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itsnothingofinterest · 5 months ago

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So if it isn’t clear, I’m not a fan of chapter 423 and how it ended this final fight with AFO or Deku's supposed save of Tomura. I know I haven't talked that much about it but it's true.

And being the arrogant little internet-er that I am, I thought I might go over how I think this fight should’ve gone down. A little self-indulgent thing about how I would've done it, to make myself feel better, which you guys can read too if for some reason you want to. Granted, the objectively correct way to end this arc would’ve of course been to not do the fight or bring back AFO, end it at 418 as I described before; but this outline is for if one were to really insist on a final battle with a returned AFO.

Starting disclaimer; length: as mentioned in the above linked post, this is going to be quite longer than what we saw in canon. Some may say this is unfair to claim Hori should have done when he’s so clearly burnt out, but that’s just what the fight needs to be properly epic or properly conclude it’s dangling plot threads. Again, this is why ending it at 418 was the correct move. If we really are including this extra climax though, then it needs enough pages for it; which is why we’re going further than the entire manga might, up to chapter 430 plus an epilogue. (Wanted that to be including Epilogue but one chapter outline went long so I split it in two. Just the way things go.)

Pre-423 changes:

Surprisingly little. A part of me wants to change the ‘it was AFO all along’ reveal to be less dog-doodoo but I can’t imagine how. The reveal is bad; ruining many of MHA’s themes, several of its characters, and helping cement Deku as an All Might clone by ending his arc as a hero who beats the big bad AFO…but it’s also necessary for the extra climax to happen. AFO’s ability to take over Tomura is almost literally directly proportional to how bad the reveal is, so we’re kind of stuck with it.

However I would like to change Deku’s dialogue with Aizawa in 420 to not mention his plans of killing Tomura along with AFO up to now. His character just becomes unsalvageablely unlikable with the reveal that he was just looking for a way to murder the crying child in a way he found most tasteful this whole time. So we’re cutting that and Deku’s still aiming for the save like a good hero should. Just have him go into more detail on what happened in Tomura's mind; it'll be useful for Kurogiri to overhear for later.

Besides that, the early chapters of the final AFO fight were mostly fixable with later additions or otherwise inoffensive, so we’re moving on to:

423: On the Offensive

Once again, we start with Deku just landing a huge hit on AFO. Immediate change; the fight is not over with this: AFO manifests a huge mouth with sharp teeth on his chest right where Deku hit to chomp down and pin him before charging up an energy explosion point blank that’ll rip his arm off at minimum.

Deku escapes using a St. Louise Smash to scrape off the bottom row of teeth, letting his arm out and chasing that energy attack to mostly just propel him back into the ground.

Some hero comments how it’s like they’re back to square one while another denies that and points out AFO’s two new major injuries. Shoto takes the opportunity to try going for a major attack too; but AFO, furious that the heroes think he’s on the back foot, uses a quirk to launch the remaining sharp teeth at Shoto as missiles. Endeavor then swoops in and takes the hit for Shoto, surprising him with the sacrifice play but demoralizing the other heroes for their No. 1 to take a hit like that.

Now needing to get back on the offensive, AFO pulls out the giant double rivot mouth move to try and chomp down on Deku while he’s reeling; but they get intercepted by Mt. Lady and Ryukyu. At this time, Aizawa notices Kurogiri has disappeared from beside him.

As Deku is helped up by Aoyama, we see Kurogiri reappear on a bit of elevated dirt behind them; and stepping out to comment on how much he’s missed is a dishevelled looking Spinner.

424: The League of Villains

We instead start with a flashback to Touya, Fuyumi, and Rei being taken away from the battle by those stretcher robots. While they’re a distance away from others, sparks appear from the droids carrying Touya as they halt in place; causing Fuyumi to panic and ask her and her mom’s droids to also stop so she can see what happened. As Rei and Fuyumi struggle to sit up, they see that Toga has thrown knives into both of Touya’s robots and is now cutting him out.

As Fuyumi panics and tells her to get away, a warp gate opens and lets out Spinner, who tells Dabi to get up because the inevitable has happened and AFO has started fighting Tomura; Kurogiri filled him in on the whole thing. Dabi responds, revealing he’s still awake, and attempts to get up with Toga’s help.

Fuyumi begins really panicking, telling them not to take her brother when he’s so injured and she just got him back. But Dabi responds, in an apologetic tone as one could expect of Dabi, that he’s got something important to do.

Rei finally takes the chance to pipe up, asking if these are the friends Touya’s been staying with. Touya introduces Spinner, Toga, and Kurogiri, and says that they are; and then introduces his mom and sister to the League.

Back at Mt. Fuji, Spinne, Toga, and Dabi arrive out of Kurogiri and take in the situation. Kurogiri, now awake for real but with some Shirakumo in his tone, comments that it seems AFO is back in control of Tomura, but that like he saw last time, AFO’s control is probably still precarious. They just need to wake up Tomura again before they think of a more permanent solution.

Aoyama panics seeing the League here, but Deku interrupts asking if they’re here to fight AFO and save Tomura. Toga answers by saying he can just sit back and watch them do his job before telling Kurogiri that he’ll need to play defence; neither the heroes or AFO have noticed them in the crowd yet, but they will not appreciate them being here once they do. As he does, she and Spinner start yelling at Tomura; asking why he left them behind to wallow in his self-pity while they’re still waiting on him to destroy this unfair world? Where’s their horizon?

(maybe call back to this^ somehow?)

This grabs the heroes attention, some wondering if they need to fight them too. But then Dabi joins in, saying that Shigaraki was the one person to truly surpass All Might in power, so to see him a pawn of AM’s favourite punching bag is just sad; what’s with this embarrassing state, leader? Reminded at this sight of his own words to All Might in Kamino, Endeavor tells the other heroes to let the villains speak, while thinking to himself that he can finally see what relationship Tomura has with these villains like his son, and that he's glad he learned this about Touya.

AFO gets annoyed at the League’s insults and moves to attack, but finds his body shaking. In the back of his mind, Tomura stops screaming and appears behind AFO from the shadows, responding to the League’s call.

425: Secret Boss Battle

A fight begins at the centre of the mind between Tomura and AFO, the arena resembling the destroyed cityscape from when he first got the AFO quirk, but shrouded in darkness. Unable to really use their quirks in this space, they basically both resort to hand-to-hand combat and psychically throwing debris at eachother.

As they fight, AFO asks how Shigaraki awakened; his will should have been crushed with his identity as Tenko Shimura torn to shreds. Tomura affirms that he finds no will in the friends or dreams of Tenko Shimura, AFO has managed to treed on those things thoroughly; so instead he'll hold onto what is his own as Shigaraki Tomura. AFO balks at that; he moulded that identity even more thoroughly, implanted every idea in his head and guided his every decision; but Tomura reminds him that's not true, he left Tomura in the care of others many times. We then get both a flashback to Kurogiri comforting Tomura when AFO first died fightign AM, and a montage of flashback panels to his time with the League. Tomura exclaims that this is more than enough will to take on a shitty secret boss like AFO.

At this point, Shinomori appears and punches AFO hard in the face. He is proceeded shortly after by Ragdoll & various other costumed folk who follow up Shinomori with their own attacks. AFO asks if Tomura has caused a quirk rebellion like what happened to the 'other him' and Tomura answers: yes & no. The quirks are active in fighting, but they're not so much rebelling as just helping him subdue a rogue quirk, like what happened against Star & Stripe (he made sure to ask them though; need to know your party for the raid boss after all, and he'd been meaning to take stoke anyway). Or did AFO forget the dynamic of person & quirk between them?

AFO responds by growing into a giant, elongated monster to fight back; furious that these pawns, husks, and nobodies think they have any right not only attacking the demon lord, but looking down on him. AFO knocks a dozen hero & villain vestiges back, but Tomura throws a whole mental building at him for his trouble. AFO emerges out the top trying to attack him, but gets intercepted by the vestiges of Kudo and Bruce; both of them look shattered and like they're missing half their pieces, but the rest are keeping shape to punch AFO as much as they can.

AFO's fury briefly flares seeing them, but he quickly realizes what their being here means, as he hated them too much to ever take their pathetic quirks. Tomura confirms by saying AFO has his own secret boss, pointing out a small light in the distance like a star that AFO immediately identifies as the last spark of Yoichi.

426: Two Fronts

The inner fight continues: AFO begins racing past everyone to try and claim that distant light, but this just allows vestiges both stolen and OFA to slam him into huge debris as he tries. AFO grows even larger to Machia-level size and swats them away, landing a good hit on Tomura, Kudo, & Bruce as he tells them to stop infringing on his story. Just he he goes for another blow though, he takes a hit from seemingly nothing.

Cut back to outside and it's clear that he just got hit by Momo & Denki's canon, now with Jirou helping too. Dazed and in disbelief, AFO is then also hit by Kamui Woods throwing many huge boulders at him. Rikido and Kirishima go for a big attack too, but AFO knocks them away as he regains himself.

Realizing that he's on a war of two fronts and losing, he implants himself with those large roots he seems to have, embedding them in the earth and spreading them out to disrupt and separate the heroes. He then uses more quirks to form a large shell around himself, and uses a more defensive All-Factor Release to launch a myriad of attacks from the shell's surface. Deku goes in to attack AFO from an opening on the shell, but he launches more attacks out of it at Deku & the League. With the roots and shell protecting AFO from most of the heroes, he left an opening on purpose so he can see the League and focus on destroying them, which will then let him subdue Tomura. Deku realizes this plan too, and changes course to deflect the attacks on the League.

More roots emerge, but other members of the class catch on; Shoto freezing some while Shoji grabs others, allowing the League to keep yelling for Tomura to fight. At this time, with assistance from Sero, Iida, Mineta, & Mina; Ruyukyu and Mt. Lady lady finally rip out those mouth stalks, leaving two great black indents in the shell. Enraged, AFO causes the shell to grow large with great teeth around it's opening and enlarge in size greatly, now resembling the imagery of ultimate evil from All Might's old description of AFO as it launches more attacks at Deku and the League.

Deku tells the League to keep it up while he protects them, and we see side-by-side panels of both him and Tomura, bolstered by the League's words calling for his help, continuing their respective assaults on AFO.

427: Trust and Worth

We briefly see the other heroes attempts to get through the now-giant shell in between AFO's still-ongoing onslaught of attacks; Nejire and Amajiki's best attacks doing nothing, and Momo's laser barely putting in a scratch. Mirio says he got in, but his punches still can't phase the guy inside. Weird thing is, he didn't even notice a hero got in; so focused on Deku & the League. The attacks from the shell's surface seem completely random and haphazard too; he's ignoring them. Shoto points out that he basically can thanks to his defences, so does this mean they have to wait for someone who can do something? But Mirio rephrases it to that they need to wait for when they can do something.

Cut back to Deku and he's in a similar mental state. He's almost literally running on OFA's fumes and he's stuck on the defence protecting the League because he can't get into the shell through all the attacks, especially now that it's grown much larger and AFO is hiding deeper inside. It's anxiety inducing, he knows Bakugou would hate it. A part of him wants to try and think of a way to blast past the attacks, but he's not sure he could beat AFO in one hit so it might be too risky (if not for him, then for those behind him). Better to do some entrusting himself and leave this to Tomura until he leaves an opening or needs one himself, which Deku will know because he can see the fight in his mind through their connection.

But back at the mental battle; Shigaraki's confidence only enrages AFO, who grabs him in his giant hand and start squeezing. He taunts Tomura, asks if he really thinks someone who AFO built from the ground up can deny him? 'No, his pathetic friends will have their cries left unanswered forevermore, as punishment for entrusting their hopes to a pawn.'

Just then, another new player swoops in, busting right through the palm of AFO's hand to pull Tomura out. It's Hana Shimura! Who promptly tells AFO to shut up about her brother. The rest of the Shimuras also appear, with Kotaro denying the scope AFO's influence, apologizing to Tenko, and saying his abusive behaviour was his fault alone. Tomura pauses at seeing them, and says while he's in no mood to forgive his father, he promises to get them all out alive so he can grovel for forgiveness properly later.

Nana also appears and asks how the Shimuras are here, which Nao answers saying AFO pilfered their quirks from their remains after their tragedy. Nana is horrified, but AFO can only say that he's beginning to regret letting his whims draw him to any worthless trash he found along his path. Shigaraki remarks back that he's finding plenty of worth in this so called 'trash'.

428: A New Strategy

As more vestiges go back on the offensive; the Shimura family take a moment for strategy, wondering how they can beat this giant monster. Nana wonders why AFO can even grow like this, but Tomura figures he must've done it by letting long-suppressed emotions run wild. He's fraying himself for a chance to reach Yoichi, but stronger emotions like from Tomura or his sister can tear right through him. It also means if they beat him, he'll either be gone for good, or unveil his own core like what happened with Tenko. Concluding this is enough strategy, Tomura leaps into the fray and deals a massive wound to AFO.

AFO is beginning to realize his situation in this two-front battle is not improving, but being so close to Yoichi, he reconsiders his priorities and his strategy to shut up the League. Luckily the reappearance of Nana reminds him of just the way to do it. Outside, Deku, Aoyama, and a few other students continue to protect the League as they call for Tomura and mock AFO, when something changes. The onslaught of random attacks stops, and instead the shell begins to glow, and then a massive force begins emanating from the shell causing gale force winds to blast everyone away. AFO has combined the energy explosion he used to kill Nana with Air Cannon & Shokewave and is using them continuously to create these winds. Using his explosion quirk like this might burn up all his stamina, maybe even kill him and Tomura, but he decides it's worth it to see Yoichi.

The winds drown out the League, internally causing Shigaraki to think they might've just died, which in turn lets AFO pin him under his hand and start crushing him once more.

Deku, being blasted into a wall of dirt, realizes they can't keep up a passive strategy anymore, these winds will tear & burn everyone up. This is when a Warp Gate opens in front of his face, blocking the winds and letting him talk though it with the League, who are protected by a much larger Warp Gate. Spinner says they need a new strategy, but Deku gets distracted observing how Kurogiri's Warp Gates seem to be very effective against these winds by just warping the wind somewhere else. Before Dabi can properly express annoyance, Deku says he's got a plan; but he'll need the League's full cooperation, so are the willing to work with him? Dabi & Toga look to Spinner, who tells Deku...fat chance. He wants their help, he's the one who has to work with them. Deku agrees, so Spinner welcomes him to the League of Villains and asks for his plan.

429: All For One; One For All; All Or Nothing; One Last Smash

Deku and the League begin their operation. Kurogiri opens various Warp Gates around the area that a) give heroes places to take cover from the gusts of wind, and b) let him create his own jets of wind. He points all of them at Deku's back, launching the boy at the shell's opening. The force of each jet matches the force of AFO's wind, meaning multiple will overcome it. Granted, applying that much force to someone from both ends this way would crush most people, but Deku's got a body that can withstand OFA so this is nothing.

As he's launched at the opening, AFO notices his approach and creates giant sharp teeth to impale him; but Deku, being carried by the wind, is free to use another St. Louise Smash to destroy them and make his way in. AFO then tries a variety of other attacks inside the chamber of the shell, but a Warp Gate opens and a blast of ice freezes all of them, and we see Dabi commenting how there's nothing like a life or death situation to see how strong you really are (his mom's quirk packs quite the punch).

AFO then closes the shell to stop the League's interference, air jets or otherwise, and prepares another All-Factor laser pointed right at Deku. But just then, we see Shoto outside preparing a ramp, which Bakugou takes off from (that's right we see their team-up this time), using explosions to overpower the wind, break through the shell where team Momo scratched it, and blast away the charged up laser before it could fire. Now with line of sight inside back, another Gate opens with one of Toga's syringes shot through. Deku grabs it's cord, and uses it to launch himself back at AFO, finally landing the hit to knock off his gag.

Back inside the mental battlefield; AFO is so close to Yoichi and is dragging himself through the vestiges' attacks. Deku suddenly arrives across their mental link, and slams into the giant AFO. Truly desperate, AFO seems to almost puke up something from the hit that gets launched at Yoichi; it's trashbag baby AFO! Who's suddenly feeling a lot more honest, yelling for Yoichi about how much he needs him, how he only cares about him, just let him see his brother's face one last time.

Shigaraki hears this and realizes what kind of person his sensei was all along, and decides what to do with a pity-ing look on his face and a nod from his parents. AFO's path is interrupted one last time by Tenko Shimura, who grabs him in a hug and tells him he understands his pain, but it's over, he needs to let go of this. The star-like light he'd been chasing turns into Yoichi's face, causing AFO to being to cry and relax into the hug, and the two boys fade into another tiny light that rests in Tomura's hand as he shows Deku & the vestiges. It's over.

430: What Makes Heroes and Villains

Deku asks what what Tomura will do with that last shred of AFO, and Tomura says he doesn't know. Part of him still wants to crush it, both out of anger & just to be safe, but that seems distasteful after what just happened. Just then, one vestige steps forth and asks for it, who Tomura identifies as Spearlike Bones; the Shigaraki twins' mother. She doesn't introduce herself as such, but says she knew AFO before he went evil, so give it to her and she'll keep it safe and out of trouble this time. Both Deku and Tomura agree, and then sit down to talk.

The scene shifts to a beach at night, they're alone, and they shift to their four and five-year-old selves. Tenko and Izuku talk for a bit like that, about...a lot of stuff. Mostly about heroes, about Deku, and what Tenko thinks of Deku. If Tenko feels saved (a bit yeah, but also a bit not), how Deku's a good hero, how he's a mediocre hero. How Tenko thinks all heroes suck and are failures, especially All Might, which riles 4-year old Izuku up good...but also how, as the first hero that Tenko doesn't think is a failure who sucks, Deku is the greatest hero ever.

Izuku asks what Tenko will do now, and he says he'll do what he said before; be a hero for the villains, as only a villain can. That said, Tomura doesn't really want to fight Deku anymore if he can avoid it; so he's prepared a peace offering, and a message. The peace offering appear to Izuku as a meteor shower in the night sky, accompanied with a shot outside the mental world to show Shigaraki standing over an unconscious Deku with Tomura's hand pressed agianst him. The message gets blacked out a la Dabi. Izuku, suddenly a teenager is shocked and turns to ask what he means, but finds instead Shinomori asking what what means? Deku has been given the quirks from OFA back, although they are all in pieces aside from Danger Sense, hence them appearing to him as a meteor shower.

We cut to various scenes with villains; Skeptic in a police carrier, Spinner's advisors and a couple other rioters being held in custody, Compress in prison, Redestro in another prison, and even Gigantomachia, once more being tied down even as he holds his hand to the wound AFO gave him. They all see above them a tiny blotch of blackness like Kurogiri's mist.

Back at Mt. Fuji, Tomura finally emerges from the shell of ultimate evil carrying Deku. Lemillion is first on the scene and tells Tomura to hand him over; and is quite shocked when Tomura does just that without issue. Says the two of them made friends and sorted it out in there so don't worry. Toga also tells Mirio to relay a message to Deku that she'll be keeping an eye on both him and Uraraka from here, so keep up their progress together. Other heroes arrive and surround them slowly, not sure what move to make. Iida is the one who finally tells them to come quietly and let this end.

Tomura agrees to let this all end, and Spinner & Toga both ask what they're doing now? Going out in a peaceful way, or a villainous way? Tomura says both; that they'll be performing what may be their final act of villainy, before asking if Kurogiri has a big enough place picked out. Kurogiri confirms he does, and opens a Warp Gate for the League.

At this time, those other villains we saw earlier start getting Gloop Warped away from custody. As the League step through Kurogiri, a number of heroes suddenly move to stop them. Deku barely regains a bit of consciousness and tells them not to attack, causing a few of his classmates to pause. No one is fast enough to stop the League anyway, and Kurogiri disappears behind them. The League are gone.

The chapter ends with police, prison managers, and heroes all reporting in. Besides Dr. Garaki and Overhaul who got left behind, every villain bigger than a small time crook they had in any form of custody throughout the entire country has disappeared.

431: Class 1A Rising

The obligatory Epilogue chapter. As I expect of canon, this would probably be extra long and cover a lot of different plot threads. It'll also be very different based on how Hori wants to take things; but I'll go the simple route.

First things first is catching up with all the hero kids in the hospital. Friendship moments, decompression, comments on character arcs, that sort of stuff. We also learn Tomura's final message to Deku, which he relays to everyone else, student and pro: The heroes have attacked the League three times now. If they attack a fourth time, the villains will return to destroy Japan. But if they don't, the villains will never return.

We then get narration of the immediate aftermath of this announcement; heroes throughout the country search high and low for any signs of Shigaraki & the disappeared villains for months. In a similar case to when they hunted for Stain, this results in heroes finding a lot of injustices they'd normally overlook to catch bigger villains; lost children, domestic abuse, prejudice, that sort of thing. Still, for those entire months, no villains more dangerous than some corner store robbers are found.

Speaking of the heroes, an emergency ranking is conducted; naming Kamui Woods as the new number one, with the rest of the Lurkers as No. 2 & 3. The previous top 3 have all retied (maybe Endeavor dies from that tooth attack he took for Shoto, idk.) Additionally, Mirio, Nejire, & Tamaki have taken the no. 8, 9, and 10 slots, and vow to catch up and rise even higher. Still, there's not a lot of interest by anyone involved; seems everyone has their eyes on the next generation.

There's a few more scenes of loose ends getting tied up like Overhaul waking up Pops or Gentle & Nagant getting status as heroes before we finally return to UA The kids' 2nd year finally begins for real. it's jarring to be sure, but time must go on and so too must education. Besides, a lot of them have started thinking after that war that they need to consider what kinds of heroes they want to be. Deku's falling behind with his shattered OFA not yet showing signs of healing, if that's even possible, but he's confident he'll catch up once again. Perhaps this is where we'd see out final moments with the core cast, checking in with everyone here as they all get ready for their next lesson/mission as heroes. If Hori wanted a more overtly 'to be continued' ending (though I imagine he would not), perhaps we might see where the villains ended up in some sense, building up a future conflict. Or perhaps we might skip forward years into the future, see the kid as pros and end on that kind of uncompromising 'Happily ever after'. Depends on how much open-endedness is preferred.

Either way, there's my conclusion. I won't say it's perfect or anything; I'll even admit I may have gotten the League more involved than would ever be realistic (or maybe it's more like I may not have involved the Deku's class enough). But I like to think I got some cool plot beats in, some cool reveals, I'm more proud of the call back to All Might's ultimate evil imagery than it may deserve; but most importantly, the villains end this war alive and saved. Tomura got to be the hero for villains; and I'd say Deku, between getting his save off and not being the focal point of the win, came out looking a lot less like an All Might clone or the next pillar, and just looking a lot like a better hero than in canon in general. That's what I feel anyway.

Regardless, writing this whole 'what-if' out did in fact make me feel better about 423. So my self-indulgent ramblings were worth that much at least.

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who-knew-a-sheep-can-write · 7 months ago

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A Lesson To Be Careful: Chocobros x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Contains: Poly sex, anal sex, oral sex, spanking, biting, power play, BDSM

Your back pressed against the marble flooring, head pound, eyes burning with tears and teeth grit while you writhed beneath the heavy foot pressing against your chest. You looked up at the MT, a hiss escaping from the back of your throat as you looked up into its hollow red eyes. The MT only pressed the tip of the blade harder into the skin of your chin. You winced when a small shot of pain cut through you, you soon felt something warm starting to slowly drip down your throat. Blood roared in your ears, your pounding temples made it hard for you to pay attention to the chaos springing around you.

The pressure on your chest tightened, a soft cry escaping your lips and your head tilting back in pain.

“(Y/n)!” you heard someone calling you.

Your sagging eyelids pulled up just a bit, your eyes scanning the horizon only to have the pressure on your chest suddenly stop just as your body gave way.

“It is truly is a good thing you only came out of that with just some scrapes and bruises, love,” Ignis tutted as he closed the door behind you.

“Gladio, I have legs,” you sighed, glaring at the man that held you tightly in his arms, acting oblivious to the fact that he was actually doing it, “I can walk on my own.”

“Mmm,” Gladio hummed, thinking, “no.”

“Gladio!” you huffed, pinching the top of his ear. He flinched and huffed himself. “Put me down, it’s just a few bruises.”

Gladio sighed, taking a few more long strides until you were both inside of the massive bedroom with the three right behind you. Gladio slowly placed you on your feet on the ground, only to be brought back to his rock hard chest, his hands kneading at your waist and hips, leaning over to nip at your earlobe.

“Maybe we should teach you a lesson on how to be careful,” he growled in your ear.

“Perhaps we should,” Ignis tutted, eyeing you as he slipped his jacket off of his lean shoulders.

Gladio moved your hair away from your neck, his lips pressing against your soft flesh as his fingers hooked into the belt loops of your pants. Ignis circled around in front of you and cupped your chin, tilting your head up as to capture your lips in his. You felt Noctis lace his fingers in your right hand, pressing kisses to the side of your head and down the length of your jaw. You felt Prompto take your left hand, lace his fingers with yours and press kisses to your knuckles, kissing up and down the expanse of your arm, taking extra time on the small bruises that stained your skin.

Gladio spun you around, but your lips still clung to Ignis’, his cold hands brushing against your cheekbones. Noctis and Prompto let go of your hands, your chest ached as you wanted them, fingers flexing as a soft whine left your lips.

Gladio’s hands flew to your button up shirt, yanking at the seams and popping off the buttons in one hard tug and flying off in different directions, his large calloused hands going to your bra to pluck at the strands, snapping them against your skin. Noctis, now behind you, tailed his nimble fingertips over the waistband of your pants, nails digging into the band and running along the rim until his fingers were fumbling with the button and zipper, quickly revealing your panties. Prompto nuzzled into your neck, licking and kissing and mouthing soft promises along your bare throat, his soft and warm hands trailing along the under curves of your breasts and trailing down your stomach, nails tracing invisible patterns into your heated flesh.

You felt Noctis struggle with the clasp of your bra behind you, his finger frantic as you could feel him start to heat up. He cursed softly, pressed hard kisses into the back of your shoulder until your breasts were finally freed from their cloth prison. Gladio ripped the loosened bra off of your figure with your ruined shirt in tow before he attacked your throat and jaw, placing hungry kisses on your skin.

Your hands fumbled, one hand quickly threading into Noctis’ locks, scratching his scalp as your other hand was cupped by Ignis’, his lengthy fingers tangling with yours. Gladio’s roughened hands stroked at your breasts, thumbs and index fingers pinching and scratching at your nipples. Noctis’ hands running along your spine to the curve of your ass, grabbing handfuls of the soft flesh and plucking at your panties. Prompto’s hand danced down your stomach, finally settling on your panties, hitching a notch into the soft fabric and tugging gently. The friction of the fabric pulling on your dripping clit made you moan, tilting your head back.

Gladio’s hands left your breasts, nipples now aching from the torment, his lips leaving the underside of your jaw. The telltale sound of jingling and a crack of leather had the other three quickly release you.

Through half-lidded eyes, you saw Gladio with his leather belt in his hands, his leather pants sagging slightly on his waist, his clothed erection obvious as ever. You heard the others shuffling, belts jingling and hitting the floor behind you.

