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cxptain-carol · 4 years

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𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨𝐮, 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢, & 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐲𝐚 | 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐟𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 (+ 𝐜𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠!)

✰ summary: the main three bnha boys react to you knocking on their door in the middle of the night :)

✰ warnings: cursing, and i use ellipses too much but other than that this is pure fluff, my dudes

✰ a/n: this is my first time writing something like this, but i thought it would be really cute, so here ya go! i think it turned out pretty well so hope you enjoy~

A symphony of crickets and wind whistling played outside as you stared up at the ceiling of your dorm room, wide awake. The crack between your curtains exposed a sliver of the moon and it shone distractingly bright on the floor that was littered with books that you had dropped almost as soon as you stepped into your room.

The two of you had stayed up pretty late in his room, going over material and quizzing each other for the next day’s test. It was the first time you two had done something like that; something so simple yet so sweet. The both of you definitely deserved a break together after everything your class had been through.

It had been a rather cold night in the dorms, so you saw the opportunity and ran with it. After visibly shivering didn’t work, you resorted to making cute faces as you asked to wear his sweatshirt.

That’s how you ended up here, happily inhaling the comforting scent of him as you lay in your bed. But despite that, something didn’t feel right. And you wouldn’t fall asleep until you figured it out. Your mind just kept drifting back to him…

Of course, you were probably just missing your precious boyfriend.

Without a moment’s contemplation, you whisked your sheets to the side and swung your legs over the edge of your bed, soft feet gently meeting with the floor. You looked out of the gap between your curtains, watching the trees’ leaves rustle for a moment before you made your way to the door and slid into a pair of beat-up sneakers, not even bothering to put them on fully before you turned the knob and stepped outside.

It was scarily quiet in the hallway as you listened to the sound of your footsteps padding against the ground. Not to mention, unbearably cold. You weren’t very far from his room and in just a matter of minutes you would hopefully be much warmer.

You excitedly reached your destination but before knocking, you paused.

Was he even awake? Maybe it was a little too bold to try and sneak into his room on a school night. Especially after you kept him up to study. But you really, really wanted to see him again.

Before you could think it over again, you raised your fist and tapped your knuckles against his door.

𝐛𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨𝐮 𝐤𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

You only knocked twice and tried to keep it as quiet as possible but the sound easily cut through the silence that surrounded you. There was a moment of rustling from inside Bakugou’s room before his voice disrupted whatever quietness was left.

“What the fu-”

“Sorry, Katsuki! It’s me, it’s me—can you let me in?” You hurriedly whisper-yelled all of this.

“Dumbass! It’s one in the fucking morning; go to sleep!” The exclamation seemed angry at surface-level but you could hear his considerate side showing a bit.

“I can’t sleep! Can I, um… could I try sleeping with you?”

No response.

You opened your mouth to try and find the words to convince him, but before they could leave your lips, the door was wrenched open and you were met with Bakugou looking down at you, dressed head-to-toe in all black.

“I’m sorry to bug you, but I just can’t sleep,” you said, tugging on the bottom of your (actually, his) sweatshirt and feeling oddly shy. Somehow, you managed to meet his crimson red eyes, which quite literally softened at the sight of you.

“Ergh, fine. Don’t wake me up again though, dumbass.”

You grinned as you slid off your shoes and followed him over to his bed, taking your spot under the covers after him. Even though your rooms were on the same floor, Bakugou’s felt warmer.

You contently snuggled up near the edge of his mattress, still quite satisfied with just breathing in his scent that lingered in the sheets even though you really wanted the real thing. But that was probably asking too much. Maybe if you asked nice enough…

“Can we cud-”

“Fine.” He didn’t bother waiting for you to finish your request as he had already begun reaching for you, gently pulling you in so that your back was pressed against him.

You sighed, closing your eyes and drowning in the warmth of his body loosely curled around yours. Bakugou draped an arm over your side and you gladly reached for his hand, lightly playing with his fingers before he swatted yours away. That last attempt to maintain his dignity (despite the fact he was still cuddling you) brought a smile onto your face.

It was a shame that you were too tired to appreciate the moment fully, but as you started drifting off to the feeling of Bakugou’s rhythmic breathing against your neck, you made a mental note to start sneaking out of your room a lot more.

𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐢 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐭𝐨

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

(someone tell me if he even has a bed in his dorm room but whatever bear with me okay)

“Shoto? Hello?”

You knocked a few more times, but ultimately could not hear anything.

“Are you ignoring me? Are you asleep? Shoto!” It was getting harder to keep your voice at a whisper level.

After a long pause, he responded, “Y/N?”

“Yes, it’s me, Shoto. Can I come in?”

He let out a soft hum and you listened closely to hear the sound of his steps approaching you from behind the door. He opened it swiftly, looking down at you with a semi-confused expression.

“I can’t sleep,” you said. He nodded.

You two just stood there for a few moments before you sighed and stood up straighter, pulling down on the sleeves of his sweatshirt that you wore, which finally drew his attention to it. Only after pausing on the sight of you in his clothes did he look into your eyes again, cheeks slightly pink.

“Can I sleep in here?” Shoto looked so disoriented by the fact that he was woken up at such a time that he blinked a few times before visibly understanding your question.

“Yeah, sure,” he said, stepping back to let you in. You took your shoes off immediately but before you could even give him a hug by the door or perhaps a kiss, he had already returned to his bed and was lying face-down in the center of it.

Damn, he must be really tired.

You rushed over, quickly hopping in beside him and pulling the covers up to your neck. You nudged Shoto gently and he rolled over so the two of you were facing each other.

While the situation was nice, and you were already feeling a lot more at ease, you knew you wanted to be even closer.

“Shoto… have you ever cuddled someone?” You asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

“Huh?”

“Have you ever cuddled someone?” This time you asked a bit louder.

“Oh… no, I don’t think so.”

You pouted a little bit; that was pretty sad.

“Well, do you want to?”

“Don’t really know how,” he admitted, his voice trailing off slightly—he probably wanted you to shut up. So you decided to take matters into your own hands.

You snuggled closer to Todoroki, wriggling into his arms as he lay on his side. Your head was placed right under his chin and you happily squished your cheek against the bit of skin exposed by his shirt there. You stopped moving when you felt him physically respond: by wrapping his arms tighter around you and moving one of his hands up to cup your face.

You looked into his eyes, fighting the urge to let yours fall shut, but almost laughed as you noticed he had the same problem.

“I was kinda hoping for a conversation, but I’d say we’re both too tired,” you muttered, kissing Shoto’s neck gently. He tensed up slightly but relaxed soon after, bringing his head lower to kiss you on the cheek.

“It’s okay, Y/N, we can talk tomorrow. Go to sleep now, okay?”

Without needing to hear another word, you smiled and let yourself drift off in his arms, briefly amused by (but completely adoring) the fact that they were jarringly different temperatures.

𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐢𝐳𝐮𝐤𝐮

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

You lightly knocked four times, listening hard for a sound from inside. You could hear his bed creaking a bit and what sounded like footsteps.

“Izuku? You still awake? I can’t-”

The door swung open slowly and a head of messy green hair peeked out from behind it. You watched as a look of relief washed over Midoriya’s face at your arrival.

“Can’t sleep? Me too,” he said, rubbing his eyes. His voice was more gravelly than usual but it was utterly adorable.

“Did you want to- ?”

You nodded, already squeezing through the door, kicking off your shoes, and making your way over to his bed, desensitized to the shit ton of All Might faces watching your every move. After reaching your destination, you looked back at Midoriya, then down at his bed, then back again.

“What side d’ya want?”

He shrugged, and you happily took that as your cue to sink under the covers, half-curled up and leaving space for Izuku. Your eyelids fell shut and you grinned at the warm presence of him that followed after you.

“Um, Y/N, can you… I-I want to…” You pieced together his half-muttered sentence fragments and moved closer to him, which he thankfully accepted by lightly grasping you with his scarred hands.

“I thought you couldn’t sleep, now you’re barely awake,” you whispered, half to yourself as Izuku had started drifting off, still holding you by the waist.

You cautiously moved up the bed before taking him into your arms and resting his head against your chest so you could easily rake your fingers through his fluffy green curls. He breathed softly against your neck and pulled you closer, making your heart race under the worn material of his sweatshirt.

“Thanks… for comin’ over. I… I was thinking about it,” Izuku murmured in his sleepy voice, the movement of his lips tickling you.

“I thought you’d be shyer doing something like this, but I’m not complaining, Zuku.” Your voice was starting to sound more tired as well, and you finally closed your eyes, focusing on the sound of your boyfriend breathing and curling his hair between your fingers.

“I love you.”

You barely heard it but that didn’t stop your cheeks from heating up at Midoriya’s adorable, half-asleep confession. Your fingers stopped their combing and you simply cradled his head in your hands before placing tender kisses on his freckled cheeks, the tip of his nose, his closed eyelids, and his forehead (where you lingered a bit longer). He hardly shifted, but you were sure he felt them. You resumed stroking his hair but couldn’t stop yourself from leaning in to kiss his forehead again.

“Love you too, baby.”

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morganaspendragonss · 3 years

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dancing on the edge of something new

huge thanks to alice ( @reyeslonestar ) for letting me talk this through with her at midnight when it was causing me huge trouble 🥰

five dances in tk and carlos’s life

ao3 | 2.3k | @911fluffweek day 3: getting together // dancing

TK looks over when Carlos slides off the hood of the Camaro, his hand trailing after him until he’s forced to let go. Carlos is smiling almost shyly, shifting from one foot to the other, and TK can’t help but smile back, propping himself up on his elbows.

“Carlos?” he prompts, confusion growing as no explanation is forthcoming. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, of course. I just, uh…” He bites his lip, then takes a decisive step forward and holds out a hand, cocking a brow suggestively. “Wanna dance?”

TK laughs. “Seriously?” he asks, but he’s already sitting up and placing his hand in Carlos’s, allowing him to pull him off the car and to his feet.

“Well”—Carlos shrugs, yanking TK close and smiling at the oof he makes when their chests collide—“it’s how we began, isn’t it? I figured, if we’re starting again, then it feels only right, no?”

TK stares, stuck dumb, unable to do anything but follow Carlos’s lead as his arms slip around his waist, guiding them into a gentle sway. He rests his own hands on Carlos’s chest, the realisation that he gets to do this now—gets to touch Carlos and be with him like this—hitting him all over again. To think he almost threw it all away… Well, none of that matters anymore. What matters is that they’re here, dancing in a field with no music save for the shuffle of their feet in the grass and the occasional bird or cricket, like a pair of lovesick idiots in a romcom.

And he’s never been happier.

He slides his hands up until his arms are resting loosely around Carlos’s shoulders, fingers playing with the stray curls at the nape of his neck. He stares into those familiar brown eyes, so full of warmth and light, Carlos cast in the beautiful glow of the Northern Lights above them, and TK feels an intense feeling take root in his chest. It’s not love—not yet—but it will be.

He can’t imagine not falling in love with Carlos Reyes.

ii.

The club lights strobe around them, bathing the room alternately in lurid colours and strange shadows. The place is packed, the doors practically straining on their hinges, but the only thing TK is aware of is Carlos’s body moving against his own, their movements perfectly in sync with each other.

It’s been a while since they were last about to do this, to come out and just let loose for the night. In fact, TK thinks the last time might have been when they were out with Paul what seems like a lifetime ago; so much has changed since, and TK feels like a completely different person to who he was back then.

He and Carlos have officially been together for a few months now, but it’s like the universe has been working to stop them from actually being able to enjoy it. They’ve managed to squeeze in some dates here and there, but between the shooting, the solar storm, TK’s medical leave, and weeks of opposing shifts, getting a moment to themselves has been difficult.

But now, finally, they have one. And TK is going to milk it for all it’s worth.

He turns slightly in Carlos’s grasp, his head tilting up to catch his lips in a searing kiss. Carlos grips TK’s hips tighter, pulling them flush against his own as he deepens the kiss, and TK gasps, a sharp thrill shooting down his spine.

The night stretches out blissfully in front of them, the knowledge that this isn’t just a fling that will end with the cold light of dawn making it all the sweeter. It’s still a little surreal, even now, but it also feels so damn right.

TK’s heart hammers in time with the music and he sinks into Carlos’s hold, losing himself in his heat.

iii.

It’s not that TK never felt at home at the condo. The opposite in fact; Carlos’s place had been home even before he could officially call it his, and he feels the loss of it keenly. The thing is, though, even after he’d fully moved in, it had been a struggle to think of it as theirs.

It had been home, sure, but it had also been Carlos’s place.

Carlos had found it a little funny, and it had taken several slip-ups on TK’s part and just as many gentle corrections on his for TK to get used to our dining room, and our bedroom, and our house.

And then—well. Just as he’d started to get used to it, it was all gone. Ashes. It hurt, deeply, but TK knew that it was his turn to be the one to lean on, to let Carlos be the one to set the pace. Carlos had lived there for years, after all, and what was TK’s month compared to that?

Really, anywhere that Carlos is would be home, but this—holding the keys to a house they’d picked out together, a house they’d signed the lease for together, a house they’d picked the furnishings for together—feels like coming home.

He hates that it was the condo burning down that got them to this stage, but TK can’t stop a grin from emerging on his face as he slips his key into the lock.

He finds Carlos in the kitchen, humming and shimmying to a song playing from the speakers. To his credit, TK really does try to bite back his laughter, but he can’t quite manage it, letting out a loud snort which has Carlos stopping in his tracks, flushing a deep red.

“I see the unpacking’s going well,” he says, walking over to the kitchen counter and leaning a hip against it.

“It was, actually,” Carlos defends, still blushing. “I didn’t realise you’d be back this soon.”

TK shakes his head; as adorable as Carlos’s embarrassment is, he needs to let him know he’s not making fun. “You can relax, babe. You know I always love seeing you move those hips.”

“Mmm, don’t I know it.” Carlos leans in and kisses him, lingering a moment before pulling back, a wide smirk on his face. “How about you help me finish unpacking here and we’ll see about showing you more of that hip action later?”

TK grumbles, but does as he’s told, the two of them falling into a comfortable rhythm as they work to getting their house in order. It’s ended up being the perfect blend of their different styles, which probably shouldn’t work together, but somehow do, and TK loves it here. They both do, he knows—nothing will ever replace what they lost in the fire, but being able to build a home together is beyond special.

He keeps sneaking glances at Carlos as the afternoon goes on—sue him, his boyfriend is built like a Greek god—and TK smiles when he realises Carlos has started dancing again. He probably doesn’t even realise he’s doing it, which makes the whole thing so much better.

TK watches for a while, then walks up to Carlos and taps him on the shoulder. “Mind if I cut in?” he asks, gesturing to the wooden spoons he was twirling around.

There’s a brief moment of confusion, before Carlos’s eyes light up with realisation. He barely wastes a second in tossing the spoons aside (though, it’s more like a careful placement in the correct drawer) and grabs TK by the hand, sending him into a literal spin.

TK laughs, taking a moment to right himself after the sudden movement caused him to stumble inelegantly. Neither of them are in time with the music as they dance around the kitchen, carefully avoiding the boxes still scattered around, but it’s not important.

For the first time in his life, TK feels fully, completely at home. It’s not a feeling he wants to let go of.

iv.

“I think they were expecting something slower,” TK murmurs, burying a laugh in Carlos’s neck. Their guests are all wearing expressions with varying degrees of shock, and he can’t really blame them—he’s pretty sure the last thing anyone expects to hear during a first dance at a wedding is a country song. “I still can’t believe you even remember it.”

Carlos shrugs. “I still can’t believe you don’t. It is our song, after all.”

TK rolls his eyes, remembering their first conversation on this topic months ago, back when they were still sorting out all the wedding minutiae.

“‘Our’ song, babe?” he’d said, raising a skeptical eyebrow. “Why, because we danced to it for five minutes before leaving to get off in the bathroom?”

“Exactly,” Carlos had replied, his tone so serious that TK wasn’t sure whether he was joking or not. He’d rolled his eyes and lightly shoved at TK’s shoulder. “No, babe. Because it was the first time we danced together on the night that we met. That’s special, right, even if it did only last five minutes?”

TK hadn’t exactly been able to argue that one, and he has to admit now that it was a pretty good choice. If only to see the way Judd almost choked on his champagne in surprise when the song started.

It’s a little untraditional and, if he’s being honest, TK had never thought that one day he would be getting married in Texas on his new husband’s family ranch, with their first dance being to a ‘cowboy song’, as he’d once called it, much to Carlos’s horror. But he and Carlos have never been ones for tradition, and TK wouldn’t have it any other way.

“It’s perfect,” he admits, his eyes never leaving Carlos’s. He stops the dance, not caring that the song is still playing, and steps closer, pressing their bodies together. Everything else fades into the background as he leans up and kisses Carlos, barely moving when they break apart. “I love you, Husband.”

Carlos’s face lights up in a grin that could rival the sun in its brightness. “I love you too, Husband.”

Music is floating through the door when TK gets home, and it’s enough to alleviate the weight he’s been carrying all day. It’s not that it had been a bad shift per se (though, when your standards for a good day are ‘nobody dies’, your view tends to get a bit skewed) but it had been long and tiring, and he’d missed his family desperately.

Sometimes, he still can’t believe this is really his life. But Ana, now three, has been living with them for a year already, and TK can’t imagine their home without her anymore. She’d been a blessing, coming into their lives after years of fighting to get on adoption registers, right when they were beginning to despair of ever managing it.

They did, though, and now TK gets to come home to scenes like this.

Scenes like Ana standing on Carlos’s toes as he guides her slowly around the room in a basic dance. TK watches for a moment before getting his phone out and hitting record; he’ll be damned if he misses the opportunity to get this on film.

Carlos, having heard him enter, rolls his eyes when he sees what TK’s doing, but flashes him a quick smile before returning his focus to Ana. She hasn’t noticed TK’s entrance, her face scrunched up in deep concentration as she grips onto Carlos’s hands as tight as she possibly can.

When the music ends, Ana claps her hands and giggles. TK takes the moment to make his presence known, dropping to his knees and holding his arms out. She barrels into him, almost knocking him over, and presses her face into his chest, her tiny hands creating creases in his uniform shirt.

“Hi, sweetheart,” TK murmurs, dropping a kiss in her hair. He gently detaches her from him and manoeuvers them until she’s sitting in his lap. “Looks like you guys were having fun while I was at work.”

She nods enthusiastically. “Papa was teaching me to dance! Abuela showed me photos when I was with her and Abuelo and I wanted to be just like her!”

“Abuela got out the photo albums again, huh?”

Ana nods again. “Of her… Her…” She frowns and looks up at Carlos.

“Her china poblana dresses,” Carlos says softly, smiling as Ana grins and points at him.

TK laughs and draws his daughter into a hug, rocking them gently, his gaze going up to Carlos. “Well, from what I saw, you were dancing even better than Papa,” he says, smirking as Carlos gasps in mock offence. He looks back down at Ana, tapping on the back of her hand. “You know,” he starts, smiling, “I think I might need some dancing lessons too. Think you can teach me?”

Ana lights up and immediately gets to her feet, as if she’d been waiting for him to ask. She grabs TK’s hand and pulls him up, leading him to where Carlos must have cleared a space for them earlier. The music begins to play again and TK lets his daughter take charge, playfully sticking his tongue out at Carlos when he laughs at TK getting firmly told off for putting his foot in the wrong place.

At some point, Carlos joins the dance, the three of them stepping and bouncing around the front room. Ana’s laughter fills the house, shrieking with delight when Carlos sweeps her from the floor and wraps both her and TK in his arms. TK leans his head on his husband’s shoulder, a hand placed on their daughter’s back, and breathes out slowly, all the exhaustion from earlier forgotten.

At last, he’s home.

#911fluffweek #911 lone star #911 lone star fic #tarlos #tarlos fic #tk strand #carlos reyes #lone star #911ls #fanfiction #my fanfiction #writing #my writing #userjillian #tuserjamie #userkimmy #tuserpaige #reyeslonestartag #tuserjenny

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saphirered · 3 years

Note

would you mind doing a little scene maybe of caduceusxreader or maybe calebxreader where their s/o ends up hit with pollen during battle that gets them super high alla knott and the floor fruit style please?

Little turned into a bit more of a scenes instead 😅. A little disclaimer; I do not condone the abuse of substances especially not illegal ones. Listen to your auntie Saph, kids! Stay in school and be responsible! 😘

Content Warning: Use of mind altering substances.

It’s the middle of a fight in the jungle. You’re under attack by a large lizard walking on its hind legs, with some rather useless short arms but huge sharp teeth that have munched on Fjord one too many times leaving the half-orc in a bleeding and moody state without much of a chance to get out and not get hit again.

The battlefield is not in your favour considering this oversized lizard is about to turn your friend into its next meal but you still have a healing potion left and really, this is the time to use it but you can’t really get to Fjord without getting close to the lizard thing and even then you doubt you’d be able to get into arms reach of the man. Well it’s now or never and better than the alternative. You rush forward dodging below the toothy maw of the creature.

“Fjord! Catch!” With that you get as close as you can, tossing the healing potion. Fjord just barely catches it, thanking you but that quickly falls silent.

“Look out!” Caleb shouts as he releases a firebolt to strike the lizard. It does not stop the creature from swiping with its tail sending you flying with a brute force knocking the air out of you. Luckily your landing is softened by a comfy bed of flowers, moss and some mushrooms. You land a cloud of spores and pollen dusting around you and entering your lungs as the first breath you’re able to take. It leaves you coughing and sneezing but you shake it off. This is not the right time for allergies to be kicking in. You got a lizard to kill.

Together you fight off the lizard. Still taking quite some good hits you deliver some as well and in the end manage to kill the thing. Some of you worse for wear you unanimously decided taking a breather is probably a good idea. You find a comfy patch of moss that does not release a dust cloud the moment you touch it and let yourself fall into its soft embrace, eyes closed.

“I’m just going to lie down over here. Let me know when we’re moving again.” An odd sense of nausea kicks in so you turn to your side and just curl up in an attempt to get a little more comfortable on the jungle floor.

"Are you sure you're alright?" Caleb asks looking you over. Physically you're a bit worse for wear but not terribly so. A moment of rest should have you back on your feet. You phase out a bit letting yourself be dragged off in a moment of rest.

Not but five minutes later your moment of peace is disturbed by a warm, really warm but comfortable hand being placed on your arm and shaking you lightly. You curl up a little tighter before rolling on your back and meeting the bright blue eyes of Caleb. You don’t recall them being that bright, maybe more like a muted or pale blue but now they’re vibrant. Odd you hadn’t noticed before. Same goes for his hair, red is more fiery orange and you swear you can pick apart every single strand on his head as well as the light stubble he’s sporting.

"Hey." You smile at the wizard lovingly. You'll never tire of waking up to Caleb no matter of how much you might want to continue sleeping. Caleb's a handsome man but right now he looks absolutely angelic with the bleeding light creating a halo around him.

Maybe it’s just because of the faded green background behind Caleb that throws off the contrast? Besides, you might have fallen asleep in your five minutes of rest, your vision usually goes a bit blurry until things come into focus but that doesn’t really explain why Caleb is so high focus now… Odd but you dismiss it as exhaustion and the vast jungle getting to you. No, you definitely hit your head when that lizard tail swiped you. Maybe you have a concussion. Should ask the clerics to check that out later once they’ve gotten their rest. Now's not the time to bother them.

“Hey. Time to get up. We’re ready to move before nightfall comes around.” Ugh. Even his voice sounds angelic now? Caleb offers you a hand and helps you up from the comforts of your moss-bed. Somewhat reluctant you get up. The nausea gets worse and you put a hand over your mouth suppressing the urge to vomit.

“Are you alright?” Caleb stabilises you as you stumble a little, dizziness not making your nausea any better. Sweet gods those warm hands just make you want to curl up into their warmth forever but you repress the urge well aware Caleb isn’t exactly the fondest of pda and keep it more surface levels with the others around.

“Yeah. Totally fine just a bit ugh but I’ll be fine. Some more sleep will probably do me good.” You see the rest of the Nein is packed up and ready to continue. Weren’t they just unpacking when you closed your eyes five minutes ago? Okay so maybe those five minutes were closer to an hour or so? What kind of exhaustion fuelled time warp did you get stuck in? This exhaustion is really getting to you. You need a vacation; one with Caleb. Maybe with an ocean view? That sounds nice. You're getting side tracked. Time to travel.

------------

The journey continues deeper into the jungle towards your destination and your limbs get heavier and heavier. Did Jester paint you some lead shoes and replace yours while you were asleep? Did she do your clothes too? Because your whole body feels so heavy.

