#i really hope this was helpful and made sense

[tiredmamaissy]

Ralak te Sepawn ieyk’itan: Special Episode V

Something is Brewing

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Hyperlinks are attached to specific paragraphs that when clicked on will lead you to its illustration by Ralak's insanely talented creator @zestys-stuff. Thank you so much for allowing me to play around with your characters!

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (25) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (20)

Warnings: explicit pregnancy smut, pregnancy fluff, pregnancy angst [for the plot], pregnancy [this chapter is entirely about pregnancy if you haven't caught my drift, just giving you guys a proper warning], age gap, mood swings, cravings, nausea, vomiting, reader is very clumsy, intimate/invasive medical treatment, rut cycle, sexual tension, pregnant sex, p in v, titty fucking, cum eating (m and f), oral sex (m and f), masturbation, exhibitionism (kinda, not really), lactation kink

Word Count: 17.5k (this takes the cake, i apologize)

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: Hey guys! Thank you all for being so patient with me as usual. I had planned to post this chapter earlier, but with the help of @zestys-stuff, we made a last minute change to the chapter. This will definitely cause some changes in the next chapter, so I’m going to work on that right away. I won’t lie, I’m really nervous to publish this one. It's been a while and I’ve ventured into some new territory where I’ve introduced a couple of new themes and -drumroll- a new character. There are parts of this chapter that can possibly cause discomfort (technically, all of this could), so I urge you guys to proceed with caution and click off if you do feel uncomfortable in any way. Aside from that, it’s good to be back (again, lol) and I hope you enjoy!

Synopsis: A timeline of your pregnancy with Ralak’s child, shown through a series of flashbacks of your most prominent milestones—some of which foreshadow something bigger to come…

<- Previous -> Next

Pregnancy is tough. 

A beautiful blessing, but tough nonetheless. With its own set of hardships, uniquely tailored to your own being. If it’s not one thing, it’s another. A sore back, chest, ankles…the list is seemingly endless. The shift in moods, the fatigue. Adjusting to an entire new being growing inside you—one that sucks the nutrients straight from your bones and blood—has your body overcompensating.  

At first it was a dream. 

No life-changing symptoms. It was smooth sailing for the first few weeks. Life went on as usual. If anything, others were more reactive to your pregnancy than you were. Your skimwing became aggressive towards Ralak, snapping at him and whipping her tail, treating him as a threat rather than a companion. He was more than understanding, as it’s common for the protective instinct to kick in when the tsurak senses their rider is with child.  

More importantly, it was an urge that Ralak shared with the beast.

—

You watch as your tendrils intertwine with your skimwing, and how they come together with a rough tug. You let out a rugged breath and the beast beneath you starts to writhe. Ralak instinctively grasps at the harness to steady you and— 

Slash. 

Your trsuak whips her spiked tail at your mate, who blocks it with his strake.

“Shit.” You gasp, tugging at the leather strap and patting her neck to subdue her. “I thought I was in control. Are you alright?”

Ralak nods, his hair now soaked and plastered to his chest. He simply chuckles, respectfully and cautiously approaching the beast with an open hand. Despite this, your tsurak continues to thrash, repeatedly snapping her snout open and shut. Ralak clicks melodically a few times, and her pupils blow and constrict as she calms down. He strokes her snout with one hand, and lays his other on your thigh, gripping it lightly.

“She senses that you are with child.” 

“She does?”

“Yes. That is why she protects you. I understand the feeling.” His accent is thick on his tongue. 

——

Then the nausea came. It was… unbearable. Insufferable. It was almost frightful, actually. Not being able to stomach anything really brought down a sense of dread upon your shoulders. Most days, you found yourself worried about the budding life inside you more than yourself. 

Was he getting enough? Would he develop properly if you went another day without eating? 

Ralak was more worried about you, of course. Going to great lengths to find something you could stomach. Spoon feeding you as you laid down all day from the gut churning nausea. Washing the sick out of your hair when you missed the bucket at your bedside. Detangling and braiding it for you to keep it clean and out of your face. Releasing his pheromones—your only relief—just to put you to sleep at night. 

—

t.w. nausea, vomiting.

In the crisp night, a wave of nausea washes over you, waking you from your sleep. Typically, this is the only time you have a break from the nausea—your slumber. That, and the first ten minutes after throwing up.

You quickly hurl over, grabbing and heaving into your bedside bucket, something that's rightfully earned its spot at your side. Ralak jolts awake, sitting up behind you to gather your hair into his fist, rubbing your back as you retch. 

“Alrigght.” He hums lengthily. “Get it up.”

Finally, you stop. You gasp and pant for air, sitting up only to collapse back into him. “I h-hate this–haah.”

“I do, too.” He grits, reaching over you for the rag at your bedside, and wiping your mouth.

He hates seeing you so sick. He’s tried it all, and though he’s found a few foods that you can stomach, nothing seems stops the nausea. Well, that’s not entirely true.

Ralak relaxes his body, focusing on opening his scent glands to release his his pheromones. They slowly become stronger, calming you down and dulling the waves of nausea. He pulls you close to his warm body, reaching behind him for his kuru. 

“Tsaheylu.” He whispers yearningly, making the bond slowly. He sets a steady breathing pattern, slipping his hand over your tiny bump to caress it. The sickening feeling eases up enough for you to drift back to sleep, Ralak along with you.

——

Thankfully, Eywa lifted you of your säspxin [sickness] when you were about to come upon your third month of pregnancy. Cravings increased ten-fold almost instantly. On the occasion where you couldn’t keep it down—when the desperation was too much—you’d volunteer Ralak to eat it for you so that you could satisfy the craving vicariously through him.

—

“Eywa, that’s so good. One more bite.”

“Tanhí. Enough now.” He grumbles, feeling overly stuffed and almost queasy. 

You glance down at the purple hue of your connected kurus.

“Please...” Your eyes burn as they threaten to well with tears, and your bottom lip quivers, “…last one, promise.”

Ralak sighs, shoveling in another bite of boiled squid, chewing it slowly so you can savor the taste. You keep your eyes closed as he eats, tongue swirling in your mouth to swish your pooling saliva in your cheeks. And when he swallows, you swallow too, gulping down your spit. 

“Thank you.” You say shyly as you open your eyes, feeling bad for making him overeat now that you can really feel his fullness. 

It is my pleasure. Never feel bad. His accented voice tickles your brain. A smile spreads across your face, just as one does on his. 

——

And when you could keep it down, they were delightful when satiated. Keyword being satiated. It posed an issue when they were what Ralak called, ‘forest food’, or on a more rare occasion—‘sky people food’. Those were the insatiable ones. The ones he couldn’t just whip up for you. The times he'd come to you with his ears laid flat to his skull, admitting his defeat. Those were the moments where you felt something stronger than just disappointment. 

It left you gutted. 

—

You can’t stop the tears from flowing down your cheeks. They’re hot and leave a sticky film on your skin, clumping your eyelashes together. It’s stupid. They’re stupid. Stupid tears, from a stupid cause. All because you want your grandmother’s stupid soup. Another thing the blessing of pregnancy has bestowed on you—big, intense feelings. 

As you soak in your bath, Ralak cooks dinner and you just know that whatever is in the pot is something that will make your stomach churn. You bury your face in the palms of your hands, trying to keep your snotty sobs to a minimum. It’s ridiculous, sobbing over something like this. It’s shameful, even. How can you be so ungrateful when this man goes to such lengths to care for you?

“Tanhì!” You hear his rough voice echo from the pod. 

You quickly wipe your face clean, and scramble for your loincloth and top, slipping them back onto your body. Finally, you fix your hair and force a smile to your face. As you get up to the marui, you’re met with the sight of Ralak stirring the soup pot over the firepit. Then the smell hits you. Typically the first thing to set off your nausea to begin with. It smells like—

Grandmother’s soup.

You stare at your mate wide eyed, taking a deep breath to savour it in your lungs. Outside of Ralak’s scent, nothing has smelled this good in months. And you swear you can already taste it on your tongue, the savoury flavour with the sweet aftertaste. 

“I asked your mother. Hope that is okay.” Ralak speaks casually as he serves you a bowl.

As you let out a harsh breath, your eyes burn as the tears come back with a vengeance. You sniffle once, twice—thrice, whimpering quietly as they roll down your cheeks. Ralak looks up at you, concern and honestly a smidge of confusion fixed to his face. Putting the bowl down, he stands and comes over to you, enveloping you in his arms. 

“I do not like to see you cry.” He hums, kissing the crown of your head. “Is it the smell? I will make you something different.” 

“N-No, no. It’s… it smells great. I’m sorry. I—I” You sputter, burying your face into his chest. 

“Then what is it, tìyawn [love]? What do you need?” Ralak cups your face and gently tilts your head upwards so he can look you in the eyes. “Tell me and it is yours.” 

“Thank you.” You croak, feeling your bottom lip curl over and kiss your chin. Now his facial expression is just pure confusion. He tuts in a comforting manner, pulling you back in close to his chest as he waits for you to settle, rocking side to side. 

“Alright, my little one. Shh–shh.”

——

Soon after, that soup pot made quite an appearance. It became your favourite dish, your favourite craving. Ralak made it just like grandmother, for the most part. There were a few omaticayan herbs missing, but outside of that it tasted like…home. At that point, you felt like you had this pregnancy thing down pat and could return to a semi-normal life. 

Everything was relatively the same, except a few obvious things—your growing bump and lack of heats. That was also a blessing, not having to go through a torturous heat every month. Though, you couldn’t say that for Ralak. 

As you neared the end of your third month of pregnancy, his pheromones grew stronger, wafting by you at random times of the day. At first you thought he was just doing it for you. Or, perhaps it was your heightened sense of smell. 

But the day came when his scent was so potent, it was as if it had stained your lips. There wasn’t a moment where you couldn’t smell the scent of your mate under your nose. That was the night you realised it was out of his control. That it was his rut coming. That was the night you confronted him at the bonfire. 

The night he looked at you like you were something to eat. 

— 

Right…there.

You catch the flicker of his eyes just before he lowers his head, shifting to that deep shade of blue. He keeps stealing a glance or two. Maybe even three, or more. It’s hard to keep count when he’s looking at you like this.

is piercing eyes, sultry and alluring, tempting you to crawl through these roaring flames just to get to him quicker. His demeanour. His stance and posture. His domineering leer. Whatever he—or his body—is doing, is working. 

He sits on the boulder, elbow perched on one thick thigh and a hand propped on the other. His hair covers his chestpiece, curled ends barely brushing against his defined ribcage. His bioluminescent freckles dance under the moonlight, his turquoise skin almost golden from the cast of the fire. It’s all so intimidating. He’s exuding dominance, practically looming over you despite him being seated. But there’s something about his aura, something darker.

“I can feel it, you know.” You speak casually, uncrossing your legs.

Ralak’s eyes snap up, boring into yours. He cocks a brow, keeping his eyes locked on you as you stand and walk towards him.

“Your rut. It’s close, isn’t it?”

This would be your first, real rut with him. Without the influence of your own heat. Ralak huffs a sigh, his eyes falling to the small bump that’s in his direct line of sight. Ralak watches as it seemingly grows bigger the closer you get. 

“You are showing.” His hands gently rest on your lower abdomen. Holding his shoulders, you slowly straddle him. 

“Answer me.” You whisper as you cup his face, tilting it upwards to make him look at you. “I want to be with you… and before you say it—” Ralak grits his teeth as he turns his head away, out of your hands.

“No.” 

“Ralak. I am your mate.” You retaliate through tight lips. You knew this would pose an issue. 

“Y/n.” He growls, turning his head to look you in the eyes. “You know my rut. Must I remind you that you are with child? It is final.” 

“I do know, and that’s why I won’t let you go through that alone, ever again.” Though your voice is stern, he can hear the tenderness in it. That this comes from a place of concern and love.

“I will not be in control.” Ralak admits as he shakes his head firmly, flicking his gaze back down to your belly. 

“Look…I made a plan.” You basically confess that you’ve been conjuring up ideas on how to endure this together all day. Although his eyes and hands remain fixed on your tummy, Ralaks ears perk up. He’s listening. 

“How do you feel about…being tied up?” 

Now you’ve got his attention, eyes snapping up to meet yours. The idea of being tied up isn’t entirely foreign to him. It’s something that his people use as a punishment for those who do wrong. He’s not opposed to it. Having a rut so intense is probably something to be punished for, anyways. 

“Hands behind your back…bound to the marui stilt. I will be the one in control. I will take care of you.”

You take his hands from your stomach and tuck them behind his back, your face now millimeters from his. Ralak fights the urge to kiss you. To free his hands from his back to grab your hips and shove your further down onto his growing bulge.

“...feed you…water you…bathe you.” Your voice falters as you swallow your spit. “...fuck you.” 

“...that so?” He whispers against your lips, heart thudding wildly behind his ribcage. 

You look in his eyes, and see that they tremble with constraint. He can’t hide it, the look on his face gives it away. He’s really struggling to think straight. To keep his answer as a firm no. And it doesn’t help that he’s on the cusp of his rut. He yearns to accept. Every fibre of his being wants this–wants you. You see it in his eyes, as they flicker like the flame behind you.

He just needs a little push. 

“We’ll take it slow…gently.” You roll your hips into him and feel his cock straining against his tewng. You lean in close, lips brushing against his as you speak into his mouth. “And, if anything happens… we’ll stop. No knotting.” 

His ears twitch. He’s considering it. Really, actually considering this. But how could he? How could he expect this of you in your state? He squeezes his eyes shut, frustrated and conflicted. And aroused. So fucking aroused that when he feels your lips drag against his cheek, your tongue tasting the lobe of his ear…your breathy whisper, “Pänutìng [Promise].”, he lets out a heated, shaky breath of defeat. Of surrender. 

That seals the deal.

—

Not now. Not yet. Ralak thinks to himself, fighting his urges.

The urge to mate—to pin you down and drive himself inside you. He must remain in control. For you. For your unborn. He sits on the floor, slumped against the stilt of the marui, bowed shoulders and a heavy, hung head. His skin, flushed, and eyes swollen—glowing a vibrant mauve. His hair haphazardly sticks to his sweltering skin as his hands lethargically twiddle with the braided twine behind his back. 

Groggy, you strain to open your eyes and quickly scan your surroundings. Ralaks pheromones cloud the room, engulfing you with their overpowering scent. As you sit up, the bed creaks and Ralak lifts his head, allowing it to flump limply back into the stilt. Extra lidded eyes and tensed brows, he breathes through his mouth. He wills himself to speak, but he’s heavy and sluggish as if he were three bottles deep.

“Ralak.” Your voice is wary and full of concern. Your eyes continue to trail down his body, landing on the undeniable, taut bulge in his loincloth. His cock strains against the fabric, precum completely soaking it through. “How long have you been like this?” 

“Few hours.” He croaks out a dry throat. 

“And you didn’t wake me?” You hastily make your way behind him, slipping to your knees to take the twine from him. 

Fuck. There it is. Your scent...driving him over the edge. Wafting past his nose and making him woozy in the head. 

“Tie me.” He demands. For a moment, you’re frozen in place by his tone, unable to move your hands and fingers. “Quickly.” 

The edginess in his voice startles you, causing you to fumble with the twine. You take a breath and begin tying the knot as he taught you, weaving the twine with itself, tugging at the ends to close it.

“Tighter.” He snaps at you, making your ears lay flat. You pull the ends even tauter, witnessing the twine pinch the thin skin on his wrists. 

“Shit—sorry. Didthat hurt?” You go to loosen the knot, but he pulls at the restraints, making it even tighter.  

“Leave it.” He grumbles, tugging yet again, ensuring it’s unyielding.

Because the closer you get, the harder he finds it to resist. He needs to know that he can’t get out—that he can’t hurt you—before he loses it completely. And with that delicious scent seeping from your neck, he feels himself slipping under. 

“Are you sure? I can tie you after you drink some water and have a—” 

“No...haah—now.” He growls, dropping his head causing the rest of his hair to flow forward and cover his face. “…need you now.” 

Blood rushes to your cheeks, heating them up and flushing them over. You can even feel your heart pumping it harder–faster. It’s hot in here, but even hotter now that you feel yourself heating up too. It’s his rut, influencing you like some sort of drug. You can barely control your breathing, much less think straight. But you told him that you’d be the one in control, the one to care for him. 

“Mawey, ma’ muntxatan [Calm, my husband].” You whisper close to his ear, giving the knot a final tug. “What kind of mate would I be if I did not care for you first? Hm?”  

You shuffle to your feet, and walk away, newly widened hips swaying side to side with temptation. He’s taking in the show through the cracks of space between his clumped together strands of hair, unable to look away no matter how hard he tries. Knowing this, you bend over, lifting your tail to expose your clothed mound to him. You swear you can hear a hiss seep from his lips, and that brings a smile to yours. 

Teasing him is one of your favourite things to do. 

You scoop up some water into the cup, and bring it over to him. Using two fingers to his chin, you tilt his head back, revealing the famine in his inebriated eyes. They’re glossy with need and desperation, begging you to take his ache away. 

“Alright, alright.” You coo softly, sinking back to your knees. “I’m going to make it go away. Now, drink for me.” You bring the cup to his lips, tilting it carefully as he gulps it down thirstily. A few drops dribble down his chin and onto his already glistening chest, rolling down his unflexed stomach. 

Tossing the empty cup to the side, you bend forward and lick the beads of water up his stomach, to his throat, to his lips. His arms jerk reflexively, wanting to cup your face as your lips lock with his.

Throwing a leg over his lap, you straddle him, pressing against the bulge in his sticky tewng. You cup his face instead, deepening the kiss to have a taste of the potent desperation on his tongue.

When you pull away, your noses brush against one another and you feel woozy in the head. His rut is beginning to affect you now. Which isn’t all a bad thing if you want to be able to keep up with him for the next couple days.  

Your hand smoothes over his jawbone to the nape of his neck, where you gently grip the base of his kuru. His ears immediately lay flat to his head, reddening at just the tips. Running your hand along its length, you bring the end of his kuru in front of him. 

“Going to make the bond.” You warn him breathily, bringing forth your queue as well. 

At this point, Ralak is huffing for air and sweating profusely. It looks as if he’s nearing his peak already. This only reaffirms that you’re making the right decision by making tsaheylu—you need the direct influence of his tìsom [heat]. 

When the tendrils intertwine, you come together with a sharp tug and gasp. Instantaneously, you sink into a hazy state, heating up from within. Your breath syncs with his, and suddenly you’re panting too. 

“Ralak.” You moan softly, grinding into him for a bit of friction.

You can’t stop your hips from snapping, and your loincloth is almost completely soaked. He throws his head back into the wooden stilt, looking at you through lidded eyes as he lets loose subtle groans. He looks more than hungry. He looks starved. 

With trembling hands, you search for the knot of his loincloth at the base of his tail. After a bit of scuffling, you untether it and shimmy his tewng down his hips and off of him. Up springs his aching cock, veiny and swollen. It’s so obviously neglected, glossy and sticky with his slick, so uncomfortably hard that it’s already pulsing as it stands firmly pressed against your clothed cunt. 

“Fuck. It’s… even bigger.” You’re taken aback, unsure of how exactly you managed to take this inside you last time he was in rut. Then you notice the red tinge of colour on his cockhead, especially where his ridges stand erect. “D-Does that hurt, karyu?” Bump in the way, you shift your hips back to reveal what exactly you’re talking about. “Need your numeyu to take away the pain?” 

The giant remains silent, but his cock jumps in response, oozing out another large bead of precum. Using your pointer finger, you trace the length of his cock, swollen balls to his pointed tip, collecting that fresh bead of slick on the pad of your digit. He watches intently as you pop your finger into your mouth and suckle, swallowing his semi-sweet essence. His brows knit tightly together. 

You know this is nothing short of torture to him. And though you have every intention to take the ache away… when would you get another opportunity like this? Where this giant is tied down and unable to resist the pleasure you bring him. Where you’re completely… in control. Fuck, you’ve never felt like this before. It's exhilarating. It’s a feeling of power. Of dominance.

A smirk pulls at your lips.   

You begin to pull yourself to your knees, brushing your swollen breasts against his lips. His tongue darts out, eager for a taste. Looking down, you cup one breast with your hand, and guide your stiff nipple into his mouth. His lips pucker over it, closing once they make contact for a vacuum seal.

Your breath hitches when you feel his tongue tickle the sensitive tip of your nipple. His teeth graze against them as he tries to do this handsfree, and you let out a low hiss. Soon his movements grow erratic, being bound to the marui stilt is starting to frustrate him. 

“Ah-ah. What do you need, karyu? Just tell me.” Your voice is feigned with innocence. He breathes heavy against your chest, keeping quiet as his focus is purely on getting his fill. “You won’t get anything from them.” You tsk, tugging away little by little, until eventually you pop off his mouth. 

You continue to rise to your feet, dragging his lips along your swelling tummy, until he’s eye level to the band of your tewng. You can feel his eyes pierce into you, his stare is anything but discreet. It’s intimidating. Your hand flies to the back of your loincloth, fiddling with the knot to untie it. 

“Is it this?”

The cloth drops to your ankles, exposing your flushed cunt to him. It’s pink and hot to the touch, undeniably aroused. Your scent grows stronger with each passing second, filling his lungs. It’s driving him insane—being able to see and smell, but not touch. His rut is only making him more irritable. He just needs to fuck into something and spill himself inside. 

His eyes glisten over an even brighter shade of purple, locking onto their meal. He wets his bottom lip with a quick swipe of his tongue as you take a step closer. You cup his jawbone, tilting it upwards to look down at him. The sight is… intoxicating. His lidded eyes, blown pupils that are threatening to roll to the back of his head. Tensed brow bones and damped, slightly parted lips—not a drop of composure left in his features. 

That new feeling rushes through you again, making you take two more steps forward. Your bare cunt brushes against the tip of his nose, officially branding it with your scent. He leans into you, closing his eyes and straining his neck to indulge himself. 

Your thumb smoothes over his jaw before your hand slips to the back of his head. You fist his hair and yank his head back, sending his eyes flying open. With your free hand, you spread your pussy lips, exposing your swollen clit. It’s sticky and in need of attention, throbbing occasionally as you tug your hood back. 

“Now, suck.” You demand breathily, slowly guiding him by the head to bring his lips to your clit.

You clench around nothing when you feel his heated, slippery lips pucker over the stiffened nub, sucking gently. Sharp eyes bore into yours before they roll back, leaving nothing but the whites exposed. Lids finally fluttering closed, he sucks a little harder, tips of his canines accidentally nipping your supple skin.  

“Ss—fuck.” You hiss, hips snapping back with force, popping off his mouth with a sharp sting. Frantic fingers rub away the tingling sensation as you grit your teeth. You shuffle your feet to ground yourself as you tighten your grip on his hair and hold his head still. 

“I know you’re in rut, but be good to your muntxate [wife].” You warn through your teeth before shoving his face back into your cunt.

This time he feasts with greed, groaning like a starved man. Eating, like a starved man. He’s slurping and sucking, lapping up your slick as it coats his tongue and lips, enjoying every second of your reign.

“Oh—oh shit. Fuck. Right there—” You moan breathlessly, free hand flying to his head to fist his hair, using it as leverage to keep him just where he is.

Before you know it your hips are moving on their own, humping at his face as you hold him tightly with both hands. With each thrust you shove him further back into the stilt, until the back of your hand is repeatedly hitting its surface. 

Until you’re hunched over him, looking him deep in the eyes as you grind into whatever part of him your clit is rubbing against. He expertly holds his breath as he allows you full control to fuck his face as if you were the one in heat.

Because with each roll of your hips he feels it too.

He feels the jolt of pleasure that shoots through you when his tongue hits your clit in that special spot. When the tips of his canines graze your swollen folds. The feeling is all consuming and he’s whining into your cunt from the over—and under—stimulation. His cock shifts to a shade of purple, jumping each time you thrust into his mouth. 

‘Sorry, Ralak. ‘m sorry.’ You think to him through tsaheylu, feeling the burn in your own lungs now. 

“Haa—ah, fuck. Thrust. Fuck. Thrust. F-Fuck! I’m gonna cum—in your—ngh!” Your voice quavers as you come suddenly undone in his mouth, holding him firm and still as you rock your body into him. 

His eyes slam shut and his brows knit tightly together as he grunts repeatedly into your cunt. He tugs harshly at his restraints and his heels dig into the woven floor. Yet still, you hold onto him even tighter until your pussy stops fluttering. 

With a loud, shaky gasp, you yank him away, letting go of his hair to grab the marui stilt to stop your trembling legs from giving out beneath you. Ralak wheezes loudly, shoulders heaving harshly as he frantically pants for air. His face is bright pink, flushed and glazed in a layer of sweat. He opens his eyes but they’re so heavy that you can barely see the colour in them. 

“Rutxe [please].” Ralak begs through a desperate groan, flicking his stare downwards. And when you look, you’re met with the sight of his still-throbbing cock, covered in his sticky, thick cum. Shiney beads still ooze out and dribble down his length and onto his swollen, firm balls. 

His first word was a plea of help. 

Your heart aches in your chest. How could you let yourself go so far with your little bit of power? To be so selfish. And here he was, in so much discomfort and yet you put your needs first. Leaving him so neglected to the point his body makes the release for him. Is this how he felt after he unleashed six pent up years on you in a couple days? 

Pent up years of suffering. 

“Shh. You’re okay, my love. You’re okay.” You whisper as you slowly squat down. “I got you. I’m going to make it…” you hold eye contact with him as you lower yourself onto his cock, aligning his tip with your sopping entrance, “…all better now.” 

You wince when his cock slowly penetrates you, mewling a little higher with every inch you manage to take. The stretch is almost unbearable. This is the first rut you’ve spent with him without being in heat. 

No foggy haze to dull the ache. 

No emptiness to be filled. 

And it doesn’t help that your womb is already so full. 

Your mewl quickly turns into a whimper when your bodies become flush to one another. Ralaks head slumps back into the marui stilt and he heaves a loud, lengthy moan of relief from being buried deep inside your warm cunt. You feel so good around him, making his cock heat up and twitch inside of you. 

Snaking your arms around his neck, you hold onto him as you frantically try to adjust to his size. It’s dawning on you exactly what you’ve gotten yourself into, and that you’ve seriously underestimated his rut. A sense of uncertainty begins to tighten your stomach but it quickly dissipates when you hear Ralak’s second plea. 

“Rutxe, ma’ tanhì..” Ralak mutters with a pained, gravelly voice. 

Without another word, you move your hips up and down, dragging his length along your gummy, slick walls. Your movements are sloppy and uncoordinated, you’re not used to doing most of the work much less all of it. With his hands tied behind his back, you can already feel the burn in your thighs and the throb in the tips of your toes. 

Regardless, you keep moving your hips. 

Bouncing up and down on his cock, pressing your forehead into his in a poor attempt to steady your position. That little sting slowly morphs into something of pleasure the more your hips meet his with a slap. And soon all you can hear is smack, after smack, after smack. The noises that split his lips tell you all you need to know. He’s feeling good and that’s all that matters. 

But exhaustion hits you quickly—unexpectedly. His cock is buried to the hilt inside you, and the more tired your legs get, the deeper it drills inside you, pressing harshly into your cervix. Your legs are trembling uncontrollably and you can barely catch your breath, leaving you no choice but to lazily rock back and forth on his cock. 

Ralak lets out a grunt and bucks his hips. 

“Haah!” You yelp.

Ralaks ears lay flat, lips pursed tightly into a thin line. He can’t hold back his frustration any longer. He’s growing impatient. If he didn’t get his real release soon he may really lose it. He’s grunting through his nose and tugging at his restraints, bruising his wrists. You feel him shift his hips up and shove his cock as far as he can inside you. 

“Ngh! I-It won’t go any deeper!” Your voice strains as you try to lift yourself up. But he just keeps pushing until his feet are grounded. And then his hips drop, pulling his cock half way out of you. 

Thrust.

Ralak slams his cock back inside you, drilling deeper than he was before. Your mouth falls open as all the air is forcefully expelled from your lungs. As you suck in a gasp of air he thrusts inside you again. And again. And again. Until he’s rutting into you in a feverish frenzy, chasing his climax as if it were prey. His thrusts turn relentless, leaving you breathless with each buck of his hips. 

“Fuck—fuck—fu—” Your voice bounces with his thrusts. 

You look down, met with eyes that are empty yet heavy with appetite. He’s in the thick of it and he’s no longer all there. He’s purely instinct now and the only thing holding him back from pinning you down and having his way with you is the twine wrapped around his wrists. 

You can’t lie and say that you aren’t enjoying the look on his face and the break from the burn in your thighs. Stars sprinkle your vision as you’re overwhelmed with the immense pleasure he’s slamming into you. He’s fucking you into submission and you’re mind is borderline blank. His groans are primal and guttural, and they grow louder with each hysteric thrust. 

“Want to knot.” He huffs suddenly—desperately. You can feel his thick knot poke and prod at your entrance, his thrusts now sloppy and erratic. 

“Fuck, I—” You know you shouldn’t, no matter how hazy his rut is making you feel. “W-We can’t. I’m still ea—rly.” But he’s too busy watching himself fuck you in a daze, drenched with sweat. “Ralak…” You grab his face, tilting his chin upwards so he looks you in the face. His gaze is hollow yet his features are tense. “…are y–ou hear–ing me, la–k?”

“Need to breed.” He growls as he fights against his restraints. He doesn’t ease up on his tussle with the twine, sweating and panting as he desperately tries to force his knot inside you. 

“Shit.” You mutter, coming to the quick realisation that he can’t stop himself. “Wait, wait, wait—” 

Your hands fall from his face to his stomach, pushing down in a panicky attempt to lift yourself off him. But his rut is making you sluggish and weak, so you make the quick decision to sever the bond with a rough yank. 

Snap. 

“Oh, fuck.” You curse under your breath. 

The twine breaks, and his arms fly forward, hands making impact with your hips, fingernails digging into the thin skin. His grip is unyielding as he holds you down firmly on his cock. You feel him throb inside you as he attempts to plug you full with his knot. 

“Lak! Ralak, h-hold on!” As much as you actually want to, you can barely take what’s inside you as it is.

“Submit.” He rasps, top lip curled tight to his teeth, baring his canines. 

“I—I’m pregnant.” You whisper quickly, voice hoarse and strained. 

Immediately, his movements cease and his eyes flick down to your tiny bump, then widen when he finally realises. In one swift, sudden move, he lifts you off him and uses your swollen pussy lips to hug his cock and finish himself off. He rocks you back and forth like a rag doll at the mercy of undying grip, growling and grunting. 

His head drops forward when he outright howls. You look down and witness his mushroomy head pulsating feverishly, spurting out his load in thick ropes, all over his stomach and chest. All whilst his engorged, throbbing knot pulses against your slit as he cums, earning some well deserved comfort and warmth.

Ralak sputters as he tries to catch his breath, hands still glued to your hips. The fog still clouds his mind but it’s less blinding now. He’s just about capable of acknowledging what just happened. To acknowledge that this was risky, and could’ve ended badly. That, if you hadn’t said something to him, he would have knotted you without mercy.

An uncomfortable silence passes between you, where you’re both breathing heavily and staring at one another. You both share the same thought—the same realisation. His rut is too aggressive for you to handle right now. 

“I must go.” Ralak looks away as he breaks the silence, wanting to take advantage of his release before the pressure builds yet again. He’s clear headed enough to leave without turning back and pouncing on you. 

“No, don’t… we can try again.” You say softly, hand cupping his jawbone, turning him to face you. You feel terrible that he may have to spend this rut alone, that you couldn’t fulfil your promise—your duty as his mate. 

“I almost knotted you, y/n.” His eyes gloss over with guilt, his hands finally peeling away your bruised hips. 

“But… you didn’t. You stopped yourself—” 

“And if I do not leave now… I will.” Ralak growls inches away from your face.

You’re a little taken aback by his bluntness, but you know it’s the truth. And it’s final. No matter what you say. No matter how it makes the flesh between your legs throb a little more. You nod, keeping yourself quiet. 

“I will see you in a couple days. I love you both.” Your lips meet briefly before he carries you to bed and readies himself to leave. You watch in silence, murmuring an “I love you, too” under your breath when he exits the marui.  

—

As time passed you grew more angsty, unable to keep in one spot or focus on a single task. All that ran on your mind was Ralak and how he was probably suffering all alone. All because you failed to do your duty as his mate. The guilt was almost sickening, having you dry heaving into your bedside bucket a few times for the rest of the day. 

