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absurdthirst · 6 months

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The Journey to Jackson {Joel Miller x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 21.3k

Warnings: NON-CON, Coercion, forced copulation, mentions of sterility, medical examinations without consent, forced breeding, threats of death, nipple play, vaginal sex, cock riding, restraints, cream pie, killing, escape, pregnancy, sickness, anxiety attacks, labor, giving birth, breastfeeding, oral sex (female receiving)

Comments: Being taken by a group that has a fertility issue, Joel is forced to procreate with one of the women, you. When he escapes, he brings you with him. Making the journey to Jackson even more perilous.

🚨🚨 DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT - This story contains elements of forced copulation/NON-CON for the purposes of breeding/forced impregnation. 🚨🚨

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Joel Miller MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

He had assumed there was a settlement nearby. The closest stores were pilfered of anything and everything that could be used. Making him wary as he set up camp. “No fire tonight.” He grunts when Ellie drops a handful of sticks into the middle of the small clearing. “Aw man, I wanted to clean up!” The teenager pouts, making Joel snort. “It’s not cold, get some water and wash.” He tells her, smirking to himself when she starts grumbling under her breath in typical teenager fashion. He listens for the sound of animals moving, but it’s silent.

They come in the middle of the night. Joel had settled into a restless sleep, when they had surprised him. Shouting and fighting, the butt of a rifle slams against his forehead right as he hears Ellie shouting for them to let her go. Blacking out into oblivion.

When Joel wakes up, his head is throbbing and he groans as his eyes flutter open. "Good, you're awake." A male voice sounds out and his instincts kick in as he jerks his body but discovers he's been tied to a chair.

"Wha- let me go." He growls, voice rough from being knocked out. He needs water but he daren't ask for it. "Where's the kid?" He demands, needing to know that Ellie is safe.

The man chuckles, "she's being taken care of, don't you worry." He promises.

Joel hisses, "you better not touch a hair on her fucking head otherwise I'll destroy you." He threatens and the man snorts, "we got your guns, we got your kid, and you're tied up. All you got is your mouth."

Joel chuckles, his vision clearing as he glances around the room. "That's all I need." He assures him with a cocky chuckle as he assesses the room, his eyes widening slightly when he sees a naked woman standing there, gun pressed against her head. "What - what the fuck is this?" He demands, stomach twisting with unease.

You shake, shivering from the cold and the fear. “I- they-“ the gun presses into your temple harder and you choke out a cry before you answer. “You have to fuck me.” You manage. “What? No.” The man tied to the chair growls out, shaking his head.

“Yes, you will.” The man with the gun tells him. “All we want is for you to knock her up.” He chuckles darkly. “Shouldn’t be a problem, she’s got a nice set of tits.” His hand not holding the gun slides up to cup one name you flinch. “All you gotta do is let her ride your dick.”

Joel shakes his head, "no. Fuck no. I - let me go. If you let me go now, I promise I won't kill all of you." He chuckles, "actually, I promise I will make it quick." He smirks, allowing himself to act like he isn't freaking out on the inside. You are gorgeous and he hasn't been with a woman since Tess. but he refuses to touch you, especially when you have a fucking gun held to your head. It's clear you don't want this as much as he doesn't want it.

All of the men chuckle. “Big words from a man in your position.” The one holding you snorts. “James…” you whimper, making him growl.

“Shut up!” He hisses as he shakes you, not wanting this man to know his name. “You know why we are doing this!”

Joel swallows harshly, never liking to see a woman being abused like this. It's clear you aren't doing this voluntarily. "Why are you doing this?" Joel asks, wanting to know what the fuck this is all about. He doesn't want to get you killed but it's every man for himself in this new world.

“We had mumps go through our settlement five years ago.” One of the men tells Joel. “All our men are sterile. Except for those that have joined us. We need kids.”

"We need another father. Can't be inbreeding even in dire times. We need new DNA and we found this one a few weeks ago." He says, nudging you forward. "She can suck your cock if you want her to get you ready. She's good at it." He smirks at you and you wrinkle your nose in disgust at giving him a blow job at gun point.

"I ain't having any kids. I got the snip." Joel lies, wanting to avoid this situation and get out of here to find Ellie.

The leader, not holding the gun, scoffs. “Too bad we know that ain’t true.” He tells Joel. “Got a doctor that used to do them back when the world wasn’t shit.” He gestures towards Joel’s unbuckled belt and unzipped pants. “No stitch scars. You ain’t been snipped.” He shrugs slightly. “Look, it’s not that hard, you get to blow a few loads inside her and then we’ll let you go.” He lies. “Won’t even make you pay child support.” The laughs are raw and mean as the other men chuckle.

Joel clenches his jaw, fucked off at being violated like that while he was unconscious. He looks over at you, your terrified eyes making him feel sick. "I don't think I can get hard when she's fucking terrified." He says, knowing that he won't get turned on in a room full of other men waiting for him to blow his load.

“She’ll get into the mood.” The one holding you promises, squeezing your tit again. “Won’t you, sweetheart?”

You wince and nod quickly, aware that the gun at your head is the prime motivation. “Maybe we can be alone?” You beg. “I won’t- I can’t untie him.” You tell them. “Just- you can check to make sure he came inside me, but please, please, don’t make me do this while you watch.” You regret ever coming to this part of this fucking world. Planning on escaping as soon as you can from these twisted monsters. Every one of them needs to be killed and you hope that will happen soon.

The leader nods, "fine. We will leave you alone but any bullshit and you both get a bullet in the head. And you-" He looks at Joel, "your little companion will be taking her place next." He threatens and Joel feels sick, knowing that he has no choice now. It's him or Ellie and Ellie will always be his first choice.

He nods, "fine. Leave us." He demands. The man holding you shoves you forward and you stumble, the gun leaving your head as they exit the room and you hear the lock click in place.

When the lock clicks, you start crying. “I’m sorry- I don’t- it’s not my-“ you babble, wrapping your arms around your body and turning to the side so you don’t feel so vulnerable. “I’m- I’m ovulating- that’s why they want you to fuck me.” You manage.

Joel flicks his tongue, always uncomfortable when a woman cries and this is no exception. “How did they capture you?” He asks, needing you to calm down.

“I- I was trying to make it to Wyoming.” You shake your head, feeling foolish for ending up in this situation. “I- my family used to have a ranch there. I was in college when the outbreak happened and I’d finally got out of the Kansas City QZ. The rebels took over and I escaped, I was- I got captured when I stopped by the river.”

Joel realizes how close you’ve been traveling alongside him and Ellie and he’s never seen you. “I’m going to Wyoming. My brother…he’s out there. I gotta go west.” He says, “this new world…it’s horrific. Men are monsters. You should’ve never been alone.”

You snort. “Believe me- I know. But I didn’t have anyone.” You bite your lip and look over at the man tied to the chair. “Your girl, she’ll be alright. They won’t touch her. At least not now.” You close your eyes and sigh. “I just want to go home.” You whimper, a daily thought now.

“I’ll get you home.” He promises, knowing he has to give you hope in this situation. “But I really don’t want a kid.” He confesses, “I- I had one and lost one. I know what this world does to them.” He reveals, eyes sad as he looks at you then across the room to preserve your modesty.

“I don’t- I don’t want to have a kid.” You admit quietly. “But I know they will kill us if we don’t.” You reveal. “They found another man a month ago. He couldn’t- they shot him.”

Joel swallows harshly, knowing that there’s no getting out of this. He can’t leave Ellie here. He can’t be killed and leave Ellie alone. She would be killed within hours. Either by these assholes or by someone else. He nods, “then we do what they want.” He says, flexing his fingers still tied together with zip ties.

“I’m sorry.” You apologize breathlessly. “I’m so sorry, I don’t- I never meant for this to happen.” You choke out, even as you walk towards him. “What do I- can I?”

Joel nods, his cock not remotely hard right now but he has to try. You’re a beautiful woman and he knows that if it wasn’t for the outbreak, he would’ve taken a chance to ask you out. “Do what you want. I can’t move.” He chuckles, trying to help you relax despite his heart pounding in his chest.