Gladio advanced towards you, one hand leaving the belt and grabbing a hold of your shoulder and forcefully turning you around. He grabbed a hold of both of your wrists, looping the leather belt around your soft skin and yanking on it tightly, pressure enclosing and binding your wrists until Gladio’s hold lets up.

You now saw the other three mostly naked, kicking their clothes out of the way while pulling their underwear off, revealing their penises to you. Their faces were flushed, hair a complete mess, Ignis’ glasses now missing from his structured face. They each eyed each other, then to you, then the bed before quickly moving.

Noctis laid down along the foot of the bed, Ignis advanced towards you, relieving you from Gladio’s strong grip only to be snared in his firm and unforgiving grip. You could hear Gladio quickly yanking off his clothes, tossing his jacket and tank top and loose pants and hiking boots somewhere behind him carelessly. Ignis had one hand wrapped around the leather belt, his other hand fisting your hair and firmly tugging your head back just a bit. Prompto simply stood there, you could see the debate in his eyes whether he should do something or touch his erect cock.

Ignis nosed your throat, the bulb of his nose rolling over the splotches kissing your skin, they were still raw and tender, a soft whimper escaping your lips.

You could feel your panties were soaked, your knees wobbling as a coil tightened in your belly. You whimpered once more, when Prompto finally moved forward, his fingers knotting into your panties and yanking them down, making a soft wet splat when they hit the floor.

Suddenly, your head was jerked back roughly by another hand, a moan snapping out of you as tears were brought to your eyes. Ignis moved aside when the leather belt was snatched up from his grip, Gladio’s body heat pressing firmly behind you as you felt his erect cock press against your asscheeks. He drew your head back until your crown was pressed into his collarbones, he lowered his head to your ear and nosed around its shell, nipping at your earlobe.

“You know the safe word, right?” he growled into your ear.

You nodded, whimpering when you felt your hair pull against your scalp before Gladio pushed you forward towards the bed.

Noctis lowered himself from his elbows when your knees hit the edge of the bed, your body buckling when Gladio hoisted you up. Noctis’ clammy hands felt amazing on your heated skin, his cold nails digging into the meat of your shoulders and angling your body until you were hovering just above him, the perfect height for Gladio behind you.

Ignis slowly came around to the other side of the bed, his knees on either side of Noctis’ head, Prompto next to you his fingers dancing alon the curve of your back.

You felt Noctis first, the head of his cock tapping at your passageway, pushing past your soaked nether lips and quickly pushing up. You winced at the pressure, crying out softly when his cock finally entered you. Slowly, Noctis started to pump his hips, being careful with you above him.

But it was agonizing, he was moving so slow inside of you, it made you whine. You wished your hands were bound behind your back, your fingers flexed and ached, wanting to clawing at the sheets on the bed and scratch at Noctis’ shoulders.

But Noctis kept you still, slowly guiding you along his shaft slowly and carefully.

Gladio was next. He let go of your hair but kept a tight grip on the leather belt wrapped around your wrists. You felt his erection glide along your asscheeks, his head slowly pushing past your ass to stop at the pucker of your hole. His free hand came down to your ass, pulling at one of the cheeks far enough to help him slide into you as easily as he could.

You cried out, throwing your head back and sobbing softly at the stretch in your ass. Sweat shined, blanketing you in a moist layer.

You felt so full with the two of them inside of you, their cocks slowly starting to move up a pace, their hands guiding you along the lengths of their cocks, whimpers leaving you and you looked up from Noctis to see Ignis waiting patiently for you to open your mouth, his nimble fingers dancing up and down his cock. You jaw slowly unhinged, Ignis moving forward until the tip of his cock pressed against your lips, pushed past your teeth and now housed itself in the warm, moist confines of your mouth and throat. He too started out slow, a steady pace as he rocked his hips back and forth, both hands coming up to your scalp and gently massaging the raw skin and combing through your beautiful locks.

Tears filled your eyes as a guttural moan failed to slip past the penis caged in your mouth. Your scalp burned in a good way, your body was starting to shiver, a tightness coiled up in your belly the more the three cocks pumped into you. Your shoulders rolled backwards, the sweat making your wrists slip and roll around in their leather bindings until one wrist managed to slip free, only to land on Prompto’s flat stomach and work its way down to his erect cock where your fingers pumped quickly, not even starting out slow.

The four men were a flurry of moans, heads thrown back as their nails clawed at you, making crescent moons in your skin and scratching down your soft, hot flesh.

Your head rolled back, a whine bubbling from your lips before the tightness coiling up in your belly became too much and you cried out loudly, your orgasm rocking your body and making you see stars. And yet, they still ravaged you and your grip on Prompto only tightened, the blond whining at the added pressure, his nails biting your skin harder.

Time seemed to have escaped you all, your mind now numb as they worked you out, wringing and milking as much as they could, working out orgasm after orgasm until one by one they finally came. First Prompto, his hot seed splatting you in the face and dripping down onto Noctis who only groaned, his cock shuddering inside of you before you soon found yourself having your insides coated in his cum. Ignis moaned softly, his fingers knotting tightly in your hair, gently and firmly pulling at the strands until your mouth was finally filled with his own seed, you couldn’t help but gag as you swallowed most of it, some of it dribbling out over your swollen lips and down your chin. Gladio was the last as usual when it came these sessions, but when his grip tightened on the belt still cuffing your one wrist, you cried out when he roared, fingers grabbing harshly at your abused asscheek as you felt his hot seed fill you.

The belt loosened around your wrist, slipping off and falling onto the floor with a loud clunk. Your body fell over, curling up next to Noctis as Gladio stumbled away from you just a bit. Ignis had let go of your hair and Prompto had quickly disappeared only to return with a soft towel for you.

Noctis rubbed his fingers over the red marks on your wrists, fingers running along the sharp cuts in your skin as your eyelids felt like iron bricks.

But before you could finally lull off to sleep, you could hear Ignis’ stern voice cut through the silence.

“Do you need us to repeat that lesson, kitten? Or will you be more careful next time?” he purred.

You thought for a minute, only to smirk as you nuzzled into the sheets.

“I may need another lesson later,” you murmured.

#final fantasy xv #ffxv #gladiolus amicitia #gladiolus x reader #gladiolus amicitia x reader #ignis scientia #ignis scientia x reader #ignis x reader #prompto argentum #prompto x reader #prompto argentum x reader #noctis lucis caelum #noctis x reader #noctis caelum x reader

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ashc-from-ao3 · 4 months ago

Text

Trouble with a Vulcan

Spock x female reader

Spock was sitting on his t'hy'la's couch waiting for her to return, the enterprise crew was on a two week shore leave and (name) had decided to make the most of it. She went back to her home town to enjoy the scenery, the town was a small rural community and little trouble came it's way. So when (name) said she was going out for a walk only moments before he thought nothing of it. He snooped around for something to do until she returned and came apon her dvd's of old earth movies and shows. Most he deemed illogical but one seemed to hold a value in his sharp mind. Jeopardy. The viewer gained knowledge from watching and knowledge to a vulcan was always exciting. He put in the first disc and sat back.

-----(name)'s pov-------

(name) Was smiling brilliantly the young woman bounced along the streets reacquainting herself with the town. She was walking down a alleyway when a large thuggish man stepped out of the shadows. She went to turn around but her path was cut off by another man.

"Well hello darling. What is a thing like you doing all by yourself?" (name) tried to go past the first man but she was knocked to the ground and her vision blurred before she blacked out

-----spock's pov------

Spock had sat through four episodes of jeopardy, he knew most of the answers and only two were unknown to the half vulcan. He was now starting to worry about (name) she had been gone two hours. The town was not that large, she should be back. He was just getting ready to search for her when the door slammed open, it closed just as quick and the deadbolt was turned into place with a heavy *thunk* followed by a second *thunk* signalling the locking of the other lock. Spock reached the door and saw (name) slumped on the ground. Her hair was matted with mud and blood. Her cloths wear torn and she had several bleeding scrapes and rapidly forming bruises. She was panting and shaking, spock made it over to her faster than he ever had before. He helped to to stand and held her at arm's length

" (name) what happened?" (name) whimpered and tried to snuggle into spock but he held her away from him so he could observe her,

"I went down a alleyway and some men......." (name) trailed off unable to answer, instead she looked up at Spock hoping to find anger in his gaze, anger towards her attackers at least . She knew of the precision driven power in her boyfriend's body and she would love to see him vulcan nerve pinch the two men. However when she gazed at him, he showed nothing not a flicker of concern,anger or even pity...nothing. Since they had started dating Spock had been more lenient with his emotions around (name),he was still as logical as ever but he let her see the human side he so often tried to hide from others. The fact he showed no emotions scared her.

"So you feel nothing after hearing that your girlfriend was attacked? Not a sliver of anger? NOTHING?" The woman was horrified by the fact Spock was still unresponsive. She removed her arms from his still frozen grasp,unlocked the door and fled going to the one place she felt she would be safe, her best friend scotty's house. She flung open the door and fell sobbing into the engineers arms as she explained what happen. Scotty's face did contort in anger and the Scotsman started swearing in his thick accent, that only got thicker as he got angrier .

Meanwhile Spock had finally managed to compute that someone who was not him had dared to touch what was his dared to harm what was clearly marked as his. He was logical and calculating and when it came to the bedroom he was just as thorough when giving (name) love bites around her neck as he was when saving the enterprise from one of kirk's hair brained schemes. The bites clearly stated she was his, his to touch and no one else's. Anger finally came though quickly followed by worry and then confusion as (name) was no where to be found. He quickly thought of the other members of the enterprise crew who she would go to. He searched each crew members house down to places where she would never get to and then he finally figured it out, Mr.Scott! (Name) and Mr,Scott wear close she would definitely go to him in a time of need.

Spock frantically banged on Mr.Scott's door and when he opened it the Scotsmen knew instantly what was up.

"Mr.spock, she asked me not to let you in but I can see you need to speak to each other." Mr, Scott moved aside and pointed at the closed bathroom door.

"Cleaning up" was his only explanation. Spock needed no more promoting and. Instantly he was by the door.

"T'hy'la? You you there? I must speak with you about my actions." He heard a muffled Russian swear,curtesy of Chekov and Scotty drinking nights, followed by a soft sigh, he held his breath hoping she would for once be logical about her actions and let him explain. She was. (name) opened the door carefully and dressed in only her undergarments and a oversized bathrobe. She sighed heavily and dragged him into the bathroom.

"T'hy'la I mu-" Spock was cut off by her placing her hand on his mouth before she lent forward and kissed him

"Spock it's okay, I was over emotional and I overreacted. I couldn't expect you to fully understand what I said in the four seconds I gave you. I am sorry I reacted very unlogically." Spock looked at (name) and enveloped her in a comforting hug

"You never react logically, it is one of the reasons I love you."he whispered as he gently drew his large hands up and down her back and sides in a comforting action. Eventually (name) started calming and she giggled happily at having her vulcan back in her arms and being back in his.

(name) leaned up and kissed Spock with all the passion and love she could muster, Spock quickly returned the kiss and his hands had started to roam over the woman's tiny body, suddenly a loud "ahem" broke the couple apart. (name) Flushed red and Spock's face was flushed as well Scotty stood in the doorway of the bathroom a smug grin on his face.

"Now I am glad ye are back togetha but could ye please do that at home?"

(name) Name smiled and leaned into Spock as he wrapped his arms around her protectively he leaned his head by her ear and whispered

"It would be illogical to continue this with someone watching but we will most certainly continue this later."

#spock #spock x reader #while I envision kelvin timeline spock it can be any spock you like

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aishangotome · 4 months ago

Text

Luke Randolph: Even If I Make The World My Enemy

From A Hidden Oath: King of the BEAST (2024 Election) - Collection Event

—

The sound of frantic footsteps echoes from a short distance away.

I quickly duck into an alleyway, but it's only a matter of time before I'm found.

Emma: Hey, Luke...

Luke: Shh, they'll hear us if you talk.

I can feel Emma's heartbeat as I hold her close.

Luke: This is bad, we're surrounded.

Emma: Luke, it's impossible now.

Luke: Don't give up. I'll get us out of here, I promise.

???: Found them!

Luke: Ugh...

A figure holding something long and thin comes running from the end of the narrow passage.

Luke: Well, this is it then.

I intercept the figure's swing with my weapon.

???: Whoa!

The figure's weapon snaps in half with a light crack.

Emma: Luke, that's too much!

Luke: It's not too much. We're fugitives, remember?

Luke: If you've decided to follow me, there's no turning back now.

As I pull Emma's arm,

Emma: Luke!

Luke: ...!

Another pursuer behind me swings their weapon––

––This happened a little while ago.

While walking through town with Emma, a child playing with a wooden stick tripped and fell right in front of us.

Emma: Are you okay?

Emma rushes over and applies linen to the child's scraped knee.

Children: We finally found you! ...Huh, what happened?

Emma: It looks like they fell and got hurt. Are you all this child's friends?

Child: Yeah. We were playing knights.

The children were holding sticks and planks of wood of just the right length, with cloth tied around their necks like capes.

(Well, now that you mention it, they do look like knights.)

Luke: By the way, what role does this one play?

The child who fell wasn't wearing a shield or a cape. They were just holding a rather large stick.

Child: The escaped criminal who stole the legendary sword!

Luke: Oh, that's a really bad guy.

(I wonder if they stole it or escaped... but that's not important right now.)

Emma: There, all done.

While talking to the children, Emma seemed to have finished treating the injury.

Emma: Isn't this wooden stick a bit long to be swinging around? You might get hurt again.

Child: But it's the legendary sword...

(They're clearly disappointed.)

(.....................)

(...Well, maybe this isn't so bad once in a while.)

(Especially with Emma here.)

Luke: Alright, I'll take this then.

Emma: Huh!?

I snatch up the "legendary sword."

Children: Hey, that's not fair!

Luke: You're knights, right? Try and take it back from the escaped criminal.

Luke: Oh, and by the way, this one's an escaped criminal too. You gotta defeat us both to get it back.

Emma: Luke!?

I grab Emma's arm, who's looking confused, and run off into town with the legendary sword in hand.

Child: ––Take this!

THWACK, I get hit on the hip with a wooden stick.

Luke: Ugh, I'm defeated. You run, Emma!

I hand the "legendary sword" to Emma and fall to the ground––

Emma: Luke, what should I do... Ah!

Another child taps Emma on the shoulder with a wooden stick.

(Oh, they're holding back. Good for them.)

Emma: Uh, um... I surrender!

Children: Yay, we defeated them!

After Emma returns the "legendary sword," the children leave, satisfied.

(They're so energetic.)

I stand up, brushing the sand off my clothes.

Luke: Ah well, we got defeated. I was planning on escaping with you, too.

Emma: Hehe, you're such a liar. You broke off the end of that wooden stick to make it shorter and safer, didn't you?

(She caught me. I guess I can't hide anything from Emma.)

Emma: Even though we were defeated, it was fun. It was thrilling, like I was really on the run with Luke.

Luke: Yeah, your heart was beating so fast.

Emma: That's because you were close...!

(She's so cute.)

(So cute that... I sometimes wonder if it's okay for someone like me to be by her side.)

The word "defeated" that the children used earlier crosses my mind.

I used to be the one being defeated.

But now, Emma is by my side. If I make another mistake, Emma will be caught up in it too.

(––That's why I can't stray from the path anymore.)

(Well, if I were to stray from the path again and become an enemy of the country...)

(It would only be if something bad happened to Emma, or if she got hurt.)

(If that time comes––)

(I swear I'll love you, even if it means turning against the world.)

Emma: Hehe, what's wrong?

When I hug her tightly, Emma gently wraps her arms around my back.

Luke: Nothing. I just wanted to touch you.

Luke: And this too.

Emma: Mm...

Unable to contain my feelings, I lean in and kiss Emma.

The bustling noise of the royal capital fills the alleyway, leaving the two of us alone.

FIN

#ikemen series #cybird #cybird otome #cybird ikemen #luke randolph #2024 ikemen prince collection event #luke randolph short story #luke randolph collection event story #luke randolph ikepri

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the-hole-in-terzos-shoe · 2 years ago

Text

Premier Amour

Terzo x Fem!Reader

TW: smut, running away, murder, blood, pregnancy

Word Count: 18.4k

Medieval Terzo is finally here!!!! I've been working on this for.... A month now? I've lost track, but I'm stoked to share it with you.

I'm not a historian and also it's just like a fantasy AU so I'm sorry if there's historical inaccuracies, especially around religion, marriage, ceremonies, language, geography, the feudal system, whatevs. I'm no William Shakespeare 😂 just let me have my cliche romance in peace. But if there's anything I can improve, please let me know, I love to learn things ❤️

This is the Terzo I picture for most of the story. And this is one of my Cavaliere Terzo inspo arts!

"What a beautiful pendant," you admire the metal work that the local silver smith has on display in the little bazaar in the middle of town.

"Ah, yes, that's one of my favorites. Beautiful emerald, innit?" the merchant engages with you.

"Sì, it would look bellissima on la signora," a stranger interrupts. You turn to see him, just taller than you, dressed in a black linen cloak, removing the hood from his ear length raven black hair. He looks quite pale to be from Italy, but his accent is too accurate for him not to be. His bare face, clean of facial hair indicates that he might only be a little older than you; his dimples on his cheeks and chin are strong, and he look quite handsome. And his heavy black brows give him a natural scowl over his… mismatched eyes?

Your eyes lock with his, "Yes," you practically whisper, "thank you, sir."

He closes the space between you, his rugged riding boots scraping across the gravel beneath his feet. The mysterious man holds out his hand, and you offer him yours without a second thought. Something about him is so alluring. His eyes flutter closed as he presses his lips to your knuckles, and when they open again, there's something fiery in his gaze. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, bella mia."

And just like that, he's gone, off into the crowd like nothing happened. You exchange a look with the shop owner, both equally shocked by the encounter. After that, you decide maybe it's time to head back home for the day.

You quickly stop by the local baker's tent to grab a few pastries and fruits for the journey back, but as you walk on the outskirts of the bazaar towards the trail you always take, an arm slips itself under yours, hand gripping tightly against your sensitive skin. Whimpering, you try to pull away from whoever is, when you hear that Italian accent ringing in your ear again, "Don't scream. Act normally if you want to live." His other hand slides around your waist and leads you off the trail and into the trees, deep into the thick of the woods.

"What do you want from me?" You finally question him once out of earshot of the marketplace, fire and frustration building in your belly. Jerking your arm away from him only for his grip to return a second later, he turns you, pinning your back against a tree, making you drop your fabric wrapped goods. "Hey!" you yell at him.

"𝘏𝘶𝘴𝘩!" he commands of you.

"Why should I?!" You attempt to garner anyone's attention.

You hear the unmistakable sound of metal being unsheathed before feeling the cold blade against your throat. It got you to shut up, eyes wide with horror. "You're not who you pretend to be, dolce mia."

"W-what do you mean?" you mutter, his face only inches from yours.

"You traipse around like some common little girl from town, but I see the way you hold yourself: proud, but taught to be like a delicate flower. Exactly the way they want you to be to find a suitor."

"On what grounds do you make these assumptions?" His remark had hit you right where it hurt, as if he could read you like a book, and you were angry again.

"The silk petticoat peaking from under your skirt… Commoners can't afford silk."

You couldn't believe he would talk about your undergarments with such a smug look on his face. "It was a gift! My family saved up for quite some time for it!"

He lowers his eyes to your chest, lewdly raising his eyebrows as his finger traces down the center of your cleavage, hooking on the outer layer of your dress and pulling outward just an inch or two. "Did they save up for the matching corset, too, bella mia?"

You stare at him in shock, wanting to strike him down, but also feeling an unfamiliar kind of heat coiling up inside you. Attempting to push him away with your free hand, he snatches your wrist, hiking it above your head and pinning it to the tree, the knife still pressed against your neck.

"If you're going to try to dress like a commoner, I would suggest making certain your disguise is more… thorough," he says pointedly. "So, who are you then? The daughter of… Hmm, a lord? High up land owner?" He inquisitively watches your body language, knowing you won't admit to anything. "Is daddy a lawyer? No? An ambassador? Politician?"

Nothing from you, only persed lips and furrowed brows.

"Ahhh, dare I say it? I must have some lady of the high court under my steel blade." His joke isn't funny to you, so you just keep staring him down, "Perhaps a handmaiden? No… She wouldn't want to escape. But who would? Someone who's never known anything different than the silver spoon…" It's like he's playing with his dinner before devouring it. "You must be la principessa."

You cut your eyes away from him, and he knows he's got you.

"There she is, la principessa, just wanting a taste of the world around her," he teases you.

"What do you want from me?" You cut your eyes back at him.

"Just one thing," he moves impossibly closer to you. "A kiss… da quella tua dolce bocca." (A kiss… From that sweet mouth of yours.)

His eyes glance down at his prize, and you know there's no stopping him. At first contact, his plump lips are surprisingly soft against yours. He moves slowly, giving you several pecks, not unlike the ones you'd experienced while being chaperoned around with your suitors.

That's when he presses his chin to yours, and your mouths drop open together. You feel his hot breath on your face before his mouth closes around yours possessively, tongue demanding entrance. You let out a soft whimper and your tongue dances with his much more skilled one. The knife drops to the ground and is quickly replaced by his fingers massaging over the skin roughly. His other hand leaves yours to scandalously claw at your waist, urging your body closer to his, and your hand falls from the tree to tangle in the base of his hair. Your other hand explores his firm chest, desperately pushing past his cloak to feel him through less layers.

In a matter of seconds, he's turned you into some sort of harlot, abandoning all of your knowledge from finishing school, making your legs weak as he sucks on your bottom lip. Suddenly, his fingers squeeze around your windpipe, but not in a way that would hurt you, rather it draws a lengthy moan from you.

Feeling intoxicated by his presence and the lack of air, you pull away from him, resting your head in the crook of his neck and leaning against his chest, trying to catch your breath. Both of your hands relax on his warm torso, his arms now wrapped around you protectively. You dare to glance up at him, and you're met with his soft gaze staring down at you, still getting used to that strange white eye.

"Who are you?" you whisper to him.

He chuckles deeply, "Your salvation… But for now, you can call me Terzo."

You aren't sure what that answer meant, but you decide to try out his name on your tongue.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see a silver chain dangling on one of his fingers: the emerald pendant from earlier. You stand up straight, putting a bit of space between your bodies.

"Think of me when you wear it, sì?" He commands more than asks, as he latches the clasp around your neck. Your fingers feel the precious stone on your chest, while Terzo bends down to gather your pastries and his knife.

He hands the tied up package to you and makes a move to walk away.

"Wait-" you stop him. You lean up on your toes and give one one last sweet and lingering kiss. "Will I see you again?"

"Sì, do not worry, tesoro," he places his lips to your forehead then disappears into the woods.

• •

You wake that night after seeing flashes of him in your dreams, and you're warmer than normal. The heat between your legs pools stronger than you've ever felt before. The pulsing of your blood so strong, it almost feels like someone is touching you there.

Squeezing your thighs together, you try to sit up and ignore it, opening your window to let in the cool night air.

"…touch…" It's like a whisper in the wind. Your hand rests at your pelvis, balling your night gown up, fighting the sensation between your legs, like a slow, languid stroke back and forth, just enough to make you want more. But you shouldn't. It's debaucherous to even speak of these things in the little bubble that is the castle you live in, let alone to partake.

Another whisper, "please yourself for me, bella mia…" You must be losing your mind. 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘮 𝘐 𝘩𝘦𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘳𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘯𝘰𝘸?

You look around, seeing everything in your room is as usual, but the aching in your core grows stronger. You feel your blood rapidly filling the area. Ever-so-gently, you grind against the sheet beneath you, and feel immediate relief at the sensation. "Ah…"

You crave more, need it even. Grabbing a pillow and shoving it under your weight; you rock your hips back and forth, toes curling as your fingers come to rest on the emerald pendant once again. You notice it glowing and nearly vibrating with energy.

"Yesss, cara, just like that," you hear him again, intoxicating you.

You rip off your night gown, leaving you bare under the moonlight as you soak the plush fabric that scrapes against your folds.

From his campsite deep in the woods, Terzo sits on his knees in a position similar to yours as his hand works over his hardened member, teasing at his own tip to drag him closer to that precipice he enjoys so much. "Touch yourself, dolce mia, please," he begs into the open air.

Back in your room, you follow his command, fingers diving between folds you'd never explored before. Upon finding a little bundle of nerves that's quite pleasing, you cry out in pleasure. Flicking over the spot again and again has the most euphoric feeling building in your pelvis.

Terzo holds both hands out in front of him, balled up onto fist for his cock to push in and out of, wishing it were you. His jaw hangs slack at the thought. "Will you come for me, tesoro?"

For the first time you address him, unsure if he's able to hear you, unsure if this is even real, "I- I think I am…" Your fingers work faster chasing that feeling higher and higher when crash! You feel the shockwave over take you, your fingers flying from beneath you to brace yourself on the windowsill. "Terzo!!!!" you scream his name out the window as your climax rips through your body for the first time.

Hands pumping fast, Terzo spills his seed all over the ground before him, cock twitching and sending long white streams through the air. He chuckles to himself, as he's pretty sure he heard your scream echo through the woods.

• •

Days passed and he was the only thought on your mind. You were careful to only wear his pendant in the night so no one would question where it came from, but also so whatever 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 was wouldn't happen again in the broad daylight. You weren't completely sure the pendant had anything to do with it, but best to be safe.

Your father, the king, had you meeting with more suitors. You were past the age that you should be married; you should probably even have a couple babes by now, but perhaps you were progressive minded in thinking that you weren't just some livestock to be sold off for breeding.

The more time passed, and the more kisses that you had to share with these boys--Terzo kissed you like a man should, like a lover would--well, they all paled in comparison to it, and frankly you were starting to miss him. Although, no doubt, you feel insane for missing a man that held you at knife point just to give you a kiss… The best kiss of your life.

As you wait in the garden for the next suitor to come along, you figured you'd spend an hour with him, then onto the next--𝘐𝘵'𝘴 𝘩𝘪𝘮.

You stare at the man before you like you'd just seen a ghost.

"Ma'am, this is Marquis Lucien Sauveterre," the chaperone announces.

Terzo takes your hand and kisses your knuckles just as he had in the bazaar that day. "C'est un plaisir de faire votre connaissance, ma belle." (Pleasure to make your acquaintance, beautiful.)

Your head is spinning.

"Merci," he hands the chaperone some gold coins, and waves them off.

"What are doing here!!?" you whisper shout at Terzo once the chaperone returns back inside. "𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘦𝘯 𝘚𝘢𝘶𝘷𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘳𝘦…" you mock the fake name you'd been given, rolling your eyes.

That devious smirk pulls at his lips. He was dressed much nicer today, as were you; clearly he was hiding some sort of noble background as well.

"How have you been, mia principessa? Did you enjoy yourself a few nights ago?"

Your eyes dart up to his, and he looks you over as if he knows what you look like naked. 𝘔𝘢𝘺𝘣𝘦 𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘰𝘦𝘴… 𝘐'𝘮 𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘭𝘭 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘸𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘭𝘭 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵.

"Anyway, I won't be bothering you long. I came to deliver a message: there's a big tree with a nice canopy in the middle of a wheat farmer's field not far from here, do you know the one?"