Until later that night. 

You rub in the thick, oily concoction on your belly, getting ready for bed. The sound of the marui door flapping open startles you, making you jump in your skin and clutch your stomach. You’re not expecting Ralaks return so soon. 

A silhouette stands tall at the door, his bioluminescent star pattern unmistakable. 

“Ralak? Oh, Ralak. Eywa. You’re back. I should have made dinner. I thought you'd be gone for a while longer. You must be so hungry. You—” You speak urgently, eyes flicking down to his tewng, which is seemingly damp, “—was it too much? …are you alright? Let me help you, lak.”

“Tanhì.” Ralaks cuts you short, voice trembling slightly, yet full of relief. “It is done.” 

“…what?” The question is breathy. 

“My rut.” Ralak says as he makes his way towards you, scooping up a glob of your special concoction. He sits next to you, and begins massaging it into your back. “You have fixed me.” 

You come to the realization that he's talking about his rut finishing earlier than usual—like that of an average na'vi.

“You were never broken, my love.” You moan softly, closing your eyes to enjoy the massage.

Ralak then rests his chin on your shoulder, smoothing his hands down your back and around your abdomen—rubbing what's left on his hands onto your swelling belly. His touch prickles your skin, sending the tip of your tail swishing. 

“I live for you.” He mutters with a thick accent, nuzzling his face into your neck. “I will die for you.”

Your heart skips a beat when you hear his words, he must have really been suffering for the past six years. You feel your face heat up, and you try to fight the smile balling your cheeks. You opt to drop your head and hide your face instead, resting a hand on his thigh. 

“Well. We won’t have you doing that.” You giggle, rubbing his upper thigh as you turn your head to glance at him. “…the last part, that is.” 

But he just looks at you, face still as stone. He speaks sternly.

“I will.” He speaks sternly.

You swallow your spit, tempted to drop your head again as you take in the gravity of his two words. You nod, searching his eyes with yours as you close the space between you. You hover open mouthed against his lips. 

“Me too.”

——

Time waits for no one. 

At least that’s how it felt. You had ballooned overnight, round and a little heavier as you embarked on your sixth month of pregnancy. His kicks grew stronger and more uncomfortable. But it was Ralaks favourite thing to feel before bed.

You found yourself spending most of your days bouncing between your marui and your family’s marui—paying your family visits more often. They grew fond of the idea that there would be an addition to the family and it became a regular thing for you to seek refuge there when Ralak was roped in for his ‘duties’. Which seemed to increase in number the further along you progressed. 

Ralak had his daily duties—tending to the ilus, a few lessons, fishing... These were just the simpler tasks that you could say you knew for certain he did. But there were his ‘fkxaranga’ [stressful] duties’, as you liked to call them.

The ones where Tonowari would summon him with nothing else but a simple nudge or glance. The duties that were spontaneous. That stole precious hours of his time. Duties that left Ralak spent and on edge, reaching for his top shelf when he came home. Those were the ones you dreaded the most. 

The ones like last night. 

——

With a huff, Ralak chucks his gear onto the floor and roughly unclips his chest piece. His pointed tools are covered in some sort of thick, iridescent muck, shifting from green to orange as they rock side to side on the floor. It’s something you’ve been seeing recently with no idea as to what it is. 

Ralak grunts, bringing your attention to his lips, which are slightly downturned. The more you take in the sight before you the more it occurs to you how exhausted this man is. His eyes are hollow, ears droopy, tail dragging heavily behind him. His muscles are seized up despite the bow of his shoulders—he looks as if he could use a massage. 

“Manga [Hey, you].” You get up to meet him at the door, taking the chest piece out of his hands to hang up on the wooden stand. “Tonowari is working your tail off. Do I need to have a word with that man?” 

He only works up a grumble as you lead him over to the bed. “That bad? What is he making you do? Hunt akulas? Eywa.”  

Ralak sits down, face sinking into his hands before two fingers slip down to pinch the bridge of his nose. You climb up and settle behind him, huffing and puffing along the way. Your hands smooth over his back, thumbs pressing firmly into his muscles, kneading the flesh until you feel him loosen up. 

Though the question sounded rhetorical, he knew it wasn’t. He knows you’re awaiting a response, the silence is loud and clear. You always want to know more about his day, fine details and all. And he’s usually reluctant to speak of it, but insisting it’s nothing for you to worry your head over. But recently, your inquisitivity is… well founded. And he knows it.

“Not quite.” He mumbles wearily into his palm, ears laid flat to his skull–although it wasn’t uncommon for him to encounter an akula or two whilst fulfilling the olo’eyktan’s orders. 

You open your mouth to question him further, but you can tell that he’s more than tired. And it didn’t help that you were constantly needing his help, especially now that you’re growing heavier.

Going down the stairs is a struggle considering you can no longer see your own feet or keep your balance. You had been waking him up almost twice a night to help you down the marui stairs just to pee. He’d always be happy to help, though. He understands that this is what comes with the changes that are happening to your body that’s giving life to his child. 

“Rest. Please.” You say softly, tugging at him to lie down in bed with you. 

To your surprise, he actually lays down, assuming his typical position before dozing off for the night—on his back with a hand on your belly. You expected him to resist a little, insisting something or another.

He really, really must be tired. Your heart fills with something heavy. Something that makes you almost feel sick. Your brows pinch as you look beside you to see his tensed face relax into something of tranquility. 

And a smile pulls at your lips when his eyes fall shut. 

Dinner’s over the firepit—his favourite stew with extra mushrooms. The sound of it bubbling becomes louder as it thickens. With a quick, final stir, you take it off the fire and cover it to let it sit. You hope that this will help lift his mood when he wakes. You look over to him as he lays stockstill with softened features, breathing tidally. 

Holding onto a supporting beam of the marui, you bring yourself to your feet and waddle your way over to him. You extend a hand to wake him for dinner but you hesitate. He needs this. And that’s when you make the decision to allow him however long it takes to rest. Even if it means that you speak to Tonowari yourself. 

Night falls and the temperature falls with it. The glowing firepit keeps the stew and marui warm for the time being as you prepare for bed. You draw the curtains and glance over to your mate, who still remains in a deep sleep, tucked cozily under the blanket you covered him with. You drape the shawl he wove you over your shoulders, and make your way to the door. 

A silent yawn splits your lips just before you lift away the flap. Your eyelids are heavy and the drowsiness is weighing on you tenfold. You have one last step of your nightly routine before you can crawl into bed next to your husband. And that's emptying the bladder that your son uses as a footrest. Plus, if you didn’t do it now, it would just be an additional trip in the middle of the night. 

As you make your way to the door, the need to go becomes urgent. Perhaps it was all the water you thirstily chugged whilst eating, or maybe it's just the fact that you're already on your way there. Either way, you can’t seem to get there quick enough. Your movements turn hasty the second you get to the top step, hands clutching on the only thing available—your bulging belly. You’re looking down despite the fact that you can’t even see your feet.

Leaning forward slightly, you try to shift your stomach to the side to see your next step. You step down and feel your bare foot make contact with the slippery wood. Your toes press into its surface to ground you as you take your next step. You wobble when you get to the last step, and sigh in relief when you feel the cold, wet sand spill between your toes. 

After wasting no time and doing what you came to do, you quickly make your way back to the marui. The tips of your ears and tails are just going numb from how cold it is and the night dew is beginning to form. You get to the bottom step, fixing your shawl so that it’s out the way. You make your way up the first, second and third step, but when you get to the fourth your shawl falls forward. 

And so do you. 

A blood curdling shriek rips from your throat when you feel your feet give out beneath you. Your hands splay out to grab onto whatever’s around you to break your fall but before you know it you're tumbling back down the stairs at a frightening rate. You keep on your side as best you can, landing into the sand with a muffled thump. 

“Fuck. Shit—oh, great mother—” You mutter as you hyperventilate, clutching your stomach as you wait for your son to kick—to show you some sign of life. Your eyes well with tears as you rub your bump vigorously. Your heart is slamming violenting against your rib cage, so hard you can hear it over the ringing in your ears. “Please, please, please.” 

…but nothing. 

“Y/n?!” You hear Ralaks worried voice boom behind you, then his hurried footsteps down the stairs. 

Maybe it’s his fathers voice, but your unborn son gives you one of the biggest kicks yet. You sob out a laugh, rubbing your stomach as relief flows through your body. You take a few deep breaths through your mouth to calm down, feeling another reassuring kick. 

“Y/n. Y/n.” Ralak chants your name, eyes rapidly darting side to side to assess you as he kneels beside you. Concern’s etched deeply into his features as he lifts your arms and legs, searching for injuries. 

“I’m alright. I’m alright.” You repeat urgently, but he continues to look, even taking off your shawl. His eyes are wide and he seems to be in some level of shock, especially after coming straight out of a deep sleep. “Ralak. Really. I’m fine. We’re okay.” 

Ralaks features soften at your two final words. His stare falls to your swollen belly, hands taking the place of yours as he waits. After a few seconds of stillness, his eyes snap up to yours—refilling with worry. He begins to shake his head, and you reassure him with a hand to his face. 

“Talk to him.” You whisper with trembling lungs. Ralak looks back down to your stomach.

“Maitan [My son].” Your mate says in a low, steady voice, ensuring not to allow even a hint of fright slip through. Just then, he feels a little nudge against the palm of his hand. Ralaks gaze snaps up to you and his expression relaxes, hands rubbing your belly gently. “How did this happen, tanhì?”

“I…needed to pee.” You say shamefully, avoiding eye contact. “…and I tripped going up the steps.” You glance up at him to see what you perceive to be a face of disappointment. “I’m sorry. I know, I’m so stupid.” 

“No. Do not say that.” He interjects, tensing his jaw. “...you are heavy with child—why did you not wake me?” 

“You were so, so tired. You needed to rest, and I did not want to disturb you.” You turn to your side to get up, wincing when a sharp pain shoots down your back. 

“Careful.” He clears his throat, stopping you from trying to get up on your own. He watches your contorted face relax, but the heart wrenching guilt just gets worse. “You should have. Wake me for anything.” He says sternly, snaking his arms underneath you to lift you up. “Everything.”

“You really don’t have to—” Ralak continues, scooping you in his arms and holding you close to his chest. “I can walk. I’m all right, Ralak.”

You try to reassure him, shuffling in his arms to get down. But he only muffles out a sigh, glancing down at you with downturned brows and droopy ears. He then walks away from the marui stairs, to the direction of the water. 

“Where are we going?” You ask quickly when you realise that you’re walking away from home. Ralak clicks for his tsurak, taking his time as he mounts it with you tucked to his chest. “Ralak.” 

“To tsahìk.” He states, making the bond with his beast.

“Ronal?” You sound almost panicked as the idea of everyone knowing you fell up the stairs clouds your mind. It’s almost mortifying to think about. “We don’t need to do that, it’s really late too, and—”

Commanding his beast to go, you both take off at full speed. It doesn’t take long to arrive at the tsahìk’s healing pod. Many healers gather at the door when they hear the sound of Ralak’s low pitched call. And they rush out to meet him as he carries you towards them in a hurried manner. They usher you in, hushed murmurs growing louder and clearer as they bring you to Ronal. 

You didn’t even notice the burning pain in your lower back until you were about half way here. 

The Tsahìk stands upon your entrance, her crystal blue eyes widening when she sees Ralak with you in his arms. You wince as he lays you down where the healers instruct him to. She strides over to a woven basket filled with an array of herbs and needle-like wooden sticks, and quickly props it on her hip—just out of the way of her own bump. She settles herself beside you, feeling your stomach as she channels Eywa. 

Ronal throws a look to Ralak, whose hands are on his hips as he waits patiently for the verdict. 

“She fell.” He says, only for Ronal to cock an eyebrow. “Stairs.” He finishes. Then both her eyebrows raise, and she reaches for a jar of a ground up, purplish herb. She pours half of it into a wooden bowl, and activates it with a few drops of water from the spirit tree. 

“Baby is strong. Very strong.” The Tsahìk announces, and both you and Ralak heave a loud sigh of relief. “But—” Ronal props your legs up on the makeshift table, spreading them slightly. Embarrassment flushes your cheeks as you look over to Ralak. “You are still at risk.”

Ralak moves closer to you, taking your hand in his to keep you calm. You both watch as Ronal rolls the fabric tightly into a small cylindrical shape. You swallow your spit when you realise exactly where that’s going. 

“This ensures he stays. It will also help with the pain.” She states, glancing at Ralak to see the glare he’s trying to hold back. She shakes her head slightly and hands you the precautionary apparatus. “Insert. Rest…and remove at sunrise.” Ronal continues, drawing back the curtain to give you some privacy. 

“Sunrise?” You whisper to yourself as you watch her step out.

Your eyes dart up to Ralak who is clearly concerned, staring down at you with worry in his eyes. Embarrassment heats up your cheeks and your nerves fray. Why are you so shy all of a sudden? He’s your mate. Your husband. 

You sit up a bit more and try to see over your stomach to get the task done with shaky hands. You fumble and struggle with the flimsy cloth, blindly doing your best. But each time you lean forward the pain in your back burns hotter.

Ralak’s supporting you with a hand on your upper back, patiently waiting for you, noticing your trembling fingers and little grunts. He uses his free hand to cup yours, stilling your hurried movements.

“Mawey [calm]. Breathe.” He hums, gently taking it from you and helping you lay down. 

You look him in the eyes as he inserts it carefully, wincing when the concoction stings a bit. Ralak gives your hand a light squeeze, speaking as if he had access to your thoughts. You nod, trying to smile through the burning sensation, but he picks up on your discomfort. 

“What is it? Is it your back?" His voice quavers with worry.

“No… just burns a little.” You say quietly. You watch his jaw flutter and his shoulders droop as he huffs out a sigh. “Not to worry. It’s going away now.” 

As he’s about to speak, the curtain is drawn to the side and Ronal comes in and stands at the arched entrance, hand on her hip. Ralak averts his attention to her, his eyes glancing down at her unborn moving in her belly. Although you were both six months pregnant, you were noticeably bigger than her. 

“A word.” Her serious tone of voice brings him out of deep thought, and her nudging head tells him that it’s something urgent. 

Ralak looks at you, not wanting to leave you alone but you smile and reassure him with a light nod. He clenches his jaw but you give him a gentle push towards Ronal. He squeezes your hand before letting go and leans in to plant a firm kiss on your forehead. You watch as he leaves, laying back and taking in the ripples in the curtain as you strain to hear their hushed conversation. 

“Ronal. Oe irayo si ngaru. [Thank you]” Ralak begins, bowing before the shorter na’vi.

“I worry for your mate.” Ronal cuts to the chase, using her hand to guide him further away from the curtain. 

“For what reason?” He asks, keeping his head hung to hear what she has to say. They walk until they’re nearly at the entrance of the healing pod. 

“Your son is fast growing.” She speaks calmly but quickly.

Ralak is a little puzzled, although he doesn’t show it. Is that such a bad thing? He continues to look down at her with the same expression, listening intently to what the tsahìk speaks of.

“Her body will struggle. Birth will be hard. Very long and painful.” Now Ralak is having a hard time keeping his emotions concealed as they chisel themselves into his features. Yet he remains silent. “You must warn her about mun’i [the cut].”

“Pxasìk [no way/fuck that]” Ralak curses through a hiss in his native tongue as he stands at full height, figuratively and literally taken aback. How dare she call that upon his mate? Ronal returns a low hiss as Ralak moves away from her, staring down at her with a mixture of emotions. 

Concern. Surprise. Fear. 

Mun’i [the cut] is rare and risky. Only three have been performed since the birth of this clan, all done in desperation when hope was gone. The last one was performed by Ronal's mother herself. It is an extremely invasive procedure where the mother is cut and the infant is removed. It’s only done in dire situations, where the mother is incapable of giving birth to their young naturally, and risks dying in the process.

Ralak can’t help but feel a burning anger amongst the sea of emotions flooding him at once. How could she suggest such a thing to him? Something so dangerous and grave? All because you will give birth to ‘a different kind’. He’s more than confident that you’re capable of this, despite the murmurs circulating the clan. 

He has always been aware of Ronal's perception of you, and her opinion about the mating. It was no secret, though she never outwardly told Ralak as he is like a son to her. She often insisted that you two were not compatible in more ways than one, and always saw you as the forest girl who needed special training. But to know that Ronal doubts your capabilities to give life ignites a flame in his chest. 

One that he must quickly put out. 

“Ralak!” 

He hears you call out for him, prompting him to quell the flame and shoot Ronal a glare of displeasure. “She is stronger than you know.” Ralak speaks through his teeth before turning his heel to tend to you. 

Heart pounding, he makes his way through the curtain to be met with the joyous sight of you cradling your stomach with a smile plastered to your face. That only further calms the flicker of the flame in his chest, making a smile tug at his lips. He sees you glance up at him, pearly teeth glistening in the luminosity of the night. 

“Sorry if I startled you, it’s just—he’s kicking so hard. Come, come feel!” You blubber excitedly, reaching out for his hand to place it on your belly. He slowly takes a knee, staying still as stone to soak up each movement. “He is so strong, Ralak. Like you.” You whisper, looking down at your mate doting on your bump. 

Though he should be proud of your words, he can’t help but feel a little nervous by them. If this child is really like him, then what Ronal said may have some truth to it. Yet he smiles, smoothing his thumb over your protruding belly button. 

“He is strong like his sa’nu [mummy].” He says softly, perhaps in attempts to reassure himself and calm his own nerves. Your smile only grows and you place your hand on top of his. 

“What did Ronal say?” Ralaks eyes snap up to yours, wide and almost panicked, wiping the smile off your face instantly. “Oh, no. Is it bad? Is something wrong?” 

“No, no. She says…” He drops his head, watching his unborn move as he contemplates telling you. You need rest, and this would further stress your mind and body. Ralak urges himself to smile—to create a new mask—one of feigned happiness. “…you must rest. Wait until sunrise.” 

“Oh, okay.” You exhale a sigh of relief, “Good. I—I can do that.” 

—— 

After such an eventful night, sleep found you easily. Ralak carried you up the marui stairs, tucked you into bed and watched as your eyes fluttered shut. And even so, he remained at your side for some time, ensuring you were deep in sleep before embarking on his new task. 

It began with a ‘quick’ trip inland for the right kind of wood. The kind that holds up well against the elements and the saltiness of the water. The kind that doesn’t have a slip to it when it's been wet for more than a few hours. It took a few trips to get it all back to the beach but it was more of an irritable task than a difficult one.

Ralak tried to keep as quiet as possible, spending the rest of the night—until sunrise—cutting and carving the wood, binding them together with twine, sap and wooden pins. And by the time the first few rays of sunlight beamed in, he was engraving his finishing touches. 

—

Ralak chucks down the tool and it lands into the sand with a muffled thud. Using the back of his strake to wipe his forehead clean of sweat, he looks up at his work for a final time—railings for the marui stairs. Then the bright ray of sun shines before his eyes, standing between his two new creations. 

You.

You’re surprised to see him out this early, still in his gear from last night. The realisation dawns on you that he’s been up all night, doing this. You can actually feel your chest warm up as your heart pumps the blood through your veins at an insane rate. It rushes to your cheeks, making them hot and flushed. 

“Is this what you’ve been doing all night?” You ask the question under your breath, dragging a hand along the railing. It’s smooth under the pads of your fingers, and warm to the touch, as if they’ve just been filed down. You notice a small carving on the side of the railing—your son’s initial.

R. 

“Mm.” He grunts, not that he could have slept anyways. He glances at the initial that you’re staring at. “I should have done it long ago.” The shame in his voice is loud and clear. You look down at your feet, unsure of what to say, noticing that he’s redone the steps too. 

“Ralak—”

“You must still wake me. Understand?” He cuts you off, already knowing what you’re about to say. 

You take a step down, holding tightly onto the railing with one hand and the other tucked under your bump. He rushes up the stairs and supports you by the arm. You lean into him for a hug, nuzzling your face into his chest. “… thank you, my love.” 

“Kea tìkin [no need (for thanks)].” He presses his lips onto the crown of your head, words muffled by your hair. His hand slips down your arm and rests on your lower back. “Still feeling pain?” 

“No. I feel good. Like new.” You smile, watching his features soften and his lips pull into a subtle smile. “Your son, too. He kicked me all night.” 

“Is that so, young one?” He leans down to speak to your belly as you watch intently, “you must be gentle with your sa’nu [mummy].” 

As he looks back up to you, your eyes follow his every move. And suddenly it’s just the two of you, before the orange glow of the sunrise, sharing this intimate gaze with one another. 

“Ralak… I see you.” You say softly, witnessing his pupils blow until there’s nothing but thin rings of blue.

He swallows, you see the lump in his throat undulate, and the balls of his cheeks stain a light pink. He blinks a few times, leaning in until his lips brush against yours. He lingers there for a bit, jaw fluttering as he grits his teeth a few times. He can’t help but feel a pang in his chest. 

How could he keep this from you?

“Oel ngat kame, ma’ muntxate.” He husks the words before locking his lips with yours.

But as he pulls away, you see the glint in his eye. When he sees your lowered brows and inquisitive eyes, he attempts to fix his mask of indifference—no, happiness. But you see right through it—

The glint of guilt. 

“What is it?” You ask, reaching behind him for his kuru. It’s your way of saying, 'no secrets'. He’s quiet. Uncomfortably quiet. Unsure of how to say what he should say. You urge him with a light tug to his queue, creating a little more distance between you to look him dead in the eye. “Ralak.”

“Ronal doubts…you.” He says plainly, trying hard to rid himself of the thought of childbirth taking you away from him.

“I don’t understand. What—what does that mean?” You ask, confused and worried. 

“I should have told you about it when you asked.” Ralak says, shaking his head. “But…you were already under so much stress. In pain. Our son—” 

“Ralak. Tell me about what?” You whisper quietly—quickly. Ralak looks at you, allowing a few seconds of silence to pass before he speaks. 

“Mun’i [the cut].” Ralak’s voice cracks with pain as the dreaded thought floods his mind. 

Ralak goes on to explain mun'i, giving you a brief lesson on its history and typical…outcome. He explains why Ronal urged him to warn you about it. And exactly what he told her in return. That he is confident that you are more capable of doing this. 

It ends with a comforting embrace and the both of you coming to the conclusion that a conservation with Jake is needed. If the cut were to happen, the sky people’s medical advancements would be…useful. 

——

Since then, Ralak adapted a very strict agenda when it came to the preparation of the birth. In some ways, it reminded you of the beginning of your relationship with him as teacher and student. Karyu and Numeyu. A revision of previous lessons, such as breathing lessons. 

—

“Deeper breaths, tanhì. Slow.” Ralak instructs you with his hand on your round belly. 

“It’s hard…” your voice is strained, “when his feet are in my lungs.” 

Ralak chuckles, nodding in understanding. “Right. Do your best.” 

You attempt to follow his demonstration a fifth time, inhaling deeply through your nose, holding it, and then slowly letting it out through your mouth. “Light headed now.”

“You did well.” Ralak praises you, snaking an arm around you as he lowers you onto your back. “You all right?” 

“Just fine.” You mutter, grateful for the new position. 

Ralak looks at you for a while, taking in a sight that may be similar to the one of you giving birth—giving life. The reality that you will soon be a family quickly dawns on him. The reality that… Ronal's words still weigh heavy on his heart.

“And when you bear down…” Ralak pulls your leg back, your knee now grazing against your cheek as they flush with embarrassment. “…shallow, fast breaths. Do not hold it.” 

He then demonstrates, emphasising the sound of the breathing technique to ensure you’re doing it properly.

'…hee—hee—hoo…'

You mimic his sounds, looking down to see nothing but your protruding bump. It may be strange to some that Ralak is teaching you a lesson on something such as childbirth. But with his mother-figure being the tsahìk, there were just certain things he grew to have knowledge of. 

“Ronal says there are times where it is best to allow your body to take over. Focus on breathing him out. Let your body do the work for you…” You nod slowly as you practice deep breathing in this new position, “…she will show you some positions in your lesson tomorrow.” 

"What?" Your ears perk up. For some reason one on one interactions with Ronal always make you nervous. 

“The other expecting women of the clan will be there.” 

Your ears relax, and you feel a little more at ease knowing you won’t be alone, even if it’s a sea of gossiping women. At least they were more discreet about it. 

——

As you neared the final months of your pregnancy, Ralak was called out more frequently. The aches and pains that came along with being so big were just as frequent, it seemed. They’d hit you at the strangest times, during your sleep or whilst on your tsurak.

But when the pain spread to your abdomen is when Ralak urged you to take things easy. But they didn’t stop him from going anywhere. No matter how badly he wanted to stay home and tend to you. It was more complicated than that. Something that you were blissfully unaware of. Something he wanted to keep that way until it was the right time to tell you. 

—

“Must you go?” You ask hopefully, tugging at his bicep. “You just got back.” 

“Tono will have my head, tahnì.” He states, buckling his chest gear yet another time for today. 

“It’s not fair. Not even the warriors back at home tree were called out so much. Especially if their mate was this far along.” You huff, letting go off his bicep to clutch your protruding belly. He cups a hand over yours, leaning down to kiss your forehead.

“Ah. I know, I know. I want to stay, I do—” He’s cut off by your sudden gasp, and your face screwing with discomfort. “Are you alright?” His voice turns fills with concern, head tilting even more so that he can look you in the face. It felt as if your back set ablaze and your stomach hardened into rock. It eases up within a few seconds and you take a quick breath before answering. 

“Yeah, I think so.” You feel around your bump, taking note of how it’s softened and back to normal. “…that’s the second one today.” 

“Hm. It is. See Ronal while I am gone.” Ralak insists, tucking a couple loose braids behind your ear. You nod in response, gritting your teeth from the reminder that he’s leaving again. “I will speak with Tonowari today.” 

He’s quick to kiss you, lingering longer than he should. You savor his tender touch, breathing him in until you’ve gotten your fill to last you until he’s back. He pulls away, a grimace fixed to his face as it’s almost painful to do. He rubs your belly a final time, clicking for his beast. Reluctantly, he leaves, and so do you.

—

‘Practice Contractions.’

Ronal’s diagnosis of your pains. 

You’re not entirely unfamiliar with the concept. Mom calls them something different, but it all means the same thing at the end of the day. The body’s way of preparing to give birth. The constriction of your stomach, accompanied by intense pain, at random times with no rhythm. 

It’s normal, and expected. Ronal was particularly pleased to see your body do this early in your pregnancy. It typically occurs a couple weeks prior to birth, and both of you weren’t due for another month. 

They’re nothing to worry about, but she advises to rest if they get too intense. You waddle home with your tail dragging behind you, unhappy to see no sign of your mates return. 

—

“You are late.” Tonowari speaks monotonously, back turned to Ralak as he keeps his eyes on his task—forging a new tool. Ralak has to swallow his frustration and maintain his confidence. 

“It will happen soon.” He responds in a similar tone, his eyes following as the olo’eyktan stands. “I must be with her.”

“I understand. I do. But—” Tonowari finishes up the last touches, giving the tool its final inspection. “This is your duty, son.”

“She, is my duty.” Ralak snaps, his frustration slipping through. 

Feeling challenged, Tonowari turns to face him, now eye level with Ralak as he slowly nears his subordinate—chest to chest. But with a pregnant mate of his own, and the fact that Ralak is like his own son, Tonowari huffs a sigh and gives this a pass.  

“This is for her, too. For the people of the clan. You know what we are about to face. You will do this.” The olo’eyktan states sternly. “When the horn sounds… you come. And that…” he shoves the tool into Ralak’s chest, “…is an order.” 

Holding the tool against his own chest, Ralak looks away from Tonowari, grinding his back teeth hard enough to file them flat. He breathes heavily, attempting to recenter himself and stamp out the flame flickering in his chest. Tonowari gives him space, going ahead and mounting his skimwing, readying himself to embark on their journey. Whilst Ralak is left behind to let out a sluggish, shaky breath, closing his eyes when it dawns on him...

…what he must do, where he must go and who he must see. 

All before coming home this evening. 

—

“Zu’té.”

Ralak calls his name outside of the secluded, dim marui pod. It’s familiar, yet so unknown. It’s an eerie feeling to be standing here. It’s as if no one’s home. Not a single flame burning, nor the residual heat of a smothered fire pit. But Ralak can sense his presence. It’s thick. Aggressive. Just as it’s always been. It’s only intensified since the incident. 

The silence is deafening now. A message loud enough to have Ralak reconsidering his actions—rethinking his feelings. No part of him really desired to ask anything of this man, much less this. But in the case Tonowari really doesn’t budge with his decision, it is something he must do. No matter how many years have passed. Ralak has moved on…come to terms with what’s happened, and is in a much better place in his life now. Because of you.

You.

He’s doing this for you. Or is he? The fact he’s fathered a child has a major influence on his decision to be standing here to begin with… perhaps it’s something within him driven by nature—by instinct. The further you’ve progressed, the more he’s thought about rekindling this relationship. But he always brushed off these passing thoughts, until they were no longer just thoughts that passed. They became thoughts that lingered and kept him awake some nights. 

Showing their faces the most when Tonowari reminds him of the imminent danger the clan may face.

They reminded him of the good times when they were children. Teasing the ilus when no one was looking, sneaking off to the reef where the adults went to hunt just to see what it was like. But it also reminded him of the more unfortunate moments they shared. Those that will forever leave a scar on their souls, branded by pain and suffering. Since then, Ralak took an oath to never allow his own family to suffer the way he did. 

If this is what he must do, he’ll do it.

“I am in need of a favour.” Ralak finally admits, witnessing a tall, thick silhouette emerge from the marui. 

At this angle, its darkness looms over Ralak ominously. Green glowing eyes peer down at Ralak as the figure's hands cross defensively over his chest. He steps out of the darkness, revealing his inked face and intricately up-kept hair. He looks as if he’s been disturbed or rudely interrupted, evident in the way his eyes pierce fearlessly into Ralak. But Ralak simply returns the leer. 

“Zu’té.” Ralak speaks his name again, a little more sternly this time.

“Brother. To what do I owe this visit?” His tone is sarcastic with undertones of hostility. 

Ralak sighs, turning his head away from his older brother, fixating his gaze elsewhere. His jawbone flutters as he struggles to figure out what words to string together next. This isn’t easy for him—being here with his tail tucked between his legs. 

“It is no way easy for me to ask you of this…I know we have not spoken for some time.”

“Really? You think so? I would say it has been a little more than ‘some time’, no?” Zu’té’s irritation is shining through now.

“Agreed.” Ralak speaks sharply, dropping his head, gaze piercing into his own feet. He swallows and sighs once more, finally lifting his head to look his brother in the face. "I need your help, brother."

“Hm.” Zu’té scoffs, meeting his stare flagrantly. “Let me get this right. You come here, wake me out my sleep, speak to me like this for the first time in over forty-eight seasons…and demand my help?”  

“You are the only one I trust with this.” Ralak grinds out the words, they are hard to admit. 

This quietens Zu’té, causing his features to soften and his fixed stare to falter. To hear this after twelve years, straight from his brother’s mouth has him a little taken aback. There’s only one thing that it could mean—that could bring the golden child before him, begging for a favour. 

War. 

“What does our ‘mighty’ olo’eyktan have you up to now, baby brother?” Zu’té’s tone is especially sardonic when speaking of their father-figure. 

“Plenty.” Ralak chuckles quietly, shaking his head in amusement. His curved lips fade into a thin line, returning his grim expression when he’s reminded yet again of his exact reason for being here. “Look…” Ralak exhales, “...it is nowhere likeable for me to show my face like this. Trust me, I have thought of every possible solution. But…" he shakes his head, hesitant to share what he must say next. "My mate...she is pregnant."

Zu’té’ sighs when he realizes the gravity of the situation, eyes narrowing as they look behind Ralak to scan his surroundings. He’s far from all of the neighbouring marui pods, being the last pod along the mangroves. But if someone were nearby, they could eavesdrop with ease.

Zu’té lightly nudges his head, giving Ralak the silent signal to enter his marui. Ralak moves slowly, a little surprised by his change in...heart. Annoyed with Ralak's sluggish movement, Zu’té rolls his eyes.

“What? You expect an invitation?" Zu’té asks the rhetorical question loud and clear, watching in awe as his not-so-little brother stands almost eye to eye with him. "...you've grown."

"Surprised?" Ralak mutters, ears spasming from his brother's comment—shuffling past him.