“I can- let me-“ you reach for his pants, looking up into his eyes. “Lift your hips for me.” You ask softly. This is a mess, but you’re in it together. “I know they cleaned you up- to prevent infection- do you want me to suck your cock to get you hard?” You ask when his cock is flaccid, flopping out of his underwear ungracefully.

He bites his lip as you loom over him and he swallows harshly, “I, uh, you don’t have to do that. Come sit on my lap and then we can, uh, see how it goes.” He says, not wanting you to feel obligated to suck his cock when you’re unwillingly having sex with him.

“Uh, okay.” You bite your lip and put your hand on his shoulder to straddle his lap. You slide onto his lap and try not to press down on him too much. You murmur your name and look into his eyes. “What’s your name? I figure we should at least introduce ourselves.”

“Joel.” He answers, his eyes on yours but they flick down to your breasts. “Shit. You really are gorgeous. I’m sorry you’re in this situation.” He murmurs, feeling guilty for finding you attractive. “What - did you have a boyfriend? Before the outbreak? Or after?”

“A few.” You feel better now. He’s not eyeing you like a piece of meat and he is handsome. “No one for a long time, no point.” You snort. “They either died from the fungus or FEDRA. I was better off alone.”

“You’re not…you’re not a virgin?” He wants to make sure he’s not taking your virginity in the worst possible fucking way.

“No. No. Not since I was seventeen.” You snort and caress his chest, playing with the buttons of his tatty flannel.

“Thank fuck. I, uh, I haven’t been with anyone for a while. She, uh, she got bit. Ended up blowing up a building to save me and the kid.”

“Sounds like a woman I would want to get to know.” You admit, thankful that this man isn’t one that would be looking forward to fucking you like this. It tells you more about him than anything he could tell you. “So it could be quick?” You ask, sliding up and cupping his jaw to lean close. “Hold off as long as you can to try to get the ties loose.” You whisper in his ear.

Joel nods, “I wanna take my time, baby girl.” He says loud enough for anyone listening, “been a long time since I had a woman. Wanna enjoy it.” He says despite his eyes portraying anything but enjoyment. He feels guilty even liking the fact that you’re sitting on his lap

His words are meant for the men outside, but for some reason it makes your cunt clench. “It’s- that’s good.” You admit, a little breathless at the rasp of his voice and his rugged looks. He’s handsome. There are worse men you could be forced to fuck. His teeth are still in good condition and you decide to run a finger down the curve of his jaw, letting the stubble rub against your finger. “Maybe I can cum too?”

Joel sees the desire in your eyes and it relaxes him a little. “Of course.” He murmurs, “tell me what you like.” He says, wanting to drag this out a little longer but his cock twitches against your ass as his eyes daringly dip down to your tits, feeling less ashamed of being attracted to you when he can tell you are attracted to him.

“I like having my tits sucked on.” It’s something he could do with his hands bound, so that’s a plus. “And I’m riding, so I really like to grind down on a cock when I’m doing the work.”

“Good. That’s good.” Joel murmurs and licks his lips. “You want me to, uh, suck on your tits?” He asks, wanting to make sure you’re wet enough for this while his hands continue working on getting out of the zip ties. You nod and shift closer so your breasts are in his face and he turns his head to take your nipple into his mouth.

“Oh god.” You had resigned yourself to being touched. At least it wasn’t by those assholes, but the pressure of his mouth is the perfect combination of harsh and gentle. Pulling and suckling perfectly to make the bud perk up and ache for attention. On their own, your hands move to his hair, surprisingly not greasy or gritty even though you know he had not been bathed completely. Even at the end of the world and traveling, he apparently took care of hygiene. “Fuck, Joel.”

He loves the way your fingers tangle in his hair. It feels like a lifetime since he had a moment to relax and enjoy something instead of running for his life. He groans into your flesh, his cock twitching under you as he starts to harden as he bites down on your nipple once more.

“Ohhhhh.” Your eyes close, imagining this is because you want it. Your cunt clenches again and there’s a rush of heat. Your hips start to slowly grind down on his hardening cock.

“Shit.” He hisses against your breast and he switches over, enjoying the way you grind down onto him. “Shit, sweetheart.” He murmurs, kissing along the swell of your breast as he feels himself getting harder.

He feels thick. A grower. You moan softly when he pulls your other nipple in his mouth. “That feels good.” You admit breathlessly, tugging on his hair and scratching your nails against his scalp.

He grunts, letting himself imagine that this is a different situation and he’s not being forced to knock you up. His fingers dig into his palms as he tries to break the zip ties but fails. He kisses along your chest up to your neck, breathing harshly as he gets harder and harder.

You lower your jaw, noses bumping and your lips brush against each other. “I’m going to kiss you.” You murmur. “Is that okay?”

Joel knows you shouldn’t but he wants it. Want to have some intimacy that you can control when you can’t control the fact that you are having sex with him. He tilts his head so he can press his lips to yours.

As soon as your lips touch, you push your tongue inside his mouth. Wanting to take as much control as you can of the situation. You don’t think he minds. Not the way he’s groaning and his tongue slides against yours. You press close, grinding down on his now completely hard cock.

Your moan into his mouth has him ready for you. His hips jerk up to grind against you, groaning into your mouth when he feels how wet you are. “You ready for me baby?” He asks softly as you pull back for a second.

“Yes.” You could probably be wetter, but he won’t hurt you. You kiss him once more and spit in your hand when you pull back. Reaching between you, you wrap your hand around him and pump. Feeling him twitch in your hand, you clench again as you notch him at your entrance.

He inhales sharply at the feel of your hot flesh starting to engulf him as you start to sink down onto his cock. “Fuck.” He hisses, closing his eyes to control himself. It’s been so long since he felt this kind of embrace. He and Tess always used protection that FEDRA would sell in exchange for credits and he hasn’t been with a woman like this since long before outbreak day. “Take it slow. Don’t hurt yourself.” He says softly, eyes opening to watch your expressions.

He’s thick, long, pushing up into you and you're still not completely engulfing him. “Fuck.” You moan quietly, leaning toward and burying your head into his neck. “So big.”

He smirks, unable to conceal the spark of pride at you being slightly breathless at taking him inside of you. “Take it easy.” He murmurs, turning his head to kiss along your neck as you slowly rock your hips to take him until your thighs are flush against his. “That’s it. Good girl.” He murmurs, “takin’ me so well.”

Despite his reluctance to do this, his dirty talk is in top form and you clench around his length at the way he coos at you. “Fuck, Joel.” You whimper quietly. “Keep talking and I will cum.”

He groans, wanting to make this good for you when you’ve suffered a terrible fate to get to this point. There’s no way he will let you go now that he’s possibly going to get you pregnant. “So tight around me.” He says, wishing he could touch you. His hands wiggle around the zip ties and he kisses your neck again.

Tilting your head so he can have more access to you, you settle down onto him completely. Feeling him deep inside you, you know that if he were in charge and fucking you harshly, he would rearrange your guts. "So big." you whine softly. "Everything's tight to you." You roll your hips slightly and start to pull up off his length, eager to feel him move inside you.

He kisses along your neck, "take what you want, baby. Want you to feel good. Want you to cum for me." He demands against your skin, "want you to fuckin' soak me." He groans as you rock on top of him.

"Jesus." You never had a man who wanted your pleasure for himself. Most were happy that you just let them fuck you, but you have a feeling that if Joel was in control, that he would be making sure that you were cumming on his tongue or fingers. "I will." You pant quietly.

He still tries to untie his hands, desperate to touch you but you keep distracting him by grinding down onto his cock like it's the last thing you'll do. In this new world, it could be. "Wish I could touch you. Wanna - arch your back for me." He demands and you do as he says so he leans forward to wrap his lips around your nipple.

“Oh god, it feels so good.” You whimper, loving how he’s twitching inside you every time you clench around him. It’s nothing short of a miracle, it's not rough and dirty. You’ll take the beauty of the moment and be thankful for it, a rarity in your world now.

