come out with it.”
The fool really thought he’d backed her into a corner. She almost laughed at his myopathy, but she felt a sort of sympathy for him. Aedion had used the bits of information Lysandra shared over time to stoke Tern’s paranoia and effectively drive a wedge between him and Arobynn without so much as lifting a finger, really. If she wasn’t so angry with the prince, she’d be impressed.
It was his voice, low and defeated, that broke her train of thought. “Just drop the charade, Olivia. I know about the baby.”
Lysandra’s head whipped toward Aedion, who now looked directly into her face. It was then that she realized the zip ties that bound his wrists to the metal table next to him and the various bruises across his face. She choked down a growl at seeing him injured in such a way, but she couldn’t afford the show of emotion. She focused her energy instead on ignoring his split bottom lip and the deep purple beneath both of his eyes. She pretended his nose wasn’t swollen and slightly crooked, that it wasn’t his blood dripped across his stretched shirt. She’d rip the limbs off of every man present for what they’d done.
But she had to navigate Aedion’s damned riddles first.
Lysandra channeled her rage into an incredulous tone. “What?!”
It was Tern who took over. “It all adds up; your meetings with Arobynn, the vomiting in your office. It’s not like you did well hiding it. When Ashryver mentioned you’d been run down lately and seemed off, it wasn’t hard to put the details together.”
If not for the dire nature of their situation, Lysandra may have laughed at the dramatic widening of Arobynn’s eyes. So, Aedion had succeeded in his goal to drive a wedge within Arobynn’s inner circle. Was the pregnancy an attempt to keep her safe from physical harm? Should she lean into the theory or deny it? Those questions were a couple of many examples of why Aedion should have run his plan by her before the execution phase. Damn him.
“What is this about?” Arobynn demanded, his patience hanging by a thread. “Tern, you’ve lost your damned mind.”
What purpose could this possibly fucking serve? Lysandra willed her brain to pick it apart, to think like Aedion would. He could have taken so many other avenues, but he didn’t. She reflected on his note in hopes she could decipher any hidden meanings.
Please trust me, Lys.
Keep practicing. I love you.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
Arobynn turned his attention to Aedion when Tern didn’t give him anything. “What the fuck is this about? These claims are ridiculous.” His voice was low and smooth as he asked, his focus now trained solely on the prince.
“How the fuck would I know?” Aedion snarled. “Is this some petty fucking revenge? My cousin refuses your hand and you knock up Olivia to even the score?”
Arobynn took a step forward toward him, and Lysandra knew whatever he intended to do wasn’t good for Aedion. Before he could close the distance entirely, she spoke up.
“Enough of this. There’s no baby, Aedion. It seems you’ve fallen to Tern’s delusions.”
The prince’s eyes flicked over to hers, and she swore she saw a gleam of approval in them. At that moment, she was running on pure adrenaline, so she couldn’t take much credit for actual strategy. She only knew that her composure would shred the moment Arobynn laid a hand on Aedion in her presence.
Arobynn seemed content with her interruption, a feral smirk dragging across his mouth. He straightened the lapels of his jacket before sliding his hands into his pockets. “Has it yet occurred to you why she’s here in the first place?”
Aedion made a show of looking from Arobynn to Lysandra and back again. “N-no.”
The rhythm of the exchange started to settle into her bones, and Lysandra let out an ironic sounding laugh at Aedion’s apprehension. Arobynn turned toward her, but her eyes remained fixed on Aedion over his shoulder. That same gleam sparkled in his eyes as if encouraging her to continue. She could have been imagining it to justify her actions, but she decided instead to believe he was directing her through whatever the hell they were doing. He dared a quick half-smile, barely a swift uptick at the corner of his mouth, as if to say— Come on, Lys. Dance with me. Just one more time.
Except this time, he was prepared to let her lead.
“Truly?” she taunted. “Not once since I got here have you questioned it?”
He shook his head to reiterate his response. The others had no way of knowing that he would have questioned it immediately under different circumstances, that he was lying through his teeth. She was more than happy to use it to her advantage, turning to address Tern fully.
“For fuck’s sake, Tern. Arobynn and I aren’t having an affair. We’ve been meeting alone because there’s a level to this mission that only concerns me. Although, it doesn’t surprise me that your ego would have you assume you should be present.” She paused to allowed anyone to respond, but no one did. “The risk of it is mine, so I preferred to discuss it alone.”
“Does someone want to tell me what the fuck is going on?” The anger in Aedion’s voice sliced through a bit of her bravado, but she mastered herself quickly.
“I’m getting there, Prince,” she replied coyly, turning her attention to the room as a whole. “If I was meant to follow through on this task, it couldn’t happen within the walls of the palace. There would be too many witnesses and too little possibility of an alibi. That made me wonder how to lure him here, in the security of the Keep, to best execute said task. The male ego is fascinating, especially one of a man in love, so it took very little talk of Tern’s inappropriate behavior to have the prince bloodthirsty.”
She turned toward Aedion to see that same look of approval. Emboldened by it, she continued with her reveal.
“Am I right, Aedion? Were you prepared to defend my honor when you arrived this morning?”
The prince made a show of looking almost sheepish, leaning defensive. He offered her a tense nod, and she rose from her seat to prop herself at the end of the table. “As noble as that may be, it brought you here, making my job that much easier.”