"Don't get smart with me, little brother." Zu’té snaps with his ears pinned to his skull, automatically slipping back into disciplining his younger brother like he once used to. Ralak fights the smirk pulling at his lips, making his way further into the neat, well-decorated marui.

——

Ralak came home that night, as he does most nights nowadays with a heavy tail and tensed muscles. That night he broke the news that he had no luck with Tonowari. That he remained tied to his duties as a warrior, teacher, hunter and evidently more…that you had no knowledge of. 

But he made it clear that none of them came before you—his most important duty of all. He promised not only to your father, but also to you, to put you first, no matter what. That he will do whatever he needs to ensure your safety is never compromised. Even if it means putting his pride aside, and asking for help, as he did that night. 

The desire to prepare for your son's arrival grew with each passing day, making you nest like an expecting ikran. You smoked enough meat to last for the next couple months, and gathered as many herbs and fruits that you could manage.

Weaving has been one of your more frequent tasks, making a couple slings and a few more blankets. Ralak was quick to build the cot when he got into a nesting frenzy, too.

But regardless of what your next task was, it was always a little bit harder…a little bit more tiring. Until you were so round and heavy that most of them became unachievable. Your size started to affect you in more ways than just physical. It started to affect you mentally, too. Playing tricks on your mind, making you think negatively about yourself.

And Ralak picked up on that very quickly. 

——

As you wait for his return, you give the marui another deep clean. You take small breaks often, sitting down whenever you become short of breath.

Whilst you sweep the patio, you see your mate trudge up the stairs, ears pinned back and exhaustion wrinkled into his forehead. Ralak sees you and wastes no time to take the broom from you and pull you into his chest. 

He holds you in silence. Comfortable silence. Savouring how you feel against his body. The thud of your heartbeat, the warmth of your skin. You’re his safe place. His home. As he is yours. His embrace is what you look forward to the most after a long day apart. 

Perhaps this is what you both need. A moment of peace and quiet, where your focus is purely on the person in front of you. A break from the mayhem that life can entail, from the pull and push of the rough tides. Serenity. All to be interrupted by Ralak pulling away, holding you by the arms to create some distance between you two. 

Furrowed brows and beaded eyes stare back at you when you look at him. He’s staring at you, but not at you. His eyes pierce into your chest, and then peel away to flick down at his stomach. A smile creeps on his face, and a huff of air through his nostrils as he chuckles softly. His gaze finally meets yours, and he lets go of your arms.

“Your milk is in.” He almost whispers, his fingertips grazing against your stomach. 

“What?” You breathe, caught off guard to say the least. Your head snaps down, eyes searching every inch of your shawl to find two large, growing wet spots on it. “O-Oh.” You stutter, looking back up at him, catching sight of the glistening liquid on his stomach. “Oh.” 

Your cheeks grow hot when blood rushes to them from embarrassment. Just another thing pregnancy has bestowed upon you. “Sorry, Lak.” You turn to reach for the nearby cloth that hangs by the window. 

“What for?” He asks innocently—a little confused. 

He watches as you wipe him down in an almost frantic manner. He stills your movements by grasping your wrists, causing you to drop the cloth. He brings your hands to his lips.

“Mawey [Calm]. Nothing to be ashamed of.” He speaks into the palm of your hands. You hear his words, but you still can’t bring yourself to look at him. “Hey.” 

He lets go, and cups your cheek, urging you to look at him. When you finally do, he’s smiling down at you, allowing his hand to slip down to the bow of your shoulder—his fingers hooking underneath the hem of your shawl. “Let me clean you up, hm?” 

“Oh—okay.” You stutter shyly, feeling his fingers slip under the woven fabric to slip it off your shoulders. “W-Wait.”

And when the material hits the floor, a shiver shakes your spine. Your breasts are exposed to the cool air, sticky nipples hardened into peaks for him to see. They’ve darkened in colour, and are even a little more puffy too.

Honestly, you weren’t the biggest fan of them anymore. You wore thicker tops or shawls to conceal them, just as you did your stomach with your new…stripes. But Ralak loves them, always stealing a glance at every given chance. 

But to know that they’re full with milk makes him feel…on edge. 

His eyes bore into them, unapologetically taking in every detail. His smile falls into a slight smirk, which then droops into a thin line. His jaw flutters as he grits his teeth, biting back his urges. 

“Don’t stare.” You whisper shyly, covering your chest with one arm and your belly with the other. He looks at you, and reaches for your arms, peeling them away from your body. 

“Beautiful.” He states as a fact, intertwining his fingers with yours. “So beautiful, carrying my child.” 

“‘m really not.” You mumble, looking away in shame. You feel his hand move to your face, two fingers tugging at your jaw to have you look up at him. When you finally give in to his nudges, you see the look on his face. It was as if you had deeply and personally offended him.

“You are.” He insists softly. 

You simply shake your head, arms instinctively wrapping around your chest and belly once more. “I don’t feel it. I don’t even know how you can look at me and say that.” 

Ralak almost feels angered by your words. It hurts him to hear you speak of yourself in such a way, especially when it’s far from the truth. If anything, he’s even more attracted to you. Knowing that this is what your body is going through to bring his child into the world has made him even more appreciative of you. 

“Never say such things.” He husks firmly, removing your hands from your body and keeping them in his grasp. “Do not hide.” 

“You have barely touched me.” You retaliate, voice cracking with hurt. 

“Not for that reason.” He’s quick to cut you short, making sure you know that the last thing stopping him from pouncing on you every chance he gets is the way you look. Absolutely not. 

“If that’s what you need to tell yourself, then—”

Frustrated, Ralak shoves your hand onto his loincloth, pressing it firmly against the bulge that strains against the material. “You feel that?” 

You do, you feel every inch of it, hard and warm against your palm. Your face heats up even more, cheeks staining a bright red. Your breath turns raggedy as you struggle to find the words to say. 

“Hm?” He grunts as he presses himself even harder against the palm of your hand. 

“Y-Yes.” You stutter. Ralak turns you around, pressing himself into you from behind. His heated lips are flush against your ear, hot breath prickling your skin. 

“This is what you do to me.” Ralak husks into the shell of your ear, grinding his bulge into the swell of your ass. “Day after day.” He groans almost painfully, filled with all sorts of emotions. He holds you firm against his body, grazing his bottom teeth against the lobe of your ear. “All it takes is a single glance.” His words have your clit pulsing under your tewng and your thighs rubbing against one another. “The sight of you…of your swollen breasts… your swollen womb…” he hisses, on edge and high strung as he caresses your belly, “…it makes me lose myself.” 

“Fuck.” You breathe, reaching behind you to tug his loincloth down in a frantic manner. You feel his lips nibble and nip at the skin behind your ear, making their way down the back of your neck. You can’t help but moan from the feeling, your already stiff nipples tingling from his gentle touches. 

You feel his hands wander over your stomach and under your tewng, his fingers fondling your folds as he gently parts them. He grunts against your neck, inhaling your scent deep in his lungs as his hips stutter into you. Your stickiness coats his fingers as they slip and slide over your hardened nub. 

You tug even harder at his loincloth, struggling to get the annoying thing off him. You let out a frustrated grunt, and he lets loose an amused chuckle, peppering soft kisses down to the bow of your shoulder.

“What is it? Need me to take you right here?” He husks low, voice muffled by his continuous kisses. “…where someone may see?” 

Right, you’re on the patio. 

Out in the open, under the light of the moon. Ralaks marui pod is far from the village on a cul de sac. The only thing further than here is sand, open water and a couple smaller islands off in the distance. However, there' is's always the slim chance of a na’vi or two going for a late night swim or on a romantic adventure far from the village.

But you simply didn’t care. 

If anything it only riles you up more—the riskiness of it all, the thought of being caught. The need to be sneaky and quiet, when all you want to do is moan his name until your voice goes dim. It seems that Ralak feels similarly as you feel him throb against you, excited to take you where you stand. 

“I don’t mind.” You huff shakily, finally tugging the cloth down enough for his cock to spring out. “Do you?” 

You feel him smile against your shoulder when you grip it in your hand, smooth teeth bumping into your skin as his free hand cups your full breast. 

“Not at all, my tanhì.” He breathes, gently kneading the soft flesh, feeling the trickle of your milk flow over the back of his hand. 

“Good.” Your lungs tremble beneath his touch, hand desperately stroking his length. Yet he remains gentle with his touches, pinning your clit between his two fingers as he rubs you slowly. “Then hurry…I need you inside.” 

Ralak quickly moves his kisses back up your neck, and you feel the tip of his tongue tickle the lobe of your ear before he suckles on it lightly. Tingles ripple up your spine, sending your head into a shiver as you lean into his mouth. His fingers dip into your soaking core just as he rolls your tender nipple between his other two digits. 

It’s all too much. All-consuming. Making you gasp for air in lungs that won’t seem to fill. Fog clouds your head. How did you get here? How did this happen? Fuck, it doesn’t matter. Not when you feel like this.

You’re already so sensitive as it is, so tender and delicate, like silk under his fingers. He pushes his two fingers even deeper inside your aching pussy, curling them and earning a whimper from your lips and quiver of your tail.

“Not too loud, oeyä sevin muntxate [my pretty/beautiful wife]”. Ralak whispers the hushed praise, knowing it’s what you need to hear. 

You’re so much warmer around his fingers than usual, so much softer. Wetter. With each curl of his digits comes out a squelch as he works you open for his cock that he’s been dying to plunge inside you. 

You wrap your leg around his, perching your heel on the side of thigh as you lean all your weight back into him. He steadies his knees, supporting you with ease. Your head slumps back into his shoulder, opening up your neck to his hot breaths, an arm reaching behind you to fist his hair. 

His brows are tense and his breath is heavy. He’s overcome with arousal and he can’t keep his composure as your scent grows stronger now your throat is directly under his nose. Truthfully it’s been too long, he knows that. He knows he’s been too protective, too cautious. Depriving you and him of the touch that’s necessary between a mated pair. 

His fingers slip out of you, now expertly unravelling the loose knot just barely keeping your tewng on you. As it drops to the floor his fingers are back where they were, rubbing sloppy circles into your clit before spreading your pussylips apart. His hips stutter as he attempts to align the crown of his cock with your slit and finally buck forward when he senses your little, exposed hole. 

His cock sinks inside you at an achingly slow pace—inch by inch. You let loose a lengthy moan when you feel him fill you completely, no longer caring if anyone hears you. 

“Hnng—I missed you.” The gruff words slip out as he bottoms out inside your cunt. He has longed to feel your gummy walls squeeze oh-so tightly around his cock. “You alright?” He checks on you in a daze, voice thick with want—with the desire to pummel your little pussy until your voice is hoarse. But the last thing he wants is to hurt his heavily pregnant mate. 

“Mhm, ple-ase.” You purr with need, closing your eyes and relaxing completely into him. Trusting someone this much feels too good. Ralak moves slowly, pumping his cock in and out of you in a languid haze, tickling your sensitive clit with just the tips of his fingers. 

“Tanhì—haah—you are squeezing me so tight.” Ralak moans as his strokes grow with intent. His hips roll deep, shoving and forcing his cock inside your sensitive cunt until his swollen balls kiss your clit. 

He’s unapologetically coaxing out the orgasm you’ve been denied for so long with only a few lazy thrusts. And he knows it. He can feel it from the way you clench around him. From the way your thighs tremble a little more after each deep stroke…from the sweet, filthy noises that shamelessly drip from your lips. 

“Oh my—Ralak! I-I’m gonna—” You sputter the words between choked sounds, eyes welling with tears from the burn between your legs. 

“I know, I know.” He huffs, dragging his hot tongue along the length of your throat. The truth is, he’s close too. But he can’t allow himself to finish inside you. He can’t risk letting himself go and pounding recklessly into your poor, tender pussy. He’s already had a long day. “Let it out, tìyawn [love].”

Its almost cathartic. 

Weeks of pent up frustration released in a few minutes, leaving you near convulsing in his grip. You can’t stop the flutter of your pussy walls if you try, it’s out of your control, much like the surge of white fire going right through you. Your legs fight to stay open and you hold onto your mate to keep you standing. Gurgled noises spill from your lips as your body shudders under him. His hips still, keeping his cock buried to the hilt inside your quivering cunt as he holds you tight, supporting you until you finish riding out your high. 

“Good girl. Good girl.” He praises you in a hushed, shaky voice, extremely wound up from feeling you flourish so beautifully under his touch. It's a miracle that he didn't empty himself inside you right then and there. 

“But you—but you haven’t—” You sputter, collapsing into him as your legs give out. 

“I know. It is alright..” He hums, carefully leading you inside the marui to lay you on the bed. 

“Thought you were c-cleaning me u-up. Not mak-king m-more of a mess.” Your breath is relentlessly hitching as you watch him hastily remove his tewng that’s been digging into his thighs. A reminder of exactly how quickly things happened. 

“You are right.” Ralak tsks, cocking a brow as he stares down at you with a predatory leer. “I did say that, didn’t I?” 

Ralak situates himself between your legs, crouching over you, ensuring there’s plenty of space between him and your stomach. His cock presses between your sticky folds as his lips press against your clammy neck. He tastes the faint saltiness of the thin film of sweat on your skin as he drags his lips down your chest—between your breasts. 

“Lak…” You whisper, back bowing against the bed. 

You’re way too sensitive right now, like an exposed nerve. His eyes snap up and lock with yours, responding to you moaning his name. His tongue darts out, sampling a taste of the spilled milk on your breast. Then his eyes slam shut, tensed brows and scrunched nose telling you that he’s unsure of the flavour in his mouth. 

Eyes widening, you’re taken aback by his actions, feelings of shyness and embarrassment creeping back in. Fisting his hair, you pull gently at his head to pry him off your chest, only for him to resist your tugs. 

“You shouldn’t have done—why’d you do—” You struggle to find the right words at this moment, flustered and nervous that he’d do that. 

But what leaves you even more speechless is when he opens his eyes to reveal dots for pupils, a look you only see when he’s high strung. And then he eagerly takes your nipple into his mouth, latching on and ensuring the suction is airtight. The tip of his tongue flicks at your hardened nipple a few times before he gently suckles at your breast.

A tingling sensation radiates your chest and you feel it in the pit of your stomach. Your breath catches in your throat, a little surprised by his lewd behaviour. And soon, all you can hear are the repeated, muffled gulps of your warm milk flowing down his throat.

“W-What are yo-ou d-doing, my love?” You mewl, squirming underneath him from the strange feeling. He unlatches harshly with an audible pop, leaving your pointed nipple misshapened and exposed. 

“Cleaning you.” He huffs quickly as he catches his breath, diving back in to lap up the milk leaking from your other neglected breast. Your head throws back in what is undeniably pleasure now, legs tightening around his waist. You look down in a daze, watching him feast greedily, feeling his hips begin to stammer against you. 

“Fuck—I didn’t know this i-is what you meant.” You’re finally calming down from your orgasm now, already feeling your body gearing up to have another. His desperation is pungent. Evident in the way his cock grinds between your soft, slippery folds, scenting your cunt with it. 

He pulls off you with yet another pop, his tongue swiping his bottom lip so not to let the bead of milk dripping off of it go to waste. He’s huffing and puffing against you, trailing his wet kisses down your curved stomach as he tucks your legs back. You feel his hot breath against your thighs and your legs tremble in anticipation. 

“Kalin, kalin [sweet, sweet].” He mumbles, kissing your pulsing clit. “Oeyä kalin [My sweet].” 

“Oh shit.” You let loose the breathy curse when you feel his lips pucker around your over sensitive nub, and squeal when he begins to suck on it too. Your hands fly to his head, grasping at his hair to shove his face further into your cunt. He devours you with exhilaration, lapping at your leaking slit to savour your sweetness. 

His cock is aching now. He’s so hard it’s painful. He can’t stop throbbing and his cock strains so hard it’s swollen. He wants to shove himself back inside you— your warmth—and hump at you until his marked you with his essence. 

He can’t help but touch himself as he pleasures you. Stroking his cock with every lick of your pussy. Thrusting into his hand when he feels you throb against his tongue. He’s groaning and grunting into your cunt, urgently chasing his own release as he sucks on you for his own pleasure. 

Too busy to realise that you’ve been begging him to slow down a bit. That you’re too sensitive. That you feel like you may explode if he continues. 

“Ralak! I just came! F-Fuck—” You yank his head away, hurriedly rubbing at your sore pussy.

Ralak pants for air, pulling back into a standing position to reveal that he’s been fucking his hand this entire time. It’s glossy with his precum as it dribbles down his strake. He’s frantically stroking himself, staring brazenly down at your pussy—taking in how it’s flushed and swollen, glistening with his spit and your slick. It’s a delicious sight, tempting him to go in for another taste. 

He’s close and you can tell, his hips are stuttering erratically and he’s groaning like a dying man. You sit up slowly, bringing yourself to your knees as you shuffle your way closer to him. Your chest is level to his cock and you cup your full breasts with both hands, pushing them together only inches away from him. 

He seems a little confused, unsure of what your next move may be. Fuck, you aren’t even sure of what your next move is. But you’re going with your instinct, pinching your nipples until they begin to leak milk. His brows jump, the sight of that sends his hips stammering into his hand. With each huff and thrust sends his cock a little closer to you, until his swollen cockhead is poking at your breasts. 

You shuffle a little closer, moaning softly from watching him get off like this. Then you feel his sticky cock slip in between your breasts, and his hand falls to your shoulders. 

Now he’s fucking your tits in a frenzy, his leaking tip prodding at your lips. You stick your tongue out for a taste, allowing his cockhead to slip and slide against it. He’s groaning and moaning, eyes fixed in the sight beneath him. The pressure from his fat cock between your breasts only makes you leak even more, and that’s when he loses it completely.

“Oh, fuck.” He growls, thrusting hard enough to shove his cockhead into your mouth. You feel him throb violently against your tongue, his thick, hot load coating your cheeks until they're full to the brim. He pulls out as soon as he realises what he’s down, immediately reaching for your bedside bucket to spit in. 

But you shake your head, glossy eyes staring up at him as you swallow his cum with a singular, loud gulp. His eyes bulge, his hands flying to cup your cheeks as he quickly searches your eyes. You simply smile, using a thumb to swipe the single bead of cum on your chin and pop it into your mouth. 

Features softening, he returns the smile, chest heaving wildly as it swells with pride. 

——

[mrsfancyferrari]

You Know Me Best

Summary: Charles has a bad day and you as his best friend always knows what he wants, but do you really?

Song: Friends by Chase Atlantic

Author’s note: This is similar to Just One Kiss but the ending is the different and spicy version. This is my first time writing an erotic scene so please just give constructive criticism. I just want to keep celebrating Charles' win T_T

Word count: 3.6k

Charles Leclerc experienced a challenging day on the track, and as his best friend, you noticed his need for comfort and reassurance. Charles has always been known for being incredibly intuitive, and you knew that he wanted to unwind and seek solace in his favorite activities.

Whenever Charles feels overwhelmed or stressed, he tends to crave comfort food. You know that he can always count on you to bring him his favorite treats, whether it's a bowl of warm homemade soup or a delicious sandwich.

You knew that providing him with one of his favorite foods would provide him with a sense of comfort and stability.

Throughout the day, you noticed a newfound attentiveness among the team members and fans alike. They knew that Charles was having a bad day, and they couldn't help but notice the changes in his behavior.

Whether it was his distracted demeanor or the way he constantly sought out your comfort, everyone realized that something was amiss.

However, what no one realized was that you were the one who understood Charles better than anyone else.

You knew exactly what he needed, and you were determined to bring him the comfort and reassurance he craved.

Throughout the years, you made sure that Charles had his favorite meals, whether it was sneaking him a few bites of dessert during team meetings or surprising him with a late-night snack.

You knew that these small gestures would make a difference, helping him regain his footing and regain his confidence.

"Are you sure you're not married or something?" Daniel joked to you as he watched you give Charles some snacks.

"No, just really good friends," you replied with a laugh. "But sometimes it feels like we're practically married with how well I know him."

Daniel chuckled and said, "Well, if you ever decide to tie the knot, I hope you'll remember to invite me to the wedding. I wouldn't want to miss out on witnessing such a perfect match!"

"Of course, Daniel! You'll be at the top of the guest list," you replied, grateful for the lighthearted moment amidst the tension.

What you didn't know was that Charles was listening to your conversation. As he overheard Daniel's comment about you two being a perfect match, a small smile formed on his face, and he couldn't help but wonder if there was more to your friendship than he had realized.

Your friendship with Charles runs deep, rooted in years of shared experiences and unwavering support. From late-night conversations to celebrating each other's successes, you have been there for each other through thick and thin.

Charles knows that your understanding of him goes beyond mere comfort food, and he cherishes the bond you share.

But as the smile lingered on his face, Charles couldn't help but wonder if there was a chance for something more than just friendship between the two of you.

The thought had crossed his mind before, but now, listening to your conversation with Daniel, it seemed like the universe was teasing him with the possibility of a deeper connection. . . .

The thought of a deeper connection with Charles had always lingered in your heart, but fear had held you back from taking any action. You were in love with him, and had been for as long as you could remember, but the risk of losing the friendship you cherished so much had always been too great.

As you watched Charles zoom around the Monaco track in his racing car, gripping onto your seat in the paddock, a surge of emotions washed over you. The adrenaline, the excitement, and the undeniable sense of pride in seeing him pursue his passion ignited a fire within you.

The roar of the engine filled the air as Charles sped past, his car a blur of color. A mix of excitement and anxiety washed over you, causing your heart to race in sync with the car.

As you held your breath, you couldn't help but notice the fierce competition from Max Verstappen and Lando Norris, who were hot on Charles' heels, ready to seize any opportunity to overtake him.

The race was far from over, and the tension only grew as the laps ticked by, making you wonder if Charles would be able to maintain his lead until the end.

The race intensified with each passing lap, as Charles skillfully navigated the twists and turns of the Monaco track. He expertly maneuvered his car, pushing it to its limits, while Max Verstappen and Lando Norris continued to apply relentless pressure. The crowd erupted with excitement, their cheers echoing through the air, as the three drivers engaged in a thrilling battle for the top spot.

Every move, every split-second decision, held the potential to determine the outcome of the race. The tension was palpable as the cars zoomed past, their engines roaring and tires screeching, creating a symphony of speed.

With each passing lap, the stakes grew higher, fueling the adrenaline coursing through your veins. As the race entered its final stages, every corner became a make-or-break moment, and you held your breath, praying for Charles to maintain his lead until the checkered flag.

As soon as he crossed the finish line, everyone jumped up from their seats, including you. The air was filled with a mix of cheers, applause, and jubilation as Charles secured the victory he had fought so hard for.

Emotions overwhelmed you, and you couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense of pride and joy for him.

You rushed to the podium, eager to congratulate Charles on his well-deserved win. Your heart swelled with pride as you embraced him, knowing that your unwavering support had played a small part in his momentous victory.

Charles stepped out of his racing car, his face beaming with a mixture of exhaustion and triumph. The crowd erupted into a thunderous applause, recognizing his incredible skill and determination in securing the hard-fought victory.

When he finally found you, Charles quickly hugged you tightly, his grip filled with gratitude and genuine appreciation.

The bond between you and Charles had grown stronger through countless races, and this victory was a testament to the unwavering support and belief you had in each other.

As his head was tucked into your neck, you gently stroked his hair in response, feeling the weight of his exhaustion and the elation of his triumph. In that moment, you knew that all the sacrifices, the late nights, and the unwavering support were worth it, as you celebrated this unforgettable victory together.

"You did it," you whispered, your voice filled with pride and admiration. "All your hard work and determination paid off. I couldn't be happier for you."

Charles smiled against your neck and whispered back, "Thank you for always believing in me. I couldn't have done it without you."

Charles then let go of you and looked into your eyes before saying, "Can you meet me in my driver's room after? I have something important to discuss with you."

"Sure," you nodded as he was taken away by a staff member. As you watched Charles disappear into the crowd, your mind raced with anticipation, wondering what he could possibly have to discuss with you.

As you watched Charles make his way to the podium, you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe and admiration for his remarkable achievement. The sight of him standing tall, his face glowing with a mixture of exhaustion and triumph, filled you with immense pride.

It was a moment that would forever be etched in your memory, a testament to the years of hard work and determination that had brought him to this point.

"He likes you, you know,"

Startled by Arthur Leclerc's sudden appearance, you turned to face him with a surprised expression. "What do you mean?" you asked, curious about his comment.

Arthur smirked mischievously and replied, "Oh, come on. It's obvious. Charles talks about you all the time. I think he's finally ready to take your relationship to the next level."

You laughed nervously, shaking your head. "Oh, Arthur, you've got it all wrong. Charles and I are just friends."

Arthur's eyebrows raised at your comment. "Maman says otherwise, she's always talking about you," he said with a smirk.

You felt a mix of surprise and curiosity, wondering what Charles' mother could possibly be saying about you.

"Just know that the family will welcome you in with open arms if you two get together," Arthur added, his mischievous smirk widening. As he walked away, leaving you with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, you couldn't help but wonder if there was something more between you and Charles than just friendship.

As Charles stood on the podium, he couldn't help but feel a surge of gratitude and honor as the Prince of Monaco handed him the golden trophy. The gleaming trophy symbolized not only his extraordinary victory, but also the recognition and respect he had earned from the racing community and the world at large.

In that moment, as the national anthem played and Charles made a point to lock eyes with you, it felt like a silent affirmation of his feelings. The intensity of his gaze left you with no doubt that there was something more than friendship between you two, and you couldn't help but feel a rush of excitement and anticipation for what the future might hold.

In that moment, you couldn't deny the warmth that spread through your chest, matching the pride evident in his eyes. As the applause filled the air, you realized that your own feelings for Charles had grown deeper than you had allowed yourself to admit.

The future suddenly seemed full of possibilities, and you couldn't wait to explore them together. . . .

As the celebrations continued, you found yourself caught up in the whirlwind of joy and excitement surrounding Charles and Ferrari's victory. The atmosphere was electric, filled with cheers, laughter, and the clinking of champagne glasses.

In that moment, you couldn't help but feel a surge of happiness for Charles and a deep sense of pride for being a part of his journey.

A staff member approached you with a message, informing you that Charles was looking for you amidst the celebrations.

As your heart raced with anticipation, you couldn't help but wonder what he wanted to say and how this momentous victory would further solidify the bond between you.

"Charles wants to see you," they said, their voice filled with urgency. Intrigued and slightly nervous, you followed the staff member through the crowd and made your way to Charles' private suite.

As you knocked on the door, your heart raced with anticipation, wondering what Charles wanted to discuss with you in this intimate setting.

As you wait for Charles to open the door, a mix of excitement and nervousness floods your senses. Your heart pounds in your chest, and your mind races with possibilities of what he might say.

In this moment, every second feels like an eternity, and you can't help but wonder how this conversation will shape the future of your relationship.

You heard the sound of footsteps growing louder and closer to the door, causing your anticipation to heighten. Each step seemed to echo in your ears, building up the tension and making you even more eager to see Charles and hear what he had to say.

As you heard the footsteps come closer to the door, your anticipation grew. The sound of Charles' voice calling your name sent a thrill through your entire body, and you couldn't wait to see the expression on his face as he opened the door.

"Yes, it's me Charles," you responded, a smile spreading across your face.

The door swung open, revealing Charles with a mixture of excitement and nervousness mirrored in his eyes.

When you met Charles' gaze, there was something in his eyes that took your breath away: a blend of lust and desire that took you by surprise.

His eyes scanned your whole body slowly, taking in every detail with an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. It was as if he was seeing you for the first time, his gaze filled with a newfound appreciation and longing.

As his eyes scanned your whole body slowly, you felt a shiver run down your spine. It was as if he was undressing you with his gaze, his desire palpable in the air. You couldn't help but feel a surge of anticipation, wondering what he had in mind for the two of you.

It was as if he was taking in every detail, every curve, every nuance, and savoring the moment.

"Charles?"

For a brief moment, Charles blinked and locked eyes with you, seemingly forgetting the intimate setting you were in. The intensity of his gaze broke the tension, and you could sense a deep connection forming between you.

It was as if the world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you in that moment.

"Come in," he said, widening the door for you, his voice filled with a mixture of anticipation and vulnerability. As you stepped inside, the outside world seemed to disappear, leaving only the possibility of what this conversation could bring.

"What is it that you wanted to talk about, Charles?" you asked, your voice filled with curiosity and a hint of nervousness.

Charles took a deep breath and looked into your eyes, his voice steady yet filled with a hint of vulnerability. "I wanted to talk about us," he whispered, his words hanging in the air

"There's something I've been meaning to tell you, something I've been holding back for far too long.

You nodded, encouraging him to say it, your heart pounding with anticipation. The words hung in the air, and you could feel the weight of his confession building.

Charles took a deep breath and looked into your eyes, his voice filled with sincerity. "I wanted to talk about us," he began, his words hanging in the air. "I've realized that I can't ignore my feelings for you any longer. I've fallen in love with you."

Your eyes widened at his statement, unable to believe what you were hearing. The room fell silent as you processed his words, your heart racing with a mix of excitement and uncertainty.

"Oh no, I knew it wasn't going to work," Charles muttered into his hands, taking your silence as an assumption that you rejected him. But little did he know, your silence was not a sign of rejection, but rather a moment of shock and disbelief.

You were quick to realize that Charles misunderstood your silence, so you walked over to him and gently took his hands off his face, meeting his eyes with a reassuring gaze.

As his scared eyes met your excited eyes, a moment of vulnerability passed between you. You could see the fear of rejection lingering in his gaze, while your eyes reflected a mixture of surprise and joy. In that instant, you knew that this confession meant as much to him as it did to you, and you couldn't help but feel a surge of warmth and affection for him.

"I love you too, Charles," you whispered as you cupped his cheeks gently. The weight of his confession lifted off both of you, replaced by an overwhelming sense of happiness and relief.

In that moment, Charles couldn't contain his joy and excitement. He quickly pulled you into a tight embrace, wrapping his hands around your waist, as if afraid that you might slip away.

The warmth of his embrace reassured you that his love was genuine, and you couldn't help but melt into his arms, feeling a sense of safety and belonging that you had longed for.

"Can I?" he muttered, pulling back from the hug enough to stare at your lips. The intense desire in his eyes matched the longing in his voice, as if he was seeking permission to seal his confession with a passionate kiss.

Without hesitation, you leaned in, closing the distance between your lips. The moment your mouths met, a surge of electricity coursed through your bodies, igniting a fire that had been simmering between you. The kiss was passionate and filled with all the pent-up emotions that had been building since the moment you met.

As your lips met, a wave of butterflies fluttered in your stomach, a tingling sensation spread through your chest, and your knees felt weak with anticipation.

The intensity of the kiss confirmed that the connection between you and Charles was not only emotional, but also physical, leaving you both breathless and craving for more. . . .

Their bodies moved as one, their hands exploring every inch of each other's skin. Their breaths intertwined in a symphony of desire as they surrendered to the heat of their passion.

Soft moans escaped their lips, mingling with whispered words of love and longing. In the midst of their ecstasy, their eyes locked, conveying a depth of connection that words could never capture.

"I've waited so long for this," Charles whispered, his voice filled with a mix of awe and adoration.

"Me too," you responded, your voice laced with pure bliss.

In that intimate moment, every touch felt like the caress of silk against skin. Your fingertips danced across each other's bare flesh, creating a symphony of pleasure that sent shivers down your spine.

Charles carried you onto the sofa, laying you down as he kneeled over you, his eyes filled with a hunger that matched your own.

You gasp as Charles's lips make contact with your neck, his touch sending electric currents through your body.

The sensation of his warm breath against your skin intensifies the desire pooling within you, as you arch your neck, granting him further access to explore the depths of your pleasure.

Charles' hands moved with purpose, skillfully undoing the buttons of your blouse one by one. As each article of clothing fell away, he whispered seductive words of praise and desire in your ear, igniting a deeper sense of arousal within you.

You surrendered to his words, intoxicated by the way he took control and unleashed a wave of passion that consumed you both.

"You're so beautiful," he murmured, his voice dripping with desire. "I want to explore every inch of you, to taste every part of your pleasure."

His words sent shivers down your spine, fueling your desire and leaving you yearning for more of his commanding touch.

You respond with a low, sultry moan, your body arching further into his touch, silently begging for more. The sound of your moans only adds to Charles's desire, fueling his determination to fulfill your every craving and ignite a passion that would consume you both. "I want you, Y/N," he said, his voice low and husky. "I want you so badly."

