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tiredmamaissy · 11 months ago

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Ralak te Sepwan ieyk’itan: Special Episode IV

Seed of Life

This is @zestys-stuff 's OC. All credits to this character goes to this beautiful, talented artist. Thank you again for allowing me to explore and create with him!

Masterlist ; Rut/Heat/Knotting Info

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Characters: Metkayina!Ralak (24) x Sully!Omaticaya!Reader (19)

Warnings: nsfw, fluff, angst, early pregnancy smut (will be forewarned before it happens), daddy daughter drama, Ralak being little rough because reader won’t stop teasing him, Ralak literally has blue balls, ball play, blowjob, brief thigh fucking, likely incorrect na’vi, teacher/student dynamics/roleplay, p in v, quickie, squirting, masturbation, dirty talk, sexual tension, age gap

Disclaimer: This chapter entails pregnancy and sexual intimacy during early pregnancy. I include a warning directly before the smut happens in the case that you want to indulge in this chapter but aren’t necessarily up for the pregnancy smut.

Word Count: 10k sorry

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: thank you guys for always being so patient with me. i love yall too the moon and back <3 happy holidays and a happy new year! also, I’ve realised that I unintentionally decided that Kiri is not involved in this series (i dunno honestly, it’s just occuring to me that I’ve never really mentioned her before and it feels difficult to incorporate her at this point i suppose). It seems like we (reader) have taken her place in this au in regards to being jakes adopted ‘babygirl’ (nothing else though—no superpowers or anything loool).

Synopsis: After telling Ralak that he's going to be a father, the reality dawns on you that you need to break the news to your own father.

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This pregnancy shouldn’t be much of a surprise to you, honestly. How could you not be? After such a breeding it would be a miracle if you weren’t pregnant. Yet the news wasn’t quite sinking in, even when Tsireya looked at you with wide eyes and spelled it out for you. But now that you’re walking towards the tsahìk, you’re faced with reality and it begins to sink in as you count each step you take.

Forty-two…

The words that rolled off the tarsem’s tongue echo in your skull.

Forty-three…

Etching themselves into the bone, leaving you with no space to deny the truth.

Forty-four…

“You are with child.”

The ringing in your ears stops as your vision refocuses on the stone cold expression of the Tsahìk. Her voice is unfaltering and clear as it delivers the news to your ears a second time. Bowing to the taller woman, you sweep three fingers away from your forehead and turn your heel to walk away. But before you can take two steps she announces something that makes your ears stand tall.

“A boy.”

Her two harshly spoken words strike through your chest, a sinking feeling now brewing in the pit of your stomach. You stop dead in your tracks and lift your head that was once tilted down to your feet. Things become even more real, having you force down a wad of your spit to keep your vision from splitting again. You’re barely able to use your voice—your mouth partially open and your tongue rolling from the churn of your tummy.

“Thank you, Ronal.” You manage to squeak a decibel or two over a whisper, dropping your head again to lock your stare to your feet before fleeing the now-crowding scene. You overhear the people murmuring the news as you scurry away to your marui pod.

‘The forest girl expects the firstborn of the village’s best warrior’;

‘She won’t make it out alive!’;

‘Did you hear? She will birth the first of a new kind. A kind with demon blood’.

If your legs could go any quicker, they would.

A child grows in your womb now. A child for the man you love—Ralak. The man who deserves it most. You’re scared and excited all at once. Proud to bear a son for such a notable and fearsome man. But afraid of how your family will take to the news.

This was your first month of being a mated pair, and you’ve already succumbed to your most primordial instinct to mate. And with what everyone is already whispering, you’re scared of much more than that. Is what they say true? Is this a risky thing? Will he be teased for being different? Will he be rejected from the clan?

Does Ralak… even want this?

You both hadn’t even sat down and spoken about the possible consequences of such a cosmic event—your synced cycles. What if he hadn’t meant all the things he said? Or if he really just couldn’t prevent the things that he did during his rut? How would he react if that were the case?

Your mind is running at a hundred clicks an hour and your nerves are wringing your stomach that it takes the hot sand spilling through the cracks of your toes to make you realise that you’re already home.

And there he is, in all his glory.

Doing nothing other than sharpening his damn spear. Sitting on his knees, leaned back with his flexed abs and gathered brows, concentrating on his task—blissfully unaware of the gossip spreading throughout the clan. The sight brings serenity to the white noise in your head, leaving nothing but the crash of the waves and the splash of the ilus off in the distance. I

Ralak’s ears twitch as he senses your presence, but he remains focused on the stroke of his whetstone against the blade. He can feel your apprehension from where he sits, and he can already tell what you’re here for. Yet he chooses to keep his appearance no less than stoic, but not enough to be intimidating.

“Tanhì.” He hums low enough that you strain to hear him.

“I need to speak with you.” You utter, wetting your dry lips with a quick swipe of your tongue. You stand there fidgeting with your fingers as you await a reply from your husband. It’s almost mortifying how silent this man can actually be. You see the slight tilt of his head and his ear perk up to listen closely. Taking this as your cue to speak, you try to find the words to say.

How do I say this?

Ralak is a simple man, perhaps it’s better to give it to him straight. An easy, ‘I carry your unborn son’, would do, right? You begin to gnaw on the dry skin on your bottom lip as you think. But his silence is really getting to you today. How can he sit there so… unbothered? Not even a glance thrown your way or an eyelash batted. Maybe you should just spit it out — ‘you got me pregnant’.

“Hm?” He lets out a muffled grunt, swiping the whetstone against the spearhead. It sounds innocent. Like he’s just immersed in a task and couldn’t quite bring himself to completely stop.

“We no longer need to prepare for my heat.” You blurt out, not even knowing where the words came from. You witness his spine straighten and him quickly stilling his movements.

Little did you know his heart gallops at the speed of a direhorse, thumping wildly between his ribs as he prepares himself to finally hear you utter the words. Oh, how he had been waiting for your sweet voice to sing the news. But he realises that you seem to need an extra push to say them.

“And why is that?” Ralak husks, still unmoving.

You wait for him to turn around. To look your way. Something.

But… nothing.

“I’m pregnant.”

Ralaks heart skips a beat and his breath catches in his throat. A grin spreads from ear to ear, so strong and wide that if you were really paying attention you would have caught the way his ears stand at full height.

But you were too busy fighting the bubble of the blood in your thumping heart, trying to keep your frustration to a minimum. You had expected more. For him to turn around, at the very least. All you could hear was the da-dump and the silence between you two. Until you couldn’t take it anymore.

Perhaps it’s all the hushed chatter from earlier or maybe it’s just the new surge of hormones and out-of-whack pheromones but you can’t help the burn of your eyes as they fill with tears.

“So w-what? Not even a glance my way? You knock me up and have nothing to s-say for it?” You choke back your heated tears of frustration, Ralak now huffing a vehement sigh. “You’re not even surprised, or—” Your blubbering is cut short by your husband's quick movement.

Ralak instantaneously brings himself to his feet and storms over to you, towering over your petite frame. Now he’s peering down at you, dark, smouldering eyes holding the most intimidating gaze with you as he closes the distance between your bodies. He’s still damp from seeing to the ilus this morning that when your chest touches his cold, bare stomach, it hardens your nipples into stiff peaks.

“Surprised?” He rasps, his large hand flying to your lower stomach, gently pressing into it. Heaving shoulders slowing as he steadies his breathing, Ralak lowers his head to brush his lips against the shell of your ear—

“Do you not think I had every intention of putting this baby inside of you?”

Hearing this spoken in such an assertive tone sends shivers up your spine—Ralak knows exactly how to handle you and your… sensitivity. He always has. Your tail sways uncontrollably behind you, earning a well concealed smirk from the giant before you. It’s always been one of his favourite parts of you, but now—oh, now he has a new favourite part of you.

Your soon-to-be swelling belly.

“I have known.” He admits through a whisper, smoothing his entire palm over your budding womb, planting a quick kiss on your temple. “Your scent… it has changed, tanhì.”

“What?” You whisper, almost pulling away from his tender touches to look at him. “And you didn’t say anything?”

“I wanted to hear you say it. I have been waiting… to hear you say it.” He’s the one to pull away this time, looking you deeply in the eyes. His free hand raises, using his thumb to wipe away a tear seeping from the corner of your eye. “Please. Do not cry.”

You don’t even know what to say. Yet again, Ralak leaves you speechless—with trembling lips and a swelling throat.

“And you are actually eating the payoang niktsyey [fish wraps] I cook.”

“What?” You snort, letting loose a sudden, nasally giggle. You drop your smile and try to fix a serious expression on your face. “What do you mean? I always eat your payoang niktsyey [fish wraps]”

Ralak laughs, his three fingers tucking hair behind your ear, “I see you throw them to the ilus, tanhì. I am no fool.”

You laugh again, snotty-nosed and teary-eyed, sniffling when the uncontrollable giggling fit ends. “It seems that our son enjoys your cooking, ‘lak.” You bubbler with a wobbly smile, blinking harshly to clear your vision.

Ralaks eyes bulge as they frantically search yours—a beaming smile spreading across his lips, his pointed teeth on full display. “Son?” He exhales softly, his left brow bone jumping ever so slightly.

All you can do is nod, letting your wobbly smile morph into a grin. The tears come back like they never left, twice as much and even hotter than before. You swear you see Ralaks eyes gloss over too, glistering in the sunlight.

Ralak sinks to his knees, coming face to face with your soft tummy.

“My prrnen [baby]. My ‘evengan [son; boy child]. It is your sempu [daddy].” He whispers, heated lips slightly pressed against your silken skin. Chin tucked to your chest, you watch in awe, straining to listen to his hushed whispers. “I have wanted you for so long.”

Hearing that—oh, how hearing that makes you feel. You feel warm inside, your heart so full all your earlier fears melt away. Ralak looks up at you, azure blue eyes filled with nothing but love and adoration—gratitude and admiration.

“My sweet tanhì. You have made me the man I have always wanted to be.” He croons at you, planting a long, soft kiss on your stomach—eyes still locked with yours. “And I thank you for that. Nìt’iluke [forever; never-endingly]”

And just like that, the butterflies you felt when you first laid eyes on this man come rushing in, flapping their wings at full force.

“I am your mate.” You sputter out a little, tiny sob. “It’s what I-I am supposed to do.”

Ralak stands up, holding eye contact with you the entire way.

“You owe me nothing. It is an honour that you carry my unborn, y/n.” His hand leaves your stomach to grasp your hand, intertwining his thickset fingers with yours. “You will be a nawm [great] mother.”

“And you will be the best father.” You choke back your sobs, struggling to get your words out. A comfortable silence passes, where you both immerse yourselves into one another’s touch. Until Ralak witnesses your expression morph into something of worry.

“What is it?” He asks in a hushed voice, keeping his tone calm and cool.

“Speaking of… fathers.” The column of your throat undulates when you gulp hard, “How will I tell mine?”

Ralak swallows, too. The thought had crossed his mind a few times over the past week. He saw the answer as simple – tell him. Ralak holds a lot of respect for your father, looking up at him as a superior given his status and skill as a warrior. And although he’s slightly intimidated by your father, Ralak sees this respect as mutual—therefore, it should be returned. Surely, this will go smoothly if you both remain polite.

Right?

“We tell him. Together.” Ralak grasps your hand once more, giving it a gentle, reassuring squeeze, his heavy accent shining through now that he’s high on emotions, “I keep you safe. Both of you.”

——

Both you and Ralak make your way down the shore towards the webbing of overlapping mangrove roots. Though you insisted on breaking the news to your family by yourself, he was adamant that he accompanies you. You couldn’t bear the thought of your father lashing out on Ralak, especially in front of the others. You tried to explain that to him, but he simply shook his head and tightened the clasp of his saya (knife sheath) on his hip.

You make the trek by foot, wanting a little more time to think about what you were going to say, and he ensured to stay right behind you. Quite literally—looming behind you like some sort of bodyguard. Every na’vi you pass are quick to avert their gaze elsewhere when they see the giant you have as a shadow. They tried not to look to begin with, but it was a rare sight to see you two so close together among the clan.

Their hushed whispers are kept to an absolute minimum but Ralak hears them nonetheless. It doesn’t bother him. Not anymore, at least. It used to bother him before he had met you—hearing the chatter of the gossip about his voluntary six year celibacy despite being the chief’s right hand man. And now that the murmurs entail nothing but his relationship with you, he could care less.

But then he hears the indistinct mumble about the babe budding in your womb. It’s something along the lines of ‘it being some demon hybrid’. The comment alone has Ralak screeching to a halt, his head snapping in the direction of a stocky, young warrior in training. One that Tonowari had relentlessly urged Ralak to teach until he begrudgingly gave him a couple combat lessons.

Ralak’s eyes narrow and sharpen, snapping down to shoot a threatening leer down at him. That's all it took for the stumpy na’vi to drop his head in shame and scurry away with his younger companions.

Sensing that Ralak is no longer on your tail, you turn around, half-expecting him to be five steps behind. Instead, he’s right where you left him, with a reassuring smile and an extended hand gesturing you to ‘continue’. You return a light hearted smile and spin around, taking another step towards your family marui.

——

“To what do we owe the visit?” Neteyam smiles as he greets you at the marui door, arms splayed out for a hug. You smile and slump into your brother, allowing him to envelope you in a warm embrace. “We haven’t seen you in what feels like weeks, sis.”

“Because we haven’t.” Lo’ak adds, lurking behind his bigger brother, arms crossed over his chest with a grin on his face.

“Hey Lo’.” You say in a low voice, smiling at him as you let go of your big brother. Ralak silently stands at the marui door, head awkwardly tilted in an attempt to fit himself in such a tight space.

“Hey, sissy.” Lo’ak throws an arm around your neck, patting your shoulder a few times as he walks you further inside and away from Ralak. “What’s up with the shadow?” He doesn’t even try to quieten his voice as he nudges his chin in your husband's direction.

You force a little laugh, unwrapping his arm from around your neck so you can inch away back to your ‘shadow’. You back up until you bump into his solid build, making a muffled thump when you collide. He steadies you by the shoulders, lidded eyes flicking down to check that you’re okay. He can sense your nervousness.

“I–we… have something to tell you guys.” You begin, shifting your weight from one foot to the other. “Where’s everyone else?”

Lo’ak’s eyes squint, brows furrowing as the gears in his brain grind twice as fast to figure out what you could possibly be calling a family meeting for. “No fucking way. Already?” He blurts out when he finally puts two and two together. Your eyes widen when they dart over to him, catching sight of the shit eating grin plastered to his face.

Fuck, is this skxawng going to spoil it for me? You think to yourself, apparently loud enough for Ralak to hear. He squeezes your shoulders before sliding his hands down the full length of your arms and letting go. “Mawey [calm].” He breathes, his head still hanging low. You look behind you, tilting your head up to meet his comforting gaze.

“Hey, babygirl.” Jake’s voice snaps your attention back down, having you look your father in the eye. His smile is as wide as his arms as he approaches you for a hug.

“Dad. Hey.” You whisper, returning the hug and snuggling into his chest. You bask in the moment, lingering onto how things are now—before you drop the bomb on him.

“I missed ya.” Jake chuckles, rubbing your back. He finally lifts his head and sees your ‘shadow’ hovering a little closer than needed. “Jeez, let her breathe, boy. She’s just huggin’ her old man.” Ralak keeps his head hung and takes a small but noticeable step back. Jake gives you a quick peck on the head as he begins to pull away. “What have ya’ been up—”

Jake cuts himself short, leaning back in to smell your hair. His eyebrows gather when he recognizes the familiar scent. Neytiri has smelled similarly a few times before. Jake grinds his teeth, scrunched brows and narrow eyes giving away his current state of mind. His hands slide down your arms, gripping then as he looks you dead in the eye. “Y/n. You got somethin’ to tell me?”

“Dad–” You swallow down the knot in your throat, already getting choked up.

Jake's lips purse into a thin line as his death-stare immediately averts to Ralak. And for what feels like an eternity, nothing but silence fills the room. The tension in the air is almost suffocating. Jakes eyeing Ralak down whilst Ralaks stare is locked on the way he’s holding you.

You glance over at your brothers. One’s obviously got it figured out, arms crossed, shaking his head with a smug look on his face. And one is completely clueless—poor thing. You look back at your father who is now seething, leer averted back to you as he exerts all his energy into being patient.

“What’s going on? Guys?” Neteyam breaks the silence with a worried tone to his voice. His eyes bounce from person to person, until they land on his brother.

“He knocked her up.” Lo’aks whispers harshly, not even trying to be discreet. Neteyams brows raise and now he is, too, staring at you. You feel all the blood drain from your face and suddenly you’re extremely light in the head.