Your fingers slide through his hair and he groans into your flesh, loving how you clench around him and he wishes he could break free and show you how could he can be, fuck you harder unto you are screaming his name in pleasure. So loud that those motherfuckers outside hear it all. He licks along the swell of your tit and kisses your sternum. “Feel so good, baby girl.” He murmurs, “so good for me.”

“So big.” You moan quietly, circling your hips and lifting off to push back down on him. “You feel so good. So thick.” It’s like having an itch you didn’t realize you had being scratched. It makes you want more, so you speed up.

He groans as you start to rock on his cock, his fingers flexing as he tries to break the zip ties and he breathes harshly through his nose as you rock a little faster. “Take what you need.” He demands, “rub your clit.”

Moaning, you hang on to Joel while sliding one hand down to obey his order. Loving how he’s trying to prioritize your pleasure in these circumstances. Your fingers swirl around your engorged clit and you whimper in pleasure, walls pulsing around him. “Joel.”

He loves the way you moan and whimper his name. “That’s it baby. Make yourself cum. Use me for what you need and then I’ll fill you up like a good girl.” He promises, knowing that the end result will be the same but he wants you to enjoy this before the chaos starts.

His words go straight through you, making you clench down around him while your fingers rub your clit faster. Feeling your orgasm starting to build as you ride his cock. “I’ll be good.” You pant. “I’ll cum, I want to cum for you. Feels so, fuckkkkkkk-” You squeal when Joel snaps his hips up and it pushes you over the edge. Cunt spasming around his cock and soaking him as you cum harder than you have in years

Joel groans as you soak him, clamping down on his cock in a vice tight than anything he’s felt in so long. He pants as he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to keep himself from cumming too soon but it’s been too long. “Fuck. I’m gonna - I’m gonna- oh shit. You need to pull off if you want to go again.”

You know you should prolong it, if he wants to get out of the ties. Reluctantly, you lift off his cock and slump against his chest, “how much longer before you break them?” You whisper in his ear.

“Gimme a few minutes.” He says roughly, both to calm down and to get the zip ties undone. Those bastards tied them extra fucking tight and Joel can’t break them as easily behind his back. “Wanna make this good for you.” He says a little louder, “make you cum again.”

There’s a harsh banging against the door. “Hurry the fuck up!” One of the men shouts. You snort but Joel just shakes his head.

“You want me to cum? I need time!” He bellows back, smirking slightly at you. It’s kind of sexy how defiant he is and you lean in to kiss his jaw.

Joel hums, turning his head to press his lips against yours as you caress his shoulders. “Wanna put me back in? I’ve calmed down now.” He smirks, “want you to cum again for me.”

“Okay.” You reach down and moan when he twitches in your hand again as you line yourself up. “You’ve got a great cock.” You praise breathless when you start to sink down again.

“Thanks.” He murmurs, knowing that’s not something that he hears every day and he groans when you engulf him again. “You, uh, you have a great pussy. So tight and wet.” He says, a little awkwardly as he doesn’t really do compliments but for you, you deserve it.

“It’s just been awhile.” The fact that you are teasing him in this situation is a miracle, but you’ve had to keep a sense of humor since the outbreak or you would have gone crazy. “Any pussy would feel great.”

Joel wants to roll his eyes but he doesn’t, “you gonna make yourself cum again on my cock?” He asks, wanting to hear those sweet cries of pleasure again. This moment is for you. Fuck those assholes outside. They don’t control this moment. You do.

“Yes.” You pant breathlessly, settling down on him again and clenching down around him. “Gonna cum again on the best dick I’ve ever had. You’re so good, baby.”

“So good.” Joel murmurs, “want you to take what you need.” He says and he leans in to kiss your chest, licking along your collarbone. You almost taste sweet but that could be because you’re clean. It’s hard to maintain hygiene when you’re traveling like he has been.

When he’s saying that, it’s almost easy to believe that this is just for you and him. That there’s not men on the other side of the door that want to use you as a broodmare. You moan and turn your head to whimper his name in his ear.

He groans when you whimper his name, his cock twitching inside of you. “Baby. Baby. You gotta - need you to make yourself cum again. Nearly got the ties off.” He whispers the last part, knowing that he won’t be able to hold off his orgasm much longer.

“Okay, okay, I’m gonna cum.” You promise, reaching between your bodies and rubbing your clit. If he can get the ties off before he cums, he can pull you off his cock. Then you can both work on getting out of here. Hopefully he wasn’t lying when he said he would take you home. Even company on the road would be better than traveling alone.

Joel groans when you start to move and rub your clit. He wishes he could take over and he tugs on the zip ties, wanting to get out of them, and he watches you as you pleasure yourself using his body. “Keep going. Want you to cum for me.”

“Yes, yes.” You are practically galloping on his cock, riding him as fast as your body will move, feet pushing you up from the floor as gravity brings you back down. Making you grunt every time he hits so deep inside of you and pushes you close to the edge.

“That’s it. That’s it, sweetheart.” Joel grunts as you rock on top of him. “Make that sweet pussy gush for me.” He demands, his cock twitching inside of you and he desperately wants to see you cum again.

His words send a shiver down your spine, gasping out when his cock twitches and hits something divine inside you. Throwing you over the edge with a warbled cry of his name as you clamp down around him.

Joel hisses at the way you clamp down on his cock, soaking him again and he clenches his jaw, thrusting up into you as you soak him. “Fuck. Im - im gonna cum.” He pants as he clenches his eyes shut just before he falls over the edge. His cock twitching violently inside of you as he paints your walls and the force of his orgasm has him ripping free of the zip ties.

It shouldn’t feel good. It should horrify you that he just came inside you. But you can’t move, can’t react as your body holds you suspended on his cock as he rocks up into you.

Joel groans as he rides out his orgasm, his hands coming up to grab your back to keep you pressed against him as his lips find yours to smother his groan. “Fuck.” He mutters into your mouth as his cock pulses inside of you.

You pour yourself into the kiss, knowing that you will have to stop soon. He’s free, now you both need to be free. Free of this horrible place.

Joel pulls back from the kiss and looks at you, “I’m gonna keep my hands behind my back when they come in. Want you to go along with what they want until I whistle, okay?” He says, wanting you to know he has a plan to get you out of this.

“Okay.” You nod and pull off his cock with a slight moan so you can pull his pants back up. He can’t fight with his pants down and his cock out.

The door flings open moments later, having realized the moans have stopped, and the men come in. “Done the job?” They ask and Joel keeps his hands behind his back as he nods.

“Yes. All done.” He says, jerking his chin towards you and they drag you off of his lap, making his jaw clench as they kick your legs apart to make sure he came inside of you.

“Look at that creamy mess. She’s gonna make a cute little mama. She’ll be a horny one and I’m sure she will want a cock to sit on.” He chuckles and you wince.

Joel clenches his jaw, “yeah. That ain’t gonna be happening.” He promises, whistling at you and he stands up from the chair, making the man’s eyes widen and he shoves you away just as Joel grabs the chair to swing it around and whack him in the face.

All you can do is watch, eyes wide as Joel goes feral. He’s brutal. Dropping the chair and grabbing the gun from the other man and turning around to pistol whip the other. The man in the ground is groaning and struggling to his hands and knees before you move over and kick him in the stomach for the vulgarity of him.

Joel wasted no time grabbing the gun and he grabs the knife from the other man, slitting his throat before he repeats the action with the other man on the ground. It’s violent and bloody but they won’t scream for help if they are gargling on their blood and no one will be alerted to the fact that he’s free. He shrugs off his jacket hands it to you to put on as he holds the gun up and carefully strides down the hall, “stay behind me.” He demands as he escorts you through the compound, determined to find Ellie.

Wrapping his jacket around your nude body, you follow behind him. Sticking close and wishing you had your shoes at least. They had ordered you to strip and you don’t know what they did with your clothes. “The little girl. She would be at the end of the building.”

Joel nods, gun aimed as he walks down the hall to where Ellie is being held. He hears her before he sees her. “Get the fuck away from me, man. Where’s Joel? I want to talk to him. Now!” She demands and Joel wastes no time shoving the door open.