The intensity of your desire could be seen in your eyes when you looked up at him.

"I want you too, Charles," you said, biting your lower lip.

"You're so beautiful," he said, his voice filled with awe. "I can't believe you're mine."

You smiled up at him, your eyes filled with love.

"I'm all yours, Charles," you said, reaching up to pull him down on top of you.

Charles didn't waste any time. He kissed you deeply, your tongues dancing together in a passionate embrace. He ran his hands over your body, feeling every curve and contour.

"Fuck, Y/N, you feel amazing," he said, his breath hot against your ear.

You moaned, your body writhing beneath him.

"Charles, please," you begged, your voice barely above a whisper. "I need you inside me."

Charles didn't need any more encouragement. He positioned himself at your entrance, his dick throbbing with need.

"Are you ready for me, Y/N?" he asked, his voice low and seductive.

You nodded, your eyes wide with desire.

"Yes, Charles, I'm ready," you said, your voice trembling with anticipation.

Charles pushed inside you, feeling your tight warmth surround him. He groaned with pleasure, his hips moving in a slow, steady rhythm.

"Fuck, Y/N, you feel so good," he said, his voice filled with wonder.

You moaned, your fingers digging into his back, as Charles continued to move inside you, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

"Charles, don't stop," you begged, your hips meeting his with every thrust.

Charles couldn't stop if he wanted to. He was lost in the pleasure of being inside you, of feeling your body respond to his touch.

"Come for me, Y/N," he said, his voice husky with desire. "I want to feel you come apart in my arms." "I'm so close, Charles," you gasped, your voice filled with desperation. "Please, don't stop."

Charles's movements became faster and more intense, his breathing ragged. "I won't stop, Y/N," he growled, his voice filled with determination. "I want you to come for me, to lose yourself in pleasure."

The room filled with the sounds of your moans and the rhythmic slapping of your bodies coming together. As the intensity built, you felt yourself teetering on the edge, ready to fall into ecstasy.

And then, with one final thrust, you shattered, your body convulsing with pleasure as waves of orgasm washed over you.

Charles kissed your forehead gently. "I promise, Y/N. I'll never let you go. You're my everything."

And in that moment, as you melted into each other's arms, you knew that this was a love that would withstand any obstacle. . . .

[jeonginsleftcheek]

Cult of Love

pairing: cult leader!hyunjin x afab!reader

genre: smut

word count: 5.1k

warning/s: brain washing, dumbification, dom/sub dynamics, manipulation, loss of virginity, corruption, hyunjin calls reader 'pretty', 'my lamb' and 'good girl', choking, power play, pain kink, dacryphilia, overstimulation, breeding kink (wow lmk if i missed some)

a/n: this is just some dirty smut i had so much fun writing! hope you enjoy and if you did please reblog!🩷

~check out my: Masterlist♡

Being part of a big community that devotes all their time to serve only one person was not how you imagined you'd be living ever.

But here you are, after everyone in your life abandoned you, after everything stopped making sense, after everything you ever loved started hating you, after you almost fell off the edge.

He was the one who found you and the one who saved your lost, aching soul. A beacon of shining light, a man so beautiful that you weren't even sure he was real.

That was two years ago, when you were at your lowest, and now you are the happiest you've ever been in your entire life.

Your brain is re-wired only to know your leader, your god, Hyunjin. Only to obey his commands, heed by his word, worship him. And you are happy to do so, after all, he saved your life. He knows what's best for you, more than you do. He loves you, you know that anything he does to you and anything he makes you do he does so out of love.

That's what you were taught and what you believe. So, when you're finally invited to his huge tent, you couldn't be more excited.

One of his guards brought you a red rose the day before and you knew, as well as eveyone did, you are the next chosen one.

You can't sleep all night, wondering what's in store for you. What is your leader Hyunjin gonna ask of you, make you do? You really have no idea, but you're ready to do anything he says.

Come the morning, some of the other girls and boys helped you prepare. They've gotten commands to help you wash and shave, which made you feel a little bit nervous. With that you know you'll probably be naked in front of him at one point and you hope he likes what he sees.

You put on a beautiful white dress, one that Hyunjin sent for you through his guards. There's a flower crown on your head, courtesy of the girls and boys helping you get ready.

Your heart pounds in your chest and in your ears when the guards come to pick you up and lead you to your leader's tent. On the way there, people clap for you and congratulate you.

Briefly you wonder, where the other women and men disappeared to after being invited into his tent but you bury that thought in favor of happier thoughts. Like how you can serve your god.

As soon as you walk in with the guards, you don't dare to look up so you don't seem disrespectful.

"Leave us."- his sweet voice rings in your ears. The guards bow shortly and leave, leaving you alone with Hyunjin.

"Kneel, pretty."- he says and you do so, falling to your knees immediately, your eyes trained on the ground. Footsteps shuffle closer towards you and your heart jumps up into your throat.

"Look at me."- he says, his voice a little bit lower than before. You look up and are met with his godlike features that you missed seeing since he doesn't come out of his tent often. You're in awe every time you catch a glimpse of him, now even more when you're so close to him.

He places his finger on your chin, lifting it up a little. Your lips part as you continue looking at him. His finger slides slowly on your jaw down to your neck where he wraps his hand around you but doesn't squeeze.

Your eyes flutter at the action, hands folding behind your back in an act of submission towards your leader.

"Are you gonna be a good girl for me?"- he asks.

"Yes, yes I will."- you answer immediately.

"You will do what?"- he smirks.

"I will be a good girl for you."- you repeat his words.

"Good."- he says, unwrapping his fingers from you and leaning back. "I wonder why I haven't brought you here earlier. You're really pretty."- he adds, leaning down to look at you more closely.

His eyes are dark and deep and you find yourself drowning in them, feeling weak and submissive just from the way he looks at you.

"T-thank you, Sir."- your voice wavers.

"Hyunjin will suffice. I want to hear my name from those pretty lips."- he smirks again, running his thumb on your lower lip.

"Yes, Hyunjin."- saying his name like that feels blasphemous and you feel like you should be punished just for uttering it so easily. But he ordered you to call him by his name and that's what you're gonna do.

Hyunjin looms over you, his hands on your shoulders, slowly pushing the straps of your dress down. Your chest rises and falls together with your rapid breathing, his touch feels electric on your skin.

He keeps pushing your dress down until your ample breasts pop out for him to admire.

"So pretty."- he whispers, his fingers ghosting over your hardening nipple ever so slightly, teasing you.

Your breath catches in your throat, as he smiles at you.

"You've never been touched, right?"

"No, never."- you say, shaking your head innocently.

"That better be the truth, my lamb. You're mine to corrupt."- he smiles even wider and you shiver.

"It's the truth, Hyunjin."- you whisper his name, it still feels too holy to just roll of your tongue like that.

He smirks and starts undressing right in front of you, while you still kneel on the floor, breasts exposed. You can't believe he's doing that already, you feel like you haven't earned to look at his perfect body yet.

But there he is, in all his glory, his semi hard cock right in front of your face and your mouth waters, arousal pools between your legs.

"Worship my cock, pretty."- he's smirking at you, half-lidded eyes tracking your every breath, every twitch, every shiver.

"Yes, Hyunjin."- you whisper and lean in closer. Your hand comes up to the base of his cock, tongue poking out of your lips to give his head a few experimental licks.

He chuckles at you, his hand coming down to caress your head gently.

"You're like a little kitten."- he says condescendingly but to you anything he says is a compliment.

"Put your mouth around it."- he instructs and you do so, enveloping his head with your lips.

"Show me how good you want to be for me. Suck."- Hyunjin commands and you do just what he says. You start lightly sucking on his head, darting your tongue out to play with his slit experimentally and the most beautiful low grunt comes out of his mouth.

You're encouraged by that so you take more of him in your mouth, and his fingers entangle in your hair, holding you more tightly.

Pretty sounds keep coming out of his mouth as you take more and more of him, his cock growing harder in your wet mouth. You're proud of yourself, so proud that you're making your god feel this good, that your own arousal drips down your inner thigh. You press your legs together and Hyunjin notices.

You're too lost in the pleasure of pleasing him that you don't notice the smirk growing on his face, nor the hand that holds your head holding you even tighter now, but still careful of the pretty flower crown that adorns you. He grabs a fistful of your hair and without warning pushes his cock in deeper into you, his tip hitting the back of your throat, making you gag as tears gather in your eyes, saliva dripping down your chin.

"You gag so sweetly."- he smirks holding your head down and fucking your face lightly. Your heart starts beating faster as you fold your hands behind your back again letting Hyunjin use your face for his pleasure. Tears stream down your cheeks and you shut your eyes tight as he picks up speed. There's nothing you can do but try to breathe through your nose and let him have his way with you.

"Look at me!"- he orders, pulling on your hair and you whimper around him, sending vibrations through his cock as you open your eyes and try to look at him, vision blurred by your tears.

"I love seeing you like this. So pretty when you're ruined for me."- he says and you moan around him again.

"But we're just getting started, my lamb."- he pulls his cock out of your mouth abruptly and you cough a little, trying to regain your senses.

"Get up."- Hyunjin orders and you do so.

Hyunjin's hands are back on your dress as he slides it down your body. You've got nothing under it, just how he wanted you to come to him.

Suddenly, you feel self conscious, being naked like this in front of someone you considered your only god. Your hands fold over your body in an attempt to cover up.

"Are you trying to cover yourself up from me?"- Hyunjin asks, and you look at him, shivering under his gaze.

"I'm- I'm sorry. I didn't mean to."- you swallow, letting your hands fall on your sides.

"It's okay my little lamb."- Hyunjin coos at you, hand coming up to cradle your cheek. "It's your first time, I know you're just being shy. But you don't have to be afraid, I know what you need. I know what's best for you."- he whispers the last sentence, as he comes closer to you.

"Yes, Hyunjin."- you repeat the same two words like you're under some kind of spell, mesmerized by his eyes, his lips, his touch.

"Yes what?"

"Yes, you know what's best for me."- you say as he leans in even closer, his breath on your lips.

The hand that was on your cheek is now holding the back of your neck, as his other hand slides down over your breast and side to your lower back. Hyunjin pulls you into his body and you feel how hot his skin is against yours. It makes your senses buzz as he presses his plump lips on yours.

He cradles your head with his big hand, tilting it back and holding you in place as he devours your lips with his. You moan against him, parting your mouth and allowing his tongue to slip in.

Your eyes roll back and you shut them tightly as he pushes his tongue as deep as he can and starts exploring your mouth, tasting you and making sure you never forget the taste of him.

You're not sure if you're allowed to touch him so you keep your hands on your sides, fingertips digging into your own hips because you need to hold on to something. Hyunjin's stealing away your breath with his kiss, you feel dizzy, like you're floating. He finally releases you when he's almost out of breath and you gasp as he looks at you wildly, biting on his lower lip.

"Want you on the bed. Now."- he growls and you almost trip over the carpet in an attempt to lay down as fast as you can.

"Easy, pretty. Don't damage my goods."- Hyunjin smirks as he grabs onto your arm and steadies you.

"I'm sorry, Hyunjin."

"Just lay down."- he orders a little more gently, trying to soothe you and also calm himself down. He's not one to yell or hurt his object of affection unless it's punishment and it's absolutely needed. And he doesn't want to scare you, not with how unhinged he gets when he's turned on.

You lay down as he instructed you, his bed is comfortable and the sheets seem to be made of satin or something similar. You've never touched something as soft as that fabric and it soothes your fast-beating heart just a little.

"Show me that sweet pussy, my lamb."- Hyunjin wastes no time as he sits on the bed.

You gasp a little, taken aback by the command but you obey nonetheless, spreading your legs as wide as you can to show Hyunjin what belongs to him.

He bites his lip, hands on your thighs as he leans in closer between your legs.

"Beautiful."- he says, eyeing it and you feel so vunerable and exposed, even a little humiliated but you try to remind yourself it's your leader Hyunjin, you're his and your body is his, and he has the right to look at you however he wants.

"It looks like a pretty rose."- he adds, smirking and you swallow, you heart almost leaping out of your chest as arousal gushes out of you.

"T-thank you, Hyunjin."- you say quietly, lips trembling in anticipation.

Hyunjin leans in even closer, breath fanning over your wetness and your pussy clenches around nothing. He smirks, he's teasing you and he knows he can do that as long as he wants and you don't get to say no or protest it, you just have to take it.

You wouldn't dare go against him, you believe in him too much to do something bad.

So you keep still as his finger makes contact with your clit. He circles it a little, before sliding it down over your folds, teasingly dipping the pad of his finger inside your dripping hole.

You breathe deeply, trying to calm your racing heart and you feel an ache in your pelvis, an ache telling you to move and chase his fingers, beg for more, anything he'll give you. But you know better than that.

Hyunjin gathers some of your wetness with his fingers and brings them to your lips.

"Taste yourself."- he says and you put your tongue out and start licking at his fingers, eyes never leaving his. He looks at you as if he's going to devour you and you wouldn't mind if he did.

He moves his hand away from your lips and leans down. You think he'll kiss your lips so you close your eyes and wait for him but then you feel his tongue on your nipple.

"Ah!"- you moan as your eyes snap open and you look at him. Hyunjin smirks, his tongue playing with your nipple, moving it up and down, left and right. You're already shaking, so sensitive as you've never been touched like this before.

Hyunjin puts his hand on your other breast, giving it a squeeze before pinching your nipple. He grips your breast again as he takes your nipple in his mouth and starts sucking.

The sight and the feeling together is too much so you shut your eyes tightly, head falling back as you start whimpering and arching into him.

A shot of pain runs through you and your eyes open, only for your mind to register that Hyunjin bit on your nipple.

"Don't look away from me."- he grins, tongue darting out to lick at your tender nipple.

"I'm s-sorry."- you whimper, body twitching under him.

He moves to your other breast, giving it equal attention and when you think he's done, he's not. He just keeps playing with your nipples until they're swollen and tender and you can't take anymore. Silent tears run down your cheeks as you whimper. Hyunjin releases your nipple from his lips and comes up closer to your face.

"Why are you crying, my lamb?"- he asks, knuckles brushing gently on your cheek.

"It hurts."- you whisper, another tear threatening to fall down but Hyunjin wipes it off.

"I promise it'll feel good, pretty. You know I love you, hm? You trust me, don't you?"- he coos at you again, caressing your face and you can't help feeling small when he talks to you like that. Feeling like, to thank him you need to submit to him, be good for him, do what he orders, trust everything he says.

"I trust you, Hyunjin. I would never dream of doubting my leader."- you say.

"Good girl."- he grins. "Now, keep watching me."- Hyunjin whispers as he leans down between your legs, his face close to where you need him the most.

He teases you with kisses to your inner thigh, all the way towards your core, still avoiding it and pressing kisses all around it. You shiver, keeping your eyes on his every move as he commanded you. He looks back at you, eyes unwavering as he presses a kiss to your clit.

You bite on your lip and stay still while Hyunjin starts playing with your clit, giving it teasing kisses and little licks at first before he wraps his lips around it and starts sucking and licking faster. Your legs tremble and you accidentally moan too loudly, arm coming up so you can bite on it.

"Don't do that, pretty. Let me hear your pleasure."- Hyunjin immediately grabs your arm and moves it away from your lips.

"I'm sorry, Hyunjin."- your lips tremble, eyes watering a little. You don't want to keep making mistakes like that and look dumb in front of Hyunjin, you want to be good for him and worthy of his love.

"Hey, hey, don't apologize. You're still learning, my little lamb. Just let me guide you, okay?"- he soothes you with his sweet voice, hands gently caressing your thighs.

"Yes, Hyunjin."- you chant again, determined to follow every command, obey every order he gives you.

Hyunjin leans back down between your legs, this time his tongue slides between your folds.

You gasp at the action, hands gripping the pretty satin sheets under you. Hyunjin smirks as he grips your ass, thumbs on either sides of your core, slowly pulling you apart, opening you up for him.

You whimper, pussy clenching around nothing again and he looks up at you, eyes dark and full of lust.

"Such a sweet pussy. Desperate to be stuffed, hm?"- he asks but gives you no time to answer as he dives in, pushing his tongue inside you as deep as he can.

You're moaning and whining, your legs trembling, knuckles turning white where you grip at the sheets. Nothing ever felt as good as this in your life, Hyunjin is pleasing you so well, swallowing all your juices.

You almost feel too ashamed that you have your god do something like that to you, but that makes you feel even more determined to please him too and give him whatever he asks of you.

Hyunjin is relentless, his tongue is never tiring, even when your moans grow higher in pitch and you feel something swirl in your stomach. It travels down as you keep shaking, legs almost closing around Hyunjin's head and he fucks your pussy with his tongue even faster and you can't hold it in anymore.

"P-please!"- you beg, you don't even know what for but Hyunjin doesn't stop or slow down, and you let go as you moan his name repeatedly, your juices painting his tongue, lips and chin.

"You did so well, my lamb."- he says, a little breathless.

"T-thank you. Hyunjin."- you whimper as he dives back in to play with your clit, flicking it with his tongue fast, teeth grazing at it and you mewl, legs falling open again.

It's a lot, almost too much, but you want to take it, you want him to keep playing with you as long as he wants. Your legs are shaking as he keeps making out with your pussy and you explode on his face again. And then again. And again until you've lost count.

Tears keep streaming down your cheek and you don't even register Hyunjin's face in front of yours until he gently wipes your tears away.

"H-Hyunjin."- you cry out.

"Shh. It's okay, my lamb. You're doing so good for me."- he praises you, fingers running up and down your soaking wet pussy, tortured after all the orgasms he ripped from you.

"I want to be- be good for you."- you whimper as he dips his fingertips into you.

"You do?"- he smirks sickly at you and you nod fervently.

"Then you can take two fingers immediately."- he says and slowly starts pushing into you.

You moan, your back arching instinctively as you grab at the sheets again. Hyunjin's fingers are slender but long and you feel the shape of his knuckles as he pushes them in deep, all the way to the ring that adorns his finger, the coldness of it making you shiver.

He starts moving them slowly as your lips fall open into a silent moan and you stare into his eyes, completely mesmerized by him.

"Feels good, pretty?"- Hyunjin asks. The orgasms you had before helped open you up and lubricate you so you weren't in any pain as he keeps stretching you slowly.

"So good, Hyunjin."- you whimper, your eyes fluttering but staying open. You don't want to accidentally shut them or look away from your leader.

He starts moving them faster as he comes closer to you, peppering your face in kisses, catching your tears with his lips. He kisses your eyelids, your nose, the corners of your lips while he keeps plunging his fingers faster and harder into you.

The contrast of his gentle kisses and the way his fingers are abusing your pussy make you feel incredibly hot. Your mind and body buzzes, you don't know anything but Hyunjin in that moment and you feel a pressure build up, a pressure you've never felt before.

"Let go."- Hyunjin orders when he sees you struggling. And you obey, you let go and squirt all over the bed and his hand just as he pulls his fingers out of you.

"Fuck. That's my good girl."- he smirks and pushes his fingers into you abruptly again.

"Ah!"- you almost scream out as he starts fucking you fast again, your pussy screaming with overstimulation. You want to close your legs, beg him to stop but at the same time you never want him to stop.

"You can take one more finger, right my lamb?"- Hyunjin hovers over you. You look up at him with your hooded and wet eyes and nod.

"Words, pretty."- he warns you, his free hand coming up around your throat.

"Yes, I can take it! Please!"- you cry out, spreading your legs even more.

Hyunjin pulls his fingers out and then pushes three of them back in and the stretch has your eyes rolling back. You seek to ground yourself somehow so you grab his bicep, the one that belongs to the hand holding your neck and he squeezes a little.

"H-h-Hyunjin..."- you whimper as Hyunjin fucks you with such force that it has your whole body rocking together with the bed.

"Tell me pretty..."- he smirks. "Do you want my cock inside you?"

Your mind is gone, all you know is Hyunjin and the need to submit to him completely, to give into him even if he kills you.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes please! Yes!"- you keep chanting as your pussy clenches around his fingers, the squelching sound of your wetness so sinful.

"Squirt for me again and I'll think about it."- he smiles crazy at you but to you he looks beautiful and perfect and you have to obey him. So you let go and squirt again, even more than you did before, your heart beating so fast you're scared it'll actually leap out of your chest.

"Fuck!"- Hyunjin looks crazed, hand coming down to slap your pussy. You whine loudly in pain and surprise, feeling so sensitive after everything he did to you. "I need to breed this sweet pussy now. You want that, hm?"

"Yes, I do!"- you whine again as he grabs his cock, sliding his hard tip on your pussy, pressing it into your clit.

"Beg for it!"- he grabs at your neck again, the tip of his cock between your folds, slowly opening you up.

"Please breed me, Hyunjin!"- you beg, and his eyes roll back before he looks at you wildly and starts pushing in.

Your pussy opens up like a flower to take him, you're so tight and warm, so pliant for him like you were made just for this.

His hand squeezes around your neck as he keeps stretching you with his cock, and you feel a sudden rush of fear with your air being cut off like that, the little sting between your legs, the question if you'll even be able to take all of him.

Your nails dig into his arm and he looks at you so darkly, like he's in a trance and you shiver as the tip of his cock pushes up to your cervix.

"Trust me my little lamb. I'd never hurt you."- he squeezes more and you almost start panicking as little spots appear in front of your eyes.

But you trust him and he starts moving slowly and then he finally releases your neck. You gasp for air, your head is spinning as Hyunjin almost pulls out only for him to push back into you forcefully, knocking the breath out of you again.

"H-Hyunjin! I-it hurts!"- you whimper, tears gathering in your eyes again as he pounds into you.

"It'll feel better. Don't worry, pretty."- he whispers and captures your lips in his, shutting you up.

His tongue forces your lips open, exploring your mouth again, his hands have a bruising hold on your hips.

"Unless you want me to stop completely."- he smirks as he suddenly moves away from you.

"N-no, please don't stop!"- you beg, desperate for him. You want him closer to you, as close as it's possible and you ignore the fear bubbling inside you with the way he's looking at you.

"No? You want me to fuck this tight pussy until she can't take anymore, hm?"- he grins, pressing his fingers on your swollen clit and flicking them in time with his thrusts.

"Yes, please Hyunjin! Please!"- you grab at his arm again and he chuckles darkly, speeding up as his hips slap into you so hard that the bed starts rattling. His cock is ripping you apart but all the pain you felt turns into pleasure, and you can't contain your moans nor keep your eyes opened.

Hyunjin enjoys the view of you spread completely open for him, your hair like a halo around your head, the pretty flower crown ruined, leaving some of the flowers stuck in your hair, tears sliding down your cheeks, your pretty lips parted. He enjoys the power he holds over you, how pliant you are for him, how you'd do anything he asks of you. You just might be his favorite, he thinks as he grips your hips harder, his nails digging into your flesh.

Your eyes snap open and meet with his, there's something animalistic in them and fear runs through you again making your pussy clench around him.

"Are you gonna come for me again, pretty?"- he smirks.

"Y-yeah... I'm... I-" - you can't even form a coherent sentence, not with the way he's fucking you, his hands now roaming all over your body, one of them coming up to wrap around your neck again.

"Can you even talk?"- he chuckles as you lean into his hand, ready to let him choke you to death if that's what he wants.

"Ah!"- you moan when he hits that sweet spot inside you.

"Going a little dumb on my cock, aren't you my lamb?"- he growls as he fucks into you harder, his tip hitting your sweet spot repeatedly, driving you insane until you explode all over his cock.

"Mm yes!"- you answer him, your ears ringing and your whole body tense.

"Gonna breed you now."- Hyunjin squeezes your neck, your air cut off again as his hips pound into you. Your lips fall open, eyes wide as you stare at his dark ones, filled with lust and something else lurking behind it.

His hand is bruising on your neck and you panic, feeling like you're slipping away even though the way his cock is ravaging you makes you come on him again and that's the last straw Hyunjin needed before his cock twitches inside you and he paints your walls with his warm come.

He finally releases your neck, you cough and gasp, grabbing at it, your whole body shaking as your wide eyes stare up at Hyunjin.

"You took that so well, my little lamb."- he says as he pulls out, leaving you feeling empty.

"T-thank you."- you voice is hoarse and you almost don't recognize it. Hyunjin reaches to touch your face and you flinch for some reason, which makes him frown.

"Are you afraid of me, pretty?"- he asks, his face serious and seemingly devoid of any emotions. You swallow and lean your face towards his hand.

"No, I'm not."- you say, trying to convince him and yourself even though your heart is beating fast.

"Why did you flinch?"

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. It wont happen again."

"It better not. I told you I would never hurt you. Only if you misbehave, then I have to punish you. But you know that everything I do is for your good, right lamb?"- Hyunjin smirks again, caressing your cheek.

"Yes, I know Hyunjin."- you nod.

"Good. Because I'm going to keep you here. You will serve me every day from now on. You will be my wife and bear my children."- he grins, getting up from the bed.

"Really?!"- you ask as you sit up, excited that you out of all people were chosen to serve Hyunjin, to become his wife and give him children.

"Yes. Are you happy about that?"- he hovers over you, hand holding your chin.

"Very happy. And honored."- you nod fervently.

"My little lamb. You know I love you, right?"- Hyunjin asks and there's something gentle shining in his dark eyes.

"Yes, I... I love you too, Hyunjin."- you answer, your lips trembling.

"I know you do."- he smirks again, caressing your head. "Go to sleep now. I have some things to take care of."

"You're not gonna sleep with me?"- you whimper, eyes already watering at the thought of not being next to your leader and soon-to-be husband.

"I'll join you later, my pretty. Don't be sad."- he coos, laying you down and tucking you in.

"Okay."- you say, your eyes closing. After all, you were beyond exhausted and it didn't take long for you to slip away into dreamland.

Hyunjin stands over you for a few moments, eyes scanning your sleeping face, dried tears on your cheeks, lips swollen from kisses and bruises around your neck.

He grins, you're so obedient and innocent, so eager to please him. Everyone else disobeyed him and questioned him but not you. You are so sweet, so good for him. He's going to have so much fun with you and he can't wait to show you just how dark he can be.

[sunshineandspencer]

A kind of look

A/N: Trying to act normal while my brain is in the realm of Spencer-Ville is impossible. The spirits possessed me, have a oneshot. 

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader.

Summary: Apparently Spencer has been looking at her a little different recently. 

Word Count: 898

Warnings: nothing really just fluff

“He’s looking at you.”

“What, Spence? Yeah, I know.”

“No. I mean he’s looking at you.”

They’d been saying this recently, Emily and Morgan. Making little comments that didn’t quite make sense, and trying to convince her of something that obviously isn’t real. 

Somehow, drunkenly, she’d told Penelope about her crush on Spencer. Which resulted in her telling Derek, and him telling Emily, until it became one big family affair to try and get them together. 

Even Kevin, who she barely even knew in the first place, made a passing comment about how cute they are together. 

It’s aggravating, she wants to throttle them, but obviously that’s not allowed. 

Most recently, Emily has been trying to convince her that Spencer looks at her differently. Which sounds completely insane. 

Spencer Reid looks at her the same way he always has, politely and just a little to the right of her eyes. It’s adorable and endearing, making her want to smother him with affection until he drowns in it. But unfortunately he just doesn’t feel the same. 

No matter what Emily tries to tell her. 

Granted, she has felt his eyes on her for quite a while now, but that’s pretty normal. 

He zones out staring at people sometimes, has freaked out a lot of LEOs that way. So she doesn’t take it personal when he zones out in her direction, getting lost in his own beautifully massive brain. 

It’s completely normal, and when she turns around to indulge Emily’s insanity, she’ll see it. 

When their eyes met, she was immediately made aware of the fact that it was, in fact, very different. To the point where she’s pretty sure she’s forgotten how to breathe. 

His eyes almost seemed to be blurred at the edges, gazing at her so gently that she felt like she would break if he looked away from her.

So this is what they meant, Christ, it’s suffocating. But in a way that makes her want to go and ask him to help her breathe. 

And when Spencer finally realises that he’s staring into her eyes rather than admiring her from afar, he stiffens. Eyes darting away to focus across at his computer monitor, scrambling for something to hold onto and sending his pencil hold flying. 

Only drawing more attention to himself as he dove to the floor, searching for pencils and a way out. 

Just as he thought the worst was over, hunched on his hands and knees under his desk, holding his hands to his burning face, he felt someone poke his shoulder. 

Hands falling away, hoping it was just Morgan come to tease him. And then nearly choking at her being crouched down with him. Tripping over her name as he forced it out. 

“Wha- what are you doing down here?”

Smiling softly, she held up a handful of pencils that she’d collected from around the room. The blush on both their faces being an equal match. 

“Helping? Sorry if I freaked you out just then.”

“No!” He lurched for her and found her shoulders, clinging tightly as she met his gaze. “You could never freak me out! I just.. wasn’t expecting you to look back at me.. that’s all.”

Oh yeah, she’s completely smitten by this man. Gently easing his hands from her shoulders so that his imbalance on his knees doesn’t take them both out. He’s called the human bambi for a reason, and it’s not just because he’s cute. 

Tilting her head gently, she shuffled a little closer until they were both under the desk. All conversation is suddenly being muffled around them, they’re in their own little bubble where nothing else matters. That bright smile of hers pulling at her lips in a way that makes his knees weak. 

Not ideal when they’re the thing he’s currently supporting himself with. 

“And.. why were you looking at me, Spence?”

“Because you’re beautiful.”

He didn’t even need to think about it, which is what made her utterly melt. If it weren’t the middle of the day, and she couldn’t already feel Emily’s judging eyes on her ass, she would’ve dragged him down to stay under his desk forever. 

Instead, she leant in and pecked his cheek, grinning when she pulled back and he was looking at her again. 

Jesus, she’s never felt more beautiful than when he’s looking at her. Hopefully she’s playing off her nerves well, because she feels like she’s going to implode. 

“Takes one to know one gorgeous. Get back to work.. you can ask me out later.”

She got up first, crawling out from under the desk and practically skipping back to Emily. Whereas Spencer was stuck for a long time, hand to his cheek and daft smile on his face. 

Until Morgan said his name and he moved before he could think. Smacking his head onto the table in his rush to clamber back to being vertical. 

The rush of standing up so fast and having his cheek kissed sending him a little dizzy.

“Y-Yeah?”

“We’ve got a case, let’s get to the jet so you can make your ‘love me’ eyes at your girl.”

Spluttering something that didn’t even manage to come out as words, he just had to follow along. Wondering just how long it would have to be to class the time as later, already knowing exactly where he’s going to take her.

Want more?! Good!

[thestoryofusstan]

Infinity

pairing: college au!harry x reader

summary: The guy next door likes to blast music. You maybe-sorta-kinda really like him.

warnings: cussing, not edited, im not in college idk how it works…

—

You didn’t want to be annoying. Truly, you didn’t. But you and your roommate, Daisy, were asleep.

Or…

Trying to be.

It was difficult with the blasting music next door.

And honestly, you had tried to avoid it. Had let them play their loud music for months now. Sent Daisy over to tell them to shut up so you didn’t have to (because despite her name, she was terrifying when she got mad).

But.. really?

It had to be, like… three in the morning. They’d been blasting it since nine pm, and you hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep.

So, clad in your bunny slippers, pajama pants you stole from someone (don’t ask who, you don’t remember) and a Fleetwood Mac shirt four sizes too big (because that was all they had at the thrift store), hair pulled back into a very messy braid, and glasses you rarely wore because you liked yourself better with contacts (mainly because you were so blind your glasses made your eyes look bigger), you stomped on over.

You pounded on the door (not really.. your knock barely made a sound), and miraculously, they heard you and opened the door.

A boy opened it.

No. Not a boy.

A cute boy. A very, very cute boy.

You blinked in surprise. You had expected girls… were boys even allowed on the same floor as girls?

“Ehm.. can I help you?” he asked after you were silent for a little too long.

“Oh. Right. Uh.. would you mind turning the music off? I have a final tomorrow, and.. I’m next door, so.. I can kinda hear it. On full blast. Um.. you don’t have to turn it off.. just.. down..”

He sighed, turning into the dorm to shout, “I told you to turn it down, Lou!” he turns back to you. “Yeah. Sorry. My mate’s practically deaf, I’m pretty sure. Doesn’t realize how loud he is… you say you’re next door?”

You nod.

“You got the alarmingly scary roommate named after a flower?”

Another nod. Why was he making small talk? You wanted to sleep.