Arobynn, blessedly, took over her recount from there. “You see, our Lysandra has been on a mission these last months. Your cousin has created quite a stir with the lords of Terrasen, and they hired me and my men to gather intel on her movements. They’re not overly keen on the idea of relinquishing the shared governance to which they’ve grown accustomed. Had Aelin been thinking of her country rather than her selfishness, she would have accepted my hand. It would have secured her future as Queen.”
“And you would be King,” Aedion sneered, unruffled by the abuse he’d suffered at Arobynn’s hand.
Arobynn nodded, taking a couple of steps closer to Aedion. Lysandra resisted her urge to go after him. “But now, she’s betrothed to the King of Adarlan. While I can understand the appeal, her people fear the possibility of an empire. Adarlan isn’t a nation to scoff about, and their forces backing any agenda that Aelin could possibly dream is dangerous. The only ways around this would be her abdication or her untimely demise.” Aedion jerked against his restraints at the clear threat to his cousin, to no avail. “That won’t do will it?”
The prince only stared him down, unwilling to humor him with any kind of response. Arobynn paced back and forth as he continued. “Your years as part of the royal family have surely allowed a certain level of education around succession. Tell me, Prince, who would inherit the throne in the absence of an heir.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Aedion ground out, warning dripping from the words.
Arobynn’s patience had worn thin, indicated by the increased volume of his voice. “Who is next in the succession, Aedion?”
He looked at Arobynn with murder brewing in his turquoise eyes, that ring of gold glowing as bright as Lysandra had ever seen it. His reply came through gritted teeth. “Me.”
“Exactly. Which is why Lysandra was an obvious choice for the task at hand. If anyone could get close enough, it would be her considering the nature of your infatuation with her.”
Aedion’s eyes widened in horror as he turned them her way. Even knowing that he knew the truth, the pain worn all over his place gutted her.
“Lysandra?” Aedion spat, as if the name disgusted him. Of all the times he’d said it to her, that was most definitely her least favorite. He dropped his voice as he addressed her, and she swore he’d never looked so earnest. Things with them had been genuine for so long that she forgot how skilled he was undercover. “Olivia,” he pleaded, “tell me what’s going on. I don’t know what he’s said to you or what dream you’ve been sold, but—“
“Don’t,” she interrupted, partly to seem harsh but also because she couldn’t bear it. “I know this is a lot to take in, but Arobynn tells the truth. You’re an unfortunate complication that had to be eliminated. I must admit I regret that a little. You’re not all bad,” she taunted.
Aedion’s jaw ticked with anger, his throat bobbing as he steadied his voice. “That’s bullshit, and you know it. You’ve had plenty of opportunities. You would have done it.”
Lysandra hadn’t expected the clear hit at her credibility, but she supposed it would seem more suspicious if he didn’t question her. After all, he was meant to be a fool in love, someone she’d so clearly manipulated to her favor. She went immediately on the defensive.
“Maybe so, if I were impulsive and didn’t care for self-preservation. It would have been suicide to make an attempt on your life within the palace or around your court. I needed to draw you out, get you around my own before doing anything. What better explanation than you barreling into the Keep with your jealousy and your territorial male bullshit? Think of the PR nightmare with such behavior from a prince; Terrasen’s sweetheart, no less. They’d accept our claims of self-defense if only to keep it quiet,” she finished, praying to the gods that she hadn’t thrown any wrench in the plan.
She quickly decided that even if she did, it was on Aedion to wiggle his way out of it. If he wanted her on the same page so badly, he would have included her in the plan in the first place. Lysandra shook her head softly at the thoughts; valid as they were, they weren’t productive. She couldn’t afford to resent Aedion at that point.
“No!” Aedion bellowed, refusing to accept her words. As if remembering himself, he squeezed his eyes shut against the anger, and when he opened them, Lysandra had to breathe against the rawness of his emotions. “You’re lying, baby,” he said softly. “Would you just drop this? Please? Olivia, you told me you loved me. We have plans together.”
Realization hit her suddenly as the pieces of Aedion’s proverbial puzzle fell into place. It was his words, chosen artfully and intentionally to parallel their argument the night before, that finally made everything line up.
Go on; I want to believe you.
You’re lying, baby.
She hoped she wasn’t reading into the parallel too closely, but she had a hard time talking herself out of it.
Do your worst, Lysandra. Tell me that I don’t matter to you; that you never cared about me. Make me believe that you manipulated my trust so blatantly, and I never saw it coming. Lie to me, baby.
So, this was what he’d wanted. For her to refuse him in front of everyone, to absolve her of any responsibility to keep her safe. As much as she could throttle him for it, she didn’t dare get off track so late in the charade. Her own words to him echoed through her brain, the final piece that made Aedion’s note make sense.
I can’t. You know I can’t.
And the words from his godsdamned letter—
Keep practicing. I love you.
Lysandra must have been quiet for a length of time. Aedion’s voice jolted her back to the present, urging her to meet him fully in their game.
“I brought you to Adarlan with my court. I’ve met your sister, for the gods’ sake. Was it really all part of this fucked up game you’re playing?”
She looked into his face once more to find it wrecked, his eyes brimming with tears. The sight was convincing enough to riddle her with guilt despite her having committed no grievances. She schooled her face into a mask of someone totally indifferent to his words.
“Aedion, stop all this. Seriously, you’ll embarrass yourself,” she admonished, steeling herself to be convincing enough with the ridiculous things she had to say out loud. “The truth is you meant nothing to me, not really.”
She glanced to Arobynn whose face was covered in feral delight at her taunting. When she looked back to Aedion, a tear rolled down his cheek, and she hated it. Hated it. But as twisted as it was, she could do this for him.