“How the fuck did you-?” The man holding her shouts and Joel wastes no time shooting him.

“Get your shit, kid. We are leaving.” He demands and Ellie scrambles to get her backpack.

“Who the fuck is she?” Ellie’s eyes widen when she realizes that you are naked underneath Joel’s coat. “You picking up naked women now?” She demands.

You pull the jacket tight around you and tell the girl your name. “He saved me.” That is all you tell her, not willing to divulge what happened between you.

“We don’t have time for this. Come on.” Joel growls as he escorts you and Ellie through the halls. “Where would your clothes be?” He asks, wanting you to have something to wear before you leave this hell hole.

“They might have put them back in my room.” You tell him quietly. “Down the hall to the left and three doors down.”

Joel nods, “stay here. I’ll get them.” He says as he hands the knife to you. “Scream and slash if anyone comes along. I’ll be right back.” He promises as he rubs down the hall, finding the room empty and he grabs the clothes from the side, rushing back down the hall.

“So, uh, are you okay?” Ellie asks as she shifts awkwardly, looking up and down the hall. It’s not like Joel just adopts people, and he doesn’t seem like he’s going to leave you behind.

“I’m- im good.” You murmur quietly.

Ellie nods, knowing that things happen and she isn’t sure she wants to know what happened to you. Joel is tense as he comes back down the hall with your clothes and boots. “Get your boots on.” He demands, knowing the rest can wait. You shove your feet in the boots and Joel nods, “stay close. No one makes a noise.” He demands as he guides you through the compound to find the exit.

It’s silent, making your heart feel like it’s pounding loud enough for everyone to hear. Freedom is so close. To get away from here is everything you’ve wanted since you’ve been brought here. Following behind the girl sandwiched between you and Joel, you figure that she is his daughter from how protective he is over her.

Joel sees the fire exit door, unguarded and the light shining through. He walks faster just as a man comes around the corner. “Fuck.” Joel grunts, raising his gun to kill the guy before he can shout. “They heard that.” Joel says as he grabs the guy’s gun from his holster and he slams the exit door open. “Go. Go. Go. Run!” He demands, shouting at you and Ellie to get out of the building. “Run into the woods.” He orders as he hears the others shouting out behind him.

Following Ellie, you run, not even daring to look back over your shoulder. Joel fires off another few shots and from the shouts, it sounds like he hit them. The brush scratches your thighs and legs as you run through the bitter wind, not bothering to try to keep the jacket closed around your body as you race for freedom.

Joel keeps running, running until all three of you collapse deep in the forest. Footsteps and shouts have faded and he feels that you can take a moment to take a breath. “Are you okay?” Joel asks Ellie breathlessly and she nods, “I’m fine.” He looks at you, walking over to you, “are you okay?”

"I'm free." You pant, closing your eyes and wrapping your arms around your body. "I- thank you." You whisper, opening your eyes again and looking up at him. "I-I'm fine, but I need to- to clean up and get dressed."

Joel nods, “there’s a stream that runs through here that we passed before they caught us.” He says, knowing he wouldn’t mind freshening up too before he has to talk to you about what happened back there. “Let’s go.” He says with a nod, knowing you’ll want to be back in your own clothes.

Pushing off the tree you had been leaning against, you start to follow Joel and Ellie again. It's easier to be behind them so they don't have to see you naked in Joel's coat and so you can continuously look over your shoulder to make sure no one is following you. "Oh thank God." You moan when you hear the water close by and break through the trees to see a small stream. It will be cold, but you need to try to wash Joel's cum out of your cunt.

“Let’s give her some privacy.” Joel says, holstering one gun and holding the other to keep guard as he guides Ellie through the brush to give you some space.

“Why is she naked?” Ellie asks, ever inquisitive. “Long story.” Joel sighs.

“Did she - did you and she-?” Ellie doesn’t finish the question but Joel looks at her with slightly pained eyes, “just leave it.”

Ellie's mouth drops open and she almost speaks again, but the look on Joel's face tells her that he will snap at her if she does. "Ooooookay." She huffs and shakes her head. "I thought sex would put someone in a good mood." She mumbles to herself. Down at the stream, you quickly pull off your boots and plunge into the cold water. Biting your lip to keep from screaming at the temperature, you quickly start washing your body. You don't have soap, but the cold water is better than nothing for washing away the cum between your thighs.

Joel feels the guilt closing in on him. The way he had sex with you and you didn’t want to have sex with him. You were forced and he’s struggling with that. Do you think he forced you? He swallows harshly as his eyes scan the perimeter, his ears on high alert for any noise and he spins when you come through the brush fully clothed. Your hands go up when he aims the gun at you until he lowers it. “Okay. We gotta keep moving.” He says, knowing his own wash can wait.

You shake your head, knowing that he will want to clean up. Get the residue of you off of him. You feel horrible, knowing that you took advantage of this man while he was tied up. It doesn't matter that you were forced to, you were the one who had done it. "I can watch." you offer quietly. "While you clean up. I know it would be better."

“It’s fine. Let’s move.” Joel says, knowing it’s risky to stay here for too long and it’s going to get dark soon. He wants you and Ellie as far away from that place as possible. “Ellie, come on.” He calls out as Ellie lingers behind. “We gotta move.” He says and starts to guide you through the trees.

You don't have anything but the clothes on your back. Handing the jacket back to Joel, you settle for keeping up with him. He walks briskly, obviously wanting to put plenty of distance between your little group and the men who were chasing you. Biting your lip, you wonder what will happen when you stop, if he will want to part ways, or if he will keep his word.

Joel sighs as walks as far as he can before it gets too dark. “We will set up camp here. I’ll take watch. We leave as soon as the sun rises. I want to get to Wyoming as fast as possible before anything else goes to shit.”

You shake your head. “You can’t possibly stay up all night.” You protest and Ellie scoffs.

“Good luck convincing him of that.” She huffs, shaking her head. “It’s downright impressive how stubborn he can be.” You bite your lip and nod, aware that he could just leave you here, so you decide not to argue. Ellie sets up her sleeping bag and there’s not going to be a fire, Joel is uncomfortable starting one since they might still be looking for you.

Joel gives you his sleeping bag, knowing he won’t be using it tonight, and he settles against a tree with his gun in hand, listening to every leaf and branch and rustle in the forest. It doesn’t take Ellie long to pass out but he can tell you’re still awake. “You should get some sleep. It’s been a long day.” He murmurs softly.

You stare at his profile in the dark, wondering if he will talk about what happened or just pretend it didn’t. It seems like he’s going to pretend it didn’t when the silence hangs between you. “Wake me when you get tired.” You finally whisper. “It’s been a long day for you too.”

Joel doesn’t respond with anything other than a nod and he watches you as you curl into his sleeping bag, exhausted by the events of the day. Joel sighs softly under his breath, knowing that you are a gorgeous young woman, someone he would’ve been lucky to have had in his previous life but he’s committed too many sins to ever reap such a reward. He sends a silent prayer up, that you aren’t pregnant. It’s a death wish in this new era.

****

Doubled over, you heave, the little bit of rabbit stew and water you had coming back up. Groaning as your stomach twists and turns, the hand on your back is reassuring, even though you know you can just imagine the concern on Ellie's face. True to your thoughts, Joel had never brought up that day, what had happened between you, and neither had you. You had desperately hoped that you would get your period, that the group's efforts to breed you would have been in vain. However, two months have gone by and now you are experiencing what can only be morning sickness on your trek across to the continent. You've had to backtrack, go south, and chase your tail to get around raging rivers, blown up bridges and bypass large cities where infected might be. Now, it seems like there's going to be a fourth member of your little party.

Joel winces when he hears you retching again. It’s been two months since he was forced to fuck you and he tries to deny the reality of what is happening but he can’t. Every day that passes, you’re in danger and he desperately needs to get you and Ellie to safety and not out in the middle of fucking nowhere.