“Ah. Glad y’didn’t send her over.”

He eyes you up and down, giving that sentence another meaning you didn’t really like.

"Right. Well.. just.. turn it down, please," you give an awkward smile and nod.

When you turn to walk away, he stops you, "’ey-- little rude to not give me y'name, isn't it?"

"Oh. Uh.. I’m Y/N."

He grins, "Well, hello, Y/N. I’m Harry."

You nod, pursing your lips as you pull on a strand of your hair.

There’s a beat of silence, and you contemplate just throwing yourself off a bridge, honestly.

"I'll see you around, Y/N."

With that, you scurry off to your room. Despite being uncomfortable in the moment, it wasn't because of him. You just were horrid at talking to boys.

-

A few weeks passed, and you accepted the fact that maybe you wouldn't see your neighbor as much as you hoped you would.

And really, you weren’t surprised. You’d never seen him before, why would that change? It made perfect sense that he remained as elusive as he had apparently always been.

Well, that is, until you were dragged to a party you really didn’t wanna go to in clothes you really weren’t all that comfortable wearing at your house— let alone at some douchey frat party.

The first hour was fine because it was early, so only a handful of people were drunk.

The second hour was less enjoyable, the longer the party went on, the more people drank.

In the third hour, your friends shoved a drink in your hand, and once you finished it, they sucked you into taking far too many shots.

The fourth hour was when you started to get antsy. You were pushing over the edge of just being a little too tipsy, and it was hot and sticky and crowded and had it always been so hard to breathe?

You shoved your way out of the crowd and onto the empty (or so you thought) patio, and exhaled. It was less of a patio and more of a balcony, since it was the second floor— but it was huge. 20 people could comfortably stand on it and not be crowded.

Your heels clack on the concrete as you walk to the edge of the patio, leaning on the railing as you take deep breaths.

“That bad in there?”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the familiar british voice. You spin around with wide eyes and a hand over your heart, “Jesus Christ! Don’t do that!”

“Sorry!” he raises his hands in defense. “I thought you saw me!”

“Clearly not!” you pause and take a deep breath, “Sorry— I’m kinda drunk and I hate being drunk. I’m paranoid enough when I’m sober, so when I can’t even walk straight I’m extra jumpy and anxious. And I honestly didn’t even wanna come out tonight, my friends just dragged me along and put me in some ‘going out clothes’ that I don’t think I even have the confidence to wear alone in my dorm! And—“

You pause at his grinning face.

“I’m rambling, aren’t I? Sorry, I get nervous when I’m drunk. Did I already say that? I think I did. Anyway, I talk a lot when i’m nervous, and I don’t really know how to talk to guys in the first place. If I get too annoying just tell me to shut up and I will. I don’t even realize I’m doing it half the— I’m still going. Sorry.”

“No harm done. I quite like your nervous rambling.”

Your cheeks heat up.

“So what made you run for the hills to come out here?” he asks, standing up from the chair he was sitting on.

“I’m not really a party girl.”

“Yeah, I could’ve guessed that.”

You frown, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Not in a bad way!” he rushes out. “But you just.. are a jumpy person, like you said. Like a bunny. I’d be surprised if you went to parties every weekend on your own free will.”

And really— you have to laugh, because he’s right. “Yeah. I’m definitely not a party girl. And I am not the girl who wears this stuff. Not that it’s bad! But.. I’m just not.. comfortable in this,” you shrug, pulling at the short skirt.

The outfit your friends had picked out consisted of a white, very mini mini-skirt, a white cropped tank top, and some black heels. If the skirt was just a little longer, perhaps a little looser, you’d be fine. If you could at least cover up your belly button— you’d always hated it for no real reason except for the fact that, as embarrassing as it sounds, belly buttons freaked you out.

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I think you look great,” he smiles.

You probably look like a tomato’s long lost sibling by now.

“Thank you.”

“But.. I also think you look great in pyjamas and bunny slippers and glasses and that little pout telling me my music’s too loud.”

“Hey!” You cross your arms.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” he laughs as you try to smack his arm. “So, if you don’t like parties, why’re you here?”

“My friends wanted to go out,” you shrug. “I was done the second we got here.”

He pauses, as if mulling over a thought in his brain and you desperately want to know what, before he speaks, “D’you wanna go home, then?”

You blink at him, “What? I— I mean, yeah. I do, but I’m kinda drunk and all my friends are plastered—“

“I’ll drive you,” he cuts you off before you talk yourself up a wall. “Live next door t’ya anyway.”

“Really? I— are you sure?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “Wouldn’t have offered if I was. Let’s get y’out of here.”

-

The trip to the car took far longer than necessary, mainly because you ran into your friends doing shots and got sucked into one more round, which turned into ten more rounds.

By the time you were done, Harry was half carrying you out. He’d long since looped your arm around his shoulders, and his own arm around your waist as you stumbled towards the car.

“Alright,” he sighed once the two of you finally reached the car. “In you get, love.”

You can’t even stop yourself from grinning ridiculously as he helps you get in the passenger seat and buckle.

He shuts your door and slides into the driver’s seat. You stare at him. He smiles, but doesn’t call you out.

He turns on the radio, and you gasp. “I love this song!”

“Do you, now?” he laughs, and it’s almost teasing. Or, perhaps, it is, and your brain is too fogged up to comprehend that.

“Yes!” you exclaim, turning up the volume as Cruel Summer blasts through his car.

“I’m drunk in the back of the car! And I cried like a baby comin’ home from the bar! Oh, oh!” you sing, extremely off key.

“Quite the singer,” he comments.

“Said I’m fine, but it wasn’t true! I don’t wanna keep secrets just to keep you! And I snuck in through the garden gate—“

-

“You’re pretty,” you comment as Harry helps you up the stairs.

“You think so?”

“Yeah. You have nice eyes. And hair. Your hair’s really soft.”

“Don’t think you’ve ever touched my hair, so I’m not sure how you came to that conclusion, babe.”

You grin. Babe. “It looks soft. Duh.”

“Oh, of course. Duh.”

You think he’s teasing you, but you don’t care to tease back or get offended.

“Alright. Where’re your keys?”

“My keys! They’re… with Daisy.”

“No spares?”

“No,” you pout. “Do I have to sleep in the hallway?”

“No, ‘course not,” he shakes his head, pausing. “Ehm.. new plan. Gonna set you up in my bed, yeah? That okay?”

You nod with a hum.

He moves you one door over and fumbles with the key before finally pushing the door open.

“Bed’s right here, love. In you get, c’mon.”

He helps you sit down on the bed, and you rest your head against the wall.

“Hey, hey— don’t sleep yet.”

“Why?” you whine.

“Gotta get you comfy,” he explains, tugging your shoes off. He quickly goes to the dresser before pulling out pants and a shirt.

“You need help changing?”

You frown and nod.

“Alright. I won’t look, love. Promise.”

True to his word, Harry turns you around so your back is to him as he helps you get out of the tank top. He quickly slips the t-shirt over it.

He lays you down on the bed and slaps a hand over his eyes as he pulls your skirt down and helps you into the pants.

“Alright.. better, yeah?”

You nod, lying on the pillow. He helps you under the covers that smell like him and gives you an extra blanket.

“M’kay. Gonna sleep on the top bunk, yeah? Just say my name if y’need me.”

“Thank you,” you mumble.

“‘Course.”

He moves to walk away, but— “Wait, Harry—“

He turns back to you, “What’s wrong?”

You lift a hand up and run it through his hair. “I was right. It’s soft.”

He laughs.

“Go to bed, babe.”

“Sir, yes, Sir.”

He knew you’d probably be embarrassed in the morning, but he wouldn’t tell you that he enjoyed how touchy you got when drunk.

You didn’t plan on telling him that you’d slightly sobered up on the drive home and just played the drunk bit up as an excuse.

And your keys were in your purse.

-

a/n: YAYYYY COLLEGE AU HARRY!!!

[sweetbans29]

Mascot - KM

Pairing: Kate Martin x Reader

Summary: Kate had is down bad for the school mascot (based on THIS request)

Warnings: complete fluff

Word Count: 2.3k

Sweetbans Masterlist

Your love for being the school mascot began in high school. It was junior year when you were asked to cover for one of your best friends - who was actually the school mascot at the time. At first, you were nervous but once you were in the suit, you were a natural. You became your high school's mascot senior year and went out for it when you started college.

It was almost like having an alter ego. Outside of the suit, no one would ever picture you as the school mascot. You kept to yourself and really focused on your academics. Most of your time was spent in the library or on your favorite lawn on campus doing schoolwork or reading. If you were ever on the lawn - some of the cheer girls would come up and study with you, but never enough to seem suspicious as to why they were hanging out with you.

When you were in the suit though - your confidence soared (I mean you were a Hawkeye). It was like you could do anything and interact with anyone and that is what you did. The whole school loved you - at least the masked version of you and that was more than enough.

What was nice about how the school did Herky the Hawk was that if you were chosen to be the school mascot you would be one of many. Even though it was all under one character, the person in the suit varied depending on the sport. When you went out for the position, they chose you for all home basketball games. Basketball was your first choice and volleyball would have been your second - you had no desire to be the football mascot.

It took your freshman year to really adjust to working and being a student. But now in your junior year, you had become a pro. Not one person, aside from your boss and the cheer squad, knew you were the mascot for the basketball games and you fully intended on keeping it that way. At least that was your goal until a certain dirty blonde-haired girl started interacting with you a little more.

It started with little asks every once in a while. Kate from the women's team would pull you aside right before games and have you hide somewhere in the tunnel exit to scare her teammate Jada. You had never spoken to her - not able to reveal any part of your identity but would never fight her excitement of scaring her teammate.

The first time she had asked you will always be your favorite.

You were already dressed up and ready for the night when Kate made her way to you. You were by a group of cheer girls when you felt someone grab your arm.

"Hi, I have a favor to ask," Kate says.

You cock your head to the side to signal your curiosity. Kate takes that as your interest and continues.

"I was hoping you could help me scare one of my teammates. She got me kind of good the other day and not that I am keen on revenge, I want revenge." She says with a smile.

You nod and point your finger down, asking if this is something she wants to do now.

"Ya, now would actually be perfect. She is getting ready to come out and do her shoot-around." Kate says and you move your hands as to gesture 'Show me the way'.

She leads you to a spot she had scoped out earlier in the day, it is the perfect little nook for you to hide in. She tells you to wait there and you do.

A few minutes pass and you hear Kate walking out with Jada. Once you see Kate pass you jump out and scare Jada - causing her to scream and freak out.

You and Kate are laughing uncontrollably as Jada comes back to her senses, hitting Kate telling her she is going to pay. She then turns to you and you put your hands up as if to show innocence and she just points a finger at you. You bring her into a hug and pat the top of her head - the best 'apology' you could think of.

Jada runs out to the court, leaving you and Kate in the tunnel.

"Well done, I think that did the trick," Kate says with a little laugh.

You nod.

"Oh! I am Kate by the way. I don't think I have ever introduced myself," she says with a shy smile.

You wish you could tell her your name but that's not an option. You settle for extending your hand to shake hers which she reciprocates. Before letting her hand go, you bring it up and act as if you are kissing it which causes her to blush.

Then with a wave, you head back out to the cheer squad.

Since then, you have become the basketball team's go-to for pranking each other. Kate had unintentionally started a war. Kate had roped you into scaring Jada several times after the initial scare. Other girls from the team also enrolled you to help them. You had helped Jada get Gabby a few times. Hannah had asked for your help getting Jada. Caitlin even came over once asking you to help her get Kate. It had become somewhat of a home game staple.

About halfway through the season, you roped one of your girls in to help you figure out how to ask Kate out. The only reason you had felt so bold to do so is because Kate made it a point to come up and see you before and after every game. Since you couldn't talk to her - the two of you came up with a pre-game handshake as your way of telling her good luck. Then she would always find you after telling you how great of a job you did pumping up the crowd.

One of the cheer girls had come up with the idea of getting Kate your number. It wasn't anything crazy but it opened the door to actually getting to talk to her. You weren't ready to fully come out and expose yourself yet but you loved the idea of getting to text the girl.

It was right after a home win that one of the cheer girls went up to Kate and started talking to her. You tried to busy yourself with taking photos with students and high-fiving the players but you couldn't help but keep an eye on the interaction. You watched how your friend talked to Kate and passed her the little piece of paper that contained your number. The smile on Kate's face was contagious and you could have sworn you saw her cheeks grow a pink tint. Kate looked over at you and you gave an awkward wave. She waved back and thanked the cheerleader.

She texted you that night and the two of you have been texting for the last few weeks. You still had not revealed who you are to her and it was driving her crazy.

"This girl has me falling head over heels for her and I still have no idea who she is," Kate tells Caitlin as they are driving to practice.

"Well, have you asked her?" Caitlin says as if it was that simple.

Kate turns over to her best friend with a 'you can't be serious' look.

"Oh, that's a good idea! I haven't thought of that," Kate says sarcastically as she hits Caitlin's arm.

"Hey! I am driving!" Caitlin says seriously then breaks out into a laugh.

"Well, what do you know about her?" Cailin asks, turning into the parking structure outside of Carver.

"This is her third year as the mascot, she spends a lot of time studying, and she likes the outdoors - she says she goes on walks a lot. She grew up in Iowa, born and raised. Her parents since then have moved out of state. She is huge on cooking." Kate says.

"Well, that last one is a huge plus considering you can't cook for shit," Caitlin says.

"Okay, okay, this isn't about me, this is about her," Kate says.

"Did she at least tell you her name?" Caitlin asks grabbing her practice bag from the back seat.

Kate shakes her head no, "When she is ready she will. Until then, I will just have to wait." Kate also reaches back and grabs her stuff. "She is worth the wait."

The two of them walk into Carver.

"The last thing I will say is that she has the most beautiful laugh. I have heard it a few times now and it is one of the best things I have ever heard. I don't think she knows I have heard it but I have and I try to get it out of her every chance I get. That's how I know she is worth the wait." Kate says as Caitlin pats her friend on the back.

Over the next few days, you can Kate continue to text nonstop. It is almost too distracting to you at this point as you are starting to head into finals. You told Kate you were going to need some uninterrupted time to study and she respected that.

You were in the library with a few of the cheer girls when you needed to take a break. You decided to go on a little walk to clear your head and stumbled across a mama duck and her babies. You stood there and watched them swim around, seeing the ducklings get in little fights with one another causing you to laugh.

Your laugh didn't go unnoticed as Kate was walking to the library to get some of her own studying done before practice. When she heard the sound, it stopped her dead in her tracks. Her head turned to find the source of her favorite sound.

She saw you standing there looking at the ducks and immediately felt her hands clam. This was the moment she had been waiting for. She walks up to you and gives you a little tap on your shoulder. Your head turns around and you look up at her. Your eyes widen and you stand there speechless.

"Hi," Kate says, all confidence lost the second her eyes met yours.

"Hi," you say back. The two of you stand there just taking in one another.

"It's you," Kate says. A blush creeps into your cheeks as you feel completely exposed without the suit on.

You nod and extend your hand to introduce yourself, captivating Kate even more than she already is.

"How did you know...how did you know it was me?" You ask stunned.

Kate looks down, rubbing the back of her neck.

"Well, your laugh kind of gave it away," she says. "It has become one of my favorite sounds."

Now it was your turn to looks down or really anywhere but her eyes.

You ask her if she wants to join your study group and she does. As you sit there and do work, you glance up at her often to admire her. She is adorable when she is focused. You have seen it time and time again on the court but sitting up close and personal with her now - you are able to see just how cute she is. You look at her and admire how she didn't run when she found out you were the one behind the mask. How she took a step closer to you and looked at you with such loving eyes.

Kate looks up when she feels eyes on her and catches you looking. She gives you a soft smile and you return it. Usually, you would be embarrassed about getting caught staring at someone but with her it is different.

The two of you spend the summer getting to know each other more. Kate would take you on dates and want to spend as much time as she can with you. The two of you would work out together and read at your favorite park (usually resulting in a nap). The summer ended with a week trip to the lake before your guy's senior year. It was the best summer you have ever had.

As school began and basketball games resumed, you went above and beyond to show your love and support for the team. Dating Kate had sort of opened the can of worms of the team learning you're the mascot. They were super hype about it and that caused you to go even harder during games. They all kept your confidentiality out of respect for you and Kate.

In one of the games, you went a little overboard when Kate hit the buzzard-beater shot to win the game. You came up and picked up your girl, running her around the court. She couldn't stop laughing and held onto you for dear life. When you finally put her down you give her a hug, whispering in her ear how proud of her you are.

The rest of the season was no different. You continued to support Kate on the court and would love her even more off of it. Her love for you never ceased to grow as she would catch snippets of you cheering her team on.

Kate looked over at you getting the crowd hyped for their game and just stood in awe. She thought back to when she asked you to help scare Jada in the tunnel that one time - the first time she heard you laugh. Never in a million years did she think that she fall in love with the girl in the suit but is beyond grateful that she did.

AN: CUTE! I hope this was a nice little fluffy one for you. Let me know what you think! And as always, thank you for your love and support 💛

[arctrooper69]

As Iron Sharpens Iron

"As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another." Proverbs 27:17

Chapter 16:

Previous // Next

Warnings: Heavy whump. Blood, broken bones, needles, battlefield medicine.

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

It felt like just a moment had passed. Something had pulled you ruthlessly back into a waking existence.

Noises. In the darkness above. That familiar voice.

Hunter?

Maybe it wasn’t real. Maybe you were imaging things once again. It was so easy to lose yourself out here alone.

But what if it really is him?

Fear sprang through your chest, cracking and sizzling with electricity. Hunter couldn’t be here - not on this moon where the awful randomness of electromagnetic frequencies would surely overwhelm his senses, knocking them out as easily as they jammed any coms signal coming from the surface. It would no doubt leave him dizzy, and nauseous.

Nothing he hadn’t trained for.

The rocks that fell and bounced into the dust made it real. It was no longer a dream now.

Hunter.

Someone called your name from above. The sound echoed, dull and muffled, barely able to penetrate the haze of pain and unfocus. It was several minutes before you were able to wrench yourself from that awful dreamlike state.

“Here…” the frailty of the call surprised you, injured ribs balking, at the sudden movement of speech, drawing a sharp, sobbing gasp at the renewing of that awful hurt.

Silence. Had he heard? Had the cry for help been only in your mind - allowing you a cruel mockery of hope.

A clamor of ropes and rappelling gear.

“Hold on, I'm coming down.”

“...kay” You wanted to say more - to yell at him that there might be mercenaries still out there waiting. You wanted to scream at him to leave and save himself from this awful place, but that blessed feeling of relief swept coldly through your trembling body as he descended.

“Are you okay!?”

“N-not really….”

“Okay.”

He was calm - strong and assuredly in his element despite the awful electromagnetic disturbances that were most likely drilling through his brain not unlike the pain that wracked your own body. His well trained eyes most certainly scanned the environment, getting a read-out of your vitals, and clocking various points for extraction all within seconds.

He knows what he's doing. He's here.

That palatable relief tasted sweet, bringing tears pricking in the corners of your eyes. You couldn't stop them if you wanted to.

“Whoa, hey…” he soothed, falling to his knees, helmeted eyes surveying the way you shivered and curled inwards, protecting ribs that he suspected were either broken or badly bruised. The shallow, too quick breaths drew his concern, as did the unnatural angle of your right leg.

One thing at a time.

Though you'd managed to mostly staunch the flow of blood, it still leaked slowly, dripping into a slowly growing puddle. The sickening gleam of white stood offensively, angling awkward and wrong.

“I'm going to keep my helmet on so I can see, okay?”

You nodded, forgetting that the HUD provided him with infrared night vision - not perfect by any means, but it was something to combat the constant damp, twilight. It probably helped filter most of the noise too.

He shrugged the pack from his shoulders, placing it beside him, and drew out two small, gray-capped syringes from a pouch on his belt.

“Alright, this might hurt a little but it'll help with the pain and slow the bleeding, okay?”

You nodded, closing your eyes, giving up on stopping the tears that dripped silently into the ground. Anything was better than the nauseating waves of agony throbbing through your ribs with every breath, shooting daggers up your leg. It was more than just the physical pain that drew your tears. Shame weighed you down, drawing around your chest with a grip so tight it became impossible to know where it ended and the physical pain began.

You couldn't even do a simple job on your own. The inner, mocking voice only served to tighten the shame that locked around your chest.

It's embarrassing really. Imagine how pathetic you look lying here crying in the dirt. Mission failure. What a failure.

“Hey, look at me.” Gloved fingers touched your face and you opened your eyes. You hadn't even noticed how he'd already discarded the drugs and drew the medkit up beside him.

“You okay?” The modulated voice held concern and you wished you could see his eyes.

Those perfect dark eyes, narrowed in a focused concentration, so observant, seeing everything around him. His eyebrows would be drawn downwards in concern; lips pursed in ever moving thought. He was the epitome of a confidence born from a lifetime of training and experience, yet a sliver of doubt would be lingering just below the skin.

You knew that face well.

“Hurts…” the single word sliding over numb lips felt weak - shameful. A poor excuse for an answer to a voice like his. You could hear him breathing. In. Out. In. Out.

“I know. It should get better in a few. Give the meds some time to kick in. You'll be able to breathe a little better too.”

You nodded, once again closing your eyes.

“Hey now, none of that.” He tapped your cheek again. “Come on, you gotta stay with me, okay? I'm gonna need your help in a minute. Think you can do that?”

Your head swam. All you wanted to do was close your eyes and give into that cold and dizzy pool of relief. Spots danced across your vision, threatening to grow with every nauseating thud of your heart. You were sure you wouldn't be of any help to anybody anytime soon. “I… dunno…”

“Just breathe. Nice and slow. Can't have you passing out on me just yet.”

He was right. You thought. Breathing did come easier with that sliver of relief the painkiller provided.

“Hunter, I'm sorry…” your voice cracked.

He inhaled slowly, feeling his chest tighten and grow heavy once more in that strange mixture of contradicting emotion. He hurt because you hurt - heart weighted by the crack of your voice that vainly hid the pain. Yet a sense of relief had pierced him so strongly when he’d heard your voice from the depths. Alive. She’s alive.

A silence floated for seconds with baited breath, both waiting for a reply, hoping for that emotion ladened acceptance but expecting nothing.

All he wanted to do was hold you in his arms, running his fingers through your hair. He wished desperately to tell you that everything would be alright - that you’d be safe, and that he’d get you out of there. He would bear all of your pain without a second thought if it only meant you’d be with him forever.

He took another breath, forcing himself to exhale. No, he scolded, forcing himself to let go of the fantasy. No time. Focus. Breathe.

He turned away. “I’m gonna take a look at your leg, okay?”

You nodded, numb to everything but the fact that he’d ignored you.

What have I done?

Hunter exhaled as he knelt by your leg, gently using his fingers to further rip the bloodsoaked fabric past the knee, stopping at mid thigh. You shivered. Hunter was quiet as he placed a hand on your other leg with a reassuring squeeze.

“Alright, here’s what we’re gonna do.” He took a breath, not sure if he meant to calm his own nerves or you. He looked up, “We’ve got to splint this before I can get you out of here. The painkiller I gave you should take the edge off, but I’m not gonna lie to you,” he grimaced, “ this probably isn’t gonna feel great, but I’ll try to be as quick as I can.”

“Ok… just do it.”

He nodded, “Alright, try to stay still for me, sweetheart.”

Hunter paused for a nanosecond. Sweetheart? There wasn’t time to work out that slip of the tongue. He shook his head at the momentary lapse before turning to the task at hand.

He took a calming breath, watching as you nervously hugged yourself, gripping tightly at your own upper arms, desperate for any kind of comforting hold. It burned, deep inside his chest at the knowledge of the coming hurt he had no choice but to inflict. He squeezed the good leg once again.

“Okay, here we go.”

You had already done a decent job, packing gauze into the cavity beneath the bone, but now it was slowly beginning to saturate, scarlet blood leaking in slow rivets down the skin.

Grabbing another wad of gauze, he didn’t hesitate upon pressing it into the wound bit by bit, probing deeper into the gap where bone had once been. Muscles tensed beneath his fingers, locking up stiff and still in an autonomic and desperate attempt to stay any movement that might cause further pain. A guttural cry ripped from your throat, barely muffled by the fabric of your shirt clenched deathly tight between teeth through which he knew you were so desperately trying to fight the urge to scream at him, begging him to stop, that it hurt too much to go on.

I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry, he wanted to say. He wanted desperately to plead for forgiveness but he bit his lip in that steadfast determination of what must be done. It broke his heart, the way you fought your own body for control as it arced and jerked longing to be free of this torment. Tears streamed through eyes screwed so tightly shut, veins in your neck bulging and shoulders moving in erratic attempts to breathe through the pain.

“You’re doing great, cyar'ika,” he soothed, “you’re doing so good. Almost done.”

Hunter’s voice felt so far away, hidden amongst the starbursts of burning white that flashed behind your eyes - nearly inaudible among the molten lava screaming so loudly you could feel it in every bone.

So great, cyar'ika. So good. You clung to that deep sincerity which came echoing from a distance the rumble of thunder before a storm. Almost done. Almost done. I’ve got you. It’s okay.

It was the only thing keeping you afloat like a lifevest in this whirlpool of icy fire that spun in a never ending confusion of flaying nerves and nothingness.

The last pull, securing resting bone onto thoroughly packed gauze brought a strange relief to the sharp, ever invading cold.

“All done. You did good.” Warm fingers gently weaving themselves through your hair pulled you ever closer to that voice you longed so badly to return to.

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

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[scuttlingcrab]

Toss A Coin To Your Devil

I was super-duper inspired after I saw this conversation between @cambion-companion and @sky-kiss about wishing we could have Raphael help us during combat. Also, I'm obsessed with this post from @firlionemoontav, focusing on the Raphael that could've been, soul coins as currency and all.

Summary: Tav is on the brink of death after foolishly deciding to fight Auntie Ethel without much preparation. She summons Raphael as a last resort to help her finish the fight.

Notes: Some mild violence, bleeding, talk of death, etc.

Link to my other work in the Devil's Archive.

(Image via drusotherstuff)

Tav’s world spun out of control, her eyes stinging from the blood that trailed down her forehead. She was on her knees, fighting to keep conscious as she clutched her chest. Her torso was covered in deep lacerations, from one claw attack after another. Tav was getting slower, clumsier, allowing Auntie Ethel to tear at her flesh the longer she sat there. 

She knew they weren't prepared to enter the Hag’s lair, but they had gotten cocky, jumping into the fight without a solid plan. They managed to beat Auntie Ethel before, so how hard could it be this time?

If Tav made it out of this mess alive, the first thing she planned to do was punch Astarion right in that pretty little face of his for even suggesting this. Served her right to listen to him in the first place.

Tav had burned through her spells and resources, barely having enough energy left to cast a fireball. She tightly held her body hoping it would stop the bleeding or keep herself from falling apart. Tav could no longer make out the bodies of her fallen companions around her. Shadowheart, Astarion, and Karlach, now just lumps of lifeless flesh thrown about the room like ragdolls. She would be joining them if she didn’t think of something soon.

It was no secret that Tav wasn’t a typical hero, in the general sense of the word. She was the weakest of the group, never meant to be in the thick of combat as she couldn’t handle the pressure, nor did she like it. 

She had stupidly thrown herself into the middle of danger when Shadowheart fell, hoping to heal her before it was too late. By then they were surrounded by three different illusions of Auntie Ethel, all of whom vanished into thin air. It was impossible to do anything at that point, the clones bouncing back after every successful attack like it was nothing. They managed to find the source of the Hag’s invulnerability eventually, destroying all those weird blue mushrooms scattered about, but even that wasn’t enough. 

Before long, Tav was alone. Just like at the start of this entire nightmare, when she struggled to escape the burning Nautiloid wreckage. It felt like aeons had passed since that fateful day. It would’ve been easier if she just died in that crash. Would’ve saved them all the trouble.

Auntie Ethel’s high-pitched laughter came from all directions, bringing Tav back to the present. The Hag moved in circles around Tav, taunting her. She never knew where the snickering came from, or when Auntie Ethel would strike next. She shivered, thinking she felt the Hag’s breath on her neck. Or was that from all the blood loss?

Tav weakly poked her rapier out in front of her, hoping to maybe hit one of the illusions. But she just continued to swipe at the air, at nothing. It was no use. She really was going to die here. 

“Oh petal, why the long face? I’ve been looking forward to eating you for a very long time. You and your friends will make a fine stew…” The Hag's voice echoed, the words rattling around Tav’s skull. 

Tav unexpectedly felt a burning sensation in her pocket, the weight of a warm object growing heavier, hotter against her skin the longer it went untouched. As the heat intensified, a hole appeared in her trousers. A thick black coin fell through it and onto the wooden floor with a loud clunk.

Tav stared at the coin, gaping as she tried to figure out where the Hells it came from. She reached for it, moving her hand with great difficulty, her limbs like weights. She managed to turn the coin over in her fingers, staring at the intricate R inscribed into the back of it. 

Of course. A soul coin, a bloody soul coin! Raphael! 

Tav’s vision abruptly flickered and she found herself lying face down, her nose pressed up against the mouldy floorboards. She coughed, pain exploding from her chest. No. Up. Get Up. Close. You’re so close. She staggered to her side, leaning on an elbow for support. 

Tav grew more lethargic, her head beginning to droop from the exhaustion. The floor swayed beneath her but she shook her head, attempting to remove the sluggishness that crept through her senses. Tav’s body shook violently as she kept herself upright, channelling whatever strength remained as she brought the coin to the top of her thumb.

“Raphael…” She said through a pained whisper, flicking the coin out in front of her. 

As she uttered the Devil’s name, the soul coin burst into flames, turning into a tiny comet as it flew through the air.

In a flash of sparks and embers, Raphael appeared, catching the soul coin seamlessly in his hand. He held the coin between his fingers, extinguishing the flames as he twirled it rapidly on the tip of one of his digits. He placed the currency in his pocket and crossed his arms, eyeing Tav with delight. The Devil’s mischievous eyes twinkled in the darkness of the Hag’s lair. 

Raphael’s brown hair rested effortlessly above his shoulders. His face was incredibly handsome, as always, despite the cruelty that lurked behind that charming smile. The same smile Tav often thought about when she couldn't sleep. He was dressed differently, somehow in even finer clothing, wearing a colourful doublet Tav had never seen before. Her stomach fluttered as he stood above her, looming ominously. She was on the brink of death and yet she still got excited being in the presence of that bloody Devil. 

“Seems like my poor little mouse is in distress. What an interesting turn of events! Makes the party you pulled me from dull in comparison.” There was a long pause as Raphael observed the surroundings, frowning at the realisation of where he was. “Don’t tell me… you summoned me here hoping for a decent conversation in your final hour? Was the Hag not sufficient entertainment? Or no… wait! Perhaps you want me to administer your last rites?”

Raphael chuckled to himself, pleased as punch with yet another one of his stupid quips.

“Don’t make me regret this Raphael. The Hag. Tell me… where is she hiding?”

Raphael’s expression grew more serious as he stared at Tav, raising an eyebrow. He looked up, eyes scanning the room and shrugged.

“Godsdamnit, Raphael. Please!” Tav begged, crying out in pain. 

Without warning Tav collapsed, slamming her head against the wooden planks. Dark spots flooded her vision, her chest tightening as she found it harder to breathe, to concentrate. Her thoughts became nothing, only mush, her head emptying. Everything faded, faster… and faster… Raphael’s voice cut through the void, but she could not make out a single word he said.

She sensed her head being lifted, cradled in soft, delicate hands. An intense warmth radiated from her skull, flooding through her entire body, even causing the tips of her toes to tingle with the odd sensation. 

She opened her eyes, blinking the darkness away as colour quickly returned to her vision. 

Tav was sitting up, breathing in the rich scents of cherries, musk and sulphur she grew to love, to cherish since their first meeting. She knew then she was in Raphael’s arms, melting against his chest. The intense warmth from his body, like a raging furnace, soothed her; calming any uneasy nerves, or regrets, that still lingered in her mind. Her eyes grew heavy, she wanted to fall asleep. She was safe. She would always be safe with him… it was all she wanted… 

“Ever the peculiar creature.” Raphael said, leading Tav to her feet despite her protests. “I will not fight these battles for you. If you are to succeed in your endeavours, then you need to tread lightly in the days ahead. It would be quite disappointing to find your soul in my House of Hope prematurely.”