“You saw what you wanted to see; what I wanted you to see. I did what I needed to do to earn your trust and gain access to Aelin.” She started down the stars, pacing her decent with her words. “You were a means to an end; a direct path to our goal as an organization. I honestly thought it would take longer to manipulate you so thoroughly considering your notorious cleverness, but you were blinded by the things I dared to show you.” She was right in front of him now, gripping his chin a jerking it upward roughly to look at her. His haunted expression nearly brought her to her knees. “Truthfully, you are my assignment and nothing more.”
Before the prince could respond to her painful monologue, an object, blurred by its sheer speed, flew mere centimeters from Aedion’s cheekbone. Both of them jumped at the loud thud on the wall behind him, and Lysandra snapped her gaze upward to assess what had flown so closely to Aedion’s head that several wisps of his blond hair now littered the forearm of her sweater. Her blood boiled when she saw the dagger embedded in the wall, and it took every single ounce of her self-control to turn slowly to determine which of her colleagues had so impetuously interfered with how she handled her charge.
Lysandra had never been so relieved to see Lorcan Salvaterre in all of her life.
He’d been perched casually at the very back, his ankles crossed with his boots atop the table. Once the room’s attention turned to him, he’d lowered his feet and wordlessly stood to meet Arobynn’s men who were already upon him. Lysandra wondered if her jaw was slack as she watched him make those trained men look like young children, effortlessly disarming them and moving to the next.
She’d only been vaguely aware of the code being called when men from various parts of the Keep flooded the conference room. Bile rose to her throat at the sheer numbers, and she knew she needed to make her way over to the dagger before anyone else. She wondered if that had been Lorcan’s intention all along, to make sure she was a armed before the chaos erupted.
That was where she found herself, dagger in hand and running back toward Aedion through the numerous agents engaged in combat around them. Lysandra was skilled, had trained in combat the better part of her life, but they were outnumbered. Lorcan was otherworldly, something entirely inhuman, but everyone had their limits. Her heart sank at the innocent people sprinkled through the Keep who may fall victim to the pandemonium she created. She had to figure out a way to evacuate them sooner rather than later.
As if summoned by Lysandra’s train of thoughts, the door nearest to the pit opened to reveal Aelin, Rowan’s form shadowing not far behind her. The princess was dressed for the brutality surrounding her, daggers in hand. She thought she could cry at seeing the blonde despite wanting to choke her only hours before.
“What are you—“
“No time for that, Lysandra. Here.” Aelin tossed another dagger her way, hilt first, from the small strap around her thigh. She caught it with ease. “It’s time we fought on the same side for once.”
Tears pricked her eyes, but she would never give the woman the satisfaction of knowing it. She whirled for Aedion, kneeling to slice through the zip ties securing each of his ankles to the chair legs.
“You’re incredible,” he marveled at her, his eyes soft with emotion.
“Thanks,” she replied, grunting with the effort of slicing through the binds at his wrists. Aedion hissed at the sting of the ties, rubbing at his wrists with his large hands. “Now, go.”
Aedion’s eyes grew twice their size at her words, but she cut him off before he could argue. “I’m serious. Go to the front, find Arobynn’s assistant. Her name is Annie. She knows the Keep and can help you get everyone out safely.”
“Don’t argue with me. Please.” Her voice broke on the word. “The risks are high enough. They need someone who can lead them out of here and keep them safe. You have the experience and the skill to do it, so I’m asking you.”
“I should be here to—“
“It’s an order, Ashryver,” Lorcan called from where he engaged with one of Arobynn’s men. Lysandra hadn’t know he was so close, nor that he could hear her words to Aedion, but she was thankful regardless. “Do what Ennar says. Find the assistant and evacuate the keep. Now.”
The prince ground his teeth at the order as if he meant to defy it. Lysandra took his face between her hands, careful not to aggravate his injuries, and tried to shake him out of his thoughts.
“Please,” she begged again. “I trusted you. I need you to return the favor.”
Aedion hissed a curse under his breath, his eyes closing slowly as he considered her words. Honor won out, and he tore himself away from her to head for the doors. He paused only long enough for Rowan to toss several weapons his way. She regretted the second his golden hair disappeared through the door, but it had been what she wanted.
Lysandra’s brain seemed to empty out as she joined the fray. She wondered if she would ever remember the men with whom she faced off, her body carrying her on autopilot as if not a day had passed since the last time she’d engaged in hand-to-hand combat. Rowan proved to be just as impressive as Lorcan, almost as if he was fueled by the altercations rather than drained by them. Aelin was nowhere in her periphery, but she knew the princess was alive and well since Rowan hadn’t made it his personal responsibility to rip the heads off of every one of Arobynn’s men.
The sound of bone crunching as she rammed the hilt of her dagger into her opponents face may have been the one thing with the potential to haunt her. The sound combined with the vacant look in the man’s eyes as he hit the ground brought her roughly to the present. She blinked when she realized no one else engaged her and allowed her eyes to scan the room to assess the damage.
Lorcan still faced off with two men, but he would best them in minutes, Lysandra guessed. Rowan was engaged with several men of his own, but his eyes still scanned the room every second he got in search of Aelin. That fact alone made Lysandra happy that Aedion wasn’t with them. She would have never been able to concentrate on the task at hand with him nearby.