"It's getting worse." Ellie huffs when you finally stop heaving and wipe your mouth with the back of your hand as you gasp for breath. It's been taking it out of you and you know that you've been slowing them down. You being sick has made you weaker and able to travel less. It wouldn't surprise you if Joel ended up leaving you out here on your own. "Joel! It's getting worse." Ellie barks at Joel where he is scanning the area again. "We need to get her some medicine or something."

Joel bites his lip, “it’s not medicine that she needs, kid.”

Ellie frowns, “then how the fuck is she gonna stop throwing up?” Ellie hisses, eyebrows raised and Joel shakes his head, looking at you, almost pleading with you to say it’s not so but deep down, he knows it’s happening.

"Time." You croak out, finally catching your breath and straightening. "It'll go away eventually. It just takes time." You know that Ellie is smart, she will figure it out, but right now, you don't need her worrying about it.

“So why aren't me and Joel sick?" She demands and you shrug your shoulders. "Just my lucky little virus, I guess."

Ellie scoffs, “I don’t want to be catching that.” Joel swallows harshly and he adjusts the rifle over his shoulder.

“You won’t.” He says, “it’s just her.” He grabs your water bottle and hands it to you, his dark eyes focusing on you.

"Thanks." You murmur quietly while Ellie mutters to herself. Taking a large drink, sighing, and wiping your mouth again. "I'm okay, Ellie." You promise her. "Why don't we keep on? I'm hoping we can find a house to sleep in tonight."

Joel nods, “it’s gonna be dark soon and it’s getting colder. We need a better shelter. Let’s keep going.” He says, knowing that he can focus on this. On survival. He can keep you and Ellie safe. This new development….he doesn’t know how he’s gonna handle it.

It takes you a moment to move once Ellie shuffles away. Aware that Joel’s eyes are still on you, but you don’t talk about it. Instead, you shuffle the small pack he had found for you up on your shoulders as you try not to freak out about being pregnant.

You walk for a couple more hours before you end up finding an abandoned house. It’s nothing fancy but it's a shelter from the cold wind and it’s warm. “Come on, let’s get inside.” Joel says, setting his rifle down as you and Ellie get inside of the cabin. “I’ll go see if I can find a rabbit or something. Get some wood for a fire.” He gestures to the empty fireplace.

“God, a fire.” You moan quietly. “Being warm when I sleep.” It’s been some time since you’ve slept under a roof and you are looking forward to it. Especially because you’re sure it’s going to rain tomorrow. You might be here for a day or so. “Let’s go collect some wood and see if we can find some water.” You tell Ellie as you drop your bag. “Maybe there’s some clothes in the bedrooms we can go through.”

Joel makes his way out into the woods, knife and gun in hand as he listens for any wildlife and his heart is pounding. You’re pregnant. He inhales sharply, suddenly feeling his lungs contract and he feels like he can’t breathe. Bending over, he closes his eyes and his heart is pounding. He failed Sarah. He’s failing Ellie. He’s going to fail you and the baby. He’s going to fail.

“You’re not like, gonna die, right?” Ellie asks as you both haul an armful of wood back to the small cabin. You had told her that the weather might get bad and it could be a good idea to get extra wood. The idea of spending a day or so with walls and roof around you seems positively luxurious, especially in bad weather. “I don’t think so.” You don’t want to tell her right now that you're pregnant, but soon you will have to. It’s horrible, but you wonder if Joel hopes you might lose the small little bean that’s growing in your belly. It’s not like he wanted a baby and this world isn’t made for babies anymore.

Joel inhales deeply, trying to catch his breath and he opens his eyes. It’s hard to think about becoming a father again and he tries to calm down. His heart pounding in his chest and he rubs his chest, trying to stop it. His mouth is dry and he gives himself a moment to gather his composure before he resumes his venture to find dinner.

Once you both have brought a good pile of wood inside, you start to poke around in the kitchen. Hoping that you might find a few cans of food or some sturdy pots to boil water in. You need to stay hydrated more than normal with your morning sickness.

Joel returns to the cabin with two rabbits, his blood pressure returns to normal, and he locks the door once it’s shut behind him. “Got two. Should be plenty for all of us.” Joel says, heading into the kitchen so he can work on skinning the rabbits and getting them on the fire that you and Ellie have prepped.

"There was a well." You announce. "We've hauled in a shit ton of water and the kid is already dreaming about a hot sponge bath." You tell him from the fire. You can't watch him skin the rabbits right now, your stomach would revolt.

Joel works fast to skin the rabbits and prepare them for cooking. He spears them and places them over the fire before he shrugs off his jacket, glancing at you across the room as you pour water into smaller buckets to heat up. “I’m sure everyone could use a clean up.”

“Damn right, you stink.” Ellie huffs, dramatically waving her hand in front of her nose.

You snort at the frown on Joel’s face and shake your head. “It’s hard work crossing the country.” You remind her.

Ellie chuckles, “too fucking right it is.”

Joel huffs, “language.” He reminds her and she rolls her eyes as he turns the rabbits. “Go clean up, kid. Dinner won’t be too long.” He says after the buckets of water are warmed and you help her carry them into the bathroom.

“I found a couple of cans.” You tell Joel. “Stuck them in Ellie’s bag.” The labels were long since peeled, but the cans weren’t swollen, so there is a good chance the food inside is still good. “And there’s some clothes that might fit you.”

Joel nods as he spins the rabbits. “That’s good. This shirt is getting ratty. Too thin with the colder weather coming in on us. How are you…how are you feelin’?” He asks softly, “do you think you’re - that you got-?” He can’t finish the sentence, too terrified to know the answer despite already knowing it deep down.

You sigh softly, knowing the conversation had to come eventually. “There were some larger clothes that I stuffed in my bag when Ellie wasn’t looking. For when I can’t fit these.” You tell him quietly. “I’m sorry. If you want to leave with Ellie in the morning, leave me behind, I’ll understand. You didn’t ask for this.”

Joel shifts away from the fire, coming over to you. “You didn’t ask for this either. Those bastards…they forced you - they forced us. Now, we face the reality of what happened and I- I am not a man to run away from my responsibility. You’ll stay with me and Ellie. You will have this baby and I will use everything in me to protect you all. With my life.” He promises.

“I don’t want you to do that.” You shake your head and frown. “Ellie needs you. She’s important.” Over the course of the last two months, you’ve learned why they are on the road and why he’s so protective over her. “If it comes down to you or me and the baby, you choose yourself.”

Joel scoffs, “you gotta be fucking kidding me, baby?” He says and shifts closer. “I will never choose myself over you and the baby. Never.” He hisses, “I don’t give a fuck about my life. I am here to protect you and Ellie and now this baby. That’s my life. That’s my duty.” He says with conviction.

You don’t agree with him, Ellie is more important than you, but you don’t argue. You can see the set of his jaw, he won’t change his mind. Instead, you look back at the fire. “There’s bad weather moving in,” you tell him quietly. “Ellie and I gathered enough wood to stay if it doesn’t blow through in the night.”

“Then we will see it out. Are you hungry?” He asks, knowing you must be. He is and he isn’t the one growing a child inside of him. God, a baby. His child. His heart twists and he wonders if it’s a boy or a girl. It doesn’t matter either way as long as they are healthy and safe but he is terrified he’s going to fail them.

“I’m starving.” You admit sheepishly. “Getting sick hasn’t been helping but it feels like I’ve not eaten in a week.” Even though you are ravenous, you won’t take more than either one of them. All three of you need to keep up your strength. “Soon enough Ellie will find out too.” You remind him. “What do we tell her? Do you- um, do you want her to think it’s someone else’s baby?”

Joel shakes his head, “she’s not stupid. We will tell her it’s mine and that we were forced into having sex. Ellie is - she’s beyond her years and I know that she won’t judge us. She needs to know if we are to be a unit.” Joel says softly, already deciding to give up some of his portion so he can make sure you have enough food.

You sigh softly, aware that you are a burden to him. He didn’t want another kid and here you are pregnant. “At least we will be warm and cozy tonight.” You change the subject, looking around the cabin. “This place must have been cute twenty years ago.”