Raphael steadied Tav, supporting her with a stern grip on her shoulder. A grip that seemed to get tighter and tighter the more he spoke. Whatever Hellish magic Raphael used on Tav surely did the trick. She had some strength back and her chest no longer hurt, granted it wasn’t a lot, but it was hopefully enough to finish the job.

“And you are running dangerously low on soul coins. Do not be a fool. Once you’re through, our little agreement is over. Unless…” Raphael turned to face her, that smarmy smile returning to his lips. Oh, those cursed lips… ”you’d like to add a further clause to your contract, which I’m more th–”

Tav fell towards Raphael, going straight for his mouth in hopes of landing a nice juicy kiss. She nearly touched his lips too before Raphael pushed her head away. She stumbled, taking a moment to catch her balance from the whiplash. 

“Now is not the time for these blatant acts of affection!” Raphael’s voice lowered, threatening a growl. Tav snuck a look at Raphael, noticing his cheeks were more flushed than normal.

“Was worth a shot…” She found herself saying out loud. She’ll blame it on the head wound later.

Raphael cleared his throat, any previous signs of embarrassment disappearing from his face. He lifted his arm, pointing towards the wine casks in the centre of the room.

“Come out, come out… wherever you are…” Raphael sang.

Snap! 

“You bastard!” Auntie Ethel howled as Raphael released a rain of Hellfire upon her, instantly revealing her location. The wine casks exploded in unison behind the Hag, causing her to awkwardly tumble out of the way. 

“Dreadfully sorry, Ethel, old friend, it’s nothing personal but you are competition. A necessary consequence, I’m afraid….”  

The Hag’s body was still on fire as she charged towards Tav and Raphael, baring her jagged yellow teeth. Raphael snapped his fingers, teleporting them away to safety at the opposite side of the room. 

Raphael proceeded to give Tav a pat on the back, making her invisible. 

“Well go on…” Raphael nodded, tilting his head in the direction of the Hag. “Try and have some fun.” His tone sounded sincere initially, but there was just a hint of sarcasm in his inflection that made Tav clench her jaw in frustration. 

Tav couldn't help herself and stuck her tongue out at the Devil. He grinned, a small flame flickering dangerously in his eyes. She immediately felt incredibly small, and very stupid.

“Apologies but I must leave you, I have guests who are expecting my return at any moment." Raphael winked, giving Tav a ridiculous bow meant for a noblewoman. "Ta-ta, litte mouse. Until next time...” And with that, the Devil vanished like he had appeared, in a dramatic display of sparks and embers.

Tav wanted to scream, to tear her hair out, but she stopped herself, there was still a Hag to kill. At that moment, she truly regretted making the deal with Raphael. She’d give him an earful once this was done and dusted, that was for sure. Someone had to put that Devil in his place. Tav was so far down the hole she dug herself it would be pointless to stop now. It would all come back to bite her in the end, always did, knowing her luck. Or lack thereof. 

She tiptoed closer to Auntie Ethel, approaching her from behind. The Hag was panting, frantically searching the room for her. Tav moved slowly, mindful of any loose floorboards that might give her away. She held her arms out in front of her, fingers wide and palms facing forwards. Tav was within inches of the Hag now, so close she could spot all the horrid details of her rotted green flesh and the different fungi growing from her neck. 

The tips of Tav’s fingers glowed, mimicking the warm golden rays of the sun. She said her final blessings and took a deep breath. 

Gods, this better work. Or else she’d never hear the end of it from Raphael.

[senblades]

Hi :)

I love your art and your writing, and you have such a great grasp of these characters that I was wondering if you have any fic recs? Rating doesn't matter ;)

boy do I! (and ty for the compliment <3 <3 <3)

[cracks knuckles] alrighty:

The Dissapearence of Goro Akechi by Kupowonders - Probably my favourite fic ever, honestly- it's like. derailing the plot of persona 5 post-medjed thanks to the persona 4 accomplice ending years prior. (So, spoilers for p4 in that, too) it's. very good.

Marigolds by Colbub - Akechi gets ng+'ed to right when he started working for Shido, and has to take a good look at the future to come and be like "Aight how the fuck do I fix this". Fun times!

Daredevil, You've hit the wall by ez_cookie. Essentially, p5 Strikers but Sumire and Goro get to be in on the fun, too. And, there's a direct sequel currently being updated that's a similar premise for p5 Tactica. very very good stuff

A Tale of Two Tricksters by Zoe2k8 - Murder boyfriends! ...sort of? Angst! Angst and murder boyfriends! An oversimplification, obviously, but I'm not kidding when I say this fic is amazing and is also over a million words holy shit-

Throw away your mask by MollyPollyKinz - Another ng+ situation for Akechi, but this time the poor guy gets thrown all the way to 2009. You can imagine how well that goes (For the audience, less so for Akechi himself.)

The Crow Cries at Midnight by Dorked. hehe this one is very fun. Basically, a series of coincedencs causes Akechi to get thrown into the plot of persona 4. No time travel here! Just a grumpy 12/13 year-old Akechi trying to solve a murder mystery

The entire Tales of Chaos series by Eternalmomentss (The first one is called Like sand between your fingers) Very very good stuff! Something of a character study, I would say, of Ren and Goro. Plus, all the funky plot stuff that comes from trickster-typical bad luck and poor descision making. I really love this series hehe

uhh this post is getting very long I need to make this less wordy- lightning round?

Hunger for a life by Leonawriter - do you like vampires? I sure do! Mix that and the p5 plot and you get shenanigins. [evil laughter] a lot of shenanigins

Fishbowl by KivaEmber - Akechi has a terrible time in Maruki's reality. And I mean a terrible time

You have a beautiful smile underneath that mask by Saposaki - Akechi has a crush on Akira and Joker has a crush on Crow. No one is aware of the other's secret identity. Dramatic irony and hilarity ensues.

MASTERMiND by StumblingBlock - No Metaverse au where Akira really doesn't want to follow in the footsteps of his crime family, and fails miserably

Rose and Rot by SixteenJuniper - Read this!! I'm serious!! "A fun fantasy adventure" don't listen to Juniper. You'll be in tears by chapter two. (/pos, of course) (Seriously this fic is incredible)

Redressing the Balance by Convocated - ...almost a ng+? Ng+, in the sense that shuake are getting funky visions that are very quickly derailing the standard plot of p5r. This causes problems of the "Someone get the popcorn and maybe the tissues" variety

She's got a heartbeat full of lead (And she's aiming straight for the head) by Dots - This fic haunts me, often. In the best way possible, of course; but seriously, read it

Cracked into by SydneyHorses - Ren makes bad descisions and it becomes Akechi's problem. 2/2 timeloop, perhaps most notably featuring HaruGoro friendship! Love love love this fic

Okay that wasn't as "less wordy" as I intended but it'll do

Aaaand that's a wrap! Sorry for the long post.. and this is by no means all of the fics that I've ever loved (nor are the ones here in any particular order) but I swear we'll be here all week if I keep going HAHA

ty for the ask (and again for the kind words), anon! Hope this was helpful and to your tastes! (I... hope you like Shuake HAHA it's present in most of these- I assume you do, since you came to me (points at literally everything shuake I've made) of all people, but uh. Some of these fics are gen if it's not to your liking?)

[queenshelby]

Our Little Secret (Part 48)

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Age-Gap, Triggers, Smut

Later that night...

After a few drinks and some conversation with Sean, you couldn't help but feel a little bit of a connection. It was impossible not to, as he was telling you all about his life in a way that made you feel like you had known him for years.

You did not have much in common, but he was a good listener, and you liked his company. He was slightly awkward and nerdy , but there was something very endearing about it - a rare, untouched purity that you could sense in him.

"He is cute. You should take him home," your best friend Emma whispered into your ear after she had watched you two from afar, a sly grin spreading across her face. You had initially come to the bar with her and her friends, but as the night wore on, you found yourself drawn to Sean and she picked up on this immediately.

"Shh," you told her before she introduced herself to the stranger you met and were talking to without interfering with your attempts to flirt with him. 

You had always been a little bit shy when it came to conversations with strangers, so you were surprised at how easy it was to talk to Sean. Maybe it was the alcohol that made you more confident, but you didn't think that was the only reason.

"Ask him over, have some fun. You only ever been with Cillian so this might be good for you," Emma told you while Sean was ordering another round of drinks, her eyes sparkling mischievously.

You couldn't help but feel a blush creeping up your cheeks. Emma had a point - you had never really been with anyone else besides Cillian. He had been your first and only and you needed to explore and move on, no matter how daunting it felt. 

But then, there was something about Sean that made you feel at ease. Was it his green eyes or the awkward way he smiled? Either way, you found yourself nodding in agreement and Emma squealed in delight.

"Good for you," she cheered, patting your back. You grinned sheepishly before turning back to Sean. As if sensing your gaze, he looked up from the bar and caught your eye, which is when Emma nudged you forward, urging you to take the next step.

Taking a deep breath, you made your way over to the bar, helping him with the drinks before asking him whether he wanted to go back to your house for a nightcap after you finished your beers.  

"You want me to come to your house?" he asked innocently, and you smiled coyly at him, nodding affirmatively.

"Just for a bit of fun, no promises," you told him casually, catching him of guard. "I am not after a relationship or something, just something casual," you admitted honestly, causing Sean to smile and nod awkwardly. 

"Really? You want to take me home to have some fun?"  Sean asked, a hint of disbelief in his voice as, never before, he had been picked up in a nightclub before and you could see that there was something in his eyes that was weighing him down.

"Oh my god, I am so sorry. I am not usually that direct," you  said, blushing as you looked at Sean, hoping he wasn't offended.

"No, it's okay, really," he responded, a hint of a smile on his face. "I am just a bit surprised; you know. But, of course, I am not going to reject your proposition," Sean said, his eyes shining with a mix of excitement and nervousness. There was a pause before he asked: "So, uh, where do we go?"

"We will need to get a cab. I don't live in the city centre," you told him as you both quickly finished your drinks and excused yourselves from your respective friends. 

Outside the bar, you hailed a cab and gave the driver your address. The drive was about 20 minutes, and during that time, you could feel the tension building up between you and Sean.

You stole glances at him, observing his hands fidgeting in his lap or how he occasionally looked at you before quickly looking away.

As you paid the cab driver and stepped out of the car, you couldn't help but feel a mix of excitement and apprehension. You have never done anything like this before, bringing a stranger home for a one-night stand.

But tonight, you wanted to let loose, to experience something new and thrilling. And Sean seemed like the perfect candidate for that.

As you walked up to your front door, you tried to stifle the butterflies in your stomach, the anticipation rising as Sean followed you.

"Holy shit, do you live here by yourself?"  Sean asked, looking at the terrace building in front of him, which was located in one of Dublin's most expensive suburbs. 

"Yes, well, no. My daughter lives here too, obviously, but she is with her father for the night," you told him  , unlocking the door and stepping inside. You glanced back at Sean, who looked impressed by the high-end decor.

"Fuck that's a nice place," he commented, taking in the modern furniture and designer touches scattered throughout the living room. "Didn't you say you were a student?" he asked, looking around the living room.

"Yes, that's right," you responded, slightly amused by his reaction to your house.

"But you live here all by yourself with your daughter?" Sean asked, furrowing his brow.

"Yes," you explained, fighting the urge to feel self-conscious about your arrangement with Cillian, which was something you did not want to delve into.

"Wow," he said, his eyes wide as he took in the opulent surroundings.

"Come on, let's go into the living room," you suggested. As you walked into the room, you motioned for Sean to take a seat on the plush sofa while you poured yourself a glass of wine from the open bottle on the coffee table. "Do you like wine?" you asked, turning to Sean.

"Uhm, not really," he replied, hesitantly. "But I am not really thirsty." 

You chuckled at his response, thinking to yourself that you might have to introduce him to the wonderful world of wine at a later date. But, for now, the only thing on your mind was getting close to him.

You sat down next to him on the sofa, taking a sip of your wine and watching as he nervously fidgeted in his seat.

"So, uhm, should I, uhm, kiss you or something" Sean asked, suddenly biting his bottom lip, as if realizing how forward he was being.

You chuckled at his nerves, reaching out to brush your fingers gently against his cheek before pulling him close to you. 

"Yes, I think that might be a good idea," you whispered, your lips hovering just above his.

Sean hesitated for a moment before he leaned forward the rest of the way, capturing your lips in a soft kiss.

Unlike Cillian though, who was the only man you had ever kissed before now, Sean was not experienced. He was a little clumsy even and shy, as if he was overthinking every little movement he made. But, at the same time, there was a sweetness to his kiss that made you feel special.

"Do you want me to take off my dress?" you asked him, already starting to undo the zipper on the back before standing up and letting it fall to the ground, leaving you in nothing but a black lingerie piece which was conveniently covering the scar on your stomach. 

"Holy shit ," Sean muttered, his eyes widening in surprise as he saw you standing in front of him, completely naked except for the lingerie. "You are hot," he said, a hint of awe in his voice.

You felt yourself blushing slightly, embarrassed by his praise. But, at the same time, you couldn't help but feel a sense of satisfaction at his reaction. You had put a lot of effort into your appearance, taking extra care with your hair and makeup before leaving the house. It was nice to know that it had paid off.

"Thank you," you smirked before straddling him. You then began to unbutton  his shirt, revealing a muscular physique underneath.

As he laid back against the couch, you started kissing his neck and 

shoulder, tracing patterns with your tongue and fingertips. A faint tremor ran through his body, and a quiet moan escaped Sean's lips.

"You are so hard already," you  whispered, impressed by his response. You guided his hands to your breasts, encouraging him to touch you. He hesitated briefly before his fingers gently cupped your curves.

"Do you like that?" he asked, looking into your eyes, seeking approval.

"Yes, don't stop. Keep touching me," you urged, biting your lower lip as you leaned in to kiss him again. The room was filled with the sound of heavy breathing and soft moans as you moved against each other.

Sean's hands were roaming all over your body, exploring every inch of your skin as he traced his fingers along your curves. His touch was gentle yet passionate.

"Let's go upstairs, to my bedroom," you  whispered in his ear, feeling his heartbeat quicken as you spoke the words.

He nodded, and you stood up, offering your hand to him, pulling him to his feet.

You led him upstairs to your bedroom, which was neatly decorated in soft colors, featuring elegant furniture pieces and a huge king-size bed in the center.

The room was dimly lit, and you immediately pulled Sean towards you for a kiss before unbuckling his belt.

"Let me see you," you told him as you unzipped  his pants, encouraging him to take off the rest of his clothes while you stood there, watching him, admiring his muscular shoulders and slender hips.

As he slid out of his jeans and took off his already open shirt, you couldn't help but feel a little shiver of excitement. He was toned, and there was something very attractive about his physique, even though you weren't particularly drawn to muscly men.

"You are so sculpted," you whispered appreciatively, running your fingers along his defined chest and abs.

"I am trying to be,"  he said, smiling bashfully. "I work out a lot."

You chuckled at his response, leaning in to kiss him again.

"Take off your briefs," you urged him, reaching down to unhook your bra for him. You let it slip off your shoulders and down your arms, your breasts spilling free.

Sean's breathing hitched as he looked at you, taking in the sight of your bare chest. You could sense the anticipation building between both of you, and you felt butterflies in your stomach as Sean tentatively reached out to touch you.

His touch was hesitant at first, but it quickly became more confident as he explored your body with his hands. The feel of his fingers softly brushing against your skin was incredibly arousing, and you moaned softly in response.

Eventually, he pushed down his briefs as you had requested, and you sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of his arousal. 

He was only the second man you had ever seen like this before, but this did not deter you , and somehow, it made the whole experience even more exciting.

Sinking to your knees, you  took him in your hand and then leaned in to place a soft, open-mouthed kiss at the tip of his arousal. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, watching as his mouth dropped open in surprise and a deep groan rumbled from his chest at the contact.

Emboldened, you continued to tease him, licking and sucking at the tip before taking him further into your mouth, your head bobbing up and down in a steady rhythm until, suddenly, he stopped you.

"I can't. I won't last if you keep doing that," Sean gasped, gritting his teeth after as a little as a minute of you teasing him .

You smirked at his response, slowly pulling back and standing up to face him. "I take it you like that?" you asked, raising an eyebrow and biting your lower lip as you took in the sight of him.

He nodded, unable to speak, his breathing heavy and ragged. You could tell that he was close to losing control, and you felt a thrill of excitement at the realization.

Without warning, you pushed him back onto the bed, climbing on top of him as you continued to explore his body with your hands.

You could feel his arousal growing harder under you, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of power at the effect you had on him.

"God, you're so gorgeous," Sean murmured, reaching up to brush a lock of hair away from your face. His fingers lightly traced the curves of your jaw, and you couldn't help but lean into his touch, closing your eyes for a moment as you savored the sensation.

"I want you," you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear and Sean nodded awkwardly.

"Okay, but maybe I should, you know, kiss you first down there ?" he asked nervously, his hands hesitating just above your hips, and you realized that he was struggling to contain himself.

"If you want to, sure," you nodded before wiggling out of your panties, tossing them to the side. As you both lay there, staring at each other, the silence in the room became heavy.

"You seem nervous," you finally broke the silence, your body trembling slightly.

"I am a little, but I want to make this special for you," Sean answered, stroking your thigh gently.

Your eyes locked on his green ones, becoming lost in their depths as he spoke. A faint smile touched your lips as you felt his hand drift lower, finally landing on the wetness between your legs.

"God, you're so wet," he murmured, his voice husky with arousal as his fingers began to explore the slickness and instinctively, you arched your back, urging him to go further.

Sean seemed to understand your unspoken request, and without hesitation, he gently eased a finger inside you. Your inner walls tightened around him, welcoming the intrusion as he began to move his finger in and out with a steady rhythm.

He then trailed kisses down your body until he reached the wetness between your legs with his mouth, teasing you with the tip of his tongue, but somehow missing your clit.

You tried to stifle your disappointment, lifting your hips towards him, encouraging his tongue to find its way but, again, he seemed to be overthinking and, after a frustrating amount of awkward furtive kisses and explorations, he sluggishly pressed his face against your heat.

You tried to adjust your position, trying to gain the friction you needed, but his movements were too slow and deliberate, almost robotic and you knew you had to put an end to this soon.

You had to think about how to fake an orgasm, and so you decided to close your eyes and pretend to arch your back involuntarily, letting out a moan to make it seem like you were getting close to climaxing.

"Oh fuck," you moaned, trying to make it sound believable, giving Sean an Oscar worthy performance of pure ecstasy.

"I am coming, that's it," you whispered, clenching your fists as you faked it - keeping your body tensed and eyes shut tight, while making your breath sound labored. 

Sean seemed relieved and thrilled with himself as he pulled away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand while giving you a proud look and you opened your eyes, smiling at him contently, thinking that, surely, the main act would be much more pleasurable than that. 

"Do you, uhm, have a condom?" he  asked, his eyes wide with a mix of arousal and uncertainty.

You nodded, still reeling from the intensity of your performance as you reached into the bedside table drawer, pulling out a condom.

Sean took it from you, tearing open the package with his teeth before rolling it down over his erection.

He then positioned himself above you, his green eyes meeting yours as he gently pushed inside.

You gasped at the sudden intrusion, but you quickly adapted to the feeling of him inside of you.

"You feel so tight," Sean murmured, his eyes glazing over with pleasure as he began to rock his hips against yours.

You wrapped your legs around Sean's hips, pulling him closer as the sensations built inside of you.

He was different from Cillian, almost too gentle and measured, but you tried your best to enjoy the experience regardless.

"Harder," you urged, arching your hips against him, hoping to get a reaction.

Sean hesitated but, after a brief moment of doubt, he increased his pace, driving deeper into you with every thrust.

"Fuck, you feel incredible," he groaned, his voice low and strained with pleasure.

You closed your eyes, focusing on the feeling of him inside you, trying to forget about the fact that you had to fake an orgasm earlier.

You moaned, encouraging him to keep going, but it felt  like something was missing. The sensations building inside of you were nothing like when you were with Cillian and it was difficult to match the feeling to the one you knew so well.

"Don't stop," you urged, wrapping your legs around Sean's hips, pulling him closer to you, hoping that the friction would be enough to bring you to the edge, but it didn't.

"Let me go on top," you suggested, feeling a rush of disappointment, but unsure of what else to do. "I want to ride you, please," you told him and the sheer mention of it excited him.

He carefully pulled out and moved aside, then you climbed on top of him.

You reached down and guided him back inside of you, letting out a low moan at the feeling of him filling you up once again.

Rocking your hips, you began to move against him, quickly finding a rhythm that was pleasurable but, before you could force yourself to orgasm, he lost control.  An explosion of ecstasy washed over his features as he jerked, gripping your waist tightly before his muscles weakened, collapsing against the bed. You stopped moving and indulged in the sight of him as he spent himself.

"Oh my god, I can't believe that just happened," he managed to stutter between gasps, collapsing against the bed. You giggled indulgently, stroking his damp hair as he lay there in recovery, amused by his reaction after his proclamation of wanting to make the experience special for you.

"Listen, it's fine, really. It was fun," you told him softly, brushing a strand of hair out of his face as you spoke. "Despite, you already made me cum, and I can't usually cum more than once, so it was great, really," you lied  , hoping he wouldn't catch on.

Sean nodded, still panting slightly as he caught his breath. He looked relaxed and contented as he gazed up at you, but there was something in his eyes that made you think he knew the truth, despite your attempt to cover it up.

"You know I could go again in an hour or so, make it up to you," he offered, stroking your thigh lovingly.

"I think that we should get some sleep and revisit this in the morning instead," you suggested, slowly pulling away from him.

You stood up, grabbing your discarded clothes from the floor before walking into the en-suite bathroom to clean yourself up.

When you finally emerged from the room, Sean was already fast asleep, his body sprawled out on top of the bedsheets, looking even more handsome and at peace than he had before.

You couldn't help but smile at the sight of him, feeling a pang of guilt for having to fake your orgasm earlier. You had never done that before, and it had felt like a betrayal. But, at the same time, you had been too embarrassed to say anything, too afraid of hurting Sean's feelings.

Quietly, you made your way to the kitchen, seeking solace in a cup of hot tea. You sat there for what seemed like an eternity, lost in your thoughts as you tried to make sense of what had happened before, eventually, joining Sean in bed.

As the minutes ticked by, your eyelids grew heavy, and you eventually succumbed to the darkness.

When you woke up a few hours later, the gentle sunlight was streaming through the cracks in the curtains, casting a warm glow over the room.

Sean was still fast asleep, but you couldn't stay in bed much longer and made your way to the bathroom to have a shower.

The water felt refreshing on your skin as you stood under the showerhead, letting it wash over you, away from the lingering smell of sex.

As you stepped out of the shower, you wrapped a towel around your body and took a moment to catch your breath. For a fleeting second, you wished that Cillian was here instead of Sean, but quickly suppressed the thoughts and turned your attention to the task at hand.

Stepping out of the bathroom, you walked quietly back into the bedroom but found that Sean had gone, but his pants hadn't. They were still lying on the bedroom floor.

You then heard some voices coming from downstairs and when realized that it was Cillian talking to Sean, you heart sank.

Minutes earlier...

Hearing the doorbell ring, not once, but twice, Sean was woken up from a deep slumber. Rubbing his eyes and yawning, he climbed out of bed, now clad only in his boxers, looking for you. 

"Y/N?" he called out as the doorbell rang again, growing a little more frantic as Sean kept on looking for you upstairs. 

When he realized that you were in the shower, he decided to walk downstairs to answer the door.

When he opened the door slightly so that he could poke his head out without revealing his half-naked body, Seam saw a familiar looking person standing there on the doorstep.

"Holy shit," Sean muttered, rubbing his eyes again, wondering whether he was still dreaming. "You look like the dude from that movie, Oppenheimer," he said tentatively, not realizing that he had already said it aloud while Cillian pulled open the door further, fixing the younger man with a stern look.

"Excuse me?" he asked, his eyebrow arching high up on his forehead as he looked Sean up and down with a critical eye. 

"Uh, yeah, you know, the actor from that movie about the atomic bomb that won a shit ton of Oscars this year?" Sean replied lamely, not quite sure why he had said that.

"Yeah, that is me," Cillian said, his face expressing puzzlement. "But who the fuck are you?"  Cillian asked, his voice clipped and impatient.

Tags:

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[x-liv25-jamieswife]

can i request hawthorne headcannons pls :)

hawthorne brothers head canons

hi! i think by this you mean hawthorne brothers so thats what im gonna do, but if you wanted smth else, feel free to request it. @ariscats helped with this one. hope you like them <3.

they absolutely love watching friends together. growing up, every friday night, they'd all make time to get together and watch a few episodes. avery, libby, and max joined their watch parties after ave inherited the money.

when they were kids, they once fought over which brother was the best. they all ended up making powerpoints about it and presenting them to each other (xander ended up winning bc he came up with some really fucking smart shit).

xander used to invite his brothers for tea parties at their treehouse. jamie, gray, and nash knew this meant a lot to xander so they always showed up even when they didn't want to.

xander once made his brothers sit through an entire speech where he just ranted about his favorite book boyfriends.

xander buys all of his brothers flowers every once in a while bc boys deserve to get flowers too.

jameson is usually the one who planned each other brother's birthday parties. whenever other people try to plan it, he comes in, says that his brothers deserve smth big and extragavant, kicks everyone out, and does it himself (no he doesn't end up pranking them. he genuinely comes up with things he knows his brothers would like and stuff)

we all know they have a 911, but they also have something called he 119 (or idk anything works) which they can use as many times as they want and its to tell their brothers that they wish to be alone.

for this to make sense, i hc that jameson loves the wear jewelry (rings, chain necklaces, etc). for jamie's 16th birthday, all of his brothers got him a customized ring with their initials engraved on the inside alongside 'i love you'. its quite simple for a hawthorne gift, but it meant a lot to him (bc tobias convinced him he's worthless) and it's now become his favorite ring (he never takes it off)

grayson's favorite painting he's made is a painting of all of his brothers at the beach having fun in the water. the picture he based himself off of to make the painting dated from before things went to shit with emily which is one of the reasons he loves the painting so much.

they always tease nash bc he's the shortest. sometimes he'll be getting smth off of a shelf (which he can reach perfectly fine), and xander or one of the others will pop up and be like 'let us help you, brother, we know you can't reach high places by yourself'

for halloween, one year, the three youngest ones dressed up as alvin and the chipmunks and nash dressed up as the old man who takes care of them in the movie (i forgot his name)

grayson had a phase where he hated taylor swift and nash and xander (even jameson) were horrified. they spent weeks converting him into a swiftie and it worked. gray is now ashamed of his taylor hater era.

when avery and jameson were in their like friends with benefits era in the hawthorne legacy, nash and xander would not leave him alone. they'd constantly be like 'you dumb fuck, you obviously have feelings for her' and he'd be like 'nah yall are crazy' (grayson was too busy ignoring his feelings)

jameson and grayson used to want to celebrate their birthdays at the same time (like one half of the house was decorated for jamie and the other for gray for two days) when they were younger, but, after emily started tearing them apart, they started to distance themselves from one another and stopped celebrating their bdays together (i think it was mentioned in tbh that they hated having their bdays so close to one another but im choosing to ignore that). for jamie's 20th bday (and gray's 21st), they decided to celebrate together again and xander and nash cried.

xander, jamie, and gray once found nash grinding against a pole (basically pole dancing) to i can fix him (no really i can) by taylor swift. they filmed it and sent the video to libby. they now play it at every single one of his bdays (and his wedding).

gray, xander, and nash filmed jamie a video for his birthday where they just yapped about how amazing he is and how much they love him. jameson managed to keep it together until he went up to his room for the night and started sobbing. his brothers found him and tried to comfort him. that entire day is like a core memory for them.

so this is a libby hc but my moot came up with it and i just couldn't not include it. avery and jameson are libby and nash's first kid's god parents. the kid is named sarah after what libby knew avery's mom as. even after she found out it wasn't her real name, she couldn'y bring herself to change her mind bc she decided on this name when she was nine. anyways, all of the brothers (and avery and max) will babysit the kid and gift her the loudest toys in existence just to piss of nash and libby.

when jamie started to self-destruct after emily, xander and him started to drift apart (they were very very close before it). they used to hang out all of the time, but, after emily, didn't really speak for almost a year. this is one of the reasons why xander accepted tobias request when he asked him to overlook the games in tig. he thought it would be an opportunity to get closer with jameson again.

when they were younger (not nash bc he was older), the youngest ones used to have a color for gifts if that makes sense. like all of jamie's gifts would be green, gray's would be grey, and xander's would be red (he gives off red energy). no one explicitly said they wanted the color, but it sort of just became a thing.

there's a dumb song in how i met your mother called nothing suits me like a suit. jamie and xander made it gray's ring tone (for calls, alarms, etc), and xan programmed it in a way that makes it impossible for gray to change it (only xan can).

[vodika-vibes]

Hey, congrats! For your 650+ follower event, could you do a Modern AU where the Reader is a popular music artist/dancer. But she's like a really down to earth person that if you met her randomly on the street you wouldn't guess that she was famous (she personally hates the fame). Well one day, she starts getting texts from an unknown number and also starts getting letters as well(she basically has a creepy fan stalker). Her agent then decideds to hire Hunter to be readers bodyguard. Then when they start getting close to one another Hunter realizes that the reason he's protecting reader may not be because it's his job...

Maybe you could also have Hunter and Reader show off their tattos?(Reader has a tattoo of vines and flowers that trails down her arm, music notes on her thigh and a big butterfly on her back)

Could it also be fairly long, if you can.

Sorry if it's a big ask, I have a LOT of ideas.

Fields Of Gold

Summary: You’ve been singing and dancing for your whole life, it’s what makes you happy. You never expected, or even wanted, fame or fortune for it. Parental pressure, mixed with getting scouted by an agent, meant you got both despite your desires. And then the stalker comes out of the woodwork, and you start to think, maybe you made a mistake.

Pairing: TBB Hunter x F!Reader

Word Count: 4085

Warnings: Stalking, murder, animal death

Prompt: Modern AU

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly @clonethirstingisreal

A/N: So, I made the choice to leave this without a definitive ending, because I like the way that it feels. I hope you like it anyway. The reader is a pop star who goes by the stage name Galactic Mint (it's a MAC lipstick color). And the title was the song that I was listening to when I started writing it.

You’ve always loved to dance.

Your mother likes to tell the story of when you were an infant, and how you would wiggle along with the music before you could even walk and talk. She’d tell the story of you learning to dance as a toddler and all you could do was bounce along with the music, rather than proper dancing.

It only made sense, then, that as soon as you were old enough your mother signed you up for baby ballet.

As you grew, and became more coordinated, more styles opened up to you. From tap dancing to hip-hop, from belly dancing to salsa dancing. You learned them all and you loved them all.

You never wanted fame or fortune. You just wanted to dance. To be able to feel the music down to your bones and move along with it.

But when you were 14 and your mother suggested voice lessons to go along with your dance lessons, you couldn’t help but agree. Especially when she said that she wouldn’t pay for any more dance lessons if you didn’t also take singing lessons.

So you did.

And you were good at it.

You were the only one surprised when an Agent reached out to you.

And you were the only one surprised when you were offered a record deal.

At barely 15 years old, you released a hit pop song called Gumball, and you were launched into stardom. You had someone who styled your hair, someone else who did your make-up. You had a stylist who picked out your everyday clothes, and another one who designed your concert outfits. You had private tutors for every subject.

You had an agent, a lawyer, an accountant, a team of bodyguards, a personal trainer, and a personal nutritionist. 

You didn’t have any friends, though.

It was a very lonely childhood.

You couldn’t go to the arcade to play video games, you couldn’t go to the mall, you couldn’t go to the movies. All you could do was live in the mansion your parents picked out, the mansion you paid for, and travel in the trailer that your parents also picked out.

And, privately, you hated it.

Hated the concerts, hated the singing, hated having people pawing at your hair and your body. Hated them telling you that you couldn’t have pizza or ice cream because it might ruin your body.

You hated the skin-tight leotards that they dressed you in for concerts. And you hated the caked-on pastel make-up as well as the synthetic wigs you had to wear for public appearances. 

You hated the tight clothes your stylist dressed you in, the mini-skirts and short-shorts and heels—

The day you turned 18, you fired all of them. 

Your manager, your nutritionist, your stylist, your hairdresser, your make-up artist. All of them.