You bump into Caleb’s side. A hand finds its way to the small of your back and the warmth returns. You didn’t realise you’re feeling so cold, freezing almost so you allow yourself to lean just a bit more into Caleb’s side to bask in the warmth provided by your flaming hot wizard.

“You don’t happen to be able to make someone do the floaty glide thingy Essek can do, can’t you?” Caleb is confused by your sudden question and the unfiltered sentencing. You usually formulate your words more carefully than this but it seems as if the word ‘gravity’ has escaped your vocabulary. Caleb blames it on exhaustion seeing your somewhat unfocused state and feeling the weight of your body leaning on him for support. You’ve been walking for hours, running for a few and fought a giant lizard of a forgotten era after all. You have every right to be tired and he'll support you in any way he can.

“Ah, I’m afraid not. But, we will be setting down for the night once we reach a clear spot.” Didn’t you catch that conversation? You were there for it providing nods and noises of agreement while keeping an eye out for anything approaching. This is a bit odd for you so Caleb decides to keep an eye on you.

You hear birds chirping around you, their song drowning out Caleb’s words but not voice as he talks to you but the song is just too beautiful, it brings a smile to your face. Looking around you can see them sometimes. Colourful feathers popping against the green and the muted flashes of a sun lowering. If the sun’s going to sleep, you want to go soon too. It’s not really fair if you have to keep walking when it gets to lie down.

The colours and patterns through the leaves are very pretty though and the rays bleeding through are to die for. The world should look like this forever. It’s so beautiful, pulsing with every breath you take. No, you’re breathing with the nature around you. You get a newfound respect for Caduceus and Fjord’s Wildmom. She’s pretty cool if she’s responsible for all this. Is she responsible for all this? She gets your credit anyway.

You’re pulled to a sudden stop, or at least it feels sudden. Caleb is suddenly in front of you pulling your focus towards him and away from the chirping birds and the setting sun and the Wildmom. You’d ask Caleb to leave you alone but his gentle smile alone and warm hands on your shoulders pushing you down to sit on a tree stump call for your undivided attention in turn pulling it away from the gently blowing breeze and kaleidoscope of colours.

“You’re exhausted. Sit down and rest while we set up.” Caleb suggests and you find yourself nodding the words not entirely registering. Warm fingers press against your cheek before they pull away all too soon. The warmth leaves your body as Caleb leaves your side and the freezing cold returns. You wrap your coat tighter around yourself in an effort to preserve the heat but nothing seems to work.

You try to focus on your surroundings to distract from the icy cold, the humid jungle temperatures doing nothing to keep you warm. The crickets provide a beautiful symphony with the rustling leaves, the last of the song birds going to sleep and the awakening of the nocturnal creatures. It helps and you find yourself swaying lightly from side to side with the melody. It brings you a sense of happiness and content as well as a connection to everything around you.

You feel yourself beginning to drift when something warm and soft and a little heavy is draped across your shoulders. The warmth is similar to Caleb but not entirely the same, though you’re met with an intense smell of molasses, old books and whatever remains after a fire has turned to embers. Your eyes fall upon the dark purple material of Caleb’s coat; most of all the geometric patterns of the lining. They are enchanting and you feel like you could get lost in them.

“You’re shivering. Come. We’re all set up.” You once again allow Caleb to guide you back to your feet and pull you along to where the Nein had set up. Sitting down with you Caleb takes out his spellbook and a small crystal bead. You've always loved watching Caleb cast spells, something alluring to the practiced words and patterns. He begins to weave his hands through the air in front of him, the light sparks of magic following his fingertips as he speaks the words, what you didn’t expect to see is the trails left by the motions. You’ve never seen those before. That’s new. They’re very pretty though; a warm orange trail of embers just like him. Enamoured you stare, making no effort to hide or avert your gaze. You catch Caleb's eyes and he offers you a half smile which you dopily return continuing to watch the patterns.

You’re rudely pulled out of your trance by Caduceus offering you a bowl of food. Usually you would have jumped at the promise of food, the firbolg’s cooking is unrivalled but now the nausea comes back and your stomach twists at the smell alone. You turn to the side fighting the urge vomit and as politely as possible and decline the delicious food much to your dismay.

Caleb does accept the food he’s offered as Veth happily accepts your serving as seconds. Caleb sniffs the food expecting it to smell off somehow because of your reaction but it doesn’t. It’s as perfect as ever and you’re not one to refuse food when offered. As he begins eating you excuse yourself finding a spot where you don’t have to look at your friends consuming their food both, because of the strong smell and the look of it. While delicious the thought of the texture sends your brain in overdrive where you get an overwhelming phantom taste which only intensifies the nausea.

Finding a spot still within the dome but far enough to be comfortable you just watch the geometric patterns in the lining of Caleb’s coat. Not only do you focus on the patterns but you’re pretty sure you can count the individual threats of the fabric. The colours and contrast intense pull you in almost pervasively so.

A hand shakes your shoulder turning you to face them. It’s Caleb and he looks rather worried. The expression alone carries over to you. What’s he worried about? It’s not bad is it? Is it because of you? Oh, no maybe it is you… You’re set into a train of emotions and anxiety and when Caleb notices his expression softens but the worry does not leave.

“Hey, hey. I need you to breathe, okay? Just keep breathing.” You follow his instructions taking deep breathes and the anxiety mutes replaced by a hyper fixation on Caleb. Literally, everything around the wizard fades into the distance when he steps into your vision but you manage to force yourself to be aware of your surroundings with a lot of effort.

“Very good. Now, you want to tell me what’s going on?” From over Caleb’s shoulder you see Veth stuff her mouth with the food you refused and that alone is enough to make you gag. Caleb notices and shifts to break your line of sight. Oh no, you can smell it again. You cover your mouth and nose and lean forward letting your forehead fall against his clavicle taking deep breaths of the comfy molasses, old pages and smouldering fire scent.

“I don’t know but one more sniff of food and I’ll vomit so please take mercy on me and save me from the savoury deliciousness until this nausea passes.” Caleb wraps his arms around you, one hand rubbing circles into your back while the other lightly plays with the hairs on the back of your neck to alleviate your suffering. Of course he’s trying to piece together what’s happened because you’re behaviour added up is not entirely like you. Right now his priority is making sure you're comfortable.

He keeps this going as one by one the Nein goes to sleep, Caleb and by default you taking the first watch. You don’t yet feel comfortable removing yourself from Caleb’s arms but do find a more comfortable position for the both of you to spare you the numbness of limbs.

The longer you sit around your mind starts to feel less hazy, the hyper focus lessens and your stomach calls for sustenance, the nausea fading. Luckily Caduceus had saved you some leftovers which you happily nibble on. The spices and herbs providing extra flavours are intense but no longer unwelcome or nauseating. Regardless of what caused this all, you didn’t think Caduceus’ food could taste any better but damn does it taste beyond divine. You’ve rediscovered your appetite and finish the leftovers.

While sitting in Caleb’s embrace, head on his stomach holding the book you’re both reading Caleb’s coat long since returned to him you’re feeling mentally exhausted, but your mind is at ease, as if all stress and pressure of the world around you has faded for just a moment. You’re at peace in the arms of the man you love and surrounded by your friends.

The realisation that despite all the bad you’ve gone through together it’s all been worth it a thousand times over and you wouldn’t change a thing. A yawn escapes as you turn the page, knowing Caleb will have read it several times at this point.

“Tired?”

“Exhausted.”

“You’d think with all the breaks and rest you’ve already gotten today you’d have trouble sleeping again.” Caleb recalls the times where you’ve taken breaks before and spent half of the night up getting rid of the energy just to get a moment of sleep in the more stressful days where sleep does not come easily; days like the past few have been.

“I would have but none of those times did I actually catch a break. I was nauseas for hours, everything felt and looked intense, could only focus on one thing at the time visually even though for some reason I was hyper aware of my senses.” You turn the page again as Caleb pulls you a little closer, about to press a kiss to your shoulder. He stops, retreats and instead brushes his fingers over it.

“Maybe I was just on an exhaustion or anxiety high running on my last bit of energy and now we get a moment to relax and breathe, that’s what gotten me back to earth.” Caleb doesn’t respond and when you look up at him from over your shoulder you see Caleb closely inspecting the fingers he brushed over your shoulder.

“You know, I’m beginning doubt this change of mood was induced by exhaustion.” He runs his fingers together and you see the light dust pulverise. Confused you signal for Caleb to elaborate on his train of thought because you’re still feeling a little slow.

“Remember the tumble you took into the patch of flowers and mushrooms?”

“You mean when I got my ask kicked by an oversized lizard? Yeah, hard to forget.” You grasp at your ribs as if to relief a still lasting ache from the hit of the creature’s tail. You turn around, putting the book down and sit on your knees between Caleb’s legs as things begin to fall into place for the both of you. Your landing... Oh no...

“I don’t think that dust cloud upon impact was just dust or pollen.” You throw your head back and groan. Unbelievable. Through the lasting peace and calm you feel the embarrassment peak through as well as annoyance at the whole situation.

“So you’re telling me I’ve been tripping balls for the past six or so hours?”

“That is exactly what I’m saying.” Caleb states deadpanned before he breaks and laughs at you. You deserve it really. Stubbornness to admit something’s wrong is what got you so far. Should have told someone you weren’t feeling right and it definitely wasn’t exhaustion but no and it was already too late when the ‘beauty of the world’ took hold of your mind.

“Well then, take comfort that it’s not just the spores leave me completely enamoured with you.” You peck Caleb’s nose and poke his stomach to get him to quit laughing before he wakes up the others. You won’t hear the end of this that’s for damn sure so best to keep this incident between the two of you. Let the other’s believe you’re just over-exhausted.

#critical role #critical role x reader #critrole x reader #mighty nein x reader #mighty nein #caleb x reader #caleb widogast x reader

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writethelifeyouwant · 3 years

Text

Meet the Parents

Pairing: Cordell x Trevor x Stella

Rating: 18+

Summary: When Stella brings her boyfriend home from college to stay the weekend, they are planning on doing a bit more than just “spending the night together”... and it certainly turns out to be more than that once Cordell overhears them in Stella’s room.

Word Count: 4.7k

Created for: @walker-bingo Free Space | @anyfandomgoesbingo Meet the Parents/Family

Tags/Warnings: Incest, Father/Daughter Incest, Threesome, fingering (f and m rec), oral (f rec), rimming, instruction kink, daddy kink, p in v, p in a, condoms, creampie

A/N: I’m going to hell, please come keep me company.

Stella had gotten back from college earlier that afternoon, usual bag of laundry in tow, but she had some extra baggage this time - the boyfriend. Cordell has heard whispers of ‘the boyfriend’ from August, who spoke to his sister a little more regularly than he did, not surprisingly. No eighteen year-old fresh out of their parents’ house wants to be texting their father 24/7, but he would have appreciated some kind of heads up that they were expecting company for the weekend.

Cordell’s sitting in the den, bourbon in hand, listening to the crickets outside chattering away, but they aren’t quite loud enough to drown out the soft giggles and whispers that are leaking from Stella’s room right now. He feels his hand clench around his glass almost like it’s a phantom limb, everything feels numb except for his ears, burning with the strain of trying to listen to what Stella and Trevor might be saying. He’s confident that whatever it is they are talking about, he doesn’t actually want to overhear the conversation.

Draining the remainder of his drink, Cordell makes his way to the counter to pour a refill.

He wasn’t going to bed until he knew for a fact that everyone else had gone to sleep, and from the sounds of it, Trevor and Stella weren’t exactly close to settling in. There’s a short burst of laughter and a ‘shh’, and Cordell looks up at his daughter’s closed bedroom door, moodily.

His mind flashes back to his baby girl sneaking into the kitchen an hour ago, small pyjama shorts riding up far too high, clearly rooting through the fridge for some beers to sneak back to her room. She’d jumped when Cordell cleared his throat behind her, sitting forwards from his spot on the couch, so the light of the refrigerator caught on his stern face.

“Whatcha doin’ there, Stella Blue?”

“Hi, Dad,” she squeaks, tucking her hands behind her in the fridge. “Just, um,” she scrambles for something out of sight, “grabbing this.” Stella pulls a soda from behind her back.

“Really?” Cordell smirks, not angry, he’d been expecting something like this - that’s why he was up and sitting on the couch, waiting. “Caffeine? At this hour?” Even August, teenage boy obsessed with the internet that he is, had turned out his lights and gone to bed a little while ago.

“I - uh…” Stella grimaces.

“Why don’t you put that back, Stels?” He feels his lips tighten and brows furrow in his best attempt at ‘stern dad’ without looking angry. For a moment, Stella looks like she’s going to argue but then she thinks better of it, puts away the soda, and slinks back to her room, shutting the door softly behind her.

Another giggle breaks him from his reverie and his hand closes into a fist against the cold granite counter, fighting the urge to knock and tell them to go to bed. He downs the new measure of bourbon he’s just poured out, desperately wishing he could erase some of the things he’s heard tonight. But the alcohol and the burning in his throat do nothing to block out the soft groan that slips from beneath his daughter’s door.

It was so quiet, he isn’t positive he’d heard it. And his Ranger brain kicks in, trying to find any possible explanation for what the noise could have been; the wind outside, an animal in the ranch paddock… the creak of a bed spring. That is definitely what the new sound he’s just heard is – a muffled squeak as bodies shift on a too old mattress and less than well-oiled box spring. It’s quickly followed by another quiet groan, and Cordell grits his teeth and takes a long swig of bourbon, foregoing the formality of pouring it into the glass first.

The bottle is halfway to his lips again when he hears a small, high-pitched whine – Stella’s – but something seems … off. Cordell has known his baby girl for eighteen years. He knows what she sounds like when she’s happy, when she’s tired, when she’s sad, when she’s hurt. There’s another small whimper and Cordell strains to hear better. He needs to be sure. The third time he hears it he’s certain. That’s not a happy sound coming from his daughter’s bedroom, it’s one of discomfort, one of pain. Cordell bursts through the door in a fury, already rolling up his sleeves in preparation for tearing this Trevor kid in two for hurting his baby girl.

“Aah, Dad!” Stella screams, pulling her pyjama top back down to cover her exposed breasts and yanking Trevor’s hand out of her shorts. Cordell stops dead, unprepared for the shock that it is seeing Stella splayed out on her bed, chest bare and trembling, and her boyfriend’s fingers between her legs. In his burning rage he also feels a flare of desire distracting enough to delay him wringing Trevor’s neck.

Trevor is very carefully trying to shift away from Stella in the bed, like Cordell is less likely to beat him up if he increases the distance between himself and his daughter, and the movement draws Cordell’s attention back to the boy – the very naked boy – in his daughter’s bed.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Cordell hisses, finding the presence of mind to shut the door behind him so August doesn’t walk by and see what’s happening inside. “You think you can come into my house, force yourself on my daughter? Boy, I learned how to castrate bulls when I was ten. What do you think I’m about to do with you, huh?” Trevor is frozen in terror, boner now completely limp, his cock retreating like a turtle into its shell.

“Dad, no!” Stella exclaims, pulling a blanket over Trevor to cover his modesty.

“Stella, don’t worry baby, I’m not gonna let this piece of scum touch you ever again,” Cordell promises, storming towards the pair on the bed.

“No, Daddy,” she tries again, standing up to put herself between Cordell and Trevor. “Stop. He wasn’t forcing me! I wanted it.” Cordell stops short, looking down at Stella, who has her hands pressing against his chest in an effort to calm him. “I –” Stella swallows nervously, looking him in the eye. “I’m sorry, Daddy, but I wanted this. That’s why I asked him to come stay this weekend, we wanted to, y’know…” she can’t get the words out. “Don’t hurt him, he wasn’t forcing me.”

“But,” Cordell’s mind is still reeling from the fact that Stella is standing here in front of him telling him she planned to lose her virginity this weekend, “Stels, I heard you. You sounded like he was hurting you.”

“I would never hurt her,” Trevor shoots up in the bed, angrily, but cows under Cordell’s glare, “um, sir,” he finishes lamely.

“Stella,” Cordell sits her down on the end of her bed and drops to one knee in front of her. He brushes her long red hair off her face, cupping her cheek gently, and focusing on her soft blue eyes, shimmering with nerves. “I need you to be one hundred percent honest with me. Was he hurting you?”

Stella shakes her head immediately but takes a moment to find her words, Cordell can tell she’s holding something back. “No,” she finally starts, “not, um, not on purpose.”

“What?” Trevor and Cordell speak simultaneously and equally confused.

“It.. he, um, he didn’t hurt me Dad,” Stella is stronger in her conviction now, “it just,” she grimaces, stalling. Cordell finally understands.

“He wasn’t very good, was he?” Cordell grimaces in sympathy, and a little amusement at Trevor’s expense. Stella shakes her head ever so slightly, and Cordell laughs. Trevor is sitting in an embarrassed silence behind them, clutching the blanket in his lap. Cordell stands, brushing a hand down the back of Stella’s head as he rounds on the boy. “You ever touched a girl before, Trevor?”

“Yes,” he answers indignantly.

“You ever made a girl cum before?” Cordell is a little taken aback by his own bluntness, but he supposes the seven or eight shots of liquor he’s had over the past hour must be fogging his brain a little.

“Yes,” Trevor answers again, but his doubt is evident.

“You don’t sound too sure about that, son,” Cordell pokes, standing over him now, arms crossing over his chest. Trevor tries to stutter out an answer but he doesn’t manage any actual words. “From where I was standing, it sounds like you could use a few lessons,” Cordell smirks knowingly.

“Dad, leave him alone,” Stella objects, climbing back up the bed to Trevor’s side.

“What?” he feigns innocence, smiling. “I’m just looking out for my baby girl. Can’t have you getting hurt, even by accident.”

“Dad,” she whines again, burying her head in Trevor’s shoulder.

“Plus,” Cordell kneels again, putting himself back on their level, “what kind of daddy would I be if I didn’t make sure you were being taken good care of?” Both teens are clearly not sure what they’re supposed to say to that. Cordell takes advantage of their silence and sits on the edge of the bed, and Trevor recoils slightly into Stella’s arms, which are wrapped around his waist. “So,” Cordell brings his hand up to Trevor’s face and brushes a curl behind his ear, keeping eye contact with the boy as he speaks, “he a good kisser, Stels? Or is he useless at that too?”

“Yeah – no – he’s… he’s a good kisser, Daddy,” Stella blushes, her answers given in an almost trance-like state.

“Well, let’s find out,” and he leans forward to kiss the younger boy, hand still in his curly brown hair.

Their lips meet hesitantly, like Cordell is waiting for Trevor to pull away, and Trevor is waiting for Cordell to tell him this whole thing is a joke, but now they are kissing softly – like you would at the end of a first date, when you still need to find out what they like. Stella’s cheeks burn as she watches her father kiss her boyfriend gently, surprised by the surge of arousal she feels pulsing through her at the sight. She knows what Trevor’s lips feel like against hers, soft and wet and insistent, and she wonders if they feel the same to her daddy. They break apart with sharp gasps, and Cordell’s eyes flick to hers, glinting in the low light.

“Well, at least I know he’s been showing you a good time so far, baby girl,” he smirks at her, and Stella nods gingerly. “C’mere, sweetie,” Cordell motions her forwards, and she goes willingly, not knowing what he was planning to do but wanting desperately to find out. “Kiss her,” he breathes at Trevor, and the boy listens, leaning forwards and drawing Stella into him.

Trevor’s kiss overwhelms her, and Stella melts against his bare chest. His kiss is familiar and warm, but the hand against her back is new. It’s larger, rougher, and it curls into her skin more possessively than Trevor’s fingers ever had. Stella moans into Trevor’s lips, letting his tongue wrap around hers, and her daddy’s fingers twist into the hair on the back of her head.

“There you go, sweetheart,” he whispers against her ear, and Stella whimpers, this time very clearly from pleasure and not discomfort. The hand against her back pushes down, and Stella follows, straddling Trevor and laying down over him, tangling their hands together on the pillow by his head. As they continue to kiss and grind, she feels Trevor’s erection through the thin cotton of her shorts. Pleased that she can feel his reaction to her, she rubs over him eagerly – and her daddy must have noticed, because his hand drags down her back and lands on her hip, encouraging her grinding.

Trevor moans and ruts up between her legs, and the pressure there against her core feels amazing. “Shit,” Trevor groans into her lips.

“She gettin’ wet yet?” Stella whines in embarrassment and arousal at her daddy’s words.

“Yeah,” Trevor pants from beneath her, “can feel it, even through her shorts.” Stella hides her face in the crook of his shoulder, but can’t stop herself rubbing against the hard member between her thighs.

“Fuck,” Cordell is smirking, Stella can hear it in his voice. “You must be soaking, baby girl.”

“Mmhmm,” Stella’s voice is muffled in the pillow, but she doesn’t want to pick up her head and reveal just how much her daddy’s words are turning her on.

“Bet you taste so fuckin’ sweet, baby,” Cordell’s fingers ghost over her bottom, drawing dangerously close to the wet patch that is clearly visible on her little shorts. “You wanna taste her, son? Get your first good lick of pussy?” Trevor’s groan answers him. “Roll over, Stels, on your back, honey.” Stella lets her father’s hands push her off of Trevor and onto the bed.

“Get those clothes off her,” Cordell commands Trevor, and he eagerly complies, reaching out to pull Stella’s shorts down her slim, pale legs, stretched out beneath him, cradled in the sheets. She pulls her own top over her head, small perky breasts slipping free, and Cordell can’t take his eyes off them. Fuck, his baby girl has grown up so fuckin’ pretty. “Spread your legs for us, baby.” He puts his hand on one of her thighs and encourages them to part, revealing her glistening core. “Now, hands and knees, boy, c’mon,” he spins his finger in the air, indicating Trevor needs to turn himself around and get between Stella’s legs.

The boy climbs to the space where Cordell wants him and settles on his hands and knees, staring at the spot between Stella’s thighs where he clearly wants to be, but keeping still, because he hasn’t been told to do anything else yet. Cordell hops off the bed and quickly unbuttons his shirt, discarding it on the floor, where it’s joined shortly by his belt and pants. He crawls back onto the bed behind Trevor, and smooths a large, calloused hand up his thigh and over his ass.

“You strike me as more of a ‘hands on learner’, buddy. That true?”

“Yes, Sir,” Trevor nods, hoping that’s the answer Cordell was looking for.

“Good. Then I’m gonna show you everything you’ve gotta do to make my little girl cum for you. You want that?”

“Yes,” the boy answers eagerly.

“You’ve just gotta follow my lead, do everything I do, okay?”

“Mm-hmm.” Another nod, and then a shocked gasp, as Cordell leans down and runs his tongue up the seam of Trevor’s ass, right over his hole. He does it again, the same simple motion, one lick bottom to top, and Trevor groans, shuddering beneath him.

“I thought I told you to do everything I do?” Cordell huffs when he draws back and sees Trevor’s head hanging limply between his shoulders. “Don’t leave my baby waiting.” He doesn’t move back to his task until he sees Trevor dip his head and drag his tongue over Stella’s entrance, and up to the small bundle of nerves at its peak. Stella almost squeals, hands rushing to clutch in the boy’s curls and make him stay there between her legs. He licks against her again and she whines, high and desperate.

“Daddy…” she whimpers, tossing her head back.

“You’re doing so good, baby girl.” Cordell brushes the hair out of her eyes, which are currently squeezed closed in pleasure. “Look so pretty… all spread out for us – doesn’t she?”

“Mmm,” Trevor hums against Stella, his tongue still drawing its lines up and down her core. Cordell grins behind him, happy he’s not taking his mind off the task at hand. Stella’s breathing is sharp and quick, still not familiar with the sensation of having a tongue playing with her pussy, and he’s about to teach Trevor some more tricks to make her squirm.

Cordell draws his tongue flat along Trevor’s hole, laving at the expanse of skin beneath it as well. The chain reaction of moans from Trevor and then Stella tells him that Trevor has copied his movement over Stella’s entrance. He quickly changes tact and traces the tip of his tongue in small circles right over Trevor’s hole, making it flutter and twitch, then soothing it with longer licks. “You feel what I’m doing to you?” Cordell hums into Trevor’s skin, and the boy moans in affirmation. “Do that right over her clit, nice and light— there ya go,” Stella keens across her daddy’s instructions, making him smile. “Now go ahead and give it a nice hard suck, and keep your tongue moving, just like that, yeah,” Cordell strokes his hand over Trevor’s back as he continues to build Stella closer and closer to her orgasm.