Shaking her from her reverie was the deep timber of Rowan’s voice, yelling Aelin’s name from his place across the room from her. Lysandra whipped her head around in search of the princess to find what she assumed was Rowan’s worst nightmare. Aelin faced off with Arobynn Hamel himself.
Rowan’s warning had served its purpose in prompting Aelin to duck under the swing of another of Arobynn’s men behind her. The distraction cost her though, allowing Arobynn the opportunity to disarm her effortlessly with a cruel chuckle. Lysandra saw red as the other man grabbed Aelin by the arms, securing her in place before Arobynn. She moved to intervene, but any plan for freeing Aelin without risking either or both of them wouldn’t manifest. For the umpteenth time that day, Lysandra was winging it.
A loud thud to her left caught her attention, but she continued to move. In her periphery she saw a flash of silver hair keeping step with her toward Aelin, and she turned to him in hopes that he had a plan of his own. To her horror, he deferred to her, assuming she had any rhyme to her reason at all.
“I’ll cover you,” he assured her, and Lysandra was touched by the loyalty she heard in his voice. He’d only shown her indifference, maybe a little amusement at times, and she realized she’d dramatically underestimated his esteem for her.
How long had she cautioned herself against feeling any sense of belonging to Aelin’s court? Only to realize maybe she’d belonged all along.
Newfound resolve washed over her, and she readied herself to do right by the people there with her. Fighting for Aelin, fighting for her.
“I’ve got Arobynn. You take care of the man who has Aelin.”
Rowan barely grunted his agreement before his long stride inevitably pulled him away from her. Lysandra surveyed the scene. Arobynn had Aelin’s cheeks squeezed roughly between his fingers and his thumb, leaning closely to her face as he spewed whatever hate he’d landed on. His dagger was balanced across her throat, leaving Aelin motionless even if her face was as determined as ever.
With stealth seemingly incompatible with Rowan’s massive form, he’d successfully positioned himself behind Arobynn’s accomplice, his own dagger poised over the man’s throat. A wolffish grin spread across Arobynn’s face at the realization.
“Why am I not surprised to see Rowan Whitethorn playing the part of your hero, Aelin? I wonder how he’s managed with the news of your engagement. Perhaps he hopes being your saving grace will win your good favor after all,” he taunted.
Aelin’s lips curled into a sneer, but Lysandra took her place behind Arobynn before she could respond. The man behind the princess gawked at her, so she supposed any anonymity she’d hoped for was out the window.
“On your knees, Arobynn. And drop the knife.”
Her boss laughed at the realization of who now held a knife to his own throat, and Lysandra felt the vibrations of it through the hilt of the blade. He complied with neither of her demands. Her heart hammered in her chest at the boldness of her actions, but it seemed she’d finally hit her threshold of Arobynn’s control and manipulation.
“I said on your knees, Arobynn.”
That time, she didn’t give him the opportunity to defy her. The heel of her boot made rough contact with the inside of his knee, and unlike Lorcan earlier that morning, Arobynn crumpled. He landed roughly against the tile, barking a curse at the pain that radiated through his knees. Lysandra lowered herself with him, her blade still pressed against his throat. He recovered with his dagger still in hand.
“What is this, Lysandra? Are you making a statement now? You want everyone here to know how you made me kneel for you, bent me to your will?”
“No,” she breathed, panic rising in her throat as Arobynn poised his dagger to strike. She didn’t know whether he aimed for Aelin’s inner thigh or her, but she didn’t give the time to find out. “I only care that you bowed for the Queen of Terrasen.”
Her blade sliced true, and the only sound that followed was the splattering of Arobynn’s blood against the tile.
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Tags (Master + Lysaedion):
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padrone e i suoi animali domestici
masterlist - rules
bruno simply adores his two favourite pets and can’t wait to see them play together.
warnings: threesome, dom/sub, pet play, breeding/creampie, sex toys, pup gear, anal, blowjobs and the likes of those things! oh and isolation?
notes: this is so so so long but im so so proud! its based off an ask on @knifefather blog and the pup hood featured in the story is this one! happy valentines day everyone and i hope you have a lovely day/night, enjoy also! i tried to make this as gender neutral as possible so everyone can enjoy it!
mental fortitude never was leone abbacchio’s strong suit.
so when posed with the idea of being able to let everything go and follow someones command, he answered positively. being able to free himself of all responsibilities and thoughts was something he enjoyed immensely, no longer having to concern himself with his past traumas and self-doubt, even if it was only for less than an hour.
the first time he had worn his newly gifted pup hood… he had found the experience strange but somehow comforting, allowing him to be at ease and creating a new mindset for him to tap into; bruno’s little obedient pet. of course you had received a matching hood in strawberry pink to match his orchid purple one, both mixed with black, coloured differently as if without the contrast of pigments the two of you would become unidentifiable and confused with each other.
bruno bucciarati, a pristine man with a heart of gold and once titled as capo of squadra guardie del corpo, a man known to lift up the spirits of those around and to strive for the success and happiness of those around him. said man was also one who secretly had more perverted tastes and held an expansive sexual appetite, favouring the more dominant roles in the bedroom whereas his two lovers would take the submissive part. other titles bruno held were master, padrone and signore- names that his precious pets were only allowed to call him during their sessions or playdates.
being tied up with an insane amount of paperwork was something bruno didn’t enjoy all too much, and since don giovanna had been dubbed the new leader of passione, he had been working non-stop in order to have things run smoothly in the new transition of power. this meant he had been unable to participate in an sexual scenes with his partners, longing to watch them touch each other, following his every command, getting off to the sounds they made and the shows they put on for him.