You nod your head; you go there to read sometimes.

"Meet me there tomorrow, sì? I'll be waiting for you." His hand cups your cheek and he kisses you quickly, a tease compared to what you know those lips can do. "I think about you every day, too, cara mia. I can't get you off my mind, but you knew that would happen when you kissed me the way you did," he guilts you with a grin.

"I believe you were the one who kissed me, sir. Held me up with a knife for it," you sass him.

You hear a low groan near your ear followed by, "Let me taste you once more, principessa."

With that, your lips crash into his with a fire to rival your previous encounter.

"Brava ragazza," he compliments you, breathless, "So responsive for me."

You blush at his praises.

"Now, when I leave here, you're to act like you despised me. You want nothing to do with me or my people ever again, sì? And then I'll see you when the sun rises again." He gives you a wink and another kiss on the forehead before leaving you to face more of your stupid suitors.

• •

The next day, you dress in your common clothes again, you hadn't yet acquired a cotton petticoat or linen corset.

You slip out of one of the back gates, letting your handmaiden know you were going to the bazaar again. And heaven knows you don't know what possessed you, but you didn't wear anything except your thigh high stockings under your petticoat.

"How did things go with your papà?" Terzo asks, languidly laid out on his side under your reading tree.

"Well…" you sit next to him crossing your arms and propping them on your knees, feeling the cool breeze rush up your skirt. "No more French suitors," you coyly reply.

He bursts out a short laugh, leaning up to sit closer to you, "Mia principessa was convincing then. Eccellente." Terzo kisses your temple.

"Terzo," you address him directly.

"Hm?"

"Who are you? I know your name, but I don't know anything else. The thought of you drives me wild, don't you think I deserve to know you at least a little bit? You clearly know a lot about me."

"Sì, sì, you are right," he holds your face in his hands, admiring all the little details as if committing them to memory. "I cannot tell you who I am or what I do. You must believe me when I say this is for your own safety."

You think on it for a moment, chewing your lip. "At least tell me something about yourself. Something not many others know."

"Let's see… I like meeting with beautiful women in secret," he giggles and kisses you.

"Terzo…" You search his two toned eyes.

"Okie dokie, tesoro. I like to partake in the company of beautiful people; I don't enjoy waking up alone. I'm sure it's obvious that I'm far away from home, and that's because I'm in search of something to take back with me. And I write music; sometimes you might catch me at the pubs singing for others."

Yes, it was cryptic, but you felt like he was as honest as he could be.

"Hmmm… What's your favorite flower?" you question him.

"White roses."

"And what do you think of before you go to sleep?"

"Home."

"What is home like?"

"Old, but it's full of life," a genuine smile comes to his face at the thought.

"Thank you…" you whisper to him.

"For what, bella mia?"

"Honesty. Your honesty," you lean forward, giving him a chaste kiss.

His fingers weave into your hair, urging you to lean your head back, where he then starts peppering kisses across the soft skin of your jaw and neck. You think kissing him has to be your favorite thing in the world.

Your arms find a cozy spot on his waist so you can let him work on you. Traveling towards your shoulder, Terzo's fingertips slip your sleeve from your shoulder, exposing more skin to him. He leaves a playful nip at the end of your collarbone, earning a squeak from you.

Hands find his shoulder blades, scratching at his black tunic as he lays you back on the grass, hand cradling your head. His legs tangle with yours while his mouth worships the cleavage spilling from your dress.

With your fingers threaded in his raven colored hair, you pull his attention back to you, wanting his mouth on yours. As he situates himself above you, his hand hooks your knee on his hip. When that same hand starts to creep up your thigh under your petticoat, you feel something hard start to press against your pelvis.

Fighting every want in your body, you put a hand on his, stopping him. "We shouldn't…" Embarrassment washes over you. "I just, it's- I'm supposed to be pure for when I get married."

"Cara, you do not owe me an explanation. If you don't want to, then we don't, sì?" He sits you both up, looking you right in the eyes to let you know he means it.

You lean into his chest for a hug, and he pulls you into his lap, leaning back against the large shady tree. "I hate it… The future of my father's kingdom depends on me remaining untouched. All of it for a man I won't want to marry."

"Don't say that, dolcezza, you may meet someone and really love them." He tries to encourage you. "Besides, your virginity shouldn't matter to anyone, especially not some man. It doesn't matter to me."

"It doesn't?"

"No, of course not. It's just some foolish ideal of the Christian church to keep women controlled." You were a little taken aback, surprised at his progressive thinking and at his blatant dismissal of the church that your father was a conduit for.

"Well, I still don't think I'll find any suitor that I love," you look down at his chest, trying to find the words, "not when you're the one who occupies my heart."

"Don't say that, principessa…" he says as if the wind has just been knocked out if his chest. "You deserve someone much nicer than I."

"Nicer? I don't want nice. All of those stupid suitors are nothing but nice! I want passion, the fire that I feel with you, I- I want 𝘺𝘰𝘶. And you make me feel CRAZY for it! I hardly know you, yet you're all I think about. When I wake up in the morning I long for you to be there; when I try to sleep at night, I want you in my arms."

In that moment, he knew he'd found what he'd been searching for, the thing to take home with him: you.

Looking down at the emerald worn proudly on your chest for him, he admits his feelings, "Ti amo, principessa." No one had ever wormed their way into his heart as fast as you had. He still had much to reveal to you, and he couldn't wait to be open with you, but he knew he had to get you somewhere safe before that could happen.

You give him a few short kisses before standing up in front of him. After kicking off your shoes, you work the laces on your dress with expert fingers, loosening them and letting the linen fabric as well as your silk petticoat fall to ground around you.

Terzo stares up at you, drinking in the sight of your soft thighs hugged by the plush white stockings, your bare sex, and the curve of your waist that your corset forced onto you.

"Make love to me," you ask of him, biting your lip.

He stands up on his knees, approaching you to wrap his hands around the back of your thighs, and sucking a lovebite to your hipbone. "I would love nothing more, bella mia."

While looking up at you, he delicately kisses your inner thigh, right next to your core, making sure you're still okay with everything before placing a sloppy open mouthed kiss to your folds.

It's unlike anything you've ever felt before. It's wet and it's hot and it feels like heaven. 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘮𝘢𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘴𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥… Without realizing, your hands tangled in his hair, pulling harshly and drawing a moan from the man beneath you.

"Oh goodness, I'm sorry if I hurt you…" You let go of him.

He opens his eyes to look at you through his lashes, "You're not going to hurt me." He takes your hand and puts it back on his head before going back to work, flicking his tongue happily over your clit.

Within seconds, your legs are shaking from him having total control over the bundle of nerves. "T-Terz-zo…" you stutter out.

He stops what he's doing and takes your hand in his, "Do you need to lie down, amore?"

You nod at him, and he helps you onto your back, but not before spreading his cloak out on the grass for you. Terzo picks your thighs up, squeezing tightly so your feet rest on his back, before getting right back to work. And with his next move, he has you seeing stars. His lips surround your clit and suck on it harshly, making you mewl for him to keep going.

He drops one of your thighs to tease your entrance with a finger, pressing in lightly to test the waters.

"Mmm! More!" you command.

With that, he slides a little deeper, slowly curling his finger over and over again, his mouth still sucking on you in just the right way.

"I- ah, Terzo, I'm-" your face is scrunched with pleasure as your orgasm reaches you.

Terzo can help but think about how fun this will be with you so sensitive as he helps you through it. After a few minutes, he sits up, still keeping that finger in you, working you slowly.

"Ready for another one, tesoro?" he asks.

"Another what?" you inquire innocently. He holds up his free hand and wiggles his digits. "Oh! Um, yes, please."

He slides out, slicking up his second finger and gingerly going back in. "You cum very easily," he states like it's the most casual thing in the world.

Feeling the stretch of his two fingers, you reply, "I do?" Being filled like this is completely foreign to you; it may take some getting used to.

He nods his head with a half smile, "It's cute."

"Oh," you feel heat come to your cheeks, and it's not from lust.

"Don't be ashamed, cara mia. I enjoy making you cum, and I'll make you do it again, and again, and again." He thrusts his fingers in time with his words to make his point.

You whimper at his motions, and he lays down next to you to make out with you yet again. Legs lifting in the air showing how needy you are for his fingers inside you, the feeling of his digits curling has that fire in your belly burn smoldering.

Hungrily, you start to toy with his tunic, needing to see more of him. "Terzo…"

His eyes find yours, the sun peeking through the canopy of the tree catching his pale face so beautifully. His hair is all messed up, falling over his eyes, irises blown wide with lust even in the bright daylight.

You reach out, fumbling with his hardness through his pants. "I need you," you pant out. In your mind, you knew there was no going back after this, but there was no stopping you either. Your desire for him was stronger than anything you'd ever felt.

He pulls his fingers from you, popping them right into his mouth; he wouldn't want to waste it after all. Next, his tunic flies off, pulled over his head hastily, exposing his chest, belly, and shoulders to you. Curious fingertips take in the expanse of skin, only serving to make you want more. He works at the ties on his trousers, fidgeting with the knot.

"Here, let me," you sit up, nimble fingers making quick work of it, just like your dress.

Seeing him lain bare is like a work of art; one that belongs in a museum for centuries to come. The long legs, the curve of his hip as he lays on his side, the hungry look in his eyes…

"Your turn," he whispers before pouncing on you, undoing the snaps on your corset before discarding it. Flipped on your back yet again with your lover atop you, his mouth explores your newly uncovered breasts. "Bellissima…" he grumbles against your chest.

With your legs wrapped around his hips, you pull him down so he's flush against you.

"Impatient, principessa," he kisses a trail up your neck to your jaw, "Always getting what she wants." He kisses you once on the lips, leaving you wanting more, "It will be no different with me; I'll give you everything your heart desires." And with that his lips meet with your again, soft at first before shifting back into the passionate rhythm you normally share.

Fingernails claw at his hips, still in desperate need to feel him inside you. As if reading your mind, his hand guides his hot girth through your slick folds, collecting every drop. He lets out a shaky breath and bites his lip, "Are you ready, tesoro?"

Already keening at the feeling, half from lust and half from anticipation, you nod your head fervently, "Yes! Yes, Terzo."

Not wanting to make you wait another second, he rocks his hips forward in a small motion, just pushing in a tiny bit. Terzo watches your face intently, waiting for any sign that he should stop. Slowly, he pulls back and slides right back in, a little deeper this time, "Bene?" he whispers to you.

"Mm-hmm," you confirm, getting used to the way he fills you.

He kisses your cheek with a hand on your hip to keep you still. As he starts going deeper, your face scrunches up, and he stops instantly, searching your face for what to do next.

"Just stay still for a moment," you caress his cheek, "It feels so good, I just need a moment." You feel his cock twitch inside you, making you realize how much he must be restraining himself to make you comfortable. You nod your head again, "Move," you demand.

Terzo doesn't hesitate, languidly pushing and pulling his hips, not even concerned with trying to go further for fear of hurting you. He lets out a soft groan at the pleasure washing over him.

"Deeper, I want to feel all of you," your hand snakes up between his shoulder blades lightly scratching.

He lifts his eyebrows as if to ask if you're sure, and you nod once again. With that, he adjusts his body to get back on his hands above you and makes sure your legs are properly wrapped around his hips; you even hook your ankles together so you don't go anywhere.

The change in angle alone feels wonderful, but when he thrusts into you solidly one time, you feel him sheath his himself into you fully. You gasp out at feeling his full length, the burn of it quickly melting away as he moves excitedly against you.

He stays on his hands for just a few more pulses of his hips before falling to his elbows so he can caress your form. "How is that, piccolina?"

"S-so good," you stammer.

"Sei così bella," (You look beautiful,) he pants hotly into your ear as his hand glides down the side of your body to grip your ass. His head nuzzles into the crook of your shoulder as he moans out his satisfaction.

Peaking over his shoulder, you watch his body move on top of yours: knees spread and toes digging into the ground to keep close to you, hips bouncing showing off the delicious curve of his ass and hip bone. It was a sight you could easily get used to.

Suddenly you feel another wave of pleasure creeping up on you, "Ohhh, Terzo…" you drag out his name.

"Sì, vieni per me, amore," (Yes, cum for me, love,) he grunts. You're not entirely sure what he's saying, but all it takes is a few strokes of his fingers on your center to have your tight wet heat clenching around his cock. "Sì, sì, bellissima, così bella…" (Yes, yes, very beautiful, so beautiful…)

You whine for him, hardly feeling like you're on planet earth anymore as you come undone at his hands. Things slow down for a brief period, as your lover lets you cool down from your high; he presses soft kisses to your collarbone as you stare up at the leaves in the tree.

Next, you certainly don't know what came over you, but you were pushing him up and to the side, and Terzo reacts quickly, holding your hips tight to him as he's rolled into his back. He looks genuinely impressed with that move as you instinctively begin to ride him, hands clutching his chest as you lift your hips and drop them.

The man beneath you helps guide you with a strong hand, and his other finds your throat again, squeezing lightly at your windpipe. You let out a small moan of anticipation at his actions. "Not quite yet, tesoro," he winks at you.

"Ughh," you groan only half frustrated. Legs more tired than you'd anticipated, you start sliding yourself back and forth rather than up and down, and it's pays off more than you would've expected as his length continuously grazes over that spot his fingers found earlier. It has that now familiar feeling building back up again, and you furrow your brow and bite your lips trying to stave it off.

"Don't fight it, cara mia, trova il tuo piacere con me…" (Find your pleasure with me…) And of course, as he promised, his hand returns to your neck, squeezing just the right way to make your head feel lighter than air. It only serves to heighten the sensations you feel and sends you toppling over in your release, literally.

Terzo holds you close as you crash down on top of him, cunt encircling his hard lust so deliciously. He cries out as his release explodes inside you, your name the only word on his lips, which is pretty impressive for a guy who knows at least two languages and never shuts up.

You can feel the warm liquid filling you; it makes you squirm on top of him. Returning the many kisses from earlier, you take your turn to adorn his pale skin with your love, as you both hold each other tightly.

Rolling off of him with shaky thighs, you bundle up in his large cloak as best you can, feeling more exposed now than before; it would certainly need to be cleaned later. He drags you right back over to him, cuddling you to his chest and kissing the top of your head. "Dolce mia, you could bring the Devil to his knees," he remarks, still catching his breath.

You look at him like he'd just said the most scandalous thing you'd ever heard, perhaps it was the most scandalous thing you'd ever heard, and he laughs heartily from his chest. A small giggle escapes you, and you offer him some of the cloak cuddle under with you. "You're gonna have to teach me all those Italian phrases, although maybe I don't wanna know what they mean," you blush at him, making him laugh again.

His lips find yours in a loving kiss, "There will be plenty of time for that, amore mio."

• •

The next time you see him, you have a ring on your finger and tears in your eyes.

"Stellina, you must dry your eyes. I can't stand to see you like this," he pulls you into a hug, his cloak wrapping around you once again; it always smells so much like him.

You had made a regular routine of meeting near the bazaar or under the reading tree every few days, whenever you weren't seeing suitors. Much to your dismay, the courting was over since your father selected a fiancé for you.

"Come, sit with me," Terzo whispers to you. He sits with his back against the tree and you in his lap, another habit you'd fallen into together in the short time you'd known one another. "Tell me what happened, cara mia."

"He was tired of waiting…" you sob, and Terzo knew you were referring to the king. "He said I was making the kingdom wait too long, and since relations between his and Lord Vogel's lands haven't been ideal lately, he's betrothed me to the man's son! I'm nothing more than a chess pawn to him!" You lean against your lover's chest, letting the tears flow.

"Amore, you are so much more than a simple pawn," he kisses your head, running his fingers through your hair repeatedly.

You sit up, looking in Terzo's eyes and cupping his cheek. "I don't want to marry him. For me, there is only you. I would give it all away if it meant I could have my life with you."

"Tesoro… Don't say that. You love your father, you're committed to your kingdom." How he wished he could whisk you away, but deep down he would feel so guilty for taking you away from everything you'd ever known.

"I do love my family, but I haven't been happy, not since I was first made to start seeing suitors. I know everyone thinks I'm just some stupid girl, but nothing has shown me the corruption of royalty and the blasphemous use of religion to play their little games better than being courted. They play games with people's lives, even the ones in their own homes!" You pound your fist against his chest and he clasps it in his, "Is that why you left your home? It makes me want to leave mine."

"No, cara mia. My home isn't like this. Everyone is accepted for who they wish to be, and everyone has the freedom to leave if they'd like. Even those in the royal blood line," Terzo explains.

"So you're from a kingdom too?" you ask.

"Eh, of sorts, but we don't call it that."

"I've never heard of a place like that. Sounds wonderful," you look down, wringing your hands together, fidgeting with your new ring. "Say, have you found the thing you're supposed to return home with yet?" you ask, referring to the first bit of information he ever told you about himself.

"Sì, I have, Stellina," he pets your hair lightly, playing with the ends.

"Well, then why haven't you gone back?" You look up at his mismatched eyes, the ones you never get tired of looking into.

"Because, ah… I found something here that feels like home, amore," he puts his hand over your heart, indicating that he's talking about you.

You put your hand over his, "Do you think… Could I be accepted where you're from?"

"Sì, we accept all, tesoro, no matter their background."

"Would you take me there?" you whisper.

Your lover diverts his eyes and remains silent.

"Terzo?"

Turning his eyes back to you, he has a painted expression on his face, like he's completely torn about what to do. "I fear you would feel like not more than a caged bird there, as well."

"Would I not be allowed to be with you?" you worry out loud.

"No, tesoro, we'll be together. I would never let anything take you from me," he takes your hand in his.

"If we stay here, my father will take me from you. I'll be sent off to another land and made to have someone else's babes," you remind him.

He leans his head back on the reading tree, sighing a deep breath, "I'd like to give you the choice, cara, but you have to know what you'll be involved with."

"Okay."

"I'll have to forgo some details, because it won't be safe for you should you decide not to return with me, but know that I will tell you everything when I can," he warns.

"I trust you, Terzo."

He takes in another breath, nervous that what he has to say will scare you away. "I'm to be the figurehead of a covert organization," the language sounded very practiced, not like how he usually speaks, "We seek out those who desire acceptance, freedom from the systems around them, an escape from corruption. When I return, I'll be expected to take a partner, just as you face, Stellina. Which is why I set out in search of love," he starts to sound more like himself again. "Cara, should you return with me, I'd like you to be mine. I know it would feel like you're trading one arranged marriage for another…"

His words make you realize just how similar you are, how he faced the same issue you did, and how despite it, you still found one another. "Amore," you try the new language on your tongue, "you're not only offering me a choice, you're offering me liberation… What was it you said so confidently in the woods that day? That you would be my salvation? Well, then… Free me."

That fire in your eyes had come back to him, the thing he loves most about you; you may be a princess, but you had some real fight in you. "Anything for you, principessa."

You chatted for the rest of the afternoon; what looked like casual talk between lovers was really planning and plotting for how he would get you out of the city, away from civilization, and slip quietly across the country side back to Italy.

"When do we leave?" you ask him with a warm smile. You straddle his lap now, fiddling with the edges of his cloak.

"Not for a few days, cara. You'll need a horse. I'll have to trade for one." He twirls your hair on his finger.

"We have horses at the castle, I could just take one," you offer.

"No, if they come looking for you, which they will, they would recognize one of their own horses, sì?"

"They would," you look down, feeling dumb for the suggestion.

He scoops your chin in his hand and kisses your nose. "It pains me to say it, tesoro, but you will have to cut your hair. Anyone could recognize your beauty."

"It will grow back," you bite your lip playfully and lean your forehead on his. "Hmm, what's this?" you ask, slipping a piece of paper from the lining of the cloak.

For a moment, he stiffens up like he wants to take it away from you, but he decides to let you read it… Except it's all in Italian.

"What does it say?" You look at him with innocence.

He takes the paper from you and clears his throat:

"Alessandro,

The halls of the abbey haven't been the same without your spirited presence. We wish you home soon, but no one understands more than I how you need this time away. The world is much bigger than we may know, especially in our little fortress here at home. Some may never find the love that you so desperately desire, but I will pray every day that I see you not return to these grounds until you have it. It will pain me not to see you each and every day, not to hold you close to me even though it makes you squirm for freedom, but this is a journey you must make for yourself and for your future love.

Your mother, Felìcita"

He's not sure why he felt compelled to share it with you, but he felt there was no need to hide anymore.

"And this letter is yours? I thought your name was Terzo?"

"Sì," he huffs a small laugh at you, "it is. Terzo is one of my names, but Alessandro is my birth name. No one calls me that except mia madre." He smiles foldly thinking of her.

"Oh," you pause for a moment, taking in all the little details you'd just learned about him and where he comes from. You can't help but imagine his mother as a loving and caring woman, something you hadn't known since losing yours. "Alessandro," You lock eyes with one another at the use of his name. "Ti amo… Is that how you say it?"

He smiles broadly, giving you a quick kiss, "Sì, I love you too, principessa."

• •

The task at hand is simple: sneak out of the castle just like you do all the time, even a few times at night, but now it was for forever. There would be no returning.

You scan your suite one final time, silently thanking the walls for harboring you and all the feelings you'd cried, screamed, punched into them over the years. Of all the places in the castle, this was your favorite; however, it was also the place that kept you hidden away from the rest of the world.

Sliding your engagement ring off of your finger, you leave it on the bedside table. It would be obvious that you ran away, no signs of struggle, just a bird free from the cage. You clasp the pendant Terzo had given you around your neck, immediately feeling his energy wash over you. Whatever he had done to that necklace, you couldn't explain.

Finally, slipping into your darkest cloak, a deep maroon, and picking up the bag of things you'd need: warm layers, extra riding shoes, and your mom's bracelet that she'd worn on her wedding day to your father. Quickly taking a peek out of your high up window, you see a few guards on rotation, some look asleep, others just wandering around. You had rested up as much as you could the last few days, knowing you had a long night ahead of you.

Taking a few pebbles from a small plant you had in your room and shoving them in your pocket, you close the window and leave the room, not only locking the door behind you, but breaking the key off in the keyhole. The longer it took for them to see you were gone, the better.

Sneaking down staircases and through back corridors seemingly lost to time, you made it to your usual back door. Cracking it open slowly, you scan to see where the guards are: none in sight, and your exit gate is just a few paces away. Stepping out into the cool night, you hear two guards chatting around the corner. Hiding behind a stack of barrels, you launch a couple of pebbles in their direction, and they ping off of a watering trough nearby.

As expected, it grabs their attention and they saunter over, completely unaware of your presence. Taking your opportunity, you quietly run over to the gate, flipping the latch as silently as possible and squeezing out, opening it only a little. Once on the other side, you try to even out your nervous breathing and quietly click the latch closed.

You take one last look up at the castle before turning to walk away; you had to walk while still in earshot of the palace, but once you are far away, your feet start to fly, carrying you fast and hard toward your lover. Holding the pendant against your chest, you feel his pride swelter in your chest.

Breathing hard as you run past the farmer's wheat field, you nod a final goodbye to the reading tree, warm memories of the spot flashing in your mind. You make your way towards town, near the bazaar was a tavern where Terzo would be waiting for you.

Perfect timing too, as the raven haired man exits the bar, you approach, stopping near the brothel by the stables. A few ladies of the night wait around to draw in what would be their pay for the evening, and one of them compliments how pretty you are.

"Alrighty, fellas, it's time for me to call it a night," he says to the two guys on either side of him, all hanging onto one another drunk. He spots you and gives you a wink.

"Planning to sneak off and bed one of the harlots over there?" one of the guys jabs at his side.

"Sì, sì, I think I've got my eyes on one," Terzo chuckles.

"Aye, hopefully she's good," the other guy says as your lover separates himself from them, making his way over to you.

"Oh, she is," he mumbles to himself.

As he approaches you, swiping a hand through your hair and tickling your chin, one of the bar guys calls out, "Aye!!! That don't look like no common whore." 𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘵. They were onto you; perhaps your disguises weren't as good as you thought.

Hesitating for a second and looking at Terzo with wide eyes, you jump right to action, bending over and lifting your skirt, gathering the fabric to show off your leg. You unhook a couple of garter clips, sliding one of your stockings down exposing the flesh of your thigh and giving the man before you the most sultry bedroom eyes you could muster.

Terzo responds with a low whistle and a shit eating grin, waving the other guys off before leading you back behind the brothel. You try to hide the giggle that works its way out of you, "I'm not sure what came over me, I just thought it was the best way to get them off our trail," you excitedly explain as Terzo presses you up against the wall, lips crashing into yours.

His body pressed tight against yours, giving anyone that might still see you the impression that he wanted to give off. "Brava ragazza, bella mia, I think you fooled them all," he praises you hotly in your ear.

Your fingers tangle in his black locks, and you attack his lips again. "Tutto per te, amore mio," (All for you, my love,) you tell him, you'd stolen a book from the kingdom's library to practice your Italian, but don't worry, you made sure to put it back before you left, not leaving any trace as to where you would be going.

Terzo growls against your lips, frustrated he can't take you right here and now. Once he's sure those guys went back inside the pub, he drags you by the hand over to his horse--a gorgeous midnight black. Lifting you by the hips, he sits you up on the horse's back, who lets out a huff. "Oh hush, bella ragazza, it's only for a little while," he scolds the horse playfully, giving her nose a scratch.

As Terzo hoists himself up on the animal, you catch the eye of the lady that complimented you earlier. She holds a questioning look on her face, so you throw a finger over your lips, silently asking her to keep your secret. She nods slowly at you, waving her ornate fan a few times in front of her face, a signal telling you to go while you can.

You nudge your lover's side, telling him it's time, and you cling to him tightly, riding side saddle in front of him, as he whips the reins, and you disappear into the woods.

• •

The first few days of travel would be the hardest. A few miles into the woods, Terzo would meet up with the horse he'd found for you, a beautiful dappled stallion, and from there you would ride separately. You would ride through the whole first night; it's important to make as much distance as possible as early into the trip as you can, because it will mean more distance between you and the knights that search for you.

You will catch naps and food as often as you can, but you will move almost constantly through small towns, fields, woods for about two to three days. When you get your first real break, setting up camp deep in some forest, Terzo will cut your hair and bury it, leaving no trace of your locks; he will also rub some dirt in your hair in an effort to change the color and texture even if only a little. And then you will move some more.

Everything went exactly as your lover told you it would. You were tired, exhausted really, from lack of sleep, having to take shifts to listen for danger, when all you really wanted was to hold him close and drift off. The smell wasn't great; you certainly weren't used to spending extended time like this outdoors with no bath. But you are happy.

Happy to be free from a marriage you didn't want. Happy to be by Alessandro's side; you'd really grown to understand one another well, especially when you are having to survive the elements and possible danger lurking at every corner.

"Alessandro, look! A stream!" you chirp happily, riding horse back, sun spilling through the trees

The use of his name made his lips quirk upward; he liked that you'd made a habit of it. "Sì, we should refill our cannisters," he points out.

"It looks so nice, amore, deep enough to step in. Do you think we could stop just for a quick bath?" Your eyes beg him.

As much as he didn't want to waste a moment in your escape, he knew it would make you feel better. He nods his head and leads the horses over to the running water.