Stella’s hands are gripping the quilt beneath her like she’s about to fall off a cliff and that’s the only thing that’s keeping her grounded. Her daddy moves up to her side, grabbing her hand and winding their fingers together, so she can hang on to him instead. She turns and buries her face in Cordell’s side, while still pushing her hips harder into her boyfriend’s mouth, whimpering in pleasure. Cordell draws soothing circles over the back of her hand as she clutches him even tighter.

“You need to cum, baby girl?” He keeps his voice soothing, and steady. Stella nods into his side. “Alright, sweetheart.” He brushes the hair back from her face, so he can watch her expression. “Okay son, want you to take your finger and push the tip inside her, just a little bit.” Trevor doesn’t make an audible response, but Cordell can tell when he does it because Stella’s breath hitches, pushing her chest into his leg. “Alright, now work it deeper, go real slow for me.” He sees Trevor’s arm start to push in and out of his little girl. “There’s a spot you want to find, if you move your finger along the top…” and after a moment Stella moans, deep and full. “Yeah, feels good doesn’t it, baby girl?” Stella whines and answers by bucking her hips down into Trevor’s finger. “Okay keep rubbing against it like that, and get your mouth back on her —” another moan from Stella “— now a little faster —”

“Oh my god,” Stella is close to sobbing with the pleasure, now. “Daddy, Daddy, please.” Cordell can’t help the smirk that splits his face when he hears Stella begging him, not Trevor, to make her cum.

“Go ahead and cum Stels,” he squeezes her hand. “Be my good girl, cum for Daddy now, c’mon.”

“Daddy!” She squeals as her body convulses, then stiffens, back arching off the bed in a graceful curve that pushes the pale flesh of her breasts right towards Cordell’s face, and he can’t help but lean down and kiss one nipple, gently.

“Good girl, Stels,” he strokes his big hand down her belly, which is still twitching with the aftershocks of her orgasm. “Did so, so good for me, baby girl.” When Stella can finally peel her eyes open, and they find her daddy’s face above her, her smile is blinding, if a little dazed.

“Fuck, that was hot, baby,” Trevor groans, reaching down to stroke himself.

“Now, please, tell me you two have protection around here somewhere.” Cordell goes to the bedside drawer where Stella’s pointing, telling himself that it’s a good thing his baby girl was keeping condoms on hand. He finds the packet in the drawer, grabbing two, and luckily finds a small bottle of lube, too, which he brings back to the bed with him. He stalwartly does not think about the hint of bright pink he uncovered in his searching that was most definitely a dildo, lodged beside an open packet of birth control pills.

“You ready to start the real work, son?”

“Yes, Sir,” the boy groans, shuffling his knees closer to Stella, still between her legs.

“Woah there partner, not so fast,” Cordell grabs his shoulder and pushes him back down to his hands and knees, ass in the air. “Gotta get you both ready first. You’re gonna follow my lead again, yeah?” Trevor hums an affirmative response.

Cordell grabs the lube and gets some on his fingers, before tossing the bottle back to the covers. He brings one wet finger to the entrance winking up at him, and traces his fingertip up and down the seam, spreading the lube around before he pushes lightly against the opening, testing its give. It takes a moment for Trevor to relax, but Cordell gets the tip of his finger in eventually. “You gotta relax, boy, let me in. Focus on your girl there, you’re here to make her feel good, yeah?” He sees his curls bounce up and down as Trevor nods and brings his hand back to Stella’s pussy, drawing his finger through her slick before he pushes his middle finger in.

Cordell continues to pump his first finger in and out of Trevor’s ass, feeling the boy loosening around him, until he’s ready for another finger. He pulls out and adds more lube, before bringing the digits back and pushing two slowly but firmly back in. “Start to stretch her out now, add another finger in.” Stella whimpers when Trevor draws out and re-enters her with two fingers this time.

“Feel good darlin’?” Stella nods, locking eyes with her daddy. “I bet she’s nice and tight, ain’t she, son?”

“Yes, Sir,” Trevor pants, forehead resting against his left forearm. He seems to really be enjoying Cordell’s fingers in his ass. “She’s so fuckin’ tight. F-feels good.”

“Try to fit another finger in there, stretch that pussy out real good f’me.” Cordell punctuates his statement by adding more lube and a third finger into Trevor’s opening, and the boy can’t contain his groan of pleasure at the thicker intrusion.

“Fuck,” he moans, pushing a three fingers into Stella, who is dripping enough to make a spot on the sheets beneath her. She lets out an answering moan and bucks her hips up into Trevor’s hand.

“Oh, looks like someone’s getting a little greedy, huh baby?” Cordell smirks down at his daughter, writhing on the bed, hair splayed out around her like a wreath of flames. She whines at him in response, pushing down into the fingers inside her again. “You think you’re ready for a cock, baby girl? Want your boyfriend to fill up that slutty little hole you got there?”

“Yes, Daddy, please,” she mewls, thrusting her hips again.

“What about you, huh? Think you’re ready f’my cock?” Cordell chooses his moment well, and intentionally strokes over Trevor’s prostate when he asks the question, prompting an answering ‘fuck yes’ out of the boy. “Good answer.”

Cordell opens one condom packet and rolls the thin barrier over Trevor’s dick for him, running the extra lube from his hand over the covered member once he’s down, then quickly rips into the second packet and rolls it on himself, before grabbing for more lube and drizzling it over himself and the tight little hole he’s about to fuck himself into.

Trevor shifts up the bed so he’s pressed against Stella and he can run the tip of his cock through her slick folds. She pushes back against him lightly, but waits for her dad’s say so, still. Cordell ruts himself along the crack of Trevor’s ass, teasing. When the tip of his cock catches against the boy’s rim, he lets out a hiss.

“Okay, you ready Stels?” She nods up at him. “Alright, if you need to stop you can just say, baby.” She nods again. Cordell gives Trevor a swat on the ass to indicate he should move. The muscles in his back clench as he pushes the head of his cock inside of the wet heat he’s surely been dying to get to all night. Stella’s face scrunches up as he drives himself steadily deeper inside of her, until he’s pushed in as far as he can go. Both teens let out choked moans at the feeling of finally being this wrapped up in one another.

“Give ‘er a minute to get used to the feel of you, stay real still,” Cordell presses the head of his cock against Trevor and thrusts in shallowly, easing himself along with soft grunts, listening for any sounds of discomfort, but all he hears from the boy beneath him are small groans of pleasure. Once he’s inside, he smooths his hand up and down Trevor’s back giving him a moment to adjust as well.

His first thrust in is shallow, but it drags the head of his cock right over Trevor’s prostate and the jolt of pleasure it sends up his body grinds him forward into Stella, drawing a moan from her. She bucks up into Trevor, forcing him deeper inside of her and simultaneously pushing him back onto her daddy’s cock.

“That’s it, baby girl,” Cordell groans, thrusting harder into the tight heat wrapped around him, “show us how much you want it. Show us how greedy that little pussy is, sweetheart.”

“Fuck!” Stella pants, arching into Trevor’s hips and grinding her clit against him.

“Shit, you look so good like that darlin’. Looks so good with a cock inside her, doesn’t she?”

“Fuck yeah. Feel so good, baby, fuck,” Trevor isn’t able to move much, being pinned between Cordell and Stella, both fucking themselves harder and harder into him, but he thrusts back against Stella with push of her daddy’s dick inside of him. Cordell’s impressed the kid’s lasted this long without busting his nut yet, considering the amount of stimulation he’s currently being subjected to, and Stella looks like she’s about to tip over the edge again along with him. He fucks into them even harder, pace quickening with each piston of his hips, and he hears Stella’s whimpers climb higher and higher as Trevor is pushed into her faster with each thrust.

“You wanna cum again, sweetheart? Gonna cum all over that cock inside you like a good little slut? Yeah? You gonna be Daddy’s good little girl?” Cordell’s taunts push Trevor over his edge and he stutters in his pace, his ass clenching around the cock still fucking him as he cums inside Stella with a broken groan. Irritated, and on the cusp of his own orgasm, he pulls out of Trevor and throws him off of his daughter. Stella whines at the loss, and he can see her pussy clenching around the emptiness. “S’okay, baby girl, Daddy’s gotcha.” He pulls his condom off quickly and ruts his cock through Stella’s folds to ease his way when he pushes inside her. She’s so tight and warm and wet, Cordell knows he won’t last long himself, but he can wait until he’s taken care of his little girl, first.

“Oh god, Daddy, please,” Stella moans, pressing her hips back into the cock inside her, clearly relieved to be filled up again.

“Yeah, that’s it, honey, you fuck yourself real good on my cock. Want you to cum so hard, okay baby? Be Daddy’s perfect little slut, yeah?” Cordell lifts Stella’s ankles over his shoulders and begins a punishing pace, raking over the sweet spot inside her faster and faster on every thrust. Stella’s breath is coming in gasps so short he’s not sure she can even breathe. “C’mon baby girl, cum for your Daddy. Want you to cum for me before I fill you up. Gotta take care of you first darlin’, so c’mon, cum for me.”

Stella turns her head into her pillow and screams her release, her whole body shaking as she cums, her walls clenching hard around the cock inside her, giving Cordell exactly what he needed to fall over the edge. He seizes up bent over Stella, her legs dropping to his sides and her arms curling around him, like he was an anchor keeping her from drifting away into nothing. A small kiss placed on her forehead, and a whisper of ‘good girl, baby’, and Cordell pulls himself out slowly, groaning at the sight of his cock laced with the white of their climaxes. He flops to the side of the bed and happily makes room for Stella when she curls into his side, drawing her fingers through the hair on his chest, seemingly lost in thought.

“What’s on your mind, Butterbean?” Cordell asks, worriedly, brushing a stray lock of hair from her forehead.

“Just thinkin’,” she smiles serenely.

“About…?”

“About how I’m never bringing a boyfriend home to meet you again.”

Tags: @vulgar-library @tintentrinkerin @negans-lucille-tblr @fandomfic-galore @petitgateau911 @whoreforackles @schaefchenherde @kickingitwithkirk @little-diable @laxe-chester67 @kassyscarlett @sonofslaanesh69 @walkersbabygirl @austin-winchester67

#walker #walker fic #walker smut #walkercest #daddycest #cordell x stella #cordell walker #stella walker #walkerbingo #walker-bingo #walker bingo 2021 #anyfandomgoesbingo #afgbingo #2021 bingo

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skiyoosmi · 4 years

Text

– caramel frappucino ch. 27

marga’s notes. AHHH hello my loveliest readers; i cannot believe we have finally reached this end (well, not really the last chap ‘cause we still have two epilogue-like chaps coming up but yeah)… i hope you enjoy this part!! PLUS LISTEN TO THE SONGS CAUSE AHHHHH THE. MOOD. FITS.

♪ CHAPTER THEME ♪

on the train ride home by the paper kites | quiet eyes by axel flóvent

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“Do I look okay?” you asked, head turning to your cousin who was casually lounging around your room. For the umpteenth time of the day, Tetsurou released an exasperated sigh, looking away from the game he was playing on his mobile phone and glaring at you while lying on your neatly-folded bed.

“That’s what you’ve been asking for the past hour and I keep telling you yes,” he grumbled as he adjusted his body so he now laid on his stomach, continuing to scroll through his phone and at the same time, muttering some stuff about how he hopes you miss the fireworks show. Seconds later, he let out a loud yelp as he felt something hit him right on the back of his head. He scowled in your direction upon noticing the missing pink hairbrush that was previously in your hand, now on the floor.

“You brought me into this situation so don’t curse on me now. This… is your ship sailing,” you gestured to your face that was fancily styled for the night out. You only rolled your eyes when he childishly stuck his tongue out as a reply, going back to fixing whatever still needs to be fixed.

A few more minutes of doing unnecessary things passed before a knock resonated through your apartment’s front door. Tetsurou immediately jumped up from his position on your bed, giggling when he passed by your form before skipping his way downstairs to open the door for your guest.

To say that your heart was beating loud is an understatement – hell, you could almost swear it’s about to burst out of your chest from its pounding. Stop sweating, doofus! You’ll ruin your makeup, you silently screamed at yourself, feeling the dampness slowly beginning to form around your forehead and neck out of extreme anxiety.

“Y/N! Get your butt downstairs. Your date’s already here,” the teasing and boisterous voice of your cousin echoed throughout the apartment, followed by another giggle after a few seconds, probably because Sakusa replied to his rather embarassing comment. Despite not seeing the two, you felt your face flush; it wasn’t like you’re denying that it was a date… it was just unusual to hear especially when your date was someone like Sakusa.

After gathering enough nerves to face them, you took a deep breath and looked at your vanity mirror for the last time, hands smoothing down your red floral yukata for any crease that formed. Soon, you found yourself bashfully standing in front of the two tall men as Sakusa’s eyes shamelessly scanned your figure. Although he himself was wearing a simple navy yukata, you couldn’t fathom what he was thinking seeing as his face was adorned with his usual mask that was, for some reason, black this time.

“You look nice,” he nodded at your direction while you smiled, returning the compliment you have surprisingly received from him; you knew that your face was red as hell right now based on how your cousin was biting his lips to keep himself from laughing.

“Now, go! Enjoy yourselves and remember to make the wish,” he winked, pushing you both out of the door with his hands on your lower backs. You both gave him a glare that he only ignored, waving goodbye as you went on your way.

“I hope he understood what I said about making the wish though.”

“I’m sorry, he really didn’t mean to,” you profusely bowed your head at the man almost twice your age who was glowering at your companion who, in return, remained unbothered. On the ends of the said man’s feet were his spilled strawberry and milk kakigōri which Sakusa, coming from the old man’s words, knocked over when he bumped into him while walking beside the food stalls.

“Young miss, instead of apologizing when it’s not your fault, you should teach your companion how to be respectful to his elders,” he shook his head from side to side in a mocking disappointment, as if to annoy Sakusa further.

“Are you implying that I am disrespectful?” Sakusa countered, hands clenching a little bit as he tried to calm himself down. He doesn’t need a nameless man almost ruining both of your nights right now. Still, his pride didn’t let him let this one go; he couldn’t give this man the satisfaction when he clearly knows to himself that he didn’t bump into him a while ago. If anything, it was the older man who purposely bump into the two of you – probably cause you kind of looked a little too beautiful tonight.

Sure, he won’t deny that he found you pretty right from the moment he met you, one of the main reasons he decided to keep on talking to you and befriending you instead of loathing you for spilling the caramel frappucino on him. For some reason however, the way you styled yourself tonight made you even more gorgeous in his eyes, if that was still possible.

“Just drop it, ‘Omi,” you harshly whispered, fingers grabbing a fold of his yukata and tugging on it to stop him from engaging into an unnecessary fight. In addition to that, you were pretty sure the fireworks show will go off any moment now; you had to find yourselves a decent place where you can watch the much-anticipated event or else you will seriously sulk into a corner until next year’s festival.

“Apologize,” the man ordered but to no avail, Sakusa still stood his ground; even going as far as grabbing your hands with his and pulling you into the opposite direction. From behind you, you could hear a noise of protest and a ‘you little s–‘ before it was cut off. He kept on pulling you despite your arguments about how he should’ve just lowered his pride and said he’s sorry.

“Why would I say sorry when I didn’t do anything? It’s clear as a day that he’s just trying to prolong the conversation so he could take more look of you.”

“W-what…” you stuttered, not really being able to understand what he was trying to say. As if he was able to read your mind, he let out a frustrated sigh after removing his black mask.

“He had this disgusting look that screams he wants to take you out despite him being older by so much. I’m saying it’s because you look too pretty tonight,” the last sentence he told you immediately caused your face to flush a deep red; you were just so thankful it was nighttime or else you wouldn’t be able to live off the embarrassment of being so flustered from a simple compliment.

A few seconds later, it dawned upon you that he brought you to a rather secluded place by the top of the small hill where you still had a good view of what was about to come. Observing the area, you began to think Sakusa also watches the yearly event, judging by how he knew that this kind of secret place existed. People usually crowded by the bridge since it has the widest space and the clearest view which also meant that on this hill, you two were alone together.

He then took out a large piece of clothing that he laid on the ground, sitting cross-legged and patting the space next to him as he gestured for you to sit as well. Following his request, you gently sat down and looked ahead the reflection of the moon by the river.

“Are you feeling alright these days?” you only hummed in reply, too entranced by the night’s beauty. Ten minutes from now, the fireworks will make it even more beautiful.

“I’ve never pestered you about your… situation with Iwaizumi-san, but I felt like I needed to ask how you are,” he explained upon catching your eyes that were filled with wonder and curiosity due to his sudden question. Your mouth formed a small ‘o’ before giving him a small smile.

“I’m really okay, don’t worry. I just feel guilty sometimes, you know? In my mind, there are just some thoughts that pass by… things like I wish I’ve known so I didn’t hurt him that long,” you let out a quiet sigh, folding your arms over your knee and placing your chin on it. The quiet cricket of the night bugs adding more solemnity in the air as you both talked.

“Do you wish to go back to that time? And maybe be in a relationship with him?” you immediately shook your head ‘no.’

“No, no… not that kind of regret. I wouldn’t have agreed to be in a relationship either way. I was too young and too dumb; I know it won’t work out between us. I mean… I just get that feeling that we won’t.”

“Then why do you feel sad?” you mulled over his question, trying to form the right words that will truly explain how you really felt with everything that has happened.

“It’s something like… I wish I’d known so I could’ve rejected him right away? Is that cruel? I mean, maybe if I did that, we wouldn’t have gone through such pain for such a long time, get rid of the false hopes we had for each other. Hell, I don’t even remember anymore what it feels like to be really happy without thinking of such thoughts,” you sadly chuckled before shrugging and leaning back as you saw the people from faraway beginning to take their phones out, signaling that the fireworks show was almost beginning.

You felt Sakusa scoot closer to you; something you didn’t expect since you knew he never liked getting close to another person. You were sure as hell by now that all throughout the night, he was acting really weird; something different compared to his usual demeanor – not that it freaked you out though. If anything, you liked his slight clinginess too much… but you didn’t need him being weirded out so you opted to not saying anything.

“Is that your wish?” he quietly asked, making you jump out of surprise for his sudden closeness. His nimble fingers were on your chin, turning your head so you could look at his eyes that screamed a thousand feelings.

“W-what?” you breathed out, internally cursing because you didn’t even know how many times you’ve stuttered tonight.

“I’ve read somewhere that if you make a wish and… give the person beside you a kiss, it will come true so I’m asking you, is that your wish? To be truly happy,” he whispered, eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. If this was any other person, you were pretty sure you would’ve slapped the wits out of him due to his statement’s ridiculousness but for some reason, you couldn’t move away from him.

“I… I think so,” you meekly nodded, gulping as he seemed to have no plan on moving at all. You think you can hear the fireworks crackling as it began to light up the sky, booming over the night sky as it tried to get your attention

“I’ll try my best to make you happy then.”

… but the feeling of soft lips crashing into yours as soon as he said what he wanted to say was enough to leave you distracted. It wasn’t like anything you have imagined before; this – this was full of love, magic and adoration, something you have missed when you often wondered what it felt like to have a kiss. Heartbeats powering the sound of the explosions and sparks as he intertwined his fingers into yours, panting for breath when he released himself from you.

“Y-you.... kissed me... you hate germs... and I missed the fireworks,” you mumbled, feeling rather lightheaded from kissing him too long. He lightly chuckled, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, leaning over to give you another peck.

“I think we can let those slide just this once.”

#haikyuu smau #haikyuu x reader #sakusa smau #sakusa x reader #haikyuuwritersnet #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu social media au #haikyuu headcanons #sakusa imagines #sakusa scenarios #sakusa social media au #sakusa headcanons #sakusa kiyoomi #haikyuu

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starcrossedkaiju · 3 years

Text

Kingslayer AU: Chapter Seven

This one is very nice I think you will like it. I call this the “Scott accidentally makes friends” arc.

Scott had just returned from a boring mining trip. Thankfully it wasn’t netherite duty this time. He was looking forward to sitting down after putting everything away when he looked out the window.

Martyn was perched on top of the walls, he seemed to be writing something. Scott’s interest was piqued. It was just after nightfall and cold out. He wondered what the other man was doing as he quietly opened the door of the Renchanting base. It was one in the morning when he checked the clock. There was time to spare.

The world was silent save for a chorus of crickets. It had stormed the night before and a thin blanket of snow preserved the land in tiny crystals. Scott did his best not to crunch the ice beneath his feet as he approached the ladder strung over the high walls.

Looking up, he saw that the sky was clear and brilliantly lit by the stars. A third quarter Moon hung in the air. Obfuscated by the only bank of clouds in the night sky.

He climbed.

As Scott approached the top, he wondered what he was even planning to do. He was going to talk to Martyn, then what. The whole Red Army was still walking on eggshells around him. Of course he didn’t mind. No, he wasn’t supposed to. He was a spy.

That’s what he told himself to sleep better at night.

Yes, ever since he’d started “intermingling” with the Red Army he had grown to admire their friendship. Not between himself and them so much as between each other. It was refreshing. Scott caught himself smiling along with their jokes, tapping his foot to the beat of whatever song was on the radio.

He didn’t dare laugh, or start a conversation, that would be out of line for him. Not yet. Not right now. When tensions were still so high.

Scott poked his head over the top of the wall. Ever so slightly, glancing at the deserted surroundings. He ducked down just enough so that Martyn wouldn’t be immediately aware of his presence. Still contemplating whether or not he was making a good decision.

“You know, if you’re aiming to be sneaky you should really think about investing in a hat,” Martyn’s voice shook Scott from his thoughts.

It also shook him from his perch on the ladder. He jumped in surprise and threw his hands up, conveniently forgetting about the rung he was holding onto.

“Well, this is it,” Scott’s mind said to him, at least his green life track record wasn’t too shabby.

A hand clasped around his wrist, suspending him in air with his feet braced on the ladder.

Scott stared wide eyed up at Martyn, who looked like he was contemplating letting him go. Then he pulled the other back to the ladder and sat back down.

“Uh, thank you,” Scott almost whispered. Pulling himself up onto the wall.

“Well it would be very hard to explain to Timmy,” Martyn replied.

“Jimmy,” Scott corrected, still looking at his feet.

“Timmy,” Martyn said back immediately.

Scott shut up.

“Major?,” Martyn looked over at him. Scott’s head snapped to attention.

“Jesus! Are you possessed?” He asked.

“No. I’m fine,” Scott assured. He didn’t want to admit to himself that the Hand made him nervous.

Martyn laughed at his expense, “calm yourself Major,” he clapped him on the shoulder.

Against his best interest Scott flinched a bit. Trying to laugh off his discomfort.

“What brings you out here in the middle of the night?” Martyn changed the subject.

“I- uh. I saw you up here,” Scott scooted a bit closer, swinging his legs over so that he was facing the same way as the other man. He looked over to see what Martyn was working on.

A book with plain pages was splayed across his lap, the page open was about halfway through the well loved sketchbook. The first half’s papers were crinkled and discolored from use. On the open canvas was a few disconnected sketches of figures that Scott didn’t recognize. Smudges and erase marks scattered the page.

“What’re you drawing?” Scott asked. Aiming to redo the icebreaker.

Martyn held out his art book so the other could see better, “these are just some sketches of people I used to see on TV. That’s Metal Man. I’m certain he wasn’t actually called that; but I can’t remember his real name,” he explained.

Further down the page was “Scarlet Witch,” then there was a drawing of Ren that neither of them mentioned.

Scott pointed to the last drawing, a bust of a superhero-looking man, “that one looks like you,” he observed.

“Mm, maybe a little?” Martyn replied with a bashful inflection.

“Yeah that’s totally you. He even has the little swirly thing on the chest,” Scott said. Martyn made a dismissive gesture.

“Aw come on. Like you never wanted to be a superhero,” he replied quietly.

Scott giggled. He wasn’t making fun of Martyn. It was just funny, a little, to see the Hand of the King up here doodling cartoons.

“I usually come out here to draw the sky. It’s different every night, always pretty,” Martyn flipped the page back to reveal a drawing of the night sky.

It took up two pages, landscape style, entirely pencil. The scenery even included some landmarks like the very top of Big B’s base. Scott noticed that Martyn’s fingers were covered in excess graphite from blending out the stars.

It was beautiful.

“Helps me umwind,” Martyn flipped a few pages forward to a blank spread, “you should try it,” he suggested as he put the sketchbook in the other’s lap.

Scott sat cluelessly. Staring at the page when he was handed a pencil.

“I’m no artist. Not like you are,” he tried to pass the supplies back but the other refused.