Mortified is an understatement.

Everyone is clearly waiting for you to confirm it. But you’re having such a difficult time saying the two silly little words. The pressure is on now, you could even see Ralak straining to hold his tongue. You finally muster up a cowardly nod, and immediately your fathers grip intensifies, squeezing your arms firm and tight. He’s looking down at you with eyes of disbelief and somewhat disappointment, frantically searching yours to see if this is really the truth. You let loose a low hiss, wincing when you feel the pinch of his grip.

Not even another second passes when you hear the slap of your husband’s large hands grabbing ahold of your father’s wrists.

“She is pregnant.”

A deep, but low growl rips from Ralaks chest. In other words, ‘never lay your hands on a pregnant woman’. Ralak dwarfs Jake as he inches in a little closer, grasping his wrists just firm enough to send this message.

“Yeah. Got it, bud.” Jake returns a growl through his teeth and tightened lips. He shifts his position slightly, eyes flicking down to acknowledge what his son in law is trying to get across. Nonetheless, Jake stands his ground. “Get your hands off me.”

Ralak tries to regain his composure, but his protective instincts have just about gone haywire. The urge to protect has never been so intense before. It’s like his soul knows that there’s just more to protect.

More at stake.

Ralak looks down at your fathers hands once more, silently making his point clear. He holds eye contact with Toruk makto whilst he remains unmoving.

“Lak…” You squeak a warning to your husband, who only flutters his jaw as a response. Lo’ak and Neteyam are on edge, both concerned that their father has a grip on you, but even more so that Ralak has a grip on their father. They watch intently, trying to decipher if and when they need to intervene.

To everyone’s surprise, Jake exhales harshly through his nose and gently pulls away from you, but wrenches his wrists away from Ralak’s grasp. “Sorry, kid.” Jake spits an apology, readjusting his position to be directly in front of Ralak. “Care to explain how this happened so damn quick?”

“Dad!” You shout in disbelief, wedging yourself back in between the two.

“You know what? Don’t even answer that.” Jake snaps.

“You know you are really no one to talk! Where’s mom? Mom!” You go on the tips of your toes, leaning from side to side to look for her behind both the two male na’vi.

“‘xcuse me?” Jake purposely blocks your view by bobbing his head wherever yours goes. “I am still your father and you will not speak to me that—” Jake steps to the left to avoid Ralak and walk towards you. Ralak quickly adjusts himself to be the wall between you and your father, not allowing Jake the chance to even finish his sentence. Ralak is now looking down at Jake with a stoic expression, trying his best not to come off intimidating or challenging in any way.

All to no avail.

“You got a problem with me, boy?” Jake grumbles through his clenched jaw, getting in Ralaks face now.

“No. Only keeping my word, sir.” Ralak simply responds.

Jakes brought back to the very moment he made Ralak give him his word. His word that he’d never let a thing happen to his baby girl. The night you completed your iknimaya. The night he granted Ralak the permission to mate with you.

The night Ralak took your virginity.

Jake stalls for a few seconds, taken aback by Ralaks behaviour but a little impressed at the same time. Jake's expression softens upon realizing that Ralak is just protecting his mate—just as he does Neytiri, especially during her pregnancies.

But there’s no way in hell that Jake will be the first one to back down here.

“Mom!” You call for her once more, hoping that she’ll swoop in and save the day.

Neytiri rushes in, hand on her hip where she keeps her dagger sheathed—worry and concern etched into her features. She analyses the situation, taking in the scene of her own mate standing face to face with yours. She glances over at you, seeing the panic in your eyes and the hand on your stomach that you didn’t even know you had placed there. Slowly walking up to the two male na’vi, she places a firm hand on her mates chest, pushing him away from Ralak. “Ma’ Jake. What is happening here?”

Jake’s pressing his lips firmly together, not wanting to say the words. He shakes his head a little, huffing through his nostrils before placing a hand on his hip. His other hand extends in your direction, as if he were pointing out the obvious. Yet he remains choked up and speechless, his hand falling to his thigh as he gives up.

Finally, he mumbles, “Go on. Tell her.”

Neytiri looks back at you, eyes trailing back down to your hand that’s mindlessly resting on your stomach as she awaits for your answer. You feel the burn of her eyes, yanking away your hand when it becomes too much. Being the daughter of Mo’at, a tsahik, Neytiri needed nothing more than a quick glance and sniff to know what’s going on. “Is this true?”

“Yes, mom. It is true. I am.” You say in a defeated tone of voice. Ralak shifts himself, settling close beside you now rather than in front of you. He always had an even greater respect for your mother.

Neytiri’s expression only grows softer, until there's no trace of concern left in her face. Her smile is downturned but her eyes are bright, glistening with joy as she pulls you in for a warm embrace.

“It is a blessing from Eywa, my child.”

She pulls away from you, now looking over to Ralak. Neytiri lays a gentle hand on Ralaks upper bicep, “Seykxel sì nitram [congratulations] .” Ralak signs ‘I see you’ to his mother in law, exchanging a light hearted smile with her.

It was no secret that Neytiri longed to be a grandmother. Her days of children are over now, although she was expecting her eldest, Neteyam, to give her a grandchild first. But Ralak — Ralak is a remarkable, mighty warrior and hunter. The olo’eyktans right hand man, and undoubtedly the best fisherman in the village.

In fact, Ralak was one of the first people Neytiri took a liking to after she adjusted to the way of water. She always felt that he was a good suitor for her daughter.

“Are you kiddin’ me? It’s barely been two months!” Jake scoffs, shaking his head.

“And a day for us, Jake.” Neytiri tries her best to keep a calm, but firm voice. “They are a mated pair, they are having a family now. It is Eywa’s will.”

Jake quiets himself, reflecting on his harsh ways. He sighs, loudly. His eyes finally glance down to what everyone in the room has been looking at, now staring at your protective hand that mindlessly lay over your womb once again. He grits his teeth, averting his stare to the ground, eyeing the charred wood of the fire pit. His tongue clicks as he parts his lips, muttering—

“I know… I know, alright? She’s just—” He looks up at Neytiri, then Ralak, and then you. “She’s my babygirl.”

It’s his way of saying, ‘I just want to protect my family.’

“Dad. I am but—but I’m not your baby anymore. I’m not a kid.” You croak, finding it hard to hold eye contact with him. “Your grandson is the new baby of this family.”

Jake tries to fight the way his eyebrows scrunch together, it was like hearing about the news of his firstborn son all over again. He exhales slowly, nodding his head and extending his arms to hold you. His warmth envelopes you completely, leaving no room for any cold or harsh thoughts and feelings to linger.

“You keep ‘em safe.” Jake's chin presses into the crown of your head as he mutters the words to Ralak. Ralak had always had a hard time understanding Jake's native slang, but this he understood— loud and clear.

“Always.” Ralak answers firmly.

Your safety has been, is and will always be his number one priority.

Jake nods once, squeezing you a little tighter before letting go fully. “Seykxel sì nitram [congratulations], you two.”

“Thank you, dad.” You smile whilst Ralak bows his head. Neteyam and Lo’ak finally come over for their hugs, making a comment of their own as they release you from their grasps.

“I’m gonna teach him everything I know.” Lo’aks grin is unnerving and a little sinister, giving away the trouble that he’s already trying to get your son into.

“Please don’t.” You joke back with your brother, even though you’re being dead serious.

Neteyam jabs an elbow into his brother's rib cage, disciplining him for his mischief. “Agh — do not worry, Uncle TeTe will keep him in check.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” You say softly with a smile on your face, “‘Uncle TeTe’. I like that.”

“Hey, don’t forget about ‘Uncle Lo’Lo’.” Lo’ak chimes in.

“Eh. Doesn’t have the same ring to it, you know? What do you think, lak?” You jester, looking up at him to be met with a slight smirk.

“Very… hiyìk [strange; funny].” Ralaks smirk pulls at his lips a little more. “But, at least it is not ‘ak’-ak’.”

You swear you hear a little chuckle from everyone in the room. All except Lo’ak, who is staring at Ralak with a deadpan expression, arms crossed defensively over his chest. It feels like an eternity passes until Lo’ak finally booms with laughter, extending his arm out to Ralak, who gaily reciprocates and meets Lo’aks’ with a smack.

“I like this bodyguard of yours, y/n. He actually has a sense of humour.”

You let loose a scoff and roll your eyes, about ready to wrap this whole thing up and lie down in bed. It’s seemingly obvious, seeing that everyone is giving you space as they take note of your restless body language and bowed shoulders.

“If you are tired, you should rest.” Neytiri advises, just as you feel Ralaks hand tuck under your arm to support your weight. “Your body is working hard right now.”

“Yeah, mom. I think I need to lie down for a little.” You mumble, leaning into your mate a little more.

Your family practically ushers you out, encouraging you to get some rest and to get off your feet. Ralak walks close to you on the way home, keeping with the pace you set to the tee — only intervening with a hand to your hip when necessary.

And when you finally slump into bed, your eyelids flutter shut before Ralak can settle himself beside you.

——smut warning——

You rouse to Ralak drawing the curtain of your marui, blocking out the orange hue of the last eclipse. It dawns on you that you’ve slept out most of the day. You didn’t even realise you were so tired to begin with.

“You should have woken me earlier. I slept out the day.” You mumble, sitting up in bed and lightly kicking off the sheets.

Ralak turns around, surprised that you’re awake. He curses himself under his breath; he was hoping to keep you sleeping by drawing the curtains but instead he did the opposite.

“You needed to rest.” He says, making his way over to sit on the edge of the bed. “You have been more tired recently.”

“Yeah?” You snort, “…and what else have I been, sir know-it-all?”

Ralak chuckles, his eyes falling to your stomach. “…a little more hungry.”

You smile a little, remembering his fish wrap comment from earlier.

But then you witness his half-lidded eyes glaze over with something of… wanton. It takes a second to realise that they’re no longer staring at your belly. They’re staring at your tewng [loincloth]. More specifically, the mound imprinting it.

It’s the way your pussy is being so tightly squeezed by the thin cloth covering it. It’s the one thing that Ralak can’t help himself from indulging in admiring. Then his eyes snap away, unexpectedly meeting yours. The stare he’s giving you has your thighs rubbing together and your lower tummy tingling.

“…a little more tempting.” His voice is thick like honey, laced with lust and arousal.

In every way. From the way you fill out your top more, to your scent—you’re becoming more

irresistible the farther along you progress. Your heart beats a little harder between your ribs as you swallow the saliva pooling in your mouth. His lecherous gaze is fixed, blue eyes piercing into yours. It’s been too long since he’s been inside you that it aches.

But he’s been patient.

Especially since the day he figured out you were pregnant. With the way you smelt he found it hard to keep his distance at times but nonetheless, he did it. But the truth is that you haven’t had penetrative sex since your cycles synced.

To be clear, he took care of you just fine.

Tending to your needs whenever you initiated intimacy with him but he never took it further than his fingers and mouth. After seeing you so battered by his own hands he found it hard to put you in a position that could garner a similar result again.

For a while, he lost trust within himself.

That he no longer had the capacity for self control. Not only did he feel like he didn’t deserve it, but he never expected you to return the pleasure either. He had already taken you on his own terms. Repeatedly.

Ruthlessly.

So when you ate one to many of his payoang niktsyey [fish wraps] — when the new earthiness of your scent wafted past his nose — he knew. He knew it stuck. He knew your womb swelled with his child as each day passed. And the urge to protect only swelled with it.

He became even more gentle with you. Handling you with care when your skin softened and your hips became a little fuller. Ensuring he had excess when he cooked. Weaving an extra thick blanket for you to sleep with when he was off on duty with Tonowari.

It ached most when he’d come home just to see it kicked off onto the floor, with you on your stomach and your leg propped up just right. Your loincloth would always shift to the side, just enough to expose plump folds that innocently peek through the seam of the thin fabric. Fuck, it more than ached. It made him tender. Throbbing in his own tewng.

Just like now.

He dares not to break the steady, intent stare. Or else he may steal another glance at the softness between your thighs. But he can see in your eyes that you feel similarly. You always give him that look before doing something ‘troublesome’. You break eye contact first, your eyes now landing on his tewng.

Fuck.

Your eyes widen a little when you catch sight of the growing, thick bulge in his loincloth. Your gaze locks onto it, taking in every detail. From the thick stripes on his thighs to the way the twine of his loincloth is cutting into his v-lines. You can even see the outline of the crown of his cock.

His stomach rises and falls from his uneven breathing, and his abs pop out one by one as he leans further back—supporting his torso with his arms behind his back. He was never shy about his body, and he certainly isn’t now.

“Then, why do you resist me?” Though it's a question, it doesn’t sound like one when the words drip off your lips. Your voice is soft and feigned with innocence, yet you're shuffling to get on all fours to crawl over to him. You truthfully don’t care for the answer, you knew that it would be the same old song—‘he doesn’t want to hurt you’.

“I hurt you.” He says coldly—simply, glancing at the fading scar on your shoulder as you settle yourself on your knees beside him. He watches as your hand finds purchase on his knee, and slides up his thigh. “And now that you are with child… I—haah”. He’s cut short with a shaky breath and slight jolt when you cup his bulge with a bit of force. He looks down at your hand, dainty and slender, barely grasping half of what’s under his tewng.

“You worry about me too much.” You mumble, more focused on the speed at which his cock pulses at. “Yet still, never yourself.” You feel around, sliding your palm up and down its length, earning a rough exhale from Ralak in return. His lidded eyes dart back over to you, taking in the sight of you almost bent over his lap.

“That so?” His voice is thick and gruff.

“Mhm. ‘m always telling you that, aren’t I?” You hum softly, slowly moving your hand further down between his legs, firmly cupping his balls. They’re heavy in your hand, hot to the touch and—

Eywa.

“They’re swollen.” You whisper breathlessly, your glossy eyes meeting him with concern. They dart back to his crotch, your hand now fumbling with the twine of his tewng, hurriedly trying to unravel the knot to get the suffocating fabric off him.

“‘tis fine.” He winces as he spits out the words, watching you pinch him a little while struggling with the taut material.

Ignoring his words, you continue with your task, a bit more gently now. And when the knot comes undone, the twine falls off his hips and the tewng loosens with it. You tug it off him and see that they’re not only puffed up but also darker in colour. They’re firm and pulled close to his body, perfectly round and stripes well-defined.

Shamefully, it turns you on to see his balls so full.

Just the thought of them being so swollen with his seed that they’re aching and throbbing to empty themselves inside you—fuck, it’s making your teeth grit. You sit back into the dip of your feet and stare as your breathing becomes heavier. The more you look the more you realize that they’re pulling tighter and tighter towards his core. You look up at him, a little surprised. Your arousal is etched into your features and it’s more than obvious in your body language. You want to know how they’d feel in your mouth. How they’d taste.

If they’d even fit.

Without another passing second you bend over his lap, tail high in the air and legs spread—the overpowering scent of your arousal filling the air. You shove your face between his thighs, inhaling deeply his musky scent. You let out a breath of desire, one that sounds nothing short of pleasure and satisfaction. He smells too good. You can’t help yourself but give his firm balls a quick, kitten lick. The giant above you holds back his chuckle, finding your behaviour cute and honestly a little amusing. Feeling like the butt of a joke, you firmly grasp his length and tug it upwards, causing his balls to pull even tighter.

“Y/n.” He hisses your name, adjusting his legs to rid himself of the strained feeling. You wet your lips with a quick swipe of your tongue, and press your cheek against them. They’re hot—heating up a degree higher the more you tease him. Just as you pull your cheek away and manage to fit one of them into your mouth, his hand flies to the back of your head, balling your hair into his fist.

“You need not to—” your tail curls and the tip of it tickles against his chest, “—haah…do this.” Ralak huffs out a sigh of frustration it seems, looking down at you with somewhat of a predatory leer. You pop off with a pwah, catching your breath and turning your head.

You both share an intent stare with one another, one that feels more challenging than anything. He’s insistent that he’s undeserving of this, and you’re insistent that he must be taken care of. His grip loosens on your hair, until he lets you go completely.

“Shh…shh.” You shush him, eyes narrowing as they remain locked onto him. You slowly slide off the bed one leg at a time, sinking to your knees and settling yourself between his legs—now looking up at him with doe-eyes. The sight before you has your heart palpitating, just like the sight of your face so close to his cock has his jaw clenching.

Ralak quiets himself by locking his jaw, waiting patiently to see how this unfolds. It’s the first he’s seen you in this position, on your knees, between his. His cock twitches in excitement as clear, thick beads of precum begin to roll down its length. You swallow thickly at the sight, wrapping your dainty fingers around its girth to pull it close to your flushed lips.

