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fanaticsnail · 9 months

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Chapter 3

Masterlist here, Moodboard here

Sapsorrow Masterlist

Word Count: 8,054

Themes: enemies to lovers, arranged marriage, forced proximity, lord and subordinate, one bed trope, apprehension, mutual pining, obligation, slow burn, eventual love, protective, "where is my wife" trope. Slow-slow-slow burn. Series Inspiration link: The Storyteller Episode 8

Song Suggestions: The Green Light - Je Suis Parte

(Image Source: Here)

Your sleep that night was restless; your body awakening much before the first dawn of sunlight cracked through the dark of the night to awaken the many unique birds within the lands of Kuraigana. Their voices were yet to cry out and alert the castle and surrounding keep of the morn, yet you continue to lay sleepless amongst your plush bedsheets.

Huffing out a breath of frustration, you shook your head and rose from your reclined position against your pillows and thrust the duvet from your body. One foot falling over the mattress first, followed by the other, you slid your feet into your sleep shoes tucked beneath your large bed and hoisted yourself to your feet. Reaching over to your armchair, your fingers found your lengthy silk negligée and wrapped it around your body and tied it firmly around your front. The lengthy pale sleeves draped around your wrists, you found your hairbrush and began angrily detangling your sleep-deprived hair from their matts.

Why did he look at you like that? Why was he so intimately holding you? Why did your breath hitch as your eyes met? His eyes, the amber hue bearing such intensity and longing- was that what it was? Surely you were mistaken. Those were the thoughts keeping you from a blissful slumber, clawing like a beast at the walls of their cage, the thoughts rendered you paralyzed and incapable of rest.

You angrily thrust your hairbrush down within your firm grip, a loud clack of the metal base echoing against your vanity benchtop. You clenched your eyes firmly shut, pursing your lips and biting back a frustrated scream.

It had been years since any action was outside the realms of your control, this one being the first to draw a physical outburst to occur since you were a teenager. You sucked in a deep breath while closing your eyes, rotating your neck to rid it of its sleep-deprived, rigor-mortis akin stiffness. Reopening your eyes, your pupils narrowed in as you focussed on your puffed eye-bags below your irises.

“You came here to do a job. You are a governess,” you reassured yourself, affirming yourself sternly in the mirror, “You are strong. You are safe. It is just a job.” Your looped affirmations continued as you attempted to repress memories from arising, but to no avail. You knit your brows together, shaking your head to rid the memories from coming to light before your eyes before the sun was yet to create the dawn.

“You are in control here,” you again spoke aloud, rising from your seated position against your vanity. You claimed a small unlit lantern hanging limply from the door, unhooking it from the wall and drawing out a small box of matches to ignite the flame atop the wick. Shaking the flame away from the matchstick, you discarded the small piece of twig into the basket below your desk and fled from the room causing you sleeplessness.

The halls became ignited by the small flame in your lantern, illuminating the portraiture littering the gloomy halls. Several generations of the lord you unwittingly bound yourself to with the Sapsorrow ring lay staring vacantly at you as your slippers peppered the ground with your featherfall footsteps.

You were unsure as to where your feet were carrying you until you found yourself amongst the large wooden shelves in the large library. Each book was meticulously cataloged and alphabetised, the colors on the leatherbound spines ranging from the deepest of emeralds to dark magenta with golden twine. As each of the spines of the books drew you in by their pigments and binds, your left hand unconsciously flew to the shelves and danced among the pages. Tracing upon the many spines as you wandered aimlessly amongst the shelves, your fingers met with a vacant space in the nook; your fingertips falling through the space housing a book that no longer resides within its crease.

Looking at the space for any semblance of literature navigation, you noticed you were in the section marked “S”, somewhere tucked between knowledge of Sangiovese vines and winemaking, and Sailing the uncharted waters of the grand line.

“Sapsorrow,” you spoke aloud in a small whisper, gasping as your fingers collected the moved dust, “that was what he said,” you pressed your sleep-deprived memory for a semblance of thought: “Ten rings of the Sapsorrow queen, all riddled with charm, none can break from its challenger’s gleam, or cause the commissioner harm.”

“What does that mean?” you gasped once more, drawing up your fingertips to look at the dust collected, rolling the powder and webs within your hand, “there’s ten of them. What is a Sapsorrow? Ten of them?” you looked down onto the moss-coloured stone sitting innocently atop its golden circlet of destiny, “Like ten fingers?”

Turning again to the bookshelf and looking at the vacant space against the shelves, you huffed out another breath of exasperation and grumbled; “It would have been useful to have a book on the matter. Perhaps that is what my betrothed-,” you rolled your eyes at the taste of the title over your palate, "-is doing with the book. If there even is one.”

You growled beneath your breath, another attempt at ridding yourself of the memories of the night prior. It was dancing behind your closed eyes slower than it occurred in reality. Each small brush of his fingertips over your body as he took your measurements, the small rasp in his voice as he spoke to you, his humility in joining his forehead against your own, and the way he held you against himself. You were going mad, reading into something that was truly not there.

Shaking your head and breathing in deeply, you attempted to calm yourself down and reached for the nearest book at the end of the row. Your brows furrowed as you looked at the title, a small curious smile prickling at the corners of your cheeks.

“Waltzing: A Pirate’s Guide to Entangling with the Upper Classes,” you spoke, your eyes lightening as your smile deepened. You examined the books cover for any other information, finding no further explanation, “there’s no author? Curiouser and curiouser.”

You took the book to the corner of the room, sitting atop a plush crimson armchair and placing your lantern on the side table to illuminate the corner of the room. You huddled against the suede arm of the chair, bringing the pages closer to the light as you turned the first chapter: “Swords and Steps.” Your face became more bright as diagrams of pirate gentleman holding his sword upright and extended, followed by the placement of an ornately dressed woman spinning within his arms; the imagery of the evening’s prior events falling away from you the further you dove into the pages.

The lantern’s wick began to flicker, the candle warning you it was in its final moments as the hours in the library began to fall away from you. You were barely aware of the dawn beginning to filter through the curtains, the first light a warm pink dusting the marble floor with its presence. The only sense able to bring you from your hypnosis within the pages was the scent of the extinguished wick as the stale smoke danced over the benchtop.

Shaking your head, you attempted to again return to the present as you closed the pages of the book together and rose to your feet; hastily sauntering over to the aisles to return it to its rightful position within the shelves. You didn’t even know where to begin navigating the halls, unsure how you managed to draw yourself from your wing into the library to begin with. The patter of your heart began thumping heavily against your ribcage, anxiety raising at the thought of being caught within your bed clothes by a member of staff, or worse: Zoro and Perona.

As the light of the sun began awakening the walls you wandered earlier, a strange mud-covered silhouette of a person holding a bouquet of flowers at eye level remained in the sunlight cascading over the front marble steps. They were picking at the thorns, clipping the stems and arranging the florals and vines in a fashionable style with pliers and ribbons of twine wrapping around the amassment of petals.

The figure almost didn’t look human; bipedal humanoid, surely, but not human. The amount of dirt, muck, fur and feathers eclipsing their body under their cluster made them look beastly. You heard a deep rumbly hum, the creature before you appearing to be singing softly to themselves a tune you could not recognise. This was the only clue that allowed you to presume their gender, the smoothness of their deep voice almost serenading you with its comfort. Rolling slightly on your heels to rid yourself of your nerves, you cautiously approached the figure while holding your arms laced over your chest to shield his view from your sleep-clothes.

“Excuse me, sir?” you called to them, their body’s stiffening in response and raising the flowers up further to cover their face, “No need for alarm, I am the Governess here.” He seemed to remain statuesque, rigid in his stance and not making a sound. You grew more curious, stepping forward again to get a better look at the arrangement, noticing it was similar to the ones placed atop your table and decorating your room.

“I know who you are, my lady,” he spoke slowly. His cadence seemed familiar to you, albeit his face was hidden, “You should not be up at this hour. Is there something troubling you?” You were taken aback by his direct approach, but it was a welcome surprise.

“I was unable to sleep, sir. My thoughts are my own, although I have been having trouble ruling over them of late,” you replied honestly. He nodded behind the flowers, your eyes trailing over him and studying his attire. He was clad in hessian pants, his boots trekking mud into the cobblestone galley. His torso was clad in a pale linen with mud, sticks and leaves masking the pigment of his skin from your eyes with how heavily caked he was beneath the thick sludge.

“If I may be so bold as to ask for your help,” you asked him, stepping further into his proximity. The scent falling off him in waves was the earthiness of the mud mixed with the petals clutched over his face. As you drew in closer, you noticed he was wearing a broad straw hat, his face shielded by the wide brim, while his nose and lips were covered by a piece of woven cloth. He held his sight fixed to his hands, electing not to make eye contact with you.

“You may ask anything of me, my lady,” he responded, his eyes remaining holding to the floor beneath him. You allowed a soft smile to rise against your lips, a small sigh electing to release itself from your chest at his candor.

“I am unaware of my surroundings. I have been here a fortnight now, this being the first night I have opted to explore the grounds rather than remaining sleepless in my bedchambers,” you confessed to him, nodding as you spoke, “I have no idea where my wing is from here, and I assume you are a member of staff here.”

“I am something of the like, my lady,” he admitted to you, nodding while actively listening to your words as they fled from your lips, “I admit I was on my way to your chambers presently.” Your eyes widened, looking at the bouquet clutched firmly within his hands then back to his face.

“So, I’ve finally caught the culprit,” you laughed at him, “just as you have caught me in naught but my nightdress. Those are meant for me, are they not?” His rigidity did not halt, nor the tingle in his fingertips dancing amongst the vines.

“You’re the one who brings the ever changing arrangements to my bedchambers, am I correct in my assumption?” you asked him while fixing your gaze on the white puffs of roses clutched within his muddy fingertips.

“That you are, my lady,” he again admitted, bowing in a low stoop as a performer would to receive their applause. You smiled warmly, reaching for his forearm and lacing your right arm within his.

“Chaperone me,sir. Please lead me to return to my wing,” you asked him with a small laugh, uncaring for the dirt falling from his sleeve onto your own.

“I will make a mess of the halls, my lady. I should not be above the cellars while dressed like this,” he spoke in a warning tone, “I don’t enjoy cleaning up the boot prints I trek in at this hour.”

“Tush,” you dismissed his warning, tugging at his forearm, “I cannot wait for you to strip yourself of your tarnished clothes, bathe and escort me to my wing. I am in my nightdress, sir,” His eyes widened at your comment, his eyes almost holding a honey color displayed from its angle to you.

“I would not desire tarnishing your own clothes with my mess, my lady,” he sighed as you both witnessed some mud falling from his shirt onto your sheer chemise. You smiled at his halt while bringing your other hand to fall atop his dirt-caked forearm. “Please, sir. I cannot have the lord of the house seeing me like this. Nor our shared wards.”

“Is not the lord of your house your betrothed?” he asked you, his brows furrowing as he spoke his warning.

“That he is, sir,” you nodded your confirmation while laughing once more, “all the more reason for the both of us to scurry on to my wing so we can both be rid of this predicament.” He hummed in response, shaking his head slightly with a small chuckle. You sighed in relief as he began to shepherd you towards your room, your body physically relaxing aside his as he guided you through the halls. You made idle conversation, the morning rising alongside the chirps of local birds warning you the day has been broken and to be thrust into your day.

“How long have you been working the land here in Kuraigana? Your arrangements speak wonders to your skill, sir,” you praised him, watching as his smile began to upturn in the creases of his eyes. His nose and lips remained hidden beneath a woven cloth, his eyes being the only human part you could gauge the emotions of.

“I have been working with agriculture since I first laid eyes on the keep. There’s something about the soil here that is particularly riveting. The grapes thrive here,” he expressed with such unbridled passion, you could feel his joy at working the soil of the gloomy land, “they grow large, their skin dense and firm. Perfect for a variety of vines and vintages.”

“A viticulturist also? My, you have an array of talents. What do you grow here?” you ushered him to continue expressing his passion, your interest in the land growing by the interaction with the creature guiding you to your wing.

“I do enjoy watching the vines grow, yes. I also have had a hand in crafting the varieties into wine,” he admitted, nodding beneath his wide, straw hat.

“A wild ferment, perhaps? A malolactic for chardonnay and sangiovese?” you asked him, prodding him and probing with your pointed questions. He chuckled at your comments, shaking his head at your comments.

“You are well versed in the art of conversation, my lady,” he commented accusingly, with a small whisper of humor beneath his words, “you need not humor me with your polite words.”

“Sir,” you furrowed your brows at the creature, halting your steps, “if I was not interested in your craft, I would not be asking so many questions,” your confession rendered him almost speechless. You chuckled at his surprise, once again allowing your feet to fall in pace towards your chambers.

“To further spur how truly interested I am in what you have to say, I would simply hum and nod to showcase my active listening while not asking questions,” you continued, your warm smile continuing to power your words, “my favorite phrase to use in that particular situation is: ‘that certainly sounds interesting’.”

He chuckled at your comment as he continued leading you to your chambers, the door within your sight as he unlaced his arm from within yours and opened your front door for you.

“A gentleman amongst the staff of Kuraigana?” you praised him with your words, prompting him to hand his head with a small huffed chuckle at your words.

“I aim to be, my lady,” he uttered, walking within your bedchambers and beginning to remove the prior arrangement of flowers atop your desk and replace it with another arrangement. Unbothered by his presence in your chamber, you began tending to yourself by finding an appropriate uniform for the day and hooking it over your changing screen beside your bed. You continued to hear his footfalls against the room adjacent to yours, yourself feeling secure behind the screen enough to begin changing into your uniform to begin your day.

You threw off your chamise, followed by your night dress, slippers and socks before weaving yourself into your chosen attire for the day. A simple long dress, practical in nature with a cinched waist and a modest neckline: exactly how a governess should be seen by members of the household staff, not scantily clad in your bed attire.

“I am heading out, my lady,” the strange chaperone informed you, prompting you to hasten your pace of lacing your boots.

“Wait, sir. Allow me to thank you for escorting me back to my wing,” you called to him, hastily making your way towards the table setting in front of you. The flowers were breathtaking, this one filled with difficult to collect flowers with sweet scents and crystal-like dew drops. You carefully selected one from the bunch, a simple bushel of baby’s breath clutched between your fingertips as you carefully pried it from its place amongst the bouquet.

“This one is for you, sir. Thank you for aiding me in my time of need,” you presented the small bushel of flowers to him; his muddy hand coming out to collect it within his discolored fingertips.

“Thank you for your kindness, my lady,” he nodded in a small bow, your fingers brushing together slightly at his withdrawal.

“What may I call you, sir? Surely you have a name, and I would like to know I have a friend here in Kuraigana while I work,” you asked him, your trail of intellect deducing the flurry of thoughts, “or would you prefer to be known simply as ‘Farm-hand’?”

“Farm-hand,” he repeated back to you, his voice almost laughing, “Farm-hand is fine to me, my lady.”

“If you are to go by this name, please bestow one of a similar likeness to me, Farm-Hand,” you laughed at his candor, as you reached for the metal hairbrush you were using earlier and began hastily smoothing over your tangled locks.

“If I am to be Farm-Hand,” he thought hard, a small hum exiting from his chest, “you ought to be ‘Lost-Lady’. Considering it is too much of a mouthful to address you as ‘woman clad in naught but her nightdress’.”

You laughed again at his comment, before guiding his muddied form outside of your bedchambers.

“Until tomorrow's flowers, Farm-Hand,” you stooped in your low courtesy and offered him your left hand. He accepted it, bringing down his forehead to brush against the back of your hand atop your knuckles.

“Until the morrow, Lost-Lady,” he raised his forehead from his bowed position and watched as you turned back into your chambers to continue readying yourself for the day, the door shutting with a small click behind you.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Mihawk was frozen, his dirtied hands rolling over the small white flowers within his fingertips. He hooked his hand against his mask, drawing back the material to taste the air once more without the filter of material or mud. His beard was no longer scratching behind the mask, the flavor of the air feeling all the more sweet. As he twirled the flowers within his fingers, he sighed at the innocent object dancing in his hand.

His left hand shook, feeling the warm tingles of the memories of your flesh joining briefly with his as he clutched yours within his fingers. The ghost of radiant heat against his forehead remained alongside the memory of such a warmth you presented to him, a presumed low-ranking member of his staff.

He looked down at his attire, the mud covering his body causing him to physically hiss out a verbal reprimand at himself.

“So stupid to lose footing beneath the vines,” he chastised his appearance, “especially to collect the insignificant little baby’s breath-.” His words halted as he drew up the pale flowers you had gifted him in return once more, a soft smile rising to his lips.

“What have I ever done in this life to deserve such sweetness?” he whispered to himself, a sighed laugh falling from his lips as he shook his head.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Sitting with the young pink haired debutante in the courtyard, you noticed her eyes were glazed; her far off expression alerting you to her being not overly present for this afternoon’s private lesson.

“Perona, dear?” you called to her, placing your cup back on the saucer. She hummed in response, slowly blinking her eyes but remaining away with the ghosts that haunt her. You sighed deeply, rising to your feet and moving behind your chair. You slowly wedged the chair beneath the circular dining table and walked over to crouch in front of her.

“Perona,” you softly spoke, reaching to claim her hands laced within her lap beneath your palm. She squeaked, looking down into your eyes and uttered a hasty, “yes, my lady?”

“There you are, you’re back,” you smiled at her, prompting a blush to rise and litter her pale cheeks with its hue. You smoothed your thumb over her knuckles to reassure her she wasn’t keeping you waiting.

“I’m sorry my lady, they-,” she began, rapidly blinking as she attempted to articulate her thoughts to place them within the air verbally, “-they have been saying some unusual things to me. It’s been a bit tricky to ignore them.” You quirked your head to the side, not completely processing what she was admitting to you.

“Oh?” You prodded her, rising to your feet and tugging lightly on her hand to usher her to her feet, “and what do they have to say today? Only good things, I hope.” Her teeth drew outwards in a straight line, cringing out a small apprehensive wince of a smile.

“Not exactly,” she admitted while rising to her feet in front of you. Her smile only drew more apprehension from you, curiosity now being eclipsed by concern at her words. You nodded to her to continue relaying her thoughts to you, her nodding while adding; “they say he’s found a way. Something about the moon being first, I think. Help? He’s getting help- no-... asking for help? They’re not making much sense.”

You knit your brows further in the center of your forehead, her words not drawing any conclusion to your already troubled mind from sleeplessness earlier.

“A beast? No... A Crocodile has the moon?” she nodded with her eyes shut tightly, focusing on the voices as they presented themselves to her. She continued shaking her head, the many voices falling over her mind and corrupting her thoughts with their nonsensical visions.

“Perona,” you called to her, her aura beginning to turn a different hue to indicate her beginning to be overwhelmed by other worldly voices. You took both of her hands in yours and gave them a firm squeeze, “Perona, sweetheart.” She opened her eyes, glossy and a different hue than her usual vibrancy.

“The moon,” she uttered, “the moon has commenced.”

“Perona!” your voice held an elevated firmness to your tone, immediately snapping her from her daze and coming back to the world she views as reality.

“I’m sorry, Governess,” she uttered quickly, bowing her head to you and beginning to tremble a little, “they’ve just been enthusiastic lately. They are very interested in that.” She nodded to your left hand, your ring shining its smoked, green gemstone within the sunlight.

“They say,” she teeters off her voice, shaking her head as the voices begin to eclipse her form and shroud her mind with their nonsensical visions. She allowed herself to snap out of it, taken aback by their final informational relay, “there’s a party? Oh! And there’s a dress for you.”

The blood in your face physically leapt from your head and paled. He’d done it. He’d made the first dress, the doom of your wedding day approaching with more haste than you would have desired. You were to be a bride, donned in dresses of the finest make and forced down the aisle with the knife of destiny thrust against your back to usher you onwards-.

“-Not one of those, my lady,” Perona broke you from your thoughts, her eyes wide and serious as they met with your widened gaze. She gently squeezed your hands within her own, reassuring you with her kind expression, “they say the party is to announce your engagement, and Mihawk has had a dress made especially for you to wear to it.”

“O-Oh,” you stuttered, the color once again returning to your cheeks. Perona giggled at your apprehension, lacing her arms within your own and beginning to draw you closer to the sage-colored hedge-ends to look over the impressive grounds of Kuraigana.

“You want to go and see it? They say he has it ready for you, if you like,” she shrugged, her enthusiasm sparking at the corners of her cheeks as she physically began to shake with anticipation. You allowed a softness to fall over your body, your young debutante beginning to break down your walls and squeeze herself into the realms of personal friendship.

“I think I will wait until he sends for me,” you smiled at her, “for now, we need to continue with your lessons.”

“Why, my lady?” she whined, a small semblance of childish anger falling from her pouted lips, “I don’t want a husband, I don’t want to be a lady.”

“Do you desire to wear beautiful gowns, dance with handsome men and woo them with your radiant beauty?” you sighed, your eyes rolling with a soft smirk arising against your lips. She immediately snapped out of her childish tantrum.

“Yes, my lady,” she softly spoke while nodding, her pink-hair bouncing with the gentle bob of her head.

“Then lessons in being a lady are to continue until I’m satisfied you are able to showcase my reputation alongside your own,” you chastised her with your smirk rising into a pleasant smile.

“Yes, my lady,” Perona sighed, beginning to lead you throughout the beautifully maintained hedge-ends. The map of the maze lay unpolished, dust and dirt falling over the sign and making the object unable to be read.

“I shall talk to the Farm-Hand about that tomorrow,” you spoke under your breath. Perona looked to the side, conversing with an astral projection beside her, “We have a farm-hand? I thought that was-... oh…”

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

“WHAAAAAAAA-?” the den-den-mushi split the lord of Kuraigana’s eardrum with the verbal cry form the other end of the transmission.

“Silence your incessant screaming, Clown,” Mihawk growled into the receiver.