“Whatever you want. It doesn’t have to be the sky, it doesn’t have to be anything recognizable,” Martyn encouraged.

Scott nodded. He adjusted his grip on the pencil and positioned it above the page. It stayed there motionless while he thought.

Martyn had grabbed his hand on that ladder. He let him sit next to him while he was completely vulnerable, trying to get away from reality on top of the wall as long as he could. Martyn showed him pieces of his world. The world the way he saw it, the way he chose to preserve it. Remember it.

He shared it without question and now he was telling Scott to do the same. Show him a bit of his reality so he could understand.

This was a leap. Scott knew it, straight out of his comfort zone; and there would be no turning around, but something in the back of his mind screamed that he couldn’t keep hiding from people.

So a line showed up on the paper, followed by another. Scott pulled the image out of his mind and funneled it through the pencil, the foreground and then the background. A landscape that shaped itself across the whole page. There were mountains fading into blue against the skyline, he remembered, a river with a house on one of its banks.

A floating mass of land in the sky with vines hanging from the bottom, and a building on top.

Martyn didn’t say anything. It was like he wasn’t even there. Scott started drawing a figure to occupy the space. Reaching deep into his mind to see their face. Their faces. Soon instead of one person there was two, then three, then four. He drew every attribute and detail that came back to him.

Twelve people. He didn’t want to forget them.

When Scott finished he put the pencil down next to him. So Martyn knew he was done. He held the page up to study what he’d made, looking for anything he may have forgotten.

“That’s pretty cool,” Martyn complimented him.

“Really?” Scott asked.

“Yeah, I like that dude. The one with the wings,” Martyn pointed to where Scott had drawn a man gliding through the air with huge wings, holding onto his striped hat.

“I don’t remember his name,” Scott admitted. Mostly to himself.

“He had a name?” Martyn asked.

“They all did. I can barely remember their faces,” Scott replied, running his fingers over each of the people he’d drawn. An ugly feeling of guilt made a home in his chest.

“It’s a lovely picture,” Martyn said after a few seconds. He took the book from Scott and ripped a chunk of the pages out, “here,” he held them towards Scott. Including the one he’d been drawing on.

Scott was shocked that the other had desiccated his art book so quickly, but took the pages. He may as well.

“Use em’ however you like. I have plenty more,” Martyn instructed. He clapped Scott on the back again.

Scott flashed him a smile, hoping he didn’t look too much like an idiot, “Thank you,” he said.

“I have to go,” Scott jumped quickly back onto the ladder. He made it a few rungs down before pausing and returning to the top.

“Sorry for kicking you in… You know,” he apologized.

Martyn threw his head back in laughter, “thanks Major,” he replied.

“Bye,” Scott responded. He descended the ladder quickly and jogged to the exit of Dogwarts, fumbling with the doors and then trudging down the hill to make way for his flower forest.

“Remember to get a hat!” Echoed from behind him.

Scott turned around momentarily and nodded to Martyn on the wall, then continued into the trees.

#fwiendship???#i think next chapter is my favorite of the recently written ones #kingslayer au #3rdlife smp #3rdlife #3rd life smp #inthelittlewood #scott smajor #dogwarts

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bbrandy2002 · 4 years

Text

Fool’s Rush In

Part 15

Book: The Royal Romance

Pairing: Liam x MC

Warnings: mild violence

Series Premise: With two weeks until Liam is to marry Madeleine – his pick during the social season – the guys throw him a bachelor party in Vegas. After a drunken night, he finds himself with more than he bargained for.

Thanks @burnsoslow for the beta read.

---------------

Supposedly, the more a person suffered in the name of love, the more it showed they really cared.

At least, that's what Riley thought.

After nightfall of this particular evening -- when she least expected it -- she never realized how much truth that belief held.

Or how much it would hurt to sacrifice the one person who made her believe she was worthy of love and saw who she really was on the inside.

Her dainty arm -- a delicate bronze in color, sleek, with a glittering red strap across one shoulder -- linked through the arm of the man she had grown to love more than life itself as they entered the palace ballroom. Working tirelessly over the last week to ensure everything went off without a hitch had taken its toll on her. All she could think about, as she shook hands and charmed dignitaries with a sparkle in those twinkling brown eyes, was how much sleep she planned to make up for after the ball ended.

This ball was to introduce the King and his new bride to the Cordonian court for the first time. A show of solidarity and, hopefully, strength. A way to establish that what happened in a tiny chapel 10,000 miles away weeks ago between two strangers wasn't a careless mistake, and that she could handle the duties bestowed on her as a common American woman.

Or at least pretend she could for now.

However, for the King and the "Jewel of His Heart" whom he escorted through the curious crowd of pretentious naysayers in extravagant gowns and tuxes, with their fake smiles and tedious posturing ...

It was nothing less than fate.

Riley was the key that unlocked that safe space deep inside Liam's heart that had been sheltered for so long, waiting for the perfect person to come along and open it. This was the place where he kept his most sacred feelings: a genuine love, never-ending laughter, joy, romance, ecstasy, and every dream he ever held for the future -- one he presumed would never exist in any form he longed for.

But she didn't just unlock it. Riley shattered it wide open, where everything came flooding out at once and consumed him like a raging wildfire.

And it was the most remarkable, intoxicating experience of his life.

Liam showed her off all evening as they mingled during their rounds, danced, and conversed with the variance of nobility. She was the sexiest woman in that room, and he'd dare say the looks of envy shot in his direction from high-class men as he proudly cavorted her around didn't bother him in the least. Not that that was her only quality -- far from it. There were so many things about Riley that were special. But he couldn't help feeling a sense of pride that she was all his.

And without question, he was all hers.

Seated at the head table, Riley swallowed a morsel of the veal medallion she wanted to be served for this occasion. When given a choice between fish and lamb, the fish never stood a chance. The memory of that smelly, god-awful lunch with Regina three weeks ago was not something her palate had forgiven her for yet. As wonderful and savory as this extravagant meal, covered in a light brown mushroom sauce and served with a side of broccoli rabe, was, it couldn't hold a candle to what she craved the most: a slice of white pizza from Carmine's back in Brooklyn.

Or a slab or two of the New Yorker.

With maybe some cheesecake.

Covered in chocolate.

And a sausage rice ball. A Frito pie smothered with sour cream. Definitely a rainbow bagel from The Bagel Store. Barbecue ribs and beans from the mom-and-pop diner hidden just off the strip in Vegas.

Of course, her grandma’s country fried steak with white gravy sounded delicious too.

For sure, a fried Twinkie like the one she ate at the New York State Fair in 2013.

"You've outdone yourself, sweetheart," Liam marveled while wiping at the corner of his mouth with a napkin. "The meal was delicious, and our guests appear to be enjoying themselves." The others seated at the table looked up, adding their compliments.

Still dreaming about a fat slice of New York-style pizza, Riley smiled graciously back at him, until she noticed the server refilling Liam’s glass with merlot, causing her to do a double-take.

Hot tears pooled in her eyes, and a heavy feeling of sadness swelled in her chest as she panicked. "I asked for the Pinot Noir. Not the merlot,” she rasped meekly. “You don't like merlot, Liam. And the Pinot Noir was from the 'C' place where Duke Hakim lives. He'll be so disappointed and think I'm slighting his duchy. They’ll all hate me forever and ... wait a minute." She trailed off as a realization hit her, and Riley quickly glanced down at her plate before scanning each of the dishes from those seated around her.

The anxiety intensified; she could no longer suppress the heartbroken sob that wailed out of her. "Where are all the potatoes? We were supposed to have the potatoes, Liam. They didn’t serve the potatoes. Now the whole night is completely ruined, and it’s all my fault. I'm such a failure as a queen, and you should just send me to the dungeon now and throw away the key. I apologize to all of you for my incompetence and the lack of potatoes with your meal." Riley’s red-hot face, full of tears, plunged into the palms of her hands, then quickly sprung back up as Liam hesitantly tried to place a hand on her shoulder. A strong urge to use the restroom ended her crying spell as if it never happened. “Oh, oh. I gotta pee so bad. I’ll be right back.” She gave a warm smile and excused herself as she pushed her chair back and scurried merrily toward the nearest restroom.

Liam, Regina, Leo, Maxwell, and Olivia watched with confusion as she happily took off, not knowing what to say or what to make of the sudden shift in her moods.

“What the hell was that?” Olivia scowled, her eyes fixed on Liam.

“Is she all right, dear?” a concerned Regina asked.

Liam scratched the back of his head, nearly at a loss for words. “I ... I don’t know. I’ve never seen her that upset … especially over potatoes.” He paused in thought. “She was a little on edge this morning. Still, she’s been working a lot on the preparations and everything else going on. It must have gotten to her.”

Maxwell shrugged. “Maybe she just finally snapped.”

Leo shook his head, swallowing a forkful of beef. “Or maybe she has the premenstrual syndrome.”

“Leo!” The group admonished.

“What?” Leo bit back, taking in each of their disappointed glares. “Don’t act like it’s not true. Trust me, when I have cramps and bloating, I can go from a happy little Leo to a Bertrand, just like that.” He snapped his fingers, following it up with a frown. “It ain’t pretty, you all.”

Maxwell looked across the table at Liam and agreed, “He has a point.”

Wanting to shed his skin and slither away, Liam pinched the bridge of his nose. “Can we not discuss something so personal and private, especially while several hundred people are dining around us?”

“I’m just saying, little brother, that you need to be understanding and gentle during this special time of your wife’s 'lady business.' You should speak softly and slowly to her because Shark Week messes with a girl's mind, man. Their brains short-circuit, and there’s nothing left up there but a couple of crickets and man-eating rattlesnakes. One second, you think she’s fine, but if you’re not careful, in the next second, you’ll find yourself with two venomous fangs rattling from your nut sack, dude. She will tear you apart and spit you out like a rabid dog. You can make it through these next few days, but only if you take my advice.”

“That is the single dumbest thing I’ve ever heard you say,” Olivia spat, boring her eyes into him. “And you’ve said a lot.” She turned to Liam, whose face was slightly pale and void of expression. “Don’t listen to his sexist drivel. Why you haven’t declared him insane yet is beyond me. You should have sent him away with that filthy hairball to Valtoria you had caged earlier.”

“IT WAS MONGO!” Leo erupted, causing the dishes on the table to clatter as he jumped to his feet and hovered over the redhead. Every head in the ballroom whipped around to see what was happening, and a deafening silence filled throughout. Even the orchestra stopped playing their classical tune.

A wide-eyed Regina smiled sheepishly as she glanced out at the quiet audience who were waiting to see what all the fuss was about. She thought fast before calling out, “We were just playing a little game of … 'It was Mongo.'” The former queen snatched Maxwell’s Sunset Rum punch from his hand, thrusting the drink up at her stepson, towering beside her, and instructed in a grandmotherly tone, “Be a good lad, Leo. You lost this round. It's time to chug-a-lug, my boy.” With his face burning, Liam slid down in his seat.

“Ooooo, I wanna go next.” Maxwell bounced excitedly while the guests resumed the festivities. "How do we play?"

“I think I want to go, too,” Liam replied, straightening back up before hurling his napkin on the table. “I’m going to go find Riley.”

-----------------

Riley exited the ladies' room, clutch in hand and a fresh dab of clear gloss gleaming on her pink lips. She stopped walking just as the door closed behind her and smiled with a look of surprise at seeing Liam leaning against the opposite wall. "What are you doing out here?"

He pushed himself off the wall, closing the distance between them and meeting her in the middle of the empty corridor. They wrapped their arms around each other, indulging in the warmth of their lovers' embrace. "Would you believe me if I told you I just missed you?" he answered, placing a tender kiss on her lips that skimmed lower to her jawline.

"I missed you, too," she moaned with each gentle pressure of his seductive lips, suckling and nibbling along the spot that trailed behind her ear that he knew drove her crazy. "But something tells me that's not the only reason you left the ballroom."

Their gazes met simultaneously. "Leo."

Riley chuckled softly. "Do I even want to know?"

Liam sighed, smoothing back a loose hair behind her ear. "You know my brother and his wonderful words of wisdom." There was no way in hell he would tell her what they really discussed after she left; he could only imagine her embarrassment. "Everyone was just a little worried about you, that's all."

"I didn't mean to scare everyone. I just wanted tonight to be perfect. Instead, so many things went wrong. I can only assume what the court thinks about me now." She lowered her gaze to the red carpeting where they stood. "I let you down."

"I don't want to ever hear you say that again. Riley, sweetheart, you can never let me down. Do you understand that?" Liam lifted her chin; her tentative eyes stared back at him for a moment before nodding. "Good. And just so you know, our guest are used to bombings, stabbings, kidnappings, shootings, and terror plots at most of my palace events --"

"Wait. What?"

" -- I assure you, just the fact alone, that none of that took place tonight, and they're all going to leave here soon -- alive -- will be huge for them. Not having potatoes with the meal or the right wine was the least of their worries. They will consider this night a success. And a testament to their new queen. You should, too. I'm so very proud of you."

"I have so many questions about everything you just said."

Liam smiled, caressing Riley's petal-soft cheeks and lowering his head to kiss her again. "All in due time, my love.”

Riley let out a deep, drawn-out yawn she lightly covered with her palm before stretching and rolling her neck. A couple of weeks' worth of planning and endless decisions had left heavy tension in her shoulders and overwhelming exhaustion like nothing she'd felt before. None of it went unnoticed by Liam, who placed his hands on her shoulders and gingerly kneaded the taut muscles.

"What do you say about heading back to our quarters, taking off all of your clothes, and I'll be up soon to massage this gorgeous body from head to toe? And hopefully, when I'm through, you'll massage parts of me, too … with any part of your body that you'd like." His lips curved into an inviting smile.

"Mmm, that's tempting," she purred, rubbing her hands over his ample chest. "But I can't just leave. It's the Queen's Ball. Without me, it's just ... The Ball." She chuckled, despite herself.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little panties over the ball. Just go upstairs and take them off. I’ll handle everything down here. Then … “ He squatted down to her eye level. “ … I’ll handle you.”

Her heart fluttered every time Liam spoke to her that way. The way he desired only her. She bit the corner of her lip teasingly. “I love you so much.”

Liam smiled. “You better. You’ve got one hell of a husband. I’d even venture to say you’re the luckiest woman on the whole damn planet right now.” Before Riley could respond to his jest, he put both of his hands on her cheeks to hold her head still and began placing playful, wet smooches all over her face, causing her to laugh riotously. After a few seconds of her squirming around and cackling at his antics, he paused to look at her. “You know I love you, too. Now go on up. I’ll be right behind you soon.”

With a pat to her backside, they went their separate ways.

---------

Liam returned to the ballroom, having offered to finish what little time was left without her. He would offer his apologies for her absence, but in reality, the King couldn’t have cared less what anyone there thought. Since his bachelor party weeks ago, he had grown from a man who had no choices to one who made his own. His marriage and relationship with Riley came first. Her wellbeing was the main priority -- to hell with anyone who had a problem with that.

As Riley placed a hand on the elegant wooden handrail of the grand staircase and took the first step up, her thoughts meandered to where she had been in her life one month ago and how vastly it had changed in such a short time. For the first time in years, she was happy, and it felt so good to be in that place where she could finally let go of the past and move on. Liam was a game-changer, and she was thoroughly convinced he was the only person on the planet who could have gotten her out of her own head and to this level of blissful existence.

Rounding the corner at the top of the stairs, she reached into her clutch to pull out the key card to her quarters, exhaustion slowing her strides. Shuffling past a row of closed office doors and framed artwork, she made her way to the residential wing.

The squeak of a door behind her and the click of heels drew her attention, causing her to stop and turn to see who was there.

The color drained from her face as Madeleine casually stepped out, her hands behind her back and a devious, unsettling grin cemented on her face.

It wasn't the fear that made Riley's heart pound with a sickening thud, but more shock than anything. No one had seen or spoken to the Countess since the confrontation in Las Vegas when she showed up unexpectedly after finding out Liam had married Riley the night prior.

Now, suddenly, there she was, as if out of nowhere, a gleam in her eye, looking all too pleased to have this run-in with Riley.

"A little dramatic, don't you think?" Riley scoffed, taking one step back the closer Madeleine approached. "What are you even doing here?"

"I'm not going to hurt you, if that's what you're worried about," she answered contemptuously. Her green eyes drifted to one of the cameras mantled at each end of the hallway. Riley placed a shaky hand over her stomach, letting out a low, relieved breath, hoping that was the truth. "Not physically, anyway."

"Well, that sounds promising," Riley replied sardonically. "Now, if you don't mind ..." She turned away, wanting nothing more than to escape this conversation and make it back to her quarters.

Madeleine reached out and grabbed the Queen by her elbow, pulling her back and harshly twisting her around so they were now face-to-face. "You're not going anywhere until I'm through with you," she hissed with an icy glare. "I told you I would make you regret what you've done."

Riley jerked her arm, trying to free herself. "Let go of my arm, Madeleine!"

"Not until you hear what I have to say."

"I'm not interested in anything you have to say! Now LET ME GO!" Riley hoped someone heard her yell or at least witnessed what was happening on the camera. Where the hell is security?

While continuing to struggle to free herself, she reached up with her free hand in an attempt to pry off Madeleine's bony fingers that were squeezing tight grooves around her elbow, her manicured nails digging deeper into Riley's skin. "You're hurting me. I said to let me go."

"Very well, then." The woman, who had twice lost her chance at the crown, released her firm grasp, knowing that the momentum would cause Riley to stumble back as soon as she let go.

Just as predicted, Riley planted a foot behind her for leverage before drawing her arm back as hard as she could, one last time. Her eyes grew wide, and she let out a sharp gasp that sounded well down the corridor. Riley sailed backward, tripping over herself and toppling to the ground. She finally landed with a hard blow on her backside, the rear of her head just inches from slamming to the floor.

A shockwave of pain coursed up Riley's spine from hitting so abruptly. Before she had a chance to respond or process what happened, Madeleine crouched down beside her, holding a DVD up and gaining Riley's attention.

The pain had morphed into a throbbing ache that was soon forgotten as the Queen stared quizzically at the object displayed in front of her like a grand prize.

"What is that?" her voice trembled.

"It's my ace in the hole," Madeleine stated, then wagged a finger. "Someone used to be a very naughty girl."

Furrowing her brows, Riley responded. "I don't know what you mean."

"You know precisely what I mean, but just in case, please allow me to refresh your memory," Madeleine smirked before rising to her feet and prancing around as if she were having the time of her life. "I did a little digging after my brief visit to Las Vegas and came across a man who knew you very, very well at one time. I made some calls. We exchanged e-mails, a transfer of money or two. And he was all too eager to accept my offer of payment for any dirt he could give me on you."

There was no point in asking "who" -- she already knew; the thought made her nauseous. Riley closed her eyes and muttered. "Tyler?"

"Yes," Madeleine beamed, " Your ex-husband. He had a lot to say about you."

"I'm sure he did. Does it even matter to you that he's a liar and a cheat -- not to mention greedy? He would make up anything if he thought he could profit off of it."

"Oh, it matters. Personally, I don't believe a damn thing he had to say. Honestly, Riley ... even someone like you could have done better than that slime."

Riley cringed in pain as she pushed herself off the floor and turned to her oppressor. "Just get to the point, Madeleine. Clearly, he gave you something you thought was valuable enough to use against me, so just spit it already."

Madeleine smiled, "How very astute of you. You're correct. He did." She held up the disc as Riley regarded it suspiciously. "On this disk are several hours of the two of you ... together. Very graphic, if I do say so myself." Riley's jaw dropped upon hearing those words as Madeleine continued, "Now don't worry. I only watched it long enough to make sure the video was legit --"

"Give me that!" Riley reached out to snatch the DVD, but Madeleine pulled it away just out of her grasp. A burning sensation filled inside her chest and spread across her face. "You're lying. I never made videos like that."

"Oh, I think you did," the blonde countered with a mirthful tone. "You just didn't know about it. Your ex admitted as much to me ... an asshole move, for sure. But nonetheless, I purchased the copy from him for a hefty sum. And ... well ... here we are now. You're more than welcome to take this disc and see for yourself; I have it downloaded as a backup, knowing you'd want proof."

At that moment, all Riley wanted was for Liam to walk down that corridor where she now stood, pick her up in his arms, whisk her away to safety, and tell her it was all a bad dream. Not that she did anything wrong -- she was married at one time to the man, presumably on the video, and would have been a consenting adult.

No, it was the fact that Tyler Brooks had taken intimate videos with her during their marriage, without her knowledge. Now Madeleine had possession of them.

God only knew what she planned to do with them, but Riley had a pretty good idea. "What do you want?" she whispered in defeat, afraid to hear the answer.

Madeleine grinned from ear-to-ear. "For you to leave Cordonia tonight and never return, or I release everything to the press."

Riley shook her head. "No. As much as I don't want anyone to see that video, I did nothing wrong, and I won't be blackmailed or intimidated by you so that you can get your grubby little paws on the crown."

"Is that so?" It wasn't a question so much as a remark meant to convey who was in control.

Maintaining her position, Riley raised a brow, refusing to give in.

Madeleine was far from giving up, though; she had manipulation in her blood. "Very well, then. I'll release the video in the morning. It should be interesting to see how the world reacts to yet another scandal by this monarchy. Their Queen plastered all over the internet again, except this time, uploaded on every porn site on the web.

"The news will run the story with your blurred-out silhouette in the background. Your father will see it, and his business will become a target.: Your friends. Family. Students. They'll all be inundated with your sexual proclivities. But the worst part will be the tribunal. The council will have no choice but to question Liam's decision-making abilities after not only squandering his pick of queen on some American nobody, but now one whose ass will be featured on the desktops of teenage boys across the world. It's a shame that he'll lose his reign, all because of you. Would you really do that to Liam? Do you genuinely believe you're worth all the trouble it will cause him?"

Riley froze. She knew Madeleine was taunting her with the people she cared about the most. The last thing she wanted was to embarrass each of them. But to possibly cause Liam to lose his legacy, his birthright, and the rulership of a country he loved so much? It was something she couldn't shake.

Staring blankly, twisting the bands of gold that belonged to Liam's mother, she couldn't get the question Madeleine just asked out of her mind: Did Riley believe she was worth the trouble it would cost him?

Nothing was damning on that video, aside from the fact that she never knew it existed. But she already had so much to prove; another video in the press' hand would tarnish Liam. Maybe the Countess of Fydelia was right: He would lose it all.

"Time is ticking," Madeleine reminded Riley as she tapped her watch. "What's it going to be?"

----------

@burnsoslow @dcbbw @ao719 @hopefulmoonobject @jessiembruno @texaskitten30 @janezillow @merridithsmiscellany-blog @mskaneko @callmeellabella @queenjilian @sirbeepsalot @drakexwillow @caroldxnvxrs @jovialyouthmusic @forthebrokenheartedthings @bebepac @kingliam2019 @lovablegranny @cordoniaqueensworld @amandablink @liamxs-world @choiceskatie @iaminlovewithtrr @hopelessromanticmonie @charlotteg234 @annekebbphotography @txemrn @thecordoniandiaries @alyssalauren @cordonianroyalty @monsoonbloom12 @mom2000aggie @theroyalheirshadowhunter @princessleac1 @kimmiedoo5 @graceful-leah @iam-the-kind-and-thoughtful @thegreentwin @gkittylove99 @cinnamonspongecake @lifeaskim @neotericthemis @pink-diamond13 @walker7519 @natureblooms24 @yourmajesty09 @gabesmommie1130 @sweatyrysconnoisour @kat-tia801 @debmcg1106

Liam x MC: Cordonia-gothqueen

FRI Series Tags: @narrytheworld @queenwalton @cordonianprincess @zaffrenotes @zilch3 @drrookie @sfb123

#liam x mc #liam x riley #prince liam #king liam #the royal romance #trr #choices liam x mc #Fools Rush In #bbrandy2002

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ranmanjuu · 3 years

Text

titled “shin shin”.txt

came across a post... a long, long while ago about a god of death type reader and got super interested, since of all the cyikemen games, ikesen is the one most surrounded by death on a larger scale (cause, war and stuff), so i wrote this at... 2020? almost one year before, at 21th of july. i had more of it written, but i really didn’t like it cause it felt too “quirky wattpad reader” and plus me just copying from the original prlogue without adding anything, so... yeah. enjoy!

(also, very important that anyone who wants to do whatever with this idea, feel free, no need to ask me)

You didn’t like your existence

To call it “your life” would be simply wrong; you don’t breathe, you don’t eat, you don’t sleep. All you are is a walking, talking existence that has a job to do until you fade away. You didn’t even like your job.