Ralaks ears flutter and his eyelids grow heavy, his chest heaving as he shifts his weight to the palms of his hands—sitting up.

You open your mouth, strings of your saliva connecting your lips together. They break when you lower your head, taking the mushroomy, glistening head of his cock into your mouth. It’s mostly sweet, and a little salty too. The corners of your mouth sting as you accommodate his thickness, and you struggle to open your jaw wide enough to take him further into your mouth.

His head dips forward, eyes slamming shut when he feels your wet, warm tongue press against the underside of his cockhead. His hand flies to your head again, gently cupping the back of your skull as he lets out a strained breath.

Muffled noises vibrate through your nose as you swipe your tongue side to side against his head. It throbs against your tongue each time it hits that sensitive spot right down the middle. You suckle and swipe at the same time, using your hands to pump the rest of his length until you're grunting and snorting for air. You come up, gasping to fill your lungs.

His hand quickly slides from the back of your head to cup the swell of your cheek. His calloused thumb swipes at a bead of saliva rolling down your chin and pops it back into your mouth. “What are you doing, my tanhì?” He whispers the rhetorical question, ensuring his voice is calm and gentle. It sounds as if he’s given up—given in.

Without answering, you take him back into your mouth, locking your jaw once you open it as wide as you possibly can. You stick your tongue out as far as it’ll go and look up at him with eyes that begin to water. He looks down at you with a concerned expression, which morphs into one of astonishment. Your head goes lower and lower, taking inch after inch of his cock down your throat.

The tears in your eyes finally spill over, and your nose begins to burn. Half of his length is down your throat and you can barely breathe, but the more his face grimaces from how good you feel around him, the more of him you urge yourself to take. You hold onto his hips, using them as leverage to shove more of him down your throat.

“Hnng. Easy.” He groans roughly, pushing back against your shoves. “You are pregnaaah—mmn, you will make yourself sick, tanhì.”

Lifting your hand from his hip, you smack away his hand and take him full hilt, his cock hitting the back of your throat, making it bulge. You stop for a second, slowly inhaling through your nose to focus on not gagging. You try moving the back of your tongue, slowly stroking the rest of his length with your hand.

“Ah, shit.” He exhales shakily, his eyes rolling back before squeezing shut. He looks focused, like he’s concentrating on not cumming down your throat right then and there. Lips parted slightly, each breath he takes becomes louder and more raggedy. His thigh muscles tense up and his legs spread a little more, his hand finding its own way to the base of your kuru.

Chest swelling with pride, you begin to bob your head and coat his cock with your sticky spit. The more slippery it gets the harder he has to fight back his choked grunts. The grip he has on your kuru is tightening, as if he were preparing himself to pry you off his cock before he fills your throat.

Suddenly, his head sinks back and his jaw clenches—hard. You could feel it. The way his cock twitches. The way it’s heating up. The way it’s swelling in your mouth. Gurgled noises are escaping past his lips, and he purses them tightly together in attempts to keep himself quiet. His core flexes, and his hips start to stutter. His whole body jolts from how sensitive he’s getting, and finally he thrusts into your mouth, the pointed tip of his cock slamming into the back of your throat.

You silently gag as his hips stammer into you and he’s fucking your throat in frenzied little movements. He’s trying his hardest to be as gentle as he possibly can.m, but your throat is so soft and tight around him. You swallow around his cock as you try to take a breath and suddenly his erratic movements still.

“Y/n.” He lets loose a dying groan as his head slumps forward and his inebriated eyes struggle to open.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

His voice is gravelly and thick with restraint. You love to see him like this—hear him like this. You can’t help the wandering hand that’s making its way down to your soaked tewng. You try to touch yourself through the fabric, but have a hard time finding your clit with it covered like this. Exasperated, you shove your hand under the band of your loincloth and use all four fingers to rub sloppy circles into your puffy clit.

Ralak is too immersed into this to even take note of your desperation. He’s too desperate himself. And if you don’t stop now, he really won’t be able to help himself. He begins tugging you by your queue, trying to pry you away from him. With each hasty swipe of your fingers you suck a little harder, as if you were trying to match your pleasure with your mates’. He pulls at your kuru even harder but you’re unbudging, firmly holding the base of his cock as you relentlessly suckle on the most sensitive part of his tip.

“Stop.” He growls out of breath, finally looking down just to be tipped close to the edge by the sight below him. You look dumb and fucked out with his cock stuffed in your mouth, broken moans vibrating against his length as you franticly touch yourself.

Finally, he yanks you off him with one swift, hard tug, his cock slapping his stomach when it pops out of your mouth. You land on your behind, legs spreading wide open as your fingers work away at your now throbbing clit.

“Why? Can’t handle it?” You taunt him between pants and breathy, hoarse moans. Rather than answering he looks down at you with a cocked brow, kuru still in hand. Both of you stare at one another, shoulders and chests violently heaving as you both pant for air. He’s raw and pulsing, twitching from the heartbeat in the crown of his cock.

It's suspended mid air, jumping from how insanely aroused he’s left himself. Sticky beads of precum constantly roll down his shaft, one after the next and his balls are throbbing too. You get back on your knees and lunge for his cock again, tongue darting out to have another taste. He pulls you back, his hand still having a firm grasp of your kuru.

“Is this what you are like when you have been bred?” Ralak huffs, a little taken aback by your lewd behaviour. His gaze shifts to your pathetic attempt to make yourself cum, and a smirk spreads across his lips. “So desperate.” Your silence has his brows scrunching together and him yanking your head back so you’re looking up at him. A growl rumbles in his chest as he slowly rises to his feet, bringing you to your knees with him—his hung cock swaying directly in your face.

A smug little smile pulls at your lips when you realise you’re riling him up. You witness his jawbone flutter, his ears laying flat against his skull. He just wants to stuff his cock back down your throat to teach you a lesson. Instead he shoves your face into his crotch, your nose burying itself into the space between his cock and balls. He holds you there for a few seconds, just long enough that when he finally pulls you away you suck in a tiny gasp of air.

Ralak sighs a low, lengthy breath, forcing himself to regain his composure. He can’t understand how such a little thing can be so feisty. To act as if he couldn’t pin you down and take you without a scuffle. Truthfully it only makes him even harder. It only further proves that you are really the woman for him.

Slowly bringing you to your feet, he keeps your face pressed to his body so that your bottom lip drags along his torso as you make your way up. Your hand is still stuffed inside your tewng, slick fingers working hard to find their way back to your clit. With his free hand he grabs a hold of your hip, and steadily backs you up against the wall.

When your back hits the wall, a shaky breath is expelled from your lungs. He lets go of your kuru and rips your hand from your tewng. He then wedges his knee between your legs, putting pressure on your clit, making it flutter uncontrollably. His movements are quick but gentle, filled with purpose and desire. His eyes dart back and forth between yours as he searches them, his face just inches away from yours.

“Answer me, little one.” He whispers into your mouth.

“Yes.” Your answer is breathy and short.

Ralak heaves a heavy sigh.

“I am trying to be gentle…” He speaks the words through gritted teeth, using both hands on your hips to spin you around to face the wall. He lowers his head until his lips graze against the tip of your ear. “…but you make it so hard for me.” He growls, using the perfect amount of force to pin you against the wall with his body. His large hand swiftly moves to your lower stomach, cupping it to act as a protective barrier between the wall and your budding womb.

“No need to be. I can handle you just fine.” Your lips are pressed tight to your teeth, face flush against the smooth surface, making it hard for you to speak clearly. “Pregnant or not.”

Ralak chuckles.

“Is that right?” He speaks in an almost condescending tone, hurriedly tugging down your loincloth just enough to get access to your cunt. Without warning, he bends his knees a little to align your pelvises and then shoves his cock between your slickened, warm folds. “Oh tanhì, you are soaked.” His voice quiets down into a hushed whisper, “All from sucking my cock?”

A mewl splits your lips just as all the blood rushes to your face, staining it a bright pink. Your pussy clenches around nothingness only causing more of your slick to ooze on his cock. Your breath turns shaky, tail swishing wildly behind you. You can’t move even if you wanted to. He’s got you pinned down, quickly reminding you of his strength. And had it not been for his hand on your abdomen you would be completely plastered to the wall and taken on his terms.

“Tsk-tsk…Have you no shame?” Ralak tuts, holding you still. “Or must I give you a lesson on self-restraint?”

Despite his cockiness you can sense the urgency in his body language and in his voice. You can feel it in the way his hips stutter, as his cock slides back and forth between your pussy lips. His own desperation. The desire to be inside you. The need for release.

“Go on then, karyu.” You moan softly, causing his grip on you to loosen for a millisecond. Hearing that name brings a feeling of nostalgia. Of lust. You push back into him, your slippery hole trying to suck him inside with a few quick movements of your pelvis. “But I know you’ve been desperate… desperate to fuck your numeyu.”

“Oh, little one.” His chuckle is dark and depraved, his protective hand stiffening as if he were preparing it for what's to come. “Yet you are trying your hardest to take me inside you.” He licks your ear lobe to tip, whispering, “so cute.”

“Fnawe’tu [coward].” You mutter under your breath, steadying your feet to ground yourself.

Ralaks ears flicker and stand tall, then immediately lay flat to his head—his brow cocking in astonishment. His smirk grows wider, the heat in his chest spreading to his extremities. Now that pushes him over the edge.

“Say that again, numeyu.” He challenges you in a growl, angling his hips so his weeping cockhead prods at your entrance. He ensures not to let the buck of his hips win, keeping you empty and yearning.

“Haah… afraid to take what’s yours.” You purr, rising to the tips of your toes to try sink him inside you. “Fnawe’tu—”

Smack.

The sound of his swollen balls making contact with your puffy clit is almost as loud as your broken gasp. You smile open mouthed as he holds his position balls deep inside you, firmly pressing the tip of his cock into your cervix. He’s grinding his back teeth, digging his chin into your shoulder to quell the rumble of his chest from how tight you’re squeezing his cock.

You whine from the fullness of him stuffed inside your cunt, his unmoving hips sending a clear message of dominance. He’s hunched over you, body weight pinning you mercilessly against the wall, hand over your womb to keep your unborn safe—as promised. Still being gentle enough.

But you want him to lose it.

To fuck into you like he were in rut again. To use your pussy like a fucktoy to satiate his own greed and self pleasure. He deserves that much, for being such a competent and loving man to you. Yet it seems the only way to bring that out of him is to play dirty.

“Fnawe’tu [coward].” You repeat shakily.

Smack.

Another deep and hard thrust into your sloppy cunt. He lets loose the rumble in his chest this time, bearing his canines and putting most of his weight on you now. Lips pressed tightly together, your whimper is muffled and outright pathetic, pinched brows giving away the pleasure rippling through you. Still, he remains unmoving, undeniably making it clear who has the most leverage here. But that doesn’t really matter to you—you’re getting what you want, one way or another.

Right?

“Voìk si, little one [behave].” Ralak hisses, fighting the inner conflict within him.

“Haa—” Your laugh that follows is a little sinister, open mouthed and smug. Hands pressing into the wall you push off its surface, sinking him deeper inside you. “No.”

“Alright.” His voice is husky, thick with confidence and temperance.

With a rough, quick tug, his cock slips out of you with a squelch, hanging freely between his legs. Your slick mixed with his precum slowly dribbling off his tip and onto the floor between your pointed feet. You fall to the flat of your feet, panting and whining from the sudden emptiness.

“W-Wait.” You squeak, hastily getting back on the tips of your toes to stuff him inside you again. “Please.”

“What was that?” Ralak asks, voiced feigned with innocence. “A little louder.”

“Please.” You barely whisper, backing up on him.

“Come now, tanhì.” His hand slips from your hip to grip his cock. Giving it a few strokes he teases your cunt with his cockhead and you instinctively shimmy down. Hips snapping back to prevent you from taking him inside, he dips his head so his mouth is next to your ear and husks, “You can do better than that.”

“Please!” You moan loudly in desperation, reaching down to your knees to unfetter yourself from your tewng [loincloth].

“Please, what?” Ralak spits the last word through pursed lips, ready to give you exactly what you want if you just ask for it nicely.

“Please put it back inside.” You beg pathetically, finally getting the knot of your tewng undone. “Please, fuck me.”

“Ahh, there’s my good girl.” Ralak praises you with a grin, sinking his cock into your warmth at a leisurely pace. His breathing stutters for every inch that penetrates you. “Was that so hard?”

“Fuck.” You moan in relief, spreading your legs wider. He’s tamed you and he knows it. “No.”

“No…?” Ralak says it like a question, hissing when he bottoms out in your cunt.

“No, karyu.” You answer coyly, voice faltering from the pressure of his cockhead pushing into your cervix.

“Agh—haah” Ralak lets out a gruff grunt in response, his hips now snapping back and forth out of his control. He’s huffing and puffing next to your ear, pumping his cock in and out of you in a frenzy of need. Swollen balls repeatedly slapping against your clit, it’s almost impossible to hold back the gurgled noises escaping your throat.

“Fuck—so—fuckin’—deep—fuck.” The curses are punched out of you as he relentlessly smacks into you again and again.

“Lì’fyaz [language.]” Ralak chides in a growl, hand slipping down to pull back the hood of your clit—taut.

The continuous sting of your clit has your legs shaking and the way his cockhead is repeatedly stimulating your sweet spot has your eyes rolling back into your head. It’s almost too much all at once yet you yearn for more. Your cunt clamps down around him, especially when the tension becomes so tight you feel your stomach double-knot. Ralak hums when you tighten around him, only making him rut harder into you.

Pulling back, he glances down at you sucking him in, your tail curled tight to your back and his cock plunging in and out of your pussy. He can see just how tight you are as your pussy walls grip his girth mercilessly. And with the protective hand on your abdomen, he can feel each thrust against the palm of his hand. It makes his chest swell with pride—

You carry his child yet still take him so well.

“Oeÿa tsantu [my good girl]” Ralak slips into his native tongue, panting in an accent as thick as tree sap. “Oeÿa numeyutsyìp [my little student]”

Ralaks cock heats up inside you, heating your core along with it. It’s the same familiar sensation you feel before he provides you with your release. The feeling that keeps your eyes squeezed shut and breath shallow. He knows your close and slows his thrusts like he usually does, fucking you a little harder rather than faster, angling his pelvis so he’s right in your swelling g-spot.

Your hands fly behind you, grasping at whatever’s available as your orgasm washes through you. You gush all over your thighs, cum dribbling down your legs to your feet, some spattering on Ralak as he fucks and holds you through your high. It’s sudden and uncontrollable, leaving you sputtering out nonsense and your legs shaking violently beneath you.

“There it is. Good muntxate [wife].” Ralak huffs with a smirk, relishing in the quick, feverish flutter of your cunt on his cock. His voice is shaky from his uneven rhythm now that he can finally allow himself to finish too. “Love—hng—when you cum for me, you—ahh, haah—know that?”

He begins grinding to you, shoving you further into the wall as he focuses on his own climax. He uses his feet to kick your legs closed, and pulls out of you, stuffing himself between your thighs. He’s groaning and growling, hunched over you with bent knees and flushed, flattened ears. Skin slapping against skin, he humps at your thighs, thick cock sliding back and forth over your still pulsing clit.

His cockhead continuously pokes out between your folds, tip oozing and oozing with precum. Both his hands fly to your hips, gripping them with force as his thrusts become almost violent. You struggle to keep yourself standing as his hips smack into you repeatedly, your body jolting with each thrust. He gives you one last, harsh thrust, holding you still against him as you feel his cock throb wildly between your thighs. You look down to see his huge load shoot out in thick, white ropes. He’s grumbling behind you, giving your thighs an extra few uncontrollable thrusts as he peaks in his high.

Finally you fall to the flat of your feet, his arms instantly snaking around your waist to support your weight entirely.

“I told you no taunting, tanhì.” He’s referring to the time he opened up about his first rut, “Next time, you ask nicely. Tslam? [Understand?]” Ralak says breathlessly.

“Sran, oeÿa karyu. tslolam. [Yes, my teacher. I understand].” You blubber, fucked out and jaded.