“You called Me, Hawk-Eyes,” the voice called on the other end, Mihawk’s migraine beginning to worsen its throb against his temples. He should never have done this, requested aid like this. From them.

“That I did, Clown,” he admitted in a defeated sigh, bringing his index and middle fingers up to rotate around his temple.

“Stop calling me ‘Clown’. I have a name,” the voice spat back at the gloomy warlord as he sat neatly dressed against his desk, “and if you’re calling in a favor, I require to have my full title spoken to me.” Mihawk sighed again, his defeated eyes closing as his humility began to overcome his body.

“Captain Buggy D Clown,” Mihawk uttered darkly into the microphone at the end of the den-den-mushi, “I need you to make something for me. I know you can do it, I’ve seen something similar at your big-top. It needs to be starlight. A gown for a bride as radiant as the stars that litter the night sky. A dress so spectacularly clustered with diamonds of glittery stars, people would be amazed that something so beautiful could be found within the realms of mortality.”

A brief pause occurred, static from the other end of the receiver before the clown once again spoke up.

“Mihawk, baby,” the voice taunted him, “you had me at ‘I need you’.”

At that, the other end of the receiver clicked to indicate the end of the conversation, the clown striking a bargain with the darkened lord of Kuraigana, who’s very core was wrecked with absolute hopelessness.

“Two calls down,” he sighed, rotating his neck to rid it of the tension arising within it, “the drunken red-head is next.”

Lord Dracule Mihawk understood this undertaking was seemingly impossible, the three gowns he was to present to his governess- …no, his betrothed, was no easy feat. He did not initially intend on asking for aid, but his resources and contacts were depleted with such haste, there was no way he would be able to commence such an undertaking on his own.

The Crocodile managed to sense there was a difference in his usually stoic and disinterested demeanor, which prompted Mihawk to relay his troubles onto the larger gentleman. A cigar clenched within his pearled teeth, his eyes held amusement rather than their usual boredom at Mihawk’s predicament.

“I have some material you may enjoy, former warlord,” he spoke with such confidence, his eyes almost twinkling with delight at the notion he had something to hold over the golden-eyed swordsman, “a shipment delivered balls of silk and satins to my keep. Pale as the coldest chill of the first drops of winter,” his taunts continued as he blew a puff of cigar smoke into Mihawk’s face, “it almost looked as radiant as the moon.”

“Almost,” Mihawk spat, his eyes narrowed and anger growing more tangible, “almost will not do. It needs to be exact, precise, executed to the highest quality for my bride-.”

“-Your Bride? Mihawk,” Sir Crocodile’s sinister grin split his reptilian face upwards, “You never took me as the type to marry. Concubines? Of course. They have their uses. But Bride?” He removed his cigar from his teeth and pressed the butt-end with his thumb into the ashtray, “A Bride to the lord of Kuraigana. She must be some woman.”

“Indeed, that she is,” he admitted, his anger only remaining within its elevation at the taunts from the larger man. Sir Crocodile hummed, stooping lower to Mihawk’s stature, and smiled further upwards to crinkle his cheeks.

“I will have it made for you, Hawk-Eyes,” he hissed into his face, his shadow from his larger stature doing nothing to intimidate the confident swordsman, “and I expect a favor in return for it. Send her measurements to me, and I will have a hundred hands stitching it for you.”

“Mihawk, you gloomy old prick, that you? What are you calling me for at this hour?” the lazy voice of the overly confident red-headed captain asked at the other end of the receiver. Mihawk sighed, his anxiety at requesting the final object from his oldest rival getting the better of him the longer he remained in silence.

“Mihawk, if you don’t speak soon, I’m going to hang up the call and go back to my drinking-” Shank’s voice was halted by Mihawk uttering a single word.

“Lingerie.” Silence. Naught a word was spoken for several seconds; the anxiety elevating higher in Mihawk’s chest the longer the silence remained stagnant. An uproar of laughter was thrust into the receiver, several members of the red-hair pirates thrusting their jovial laughter into the air at a single word. As the laughter stifled back, Shanks spoke up once more.

“Lingerie, Mihawk? You want some lingerie? Is it for you, or is it for you?” the red-head captain jested, taunting the dark-haired warlord with his words. Mihawk shook his head, notably too far deep now to pull away from his request now.

“Red-Haired Shanks,” Mihawk began, the verbal shushing from the redhead on the other end to hush his crew to silence as he heard the request of the former warlord.

“Yes, old Hawkie? Go on, relay your request for intimate items onto me. See what I can do with your raunchy thoughts, you sick bastard-.” Shanks’ words were halted as he heard the tone of voice depicted by the usually stoic gentleman.

“Sapsorrow, Shanks,” Mihawk gasped in desperation. The audible sound of the thud of footsteps and the voices of the crew fell away from the speaker, indicating the redhead was actively moving away from the campground.

“You still have that thing? Mihawk, you should’ve cast the cursed thing into the seas. Mine was at least swallowed by the sea-beast while I protected the boy,” Shanks hushed an elevated whisper into the receiver.

“I know,” Mihawk uttered, his brows knitting further into his face as he cursed himself of such stupidity. After another moment of silence, Shanks spoke again.

“And your betrothed requested Lingerie to be a condition of her intention to wed. My, Hawk-Eyes, you’ve at least got a good one,” he chuckled into the receiver, “go on, lay it on me. What conditions needs to be met with this one?”

“Gold,” Mihawk confessed into the mouthpiece of the receiver, “Gold as heated and radiant as the sun, beams of dawn and cracks of dusk. Admittedly, I am unsure where to begin with this request.” More silence followed on the other end of the receiver, Mihawk feeling the anxiety once again claw at his throat with anticipation.

“Do you have her-... I’m assuming it’s a her, yes?” Shanks asked, his voice giddy and boyish; elevated with a twinkle of mischief and excitement.

“Yes,” Mihawk hummed his gruff confession into the receiver.

“Hah!” Shanks laughed triumphantly, “Wonderful. Do you have her measurements?” Mihawk relayed his governess’ measurements to the one-armed Captain, hearing the thump of sandals footsteps falling against the sandy shores of Shank’s island’s shores, crunching beneath his heels.

“Beckmann,” Shanks called his voice away from the receiver, “Beckmann, you’re not going to believe this-... Mihawk, give me a moment, would you? Beckmann!” Mihawk’s expression was not amused, his eyes narrowing beneath his lengthy dark eyelashes.

“Beckmann, bring me my anvil, pliers and soldering pick! All the gold we’ve got on us and then some-... Mihawk,” Shanks laughed into the receiver, his voice brimming with absolute glee, “Oh, Mihawk. You’ve made my day.”

“I’m glad one of us is getting a semblance of joy from this request,” Mihawk sarcastically spat into the receiver.

“Oh, lighten up. You’ll be getting some joy out of this once I’m done with it, Hawkie,” Shanks laughed again into the mouthpiece, several clangs and elevated voices being spoken into the mouthpiece.

“All the gold on us, Captain? That seems a bit rich comin’ from him. Isn’t he a lord or somethin’?” Beckmann’s raspy voice held a distant quietness away from the mouthpiece.

“Yeah, but I’m gonna make something out of it, Becks. Lingerie for the sword-wielding lord’s future misses. Gotta get out the good stuff for this one-... Hawk-Eyes, are you still there?” Shanks called back into the receiver, Mihawk feeling his anxiety beginning to calm at the notion that Shanks was willing to participate in the task.

“I’m here, one-arm,” Mihawk lazily drawled into the microphone, exasperation relayed on every syllable. Shanks chuckled at his title, disregarding it with glee.

“I’m gonna make your future misses something you will both never forget,” He laughed into the transponder, his boyish charm prompting the swordsman to almost crack a small and apprehensive smile.

As the call of the den-den-mushi went quiet, Mihawk sighed and lulled his head back on his arched backrest. He felt relieved to have the weight of his predicament shared with his allies, but also apprehensive at the requests they would omit from him in return. And the teasing. He loathed being on the receiving end of taunts and jabs from the three of them, particularly the idiot clown.

He propped his neck back upright and glanced his amber eyes over to the desktop, honing in on the small bushel of baby’s breath you had offered him earlier. He reached his fingertips forward, his index finger and thumb grasping the twig holding the cluster of white flowers.

“Lost-Lady,” he smiled at the innocent balls of petals clinging against the sprigs. He chuckled at your earlier interaction, how open you were with him about your feelings of late. He was already thinking of another arrangement to create to decorate your halls with his flowers and vines: sweet jasmine, honeysuckle, bluebells and daisies were amongst his choices for your following tabletop. Much less of a risk of becoming covered head to toe in mud again.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

“M’Lady, Hawk’s lookin’ for ya,” Zoro huffed a small grunt, extending his left forearm to you as you and Perona entered the galley. You shook your head at Zoro, your eyes glaring at him to wordlessly reprimand his pronunciation of your title. He furrowed his brows at first, before his eyes widened in clarity as it dawned on him. He shook his head slowly, rolling his eyes within his skull and bowing sloppily and lowly to you.

“Forgive me, my lady,” His voice, absolutely dripping with the sticky molasses of sarcasm, “I extend my most sincere apologies, my lady. Would my lady prefer me to kneel on the ground to receive a verbal reprimand, or dost my lady prefer me bent over her lap? Perhaps at such an insult to my lady, I should be drawn and quartered. A cat and nine tails whipping their iron slashes into my chest for insulting you in such a way, my lady-.”

“-That’s quite enough, Zoro,” you reprimanded him, unlacing your hand from within Perona’s arched elbow. Your brow descended into the middle of your face, your chin extended into the air as you circled him, “and here I thought you were making waves as a gentleman, but you are remaining evermore a petulant brat.”

“I aim to please, my lady,” the corner of his lip curled upwards into a small smirk. Perona refused to react to the situation for fear attention from her governess would be drawn to her rather than the display offered by Zoro.

“You are doing a poor job it today, Trainee,” you snarled at him, causing his smirk to widen as his eyes narrowed at your challenge.

“Bein’ a gentleman?” Zoro scoffed at you, his lip darting out to dampen his bottom lip as he tested you further.

“Pleasing me,” you quipped back, your challenging eyes and candor immediately bringing a warm blush up the swordsman’s neck and teasing the lobes of his ears. He remained speechless, Perona allowing a silent giggle to threaten to pour over her lips. As the silence began to build with tense air, you clicked your neck and approached the young swordsman.You were now within a foot of the tall gentleman in training, continuing to warn him with your expression.

The three of you were so caught up in this moment of challenge, you remained blissfully ignorant yet again to the silent approach of the lord of the house watching from the shadows. He was on the edge of his hypothetical seat as he witnessed Zoro challenge you, but now watching on with amusement at how you were effortlessly managing him.

“Try again,” you ordered him. There was not a sound that dared break your challenge of the green-haired swordsman within the galley. He sighed deeply, bowing his head formally to you and closing his eyes.

“My lady,” he uttered slowly and cautiously, “the lord of Kuraigana has requested your presence in the parlor. Perona and I are to escort you to meet with the formal dressmakers for a fitting.” He almost made it through the sentence before allowing his distaste for the whole situation known.

“We’re all to have a fitting?” Perona squeaked in joy, “We all get a pretty outfit for it?”

“Yeah,” Zoro huffed, his brows falling against the arch of his nose to indicate his displeasure, “we’re all meant to get one.for it. He’s invited everyone already. They’ll be here by the weekend.” You allowed a shocked breath to escape your chest, not understanding such haste in such a ceremony.

You inhaled deeply through your nose, closing your eyes in deep thought before speaking again.

“Zoro,” you began, calming your body and attempting to regain control of your uncontrollable circumstances, “escort Perona to the parlor for her fitting. I will be going to my chambers for a small moment,” you cringed a small smile, attempting to stifle the anxiety by gritting through the pain, “unless the lord of the house is here to escort me himself, I will need a moment or two to myself-.”

At that small apprehension, Mihawk made his entrance to where the three of you had met within the galley. Perona withheld her small smile behind her palms, her upturned eyes doing nothing to satisfy her amusement and joy at the swordsman approaching them. Zoro followed Perona’s eyes to lord Mihawk, which in turn alerted you to his presence approaching behind you. You felt the waves of his confident aura falling from him before you turned to meet his gaze. He cleared his throat briefly, honing his gaze on the green-haired swordsman and addressing him.

“You heard your Governess,” he commanded him, turning to Perona and nodding to her, “Off you go to the parlor. Ensure the spatchcock is properly feathered, Perona.”

“Yes, my lord,” she chuckled, taking Zoro’s arm and immediately springing in her steps towards the parlor without a word from Zoro regarding his new bird-related nickname. You remained stationary and rigid in the galley, your chin extended outwards and tongue pressed to the roof of your mouth. Eyes narrowed, you felt him circle your body like a hawk looking over their next catch.

“I have come to inform you,” he began, remaining behind your back and away from your sight, “I have announced our intentions to wed. There is to be a ball this weekend, held here at the keep,” he paused his words, the tap of his feet indicating his approach in front of you. You closed your eyes, feeling waves of anxiety again rising over your body and filling your head with the thoughts that swirled well into the night. You remained with your eyes tightly closed, clenching your jaw behind your closed lips.

“Betrothed?” He addressed you, halting his prowling in front of you. He extended his hands above your own, hovering over where you had them hanging together in front of you but refusing to bring them down to touch yours. You opened your eyes, your brows furrowing as you looked down at his hand slowly descending and hovering above your own before snapping your gaze back against his amber-colored eyes.

“Yes, Betrothed?” You asked him, eyes dancing between his irises and searching within them for an indication as to how he was feeling. He sighed, finally bringing his hands down to collect yours and smooth his thumbs over your knuckles softly. You were again taken aback by his softness, unsure as to which place this was coming from.

“Is there someone I could invite for you to make this transition easier for you?” he whispered in a low rumbly tone, “it is quite the conundrum: coming here to complete a job, only to find yourself bound to your employer in matrimony. What can I do? You may ask anything of me, my lady-... Betrothed.”

Your heart began to race your mind with how frantic and sudden this expression of care for you had been brought on. You took your time to study his face, looking from his brows to his cheekbones, bearded jaw down to his smooth lips beneath his manicured mustache. You drew your gaze back up to his amber-hued orbs and danced your gaze between them.

“I have no one, Betrothed,” you admitted with a small nod, placing one of your palms atop his hand, “you knew this of me from back when I first tutored that arrogant blond boy in shells-town with his iron-jawed father. We discussed this at the gala.” Mihawk arched his brow upwards, deep in thought.

“Remind me, Betrothed, the mention has fled from me presently,” he asked, bringing his other hand to rest atop the one you just placed atop his. You inhaled deeply, exhaling out your tension at the memory.

“No father, no mother,” you smiled at him, “no sisters, nor brothers. Although, you may be interested in my dowry,” scoffing at the comment, Mihawk rolled his eyes and nodded his chin for you to continue on. “My mother died birthing me, my father died of illness on the road as he ventured over the estate.”

“No friends, nor extended relations?” He inquired, drawing up your hand to lace within his elbow, leading you on towards the parlor at a leisurely pace.

“None that are alive, nor that you would not already know, I’m sure,” you commented with a polite nod, “you did attend many of the functions I presented my students at.” He hummed in response to your comment, continuing to fall in step with you through the hallways onwards.

“No former lover to come knocking on my door, betrothed?” Mihawk’s curiosity pulled at the corner of his lip with his brow arched upwards. You halted your step with him, pulling him to a halt and shooting him a warning look. As his eyes met with yours, he understood the tangible emotion clawing at your chest.

“If you are asking what I think you are asking, sir,” you snarled at him, your lip curling upwards at his question, “I am a lady.” His eyes widened at your comment, searching your face for any further emotion to depict your unspoken confession.

“I did not mean to pry into your personal-,” he was halted by your words as you spoke over him, your eyes softening and a small smile rising to your lips at his attempt to flee from an uncomfortable situation he created for himself.

“This title we have been using to address each other,” you commented, again keeping in step with the tall swordsman at your side, “I am no longer comfortable with our mutual use of the phrase. Shall we dream up something else more appropriate together?”

Mihawk’s breath caught in his throat, hoping you did not catch such a quiver of anticipation falling from him. Why did you have such a hold over him? Why was the way you were speaking to him affecting him like this? Your voice, that sweetness you held in your cadence. It was intoxicating.

“I am sure we will think of something,” he held tight his jaw and remained outwardly stoic. Internally; he was delighting in your willingness to allow him to think of you. You gently squeezed his forearm in support, walking in comfortable silence towards the parlor together.

.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.

Zoro’s arms were horizontally outstretched, perpendicular to the floor as the tailors began to pin and prod the material he was trying on. Perona beamed at her reflection, her eyes reflecting her joy at the trim and frill of her fine gown. Zoro smirked, closing his eyes and addressing his peer.

“Mihawk’s infatuation is starting to spill out, isn’t it. He’s not even hiding it anymore,” He chuckled, Perona immediately laughing at the comment before retorting her own comments on the matter.

“Speak for yourself, Moss,” Perona continued to giggle, “your little crush isn’t as hidden as you think it is, either.”

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hidden-poet · 5 months

Text

Commander Snow; 8

Commander Snow

Summary; Under the advice of Dr Gaul Coriolanus returns back to district 12 where without blinding light of lucy-grey he could see you.

Warnings; dead dove to do not eat, stalking, unrequited love, breeding kink, violence, possessive!Snow, unco/dubco, sexual content, she/her pronouns, explicit, violence, death.

Editor: @hotline-to-hell

chapter one

Chapter two

Chapter three

Chapter four

Chapter five

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

The door was fixed with great haste. Before you knew it, you were back in the apartment playing housewife again. Coriolanus’s distrust of you grew to a new level. He no longer trusted you to remain home by yourself. Edmund was still not found, and Coriolanus was certain he would reappear and take you away.

You now worked with him, slept with him, and ate every meal with him. The fence line seemed like an impossible goal with him being so suffocating. You were pretty sure the broken chain was not found. He would have said something, would have taunted you with how close your freedom was. It meant you had something up your sleeve against him.

But you had no way of getting to it. You had tried to disappear during his work hours, when he was most distracted, but the only time you seemed to be out of his sight was when you showered. If there had been a window in the bathroom, you were sure that he would have been in there too.

You tried your best to soften him with affection. When you had the chance, you baked him the oatmeal cookies he loves. He ate whole plates in one sitting.

But as his work increased, your work decreased. Long days spent at his office were hard to fill. He sat behind his desk and never seemed to stop working. Sometimes there was mending you could do, or shoes to shine but most of the day you sat on the couch reading what was on hand.

You had taken to organizing the books in alphabetical order, then grouped them according to color. You worked quietly and slowly. Careful not to make any noise to disturb Coriolanus from his work. You had taken them down again just moments ago to reorganize them by subject when Coriolanus' assistant came in carrying a tea tray and a large parcel.

She drops the parcel down on the table in front of you, amongst the books. You look over it to see your name neatly scribbled on the recipient's information.

The receptionist doesn’t look at you as she puts the tea tray in front of Coriolanus.

He thanks her but her response is drowned out to your ears by the opening of the box.

“Is it from Tigris?”

You wait until the receptionist shuts the door behind her to respond.

You confirmed it was, as you pulled a soft silk nightdress from the box. It was light pink which was uncommon for the districts. Dark pink lace trimming boarded along the bottom and top of the dress. You run your finger across it. It was the most expensive material you had ever felt.

Another dress was folded in the box and you take it out.

It was light blue with yellow birds flying across it, made of a soft cotton material that would fall around your ankles.

“You like them?” he asks.

“They are beautiful,” you admit.

You look in the box for more to see a small pouch filled with sweets from the Capitol.

Tigris was too kind. If things had been different, you would have been a good friend to her. But as her cousin's captive, you were now sworn enemies. The box of treats didn’t change that.

You return the items to the box and see parchment paper protecting soft material at the bottom.

“There's a shirt for you.” It was a long white dress shirt with gold stitching running in horizontal lines down it.

He comes from his desk to collect it. Taking it gently from your hands, he brings it up to his nose and inhales the scent.

“You really miss home,” you comment, watching him breathe in the scent the shirt carried.

“I do. More than anything.” He returns to his desk with it still in his hands.

“You’ll be home soon.”

“We’ll be home soon”.

You smile thinly at him. “That’s what I said.”

“You should see the Capitol. Clothing, culture. Actual buildings, not these pieces of tin. You’ll be able to breathe much better in the Capitol.”

The scratching of his pen picked up where his sentence had been incomplete as he began his work again. The shirt lay across his lap.

“I have the day off tomorrow,” he said without stopping his work, “I was thinking we could visit the waterfall again. It will probably be the last time before Ravinstill dies.”

The thought made your stomach drop. If you don’t make it beyond the fence, it would in fact be the last time you ever saw your favorite place. The time was better spent within the compound waiting for an opportunity. He would never let you get too far in the district.

“I’d prefer not to.”

“Why?” he questions with a hard tone. He continued to write but the pen pressed firmly into the paper.

“I am behind on my chores, and I haven’t made anything in a while. The food in the fridge will go bad if I don’t get to it soon.”

“Let it. The Capitol is full of food.”

You realize now that Coriolanus had already made up his mind to do the activity. You wondered why he chose it. He hated the heat and the bugs.

You walk over to the tray of hot tea and pour out a cup, making it to his liking and placing it down in front of him.

“We’ll go if you want to.”

“Why don’t you want to go?”

“Why do you want to? The walk up there will take us nearly the whole morning in the hot sun.”

“I thought it might make you happy.”

He was trying to win your approval before he ripped everything you had ever known from your finger tips. It was something to use against him. Coriolanus responded best when he was in a position to be a hero. He would do anything so long as he felt he was the only one who could do it for you.

You lean down and wrap your arms around his shoulders, resting your face against his neck.