To lead a soul from their death to the Land of the Dead was a grim job. You learnt their regrets, their anger, their sadness, all which you knew was personal. But you had to be there. You had to ensure that their soul is at peace, so when the time comes to cross to the afterlife, they don’t get reincarnated as a ghost, stuck forever with their past emotions.

Shinigami, was your kinds’ name. God of Death.

You were a part of the blanket term ‘yokai’, or as some would call in other names such as ‘ayakashi’. Those who fall under the category were spirits, demons, animal-like creatures, or, similar to you, gods. For as long as you’ve known, supernatural creatures didn’t mesh with humans well most of the time.

Fear of unknown from both parties led to anger, rashness, and cut communication and involvement altogether for perhaps half your life.

You’ve existed for long; you stopped remembering the exact number after 1.000 years. All you did now was remember the year you came to the world, and do the math. But that doesn’t matter much, does it? The only thing you concerned yourself with is when you’ll fade away.

However, for your own sake, you do take a break. Such a job is heavy for the heart, and a walk doesn’t help as much, but it’s a nice thing nonetheless.

Kyoto. You were just done leading a soul that got caught in a traffic accident. You never traveled outside of the country, but would it really matter if you did? You still appreciated everything as it were; there has to be some light in a life to look forward to.

This particular city was rich in human history, you knew that. Maybe it’d be a fun thing to do, even if you didn’t have much an interest in it.

“All your famous warlord knowledge, packed in a mag! Come get one now!” A boy’s shouts filled the nearby streets, attracting attention from the occasional passerby’s. Including you. A Quick Guide To Your Warlords, the magazine read on the cover. Sounds interesting, and you were bored, so you took one and stuffed it in your pocket.

With a blank mind, you were brought forth to a temple by your wandering legs. Honno-ji. A small, quiet, quaint place. The setting sky burned up above as the small cries of the crickets sounded all around.

You’ve heard some stories of the small memorial in front of you. One of the unifiers of Japan died here—betrayed, as you remembered. But you can’t draw an exact name.

While drowning in your thoughts, the approaching presence coming to you was acknowledged but not paid mind to further. Until you shift your eyes to the side as said figure was in your peripheral vision—a man dressed in a lab coat. The two of you said no words, only continuing to gaze at the stone in front of you.

You only started to react when the sky above you turned darker and darker—not by the setting sun, but by the awfully black and almost purple clouds gathering up above you. That’s unusual, you’ve never seen anything like that in your life.

The once bright and bold sky now rained down drops of water on your face. You didn’t even notice you shifted to your human form—and a look at your hands covered in specks of droplets confirmed that.

“What poor timing.” The man next to you said, causing your eyes to glance at him. He looked solemnly to the monument, then to you, “Are you alright? Do you have an umbrella?”

“No, unfortunately. I didn’t expect it to rain. . .” your eyes linger to above his head, where a set of numbers and a small text was visible to you only. The death profile, as the others call. A set of information that shinigamis can see in most creatures, usually entailing their names, time of death, and cause of it.

It’s a cursing bit of information; always reminding you of what you are.

Out of nowhere, a thunder ripped through the clouds and hit directly on the small monument—a loud crackle following along. Your arm flew up to protect the man next to you by reflex, as your body stood there in momentary shock. You’ve seen death by lightning, but that was unlikely to happen now.

You whipped your head towards the human next to you, who seems the slightest bit appalled, but stood his ground. A strange thing catches your attention. . .

His death date. It’s flickering—changing.

From a century where he was supposed to die. . .to the 15-16th century.

A date of death changing has been a rare thing that happens, however unlikely, but—it’s never jumped that far before! To the past, too?

Utter shock froze you in place as the numbers flicker back and forth, leading your attention away from everything else—him asking you if you were okay, and most importantly—

—the black ball that formed where the stone was.

“Watch ou—“ before you can warn the man, the image of him next to you twisted and distorted, slowly getting sucked in whatever it was.

And so were you.

Wait! He isn’t supposed to die yet—!

The world faded to black.

Ugh. . .my head. . .

Your vision fades in and out, clear then blurry, until you’re finally wide awake. The scenery around you changed drastically, what was first a small place in the city of Kyoto is now. . .a dark forest. You’ve seen this kind of environment before in your memories—you just don’t know how you got here.

The lab coat guy—!

You immediately stood up from the dirt beneath you, looking around and trying to sense his soul around you. Nothing. Pursing your lips in slight unease, you started making your way through the criminally underlighted woods.

You’ve roamed around in the forest before. Most of your time on this world, you didn’t settle in a house or anything, you preferred to just wander around like a lost ghost. You didn’t have a need for one—you don’t need shelter, not food, not clothes, nor drinks. You were a lost ghost.

The branches and rocks and whatever else you tripped on didn’t bother you. All you were focusing on is now just. . .walking. Without even a set destination. The only guidance you had was the occasional moonlight that peeked through the trees up above.

As minutes pass by, you start feeling a faint presence of human souls.

It’s distant, and not much from how weak it is, but I should go and see.

All other senses were rendered useless for now as you focused on the source of the souls, and slowly marched your way to it. It grew closer and closer, until you saw a faint light coming in the middle of the forest.

Two people, you now concluded. Your footsteps remained silent and your presence unknown as you creep near the light.

A fire was set in a small clearing, and you can now see the two people. A man with dark hair, dressed in monk’s clothes and a scar marking his face, with another feminime-looking boy, purple-haired in armor.

“Are you ready for this, Ranmaru?” The monk spoke in a low voice. “You’re about to kill the demon. Bring him down for good.”

Kill, huh. An assassination was about to commence.

“. . .Yes, Master Kennyo.” The boy—Ranmaru—spoke, wavering in unease but still tried to be certain.

‘Master Kennyo’ smiled; a bitter, unresting one, “Good. They’ve light the fire at Honno-ji, arrive there and kill him. I will follow shortly once the fire has spread,”

“. . .Understood.”

Clutching his sword until it shook in his hand, Ranmaru turned around and walked off from the clearing.

You overheard the conversation and calmly watched his figure fade away. It isn’t your place to intervene—not if this is fate, but even so—you’ll follow him. At least you can rest the soul of the victim.

In silent steps trailing him, you heard a last piece from Kennyo. “Finally, we’ll have our revenge. . .”

You took your time in following Ranmaru’s path. If whoever’s assassinated dies, it’s soul will still remain until they can go to the afterlife. Time stops for them as long as it takes to get their soul guided away from the living land. Is it immoral in a way? Perhaps.

Unless. . .you can stop them from getting killed. But often when you try to intervene, the death happens either way.

So what’s the point?

Nihilistic thoughts aside, you sensed more human souls coming your way; five, from what you can tell. But you paid no mind to that. Until it got nearer, and nearer, and nearer, and—

“Oof.” In your blank stated mind, you bumped into someone, causing them to huff in surprise. You yourself paused and looked—a brown haired man wearing red armor, “Hey, watch where you’re going—!”

His complaints died on his tongue as soon as he finally saw who he bumped into. His expression, from a slightly irritated frown, turned more into one of confusion, “Huh? Hey, what’s someone like you doing here in the woods? Nighttime, also? Such weird clothing, too. . .”

His spoken words made you raise an eyebrow, “Ignoring all that, I’m sorry for bumping into you. I just had some business is all.”

“In the dead of night? What are you, an. . .enchantress? Those stories of w-witches in the forest?” The man’s voice wavered more with each passing word. The quirk in your eyebrow deepens.

“I assure you, I’m not—“

“Yuki~! We leave you for a few seconds and you’ve already found yourself a partner?” A velvet and rich voice arose from behind the dark bushes and trees, all of them being pushed aside to reveal an auburn haired man, this one more built in his body.

The one you’ve been talking to—Yuki—blushed and shook his head vehemently, “Ugh, no! I’m not like you; we just bumped into each other is all. And I think it’s some kind of witch, too—”

The redhead man tutted at Yuki in a disapproving manner, “Now, now, Yuki. Have I not taught you how to talk properly in front of such a beauty all this time?” His attention turns to you, and in a second, his eyes lit in passion, “Forgive me for his prudeness, my goddess, dear Yuki needs a lot more lessons than I thought. However. . .if you want to be with a real man, I’m always up for service.”

“Will you stop flirting with everything you meet. It’s disgusting.”

Three more people emerge from the shadows, the small bits of moonlight pouring to their features. The one who spoke was a blond one, cladded in blue armor and with eyes that said he wanted to have nothing to do with any of this.

“But Kenshin, you can’t just turn away at such a beauty laid in front of your eyes.” The flirt replied to the cold comment with a smirk.

“Stop. Or I’ll kill you.”

The bickering of the two were left unnoticed as another man with dark blue hair stepped up, far closer than what you were expecting. His hand reaches and caresses lightly on your clothes, “I have never seen such a design or material like this before. How fascinating. Would you like to switch with one of my kimonos?”

“Yoshimoto, I’ve already claimed them! Don’t steal them right under my nose.” Flirt Man threw a light complaint, turning away from Kenshin for a moment.

“Art is to be appreciated by everyone, Shingen.” Yoshimoto simply responds, now tugging lightly at the sleeves of your shirt.

Okay, you’ll admit it. You’re slightly overwhelmed.

So far, you haven’t said anything, mainly because you don’t want to. It feels like anything you say won’t make the situation better anyway. But still. . .even in your long life, this is quite bizzare.

You observed each of them one by one. Then your eyes landed to the last one, the same brown haired man you saw earlier. Now, in. . .some sort of ninja attire. While you tilted your head in slight curiosity, you’re at least satisfied to see he was safe.

And his death date has changed, too. . .

Speaking of death, you’re finally reminded of following. . .who was it, Ranmaru? to an assassination.

Gently freeing yourself from Yoshimoto’s admiring touches to your clothes, you bowed slightly in front of them, “I appreciate meeting all of you, but I have to go.”

You don’t see Sasuke opening his mouth to say something, and neither do the others, as you walked off to the darkness.

You thought by losing your way from your unofficial guide, you wouldn’t find the destination. But luckily, even going in the same direction as he did led you to it. Honno-ji. This time, it’s in the midst of drowning in fire. You made your way through the front door and entered where the fire wouldn’t reach you—but it wouldn’t make a difference anyway.

And in the middle of the room not yet entirely covered in flames, was who you assume the victim, sleeping. The cause of death, “died in an assassination while the building was set on fire”, said as much. Dressed in black armor, you could tell he was important, somehow. Not everyone can casually wear one, despite the past few people you’ve met been donning it.

The text displayed above the man’s head displayed the same old. Nobunaga Oda.

On the other side, you see a silhouette approaching steadily, sword in hand. Ranmaru, you guessed. You double checked yourself to make sure you weren’t visible to the human’s eye, and you were just fine with watching another death as you have—

Until, for the second time today, the death date for Nobunaga Oda flickered.

You froze as what was 21st of July, 1582, blinked into a later date. Much later.

What. . .?! That was the second time today—what am I supposed to—

Your chest felt heavy, and your hands trembled in uncertainty of what you should do. Do you save him? Watch him die? Would he even die at this moment? Or would it be later? You’ve never been in this position—the answer was always clear. And now you’re terrified.

Your body swayed back and forth violently, as two sides fought in your head of what to do. But time was running out—he’d be assassinated if you didn’t take this chance. And he’d die. That’s the same as you killing him, you thought, and you’ve sworn to never do such a thing.

From your disarrayed thoughts, your legs moved on their own and walked to him. You’re saving him, then.

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen #cyikemen #*writing #scenario #ikesen nobunaga #ikesen ranmaru #ikesen kennyo #ikesen sasuke #ikesen yuki #ikesen shingen #ikesen kenshin #ikesen yoshimoto

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sad-sweet-cowboah · 4 years

Text

And I’ll Succumb To You part 3

Summary: Yours and Arthur’s relationship has begun to bloom. But when other events with the gang start to unfold, you start to worry.

Warnings: The usual smut and ABO dynamics

AN: This one isn’t as long as the previous chapter. However it is still decently long! There will be one more chapter after this to wrap everything up.

Arthur never ceased to surprise you.

He kept to his word, wanting to learn about you more meant spending more time together. It started with just riding out on missions together, where he’d ask a few questions about your life prior to the gang. He’d also ask what you liked and disliked, what your favorite food was and if you liked any flowers. He wasn’t being subtle, and yet you’d forgotten about those moments until you woke up one day to find a small bouquet of wildflowers next to you.

The girls quickly caught wind of what was going on and they teased you lightheartedly, giggling on about your not-so-secret admirer and would prod you on what to do next. Karen drunkenly called Arthur out one night at the campfire, goading the others to catch on. He only laughed it off though it was obvious by the pink in his cheeks that he wasn’t attempting to hide it. Soon the whole camp was in on it, and the both of you hadn’t heard the end of it for at least a week.

This didn’t deter Arthur however. He was more open with his affections, wrapping his arm around you casually when sitting next to one another, or pulling you in to press a quick kiss to your lips in view of everyone else. Those simple touches and gestures sent you spiraling each and every time. You also knew it was a way to ward off the other Alphas in camp from touching you.

He impressed you even further when he invited you to come to Strawberry one day. You assumed it was for another job, until he paid for a bath for you and a room for the night. A mini vacation to get away from the duties of the gang as he put it, and you appreciated every moment. Nothing significant had happened, but it was the first time you shared a sleeping space with him.

That following day when heading back, he requested to move your belongings to his wagon. His little overhang became a full-fledged tent to honor your privacy.

And so it became a regular weekly occurrence, Arthur whisking you away for a decent night out.

When your next heat was on the rise, Arthur was the first to alert you even when you yourself could not tell yet. After being around other Omegas, your heat was beginning to line up with theirs. Just a day after they left, Arthur’s interested stare caught your attention.

You didn’t ask him to help you, you didn’t have to. He was somewhat shy about it first, inquiring if you’d planned on attempting to buy the tonic again. It hadn’t even been an afterthought with you lately, which prompted you to seek his help. He brought you somewhere far in the mountains of Ambarino, camping out on a cliff side that overlooked the landscape below. He was as gentle as he was before, though becoming more comfortable with handling your body. You were surprised he never went as hard as he did during your initial meeting, especially when his rut began to control his thoughts. He however explained after years of camping with Omegas, he learned to keep himself cool-headed.

Not too long afterward, Arthur had a run-in with some Pinkertons, which sparked the hasty move from New Hanover to Lemoyne. With the new concern of the law closer, you were slightly more on edge. Arthur made himself busy with the others in town, assuming the fake role as lawmen themselves as well as making their presence known between the two infamous families that called this state their home and had old blood feuds with one another. Both families full of Alphas and high-standing Betas. It was just a rouse to sniff down some supposed old treasures which lead them down the road of stealing moonshine and burning crops. It was something you didn’t agree with and neither did Arthur, especially since he was subjected to do most of the dirty work.

All that talk about moonshine and inbreeding became an incessant buzzing in your ears. Arthur told you about a forbidden love between the families, two Betas who carried their secret love through letters that he himself had the “pleasure” of delivering, as well as serving as an escort for a protest in the middle of town.

You kept yourself busy by returning to old habits, chasing after small bounties to keep a decent amount of money in your pocket regardless. Sadie, a Beta who kept to herself during her time in Horseshoe Overlook, became more of a prominent figure after nearly skinning Pearson out of frustration one day. She often helped you with bounties, and soon called her a friend.

It’s been a little over a month that you called Clemens Point your home.

One morning, you sat in yours and Arthur’s shared tent in preparation for the day ahead. You pulled your boots on, ready to head into Rhodes to take a peek at the bounty board. As you stood, the canvas flaps fell open to reveal Arthur.

You smiled at him, though it quickly disappeared when you noticed the concern on his face. “Arthur?”

He peered at you briefly before stepping past you to his bedside table, grabbing a health cure that sat there. He tucked it away in his satchel before turning to face you again.

“What’s wrong?” you ask.

A scowl formed on his face. “Colm O’Driscoll. Apparently he wants to meet with Dutch.”

You blinked. You were only familiar with the O’Driscolls through word of mouth in your bounty hunter days. Colm was a straight asshole who had no care of the others around him. Your time in the Van der Linde gang educated you more on the rivalry Dutch had with Colm; Dutch killed Colm’s brother and Colm killed Dutch’s lover, thus beginning a seemingly unending rivalry between the two.

“For what?”

“Parley,” he murmured, adjusting his hat. “I don’t trust it much though, I’m goin’ along with him, jus’ in case things turn sour.”

Your heart skipped a beat. As he stepped toward the entrance, you were close on his heels. “Hey, you be careful now, you hear?” you said, reaching out to brush your hand against his forearm.

He stopped, his senses briefly overtaken from you. It happened whenever you two touched. He hadn’t mated with you but your bodies responded to each other as such. His blue eyes gazed down at you, and a soft smile crossed his lips. “I will, sweetheart. We’ll be back soon.” He leaned down to brush his lips against yours in a brief and sweet kiss.

You returned the gesture, wanting to lock your arms around him and keep him there with you. He however exited the tent before you had a chance to, and you stepped out after him, watching as he joined Dutch and…Micah.

As the three of them rode out of camp, your stomach churned uncomfortably. You didn’t like this one bit, especially not with an unruly Alpha like Micah. But you trusted Arthur enough that he could fight his way out if he had to. You’ve never seen Colm aside from the multitude of bounty posters, but you knew he too was an Alpha. Arthur always seemed to triumph over other Alphas, and you hoped this was a day he wouldn’t have to.

When Dutch and Micah rode back later that day without him, your concern heightened threefold. As the others surrounded Dutch in camp asking how it went, you pushed through the crowd and demanded to know where Arthur was. You couldn’t get a straight answer from him nor Micah, and you assumed the worst.

You wanted to go out and find him. Dutch however forced you to stay in camp, assuring you that Arthur was just fine and would be back soon. Arthur had a habit of disappearing for a little while before returning.

However, when you and Arthur became close, he was never away for more than a day. Anxiety welled like a bruise inside you, growing and aching as the hours passed. The sun set, shrouding the camp with night. You tried to keep yourself busy, distracting yourself from the dark thoughts of what could be happening. You helped with the last of the chores, trying to hold a conversation with the girls. You tried to help yourself to a helping of Pearson’s stew, but you weren’t hungry.

You soon turned yourself in early for the night, hoping the pull of sleep would put your mind at ease, and you’d wake up to his arms wrapping around you. Sleep would not come however, and you lay there nestled in the animal pelt that was used as a blanket.

Hours passed of you staring up at the canvas ceiling, listening to the camp quiet down for the night. Nothing but the melody of crickets chirping surrounding them. At some point your eyes closed, and you opened them to hear murmurs in the distance.

And then you heard his name.

You never moved so fast, jumping off the cot and running out of the tent. The first thing you noticed was Arthur’s stallion on the outskirts of camp, but no rider on the back. A small crowd had gathered nearby, their voices full of concern. As you drew closer, you could recognize the unmistakable figure whom they were surrounding. Your eyes widened.

The crowd parted to allow room for Arthur to move, or to be moved. He was dressed in nothing but his union suit, face riddled with fatigue and – and a large, ugly wound on his shoulder, shining dark red under the moonlight. The sight of him settled deep in your stomach, filling you with nausea.

You could only watch as they worked on him, your hands trembling too much to be any use. He lay half-conscious on his cot as they cleaned his wound and stitched it up. By the time they finished, dawn was breaking into the horizon, and he was completely passed out.

You ended up falling asleep just outside the tent, not wanting to disturb him.

Arthur slept a little over 24 hours before awakening. During that time you kept checking on him. He hadn’t moved an inch from the position he lay in, and aside from the slight movement of his chest, you would have thought he was dead. By the time he woke you were helping with laundry, and when he stumbled out of his tent, you immediately dropped the shirt you were about to hang up and made a beeline for him.

He looked haggard, the wear on his face told you he’d been through an ordeal. He mentioned that the parley was a trick to capture him and lure Dutch in to turn him in to the Pinkertons. Arthur had been subjected to torture but managed to escape, though just barely.

After learning the full story, you pulled him away to change into something cleaner. He peeled the union suit off, the fabric on his left shoulder caked with dried blood and dirt. The wound, angry as it was, certainly appeared already better than it did before. Returning however took a number on him.

Arthur wasn’t one to really show weakness, but the ordeal slowed him down dramatically. He stayed in camp for the next few weeks, and you took it upon yourself to help him as best as you could. With his wound you were careful with him, keeping it clean and aiding him in otherwise simple tasks. He kept quiet most days, only speaking short conversations with you and others. Any sort of affection was quick, and you took no offense to it. This time wasn’t about you, and no doubt his mind wasn’t in the right place.

Admittedly you did miss your little outings together, moments spent in one another’s arms in some hotel room, worry free and content. An idea soon struck. Arthur had done so much for you. Now you wanted to return the favor, and take it a step further.

It was late afternoon when you strode into the tent, finding him seated and writing in his journal. You’ve learned more about him in the past few months, but much more remained a mystery to you. That journal must’ve been nearly full from how often you’ve seen him write. On occasion you’d catch a glimpse of him sketching, though never quick enough to see what it was.

He glanced up at you as you walked in, closing the journal. “Hey Y/N.” he greeted.

“Hey,” you responded, taking a seat next to him on the cot. “How are you feeling?”

“Little better, I guess.” he said with a shrug, a tiny wince crossing his eyes.

You nodded. “Arthur… you know, I miss our mini vacations.”

Guilt immediately shadowed his face and his gaze dropped to his lap. “I know, sorry sweetheart,” he sighed. “Jus’ ain’t up to it.”

“I know,” you sighed, reaching over to place your hand on his knee. “But I think one would be good for us. Well, for you.”

He peered at your hand, before his eyes slowly traveled up to peer at your face. “Don’t think I got it in me for a trip right now.” He mumbled.

You shook your head. “We’ll just go to Rhodes. And you won’t have to dote on me.”

His eyes reflected confusion. “That ain’t necessary –”

“Yes it is,” you interrupted. “Arthur, when’s the last time you’ve treated yourself? You’ve been taking care of me since I got here. I might as well return the favor.”

“You’ve been helpin’ me all this time I’ve been back,” he pointed out. “Don’t –”

“An Alpha like you deserves to have some rest and relaxation. Please don’t argue, Arthur. I’m going to do this for you.” You said, your tone firm.

He silently stared at you, his brow furrowing as if he were going to argue more. A moment of silence passed before he sighed, shaking his head in defeat. “Alright, you win.”

You smiled widely, and you reached over to gently take his hand. “Come on then, let’s get going.”

The two of you left not too long after, just as the sun was setting low in the sky. It was a fairly quiet ride, and you’d reached Rhodes by twilight. Upon coming to the hotel, you paid for a nice meal for the both of you, as well as a bath and room. Arthur scarfed down his food as if he hadn’t eaten in weeks, and you assumed it was just from having to subject to nothing but Pearson’s stew during his recovery.

It was dark out by the time you finished your meals. You shooed him upstairs to start his bath, and you headed to the back toward your room. You however planned to sneak upstairs, though proved difficult with how open the hotel was. You made your way up through the balcony on the back, coming to the area where a now empty poker table sat. You quietly moved toward the door and gripped the doorknob. He left it unlocked, and you walked in.

Arthur lay quietly in the bath before you, his otherwise relaxed position disturbed as you walked in. You closed the door quietly behind you, locking it and smiling at him as he met your gaze.

“Shouldn’t you be downstairs?” Arthur asked, though there wasn’t any protest in his voice or his face.

“Thought I’d play bath girl tonight.” You said with a slight giggle, approaching him and swinging your hips the way the bath girls did. He kept his eyes on you as you came closer, sitting yourself on the edge of the tub beside him.

You could never get tired of seeing him naked. He was absolutely gorgeous and even just watching him undress for the night was enough to take your breath away. Muscles built from hard work never went to waste. Perhaps it was the Alpha strength that made him all that more attractive to you. You smoothed your hand across his upper back, his skin wet and the sheet of muscle hard underneath. Your hand tingled against him pleasantly, the subtle call of an Omega to her Alpha.

He too felt it, closing his eyes and exhaling deeply. His head hung forward, exposing more to you. Your other hand joined, and you began to massage him in a slow and steady motion. A multitude of knots collected despite him taking it easy, and you worked each one out.

He groaned in satisfaction, though it was not unlike a noise you recognize from prior events. An involuntary blush painted your cheeks as you moved from his good shoulder to the injured. The muscle dystrophy was apparent, and stiff from decreased use. You were more careful here to not agitate it as you worked on him gingerly.