——

2K notes · View notes

heirofnight · 3 months ago

Text

five more sets

pairing: azriel x reader

word count: 1.3k

based on this request: Can I request something? Could it be Azriel x reader and either you are Illyrian and want to learn to fight or someone who joins the Valkyries and you get to know each other through training ?? Does that make sense?

warnings: talks of alcohol consumption, feeling sick, sexual tension

a/n: this is probably going to end up being a mini-series because i'm loving the dynamic & i'd love to see where i can take this as it progresses! let me know what you think, and thank you for the request <3

you were about three seconds away from throwing a right hook into this male's jaw.

your chest was heaving with ragged breaths, and you were fairly certain that you could fill a bucket with the sweat that was accumulating underneath your training leathers. it was a viciously hot summer day in velaris, and you were really not in the mood to train - especially considering your indulgent night out at rita's that only found you returning home ... four hours ago.

you flickered your eyes up towards him, his wings were flared - your gaze was narrowed, your cheeks were flushed, and you were pissed.

you were hunched over, hands resting on your thighs as you fought to catch your breath.

azriel watched you carefully. he was so composed, as though he could perform this training regime in his sleep. his eyes flashed with amusement at your disheveled and agitated state, and that alone almost actually made you punch him.

"up," he ordered, voice firm, "another five sets of ladder drills," he nodded his chin towards the rope ladder that was spread on the ground in the middle of the training ring. you were meant to sprint across the ladder as quickly as possible, pulling your knees towards your chest as you did so.

you scoffed, standing up straight to place your hands on your hips indignantly.

"listen," you started, unfazed by his stoic demeanor, "i'm hot, i'm exhausted, and i'm still partially drunk," you finished, hoping he'd allow you to just call this entire session off early.

it'd been three weeks since nesta had convinced you to join the valkyries. you'd met her at a bookstore in the rainbow about six months ago, and had become fast friends - bonding over a similar taste in novels, and a very similar no-bullshit attitude. this facet of your personality was coming out to play today, especially as this male continued to push you to your limits when you obviously were not in the best shape.

she'd divulged information about the female clan of warriors that she'd been a part of, and you couldn't help but be interested - but she'd warned that the training regiment would be intense.

"you'll be training with azriel," she'd mentioned before your first session two weeks ago, "good luck," was the only warning she gave before you'd stepped foot into the ring to stand before the largest male you'd ever seen. he was swathed in shadows that rippled from him like smoke, and he assessed you as though he was committing your body to memory.

he then proceeded to put your ass through the wringer, and it seemed like he was having fun doing it.

you continued to watch azriel with a leveled gaze this morning, hoping to the gods that your list of reasons to cut this session short would hit home.

azriel just blinked once, shrugging his broad shoulders, "and?," he grumbled, as though he didn't understand why you'd divulged that information.

you rolled your eyes, dropping your hands to your sides, "and, i'd like to leave now," you sneered, pushing sweaty strands of hair from your face.

he smirked at your words, but there was minimal humor behind the action.

"no," he stated simply, "we still have another half hour," he continued, nodding back towards the rope ladder once more.

you bristled, annoyed by azriel's utter obsession with pushing your buttons - he'd been thoroughly enjoying riling you up since you became his training partner. he reveled in the reactions you'd give him each time he pushed you to your snapping point.

you turned on your heels and stalked towards the center of the wing, preparing to take on another five sets of this hellish exercise.

you assumed your stance on one end of the ladder, taking a deep breath, and then -

"perhaps you should learn to break the habit of drinking the night before an early training session," he mused, arms crossed across his chest. that stupid smirk had found its way to his full lips again, and if he weren't so annoying, you'd probably find his current stance sexy.

you glowered in his direction, and his smirk only grew. was that a dimple? gods alive.

"perhaps you should mind your own business," you spat, beginning the first set of ladder drills. you huffed, puffed, and your legs felt like they were going to give out beneath you.

azriel watched intently the entire time, and he'd deny it if he were ever asked, but he thought your ass looked delectable in your training leathers.

he cleared his throat, forcing himself to break his less than innocent train of thought.

"knees higher," he commanded, voice steady.

your temper flared but you complied, straightening your form and lifting your knees.

"there you go," he praised, "very good," his voice had lowered marginally, and you felt your cheeks grow even hotter at the sound.

you struggled your way through the last three sets, dizzy and stomach roiling. i'm never drinking again, you cursed to yourself.

you were adamant about ending training now, you didn't care what qualms azriel may have about it. you hobbled towards the black stretching mat, not giving the male even a fraction of a chance to add some other hell-sent workout to this morning's agenda.

az followed, stopping near the edge of the mat to peer down at your exhausted frame.

"that's it then?," he rumbled, huffing out an amused breath through his nose as he observed you.

you covered your eyes with the back of your arm, inhaling deep breaths through your nose. you didn't deign to give him an answer, choosing instead to focus on not spilling the contents of your stomach all over his feet.

he sighed, lowering on his knees before you to assist you with your stretching. he wrapped a firm, scarred hand around your left ankle, pulling your leg straight in order to begin working on your hamstrings.

you groaned, wincing through the pain that was shooting through your legs and lower back. azriel watched intently, trying his best to ignore the fact that he was knelt between your leather-clad legs.

this part was always the hardest for him - the part where he had to divert his attention literally anywhere else to avoid imagining what else he could do to you in positions very similar to this.

your eyes met his form, watching him carefully. the beaming sunlight allowed you to admire the glistening sheen against his golden skin, the freckles smattered across his cheeks and nose. his boyish curls that fell against his forehead and tucked around the nape of his neck.

the light was caressing his skin, almost as if it couldn't help but touch him. you couldn't blame it. azriel was the prettiest male you had ever seen.

he lifted your leg straight, scooting closer to rest your calve against his hard chest. his hips were pressed into your thighs now, and you had to clear your throat to distract yourself from the feeling.

he sensed the tension, and it almost made a smug smile creep across his features, but he refrained.

this was such a common theme between the both of you: he'd annoy you on purpose, you'd react, he'd revel in it. so much tension, and you both knew it. as soon as the both of you were close enough to share the same space, you'd falter, and he'd try his damndest to not do the same.

his hips accidentally jutted against yours as he switched to your right leg, and you'd had to close your eyes to avoid scooting down in order to prolong the contact.

gods, you'd thought to yourself, i'm so fucked.

"you're so tight," he'd mumbled mostly to himself, working his hands against a knot in your leg. your eyes snapped open immediately - you'd pay hefty amounts of gold to hear him utter that phrase again.

and of course, smug-ass azriel knew exactly what he was doing.

a/n: will this end up being a series? probably. i can't help myself. let me know what you think!

#azriel #azriel acotar #acotar #azriel fic #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel fanfic #azriel imagine #azriel drabble #azriel shadowsinger #azriel angst

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links-in-time · 2 months ago

Text

A Problem Shared

This fic was inspired by this brilliant short comic by @mirensiart. Go check out their work it's awesome.

“Anyone else see that Wizrobe cast a spell on us during battle?” Asked four.

“Nothing happened though,” Wild shrugged, holding up a hand to count his fingers. “I feel fine.”

“Could it be a slow acting spell?” Time mused. “Stay alert to any changes.”

“Hmm, I don't recognise this magic,” Hyrule uttered, mostly to himself.

“Great!” Legend exclaimed, hands on his hips, scowl across his face. “A surprise spell, that's great! With our luck the spell will randomly make us explode or something.”

As the veteran continued to speculate, a fly appeared in Wind's vision. It wafted lazily about, buzzing irritatingly.

“Heh, we're not going to explode Vet,” Sky chuckled softly, finding the image alarmingly funny.

“You don't know that!” Legend bellowed in response.

At that moment the fly had the audacity to land on Wind's cheek. In retaliation, Wind slapped his hand to his face, squishing the bug with a satisfying clap.

“Ow!”

“What was that?!”

“Ouch!”

“What the fuck?!”

“Oww.”

“Sailor!”

“Agh!”

“What's going on?!”

Wind stared around at his companions. Each was rubbing their own cheek, as though they had all been slapped across the face.

“Wait… you all felt that too? Oops, sorry.” Wind shrugged, very confused and beginning to turn his suspicions onto the fly smashed into his palm.

“Yeah”

“Unfortunately.”

“Yup!”

“Yes!”

“Yeeah”

“Yes…”

They all replied at once.

Wars let out a long pained sigh as he rubbed his freshly raw cheek.

“So… a spell that shares pain huh…” he grumbled.

He and Twilight caught each other's eye and the same sickening thought passed between them.

“We are so dead.”

***

The first few hours passed by without much incident. Though each of the Link's found themselves a little short of breath after their hike up a steep valley. As they stopped to make camp, they all sighed a collective breath of relief to have a long rest. Even Wind and Wild, who would usually have bounded up the trail like mountain goats. Meanwhile Sky tried his best not to look too guilty.

Nothing of note happened during their evening meal either. Though Wild feared he might actually spontaneously combust from how many times the others told him to be careful with his knives, as he chopped vegetables for stew.

“Ooh hot!” Sky hissed, as he swallowed a mouthful of broth before blowing on it.

“Ouch!”

The exclamation rang around the ring of heroes, each experiencing the same sting of pain to their tongues. Waterskins and canteens were quickly reached for, to extinguish the burning in their mouths.

“Sky, can you please not burn off all our taste buds?” Legend asked, turning a wry look on his brother.

“Sorry, I wasn't thinking,” Sky pailed, taking extra care with his next mouthful.

“It's alright Sky, besides, the Captain doesn't have any sense of taste anyway!” Time smirked, before shoving a spoonful of stew into his mouth.

“Hey, take that back!” Warriors demanded, playfully slapping Time across the shoulder.

He regretted it instantly of course, when the same mild shock struck his own shoulder.

“Wars?” The others grumbled.

“Let's just try to refrain from any horse play, alright?” Twilight suggested, carefully inching away from Hyrule and Wild on either side of him. “We've gotten pretty familiar with each other on this journey. We can easily hurt each other without really trying.”

“And what's the bet that all of our pain tolerances are different?” Legend remarked, staring down into his stew.

He eyed the rings adoring each of his fingers. Legend struggled to remember the last time he had taken any of them off. Though he had given the healing ring to Rulie to borrow briefly.

Most granted him some kind of power or protection. However, there was one in particular which he knew he couldn't live without. The Vet swallowed a lump of carrot as he wondered how things would fair in the morning. Maybe if he tried to be the last one out of bed, it wouldn't be so bad.

“Let's just get some rest and hope this spell wears off by morning,” Time suggested.

“Agreed,” Wars chimed in.

The boys finished their meals and tucked themselves into their bed rolls, a safe distance away from each other. Previously on more than one occasion, someone had woken from a night terror and attacked the closest body. No one wanted an incident like that while they were trying to get some sleep.

***

“You feel any change this morning?” Four asked Twilight, as he staggered over to where the older hero was perched on a log on last watch.

“Don't think so, but then we didn't feel any different after the spell hit anyway. I don't reckon we'd know if it wore off without trying it out.”

“Hmm, you first!” Four chuckled.

“Yaww! Morning,” Sky yawned, as he sat up and stretched.

He smiled as he caught sight of his brothers.

“Anyone else awake yet?” He asked, rubbing the crust from his eyes.

“Not yet, but…” Twilight began, but he was cut off, as a surge of pain stabbed through what felt like his entire body.

Four dropped to his knees, his arms wrapped around his torso.

“Ahh!” Sky breathed, leaning forwards as the wave of aches washed over him.

“What the heck?!” Warriors exclaimed in a sleepy angry voice.

He rolled onto his side and out of his blankets as he squeezed his eyes shut. The others were all making similar cries and moans as they were rudely awoken by whatever had inflicted this all-encompassing pain upon them.

“Sorry everyone.” They heard Wild say sheepishly.

He carefully stretched his neck and limbs before getting to his feet and stumbling towards the fire.

“It's the scar tissue, it gets stiff in the mornings. Especially if it's chilly like it was last night,” he explained.

“I know what that kind of ache feels like,” Wars sighed, “this isn't that Wild. This is something else.”

“It’s me,” Legend muttered.

Sitting cross legged on his bed roll with his head hanging, the others struggled to see the veterans face.

“What do you mean it's you?” Hyrule frowned, slowly getting up and wincing against the pain. Had Legend somehow managed to hide an injury from them?

“The pain, it's something I've had for a long time. This ring helps, but first thing in the morning is always the worst.”

Legend held up his hand for the others to see. Though he wore so many rings he could have been referring to any of them. He swept his fingers through his fluffy fringe to brush it off his face, before dropping his hand in his lap.

“How, how long have you been dealing with this Lege?” Hyrule asked hesitantly.

Legend was aware that Hyrule had been inching steadily closer. Any moment he expected his successor’s hands to start glowing. He needed to put his mind to rest quickly. Well, as much as he could.

“A long time, Rulie. And before you start, I've tried every healing remedy under the sun. Even magic ones, so your healing magic won't help. I'm sorry, but it just won't.”

“Legend,” Sky sighed, finally out of his blankets and sitting close to the embers of the fire.

“I don't want your pity, any of you,” Legend hissed, turning his gaze around the group. “And you'd all say the same if it was the other way around. It'll be tolerable in half an hour or so.”

“We've broken camp in less time than that before,” Four sighed, plonking himself on the ground beside Sky.

“Does that mean every morning we've got on the road, you've secretly been dealing with this pain?” Wind asked.

Legend thought the kid looked like he was dealing with his and Wild's morning aches worst of all. Even his voice sounded strained as he stumbled towards where Time sat on his bedroll.

“I just,” Legend sighed. “It can't be helped, so I just get on with things, same as the rest of you.”

“We'll wait until everyone feels well enough to move.” Time decided, pulling Wind against his side as the sailor sat down beside him.

“Fine, but this better not become a regular thing. I can deal with my own curses the same as everyone else!” Legend insisted, fixing Time with an intense stare.

“Curse?” Wild asked, suddenly even more concerned.

“Figure of speech Champ,” Legend winked at him.

***

If Warriors was less combative towards the Veteran from that moment on, no one mentioned it. If Hyrule felt more inclined to stick close to his predecessor, Legend didn't mind it. The others tried not to think about their brother's many aches and pains earned from years of adventuring. Not to mention the fact that the guy hadn't even hit twenty yet.

Time sighed as they walked along the woodland trail and considered his own lot. He was the oldest, sure, but not by a lot. The others had made wild guesses about his age, but in truth he believed himself to be in his mid thirties. Time couldn't be sure of course, he'd never known when his birthday was. But Malon thought they were the same age and that was good enough for him.

Time and many battles had given the man his own share of aches and sore joints. Though not bad enough apparently to debilitate the whole group. He thought about how poor Wind had still struggled to get moving, even after the rest seemed to have recovered. Twilight had given the kid a piggyback ride until he felt steady enough to walk on his own.

Legend drew the sailor into a one armed hug and muttered an apology. But Time heard Wind insist that Legend had nothing to be sorry for. He expressed just how impressed he was that the veteran hero still got up every morning and got on with his job, the same as the rest of them. Legend didn't respond, but as Time glanced over his shoulder he caught the tips of Legend's ears turning pink.

***

The Lynel literally walked into them. Whether it had been laying in wait for them, or just happened upon a group of heroes in the wild, no one cared to ask.

“No heroics!” Warriors shouted almost immediately.

As swords and other weapons were drawn, a million memories flashed through his mind. All those times one of them had stepped in front of another to save them from a blow. That wasn't going to work today. They didn't know if it was solely pain that was being transferred yet. If wounds could also be shared between them, they were going to have bigger problems than the Lionel.

“He's right,” Time barked. “Keep your guard up and stay out of each other's way. We don't need any friendly fire or hits taken for each other. Understood?”

Everyone nodded and the Lynel charged. It went straight for Sky, perhaps the billowing of his cloak caught its attention. The young knight stood his ground, Master Sword held firmly in his grasp ready to strike. He glanced quickly left and right to make sure no one was nearby, then tried to remember the move Wild had shown him.

Sky waited until the Lynel was only a few feet away before stepping to the side and swinging his sword diagonally. He slashed the Lionel across its chest, leaving a deep gash in the flesh. It skidded to a halt a few meters behind Sky, letting out a furious roar which scattered a nearby flock of birds.

Unfortunately, the Lynel turned and swung its arm straight into Twilight, who had been trying to sneak up on it. The beast's forearm hit Twilight across the chest, sending a ripple across the group. Four and Hyrule both staggered backwards, while Wind was almost knocked off his feet.

“Argh, sorry!” Twilight grunted, but the others weren't listening.

The pain receded quickly and Wild prepared to line up a shot on the Lynel.

“Watch out, it's…!” Wars began to shout.

An instant later the Lynel opened its fanged jaws and let forth a bout of flame. The boys scattered, rolling or dodging out of the way to avoid being singed.

“Ahh!” Legend cried.

“Lege!” Hyrule winced through gritted teeth as he bit back Legend's pain.

“I'm alright. Just my leg,” Legend replied, quickly glancing at the fresh burn across his right leg.