“You know what would make me happy? Some vanilla extract so I can send Tigris some shortbread cookies back”.

He responds positively by wrapping his hands around your forearms. He liked you looking out for Tigris.

“She’s been asking to meet you.” He says, his hand gently wrapping your arm around his shoulders. “I have a call with them next Friday afternoon. Maybe you’d like to come with.”

You retract your hold now that he was in a better mood.

There was only one answer you could give him when it came to his family.

“I’d love to”.

You had a deep hate for Capitol people but Tigris seems different. In any case, you were sure you could remain civil for an hour-long phone call.

Pouring yourself a cup of tea, you return to your spot with it and Coriolanus returns to his work.

———-

You stood out in the sun with Coriolanus as he discussed the new recruits' performance with another high-ranking officer. They were splitting them up into areas of work. The strong and fast became foot soldiers, the slow were put on kitchen duty, and the ones who showed a inclination to aggression were watchmen. He spared a couple to the infantry to learn basic medic care and help around the hospital. You couldn't work out what sent those recruits apart. It seemed random but you knew nothing Coriolanus did was without great care and strategy.

All the men seemed equally angry and you wondered if Coriolanus was the same when he was a Peacekeeper.

The sun felt nice upon your skin after so long. It was late afternoon and it had just begun to set, leaving behind a nice cool breeze.

You thought about your mother and Edmund. Were they enjoying the sun too?

The sound of a vehicle approaching ruined the moment of reflection. Coriolanus took your hand in his as soon as the tires upon the gravel could be heard as if you were to be run over if he didn’t.

It surprisingly stopped in front of where you stood. A transport car with no doors and a large trunk carried two men. A younger man wearing a District 12 peacekeeper uniform and an older man who wore a Commander uniform set apart by its light purplish color.

“Commander.” The older man greets as he swings out of the car.

“Vongurt.” Coriolanus uses his spare hand to offer a handshake which is strongly and fervently taken.

Another Commander had come to see Coriolanus. You doubted he was any better than the last.

“This is my wife, Y/N.” With his hand, he leads you in front of him to show you off to the Commander.

You were stiff with shock as the man's disapprovingly raked his eyes over you. He too felt jarred at the label of wife. District women weren’t wives. They were barely considered human.

But he smiles nonetheless, something you couldn’t return.

“Pleasure.” With a kiss placed upon your hand, the Commander's attention was turned back to Coriolanus.

“Your compound is impressive, Commander Snow. It has to be the largest I’ve seen.”

Coriolanus seemed unimpressed by the comment. He turns back to the Peacekeepers watching them as they leap, and fight.

“A palace of scrap metal.”

He waves over a tall man in a high-ranking uniform, who quickly makes his way over from across the field.

“Your apartment is only slightly better. Sergeant AJ will take you there.”

“I was hoping that we could talk. I’ve come all this way from District 2.”

“Later, Commander. The conference room at 7. You’ll have my undivided attention there.”

The man nods back and follows his guide back into the car.

Coriolanus makes a comment to his officer about a recruit and the man jotted down all of his thoughts.

You wanted to get away. Break free from his hold and bolt to the fence line. His delusions had reached a new height, with him now openly telling lies to men with power.

Your body moves to your thoughts. You hadn’t even realized you were twisting your hand away from him until he tightened his hold.

He turns to you, asking if you are ok.

“I need to go home” you respond. Home to my mother. Back home to normalcy.

“Take whoever we missed today and regroup them tomorrow morning” he directs the man next to him. A whistle is blown and the recruits stop their training, instead they congregate in front of you.

Coriolanus turns as his officer begins to dish out instructions, taking you back to the apartment.

“The heat can get to you,” he says.

You had lived in District 12 all your life if anyone was to know about the heat it was you. But you verbally agree and apologize for taking him away from his work.

He hushes you and it ends the conversation for the walk home.

He lets you go as you enter your prison, and you take off without him to the bedroom.

You hear his voice wafting down the hallway telling you to lie down. You shove your boots off and get into bed. Every day your window closes. It won’t be long before either the broken fence is found or you are carted off on the train.

But he had called you his wife. Not just to anyone but a Capitol Commander. Even if you got away, the idea that he would leave you here for the presidency is just a fantasy.

How long would you need to live in hiding before he forgot you? Could you bear the costs of it for as long as needed? What work could you do in the mountains to support yourself and your mother?

Wife. Why did he have to say wife? You weren’t that. You were his captive, a victim of his need to be cared for.

Coriolanus enters the room with a wet, cold rag and runs it over your forehead. A victim of his need to pretend he was capable of caring for something.

He sits on the bed beside you running the cloth over your forehead and into your hair.

“Do you feel alright?” he asks as you take the cloth off him.

“I am fine. Just a little lightheaded.” You throw the cloth on the bed stand and he takes it as a signal to get up.

“I’ll get you some water.”

He disappears and you're thankful for the space to think. Could you tell him you just need a walk around the compound by yourself to think? No, he would take it as an insult.

You had to get out. The fence was so close.

You don’t notice him as he sits back down beside you. Only the glass to your lips made you see him.

“I won’t go to the meeting with Vongurt if you are unwell.”

You sit up straighter at his words, pushing the glass away from you.

“No!” you say harshly, “No, you should go. I am fine.”

“You don’t look well.” You were sure you looked terrible after you had the shock of your life.

“But I feel fine. Just too much sun.”

He looked annoyed that you were arguing with him so you switched tactics.

“We need his support to get back to the Capitol. Maybe you could just leave the door open for some fresh air?”

You had pushed too hard, and he got up

“If I am not here, the door is shut.”

“Of course,” you breathe with a soft smile at him, “I’ll be fine by the time you have to leave.”

Coriolanus hovered around you for the next hour and a half before he had to start getting ready for his meeting. He took a shower to wash the sweat off him from the day and changed into his official outfit. It fit snugly, his broad shoulders carried the uniform well.

He attached the dressings of his uniform as you watched him from the bed.

“Maybe I shouldn’t go tonight. What if you feel unwell while I am away?” His fingers were still on the badge he was trying to put on.

“I am fine,” you assure him, “I feel fine.”

“We should invite him here. That way if you need me, I am here.”

You cringed at the thought of serving Commander Vongurt.

“I won’t need you. Besides the conference room is much nicer.” You get up to help him put on his badge and send him on his way.

“I haven’t felt unwell since dinner.” Coriolanus stood over you as you cooked, convinced that the heat in the kitchen would make you unwell again. With a knife in your hand, it was a dangerous time for Coriolanus to tell you what to do.

“You’re sure?” he pokes.

You were tired of saying it so you just nodded your head.

“Go to the bathroom then.”

It was an odd request.

“What?” you question.

“Go to the bathroom and take a shower. Get changed into your night dress.”

He checks his watch once before motioning you forward.

There was no other option for you then to follow his request. You thought maybe he just wanted to complete the bed time routine. He wanted to know you were washed and dressed for bed for his own comfort. You never knew what made him tick.

You complete the tasks quickly and return to find he had placed a glass of water and a packet of dried mixed fruit.

You quiz him on it but he doesn’t answer. He takes your wrist in his hand and tugs you to the bed.

Taking out his handcuffs, he clips your wrist into the cuff, pulling it up to the headboard where he attached the other cuff.

You tug against it in protest. “What are you doing?”

“Just in case, Edmund comes back.”

“He won’t! Please unlock me.” you beg.

“I left your book there if you are not ready to sleep yet.” He stands tall and readjusts his uniform.

“Coriolanus!” You say in a serious tone, “Get this off of me.”

You pull against it brutally and he captures your hand against the headboard.

“I left you one hand so you can read. I don’t have to.”

“Please, don’t leave me here like this!” He ignores you, bending down once more to flick on the lamp.

“You’ve had a big day. Try and rest. I’ll be home soon.”

“Coriolanus!” you call out watching him leave. He flicks off the main light as he goes.

“Coriolanus!” you yell.

You had never felt anger as you lay trapped in bed. He dictated when you worked, when you rested, when you ate. Nothing was yours anymore. Every breath you took was only because he allowed you to take it.

There was nothing to tell the time on. It felt like years waiting for him to come back and release you. You didn’t read, only plotted.

Could you feed him something to make him sick? Surely he would request you to come see him in the infirmary. You could break away when returning from your visit. What if he caught you trying to poison him though?

Friday provided the perfect opportunity. While he was distracted with his family you could sneak away. The communication building was on the other side of the compound but at least you would be outside of the apartment.

But how would you get away far enough to make a break for it? You thought about what was in the surrounding area of the communications building. Nothing would be a reasonable excuse to pardon yourself.

Could you excuse yourself to the bathroom? Surely one of the surrounding offices would have one. Would he let you go alone? Sacrifice time with his family to take you. Would he even let you go or just expect you to make do until the phone call was over?

You came up with twenty different scenarios of escape routes, each one ended with Coriolanus catching you.

You wished you didn’t shoo Edmund away now. He could have got the door opened in time. It was only your fearfulness that stood in the way of your escape. You could be with him now, with your mother. Up in the mountains, safe and sound.

God, you hoped they were safe and well-fed.

You wished for nothing more than to tend to your mother, to ensure that she was alright.

The care that was supposed to go to her was now unjustly turned towards Coriolanus, who was adamant to wring it from your hands.

Edmund had always taken whatever care you gave him with great appreciation.

Never demanded more, and then took it with force.

He was kind and patient. Two things Coriolanus is not.

And now you have dragged him into this mess where his life is at great risk. Still, he had never demanded any more from you.

When his lips first met yours, they were placed almost in questioning. It was up to you to accept and beg for more.

You wished you had seen his affection for you sooner. But he was your brother's best friend, and the main protector of you and your mother. If Coriolanus never entered the picture you doubt he ever would have acted on it.

But he had, and you had returned the affection. It was the start of something new and beautiful or the end of years of friendship and familiarity.

Once Coriolanus went back to the Capitol, your new life would begin.

You hoped it would be alongside Edmund. You would pay him back for his bravery.

You would be a good girlfriend to him, then wife, and then mother of his children. You would never ask him for anything, and take great care of his family life. You would ensure his happiness, as he ensures your life now.

You almost forget you were chained to the bed of the Commander as you daydream of brown-haired babies. But the sound of Coriolanus arriving home was a solemn reminder. His boots against the hardwood floor soften as they reach the bedroom door.

You still had a great challenge before you got to nurse Edmund’s children.

You had to get away from Coriolanus, and the only way you could do that is if he had no idea that you planned to.

The door creaks open and you sit up straight to watch him enter.

“I am sorry. Did I wake you?” He places his coat on the foot of the bed and crawls over to where you lay.

“No. I was waiting for you.”

He smiles down at you as he unlocks the cuff from your wrist with the keys in his pocket.

“You seem happy,” you comment. You could smell the whiskey on his clothes as he leaned over you.

“I am. I have you. I have Commander Vongurt’s support behind me, and Ravinstill is not expected to last the winter. We’ll be home before you know it.”

Throwing the keys on his bedside table, he leans down to kiss you before resting his head on your collarbone.

“That’s not long,” you comment.

“Three months at the most.”

You drowned in your anxiety quietly as he rested.

Three months and your life was over.

He takes your silence as a quiet contemplation.

“Are you thinking of your mother?” he runs a curled finger along your nose.

“Yeah. I’ll miss her”. You hope to never have to know the pain of missing her again. These past few weeks have been unbearable.

“You’ll write. I’ll organize a time she can come to the compound for video calls.”

You were sure he was going to let you write and call. For how long was another thing. You could see it already, your calls being cut short, your letters ‘lost’ in the mail.

“Yeah,” you respond again.

Your mind races with ideas of escape. You could fake a sickness and be sent to the medical camp. No, he wouldn’t send you there. He panicked today over a supposed case of heatstroke.

He lowers his head down closer to you where you can smell the evening on him.

“You want to know what I was thinking?” he asks playfully.

You could start a fire during dinner time. He was sure to open the door to let you out before dealing with the flames.

“Yeah?” you entertain. Fire could go wrong for a number of reasons. Besides you would have to fight your way to the oven. Especially now that Commander Vongurt was here. Coriolanus would be too busy to wait for you to cook something.

“I was thinking I hope we have a boy first. Then two girls, then another boy.”

Your eyes shoot open as his hand reaches out across your stomach. His hand finds its way under your shirt and he lays a warm palm over your belly.

Then again, a big enough fire might kill him. Was it worth a shot?

“You called me your wife today. That’s not true.”

“What else should I have called you? We sleep together, eat together, wake together. We look after each other. The only thing missing is an official title but as soon as we get back to the Capitol, we’ll fix that.”

You turn away from him to your side. Now that the talk of the Capitol was becoming a more serious threat, you felt sick.

“Did I scare you with talk of babies? It wouldn’t be for a few more years yet.”

His rants did scare you. That would be your life if you didn’t figure out a way to the fence. Nursing Commander Snow’s babies in the Capitol. Away from your mother. Away from Edmund.

Still, you had to perform. You couldn’t let any more distrust between him and you grow.

“You didn’t scare me. I am just tired. I’ve waited up all night for you.”

You feel a soft kiss press against your ear before the weight of the bed was shifted as he moved.

“Go to sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He leans over you once more to flick off the light. You hear him walk out to the bathroom to take a shower.

Could you force him to give you the keys? The chain was still dangling from the headboard. If you could somehow get his wrist caught, you could threaten him with a kitchen knife. You shake the thought from your head. You couldn’t hurt him with a knife. You were sure even one-handedly, he could take it off you if you tried.

You just needed a distraction, just two seconds when his attention wasn’t on you to escape.

Wet, salty tears rolled down your cheeks as you lay in the dark, but you made no sound.

You were still awake when he returned from his shower, dressed in his pajamas. Thinking you are asleep he is slow and quiet as he rejoins you in bed.

He curls up against your back and rests his hand on your stomach as if there is something already inside. He wasn’t going to wait a few more years. He said it purely for your comfort.

He dreamt of being a young President with a baby on the way. And another one close after that, and another, and another. He would undo history. He would have as many baby Coriolanus’s and Tigris’ as it took to heal the past.

Watching you nurture, feed, and play with his children would overtake his memories of fighting for his life when he should have been nursed by his mother.

He felt as if he was in the area but soon to be crowned Victor. President Ravinstill just had to die before he could have it all.

His destiny that had been interrupted when his father died but was now back on track. From birth, Coriolanus Snow was supposed to be the man who had it all. Not some impoverished boy, hanging on to his father’s legacy.

When he died, he would be remembered as his own man. Not as the shadow of his father.

Coriolanus Snow; Beloved President of Panem, star pupil of the Academy, Plinth Prize winner, devoted husband and father, and Victor of the games. Coriolanus would be remembered as the man who had it all.

You lay awake under him. The smell of alcohol mixed with the scent of his soap. It burnt your nose as you inhaled.

President Ravinstill could die tonight. There was no guarantee that he would even make it to winter. You had to get out. If you made it to the Capitol, you would never get back home.

While he was intoxicated was your best chance. He seemed so still now, you could take the keys off the nightstand and go through everyone. You were sure he wouldn’t wake, not until it was too late. You remember when your father drank on special occasions, he would sleep for 14 hours at a time. Coriolanus was sure to sleep for at least half that.

You wait until you can’t feel him twitch before you rise from bed. Very slowly, very carefully, you peel yourself from him, shoving a pillow in your place. He doesn’t move from your actions so you continue over to his nightstand where his key ring is laid.

Rows and rows of keys looped together. They jingle as you pick them up. Panic runs like ice up your spin as you turn back to see Coriolanus; unmoved and unknowing.

You wrap your hand around as many keys as you can to stop further noise and make your way to the door. Checking every few steps to ensure he wouldn’t turn up behind you.

The floor creeks as you pass the hallways to the living room but no other sound follows as you cross the kitchen to the door.

You start at the very first key. It slots in but refuses to turn. Moving on to the next, and the next in methodological order, bypassing the ones that were too big or small to be entertained.

You try numerous times but the right key is buried among the many.

Feeling as if it had been hours since the first key, you felt confident that it was coming up.

You stuck a key in with no resistance. The hope that died in you reappeared as the lock turned with the key.

But all too soon it died again, as you felt a hand snake into your hair. It yanks your head harshly back and you find yourself pressed against Coriolanus.

“That key will get stuck in the door, and it’d be a great pain to get it out again.”

His hand in your hair pulls you back.

“I was just going to the kitchen to get some ingredients for a hangover cure. I was coming back.” His hand twists unforgivably in your hair as you make your plea.

“Don’t lie to me,” he seethes.

“I am not!” You protest, trying to break free from his grasp.

“You think I am some type of fool?”

Reaching over you, he takes the keys out of the door and leads you back to the bedroom.

“Coriolanus. Please just listen to me.”

“If I had listened to you, I would have left the door opened. You spoiled, deceiving, little bitch.”

He was still drunk. You could smell it from his breath.

You thought it would make him complacent but it instead made him more violent.

“I was getting you my father's hangover cure.”

You stumble as he pushes you over the doorway.

“You need to trust me, Coriolanus.”

He shoves you until you are back to your side of the bed.

“I don’t.”

He throws the keys hard across the room to free his hands.

“I trust you.” You don’t fight him as he recuffs your chain, instead you willingly go along with it.

For good measure, you place a kiss on his cheek which throws him off guard.

“I don’t trust you.” he reiterated softly.

“That’s ok,” you state, “One day you will. We’ll have a happy life together. You, me, and our children.”

He looks perplexed at your words but makes no further comment as he lays down by your side, resting his head on you.

“I’ve tried my best to take care of you. To make you happy.”

“You have.” you console. You were no longer worried about President Ravinstill lasting the night, but rather yourself.

“Then why-”

“I wasn’t running. I was trying to take care of you.”

His face turns into your skin. You bring your free hand up to his head and press it down.

“Everything is ok. Just go to sleep. You’re drunk. You don’t mean it.”

You run your fingertips up and down starting from behind his ear, down to the bottom of his neck, and up again. You do it until you feel his shallow breaths upon your skin, only then do you release the tears from your eyes.

When you wake the next morning, your wrist is free and Coriolanus is not in bed.

You rise to find him in the kitchen, frying bacon. Maybe he was too intoxicated last night to remember his anger towards you.

“Good morning,” you offer. He doesn’t return the greeting. Maybe he did remember last night, and you were in a lot of trouble.

“How are you feeling?” you try again.

“What’s your father's hangover cure?”

“Two eggs, hot sauce, milk, salt, pepper, and honey”. Your father did not have a hangover cure and it did not include hot sauce or honey, both of which were considered luxury items in the District.

He looks for the ingredients, slamming the cupboards he turns towards you. “All here.”

“Oh,” you comment, “That’s good. Did you want me to make you one?”

The bacon pops in the pan and you rush over to distract yourself with it.

“Sit down. I’ll take over cooking”. The bacon was overcooked to the point where it would be barely edible.

“So what did you need for the compound kitchen last night?”

“I didn’t know we had the items. It's been that long since I cooked, I just assumed we were out.”

“You assumed you wouldn’t get caught.”

You sigh. Coriolanus in a bad mood would only mean bad things for you.

“I wasn’t running. I was trying to help. Are you always going to doubt me?”

“Yes.” he answers, pulling the pan back off you.

He dumps the bacon onto a plate and takes it to the kitchen table. You begin to clean up after him as he sits and eats.

The plate is still full by the time he is telling you to go get ready for the day.

You put on the blue sun dress he likes which acts as a two-second buffer for his anger when he sees you.

He had paused in the middle of throwing his bacon into the trash. Such a waste of food. You thought.

But he was determined to stay in his mood. He slides the empty plate across the counter.

“I am late for work,” he says.

It was unusual for him not to hold your hand as you walked to his office. You would have to work hard today to please him.

His tea was already sat upon his desk when you arrived and you rushed to pour him one.

He doesn’t drink it. It goes cold as he does his work.

You try extra hard to be quiet. There was sewing left from yesterday which you begin to complete.

“We still haven’t found your mother,” he says out of the blue after a morning of not speaking or looking at you.

His words filled you with confidence. If you could get to the mountains, at least you knew you were safe.

He doesn’t look up as he speaks.

“Edmund hasn’t returned to his house but there was a rumor that he was swapping meat for medical supplies just yesterday.”

What would he need medical supplies for? You wondered. Was your mother okay? Was he okay?

You needed to see them to make sure.

“He’s probably hiding with your mother in what’s left of the forest. Don’t worry. We’ll find him and bring your mother home.”

It was a disguised threat. He was trying to get a rise out of you.

“Good,” you comment. Keep searching the forest while they remain safe in the mountains.

“Good.” he repeats back.

A comfortable silence returns as you both go back to work, but it’s interrupted by his secretary bursting through the doors.

“Sir! Sir!” she gasps. Coriolanus shot up from his chair.

“Commander Vongurt is angry!”

You follow him without a word out of the office.

“The courtyard!” the secretary directs.

You fall behind his fast pace and reach for him blindly to keep from falling too far behind.

A crowd had formed by the time you reached the courtyard. You could hear the familiar sound of flogging and painful cries.

The crowd parts as Coriolanus approaches. In the middle of the bystanders was Commander Vongurt and a young boy curled on the dirt floor.

Coriolanus looks upon the same boy who failed to hit the target on the hot day.

Grabbing the baton from the Commander, he throws it to the ground.

“What are you doing?”

“Commander Snow,” Vongurt was out of breath from exerting himself in his beating, “This boy is a disgrace to your legacy. I caught him passing scraps to the prisoners through the bars.”

With the protection of Coriolanus, you felt safe enough to speak out, “He’s just a boy.”

“Take him to the jail. He can sleep there for a week if he likes their company so much.”

“Coriolanus!” you take his arm and tug it. He gives you a harsh look and you know you won’t be able to persuade him.

The boy cries out and begins to beg as he is carted away by two others.

“Coriolanus, please!” You tug his arm once more and he hits you harshly across the cheek.