“Didn’t know you was so good at this too.” Arthur sighed, peering up at you.

“I did have other jobs before I became a bounty hunter.” You said, smiling down at him.

He hummed in response, and you watched as a smile of his own stretched across his lips. It was the first time he smiled that widely, and it was because of you. Your heart fluttered beneath your ribcage, and you leaned over to begin on his far arm.

As you were leaning across him, you heard him inhale deeply. His breath shuddered for a fraction of a second, catching your attention.

“Your heat’s comin’.” He murmured.

Oh, your heat. You hadn’t even given it a thought this entire time. Karen and Mary-Beth left with some of the others earlier that day as per usual, Abigail had taken her tonic, and you’d forgotten that your timing was almost in perfect sync with theirs now. “That’s alright, I’ll take care of myself,” You said to him. “You just need to rest and relax.”

“You know that don’t work anymore…” he pointed out quietly.

You sighed in response. Of course you knew, but it was selfish to have him at this time when he was still in recovery. It was going to be a difficult week, but it was nothing you weren’t used to from your younger years. You decided not to say anything further, and he didn’t either.

You washed every inch of his body, working his limbs before moving to his chest and stomach. Your hands roamed the expanse of his torso, every dip and plane and curve, every scar and blemish. He was so beautiful to you, even though he himself didn’t see himself that way.

Just as you finished, Arthur’s hand grazed against your arm. You paused and looked at him.

“Come on, join me in here.” He said.

You blinked in surprise. “Why?”

“Jus’ wanna hold ya for a bit, if that’s okay.” He responded, his face soft.

This was a new step, but you shrugged and complied. You stood up and undressed, his eyes on you the entire time. He knew your body well enough by now. Once completely nude, you carefully stepped into the tub, sinking yourself slowly into the now lukewarm water. The level raised significantly, but not enough to splash over the edges. You leaned back against him, his arms wrapping around you gently.

It was silent between the two of you. He placed feather-light kisses against your neck, his deep breathing tickling your skin. He was taking in your scent, letting it flood his senses. With your incoming heat, it meant his rut would begin. It didn’t help that he was already half hard.

“Arthur.” You gently warned.

“Jus’ wanted to hold ya, like I said,” He murmured with his lips against your skin. He fell silent for a full moment before he spoke again. “Those moments with the O’Driscolls…I weren’t sure if I was gonna escape.”

Your breath caught at his words.

“I’ve been in rough situations before…nothin’ like that.” He continued, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Arthur, you made it back. That’s all that matters.” You said to him, turning your head to brush your lips against his cheek.

He met you halfway, pulling you into a full kiss. Your lips melded to his seamlessly, his taste and touch electrifying. As he pulled back, he gave a small sigh and said, “I’m sorry I haven’t been open with ya recently.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you noted the troubled look on his face. “It’s okay Arthur, what you went through was traumatic. I didn’t expect you to be back to normal so quickly. That’s why I’ve been helping you.”

“Ain’t fair to you, sweetheart. Takin’ care o’ my dumb ass shouldn’t be a priority.”

“Of course it is,” you argued, shifting slightly to look at him better. “We are together, we ain’t mated but you are my Alpha regardless. What kind of Omega would I be if I just left you alone after that?”

His lip twitched as he stared at you, as if trying to think of a response. He instead shook his head and chuckled. “You’re too good to me, Y/N.”

The conversation died after that. He eventually ended up washing you as well, his large hands running across every inch of your smooth flesh. The water had cooled significantly by the time he was finished, and you were shivering when you stood up to get out of the tub.

You left before he did, going back the way you came around the back to make your way toward the room. Since you took the longer way around, he was already back in the room by the time you stepped in. He was already shedding his day clothes down to his union suit, which was thankfully a different one. The memory of him arriving at camp practically dead on his feet shrouded your mind.

You pushed that thought to the back of your brain when he smiled at you, invitingly drawing you in to the soft sheets. Your head soon hit the pillow, allowing the tendrils of sleep to overtake you. Sleeping in an actual bed was a luxury you wished the both of you could have more often. The last thing you felt was Arthur’s arms pulling you against his body before you succumbed.

For the first time in weeks you had a restful night, your subconscious not bogged with worry over him. He was right here with you, beginning to feel like himself again after what felt like eons.

Rolling thunder early in the morning aroused you from your slumber, acting as a natural alarm. The room itself was dark, reflecting the iron gray clouds that hung heavy in Rhodes. The hard splatter of rainfall was soon to follow.

You stretched your stiff muscles, a difficult feat as Arthur still had you in his arms. He too began to stir slightly, set off by your movement. His hand brushed over your abdomen briefly, which brought your attention to a swelling tightness that formed below. After Arthur’s mention last night, you’d expected it.

You were fully intent on removing yourself. You attempted to shift only to have his grip tighten around you. He was now fully awake, his deep voice rumbling, vibrating against your back. Another presence soon made itself known further below against the curve of your butt.

“Arthur…” you murmured, your voice crackling with sleep. “You’re still –”

“I’m fine,” he assured, his voice lowering to a growl that sent a shiver down your spine. “You need to be taken care of too.”

Before you could protest, he worked his lips slowly against your exposed neck, pressing gentle kisses that had you keening for him. A soft whine escaped your throat. An all too familiar dampening appeared between your legs as the pressure grew.

The hand that pressed against your belly worked downward, slipping past the waistband in search of its target. Your body immediately canted in his grasp, shuddering while his fingers worked their magic. You whispered his name, grinding your hips against his palm while he coaxed your first climax out of you. His fingers were coated in your slick, and you heard a growl of satisfaction from behind you.

His hand soon disappeared. The bed shifted with his weight and you rolled over to see him on his knees and beginning to strip himself of his union suit. He tried to hide the wince as he attempted to work his left shoulder out from the fabric, and an idea crossed your mind.

“Arthur, lay down.”

He looked at you in confusion.

“I wanna try something new.” You explained as you sat up. The top half of his suit had been removed, and you helped by tugging the bottom half off, exposing him in full to you. Your hands rested against his chest pushing him gently to the pillows below. He fell to your touch, his eyes keeping on you in curiosity. You shimmied yourself free of the thin fabric of your chemise before you straddled him.

Karen once told you of this position, explaining how some Alphas absolutely loved to see an Omega on top. You hoped Arthur would appreciate this as well. His length stood ready and waiting, the knot just barely thicker at the base. The sight of it made your mouth water, bringing a fresh wave of slick to soak your inner thighs. Your fingers wrapped around him, running your palm over his silky skin. A quiet moan slid through his lips, his hand reaching to drag his fingers against your wrist. Sparks surged through your muscles and you breathed deeply, taking in his musk, spurring your need for him.

You brought yourself up on your knees, gripping him lightly to guide him to your entrance. Your body willingly accepted him as you slowly sunk down on him, keeping your eyes on his. Once you had him fully sheathed, his hands moved to hold your hips.

You smiled at him, beginning a steady grind on him. He let out a soft sigh, his eyes glazing over lustfully. His hips thrust up with yours, keeping in tune with your movements. You silently thanked Karen for telling you this; it was a dream and felt absolutely amazing. Your head tilted back as you moaned into the air, the fire deep in your core igniting to a slow build.

He let you ride him with no objections. His hands roved every part of your body, caressing your curves and squeezing your breasts. When his fingers toyed with your bundle of nerves, it didn’t take much longer for him to pull a second release from you. His name graced your lips as you moaned wantonly, coating his pelvis with even more of your slick.

He didn’t last much longer after that. The way his hungry eyes and hands observed your bouncing breasts, the way your face screwed with pleasure, the way your body rolled like a dancer on top of him. Growls emanated from his throat, reminding you of just how powerful he was, and how he could easily overtake you. He didn’t however, remaining beneath you with a gaze like a predator. A sharp inhale of breath alerted you he was close, and he suddenly reached up to pull you to him, holding you close as he bucked his hips up to finish the job. A guttural moan vibrated deep within him as his seed spilled into you.

His warmth surrounded you while he still held you to him, his breathing shallow while he came down from his high. With the tie in place, he slowly lay back down, pulling you with him. And so you lay upon his chest, listening to the quickened beats of his heart while his breaths began to even out. He usually opted to spoon you, but this was even nicer.

His hand slid underneath your chin, drawing you in for a sweet kiss. You happily obliged, moving your lips tenderly against his for a long moment. He finally released your face to take a deep breath.

“That was different.” He muttered as his fingertips drew patterns along the expanse of your back.

You hummed in response, letting your own hand smooth across his chest. “Thought you’d enjoy that.”

“You looked so beautiful like that,” he mused. “Forgot what that was like…watchin’ someone on top.”

Those words stirred you and you peered up at him in curiosity. It was a question that would come into your mind every once in a while, although you were always too shy to ask in case it was reaching too far. “Were there…others before me?” you decidedly asked, your voice quiet.

His hand paused on your back, and you froze. He didn’t speak. Had you gone too far?

And then his fingers continued their aimless path. “There was…” he murmured.

You kept silent, waiting to see if he’d explain further.

“Gave myself to a Beta,” he continued. “I was real young. I was engaged to one too, long time ago. Mary. We wasn’t mated, never got that far…” he chuckled slightly to himself, devoid of amusement.

You noted the distant look on his face. Eyes reflecting memories too far back. “What happened?” you inquired, careful with your words.

“She wanted a normal life, settle down n’ start a family. I wanted to stay with the gang,” he sighed. “In the end we couldn’t make it work, n’ she went on to marry someone else.”

You winced in sympathy. “I’m sorry.” You mumbled to him.

His entire body rolled with a shrug. “Jus’ the way life is, I guess. She’s a widow now, she contacted me jus’ before you n’ I met.”

This new information flipped your stomach in jealousy. Why? “For what reason?” you tried to keep your voice as casual as possible.

“Tried to get me to go rescue her brother from some sorta… turtle cult. The Chelonians,” his voice rumbled with a small laugh. “Bein’ the fool I am, I helped her out.”

You just listened, unsure what to say.

“’Spose I jus’ fell for old feelings, even though I knew it weren’t gonna go anywhere.”

The envy within you still bubbled even as you tried to staunch it. Why should you be jealous of someone you don’t know? Someone from Arthur’s past who couldn’t share her life with him? “Think she’ll ask for more favors?” you asked before you could stop yourself.

He must’ve caught the tone in your voice. His eyes directed back to you. “You ain’t got nothin’ to worry about, sweetheart.” He assured you, smoothing his entire hand up and down your back.

His touch soothed you slightly, yet the concern still lingered. You pursed your lips in thought, prompting Arthur to smooth his other hand across your cheek. You met his eyes again, detecting a softness in those blue-green hues.

“I promise you, Y/N. You’re the only girl for me now.” He whispered to you, dragging his thumb lightly against your cheekbone.

A smile tugged at your lips again, finding the sincerity in his words comforting. “I like the sound of that.”

His smile matched yours, hooking his hand behind your neck to pull you in for another kiss. Sweet at first, it slowly became passionate. Your tongues danced slowly against one another, sending sparks throughout your body. His arms encircled you, pressing you closer to him. Your own arms raised to tangle your hands within his sandy locks. He groaned quietly at your touch.

His knot twitched at your lower lips. He rolled his hips against yours, allowing his once again hardened length to slide against your inner walls. You moaned against him, the sweet waves of pleasure beginning to overtake you slowly.

You left with him a few hours later, the both of you feeling refreshed in more ways than one. Arthur exuded a radiance that was lacking before, the smile on his face never leaving as your horses trotted away from the town of Rhodes.

“Guess I needed that,” He said as he looked at you. “Thank you, Y/N. It was a nice little vacation.”

You smile back at him. “Told you.”

You’d returned to camp shortly afterward, Arthur having a pep in his step for the next few days. It wasn’t much longer that he was feeling completely himself again, and he returned to regular work duty. Admittedly you missed having him in camp with you, but knowing that he felt well enough to be out and about again made you happy, and slightly worried in case any O’Driscoll was on the lookout for him.

But he came back to you every evening, easing the bubble of concern that sat in your chest. His gentle hands holding your face when he kissed you, murmuring that he was just fine against your lips. The leftover worry of him somehow not coming back soon dissipated, and things were okay again.

Until they weren’t.

You woke up one day with an unsettling heaviness in your stomach. You weren’t sure why, but you felt as if something was amiss. The gang carried on as normal, the day was sunny and clear. Perhaps it was just some leftover nerves springing up again. Arthur left earlier to go into town, leaving you in camp. You’d planned the night before to search for more bounties, but the nagging feeling in your gut had you rooted in place. Even with Grimshaw putting you to work for a few hours, you could not shake it.

Later when Arthur, Bill, and Micah rode into camp, you realized exactly why.

The stench of blood and death clouded the air as they slid off their horses, and you spotted the unmistakable figure of a dead body hanging on the back of one of them. It was Sean, his head split wide open for the world to see. The Gray family eventually caught wind of Dutch’s rouse and attacked them openly in town.

Arthur had gone significantly quieter afterwards. Sean was annoying, but funny and good-hearted all the same. A Beta that always had something to say about everything, and looked up to Arthur despite how irritating he could be at times. The atmosphere in camp changed, as if physically dampened by his murder.

And it only continued to snowball from there.

Something seemed even further off, and Abigail’s wild cries for Jack only confirmed your suspicion. The bright-eyed little boy was nowhere to be seen, only prompting the idea that he might’ve been kidnapped. Anger swept through everyone as they tried to figure out who the culprit was. At the moment, there was one single target to blame: Catherine Braithwaite.

It wasn’t a concrete accusation, but after the mess in Rhodes, it seemed like the once phony alliance the gang had with these two families were now in complete shambles. And it seemed like there was only one thing left to do.

Arthur had you stay in camp while he rode off with the other men to confront her. You hated this idea but understood why it had to be done, so you fixated yourself on attempting to comfort Abigail with the rest of the women.

He came back that night smelling strongly of smoke. Jack hadn’t been found but they had a lead, which was better than nothing.

Things began to move much quicker. Pinkertons showed up in camp which prompted the gang to change location yet again, Arthur and John clearing out an old plantation house nearby called Shady Belle. It was deep in the swamps and surrounded by alligators, but you couldn’t complain. You were grateful that you and Arthur had a room in the house to yourselves; finally surrounded by closed walls and an actual roof. Privacy was always in short supply in the camp, and you appreciated that the other girls were thoughtful enough to allow you and Arthur some space.

That however didn’t stop Abigail’s crying to seep through the walls at night. Your heart broke for her. Dutch had created a plan for others to seek out Jack, scouring the city of Saint Denis for a man known as Angelo Bronte. While Arthur set himself to the urban streets, you made yourself useful by aiding the others in camp. You couldn’t bring yourself back to Saint Denis at least for a while. It’d been a fortnight since your heat and while you were good for a while, the idea of running into unrelenting Alphas set you on edge.

You consoled Abigail as best as you could, even though she grew tired of hearing the same thing spoken over and over again. You couldn’t blame her; it was a tumultuous time after the events in Rhodes. You couldn’t imagine what it was being in her shoes. After a couple of days however, there was an upswing.

John, Dutch and Arthur rode back into camp during the nighttime with Jack, and the depressed air around camp was immediately lifted. Cheers and song surrounded them while beer was passed around, and you could not be happier. You danced and sang along with everyone, and drank yourself into a pleasant buzz. A few hours passed by until the gang slowly started to trickle away to turn in for the night. You and Arthur did the same sometime past midnight. He was certainly tired, however you could see how his spirits had been lifted after that.

The next day was bright and sunny. You and Arthur took to doing the normal activities once again. After spending too many days in camp doing laundry and other chores, you decided to venture out once again. After last night, Pearson was low on some supplies. You set out to go hunting.

It was late afternoon once you returned, donating a generous helping of venison and bird meat to Pearson’s table. After washing yourself of the blood and dirt that caked your hands and forearms, you made your way into the house. Arthur’s scent greeted your senses upon the staircase, fresh and welcoming. You smiled and headed toward your shared room, eager to see him.

You opened the door and found him standing at the table on the opposite side. His back was facing you, and he was focused on something. You walked closer to see a letter in his hands.

“Arthur?”

He then moved to the sound of your voice, glancing over his shoulder. You noted the troubled look on his face before he was quick to change it, and even quicker to put the letter down. “Hey.”

You tilted your head in both curiosity and concern. “Something wrong?” you asked.

He turned around completely to face you, the letter now in plain sight. “Eh, it’s Mary.”

Mary. You’d only heard him mention that name once before. The Beta he was once engaged to. Something about his tone and posture told you this was more than just a casual happenstance. “What about Mary?” you continued, eyeing the paper with suspicion.

Arthur hesitated, averted your gaze and sighed slightly. “She wants me to help her again.”

You frowned in suspicion. “For what reason?”

“No idea. She asked me to meet her in Saint Denis.” He explained.

“So you’re heading over there?” you asked, noting the satchel strung across his torso.

“I…” he paused, looking at you directly. “Jus’ wanna go n’ see what she wants.”

You winced at his words, and you thought back to that conversation in the Rhodes hotel. “You said she wouldn’t be asking anymore favors.”

“I said you ain’t got nothin’ to worry about,” he corrected. “N’ that’s still true. I ain’t goin’ off to get with her, sweetheart.”

“Then why are you going at all?” you countered, fighting to keep your voice from wavering.

“Like I said, to see what she wants. Nothin’ more, nothin’ less.” He affirmed.

This however didn’t reassure you in the slightest. Arthur promised you he was done with Mary and he only belonged to you. However, you couldn’t bury the feeling of jealousy. He had no reason to help her other than his past connection to her. You however did have trust in him. He hadn’t lied to you yet.

Arthur took your silence as an ending to the conversation. He stepped forward and placed a quick kiss to your forehead. You inhaled just then, letting yourself swim in his scent. A dash of comfort to try and ease your wariness.

“I’ll be back a lil’ later.” He murmured.

You nodded silently, watching him turn and leave you alone in the room. You pursed your lips and listened to the creak of the floorboards grow distant as he made his way out of the house. A part of you wanted to follow, to see if he would keep to his word or if he would try something, or if she tried something.

The thought of a Beta touching your Alpha stirred a beast within you, a deep growl originating in the depths of your mind. You shook your head and huffed, attempting to keep your thoughts straight. Overthinking like that was dangerous.

You instead wanted to keep yourself busy. After you watched him ride down the long path, you made your way downstairs and out in search of something to do. Scanning across the campsite, you spotted Tilly and Karen working on laundry. You made a beeline for them, knowing Susan would somehow put you to work anyway if she saw you empty-handed.

Karen was taking the garments that Tilly had washed to hang them up, grumbling about the work and how she’d rather be off with a bottle somewhere. You slid in between them to help lessen the load, which Tilly smiled at you gratefully for. Upon seeing your face however, it was replaced with a look of concern.

“You look like you ate a sour lemon,” she commented. “What’s wrong?”

“Arthur,” you responded, taking a sopping shirt and wringing it in your hands. “He left to go see Mary.”

A look of knowing crossed Tilly’s face, along with a small shake of her head. “Seems like he’s never done with her.”

“He told me he went to go see what she wants. I trust him, but I’m still worried,” you sighed, turning to hand the shirt to Karen only to realize she wandered off. “I keep thinking if she tries something, or if he…”

“Arthur’s got a good heart. Rough ‘round the edges, but a good man regardless. Even if he says he ain’t,” Tilly spoke, working on the next article of clothing. “I doubt he’ll leave you for her.”

“He shouldn’t have gone to her regardless,” you growled, taking the drenched cloth to wring it out with a little more force than necessary. “He told me not to worry, but what does he expect from me when he’s going to see his ex-fiancée?”

Tilly offered you a sympathetic look. “I know it sounds bad. But Arthur loves you. We’ve all seen the way he stares at you, the way he protects you from the other Alphas,” she smiled. “I’m surprised he hasn’t marked you yet.”

She handed you another garment, one you recognized as one of Arthur’s shirts. His smell still lingered on the fabric despite being washed. You weren’t sure how to respond to that, and she continued to speak.

“I’ll be honest with ya, Y/N. Not a lot of us like Mary anyway.”

You blinked in surprise. “Really?”

Tilly nodded. “Always looked down on us even if she was polite. She’s used to livin’ her life all warm and comfortable.”

This news made you dislike Mary even more, and you never once even met her. You hoped you wouldn’t have to, and hoped even more Arthur would put an end to her hopes that he’d continue to help her with whatever else. Part of you still wanted to go after Arthur, or to even find Mary yourself to give her a piece of your mind. You grumbled to yourself and hung Arthur’s shirt up.

You continued to speak with Tilly while the both of you worked on the rest of the laundry. Time passed faster than you anticipated and the sky darkened significantly when you both finished. You wiped your sore and wrinkled hands on your shirt as Tilly thanked you for the help, and gave you a final reassurance about Arthur. You nodded to her and said nothing else, taking in a deep breath as you cast your eyes up toward the sky.

The last of the sun’s rays were beginning to disappear amongst the swampy terrain, and stars were slowly appearing one by one in the sky. There were no other chores to be done, and the smell of stew wafted through the heavy air. Your stomach rumbled in response and you followed the crowd to get a helping. You hadn’t eaten since noon, but you didn’t feel hungry. You swallowed a few spoonfuls knowing it was better than nothing.

Eventually you made your way back into the house, finding yourself back in your room. You placed your half-finished stew aside and looked around, deciding to clean to keep your mind further distracted. Having your stuff with his combined made it messier than you anticipated, although having a room helped instead of the wagon-side tent.

Regardless how physically busy you were, you could not get your mind off Arthur and Mary. Eventually you gave up and sat with annoyance on the bed, trying to control your thoughts. It was completely dark now, and the muted noises of the camp was the only sound.

Until you heard hooves thundering in the distance.

You needn’t look to tell you it was Arthur. Anxiety welled in your chest. A few minutes passed and you heard him come up the stairs. The door opened, and his eyes met yours immediately.

Your nostrils flared. There was certainly a different scent attached to him. While Betas didn’t have a distinct scent, sometimes the females would give off one when in the presence of an Alpha for a certain amount of time. Your eyebrows furrowed and you opened your mouth.

“Nothin’ happened,” Arthur abruptly said before even a syllable could pass your lips. “Like I promised.”

“But you still went when you didn’t need to,” You bitterly reminded him. “What did she want?”

Arthur’s shoulders wilted slightly, and he moved toward his table to place his satchel upon it. “Her father did somethin’ foolish. Sold a broach that belonged to her mother. She wanted me to get it back.”

“That’s it?” you asked in surprise. “That seems so easy.”

Arthur peered over at you. “She asked me ‘cause she knows I ain’t afraid to get my hands dirty. Same deal with her brother.”

You frowned, knowing immediately what he meant by that. “So, she took advantage of you. You shouldn’t have gone at all if you knew this was gonna happen again.”

“I know,” he murmured, a small shadow of regret crossing his face. “I know you was upset, n’ you have every right to be. I had no business goin’ back to where I don’t belong.”

“No you didn’t.” you agreed.

He stepped back from the table and turned toward you, sitting beside you on the bed. He kept some ample space between the two of you. He sighed and hung his head. “Jus’ so you know, I didn’t help her.”

You raised your eyebrows in surprise. “You didn’t?”

He shook his head. “Told her off for tryna force me into bein’ her errand boy,” he turned his attention to you completely. “She weren’t too happy.”

“You could have just dropped the issue entirely, you know,” You pointed out. “Ignored her letter.”

“Sure,” Arthur sighed. “I made it more difficult, I know. She’s jus’…hard to shake.”

“Because you loved her.” You stated coldly, turning away from him. You felt a well of emotion build in your stomach.

“Loved,” Arthur spoke softly. You felt his hand brush yours. You stiffened in response, although he trapped yours in his. “Long time ago. Not now.”

Your heart fluttered from his touch. The Omega within you begged for more of your Alpha’s affection, a call of which was nearly impossible to ignore. He folded his hand with yours, a simple but powerful connection that nearly stole your breath. You slowly turned your head to look at him.

His eyes were soft, giving you a look of absolute adoration. It nearly made you blush. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you close to him. You didn’t object and leaned into his embrace. Your fingers danced around his and he entwined them securely. His other hand moved from your waist to trail up your side, taking place on your jaw. He drew you in for a kiss with such passion that it caught you off-guard. Soon you melted into it, scooting yourself to face him better only to have him pull you into his lap. He kept you in place, arms snugly holding you to him.