“Yeah, we know,” Sky grunted.

“Wild, can you take a shot?” Time barked.

“Not at this close range. It moves too fast. I'm gonna get some distance, can you guys draw it to me?” Wild asked, already turning and sprinting off through the trees.

“I guess we'll have to try,” Time huffed under his breath. “Boys, draw the beast to Wild!”

The others nodded in understanding and hurried to help however they could. With one painfully burned leg each, they struggled to maneuver. Legend got the Lynel’s attention by blasting it once with his fire rod.

“Hey, over here!” Twilight bellowed, launching his boomerang at the beast.

The gale boomerang struck the monster in the back of the head, driving it into a tree with a blast of wind for good measure.

“No!” Wind shouted from the opposite direction. “Here!”

He let off a piercing whistle which cut through the air. The Lynel snapped its head around to stare at the young sailor. It narrowed its eyes and pawed a hoof at the ground. Huffing loudly through its nose.

“Sailor, run, now!” Warriors ordered calmly.

Wind had time to glance once at Warriors, and back at the Lynel before it lowered its torso and charged. Wind turned on the spot and sprinted full pelt after Wild.

“Catch me if you can, you bastard!” Wild shrieked over his shoulder

Before Time or Warriors could shout ‘language’, Wind was off. Brambles and branches snatched at his heels and his clothes, but Wind shook them off. He could feel the Lynel’s hoof-beats rumbling through the ground behind him. He couldn't slow down or he was going to die.

“Hylia please let Wild be out here somewhere!” Wind uttered, grunting as he fought his body to keep on running.

As though in answer to his prayer, Wind saw a hint of blue among the trees up ahead. He grinned when the visage of his brother came into view, standing in the middle of the path directly in front of him. Wind knew what he had to do, and he trusted Wild not to kill him in the process.

“You wanted him, now you got him!” Wind cheered at Wild, who answered his call with a smug little smirk.

Just as Wind was within a few meters of Wild and his outstretched sword, Wind dropped. He skidded forwards on his knees and slid on the damp grass right past Wild. Overhead, Wind heard Wild shift his stance ever so slightly as the Lynel thundered towards them.

Wild waited. And waited some more. He waited until the Lynel was mere feet away. Until he could smell the sweat on its flanks, and the brimstone on its breath. The Lynel swung its blade. Wild launched himself into the air. The forest spun in a blur. He was vaguely aware of the blue smudge of Wind somewhere nearby, but he had to keep his attention focused on his enemy.

The blade in Wild's hand moved as an extension of his arm. The Lynel lifted its head to roar at just the right moment. Wild smiled in the fraction of a second it took him to slice his blade across the monster’s artery.

***

“You're in pain Rulie, it's fine honestly. Don't strain yourself.” Legend insisted.

Hyrule gave him a deadpan look, his hands glowing and glittering with healing magic.

“Legend, I'm in pain because your leg is burnt, you idiot. If I don't heal you we'll all feel it for hours. Not to mention your wound could get infected.” Hyrule insisted, as he pushed Legend back down to the ground, a little more forcefully this time.

“Please just let him heal you, Lege. I don't know about the rest of you, but between the hit Twilight took and Legend's burned leg, I'm not feeling too good.” Four grumbled.

He was still rubbing his chest and sitting in an ungainly pose on the ground. Twilight could have sworn the smithy’s eyes flashed with a hint of ruby red for a moment. The pain in his own leg was akin to more of an annoying itch, but clearly it was having a stronger effect on the others.

At that moment Wind and Wild pushed through the brush nearby and rejoined the grouo. The tired and withdrawn expression on the Sailor’s face drove away the last of Legend's resistance. He let out a long drawn out sigh before he stopped trying to get up. Legend nodded once at Hyrule, then crossed his arms and waited.

While Hyrule set about fixing his predecessor's leg, Time gave Wind and Wild a look over. His gaze fixed on the scuffed knees of their youngest hero.

After digging around in his bag, Time pulled out two potions. He offered one to Wind who only grumbled briefly before taking it and sipping at the crimson potion. Time offered the other bottle to Twilight. Ordinarily Twi wouldn't waste one of their potions on something so trivial as a punch to the chest. However, given that it wasn't only his own pain he needed to heal, Twilight assented.

“Well, that could have gone worse,” Warriors sighed.

***

“Okay, I think we've found a counter spell,” Legend announced over dinner that evening.

He and Four had been scouring each other's spell books for over an hour. At last they happened upon a spell which seemed to meet their requirements.

“It's a fairly simple counter spell, but it has an element of a separation spell too,” Four added.

“Any side effects?” Time asked, pausing as he lifted a spoonful of soup to his lips.

“It's not a very helpful spellbook. It's pretty old and I can only decipher the most important parts,” Four admitted.

Legend nodded and decided to ignore the flash of violet in his brother's eyes. He'd been surprisingly focused during their search, almost gleeful to get his nose stuck in a pile of books. Four was often found reading of an evening, but this task seemed to have awoken the true bookworm in him.

“I say we put it to a vote. It's likely the spell will wear off eventually, but with our luck we could sustain another serious injury before then. All those in favor of trying the counter spell, raise a hand.” Warriors decided, already holding up his own hand as he looked around at the others.

In quick succession the rest of the Chain raised their hands, some holding spoons, into the air. Twilight and Time were the only two to hesitate. They shared a gaze and Twilight shrugged. After that they both lifted their hands and Time nodded to the Captain.

“Alright, we'll give it a try. Is there anything you need for the spell Legend?” Time asked.

“Um, I'm gonna need a hair from each of you tied into a knot,” Legend replied, squinting at the book for confirmation. “Hyrule, I might need your help too. In case my magic reserves aren't enough to cast it.”

“You can count on me,” Hyrule nodded.

With a fistful of hairs in various shades of blond, Legend and Hyrule stood beside the campfire. Legend held the spell book in his other hand and practiced the spell for the fiftieth time that evening. Hyrule's hand lay gently on Legend's shoulder, the comforting warmth of his hand emanating through his clothes. Hyrule was always warm.

“Okay, I'm ready,” Legend said quietly, drawing the attention of the rest of the group gathered around the fire.

The boys sitting in the flickering light of the fire drew in a collective breath. Legend began to read aloud from the ancient script of the spell book. Although no one understood the language, Legend spoke as though it were his second tongue. Perhaps all that practice had paid off.

As the spell came to an end, Legend's fist holding the hairs began to glow. His knuckles grew white and Time noticed Hyrule bracing himself behind his predecessor. This was clearly taking a lot out of their vet, and he hoped it wouldn't cause him any problems afterwards.

Speaking the final word, Legend opened his fist and let the hairs fall into the fire. The rest of the boys watched with bated breath, as the little strands of gold and bronze drifted down and disappeared.

Legend breathed a long sigh of relief and snapped the spellbook shut. The moment he did so he began to stumble backwards. Hyrule seemed ready for this however, and caught his brother easily in his arms.

“You okay Lege?” He asked softly.

“I'm good, just real tired,” he huffed breathlessly, his face a little paler than usual.

While Hyrule helped Legend to stumble over to his bedroll, the others stared around at each other.

“Did it work?” Asked Sky.

“How do we tell?” Warriors questioned.

“I could cut my self real quick?” Wild suggested.

“No!” Time and Twilight barked in unison.

Wild shrank back, his previously confident smile fading in an instant.

“No one's going to hurt themselves on purpose,” Time insisted.

“So what, are we just going to wait until someone does get injured and see if we feel something?” Asked Four, sounding irked. “That's not very scientific.”

“Scien-what?” Sky mumbled, looking confused.

“Don't worry feathers, it's a future thing!” Wild chuckled. “Come guys I really don't mind. Besides, if Rulie is feeling okay he can heal me right away anyhow.”

Wild stared around at the others as Hyrule returned from tucking Legend into his blankets. The spell had almost drained the veteran and within a few moments of laying down in his warm bedroll he had drifted off to sleep.

“How's Lege?” Asked Warriors, nodding to the small lump beneath the blankets.

“Sleeping, that spell used up most of his magic. A good night's rest and a potion in the morning and he'll be right as rain.”

“What do you think, Rulie?” Wild cut in. “Wanna test whether the spell worked with me?”

“You want to hurt yourself don't you?” Hyrule sighed.

“Let me get this straight for you. I don't want to hurt myself, I want to help everyone else!” Wild insisted.

While Wild was trying to explain himself and Time and Twilight continued to insist that this was not going to happen, Wind and Four happened to catch each other's eye.

“You thinking what I'm thinking?” Four whispered.

Wind nodded. Four gave the sailor a knowing smirk as the pair of them shook out their left hands.

SLAP

All eyes snapped around to see the two smallest heroes rubbing their cheeks.

“What the hell are you two playing at?” Time bulked, staring at the two boys with disbelief.

“What?!” Four exclaimed, nursing the steadily growing red mark upon his face. “We needed to test the spell, but we didn't need a serious injury to do it.”

“The real question is did anyone else feel it?” Wind pointed out.

“I'm guessing since we're the only ones rubbing our faces that the answer is obvious,” Four remarked.

He gazed around with violet eyes, searching for any hint of pain or discomfort from the others.

“I didn't feel anything,” said Wars.

“Me neither,” added Sky.

“It seems the spell worked then,” Time sighed. “Well, I'll have to congratulate Legend when he wakes up. And well done to you too Four for finding the right spell.”

“I'm just glad it's over.”

“Maybe we can learn something from it though.” Warriors mused. “We have become a bit too reliant on potions and Hyrule's healing abilities. I for one know I've let my guard forms slip, perhaps I should come up with a training regimen for everyone?”

With an enthusiastic smile plastered to his face, Warriors looked up to gauge the Chain's reaction to his suggestion. Not one face was smiling back at him. In fact, Four and Wild looked about ready to murder him.

“Alright Captain,” Time said coolly. “Let's start with how to defend against a horde of enemies. While you're unarmed!”

Without a seconds warning, Time lunged for Warriors. His larger frame pinned the younger hero to the ground, knocking the wind out of him. While some of the others began to roar with laughter, others got the idea. Wild was the first to join in, leaping with joy as he piled on top of Warriors. Adding to his discomfort by tickling his stomach where his shirt had ridden up.

“Oh please no!” Wars screeched, in a high pitch voice none of them had ever heard before.

As more of the boys moved to help Warriors with his training, Twilight hung back. He clutched his stomach as he roared with laughter. Managing to disguise the gentle rub of his stinging cheek as he leaned on his hand.

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bokettochild · 4 months ago

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I cannot BELIEVE no one told me we had an update!!!!!

Anyways, here's my favorite bits as always, because I need to SCREAM about this one!

The rupee acquisition!

I love how JoJo included that traditional *item acquired* pose that all the Links do, and gave it a reason in the comic (Wind insisting he hold it up is just so fun)

Sky's comment though, "don't spend it all in one place". Isn't that a line you get in Skord when you acquire rupees? The cute little easter eggs here are so fun!

I also really love how Legend is taking an instructional role here, both with Wars and the champion!

While also letting his veteran show

and I love that the rest recognize that! Wild calling Legend "an expert" and actually listening to what he has to say, even if he doesn't agree with it.

I also super like the panels of Twilight's interaction with Legend here

Very eldest and middle sibling discussing the youngest child, and I love it. It reminds us that, even for all the cuteness we got between them in the last arc, Twilight still sees Legend as too rough around the edges, enough that it borders on bullying when it comes to some of the rest, and he's trying to curb that. And Legend is LISTENING, because (as I've said a thousand times) Legend respects Twilight and values his opinion. Twilight is his big brother too now and Legend, while still being himself, genuinely seems to care about his opinion.

Twilight's just tense in general, although why, I think is mostly because of Time's sharp scolding in the last update. Even though he's snapping back at the younger ones, he's not very happy to be snapped at right now, and he's eager to get out from under Time's watchful eye.

Time and Warriors

Because while he feels e has grounds to correct Legend for telling Wild what to do, Warriors straight up subtly scolding his protege is different. And the difference is that Legend and Wild and Twi had camaraderie (see Dawn p.3), they're brothers, but Wars is approaching this as a commander, a captain, and Twi doesn't appreciate that. Warriors isn't their leader though, but he's taking that role anyways. (Old habits die hard, I'm sure)

I mean, we all knew Wars was going to confront Wild sooner or later, but I'm glad he was so calm about it. Twilight's ruffled feathers (fur) is more from Time being overbearing, I believe, so it aggravates any slight annoyance Warriors might present.

Even despite some of our suspicions earlier, I like this bit here. Wild was a soldier once, and the captain is very much the image of what he would have worked with before. JoJo mentioned wanting to play with that dynamic, with them bothering having military background, and I think this is that training (hundred years ago though it was) kicking in and making the champion defer to the man who outranks him (as far as they know). Granted, they all call Wars "Captain" but this felt pointed.

I do love Four acting as the word of wisdom here, advising Time, just like he does Twilight, as to the best way to handle a team. it's a reminder that he's done this before, and he knows how teamwork can be, but also that sometimes you need space and working together means working in different areas.

Anyways, here's a couple bonus things that make me happy!

Bunny stance!

(shh, I know he's making a point by stepping on Wild's toes, let me have this)

Wars being so freaking pretty! Dear Hylia help me! (Is it wrong I understand Cia a bit now?)

Wind being the youngest sibling who is Done With Your Chatter

A competent boy being competent (and not as experienced as Ledge, but pretty darn close (if you've played both their games you know))

Showing off items! (I can hear the little ✨da nana na✨)

And of course, I love Time being a tired, overprotective parent (he looks like my mom here, good grief!)

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe update #lu legend #lu warriors #lu twilight #lu wild #lu four #lu time #lu wind #lu sky #lu hyrule

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averagewriter-inthedark · 4 months ago

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A Dragon Does Now Bow Down 🐉 | HOTD Imagine P.1

GOT/HOTD masterlist | | Part 2

Characters & Pairings: Targaryen/Lannister!OC—Daerra Targaryen x the Greens (platonic) & the Blacks (platonic)

Content Warnings: follows episodes 1-7 of S.1, fluff (between oc and kids) angst, implied character death, blood, violence, dysfunctional family dynamics, eventual B&C, slight canon divergence | female!OC (she/her) | wc: 8k

Premise: The House of the Dragon is an impenetrable force when standing together. Bound by love, duty, and sacrifice. But when sides are drawn between kin, not even the glue that holds them together can withstand.

Note: this is a direct result of an AU idea I had where the children of the Greens had an actual motherly figure who cared for them and was also a neutral party between the Greens & Blacks. So yeah, I’m sorry this will be more angsty and dark in part 2.

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

Hand turns loom; spool of green, spool of black; dragons of flesh weaving dragons of thread.

It was believed by the Wise King Jaehaerys I that the only thing that could tear down the house of the dragon was itself. Oh how right he was.

The threat of war loomed over with each passing moon. Bringing unease to his youngest grandchild, Daerra.

Born to his daughter Gael in 95 AC when she was only ten and five. The only legitimate child to her marriage to a lord of House Lannister who shared Targaryen heritage. He died shortly after her birth resulting in Gael returning to the Red Keep where she raised the babe with her siblings and cousins. They took a liking to Daerra--especially the Good Queen Alysanne. Her older cousins; Rhaenys, Viserys, and Daemon were around at times. Mainly at family gatherings since they were all 15+ years older than Daerra.

A Targaryen beauty with signature attributes to Lannisters, Daerra was a sight to behold. Silver hair she often kept short and curly, and piercing green eyes that resemble emeralds. While her father may have been a Lannister, she only ever referred to herself as a Targaryen. Only ever wearing the colors of red and black.

Unfortunately Daerra would know loss again at the age of four, when her mother drowned herself in the Blackwater Bay following the stillbirth of her younger brother. From then on, Daerra was under the care of her cousins Aemma and Viserys, who had their young daughter, Rhaenyra, two years prior to Gael’s death. Raising them like sisters since the couple were not blessed with another child by the Gods.

As children up until adolescence the two were like peas in a pod, though they had their differences. Both enjoyed riding their dragons, though never together. Rhaenyra with her golden queen Syrax, and Daerra with the ferocious Cannibal. Whose eyes were a stunning green as though they were filled with Wildfire. Matching Daerra so closely, it made people wonder if it were the reason the wild beast surrendered to her. Earning her the title, ‘Daerra the Daring,’ when she claimed the mighty dragon on the eve of her tenth nameday at Dragonstone, after stumbling upon his nest when she ventured too far from the castle. Removing red from her wardrobe to only wear black with green trimming in honor of him.