You stumble upon the impact. The men shuffle away from you as you try and regain your footing.

Coriolanus takes your arm in a harsh grip, pulling you back in the right direction but he is turned to speak to Vonngurt.

“District 12 is my district. Next time you feel like taking discipline into your own hands, don’t.”

The older Commander nods his head, but you can see he is displeased to have been spoken to in such a manner.

“Let’s go.” He was now talking to you and shoving you forcefully in front of himself back to the office.

You tear yourself free as the door shuts behind you.

“You don’t dictate my decisions.”

Your nose is clogged from your tears. You couldn’t tell if you were crying out of pain or anger. Your brain was still trying to catch up.

“Calling my name,” he says astonished, “It doesn’t matter if you disagree with my decision. Your job is to support me.”

He catches you as you try to make your way from him and he tosses you to the couch, where he stands over you.

“You embarrassed me. Vongurt already thinks I can’t control my Peacekeepers, now he thinks I can’t control my women as well.”

You cup your bruised cheek. This wasn’t about Vongurt. He was still hurting about your attempt last night. All day he was looking for a reason to lash out, Vongurt only provided the opportunity.

You were put back on defense. With only at most a month before you were carted off to the Capitol, mistakes couldn’t be afforded.

“I am sorry.” you choke out.

He squinted his eyes, bringing his hand up to his head before throwing it back again, “What were you thinking?”

“I wasn’t!” you spit. There is no sincerity in your voice.

“Look at me when I am talking to you.” He takes your chin into his hand and pulls it up to his eye level. “Ravinstill is expected to die shortly. This behavior of yours cannot be brought back to the Capitol.”

“It won’t be. I am sorry.” Your fists clench by your side.

He turns your chin to expect your cheek.

“I did it too. That’s the only reason I spoke out. I would have been thrown in jail too.” you contend.

He lets go of your chin and stands up to full height, “You think a Peacekeeper would get the same punishment as a District? No. You would have been hanged. Yet another reason to be loyal to me. I’ve saved you.”

“I am loyal to you. Grateful for you.” You get up and follow him as he makes his way to his desk.

“Coriolanus, please don’t be mad at me. I was only ever trying to help.”

You sob ugly causing him to spin around. Your cheek hurt, and you felt the weight of the world on your shoulders trying to get away within such a short time frame. You were overwhelmed with the whole scenario and the thought of dealing with Coriolanus as he looked for opportunities to lash out was too much to bear.

He softens upon your unraveled composure, taking you into his arms.

“Stop crying. It’s okay”. You feel him rest his head on top of yours. “I am just a little wound up trying to get everything in order. I shouldn’t have taken it out on you. I am sorry.”

You smile slightly, he is back on defense.

—------

Friday came quickly. The call wasn’t until the afternoon so you spent the whole day as a ball of anxiety.

But at least you had a plan. On evening walks you took more notice of the building surrounding the communications tent, and saw a nurse carrying a load of blankets into a building of washing machines.

There were few things Coriolanus let you do alone, washing was one of them.

The washing machine in the apartment would need to be dealt with. But the long hours spent in his office meant that the dirty clothes were piling up. He would demand a fresh uniform for work. If you left it close to his phone call with his family, he was sure to let you go.

You push it out for as long as you can. He had wanted to leave ten minutes ago but you kept pressing him for one more minute.

You had taken small rocks from the ground during your afternoon walk, telling Coriolanus you would like to take a part of home back to the Capitol with you. He had allowed you to collect a small jar, you picked the biggest rocks you could find.

Big enough to jam the pipes of the washing machine.

“Darling, please. We have to leave.” He bangs on the door of the washing room.

You finish shoving the rocks as far as they would go down the pipe. It made an awful sound as the washing machine ate them up causing the water to rise.

“Coriolanus,” you call. As soon as you open the door, he grabs your arm, ready to yank you out.

“Coriolanus. The machine is broken. Look.”

He barely glaces at it, “ I’ll send someone to fix it. Let’s go.”

“I need to do the washing,” you pick up the basket as he pulls you from the room, “Can I use the compound washing machines?”

“That’s fine. Just move, we are late.”

You struggle to keep up with him as he rushes along the compound. He hated it if his phone call was cut short by even a second. Now he was two minutes late and he was almost running to make up time for it.

You reach the building in record time. He lets go of you to pick up speed, leaving you by the door as he hurries.

He rushes to the small screen, not bothering to sit down on the wooden chair as he twisted the knobs. “Tigris, Tigris? Can you hear me?”

He must have heard a voice on the other side as he broke out into a smile. It was a pretty, genuine smile that you had not seen before.

“Hey,’’ he laughs. You watch from where you stand by the door. He seemed almost unrecognizable. A young boy sent away to a summer camp instead of a ruthless and ambitious Commander. “I am sorry. The washing machine broke. How are you?”

His tone is light and happy as he talks to Tigris. You wonder if he had forgotten he even brought you. He didn’t glance at you as he spoke, giving her his full attention.

You wonder if it is best to make your exit now but his words stop you.

“She’s here.” he waves you over. You drop the basket in coming to him. You wondered what Tigris would look like. What she would sound like.

Coriolanus holds out the receiver for you. You peer at the screen to see a blonde girl in colorful clothing before you put the receiver to your ear.

“Hello,” you greet.

“Oh!” Tigris croons. She pulls the receiver away from her mouth to lessen her shout, “Grandma’am come see!”

She smiles as she turns her attention back to you, “Oh, Coryo has talked so much about you.”

“What is she saying?” Coriolanus places his hands on your hip and pulls down so you are sitting on his knee.

“She’s said you’ve talked about me,” you answer.

He smiles gently at you, turning the receiver in your hand out between you.

An older woman comes too close into the frame and Tigris pulls her back.

“Is that her?” the old woman asks Tigris who nods.

“Girl-Girl.” she talks into the speaker.

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“You must be grateful he is sending you back to the Capitol. Don’t ruin it like the last one.”

Coriolanus snatches the receiver away from your ear to soften her words but you heard them any way.

“Grandma’am is unwell,” he tells you, “Pay her no mind.”

Tigris takes back the receiver and positions it in a similar fashion to Coriolanus.

“Did you get the dresses I sent?”

“I did. Thank you. I was hoping to send you back some shortbread but Coriolanus has been busy with work.”

“He was saying you cook. Grandma’am and I are so excited to meet you!”

“Me too,” you lie. “I hear the Capitol is wonderful. I look forward to exploring it with you.”

Tigris laughs. She was beautiful, you thought. Perhaps too popular to be showing you the capital. You felt foolish for even lying about it.

“We’ll have a ball. I’ll show you all around.”

“In time,” Coriolanus interjects. The chains around you would not loosen just because you were in the Capitol. “The Capitol is big. There’ll be time to see it all.”

You let Coriolanus take over the talking. Only offering agreements or soft smiles as the Snow women talk.

The family soon falls into a comfortable way of talking. You had said next to nothing for the last 10 minutes, and it had gone unnoticed. It was time to make your way.

You slowly rise from Coriolanus who latches out on your arm.

“I’ll just put the washing on. That way it will be done by the time we finish.”

He tugs you back down causing you to fall into him. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see Tigris almost cringe.

“We’ll do it later,” he demands.

“We’ll be washing well into the night if we leave it any longer. I’ll just pop it on. I’ll be five minutes.”

His face twisted with his words but you kissed him to stop them from leaving his mouth. It was the first time you had ever kissed him on the lips. You could tell by the way his mouth stilled that he was surprised.

“Five minutes.” You kiss his bottom lip to quell any fight he has in him. Grabbing the phone in the meantime.

“Tigris. Grandma. I’ll just be 5 Minutes to put the washing on”.

Tigris smiles at you, letting you know that it is fine. You could just barely hear Grandma’am make a comment about how the people in the Capitol don't do their own washing but it is cut off by you shoving the phone back in Coriolanus's hand.

He cups your face to bring you down for another kiss.

“Five minutes,” he repeats.

You smile at him as you pull away. It was too easy, You had won.

It felt like victory as you picked up the basket and placed it on your hip. You turn back halfway out the door to see he has gone back to talking to his family.

You don’t make it to the tent. Five steps away from the door and you had dropped the basket and taken off at a fast pace.

You walk to try not to draw attention to yourself. It worked for the most part. Hardly anyone gave you a glance. You could see the bins coming into sight. Your freedom is just behind them.

“Hey!” you hear someone call out. You ignore them at first, not thinking they could mean you. But a harsh hold on your arm spun you towards a Peacekeeper.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

“What? Nothing”. Your freedom lay not ten feet away but was hindered by a zealous guard.

“Where’s Commander Snow?” He held you too tight. It interfered with your clear thinking.

“The communications tent.”

“Is that where you should be?”

“No,” you try and tug your arm away from him but his nails dig in. “Let go of me. Let go!”

“Let’s go ask Commander Snow what you should be doing.” The man starts to drag you along as you dig your feet into the dirt.

“Let go!” you shout. He was sure to notice you gone soon if he hadn’t already. Time was running out.

In frustration, you slap the Peacekeeper across the face.

“How dare you touch me. I’ll tell Commander Snow about this. You’ve hurt me.

You feel his grip loosen on you but he doesn’t let go completely.

“No, I haven’t!” he says somewhat fearfully,

“Commander Snow has asked me to get something for him, and not only have you stopped me from doing that but you hurt me in the process. How do you think he will react to that?”

You manage to tear free from him and give yourself some distance.

“I am going to do as he asked me, and you are going to do your duties like you should be doing. Otherwise, I’ll report you to the Commander."

The Peacekeeper mulls over his course of action before raising his hands.

“I didn’t mean to cause any trouble. Excuse me.”

You turn your back on him and quicken your steps to your destination. Making sure the coast is clear, you crawl behind the large bins. You couldn’t see any broken fence behind it.

Did they find it? Have you just made a fatal mistake?

You continue to crawl, placing your hand on the metal for any movement.

The chain bends showing cut wire as they bend. Relief washing through you.

It digs harshly into you as you pull yourself through.

You could have kissed the dirt on the other side. Freedom. Edmund.

The guard in the tower above you looks out across the field. You keep under his eyesight as you slide across the fence as quietly as you can.

It runs out, leaving ten feet of open field before the safety of the forest. Ten feet and then you were free. There was no cover, meaning that the guard could easily spot you if he was looking.

You say a silent prayer that the guard will keep his focus straight before you take the chance of discovery.

You leap across the field, throwing yourself upon the first tree you touch. The bark smashed your bruised cheek as you waited for the sirens to sound.

He mustn’t have seen you. You had got away.

You take a second to laugh as quietly as you can. Run, a voice in your head told you. You regain your breath and do. You run as fast as you can, taking the backroads back to your home.

Your lungs burn, willing you to stop but you keep going until your house is in view. You only slow down to stop drawing attention to yourself.

People had started to return home from work. You could see them as you walked along the back of their houses. You're careful not to be seen.

The back steps of your place come under your feet, and your caution disappears as you fling yourself into your home.

Edmund was sitting at the kitchen table dressing a rabbit he caught.

He stood up. Turning his knife towards you thinking you were an intruder.

You knew he would never hurt you so you throw your arms around his shoulders despite the threat.

The knife drops and he takes you into his arms.

“I was so worried.” he breathed.

“We have to go. We need to leave,” you state but make no attempt to pull away.

He does pull away, throwing the rabbit into his hunting sack and picking up his knife. You take his bloody hand and he leads you back out the back door and into the forest.

The walk to the mountains takes well into the night. You both do it silently. What was there to say? There was still a long road to safety.

You stay as close as you could to him. Always holding his hand or latched onto his arm.

The mountain trail is tough and you wonder how he made it up with your mother on his back. He knew the way well, having worked in the mines nearly all his life. He warned you of which boulders were loose, and when you tripped over he caught you as if he almost expected it.

You were worn out by the time you reached the campsite. Rows and rows of small wooden houses for the miners. All were empty this time of year as it got too dark too early and not light enough too late for the hours they worked.

You saw a freshly put-out fire and knew that your mother was close.

“Your mothers in that one,” he pointed to the right cabin, “My family’s in the next one.”

For the first time in the hour's walk, you tore free from him and ran into your mother's cabin.

It was a relief to see her sleeping figure. You throw yourself on top of her and begin crying.

She wakes in fright but knows the figure of her daughter well. She throws her arms around you and joins you in crying.

You were home. You were safe.

—---------

As soon as the door closed, Coriolanus felt as if he had made a mistake. He trusted you.

You were better now. Doing well. He could trust you.

But Tigris’s words made no sense to him. You were coming back.

He tried to focus on his family but he eyes the door expectantly.

Dread fills him. How long did it take to put on washing?

“Coriolanus?” he hears Tigris call.

He dashes out of his chair. He had made a very big mistake.

“Coriolanus?” the receiver resounds.

Upon opening the door he is met with his washing by his feet. He takes off running to his apartment. You were sick the other day, maybe you had fallen ill again and taken to bed.

He pushed past Peacekeepers as he ran to his steps. Taking them two at a time he reaches the top and pushes open the unlocked door. It was only ever locked to keep someone in, never someone out. He calls out for you but is met with silence.

He opened every door along the way to the bedroom, hoping you were just hiding.

He calls your name again and again until falling silent upon the empty bed. You weren’t here. Coriolanus had made a big mistake.

Clicking the radio built into the collar of his shirt, he demands that the compound is shut down.

“Has anyone been through the gates?” Both leading officers of the two entryways confirm that no one has. The Peacekeepers are diverted into searching the compound for you.

Coriolanus joins too. He didn’t trust the ability of his Peacekeepers. He searched every nook and cranny of every office and building he could find. His temper flared the longer the search went on.

You had to be in the compound. How could you have got out?

He returns to his apartment. Maybe you had returned upon hearing the sirens.

A cat catches his attention as it sits meowing and eating bits of food from the ground that the birds had managed to pick out.

He had never seen a cat in the compound before. Could it have got in the same way you got out?

He walks over to search it for any clues it might have but it runs off as he comes closer.

He chases it behind the bin where he watches it slip through the bent wire in the fence.

You had got away. Now at large in the districts.

He sighs deeply before taking his rage out on the back of the bins, bashing and kicking at it until he is forced to lean against it to catch his breath.

A search party would be sent out, interrogations would be issued. Someone had to have seen you along the way. He would find you and he would bring you home to him.

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#coriolanus snow #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #dark!coriolanus snow #commander snow #dead dove do not eat #coriolanus x reader #tom blyth #hunger games

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easy-there-leftovers · 1 year

Text

I See You, Darling (4)

[Astarion x reader] A little longer than usual, I hope that’s fine for all of you :,DDD I didn't want to cram too much into the post though, so the segment at the end might be continued in full detail, or maybe not! Let's see.|Word count: 2.9k.|

Content Warnings: Mentions of cooking, handling knives, blood, allusions to sex, a few ooc characters, reader being a dumbass and wahtnot.

Part 3 here!!

Masterlist here!!

A party is being held at the camp in the heroes’ honor, which greets you with a lively crowd that you’ll hopefully meet again soon. And with a gathering this large, you’re bound to garner attention. But with a constitution as poor as yours from the night before, a round of drinks is the last thing you want.

Alternatively: A bloodless human tries to balance respectfully participating in a drinking party, while also not drinking at all.

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

The sun rises, the warmth of its rays gently waking you in the absence of the campfire’s flames. The soft chirping of the birds greet you a good morning as your eyes slowly open, ready to greet the day as a new opportunity arises.

Is what would have happened in a more idyllic scenario. Instead, you bolt awake with a pounding headache, worse than any hangover could possibly feel like, and quickly rush to get up. By the sheer brightness of the light that burns your newly opened corneas, it is far later than when you usually wake. And breakfast still hasn’t been made.

“Well, good morning sleepy head.” One of your companions, Gale, says as he fixes his belongings. Readying himself for the skirmish that was about to take hold later on in the day.

“I’m very sorry for waking up late. It won’t happen again.” You bow your head low for a moment before he waves you off.

“Oh come now, we all have our off days. Besides, I think the rest would agree with me when I say what you made for us last night was more than enough to last us ‘til morning.” His statement is punctuated by the lively sounds of the others training. Ready and well rested for whatever may come.

You look around. None have seemed to mind your temporary absence, so you endeavor to double check with everyone leaving and ensure that they had a sound strategy with the necessary materials and weapons should there be a need for failsafes. You remind them of certain notes that some of them have informed you about but failed to share with the rest of the group.

‘While goblins typically go down faster than other opponents, they have no sense of honor nor pride which gives way for them the opportunity to use more underhanded tactics. But they also aren’t very bright, so you can convince the others to let them infiltrate the camp and eradicate them from the inside out.’

As the rest disperse, finalize their plans and check their supplies, your favorite character approaches you much like he usually does every morning. Only this time, you see that he looks very pleased. A more vibrant spark in his eyes as he opens his mouth to speak.

“Thank goodness you’ve finally woken up.” He looks at you, in the same way an old friend of yours would when they’re seconds away from telling a joke.

The look fades soon enough though as he breathes out. You wonder if it’s because the joke isn't funny anymore, or if he never had a punchline to begin with.

“You looked a little ill last night, but you’ve certainly recovered.” Recovered isn’t the word you would use to describe your current state of feeling almost half dead, but you don’t bother correcting the details.

“And you look particularly vibrant today, Astarion.” The itch of your neck intensifies as you return a pointed look at him as he frowns.

“Oh, of course! Now, don’t be so upset. I will admit that I got a little carried away, I apologize.” He pauses. The frown remains on his face for a while before it is erased with his usual expression of confidence.

“But let’s not fall out over this.” He moves to stand closer to you, taking your hand to his as he nears it to his lips as he continues.

“We need each other.”

And whether its done purposefully or not, you see his fangs peek out from his mouth and a shiver courses through your body.

You slip your hand out of his own in a panic and interject.

“I know that much already, and I trust you not to let what happened last night happen again. I also apologize for not noticing sooner and dealing with the situation better.” You hold your head down a bit to apologize but quickly meet his gaze gain. “But I do need to know what we’ll have to feed you from now on.”

The look of confusion, and perhaps even shock that was once swimming in his eyes dissipates before you can notice them when he swears upon his resolve. “No innocents, you have my word. After all, you know what I am now. I can fight with all my weapons–” He grins, allowing you a clearer view than what you had earlier. “Teeth included.”

“And if I happen to drain the occasional bandit during a fight, what's the harm? They’re just as dead.” He makes a very compelling argument, at least to your standards.

You sigh, satisfied for now. You’re confident that none of your party members would end up at the mercy of his fangs, and you’re more than sure they would be able to overpower him more than your attempts did. But the same sentiment cannot be shared for possibly important, plot driving, characters that you might meet later on.

So you propose something to strengthen your trust that the unlikely will stay the unlikely.

“Look, I’m–” You breathe in, almost as if you're trying to suck back whatever courage washed over you back in as you steeled yourself for what you were about to say next.

“I’m not against you feeding from me, but!” You punctuate the last syllable as you see his grin growing wider. “We need to discuss things beforehand. No prowling over me while waiting for me to wake up or to sink your teeth into.”

The proposal greatly delights him, as is evident in his response. “Of course! That sounds eminently reasonable. I shall wait patiently until you suggest we… dine together. But until then: no more late-night surprises. You have my word on that.”

After that, he makes a joke about feeling ‘peckish already,’ and quickly gathers the rest of the party to leave on their adventure.

You promise them a feast when they came back as the victors that they are. What you forgot, after what felt like weeks in the real world, was the crowd that would come filtering in to celebrate their heroes’ achievements as well.

————————————

When you saw the tieflings from the grove traveling alongside your companions, you knew they had come to celebrate. And you blanched at the thought of the provisions they’d be seeking to pair with their drinking. It’s been so long since you went through this event, and you no longer recall if they even ate anything during the party.

You look at your bubbling cauldron–– a bigger one as you had anticipated a few acquaintances accompanying them–– but you wager that at least a little extra things to nibble on won’t hurt to have. You still have quite the amount of camp supplies in the trunk, but you keep it reserved for the camp’s use only. So you smile at your returning comrades and alert the others that stayed behind for your reason to leave and that they can begin eating dinner.

While others told you it wasn’t necessary, the rest just nodded with a smile and yelled that they’d wait for you to return. You return quite too quickly though, all the while informing them why you’re keeping the communal chest in your tent as you spy the child that tried to steal and swindle the group a few days prior approaching with the rest.

They have a laugh and you quickly proceed with your plan to find at least a few consumable berries and nuts or seeds to accompany the drinks later on.

But foraging for said consumables near dark is a choice not for the faint-hearted. You came to realize this when you heard the low grumble of a large animal, thankfully far from your form. You turn to look behind you, taking great care to do so as slowly as possible so as to not alert the mysterious creature.

In the clearing, you spot a rather dark looking bear and you feel a cold sweat begin to form on your temple. Hands, growing wet in the dangerous situation you’ve placed yourself in. This wasn’t the same as being drained to death by a vampire, that, you could at least reason with. But a wild animal? With your lack of magical prowess and lesser knowledge of connecting with nature and the wild, you would be finished if it were to follow you.

The small pouch of nuts and wild berries stayed holstered on your waist, but the bear’s eyes that were previously low on the ground are now trained on you. Almost as if it were caught doing something it wasn’t supposed to be.

You freeze. You forgot what the basic policy was around brown or black bears and therefore couldn’t do much about your current predicament. There shouldn’t be a bear around this area, not unless they had traveled from far away, or that this bear was one of your future companions.

And while the latter isn’t impossible, you most certainly did not want to gamble your life on a possibility. So you tried to compose yourself, returned the gaze of the bear with a shaky and careful nod, and turned back to return to camp. Figuring that the amount of tidbits you gathered would have to suffice.