Within seconds, you're dismounted and shedding layers of fabric. It was a nice warm day, and you planned on soaking it in, at least for the little while that you could before heading out again.

Terzo chuckles at you as you stand in your undergarments before him.

"Coming in, lover boy?" you tease, unsnapping the top few buttons on your corset, squeezing your cleavage together nicely.

"I shouldn't," he looks you up and down, biting his lip to hide his mirth.

"Oh, but you should. You smell just as much as I. Together we're probably worse than that horse's ass," you throw over your shoulder as you disrobe the last of your clothes, and stepping into the stream.

Terzo watches you candidly, as he refills your drinking water supply. Watching as your wet, naked body glistens and sparkles in the sun.

You dip your head in the water, fingers struggling to get used to the shorter length of your hair as you loosen the clay that tangles your locks. Terzo will insist on reapplying it, but for now, it's nice to let your hair down, so to speak.

Speaking of the sneaky bastard, he'd already slipped out of his clothes and was joining you for a quick dip. "Mmm, hello, cara mia," he greets you, wrapping his arms around your frame, bringing you close to him.

"I thought you weren't coming in," you whisper jokingly.

"You know I can't resist you like this, principessa," he kisses your cheek and ear a few times.

"I hardly feel like a princess like this," you cringe.

"You will always be my princess, all mine." Slowly you kiss one another. You hadn't had much time for romance since running away, so it felt incredibly intimate being able to kiss him so languidly. He holds your jaw so delicately, as your hands rinse the cool water over his strong chest.

As his thumb teases at your throat, you let out a small moan. He feels your breath on his face and he gently pries your mouth open to allow his tongue access. Gently, hands roam and caress one another, reveling in feeling one another's bodies as you hadn't been able to in days.

"Cara," Terzo sighs, pressing his hardening length against your hip. It was pretty incredible how you went from such a timid little thing to confidently handling your lover's desire as your palm strokes him, making him rut up into your cupped hand. Fingers dip between your folds, indicating his need to satiate you as well.

Touch starved, it wouldn't take long for either of you; the last time you'd made love was days before your escape from the castle.

The raven haired man lifts one of your thighs up to his hip and then removes his hand from your core to start lining his throbbing member up with your entrance.

"Oh, please, Ale… You always feel so good," you praise him and a soft blush comes to his cheeks. "Did you like that, huh?" You ask as you feel him press into you, "Like when I compliment you, pretty boy?"

His duotoned eyes flash up to yours, lips curling into a smile despite his jaw dropping open at the feeling of your walls flush around his burning lust for you. He nods his head, wanting to hear more. He holds you tightly to him as his hips buck up into your heat, needy for your body and your affections.

"You're so sweet, my Alessandro, oh- ahhh! Your cock feels perfect inside me," you continue.

He grunts softly, letting his head fall to the crook of your neck as he rolls one of your nipples between his thumb and index finger.

With a hand under his chin, you lift his face, "Look at me, handsome."

He bites his lips before pressing them to yours in a heated make out. Your fingers tangle in his unruly locks, and he angles you back slightly, looking to thrust deeper into your delicate walls.

Finding just the right spot, you know you'll be done in seconds. "Touch me Ale, make me feel like a goddess the way you always do," you choke out, fingers pulling at his hair and scratching vicious red lines across the pale skin of his back.

He quickly obliges, making sure to pay special attention to your clit, sending you right into your climax. "Ah!" you cry out, cunt clinching around his swollen desire. A few more pumps and he's filling you with ropes of his seed.

You hold him tightly as you ride out your orgasm, panting out, "See what you do to me, amore? That should be the biggest compliment of all."

He gives you a coy look, "Sì, I do enjoy making you come undone," his confident self returning.

"And you're so good at it," you kiss the tip of his nose, as he slips out of you, shivering at the loss of your warmth, especially in the cool stream flowing around you.

You both take time to dote over one another, washing every inch and savoring the moment before you'll have to be on the move again.

"I could never have done this without you, Terzo," you ponder as you rub his shoulder blades.

"Hm?" he spins around in the water to face you.

"All of it. Running away, traveling south through the woods, living outdoors. I never would've had the courage to do that without you."

His face flushes at your praises again, though this time for a different reason. "I wouldn't be taking this journey without you either, principessa. I'm so glad I found you." Cupping your face, he kisses you a few more times before it's time to get out and dry off.

• •

Back on the horse, feeling much fresher than before, a change of undergarments and all, you and Terzo took the horses quickly through the trees at a nice trot to make up for your little stop a couple miles back.

Suddenly, you hear another set of hooves moving quickly at a distance, as you turn to see who or what it is-

"DUCK!" Terzo screams at you, and you do, the knight speeding by you barely missing you as his arm whips through the air above your crouched body.

You immediately pull your horse to a halt, as does your lover, knife already in hand. Your hand finds the hilt of the knife he'd given you, gripping it tightly under your cloak as you watch the knight circle back towards you: one of your father's. Your stomach drops, and you have to focus to not throw up.

"Aye! There you are little princess!" he hollers out, his pewter helmet glimmering in the sun. "Taking on a different look, huh?" he refers to your hair. "Make this easy on all of us, and come with me. Then maybe your father will be merciful on your boyfriend here, yeah?"

"No." It was all you could manage. You hadn't worked so hard and come all this way to lose it all now.

He urges his horse forward in between yours and Terzo's, making a move to grab at you. Not wanting the knight to get you onto his horse, Terzo swiftly dismounts and yanks the man by his leg, pulling him from his own saddle. He did manage a hand on your wrist which involuntarily dismounts you as well.

Hitting the ground with some force, you gasp for air as the two men entangle in a fight with one another. Your lover isn't the largest man, but he was explosive like dynamite taking on one of your father's largest soldiers in all his armor.

Terzo works to rip parts of the other man's armor from his body, flinging an arm piece across the forest floor like a vicious animal. He expertly evades the larger man's punches, slowed a bit by the heavy metal on his person.

As you sit up, trying to right yourself again, you hear, "Get her! Grab her and take her back to the base camp," from the man fighting Terzo. You look up to see another knight riding up and dismounting, smaller than the other guy, thank heavens.

He chuckles a cocky laugh, heading right for you, "Come on, little princess." The second knight grabs your arm, forcing you up off of the ground. As you look into his eyes, you sober right up from being knocked off your horse, instincts taking over. You push and kick as hard as you can, fighting against him.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see the first knight with his hands around your lover's throat, hoisting him up against a tree. Your eyes widen in horror as you see Alessandro red in the face and sputtering for air, arms outstretched trying to tip the man's helmet off his head.

The knight fighting you made the mistake of underestimating you, as he was dragging you back to his horse only holding onto you with one arm. Like a trained mercenary, you knew what to do. Fast as you could muster, you unsheathed your knife, whistling at him to get him to look at you, and before he could even form a word, your blade was sunk into the soft spot between his chest plate and his helmet.

Harshly dragging the blade from his neck, he drops to the ground as life leaves him. Looking deliriously as the fight between your lover and the knight turns bad, you rush over, dipping to grab a fallen branch in your path.

Terzo looks at you over the knights shoulder, eyes bloodshot as he takes in your beauty seemingly for the last time. Just as his struggling fingers finally tip the dense metal from the knight's head, a loud crack sounds through the forest as your branch meets with your assailant's dome.

Slumping to the side on his knees before falling over, the knight releases your lover, who draws in a raspy breath, coughing painfully. Adrenaline still pumping through his veins, Terzo reaches for his own knife that had fallen to the ground and kneels above the knight that tried to kill him.

You move toward them, holding back one of the knights arms as your lover kneels on the other, swiftly cutting his throat, blood spilling out everywhere.

Stepping around his body, you hold Alessandro to your chest, a million thoughts rushing through your mind, "Oh my god, Terzo… we killed them," you cry into his chest as you both try fill your lungs with air, breathing unevenly and seemingly fighting the atmosphere around you.

"Amore, we must go. You heard them; there are more," Terzo helps you stand, getting you right back on your horse and sending them running at a full gallop with a harsh smack. Seconds later, he's following right behind you.

You ran the horses as fast as you could for as long as they could take it, tears streaming down your face over the danger afoot, the near loss of your lover, the sin you'd just committed against those knights. Love had changed you, for better or for worse.

• •

The days were long, full of worry that your father's knights would catch up to you once again. At night, you held each other closer than before, often unable to sleep over the anxiety and guilt that riddled your mind.

Finally a small relief came: you were getting close to Italy, and Terzo said he knows the tavern keeper in the next town. You'd ventured into towns to buy food and try to get a reading on how far the search party for you had fanned out, but you'd never stayed the night. Your lover was confident you'd be safe, a feeling you both needed.

As Terzo and the tavern keeper share a whispered greeting, you find a place to rest your feet, your back, your hips. Everything was sore. Between that and the mud and dirt crusted on your face and hair in an attempt to conceal your identity, you can only imagine how terrible you look right now. You could hardly bring yourself to care, only concerned with your safety and right now… relaxing.

Your lover reappears next to you, a glass of mead in each hand. Surely your eyebrows gave away that you were hesitant about drinking whatever was in that glass.

"C'mon, don't be such a 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢 about it," he teases you, setting a glass in front of you. As you look left and right to make sure no one took his joke seriously, Terzo kicks back in the chair opposite you and takes a large swig of the amber liquid. "È buono, try some." He throws a wink at you.

He enjoys watching you squirm as you attempt the drink in front of you. Although it wasn't the wine you were used to having at the dinner table, it wasn't bad. In fact, after a few more sips, you could see why people liked it enough to get drunk on it.

Terzo cups your chin in his fingers, swiping across your bottom lip with his thumb. He throws a smug grin at you before throwing the rest of his glass back, wiping his mouth on his sleeve, and standing up again, chair scraping across the floor.

"What-"

"Do not worry, bella mia. I will return," he winks at you, striding across the tavern, weaving between tables to the guy in the corner with a lute. You watch as he mumbles something to the bard, hands him a coin in trade for the lute.

Pulling up a stool in the center of the tavern, he sits and starts to tune the instrument, tweaking the pegs until it sounds just right. You didn't know he had an ear like that, although you think he mentioned something about tavern singing at some point.

He quickly clears his throat, strumming a gentle melody on the acoustic instrument, and starts with the lyrics,

"In an ice-capped fire Of burning wood In our world of wire Ignite our dreams Of starry skies And you and me As realised Our bigger themes"

Of course, he glanced up at you often. His cheeks flushed as he sang to you; it was obvious he was used to serenading perhaps whoever he was trying to lure in for the evening, but for you it was different. You meant more than that. Much more.

"Oh, take me internally Forever yours Nocturnal me, Take me internally Forever yours Nocturnal me…"

Even the ladies of the night are blushing at the innuendo in those lyrics were. Alessandro's lusty eyes find yours, as he continues filling the room with his beautiful melody.

You feel an overwhelming sensation of adoration and love as the emerald pendant on your chest starts glowing lightly, buzzing once again. You could tell that the feelings you were feeling were not only yours, but his as well.

Accompanied by that, a familiar warmth settles between your legs, growing to an uncontrollable burn by the end of the tune. You can't begin to understand the way that the pendant connects your feelings to his, but right now the solution is having your way with your lover.

After Terzo's song concludes, he receives a fair amount of applause as he returns the bard's lute and heads back your way, eyes piercing you.

Your breath hitches in your throat at his gaze before he takes you by the hand, pulling you up out of your seat and kissing your knuckles. It feels like all eyes in the room are on you two, and your survival instincts fight with your desire for him.

Without a word, he sweeps you across the tavern, heading toward the stairs by the bar to take you up to a room.

"Aye! We don't allow that kind of business in this establishment!" the tavern keeper flags Terzo down.

Your lover looks shocked, but notices the silver coin in the man's hand straight away.

The owner taps the coin on the counter, displaying a knight's helmet on it, leaning in closer to you both to and speaking in a more hushed tone, "Ladies of the night aren't welcome to run their operations here; it would be best if you seek refuge in the brothel across the way." He tilts his head towards the exit.

The message is covert but clear: there are knights upstairs, and you need to get out of here fast.

𝘚𝘩𝘪𝘵. 𝘛𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘮𝘶𝘴𝘵'𝘷𝘦 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘭𝘦 𝘛𝘦𝘳𝘻𝘰 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘐 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘨𝘶𝘢𝘳𝘥 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘵?

"Ah! Mi dispiace, amico. We will not disturb you any further," your lover exuberantly replies, leading you towards the door.

You are warmly invited into the brothel with your lover, a few of the women pining over him, playing with whisps of his hair or swiping their fingers across his shoulder. It was enough reason to suspect he'd been here before too…

When he brushes them off, asking politely for a room for the two of you, the insecurities you'd been feeling melt away; it's clear he only has eyes for you.

A point that only becomes more evident when Alessandro whisks you into your room for the night, immediately pinning you to the door with his mouth latched to your neck. "Terz…"

He caresses you, pressing his body right up against yours. "I know, amore mio, I want you so badly. Sei così bella…"

You feel anything but beautiful right now. "No, Ale, I-"

Your lover's actions come to a screeching halt as he hears the tone in your voice: one of fear and worry. Two things you should never have to feel, in his humble opinion.

"I don't think I can do this… What if those guards find us? Terzo, I'm so scared," you cling to his cloak with frustrated fists, leaning your forehead against his chest.

"Do not fret, cara mia. I know it feels as if we are in the lion's den, but you are safe here. I know many people in this little village, and they will not give us away." He smoothes back your tangled hair, trying to ease your mind.

"But they can't stop those knights from seeing us! They can't stop them from recognizing me," you have real urgency present in your voice and in the way you look at him.

"Well…" He pauses to think for a moment. "What if I set up an alert system? I can have le signore here on lookout for us tonight, and we'll leave before sunrise, sì?" He rubs your arms, leading you over to the bed to at least sit down.

Your nerves are so on edge, you feel like you could ride off into the forest right now, into some secret tunnel that would take you to your destination… But you knew that wouldn't be good for you: number one because of exhaustion, and number two because you're clearly delirious if you're hoping for some imaginary path through these mountains. Relaxing into the plush mat on the bed, it wasn't much, but it was certainly so much nicer than the hard ground you'd unfortunately had to get used to.

"Principessa," Alessandro whispers to you, "You are tired. Get some rest, tesoro. I will make sure we are safe," he coos, helping you lie back in bed.

Sleepiness has hit you like a wall, especially being in a bed for the first time in what felt like months. "Amore… I trust you," you squeak out before pressing a soft kiss to his lips and allowing yourself to truly relax. Within minutes, you're out, softly making little noises in your sleep.

Terzo smiles down at you, carefully pressing his lips to your temple before slipping from the room. He's got work to do.

• •

Waking in Alessandro's warm embrace was something you'd happily gotten used to, often holding onto each other out of necessity on cold nights, but to wake in a bed, bundled up and fairly well-rested… Now this is something you'd like to experience more often.

Turning over to see Terzo's bare chest, you wish you had more time to show it your affection, but the sun will be showing itself soon.

Grumbly and not wanting to separate himself from you, it's a challenge waking the sleepy man.

"Now who's being a 𝘱𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘤𝘪𝘱𝘦𝘴𝘴𝘢, huh?" you quietly jab at him. "C'mon, bed bug, we've got to get moving before those knights do."

He groans, finally cracking his eyes open, "I told you, amore, we have nothing to worry about with that." He smooches your forehead before you climb out of bed.

"Yeah, we won't have anything to worry about if we leave!" you chuckle, trying to be as lighthearted as you can by chucking his cloak at his lying form.

"Eh!" He swats his hand playfully before finally getting up.

After lacing up your corset, you lean down to retrieve Terzo's shirt noticing something on the sleeve. "What is this?" you ponder quietly before turning to him. "Why is there blood on your cuff here?"

He saunters over, giving you that devilishly handsome smile and taking the shirt from your hands, "Perhaps I nicked myself on something." His tone is nonchalant as he goes back to getting ready.

It has you suspicious, but you decide to shrug it off.

Outside in the stables finally, Terzo helps you up on your steed before mounting his own. He looks you over as if sizing up a meal, admiring the way you'd really risen to the challenge of fleeing your home.

"What's that look for?" you giggle at him.

"Just observing what I didn't get to have a taste of last night," he smirks.

The objectification makes you blush and wish you hadn't gotten so in your own head after leaving the tavern. But before you can snap a quick remark, a few men, including the tavern owner, return from the treeline, shovels in hand. You notice Terzo nod a knowing look at them.

𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘣𝘦 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘥𝘴 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘮𝘪𝘥𝘥𝘭𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵?

Thinking on it for a few seconds, you piece the clues together, but decide now isn't the time to ask. Instead, you whip your horse's reins, running away from your problems once again.

• •

Settled in by the hearth after a delicious dinner with some friends of Terzo's, you lean into the man's chest as the mother of the household reads to everyone. It's a lovely story that the family had been working through together, but you only understand bits and pieces of the Italian lilting though the room. Instead you opt to mostly enjoy the comfortable silence between you and your lover, contentedly listening to his heartbeat.

This well-to-do family had a room to offer you for the night, refuge from the winding paths in the mountains, and secrecy from those who might come looking for you. Luckily, you hadn't encountered any more of your father's knights since the last town a few days ago, and you hoped you wouldn't… for their sake, especially if Terzo did what you think he did.

"Tesoro?" his voice pulls you from your thoughts as you undress for bed.

"Hm?" you turn to him.

Dramatically, he steps across the room, shirt hanging open, as he cups your cheeks in his large hands, fingertips tracing your earlobe and jawline. "Are you alright, cara mia? You've been unlike yourself the past few days, not talking as much. Have I done something to upset you?"

His last question was right on the mark, if your suspicions were correct. "Did… Did you kill those knights in the last town?" your lip quivers and you start to tear up, confronting the guilt you'd been trying to ignore since then.

"Sì, amore, I did," he starts, and as you begin to interject, he continues, "but I did it for you."

"Do not use me as an excuse, Alessandro! Why would you do it?!" Anger starts to replace your tears.

"Amore… I would do 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 for you. I did it to keep us safe! You were right when you said that those knights could catch us. I had given myself a false sense of security being in a familiar place with familiar faces." He steps back, allowing you the space to process his words.

His explanation was plainly honest, simple, didn't beat around the bush. Yet, it still vexes you that you know hardly a thing about his position, where you're going, why he has to be so secretive. And now he's killed your father's knights twice to keep you out of their grasp. You can't help but question his intentions since your stay in the last town…

"You would do anything for me?" you repeat, voice small.

"Sì. Anything. Everything, principessa! I want to marry you, amore, give you as many piccoli bambini as you want! I would do anything to have you and to love you for eternity… even killing those knights to know they won't take you from my arms." As he verbalizes his dedication to you, his emotions swell, causing the pendant on your neck to glow once again, letting you feel just how much he means it.

Perhaps you'd gotten in your own head once again.

Your fingers trace across the emerald as they often did. "Marry me?" is all you can utter.

"Certo che," (Of course,) he whispers, lashes wet as he moves to hold you close to him again. "Ti amo così tanto, bella mia." (I love you so much, beautiful.)

"I love you, too," you mumble into his chest, but then look up at him, "I think I've wanted to marry you since the moment you held that knife to my throat."

You both share small chuckle, noses nuzzled together, Terzo's fingers dancing in your hair as the moonlight spills in through the little window. Softly, he presses a kiss to your lips, relieved that you aren't angry with him anymore. He had feared he would lose you over his own actions rather than anything taking you from him.

"But," you start, and his eyes quickly flick to meet yours, "it's time you tell me the truth."

"Cara mia, we are only two days away-"

"Exactly, Alé. Don't you think I should know what I'm getting into? Who I'll be around? What you're involved in? I've been very patient, and I've put all my trust in you, amore. Nothing you have to say could change my feelings about us," you press him, but also reassure him.

Deep down, he knows you're right yet again. While it would be the safest option to wait until you have arrived at the Abbey, he can't expect you to walk into this blindly. "Okie dokie, principessa, where would you like to start?"

You pause, the realization dawning on you that you finally get to ask the millions of questions you've had. Naturally, your mind goes blank, only coming up with one simple but open ended question. "Who are you?"

The man before you chuckles as he guides you to sit on the plush bed with him. "Tesoro, you know who I am… Truthfully, you know me better than most."

"Terz- Alessandro," you start, unsure what you should call him in your mild irritation at that answer, "Who are you? What's your title? Are you important in… wherever we're going? Where are we going? Is it a kingdom? Who's the ruler there? What's it like?" The dam broke and all the questions leave you in a rush.

"Principessa," he stops the flood. "My name is Alessandro Terzo Emeritus. As for the rest of your questions, perhaps I should start where you ended." He takes your hands in his, clearing his throat. "My home is bellissima. It's not like any place you've ever seen. It's an Abbey, secluded away from the world around it. Peaceful. It's peaceful and protected there."

"What are you protecting?" you quietly interject.

He chuckles before continuing. "Our way of life, cara mia. We are a people of liberation, free will, acceptance. In structure, it is not a kingdom; however, it is not unlike the Catholicism you grew up knowing, but without all the rules. We have loyal followers, we have ministry workers, a clergy."

You sit in silence, his explanation only leading you to a million 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 questions.

"But you see, bella, we are not like Christianity in our spirituality. It's not something most are born into, it is something that is found. We have many of the tenets you are familiar with from your father's religion without all that silly worry about sin…"

You can tell he is hesitant to come out and say it. This is the thing that isn't safe to know. You wonder if it isn't safe because of how you'll feel about it or if it really could bring you danger for knowing about it.

Both is the answer.

"Cara mia, I am a part of the Church of Satan."

Again, silence falls over the room as you collect your thoughts. "Well… It's alright if you practice a different religion. I haven't felt particularly close to my own lately. So you live in this ministry? Do all of the followers live there?"

He gives you a half smile at your naivety. "No, bella, typically our followers do not all live there. Some come seeking refuge, but they do not have to stay, though many who do become Siblings of Sin."

"Siblings of Sin?" you repeat, "Are those like nuns?"

He chuckles again, nodding at you.

"So are you a… Brother of Sin?"

Another smile. And another thing he loves about you: your curiosity far outweighs your need to judge anyone.

"No, again. I am in the clergy. I am one of the few that is raised in the religion, although we are welcome to leave should we choose. My whole life I've been molded to be its leader, and the time is coming soon, which is why I set out to find you, amore."

"Me? The leader? What does that have to do with me?" you are genuinely concerned.

"Perhaps my wording was cryptic, mi dispiace. I just mean to say that once I am in charge, I won't have much time to be away from my duties, so I set out to find love before that time comes." Your lover cups your cheek, basking in how gorgeous you look in the pale moonlight.

"Oh," you smile, relieved. "So… You will be- the Pope? If it's like Catholicism."

"Sì. Papa. Papa Emeritus the Third, preceded by mio fratello, Papa Emeritus the Second, or Secondo when he's being a stronzo," he rolls his eyes at the thought, and you can't help but picture the sibling rivalry.

Somehow you've just found out he's the Antipope, opposite your religion, and all you find yourself thinking about is that he has a brother, maybe even two if there is a Papa Emeritus the First. Then you remember the letter from his mom… His whole family is waiting for him back home, and you can't wait to meet them!

Suddenly, you let out a sob, biting your lip and looking up at him through watery eyes. Hugging him tightly and crying into his chest, you hear him tell you, "I understand if it is all too much. I understand if you do not wish to be bound to me, mia dea. I do still hope you'll come along with me; you'll be safe there, no matter your beliefs. We can just be lovers, even if you never want more, amore, I'll understand."

Sniffling as you wipe your tears away, you search for your favorite mismatched eyes, "What do you mean, Alé? I'm happy. I'm finally happy, don't you see?" You hold his face in your hands, nuzzling noses once again. "It isn't lost on me the irony that I left the king of one religion just to please another, but at least I did it of my own accord. You gave me the choice, and that is what makes me love you, Alessandro Terzo Emeritus. You may have set me free… But my only wish is to be bound to you, eternally." Another pause, "Forever yours, nocturnal me. Just like your song, right?"

Sincerity is written across his face at your words; with an arm wrapped around your waist, he pulls you to straddle his lap, "𝘠𝘰𝘶𝘳 song," he tells you before his lips crash into yours.

• •

Sun now spills in the room as your eyes squint open. Slumped down into the cushiony bed, your body thoroughly relaxed from the way he worked every tension from your aching body last night, you find it hard to even move. But turning to find an empty spot next to you, motivation to once again be close to your lover encourages your feet to carry you through getting dressed and finding him at the dining table with the family hosting you.

Peeking through the doorway, you watch as he throws his head back in laughter, joking with one of the little boys, making him squeal and giggle. You wonder what he'll be like as a father to his own one day.

"What are you smiling at, tesoro? Come, sit," Terzo stands, pulling out a chair for you.

"Thank you," you tell him, sitting at the table with everyone.

Breakfast is delicious, and you're so grateful for the warm meals and hot bath and soft bed this family has offered you. Between table chatter, a small broach on the mother's dress catches your eye.

"Is everything alright, dear?" she asks, clearly catching you staring at it.

"Oh! Apologies, my apologies. I just spotted your pin… What does it mean?" you cringe at your own bad manners.

"Oh!" she also exclaims, "My Grucifix?" The mother runs her fingers over it almost affectionately. "Terzo… You've done a poor job informing the girl where you're taking her!" She jokes lightheartedly.

"We discussed everything late last night," he gently squeezes your hand. "I just haven't had a chance to… Show her everything: the symbolism, scriptures-"

"Your paints?" The mother asks excitedly.

You offer a confused look. 𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘴? 𝘞𝘩𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘛𝘦𝘳𝘻𝘰 𝘣𝘦𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘵 𝘣𝘦 𝘴𝘰 𝘪𝘮𝘱𝘰𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘨𝘪𝘰𝘯?

"No, I-" Terzo starts but is interrupted again.

"Honey," the father of the family smiles at his wife, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Let them move at their own pace."

You and Terzo both silently sigh your relief. He wants to tell you more, but not now.

"So, you all are followers of Terzo's Church then?" you ask, not really sure how to word it.

"My husband and I are, the children will be allowed to decide for themselves if that's what they would like to believe," the mother answers softly. "This is the symbol of Papa's church specifically, to answer your earlier question, dear."

You spend the rest of breakfast happily chatting away before having to return to the journey at hand.

"Mm, can't we stay, Alé?" you groan into his shoulder after he affixes your horse's saddle.

Hugging you lazily, he kisses your forehead, "I would dare say we could… If I weren't so concerned about delivering us home, amore mio."

"Do you think they'll like me there?" you ponder out loud.

"Like you? Tesoro, they'll adore you. Some will even wish they could be you." He looks you over amorously.

"I'll be that important, huh?" You offer him a smile.

"Oh, sì, sì. As my Prime Mover, everyone will look to you as a beacon of warmth and understanding."

His answer makes you a little nervous. You hadn't really thought about his followers also looking up to you; women don't really have a position in Catholicism, other than nuns. Now his words from last night about not wanting to be bound to him make sense.

"Prime Mover…" You won't let the challenge scare you away. "I hope I can do the position, and you, the justice it deserves," you nod your head reassuringly, kissing him softly several times.