A long moment of kissing passed by, the sounds of your lips quietly smacking against one another in the otherwise silent room. His hand found your hair, tangling into your locks as he parted the kiss, offering you a small smile. “I told her I had someone else…” he uttered to you.

Your smile mirrored his. “Did you now?”

He nodded with a small chuckle. “You’re the only one for me, sweetheart.”

Your heart raced wildly at his words. Smiling even wider, you wrapped your arms around his neck. “I’m glad to hear that.” You whispered, your mouth soon finding his again.

He didn’t object, willingly kissing you with as much passion as just moments before. He held you even closer, your torso flush with his. His scent enveloped you and calmed you, although the lingering smell of Beta still lurked on his garments. Not for much longer.

You toyed with the collar of his shirt, contemplating on stripping him naked so you could wash Mary’s desperate scent from him once and for all. Pulling back slightly, your hands trailed down to the front of his shirt. You were aware of his look of curiosity as you popped the topmost button open.

“Can’t stand to smell her on you,” You murmured to him, working his shirt completely open and tugging it free from his pants. “You need to change.”

He chuckled softly, reaching to take your hands in his. “That ain’t necessary.”

You met his gaze. “Why?” You asked.

There was a small twinkle in his eye, and he gave you a crooked smile. “I can think of a better way…”

You were about to ask what he meant, though your train of thought was interrupted by him gripping your hips. He lifted you from his lap and lay you on your back against the bed. You blinked up at him in surprise, watching as he hovered over you. He caressed your cheek with his hand, his smile softening.

He bent down to attach his lips to your neck, placing sweet kisses against your skin. The hand on your cheek moved slowly to trail a path against your exposed flesh. He paused at the topmost button just below your collarbone, pulling it open with ease. He repeated with the next few, fingers grazing against your thin chemise. With your shirt completely open, it was now apparent to what was on his mind.

“Arthur?” You squeaked. “It’s not time for my heat yet.”

He pulled his head up to look at you. “Don’t gotta be in heat for this, ya didn’t know that?”

You shook your head, pursing your lips in shame. “I thought that was only for Betas.”

You expected him to laugh at your ignorance. “Guess I can’t fault ya, Omega,” he said. “But it ain’t no different, aside from…ya know.”

“Really?”

He nodded. “If you want to.”

This was new to you. All throughout your life you were taught that Omegas could only do as such during their heats. Betas like your parents always had the privilege to make proper love to one another. You guessed your mind had been tainted by such set ways, you never considered anything else. And if Arthur says you can, who were you to question him otherwise?

You silently nodded to him for your approval, your heart fluttering wildly beneath your ribs. A reassuring smile crossed his lips, and he continued to undress you. Pushing off your shirt and chemise to expose your top half to him, he pressed his lips to you. His stubble scratched you pleasantly while his mouth roamed every inch of your skin. Down your neck, along the valley of your breasts, teasing your quickly hardening nipples with a quick kiss. Pleasure began to build within you a familiar feeling that somehow felt entirely foreign all at once. There was no undying need for him, the lust for once not its own entity.

And you enjoyed it all that much more.

Soon you were completely nude beneath him. Every slight touch and soft kiss while his capable hands disrobed you had you ever wanting for more. He hadn’t removed his own clothing yet; his opened shirt exposing his lovely chest to you. How you itched to rip everything from his perfect body, yet the way he moved gave you no opening to do so. You reached for him, he caught you and shook his head with a teasing smile.

You’d be more frustrated if you weren’t incredibly aroused. He released your hand to favor your lower half, smoothing his calloused palm against the softness of your inner thigh. He inched his way to your pulsing heat, running his thumb through your slit. A shiver worked its way through you, vocalizing in a soft moan. Your body responded to his touch, expelling a small amount of slick – much less than you were used to.

His fingers pleasured you slowly, carefully, his dark eyes watching you as you arched and writhed from his touch. You mewled his name, gripping anything that you could – the mattress, the wrought iron headboard, his shoulders. He whispered words of encouragement, beckoning your climax as the coil tightened deep in your core.

Not much more time passed before you gave out completely to him. He coaxed the crashing wave of your orgasm across your entire body. Your breath shuddered out and you uttered his name again, digging your fingers into the bed. It trickled from your system until you whined from overstimulation, and his touch disappeared.

Your eyes met his while you attempted to catch your breath. He smiled down at you and pressed his lips to your forehead, before straightening up. You watched him peel off his clothes, one by one before he was as bare as you. His skin gleamed with a thin sheen of sweat in the golden lamplight. Towering over you with a nearly sinister figure, it sent a shudder of anticipation and excitement through your spine. With a simple movement you were trapped beneath him again, arms on either side of you while his thick body hovered over yours.

You felt him nudge at your lower lips and sink in with ease. He bottomed out, his knot flaring slightly at the base.

“You alright?” he asked quietly, shifting to cup your cheek.

You nodded once again. “Yes, Arthur.” You loved how soft he was with you.

He ran his thumb across your cheekbone, his gaze boring into yours. He began to move, slow and rolling thrusts into you. Your limbs encompassed him, nails leaving scores in his strong back. He released a groan, guttural and low in response. Faster and deeper he went, reaching your inner depths to pull out the most intimate of sounds from you.

You whimpered and gasped to him, tilting your head back. He took advantage of your exposed neck, peppering it with sweet kisses. His lips tickled your delicate skin, his teeth grazed you slightly, sending a shiver up your spine. He continued to kiss and nip at you, delivering a slight sting that seemed to heighten your pleasure. His arm slinked beneath you, holding you closer to him. He whispered against your skin, your own name and praises gracing your ears. Your hands roamed every mound and plane he had within reach. You wanted more and more of him.

He passed over the bend of your neck and shoulder, a spot you were once sensitive about. An idea flashed through the haze of your pleasure. “Arthur,” you moaned. “Arthur – mark me!”

His entire body stilled after your words. Your ecstasy came to a halt, and he picked his head up to peer down at you with a questioning look.

You held his gaze evenly. “Please?” You whispered.

“Why?”

“To prove I’m yours,” you answered, snaking your hand up to his soft hair. “Ain’t this is what’s about?”

A thoughtful look crossed his face before he averted his eyes and sighed. “Sweetheart –”

“You’re done with her, right?” You interjected.

He met your gaze again, this time with a smile of amusement. “Y/N, you’re jealous.”

You frowned up at him, yet you knew he was right. “So…?” You said meekly.

A small chuckle escaped him, and you watched as the smile slowly changed to a more serious expression. “Don’t wanna do it if it’s outta jealousy,” he explained, running the back of his hand down your face. “Ain’t fair otherwise.”

“But –”

“I…I wanna,” he interrupted softly, tracing a path down to the junction of your neck. “But it ain’t the right time.”

Your heart fluttered from his words and his touch. Even if you hated to admit it, you were still feeling jealous even now, as you’re trapped beneath him and sharing yourself with him. A soft sigh passed your lips and you nodded reluctantly.

He smiled apologetically down at you. “Your poutin’s adorable.” He said with a crooked grin.

A flush of heat painted your face. Draping your arm over your eyes, you whined, “Arthur, please.”

You heard him snicker, and his figure shift. He tugged at your elbow and you allowed him to, uncovering your vision to stare into his beautiful eyes. Love reflected deeply within them, causing you to blush even further. He drew you in for a deep, open-mouthed kiss and rolled his hips, pushing past the short interruption to remind you of his original intention. You moaned lewdly in response, all prior thoughts melting away with your pleasure.

Time passing became lost to you for further into the night. The lovemaking seemed both endless and too short as you craved more and more. He awoke parts of you that you never knew existed, sending your mind so far and bringing you back all in one fell swoop. He eventually came to his own release, his knot locking in place just like any previous time. He pulled you into an embrace when he lay against the mattress, still ever so careful to not harm you.

The two of you fell asleep like that, relishing in your own exhausted bliss for a few moments before your dreams took over. It was the soundest you’d slept in a while. You awoke the next morning with a pleasant ache in your belly, a simple reminder of the actions from the night before. Arthur still had you trapped in his arms, sleeping for a little while longer before he himself came to. It was very early still, a gray mist covering Shady Belle like a blanket. You lay with him as the sun slowly rose in the horizon, clearing away the fog.

Despite every bad event in the past few weeks, you were truly content.

#Arthur Morgan x reader #Arthur Morgan x reader smut #abo dynamics #a/b/o dynamics

267 notes · View notes

eugene-not-flynn · 4 years

Text

rooftop

word count: 1993

Summary: The night before he marries Rapunzel, Eugene sits on the palace roof and finds himself with unexpected company. Eugene-centric.

Warnings: brief mention/gesture to Rapunzel’s abuse, some discussion of Eugene’s upbringing as an orphan, self-doubt and tangential themes, Eugene is not as confident as he seems in himself but he gets some reassurance, dialogue-heavy, introspective for Eugene and his relationship to Rapunzel, overall v soft, Eugene almost cries but doesn’t.

A/N: Basically, I decided there were elements of Eugene and his relationship to this character that the canon content doesn’t really address much, and I really wanted to explore potential for their dynamic.

...

Eugene liked the palace roof, especially at night.

He couldn’t explain why, exactly. He supposes the habit had started when he and Rapunzel had first arrived at the palace. Eugene hadn’t slept particularly well those first several weeks; nightmares that didn’t involve a knife in his gut usually were filled with Rapunzel’s muffled scream. Add that to the fact that Eugene’s body hadn’t yet caught on to the whole ‘it’s okay to sleep near royal guards’ idea, and Eugene didn’t get much sleep at first. The roof had been one of the few places in the palace that he’d known how to get to already, thanks to his escapade with the Stabbington Brothers. It’d also had the added appeal of the promise of fresh air and quiet.

Even when the nightmares eventually eased and his fight-or-flight stopped kicking in every time so much as saw a guard, Eugene found himself drawn to the roof. He liked the near bird’s-eye view of the kingdom, and even in the dark of night, the stars just seemed brighter to him up here. The late summer air breezes through loose strands of his brown hair and Eugene takes a deep breath as tension eases from his shoulders.

“Wedding jitters?”

Eugene jumps at the unexpected voice, glancing over his shoulder. It’s well past midnight. He hadn’t expected anyone to be up here. And even if he had, the last person he expected to interrupt his evening was the queen.

“Your Majesty,” Eugene says quickly, moving to push himself to his feet before Queen Arianna stops him by lifting her hand. She’s in the purple gown she’d been wearing earlier in the day, but her hair is loose from its usual half-pulled-back regal style. It is almost startling to see her so… normal.

“Please,” she says, shaking her head. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” She nods to the space beside him. “Can I join you?”

“Of course.”

Eugene sits up a bit more as the queen settles herself beside him. For a long moment, neither of them says anything. Eugene listens to the quiet hoot of an owl and the very distant chirp of crickets. The thumb of his left hand skims his ring finger almost absent-mindedly.

“Did you ever learn to find constellations?” the queen asks after a moment.

Eugene glances at her, then follows her gaze to the sky above them. “A few,” he answers, realizing very suddenly that he can’t remember the last time he had a one-on-one conversation with her Majesty the Queen. It makes him suddenly nervous. “Some of the older kids at the orphanage used to use them to tell stories.”

The queen hums. When Eugene glances over quickly, she’s smiling faintly. “When my sister and I were children, we’d make up stories for the stars. It wasn’t until I was older that I learned some of the actual mythology.”

Eugene glances down at his hands. “The first time I’d read anything formal on the stars was—” he falters, “was when Rapunzel and I were first in Corona.”

“It is strange to think that Rapunzel was within our city walls for an entire day before we’d even realized.”

A part of Eugene wonders quietly if perhaps Rapunzel might’ve been sooner reunited with her parents if they hadn’t been ducking and dodging guards left and right that day. Even though none of them—not even Rapunzel—knew at the time that she was the Lost Princess, Eugene remembers how the Queen had taken one look at her daughter and seemed to just… know.

“We didn’t know,” Eugene says, “who Rapunzel was.”

“I know,” she replies easily. “In a strange way, I think it was best that Rapunzel experienced our kingdom as a member of it, as part of the city’s community, before she knew she was to rule it.”

Eugene’s mouth quirks fondly at the memory. He remembers the way her tongue poked out between her lips when she’d painted the crest of Corona in the street. He remembers her gasp of wonder when he’d showed her Corona’s library. And then, of course, how she’d managed to get an entire city square full of people to join her in a dance. Even Eugene himself, who hadn’t danced in many years.

“She really fell in love with the people of Corona that day,” Eugene tells her softly.

Eugene senses more than sees the way the queen glances at him. “From what she’s told me, it wasn’t just the people of Corona she fell in love with that day.”

Eugene feels his cheeks warm, and he’s suddenly grateful for the cover of night. His thumb skims his left ring finger again, his heart giving a small squeeze at the words.

He clears his throat. “She, ah—she wasn’t the only one.”

The queen hums again, but when Eugene looks over at her, her smile is soft and her gaze is trained out over her kingdom. “Are you nervous for tomorrow, Eugene?”

He pauses before he answers. He looks back out over the kingdom. If the queen had asked him at any other point during the day, he’s pretty sure he would have answered immediately. Of course not! But the night makes him want to be more fully honest. Eugene wonders if the tiredness lowers his defenses. Or if the dark offers an illusion of safety. Or if the quiet of the world in nightfall forces a gravity to the words spoken in it. Eugene doesn’t know.

But he’d be lying if he said that there wasn’t a part of him that was nervous. Though now, it was more about remembering his vows and the toast the groom was expected to deliver. The details. The only detail Eugene wasn’t nervous about was the rings, as he’d put Max and Pascal in charge of those. But the idea of getting married? To Rapunzel? That… made a warm, fluttery feeling expand in Eugene’s chest that he knew to be excitement, not nerves.

“Not for the reasons I’d thought I’d be,” he answers eventually. “If you’d asked me five years ago if I’d be nervous the night before my wedding, I would probably laugh at you first.”

“Marriage wasn’t something you wanted?”

“Well, it…” He sighs. It wasn’t that he didn’t want it. It was more… “I wouldn’t have considered it as something meant for me.”

Marriage meant several things needed to be true. He’d have to want to settle down. He’d have to fall in love. And he’d have to have that person fall in love with him in return. Five years ago, none of those things had seemed attainable for him. He hadn’t even dared to dream that perhaps they could be some day. Instead, he’d convinced himself that security could be found in the accumulation of wealth. After all, it seemed to have worked for Flynnigan Rider.

But then he’d met Rapunzel. And everything he’d convinced himself of had been turned upside down.

“Something must have changed your mind.”

“Rapunzel,” Eugene answers without hesitation. “Rapunzel changed everything.”

Queen Arianna chuckles softly. “Yes, I seem to remember you had been a wanted thief prior to your return with my daughter.”

Eugene ducks his head sheepishly, turning his gaze to distant, silhouette figures of citizens moving through the streets of Corona below them. He can feel the careful gaze of the queen on him and it makes him feel, not for the first time, uncharacteristically self-conscious. He knew how the king felt about him, but Eugene had always had a harder time reading the queen.

“Well, what can I say?” Eugene rubs the back of his neck. “Rapunzel brought out the best in me. She continues to do so, every day.”

There’s a brief, thoughtful pause. “You know, I’ve never truly known my daughter without you there too. But I can see how you bring out the best in her, too.”

That brings Eugene up short. It certainly hadn’t been what he expected. “That’s… kind of you, Your Highness,” he decides. It’s a nice thought, Eugene thinks, and one that he desperately wants to believe. But Eugene can’t help the haze of self-doubt that lingers in the back of his mind, formed from years of experience and countless voices insisting he wasn’t enough for his parents, wasn’t enough to be adopted, wasn’t enough—

“You may not always believe it,” the queen interrupts as if she can read his mind. Eugene startles, then stares at her as she continues. “But it’s true. Rapunzel doesn’t talk much about her childhood, and when she does, we both know she tends to gloss over a lot of the… unpleasant details. But from the little that she has shared, it’s become clear that for a long time, Rapunzel didn’t have someone who truly believed in her. Who looked out for her in a way that encouraged her strength and independence, rather than hiding her away.”

“I—”

“You believed in her when others doubted,” she presses on, “You believed in her when doubt in herself was all she’d been taught. You looked at my daughter and… saw there was more in her.”

Eugene looks at the queen, wide-eyed. He opens his mouth to reply (because of course, of course he believed in Rapunzel, he always had and always would) but words get lost somewhere on the way up his throat, which is growing unexpectedly tight.

The queen meets his eyes, her green eyes sparkling in the dark. “You two bring out the best in each other, Eugene.”

Eugene is certain now that his face must be bright red. He wonders if she can tell in the dark. “I, um… I…” he pauses, then swallows thickly. “Thank you, Your Majesty.”

The corner of the queen’s lips curl up in a soft smile. “I only speak the truth. Frederic and I fought against all odds to keep hope alive that our daughter would one day come back. It was shock enough when she did. I never, in a million years, would have expected that on the same day I get my daughter back, I’d also be gaining a son.”

Eugene freezes, his heart giving an unexpectedly warm squeeze.

“I know you are in your twenties,” she adds, oblivious to the way Eugene’s eyes are beginning to sting the faintest bit, “and I know you spent your childhood believing yourself to be an orphan. I know you’ve recently been reunited with your birth father. I know all of that, and I apologize if I am crossing any lines, but… should you find yourself wanting a mom, Eugene… just know that I already consider you my son.”

The edges of Eugene’s vision begin to blur and he blinks quickly to clear it. He had spent his entire life either wishing for a mom or berating himself as weak for wanting one in the first place. He is 26 but he feels very suddenly like he is a small child again, wondering—for the millionth time—what it might feel like to be hugged by his mom.

He should say something, he realizes, but his throat is still too tight for all the things he thinks he should say.

When he does eventually speak, his voice sounds a bit thick even to his own ears. “Well, I… That is, when Rapunzel and I were looking at Corona wedding customs, we saw that the bride and her father usually share in a dance, followed by, um, the groom and his mother. We, ah… we were going to forgo that last part, but… and I know it’s short notice, but… that is, Your Highness—”

“Eugene,” she interrupts, but gently, “I would love to share in the mother-son dance with you.”

Eugene releases a breath and smiles. “Great.” He swallows again, then pushes himself to his feet. “Well, big day tomorrow. I should probably get some rest.”

She nods. “Goodnight, Eugene.”

Eugene’s smile grows a bit more. “Goodnight, mom.”

#tangled #tts #tangled fanfiction #new dream #eugene fitzherbert #eugene fitzherbert fanfiction #queen arianna #abuse mention

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kanri-tea · 3 years

Text

De-aged Rei

Rei gets de-aged by an illegal mic.

“Rei? …Rei?!”

It’s… bright. You don’t understand. Just moments ago, you were curled up in the closet again, locked away because you were bad, but now you were outside, along with these two unfamiliar men peering down at you.

You curl into yourself, hugging Sen as tight as you can. You don’t know them, but you really, really hope that they’re not the bad men your father always threatens that he’d sell you to.

“I-is that little kid Rei?!”

They know your name, and that sends chills down your spine. You’re scared. You probably should answer them, but even as you grip Sen even tighter than before, you stay silent.

"Oi, oi, oi, there's no way that little kid is Rei!"

Sasara felt like screaming, or maybe just shaking the little kid that was standing where their third member was standing less than a minute ago. To the side, Rosho is panicking and working himself into a frenzy, not that Sasara could blame him. Why did those weird guys even have an illegal microphone that changed people into little kids?! Or maybe it’s time travel since Sasara was 110% sure that Rei wasn’t wearing a tiny hoodie before.

In front of the duo was a tiny little kid, maybe 5 or 6, Sasara guessed, with a worn out red-and-grey hoodie and hugging the most worn out stuffed toy – a blue cat, he thinks – that Sasara had ever seen. It’s missing a button eye and one of its ears is torn and the stuffing was spilling out.

In fact, if it weren’t for the fact that not only did little Rei look terrified of them, but the scar that Sasara had originally assumed came from the old man messing up or something was also present.

He’s like 5, Sasara thinks to himself, frowning.

Turning to Rosho, the little frown and creased eyebrows tells Sasara that he’s thinking the same thing. Baby Rei is still scared, but everyone likes jokes, right?

“Heya, kiddo,” he grins, “want to hear something funny?”

Rei stares back solemnly.

“Why did the picture go to jail?”

Silence.

“Because he was framed! Get it?”

In the background, Sasara swore he could hear the crickets chirping and Rosho facepal– wait, Rosho actually was facepalming, the meanie!

Rei hasn’t moved an inch, and ouch, tough crowd. Okay, so maybe jokes weren’t the best idea.

“There’s something wrong with his head, I swear,” Rosho is kneeling down in front of tiny Rei, pushing Sasara away, which fair enough, “do you know where you are?”

For a good minute, Sasara thought that Rosho would be answered in silence like they’d both been for the last couple of minutes, before a tiny shake of the kid’s head, indicating no, was presented.

“Okay… okay…” Sasara hears Rosho muttering to himself, “I- I’m Rosho and this is Sasara. And you are…?”

Little Rei gives them an odd look, before mumbling something into the plushie.

“Oh. Um. Sorry, could – could you repeat that, we couldn’t hear you.”

“… Don’t you already know my name?”

“Uh, er… I mean, that is…”

Sasara butts in again, covering for a now stuttering Rosho, “We do, but it’s only polite to introduce yourself, y’know!”

“… Rei.”

“Nice t’meetcha, Rei!”

He’s met with a blank stare.

“So, I bet you’re wondering why you’re here! So, uh, your parents left you with us for a while, but I swear they’ll be back soon!”

Sasara could practically hear the skepticism on Rei, but the tiny child doesn’t say anything.

“C’mon,” he mumbles to Rosho, “let’s go to your apartment…”

You don’t understand these two men, Sasara and Rosho. They’re so bad at lying that it’s almost painful.

Sasara says that your parents left you with them, but that’s such a big fat lie. There’s no way that they’d leave you with other people, not when the evidence of their abuse is so obvious. But… they’re nice. They give you food and water and try to coddle you.

You don’t understand what’s going on, not really, but you guess that they’re okay-ish since they haven’t hit you or locked you into a closet or something.

You stay quiet though, because adults are fickle, fickle beings, and you don’t want them to suddenly decide that you’re a bad child that deserves to be punished. You know that they’ve been looking at you weirdly, but you can’t distinguish what those glances mean. You’re usually better than this, but its hard to struggle when Sasara is so weird and nice and Rosho feeds you and lets you sleep on a bed with blankets and pillows.

You sleep well for the first time in ages with Sen curled up by your side while waiting for the other shoe to drop, for nothing is ever freely given, especially not kindness.

Rosho paces back and forth and from the corners of his eyes, he can see that even Sasara has a troubled expression on his face. It was now close to midnight and nearly 10 hours since Rei had been turned into a child.

And what a worrying child he was. If the bruises and handprints hadn’t been enough proof, the way that the 10-year-old (he was 10, apparently, but god, he was so small that he looked 6 or something) flinched or looked warily at them, like an enemy, was more than enough to paint an unpleasant story.

Everything felt so... wrong. Rei was supposed to be a hulking figure, confidence and sleaziness oozing off with every step, not some meek child with solemn eyes.

"So..." He hears Sasara awkwardly start, "Apparently, according to some of my contacts, its supposed to wear off on its own."

Rosho breathes a sigh of relief, "When?"

"Uh, in like a day, but some cases took longer," Sasara pauses, hesitantly adding, "and the old man won't remember anything either."

That's good, in a way, Rosho thinks, but he doubts that Rei would be happy about not knowing what Sasara and Rosho had learned about the man, as secretive as he was.

"I guess we... wait it out then?"

"Not like we have much of a choice," he hears Sasara agreeing, and with how distant his voice sounds, Rosho wondered if Sasara was thinking the same things he was, eyes drawn to the bruises and scar.

You wake up in the morning and for once, your body does not ache from sleeping on the ground nor does your stomach growl in hunger. It's an odd feeling.

Sasara and Rosho are already awake and about by the time you wake up, but they don't yell at you for being lazy. They tell you to sit down a place a plate of food in front of you. You recognize the eggs, but you think the strips oily things are bacon, but you aren't sure.

You do your best to eat as much as possible, but you've never eaten so much in the span of 24 hours in your life. You don't want them to think of you as ungrateful, whether they're your kidnappers or not. You clutch Sen tightly even as Rosho bustles around the apartment and Sasara starts telling what you assume are jokes, but you don't understand most of them.