When you return, the company you shared seems to be in high spirits. Some more than others. But conversation was plentiful and you smiled as the tieflings cheered for your comrades. You quickly got to work and began to chop the nuts into thinner pieces. Something you learned to make the appearance of something look more abundant than it really is.

While you were chopping away unfortunately, you nick your finger along the way and silently curse. Unfortunate, but not an unforeseeable outcome given the booming drums of the bard that plays oh so nicely with your bloodless state. You quickly, but neatly, arrange the provisions on two small platters, and position them near the larger gatherings.

“Flitting around like a hummingbird as always, I see.” A familiar, but not immediately recognizable voice greets you as you pass them. You turn and you see an unexpected acquaintance with a bottle in their hand and an incredibly charming grin.

“Dammon! How lucky of me to run into you.” You genuinely were elated to see him. You didn’t see much of him later on in the game, and being able to interact with him beyond the opportunities given to you was certainly nice.

“I could say the same. Though you’re as lively as you usually are.” There’s no malice in his tone, only an innocent observation, yet you feel embarrassed to have been seen scuttling about like a bug.

“I– promise I’m more organized. I just didn’t expect us to be having any guests.” He takes notice of how you push your fingers into your palms repetitively, a small action that soothes you.

“I think you’ve done more than a fine job already. The celebration is for you all, and it was us who planned to come and might’ve put your friends on the spot.” He later takes notice of the cut on your finger as well.

“Speaking of,” He gingerly grasps your hand, looking to you for permission, but you’re too confused to respond with anything he can understand. “Shouldn’t you be taking it easy for the night? You’ve done enough. And if what happened at the grove tells me anything about you, I’m sure they’ll survive even if you settle. Just for a bit.”

He leads you nearer to the water and produces a small washcloth to clean a bit of your finger as you respond. “The grove? They did that on their own. I just um, take notes.” You sit on a fallen tree, your head still fuzzy, as you observe his crouched form. Inspecting the cut as he cleans it.

A curious interaction. Not one that you’d expect from an non-romanceable NPC, but an interesting one nonetheless. And it would seem that someone had found it equally as interesting, if the way he scrutinizes you had anything to do about it.

He chuckles in turn. “If modesty is how you like to live, then I won’t impose.” He smiles and gets up as you continue your conversation. You don’t recall if the tiefling has ever had this much screen time, but his voice is rather lovely so you don’t complain about it.

You end up discussing quite a bit, but you focus on what can be done about your party. Specifically Karlach as you worry for the future and you’d like to have answers for her when he isn’t around during your journey. He doesn’t have much idea of what else can be done, but he does mention that he should have something by the time you meet him again in Baldur’s Gate.

You do remember that you might meet him a lot sooner, but you don’t mention it explicitly. You do, however, advise him to be extra careful around the oxen as they can be rather unpredictable this time of year.

As you continue, you notice his eyes flit up every now and then. Like something was catching his attention ever so often. You ask him about it and he actually laughs at your genuine inquiry. “It looks like I was wrong. Your friend there looks like he’d like his turn for your company.”

You turn around and you don’t immediately eye anyone looking in your direction. You were never the subtle type, so you looked around, blatantly searching for someone. It was a bit odd to see.

Your eyes do eventually train on his, but he doesn’t necessarily look like he wants to talk to you. Sure, he’s scowling away, though that’s not out of the ordinary at all. Besides, he has a bottle of something that you hope is helping him relax.

Still, perhaps Dammon saw something you didn’t so you politely thank him for his company and excuse yourself.

You greet the others that regard you as you walk past them. Declining the offers to drink and excusing yourself politely when you were asked to stay a bit.

As you approach him, a tiefling tries to strike up a conversation with him. With a bored look, he dismisses them and turns to look at you. He takes a sip, sneers, and begins his rant now that you’re situated in front of him.

“I hate it. This is awful.”

“The…wine?” He looks at you as if he should be mad, but a hint of amusement surfaces past the expression anyway.

“There’s that, but I’m talking about the tieflings. We killed some goblins to save the others. The tally of lives didn’t change much. But what do I get for my hard work? A pat on the head, and vinegar for wine.” He looks down the neck of the bottle, swirling its contents before handing it out for you to take.

You look at the bottle, then him, warily. Modern alcohol is already a wonder to you, and this medieval mead could only do so much worse. Still, you take the bottle, and take a very small sip.

It’s a heavy, rich, red. Dry and sharp. You make a small sound of shock as you keep the liquid in your mouth. Offering him an awkward smile and a nod as you do.

“Ugh, see what I mean? Awful.”

“All I want is a little fun. Is that so much to ask?” You would think that after an entire day of fighting whatever was out there he’d be tired. Apparently not.

You sigh, ready to reprimand him and that he should just enjoy the night, but you stop when you feel his unburdened hand reach out to you. Eyes, boring into your own as he propositions you.

You’re here. Face in the grasp of a character you’ve longed to romance with what little time you’ve had away from your scholarly pursuits. Yet meeting him in strange, yet not all too unfamiliar, territory stirs uncertainty within you. Because while he doesn't have a knife at your throat like he did when your character first met him, it certainly does evoke the same sentiment.

‘To, “make me his”, is that right?’ While the idea is tempting, that statement alone can have various interpretations. And you didn’t want to hedge your bets on the one that made your heart race for all the wrong reasons.

Thankfully, he releases his hold on your visage. Only the gods know how much his touch alone can influence you, and you struggle to stand upright.

“I’m– very,-- truly, sorry, but don’t you think you have the wrong person? I mean,” You gesture to yourself with both hands, a cut visible from the labor in the few hours prior to the large festivities going on.. “Uh…in case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly in a position to make any um, lucrative offers.”

He looks at you, a familiar expression graces his face. He leans his weight on one leg, and you struggle to recognize what his body language is conveying. This is one of those instances you wished you had the dice roll mechanic of the game at your disposal.

“Why, that hardly matters, darling. What matters is that you’re here.” He takes a sip from his bottle, the very same that he allowed you to partake from moments prior. Only this time, without the sneer at the aftertaste as he continues.

“But then again, what’s a sinner to do when faced with the very embodiment of chastity?” A smile graces his face, but it’s one that is all too perfect. As if he’s rehearsed the same song and dance enough to save him lifetimes.

“Let’s wait until things quieten down. Once the others are asleep we’ll find each other.”

You have no idea what to expect. Well, you do, but you’re not very sure if this is necessary. You’ll just have to find a way to continue the story without having to go through with this. For now, at least.

“We’ll see about that, Astarion.”

————━─━────༺༻────━─━————

Thank you to @rey26, @shyminnie07, @lynnloveshobi, @iggee-rose, @automnepoet, @tiannamortis, @aoirohi, @sarkara211, @jane-3043, @h3110-dar1in9, @h3ll0k1ttyl0ver333, @mimziethealien, @squichymochi, @sharabay, @furblrwurblr, @dork-of-the-universe, @thedevilssinner, @fuckalrighty, @queenofthespacesquids, @perseny, @goldenplutus, @h4nluv, @awkward-d3rs3-dr3amer, @auszimbo, @maruichio, @iamsexytrash, @craig-mywifeisdead-boone, @grimissleepy, @fandomsfanman, @bitchyzombienacho, @r1kk, @ancuninstar, @izuoyarmin, @gracemisconduct, @kiinokochii, @marina-and-the-memes, and @life-is-hard-m8 for asking to be tagged!!

#astarion ancunin x reader #astarion x reader #astarion ancunin #astarion x mc #aware!astarion #baldur's gate 3 x reader #astarion x you #bg3 x reader #bg3 x reader isekai(?)#possibly also a Dammon x reader?#slight!!#Slight Dammon x reader

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littlejuicebox · 8 months

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A growing brood.

Summary: Gale has just turned three years old and is adjusting to the idea of becoming a big brother. He and Astarion go out for a walk in the orchard, where the older man gets an opportunity to practice some of his stealth skills.

Tags/Warnings: all fluff, Dadstarion, parenthood, babies, mentions of pregnancy, brief mentions of Astarion’s past and trauma, idk what else

Gale is holding a toy sword he received on his birthday as he and Astarion walk along the back grounds of the manor. The child is swinging the wooden object haphazardly as he sings a babbled song his father can’t identify.

Astarion surveys the small orchard as they meander along the dirt path. He’d been sent here with the little boy at the request of his pregnant wife, tasked with determining whether or not the trees were ready to harvest. She currently stood on the balcony of their home, waiting for her husband’s signal. She wouldn’t make the trek out until then; it had to be worth navigating uneven ground and overgrown brush in her condition.

Picking fruit in the orchard had become Tav and Gale’s yearly autumn tradition. The first year they’d spent quite a bit of time introducing the little one to new fruits he had not yet tried.

Pregnant or not, she refused to miss the orchard harvest.

Astarion is secretly relieved when he determines nothing is quite ripe. He felt Tav was pushing herself too hard, going above and beyond to make their first born feel valued as he adjusted to the idea of siblings. But carrying the twins was starting to exhaust her and she desperately needed rest. She’d already overworked herself for Gale’s third birthday party just a week ago, despite Astarion’s protests.

The elf lifts his hand and shoots a ray of frost up into the sky. He knows his little love will see the signal and retreat back into the house. He hopes she will take a much needed nap now that their son is preoccupied with his father.

“CHARGE!” Gale shouts, running forward on two stubby legs with his toy sword in the air.

“Gale, don’t run in the orchard you’ll—“ Astarion starts, but before he can finish his chastisement the little boy’s foot gets caught on a particularly large tree root. He stumbles and falls onto his knees with a soft thud and a grunt of surprise. The toy sword clatters to the ground as Gale’s small hands extend in front of him to break the fall.

Astarion thinks they really need to dedicate outdoor clothes for the child. Traipsing around the orchard in gold threaded finery simply wouldn’t do. The older man’s eyes flutter toward the back of his head in exasperation as he walks over to the three year old calling, “Are you alright, Gale?”

The toddler stands back up, dusting off his hands. His previously pristine trousers are now caked in dirt and grass. He turns and nods to Astarion before responding, “I okay, Papa!”

A brood of their free-range chickens is clustered nearby, bawking as they peck at the ground searching for insects. The noise captures Gale’s attention and he forgets his sword, running towards the small cluster of birds.

“Chickens, guess what! I free years old now!” He shouts, holding his middle three fingers up to show the fowl his new age.

But as he approaches the chickens, they scatter off, deterred by the loud babblings of the boy. Gale huffs in disappointment. And then he shouts, “CHICKENS! Get over here now!”

The chickens bawk and run further away from the little boy, much to his chagrin. His shoulders sag dramatically as he pouts.

“You’d do well to learn that you’ll catch more flys with honey than vinegar, little prince.” Astarion lectures, coming up behind his son after scooping the forgotten wooden sword from the earth.

Gale blinks at his father, eyebrows crinkling in confusion, “But daddy, chickens doesn’t fly does they? My book say they doesn’t.”

The little prince was particularly fascinated by birds. At the child’s party a week ago, Gale of Waterdeep had gifted his namesake a set of twenty six children’s books listed A through Z, each covering the specifics of one bird. Astarion had just been held hostage by the three year old and forced to read “C” for chickens twice a few nights ago.

The elf had rushed through the first reading in an attempt to finish quickly and join Tav for a much needed tryst between mommy and daddy. Gale had refused to let him leave until he read the book properly.

“It’s an expression, Gale, it means— nevermind, it’s not important.” Astarion sighs, flailing his hand in a dismissive gesture. He isn’t about to waste his time explaining idioms to a three year old, “But maybe if you approach the chickens more quietly, they’ll come up to you.”

Gale considers this and then nods, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. He begins walking toward the brood, trying desperately to be quiet. He’s just a few feet away when the chickens scatter again, clucking anxiously to one another. The careful movements of a three year old are still too noisy and abrupt for the birds.

The silver-haired boy groans in frustration.

“Watch me, Gale.” Astarion whispers as he hands the toy sword back to his son.

The elf crouches lower to the ground, easily engaging the predatory behavior he hadn’t used since turning mortal roughly four years ago. But the muscle memory alone allows him to silently and efficiently make his way to the group of chickens. Long-fingered hands dart out and quickly retrieve a spotted hen from the periphery of the brood.

Gale cheers before dropping the sword once again as he runs up to his father, wanting to examine the animal more closely. The rest of the flock members instantly run away when the little boy approaches, but he pays them no mind. Tiny fingers come out to gently pet the back of the bird.

“Good job, daddy!” The child exclaims, causing the older man to chuckle.

Astarion finds it entertaining that he is being praised for catching a harmless domesticated chicken. Gale truly had no idea that, only a few years ago, his father easily downed wild boars and a few bears with nothing but his fangs.

They’d purposely bought this estate on the outer edge of Rivington as a way to meet the nutritional needs of the prior vampire. In fact, Astarion had used the wild boar infestation in this very orchard to justify a lower price point from the seller and then quickly turned around and solved the problem with his hunting in a matter of weeks.

One day, Gale will know more about his father’s past.

But not today.

Today, Astarion is just a daddy catching a chicken.

Perhaps that’s who he truly is. Perhaps he doesn’t have to cling so hard to who he thought he was.

A light drizzle abruptly ended the walk in the orchard. Astarion scooped Gale up and hurriedly returned to the manor; the last thing he and Tav needed was the little boy catching a cold.

They were wearing a set of matching drenched curls when Astarion plopped his son on the back porch.

“Papa…” Gale starts, looking down at the toy sword he’s fiddling with in his hand, lost in thought.

“What is it, little prince?” Astarion asks as he removes his mud-caked boots before crouching to help his child do the same.

“When my other babies born,” He continues while lifting a leg, trying to help his dad remove the dirty shoes. The little boy had always referred to the twins as “my babies” and his parents simply shrugged it off as one of those strange things kids do, “You gonna love me, still, right, Papa?”

Astarion pauses.

Shit.

This was the type of sensitive, vulnerable, soft stuff that Tav usually handled so smoothly and Astarion felt sure he always fumbled.

The older man slowly places the child’s shoes down and then peers into his son’s round, emerald eyes. Gale was growing to be a much more sensitive and empathetic boy than Astarion had anticipated. The child might be the spitting image of his father, but his disposition certainly leaned more toward his mother.

It was something Astarion simultaneously feared and wanted to fiercely protect.

“Yes, Gale. I will still love you when your little brothers or sisters are born,” Astarion murmurs, bringing his hand up to gently brush it through his child’s unruly, wet curls, “You’ll still love me, won’t you?”

Gale nods and grins at his father as the worry in his little body fades away, “I love you always, daddy.”

The older man pulls his son into a hug, mostly to avoid Gale catching a glimpse of his father blinking back tears, “I will always love you, too, Gale.”

The elf lifts the little boy back up and heads into the house, planning to get them both into a fresh change of clothes.

The child may now be three years old and have two other siblings on the way, but whether he is three, thirty three, or three hundred… Gale will always be Astarion’s first baby.

And Astarion will always love his little boy.

#astarion fanfic #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion fluff #dadstarion fic #dadstarion #papastarion #soft astarion

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sidthedollface2 · 7 months

Text

A Crown fit for a God

(Part 2 here)

Pairing: Azriel x Fem Reader

Summary: An enemy threatens Velaris leaving Azriel to choose between his found family and a long lost friend. Can he juggle the two or will he fall for the enemy?

word count: 2.6k

Series warnings: 18+ MDNI, angst, hurt/comfort,light smut, war, including injuries, fighting, sign language, no use of y/n, nicknames, magic, greek mythology, pining, jealousy, azriel with other women (sorry), reader with another man (get it friend ; )

A/n: I'm a daydreamer not a writer so if you see any mistakes that's how I dreamt it. Lol

Azriel sat at his desk, reports and sightings of a hooded being trespassing multiple courts, leaving behind scorched farm lands and destroyed buildings scattered across the table. “Any luck?” Elain questioned, running her gentle hands over Azriel's shoulders, loosening his tense muscles. “I’ve been searching for over 500 years, but I think I'm getting close. Most recent sightings have been by women and children. Day or night it does not matter, they've seen IT and their bodies remain still, unable to move or scream until their work is done.” Azriel stared at the map of Prythian. “I think it’s finally here,” he met Elains worried eyes, “in the Night Court.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Azriel 8 yrs old

Azriel stopped sobbing once he knew no one would come for him. The foul smell of char and burnt flesh still lingered in his cell. His small hands trembled and shook from the intense pain, bubbles full of fluid and blackened skin covered both hands. Fingers locked and unable to move, not even to wipe at his heavy tears. The four walls to his cell provided nothing but cold nights and loneliness. With nothing to soothe the heat from his hands Azriel pressed his blistered palms flat to the cold floors. Hissing through clenched teeth as the coldness relieved some of the ache and heat within. Azriel hummed to a song inside his head, anything to pull his tired mind away from the pain and hopelessness he felt. With his eyes squeezed shut he tried to will the tears away, humming louder and louder to drown out his thoughts. His mind circled to a happier time.

Small feet padding through fields of tall grass as he raced to his favorite spot; under a weeping willow. Perched against the tall tree the scent of fresh apples and citrus filled his nose as the wind carried the delicious scent towards him. His ears caught the melodious song of birds high above him. His gaze tracked up the tree to spot the feathered songbird but as soon as he craned his neck towards the sky time froze. A beautiful luna moth with large iridescent wings took flight, landing on the soft skin of Azriel’s cheek, tickling the small boy awake.

Azriel quickly opened his eyes, blinking rapidly in the darkness. The scent of citrus still lingered and time was eerily still. His pupils widened, adjusting to focus on what he was seeing. In the corner of his cell a shadowed figure stood still. Scrambling to his feet Azriel backed himself into the wall behind him. The dark figure inched closer, slowly, step by step. The hooded figure reached for Azriel's small hand. He told his mind to pull away, and to resist. But he was frozen against the cold wall, unable to move or cry out for help; not that anyone would help him. He tried to scream but the air left his lungs. Peeking beneath a hood Azriel saw the most stunning and captivating eyes he’d ever seen. Neither of the same color, yet bright and brilliant. One holds the color of the night sky, dark with swirls of violet and starlight. The other is pale and cloudy like the surface of the moon from Prythian. Your long shiny hair framed your youthful face and pouty lips perfectly. You don’t look much older than him yet you have this ancient presence he can't put his finger on.

You're cool fingertips brush his knuckles, testing for his reaction. A small smile graces your lips as you remember that he’s unable to move. At least unable to move his outer extremities and vocal chords. Yet the windows to his soul tell you he's frightened. His wide hazel eyes are glassy, tears slowly filling his waterline. The rapid rise and fall in his chest is another clue to his distress. You let out a soft sigh as a single tear runs down his dirty cheek. Taking a step back you lay your palm flat against your chest, hoping he’ll understand what you intend to convey. Again, you pat your chest and azriel blinks in response. Bringing your hands in front of you, you tuck your fingers in creating a fist and curl both your forefingers and hook them together, with one wrist facing down and the other up you sign the word ‘Friend.’

You wait for his breaths to slow before you gather his burned hand within yours. His knuckles are angry and reddened from the lack of healthy skin. Moderate pieces are blackened and multiple blisters are threatening to burst. Carefully, you examine the extensive damage that was done, and begin to call upon your magic. Azriel's eyes widen to the size of saucers when your fingertips spark with what looks like stardust and your hand turns completely black from your fingertips down to your wrist. You gently run your star glittered forefinger down his. Starting at the base of his knuckle to the tip of his finger, healing all the delicate tissue and epidermis just like it was before. You release the magic holding him still, allowing him to relax his shoulders and curl the finger you healed. “How did-” the words die in his mouth as you continue to work on the next finger. Tracing once again from the base of his knuckle, down his slender finger to his nail. Revealing smooth and supple skin, no longer burned and charred.

The loud sound of a door opening startled both of you apart. Stopping your healing magic at only two fingers, Azriels paniced eyes met yours. You knew what he was asking. But you couldn't grant him more time, at least not yet. Quickly, you pulled your hood up over your head. Closing your hand in a fist you brought it to your chest, moving it in a circular motion; signing the word ‘sorry.’

“Wait!” Azriel’s arms dart out grasping onto the sleeve of your cloak only for the garment to fall at a pile to his feet. “Mother!” he gasped, shocked at your sudden disappearance, leaving behind your cloak that still had warmth and your scent.

He’d kept your cloak all these years, the only cloth in his cell that kept him warm on those freezing nights.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Az, something is breaching the wards, get down here.

Rhys panicked words pierced through Azriel's mind as he abruptly sat up from the bed, the bed he shared with Elain. He quickly pulled his pants on, followed by his shirt and protective leathers. Placing a kiss to Elain's forehead, he winnowed to the location Rhys mentioned.

An invisible force separated the three males from the dark figure that threatened Velaris.

“Is It alone?” Cassian questioned, glancing behind and around the figure, assessing the intruder. His fingers itched at his sides, waiting for the slightest movement to unleash his blade.

“She’s alone.” Rhys confirmed, gaze narrowed and unwavering at the dark figure.

“She?” Both Cassian and Azriel said in unison, a look of shock on both their faces. It wasn’t that they doubted a female's ability. They knew the power that simmered beneath the skin. The unending strength, if provoked enough. The females in the inner circle, if combined, could take on males twice their size and fight wars alongside the bravest of warriors, but not alone. You’d have to be extremely powerful or extremely stupid to dare face the night court’s high lord alone.

Her gaze lifted above to the bright blue sky as if the power holding Velaris safe was visible to the eye. Her head swiveled left, noting how large the protection ran. Then to her right, gauging the amount of magic needed to breach the wards. At the moment, no army trailed behind her. No warrior or protector was by her side. She was simply there to send a message.