You had your lawyer kick your family out of your home, had the courts order your family to pay you back for all of the money they took from you since you were a teenager, and then, when they tried to fight back, you completely disowned them and got a restraining order against them.

At the age of 18, you completely reinvented yourself. 

Oh, sure, you still made pop music, but you moved away from the pastel preteen look that everyone had been shoving you into and into a more adult style. 

And you thrived.

You sang songs of love, of loss, of betrayal. Your concerts, where you used to have to focus on singing, gained more and more energy as suddenly you were able to dance to your music.

Suddenly you were happy, and your fans could tell.

And they loved it.

However, there is a downside to being so famous.

The first letter arrives shortly after your 22nd birthday. 

Now, at this point, you’ve been a popstar for seven years, you’re no stranger to letters and gifts from your fans. You’ve even received creepy letters before, letters from adult men who thought that you were singing to them. 

But there is something different about this letter. Different enough that you bring it to your manager, who hands it over to your security team. 

And then the second letter arrives a week later. And a third one two days after that.

All of them are surrendered to your security team before you even read them.

The fourth letter arrives the very next day, attached to a box. The envelope is empty, but inside the box is a sheep’s head.

You don’t see it, luckily.

Your manager does though, and he puts his foot down. He calls the police, who call in the feds, and after one of the feds points out that this is a clear escalation, and that you’re in danger, your manager starts looking for a personal guard for you.

And then the phone calls start.

Verbal threats against you, against the people who work with you, against the concert venues coming up, against the people who attend the concerts—

You’re sitting in your kitchen, your head buried in your hands as you stare at a list of concert venues that have active threats against them. Active threats against them because of you, when your manager invites himself into your home.

“You’re not thinking of canceling the concert dates, are you?” He asks from the doorway to the kitchen.

“Don’t we have a responsibility to my fans?” You counter without lifting your head, “If I don’t cancel and someone gets hurt, won’t that be on me?”

“What do the feds say?” He asks.

“That I’m not responsible for the actions of other people.” You say, “That they’ve put word out to the venues, and that they’ll have security all over the place if I decide to go through with it.”

“Well, it sounds like they know what they’re doing.”

You sigh and drop your hands to the table, “Why are you here, Miles?”

“I found you a personal bodyguard,” Miles says proudly.

“I have a personal bodyguard,” You counter, “They’re all over the place. I can’t walk five feet without tripping over one of them.”

“You’re right, but they’re stretched thin. So this,” Miles gestures to the side and a man steps into the kitchen, “is Hunter.”

You lean back in your seat and stare at him. He’s tall and broad-shouldered, with shoulder-length brown hair and a skull tattooed over half his face. “Nice to meet you.” You greet politely.

“Ma’am,” He nods once and then steps further into the room, and you watch as he scans the kitchen, “Your manager has hired my team to be your guard.” He says focusing his intense gaze on your face, “Two of my brothers, Tech and Wrecker, are coordinating with the Federal Agents, while my other two brothers, Echo and Crosshair, are working with the guards who already work here. We’re hoping to close any holes that might remain.”

“Well, I appreciate that.” You reply.

Hunter nods once, “May I ask you some questions?”

“If you like.”

Hunter nods and crosses the room to sit across from you, pulling a notebook from the pocket of his jacket as he sits, “How long have you known the men and women of your security team?”

“Since I was 14.”

“Your parents hired them?”

“No. My agent.”

Hunter nods, “According to the profile I have on you, you’ve disowned your parents? Could they have something to do with this?”

“I guess it’s possible, but you’d have to ask the agents about that.”

Hunter makes a note in his notebook, “Any ex-boyfriends or girlfriends I should know about?”

“None.”

“Friends?”

“I’ve been a pop star since I was 14 years old, Hunter. I didn’t go to school or have friends. I just worked.”

“Sounds lonely.”

You just shrug.

“Your Manager gave me a layout of your home. I noticed that all of the glass is both bulletproof and mirrored?”

“That’s right.”

“May I ask why?”

“I got tired of people taking pictures of me making breakfast.”

“People take pictures often?”

“Popstar.”

“You got any names?”

“I don’t, my security might.”

“Alright.” He closes the notebook, “Can I get a tour?”

“Yeah, of course.” You stand and gesture vaguely, “This is the kitchen, there’s a door there,” You point to a hidden door, “Leads to the basement.”

“Anything in there?”

“Not really. Some shelves, my winter clothes, some of my old costumes and wigs, but that’s it.” You pause, “There’s no other entrance into the basement either.”

Hunter nods and makes a note on the map he pulled out of his notebook, “Alright, can I go down there?”

“Yeah.” You open the door to the basement, “I’m not sure what you’re looking for. The Agents already did all of this.”

“Just checking behind them, that’s all.”

You watch as Hunter goes down into the basement, and walks around for a moment, making notes on the map in his hands, before he heads back up.

“This place is single-level, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Can I see the bedroom?”

“Yeah, follow me.” You lead him through the house, pointing out different places, until you push open the bedroom door. “This is my room. The windows are the same as the ones in the kitchen.”

Hunter nods, “Less in here, too.”

“I didn’t feel comfortable sleeping in a room covered in windows.” You explain.

“Smart.” Hunter walks the room and makes some notes on the map, before heading back to you, “So, all things considered, your home—” He stops when there’s the sound of glass splintering. 

Your gaze darts to one of your windows, which is now covered in spiderweb-like cracks that indicate that someone tried to break it. Hunter ushers you out of the bedroom, practically tackling you into the hallway, and he presses you against the wall as he fishes his phone out of his pocket and presses it against his ear.

You listen as Hunter rattles off some information and then hangs up the phone.

“We’re going to stay put right here, just until my brothers can make sure that no one else is going to take a pot-shot at us,” Hunter says reassuringly. 

“I just don’t understand why anyone would want to hurt me,” You admit as you curl your trembling hands around the hem of your shirt, “I’ve never hurt anyone.”

“You can’t attach logic to someone like this.” Hunter explains, “He’s crazy, that’s all there is to it.” His phone rings and he answers it before the first ring ends, “Yeah?”

Hunter listens to the other man on the phone, and then he sighs.

“Of course he did. Don’t worry about it, keep your eyes open. We’re going to have to move the primary.” He glances at you, “I’ll take care of it.” He hangs up and slides his phone into his jacket pocket.

“What?”

“My brothers and the federal agents found a snipe rifle on the hill.”

“Sniper?” You ask in disbelief.

“Afraid so. Is there anyplace else you can go?”

“No. Nowhere.”

Hunter stares at you for long enough that you shift uncomfortably, “Alright. I think I have an idea.”

“You do?”

“Yeah. But you kind of stand out a little.”

You blink at him and then look down at yourself, “I mean, I can change into other clothes?”

“Do that. Carefully.” 

You nod and slip back into the bedroom, and then into your closet. Immediately you slip out of the uncomfortable clothes that your stylist encourages you to wear, and you tug the wig off your head. 

You change your clothes into a pair of loose jeans and a teeshirt covered in cats. Then you pull the pins out of your hair as well as remove the braid, allowing your hair to tumble around your shoulders. 

The last thing you do is pull a sweatshirt from your college over your shirt, hiding the intricate tattoos that decorate your arm. And you grab a matching hat and hurry back into the hallway, “Okay. How’s this?”

Hunter blinks at you, twice, “Aren’t you supposed to be a redhead?”

“Wig.”

“Huh. You know, if I hadn’t seen you go inside, I wouldn’t have recognized you at all.”

“The clothing that I prefer doesn’t go along with the whole popstar thing.” You admit sheepishly, “And the wig is because I was told that my natural color is boring.”

“Well, it’s a good thing that you’re so different from the you that the rest of the world knows. That means my plan might work.” Hunter motions for you to follow him, “Your manager said that I could park my car in your garage.”

“Well, yeah. It’s not like I can drive.”

“Right. Well, here’s my plan. You and I are going to go and hide out on the Marauder.”

“What’s the Marauder?”

“A ship. My ship. It’s not large, but you’ll be safe.” Hunter replies as he leads you into the garage, “Put the hat on. You’ll be sitting in the front seat.”

“Uhm…”

“Nervous.”

“Someone is trying to kill me.”

Hunter smiles at you and lightly presses his hand against your shoulder, “I’m not going to let that happen.”

Somehow, amazingly, you believe him.

Two weeks later, Hunter is sitting at the helm of the Marauder, a frown pulling down his lips. 

The situation has gotten worse. Far worse.

The stalker has turned into a murderer, having killed three women who look like the pop star. Well, how the public sees her, at least.

He hasn’t told her yet.

By this point, he knows her well enough to know that the knowledge that three women died because they looked like her would torture her.

“Hunter?”

“Yeah, I’m still here, Tech.”

“Good. What do you think?”

“I’m not sure, vod. What do the Feds think?”

“One of them wants you to bring her back, so they can use her as bait.”

“Tell me you told them that that’s not going to happen.”

“Oh yes. Crosshair was very specific about that.”

“Good.”

There’s silence for a moment, and then Tech speaks again, “I called in Phee for some help. And Echo called in Fives.”

“Yeah? They helping?”

“Fives has brought some interesting insight into the stalker’s mind. He is quite the talented profiler.” Tech replies, “Phee is doing some digging of her own, though I’m not sure what she is looking into.”

“What do you think, Tech? Gut reaction.”

“You know I do not operate that way.” Tech chides his older brother, “However, there is something strange about one of the Agents. So I have started looking into him.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes. I will let you know what I learn.”

“Be careful, don’t go anywhere without Wrecker or Crosshair.” Hunter pauses, at the sound of movement below deck, “Listen, I have to go.”

“I will be as careful as I can. Tech out.”

The call disconnects, and Hunter sighs as he drops the phone back on the table. There’s the sound of light footsteps, and he turns as the bridge door opens, “Morning, Sunshine.” 

“Good morning,” She replies, a small smile on her face. The scent of sunblock fills the small room, “Everything alright?”

“Yeah. Just talking to Tech.” Hunter pauses, “I’m afraid we can’t return to shore just yet.”

“Well, that’s okay. I think I’m finally starting to develop my sea legs.”

Hunter laughs, “Well, you haven’t fallen yet today, but it’s still early.”

She huffs, “Rude.”

Hunter just grins at her, “So, what’s your plan for today?”

“Mm, maybe I’ll continue working on my next song.” She replies thoughtfully, “But I haven’t decided yet.”

Hunter shifts in his seat, “Let me ask you a question, Sunshine.”

“What’s up?”

“Do you even like singing?”

“I…” She hesitates, “I like dancing. The singing is…well, I can take it or leave it.”

“If you’re not happy, then why don’t you stop?”

“...I’ve been singing since I was a teenager. I grew up in front of cameras. What else can I do?”

“You could teach dancing.”

“Yeah, maybe.” She shrugs and drops into the seat across from him, “I dunno, though. I mean, sure, I have a degree but it’s a General Education degree. And I wouldn’t want people to come to learn from me simply because of who I am.”

“Look, if you don’t like your job, then quit.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Why not?”

“Well, there’s a contract, for one. And, for another…I dunno. Change is scary, I guess.”

Hunter stares at her for a moment, and he smiles. “You know. You don’t look anything like the woman who performs on stage.”

“Makeup is the great equalizer.” She jokes.

“I think you’re much prettier like this. Without all of the makeup and the wigs.”

She laughs softly and averts her gaze for a moment, and then her gaze locks with his, “Well. You’d be alone in thinking that.”

“Come on, man. I’ve been told since I was a teenager that I’m not good enough as I am.” She shrugs, “You hear something enough times, and you start to think it about yourself, right?”

“You know. I think I hate your parents.”

Her head falls back as she laughs, “Have you seen some of the outfits they okayed for me when I was still a kid? My stylist dressed me like a porn star.”

Hunter grins at her, “And when did you get those? The tattoos.”

“The first one was when I was 18. After the court cases were over. And then another one at 19, and my back piece was finished shortly before I turned 20.” She says as she holds out her arm so he's able to see the vines and flowers, next to the musical notes on her leg.

“A backpiece, huh?”

“A butterfly." She explains, "What about you? When did you get yours.”

“19. All of them at 19.”

“All of them? The face one is obvious, but you have more?”

“Oh yeah. I was a dumb kid and went all in on the skeleton thing.” Hunter replies with a grin, “It goes all the way down.”

“No way.”

“Way.”

“Your artist didn’t try to talk you out of it?” She asks.

“Oh, he tried. He’s also an older brother, so he didn’t try all that hard.”

“How many brothers do you have?”

“A lot. There’s so many of us.” Hunter stands and heads to the door, “Come on, sunshine. Let’s work on your knots.”

“Ugh. Not more knots.”

“Yup. You gotta learn.”

“Fiiiine.” She sighs as she gets to her feet, “But I want to see your chest tattoo.”

“Only if I can get a look at your tattoos.”

“Deal.”

Hunter leads her to where the rope is located and gets her started on her knots before he leans back and watches her. She’s, actually, very talented. His sunshine has deft fingers, and a good memory.

She’d make a good deckhand. 

Plus, in her own words, she’s not very happy with the lack of privacy that comes with being a pop star. She does it because she feels like she has no choice.

Also, she’s cute and he likes looking at her. 

Watching the “Pop Musical Sensation Galatic Mint” shed her skin and turn into a normal woman, with normal likes and dislikes, has been eye-opening.

Watching her fold back into her shell will be heartbreaking.

“What?”

“Hm?”

She’s staring at him, her head tilted to the side, “You’re staring.”

“You’re pretty. Very starable.”

“Come on, Hunter.”

He laughs, “I’m being honest, but I’m also thinking.”

“Yeah?”

“You’re pretty good at this. You’d be welcome on my crew if you wanted a place.”

“What? Give up the glitz and glam for a life on a ship?”

“You hate the glitz and glam.”

“Well, you’re not wrong about that.” She admits.

“I need to tell you something,” Hunter says, “Something I should have told you earlier.”

She paused mid-knot, “What’s wrong?”

“Your stalker,” Hunter says slowly, “He’s escalating.”

“Well, yeah. That’s what the Federal Agents said when the sheep head was sent to my home.” She replies, “And the attempted assassination—”

“He’s murdered three women.”

“...what?”

“Women who look like you.” Hunter says, “Well, who look like you when you perform, at least.”

“Oh my god,” 

“Listen, this isn’t your fault.”

“But if I hadn’t left—”

“Then you’d probably be dead now.”

She stares at him and sets the rope on the table, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to stress about it.” Hunter admits, he reaches across the table and takes your hand in his, “Listen. My brothers have called in a profiler and someone else to help them. They think they’re getting close now.”

She doesn’t say anything for a moment, “I’m going to have to retire from performing.”

“Sunshine—”

“Women are dying. Because of me.”

“No.”

“Yes, Hunter. I might not be killing them, but they are dying because of me.” She squeezes his hand, “How am I supposed to live with that?”

“I don’t know. But you’re going to have to.” Hunter says quietly.

“Do you blame me?”

“Never.”

“But—”

He squeezes her hands and she trails off, “Listen to me. You could have shot them yourself, and I still wouldn’t blame you, okay?”

“That would…definitely be my fault then, Hunter.”

“You would have had good reason, I’m sure.”

She laughs weakly, “You’re a good man, Hunter.”

“Not that good.”

“No, you are.” She smiles at him weakly, “Um…I’m not really feeling being social. Do you mind if I just hang out below deck today?”

“Of course not.”

She gently pulls her hands from his grasp and gets to her feet, and then she drops a light kiss on his cheek, “Thank you, Hunter.”

“For what?”

“For listening. And protecting me.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that, Sunshine.” He pauses, “Sunshine.”

“Yeah?”

“No phone calls.”

“I remember.” She replies.

Hunter watches as she heads to the stairs that lead below deck, and he sighs and closes his eyes. Maker, he’s an idiot.

“Hey, sunshine.”

She pauses on the stairs and turns to look at him, “Yeah?”

“Hold on a second.” He gets to his feet and crosses over to her.

She moves to stand on the deck again, “Something wrong?”

“Not wrong, so much as I’m something of an idiot.”

“I don’t—?”

Hunter brings his hand up to cup her cheek, and she blinks at him in confusion. “Like I said, I’m an idiot,” He jokes, before he leans in and brushes her lips with his own.

It can’t even be called a proper kiss, so much as a promise for more, if she’s willing.

When Hunter pulls back her eyes are wide, and she looks flustered.

“Was that alright?” He asks softly.

“Um…yeah. It was more than alright, actually.” She replies softly, “Can we do it again?”

He chuckles and leans in, and his lips are about to press against hers when the phone up in the wheelhouse rings loudly. “Hold that thought.” Hunter takes the stairs two at a time and grabs the phone, “Yeah?”

“Hunter, it’s Fives.”

“Hey, vod. What’s up?”

“Listen. It was one of the agents.” Fives speaks quickly, “They pulled some strings, and they know where you are.”

Hunter goes cold, “Is he on the way?”

“Yes. The Feds are hoping to intercept him before he arrives at the Marauder. But, well.”

“It’s not going to happen.”

“No. He’s also killed three more women in the last week. That’s a total of at least 6 victims. Probably more based on some of the information that Phee and Tech have given me.”

“And he’s heading here.”

“Yeah.”

“Thanks for the heads up, Fives.”

“Happy hunting, vod.”

“Will do.” Hunter hangs up the phone and heads back down to the deck. “You need to get below deck, Sunshine.”

She stares at him, eyes wide, “He found us, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, so it seems. Below deck. No one is going to hurt you so long as I’m around.” Hunter promises.

Slowly, she nods and turns to head below deck. Hunter follows her to the bottom of the stairs and grabs the fire door, to pull it shut.

“Be careful.” She whispers.

“Always am, Sunshine.” He pulls the fire door shut and makes sure that it’s properly sealed before he heads up and grabs his guns out of the safe, making sure that they’re loaded and the safety is off.

His Sunshine will be safe, any other option is out of the question. This asshole has terrorized her for long enough. It’s time to end this.

[impala-dreamer]

Danger In The Mist

A Supernatural Story from The Kingdom of Moondoor

~ As the fair Princess Y/N races through the woods, running for her life from the evil monster, Margraw the Horrid, she fears that all is lost. Is there anyone who can save her? Will some brave knight come to her aide?!~

Dean Winchester x F!Reader

2,400 Words

Warnings: Action, Fluff, Romance, Comedy. 

A/N: Set in the world of Moondoor... A request from a patron and the "hey, you made need to bite on this" square for my @jacklesversebingo Bingo Card. Hope you all enjoy! I must say, I really enjoyed writing this and the voice I found is a lot of fun.

JacklesBingo Masterlist

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

A light mist kissed her cheeks as she raced through the woods. Her slippered feet ached with every step as rocks rose up to meet the silken soles of her feet. Her arms were stinging, scrapped by the rough hands of wayward branches and brambles. Out of breath and filled with fear, she stumbled from tree to tree, clawing at the sturdy bark for a moment of support before taking off once more.

She ran until her lungs burned.

Thinking herself safe, Princess Y/N paused aside a large rock formation. Her wind-blown hair created a pillow against the mossy stone and she breathed deeply, slowly. Her heart was pounding and her ears rang, but she listened closely to the forest.

To her left, birds chirped, signaling to others a warning of the approaching storm. Wings flapped against the graying sky as they filled the canopy with urgent alarm. On her right, twigs snapped under the hooves of deer and delicate leaves crumbled in their mouths. All around, wind passed through the greenery and Y/N held her breath, searching blindly for the one sound she absolutely needed to hear. All was still. She was surrounded by quiet.

A few moments later, heavy footfalls broke through the mote of silence and entered her perception. She gasped as the thing approached, stalking at a quick pace that she knew she could no longer keep up with or out run.

It was over.

She would soon be captured, taken away and shoved back into the dank, cold tower at Dunshire Castle to await her terrible fate. She exhaled and a hot tear trekked down her flushed cheek, mixing with the cool drizzle as it settled upon her skin.

“Come out, Princess!” The monster yelled as he sniffed the air like a dog. “I know that you are near. I can smell your sweet scent!”

A howling roar erupted from its maw and Y/N shivered. In her mind’s eye she could see the terrible creature clearly - a giant, thick body covered in the harsh gray fur of a wolf, fangs like a venomous snake that curved beyond its jaw, digging into his chapped lip. His piercing eyes like glowing rubies, seething with dark magic. The stank of him struck her senses and Y/N tried not to wretch.

She wanted to run but her body was weak. She wanted to scream, but she could not allow her voice to betray her location. She needed but a little more time to feel the dying sun on her face, to inhale the fresh air, to feel the soft ground beneath her feet before she was snatched back to the hell of the towering prison. She would not be taken so soon!

Another roar made her jump. It was closer this time and Y/N’s skin crawled. She had to run. She had to try.

She took a breath and then a step, moving away from the safety of the overhanging rock.

The moment she was free, a giant hand wrapped around the nape of her neck, yanking her backwards with ghastly power.

She screamed and the winged flock above scrambled to fly away from the echoing noise.

“Please! Help me!”

Y/N steeled herself for a blow that never came. As she took one final look at the forest, saying goodbye to the deer and the yapping birds, a strapping figure appeared a few yards away. The man was tall and handsome, with cropped brown hair that stood up a bit at the crown. His lips were full and pink, and his eyes matched the surrounding forest. He wore tights and a simple shirt of russet orange with silver chainmail covering his broad shoulders and chest.

“Unhand her, you fiend!”

The man’s deep, booming voice shook the trees and wrapped around Y/N with all the comfort of a heavy woolen shawl. She was saved. She was safe. She’d soon be free.

The monster pushed Y/N aside and she fell into the grass, watching as the war for her freedom began.

“How dare you,” the thing spat. “Do you have any idea who I am!”

“No introduction is needed, Margraw the Horrid! Though, I would like you to say hello to my little friend.” The man smirked and drew his longsword from its sheath. The metal gleamed in the dimming light and the crest of the mighty House of Winchester shone brightly upon the hilt.

Margraw hissed. “Winchester!”

Dean smiled proudly and turned the sword in his hand. “The one and only.”

A cackle left the beast’s lips. “Indeed. E’er since I slaughtered your baby brother those many moons ago. He truly was a delicious feast.” Margraw licked his hairy chops and stared the knight down. “I wonder if you’ll taste the same or if I’ll have to boil you with mead to enhance the flavor.”

Dean’s upper lip curled into a sneer and he raised his sword high. “Sorry to break it to you, Margraw, but I am the tastiest snack you’ll never have!”

Y/N was taken by the handsomeness of the brave knight and the way he bit back with his words. It was as if he were cutting Margraw down before even swinging his blade. Her heart raced once again, but she knew from the building heat betwixt her thighs that it was no longer from fear.

“You’re cocky, Winchester,” Margraw hissed.

“You ain’t seen nothing yet,” Dean replied with a wink towards the Princess. “Now, just hand over the girl and we can all be on our way.”

Margraw laughed viciously. “The Princess is mine. Her father signed her life over to me before she was even born. I am her destiny.”

Y/N cringed, shuddering on the cold ground.

Dean looked at her, brows creased in curiosity. “Is this true, m’lady?”

When their eyes met, Y/N swooned and the forest grew light around him as if the world were highlighting his chiseled frame.

“Sadly, yes, sir, but-”

A fresh tear fell and the knight nodded in understanding.

“Fear not, Princess,” he said boldly. “You shall not be dinner for this monster tonight.” He took a step forward, sword ready for a fight. “But perhaps you can be my desert.”

He winked once again and Y/N’s stomach flipped. Her right hand reached for her heaving breast and she watched in awe as Dean, brave knight of the House of Winchester, defended her honor against the dreaded beast, Margraw the Horrid.

The fight was fast and fierce. Dean dodged blows from Margraw’s massive paws and jabbed with his trusted blade. The beast moved slower but with much force, continually blocking Dean’s attacks and sending the knight toppling over his own feet.

Y/N viewed the malay with a hand clutched over her heart, praying to the forest gods that all would be well. When Dean cried out in pain, she nearly lost all hope. He fell to one knee and held his leg as blood leaked from his thigh. He’d been struck by Margraw’s poisoned claws and fire seeped into his veins.

“Dean!” Y/N cried, her voice saturated with grim pain. “No!”

Green eyes swept lovingly over her face and Dean found the strength to carry on. With one swift motion, he stood and swung his arm, deftly delivering a final, deadly blow to Margraw. The monster fell with a sickening howl and the forest was still once more.

Finally free, Y/N scrambled to her feet and swept the dirt from her skirts. She took a deep breath and walked toward the corpse, looking down at the empty eyes of her captor.

She spat in his ugly face. “You shall never again haunt my nightmares, you beast!”

Satisfied and at peace, Y/N closed her eyes for a brief moment and let the cool mist wash her past away.

Behind her, Dean collapsed. His longsword fell to the ground, coming to lay beside his bloodied body. He gasped as a rock dug into his broken rib and Y/N spun around, rushing to his side.

“Dean!”

Down to her knees she fell and Y/N looked him over, her eyes heavy with worry.

He looked up and managed a smile even as the monster’s poison worked its painful magic, pulsing through his bloodstream.

“Hey, gorgeous.”

Her cheeks flushed but there was no time to attend to her blossoming need. “You’re hurt,” she said, hands hovering over the wound in his meaty thigh.

“No big deal,” he joked, holding back a harsh cough. “I’ve had worse.”

Carefully, she examined his leg and saw the purple streaks expand across his freckled skin as the poison moved about.

She shook her head. “No. Margraw’s claws are tainted with the Poison of Aragrog- enough to kill an army of thousands. We must draw it out before it takes your heart.”

Dean tried to sit up, but he faltered and landed on his elbows, his long legs stretched out before him. “I don’t think it can,” he teased.

“And why not?”

“Because, my heart has already been taken,” he whispered, “by you.”

Y/N’s bosom swelled and her mouth dried, demanding a drink from his lips. “You are quite smooth, Sir Knight, and I do owe you my life. Will you not allow me to attempt now to save yours?”

Dean sighed and then twitched as pain spread up his side. “Do what you must.”

Quickly, Y/N grabbed hold of her innermost skirt and ripped a long strip of the airy fabric free. She looped the frayed white hem around his upper thigh and then reached for a fallen branch. She twisted the thin bit of wood into the fabric and prepared to tighten the tourniquet.

Dean watched with wide, nervous eyes as she worked.

“That’s not gonna hurt, is it?” he asked timidly.

Y/N smiled as kindly as she could. “It will,” she answered truthfully. “But I need to stop the poison from spreading any further whilst I prepare a healing salve. I believe I spied a patch of yarrow over yonder.”

Dean’s expression was worrisome. Hesitation creased with suffering. She took pity and snapped the tip of the twisting branch off, handing it to him.

“Here,” she told him, “you may need something to bite on.”

As her hand lifted the bark to his lips, Dean snatched her wrist and tugged, yanking the Princess down into his arms. He kissed her sweet lips and nestled a hand against the small of her back. She meant to cry out, to protest his rash decision, but the pressure of his mouth upon hers, the feel of his fingers splaying across her back, the taste of his tongue all conspired to wipe the worry from her mind. She melted into him and kissed him back, hoping beyond hope that he would be saved from the poison so that she might be granted a thousand more kisses just like this one.

While she prayed, Dean wrapped his arms tight around her and rolled with her, claiming the top space and pressing her soft body into the earth. He dipped his tongue into her mouth as he bunched up the mass of skirts covering her sex. He pressed his knee into her heat and she moaned loudly into his mouth.

“Thou art quite the kisser, Sir Winchester…”

Dean grinned and flexed his thigh, pushing against her pussy again. “Ya know, I’m kinda loving you calling me Sir, Y/N/N.”

She grabbed at the rough collar of his shirt. “That’s Princess, to you, peasant.” She tugged and he fell back to kissing her, captivated by the pull of her mouth and the heat of her writhing body.

Sneaking a hand between them, Y/N reached for his cock and rubbed her palm over it. He shivered and bucked his hips, helping her along.

“Fuck, I wanna fuck you right here,” he growled, lips dragging over the shell of her ear.

Y/N closed her eyes and spread her legs wider, lifting them to wrap around his trim waist. “You should…”

He let out a sexy huff that made her nipples tingle and her pussy leak. She licked at his mouth and lightly squeezed his sack.

“Now you’re askin’ for it,” he laughed.

“Yeah, I literally just asked for it.”

He nibbled at her throat. “Well, I’m gonna give it to ya.”

“Are you? You’re taking forever.” She pulsed her hand over the tip of his cock.

“Oh, I am.” He pushed up on his hands, hovering over her.

“Good,” she beamed, “give it to me, big boy.”

“It’s coming-”

“Not before I do,” she warned.

“Never,” he smirked. “You know how I roll.”

“I sure d-”

“Hold!”

A voice cried out and Dean’s head snapped back to look over his shoulder.

Patrick, the IT tech draped in Margraw’s costume and covered in fake fur, stood with arms crossed and a sour expression.

“You two know I’m still here, right?” he asked, eyeing each in turn.

Y/N could feel her cheeks burn and she dropped her legs from Dean’s ass and less than gracefully rolled out from under him.

“Sorry…”

Dean, however, was tickled pink about the whole situation. He laughed and pushed himself up to his feet. He turned to his fellow LARPer and shrugged.

“Maybe if you switch sides and play the hero for once, you could get some too.”

Patrick tapped an annoyed boot and sighed. “There are rules, ya know.”

Dean turned up the charm and threw his arm around the costumed monster. “I know, bud. Why don’t we go back to camp, hit the tavern, and you can tell me all about them.”

Y/N stood back a bit, fixing her skirts and pushing her boobs back into her corset. She watched as her knight in cheap armor and her attacker set off into the misty sunset.

Sure, maybe it was cheesy to some, but fighting a monster that definitely was not going to actually kill you was rather fun. There was plenty to do in the Kingdom of Moondoor, lots of adventure and pageantry, feats of skill and laughter. It was a relaxing weekend away from the real world, and Y/N loved sneaking away to enjoy it. Especially because she always got to go home with the handsome knight when the day was through…

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

@alwaystiredandconfused @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67 @k-slla @leigh70 @lunaroserites @lyarr24 @nancymcl @nix-rose @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @rosecentury @sexyvixen7 @suckitands33 @the-wounded-healer05  

[erabu-san]

HI ERABU!! FREMILLEI ANON HERE!! (Not here to talk about fremillei ironically lol)

Sorry about your trouble with Cyno and Tighnari :( I totally get the frustration of just seeing something as a cute friendship and having 90% of the fandom see them as romantic.

We live in a society (the genshin fandom). Us platonic Cyno and Tighnari enjoyers have to stick together✊

With that being said, I've been kinda on a Collei and Tighnari brainrot the past few weeks sooo, hope you don't mind if I ramble about them👀

Can I just say, how much I adore their dynamic. Whether it's father/daughter or big brother/little sister, they're so sweet and care about each other so much🥹 On Collei's side, besides Amber, Tighnari was one of the first people she's ever opened up to, or has felt comfortable around. He's so kind and patient with her and she's really grateful for it!! (Her relationship with Cyno is similar but I do think it was a little awkward at first since Cyno reminded her of her past...)

And on Tighnari's side, well, at first he saw her as a student. But he immediately felt this...urge to help her. Like she had been through so much, and he felt like he had to try and help her in some way. (You brother comes in at the middle of the night asking you to take care of this random traumatized child wyd). He enjoyed getting to know her, and teaching her. And he felt such a strong sense of pride when she gets a good grade in a test, or is able to write something coherently. Overtime, he got to see more of her, more of her personality and quirks, and he developed so much affection for her, treating her like he would a little sister💞

I do think that maybe Collei has trouble talking to him about things. Maybe since she's scared of being judged (she knows he wouldn't, but the feeling is still there). So she ended venting to trees. I like to imagine one day, Tighnari was looking for her when he overheard her talking to a tree. At first he was like "why is she doing that??" But decided to leave since he didn't wanna eavesdrop. But then, he caught her talking about HIM.

"Master Tighnari is so patient and kind with me... I know he would never judge me, or make me feel bad. But...I still find it hard to talk to him. He's usually busy...I don't wanna bother him."

And that just broke his heart :( He wanted Collei to feel comfortable talking to him, he WANTED her to come to him whenever she had a problem. He left, but after that, he would subtly encourage her to talk to him if she needed to, reminding her that she wasn't a bother or anything like that, and that he cared about her. And it made her happy to hear!! And she slowly started coming to him more often!!