Joel looks around and nods, “yeah. I used to build houses with my brother. We had a construction company. Seems like a lifetime ago now.” He sighs, thinking of Tommy. “Do you, uh, what do you want? A girl or a boy?” He asks after a moment.

It takes you a minute to realize he’s asking about the baby. Surprising you again, although you can see Joel being a man who worked with his hands before the outbreak. “I don’t really care if it’s a boy or girl.” You admit, your hand drifting down to your stomach. “As long as they are healthy, right?”

Joel nods, “healthy is all that matters. I, uh, I had a daughter. Before the outbreak. Her name was Sarah. She was shot on the day and I- I - I died that day too.” He admits quietly, staring into the fire.

“Oh god.” Your heart sinks and your eyes start to water. You can’t imagine how he felt losing his daughter. “I’m so sorry, Joel.” You reach out and touch his arm. “Nothing I can say will make it okay, but I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t push you away like he would everyone else. You are connected to him now and you deserve to know who he is, even the ugly dark parts of him he’s hidden away. He takes your hand in his, squeezing it, “thanks. I miss her every second of every day but Ellie…she gave me a new purpose.”

“She’s a special girl, I can see why you’ve grown attached to her.” You murmur. “She’s amazingly resilient. I don’t know if I could have survived all of this when I was her age. I was so innocent.” You snort, amused at how naive you had been at her age.

Joel chuckles, “ain’t we all at that age? It was a different time. We were allowed to be naive. She isn’t.” He sighs after a second and lets go of your hand so he can take the rabbits off of the fire. “Can you go tell the kid dinner is ready? She will soak all night if you let her.”

“I will.” You had found some metal dishes, ones that you can take with you, and cleaned them up. It will be a proper dinner tonight. Making your way to the small bathroom, you knock on the door. “Ellie? Dinner is ready, okay?” She huffs but agrees and you grin at the attitude teenagers give as you go back into the main area.

Joel serves up the rabbit onto the plates, serving you and Ellie more than him and he brings the plates over to the rickety table, setting them down. “Eat.” He orders you when you appear back in the room.

You frown when you see only two plates and shake your head. “Where’s yours?” You demand, not wanting him to go without.

“I’ll get meat off of the bones.” He says, knowing he can get more from the bone than you or Ellie. Ellie doesn’t like chewing from the bone.

You want to argue but you know it will do no good. Joel is determined to make sure that you and Ellie are taken care of and you can’t fight him your entire pregnancy. You resolve to make sure that he has plenty of meat when you are done. “There’s a pot we can make a stew with tomorrow?” You offer, knowing that would stretch the food supply that you find. “It’s not heavy. I can carry it.”

Joel bites his lip, not liking the idea of you carrying anything at all. “Until it’s too heavy. Then I’ll take it.” He commands as Ellie comes out of the hall, dressed in new clothes and her hair wet.

“Fuck yes. I'm starving.” She groans as she sits down at the table and immediately digs into the food.

You eat more slowly, drinking a lot of water since you’ve been sick and chuckling to yourself as Ellie chokes down the food like she’s not eaten in years. “Slow down, you don’t want to make yourself sick.”

Ellie nods, “don’t wanna be like you. Getting sick and shit.”

You chuckle softly and nod, glancing over at Joel. “Fair enough.” You hum and Joel nibbles on the bones, enjoying the flavor of the meat.

“Slow down.” Joel tells Ellie after a second, “don’t need you throwin’ up around here.”

You snort when she rolls her eyes, but starts to slow down. All of you continue to eat in silence and Joel frowns when you push your half eaten plate towards him. “I can’t eat anymore.” You tell him truthfully. The water is sloshing in your belly. “Besides, if I get sick in the morning, it will just be a waste.”

Joel narrows his eyes at you slightly, trying to discern if you are being truthful and he reluctantly takes the plate, picking up the remaining rabbit to eat it. “Try to keep it down. You need to eat and keep your energy up.” He tells you, “and plenty of rest.”

Ellie snorts. “Okay, dad.” She huffs sarcastically. “Jesus, you act like she’s pregnant or something.” You freeze for a split second before you laugh, trying to make that thought disappear.

Joel looks at you before he looks at Ellie and she picks up the look. “Oh shit. She’s - you’re - you’re pregnant?” She chokes and you glance back at Joel.

“She is.” He declares, “we, uh, when those assholes took us a couple of months back…they tied me up and uh, they made us have sex. And from that…she’s pregnant.” Joel explains as simply as he can.

“Assholes!” Ellie huffs, indignant on your behalf and you bite your lip. You hadn’t wanted to tell her at all, but she would have figured it out.

“So now you know why you can’t catch what’s making me sick.”

Ellie nods, surging forward to hug you and you’re surprised but return it. “You didn’t deserve that. Neither of you did but I’m excited for a baby. Wonder if it’s gonna look like you or Joel. Hopefully you.” She says, “are you guys together?” She asks and you shake your head.

Joel bites his lip, “we, uh, we didn’t - it was once to save our lives and I’m gonna be here for you and her and the baby. No matter what.”

He couldn’t look more awkward if he tried and all the dreams you have been having about Joel while sleeping just fizzle away. Reminding you that he hadn’t wanted you, it was just circumstance that had caused this, and a fucked up circumstance at that. “It’s better that we aren’t.” You tell her lightly, reaching out and tugging on her hair. “You don’t have to watch us kiss or hear us late at night.”

Ellie wrinkles her nose, “I can’t even imagine you kissing anyone.”

You snort and Joel rolls his eyes, “finish your food.” He orders, picking up his canteen and gulping down some water. He can’t let you know that he thinks about that time with you every night. He thinks about how you felt, how you smelt, how he wants to touch you again. In the past two months, he’s gotten to know more about you and it’s hard to deny that he likes you.

When the rabbits are gone, you collect the plates and wash everything in the five gallon bucket of water you had kept aside for that and bite your lip. “We still have enough water for both of us to wash.” You offer Joel. “Do you want to go first?”

Joel shakes his head, "you go first. Take your time and relax." He insists, "Ellie, it's time for bed." He says, "I'm gonna do a scan of the area before I lock us in." He says, grabbing his rifle.

“Awww man, I’m gonna get to sleep on a mattress.” She huffs happily, pulling her sleeping bag out of her bag and setting it down on the old bedding you had dragged out into the main room. Figuring it would be better to sleep next to the fire than in the bedroom.

Joel smiles to himself as he exits the cabin, his ears on high alert for any intruders as the smoke from the chimney billows into the night sky. He clutches the gun as he walks around the perimeter, wanting to make sure you and Ellie are safe before he retreats back into the cabin. He’s glad Ellie knows. He’s gonna need all the help he can get on this trek to find Tommy. Time is of the essence.

In the bathroom, you strip down with a sigh and crawl into the tub. Groaning quietly as you slip into the cool water, it’s still warmer than you’re used to and that is a pleasure. You want to enjoy this and spend a little time relaxing while you can.

Joel settles in to first watch as you come out of the bathroom dressed in new clothes. “Get some sleep, sweetheart. Who knows when the next time we get to sleep in somewhere like this.” You nod, shifting to lay down on the mattress inside of your sleeping bag.

****

Joel wipes his face, the wind whipping in his face and he glances back at you and Ellie behind him. The snow is falling and you are struggling. Your bump is round and pushing against your coat and every damn minute has Joel close to a heart attack when you stumble or get tired. He’s failed you. It’s taken too long to get you to Wyoming and he knows deep down you hate him for dragging you across the fucking country.

You pant quietly, aware that Joel has to keep slowing down for you. It’s been miserable and it seems like your luck never seems to get better. You stumble slightly, Ellie reaching out to steady you in the deepening snow. “We need to stop!” She shouts ahead to Joel but you shake your head.

“No! Keep going. I’m fine.” Your back is aching and pinging with pain, but you know that you need to go farther to find shelter for the night.