although most nights he was able to come home, the long days work often tired him out and he only had enough energy to share meals and cuddle up to you and abbacchio as the three of you went to turn in for the night.
eventually all the stress and time away from his beloveds was enough to become noticeable to his co-workers, asking if he needed work relieved from his duty or if he needed a quick break to relax and stretch his legs, yet all offers were turned down with the italian man’s need to take grasp of his responsibilities and serve his position well.
but when the day came that don giovanna decided that his most trusted and loyal companion needed some much needed time off, it was no surprise to anyone.
finishing off the last of his work for the next week, bruno files his papers away into an envelope before clearing the table. his hands meet around the back of his head as he leans back into his chair and stares up at the almond white ceiling, tonight would be the start of a long week and while a little puffed, he was excited for what would occur in the following days. deviant thoughts run wild through his head and as his cock twitches in his dotted black and white pants, he thinks that now is the best time to return to his safe haven.
the corridors of the don’s mansion are long and decorated in gold roses and floral prints, the ceiling is one that mimics the sixteenth chapels and the doors that lead to the courtyard are lined with alabaster drapes that move in serpentine motions while the wind blows in through open arches, and bruno looks a divine being sent from the heavens as he walks through.
at the end of the hallway bruno reaches large oak doors and after knocking several times, he gets permission to enter with a simple ‘come in’. there, standing outside on the balcony, is giorno giovanna, the fifteen year old has matured so much in his time of knowing bruno and sometimes it baffles him knowing that this young prodigy is running italy’s one of- if not the most powerful mafia in the world.
the blonde stands tall and proud, his hair longer than before and flowing in an intricate braid that looked suspiciously familiar to one he had seen abbacchio wear after a relaxing day at home. his suit is identical to his classic pink one, this time only it’s black with a muted forest green collar and emerald ladybug broaches, his expression is one of tranquility and one would never have thought that the teen had undergone so much hardship throughout is life, much less the past few months. striding over, the older mafiaso bows to his don while the other man turns to him with a gentle smile, greeting him with his last name in a endearing tone.
“bucciarati, theres no need to bow to me.”
“it’s only out of habit at this point, don giovanna.”
“and stop calling me that too. it makes me feel much other than fifteen and besides, we’re friends first aren’t we?”
“that we are” bruno chuckles, dropping his formalities. theres a short beat of silence as they look at each other, although its not the type of silence that brings awkwardness and uncomfortability, but one that brings homelike warmth and a contented aura.
“i’ve sent your duo home early, probably around two hours ago now and assuming that you’ve finished up everything, you’re free to go.”
with a curt nod, bruno moves away from the don and towards the desk where he slaps the file down onto the mahogany surface, giorno watching his every move. his foot falls sound out and only when his hand clutches the golden door knob does giorno’s voice vocalises.
“try not to have too much fun this week with them, i need them in tip-top shape for the next assignment.” at this comment bruno blushes and shakes his head, debating on if he should scold the teen for commenting something towards his sex life.
“goodbye giorno.” he says with a huff, hearing the don laugh at him as he closes the door from behind.
sighing deeply, he makes his way to his car but not before popping out to the gardens in order to bid goodbyes to narancia, fugo and mista, who- aside from pannacotta -also jest at him with knowing smiles and cheeky glints in their youthful eyes. the closer he gets to his car, the more relieved he feels, a sudden weight taken from off his shoulders allowing him to feel more fluid and electric.
slinking into the little miata, bruno pulls the seatbelt across his chest and buckles himself in, putting the keys in and starting the engine with a rev. the city of naples was so beautiful at sunset with an ombre of pinks and oranges that eventually faded into purples and deep blues. almost like in a movie as he drives closer into the heart of the city, the street lamps light up one by one, signalling that it was soon to be dark. as he drives, he thinks as to what you and leone might be doing, would you being preparing dinner? or would you be dinner? the answer is one he doesn’t know but will come to find within minutes.
as he pushes his pushes his foot down on the accelerator, he passes by ‘libeccio’, the warm yellow lights illuminate the insides with an inviting call and for a moment bruno thinks to stop and pick up some sweet desserts but goes against the thought, not one wanting to keep his loves waiting.
soon enough bucciarati is rounding the corner of his street, eyes hardened and face vacant but deep inside he was ecstatic to be finally coming home. in the driveway, he could see another little black miata parked, juxtaposed to his white one, but it was a tell tale sign that the pair of you were inside, that and the glow of your shared bedroom light on, seeping through the closed curtains upstairs.
every movement felt so slow; turning of the engine, locking the car, turning the front door knob and finally entering the house, as if he were trapped in some strange timezone. the door behind him closes with a gentle click and as he puts his keys in the small tray on the console table he notices just how quiet it was, until moments later he hears shuffling noises coupled with snickers and giggles from the bedroom. with a piquant smile, bruno begins to make his way up the stairs, blood pumping through his veins with excitement and he has to grasp the stair rails just to keep himself steady- that and the fact its dark throughout the house, only the moonlight that trickles in through the windows illuminating the downstairs area of the house.
the anticipation builds up even more and any noises coming from behind the door come to a holt just as the shadows from under it disappear moments after. bruno catches himself thinking of a million different scenarios that could be behind the door and each one makes his cock start to stiffen, balls tighten and-
his breath is hitches.
opening the door to the bedroom has revealed more than bruno could ever want from a scene with yourself and abbacchio. as there on the bed, both of you lay with soft and smooth entangled legs, donned in his favourite pup play gear; collars and matching black harnesses that are strapped over the shoulders, wrap under the arms and meet both under the chest and just above it, along with this are the gifted pup hoods and silicone tails. the lighting is dimmed, the bed is made without any creases in it, all mess has been removed or organised and the room smells of vanilla and caramel.
bruno could almost cum in his pants at the sight.
but he doesn't, instead he falls into the mind set of the dependable and authoritative owner, the master of two darling pets who need the utmost care. striding over to the edge of the bed, he looks down on his lovers with a chuckle.