The bond between dragon and rider was something Daerra was taught by her grandmother the Good Queen. A longing feeling she desired to connect with their ancient heritage. Cannibal was a magnificent creature. When not on Dragonstone, Cannibal was free to roam the outskirts of the city away from the Dragonpit.

So as to not cause an issue with his….particular taste for food.

While Rhaenyra had to maintain the statue of a Princess, Daerra had much more freedom during childhood. Which in turn resulted in slight envy from the young heir. Daerra got to go to Dragonstone whenever she pleased so long as the King approved. She got to train under the Rogue Prince himself, Daemon--which fueled Rhaenyra’s jealousy, and learn to fight like a warrior. While Rhaenyra always had a book or quill in her hand, Daerra had a sword or her trusty leather whip. She was his protege. On her fifteenth name day, Lady Daerra was gifted a Valryian steel blade she named Destiny.

Daemon taught her strategy and ways to disarm a man. Not to mention he warned her of snakes in his brother's council.

Speaking of the council, there were mixed reactions when it came to Daerra and the privileges her cousin gave her. Viserys didn’t rush to marry her off when she came of age, much to the displeasure of his Hand, Otto Hightower. The cunning man desperately wanted to rid the Red Keep of her when she grew to be a mini version of his political headache. Even tempted to offer his own son's hand, until whispers spread of young Lords attempting to court the Lady going missing. Fruitless accusations that were enough to ward off prospects.

“Is it true,” Rhaenyra raced after Daerra, dressed in her riding gear as she brushed through the mane of her horse before departing to see her dragon.

“What do you speak of, cousin?”

Rhaenyra gave a pointed look, glancing over her shoulder before leaning closer to whisper, “People are saying you fed those men who tried to win your hand to Cannibal.” The princess received a snicker.

“So that is the rumor I’ve been hearing amongst the court,” her laugh was dry, turning slightly to face her cousin. “Don’t be foolish, Rhaenyra, he only eats his own,” Daerra denied, but her eyes told a different story. One the princess wasn’t sure she wanted to know.

Whatever the truth was, it had the outcome Daerra wanted. And that was to avoid marriage for as long as possible. The main reason being when Viserys named his daughter the heir to the Iron Throne. Daerra was ten and seven, beaming with pride while masking the bubble of anxiety in her chest. Greedy Lords would race to win her hand, and offer up their daughters/sisters to the King now that his wife, Queen Aemma, was with the Gods.

Daerra scoured the court intently. Observing everyone who crossed paths with the King. Particularly Otto Hightower and Corlys Velaryon, who both had young daughters and were ambitious for power.

“Any ladies the object of your attention, dear cousin?” Daerra clasped her hands behind her back, matching Viserys pace along the gardens. He’d appeared solemn, stress making his features age.

“Don’t tell me you dragged me out here to hear of my quarrels with marriage prospects. I thought you better than that, Daerra.” His tone was fond, almost fatherly like. Considering he practically raised her since she was four. The two were semi-close with each other.

The young woman snorted, “Oh, you know I prefer the training yard or the skies. But I worry for you.” She stops, making him do the same. The sun beating down brought heat to their skin as their thick clothing absorbed the rays. Illuminating their emerald and lilac eyes that would have any artist wanting to paint a portrait. “Daemon is off in the stepstones doing Gods knows what. Your council keeps bothering you about a wife--and for Rhaenyra to take a husband. Not to mention they still question your decision to name her your heir. Must be exhausting.”

“It is,” the King agrees with a sigh, looking down at his boots. Wishing nothing more than to return to his model of Old Valyria. “With everything happening, I find myself missing Aemma more than ever.” Daerra’s heart tightened, mirroring his saddened expression. Aemma was like a mother to her, raising her as a surrogate daughter following multiple failed pregnancies.

“I as well. Queen Aemma was the heart of this family,” Daerra glanced up to the heavens, feeling a light breeze drift over them. “Her loss is felt within the Keep. And you should not rush to pledge yourself to another until you feel the time is right. Otherwise you are dooming the both of you.”

Though she did not have experience with love, Daerra witnessed it throughout her life. The love her grandparents had with each other. The way Corlys and Rhaenys were. The devotion Viserys had to Aemma, and the stories of his parents, Baelon and Alyssa. Love matches were rare, but they existed. And if blessed, one may experience more than one in their lifetime.

She had hoped that for Viserys. Unfortunately, her advice was met on deaf ears when he announced not long after his intent to marry Alicent Hightower. The daughter of his Hand, and dear friend to his own daughter.

Daerra was enraged. Disgusted even. How could her cousin marry a girl the same age as Rhaenyra. Younger than her by three name days. Never did she see the two together during the day, and it took some convincing for the King’s guard to tell her the two had secret meetings during the night.

‘Of course,’ she thought, clutching her fists as the need to break something became too much to bear. If there was one thing Daerra was also known for in the Seven Kingdoms….it was her temper. Rivaling that of Daemon when she finally burst after penting up frustration for days. Earning her another nickname of the Dragon with a Lion’s roar. However, she had to remain composed. This was the King, not just her cousin. And while he allowed her freedom and often glanced the other way when she gave cheek to Lords and Ladies of the Court, the same would not be directed at him.

In the end, Daerra told Viserys, “I hope you know what you’re doing, cousin.” And when he questioned her statement, her reply was simply, “You lack to see the weight this union has put on our House. And I hope you are ready for the pressure that will come the moment you sire more heirs. For yours and Rhaenyra--and even Alicent’s sake,” she paused, narrowing her brows at the man who raised her. “I hope the Gods bless you with only daughters.”

Of course, Viserys believed her to over exaggerate. Even when he caught her stiff expression at his wedding. Standing beside his daughter with her hands clasped behind her back, dressed in black with gold accents. The way she assessed him was almost like a warning. But again, Viserys took it like a grain of salt. In his eyes, Rhaenyra was his heir and the Lords of Westeros pledged to her before him and the Gods. Swearing fealty, which was more valuable than any gold in the country.

He failed to realize they would not be forthcoming once he had a son. When that day came, Daerra felt the shift. As she glanced down at the babe in her arms, having taken him while Alicent rested before Viserys was to present him to the court, Daerra’s usual rough exterior crumbled.

There was such an innocence to babes. Unaware of the harsh realities the world possessed. Small little things who only desired love and attention. “Hello, little one,” she whispered to Aegon. His bright lilac eyes staring up at her in wonder. Silver strands of hair on his head, skin soft and smooth as her finger stroked his cheek. “I’m your cousin, Daerra. Oh how the realm has awaited your arrival,” her gaze softens, a tinge of sadness in her tone. “But I’m sorry for what your life is set to be like. You’re the first born son--named after the Conqueror himself.”

Of course little Aegon had no clue what she was saying. To him the only concern was when he would eat, sleep, and have his nappy changed. Still, he gazed up at her as though he was taking in every word.

Helaena came a year later, with Aemond not long after. As she did with Aegon’s birth, Daerra was present in the Queen’s chamber. Offering support and watching the babes while she rested following the endless hours of labors. Though her and Alicent’s relationship was rather hot and cold, there was a mutual respect. Especially when it came to the children which the Queen greatly appreciated. There were times where Daerra was the only person who could calm them when they fussed.

“You’d be a great mother, Daerra,” Alicent exhaled, waiting for the sleep to take her while watching Aemond in the woman’s arms. “You’re a natural with him. With all of them.” Still in her youth, the young Queen wondered why Daerra never seeked to marry or have children. After Daemon left for the StepStones a lot had changed for Daerra.

Though she still had her reputation.

Daerra only smiled, not taking her eyes on the baby boy, “Everyone’s destiny is different, my Queen. I don’t think mine was to birth the next generation of Targaryen’s. But I do think I was meant to help raise them.”

Lastly a few years later, came the arrival of the last child of the King and Queen. A boy named Daeron. Who the King, with the surprise approval of his wife, named in honor of his cousin.

“Gentle, Aemond,” Daerra brushed away a hair from his face and tucked behind his ear. Kneeling down on the ground so she was eye level with the toddlers, Daerra held a sleeping Daeron in her arms. Six-year-old Aegon had a toy dragon in his hand, while five-year-old Helaena sucked on her thumb. Aemond, the curious three-year-old, kept leaning over her arm to get a look at his baby brother.

“Tiny,” his finger came down on the babe’s head, lilac eyes peering up at the woman in awe. Daerra beamed, a bright smile on her lips.

“Yes, my darling, he’s a tiny thing. Like you were many moons ago,” a giggle left the boy’s mouth upon her poke to his stomach. Helaena leaned onto her shoulder, lightly tracing the leather and texture of Daerra’s outfit. Aegon himself found entertainment twirling the chains attached to her cloak.

“How come all our eyes are purple and yours are green, aunt?”

Daerra felt warmth at the title, like it always did when the children referred to her as such. That they viewed her more as an aunt than a distant cousin.

“Well, my father was a Lannister and said to have bright green eyes,” she explained to the boy.

“Like Cannibal!” Aemond exclaimed, causing Daerra to gently hush him and carefully adjust Daeron who made a sound at the movement. Daerra cooed at him before looking back at Aemond. He’d always been so fascinated by the Dragons in his young age. Especially Cannibal after learning of his reputation. Begging Daerra to one day take him with her flying. She also had a tradition of taking the royal babes to the Dragon, much to the horror of Alicent and Otto, presenting the beast with the new generation of their house.

Daerra chuckled, petting the top of Aemond’s head, “Inside voice, little dragon.” He mumbled an apology. Daerra bopped his nose, “but yes, Cannibal and I have matching eyes. That’s why some say he chose me as his rider.” She turned back to Aegon, “Sometimes certain traits are stronger than others. My father’s mother was a Targaryen, but he inherited his father’s green eyes. You all took on after your father, his grace the King. The spitting image of the blood of Old Valyria.”

“But what about Jace?”

Daerra felt her heart stop, eyes widening a bit at the sudden question by her surrogate nephew. As the years passed with many unions blooming and children born to the royal family, Rhaenyra’s marriage to Laenor Velaryon produced their first son. Jacaerys. Born only a few moons prior to which Viserys ordered the babes share a wet nurse, following rising tensions between the houses in hopes to restore the strained relationship between Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra. The former donning to wear only the color green, representing her house calling their bannerman to war.

An act that had Daerra nearly tapping back into her destructive nature by driving her dagger straight through her heart. She resisted…..with a lot of hard work.

Like most in the Keep, Daerra knew the boy had been sired from the honorable Ser Harwin Strong. Sharing his dark brown hair, eyes, and similar nose. Opposite of the traditional Valyrian features such as silver hair and lilac eyes. A kind man and dutiful knight, Daerra saw the behavior her cousin and her sworn protector shared when they thought no one was looking.

Rhaenyra was currently carrying her second child, and rumors of the potential paternity of Jace and his unborn sibling were spread. Making Daerra’s brows narrow in question.

Gently tugging the boy closer after confirming they were the only ones in the nursery, Daerra whispered, “What is this you speak of, sweetling?” Young and naive to the concern in her tone, Aegon continued to fiddle with her chains.

“He doesn’t have hair like us. I heard mother shouting at the maid that Jace is a ba-ba-bast,” he couldn’t get the word out, and Daerra immediately stopped him with a soft hand on his cheek.

“Jace is your nephew. Your older sister's son,” she told him sternly but also soothing as one would to a child. “You boys will grow up with each other--and there is nothing stronger in the Seven Kingdoms than the bond between kin. You mustn’t utter these words again, sweetling. Regardless of whom you hear them from.”

Aegon only nodded, saying something along the lines of, “I won’t,” but Daerra already feared what was to come for the future of her family. Alicent already showed disdain for her Rhaenyra after her father Otto was released as Hand. Now with her voicing the questionable parentage of the Princess’ son, there was little to no hope of reconciliation.

The rumors only got worse with the arrival of a second son, Lucerys. A spitting image of his older brother. Like Alicent’s children, Daerra was close to Rhaenyra’s sons. Making her often feel in the middle of the feud between the two. Thankfully when it came to the children, both were respectful and grateful for Daerra’s assistance.

“Come here, my dreamer,” Helaena grasped Daerra’s outstretched hand, not clutching Luke to her chest, to help the princess step out of the carriage. The Lady turned to the knights, “You are to remain here. We’ll only be a moment.” The man’s face consorted to worry, eyes peering into the woods where he swore he heard the rumble of the beast lying ahead.

“My Lady, the Queen and Princess ordered that you must be in sight with the young prince and princess. You’re not to be alone with them and your dragon--for precaution as you can understand.”

Having dealt with this a number of times already, Daerra’s face stayed neutral, “I appreciate your concern, and honor of maintaining order, good Ser. But you must know my Cannibal does not take kindly to strangers.” Her tone went cold, as did her eyes sending a shudder up the man’s spine. He visibly paled. “He will see you as food. So,” her head tilted in defiance, “do you still wish to join us? Or will you be smart and do as you’re told.”

“I-I-I shall await your return, my Lady,” he nodded, wishing nothing more than to wipe the sweat from his head. Or throw up from the anxiety he felt.

Daerra smirked, nodding back and holding Helaena’s hand while cradling Luke in her other arm. Guiding the girl through the woods until they reached Cannibal’s nest. Once in front of the clearing, Daerra bows, “Rytsas, uēpa raquiros.” Hello old friend.

A low rumble filled their ears, followed by the rustling of leaves. The clearing between the trees filling as Cannibal shook the twigs from his back, wildfire eyes focusing on the group. Daerra heard him sniff, letting go of Helaena’s hand to approach. The girl stayed put, gaze glued on the dragon with awe. She’d never seen him up close before, the only time Helaena had made his acquaintance was when Daerra presented her to him as a babe. Then when Daeron and Jace were born, she took Aegon with her.

Daerra approached with caution. Glancing down at Lucerys while she untucked the blanket to show his face.

“Nyke’ve maghatan ao nykeā irudy. Nykeā Targārien naejot kustikagon īlva ānogar. Rhaenagon prince Lucerys, tresy hen Rhaenrya se ser Laenor Velaryon.” I’ve brought you a gift. A Targaryen to strengthen our blood. Meet Prince Lucerys, son of Rhaenyra and Ser Laenor Velaryon.

Cannibal leaned down, bringing his snout level with Daerra, who gently extended her arms. Holding Lucerys out as though she was offering him up to the dragon, making Helaena gasp lightly. Slight fear at what might happen despite finding the sight mesmerizing.

Emerald eyes met wildfire. Dragon and his rider. Daerra kept her stare as Cannibal’s snout came only a mere inches from the babe. Feeling the heat radiate off him, the fire seeping through his veins. Cannibal sniffed again, Lucerys moving in Daerra’s hands though she kept a grip on him while never taking her eyes off her dragon. Watching him smell his Targaryen blood, the blood of Old Valyria.

A sound of approval left Cannibal, his body raising to his true height. A stunning sight for anyone who dared graced the wild dragon with their presence. It made Daerra smirk, bringing Lucerys back to her chest when he began whimpering. She cooed softly, stepping back to where Helaena stood. Crouching down, Daerra said, “The dreams you have are not mere illusions or fantasies, Helaena. It is a rare thing for a Targaryen to dream the way you do--but it is in our blood. They are a window into the future--or what the future may bring. I know it’s hard for you to explain when they happen, but you must not be frightened. For you are a dragon,” the girl met her gaze, a mini Rhaenyra staring back at her. “And a dragon does not bow down to fear.”

Alicent’s distant nature for her children was observed early on. As well as the neglectfulness of his Grace the King. So it came as no surprise to servants and guards in the Keep when the children of the King and Queen often sought council and companionship from Lady Daerra and Ser Criston Cole. The two hardly acknowledged each other, only when the time called for it. She disliked his insults of Rhaenyra, and he despised her closeness to the Princess and her sons.

But when it came to Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond, the two were a force to be reckoned with. Daeron had been sent to Oldtown once he learned to walk. A decision that put a small hole in Daerra’s heart, for she felt she lost a son, although the decision was a wise one. Alicent continued to drive hate into her children while Daerra fought to prevent it. And having Daeron away meant he had a chance to not sour like the rest of the Hightowers in the Keep. Helaena remained a sweet girl. The only solace as Aegon began drowning himself in wine and Aemond grew restless at not having a dragon.

Like today as a matter of fact.

Daerra made her way to Rhaenyra’s apartments, passing Laenor and the boys as he escorted them to the Dragonpit. “Aunt Daerra!” Jace bounded to her, excitement coating his entire being. “We’ve got a brother! His name is Joffrey.”

“So I’ve heard,” she ruffles his hair, then leans down to scoop up Luke who had latched to her leg. “Are you excited to be a big brother, my prince? You’re not the youngest anymore and have to step up to the role Jace has had.” He nods frantically. Ready to prove himself to his family.