“She’s unarmed.” Azriel's shadows slithered back to him, informing him of the lack of weapons and armor. She was defenseless and although a powerful barrier kept her out of Velaris, the two most violent and skilled warriors along with the most powerful highlord stood before her; she remained fearless. Her strong legs planted firm in the soil. It was difficult to determine what was under her dark cloak. His shadows stilled as her gaze met those of the shadowsinger. He knew those eyes. Azriel had searched for those beautiful eyes in every court, in every crowd, in every female. He’d dreamed of the day he’d see them again. His attention was directed to Rhys as he spoke in a firm demanding tone.

“I will say this once, and only once-”

Rhys' voice caught in his throat as the female's palms met the protective barrier. Electric current coursed through her veins, the power of lightning flickered from her fingers creating an orb of pure energy. Her foot dug into the soil behind her as she braced herself pushing through the wards, creating a space for her body to pass. All three males rushed towards her, charging at the enemy with bared teeth and blades ready to attack. Their large bulking frames and violence in their eyes was enough to bring grown men to their feet.

Cassian sent a blast of red power straight towards her, expecting it to hit its target. Although stronger than most fae, his blast passed through her like a strong gust of wind. Whipping her head to its side, causing her long hair to flow out from under her hood. Her feet stayed planted, unwavering.

“Mother above.” Cassian breathed before he held his sword up high, slicing through the air as he brought it down over her head. Rhys' eyes widened for a fraction as Azriel’s truth teller clashed with Cassian, blocking his effort to harm her. Azriel’s shoulder roughly dug into Cassian's chest as he shoved his brother back with force. Betrayal laced in Cassian's eyes as he gaped at his brother. Out of all their arguments and bickering not once has Azriel disagreed with a common enemy.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Cassian sneered, meeting Azriels force with his own. Never one to back down at defending his court or his high lord.

“You foolish boy!” Amren called from a distance, closing the space between them, “you cannot kill a God.”

“Took you long enough,” Rhys tisked, plucking an invisible lint from his dark shirt.

The hooded figure narrowed her eyes at the approaching Amren and scowled at the title that she clearly did not like. Azriel and Cassian ceased their bickering as Rhys' power shook the very ground they stood on, a wave of darkness ready to protect his city.

“No one has breached these wards in 5,000 years.” Rhys declared with all the confidence of a high lord. Stepping forward, commanding the eyes of the hooded figure in a challenge, “what business does a God have in Velaris, surely you have better things to do.”

“Do not mock her, she can kill you where you stand.” Amren whispered. “As can I.” Rhys challenged.

Her face remained unseen under the protection of her hood. Slowly her fingers came up beside her face, grasping the edges of the hood, she pushed the dark fabric over her head, revealing herself.

Amrens words ring true when the goddess reveals herself. Her beauty is unique and divine, flawless in the way that makes males fall to their knees.

All the air from Azriels lungs vanished as he stared into those eyes. Years he’d been searching every court, reading countless books on healers and where they originated. Shamelessly making eye contact with each female he met hoping to one day find the mute girl who gave him purpose. To hope one day he could thank her for her kindness to a boy who had nothing.

“I’ve been looking for you.” Azriel exhaled, holding a palm out to Rhys and his brother letting them know ‘he’s got this.’

Your brows furrowed, and your eyes trailed down Azriels body. Trying your hardest to put a face or name to the male in front of you. After years of imagining how seeing you again would be, he didn't put into account the possibility of you not recognizing him. While Azriel admired how much you've grown since he first saw you. Your gaze seemed to pass right through him. And his worst fears were confirmed with a tilt of your head.

You didn’t remember him.

You couldn't recall any detail or encounter that would cause you to remember the male. Instead you focused your gaze on the High Lord. you were here to deliver a message after all.

“High Lord of Night, ready your soldiers, a war is among you.”

Surprise passed through Azriels eyes as he heard you speak. The day he met you your only form of communication was through hand signs. And now your voice is laced with threat, nothing like the gentle girl he met hundreds of years ago. He wonders what had changed.

“And what do you bring to this war?” Rhys expression hardened. He tried to enter your mind to see for himself the truth of your words. Surprised to see your mind vulnerable for all, yet within the space were no visions or memories of your past, but rings of blazing fire encircled a black hole with unknown knowledge within. Rhys had read about minds with black holes. It was a mystery as to what one would find within the hole. Some say time freezes for the observer, how long till it resumes has never been answered. Others say that if you fall into the black hole your mind fails the body and a blazing fire consumes you from the inside out, leaving behind ashes to be carried by the wind.

“I bring Chaos and unrest, Lord of Night it be wise of you to heed my warning because your life will be in my hands.”

Within seconds the afternoon sky turned dark and gray, the loud crack of thunder boomed in the distance and before either of them could reach you, you summoned a strike of lightning; hitting the ground like a whip. The flash was bright as it hit and Rhys witnessed the wards he placed on Velaris crumble. A loud roar was heard throughout Velaris, a deadly creature answering your call. It was then he realized, struggling to push through a small door to get within the protection wards was just for show. And whatever message you needed to deliver, something frightening answered.

Between the flashes of lightning and the echoes of thunder, just beyond the way they saw hundreds and hundreds of waiting soldiers. Looking at your retreating form, Azriel, Cassian and Amren rubbed at their eyes.

Once you reached the front line of fighters you looked over your shoulder, meeting Rhys powerful gaze and with a slight smirk you replaced his wards and removed the illusioned warriors. Leaving Velaris protected as it once was but now the threat of death and destruction looms near, not only to Rhys but everything and everyone he holds dear in Velaris.

Part 2

~ thank you for reading

#azriel shadowsinger #acotar #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel spymaster #azriel fanfic #azriel x fem!reader #azriel x y/n #azriel angst #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar fanfic #acotar imagine #a court of thorns and roses #azriel #acotar azriel #azriel imagine #acotar fic #azriel fluff

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trampstampbrbie · 1 month

Text

Vanity

'It was rare to catch Keigo off of his witty and cocky persona, so you relished in every bit of him being a soft and loving sleepy bird.'

fem!reader x takami keigo | hawks tags: established relationship, one shot, minors dni, smut, piv s^x, or^al m!receiving, female body worship, c^m play summary: you're getting ready to go out and keigo wakes up...all sleepy...all sentimental on this glowing tokyo night...and he decides to do something about it...

masterlist

One of the things you loved most about living in Japan was it’s intoxicating nightlife; the rainbow LEDs emitting a retro-like filter to the world, with it’s fluorescence and humming. From distant terraces and penthouse rooftops, you could hear the thumping of the music they were surely partying to. The city at dark was euphoric, giving inspiration to artists, fueling passion among lovers and comforting even the most lonely as their silhouettes shadowed the busy streets.

It got you excited for your night out; a gaggle of your friends had been planning this for a while-- trying to sync up everyone’s schedules, seeing who was off from work on the same nights and such.

Staring back at yourself in a lighted vanity mirror, you could see the darkened marks beneath your eyes and how truly pronounced they were-- the rest of your room made dark, with just thick bulbs illuminating each weathered feature of your skin. You did nothing but work recently, long hours and consecutive days in a row, so this was a night you were looking forward to all month.

You would’ve primped and suffered over each inch that you didn’t like but, you wanted this night to be filled with nothing but positive energy-- and you wouldn’t deny just how sexy you felt with your hair done, naked under a petal-toned silk robe before the mirror like that.

A patchouli incense was lit across the room, wrapping you in its floral and musk scent, allowing you to relax forward against the vanity’s counter-top. You had to remind yourself that you weren’t getting ready for work: there was no need to rush. This was like self-care, yeah?

With your face only a few mere inches away from the mirror, you plucked and brushed at the hair of your brow, making sure they were tidy enough and framed to your face. You added a bit of concealer to the discoloration below your eyes, and to any other feature of your face that you wanted to enhance.

It wasn’t until you felt a soft tickling at the heels of your crossed feet, that you realised the figure next to you was stirring awake— a large crimson wing pulling away from underneath the round velvet stool you sat upon.

“Baby--” the voice was hoarse, like it was speaking tiredly for the first time in a millenia yet, all you heard was the sweet thickness of honey.

A hand outstretched in your direction, lazily hanging in the air and swatting for your attention. “Hi love,” you finally look over at Keigo, just having finished up your mascara. A tired smile spread across your partner’s face once you finally carried his fingers in your own.

“Goin’ out tonight?” he questions, rubbing his face against the pillow, not wanting to let go of you to merely scratch a tickling at his nose.

There was a small hint of surprise in his voice, hitching up at the end of his qualm and lingering with a raise of his brow-- a single citrine eye staring back at you. As much as you loved talking to Keigo, you really wished that he’d go back to sleep-- he was out all day doing hero-work and you knew just how tired he must’ve been. It took him forever to fall asleep that afternoon, too.

So, you quickly hum in response to him but, (to his dismay) let go of his hand to continue getting ready. “You’ve only slept for a few hours, why don’t you go back to bed?” you utter lowly, patting some blush to the soft flesh of your cheeks. The crackle of his voice is drowned out by the thick pillow he now lay face down on-- his hips moving into the mattress and catching your gaze for a split second as he got comfortable.

“And miss the show? Nah, I’m good,” he chuckles and holds a second pillow to his chest, as if it were you lying with him. He reaches out with a socked foot and rakes the tip from your elbow and up the sleeve of your robe. “Never seen you in this, baby bird...” Keigo breathes and you know better not to answer him; any entertainment to his buttery words and cute nicknames would result in you having to re-do your hair and makeup.

His leg finally relaxes and hangs off the bed, you notice him rutting slowly into the mattress once more from the corner of your eye.

Using your ring finger, you patted a small amount of a shimmery highlighter to the highpoints of your cheeks, and to the very tips of your nose-- rotating your head in the mirror to admire the glow it gave you. It was Keigo’s next few words that made you completely swivel in your stool to look at him.

“You look beautiful,” and it wasn’t what he said but rather, how he said it. There was no smirk, chuckle, or signs of coyness in the tone. His voice was completely serious. Apropos.

When your body was facing him fully, you caught sight of his figure: the grey sweatpants sticking out here and there from the messy duvet, his toned and shirtless torso stretched up towards the gathering of pillows by the bedframe. But, his face was what really drove the scampering sensation against your ribcage: his blond hair was tousled atop his head, loose bangs falling forward into his eyes. The expression Keigo bore was completely flat-- again, no smirk or even twitching of an underlying joke. Yet, you still waited an extra moment for him to bust out in chortle or in some lewd comment.

“Thank you,” your eyes like saucers, shining back at him before busying yourself with opening a side-drawer, in search for the perfect lip color.

It was Keigo who was now in awe of his partner. You really were just so damned beautiful and he was ashamed that he wasn’t more serious with you. Sure, you knew he loved you and everything there was about you but, he knew that when someone was a jokester, it was harder to believe the more significant things that they had to say. But boy, were you a sight. You deserved to hear it from him every moment of every day.

He now moved to lay on his side, resting an elbow against one of the pillows to sit up and really get a look at you; the way your eyes searched the mirror, to find an imperfection (as if there were any to begin with, he thought), the way your hair bounced a bit with how you swayed to the outside music. There was nothing not to love about you.

Keigo had finally palmed his hair out of his face and let out a content sigh. He never thought that life could be this good-- that he could be this happy, especially with someone else. You really bombarded your way into his life and made it all the better.

His thoughts were interrupted by a short breeze that came through the bedroom window, rushing the soft material of your robe away from your chest. The supple skin to your breast was now exposed and the shallow shadow to your collarbone now in perfect view for him. The blond stirred with an outward exasperation.

You, not even phased by the naked skin now in view of your lover, looked over at his sounds. “C’mere,” is all he had to say and this time, Keigo didn’t even attempt to hide the way he pressed one of the pillows against his groin. Again, you knew not to give in to him, “I have to get ready,” you flush and tie the robe tighter around your waist, synching yourself a bit in doing so.

“C’mon baby bird, I just want to love you,” he groans, throwing his head back down, peeking at you with a singular iris once more.

“You can love me from there!” with a stern tone, you hold your ground, applying some cherry lip balm to your lips and smacking them together-- ignoring the jesting comment about how mean you were being.

Along the mirror’s trim, you had all of your perfumes organized-- roller balls to the left, regular sprays in the middle, and jarred solids to the right. Upon picking out a floral, solid perfume, the bed creaked--relieved of weight.

Keigo’s wings had stretched along with his arms, some bones and joints audibly popping and cracking with the release of stress-- a feather or two falling down in his wake.

In the mirror, you saw his figure standing behind you from the belly button down. You surprised yourself with how well you were doing to not be phased by his words and continued on to rub a finger into the waxy perfume. You dabbed the warm oil behind either ear, under your chin, between your clavicle bone and finally, you loosened your robe a bit to apply some between your naked breasts.

Keigo’s hitched breathing could be heard clear as day and from the reflection, you saw his legs straddle a bit, lowering himself to kiss the top of your head. A stiff mound brushed between your shoulders as he placed two big hands at your shoulders. “Keigo…” you began with a sigh, “--ah, ah, I’m just admiring what I see here.. no funny business,” he breathes, rubbing the silk against your skin nicely. “I promise,”

You had to admit, it did feel good and as much as you wanted to love him, you had to leave in an hour-- and you still had things to do to get ready.

Keigo on the other hand, was plunged completely into overlooking every inch of you, clothed or not. In that moment, his narrowed gaze was completely focused on the pinched fabric at your chest. The cool breeze had perked your nipples and they were now prodding at your thin-wear.

“Look at you..” he breathes, both hands slowly moving your hair from off your shoulder and leaving the strands down your back-- giving him purchase to the no longer crowded-area. “..baby you are so damn beautiful,” he repeats and leans down, pressing a loud kiss to the nape of your neck. Through the mirror, your eyes soften at him, a small smile at your glossy lips. There was no way you could even pretend to be bothered by any of this…

His hands now cupped and moved down your bicep, smaller kisses led behind your ear, “I can’t believe I get to call you mine,” Keigo’s hands now lay flat against your stomach, swaying both of you to the loudening ambience outside. Your hands lie over his and entangle both of your fingers together. “I love you,” your voice is small but lingers-not in meaning. Once more do you sense his breath hitching behind you.

“Look at me,” the voice you heard, you had never heard before. It was a whisper, deep and yearning. Keigo’s large hand grips your much smaller jaw, turning you to do as he asked. His hunched over figure was searching your eyes, your face, for something other than the truth in what you had just said. You knew he had his struggles with accepting the love he deserves-- especially being a guy who’s been chased by so many money-lusting individuals who have forced him to wear rose-colored glasses for far too long. So, you repeated yourself, to make sure you got the message across. “I love you, Keigo,”

The kiss you two shared was slow, barely moving, even. But you can nearly feel him tremble against you as a soft smooching noise departs the exchange.

His arms wrap once more around you, even tighter than before and you moan out smally at the gesture. The thick digits of his fingers linger above the sides of your breasts, right against your armpit. You can’t help but to slowly guide them to hold and squeeze the plush mounds.

Keigo immediately grinds against you, a moan of his own following suit. You fully lean back against him, losing sight of his face and only being able to see his parted lips and stubbled chin in the mirror. The man you loved kneaded at your breasts for a minute or so, as you watched his eyeless reflection rut and quiver. The pink ties of your robe were slowly undone too, allowing for the part to open more and more. Keigo moved his hands completely out of the way, keeping the fabric clutching onto the very ends of your shoulders, daring to drop off your back completely.

There you were, chest out, belly exposed and hot core now subconsciously wiggling against the velvet that held you up. You arched your back and the spreading of your sweet thighs revealed your slick to him. The lips you watched shook a bit before being licked over by a pink tongue.

It was as if the man behind you was frozen in time, stopping in his motions and looking at your sex like it were the first time he’d seen a woman.

“Touch me, Keigo,” you encouraged, hiking your foot up to rest on an end table next to the vanity. You once more, guided his touch to your hot core, pulling him down and revealing more of his face in the mirror. The length of his nose and flutter of his lash now completely in view for you.

Soft kisses were placed at his cheek and soon explored their way to his dense neck. Your eye flickered back to the mirror, fixated on watching his reactions through there than merely looking to your side.

Curses were exhaled out of his throat as his fingers went to work at your wet folds, pushing past the outer lips, going right to the hardened bud that yearned for any sort of touch.

You moaned directly into his ear, using a lower canine to drag his pierced lobe into your mouth. The small flesh was sucked at and whimpered against as Keigo’s fingers pressed against you-- thapping aloud with your wetness.

“Baby..” he groans, feeling you nipping and suckling at any bits of his skin that you could press your mouth to. A hum is your only response, now being the one to turn his face this time.

The two of you share another kiss however, this one being much more hungry-- a leaning back and forth as you each moved with fervour. Just as the wetness of your mouths did, the moans and exhales from Keigo and yourself mixed together, creating a kind of tune better than any song that bumped against the city streets of Japan.

The vibrational touch at your core was stopped as Keigo swiveled you on your stool to completely face his lumbering height. His hands clutched at your face, a cool wetness smearing on your neck in the meantime from his fingers that were once pleasuring you.

“Stay with me, let me love you,” and you once more, did not know the voice that escaped and spoke to you. It was nearly a whimper upon you running your fingers along the inside of his sweatpants’ hem.

“Okay, okay, okay,” you utter quietly, eagerly-- nodding your head frantically while grabbing at his erection. Your head tilted up to him, craving for any sort of touch from him. There was no more getting ready to go out, it was just you and Keigo.

Rough hands brought you up to standing height, pushing the rest of the silk robe off of your shoulders, to gather in a heap at your feet.

“Look at this body,” the hero breathes, hands groping and running quickly along anything he could reach. You moaned through your bottom lip, sucked into your mouth with tears threatening to spill as he continued, “I love you,”

It was always a surge of electricity anytime you heard your lover say those three words to you; the rarity making the sounds feel like a delicacy to your ears, and a pang against your heart.

His lips caught and kissed the two, wet swells that dribbled down your cheeks, holding you close to him, like you were suspended in the air. Like with one wrong move, you’d plumet out of his hands.

Keigo lifted you with ease and walked to the side of the bed, plopping you down to lay on your back. “You deserve so much love, baby bird. You deserve every beautiful thing on this planet,” the hero went on and on, voice shivering with all the praise and poetic compliments of just how special he viewed you.

He knelt on the carpet, in between your hanging legs and felt your wetness once more with two teasing fingers. “You’re my divine feminine…” he breathes out, kissing the core of your sex-- pecking it like it was your precious face.

“I’m gonna make you feel so good… I’m going to make you cum over and over again.. just to hear you sing for me,”

Strong hands now gripped your ankles, placing said marks of affection all along your legs, higher and higher until your pussy was clenching with anticipation.

You hiked yourself to sit up and watch as Keigo dove right back in to lapping and sucking at your clit.

The sounds vibrating in your heaving chest sounded like the most rare of treasures to the hero between your legs--who then hummed in approval and wagged his head back and forth slowly, nose prodding your folds even further apart.

You gasped obscenities into the still air of your bedroom and could no longer support yourself on your shaky elbows so, the plush duvet caught your figure as you fell back in breathy moans.

Long digits entered your hole with no prior warning, causing your legs to spasm-- soft thighs knocking against your lover’s head. A slow chuckle bobbed in his throat, felt through your sensitive skin and shooting right up your spine.

Keigo’s fingers pumped in and out of you, all while his tongue still went to work. The flesh of your stomach dipped and your manicured toes curled with the airy feeling of an orgasm already building up inside of you. “I-- I-I---” you stuttered, blindly reaching down in search to grab his roots for some sort of purchase.

“Come for me baby bird, c’mon I know you can do it,” the blonde tuft between your legs encouraged and plowed his lips and the tip of his nose deeper within your slits.

You sang out like a choir for Keigo, legs vibrating and twitching with the godly orgasm he bestowed upon you. The muscle of your clit tensing as you sputtered all of your womanly juices onto his face and chest.

A gentle slap to your core was received in appraisal before gripping your hips and scooting your jittery body further back on the mattress.

The painted lashes of your eyes fluttered and struggled to stay open, feeling as though the blanket of sleep was wrapped cozily around you. It wasn’t until Keigo’s soaked mouth entranced yours in a kiss.

“Great job, baby,” you could hear the grin spread across his carnivorous mouth as he pulled away for a brief moment.

Your legs, which felt as though they were made of cement, were parted by a single knee. “You did so good, you came so good for me,” even in the heat of being post orgasm-- damp and lost for breath, he still found a way to make you squirm and moan and want even more.

Opening your eyes, you first you saw the blood-red wings stretch up and out into your view, each plume puffing out and acting as an umbrella over your naked form. Then the bed dipped and there Keigo was, looming over your still shaking form. His gaze, like two zircon gems glistening down at you, gazed into your own pupils so softly… so lovingly.

Your hands were placed next to your head on the bed and intertwined with your partners, thumbs grazing the outer skin of your hands in an effort to comfort you post-orgasm.

The waistband of Keigo’s sweatpants was found by your eventual searching fingers, tugging them down his hips and grunting once you couldn’t reach any further. So, you resorted to groping the hard bone of his hips that led right to the point of pubic growth.

Sensitive nubs rubbed against one another as the cages of your chests heaved in sync. Keigo’s breathing had turned into husky groans and growls--the intensity of his feral want dribbling at your inner thighs. The shadow his wings cast only made his gaze seem that much more illuminated, intense, eating you up from his position looking down at you.

“You want me?” you tried to replace the silk that lie on the floor with the drip of your words, biting at the plush of your bottom lip-- groping him as he once did with you. Your fingers still grazed the hard, exposed bone but, moved also to the tuft of feathers gathering between Keigo’s shoulders. The dense tissue sprouting from his torso now raked over with your nails, causing a few crimson pinions to cascade downward as the wings shuttered.

Like the blond did with the pillow prior, your core was rutted into--no entrance granted but the mere rubbing of his clothed length sending out unison moans. The expanse shuttered above you, some moonlight pouring over his outer curves.

“Yeah...” Keigo’s head hung down at you, nodding slowly, “...yeah baby, I want you.. all of you,” with each hesitant word and breath from your lover, you sat up--sprinkles of kisses all over his chest and neck.