“my, my… it seems as if i’ve trained you both perfectly, haven’t i?” he pauses, running his gaze further over your naked bodies. “after all, i do pride myself in due diligence. now, up.” at the command both you and abbacchio kneel attentively at the end of the bed where bruno stands, baited on his every word.
a large warm hand gentle rests underneath your chin, lifting your gaze further to meet eyes the mimic the deepest blues of the pacific ocean. his fingers travel up to the remove the detachable muzzle but the impulsive need to play around shoots up your spine, influencing you to quickly pull your head away from his grasp. but this mischievousness is quickly reprimanded with bruno roughly snatching your muzzle back into his hands, face set into a scowl.
“and here i thought you were going to be well behaved tonight, i suppose i shouldn’t expect you to act like any else other than the pathetic mutt you are. maybe look to abbacchio and use that as an example of how you should be acting.”
said man was preening up to bruno, his owner’s hand cupping his face before taking of the muzzle in the same way that he tried to do to you. it was no secret between the three of you that abbacchio was the better trained and better behaved puppy, always reaping the rewards of his performance.
continuing to hold your jaw in a firm grasp, he rips the muzzle from its buttons before stroking his thumb across your soft skin in a soothing manner, as if t coax you into acting like a perfect pup. although his touch on both your faces didn’t last long, as bruno takes step back and puts the hand that was holding your face under his chin, posed as if he was in deep thought, which he in fact was, thinking of what scene he wanted you two to perform for him.
grabbing you by the scruff of neck- or collar, bruno tugs you up onto your two feet and drags you to the corner of the room, where a large human sized cage is sat, knowing whats coming makes you whimper, now regretting the previous actions.
“you know what happens to bad cucciolos like you, no? they stay in their cages.” the way he practically tosses you into the confined space would look to anyone as careless and rough, but he only shows harsh treatment to drill in how much better the soft, loving touches are, how much better his appraisal is.
“i’ll let you out if you can keep quiet for the next five minutes.” and thats all he says before turning his back on you, walking over to the edge of the bed again and sitting down next to your other lover, giving him affectionate pets on the head.
as bruno pets abbacchio, the silver-haired pup paws at his padrone’s dotted pants, wanting to show just how much of a good boy he can be, and its not too long before bruno understands what he’s asking to do, so with a quiet laugh he unzips his zipper and tugs both pants and boxers off, collecting around his ankles before he kicks them off completely.
his semi-hard cock lulls to the side of his thigh and he looks at abbacchio with expectant eyes. taking the message, leone moves down to the floor and situates himself in between bruno’s leg, taking ahold of his cock and jerking at it, his own head now replacing the spot on bruno’s thigh where his cock was resting moments ago.
at the feeling of warm hands on his member, bruno releases an airy sigh, looking down at abbacchio with coveted lust. his cock continuing to harden at the sight of his best pup tugging his tanned cock up and down.
“just like that caro, you always know how to work me so well. such a good boy.” the last words of his sentence meant as a jab towards you, still sitting with hands clasps around the bars of the cage, struggling to contain whimpers and moans at the erotic display in front of you.
and while bruno is narrowing his eyes in your direction, a thick, wet tongue glides against the base of his cock and flickers off at the tip. eyes widening quickly, the black-haired man inhales sharply and lets out a flustered moan.
“ahhh, fuck cucciolo, again.” at the new command, abbacchio repeats his administrations over and over again, using his fingers to collect the beads of cum that begin to leak from the opening of his urethral. but not for too much longer as all actions quickly cease, until bruno suddenly feels his cock encapsulated by the warm, squishy walls of abbacchio’s mouth.
out of habit, one of bruno’s hands grabs the back on abbacchio’s head and pushes him down further onto his fully hardened member, and taking in more of the intrusion causes leone to gag and with smarts, he relaxes his throat, allowing him to take the final inches of bruno with little resistance.
eventually bruno’s hand relaxes its grip on leone’s head, but still decides to keep it there as guidance, allowing his pet to bob his head at his chosen pace but still being able to take control of it at any time.
inside abbacchio’s mind, he can only think of how full his mouth is and how good his padrone’s pre-cum tastes, only further encouraging him to make him cum, wanting to taste and swallow all of bruno’s milky white juices. his tongue quickly swirls around the tip and pushes tightly up against bruno’s frenulum causing the man above him to let out a loud, hearty groan, roughly thrusting into the back of abbacchio’s throat so hard that he has to quickly pull himself of bruno to gag.
swiftly, bruno takes abbacchio’s face into his hands and soothes him with soft hushes and whisperings of ‘are you okay’s’ to which leone nods to, fisting at his tears. asking once more if abbacchio is willing to continue, he gets another nod, this time more sure and determined with a confident smile.
standing up and nudging his partner to shift back, bruno taps his cock on the side of leone’s left cheek a couple of times, then smears his tip against his swollen, puffy purple lips before pushing into his mouth, once again feeling the warmth of his mouth surround him. his thrusts are gentle, a slow pace as his hands take place on both sides of leone’s for stability, but soon the thrusts begin to pick up speed, especially as abbacchio moves one hand to play with bruno’s balls while the other goes to palm at his own hard cock.