Hesitantly, he pulls away from you. "Mm, tesoro, while I could kiss you all day, we must go," he reminds you, before helping you on your horse for the millionth time in the past few weeks.

• •

Sun was setting, leaving long dramatic shadows cast across the first floor by the tall trees. Terzo is so excited, he can hardly contain it. You're close to your final destination and it hardly feels real. Traveling with him is all you'd known thus far.

"THERE!" He points suddenly, and you're not even sure what he pointed at before he sharply commands his horse to a gallop, spooking yours into doing the same!

You may have let out a scream struggling to hold onto your horse, "Terzo?! What are you doing??!"

"Look, cara mia! Casa!" Home. It's finally within his grasp.

You come up on the beautiful brick abbey at full speed; with it's towering spires and winding vines, it casts some interesting shadows at sunset. Stunning, nonetheless.

Some tall stocky men in silver masks run out of a side door at full sprint. Upon the terrace, Terzo abruptly stops his horse and flies from the saddle, directly towards the largest man. "Omega!" he chirps as they practically slam their bodies against one another in a fierce hug.

Slowing your horse to a halt, unlike your lover, you patiently wait for the men to greet one another. They were clearly all very close. The one called Omega almost acted like an obedient dog thrilled to see his owner after so long and needing a good scratch behind the ears. Observing the devilish look of their masks and the mysterious way they move, a whole new list of questions comes to mind.

"Mamma!" Terzo running towards an older woman with long black wavy hair catches your attention. She has beautiful with warm green eyes; must be where he gets his from.

"Alessandro, how I've missed you!" she exclaims, covering his face in kisses and holding him tightly. He giggles at her, and in that moment, he looks like a happy and well-loved child. "Is this her, Alessandro? The one you've been looking for?" It shifts all the attention toward you, still perched on your dappled horse.

"Sì, Mamma, this is my love," Terzo turns, making his way over to assist you to the ground. He holds your hands, looking into your eyes to make sure you're not overwhelmed. All he finds there is happiness. He brings you over and introduces you by name and title, "Amore, this is mia mamma, Felìcita."

"Buonasera, è un piacere incontrarti," (Good evening, it's a pleasure to meet you,) you greet her just like you'd practiced, wanting to make a good impression.

"Ah, ragazza dolce, mio figlio taught you well, didn't he?" she replies with a laugh and a kiss on each cheek. "Did he give you this haircut, too?" She holds a couple of uneven strands between her fingers. You just laugh and nod. "Ah, don't worry, cara, we'll get you all cleaned up here." Her smile is so inviting and her conversation so charming, you see the influence she's has on Alé.

"Bella mia?" Terzo pulls you from your thoughts, "I'd like you to meet my ghouls."

"Ghouls?" you repeat.

"Sì, Alpha," he gestures to the one on his left. "And Omega," he pats the shoulder of the one on his right.

You're not sure how you'll ever tell them apart. "Nice to meet you both," you hold out a hand for either one to shake. Alpha takes you up on the offer, immediately pulling you close, taking you by surprise. He nuzzles his head in the crook of your neck and a strong appendage wraps tightly around you: a tail. Trying to keep your face as unreadable as possible while you take in his inhuman features, you start to hear a soft purring next to your ear.

"Alpha, scendi! You'll scare her," Terzo commands.

"Alé, it's okay," you tell him, wrapping your arms around the large man's waist, which only increases the noises coming from him.

"Alé?" Omega chucks, elbowing your lover.

"Stai zitto, demone!" (Shut up, demon!) he hisses in return. Their dynamic is pretty funny.

Alpha pulls away from your hug cheery eyed as he quietly tells you, "Il bambino è al caldo e al sicuro." (The baby is warm and safe.)

"Bambino?!" Terzo nearly shouts.

"Si, signore, she carries your child," Alpha tells him.

"Tesoro?" your lover's eyebrows immediately turn upward at the realization, "Did you suspect this?"

"I just- I thought I was only tired from being on horseback so much… I had no idea," you explain, feeling like you need to sit down.

As if reading your mind, Alessandro is there to support you. "Amore…" He gently places his hand on your stomach, "You will make una bella mamma!" Nuzzling your nose, as had become a consistent thing from him, tears prick at his eyes.

"Mi scusi, but if this is the case," Felìcita addresses you, "we should get you inside for a warm meal, sì? I won't have mio nipote go hungry!"

• •

You'd pretty much spent the last 36 hours sleeping… and eating, of course. Italian hospitality dictates that you will not go hungry. Cracking your eyes open just long enough to wiggle under your lover's arm and lay your head on his chest, you nestle right back in to go to sleep.

Terzo groans dramatically and grumbles, "Amore, we can't sleep forever, as good as it feels…"

You had been fortunate enough to be mostly left alone since you'd arrived at the Abbey, and you'd both used the time to rest after such a hard expedition into Italy, especially you and the baby.

"How did Alpha know?" you ask, eyes still closed as you listen to the man's heartbeat.

"The ghouls, they… they feel things. Almost like they're connected to those around them." His fingers trace shapes across your scalp, only serving to push you further back into your slumber.

But curiosity gets the best of you again, as you sit up, leaning over your lover. "Like the emerald you gave me? How it makes me feel what you feel?"

He smiles, "Sì, but the ghouls are much more… sensitive. Hence why I couldn't tell you are pregnant, despite the pendant."

"So you 𝘥𝘪𝘥 do something to it!" you accuse him, proud for finally cracking it.

He chuckles at your little game, "Sì, how else was I suppose to lure you in?" His hand in your hair pulls you down for a kiss.

"Perhaps with the endless thoughts I had of you every day after you kissed me," you drag a finger down his bare chest. "Although that was something entirely out of your control," you wink at him.

"Sì, well, I do like to keep you under my control, cara mia," his morning voice growls in your ear.

"Oh, are you going to put me under another spell, lover?" you giggle, playing with his chest hair.

"Mmm, one where the only word to fall off your lips is my name…" Terzo sits up, flipping you onto your back and pinning your hands above your head.

"Which one?" you playfully rebut.

"I'll allow you to decide this," it's his turn to wink as his lips find your jaw, working on all the sweet spots he knows so well.

"Mmm… Terzo," you sigh into his touch.

His hands snake under your nightgown, leaving your hands resting above your head. "Is that the one you choose, cara?" Resting his fingers on your panties, he starts to rub against your bundle of nerves.

You feign thinking about it as you writhe against his hand. "Oh no… I might pick another," you tease.

He leaves a sizable love bite at your collarbone, sucking his mark into your skin while his fingers dip beneath the fabric impeding them. His hard cock, unfortunately concealed by his sleeping pants, presses against your thigh, so you gently move your leg back and forth to offer him some relief. Before long, evidence of his lust seeps though the thin fabric.

"Dolcezza…" he whispers right in your ear before nibbling on it as well, eliciting a moan from you. One of his fingers moves further down to hint at your entrance.

You inhale sharply, "Please, Alé," you whine.

"Alé? Or will it be Alessandro?" he flirts, allowing that digit to slip into you, making quick work of curling it to find your other sweet spot.

"Mmm…" you knit your eyebrows together, "mm- I- please."

"Please what, mia dea?" He adds another finger. "You must decide on a name for me, since you insist I have too many…"

"Please," you struggle against his ministrations, especially when his free hand comes to tease at you nipple. "Please… Papa."

His eyebrows perk up at that one, and his hands pause for a moment, almost imperceptibly. "Tesoro, I am not Papa yet," he scoffs.

"You will be one day, no?" Now it's your turn to give him the devious look he normally has in his eye. "Plus… You'll be Papa to this little one very soon," you gesture by rubbing your belly just above where his hands work on you.

With that, all his restraint is lost, obvious in the way he pounces back on top of you, attacking your mouth with his and ripping your undergarments from your flesh. "Allow me to remind you how I put il mio piccolo inside you, then," he growls, pushing his own pants down to his knees before hiking your legs up around his waist.

Your hands finally move to claw at his back with him now on top of you. Feeling his length being slicked up in your folds, he gives no warning before pushing in right to the hilt. The scream it drags from you could probably wake the dead!

"Say it again," your lover commands darkly before snapping his hips into you again.

"P-uhh…" is all you manage.

Sitting up, his fingers harshly grab your chin, forcing you to look at him. "Say it. Again." This time through gritted teeth.

"Papa! Please, fuck me Papa!" you beg.

"Brava ragazza," he praises you. "Now, legs up here," he taps his collarbones, giving you little time before he's hoisting them up himself, hooking your knees on his shoulders. Falling back on top of you, you feel absolutely folded in half as his cock presses deep against your walls.

"Oh, Papa!" you whimper, feeling his tip drag against that sweet spot.

He places his weight on his elbows, fingers tangling in your hair, and he aligns his knees on either side of your hips. Carefully at first, he lifts his hips before dropping back down into you. When it earns a gasp from you, he does it again, and again, falling into a dangerous rhythm.

You whine and moan for him over and over again, having to fight back your climax already as he attacks your most sensitive spot. Fingernails scratch at his sides as he pounds into you, and you try to keep your knees from knocking against your head.

"Bellissima, cara mia, you take il mio cazzo so well…" he grunts out, already getting close as well. "Sei bellissima sotto di me." (You look beautiful underneath me.) The soft kiss he presses to your lips is a sharp juxtaposition to his ministrations.

Your urge your heels into his back, opening your mouth for more, and he doesn't disappoint as his tongue does its familiar dance with yours. "P-Papa…" you break the kiss, "I'm, I'm-"

"Vieni per me, principessa, vieni sul mio cazzo," he allows you your release; gently his hand squeezes at your airway as his hips roughly snap into your tight wet heat.

The lack of air only serves to heighten your pleasure as your orgasm rolls through you, causing your legs to shake thunderously beneath his weight. "PAPA!" you scream his soon-to-be title endlessly, the spell he joked about earlier coming true.

Holding off just long enough to work you through your climax, he thrusts into you one last time and you feel Terzo's cock kick, spilling his seed inside you. "Satanas, amore… Ti amo… Amo la tua figa," (Satanas, love… I love you… I love your pussy.) he huffs out, still pressing into you as you both come down from your high.

You share a laugh at his lewd comment, and he bumps his nose against yours before sitting up and slipping out of you before carefully helping to unfold your legs. Climbing over you once again, his thumbs massage your hips, wanting to help release any tension there. "How's that, cara?"

"Mm, feels good, Papa, thank you," you relax under his touch, eyes fluttering closed.

"Bene," he giggles, "you don't have to call me Papa anymore, tesoro."

"What if I like it?" you smirk.

"Then you may call me what you like," he says, magic fingers still working your tense muscles. "But maybe not in front of miei fratelli… It could make them feel jealous." He gives you a little wink.

• •

What would've under most circumstances been a stressful day, was actually pretty easy going. Being with your lover had a way of keeping you calm and content, even as you met the rest of his family and the upper clergy members.

It was lunch with his brothers, Primo and Secondo, and father, Nihil. You felt it odd that his mother was left out, but that would be a conversation for later. The rest of the afternoon was filled with meetings, some being introductions and others were to discuss preparing you for your Prime Mover ritual. There would be a lot to learn, but you feel confident with Alessandro by your side.

"Amore," he catches your attention with a kiss to the cheek. You're back in his chambers getting ready for Mass tonight; Secondo would be leading it, and it's your first one, so you're nervous but excited. "I regret to have to leave you alone while I go dress for Mass tonight, will you be alright without me? Of course, you'll have Sister Beth here to help with anything you could need."

"I'll be fine, my love. Besides, I'm not really alone, am I?" You place his hand on your belly and nod towards the Sister diligently waiting to assist you. "I'll see you in the chapel," you give his hand a squeeze and his nose a kiss.

After your lover dismisses himself, Beth is very patient in helping you get ready and answering any questions that come mind about tonight's mass. She's not unlike your handmaiden back home.

𝘏𝘰𝘮𝘦.

You hadn't really allowed yourself to think about the place you grew up in. It wasn't exactly home anymore…

"Are you alright, Miss?" Beth rips you from your reminiscing.

Quickly peeking in the looking glass and wiping away tears, you respond, "Yes! Yes, I'm fine, Beth. Thank you for asking." You hope the panic isn't obvious on your face.

"Of course, Miss." She nods knowingly and goes back to styling your hair, twisting and smoothing the strands expertly.

"Beth…" It escapes you before you can stop it.

"Yes, Miss?" She glances at your reflection, continuing her work.

"Do you enjoy it here? You weren't raised here, were you? I mean- My apologies, Beth. I've overstepped." You internally cringe at how your curiousity leaps all boundaries.

"It's quite alright, milady," she softly reassures you, "Must be nerve-wracking coming to a new place, and being plopped in a high up position at that. I was nervous too when I arrived on the front stoop. This is the only place I've felt fully accepted as I am, imperfections and all." She has a sense of pride on her face. "Be honest and true to yourself and everyone here will have no choice but to accept you. Surely, since you were charming enough to catch the eye of Cavaliere Terzo."

"Cavaliere?" you question.

"Oh yes, he's so sought after here at the Abbey. I should prepare you by saying that nearly all the Siblings get a little weak in the knees in his presence."

The idea of everyone having their little flirtations with your lover doesn't bother you… But 𝘊𝘢𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘦? 𝘚𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘦'𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘭𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘳𝘺 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘪𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯… 𝘋𝘰 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘯 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘢𝘯 𝘢𝘳𝘮𝘺 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦?

"I'm sorry, Miss, if I've upset you. I just thought it better that you know how everyone will act around him," Beth softly apologizes.

"No, no, it's not you. Or the wandering eyes. What does Cavaliere mean?"

"Oh! Just that he's a knight. One of our finest, actually. Great on horseback, and you should see him with a sword, Miss! He's very skilled at taking down his opponents during practices and tournaments."

"Oh my… He's never mentioned it to me," you ponder, baffled at this news.

"Well, of course! How else would he have survived so long traveling through the mountains and Satan knows where else?" She sounds so chipper; she must have a small crush on him too.

"And how long was he gone? I've only been traveling with him for just over a fortnight," maybe now you're prying.

"Nearly a year, Miss." Beth smiles, placing an ornate clip in your hair. "Finished! How do you like it?"

"It's bellissima, Beth. Thank you," you nod at her, appreciating her hard work.

"Already getting comfortable with Italian? The family will like that," she reassures you with a pat on the shoulder, before exiting to the bedroom to prepare your gown for this evening.

Staring into the looking glass, head reeling from all the new information, you think about Alessandro's letter from his mother.

𝘈 𝘺𝘦𝘢𝘳? 𝘕𝘰 𝘸𝘰𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘮𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘴𝘰 𝘮𝘶𝘤𝘩. 𝘈𝘯𝘥 𝘫𝘶𝘴𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘧𝘪𝘯𝘥 𝘮𝘦?

The realization makes you feel almost insignificant, like there is a much bigger power at work here, but simultaneously makes you feel very special. Thinking on the way he didn't want you to feel trapped coming here, his mother not wanting him to come back until he found love, the sins he committed to get you here safely… It puts things in a different perspective, like all the puzzle pieces are starting to fit together. You know you've made the right choice with him and that you weren't just swept up in your feelings.

𝘏𝘦 𝘪𝘴… 𝘏𝘦 𝘪𝘴 𝘮𝘺 𝘴𝘢𝘭𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯.

• •

The grand halls surrounding the the chapel are absolutely packed as everyone greets one another, waiting for sunset. Beth stays right by your side, not wanting you to get lost in the sea of people; you had no idea this many people could even fit in this place.

"Ah, Sorella, buonasera," you hear a soft voice over your shoulder: Primo.

Secondo follows with, "How are you and il piccolo, doing?" Despite his gruff nature, you're quickly learning he's really a big softie, especially towards beautiful women and babies. You aren't even that far along, but everyone in the family seems so excited about the prospect of another little one.

"We're doing well, thank you both," you greet them offering them both a kiss on the cheek, careful not to mess up their papal paints. It's an unconventional look for certain, but their full formal regalia indeed commands the respect they deserve.

The two dismiss themselves into the chapel, leaving everyone else outside to wait for the doors to open.

"Where do you think Terzo is?" you nudge Beth lightly.

"Oh, he's over there, Miss," she points to a particularly dense crowd of people.

𝘎𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘸𝘢𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘫𝘰𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘣𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘩𝘰𝘸 𝘱𝘰𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘢𝘳 𝘩𝘦 𝘪𝘴.

The girl seems to nervously fidget with her habit, eagerly watching the scene before her intently.

"Do you want to go see him, too?" you smile at her, and she replies with a shy nod. "It's alright, go ahead," you smile your approval.

As your handmaiden slips into the gathering, you giggle to yourself, thinking about how he must really get slowed down trying to go anywhere. From your spot by the chapel doors, you see that familiar mop of hair, but notice that he stands a little taller, chest puffed out a bit more. Seeing the ornate black and gold pauldron on his shoulder gives you a hint of his knightly attire.

Silently observing as people shake his hand, offer him hugs and even hand them their babies, it's not unlike watching a soldier who's come home from war to be greeted by those that care for him. However, when he notices Beth standing near him, his head turns, looking around for you. His face is covered in a stark black and white skeleton designs, similar to his brothers. If it weren't for the way his eyes wandered your body upon spotting you, you almost wouldn't have recognized him.

In an effort to politely slip away from his devoted flock, he kisses a few ladies' knuckles, and bids them farewell for now, turning all his attention towards you leaning against the wall, patiently waiting.

Drinking in his finely crafted artisan armor as he ambles over, you give him a wink, appreciating this new look on him. The black of his armor ties in well with his face paint and dark locks, while the gold only serves to make him stand out amongst everyone else.

"Mm, amore," he grunts, taking your hand. "You look assolutamente divino in this gown. Violet is a favorite of mine, especially seeing it on you, dolcezza." He lifts your chin with his fingers, gracing his thumb over your lower lip.

"You never told me you are a knight, 𝘊𝘢𝘷𝘢𝘭𝘪𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘛𝘦𝘳𝘻𝘰…" you feign irritation at him.

"Aye, some things must remain a surprise, sì?" Clearly being back home and returning to his high position has given him a whole new air of confidence.

"I worry to see what other 'surprises' you have in mind, caro," you giggle.

He wraps an arm around the small of your back, the hard metal firmly pressing against your skin, and pulls you in for a what feels like an inappropriate kiss to share in front of the whole congregation.

Luckily, the doors to the chapel open, saving you from any further public displays with your partner; you were already receiving some looks from a few of the Sisters just for kissing him.

"Ready for your first Black Mass, principessa?" Alessandro offers you his elbow, guiding you to the front pew to sit alongside him and his mother, who gives your hand a reassuring squeeze.

After this, you know there will be no turning back. Your old life is nothing but a memory now.

#papa emeritus iii #papa terzo #papa 3 #papa emeritus 3 #ghost band #the band ghost #fanfic #imagine #oneshot #long fic #medieval #fem reader #x reader #reader insert #knight #cavaleire #terzo #papa iii #shitghosting

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daryascurse · 2 years ago

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Chainsmoking His Love 1: The First Cigarette

Zeke Jaeger x Reader // follow #CHLZeke for updates // nsfw mdni

POV: second person, AFAB reader, feminine pronouns Chapter tags: smoking, mild dom/ sub (Zeke dom is the overarching theme of this honestly), oral, fingering, sex Chapter length: 6k

The coils of his beard are highlighted in the moon, more ginger than blonde in the darkness, tobacco wafting down at his breath. With his other hand he gently takes the half-burned cigarette from between your lips, flicking it over the edge without bothering to put it out.

“I should break such a bad habit.”

Your mouth wavers to speak, though no words come to mind, and that’s when he kisses you.

♡ read more after the jump or on ao3 ♡ // ♡ spotify playlist♡

I have a very strict adult-only interaction policy. Ageless, blank, and clearly minor-run blogs that interact will be blocked. If you have questions about what that means, please read the byf in my pinned post.

Author's note: This takes place between seasons 3 and 4 / more towards the end of that 4 year time jump. With that, I am writing from the perspective of a fully-finished manga reader. There are no outright spoilers past the canon from the start of season 4, but there are references and hints to Zeke's plan/ overall character at the end of the story, because this piece is as canon-compliant as possible. Be warned!

Night in Marley is accompanied by whipping winds off the sea, the salt still tangible in the air even high above the Liberio city limits. It stings when you lick your lips, but you do it again and again until your skin is chapped, mouth and eyes watering against the breeze, somehow soothing on sleepless nights such as this. The wind has been picking up all day, the aroma of ozone coming thick. A storm is soon approaching this city.

A grating comes sharp behind you, wood scraping and striking, and your heart leaps in panic at the sudden sound. No one has ever interrupted you on the roof, drinking in the cold clear air behind the sweeping curtains of laundry. And you turn slowly, ready to explain yourself to any Marleyan authority, but the tall, lean, sandy haired man with a wiry beard and glasses that glint in the moonlight is not who you expected to push through the sheets.

The bravest, the boldest, the one who vanquished the island devils as best as he could. The one who stands above the sinners, encouraging good conduct, camaraderie, redemption against the injustices of history. You’ve met him a handful of times before, but never alone. And he speaks, remembering your name in greeting when you spring to automatic attention.

“It’s late,” Zeke Jaeger says, as he takes a long drag from his lit cigarette.

“Sir – I’m sorry, did you expect privacy up here?” You relax, slightly, when he shrugs.

“Nothing to apologize for, don't look so tense. It’s just a good place for a smoke.”

“Oh.” Oh. It explains the broken rolls that litter the stone ground and gutters, black circles of ash stamped into the ledge, things you’d seen nights before but hadn’t given much thought to until now. You turn back to the ocean as he steps besides you, resting his elbow so close to yours against the half-wall of the roof that you can almost feel the warmth of his skin.

“Do you smoke?” he asks, lifting the packet to you.

You consider for a moment, how you should answer. “No, thank you, sir,” you say.

“Suit yourself,” Zeke says. It was a satisfactory enough choice, and he lowers his arm. The profile of his face is shadowed, nose pointed out to the sea, crow’s feet deep against his eyes cutting black lines in the moonlight. “Storm clouds on the horizon.”

It’s merely a literal observation, but there’s a tinge of amusement in his voice, as if there’s something funny about the incoming tempest.

“How was the weather there? On – that island?”

The words sound lame, and you hear it as they come out of your mouth, but you can’t think of any way to continue this rare chance of conversation. Zeke pauses, reaching for the cigarette and spinning it between his fingers.

“If I say that the people were the true storms, does that sound impressive?”

You laugh, before wondering if it seems rude, mocking the trauma of war. “Sorry. Sir. I didn’t mean to make light of it.”

Zeke waves his hand in silence, keeping his face towards the horizon, but not bothered.

Your pride can't let the potential offense slide. “Thank you,” you say, feeling it inadequate words for the war chief of Marley, but better than leaving it at a laugh. “For protecting us.”

He smiles, turns his head down ever so slightly. Moonlight reflects against the thin lens of his glasses as he regards you with a side-eye glance. His mouth opens a little wider than necessary to blow out the next puff of smoke, angled just barely out of way of your nose. It still stings your eyes, and you’re blinking furiously up at the stars even as he stubs out the cigarette and lights another, casting the match to the rocks below.

“The prices we pay to secure that future.”

Zeke speaks with soft deliberation, with the same weight as his official declarations and updates. But the quiet words are chilling right in your ear. This man, smoking so innocuously besides you as if it’s an everyday occurrence and the two of you are as thick as thieves instead of near strangers – it’s fascinating, uncannily so. His dry wit, his charisma, feels so suddenly familiar and inviting.

You could step down and leave him to his cigarette, but something in you yearns for this company, unwilling to cut it short even as the conversation slowly lulls with his strange words. In the distance, waves crash. Some sleepy gulls stir and coo once or twice in the darkness, and you shiver, turning your head directly to him.

“It’s cold,” you say.

“I have a bottle of wine in my quarters for that,” Zeke says, carelessly. “But if you want to enjoy the ocean and stars longer…” he extends his arm out again, flipping the packet open before you can let your mind dwell on that passing sentence, “have a cigarette.”

You still aren’t sure what the right choice is, but you watch your hand open, his fingers brushing against yours as he slides a cigarette into your grasp. You roll it between your thumb and forefinger as you lift it to your mouth, before realizing you have no matches. You turn to Zeke. “May I have a light?”

He says nothing and doesn’t move, casting his lashes down and inhaling deep, the red flame sparking.

Hesitantly, you press your cigarette to the end of his. Inhaling, you find it strong – remarkably so, and your throat convulses in efforts to mask the coughing as you lean back over the wall. Crumbs of tobacco coat against the edge of your tongue on the next puff. You can’t hide it when you gather it behind your lips and spit, messy, over the ledge.

You look at Zeke, and his lips twitch in a smile as he indolently lowers his cigarette. “Sorry. I rolled them myself. Go on, suck it, if you can take another drag.”

“I can, sir. Just a little strong,” you say, trying not to appear overwhelmed. You suck on the cigarette a little more lightly, and it’s less sickening just to hold the air and puff it out. Soon, your inhale is more eager than reluctant. “Remarkable, that this habit doesn’t slow you down, sir. You’re the best we have.”

Zeke leans down into the ledge, taking a step back to lower his chin to his rested elbows. He’s shorter than you at this casual angle now as he shifts his weight from foot to foot, and looks up, glasses glinting in the moonlight, as he grins. The flash makes your head spin as the smoke begins to creep through your senses. “Are you marveling at my physique despite this filthy habit?” He speaks through the roll gritted between his teeth.

Your laugh is uncomfortable now as you lower the cigarette, unsure if you should literally bend to the war chief’s level. “Sir, I didn’t say it’s filthy.”

“But it is a bad habit,” he says, almost musing.

The cigarette burns between your fingers, and you lift it shakily back to your lips, unsure of what to say.

Zeke straightens, draws himself up to his full imposing height. He drops his cigarette, crushing it into the stone with a step closer to you. You don’t realise he’s come that much closer until his hand comes down on the other side of you, and your head is tilting back in order to make eye contact. The coils of his beard are highlighted in the moon, more ginger than blonde in the darkness, tobacco wafting down at his breath. With his other hand he gently takes the half-burned cigarette from between your lips, flicking it over the edge without bothering to put it out.

“I should break it.”

Your mouth wavers to speak, though no words come to mind, and that’s when he kisses you.

His lips smear yours with tobacco, tongue disgusting with that earthy cloying taste, and he had been right even when he put the words in your mouth – a filthy habit, fucking filthy. You hate how it fills your senses, the nicotine in your own head already clouding enough, but you kiss him back, smoky saliva entwining with tongues. He pushes his deep into your mouth, the hand that had taken your cigarette returning to cradle against your jaw, thumb stroking down to your throat and traveling down again. You gasp into his mouth, almost breaking the kiss, as he slips it between your legs. It’s a reflex when you clutch his hand between your thighs, but you can’t force the muscles to relax, as pulse after pulse of heat begins to come up within you. Your head is dizzy, starved for oxygen, throbbing in time with his stroking, searching hand.

Those pulses are what bring you back to the cold rooftop, your eyes fluttering open - when had they closed? - with heat beating through you. The curve of his glasses press against your temple, the purple of his undereye bags meeting your eyes, and you break your lips from Zeke’s.

The war chief. The savior of Marley, with his hand between your thighs.