“I can’t wait to go dragon riding with him,” he smiles but then pouts, “but that won’t be till Arrax gets bigger and his egg hatches.” Daerra lightly pinches his cheek, making him squeal.

“Fair not, little dragon, the time will come. Until then--,” she sets him down, bidding a nod to Laenor who returned a nod in respect. Silently thanking her for all the times she was there for the boys and not audibly questioning their lineage. “You gotta grow your bond with Arrax. And we shall pray to the Gods they bless Joffrey with his dragon. Now, I shall leave you to it. I have a new nephew to meet.”

With a kiss to each of their heads, the woman departs as they wave goodbye, continuing on until she reaches Rhaenyra’s chamber. The Whitecloak nods, moving to open the door and announces her arrival, “The Lady Daerra Targaryen, Princess.”

“Thank you, Ser.” Rhaenyra sits up, grinning up at her cousin, who exchanges courtesies with Harwin. “Good morrow, cousin.”

“Good morrow it is, my Princess,” Daerra clasps her hands behind her back. Slowly walking forward until she’s directly in front of the woman. Noting the evident exhaustion in her face. “My congratulations to you and Ser Leanor on the healthy birth of another son.” Her head gestures to the babe, cradled in the knight’s arms. “I hear his name is Joffrey.” At her silent reaction, Rhaenyra softly chuckles, giving a knowing look.

“Laenor chose it. I believe it is a name dear to him--I recall him wanting to name Jace, and then Luke, it when they were born,” her smile was small, lingering with sadness at the memory of Laenor’s lover that’d been killed the night of their wedding. Knowing it was the reason behind the name. “But his father had a hand in naming the boys. Making sure their names were fit for Velaryons.” Daerra didn’t miss the way her cousin’s eyes flickered to Harwin. Or how he looked up from the babe to meet the Princess’ gaze.

Clearing her throat, the woman once again turned her attention to the babe. “Well they are certainly happy to be older brothers. Already planning to take him and their dragons out for their first flight.” Together they all shared a laugh. Daerra made the motion to Joffrey, “Might I?”

“Of course,” Harwin passed the babe, carefully placing her into her arms and lingering when he believed she had him settled. Daerra stayed silent, not wishing to make him uncomfortable by commenting how she'd held all the royal children as babes.

Harwin took his leave, bowing to Rhaenyra and Daerra as he did so. Leaving the two women and Joffrey alone. That’s when Rhaenyra finally let out the breath she’d been holding, closing her eyes to soothe the tiredness consuming her. Daerra sat on the opposite chair, shaking head with a frown.

“I’d hoped the maids were speaking nonsense when I heard what took place after the birth.” Daerra took in her cousin, taking her eyes off Joffrey, who fell into a soundless sleep. Rhaenyra opened her eyes, the small smile turning into a frown.

“I fear it will continue, so long as I produce heirs.”

Daerra sighed, face consorted with concern. “I admit I have some sympathies toward the Queen for her situation. Only a girl herself when she married your father and had the children. Still,” her face turned strained, indicating she was not defending Alicent. “That does not excuse her behavior toward you. And your boys.”

Rhaenyra looked down, muttering a ‘thank you’ to which the woman simply nodded. They stayed that way for a few minutes, Daerra requesting permission to take the babe to meet Cannibal after the two had rested. Once received, Daerra handed the Joffrey to the maid, gave a comforting squeeze to Rhaenyra’s shoulder, and left the Princess.

As she migrated through the halls, she heard sniffles in a nearby room, the one belonging to Aemond. Once again the guard acknowledged her with a nod, moving to allow her to pass.

Her heart broke at the sight of Aemond sitting on his bed, head tucked between his knees. Dust and soot covering his usually clean silver hair and green attire. An indicator he’d been in the Dragonpit. Alone, in an attempt to claim his mount he desperately wanted. After the many years of teasing from his brother and nephews.

Who only did it when Daerra wasn’t present. Fearing her wrath as she did not tolerate bullying in her presence. The one time they did it left them all crying. Mostly out of embarrassment and shame at disappointing her.

His soft cries echoing in the silent room, until her footsteps entered as she strolled up to him. Daerra takes the spot on the bed beside him. “Aemond.”

“I do not wish for a lecture, Aunt Daerra,” he rubbed his nose, turning the other way to shy away his reddened eyes. He knew she already figured out his adventure in the pit. “Mother already gave me one.”

“I’m not here to lecture. I’m here to ask if you’re alright.”

Aemond turned back to face her, eyes glossy with tears and bottom lip beginning to quiver, “They gave me a pig.” Daerra tilted her head, confused at the statement.

“A pig?”

A tear escaped as he nodded, Daerra wiping it away with her thumb. “Aegon. Him, Jace, and Luke told me they had a dragon for me to claim. That it was finally my time to join them as riders.” His head frantically shook, leaning onto her side to which she opened her arm to embrace him. “But-but really it was a pig they dressed up and called it the pink dread.”

Daerra listened silently, comforting the boy as he began to cry once more. Her fingers raked through his silver locks, as a mother would her child. A gesture he loved, considering his mother hardly showed affection. Unlike his older half-sister did with her children.

“Why don’t we take a walk?” she suggested, pulling away from Aemond to stand. She held out her hand, “There’s something I want to show you.” Putting himself together, Aemond hopped off the bed and took her hand, letting Daerra lead him out of his room. They reached Rhaenyra’s chamber, where the lady told him to wait while she went inside. A moment later, she returned with Joffrey in her arms.

“What are you doing?” Aemond’s eyes widened, standing on his tippy toes to see his nephew. Noting the babe was still asleep.

Daerra smirked, “It’s been some time since a Targaryen babe has been born. Lucerys being the last,” she began to walk, Aemond trailing behind her with an eager pace. “And I’m not one to stray from tradition. Cannibal will be pleased to meet the newest member of the family.” Immediately Aemond lit up. Realizing what Daerra was referring to.

It was his turn to join her as she introduced a Targaryen baby to her dragon. He’d been four when Luke was born, and Helaena was who she brought with her. Which had Aemond pouting as he wanted to go but Daerra refused. Now he was getting his chance.

The first stop was to see his mother. Alicent’s already dampened mood increased when the two arrived at the Kings’ chambers. Alicent saw Joffrey and instantly knew what was about to be asked.

“Is this really necessary, Lady Daerra?” she argued, trying to ignore the pleading eyes Aemond was giving her. Focusing only on Daerra, who did not break under her stare. “The babe was born mere hours ago. And I’m sure the Princess--.”

“Already gave her consent,” Daerra interrupted, keeping her expression neutral.

From the side, Viserys let out a pained groan, catching their attention. “Let the boy go with her Alicent. All the children have met Cannibal when they were born, and Daerra has proven he will not do harm. Both Aegon and Helaena have joined her with the births of their brother and nephews. Aemond shall go with her to introduce Joffrey.”

Alicent attempted to put up another argument, but with a 3v1 against her, she ultimately relented. Ordering that a guard must be present at all times and they are to return before the hour is up.

“Of course, your Grace,” Daerra bowed. “We shall make haste so that Aemond is not late to the training yard.”

“You will be joining them, yes?” Alicent had a tight smile. She had mixed feelings of Daerra assisting Criston Cole and Harwin Strong in training the boys. For one, she admired the woman for being able to do things most women were frowned upon doing. She too, found herself mesmerized as a young girl watching Daerra train with Daemon Targaryen. She was a beauty to behold with her whip and sword.

But Alicent also resented Daerra for it. Mostly due to envy she spent more time with her sons than she did.

And that they preferred her company.

Daerra’s chuckle brought her out of her thoughts, “Someone has to put these princes in line. They forget themselves when a Lady is not present.” Both women drew their gaze to Aemond, the residue of the dragonpit still on him. Pink tinged his cheeks as he looked away.

“As I agree,” Alicent’s jaw tightened, but she quickly masked her disdain with a tight smile. Shaking her head while looking back at Daerra, “Very well. I shall leave you then.”

Daerra curtsied again, “Your Grace,” then she turned to Viserys. “My King.”

“Thank you, mother,” Aemond bowed, before doing the same to his father. Both wearing small smiles, though only Viserys’ reached his eyes.

When they finally reached Cannibal’s nest, Aemond was buzzing with nerves and excitement. Heart pounding against his chest. For it would be the first time being so close to his beloved Aunt’s dragon. A moment he’d been waiting years for.

He remembered Daerra telling him many moons prior that she brought him as a baby to the beast, where the dragon spit his wild green fire into the sky in celebration of the birth of a Targaryen prince. Then Aemond often watched from the Godswood as Daerra flew him around Kings Landing. His shiny black scales bouncing off the sun’s rays. Shouts of the small folk reacting to his massive form. Aemond was always in awe.

Sitting down on the grass after Daerra presented Cannibal with Joffrey, they watched him find a comfortable spot in his nest to return to his nap. Daerra beamed at the sight, switching Joffrey in her arms when they started to ache.

“I know you wish nothing more than to claim your dragon, Aemond. I too was upset with each nameday passing and not having one,” Peering down, Daerra saw the way his face shifted to sadness. “I was the age Jace is now when Cannibal chose me.”

“He chose you?” He repeated, now displaying confusion.

Daerra raised a brow, “To believe we have the power to control a dragon is a myth. They are who really chose us. It is why when you attempt to claim one, you must accept death as an answer.” Aemond processed her words, fiddling with his fingers that were clasped in his lap.

“So I have to wait for a dragon to deem me worthy.” The dejection in voice pulled at her heartstrings. His shoulders dropped in defeat.

Taking his hand in hers not holding Joffrey, Daerra signed and stroked his knuckles. “What your brother and nephews did was cruel. And I’m sorry you had to endure that, Aemond. But remember this, my darling,” Tucking her finger under his chin, she pulled his gaze to hers. Green eyes meeting lilac, “You are a Targaryen. Made of fire and blood, whose ancestors conquered Westeros with the dragons we hold dear to our house. Your time will come. And when the opportunity presents itself, you will know.” Her eyes turn serious, filling Aemond with hope. “And the dragon will choose you.”

Disaster struck an hour later. One that no one, even Daerra, could have anticipated. When Criston Cole decided to instigate a spar between Jace and Aegon. Leading him to antagonize Harwin Strong.

It all started when all four boys took turns switching off against the four dummies. But not before they were lectured by the woman on their mistreatment of Aemond that morning. All their heads bowed, not able to face her which brought a bit of joy to the prince. Once finished, they took their spots in the yard. Daerra stood on one side while Cole took the other. Observing the four closely as they met their targets. The knight was not pleased or offered technique advice whenever Jace and Luke were by him. Whereas Daerra was equal. Pointing out mistakes for each boy.

When they switched off again, Jace bumped shoulders with Aemond. An action he did on purpose which received a scolding look from Daerra. She didn’t say anything, her face alone brought a blush to Jace’s cheeks. The boy mumbled a ‘sorry’, embarrassed to have been caught and looking away to not meet her eyes. Daerra moved closer to him, right next to the dummy.

“This is practice, not the battlefield. I expect better from you.” The red on his cheeks got brighter, nodding his head in silent promise to not do it again. Once satisfied, Daerra commanded. “Feet light, Jace.” Bringing his wooden sword up, he struck the dummy one, two, three times before pivoting on to attack from behind. A sound of approval left her, “Good.”

Briefly lifting her focus, she caught her cousin and his Hand, Ser Lyonel Strong watching the scene below from the top of the Keep. Surrounded by his Kingsguard. The king raised a hand to wave, a smile on his face and pleased to see his sons and grandsons training together. He received a firm nod from his cousin before turning to speak with Lyonel.

When she returned her attention to Jace, he had stuck his sword in the dummy, only for it to be smacked down by Aemond.

“Don’t stand too upright, My Prince,” Cole lectured, tone laced with mocking. “You’ll get knocked down.” The glare from Daerra was ignored, moving his attention to Aegon, who got distracted by passing servants.

Daerra’s disproving eyes went to Aemond, now facing the dummy Jace had left. “I understand what transpired this morning has made you upset. But to add fire will only make it worse. You are better than that, Aemond.”

His brows narrowed, “It’s not fair. Everyone tells me to deal with it--why should I? Why does no one--apart from you--say anything!” he whisperer-shouted the last sentence, not wanting to draw attention to them. Daerra didn’t blame Aemond for his outburst. After years of teasing it was bound to take a toll. And part of her blamed his parents lack of involvement for letting it slide for so long.

“Your anger is justified,” she affirmed, leaning down to lower her voice so only he could hear. “And judgment will come when the Gods deem it so. For now, display your frustration on the dummies. Not your kin. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Aunt Daerra,” came his mumble. Daerra straightened up when she heard Cole suggest a challenge between him against Aemond and Aegon. Her brows furrowed in suspicion, but made no move to stop the knight. Instead she backed up to stand between Jace and Luke.

Their spar lasted roughly thirty seconds. Both Targaryen’s put their best efforts to disarm Cole. But the knight was faster.

“Ah,” the sound of Harwin Strong came from her right. Daerra stiffening when the boys turned to him. Which did not go unnoticed by Cole. “Weapons up, boys. Give your enemies no quarter.”

“Thank you for your input, Ser Harwin,” Daerra gave a curt nod. Motioning for the two to approach the dummies, and much to her displeasure, Harwin turned to address Cole.

“It seems the younger boys could do better with a bit of your attention, Ser Criston.”

Daerra cursed under her breath, panning to Cole who did not take lightly to the Lord Commander's words.

“Do you question my method of instructions, Ser? Or that of the Lady Daerra?”

“Ser Criston,” Daerra warned, then sent a look to Harwin. Pleading to not say anything. Of course, it went to no avail.

“I merely suggest that method be applied to all your pupils.” It didn’t help that Aegon shoved little Luke to the side, the boy bumping into Daerra who had to stop him from hitting the ground.

“Aegon.”

Cole’s animosity breached his expression, “Very well.” Harwin’s face changed as the knight stunted forward. Daerra tensing where she stood. “Jacaerys,” his hand reached out and yanked the boy. “You spar with Aegon.” The silver-hair boys laughed as Cole dragged Jace to the other side. “Eldest son against eldest son.”

Daerra voiced disapproval, “Mayhaps we should continue as we were, Ser Criston.”

Harwin appeared to agree, “It’s hardly a fair match.” Aegon patted Jace’s back as he passed him. An eager smile painted his lips while the younger became nervous.

“I know you’ve never seen true battle, ser, but when steel is drawn a fair match isn’t something anyone should expect.”

Daerra hated that Cole had a point. When battle came there was no such thing as fairness. But still, this was training for the young princes. Not a duel between steel.

She could intervene. Harwin and Jace’s faces were filled with worry. Silently pleading for her to reprimand Cole. Daerra knew better though. This was his element and had all the power. She was only to supervise and offer assistance when needed. But she did say one thing, voice stern as she looked all three--Cole, Jace, and Aegon--in the eyes, “Keep it clean. No blood or this ends as quick as it starts.”

Cole tightened his lips, “Well said, my Lady.” Their glares on each other lingered, Cole breaking it first when he motioned at the boys. “Blades up.” They awaited the command. “Engage.”

Aegon charged with a cry, Jace using all his might to counter his attacks. He was brought to the ground with a shove, sword still in his hands. The older boy laughed menacingly, retaking his spot in front of Cole. The smirk, however, left his lips when he caught Daerra’s cold stare. Then Jace came running at him with a shout.

“Ahhhhh!”

They danced across the yard, the spar pausing when Aegon tried to push a dummy onto Jace. Resulting in Harwin to step in, “Foul play!”

“I’ll deal with him,” Cole announced, both men stepping toward their respected princes. Daerra stiffened, peering up to see her cousin looking awfully confused. The rigid posture of his Lord Hand was a telling sign they too felt unease.

“You!” Aegon yelled, startling Jace who quickly met his oncoming attack.

“Close with him,” Cole ordered, all three adults following behind the boys. Daerra pointing at Aemond and Luke to stay put. “Push him backward!”

“Light feet, Jacaerys!” Daerra matched Cole’s tone. The brunette boy’s face painted red and stumbling with each step. Aegon was relentless, coming at him like a wild animal.

“Use your feet!” A harsh kick met Jace’s armored chest, plowing him down. “Don’t let him get up!” Aegon brought the sword down, Jace barely able to counter. He was losing his breath, running out of energy.

Harwin was losing his patience. As was Daerra, “Ser Criston, that is enough--.”

“Stay on the attack!”