“f-fuck se continui a farlo io'sborrerò presto.” bruno moans out in-between gasps, now near violently thrusting into abbacchio’s suctioned lips, looking down at his glassy eyes and messed up makeup.
with one final swirl of his tongue and a particularly hard thrust from bruno, abbacchio hears a sonorous moan from above him followed by the sensation of a warm gooey consistency runs down his throat, salty on his wet tongue and as much as he’s swallowing it all, theres just too much to fit into his mouth and it ends up spilling out at the corners of his lips, bruno’s cock acting as a plug for the rest that stays in his opening.
few moments pass by as bruno catches his breath, softened cock sliding out of abbacchio’s mouth lazily, cum catching on the tip of his cock and creating a string between his member and leone’s mouth, before it quickly snaps at the distance. extending two arms out to his partner, the man takes ahold of them and pushes his body up and off his knees, half of his weight held up by the man he loves.
“you did so well il mio cucciolo, how about a treat?” at the offer, abbacchio’s head snaps up and he nods enthusiastically, “hmm alright caro, lay on the bed for me.”
doing as bruno says, he follows his masters form with curious orbs, seeing him walk over and bend down to open the cage door, where you sit with a somber look on your face.
“now cara, will you be good for your padrone and go service abbacchio for me?”
communicating in the only way you’re allowed to, you nod your head in submission and with a non-verbal yes, you master pulls you out and swiftly picks you up in his arms before making a few steps over to the edge of the bed again, putting you down onto your knees.
“go on tesoro, show me how good you can be. remember, i’ll be watching.” with that final note, bruno walks over to the armchair diagonally across from the bed, intent on enjoying the show in a position where he can see everything.
looking up at abbacchio with thick eyelashes, you crawl up to him, wagging your tail as you go, taking in the sight of his painfully hard, leaky cock. reaching out and wrapping a tight fist around his throbbing member elicits a hoarse moan that exits his sore throat, head plopping back against the soft cotton pillows. one loud moan turns into several as you continue to fist at his cock, cooing and giving little licks to his slit, making the man jut his hips into the air, desperate to fill up one of your holes.
blinded by the devouring need to be inside of something, abbacchio grabs at you head and follows in what bruno did to him, forcing your head straight down onto the base of his cock, face full of curly silver and purple pubic hairs. although he may have followed bruno’s actions, he certainly wasn’t as thoughtful as to how you felt, mind glazed in lust, he wildly fucks up into your throat, leaving little room to gasp for air, forcing you into a complete state of submission, throat forced to relax around him just as he had done, inhaling through your nostrils at the same time.
with what strength he wasn’t using to focus on how soft and cozy the insides of your mouth felt, he used it to lift his head up to look at your master, seeing him palm at his cock, still soft and worn from abbacchio’s talented tongue. the taboo display of exhibitionism only made him more aroused, somehow becoming harder inside of you and bringing him closer to the edge.
but before he can even think of finishing in your mouth, bruno clears his throat, “not yet caro.” bruno’s eyes hold dominance and despite being known as the one who behaved he couldn’t help but buck up once more at the tempting warmth around him, and he would have continued if it weren’t for the harsh glare and sharp call of his name.
so pulling you off his cock with bleary eyes, he flips you over and moves himself in-between your legs, beginning to mouth and lick at your sex. the scent of your pure arousal fuelling his need for more, he services you like a starved man in the sahara, licking, sucking, mouthing at and rubbing all over your hot hole. pulling out the silicone puppy plug with a wet pop, he watches lube trickle down the crevice of your ass, quickly dragging his tongue up and collecting the drop. the combined taste of your ass and the lube is enough to lure him in more, tracing your hole with his slick tongue, all before plunging his it deep inside of you.
with your head tilted back by the slope of the bed, you’re able to look directly at bruno as he strokes his now hard again cock and with both physical and visual stimulation, you can already feel the coil inside of you tighten and wind up, whimpering at each sensation. it’s only when abbacchio inserts a thick finger inside of your ass, that you tense up and moan out in pure sexual desire.
quickly, one finger turns into two with the intent to properly start to stretch your needy hole out, wet squelching noises created as abbacchio pumps his digits in and out, and its not long before two more fingers are added, hole clearly hungry for so much more, so much more that even bruno takes notice of how greedy your body seems to be.
“il mio cucciolo? do you think you can take his fist?” the only response is to vigorously nod your head, no time to process any thoughts.
pulling all four fingers out, abbacchio forms them into a tapered shape, thumb included, before gently pushing them all in together. both of them watching without distractions as your hole slowly pulls leone’s entire fist in, the sight has to be the most arousing sight that they had yet to see, never before had you taken so much, but perhaps this would be the first of many new things the three of you would witness each other do in the next week.
stilling inside of you, even in a hazy state, abbacchio knows to gage your reaction and see how you take to the feeling of being the fullest you had ever been, but he knows you’ll be fine when he moves merely an inch out of you and you begin to let out the loudest and longest moan they had heard all night. when he pulls out far enough to where his knuckles brush against the opening of your hole, he pushes back in all at once.
the wanton moans of your euphoria drive bruno to tug at his dick faster, to the point he struggles to stave off his own orgasm. with reluctance, he moves his hand off his cock and calls out both your names, managing to catch the attention of the two of you with surprisingly little trouble and with a single finger he beckons both you and leone over to him, which you do with a fucked out look on your face.