Your heart hammers. He must hear it.

“Are you – scared?” Zeke asks, tilting his head slightly as his hand creeps slowly, so slowly, higher. His tone isn’t mocking, isn’t leering, but curious, and you can hear the smile in his voice. His fingertips curl against your inner thigh.

You can’t keep your eyes on his, shaking with burning arousal and shame knit together, and look away, look down.

“No,” you force out, and it isn’t a lie when you say it. “But, sir – ”

“You know no one will come up here. If they do, I’ll bear the blame.”

His words carry a casual determination, the great warrior with his hand hunting up over the fabric of your clothes, and it’s the assurance that makes you shake with an emotion you can’t quite name. No, it’s not fear. It isn’t really shame, either. Your eyes, unable to meet his still, rest on the bulge of his crotch.

Zeke knows he’s reached your cunt when you shake harder between the cage of his arm and the brace of the ledge, and you lift your face to his with a short gasp. He brushes his hand over, and back, and he catches your lips in a kiss once more. He smiles again, hard against your mouth, beard scratching against the edge of your cheeks and down to your chin. The pace of his kisses increases slightly, just as his hand massages over your clothes, moving roughly up to find a fastening.

An indecent sound escapes you, raw in your throat and aching not from the burning remnants of cigarette smoke, but it makes Zeke break the kiss now to let out his own soft groan of satisfaction. His thighs press against yours, and he rocks his hips, pushing his hand harder against you.

“Get down,” he says, and there’s a command in the words, a military order that has you sinking to your knees. It leaves you buzzing, to be so suddenly without his touch, and you pause with your hands on your thighs, trying to anchor yourself through the smoke in your head. The shadows reel, either from the cigarette, or the murky depth of darkness. Above you, Zeke lowers his trousers.

His nicotine stained fingers stroke his cock, already half-hard as you kneel between his parted legs. When you lift fingers to it, shaking despite yourself, he closes his hand around yours. You finally meet his eyes again, and as he rubs your hand over him, there’s no trace of that warm smile any more.

“Suck it,” Zeke says, his voice low and grating, a whipping command in the cold air.

You move your hand almost experimentally, to see if he’ll let you, and he lets go as you open your mouth to take him in. He moves the hand to the back of your head in a large, open grip, as if he’s testing, waiting to see how you proceed next. You keep your hand along his shaft, rolling down, massaging along the length that your mouth can’t reach yet, even as your fingers drag more and more saliva down. His cock becomes firm, hard muscle under your fingers and in your mouth.

Your thumb strokes up along the underside of his cock as your hand stills at the base, and he groans above you, deep and guttural, something – something that you want to hear again. You move your tongue along him, around and up to find the sensitive tip of the head and flick right underneath there. Zeke’s hand tightens, not threatening, but encouraging, and as you flicker your tongue back and forth there again and again, you begin to taste heavy, bitter droplets beading in your mouth.

Inhaling through your nose is too shallow, and you try to relax your lips and hiss some breath through your smoke-smothered lungs, and that’s when Zeke’s fingers clamp against you in an unmistakable control. It forces you forward, his cock further down your throat. You do your best to match the movement of your lips and mouth to the growing rhythm of his guiding hand and hips. He grunts, a confirmation of your efforts, and thrusts faster.

But he does not fuck your mouth roughly, still letting your keep your agency. You do the work on your own as more of his bitter fluids begin to mix with your own drool, leaking down the side of his shaft and dribbling down your chin despite your efforts to keep your lips a seal around his cock. You almost choke at the effort, his cock growing firmer and bigger in your mouth, hitting right at the back of your throat. Your eyes flutter and roll in reflex.

“No – look at me.”

You force your eyes up to Zeke just as his hand pushes down to the back of your head, through your eyelashes and beyond his shirt whipping in the breeze. It makes your eyes sting and water, his cock heavy on your tongue. His hips thrust into your mouth stronger, and you gag at the movement.

Zeke looks at you, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose, stray hair sliding down across his forehead, and his lips are parted, his breath as ragged as your own. The tightening of his cock in your mouth should have been your hint but his strained words show you how close he is.

“That’s – yes – ”

You’ve never seen him at such a loss for words, in all the public appearances, in any aside of conversation. You struggle to keep your eyes on his, not out of abashment now but physical strain. Your body is in acute discomfort even as you urge him to pleasure, the stone hard against your knees, your frozen hand heavy and elbow near buckling as you keep yourself upright, the hand against his base flexed back to cup his balls in short, clumsy motions. And beneath your clothes, where he had touched you, something hot and throbbing even without his hand screams for attention.

In fact, you’re close to sliding down against the stone to feed that desire with shameless grinding for friction, but Zeke’s next guttural moan is close to a cry that could rise and ricochet alarmingly through these towers, and your tongue rises against him to attention.

You hollow your cheeks and suck as much as you can in the short bursts of air you can manage into your lungs, finding the strength in your hand, tacky with saliva and drips of precum, to massage firmer against his balls. Zeke trembles, every bit of his body against you and in you shaking, his cock hot and throbbing in the vacuum of your mouth. With a hoarse sound, he holds your head down against him, and comes hard.

“Fuck,” he gasps out, and the bitter spatter floods in your mouth and down your throat. You almost choke against the taste, worse than the tobacco, but keep your lips around him until he softens, swallowing every drop. When he’s empty, he lets go of your head with a satisfied sigh, and you let him fall from your lips, your hand away from him.

Silence.

You massage the front of your knees in this swelling pause, turning your head to the billowing curtains of laundry. The thick fog through your mind begins to dissipate and allow shame to return as you contemplate your exit, begin to fabricate extravagant fantastical scenarios of seeing him again in these halls, in the city, and how you would excuse yourself, you the simple whore on your knees who just sucked him off on the roof –

And Zeke kneels, catching your chin between his fingers to interrupt the panicking “what-ifs” and coax your gaze back to him. More accurately, you look down to the dip of his collarbone and the thin wiry hair poking from between the folds of his shirt as he kisses your forehead and wraps you in a one-armed embrace.

“I should – ”

“No, no, I’m not as selfish as that,” Zeke says. The murmur is convincing, his tone so soft that it makes you close your eyes and shudder into him as his other hand leaves your face to stroke almost comforting along your back. He eases you down against the stone that way, kicking his pants fully off along with his boots. Strong fingers nimbly work at the fastening of your clothes faster than you could undress yourself, and with an attentiveness to every piece of fabric, down to the unlacing of your boots. He peels your undergarments away, already wet and clinging to your skin.

It makes you flush as the cool air hits those embarrassingly hot areas, damp right where your thighs meet, and you start to instinctually prop up on your elbows, to cover your vulnerable, exposed self.

“Are you running away after all?” Zeke asks, leaning up over you, the moon reflected in his glasses, the edge of amusement in his voice somehow sounding dangerous.

Your response of “No” comes a little too fast, too breathless, but it’s good enough to merit a quick, closed-mouth kiss against your lips as Zeke shifts his position between your legs. He pulls back, and you catch the smirk winding across his lips as he slides down your body before he’s lost in the shadows. He releases his touch on you for a moment to unbutton his shirt, leaving him as naked as you when his fingers dance across your skin again. His hands are strong on your calves, pushing your legs higher, and the kisses down your skin from your bent knees prickle with the coarse hairs of his beard moving southward with his lips, alternating from thigh to thigh.

You hiss, a broken, “oh” as your legs slink to the stone, sprawling on either side of him as he lowers himself to the ground in a show of equality and runs his tongue up along your clit. Your body jerks up.

The building, budding desire is overwhelming now, your cunt slickening and swelling from just that first bare touch. He doesn’t linger long or move slowly, letting his mouth open right there, licking over you as his fingers reach up against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs to grind against your entrance, prodding, searching again.

Zeke’s fingers move faster than his tongue, as he breaks away with a groan. He finds your entrance, but does not slip past it yet, roughly rubbing against your folds as if to find all the slickness, the sweat, the arousal, already gathering through you. He slows then, tracing the shape of your cunt entirely before moving back down and up into you at an angle that your own masturbatory explorations cannot reach, something that makes you cry out sharply.

He thrusts what feels like two fingers in so hard, so immediately, that your hips lift as high as they can and slam back to the stone. You swallow and gasp, the last sour tinges of his cum at the back of your mouth even as your mouth waters again at his ministrations.

“Oh, fuck, fuck- ”

You almost call his name, intimate, without a title or honorific, as he drags his fingers out of you, slick against your folds before the heat of his face comes again to your thighs. Zeke kisses right where your leg meets the curve of your hip and down to your cunt, the scratching of his beard teasing. When he thrusts his tongue inside, it’s not enough, not reaching as deep as you need, but you’re throbbing badly at his touch, the sensation so soft in contrast to the violent actions of his fingers.

This is more than the first licking prelude, his mouth open over all of you, tongue hungry and running in circles around your entrance before scooping back in to taste every dripping place of you. His top lip, the bristling of his facial hair, moves achingly against your clit, rubbing you swollen and raw. It’s endless, the circular motions open and sloppy and ever repeating. Your knees shake up again, almost closing against his skull, and his hands, free, fingers still damp with you, hold you there with a clamping grip at your thighs.

You could hold yourself back – just barely, but it had been possible – from screaming his name so disrespectfully at that urge, but you cannot stop your grasping hands from reaching down to knit anxiously between the strands of blonde hair you know you’ll find.

The chants of “fuck, fuck, fuck” that rock out of you mix with the whistling of the wind, coming without your own conscious desire to speak, just at the need to express your elation as Zeke brings you closer and closer to orgasm. One of your hands falls, fumbles down, when his mouth moves lower still, fucking you with his tongue as your frantic fingers take over rubbing your clit yourself. It's close, it's so close. When it strikes and the coil behind your belly springs open, hotter than you can bear, you buck your hips unevenly, unable to hold it back without any more warning to him. You come hard on his tongue with a choked cry, furiously rubbing yourself and pushing down to his mouth. It roars through you, sparking through your veins. You let go of his hair only to crash down across your forehead in exhausted spasms of euphoria, the heat rippling down from your core to Zeke’s mouth waiting to lap it all up from your cunt.

Not all. He ruins it by pulling away even as your body pulses, stomach and thigh muscles contracting erratically around nothing, your cramping hand moving up rest on your stomach. Above you, stars swim above your half-sightless eyes. The sound you make is garbled and incoherent.

When you offer nothing else, Zeke lets out a short sigh, almost of disappointment at your sudden lifelessness.

“I didn't think that was all you had in you,” Zeke says, and his hands coax your legs flat against the ground, spread achingly wide on either side of the expanse of his body. You force your eyes down to him, spinning with final dregs of nicotine and the echoes of your orgasm, to watch his dark sandy head bend over you once more.

“It’s… not,” you force out, and he lifts his face, another twisted smirk flashing across his lips. It’s a wicked smile, it’s…

Devilish, is the word that comes to mind, and the shiver that comes straight down your back is cold, uncomfortable.

Maybe his insistence of selflessness was a lie. Maybe he’s been waiting for something more since you sucked him dry the first time.

He spreads you with his thumbs, and spits. You shudder against the sharpness of it against your sensitive, raw folds, arching your back, the splaying of his hands into your thighs keeping your hips firm against the stone. The cool slick of his saliva mixes with the dregs of your arousal as he pushes it in with a thumb, moving into you before you can even gasp out, partly in elation, partly in pain. He fucks it into you with his fingers, stretching you deep.

“Fuck…”

Your thighs tremble, knocking into the ground. His thick fingers are teasingly painful, stirring you again without bringing any hint of satisfaction. You can feel it pooling from you, the remnants of your orgasm with his saliva and a rush coming anew.

He adjusts, kneeling with his twisting thumb almost dipping out of you, and the smooth head of his cock comes nudging against your inner thigh, hard again. He’s trembling too, breath heavy in the air over you, his own want so close to overtaking his actions. His thumb slips out as his cock begins to push in, keeping you open.

And then he doesn’t move.

Zeke’s hands are strong, keeping your thighs open as he rests over you, the moonlight casting long shadows over his face, and you whimper. He moves his hips, not enough to thrust inside, just edging the tip of his cock no further than his fingers have reached. Your breath catches in your throat, and it seems an excruciatingly long time before he moves out, and back. He hasn’t come any deeper, and your muscles twitch, begging for him to give in to that animalistic desire and - just fuck you now.

“Please,” you whisper, the word rough and catching in your throat.

Zeke’s eyes, glassy in the dark, shine, and he does it again, that teasing thrust that just prickles and pulses through you. He holds you down, watching you clench, breathing shallowly and struggling as your body quivers. If he just wanted to turn that arousal back on, your sore cunt is more than ready despite the thudding pain of overstimulation. He thrusts halfway once more and back out, leaving you aching, hot, and empty.

“Please,” you say again.

And Zeke almost growls, the throaty sound so gruff and raw you shake at the sound of it. Your hips move desperately back and forth, trying to push him deeper. “You’re teasing… stop…” is all you can force out, pathetic, frantic, grinding upward again.

“Your body is so impatient,” he says, hoarsely, and the sound you make in response is just that. “What happened to all your anxiety? Where did all that go?”

You whimper once more, unable to offer any argument, your dignity long gone in tatters.

He smiles, lefts one weighted hand from your hips, and pulls his glasses from his face. You can’t see where he puts them to rest, keeping your eyes now locked so firmly on his face, the shadows cutting sharp across his cheekbones and rippling when he moves his fingers to pinch the bridge of his nose and exhale sharply. A waft of tobacco, stale on the air, drifts to you.

“I have been cruel,” Zeke says softly, strained and his eyes, smaller without the magnifying power of the glasses, are unreadable as they fix on you. “I suppose it’s not fair to either of us, is it?”

You let out a strangled, desperate sound, and that’s when he finally thrusts into you, sinking his body down and splaying his legs hot against yours. The hand on your hip still keeps you down, but you cry – unable to stop yourself now, a shrill, euphoric, “Zeke!” as he moans your name in familiar, dishonorable tandem.

There’s no possible way he could feel better than you do, burying himself in your core, as fucked out from his tongue and fingers as you already are. This is a new satisfaction, deeper than before, and you grind against the stone as best as you can, flexing your fingers as your arms fly up around his neck to dig down into his back. The moans, the cries, that come from you, are drawn from deep within your core, pushed out with every stroke of his cock.

All his teasing, all the drawn out agony of aching, has left you wet again, so wet that his thrusts slap loud against your skin. Zeke fucks you hard and fast, rolling his hips in perfect circles as your fingernails drag down his back, not deep enough to draw blood against your touch, but desperate, raking down again and again as your fingers slide in time with his thrusts. Your entire body ripples around him, eyes rolling up into the stars. Your sounds are almost wild. His are feral.

He’s barely holding himself over you on one arm, legs tangling into yours, and the thrusts come erratic as he fucks you hard, fast, deep, into the stone roof, against the mix of crumbled and smashed cigarette remnants. His hand slides from your hip at last, letting you move in your own clumsy circles to match him. A fresh cold sweat breaks out over your skin, and you forget to breathe for a moment right when he pulls out and thrusts so deep it aches straight down your thighs. You whine when you can gather the air again, gasping his name, so delicious on your tongue that you feel intoxicated saying it over and over –

“Zeke, Zeke, fuck – ”

Zeke’s forehead presses into yours, your neck straining up, the filthy stone ground hard beneath your skull and shoulders, and he breathes just as heavily as you, ragged into your mouth, slipping your name and curses in his own chanting mix between breaths and kisses. His hips thrust against yours, faster, deeper, and you tilt your chin up to catch his lips in a kiss as your arms knot across the back of his shoulders.

He slows for a moment, and you feel yourself throbbing deep within your core, the rising heat of a second orgasm close. You clench over his cock, spasming on your back, and when he pulls out and sinks so deep, slowly inside you, it almost makes you topple over the edge.

“I’m – Zeke, I’m – again -”

He nods, brusque, short, half-listening and really just sliding his face against yours, but after a moment, he understands and nods again, moving deep inside you with long strokes that leave you breathless. He leans up and breaks the close contact of your faces, raising his forearm to rest on his elbow. It makes him higher over you and as his thrusts slow in an exerted control that comes through hissing, gritted-teeth breaths sour across your face, you can almost rut against his body pressed up against yours.

It’s not quite enough to grind yourself to satisfaction, but your legs go limp as the sensation brings you ever closer. “Yes -”

Zeke groans, a sound that snaps vocal and rough as it comes from his chest, as if he’s at the limit of his control, but it’s the sound and the friction of your legs against his that does it as you grind into him, desperately squeezing your muscles. Your head collapses into your neck and you convulse as the second orgasm roars through you – shorter waves than the first, the ripples somewhat weaker, but your body shakes uncontrollably underneath his. And Zeke picks his rhythm up, fucking you through it, curving one hand between your head and the stone ground, pushing your face back to his.

“Me – too – ” he says at last, the words broken and jagged, and he kisses you, harsh, open-mouthed and sloppy with drool.

You moan, feeling it all subside into a dull throbbing, his cock still splitting you apart with the growing ferocity of the thrusts. He sucks on your lower lip, letting go, and with a muffled groan he leans his head back, the contours of his neck muscles tightening in the moonlight. Just as your inner walls begin to ache sharper, so exhausted, so over-worked, Zeke pulls out and leans back, kneeling and panting. His hair is fully loose, sweat pasting some strands against his cheeks and neck, and his eyes burn as he takes hold of his cock, letting out a few furious pumps before coming again, this time down across your chest and stomach, with a raw, rough, “Fuck…”

His name dies on your tongue as you let out one last broken whimper, and you wince despite yourself as the fluids across you cool uncomfortably. A gust of wind, sending the laundry billowing doesn’t help, and you stare up at the dizzying stars for a moment as everything throbs to a sobering clarity.

Tobacco and salt and sweat hang heavy in the air. Zeke rocks back on his heels, exhaling loudly. You force yourself up on your elbows, feeling the scrapes and aches now that you separate your body from the stone ground.

“Here.”

Zeke’s reaching up, tugging a sheet free of the poles, and offers it to you. You take it cautiously.

“Can – is it okay to use -”

“It’s laundry, isn’t it? What’s the difference?”

You can’t look at him as you clean your skin of his sweat and cum, but you have to turn your head back and sit up properly to reach for your clothes, wherever he’s dropped them. In this undignified moment, at least he isn’t turned to you, as he swipes his glasses clean against another of the laundry sheets.

You gather your thoughts as you feel your body throb and leak, a heavy reverie shivering in the night air. He says your name after a moment, and you blink back.

“Let me leave first,” he says as he slides the glasses on. You clutch the sheet back to you, feeling almost sheepish, but Zeke looks so placidly unbothered as he reaches for his garments, as if being naked is barely worth remarking. “Just in case there’s anyone downstairs. At least five minutes should be fine, even if I need to talk away any guards or officials.”

“Thank you… sir,” you say. The word feels uncomfortable, heavy in your mouth, but it would have felt just as strange to leave it out.

Zeke’s lips twitch, a gentle, amused smile in your direction, and he stands to pull his trousers back on. “I think in private, there’s no harm in being familiar. I’d say we know each other intimately now.”

You flush, unable to meet his eyes as he looms over you. “Yes,” you say, his expectant silence pressing in the darkness.

“Then I think I just may see you again up here some night. Or for that wine, if it proves too cold.”

He stoops to gather his boots, his shirt, and takes a step back towards the rows of laundry. Then he stops, fishing in his pockets to fling something your way.

“In the meantime, maybe I’ll corrupt you into picking up this bad habit of mine, hmm?”

You look down at what’s landed deep in the folds of the sheet still pressed around you, hidden from view in the dark. When you look up, Zeke is gone, with only one parting remark ghosting through the laundry.

“Or at least bring them back to me.”

You wait, but he doesn’t offer any other words, the footsteps receding down the steps with a jaunty whistle rising faintly on the wind. When you’re sure he’s not coming back, you let the sheet fall and cautiously dip your fingers into the folds of fabric, and pluck out a small matchbook and packet of cigarettes.

chapter 2

#aot zeke #zeke x reader #zeke aot #zeke jeager #zeke yeager #zeke jeager x reader #zeke yaeger x reader #zeke x you #zeke x y/n #ao3 #ao3 crosspost #mmachifics #aot x reader #zeke jaeger #zeke jaeger x reader #zeke jaeger x you #chainsmokingmmachi

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creative-author · 6 months ago

Text

The First One. Ever.

Chapter One

"In darkness, silence acts as an amplifier." - Kathrin Weißling

Something cold and hard pressed against my leg. I abruptly opened my eyes, but it was just as dark as if I hadn't opened them at all.

An invisible force pushed me downward, but I still tried to sit up.

My arm felt as if something heavy had been pressed against it. It wasn't just my arm. My entire right side ached as if my bones were shattered.

With my left hand, I felt for my leg. Apparently, I was lying on a metal floor.

A hard edge pressed against my leg. It felt like a wooden box.

Carefully, without putting too much strain on my right side, I sat up.

I still couldn't see anything. Where am I anyway?, I wondered. Panic slowly rose within me. Why didn't I know where I was? Why was I even here?

I tried to find an answer in my memories, but only one thing came to mind. My name is Rose.

A sudden jolt lifted me a few inches off the ground. I landed roughly on the metal floor, and renewed pain shot from my leg to my head. I groaned.

A humming noise, which I hadn't noticed before, ceased. It was so quiet that I felt like I could hear my own heartbeat.

A squeaking noise shattered the silence. I covered my ears because it sounded so loud.

Something moved above me.

A dazzling beam of light blinded me. Quickly, I covered my eyes with my hands, but the squeaking made my head throb. Even though I only glanced at the light briefly, my eyes teared up.

I cautiously adjusted to the light, but it took a few minutes.

The squeaking stopped, and finally, I could look around.

Although it was still quite bright, my eyes didn't burn as much when I looked around now.

I sat on a metal floor. The room was filled with several wooden crates, but they all looked very worn and battered. I tried to open the crate on my leg, but it was nailed shut.

Where the light came in, a cloudless blue sky shone.

I stood up and groaned each time the pain shot through my hip.

What on earth happened? Why does everything hurt?!, I asked myself angrily, leaning against the metal wall.

I looked up again.

More than an arm's length separated me from the blue sky.

I tried to jump, but I quickly fell back down. My back hit the metal wall, and I gasped. I grimaced in pain.

When the pain subsided slightly, I thought again. I had to somehow get out of here because there was nothing to eat or drink.

The crates!

My shirt scraped against the rough metal as I limped to the nearest crate.

I blew a few strands of hair out of my face, feeling somewhat helpless in the situation, which frustrated me greatly.

Carefully, I knelt on the box. With clenched teeth, I stood up and climbed onto the next box.

Why?, I asked myself.

Finally, I stood on the tall box. I was somewhat surprised that I didn't topple over, but I dismissed that quickly. I just needed to get out of here. I could see over the edge. I placed both arms on the warm concrete and bit hard on my teeth again.

With a strong pull, I dragged myself out of this metal cage up to my stomach. I dragged my left leg behind me until I finally lay on the sun-warmed ground.

∞

The sun shone on the back of my head as I had rested my face on my left arm. The warmth eased the pain; it almost felt as if it had never been there.

I rolled onto my back. Not a single cloud covered the bright blue sky. The sun wasn't exactly in the center of my field of vision, but I couldn't tell if it was morning or evening.

I sighed and sat up. I should take a look around to see where I was now, after I had pulled myself out of the cage so laboriously.

The first thing I noticed was a little grove. It was directly ahead of me. There was lush green grass on the way there. A few small wildflowers lined the shade of the trees.

On both sides of the grove were huge gray concrete walls. (With the wonderful green of the trees, I hadn't noticed it at first.) They rose many meters into the sky, but I couldn't estimate how much. To the right, the wall was shorter than to the left, before a wide gap interrupted the gray.

My gaze traveled along the entire wall once. There were four monstrous walls enclosing me. Each had a huge gap. The grove apparently was at one of the corners because in another corner stood a small hut that looked quite primitive.

"Hello?" I called out loudly. If there was a hut, then surely there were people, right? "Hello-o?" I cupped my hands around my lips.

Nothing.

I stood up cautiously. Again, I called out, but again, there was no response.

Puzzled, I limped to the hut. My right leg still hurt a bit, but it was finally getting better.

∞

The door opened quite easily. The wood creaked as I stepped over it.

"Is anyone here?" I called out again. If nobody heard me now, there was either nobody here or everyone was very deaf.

A small staircase led upstairs.

I timidly grabbed the wooden railing. The whole staircase didn't seem so stable, but I still climbed up carefully.

On the upper floor, there were several rooms. Each had a few shelves, but otherwise, they were empty.

Surprised, I called out again, but still nothing. I guess there's no one here.

A piercing scream echoed. I startled and almost fell, but managed to catch myself on the wall. What is that?, I wondered, pressing my hands to my ears. And where is it coming from?

I went back to the stairs, still pressing my hands to my ears. It seemed like the sound was coming from outside. Maybe it could be turned off?

> Next

#writing #story #author #writeblr #maze runner #the maze runner #tmr #the first one #the first one. ever.#oc #Rose #wicked #fan fiction #fan fic writing #fan fic #maze

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shraqsmuses · 2 months ago

Note

"O.. Kay? A huff, arms splayed out towards the ceiling to begin the grueling process of rolling herself, quite literally, off the mattress top. Grumbles emitted from the mound sectioned as her torso chassis, hearing the other unit take apart her well packed stash, an equally annoyed grunt forced out her lips, chins squishing into another as she'd gawk at her own situation.

"Couldn't have shouted any louder with this.. Other unit?" Steel groaned as the mound begun to sway, slumping towards the side like puddy being shaped, whirs of joints and mechanical-muscles being strained, getting something of a leg dangling off the corner, joined by another through daunting tasks. Palms, sinking into the mattress's foam, lurking forwards girth threatening to burrow itself into the ground beneath, moving like a boulder gained consciousness as the android began to rise.

"Remind me why is it that you even have access to my quarters, " Elbowing A2's reaching hand, a dig around her various food stuffs kept in arms length, peeling off a lid to a tin, tilted and raised as calorific paste began to run down, gulping it down in a matter of minutes, lips smeared from the back of her wrists, stifling a hot exhaust, "A word with you later, and no more of that... Reported machine business. Even consumed my Ice Cream. . . "

A2 merely grit her teeth and scratched her fingertips across her engorged sphere with a dull grating noise that dragged a plentiful of crumbs onto the plain, white floor beneath her, now sullied with them and streaks of dirt and individual blades of grass. A sweltering red shade lurked over her quivering frown and eyebrows as she watched 2B’s excessive adipose morph and stack on top of her maneuvers, the groaning steel parts and quick successions of whirring bouncing off of the featureless walls and into her ears, forcing her teeth to clamp into each other further and lids to seal themselves as her neck craned away from the sight of the mammoth android with a few, deep clicks between their joints.

It was then that a small mound of pudge knocked against her stiff backhand, locking her muscles in a brief stifle with a metallic shriek resounding from them. The back of her molded feet lifted itself up and tilted toward the metallic crate’s flat face, smashing against it with a swipe of her leg, smearing its bottom against the bedroom’s plain, segmented white floor with a trail of orange sparks until it banged against the entrance with a clang that echoed to the two rotund androids.