Aegon raised his sword, ready to charge it onto the already weakened Jace, but was stopped when Harwin grabbed it and pulled him away. “Enough!” With a single movement, Aegon was spun around and thrown to the side.

“You dare put your hands on me!?”

Daerra cut in front of the heated prince as he hastily pushed up from the ground to challenge Harwin. “Calm down, now.” Her pointed finger while free hand hovering over her whip was enough to draw him back. His offensive stance shrinking down, mumbling curses more out of annoyance.

“Aegon!” the King shouted, mirroring his cousin’s tone. Finding his son to be overdramatic by his choice of words.

“You forget yourself, Strong, that is the prince,” Cole snarled.

“This is what you teach, Cole?” came the response. Harwin picked up the disposed swords, spitting “Cruelty. To the weaker opponent.”

“Your interest in the Princes’ training is quite unusual, Commander. Most men would only have that kind of devotion toward a cousin.”

Oh no.

Harwin stilled, picking up the last sword as Cole turned to face him with a cunning smirk. Daerra narrowed her eyes. Not blind to his indirect accusation, but vexed he would openly announce it in the yard. In front of onlookers. In front of the boys.

“Or a brother.”

Harwin stood, Daerra unable to see his face to tell what he was thinking. Instinctively she motioned for Jace and Luke to get behind her. While throwing pointed gazes at Aemond and Aegon who were watching with amused expression.

“Ser Criston, mind your tongue.”

Her warning was left to the wind. Cole let out the final blow, “Or a son.” Faster than they could blink, the Commander of the Night’s watch spun, fist raised to impact Cole’s cheek. Sending him sprawling to the ground as he landed another one. Straddling his chest to continue unleashing deadly hits causing Cole’s face to bleed in various areas.

It came to an end when the man they called Breakbones was yanked off of Cole by the power of Daerra’s whip. The leather wrapping itself around his neck, the woman jerking it with all her might, letting out a cry until Harwin fell to the ground. A sight that shocked her nephews, all standing wide eyed with their mouths agape.

They didn’t call her the Daring for nothing.

That was when the Whitecloaks seized him, taking four of them to drag the knight away from Cole. “Say it again!” He seethed, spit flying from his mouth. “Say it again!” Daerra marched up to Cole, surprising him with her strength as she hauled him to his feet. Dizziness filling his vision.

“How dare you speak freely and make that suggestion in front of them,” By her tone, Cole feared he was about to get a second beating. “Go to the maester, you fucking imbecile,” she didn’t care if he was concussed, thrusting him in the opposite direction, making him stumble. And seeing he was in no mood to argue, Cole obeyed, heading to the maester and left Daerra to clean up his mess.

Turning to where Harwin struggled in the arms of the guards, she bit the inside of her cheek. “Release him.” Once unhanded, Daerra stepped up to the knight, voice low. “Commander, I do not fault you for the rage you just displayed, but It is disappointing you let yourself go so easily--allowing the Princes to be exposed.” Sharply inhaling, she drew her gaze around the yard, displeased to find most in hushed conversation. Not hiding the way they watched the two and eyed the boys.

Daerra motioned to where his father stood, pale face with fear at what this meant for his house. “You are dismissed.” Turning on her heel, she picked up the discarded swords and threw them onto the rack. “That is it for today,” she called to the boys, who stood like lost sheep waiting to be herded. Jace more so than the others, holding back tears as he was old enough to understand the implication Cole had revealed. “To your chambers--or wherever your Lady mothers need you. Go.”

To say everything changed that day would be an understatement. Harwin was relieved of his position, and ordered to return to Harrenhal, leaving the boys heartbroken. Daerra, exhausted from the events of the day, found herself using the hours before dusk to ride Cannibal. Sensing her distress, the dragon flew for miles, passing Driftmark and circling Dragonstone.

Caressing the scales of her beloved friend, Daerra succumbed to her thoughts. Letting her anxiety and fears come to the surface instead of masking them. The only witness being the dragon who’d never judge her. Only share her feelings.

“Nyke gīmigon, issa raquiros, nyke gīmigon.” She stroked Cannibal’s rough scales. I know, my friend, I know. A grumble filled her ears, Daerra’s slightly curled up then dropped to a frown. “Nyke feel ziry tolī.”

I feel it too.

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elysianightsss · 10 months ago

Text

Limerence | Three

C H A P T E R T H R E E

limerence / lim-ê-rêns / (noun)

“Obsessive romantic attraction towards another person”

Summary: In which the owners of Jujutsu Incorporated, the Ôgami brothers, are suddenly interested in you.

Pairing: Alpha!Sukuna x reader, Alpha!Itadori x reader, Alpha!Gojo x reader, Alpha!Geto x reader, Alpha!Nanami x reader, Alpha!Kenjaku x reader

Status: Ongoing.

Genre: werewolf au, soulmate, polyamory relationship, angst, fluff, omegaverse, a/b/o dynamics.

Warnings: smut, violence, mentions of knotting, heats, ruts, insecurities, some descriptions of reader’s body, mention of possible ED, omegaspace, domdrop, swearing, blood, depression, suicidal thoughts, possessiveness, obsessive thoughts, Alpha tendencies.

Chapter Warnings: Omega’s being abused and killed, swearing, scent description, size difference - I’m not sorry Kenjaku is the biggest Alpha here and I’m not willing to argue about it, dark themes, Kenjaku kills someone but what else is new, self deprecation, anxiety attack, pup - yes that’s a warning.

Masterlist | Chapter two | Chapter four

Taglist: @better-imagination-9 @tiredjuniper @jjkz @honeybeeboobaa @cherryblossomdelusion @dependsonthedream @alluresenses @qardasngan @imcamboaf @ondragonhonour @misscaller06

Taglist is open.

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Previously on Limerence:

“I can’t do this!” You screeched hands gripping at your hair in frustration, “why would I of all people be gifted six alphas?!” You cried desperately wanting to know the answer. Gifted. He guesses that’s a good sign, at least you thought of a mate as a gift rather than a curse.

You blink up at both men and realise, your living room has never looked so small, they take up so much space. With just two of them the place is tiny, how’s it going to look with six of them? Your mind bounces around, worry still present and spinning you into a tizzy, yet you practically preen when Kenjaku’s eyes travel over you like he can see underneath your clothes. It makes a tense feeling in the pit of your stomach start to form, a feeling you’re not familiar with.

You suddenly wanted to be wrapped in their strong arms, you note that they both look like the warriors the news makes them out to be. Huge, brawny and very attractive. How were they yours? How were you worthy of this? And how were they going to ever love you when they find out what you did?

The world had changed a lot since 2013, the year werewolfs came into existence. Before they were just made up, thought to only exist in really bad movies paired with an emotionless vampire, that or Reddit forums.

Mass panic ensued with the werewolf epidemic but the world did what it had to and adapted. Around nine months later, Alphas began presenting. And the whole world literally went to shit. Going from humans to werewolves was one thing, everyone’s DNA literally changing yet people adapted. The world was still in the early stages of adaptation when suddenly men’s personalities, needs, desires, the way they think, eat, sleep. All of it, changed by becoming Alphas.

Their instincts were out of control. Being confused and unable to understand what was happening to them. However, trying their best, they continued to live their lives as usual. And as if it was a series of cruel tricks, the last trick was played on mankind, omegas began presenting. Once again things changed.

It had the Alphas going crazy. Omegas were pushed into heats the longer they spent around undated Alphas in an attempt to push out their pheromones so their mates could find them. This only made things worse. Dazed and delusional Omegas coming onto Alphas were beaten black and blue, some were killed. The Alpha’s inner wolves becoming angered by an Omega who wasn’t their mate trying to breed with them, this was left unchecked for far too long until Kento created Jujutsu Incorporated in 2017.

Kento remembers the exact moment he decided he was going to do something about the destruction that had befallen the world. The news was playing on the television, he and his brothers watching intensely as the news anchor reported that in the last week twenty seven Omegas had been abused and fourteen had been killed by unhinged Alphas. Kento ignored the jagged inhale from one of the pink haired men on the other sofa watching too, instead he got up and headed straight to his study. The idea had come to him and he had to write it down, he had to plan.

The company’s main purpose was to train Alphas to hone their werewolf instincts and abilities. For man to create a peaceful bond with beast in order to control them so the abuse of Omegas would be stopped. At first it was only worried parents sending their newly presented aggressive sons to the training compound thinking it was some sort of correctional facility and in a way it was.

Soon grown men decided signing up, then men who had committed crimes against Omegas were court sanctioned to go. Before long it became mandatory for every male who was of age to be sent there and trained. Now every year when Alphas present they are instantly signed up to be sent to Jujutsu Incorporated.

Seven years, fifty two awards, millions given by governments all over the world and some failed attempts from other companies to try and recreate what they made, later, Jujutsu Incorporated saved the world and they are thanked everyday for it.

While Sukuna and Kenjaku tried to calm you down and reason with you to meet the rest of the pack. Kento, Yuji, Suguru and Satoru were slowly, but surely, loosing it. The longer they were away from their mate after the bond snapped into place, the more aggressive they became. Their body temperatures rising, all their sweet scents turning sour as the stress increased.

Since Kento caught a whiff of your sweet vanilla-cinnamon scent on Sukuna’s clothes, he couldn’t get the sweet smell out of his head. He’d give anything to bury his face in it. It would be so much better than the awful smells surrounding him at this very moment. Baring in mind that on a good day Kento’s scent was usually the sweetest chocolate fudge cake, but with the growing need to have his mate with him not being sated, it had spiked to a burnt over cooked type smell. Yuji’s went from honeyed strawberry milk to wet dog. Suguru’s went from a delightful caramel coffee to rotten food. Satoru’s went from freshly baked cookies to sewers on a hot day.

The office reeked.

Kento felt the tension in the room, worry crawling up his throat as he had the realisation he might have to scruff one or two of his pack mates if they don’t calm down soon. There are several ways that pack alphas can control their packmates, with pheromones is one of them, but scruffing is easily the most effective. Scruffing is distinctly pack alpha behavior. The inherent dominance in one alphas pheromones over another is essential for a pack alpha.

He remembers growing up he was never really the leader type, instead he was rather shy and withdrawn. He didn’t have many friends nor did he wish to make any, much preferring to be alone with a good book. Kento became even more withdrawn when his father died of a heart attack. It was a shock to the system and instead of the brothers banding together to help one another grieve they all mourned alone.

When Kento made the change into a werewolf he loved it, becoming a werewolf only amplified who he already was yet somehow when he discovered his role as packleader he stepped into it like he was born to lead. Kento figured out his role in the pack when Yuji and Satoru were scrapping each other and it got a bit too violent. Without meaning to he used his Alpha tone on the boys and they instantly stopped to obey him. It was strange, the brothers tried to use their own Alpha tones on each other though the experiment had no results. Only Kento could do it.

Another reason Kento loved being a werewolf was that it brought his broken family back together as one. As a pack. They lived together, ate together, trained together, shifted together and ran together as one. It gave him a profound sense of love and happiness that he was able to have his brothers back in his life, though there was always something missing. You.

Kento had to pacify his desire to run out of the room straight to you. He was sick of waiting. His wolf just wanted to bring you to their house and give you everything you could ever want. You would never need to leave the nest he would lovingly watch you build. You would be provided for, protected, and sated, all while you’d have prettiest smile on your face. His wolf chirped happily simply thinking about being in your presence and caring for you. He was eager for you to be here with him.

And as if by magic, the office doors opened Sukuna strolling inside with a shit eating grin on his face, Kenjaku not far behind with the cutest little omega clinging onto the sleeve of his arm. You were here.

It wasn’t the sweet the way you were basically hiding behind his brother that disarmed him, it wasn’t even the way your pretty wide eyes stared up at him with a spec of fear shining in them. But smelling you in person, fuck, breathing in your invigorating scent the way he needed to, letting it swirl around him and leave him feeling hazy and high, all his thoughts disappearing. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced before.

You do have to admit it was a rash decision to come here and meet the rest of the pack, it took a lot of convincing and encouragement by Sukuna and Kenjaku before you hesitantly said yes. And it was very hesitantly. The whole car ride there was silent, Kenjaku sitting in the back with you as Sukuna drove to Jujutsu Incorporated Headquarters. Subconsciously your omega was drifting towards the stoic black haired Alpha. Your Omega knowing that Kenjaku’s wolf was the scariest one out of the two just meant he was the best to protect you. His dominant aura was something you definitely didn’t want to mess with. So when you arrived and you were unsure wether you wanted to get out the car or not, all he had to do was offer his hand and send you a look and you were scrambling out of the car quickly grabbing onto him. He looked down at you letting out a grunt of disapproval when you let go of his large hand but seemed satisfied when you gripped onto the sleeve of his black leather jacket instead. You found yourself looking up at the big Alpha for his approval before you could stop yourself, even when you shook your head at yourself and looked away it was too late. Kenjaku had already grunted out a good pup that made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

The praise had you holding onto his jacket the whole walk to the elevator, the whole elevator ride and all the way into the office where you now stood trying to use Kenjaku’s big muscular body to hide from the four new pairs of eyes trying to catch a glimpse of you.

The fact that you, such a fragile small thing compared to him, was using him as a shield instead of running scared from him was baffling. Kenjaku was never a very nice guy, even as a child he was dubbed as the emo kid who you should never approach. Always getting into fights at school and that was before his father died, Kenjaku only go worse when he did.

And when Kenjaku became a werewolf he was even more violent than before, his vicious tendencies heightened along with his senses. He remembers all the bar fights, forest fights, street fights he go into finding a thrill within the rage. The night more vivid than all the fights though, was the night he killed another Alpha. And liked it.

It had been an accident, the man had started a fight with him and he was clearly drunk. Sober Kenjaku had only tried to defend himself but after pushing the drunken werewolf away he kept going, it snapped something in Kenjaku and he saw red. He beat the man to death and his wolf glowed with pride, the primal instinct to be the top Alpha male coming to light. He didn’t want to like it, but he did. That night he had buried the man in the forest with his bare hand, hours later he returned home caked in dirt, blood and sweat. He confessed to his brothers what he had done.

From then on he trained with Sukuna who taught him control over his wolf and his aggressive side, spending years dedicated to learning to control himself, still Kenjaku is easily the scariest and strongest Alpha in the pack. That’s why he was made The Ghost, The Shadow, The man behind the scenes who takes care of troubled Alphas. Also taking care of any crimes or accusations against the company.

The Killer Alpha. And you were choosing him to cling to, to protect you, this had his chest puffing out with pride. The little Omega and the big bad Alpha.

You were completely stuck to Kenjaku’s side as you started to let your anxiety turn your mind against you. These men were your mates? They all wanted you? Impossible. You couldn’t do this. Fuck sake, you had taken a big step coming here and you were just back to where you had started an hour ago. A numb feeling taking over you, your brain’s way of saving you from the stress of this situation.

The big man you were clinging to was towering over you with worried eyes as your short panicked breaths filled the room. “Princess?”

“Is she okay?”

“Are you okay?”

“Bunny you good?”

You were clearly having a moment of panic, not answering any of them. Their questions making you more antsy by the second. Everything felt like it was upside down at this very moment in time. Like the world was spinning.

Your other hand came up to grip onto Kenjaku’s jacket, desperately trying to use it to ground yourself. “Fuck I-“ you shivered, stumbling over your words as your couldn’t breathe properly.

“What is it pup? Hmm, what do you need princess?” Kenjaku remembered your reaction to the pet name from earlier instantly stepping into roll as the Alpha you needed surprising his brothers though they all knew with you around now, they’d be displaying sides of themselves they’ve never seen of each other before.

“I-I can’t,” you shook your head falling to your knees, Kenjaku fell with you holding you up, “I. I c-can’t, I can’t, I can’t do this.” You hiccuped at the end of your broken sentence, your fingers gripping so tightly onto the Alpha while your whole body shook.

“I know.” His words had your head shooting up, tear filled eyes meeting his, “but I’m going help you. If this is too much, then we will only do what you’re comfortable with. We just want to make you happy pup.” His body made him say the words, and he was glad it did. You were nodding as you listened, eyes focusing on every detail on his face while he spoke, his brown almond shaped eyes, sloped nose, the light freckles under his eyes, his plump lips.

“I don’t know how.” There was a hidden meaning behind it and all six alphas desperately wanted to know but they knew now was not the time. They could wait. Right now they had to focus on calming you down, getting you to relax.

Kenjaku felt his heart ache at the sight of your wobbly bottom lip all jutted out, you tear filled eyes and red face. You were so precious. Then and there he swore to protect you at all costs, even if he had to sell his soul, as long as you were safe. That’s all that mattered to him. “It’s okay pup, I’ll show you how.”

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