“on your hands and knees.” he instructs, looking down at just you.
the feeling of being dominated and controlled by someone who isn’t even touching you drives you further into a horny haze of bliss, and so you follow his command and bring your hands and knees to the ground, rubbing against abbacchio's cock behind you. speaking of abbacchio, bruno turns his attention to the man,
“you’ve done so well tonight cucciolo, holding off just for me. would you like to cum?”
abbacchio can only moan in response, relieved that he’ll finally be able to bury himself inside of you and fill you up with his cum. so the second bruno gives him the go, he’s pushing your upper body onto the ground, head next to bruno’s black leather shoes and moments after he does this, you feel the blunt head of his cock push against your gaping hole, easily slipping in but still causing abbacchio to hiss at what tightness there was left.
this time there is no gentle beginning to his pace, instead its quick, rough, hard and aggressive. this time there is no gentle penetration to prepare you for whats to come, and this time you have to take it all without complaints. feeling abbacchio’s heavy balls slap against you makes the coil tighten more, his length reaching deep inside of you, hitting every sensitive spot that you never knew you had.
animalistic grunts ring out from behind your head, and with a sudden hand pressing against your head, the only two places you’re physically able to look are the shoes in front of you and up at bruno’s salacious expression.
it’s when abbacchio mounts you further, shifting his hips higher and caging you in-between his muscular arms, that he pivots his large cock in such a way that it causes you to scream out in pleasure, so much pleasure that nothing is comprehendible anymore. with basic understanding, leone ducks a hand down in-between your legs and begins to play with your pulsating sex, creating ten-fold the pleasure for you.
looking down at the scene folding out before him, bruno can once again feel himself coming closer to his climax, his balls heavy again with salty cum, dick throbbing and its tip bright red. seeing the both of you act like wild animals, so close to your own orgasms and hearing the rabid grunts and alluring moans, he felt like he could burst.
“hrnng, ah- fuck, c-cum with me, fuck i’m so close. per favore, amore mio, sperma con me. sperma con il tuo padrone.” at this point the two of you could barely verbalise or create any responses, and could only grasp at the the command of bruno telling you to cum with him.
with bruno thrusting into his slick hand one last time, abbacchio pumping his cock into your ass and reaching around to work at your parts, the three of you managed to all simultaneously cum together, loud moans and groans echoing throughout your bedroom.
cum spirts all over bruno’s hand, dribbling down the sides of his cock and fist, several drops hitting the bottoms of his suit whilst abbacchio spills his seed inside of you, hot streams of cum filling up your insides and pushing against your stomach, creating a little bulge as you finished, bodily fluids cascading down your plush thighs and onto the floor. entirely fucked out in a state of heaven, the two of you fall onto your fronts and bruno slouches into his armchair.
once is all said and done, panting is the only thing that could be heard and bruno is the first to quickly collect himself, stepping over you to clean himself up before anything else. whilst in the ensuite bathroom, he leans over and turns both hot and cold faucets on, preparing for the much needed aftercare that he would have to give you. the water doesn’t take too long to fill the large bath, but thats what you get when you can afford the nicer ammenities on the market with passione money.
after adding in some lavender oils to the hot water, he moves back out into the bedroom where he finds you and leone still collapsed on the floor in a pile sweat and cum. with an encouraging smile he pulls you up one at a time, hooking an arm around your waists to support each of you. the walk to the bath is more like a slow stumble and bruno has to seat you on the side of the tub, only to remove the harnesses, hoods and abbacchio’s plug, trying to be as careful as possible knowing just how sensitive the both of you could be after an intense session.
once bruno had put you both into the bath, he removed his now stinky and slimy work attire, throwing it into the clothing hamper before hopping into the bath with the two of you. laughing at just how out of mind and body you were, he gently gathers water in his hands and begins to wash you first, lathering your body in soap at the same time before moving onto abbacchio, who was now coming to his senses.
by the end of the bath, abbacchio, while still tired, was back to being in a state of awareness, compared to you who was struggling to come back from the edge, so as abbacchio unplugged the drain, letting the water slowly clear out of the bath, bruno was made to dry you off with soft and fluffy towels, happy that you enjoyed yourself but concerned at your lack of responsiveness. soon after they had moved into bed, bruno had left to grab some glasses of water for everyone, bundling the both of you up in blankets before going, worried as if he might’ve let leone take you beyond your limits. but walking back into the bedroom from the hallway, he saw that you were now more alert and mumbling out a response to something that the large man next to you had said.
with a warm smile, he moves to abbacchio’s side of the bed, passing him his glass of water which he had skulled in a few seconds and then rounding over to his own side, tucking himself in and raising the glass to your lips when you had turned to him, eyes closed as you felt the refreshing, cool sensation of water running down your throat, a pleasant contrast to the warm bodies and fabrics you were surrounded by. once bruno was sure that you had drunken enough, he put both his and your cup onto the bedside table, shifting down with you and abbacchio to lay his head on the pillows and pulling the covers up across your chests.
with one arm wrapped around your waist and the other draping across your stomach to hold leone’s hand, the three of you felt content, exhaustion overtaking all of you and with one last glance to his lovers, bruno’s body was filled with love, truely happy with the people he had let into his golden heart.
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