...You know that you aren't supposed to be here. You heard them talking about microphones and deaging and other weird things that sound like magic last night. You'll probably only be here for another couple hours, a day at most, but you want to savor it. You want hold onto the warmth of Rosho patting your head, human contact that didn't end in pain. You want to hold onto the memory of Sasara's grin when he told jokes that you don't really understand. It's warm. They're warm.

This hopeful dream, you don't want it to end.

Stretching, Rei yawned before pausing.

This... was not his apartment. Actually, wasn't this Rosho's apartment? What was he doing here?

He doesn't remember drinking with the other two division members, so there weren't many possible reasons Rei could think of for why he was here.

"Yo," he greets them in the living room. They're staring at him wide-eyed and... is that pity? The hell?

"R-Rei!"

"Welcome back to the land of the living, old man!"

"Haha, pretty sure I was neither dead nor drunk, you brat."

"Rei," Rosho begins tentatively, "what's the last thing you remember?"

The last thing he remembers, huh... Hmmm... It's fuzzy, but they were in a rap battle, weren't they, Rei thinks, and the opponents had illegal mics with unknown effects. He says as much.

"Yeah, we figured," Rei hears Sasara mutter, but what exactly did that mean? Obviously he was hit by the unknown effect, but from what he could tell, something had happened and no one was fessing up.

"So," Rei leans down, "what exactly happened?"

He looks them in the eye even as they try to look away. None of them were going to leave this conversation without confessing, but if they weren't going to fess up now, Rei was going to make them fess up, and it certainly wasn't going to as nice of an experience as it would be if they confessed now.

"... We, uh," Rosho starts stuttering, doing his best not to maintain eye-contact, "you, uh. Got hit by the illegal microphones..."

"Yeah, I figured, sensei," Rei replies impatiently. Geez, what were they skirting around the topic for?

"Yougotturnedintoatenyearold."

Rei stills and turns towards Sasara. "Repeat that for me one more time, except actually comprehensible. I'm an old man y'know, these ears of mine aren't working as well as they used to."

"You... got turned into a little kid, like you were ten and had this cutest little plushie that you said was called Sen and you were super small and-"

Sasara is rambling, but only static silence filled Rei's ears. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuck. Amayado Rei did not do vulnerability. Amayado Rei was a man with confidence, money, and strength. He was not small child who's only knew pain and misery, who equated himself as a useless existence. Amayado Rei was not that child.

"Okay, hold up," he holds his hands up to distract Sasara, to distract himself, "So you're saying that somehow I, as a 10-year-old, showed up with a toy I haven't seen in over thirty years, and was just chilling here for a bit?"

"For like a day, yeah."

Rei ignores the pitying and questioning stares from Rosho, ignores the questions that are on the tip of Sasara's tongue. He doesn't ask what happened, doesn't ask what they saw. After all, once Dotsuitare Honpo played its part in Tohoten's games, he would vanish. There was no point for attachments, even as he ignored the aching in his chest, ignored the fondness that was undoubtedly growing.

"Whelp, I've got places to be, things to do, and money to make," he grins at them, "Y'know how things are. Thanks for watching over little me, but I don't think he's going to show up again."

He walks out of the apartment even with Rosho stuttering and yelling at him, even with Sasara's suspicious stares, and oh boy, Rei really hoped he wasn't going to be nosy about this.

Amayado Rei would live his life with his head held high and unafraid for the future, unafraid of the consequences of his actions, and no one could tell him otherwise, not even the regrets that piled high at his feet or a trio of siblings that despised him.

He would survive.

#hypnosis mic #amayado rei #dotsuitare honpo #de-aged rei #child rei

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fatefulfaerie · 4 years

Text

Honesty Part 7 (Last One)

Part One here

Part Two here

Part Three here

Part Four here

Part Five here

Part Six here

Zelda supposed it was the adventurous spirit in both of them that led them to sit upon the roof, gazing at the stars and yet very aware of the person next to them. Sometimes they shared words, small talk about this or that. Sometimes they shared silence, just as comfortable, just as safe. Either way, Zelda found herself forgetting about her troubles in the company of Link.

“It’s hard to believe that it’s been a week already,” Link remarked, obviously attempting to strike up another bout of conversation. Zelda turned her head. “I feel like I just got here and now we are journeying to rendezvous with Urbosa early tomorrow morning.”

Zelda smiled to herself.

“You did sleep through a pretty big chunk of it,” she jived, Link offering a slight chuckle in reply.

“Damn mushrooms,” he said before their words faded again, Zelda listening to the chirps of crickets and the rattles of cicadas.

She thought of the words of Link’s mother, the advice that the line between a deep friendship and a romantic relationship was farther away than she thought. Zelda knew she could cross over at any time, but it was that trepidation, that hesitation that seemed to drive them both to pure flustered anxiety when around each other, like one move would cross a line they could never come back from, that they would fall so deep in love that they would fall from a great height, and thus so would Hyrule.

Link’s mother reminded her that shutting him out because of that fear may be just as detrimental. There had to be a balance.

“Hey, Link?” Zelda prompted, keeping her gaze on the stars and her weight on the hands behind her.

“Yeah?”

Zelda didn’t know that Link had taken the opportunity to look over to her, to admire the way the pale light of the stars and the moon made her completely ethereal, the way she outshined them, captured their light and proved herself the better conduit for it.

“I just wanted to thank you,” Zelda said. “For this week...tolerating me, you know, the spoiled princess I am.”

“You’re not spoiled,” Link said quickly. Zelda smiled to herself and was glad the darkness of the night sky hid any blush. “I mean...you deserve a break just as much as I do. I’m glad I got to give that to you, and...well I like having you around.”

Zelda kept smiling. This felt more normal, and even better, it felt more natural.

“I like having you around too,” Zelda said in reply. “I think you...”

Zelda stopped herself. She had to temper her honesty, balance telling him how she felt without pouring out her entire heart and drowning them both in their dangerous love.

“I think you may be the best friend I’ve ever had,” Zelda said, Link hiding his surprise well. “I know you are under orders to protect me, but you were never under orders to forgive me for my prior immaturity, nor were you under orders to befriend me and support me like you have. No one has ever had my back like you do, no knight assigned to me, not even Urbosa or my father...oh gosh this is probably sounding horribly strange...I think I just want to let you know that I have your back too, no matter what. I...uhmm...I care about you a lot.”

She finally overcame her anxiety and looked over to Link, who was looking so intently at the night sky that it seemed quite the oddity.

“What are you doing?!” Zelda asked with a resummoned petulance. “Are you even listening to me?!”

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m looking for flying pigs.”

“Goddesses,” Zelda said, playfully shoving him, which made him laugh. “I was trying to be sincere and you turn it into a joke! I can’t believe I li...”

Link looked over to her immediately as her intended word cut short and slowed down, hanging on the syllable as she tried to save it. Her heart burned with panic and embarrassment and somehow the brain she was often praised for failed her, Zelda forgetting every word she had ever learned.

“...ke...you,” she finally finished, closing her eyes filled with regret, and scampering off the roof quickly.

“Princess, wait!” Link said with an outstretched hand, coming to a kneel to watching her run across the bridge towards the center of town.

Link sighed as he followed suit, hopping down to the roof of the stable, as if it was a stepping stone downwards, soon meeting his feet to grass.

He bursted through the door to his house, nearly scaring his mother half to death where she stood cooking.

“Link!” She said breathlessly with a hand on her chest. “What in Hyrule are you--”

“Do you remember where I put the sword?” Link asked, frantically looking everywhere.

“For goodness sake, Link, I’m sure it’s here somewhere,” Ruth said as Link ran upstairs. She furrowed her brow, looking up at the loft. “Would you calm down?!”

“Can’t,” Link replied, sword in hand and running back down the stairs. “I’ll be back for dinner.” Link slammed the the door behind him with as much haste as he had opened it. Ruth rolled her eyes and shook her head.

“Hylia, help that boy.”

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Link knew exactly where she would run, and thus, his legs burned as he ran up the hill to Purah’s laboratory as fast as he could.

Knocking on the door, he panicked with worry. She could have been in danger and even if she wasn’t, she was likely ashamed for something she simply shouldn’t be. Link always assumed she didn’t like him back but now his mind overflowed with possibility that was once a fantasy. Most of all, however, he just wanted to see her okay.

“Linky!” He heard as soon as the door opened, the young Purah standing there with excited red eyes. Link gave a nervous and forced smile before return to his concerned expression.

“Is the princess here?” Link asked.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this serious Link,” Purah observed like she was studying him. “And your face is completely flushed. Tell me, do you have any other symptoms?”

Link sighed.

“Just answer my question,” Link demanded.

“She’s around back,” Purah said, Link immediately walking to find his Princess. “Wait,” Purah said, stopping him and prompting him to turn back around. “I thought you two were past her running from you.”

“We are,” Link said. “Well, we were...there was just a misunderstanding. I’ll fix it.”

“Well then I wish you the best of luck, young knight,” Purah said before closing the door.

Link tread around the lab, finding Zelda hugging her knees and staring out at the vast sea, lit by the moonlight. Link questioned whether or not she knew he was here, whether she would have run and whether he had the courage to make himself known.

“I was trying to bridge the gap without letting that out,” Zelda said suddenly, alerting Link to the fact that she did in fact know. He leaned casually on the outside wall of the lab, his ears penned for her next words. “I don’t want to lose you because of the distance I have to keep to not...get too close. I was trying to follow your mother’s advice to not let this get in the way of still being there for each other.” Zelda laughed at herself. “I did a great job.”

“Don’t beat yourself up about it,” Link said. “Besides, I get where you are coming from. When we talked about focusing only on defeating the calamity, I think we both had this in mind...of course thinking that the other person didn’t. And yes, Your Highness, that means I like you back, for better or worse.”

Zelda tried not to let her heart flutter with joy, not to jump up and into his arms. She tried to look at the ocean and forget that his eyes were the same, beautiful color.

“I can’t erase my feelings,” Link said. “Can you?”

Zelda shook her head.

“No,” she replied.

Link finally stepped forward and knelt next to her to match her eye line, Zelda looked over to him once he did. They couldn’t but smile at the sight of the other.

“This is insane,” Link said. “I mean you of all people like like me.”

“The irony is not lost on me,” Zelda said with a slight laugh. Link moved to sit on his heels and took her hands into his. Zelda reveled in the feeling, in the moments, in his touch, in everything about this.

“This is still a bit bizarre for me,” Link said. “And new and scary, but...I’m willing to wait for you until after the calamity is defeated...to wait to truly pursue this. I will support you and care about you sincerely until then but if you feel I’m not worth the wait--”

“You are,” Zelda said quickly with a smile. “You are.”

Link blushed, his head hanging down as he chuckled, filled with disbelief. He was almost tearing up at what he had found in her, how lucky he was. He raised his hand, pinkie outstretched.

“Let’s make a promise then, to pause this budding romance until we defeat the calamity once and for all, to still be there for each other with the same love, care, and support, but not risk our common sense because of it.”

Zelda eyed his outstretched pinkie.

“A pinkie promise?” Zelda asked with a raised brow. “That’s how we are going to seal this?”

“Do you have a better idea?”

Zelda smiled as she brought her hands to his, clasping his pinkie back into his fisted hand and holding it.

“How about a kiss?” She asked. “Just this once...for now at least.”

“What?” Link asked, his smile fading and his face reddening as much as Zelda had ever seen it. Zelda laughed.

“Link,” she said. “It’s okay.”

“Are you sure,” Link asked. “I mean you’re royalty and I’m just--”

Zelda surged forward and met her lips to his, Link soon giving in, placing his hand on her cheek as something stoked with their very souls, their silent promise continuing. The passion of their blooming love was balanced by the hesitation of their first kiss.

“You better remember this,” Zelda said as she withdrew.

“Like I could forget,” Link said jokingly.

#zelink #zelda #link #hyrule #botw #aoc #tloz #breath of the wild #age of calamity #the legend of zelda #hateno #I always start these saying they won't kiss #and then they do #and i can't bring myself to delete it #maybe Nintendo will relieve me of this sickness of always writing Link and Zelda's first kiss pre calamity #aoc please #I've written it so many different ways

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margueritehall · 3 years

Photo

CAN YOU SEE RIGHT THROUGH ME? - YMCULC

all the king's horses, all the king's men, couldn’t put me together again

( the archer ; taylor swift )

marguerite ( maggie ) brynn hall, the gentle bad-ass

“ show me a hero and i’ll write you a tragedy. ”

― f. scott fitzgerald

– BASIC INFORMATION –

» full name: marguerite brynn hall

» nicknames: maggie, mags, margie

» age: twenty seven ( at time of snap ), thirty two ( at time of blip )

» birthday: january eighth, nineteen-ninety-one, ten fifty-five in the morning

» birthplace: philadelphia, pennsylvania

» zodiac sign: capricorn sun, libra moon, aries ascendent

» current residence: new york, new york

» gender: cis female

» occupation: social worker for the stark relief foundation displaced children division, later avenger trainee

– HEALTH –

» physical health: overall, maggie is in excellent health. she works out most weekday mornings and tends to eat a balanced diet. she doesn’t drink too often or smoke at all. she knows that her health conscious habits stem from her need to control everything that she is able to but that doesn’t stop her from being set in her ways.

» scars: she has several small scars from various bumps and scrapes but there is a sizeable scar on the front of her left shoulder from a car accident while she was a freshman in college. a driver t-boned her small sedan in an intersection when she was on her way home from a final exam. when she woke up in the hospital, with both of her parents at her bedside, she had stitches stretching approximately three inches from her clavicle towards her upper arm.

» broken (any) bones: surprisingly, despite being quite active, maggie hasn’t ever broken a bone. she’s quite graceful from taking dance classes since she could walk until she graduated high school.

– MENTAL HEALTH –

» extrovert or introvert: since getting older, maggie has become comfortable with the knowledge that she is a relatively private person. when she was younger, she enjoyed being in crowds however, she now tends to retract into her shell when surrounded by too many people.

» logical or creative: maggie is incredibly logical; she is very formulaic in her thought patterns. when it comes to problem solving, maggie has all but got it down to a science which can be effective but she’d be incorrect to say it was without fault.

» optimist or pessimist: neither term seems to describe the woman very well; she feels as though she’d call herself a realist. the world has let her down more times than she can count so she makes an effort to always adjust her expectations towards the most-likely event.

» phobias / fears:

» problems: maggie was diagnosed with obsessive-compulsive personality disorder and generalized anxiety disorder when she was sixteen. she goes through occasional bouts of depression but she doesn’t find it to be chronic. though undiagnosed, following the death of her parents, she experiences the effects of post-traumatic stress.

– PERSONALITY –

» goals / dreams: maggie has always wanted to improve the world around her. when she was a little girl, she told her parents that she wanted to be the first doctor to go to space. when she found out that she’d have to be in space for months at a time, she quickly changed her plans. the brain always fascinated her and so she dove headfirst into her newfound passion. following the deaths of her parents, maggie wanted to help others like she wished that she had been and so she, once more, switched gears and went into social work.

» quirks / habits: maggie is a creature of habit. each morning, she wakes up and opens the curtains around the house before pouring herself a cup of cold brew coffee with cinnamon syrup and oat milk. she makes her bed and begins her day. when she gets home from work, she turns on her fairy lights and fans before removing her makeup and changing in to cozy clothes. as for quirks, maggie wouldn’t say she has any but her friends would be quick to point out her concentration face-- whenever she gets deep in to a hard task, her eyebrows screw up tightly and her lips purse. she doesn’t like to look in mirrors when the room is dark, she only gets out of bed on the left side, and she habitually sings in the shower even when she isn’t home alone.

» likes: precipitative weather like rain storms or snow ( especially thunderstorms ), vinyl records, lighting candles and allowing them to light the room, cooking or baking anything from scratch, old books with notes in the margin from an owner long forgotten, astronomy and any associated phenomena ( especially eclipses and meteor showers ), fleetwood mac and other classic rock icons, acts of service from loved ones, dogs with smushed faces, taylor swift, watching films (or rewatching films, whether new or old), freshly brewed tea, watching the sun set and staying awake to see it rise again, wisteria vines twisting around a fence, ‘casablanca’, f. scott fitzgerald novels, anything that is a dusty shade of sage green, tom hanks, vanilla bean ice cream (not french vanilla), using a polaroid camera to capture a moment, iced coffee with cinnamon, the beach during winter when the northern shores get a little bit icy, long drives at night with the windows down, sitting on the roof in a companionable silence with a loved one, the color of deep maroon rust, cozy throw blankets and an unnecessary amount of pillows on the couch and bed

» dislikes: too much physical touch, indifference or apathy in the face of injustice, the deafening sound of crickets and cicadas at night, showing any signs of vulnerability, open-toed shoes, powdery or floral scents, olives, thin pillows, overhead lighting (lamps only, thank you very much), lack of a routine, being unable to read situations and prepare adequately, not feeling in control of any situation, harlequin novels, ladybugs and any other insects, disorganization (physically or emotionally.)

» flaws: she feels the need to always be the strong one that she often doesn’t allow herself the freedom to feel without pushing it down. she has a habit of not letting people in, especially people who are new to her, and even when she does, she is always terrified that she’ll lose them like she’s lost most other people that she loved. she is a control freak and can sometimes be a little boss.

– FAMILY –

» parents: ; phillip hugh hall ( father / pierce brosnan ) ; allison marie hall née clark ( mother / jamie lee curtis )

» maternal grandparents: ; richard ernest clark ( grandfather / tony curtis ) ; virginia ruth clark née franklin ( grandmother / janet leigh )

» paternal grandparents: ; hugh alexander hall ( grandfather / kris kristofferson ) ; marguerite joan hall née green ( grandmother / ellen burstyn )

» sibling(s): n/a

» children: n/a

– APPEARANCE –

» height: five feet, two inches

» weight: one hundred fifteen pounds

» eyes: maggie’s eyes are one of her most striking features. the espresso brown orbs are speckled with golden flecks; they’re a rounded, almost almond shape.

» hair: her hair is chestnut brown and it has a tendency to gleam copper and slightly golden when the light reflects off of it. for the majority of her life, she had a tendency of keeping the gentle waves cropped into a side-parted, blunt bob that rested just above her shoulders. she typically wore her hair straight or blown out. following the snap, she allowed it to grow out beyond its typical length. she keeps it trimmed to just below her shoulder blades with a set of wispy curtain bangs to compliment the natural waves that she now maintains.

» face and complexion: maggie has a light skin tone that tans in the sun. she has no freckles on her face but has quite a few down her chest and arms; none of them are very dark. she has a round face which can almost be cherubic but as she’s gotten older, she has developed a sharp jawline that makes her look more mature despite her stature. her rounded almond eyes are lined with thick, dark lashes. she has a small button nose that pinches minutely at its tip as it turns slightly upwards. her brows are full and straight with only a slight arch. she has full cheeks with small dimples that frame her smile. maggie’s lips are typically tinted a red berry shade; her bottom lip is slightly more voluminous than its top counterpart which is home to a sharp cupid’s bow.

» build: maggie is petite, to say the least. she stands just slightly over five feet tall and weighs just over one hundred pounds. though slim, her figure is a narrow hourglass. despite her size, she’s quite agile and strong. years of channeling all of her emotions in to ballet as a child caused a habit that has yet to die. when she feels the need to get rid of excess emotion, she runs or attends a fitness class to channel that away.

» defining marks: when she was eighteen, maggie and her best friend poppy got matching tattoos. on the inside of her left wrist, there is a small crescent moon to match a sun on poppy’s. following her parents death, she got a second tattoo and on the inside of her upper arm, close to the crook of her elbow, there is one of two ravens perched on a branch. several months after the blip, she got another tattoo. on her right side, on her ribs under her bra-line, there’s a small star housed within four concentric circles.

» dress style: maggie’s fashion sense is on the border between classic and trendy. she doesn’t stray too far away from her comfort zone or wear too many patterns. she tends to stick to jewel tones and neutrals. for her work, her style tends to be business casual-- typically a blouse with a skirt or wide legged trousers and a heel. when she’s at home, an oversized sweater and leggings or pajama shorts are her go-to uniform. if she’s out running errands, she loves a flowy skirt or a pair of mom jeans with one of her dad’s old, classic band tees. her shoes are typically a revolving door of plain keds or converse, ankle boots, or a small heel.

» faceclaim: jenna louise coleman

– ROMANTIC & SEXUAL –

» marital status: she is unmarried.

» sexual preference: although maggie is primarily heterosexual, she’s never been closed off to the idea of dating anyone of the same gender if she found that she was attracted to them.

» ever had sex: she had sex for the first time when she was a freshman in college; it was with her boyfriend at the time, nicholas gray. as she’s gotten older, she has had a variety of companions-- some were romantic partners, several one-night-stands, and two attempted friends-with-benefits arrangements.

» opinion on sex: maggie isn’t ashamed to say that she enjoys sex and the freeing feeling that comes with it.

» opinion on relationships: although she likes the idea of a relationship, maggie’s fear of not being in control makes it difficult to maintain one. before the snap, she had only been in one long-term relationship which she abruptly ended after the death of her parents. she found that it was easier to try and turn off her feelings than to deal with them as everything in her life changed. since graduating with her second degree, maggie has been trying to open herself back up to dating and the possibility of a relationship.

» turn ons: the feeling of someone brushing her hair off of her face, being praised, bravery, kindness, interlacing fingers when holding hands, a genuine smile, sincerity, strong hands, bright eyes, taller men, a strong jawline, delicate kisses that gradually deepen into something more, kisses down the neck, deep conversations and debates, cologne that isn’t overpowering

» turn offs: sleazy behavior, apathy towards important issues, party-scene demeanor, bragging, lying, being late, ill-fitting clothes, lacking ambition or drive for moving forward

» past relationships: ; nicholas gray ( first love / ben barnes )

» current relationship: ; n/a

» future relationship: ; steve rogers ( tbd / chris evans ) ; bucky barnes ( tbd / sebastian stan )

– FRIENDSHIP –

» big group of friends or several close friends: maggie would rather have a smaller quantity of people in her life with better quality relationships than to have a large group of friends that she feels as though she doesn’t know.

» best friend: maggie was a relatively lonely child; she spent a lot of her time reading and imagining her life in other worlds. she had some friends but none that ever ventured further than the occasional hangout. when she was a freshman in highschool, she sat next to poppy stewart on their first day of orientation and the two have been inseparable ever since.

» ever lied to a friend: she’s told white lies when necessary but she’s never lied about something earth-shattering.

» the most horrible thing they did to a friend: when maggie broke up with nicholas, she left him a letter on his pillow before she left his apartment one morning. she avoided his calls afterwards and didn’t speak to him for several weeks until he came to her apartment to try and work things out. later in her life, maggie felt extremely guilty that she wasn’t able to confide in poppy about steve’s plan until after he had already left.

» list of friends - ; poppy stewart ( best friend / annie murphy / @petalsofpoppys ) ; pepper potts ( boss, friend / gwenyth paltrow ) ; tony stark ( boss, family friend / robert downey jr ) ; natasha romanoff ( co-worker, close friend / scarlett johansson ) ; steve rogers ( co-worker, friend, boyfriend / chris evans ) ; bucky barnes ( friend, lover, boyfriend / sebastian stan ) ; sam wilson ( friend / anthony mackie ) ; wanda maximoff ( future friend / elizabeth olsen ) ; monica rambeau ( future friend / teyonah parris )

– MORALITY –

» ever been drunk: the first time that maggie got drunk was her senior year of high school; she was at a house party with poppy and she since vowed to never touch any drink with ‘punch’ in the name, ever again.

» lied to a significant other: following the death of her parents, maggie never disclosed her tumultuous emotions to nicholas and so he was blindsided when she left him on one random morning. with an apologetic note of a goodbye, maggie made sure no trace was left behind when she slipped from the apartment in to the warm summer breeze.

» cheated on significant other: maggie would never cheat on a partner. she would rather end things than break someone’s trust in her.

» gotten into a fight: she’s never gotten in to a physical altercation but following her move in to the avenger’s compound, natasha and steve helped to train her tactically. after she moved back to the city, bucky takes up the position of being her trainer.

» deepest regret: not telling her parents how much she looked up to both of them before they died.

» religion: maggie was not raised to be religious. her parents always emphasized the importance of trying to be morally good whenever you could. she identifies as an atheist.

– MISCELLANEOUS –

» playlist: https://rb.gy/kxqfbu

» instagram:

» gifboard:

» character inspiration: leia organa (star wars trilogy), alex parrish (quantico), emma swan (once upon a time), amy pond (doctor who), buffy summers (buffy the vampire slayer), emily prentiss (criminal minds), lily evans (harry potter)

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