With your skin cool and wet from his affection, Keigo had finally stood up to relieve his tortured length of his clothing. You scooted yourself back towards the headboard, watching his muscles jump and flex with each movement. It was an outward moan upon seeing his springing cock that made your blond love nearly pounce onto the mattress at you.

“Fuck, keigo..” you breathed in his tight hold, the sore skin beneath his thick, pressing fingers somewhere in the back of your mind.

He laughed against your lips, rutting into your core once more. “Wanna add to the music outside, baby, hm?” his teasing words only made you clench around nothing, “I’m gonna make.. you.. sing--” the hero moans at the grasp you held around his throbbing erection--leading its tip to your hole.

Keigo didn’t waste any time bottoming out within you, causing you to--as he put it--sing out for him. Sure, you had felt him before but, with his feral size, you were never prepared.

The small of your back abandoned the mattress for a mere two seconds before being forcibly pressed back down. His hands made quick work with holding your hips down to press as hard into you as he could.

In moments like this, you lost yourself. So overwhelmed with pleasure as Keigo thrusted against you that it was almost an outer body experience.

Your eyes always floated past his and landed on the mounds of feathers that danced behind his form; like the base of a sunset their color was so rich and their shine, kept so nicely. The best part was the way they flared and swelled up when Keigo surged with emotions--it was almost like he was an animal in the wild.

Keigo’s rough hand was at your jaw again, making sure you looked at him while he fucked inside you. Your knees began to fall away from his sides and bounced lifelessly near your chest. “Deeper.. oh please deeper,” you whined, holding your limbs in place underneath your knees.

His eyes absorbed the sight below him: your curves, the dew at your chest, your panting plea and nearly imploded right then and there.

There was no room to answer with wit, so he decided to grunt and let go of you completely--both hands grabbing at the headboard.

The blond’s hips moved faster than you had ever experienced, feeling the soft underside of his balls slap against your ass, and the tugging of your insides at each rut outwards.

You could no longer find Keigo’s eyes as his veined neck and chest were only in view. His lids were tightened and his head was thrown back--grunting with fervour and focusing on bruising the hell out of your wallowing cervix.

Your moans turned into a slurred mess, syncing with each slap of his hips against yours and the creaking of the headboard.

Fluttering joined the gaggle of sounds as Keigo was reaching his limit, his wings flapping and extending outward.

The headboard was let go of and the pillow was Keigo’s next area of hold--allowing you to experience his lemon gaze once more. His pinholes wetly fell down to your bouncing and heaving chest, hunching back over to suck at the bud of your nipple.

When he pulled back, it was in a cry--a whimper. You felt a warmth spread right where he was meeting your limit and suddenly, he pulled away.

Right before you had the chance to ask what he was doing, Keigo’s filthy mouth was right back at your core, raveging against your aching clit.

Your neighbors and any alley-dwellers probably thought you were being murdered at the cry you let out--at your legs being held wide open for your second orgasm and at the wetness you now felt beneath you, soaking through the duvet and satin sheets.

Keigo kissed your pussy through its throbbing aftermath once more, tongue lapping out and caressing your hardened nerve slowly--allowing you to ride out your agony against his face.

“Good job babe,” he utters, barely audible for you to hear while in your own world. His figure waddles up yours on his knees, stroking his now red length until his knees prodded your armpits.

With glassy eyes you looked up at him, brows quirked as he smiled lopsidedly at your expression: gloss rubbed clean off to reveal suctioned lips and the ebony smear of mascara starting at your bottom lashes.

Two shaky hands reached forward, arms resting on Keigo’s upper thighs, stroking his throbbing stiffness. “Make me cum little dove, you know what to do,” his voice was eager, watching you sit up a bit.

His hand went to the back of your head as you licked at his tip, causing his chest to deflate in exhale. He held you there for a moment as you adjusted to giving him the oral pleasure. “I know you can do it--” he starts off in a chuckle but is cut off in a moan as your head bobs, tongue pressing nicely against his underside.

The noises that filled the room this time were the squelches and gags emitting from your mouth against Keigo’s grinding hips. You’d pull away occasionally and watch as his lips purse or as his teeth would grit. The gift of orgasm was just outside of his reach and right in the palm of your hand.

But, he would grow tired of your teasing, even in the vulnerable state you were in and moved the strands of hair from your face. “Baby…” his voice was high, head shaking back and forth with a tut. “... you *know* I *don’t* like the *teasing*,” you winced and gagged against him with each grunted thrust.

Before you knew it, Keigo’s strong hands were wrapped over each of your ears, holding your head in place as he fucked your mouth, moaning even more curses and obscenities into the air as his will to cum built back up again. You’d utter small moans of thanks any time he’d pull away but, it just drove him to drive his cock further down your throat.

He would sometimes hold it there, at the place where your throat began to curve, where his balls would rest against your chin and where you’d be able to smell his musk-- just to rut against that smooth of your inner flesh.

It only took a few more minutes of thrusting into the spitty mess before the blond was fluttering and stretching his crimson plumes once more.

Your eyes were rolling in your skull, the post-wetness between your legs making your thighs slip together from underneath him as he breathed your name.

Just when his thrusts were building up and the airiness of a lack of oxygen to your brain became almost unbearable, was when Keigo choked out in moan, pulling completely from your throat and sputtering his hot cum all over your chin and chest.

The hero’s chest was heaving, thighs quivering and the bobbing of his cock stopped once he was done pumping his fluids all over you.

You, were moaning too, still not over the beating up your face took, or even the orgasm you had moments before all of this. Euphoria was spilling over you two and neither one could form a cohesive sentence at that point.

Keigo still straddled your waist after his orgasm, panting and looking down at you with some lost, googly-eyed expression. You however, with a grin, took your two long fingers and swiped the cum from your chin--expression not wavering once as you fed yourself the musky flavor. You hummed against your fingers and he went in for a kiss not long after your fingers fell back at your side.

He tasted himself against your tongue and you were still able to detect the past wavering of your own on him.

“That was great baby, thank you, so so much,” Keigo gives you one last kiss before hobbling over towards the bedroom bathroom, wings tucked tight against his back. He made sure to return quickly with a warm rag and cleaned you right up, a small smile at his face while doing so.

“I love you,” You spoke once more, head lolling over at him, mirroring his grin. After quickly wiping himself and tossing the rag in the general direction of a hamper, he laid on his stomach right next to you. “I love you too, dove,”

His strong arms pulled you in tight, legs weaving together and small shushed coming from him as he felt you still shivering and twitching. “You did so good,” Keigo would utter, pecking the top of your head. More and more comments of praise and admiration were whispered to you in the night… all leading you to have long forgotten about your girls’ night out and the frantic buzzing of your phone with missed calls and texts.

You didn’t care. Sure, it was a night you surely needed from work stress but, nothing would beat a night like this with the man you loved so dearly.

The two of you soon fell to slumber, in a warm embrace wrapped within the sheets-- the light of your vanity still turned on over to the side, joining in with the glow of Japan.

A/N: Hey! I don't beta read SHIT, but if you liked this, I would SUPER appreciate a like, reblog + comment (: I wanna know what you guys think

#takami keigo x reader #takami keigo #hawks #takami keigo hawks #fanfic

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onejellyfishplease · 10 months

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So if you dont mind me I was just going to ramble about my ideas surrounding This post.

long post!

... so it takes place in the far future, where humanity has mived on to live with the planet and live harmoniously (think solar punk). the reason for their success as a species can be traced back to these mysterious heroes, who have vanishes from the world and are now mostly regarded as myth.

the turtles themselves have aged weirdly. without the stress and tremendous pain of the apocalypse they do not seem to age like humans do. much like the Yokai they are based upon they find they have incredibly long lifespans.

and as they age, they move away from what ties them to being human.

they become mythic and ethereal.

I didnt have clear cut plans for most of them, but heres what i came up with:

Raph never stops growing, ever. while his brothers find suitable hights he gets ever taller. eventually he becomes too large to move about safely.

When this happens he voluntarily sinks into a deep sleep. his physical body becomes part of the landscape as the world carries on around him.

But Raph's not gone. he can still send out his projections, which without a close bond with his physical form become more and more abstract as time goes on and Raph becomes more separated from his physical body, still embedded in the landscape.

The locals call these forms their 'red angels' as they commonly lead lost children back home and protect wanderers from falling rock slides. they also look almost incomprehensible, their abstract forms overwhelming to the human eye, such a display of mystic power.

Donnie never stops working. his need to create insatiable. So he never stops. From the shadows he helps humans build their technology, expanding their collective knowledge with his own.

he pours his soul into his work.

his technology becomes inseparable from humanity.

and so does he.

Donnie's soul is present in every computer, interface, and screen. watching over humanity behind a curtain of coding.

hes spent so much time watching over humans and creating with them, that hes kind of... forgotten... what he last did with his body.

oh well. he can always build a new one.

Mikey never stops helping

Mikey has committed himself to the restoration of nature. during humanities growing pains a lot of the planet had been scarred by their errors.

So Mikey has been helping them fix it.

with the help of his mystic powers, which have evolved beyond all recognition, he twists the environment back to the health of its prime.

(large machines a big as skyscrapers aid him, purple light flooding their servers as they trudge through the landscape)

he gives so much of himself, so much of the light of his soul to nature that its started to give back. flowers grow where he stands, the wind ruffles his hair. he snores in whalesong. he can speak in the light trills of birds. the wind gales when he sneezes. and his scales become soft with moss

Leo has grown with the O'Neil bloodline. All his brothers startes distancing themselves from the family once April passed, unable to look at the faces of her descendants without being over come by grief. but Leo stays.

he looks the same as he did a thousand years ago.

#wow that was a lot to write #i hope you dont mind my rambling #rottmnt #rottmnt donnie #rottmnt raph #rottmnt mikey #rottmnt leo #rottmnt april #far far future au

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maboroshi-no · 21 days

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Hamefura LN14 Chapter 3 Part 3 Summary

I am currently reading Hamefura LN14 and will post summaries as I read.

Previous Chapters: Chapter 1: The Encounter at the Party: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Chapter 2: What Dark Magic Is: Part 1 Part2 Chapter 3: The Domain Where Cyrus Was Born and Raised: Part 1 Part 2

Chapter 3: The Domain Where Cyrus Was Born and Raised (Part 3)

Maria Detect Dark Magic

Maria suddenly calls Katarina and seizes her arm. Katarina quickly turns towards Maria. Her face is very pale. Katarina asks in a low voice if she has sensed dark magic. Maria silently nods. Sora instantly moves in front of them to protect them. He scans the surroundings.

Katarina tells Cyrus that Maria has sensed dark magic. Cyrus asks Maria what kind of presence she is sensing. Maria replies the presence starts from where they are and continues far ahead.

Cyrus asks the local Ministry employees to return to the fields because it could be dangerous. Tylor asks for at least him to accompany them since they are not familiar with the area. Cyrus tells him they will be fine since he is familiar with this forest. After all, he has played there a lot before. He assures Tylor they will be back by evening. Tylor reluctantly accepts to go back. He warns Cyrus that he will go search for him if he is not back by evening.

Tracking the Dark Magic Presence

After the Ministry employees have left, everyone follows the dark magic presence thanks to Maria. Katarina wonders why only Maria can sense it, not Sora or her. Is it because she has light magic or because she is powerful?

Everyone advances deep inside the forest while following the dark magic presence. They go beyond the maintained area. The inside of the forest is dim, and there are no signs of animals ever since they entered the forest. There are no birds chirping or anything, just the wind blowing.

The Mountain of Animals Corpses

Katarina sees some kind of hill a little ahead. She wonders what it is. When they move closer, everyone has their breath taken away: the hill is a mountain of animals lying on top of each other. The animals' eyes are open and look empty: they are not just unconscious but dead. There are various animals: tanukis, foxes, rabbits, etc. There are also large animals. The animals have no external wounds and are not bleeding.

Katarina shudders over this ominous sight.

Maria tells everyone she senses strong dark magic coming from the corpses. Laura concludes the animals were killed with dark magic since there are no external wounds. Sora and Raphael approach the corpses, look at them, and confirm they can't see any external wounds. Katarina feels like she should better take a look too, but her legs refuse to move. Raphael wonders if dark magic can murder animals. Laura thinks there was a case of someone killing a person by stealing their energy. She asks Cyrus what he is thinking.

Cyrus looks sickly pale. Katarina asks him if he is alright. Cyrus snaps back and tells her he is fine. He was just shaken. Cyrus tries to take a step back but hits a little rock and almost falls.

Looking at Cyrus, Katarina remembers that he told her he had been scared of interacting with animals ever since he saw his dog dying in front of his eyes. Cyrus is uncomfortable with animals - corpses in this case - but she thought he could manage in work mode like when interacting with young women. But it doesn't seem to be the case.

Laura asks Cyrus if he really is alright. She can carry him on her back if he isn't well. Cyrus assures her he is fine.

Cyrus starts joining the others in assessing the situation but his face still looks pale. He agrees that there is a high chance this was caused by dark magic. He asks Maria if she can sense anything besides the strong dark magic presence. Cyrus seems to have at least recovered the tone of his voice and attitude.

Maria replies she can. She didn't notice it right away because she was shaken, but the dark magic presence continues ahead. If they follow it, they might be able to find the source. She asks Cyrus if she can go after it.

Katarina notices that Maria's face looks more severe than usual. She is really furious. She is making the same face as when Katarina was falsely accused. The gentle Maria is probably furious because all these animals were killed.

Cyrus replies that he would very much like to pursue the culprit but the sun will go down soon. It would be dangerous to go deeper inside the forest.

Maria impatiently retorts that the dark magic presence might disappear tomorrow.

Cyrus replies that everyone's safety is the top priority. He won't put everyone in danger.

Maria is taken aback. She looks at everyone and bites her lips. It seems like she really wants to pursue the culprit but she doesn't want to put everyone in danger. She is probably feeling frustrated. She hangs her head down and reluctantly accepts Cyrus's order.

Exiting the Forest

Everyone starts leaving the forest. The sun is setting, so they quicken their pace. The forest feels even more ominous to Katarina after seeing the corpses, so she wants to get out as soon as possible. Cyrus leads them out of the forest and they safely exit it before the sun has completely set.

Tylor is at the fence. He has been waiting for them and is relieved to see them back. He seems to have been worried for them since they said there was danger ahead.

Katarina wonders if Cyrus is still pale, but she can't see well because it is too dim.

Reporting the Situation

Everyone hurriedly heads back to the branch office. They go to the same meeting room as earlier in the day. The room is brightly illuminated by magic lights, so Katarina can tell that Cyrus is still pale. His fear of animals must be more serious than his discomfort with young women if he still hasn't recovered. Tylor seems to have also noticed Cyrus's pale face. He asks him if he is alright but Cyrus flatly replies that he is fine.

Cyrus explains to Tylor that they found a mountain of animals corpses deep inside the forest. They were all kinds of animals, from small ones to big ones, and they were just lying dead with their eyes open without any external wounds. Tylor is confused. Cyrus explains he can't say more since the matter is confidential and apologizes. Tylor understands since he also has to deal with confidential matters while working at the Ministry.

Tylor asks Cyrus if the case is very dangerous. Cyrus replies it is, but they have come prepared. He adds that he won't put anyone in danger. Tylor understands but asks Cyrus to promise he will return safely no matter what. Cyrus promises.

Now that the report is over, everyone returns to Cyrus's house. It is dim inside the carriage so Katarina can't tell if Cyrus is still pale.

Back Home

Once they arrive at the manor, they are warmly welcomed by Cyrus's family.

They are notified that dinner is on the way. Katarina doesn't have much appetite after what she saw in the forest and is worried she might not be able to eat anything. However, after seeing the food, all her worries go away and she can enjoy the food normally.

Katarina looks at Cyrus. His complexion has returned to normal but he doesn't seem to have much appetite. It seems like he still hasn't recovered. His discomfort with animals seems serious. Katarina doesn't recall Cyrus having such a severe reaction when Pochi came out. She recalls Cyrus telling her his dog died before his eyes and then realizes Cyrus probably has a worse reaction to dead animals than to live animals. After all, his dog died before his eyes, so he probably saw its corpse. But even if she has realized this, Katarina can't do anything for Cyrus.

Haru and Cyrus's family worriedly ask Cyrus if he is okay. Cyrus tells them he is just tired.

After dinner, everyone returns to their room.

Katarina Witnesses Haru and Cyrus Talking

Katarina wants to ponder Cyrus's issue but she feels the need to go to the bathroom.

On the way to the bathroom, she sees Cyrus and Haru near the terrace's entrance. Haru has probably come to see Cyrus because she is worried. They have serious expressions on their faces so Katarina wonders if she should leave.

Haru tells Cyrus she has heard from the others that they saw a mountain of animals corpses in the forest. She asks him if he doesn't look well because it reminds him of what happened to "him".

Cyrus confirms but adds that it is something he must deal with by himself and asks her to leave him alone. Cyrus goes alone to the terrace. Haru looks sad because of Cyrus's flat rejection.

Katarina tries to go to the bathroom pretending not to have seen anything but Haru sees her. Katarina can't run away.

Katarina Talks With Haru About the Circumstances of Cyrus's Dog's Death

Haru asks Katarina if she heard them. Katarina apologizes and tells her she did. Haru replies she is not to blame. It is her fault for talking here.

Katarina asks Haru if by "him" she meant Cyrus's dog. Haru is surprised Katarina knows about him. Katarina tells her she heard it from Cyrus at the fields Ministry. He told her his dog died before his eyes in an accident.

Haru ponders, then finally tells her that Cyrus's dog was named Leo. It was a big dog and Cyrus let her play with him many times. She heard that the dog died in an accident when Cyrus went to the royal capital.

Katarina didn't know Cyrus's dog died in the royal capital. She wonders if he was run over by a carriage. Haru replies that despite what Cyrus says, it wasn't an accident. While playing hide-and-seek, she accidentally overheard Cyrus's father say that Leo was killed by someone.

Katarina's eyes grow wide. She asks Haru who killed the dog. Haru replies that she doesn't know. At that time, Cyrus's father sounded scared, as if he couldn't voice the person's name. But after growing up, Haru figured that if a border count's son had his dog murdered and couldn't make it public, there was probably someone with a very high status involved.

Katarina agrees. A border count has a high status since he is a key person who protects the country. Despite it, this border count had his dog killed and had no choice but to keep quiet and pretend it was an accident.

Katarina remembers what Geordo said about the succession strife. Dark magic was revealed when corpses appeared in the royal palace. The royal palace was in turmoil when she was still not old enough to understand. Cyrus is several years older than her, so he may have walked to a place of turmoil without knowing it, and then his dog got killed. And then the royals probably said he couldn't complain even if he was a border count.

It is just speculation but if things really happened like that, Katarina really couldn't do anything for Cyrus. What could comfort him at a time like this would be…

Haru continues. Ever since this incident, Cyrus has started avoiding not only dogs but also animals. And then, after a little while, when they found a dead dog while playing together, Cyrus became sickly pale and fainted.

Katarina is shocked. At this level, this is not a discomfort but a trauma. She wonders what could have happened to him at the royal capital.

Haru is worried about Cyrus and was hoping he would rely on her since she knew his circumstances. She makes a very sad face. Katarina tells her Cyrus tends to not rely on anyone. Haru doesn't feel better.

Haru apologizes to Katarina for telling her such an unsettling story. She asks her to keep it a secret from everyone and lowers her head. Katarina agrees to keep it a secret. Haru excuses herself and leaves.

Haru's figure looks very lonely to Katarina. It may be because Katarina has overheard Haru murmur "So it can't be me…" after Cyrus left for the terrace. Haru's words sounded just like Mary's in Fortune Lover 1, which she murmured because she couldn't support the one she loved. Haru's position and situation are similar to Mary's, so it feels painful to Katarina.

Katarina remembers she wanted to go to the bathroom. She decides she will speak to Cyrus if he is still around when she returns from the bathroom. She doesn't think she can do anything about his trauma but she shouldn't leave Cyrus alone when he is pale like this.

When Katarina returns from the bathroom, Cyrus is with Maria and his face seems to have relaxed. Katarina feels relieved, but at the same time, she feels sad for Haru.

Mental Meeting

Katarina discreetly returns to her room so Cyrus and Maria won't see her.

Since Maria is dealing with Cyrus's trauma, Katarina decides she will rather think about the case.

Katarina summons a mental meeting.

Based on the animals' behaviors, a Katarina thinks things will go the same way as the case from before.

A Katarina asks if a dragon will also appear in that case.

A Katarina remembers they fought a dark familiar dragon at that time.

A Katarina remembers Pochi became huge and fought the dragon.

The Katarinas are glad that Pochi can become strong when needed.

Chairman Katarina redirects the conversation to the case at hand. They must think about measures in case there will be more dark familiars or a bigger dark familiar than in the case before.

A Katarina asks why there would be more dark familiars or a bigger dark familiar.

A Katarina replies it is because they found a mountain of animals corpses. Given the number of animals killed, they may face an enemy of a higher level.

The Katarinas praise the Katarina's smartness.

Chairman Katarina redirects the conversation again. She asks the others what they should do if it happens.

A Katarina replies they will just have Pochi beat up the dark familiar. It is not like they can defeat it with their Earth Bump.

A Katarina wonders if Pochi will be strong enough this time. If Pochi loses, then…

A Katarina tells her she worries too much after hearing about Cyrus's dog. Besides, she doesn't want to think of what to do if Pochi gets killed.

A Katarina adds that Pochi is strong after all.

A Katarina says that Pochi is not invincible and can still lose. That's why they need to fight with him. Pochi is their precious family, so they need to protect him.

A Katarina agrees. Even if they can't use Earth Bump, they can still use dark magic.

A Katarina retorts that even if they can use dark magic, all they can do is absorb darkness.