A2 twirled her body to the layers of constructed, pooling pudge resting upon the bed, her round thighs and buttocks wobbling sideways and her stomach swaying to her right before she stamped her heel against the floor, twisting its dull edge into the indentation upon it before it eventually rocked over its edges repeatedly. Her blubber vertically jittered for a moment before it spread itself horizontally, her massive thighs trembling and mimicking the sound of a thick metal sheet swaying in the air amidst the echoes of her screeching hip joint and the vanishing boom of her sudden stomp.

“First, this is probably the same room I slept in. Second, I would’ve found a way to get in here regardless of whether or not I had access to it. Third, YoRHa thought having me work for them again wouldn’t be enough to torture me so they made sure to give me access to your room and ONLY your room despite the fact that I NEVER get to sleep in it. You want to know where I sleep instead? Outside. Like I’m some kind of savage mutt who can’t be trusted with serviceable amenities. Like I didn’t serve in a war that got ALL of the units in the squadron I was assigned to killed. ‘All of the quarters in the bunker are currently occupied,’ the Commander told me before continuing to tell me that I’ll ‘share’ a room with you, all while keeping that moronic, stern look on her face, someone should really tell her how much of an ABYSMAL job she’s doing to all of her mindless–”

A2 scraped her fingertips against her onyx palms, a shrill whine blasting out of them as she raised one of her bare, quaking legs above the cavity below it. However, after a prolonged emission of a humid cloud through the gaps of her teeth, her joints audibly clicking as she slowly lowered her leg onto the ground, crossing her arms and situating them on top of her chest before nestling her heel onto the ground with a few grating squeals.

“Hrmph. Right. You probably don’t want me to ramble about YoRHa again, huh? Especially not after you just woke up. You wouldn’t even want to hear me talk about them at all even if you were fully awake, right? No one ever wants to hear what I have to say about them. Then again, this conversation technically isn’t about them. If YoRHa is alright with letting some strange robot who doesn’t look like any of their soldiers at all roam around the bunker, then I guess I’ll go with it. The only reason they irked me at all was because they kept calling me a name I really freaking hate. Hmm. Can I take your… Trash with you? You just left a bunch of junk food in your room and you didn’t do anything about it.

#a2

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cavillanche · 9 months ago

Text

Cuddliest Avenger

Kayla has been best friends with Clint Barton for years. He finds her after the battle of New York and takes care of her.

Rated T ~1,600 words

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

As soon as Clint realized that Kayla had been in Stark Tower through the entire battle for New York, he was running through the halls.

"Kayla!"

Tony said the evacuation plan would call for anyone inside to head to a secure basement area. Practically a bomb shelter. Best there was.

He hit the large metal door.

"Kayla!"

Of course she wouldn't hear him. He punched the code into the security panel and the air seal released, allowing him to pull the door open.

"Kayla!"

"Clint?"

His eyes scanned through the crowd in the large room until he spotted her. He exhaled, relieved, and moved toward her until he was able to wrap his arms around her.

"Clint, what the hell is going on out there?"

"I'll tell you about it later. It's over."

He held her at arms length and looked her over.

"You ok?"

"Me? I'm fine. You look like you've been through war."

"I was."

"How bad was it?"

"Bad. Come on." He grabbed her hand and turned to the rest of the group. "Everyone can leave, but prepare yourself... there's a lot of damage up there."

No one moved.

"Come on, guys, let's go. Find your families. Come on."

He started guiding people toward the door, but never let Kayla out of his sight. The thought of her being in the same building as Loki, knowing what Loki was capable of... she would freak out when he told her what happened to him.

Once everyone was out, Clint grabbed her hand again. He led her to the ground floor and outside. She stared, eyes wide, her hand over her mouth.

"Where's Nat? Stark?"

"They're both ok. Got some new faces for you to meet, too. They're finishing up with some cop stuff, then we're heading over to this shawarma place that Tony wants to try."

"Seriously? That's what Tony thinks of after everything that happened that caused this?" She motioned around to the destruction.

"Hey, fighting aliens works up an appetite."

"I'm sorry... fighting what?"

"Later. I promise."

He started to walk away, but she tugged his hand.

"Hey, have you called Laura? Does she know you're ok? I mean, I didn't have a tv down there, but I'm sure this was all over the news."

Clint smiled. "I called. She said to do this when I found you."

He hugged her so tight that her feet came off the ground.

"Right, because Laura can lift me up," Kayla giggled.

"I'm just doing what I was told. Let's go."

Kayla held back tears as they walked down the street. It would take a long time to get the city back to normal.

Clint tried to shield her from the bodies, both human and alien, that littered their path, but it was impossible.

Inside the restaurant, Natasha and Tony sat with a few others. They all looked battered and exhausted. Natasha gave her a weak smile, but no one said a word.

"Hey, guys," Clint said, "this is Kayla." He pointed around the table. "That's Steve, Thor, and Bruce."

Everyone gave a nod. Clint picked up an overturned chair and sat it next to the only empty one at the table left for him. They all ate in silence.

Kayla traced some cuts and scrapes on Clint's arm and he grabbed her hand.

"I'm fine."

"I know."

"So," Thor's booming voice cut through the silence, "Hawk... man—"

"Name's Clint."

"Is this your lady love?"

Kayla and Clint both chuckled, and Natasha shook her head, smiling.

"No, she's not."

"But you're so..."

"Sickening is what they are," Tony said. "I know I thought you two were a couple the first time I saw you together."

"We're just friends," Kayla said.

"Best friends." Clint winked.

"You should just hook up and get it over with."

"Leave them alone, Tony," Natasha said.

"Do I sense jealousy?"

Natasha rolled her eyes. "Do you know me to be the jealous type?"

"Does anyone really know you?"

She smirked.

Kayla sighed. "Have you seen my apartment building? Is it still standing?"

"No idea. We can go check it out."

"I need to. If it's still there you can clean up. Nat, you want to come?"

"No, I have some things to take care of."

Clint and Kayla stood.

"It was nice to meet you all. Maybe I'll see you again under better circumstances."

As they walked through the streets, Clint kept stopping to help people; pointing them to cops, the relief crew, or checkpoints that were being set up for anyone who couldn't get in touch with their families. Cell towers were either down over overloaded. Kayla helped him when she could.

As they approached her street there was a little less debris, which gave her some hope. Finally seeing her building, she breathed a sigh of relief.

"It's still in one piece."

"Most of the fighting was centralized a few blocks over. You were lucky."

"Was I? Or did a certain superhero keep those things away from my street?"

"I have no idea what you mean."

"Sure." She punched him in the shoulder.

"Ow. Abuse." He rubbed his arm.

"Such a drama queen."

As they got closer, several guys came out of her building carrying tv's and other expensive items. Kayla slowed her walk.

"That doesn't look good."

Clint wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her into a quicker pace.

"Stay close."

They ducked inside and took the stairs to the fifth floor. Clint pushed her behind him when he realized a lot of the doors on her floor were open. He notched an arrow into his bow.

"Hold onto me so I know you're there. Keep an eye behind you, though."

They eased down the hallway and Clint checked around her doorframe before entering her apartment. The living room looked fine, but as they rounded a corner to her bedroom Clint raised his bow.

"Put the laptop down."

The man froze at Clint's command. He looked over his shoulder at Clint.

"I've had a long day. I'm not interested in fighting or arresting you, just put that down and get out."

The intruder put the laptop back on the desk. Clint circled around the bed, Kayla still clinging to him from behind, as the man slowly walked to the door.

"I want to hear the front door shut when you leave."

A moment later, there was a slam.

"Stay here."

Clint left the bedroom, arrow at the ready, and came back a minute later.

"All clear. Damn looters."

Kayla threw her arms around him. "I'm so glad you came with me. He could have killed me."

"Nah. He wasn't armed. Just an opportunist."

"Clint, that man was in my apartment. In my bedroom."

"Come here." He pulled her into a hug. "You're ok. You know I won't let anything happen to you."

"I know, but if you hadn't been here—"

"But I was. End of story. And I'm staying. Your lock is broken."

"Great."

"I told Laura I'd likely have to hang around, anyway."

"I have the landline if you want to call her."

"Yeah. She'll be glad to know you're ok."

Clint grabbed the cordless phone from its base and called his wife while he followed Kayla around the apartment. She went through everything to make sure nothing was missing.

"Hey, babe. I'm with Kayla. — Yeah, looters are out. Some guy was in her apartment, so — Yep. That's what I was thinking. You good for a few more days? — Love you. Bye."

Clint put the phone back on the charger.

"Laura says hi, and that she'll kick my ass if I don't stay and make sure you're ok."

"I love that woman."

"Get in line. I'll go move some furniture in front of the door, then I'm taking a shower. I'm covered in all kinds of stuff."

"You could be covered in sewage and I wouldn't kick you out right now."

"Ha! Liar."

"I think I have some of your stuff from the last time you stayed here."

"Great, because this outfit isn't comfortable for sleeping."

After they were both showered, they sat together on the sofa.

"I'm exhausted," Clint said.

"I can't even imagine."

"You must be, too. Adrenaline crash will wipe you out."

"Believe me, once my head hits that pillow..."

"Then why aren't you in bed?"

"The looter has me freaked out. He was in my bedroom, Clint."

"But I'm here. Nothing to worry about."

"Just... the thought of sleeping in there. I feel violated."

"Come on." He took her hand and led her to the bedroom. "Get in. No arguing."

"Clint—"

"What did I just say?"

"Who are you, my father?"

"Get in the bed."

"Fine."

Kayla slid under the covers and lay on her side, then Clint turned out the light. He straightened the comforter, then lay on top of it, and snuggled up close behind her.

"I'll stay until you're asleep."

Kayla took a deep breath. "What would I do without you?"

He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her closer. "You'll never have to find out."

#Jeremy Renner #Clint Barton #Hawkeye #The Avengers #Clint Barton fic #Hawkeye fic #Avengers fic #Jeremy Renner fic #my fic #I made this

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liulans · 1 year ago

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Teeny tiny Wangxian AU drabble for Wei Wuxian's birthday 🎂 🥳 🥰

rating: G / w/c: 1724 / lots of fluff 🤍

————

Lan Wangji has been told that he isn't particularly friendly, by several people, in fact. That is fine — he's incredibly picky with who he spends his time with; where he expends his social energy. He's not particularly interested in gaining new friends. Acquaintances, perhaps, kept firmly at arm's length.

But if he is not friendly, somebody should probably explain what he has done so right to wind up with, single-handedly, the greatest best friend anybody could ever ask for. His best friend, sitting on his couch, wearing his pyjamas, while deliberating over matching Halloween costumes.

"Hey, Lan Zhan," Wei Wuxian says, eyes glazed over with something pleasant, the light of his phone pailing next to the bright of his eyes. "What about Joker and Harley Quinn?—actually, no, that's a toxic dynamic. We could do, like, Barbie and Ken?—like, that rollerblading scene? Actually, I can't rollerblade and you'd have to carry me everywhere."

"Mn," Lan Wangji says, just to show he's listening. These ideas are fine, but there's a certain difficulty in picking out costumes on the actual day. And that's without mentioning that he's aware Wei Wuxian is skirting around another separate topic here.

They wind up opting for cutting eye-holes into some of Lan Wangji's old bedsheets. To draw little mouths onto them. Wei Wuxian's is adorned with a big, happy smile, while Lan Wangji's is more of a straight line.

"This is so cute. You're so cute, Lan Zhan." Wei Wuxian had said, and so, that was that.

They have something of a tradition every year. First of all, they'll head out to dinner, wherein Wei Wuxian will make up some elaborate story about how they're 'celebrating their wedding anniversary', usually because that gets them a free bottle of cheap wine — a couple of extra side dishes for Lan Wangji.

And then Lan Wangji will find a time to tack on the fact that it is, in fact, also Wei Wuxian's birthday, much to Wei Wuxian’s protest. But that will earn them a free slice of cake to share, so who's winning here?

Today, they've opted to go to some Sichuanese restaurant, because Wei Wuxian is a maverick who loves spice — and he's lovely enough to spend five minutes scraping the sauce from Lan Wangji's mapo tofu. It is still a little too spicy for his tastes, but Wei Wuxian uses the remaining spicy sauce as a dipping condiment, and that smile on his face is all that matters, really.

He does, in fact, get his free bottle of wine, not quite the bottom of the barrel, but the next one up in the weirdly determined hierarchy of fermented beverages. He gets a free slice of cake, too, and much to his embarrassment, ends up with the dining room staring at him, singing Happy Birthday.

He shoots Lan Wangji a look that perhaps says something vaguely threatening like 'wait until it's your birthday'. But when the room stumbles over his name mid-song ("happy birthday dear…uh, you…"), the vibrant fit of laughter he twists into is more than worth it.

"I hope everything was to your liking," the waiter says, stacking empty plates and bowls strategically atop his arm. "I hope we have made this day special for the two of you."

Wei Wuxian smiles, something big and shining. "It's perfect. We'll come back here on his birthday, right sweetie?" Lan Wangji blanches. They do this every year — it is tradition, and yet, he doesn't think he'll ever be used to that. "Hold a table aside for us for January. We're gonna have to blow his mind."

"I see." The waiter has a kind smile, even as his gaze flickers between them. "Don't worry, just call ahead of time and we'll keep a table for you. And may I just say, the two of you make a lovely couple. Oh, to be young and in love again. I see the way you two look at each other."

"Oh," says Wei Wuxian. Lan Wangji will dissolve right here, right in this seat. He will dissolve into the ground and let earth's crust break and swallow him up. "Ha ha haha. Yeah, we've known each other a long time. It was inevitable, y'know?"

"Ah, inevitable lovers. And on your birthday, no less. You've got yourself a romantic, young man."

"Ahah, yeah," Wei Wuxian casts Lan Wangji an apologetic gaze that lingers just a little too long. "He really is. He's the best."

The best. Lan Wangji has heard that many times. It often drips from Wei Wuxian's tongue, prompted by any manner of actions that Lan Wangji would deem to be wholly normal, instinctive, even. Picking Wei Wuxian up from work, holding a blanket around his shoulders when the cold hits, diligently holding his hand at fancy restaurants to get that free wine.

It is good, he thinks, to be someone who Wei Wuxian considers to be 'the best'. An honourable feat indeed.

"Lan Zhan." Wei Wuxian's eyes are glimmering, grey painted pink by the sunset. He suits golden hour very well. "Mind holding the bag a little while? You're better at maintaining the integrity of take-out boxes."

Lan Wangji, of course, agrees. And if it's because he wants to watch a very giddy Wei Wuxian shuck a bed sheet over his head and proceed to bounce in place, making all sorts of silly "boooo" sounds— well, that's for Lan Wangji to think about.

Wei Wuxian is tentative as he drapes the other sheet over Lan Wangji's body. He's comically stiff, and Wei Wuxian laughs about it, bright and airy.

Their hands find each other again. And then they're walking out into the rapidly darkening evening, joining the hoards of haphazardly costumed passers-by.

"Hey," Wei Wuxian says after a while. It feels as though they've walked the whole block, just talking, occasionally pausing to paw at a bit of cake. Lan Wangji dips beneath Wei Wuxian's sheet to press a small slab of icing to his lips. "Thank you for doing this. Like, every year. It's a big act to keep up with, but you pretend we're married, and you're so convincing about it."

"It is your birthday," Lan Wangji replies, as though that much is obvious. He's a little muffled beneath the sheet. "It is no hardship for me." I love you, is what he means. "I know. That you do not enjoy your birthday. So I hope— that this is enjoyable regardless."

He's stared at for a long moment, Wei Wuxian's gaze flitting over his face. Lan Wangji is very aware of himself; how it's been so many years, and his expression must be growing easier to read. "It's always enjoyable. Like, we're just hanging out, and it's still the most fun."

"Wei Ying, it is your birthday. I wish to celebrate you."

That makes Wei Wuxian falter, just a little bit. They have this conversation at least once a year. "I know. You're too good, you know? Wait—it's hard to be real with you when we're dressed like this. But like, seriously—"

He's cut off by the sound of fireworks, rising and bursting overhead. He swings around, utterly engrossed in the millions of trickles of colour shooting across the sky. Lan Wangji can only stare at him.

The both of them lift up their bedsheets, half draped over their heads, practically capes now.

And because Wei Wuxian looks so happy, is rendered so silent, Lan Wangji - without thinking one bit - swings forward. Whispers softly. "Happy birthday, Wei Ying."

He isn't sure Wei Wuxian hears it at first, but then the palm flush against his own adjusts, fingers intertwining instead. Wei Wuxian is gazing over his face then, flickering down and up. Down again; up again.

"I'm—gonna kiss you, okay?" He says, looking smaller. "Lan Zhan, you're gonna have to say no quickly if you don't want—"

Lan Wangji surges forwards, in spite of himself. Their hands part only to allow their arms to circle into an embrace. Wei Wuxian's mouth is soft, and it's so easy to sink into it. So easy to forget the sounds of people cheering, their oohs and ahhs; the intermittent pop of fireworks scattering across the sky. It's so, so easy.

They kiss like that for a while, bodies slowly swaying side to side, as though listening to some far-off music, somewhere. But then Wei Wuxian is smiling — Lan Wangji feels the curve of his mouth before he feels the teeth that follow. And when he opens his eyes, the sight before him is so bright, so colourful, so much more even than the sky.

"Lan Zhan. Lan Wangji." Wei Wuxian says that, and nothing else. His eyes are scrunched into delightful crescents, his lips pink. They look like messes, both of them, with their costumes strewn so carelessly over their backs.

Lan Wangji repeats, just to make it known. "Happy birthday. Wei Ying. I hope that you have felt celebrated today. Wanted."

"Are you kidding me? Every year my birthday is the best, better than everyone else's. Because you're a massive sap and you're so good. So good. I— Lan Zhan, let's go home, okay? Let's watch a movie or something. Oh! And let's kiss some more? That was good, you are really good."

Lan Wangji finds his mouth again, a chaste press of lips. It's chilly with the cold, but he feels so warm inside. But then, he nods. "Wei Ying can have anything he wants."

"Best birthday ever." Wei Wuxian whispers to himself. Lan Wangji secretly starts making notes to make next year even better.

And little does Wei Wuxian know that when they get back, there's even more cake waiting for him. A delivery of brushes, inks, and paper he'd mentioned he'd wanted in passing. A big jar of aged wine hidden in the closet. A ticket to redeem a visit to the zoo.

Lan Wangji will add a spare set of keys to that list. Wei Wuxian practically spends all his time there anyway. Maybe next year, he'll propose. If this all goes well.

(It does. He proposes next year. Married the year after that. Wei Wuxian deserves to remember his birthday as a day of celebration.

Those dinners they share each year are genuine after that. Happy Birthday, Wei Ying. Happy anniversary, Wei Ying. I love you, Wei Ying.)

#mdzs #wangxian #wangxian au #wei wuxian #happy birthday wei wuxian #mdzs fic #ficlet #lwj #wwx #my fic

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biohazard-inevitable · 8 months ago

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FINALLY finished chapter 1 of my self insert fanfiction of me and sir crocodile called These Cold-Blooded Sands and it banged out to a WHOPPING. 7.5K WORD LENGTH!!!!

I’m gonna post the link to it here but if you dont want to read it on ao3 I’ve also posted it under the cut without the ao3 edits (italics etc) cause i am NOT scanning through all that again!!!

Ao3 link

The desert of this island was a harsh, inhospitable place. Miles upon miles of scorching, arid dunes stretched between the towns that were few and far between. Winds howled like rabid dogs baring the wind as their fangs as the storms churned and grinded even the heartiest men down to the bone, that is, if the dehydration didn’t kill you first. Many a weary traveler collapsed before ever seeing another town, crumpling to their knees beneath the sheer power the desert held, just as the man that fell now, the dust of the afternoon air kicking up into the air before being lost amonst the scattered grains in the wind.

The sand crunched beneath his weight as he fell, tattered clothes torn by battle flapping weakly in the wind as the sands began to consume his body, scraping against his skin like the claws of a predator, the distant howl of a brewing sandstorm on the horizon already. His dark, ebony hair splayed wide across the golden dunes, mixing like thread into the ever consuming wastes. It swirled and fluttered in the heavy breeze, covering his face as he wheezed and coughed in desperation, incapable of staying conscious without water in his system as the clouds upon the horizon grew nearer, and the winds grew more violent, ready to sink more of their fangs into their newest prey.

The winds screamed as the sandstorm approached, swift and vile in its destruction as it tore its hungry claws into the earth, raking stone and dust into the air to become a most lethal sycthe before it came to a sudden stall around the fallen figure, a tan whirlwind focusing around a flicker of metalic gold before the typhoon ceased around that central point, leaving behind only a second figure whose heavy footfalls crunched into the dunes as he joined the first in the eye of the storm.

“Hm? What do we have here..?” The deep, gravely voice mused, puffing a breath of smoke into the swarming air as the owner of it dug the tip of his shoe into the side of the collapsed husk on the ground, flipping it with a firm kick, unsurprised when it didn’t so much as twitch. “Another pathetic stray?”

His stern, lavender gaze sweeps over the body lain in the sand, taking in its beat up, dehydrated form with a degrading sneer before suddenly settling on the strange protrusions from the man’s hair, curious surprise changing his sneer to a troubled frown.

Atop the unconscious man’s head peek out two pointed ears like that of an animal’s, and the living sandstorm of a man realizes that amongst the tattered clothing, a small, canine tail is also peeking out from the disheveled rags, sand clinging to its ebony fur and coating it in a dirty, tawny brown.

“A zoan user?” He hums to himself, kneeling for a closer inspection as he brushed a strand of coarse, filthy hair out of the smaller’s face with the tip of his shiny golden hook. “Mh, couldn’t be. Zoans are a bit of a rougher form… this one is far too soft… too human to be a mink. So then, what are you, kid?”

No response came from the unconscious body as the man sighed, using his right arm to scoop the body upwards, cradling the man half his size in his far larger limb. He glanced down with a look full of annoyance and curiosity taking another long drag from his cigar.

“Boy should be grateful to me, really.” He mused to himself, shrugging the body into a better grip as his legs began to melt into the dunes, dissappearing into a storm of grainy stones whilst he held the smaller man close to his chest, covering his face with a bit of fabric to assure no sand from the storm suffocated his new treasure during their trip. “Perhaps he’ll be useful when he wakes up.”

With a humming howl, the sands beneath began to churn once more, lifting the man into a great tower of wind and stone as he willed the dunes to carry him to his destination as they always had for the many years he’d been staying in Alabasta. What would normally take a camel several days, the man arrived within a short hour, fine golden grains cascading off his form as he regained his shape, still carrying the unconscious man as his dress shoes clacked across the tile of a casino in the middle of a grand oasis, people parting like the waves of the sea with every powerful step.

“Back from your ‘walk’ already?” Hummed a smooth, gentle voice as a dark haired woman joined the man’s side, uncannily sapphire eyes flitting down to examine the crumpled form in his arms. “And what’s that? Its unlike you to bring back anything, alive or dead.”

“You ask too much, Miss Manager.” The larger man spoke with a dark tone, gaze flitting around to the flocking patrons as practiced lies began to spill from his tongue like honey. “This is just a curious stray I saved from death, like the kind man I am. We should really get him somewhere safe and quiet, like the private VIP quarters.”

“Of course, Sir.” Spoke the woman, tone sharp and wise as she silenced her queries. “How generous you are.”

The patrons of the grand casino gazed in amazement as the man continued forward, unwavering to the questions as he hoped his brief conversation would explain enough to those who hailed him a hero. He was thankful when he passed the doors that led to the VIP rooms, the clammor of the casino falling into docile silence as he let out a deep, rasping sigh, smoke billowing into thick, curling clouds past his lips as he continued forward.

“Gods do those pathetic worms ever shut their traps when they see me?” He grumbled to himself once they were behind the safety of the hallway, shifting the body in his arms.

“They’re just in awe that a warlord such as yourself walks in their presence.” The woman chuckled, still at his side. “Thought you’d be more than used to it by now.”

The last comment was met with nothing more than a low rumble of a complaint as the warlord tucked himself into a guest room and set the unconscious man onto the plush mattress.

“So, whats the truth behind the body?” The manager hummed, glancing over the meek form with curiosity brimming behind dark lashes.

“Ironically, what I spoke out there was mostly the truth for once. Mostly.” The large man began, finishing off his cigar with a wave of his hand. “Found it crumpled in the desert, nearly dying of thirst and so I scooped it up. Figured you could take care of him, nurse it back to health all nice n’ shit.”

“Why?”

“Take a closer look at the thing. He isn’t human, and I’m almost certain he isn’t a Zoan or a mink either. Odds are, he could be useful, and he owes me for saving his life, though he doesnt know how deep his debt will run now.”

The woman glanced over at the form on the bed, her expression unreadable as she brushed a hand gently over dark ebony wisps of hair that draped over his features like wisps of shadow. Her wandering gaze wandered lower, surprised by the soft mounds of breasts that surely the warlord had overlooked in referring to the body, though she was far more surprised by the sharp, canine ears that stuck out from their head, distracting her from her thoughts entirely.

“And what do you plan to do?” She asked, taking a seat at the bedside.

“I’ve got paperwork to get done in my office, this casino doesn’t run itself.” The man huffed, his hulking frame now hovering by the door. “Get him fed and bathed when he wakes up, and answer his questions as best you can, see what you can learn.”

“And if he asks to see you?” She followed, daring not to correct the man on his possible misunderstanding of the being’s gender, though she herself was no stranger to bodies of a different kind.

“Then bring him to me.” The man smirked as he said this, his sharp, violet gaze flitting over the small man’s form. “I have my own questions.”

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

When Zayne awoke, he was hit with the sudden cool chill of shade, shade that was sorely missed as he had trudged through the desert sands. Missing, however, was the coarse grind of sand beneath his body, replaced instead with the soft embrace of fabric and the plush give of a mattress. His ear flicked softly to the sound of paper sliding against each other, like the rustling turn of a page as his brilliant, sapphire eyes fluttered open to take in his surroundings.

Gone was the arid wasteland he wandered, replaced instead with the prestigious garnishings of a wealthy man’s room. Reptilian themed paintings hung upon the walls dipped a emerald green in hue while soft carpet lined the floors, somehow lacking even a speck of sand throughout them by some miraculous feat.

By the bedside, a single chair had been pulled up, the source of the sound sitting quietly atop the cushion. It was a tall, slender woman, her legs crossed as she sat with a thick novel in hand, sleek, ebony hair falling like curtains around her neck as she seemed entirely engrossed in her reading, almost completely ignoring the presence of the man in the bed.

“Good morning.” Her voice purred, long fingertips closing the book with a soft snap as she turned her gaze upwards with a light smile. “You’ve been out of it for a while, you must be quite thirsty.”

Without a response from the fox, she reached over, handing him a cup full of clear, pristine water to which he eagerly chugged down.

“Easy now, relax.” She urged with a chuckle, gently pulling the cup back a bit from his mouth. “Don’t want to choke so soon after you’ve been rescued do you?”

“Who are you?” Zayne rasped with a desperate gasp after he had finished the contents of the cup. “Where am I?”

“My name is Robin, and you’re in the VIP quarters at Rain Dinners casino.”