Also SLIGHT fremillei (I'm sorry I can't escape the chokehold they have on me) I picture this scene, where after Collei finds out about Freminet being apart of the Fatui, Collei immediately runs home, so many emotions going through her head. Hurt, fear, guilt- she's so overwhelmed. She arrives back and while she's passing by Tighnari's house (house? Cottage?? What do you call those?😭) he calls out to her, noticing something's wrong. She stops, and looks at Tighnari, breathing heavy from running. She doesn't know where to begin, what she should tell him, IF she should tell him. But, she looks at him, looks at the concern on his face, and runs towards him and hugs him tightly, sobbing into his chest. Tighnari is confused, but he doesn't question it, and immediately wraps his arms around her.

"It's okay...I'm here."

I'M SO SORRY FOR THE LONG ASK BUT THEY'VE BEEN ON MY BRAIN. I feel like not a lot of people talk about them alone, which kinda sucks since their relationship is so sweet :(

Again, sorry to bombarde you with the long ask😭 You art is beautiful, and I love hearing your genshin Sumeru headcanons. Thank you for listening to my rambles. Have a lovely day and take care of yourself!! <3

WAAAAH I AM SORRY FOR LATE ANSWER BUT WHEN I READ THIS I WAS ON THE FLOOR I LOVE IT, IT IS SO ADORABLE

Anon you have such a big brain and I HOPE YOU KNOW THAT 🫵

Oh the part when Collei hugs Tighnari and he is just saying that he is here

[coquettebratzdoll]

ᡣ𐭩 •｡ꪆৎ ˚⋅

Making this post in case anybody else had this question. Please note that although I am directing the post to Starlight, anyone can take this advice.

So my secret to believing in yourself is to just do it. Ik it's sounds hella unhelpful so lemme elaborate.

So you didn't specify how exactly you wanted to believe in yourself. Do you want to believe that you can shift ? That you deserve to shift ? Something else ? Regardless, it doesn't matter so much as there are ways that you can start:

1. Robotic affirmations - these are exactly as they sound. You just choose an affirmation and repeat it over and over again. It doesn't require you to actually believe in what you're saying, as your subconscious mind is always impressed. It will take whatever you give it without question or filter. It's great cus it will build whatever belief you want over a period of time. I recommend saying the affirmations when you are going to sleep, in the state akin to sleep (stat), immediately after you wake up, and any time you are left with your thoughts (like making your bed, or brushing your teeth). These times are more convenient as you aren't doing much anyway. Plus, when you are sleepy or tired, you are less likely to refute whatever you think.

2. Subliminals - these are great for you if you can't robotically affirm. Instead of what you're used to, let's make it fun ! Find ones with music that you like. Dance, sing, draw, do whatever while listening to it. If you want to sleep to them, many creators have rain versions, which are more relaxing and calming. This, this, this, and this are self-concept subliminals that I really like and use whenever I'm feeling down. Find some that resonate with you and have fun with it !

3. Vaunts - I already made a post discussing this in more detail. The basics are that vaunts are affirmations that you say to sorta 'brag' about your desire. This is really easy to do. It's just faking it till you make it. Don't see your results yet ? Yes you do what are you saying 😒😒 ?? Don't stress with it. Make it up as you go.

4. Shadow work - according to Google, "uncovering the hidden parts of your psyche to understand yourself more, heal from old wounds, and improve relationships. In other words, it's the work you do on the darker side of yourself that you don't want or cannot see." To summarise, this is doing certain things (usually asking and answering questions to yourself) to really discover things about yourself. It is useful to unpack why exactly you don't believe in yourself.

5. Journaling - this relates to the shadow work point. Whether you use a physical notebook or the notes apps, it's great to write down how you feel as you feel it. Acknowledging your feelings is really important. It can really help once you allow yourself to feel the full extent of any emotion (whether 'negative' or 'positive') is a healthy habit to have. I personally use the digital version of @anemoiashifts shifting journal. Look into some that fit your style

6. Actually applying the law 🫣 - there is no other way around it. Although the above methods can help out, you still need to actually apply the law of assumption I order to benefit. As I (sorta) explained in the affs section, we are constantly manifesting - whether aware or not. Whatever assumption you persist in the most will harden into fact. Assume that you have a strong sense of self belief, and you will (hence the 'just do it' comment above).

That's all for now. I hope it can help you !

@starlighteez

[skyloftian-nutcase]

Imprisoning War Drama is consuming me and I cannot contain it any longer, so... here you go.

Hemisi still couldn’t believe this was happening. Link was here. Zelda had sent him here.

Her beautiful, stupid, wonderful friend was right in front her. Her former betrothed was right in front of her. Her best friend was right in front of her.

The pretense, of course, was that he was there to help reestablish healthy relations with the Gerudo. It had been three years since the war, a time that Zelda apparently deemed long enough to acknowledge their existence again. Hyrule hadn’t helped the Gerudo at all in the past three years as Hemisi had struggled to protect and guide her people, as she’d tried to pick up the pieces from a once thriving civilization.

Hemisi had originally been angry about it. Angry about everything. On the one hand, it made sense – the Gerudo had been Hyrule’s enemy. The destruction of her own kingdom was due to Ganondorf, not Zelda. On the other hand, it felt like one last slap, taking her lover, her dignity, and any hope she had of receiving help for her people despite betraying her own father to help Hyrule.

But that was then. It had been three years. Hemisi couldn’t exactly say she liked Zelda or Hyrule, but she also couldn’t say she wanted to see that kingdom burn anymore. She probably wouldn’t mind beating the queen senseless, though. But that wasn’t exactly noble, and she was trying not to be like Ganondorf. Anger was an exhausting emotion, and she was working on not relying on it or feeding it all the time.

Anger was certainly not what she was feeling now. What she was feeling was utter disbelief and exhilaration.

Link was here.

Truly, such a reunion should merit some sort of show of emotion. Instead, what came out was, “You look like shit.”

Link’s somber expression immediately shattered, bursting into life with as he let out a laugh.

And just like that, it was as if the last three years hadn’t happened. It was as if their last conversation hadn’t been her trying to convince him to come home with her, to part ways with his wife and unborn heir. Link was immediately at ease, and Hemisi felt overwhelmingly happy.

Maybe they were just pretending. Maybe enough time had passed that somehow it just worked. It seemed impossible, strange, ridiculous that they were suddenly laughing in the small space that counted as Hemisi’s court room in their new settlement, but… somehow it worked.

Link’s laughter subsided, fading into a gentle, sincere smile. “You look beautiful.”

Well, that was quite the straightforward statement to say in front of all her guards. Link seemed to realize that too, despite Hemisi’s even blunter statement earlier, and he tried to backtrack, but Hemisi waved him off.

“You doing okay?” She asked, pushing beyond it as she smiled in acknowledgement of the compliment.

“Y-yeah,” Link shakily answered, though it was hard to tell if it was due to his earlier slip up or something else. “I’m… yes.”

The euphoria of their reunion was fading fast as something nagged Hemisi’s mind, and she said, “Well, I’m glad to hear it. There were rumors circulating that you were really ill, and I… I was worried.”

Link’s mood shifted, and he seemed to grow closed off nearly immediately. She’d seen the expression before, a mixture of a mask in front of nobles and superiors and the cold, calculating gaze he’d get when he had to guard himself. She felt a strange sense of pride and reassurance that she could still read him so well, but it was far outclassed by the worry that gnawed at her further.

Hemisi waved a dismissal to her guards, who all departed, leaving the pair alone. She rose from her seat (she hardly could call it a throne – none of their new accommodations compared to the splendor of their former capital, destroyed as it was) and walked up to him, closing the space between them. “I’m… look. We didn’t exactly end things on terrible terms last time, but we also didn’t exactly end them on great terms, either. I just wanted to say… for my part, I’m sorry.”

Link’s face softened, surprise peeking through the cracks. “For what?”

For what?! “Oh, I don’t know, for trying to seduce you?”

“You don’t have to apologize.”

“Pretty sure I do, moron.”

Link sighed. “Fine. You’re forgiven.”

Well. Now the initial greeting was out of the way, the wave of excitement was disappearing, and they’d quickly addressed their last interaction.

…Now what? Goddesses, she missed when they could just be casual with each other, when they could just be friends. It had almost felt real for a moment, when they’d been laughing together.

Who knows? Maybe we can make something of this.

“The news was that you were to discuss relations with the Gerudo?” Hemisi prompted as Link seemed at a loss for words.

“Yes,” he hastily confirmed, trying to get his footing, lost in her gaze. “I—the queen wants to reestablish trade. With the border, at least.”

Hemisi read into the words easily. “So having a neutral zone, you mean? Where we can interact? But we’re not really allowed in the kingdom still, I presume?”

“Not—what? Hemisi, you came to the baby shower.”

“Upon being invited by the queen,” Hemisi noted, crossing her arms. “You think we’d have been allowed passage without the paperwork?”

Link’s brow furrowed, eyes upset, and he sighed, taking a step away.

Hemisi glanced around him as a new thought occurred to her in the silence created. “Where’s your entourage, anyway? Shouldn’t the mighty King of Hyrule have some royal party following him?”

“I don’t need one.”

“What about your shadow?”

“I asked Lady Impa to stay in the castle.”

Hemisi chuckled. “Oh, I bet she loved that.”

Link’s eyes grew sad, and he tipped his head to the side. There was clearly something he wanted to say, but he’d always been a quiet man. He kept his words to himself, sighing again.

Hemisi felt like she was fumbling some kind of negotiation before it had even begun. For the sake of her people and her sanity, she tried again. “Look, why don’t—why don’t we have a drink? I bet you haven’t had something as good as a Noble Pursuit since the war.”

The tip of Link’s mouth curled up slightly. “We never had a Noble Pursuit during the war. It was mead, remember?”

Oh, that’s right. It had tasted awful. “Well, then that means you’re in for a treat. Can’t a king enjoy a little beverage? It’s our hospitality.”

Link’s smile disappeared, replaced by something new, a soft, strange bemusement, thinly veiled behind a cool gaze.

“What?” Hemisi asked. “What is it?”

Links shifted, trying to find the right words. “Why are… you’re so… last time we talked…”

“Was over two years ago,” Hemisi reminded him. “What, you really thought I was petty enough to hold a grudge that long?”

“Was it just a grudge?” Link asked quietly, voice heavy.

Was our love just worth a grudge? Is that all it means to you? Hemisi wasn’t entirely sure that was what he was asking, but it certainly felt like it. Was he expecting her to be angry as she had been, bitter and vindictive and wanting to snap? Part of the reason she’d been so hostile then was because she’d immediately been insulted by the Hyrulians – she’d been trying to stay neutral during the visit. Her original mission had been to convince Link to return to her. She hadn’t been there to pick fights over anything else. She hadn’t been there to fight.

But there was something in the heaviness of his tone, in the exhaustion in his face that had merited her initial words, in the tension of his muscles. As much as Link played his part of the Hero, as much as he bowed and kissed the ground Queen Zelda walked on, he very clearly held far more feelings about the matter than he expressed.

It wasn’t as if Hemisi hadn’t known Link loved her, hadn’t recognized their parting would hurt him too. But he’d been the one to leave her. She hadn’t exactly expected him to be hurting as much as she had, left completely abandoned just after killing her father, left to pick up the pieces of a shattered kingdom and people by herself when he had promised to be by her side, left to mourn the loss of her entire family alone.

A familiar hurt and anger churned in her stomach and chest, but she bit her lip and tried to redirect it. “You know it wasn’t. But what are you expecting? You look as tired of it as I am. You’re the one who chose Hyrule, chose Zelda over me. Repeatedly. I did try to convince you otherwise both times. Now you’re surprised that I actually respected your choice?”

Link swallowed, taking a small step away, the dark presence that clouded him seeming to dissipate a little. “No, I—I’m sorry.”

“You keep saying that,” Hemisi dully snapped, not quite able to reel in her frustration. “Doesn’t change things. Can we just… try to move forward? And have fun now? Drinks?”

Link nodded sheepishly, letting her guide him to her room. If they’d been in her old home, there’d be an antechamber where she could entertain guests. But as it was, in this new settlement they’d established at the oasis they’d found, she hardly had a regular sized house. The throne room was the only place to have an audience with people formally, and drinks hardly seemed a formal affair to be had there. As she passed the hallway leading there, letting Link get ahead of her, she paused, looking one of her trusted guards in the eye. “Don’t… if we drink a little too much… do me a favor. Don’t let it get crazy.”

The guard raised her eyebrow.

“You know what I’m talking about,” Hemisi whispered irritably. “No matter our feelings for each other, and no matter the choices we make about our relationship, we’re acting on that sober.”

It wasn’t like Hemisi was expecting anything to happen, of course. But alcohol was getting involved. And as much tension as there still seemed to be between them… well. She just… she was better than that. The baby shower had been her last attempt, one last act of hope, a thought that if the queen had an heir Link’s duty was fulfilled. She was not going to be so pathetic as to keep pursuing someone who had chosen another woman, no matter her feelings on the matter.

The guard nodded. “I can respect that. Nothing will happen.”

Feeling far more secure about the matter, she walked into her room. Link was standing in the center a little awkwardly, but his gaze had fixed on one of the walls, eyes a little wide, mouth a little parted, expression unguarded. It was a mixture of surprise, amusement, and regret, eyebrows moving subtly between the three along with his lips.

Hemisi huffed, walking up beside him as she looked at the wall in question. On it was an old painting of Ganondorf (it had originally depicted the entire royal family, but she’d cut him out and kept the rest elsewhere), pinned to the wall with multiple daggers that had been thrown at it. She was still most proud of the one she’d thrown that had ended up between his eyes. It held the piece quite well.

“You like it?” She asked, crossing her arms. “It’s my therapy.”

Link snorted and nodded. “I’m surprised you don’t have one of Zelda.”

Hemisi’s eyebrows rose in surprise. She hadn’t expected that to come out of his mouth. Link seemed equally surprised that he’d admitted it, and he shifted anxiously, asking about the Noble Pursuit. Chuckling, she walked over to where the bottle was sitting in the shade, commenting, “I probably would’ve had one for her a couple years ago. But you didn’t want that, remember?”

She wasn’t quite resentful enough of the queen to throw daggers at her. Zelda herself had seen and dealt with some shit, based on the little Hemisi knew. That didn’t mean she liked her, though. At all. She wouldn’t mind throttling her, honestly. But still. The queen wasn’t nearly on the same level of Hemisi’s hatred as Ganondorf.

This wasn’t something she really wanted to talk about much, anyway. If she vented to Link about how she wanted to punch his wife, he’d certainly jump to her defense, whether he himself liked her or not. And if his defense did prove that he liked her, it would only increase Hemisi’s ire, which was frustrating to just think about. She didn’t want to be petty or jealous. She was better than that.

Even if it did hurt. Even if the past three years alone could have been spent with someone who loved her and supported her, even if maybe her struggle to rebuild the Gerudo might not have been so terrible (or even lethal to some who had died in the interim) for everyone involved.

Hemisi was more than just a spurned lover. She was a chief of the Gerudo, she was a warrior. She would not perseverate on the queen.

She just wanted her friend back. She was hoping a little alcohol would loosen them both up to have an actual conversation.

Three drinks later, they were having more than just an actual conversation. They were having fun.

Link laughed as he put his glass down and leapt to his feet. “Okay, but I want to contribute to your therapy, to your masterpiece over there.”

Hemisi giggled. “With what? You’re not using my knives.”

“I have kunai,” he said easily with a wave of his hand.

“You still carry those, oh mighty ruler?”

“I told you, I don’t need an escort for a reason.”

Hemisi barked out a laugh as she stood on her bed, motioning towards the painting of Ganondorf. “Go for it, then. Good luck hitting anything when you can’t see straight!”

Link wiggled his eyebrows challengingly. “I’ll get him in the jewels.”

“I already got a knife in his headdress and I’m not moving it.”

Link’s smile grew. “You’ll see.”

Hemisi hummed, looking skeptical. What was he going to do, try to knock her knife off the jewelry that adorned Ganondorf’s forehead? Link faced the portrait, hand steady despite how glazed his eyes were from the drinks. He focused for a moment, and oh how her heart fluttered at the sight of it, oh how she remembered all the battles they’d fought together in the war, and oh how—

How the kunai flew, how it whistled through the air it cut as it passed, how it hit sunk into the canvas perfectly, how it landed right between the dead king’s legs.

Hemisi gawked for a moment, Link looked delighted and victorious, and they both scream yelled at the shot, raising their arms in unison.

The air was filled with excitement and glee, at the two young adults laughing and screaming with glee, at how Hemisi leapt up and down on her mattress cheering before she leapt into Link’s open arms and he spun her around. They were giggling in absolute delight, laughing at the release of the moment, at how it finally seemed to entirely break whatever barrier they were keeping between each other. Link got dizzy from spinning and fell backwards, and both rulers landed on the bed with a grunt, breathless from their amusement.

Hemisi jumped up as soon as she had breath to do so, stumbling a little. Link caught her before she fell on a table, and she laughed again, leaning against it instead.

“You’re a lightweight,” Link commented with a chuckle.

“Am not!” She snapped playfully, shoving him away from her with a laugh. Then she glanced at the art. “Feels good to do that, though, doesn’t it?”

Link looked as well, smiling. “Yeah. Too bad I couldn’t make that shot in the last fight.”

Hemisi wheezed. “Goddess, that would’ve been fucking amazing.”

The pair giggled, and then Link seemed to grow contemplative a moment, asking, “You really… I’m sorry. That he… that everything. You know?”

“Why do you apologize so much, Link?” Hemisi asked, far less irritated about it now that her mind was addled.

“I don’t know,” he answered. Clearly alcohol loosed his lips far more than she remembered.

Ah, wait, but there was that time she dared him to call Impa his mother. Maybe she’d underestimated how much alcohol messed with him.

“Pfff, and you call me the lightweight,” she snarked.

Link rolled his eyes, only mildly exasperated. “Fine. It’s all his fault anyway.”

“Damn right it is.”

“But I… I mean… us…”

The air grew thick, and the two grew quiet. Then, softly, Link tried to ask, “Do… do you still…?”

“Do I still what?” Hemisi pressed impatiently, reaching for her drink. “Speak up, goofball. Remember when I used to tell you that when we were first dating? My gosh you were such a quiet, timid little thing.”

“I wasn’t timid,” Link huffed. “Just not used to being allowed to speak.”

“Well that’s stupid.”

“Unlike you, I was just a guard, not royalty.”

“Different now, isn’t it?”

Link sombered again. “Yeah. It is.”

Then he looked her dead in the eye. “I still love you.”

Hemisi nearly choked on her spit, breath ripped out of her. What the—

What was she even supposed to say to that?!

Well. If she was sober she’d probably contemplate that more. Instead, she just said, “I still love you too.”

Link blinked. “…O-oh.”

Hemisi laughed so hard her ribs hurt. “Oh? That’s all you have to say? You’re hopeless! Did you really think I hadn’t? What, just because you said ‘no’ and I respected that you thought that was it?”

Link blubbered, flustered, cheeks far more flushed than they were a moment ago.

“I get it,” Hemisi interrupted his pathetic attempt to formulate words. “You love Hyrule more.”

Link’s stuttering ceased, and he watched her with a clear gaze. Then he sighed, looking away, eyes distant. “I… yeah.”

Hemisi’s heart ached, but it also swelled. His selflessness was one of the reasons she loved him so much. She just… had never imagined it would come between them. “Hyrule has a good Hero.”

Link’s lip wobbled a little, eyes growing glassy, alarming the Gerudo chief a little. He looked at her a moment, eyes pleading, desperately fighting for control, but the alcohol was preventing it from happening, and the tears trickled down his face.

“Oh, love,” Hemisi said, hearing her own voice tremble, and she walked over to him, pulling him into a hug. “I know.”

“I’m sorry,” he cried quietly, words thick and choking in his throat. “I’m sorry.”

Hemisi felt his tears on her shoulder, felt him tremble in her arms. She was uncomfortable and warm, on the verge of tears herself, addled and ecstatic, and instead of really digging into the issue as she might have when she was sober, she kissed his head and said, “It’s okay. You love Hyrule. But… do you love Zelda more than me?”

Link’s quiet cries were sharply interrupted by a hiccup and a snort, and he yanked away from her, expression bewildered.

“Well?” Hemisi pressed, sniffling and poking his chest. In the back of her mind, a voice that was probably what was left of her rational side whispered, this is so pathetically stupid WHAT ARE YOU DOING JUST HUG THE POOR GUY YOU IDIOT.

Meh. She wanted to know. They could hug after.

Link laughed. “You—you really—you have to ask??”

Hemisi grew mildly annoyed. “Yes!”

“W-wait, I—” Link moved out of her reach, heading for the table. “I need more alcohol for this.”

“Coward!” She called after him, his laughter contagious.

After taking another swig, Link walked back to her and pulled her to him, their lips meeting, and goddess she immediately drank him in, their bodies pressed so close, and Link poured all his energy into the kiss, hands roaming, and great Din above, Hemisi started to tug, started to feel her heart quicken, her body scream for just one thing, and—

A pole wedged itself between the couple as one of her guards jutted the handle of her spear to separate them. “That’s enough of that, Majesties.”

Link’s cheeks matched Hemisi’s hair, and the Gerudo chief rolled her eyes. “Leave us be!”

“Your orders, my chief.”

Ugh. It was a stupid order.

The guard gently but firmly grabbed Link by the arm, dragging him for the door. Before he left, though, he shot her a smile and a wink, and she knew, she knew in that moment who he loved more.

She smiled, collapsing on the bed, and before the door had even closed she was drifting off to sleep.

XXX

Hemisi groaned. Her head was killing her, and everything was too freaking bright.

She really didn’t remember much of last night, but she knew she’d had far too many drinks. Even if she didn’t recall that much, her body was certainly screaming it.

What had even happened last night? She remembered how it had started. As she tried to comb through fuzzy images, the linear progression steadily unraveled. She blinked her eyes open hesitantly to find herself alone in bed, still wearing her attire from yesterday, and she sighed a little in relief from that. At least nothing neither had planned had occurred.

So where was Link?

Slowly sitting up, Hemisi hissed as some sunlight peeked between the curtains of her room, hitting her eyes like a slap to the face. She shielded her face, grumbling and cussing as she nearly crawled out of the room.

“Good morning,” her guard greeted her.

Hemisi glowered halfheartedly at her, ignoring the fact that she likely looked like a disaster. “Where’s the king?”

“In the guest quarters.”

“We have those in this place?”

“We converted one of the guard’s rooms into one.”

Did they? Was that something Hemisi had planned for Link’s arrival? She didn’t remember that either. Great.

Leaning against the wall, she half dragged herself to the room in question, finding Link leaning over the bed, head nearly buried in a pot. He spat in it, clearly having just gotten ill, hair spilling over his shoulders. A twinge of sympathy pulled at her, and Hemisi sat on the bed, pulling his hair out of his face.

“Morning,” she echoed her guard’s greeting, waiting for a similar bite in reply.

Link just groaned.

In the past she would have laughed at him. Today, she just felt pity. She had been the one to encourage it, after all. She rubbed his back a little apologetically, waiting to see if he was going to get sick again. Instead, he slowly pulled back, grabbing a handkerchief and wiping his mouth.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been hungover,” Hemisi noted quietly, feeling her head throb rhythmically. She grimaced, closing her eyes. She almost apologized, but she chose the better route, smiling. “You’re a terrible influence on me.”

Link huffed, turning and nearly pouncing on her, tackling her to the bed and holding her hostage in his arms. Hemisi yelped, irritated at the motion as it made her headache worse, but also giggling at the roughhousing. She shoved hard against him, but he refused to let go.

“What are you doing, you butthead?” She grumbled, wiggling in his grip.

“Sleeping,” he slurred tiredly.

“Your breath smells awful.”

“‘S your fault.”

Hemisi huffed, admitting defeat. Her heart hammered with cheer at his behavior, at how they could still be casual around each other without the help of liquid confidence. Perhaps it was just that his mind was still addled from the hangover, from feeling uncomfortable and ill, but she’d take it.

Besides, she felt like garbage. She wanted to sleep. Link clearly was slipping back into a nap. So she just joined him.

When the pair woke again, It was nearly midday. A pitcher of water was resting on the nightstand, though neither knew when it had been placed there. Hemisi honestly didn’t want to really start the day, boneless and warm, safe and comfortable in Link’s arms. She remembered all the times they’d snuggled together to stave off the cold, for protection and a sense of security, weapons at the ready, wanting some kind of assurance that the other was okay, that they themselves weren’t vulnerable.

She missed the war. She missed the war.

Things were far more straightforward back then.

Killing was straightforward.

Link shifted a little, snapping Hemisi out of her musings, and she looked over to see him watching her. He was half asleep still, eyes a little glazed but so, so soft, face relaxed and open.

“Hey,” she greeted quietly.

“Hey,” he whispered back.

The moment lasted too long, each lover lost in the other’s eyes. Hemisi felt herself leaning in, Link reciprocating, and they both pulled away at the same time, sitting up with excited energy.

“Well,” Hemisi quipped breathlessly. “Guess we should do those negotiations, right?”

Link blinked, watching her a moment longer, and then squeezed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath and rubbing his eyes. “Yeah. We should.”

“Not that last night wasn’t fun, of course,” Hemisi added with a nervous laugh, genuinely adding, “I don’t remember much of it, but what I do remember was… really nice. Maybe we can still have fun, you know? Without blacking out, at least.” Curious, she added, “Do you remember anything?”

Link huffed a little, mildly amused as he stretched. “Not really.”

Oh well. She was wondering if she could get more information on what had occurred, but whatever. They’d had fun, at least. “Well, we both could use a good start to the day. What about a nice warm bath? With some salts and nice oils… and a massage! Goddess, I sure could use one. I could arrange for it.”

Link peered over at her, letting his hand fall to his lap, and he smiled. “That sounds nice.”

Hemisi felt herself smile in return. They could have a nice day. They could. She scooted in front of him and leaned in cautiously for a hug. Link let her relax against him, carefully wrapping his arms around her once more.

Humming, melting into the embrace, Hemisi noted, “Goddess, I’m glad Zelda sent you alone. This would be way less fun if she came.”

For a moment, nothing happened. She listened to Link’s heart beat against her ear. His arms pulled her closer. And then his entire body stiffened. She felt his chest go rigid, trapping a breath in it, and slowly his arms slipped away. Hemisi pulled away, a little confused, and saw Link staring at nothing, eyes hard, face like a stone.

“Yes. Yes, she did send me alone.” He noted quietly, voice like ice.

Hemisi blinked a few times, feeling like she’d just gotten whiplash. “Y-yeah. She… what’s wrong?”

Link rose abruptly. “We should go downstairs to discuss the trading between Hyrule and the Gerudo.”

The entire atmosphere had changed. The coldest desert nights had never felt this frigid. Hemisi hesitantly rose. “R-right. I…”

She didn’t know what had happened, what was wrong, what she had said. Given how carefree and silly they’d been last night, given how gentle and caring they’d been this morning… how had she said something wrong?

Doubting and overthinking everything she’d stated today, she clarified, “You know I meant… separate. Separate baths. Right?”

Link glanced at her, and though his expression didn’t change, his eyes melted a little, trying to show some concern. “I know.”

That was all he said, and there was still finality to it. Reluctantly, Hemisi walked out of the room, wondering what the heck just happened and how she’d managed to ruin everything.

Link joined her downstairs shortly after, looking somewhat put together. Despite little hints of lightheartedness that she’d throw him, he kept everything strictly formal. The negotiations were quick enough, and before sunset he was ready to depart. Hemisi offered for him to stay the night, to rest and relax, to eat something because by the Goddess Din herself he didn’t look as healthy as he used to, but he refused.

Hemisi watched him go in the dark, her heart heavy, wondering how seeing him again had made things so much worse.

XXX

The king’s arrival in the throne room was unexpected, but the room was cleared quickly as he walked towards the queen.

“Welcome back,” Zelda greeted, a little confused. “I thought you might be gone a little longer. Did it—”

“You did that on purpose, sending me there alone,” Link interrupted her, eyes fierce. “You used me.”

Zelda flinched a little, not used to this vehemence from him, never having seen this. Even at his darkest, cruelest moment, when he’d refused to see Sonia, he’d been cold and quiet. This was the exact opposite. “What are you talking about?”

“Don’t speak to me like I am fool, Your Majesty,” Link growled. “I did not enter our marriage out of blind loyalty and obedience. I’m not your political toy to continue abusing! You sent me there to curry favor with Hemisi!”

“I—yes,” Zelda answered honestly. Somehow, that derailed her husband a little, though it seemed the fire was quickly returning. It gave her time to elaborate. “I wanted to reestablish relations with the Gerudo, and you were the best person to choose for that. You two love each other.”

Link’s brow furrowed further. “Yes. We do. And you knowing that means you sent me there to exploit it. You’re using me to get to her.”

“I just…” Zelda stumbled over her words, heart racing, trying to not feel slightly afraid by this turn of events. “I just want you to be happy.”

“And you want to be able to conveniently control the Gerudo through me!” Link corrected her. “This has nothing to do with me being happy. Do you think so little of me that you assumed I’d just go there and throw myself at her, that I don’t take my vows seriously? Do you think I am that much of a simpleton, a mindless animal driven only by feelings and cravings? You think I’m an idiot?”

“No!” Zelda argued, rising from the throne. “I just—it isn’t meant as an insult or a trap, you wouldn’t be the first—”

“You’re comparing me to your father now?” Link scoffed, voice rising as he gestured angrily. “Can you insult me any further? Will you call me Ganondorf next?”

“Link—”

“I agreed to our marriage because it was a desperate plea, a last-ditch effort to prevent further destruction,” Link growled. “I did it to protect Hyrule, to protect Hemisi, to protect you. You weren’t trying to use me as much back then – you were trying to look out for your people. And you were willing to sacrifice both of us, and I understood and accepted that. I didn’t just follow your orders, I knew what I was agreeing to, I meant my vows when I took them! I committed to this arrangement in every way possible, and you dare treat me like some pawn you can—”

Link cut himself, seemingly enraged beyond words, and he took a breath to calm himself a little before hissing, “Don’t try to use me like that. I am not a blind fool. You think I have spent years in this castle and not learned the politics? I’ve allowed you to utilize me multiple times, but I will not be your tool to hurt or control her. You will never control Hemisi.”

The throne room was deathly quiet as the two monarchs stared each other down. Link’s red eyes were like fire, glare furrowing his brow deeply, while Zelda’s green eyes held uncertainty and hurt, confusion and fear, and the king gave a jerky, terse nod of acknowledgement before storming out of the room.

Zelda slowly sat back down on the throne, releasing a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, and buried her face in her hand as she leaned to the side. There were quiet footsteps, carefully loud enough to be heard when they had every ability to hide themselves.

“I thought you had ensured everyone left so no one could listen to our conversation,” Zelda noted tiredly.

“I did,” Impa replied. “And then I came back.”

Zelda blew out a frustrated breath, rising to her feet. “I don’t understand why he’s so upset! I was doing him a favor! He loves Hemisi, they can be together and it still benefits the kingdom!”

“Zelda,” Impa tried to explain gently, but her tone only irritated the queen further.

“Don’t,” Zelda cut her off. “Don’t talk to me like I’m some ignorant little girl. I’ve been ruling Hyrule for almost five years now, I’m not a child who knows nothing!”

“I didn’t say you were, Your Majesty,” Impa said appeasingly.

“Link shouldn’t be—this is so—I can’t win with him!” She snapped, feeling tears sting in her eyes.

Just like with my father.

Why couldn’t this just be easy?! Why couldn’t one thing in her life be easy?!

“Your Majesty,” Impa tried again. “You can’t… you can’t control others’ lives. It’s not like… just giving orders to accomplish a goal.”

“I’ve healed Hyrule through my orders,” Zelda reminded her advisor.

“Yes, you have. But Link isn’t a kingdom, a distant group of people, a problem to be solved. He’s a person.”

“So are the nobles.”

“You manipulate them because you have to. That doesn’t mean you should manipulate everyone.”

It was called manipulation when there was a negative outcome. It was called helping when there was a positive one. If Link had just listened and understood his duty, it would have been a positive outcome!

Zelda sighed tiredly, hugging herself and turning away. Impa was her confidante and advisor. She should listen to her. But…

She needed to pray. She needed to sort this out.

“I’ll be in the temple if you need me,” she said quietly, leaving the throne room, trying to get the terrifying image of Link’s furious face out of her mind.