A Katarina remarks that it could work. Since they could absorb the huge black snake from before, they may be able to absorb a dark familiar.

A Katarina agrees: they may be able to absorb a dark familiar. So if a dragon appears, they will just have to absorb it.

A Katarina adds that when they do, everything will be settled.

The council agrees on absorbing the dark familiar as a measure.

Katarina is intent on fighting with Pochi rather than leaving everything to him. She is determined to protect Pochi and everyone.

Katarina goes to sleep.

Cyrus's POV

Cyrus still hasn't recovered from what he saw in the forest. He feels irritated about it. He is making his coworkers, who don't know his circumstances, worry about him, and he is making his family, servants, and his childhood friend, who know his circumstances, worry about him. He feels so embarrassed about it.

He can't handle animals, especially corpses. Just seeing them makes him feel sick. He feels so pathetic as a director of the Ministry.

He knows the cause of his ailment. But he has put a hard lid over it so he won't think about it. But after seeing the corpses today, especially those bizarre ones, the lid opened, and it put him in this state. And now that he has remembered, the memory won't disappear. it will probably take a long time before the lid closes again.

Still, as an adult, he can't avert his eyes from it forever. He needs to face it and overcome it.

How Cyrus's Dog Died

When he was still a child, his father took him along when he went to the royal capital for work. He was excited since it was the first time he went to the royal capital. He had his dog Leo with him at that time. It was a big white dog about as tall as him and he would spend time with him whenever he could.

Cyrus's brother was considerably older than him but Cyrus didn't feel lonely thanks to Leo. His parents brought Leo home a little after he was born. They grew up together and he was a precious family.

Because of this, Cyrus threw a tantrum so he could bring Leo with him to the royal capital. His parents doted on him since he was the youngest child, so they allowed it under the condition that Leo wore a collar. It was a mistake, though. He shouldn't have brought Leo along.

Cyrus enjoyed sightseeing the royal capital, and since he was excited about the big castle, he went along when his father went there for work. Of course, he took Leo with him. But as could be expected, he couldn't take pets inside the castle, so he waited for his father in the garden with Leo. He felt moved by the big castle and excited by the big garden.

Then he suddenly heard a loud noise. He was really curious about it, so he took Leo and they headed towards the sound. His father had told him to stay put, but he was a very curious child at that time, so he wanted to go see just a little bit. He shook off the servants and started running. Then a little ahead, he came across a scene he had never seen before.

A child of about his age was being kicked by a woman. The child was trampled again and again.

The child screamed. Without thinking, Cyrus ran up to the child. Then he told the woman to stop because the child seemed in pain. The woman glared at him with bloodshot eyes, which gave him shivers.

With a high-pitched voice, the woman asked what a kid and beast were doing here. She walked towards Cyrus and raised her foot above him. Just when Cyrus thought he would get kicked, Leo jumped in front of Cyrus to protect him. Leo's body shook, probably because he took a hard hit. The woman shouted, "That lowly beast has stained my shoe!".

The woman went away. Relieved, Cyrus hugged his dog and thanked him. But then, something dripped down. He didn't know what it was at first, but then he saw blood coming out of Leo's body. Cyrus calls out to Leo in panic. When he looked closely, there was a sword stabbed into Leo's body. While he was dumbfounded, the woman's high-pitched voice resounded in his ears. She told him that she just couldn't let a lowly beast stand in her way.

Cyrus removed the blade from Leo's body and then blood gushed out. Cyrus's vision turned bright red. Inside his red vision, there was the young woman with bright red lipstick. Her smile was distorted into a frightening expression.

His memory stopped there.

When he woke up, he was on a bed, in the royal capital's townhouse. His father was on the verge of tears and kept apologizing for bringing him here. Cyrus had a high fever and his head was dazed, so he didn't understand the situation. But when his father told him that Leo had died, he cried so much his tears might have run out.

When his fever went down, they returned to the domain. There, his mother and brother, on the brink of tears, hugged him.

Cyrus's Trauma

Since then, Cyrus had been very uncomfortable with young women and scared of approaching animals.

He told the servants and his friends that Leo had died in an accident. He couldn't tell them that he was killed because of him. And then, seeing him depressed, everyone avoided the subject.

And afterward, when he found a dead dog while playing with Ryou and Haru, he fainted but he didn't get a high fever like that other time. He could gradually heal with time.

And finally, after time had passed, he put a lid on his memory so he wouldn't remember it. Because it was the easiest way for him to live. Even so, he still couldn't handle young women and was still scared of animals.

When he turned 15 and had to enroll in the Academy of Magic in the royal capital, his parents worriedly asked him if he would be alright. He had put a lid on his memory, so he readily replied he would.

But at the royal capital, he felt sick when he saw dressed-up young women wearing red lipsticks. The lid on his memory slowly opened, but since people also made fun of him for being a country bumpkin, he convinced himself that it was the reason why he was uncomfortable with women.

Then, after entering the Ministry, the lid on his memory opened after seeing animal corpses. So, he decided he would investigate what happened since he felt that he couldn't stay like this forever.

After investigating it, he learned that terrible things were happening then inside the royal palace because of the succession strife, to the point corpses would appear. But because it was concealed, his father, at that time, wasn't aware of it since he lived in a remote region. As a result, his father took him along to the castle, Cyrus unfortunately got involved with a bad royal, and this happened.

Thanks to the present king's reform, all of the vicious royals were punished, so they were not in the country anymore. Everything was over.

Cyrus felt relieved that the frightening woman who haunted him wasn't here anymore but it didn't alleviate his discomfort. However, interacting with Katarina and Maria did.

Just when he thought he might become okay at this rate, he saw animals corpses for the first time in a while, especially bizarre ones, and lost his senses. Cyrus feels pathetic.

He feels like the time has come for him to stop running away, and to face it and overcome it. Even so, he doesn't know what to do.

Maria Talks to Cyrus

???: Lord Cyrus.

Cyrus is startled and turns around. It is Maria. He didn't detect her presence because he was absorbed in his thoughts.

Maria (anxiously): Are you alright?

Cyrus: Yes. It is a problem that I must deal with by myself one way or another, so please leave me be.

Cyrus has told Maria the same thing he told Haru. He expects Maria will also leave him alone.

Maria (flatly): I won't.

Cyrus opens his eyes wide and stares at Maria.

Maria (straightforward look): No matter how I look at it, you look like you are brooding things alone, so it would be unreasonable to leave you be.

Cyrus feels his shoulders relax.

Cyrus (awkward smile): …You're right. I have been brooding things but I don't know what to do.

Maria makes a firm face

Maria: For starters, instead of brooding things alone, maybe you should talk to someone, and then something might change. So If you have something you can talk about, please do.

Maria spreads her arms and invites Cyrus to talk.

Cyrus: I told you before at the Ministry's fields that my dog died before my eyes, right?

Maria: Yes, and then you said you became a little scared to interact with animals since then.

Cyrus: Yes, that's right. But this is not true. …In truth, my dog, Leo, was killed because of me.

Maria: Killed…

Cyrus: Yes, when I visited the royal capital as a child, I went to the castle with Leo. There, driven by my curiosity, I left the garden with Leo and stumbled on a horrible scene.

Maria: …A horrible scene?

Cyrus: A child of about my age was lying on the ground and a young woman was kicking them. The child screamed, so without thinking, I ran to the child to help them. With my reckless childish sense of justice, I told her "I want you to stop". It seemed to have made her even more furious, so she turned her foot towards me and was about to kick me.

Maria: …

Cyrus: Maybe because Leo considered me his brother, he always tried to protect me from danger. This time too, he did the same and tried to protect me from that woman. He put himself between me and the woman and was kicked in my place.

Maria: …And then he died?

Cyrus: No, Leo was a big dog, so he wouldn't have died from being kicked by a woman.

Maria: Then how?

Cyrus: It seemed like it got on her nerves that Leo came in front of her. So she snatched the sword of a knight nearby, came back, and stabbed Leo with it.

Maria: ?!

Cyrus: Blood gushed out and Leo died in my arms. And it seems like I lost consciousness there. When I woke up, I was in bed in the royal capital's townhouse.

Maria: …This woman…

Cyrus: At that time, the royal palace was in turmoil because of the fight for the throne. That woman and child were involved in it. That's why, with my position, I couldn't say anything.

At that time, Cyrus couldn't say anything even if his beloved dog was killed.

Cyrus: When I woke up in the townhouse, my father apologized to me, saying "I am sorry for taking you to such a place. It's all my fault". But that's not his fault. It was all mine! I threw a tantrum because I wanted to take Leo to the royal capital, I said I wanted to go to the castle, I willfully walked out of the place where my father told me to wait, I jumped out there because of my childish sense of justice. All of these… It was all me! It was all my fault. I…

Cyrus has shouted this all at once.

Maria: …Lord Cyrus.

Cyrus: If I hadn't done these things, Leo wouldn't have been killed so cruelly. Because I was an idiot who didn't think things through, Leo tried to protect me and was killed because of me… Even though he was my precious family who grew up with me…

Maria: …The reason you are afraid of interacting with animals… Could it be because you are afraid of something happening to them if you do?

Cyrus opens his eyes wide.

Cyrus: I am scared of something happening to them…?

Cyrus repeats Maria's words. They perfectly fit that space that has been blank until now.

Cyrus: I see, so I was afraid that animals would be killed because of me again. Like Leo was…

Cyrus stands in shock, dumbfounded. He was only aware of his fear until now. But thanks to Maria, he has realized what he was scared of.

Maria: Also, Lord Cyrus.

Cyrus: Yes.

Maria suddenly moves close to him.

Maria: Leo-chan's death wasn't your fault.

Cyrus: Huh? What are you talking about? No matter how you think about it, it is my fault…

Maria: No matter how I think about it, it is not your fault. Of course, it is not your father's fault either. Everything is that deranged woman's fault!

Cyrus: Th-That deranged woman…

Cyrus freezes after hearing that word coming out of Maria's mouth.

Maria: After all, she kicked up a little child, tried to do something to the child who came for help, and stabbed with a sword the doggy who saved the child. She was mad. No matter who you ask, anyone would definitely say it was that woman who was to blame. If there were one bad thing about you, it would only be your luck. You had bad luck for encountering a mad and crazy person. Aside from that, you didn't do anything wrong!

Maria raised her eyebrows and spoke in an angry voice. It is the first time Cyrus has seen Maria like this.

Cyrus: …The only bad thing about me is my luck…

Maria: That's right! Just your luck!

Cyrus: But if I hadn't taken Leo to that place…

Maria: Lord Cyrus, you didn't get injured at that time, right?

Cyrus: Yes, I somehow didn't.

Maria: Then I'm sure Leo-chan was glad that he could protect his precious family. After all, you were always together, so he probably considered you his very precious family. I don't think Leo-chan regretted being there and protecting you.

Cyrus recalls Leo. Leo probably considered him as his younger brother and always protected him. That time too, he immediately protected him.

Cyrus's shoulders relax. He feels like his dark thoughts are clearing up little by little. Now that he precisely knows the reason, his fear is fading. It is just like Maria said. Leo was killed because of that woman and since she is not here anymore, animals won't get killed just because he approached them.

Cyrus: Thank you, Maria. I think your words saved me. But I still can't seem to completely forgive myself.

Cyrus feels like he can't instantly change his feelings just because he was told it wasn't his fault.

Maria: That's right. I don't think the fear and pain you have felt for so long will immediately disappear. But please somehow forgive yourself little by little. If you keep blaming yourself, I think Leo-chan, who protected you, will also be sad.

Cyrus: …Ah, you're right.

Maria makes a gentle smile. It causes Cyrus's heart to make a big thump.

Cyrus looks at Maria. Maria accepts not only his facade at work but also his plain country bumpkin side. The more he interacts with her, the more he feels captivated by her inner strength and beauty. And yet, when he is with her, he feels nervous and his head gets blank because she is so wonderful and he hasn't been able to interact with women until now.

Cyrus is sure of it now: he is in love with Maria. He has for her feelings that he has never felt in his whole life. He wants her. He wants to live with her. He has never felt this before.

As Cyrus starts to smile in response, he feels someone looking at him. He looks in that direction. It is Haru. As soon as she notices his gaze, Haru leaves.

Cyrus decides that he needs to properly tell Haru that he loves someone. That because he has such strong feelings for that person, it would be dishonest for him to get engaged with someone else, even less someone who has feelings for him.

Cyrus notices that the moon has changed position in the night sky. He needs to let Maria rest since they have planned to go to the forest early. But he still wants to enjoy his time alone with her just a little longer, so he gazes at the night sky a little longer.

#hamefura light novel #hamefura #my next life as a villainess: all routes leads to doom #katarina claes #maria campbell #sora smith #cyrus lanchester #raphael wolt #laura hamefura #haru kaburagi

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mamamittens · 1 year

Text

How Our Seeds Grow (Pt. 3)

Platonic Yandere WBP & Young Child!GN!Reader

Main|First|Next

Warnings: Drugging of a minor (for sleeping purposes) and ongoing kidnapping/emotional distress.

Word Count: 1,739

You had known that the ship you were on was just a small contingent vessel for the main flagship, the Moby Dick, but you hadn’t realized just how massive it was until well after sunset. The Yonko ship somehow growing bigger and bigger as the crew started preparing to offload the cargo and making preparations to tie up the ships. It was bigger than any base you’d been assigned to.

You tucked Cream into your new bandana and anxiously carded your hands through Stefan’s fur. The dog whining and squirming happily with pleased licks to distract you. But you couldn’t look away.

How could any ship be this big?

You sucked in an anxious breath as you were suddenly lifted up into someone’s arms.

Phoenix held you firmly to his chest with one arm, the other brushing over your back in soothing motions.

“Easy, baby bird. We called ahead so they know to expect you. Thatch is especially eager to meet you.” Phoenix whispered with a small smile. Cream poked out of his shell and patted your chin with a small murmur. “Oyaji is also happy to meet you. It’s been a while since we’ve had someone so young aboard.”

“Ready to go, commander!” Someone shouted, drawing your attention to the rope ladder leading up to the Moby Dick’s deck. Phoenix took confident strides and easily scaled the ladder with one hand, your arms wrapped around his neck as the ocean lapped between the two ships below.

You gasped as Phoenix cleared the deck, seeing the top for the first time. Lights illuminating the space as several pirates milled around the recessed area. There, in the middle, was Whitebeard.

You knew what he looked like, obviously. But no bounty poster you’ve ever seen could explain how big he was. It explained the size of his ship, to put it lightly. The aged Yonko sat there, perfectly relaxed in the crisp night air. Scars scattered across his chest, no weapon in sight. You should be frightened. You were frightened. Wide eyes fixed on the tallest man you’d ever seen. Any other time, anywhere else, you wouldn’t have needed to be told to run from him.

His eyes bounced between the pirates on deck, the ones newly returned, and finally on Phoenix. And you. His features softened as he took you in from the decreasing distance thanks to Phoenix’s confident steps across the deck. Coming to a stop just a few feet shy of his large boots. Whitebeard leaned forward, resting his elbows onto his knees as Stefan yipped and spun in circles around the old captain’s feet. Large hand dangling and teasing the dog idly, his eyes still not leaving yours even as Stefan licked his fingertips.

You’d been looked at a lot in your life. Sizing glances and assessing stares. Disapproval and sneering distain. Pity and affection in stolen moments before you inevitably left for another base.

Whitebeard felt old but sturdy. Like mountains and the sea. And he looked at you like you were a child. Not a marine or a recruit or street urchin taking up valuable space. Just a child standing at the edge of the tide pools, lost in his gaze. Even through the birdsong in your heart, you could hear the rumbling of his devil fruit. A deep, rolling call in tunnels deeper still. A warning and reassurance in one. The echo of a laugh shifting in the cool earth.

“Welcome back, my sons. And who have you brought home?” Whitebeard asked, the idle chatter on deck falling silent despite the soft tone. Phoenix shifted you on his side, not putting you down or letting go.

Despite addressing Phoenix, it was clear from Whitebeard’s gaze that he was waiting for you to answer.

Your voice felt caught in your throat for a moment until Cream poked out his head with a grumble.

You stammered your name out nervously, voice just loud enough to carry to the attentive Yonko.

“—and this is Cream.” You ducked your head, still clutching Phoenix’s shirt as Cream puffed up seemingly in defiance. “’m an ensign.” You mumbled, holding onto your bandana anxiously.

Phoenix sighed, patting your back.

“We’re working on it.” Fire Fist declared, ruffling your hair. “They’ve got a weird devil fruit, Oyaji! Utterly wasted in the marines, even gramps would have taken better care of them!”

Whitebeard gave a curious hum, glancing at Fire Fist before looking back at you.

“We found them on the island we were restocking at. Their devil fruit makes other user’s powers stronger—the marines had them partnered up with some weak fire fruit user. They were mistakenly given orders to confront Ace and make a break if someone else showed up. Their ‘partner’ broke their nose when they tried to get him to leave. Obviously, the marines couldn’t be bothered to properly protect their ‘assets’.” Phoenix shrugged under the very interested gaze of his captain.

Whitebeard scoffed.

“Sengoku must be getting soft in the head, my child. We’re not too far from Linlin’s territory. If she knew such a fruit existed—if Kaido knew such a fruit existed… what fools, leaving you so undefended.” You couldn’t help but break away from his gaze, chest aching.

What was there to say? You knew your assignments were unusual. Your whole situation was unusual.

You gave a helpless shrug.

“They were worried about side effects. I think.” Was all you could offer.

“Side effects?” Phoenix asked. You looked at him helplessly.

“Yeah. Some sort of draw back. My partners are all pretty mean, usually. Maybe that was my fault?” You murmured. Phoenix’s expression shifted, eyes dark and cutting as he clicked his tongue loudly.

“Or maybe their egos couldn’t take depending on a kid. Forget about them, baby bird. The marines had their chance.”

“Yeah! Mean bastards putting a kid to work like that, honestly, who does that!?” Fire Fist huffed.

“Enough.” Whitebeard declared, drawing your attention back to him, his eyes softening. “Welcome home, child. You’re safe here now, no matter what happens.”

Your heart shuddered, eyes pricking with tears.

When was the last time anyone said that to you?

“Exactly! I’m not too late, am I?” A man declared, bursting out onto the deck with a mug in his hand and a large cookie wrapped with a napkin. His pompadour swayed as he scanned the deck animatedly, eyes lighting up as he spotted you. “There you are little cutie pie! It’s a little late, but I made a welcoming treat, just for you!”

He bounded over, offering you the mug and cookie. They were both a bit big for you, but you couldn’t exactly say no.

“Uhm… thank you? You didn’t have to, mister…” you cocked your head, noting how warm the mug and cookie were. “Twin-Blade.” You realized decisively. His name finally clicking.

He pouted despite being a grown man.

“Ah, honey! No! Call me Thatch!” He cried out as Phoenix huffed.

“Really, Thatch? A cookie before bed?” Phoenix strode past him. You turned to wave back at Whitebeard.

“O-Oh… nice to meet you, mister Whitebeard.” You called back as Twin-Blade jogged to keep up. You could hear the captain laughing as Fire Fist commented something too soft to hear.

He reached you as Phoenix descended below deck, hand reaching out to lift up the mug.

“Drink it while it’s hot, kay?” Twin-Blade advised. You adjusted your grip and took a sip.

Milk and honey?

You’d never had that before. The warm sweet drink washing down the large cookie still hot from the oven.

“Did you remember to set up their room?” Phoenix taunted.

“Of course I did! Fresh sheets and all!”

The two pirates teased each other as they confidently walked through the halls. The cookie was gone quickly, a few bites given to Cream eagerly.

The walls blurred under warm light, gentle hands pushing the mug up in encouragement. You felt warm and tingly all over, fingertips growing numb as you leaned against Phoenix’s chest with a yawn. Cream rapidly tapping your chin as you blinked slowly. Each time finding it harder to open them again.

The mug was lifted from your limp hands before it could drop.

“Shit, Thatch, how much did you give them?”

They stopped walking, metal tinkling together as a lock clicked.

“It wasn’t that much, I swear! Just enough to help with first-night jitters! I even sized it down since they’re a kid. I guess they’re just exhausted?” You whined as a hand brushed over your damp cheeks. “Aww, sweet pea~Here, lemme help tuck them in. Jeez, they’re so small.”

Your feet and neck were cold suddenly before soft fabric was wrapped around you. Pulled up to your chin, the chill abated quickly.

“Nice thinking with the anchored terrarium.”

“Thanks! This is a pretty big change for a kid, so I figured this would help show them they’re safe.”

Their voices faded out into static as you drifted away. Honeyed milk and chocolate on your tongue.

Today had been immeasurably long and difficult. The last thing you remember is the distant sensation of someone’s fingertips wiping away your tears.

--*--

Thatch held up his hands in self defense as Marco glared at him.

He really did size down the recipe! Their newest sibling must have been incredibly tired to not even make it to their room! And in his defense, they looked tired well before he gave them the special welcoming drink.

Thatch glanced down at them again before looking at the den den mushi with a replacement shell. The snail was definitely glaring at him from the secured terrarium. Usually, they could stay anywhere you wanted without issue, but given how the kid came to them, he figured a dedicated home for the two of them was a good step. The terrarium typically used for quarantine purposes but they had spares anyway.

Marco huffed, fussing with the blankets a little more before shoving him out of the room. It was kind of cute how protective Marco was being. It’d been a while since Thatch had gotten to see this side of his brother. Usually, the others on board were more than capable of protecting themselves. But given how fragile the little ‘marine’ was, Thatch couldn’t blame him. Poor kid was clearly overwhelmed.

Hopefully a good night’s rest will help with that. Even if it was… a bit deeper than normal.

#one piece #platonic yandere #one piece yandere #how our seeds grow #marco the phoenix #thatch one piece #fire fist ace #op whitebeard

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