Joel turns back to look at you, seeing the way your brow is pinched. “We gotta keep going. Find shelter. We can’t be out in this.” He shouts and keeps his rifle pointed just in case someone sneaks up on you. His eyes constantly scan the horizon for any sign of a shelter. The darkness draws in until he finally calls it, finding a cave near the river to shelter in. “Come here, sweetheart.” He says, helping you sit down on your sleeping bag. “You need water?” He asks as he gets your flask.

“Please.” You reach for the water, panting slightly. It’s been hard today, your body aching more than normal and the baby has been kicking like crazy. Joel’s been amazing through this all, although you know he’s getting frustrated with how long this is taking. Having a pregnant woman slowing him down wasn’t something he had anticipated.

He hands the bottle to you, shifting to kneel down and his hand rests on your stomach, feeling the kicks. “Christ. They are active. Your back must be aching. Lay down. Ellie - let’s get some wood for a fire and then I’ll find us some food.” Joel says, knowing he needs to find extra. You need your strength and he’s been trying to go without so you have more for the time comes for you to give birth. He’s terrified. Fucking terrified of that moment and it’s any day now.

“I-I’m fine.” You insist even though you are exhausted. “Just need to rest.” You want nothing more than for Joel to pull you into his arms and maybe rub your back, but your stomach is pretty much all he will touch. “Don’t go on my account.”

He wants to laugh and say it’s the least he can do but he can’t. He sighs and stands up, glancing at Ellie who nods. “Watch her and I’ll be back. Don’t go too far.” He orders as he grabs his rifle and ventures into the darkness to find your dinner.

“Are you okay?” Ellie asks quietly, her serious face as she watches you closely. “I’m good.” You promise. “Just tired and fat.”

Ellie shakes her head, “you aren’t fat. You’re growing a fucking baby. That’s insane. It’s crazy that a baby is gonna come out of your vagina. I do not fucking envy that.” Ellie shivers in disgust.

You let out a small laugh, secretly having the same thought. You’ve tried hard to hide the fact that you’re terrified from her. It won’t do any good to have her upset about something that you can’t change. “We need to start a fire.” You groan. “Give me a minute and I’ll help you find some wood.”

Ellie nods as you stand up, groaning out as you struggle with the surge of pain. Ellie helps you up, holding onto your arms. Meanwhile, Joel is hunting, his ears pricked up to hear any rustling. His heart is pounding and he knows it's the anxiety again. He is terrified of you having the baby. He's already failed you. He hasn't found Tommy and you're in the middle of nowhere. He's already failed his child and he feels sick about it.

You constantly ache now, every fiber of your being protesting in pain. Although you know that it’s just because you’re pregnant, you also fear that you might be going into labor. You can’t tell Joel or Ellie that, they will freak out. The pain passes and you sigh, thinking that it’s not so bad right now.

Joel returns with a few rabbits, the fire started by Ellie and he works fast to skin and gut the rabbits before he sets them on the fire to cook. “You doin’ okay, sweetheart?” He asks you, seeing the sweat on your forehead. “You sick?”

“Hot flash.” You lie with a grin. “Don’t know how, but your kid is making me boil in the middle of winter.” You laugh. “Good thing I’m not pregnant during the summer, I would have never survived without air conditioning.”

Joel nods, handing you some water. He refilled the flasks down at the river. His stomach twists with the words “your kid” and the reality hits him again. “Christ. It’s too fucking dead out here. There’s nothing. Not even a cabin. You’re about to pop and I- I have failed you.” He whispers when Ellie goes to set up her sleeping bag.

“You haven’t failed me.” You scoff, shaking your head at him. “You got me away from that place, you’ve protected me. Kept me fed and safe.” You haven’t failed me.” It’s sobering to realize that he’s upset about things you can’t change.

Joel swallows harshly and shakes his head, “I gotta get you somewhere safe before you give birth. We have nothing for a baby.” He says, glancing back at the fire. “We need to make sure we can get more clothes to make diapers or something.”

“I’ve been saving our clothes as they wear out.” You admit. “My bag is full of them. I just need to cut them up into diapers.”

Joel realizes how much more prepared you are both physically and mentally for this baby than he is. He didn’t even think of that. He nods and reaches for your hand, “great idea. This - it will be fine.” He says more to himself than to you.

You hold onto his hand for a moment, knowing that it’s the closest you will get to him again. “It will be fine.” You echo. “Women have been having kids for thousands of years.”

Joel nods, knowing it's true but he needs to make sure you're safe and in an environment where your child can be born safe and without fear. He swallows down some water and he gets the rabbits on the fire.

He’s watching you closely, so every time you grunt in pain, he looks over. “Baby’s active.” You explain and he nods. The baby has been kicking more, so it is plausible. Maybe this is just those fake labor pains you used to hear about when you talked about this kind of thing. It seems like a million years ago. “Do you- uh, you do have any names you’d want?” You ask curiously.

Joel licks his dry lips, knowing that he hadn’t really thought about a name. Thinking about names makes it all real and he’s struggled enough with the reality of becoming a father again. “I haven’t really thought about it.” He confesses, “haven’t really had time. Do you have any names?” He asks, wondering what you have pondered. This is your first child and he knows that you must’ve thought about names.

“I - it’s so hard to think about.” You admit quietly. “All the names I’ve thought about have memories attached and it’s a lot more than being able to name them. I don’t even know if it’s a boy or a girl.” You bite your lip. “What- did Sarah have a middle name? Do you?”

Joel bites his lip, “Sarah’s middle name was Alexandra because my middle name is Alexander. So…Alex.” He says, “could work for both.” He snorts with a soft smile as he remembers the day he and his ex decided on Sarah’s name after she was born.

“Alex.” You smile softly at the name and think that it’s perfect. “Would it be….too painful if I named the baby that?” You don’t want to hurt him, reminding him of the child he lost. Nor do you want him to think you are trying to replace Sarah, just….honor her a little.

Joel reaches for your hand, “not at all. I think it’s perfect.” He promises, his heart aching at the thought of his baby girl but she’s gone and this baby is coming. He can love Sarah with his entire being and still be a father to this new baby. “Are you feeling okay?” He asks when he feels you squeeze his hand.

“I’m okay.” You promise, nodding quickly. “Just-“ you grunt slightly. “Hard to find a comfortable way to sit, or lay, or exist right now.” You joke, hoping he accepts that answer. “If it wasn’t freezing, I’d probably be looking for the nearest body of water to float in to feel like less of a cow.”

“You ain’t a cow. You are…you are beautiful.” Joel murmurs, letting go of your hand so you can find a comfortable position. “I know this baby isn’t coming into the world that we knew and it’s…it scares me to death to think about all the things that could happen to them but you gotta know, I’ll protect you, Ellie, and this baby until my dying breath.”

“Can you please stop talking about dying?” You ask softly, not wanting to let Ellie overhear. “That scares me. So much.” You blow out a breath. “I- you protect us so much better than I can, I can’t- not having you here-“ you choke up, eyes filling with tears. “I’m sorry…” you whimper. “Hormones.” Wiping your eyes, you try to compose yourself. “I don’t want to think about any of our dying breaths right now.”

Joel nods, reaching up to gently wipe your tear away, his hand cupping your cheek as his dark eyes meet yours. “It’s okay, sweetheart. I’ll fight tooth and nail to stay with you and the kids as long as possible.” He assures you, his hand still on your cheek.

There’s a moment where you think that he’s being tender. That there’s a hint of affection for you, before his eyes shift again. His walls go back up. You don’t sigh, but you want to. Instead, you nod against his hand, nuzzling into it slightly. “Thank you.” You murmur quietly

He drops his hand from your cheek and glances over as Ellie settles on her sleeping bag while the rabbit cooks. “It’s okay. We will figure it all out.” He promises and turns his attention back to the rabbit cooking over the fire.

Your own comfort is now down to zero as you shift, trying to find the best way to lay and ease the tension in your back. At least there is a rock outcrop to lean against and you sigh when you have to pee again. “Ellie, help me up.” You ask softly. “I have to pee.”

Ellie nods, shifting off of her sleeping bag to help you up. “Geez, I am glad I don’t like boys.” She murmurs and you chuckle, “pregnancy sucks.” You tell her and she snorts, “I can tell.” Joel cuts up the rabbits, placing it in the tins you have been carrying to use as bowls.