“Last thing I remember was passing out in the middle of the desert…” The boy groaned, stretching himself out a bit, joints crackling with lack of use. “Seriously tjought I was going to die! Thanks for saving me.”

“Oh, it wasn’t me who saved you, though truly, I wish it had been.” Robin hummed softly, a forlorn look in her eyes.

“Well then who did? I’d really like to thank them if I can.”

“Well, he’s a bit busy right now, and for one we do have a few questions about you if you don’t mind?” Robin gently began, a concerned look upon her face as she spoke. “For one, how old are you miss?”

“Oh. I’m 18, I think… honestly I haven’t been keeping very good track of how long its been.” He answered, gaze drifting to the floor as his tail curled up into his lap, his pointed ears laying flat as he fiddled with his fur. “And… I’m not a girl.”

“My mistake then,” Robin corrected with a curt nod, continuing about her questioning. “How long has what been?”

“Well, I was captured by pirates when I was younger, mainly for well- what should be obvious.” Zayne scoffed softly, gesturing to his strange additional limbs, ears flicking as if to make a point. “I was able to escape a while ago, but without a log pose I’ve just been trying to get from island to island, whatever gets me as far away from them as possible.”

“I see.” Robin hummed, familiarity flickering in her eyes. “It must have been hard to have to run like that. I can’t guarantee things around here are much different, but I can assure you I won’t be the one to turn you in.”

“Thank you….” Zayne mumbled a little, giving her a soft smile in response. “Though now I’m a bit worried about the guy that saved me. I mean, from the way you’re putting things, you make it sound like he’ll be the one to sell me back to the pirates.”

“I suppose to him, it depends on your use. He’s… crude, like that.” She answered with a sigh, casting her own gaze to the ground as she adjusted her posture and returned her attention to the strange man. “Speaking of, what exactly are you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Oh, well- I’m me?” The boy shrugged with an awkward laugh. “I mean- you might have to be more specific, I’m a lot of things.”

“I mostly meant your tail and such.” Robin chuckled softly. “Are you a zoan user?”

“Oh! No, I’m not a power holder. I’m my own species. I guess you could consider my kind closest to what you’d call a werewolf, except I’m not a wolf, I’m a fox. If that makes sense? We’re distant cousins to Minks!”

“Well, I’ve certainly heard and seen weirder.” Robin smiled. “Truthfully, thats all I wanted to know personally, but my boss may want to know more about you, since he’s the one that found you.”

“So let’s go and meet him!” Zayne piped up eagerly, already beginning to stand out of bed with a bit of a wobble.

“Not just yet, though I’m sure he’d appreciate your tenacity.” She laughed, sweeping in to catch the boy before he fell. “Though you should probably drink some more water first, and eat. We also have a shower and spare clothes since I’m sure wandering around for so long wouldn’t have allowed for many opportunities like that.”

“Oh, um… thank you, miss Robin.” The little fox smiled, his tail beginning to sway in a soft wag as she helped steady him on his feet, handing him another cup of water.

“Oh please, its just Robin.”

“Okay then, thank you Robin!” Zayne smiled as he finished another cup.

“It’s really no problem,” She smiled, handing a small charcuterie board over to the boy. “Now eat, or at least a snack to regain some of your energy.”

Zayne’s tail beat steady thumps against the cushions of the bed as he began to eat from the board, scarfing down almost the entirety of cheeses and meats from it while completely avoiding the selection of fruits.

“Didn’t think you’d be so selective.” Robin commented, taking a grape from the board.

“Never really been a fan of plants.” The boy shrugged, taking another cup of water.

“I see. Well I’ll have to make note of that for your stay.”

“My stay? What do you mean?” Zayne mused, his ears tilting with his head as he looked at her with curiosity.

“Ah, well I suppose he’ll probably explain it.” Robin hummed, taking another grape. “You see, leaving this place isn’t very simple. Not many do once they meet him.”

“You mean I won’t have to run anymore?” The fox suddenly perked, his tail wagging even faster as he leaned forward with intense interest. “The guy who saved me won’t sell me out? Won’t give me back to those pirates?”

“Of course not.” Robin smiled, though it didnt quite reach her eyes. “But you probably won’t be able to go back home either.”

“I… don’t have a home to go back to.” Zayne sighed, his black ears flattening against his head. “They burned it to the ground.”

“Oh…” Robin whispered with a small gasp, a solomn look crossing her face. “I… know what thats like. It’s not pleasant. You don’t have to speak of it if it hurts.”

“Thank you…” The boy sighed, tail curling in over his lap. “I just hope your boss will be as understanding. I don’t want to go back out there, not while they could still be hunting me.”

“I’m sure he will be.” Robin assured, standing to gather the now empty board and cup. “He’s more understanding than most would think, though hes a shrewd buisnessman and always knows how to get exactly what he wants. He may have saved you, but my word of advice? Be wary of him.”

“Thanks for the tip.” The boy hummed as he stood eyeing the ajar bathroom door as he did so. “I assume the shower is in there?”

“Yes, I’ll bring you some spare clothes for when you’re done.

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

The new robes Robin had left for him were soft, cozy pajamas dyed a deep, cactus green that seemed almost dull against the bright blue shock of his eyes. The shirt of it all was oversized just enough that it hid the way the hem of the pants dipped to accommodate the bushy tail that extended from what would be the lower back of a normal person., the under half of the tail a vibrant ember flash of dusty red now that the sand and dirt had been washed away.

Along with the clothes was a small note from Robin, informing the fox that she had to attend to some buisness, but he was welcome to visit the boss’s office just down the hall, and so Zayne had curiously ventured out, his bare feet hardly making any sound as he shuffled across the soft, carpeted hallway, adoring the texture of it beneath his soles as he walked. Occasionally, he glanced down at the paper held between his fingertips indicating the general direction for how to get to the office so that the little fox wouldn’t become too lost.

After a while of walking, Zayne arrived at a large set of doors that were very ornate and with darkly stained wood that contrasted with the cream-colored walls of the hallway. Hesitantly, he raised his hand to knock a few gentle raps against it, though he got no response aside from a light creak as one of the double doors slid open a small crack, indicating they were unlocked.

“Well… Miss Robin did say he was wanting to see me… and I don’t have anywhere else to wait.” Zayne reasoned to himself before pushing the door in even more. “I’m sure he’d understand.”

The door continued to creak as he cautiously pushed it forward, opening it up into the yawning darkness of the office inside, the golden light from the hallway spilling forward into the room as Zayne walked inside, the feet tapping softly from the change of carpet to cold, blue tile.

“Hello..?” Zayne called, his ears perking as he listened to his own voice echo throughout the large, seemingly empty room. “Is anyone in here..?”

His eyes swiftly adjusted to the darkness as he closed the door behind himself, admiring the ornate decor of the grand office. The walls were lined with grandiose floor to ceiling windows framed by deep violet curtains, a faint blue hue to them as they seemingly looked out into the ocean itself, as if the room itself were underwater. A lone desk sat further towards the back of the room, a singular desk lamp glowing a dull orange as paperwork and a quill sat atop the darkened wood, a dreary Den Den Mushi fast asleep off to the side of it all. Two plush, deep forest green chairs sat on one side of the desk, facing towards it a bit lower as if made for much smaller visitors, yet also emphasizing the sheer size of it all, as if the room was made for a person twice the size.

The enormous, high backed office chair seemed empty, and was messily spun around to be facing the submerged window as Zayne walked forward, his tail held tightly between his nervous fingertips as his ears flicked down into a pinned position, an eerie chill running up his spine at the sheer vast emptiness of the room. His eyes flicked around to see a giant archway in the middle of one of the walls, low rumbling sounds coming from it as suddenly, something enormous began to move.

The sound of scales sliding across the floor was the first to hit the little fox’s ears, then came the deep, warbling bellow that seemed to shake the room entirely as a shadow began to lumber through the ornate archway. Closer and closer it came until the snout of an enormous alligator shuffled through, the lizard’s cold, golden eyes glaring forward at the tiny fox before it let out a huff that blew across the floor, emphasizing its already incredible size.

Zayne felt like a speck before the monsterous lizard, though he also couldn’t help but be incredibly curious, if possibly to his own detriment as he walked closer to the beast, gazing upwards in awe as it towered before him. It was almost as tall as the cathedral-like roof as it too shuffled closer, the spines down its back just barely brushing against the top of the archway as it passed through, easily reaching a height of 40 feet, maybe more, and it was entirely impossible to guess at how long it was as barely even the front half was all the way through the arch.

The fox’s breath hitched in his throat as he stepped closer, sure he was about to die from such a massive creature, but he knew he’d be rolling in his grave if he never got to learn what it would be like to touch such a beautiful creature as he reached his hand out and pressed it against the beast’s cool, green scales. He gasped a little as the creature seemed to hum with a deep, gutteral noise in response, not caring about the little man’s touch in the slightest as Zayne eagerly began to slide his hand across the reptile’s body, feeling every dip and curve of the individual scales with a brilliant smile adorning his face, his tail relaxing into a steady wag at the excitement of it all.

“Beautiful, isn’t she?” Purred a honey sweet voice deeper than the sea from just behind him, the succulent baritone rumbling down his spine as it awaited an answer.

“Y-yes, shes goregous…” Zayne agreed hurriedly after a small yelp of surprise before turning around to face the owner of the voice.

As he turned, he came to realize that the chair that had been facing the window was spun around, and sitting back against it, perfectly hidden by the frame of it all was a tall, muscular man, long obsidian hair slicked back against his scalp except for a few rogue strands that fell just barely in front of his face. His eyes were droopy, deep-set pools of rich violet and a thick, bitter cigar hung from his teeth like a chunk of carrion in a lion’s maw, practically a decoration in and of itself as the man breathed out deep puffs of thick, hazy smoke. Across the man’s nose bridged an even, tightly stitched scar, practically splitting his face in two as it crinkled up around his eyes hazed by dark shadowy bags.

His chest was broad and powerful, shrouded only by the soft fur of a coat falling around him. In his right hand, he held a folded up newspaper, glittering rings adorning every finger and shimmering in the lamplight as he set the paper down with a casual slide before bringing that same bejeweled hand up to the cigar in his mouth, taking another slow, steady drag from it. His other hand lay in his lap, or at least what seemed to remain of it as instead, a glittering, golden hook, base bulbous like a beehive rested in his lap, the hook’s curve twisting like an impatient finger against his knee.

“You know, it’s quite rare I have someone come into my office so boldly like you did.” The man purred as he rose from his seat, standing to a towering height at least double Zayne’s, if not more so as he closed the distance, peering down at the little fox through discerning eyes. “Let alone someone without fear of such an enormous creature like her. Most would be more concerned about wether or not they’ll be her next meal.”

“W-well, I don’t think I will, hopefully.” Zayne stammered, looking back at the creature with curious blue eyes.

“And why’s that?”

“Because I’m told you saved me!” Zayne piped up, returning his gaze to the man as the man’s right hand pressed against the creature’s smooth scales, giving her a gentle stroke. “And you wouldn’t save someone just to kill them… right?”

“Such strange trust in someone you hardly know.” Mused the man, a dangerous glint in his eyes as he smirked. “But yes, I don’t intend to kill you, yet. I’m not that kind of man. Everything has a use.”

“What… is she, anyways?” Zayne asked, changing the subject a bit as his tail tucked against his leg, on edge from the implications of the previous sentence. “I’ve never seen something like her before.”

“Oh, she’s a bananawani. A truly powerful beast.” The man smiled, a hint of grim fondness in his gaze as he continued to pet the reptile. “The only known predator of sea kings, quite admirable for both their ferocity and sheer power. More importantly though, what are you?”

Zayne froze as he felt that predatory gaze wander over to him again, his ears trying to hide themself in the fluff of his hair as his hands went back to his tail, wringing and teasing at the fur in a nervous pattern as he turned his own gaze to the floor, unease settling into his bones as he remembered the grim warning Robin had given him. The hair on his neck bristled as he worried about what this man would do with the information, what might happen if he was careless enough to misstep and anger the giant of a man, and wether he’d even live to regret it if he crossed him.

“Such a quiet little thing all of a sudden.” Came the low chuckle as the man moved closer, though Zayne was too frightened to take a step away, his prey-like gaze locked solidly on the sharp curve of the golden hook on the man’s left arm. “I’m not going to sell you, if that’s your worry. I’m not one of those mongrels of Sabaody, I simply wish to know what you can do.”

“S-shapeshifter.” Zayne finally mumbled, trying to come up with some way he could be useful to this man. “I’m a shapeshifter, o-of sorts. I can only really do one other shape though, my given shape, but everyone on my island is born able to do it with their given shape.”

“And does your ‘shape’ as you call it have something to do with these cute little ears you’ve been trying to hide?” The man teased with a hum, his right hand reaching forward to gently pinch at the fuzzy base of the fox’s ears, causing them to spring forward, revealing themself from the mess of hair they had been trying to scurry away into. “Or are they just decorations?”

Zayne’s face grew flushed and heated at the man’s carless minstrations, the gentle pulls and tugs of his ears as his well manicured fingernails and caloused fingertips gave the lightest of scritches in just the right spot of the thin skin that sent the fox’s tail into an eager wag, despite the intimidation he felt from the far larger man. A small sound almost like a purr struggled its way out of his throat against his will as the petting continued, his ears fluttering against the soft touches that urged an answer out of him.

“It’s my animal type… I’m a fox, can turn into one.” Zayne muttered, desperately trying to resist the way he wanted to melt into this man’s arms in the moment as he took a hesitant step back, freeing his ears from that sinful grip.

“Care to show me?”

Softly, Zayne nodded, feeling the familiar numbness spreading down his arms as he allowed his body to shift and bend. Smaller and smaller he shrank, bones crunching and crackling as his joints reversed, becoming more canine and feral until his fingers became stubby little toes, palms bulging and reddening as dark, soot colored fur sprouted all across his skin. Along his underbelly bloomed bright embers of orange fur that mixed with the black, and his mouth and nose elongated, skull filling out with sharp, jagged teeth in a yawning stretch before it snapped shut again, the new snout now topped with a wet little nose. His ballooned palms suddenly shrank and became tiny pink pawpads that softly pressed against the tile as he reverted to all fours before delivering a final shake of his body, revealing the form of a small fox only slightly larger than that of a domestic cat.

“Well now,” The man purred, his smirk widening as he stared down at the much smaller figure. He twirled his cigar in his hand, tapping it against the ashtray on his desk a few times before bending down to scoop the little animal up by the scruff of his neck, bringing him closer to his face where he blew out a long, foggy cloud of bitter smoke. “Isn’t that something?”

Zayne coughed, his nose scrunching in discomfort as the sour smoke invaded his sensitive nostrils, an all too adorable sneeze forcing the particles out as he shook his head at the smoke. His paws dangled underneath him as he was held up like a naughty feline, hoping that his little display had impressed the man enough to keep him around.

“W-well..?” Zayne asked with a tilt of his head, voice sounding a bit higher with his smaller voicebox.

“And you talk like this?” Came the deep, rolling chuckle tainted with a smoker’s rasp as the man’s eyebrows raised in mild surprise. “Well, aren’t you the curious little thing. Can you bark?”

“What?”

“Can. You. Bark?” The giant man repeated, each enunciation bringing his face even closer until his deep violet eyes seemed drill holes through Zayne’s skull, making it difficult to maintain eye contact at all as the fox instead turned his gaze downwards in mild embarrassment.

Slowly, not wanting to anger the man that held him in such a tiny form, Zayne felt his maw opening, a soft pant preparing him before he let out a tiny yip that sounded somewhere between a scream and a meow before making one last squeak and closing his muzzle again. Bright blue, expectant eyes gazed at the hooked man’s face for any type of expression to judge if his little sound was good enough, tiny ears flat against his head as he nervously stared forward into those deep violet pools of uncertain frost, the man’s mood entirely unreadable except for the slow stretch of a reptilian grin.

“That’s a good boy.” Came the low, rumbling chuckle that rattled the fox to his core, a soft warmth flushing through him at the sound and he was thankful a blush didn’t appear beneath his charcoal fur as the enormous man set him back down on the ground with a soft stroke through his fur. “I think I have just the job for you, once you get settled.”

“Really?” Zayne perked, his form shifting back to a more humanoid one, though it still sat on the floor with the posture of a dog as his tail dusted the tiles with excitement. “You’ll let me stay?”

“Of course, under the condition that you work and report exclusively to me, little one.”

“Report..?” The fox questioned curiously.

“Yes, you’re the perfect ruse to be used as a spy. No one would suspect an animal to be my eyes and ears into my ranks.” The man purred. “That’s why, so long as you can keep up the act that you’re nothing more than a mere pet of mine, with no way to communicate, I can leave you in meetings while I step out of the room to get an idea of what my allies or enemies may really be plotting. A simple job, truly.”

“I see… and- forgive me for asking- but… who exactly am I reporting to?” Zayne asked, still having neglected to get the name of such a threateningly attractive man.

“I go by many names, little one.” He hummed, using the curve of his hook to tilt the shapeshifter’s chin upwards as he gazed down through cold-unfeeling eyes, a prideful grin stretched wide across his face. “And since you’re my spy, you may call me by any. Some call me by my codename, Mr. 0, while others more knowledgeable, like you and dear Miss Nico Robin, may call me by my true name. Sir Crocodile.”

“T-the warlord?” Zayne stammered, having only heard whispers of the name in the months he was on the run.

“Precisely.” Confirmed the man in question, the look upon his face seeming darker than before as he took another drag from his cigar. “It seems my reputation precedes me?”

“Only the occasional story…” The fox admited, tail curling in on itself. “You’re a pirate. A legal one, sure, but a pirate’s a pirate.”

“Mh, perhaps. But I’m not like the slavers that caught you.” Crocodile mused, rounding his desk to take his seat again with a springy slouch, flapping out the newspaper with his right hand as he casually returned to whatever reading he had been doing. “I prefer to strike deals when I get a chance, especially with sweet little things like yourself. I can be generous when I wish to be.”

“And…” Zayne began, rising to his feet with a dry gulp, doing his best to swallow all his nerves as he stood before the warlord’s desk, his curiosity getting the better of him. “And what if I say no? What if I run away?”

“You wont.” Crocodile laughed in response, his smokey crackle vibrating through his chest before those piercing eyes peered over the newspaper at the fox again.

“Why not? You think I can’t?”

“Mh, yes and no.” He responded with a shrug. “For one, you’re desperate for safety, safety I am oh so graciously offering you. I saved your life, and so long as you work for me and be a good little brat, I’ll continue to keep you safe. Second, you couldn’t even get out those doors before I grabbed you.”

“I’m faster than you think.” Zayne huffed, his chest puffing out defiantly a bit with self pride.

“Oh I’m sure.” Came the sarcastic drone from the man as he set his newspaper back down, a twinge of annoyance wrinkling his brow. “I’ll tell you what, I’ll give you one try, free of charge. One try where I won’t punish you for your feeble attempt, so try and make it interesting, boy.”

With a soft, hesitant shuffle, the fox adjusted himself before shifting suddenly and violently, paws scrabbling against tile as he made a mad dash for the exit, not out of any real attempt to escape, but rather an attempt to prove himself to the challenge he had been offered. His ears flicked softly at the coarse sound of grain against stone, grinding like the shuffle of sandpaper and crunching like packed snow as a warm, arid wind began to blow from behind, though the little fox didn’t slow in his movements, seeing those massive doors grow closer and closer with every dash until the wind swept by him, sand coming from seemingly nowhere as it swarmed around him like a rolling storm. Golden, glittery grains raced past, tangling into his fur unpleasantly before gathering in a pile in front of the door, a pile that quickly grew larger and larger and swiftly took shape into the warlord’s figure, though Zayne had been certain he had just been behind the desk as his claws dug into the tile, slipping as he careened to a stop into the man’s leg, only to be scooped up by the scruff by the man’s right arm.

“What did I tell you?” He sighed, face still forming from the individual grains as he held the fox. “You couldn’t even make it to the door.”

“You cheated though.” The fox pouted with a soft sneeze, earning an eyebrow raise from the warlord.

“There is no ‘cheating’ at life, little fox.” He spoke, low and threatening. “You either win at all costs, or you die trying. You should be grateful I’m even letting you live with what knowledge you have been granted from this room.”

“Yes sir…” Zayne spoke with a soft whine, ears pinning back down to his head as he averted his gaze from his new boss.

“Good. Now that you understand your place here, run along.” Crocodile sighed as he set the little fox back down on the ground. “Robin will show you to your accommodations, any questions should be directed towards her. I will call for you when I am in need of your services, and unless called for, don’t bother me. Is that understood, boy?”

“Yes sir.” Zayne nodded, shifting back into himself with an expression like a scolded child as the warlord stepped out of the way of the door, opening it for the boy expectantly. “Just- one last question?”

“What is it now?” Crocodile grimaced, glaring down with an annoyed expression.

“How did you know I was a boy?”

“Are you not one?” Came another question in response, tone a touch gentler than before, genuine concern costing the warlord’s expression.

“I am… but,” Zayne began, gesturing to his chest awkwardly. “Y’know.”

“The appearance of one’s form doesn’t necessarily indicate alignment with gender.” Crocodile hummed. “If I am incorrect in my assumption or refferal to you, correct me as needed, and do not hesitate to correct others.”

“But how-“

“I have my ways.” He interrupted. “Now go, unless you wish to ask any more questions?”

“No sir.” Zayne responded with a curt nod of gratitude before exiting the room, tail tucked against his legs as he shuffled out hurriedly, the door closing behind him.

He could feel the way Crocodile’s eyes lingered as the door shut with a click, though the little fox shrugged the discomfort away with a soft shake of his shoulders before taking a deep breath, reminding himself that as long as he behaved, he’d be fine. Everything was going to be totally, and completely fine.

“I see you weren’t eaten alive by his pets.” Came a smooth, taunting comment, and Zayne’s attention swiveled to the woman in a pristine white cowboy hat currently walking towards him from down the hall. “How did it go?”

“Robin!” He greeted with a smile, tail starting up into a gentle wag. “It went alright I think? He didn’t kill me and hes not going to sell me so, I’d call that a success! Though, he’s kind of a hermit if you ask me. He said I’d report to you mostly!”

“My you have so many things to say about him.” She chuckled with a smile. “I have my own report to place with him, but I suppose I should show you to your quarters for the evening before you start getting weary.”

“Mh, that’d probably be good too.” Zayne mewled as he stretched his limbs out, rocking back against his heels as his tail swished calmly. “Lead the way!”

“Of course.” Robin smiled, waving her hand softly as an invitation to follow as she began to walk down the halls. “You’re awfully chipper after the meeting, weren’t you frightened of him at all?”

“A little at first, but he seems nice enough.”

“How so?”

“He likes animals, treats them well too. I’ve got some experience with reptiles, and judging by how those bananawani behave and look, he takes good care of them. How big is their tank?”

“Tank?”

“Yeah!” The fox continued excitedly, his mouth running a mile a minute and his tail beating heavily back and forth. “I could see that office is underwater from the windows, and it seems to be the main access point into the tank from the arch, so I was curious how big it was?”

“Oh there’s no tank!” Robin chuckled. “This entire building is in the center of a giant oasis fed by the sea. You should be able to see part of it from your room’s window actually.”

“See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about! Plenty of space for them to swim around and also able to keep them well fed and docile enough to be handled! Its impressive.”

“He’d probably be very proud that you think so highly of his care.” Robin mused out loud as she guided the fox to an elevator, wordlessly gesturing him to follow.

“You think so?” Zayne mused as his tail wagged eagerly, stepping into the elevator beside the dark-haired woman. “I wonder if he’d let me take care of them sometime, I mean, despite the fact hes a pirate, he didn’t seem too bad. I mean, the navy clearly trusts him if they made him a warlord, right?”

“Perhaps, though I wouldn’t be that fast to trust the navy, little fox.”

“Why not?”

“They have their own secrets, and aren’t strangers to putting bounties on children.” Robin sighed, a pained look stretching across her face. “You should be careful who you put your trust in. Not everyone is deserving of such innocent trust, especially not pirates nor the navy.”

“If you say so…” Zayne huffed with a sheepish shrug, ears pricking when the elevator finally dinged to a new floor.

With a gesture of a nod, Robin stepped out of the elevator as the doors slid open, inviting the fox to follow as they quietly walked through what looked like the hall of a hotel, bright emerald carpeting with faint golden scale decals tracing out an endless pattern through the space, muting their footsteps and any other echoes that might disturb any residents. Each door was a bright, deep mahogany red, golden doorknobs and accents adorned each one while golden sconces lit the hall in a comfortable, amber glow.

Eventually, after only a few moments of walking, Robin stopped at a door numbered 469 before glancing over at the younger man and pulling out a shiny golden key.

“Here, this is yours for as long as you stay with us here.” She smiled, tossing the boy the key.

“Thank you.” Zayne replied with a bit of a shy nod, slotting the shimmering metal into the hole that it was made for, his ears pricking as the pegs clicked into place and unlocked the door with a satisfying clunk.

The glittering knob of the door pushed forward with ease, the hinges barely making a sound as the well cared for door opened to reveal a modest, but luxurious room.

Truthfully, it was quite spacious for a mere hotel room, boasting a tight but well polished kitchen with glossy marble countertops and the best appliances money could buy mere steps away from a comfortable living room. Dark, fern-colored velvet lined the plush couch and dual armchairs in the living area, a soft oak coffee table sat perfectly in the center with various magazines neatly set out for complimentary perusal. Against the wall sat a well stocked home bar, whiskey glasses glinting in the soft amber of sunset that streamed in from the wall to ceiling mirrors framed by deep golden curtains.

Closer to the windows sat a goregous four poster canopy bed with matching emerald sheets, and as Zayne oressed his hand into the mattress, he practically shuddered at how deep his arm sank into the soft, plump mattress. It would be like sleeping on a cloud, he imagined, eyelids already feeling drowsy just thinking about sprawling across the surface and snuggling into those warm, heavy sheets, his tail beginning a steady wag at his wandering thoughts of sleep.

Suddenly, a soft click grabbed his attention, his ears springing upwards and swiveling towards the sound as his gaze soon followed, finding Robin standing in the kitchen, her fingertips placing a small card on the counter.

“Your allowance.” She explained as if the question was already hanging in the air. “Mr. 0 gives all his employees an allowance, though I can’t begin to imagine how he tracks all the numbers. This card is yours, you may use it to buy anything you’d like or would need.”

Zayne’s expression scrunched as he looked down at himself, remembering how he didn’t really own any extra clothes as of yet, and probably could use a new style anyways.

“Thank you, Robin.” He nodded politely.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it. I can usually be found in the library if you need anything, but the room’s Den-Den connects to our intelligence officers if you need to contact anyone else in the organization, and it will ring to give you information on meetings and such.” Robin smiled with a hum at the bashful fox before turning towards the door to leave, her hand lingering on the handle as she sent one last expression of warmth the boy’s way. “Welcome to Baroque Works.”

#self insert fanfiction #sir crocodile #sir crocodile x self insert #sir crocodile x zayne foxx #WHEN I TELL YOU I WORKED MY ASS OFF FOR THIS #LIKE HOOOOOO BOY #i love this man so SO MUCH

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