Waddling off for a little privacy, you groan quietly and clutch your stomach. You do need to pee, but you needed a second away from their concern more. “Fuck”. You whimper. “Just- just let me get through the night.” You tell yourself and any other higher power that might be listening. “We need tonight.”

The next morning, Joel can see how weary you are, the redness in your eyes from lack of sleep and he’s worried. Every day could be the day the baby comes and he needs to get you somewhere safe. “You doing okay?” He asks, wanting to make sure you’re okay when he can see how you’re struggling.

“Didn’t sleep.” You don’t mention that Joel had passed out and both you and Ellie had let him sleep. He’s constantly exhausted and it’s starting to wear him down. “I’ll be okay.” You murmur. “We need to move.”

Joel nods, knowing you need to rest but he also needs to get you somewhere safe. When you come across the cabin, Joel is excited to find shelter until the woman tries to shoot him and misses. He wrangles her and ties her up, managing to get out of her that her husband is coming home soon.

Once the woman realizes that you are pregnant, she makes you and Ellie some soup. Making you sit down in a comfortable chair that has you moaning in pleasure. “She will give birth soon.” She predicts as she sits down in the chair opposite you, ignoring Joel and the gun. “Her spirit is strong.”

Joel clenches his jaw, on edge in case it's more than just her husband who is returning. When the man comes back, his own gun is raised and he reprimands his wife for letting Joel in until he sees you, sitting pregnant in his favorite chair. "She needs a safe place to give birth." He says, knowing that won't be his cabin. It's bad enough to have Joel and the women in his home for this amount of time.

“I'm fine.” You hiss, right as a pain strikes so it just makes you look angry. “Tell him what he wants to know and we will leave.”

Joel clenches his jaw and adjusts his gun. “Don’t go south of the river. It’s only dead there.” The old man tells Joel who glances at you for a second. “Get your stuff. We are leaving.” Joel says with a set jaw.

You bite your lip, struggling out of the chair and you sigh in relief. The pressure isn’t nearly as bad since you’ve eaten and rested, it has to be those false labor pains everyone always talks about. “Thank you.” You murmur to the old woman. “Take care of your baby.” She warns you.

Joel sighs as he escorts you and Ellie back into the wilderness. The snow is deep and the wind is freezing. “You warm enough?” He asks you when you shake, worried that’s it’s too cold for you to continue and you can’t just sit down and have a baby in the middle of fucking nowhere.

“I’m okay.” It’s like your motto now, you utter it so often, but you have to be. You can’t stay at that cabin to give birth, but you need to find somewhere safe. His hand hovers over your back and you nearly stumble in the snow.

Joel glances around, eyes narrowed to shield against the storm. “Come on baby. Let’s get movin’” He says as he escorts you along the riverbank. “We going across?” Ellie asks and Joel nods, leading the way across to the “dead” side of the river.

The bridge almost looks forbidden, but the three of you walk across it, the icy water rushing underneath. “Looks like a dam.” You grunt out, biting your lip when another pain, sharp this time, shoots across your belly.

Joel can tell something is wrong but before he can even ask you, you’re suddenly surrounded. Horses approach and he shoves you and Ellie behind him, his heart pounding in his chest as he grips his gun, outnumbered with each passing second, he’s terrified.

The men, the horses, all of it makes you clutch your stomach. Pulling Ellie behind you, to protect her while you try not to double over when another pain crashes through you.

When the dog appears, Joel freezes. When he’s told it detects the virus, he’s terrified that the dog is going to rip Ellie apart. Or attack you for some reason. His heart pounds, puffing out clouds as his breathing quickens and he feels like he’s gonna be sick as he holds his hands up. “Please.” He mouths like it’s going to make a difference and all he can do is brace himself.

You tense when the dog rushes towards you. Barking and snapping, for a second you think it’s going to bite your stomach. Until he whines and sits. Ellie’s hand in front of you and you can’t believe the girl was going to risk getting attacked for you. Watching in amazement as the dog starts to lick her. Until another pain has you doubling over and screaming in pain.

Joel spins, uncaring of the guns on him until he’s ordered to stand still. “Please. She’s pregnant. We are trying to get shelter and I’m trying to find my brother.” He says, voice shaking a little as his fists clench when he can’t do shit but stand there.

“Joel!” You gasp and the woman on the horse looks at him, “Joel?” She asks, recognizing the name. She glances at her fellow riders and nods, making Joel frown as the guns lower slightly so he rushes over to you.

“Sweetheart. What - oh shit.” He gasps as he sees your jeans go darker.

You whimper, feeling colder now that your water has broken and soaked your clothes. “I’m sorry, I tried-“ you grab onto his arm. “I tried to hold off.” You start to cry, knowing that you are in labor and these people are probably going to kill you all because of you.

Joel’s eyes are wide as he looks at the woman on the horse whose mouth is hanging open. “Get her inside. Now.” She orders and Joel guides you over to the horse.

“This is gonna hurt, baby.” He warns you as he helps you up, your cry echoing in the clearing as you grunt in pain but soon you are on and Joel swings on behind you, Ellie getting on another horse. The group escorts you through the gates and Joel’s eyes widen at the sight of something he hasn’t seen in a long time: a community.

You are barely able to hold into the saddle horn, panting as you can finally breathe now that the pain has passed. Unable to even pay attention to the commotion around you as you come to terms with the fact that you are having this baby now. “Holy fuck-“ Joel hisses and pulls the horse to a stop. “Tommy!” Your head jerks up at the name of his brother. Could he be here? Joel shifts off the mount, nearly falling down as he stares at a man on a scaffolding. “Tommy!”

Tommy’s eyes widen as he climbs down the scaffolding. “Joel!” He shouts back, both men rushing towards each other before they embrace, Joel pulling back to look at the brother he’s been searching for for so long. Your cry of pain drags them away from their reunion and Joel pats his brother on the back. “She’s having a baby. She needs medical attention. Now.” Joel demands and Tommy looks at Maria who nods.

Hands, so many hands, gently pull you off the horse. Although it’s Joel who practically drags you off your feet as they lead the way. Through some buildings and into a room that looks like a doctor’s office. “Jo-Joooooeeeeelllllllll!” You clench your teeth together as another pain rips through you.

“I’m here.” He promises, holding you tight as he gets escorted into a room with a bed and a set up like pre-outbreak days. He would be impressed if he wasn’t fucking terrified. “It’s gonna be okay, sweetheart.” He promises, helping the women take off your coat and the wet clothes. He turns his head when you’re naked. Not because he doesn’t want to see you but he hasn’t since the day he got you pregnant and you deserve your modesty. A hospital gown is put on you and you are helped onto the bed.

“Let’s see what’s going on here.” An older woman, who was a midwife in the previous world, introduces herself and that’s when Joel crumbles. He can’t stand there. He’s failed you. He’s already failed this baby. He stumbles out of the room, blindly walking until Tommy finds him.

When Joel walks out the door, your entire body sags and you start to cry. Unable to call out for him, unwilling to force him to be here with you. Circumstance had made him put up with you, but now he’s fulfilled his part of your deal. He’s gotten you somewhere safe. “It’s okay, dear.” The kind midwife pats your leg and tries to soothe you. “I need to see how far you’ve progressed. How long have you been in labor?” Her question makes you focus and you shake your head. “I thought it was fake pains.” You gasp. “Two- two days ago I started cramping.”

Tommy pours Joel a glass of whiskey and he stares at his younger brother. Months. Fucking months he’s been traveling trying to find him. He’s put his life on the line. He’s got Ellie and you now. Your lives on the line and the baby. Shit, his baby. Meanwhile, Tommy has been shacked up in a nice community with running water and electricity without a single word to his older brother that he's alive. “Looks like you’ve got things good here.” He says after he takes a sip, needing to calm his nerves when your face keeps flashing in his mind.

“Yeah. I, uh, got married. Maria. She’s my wife.” Tommy says and Joel congratulates him through gritted teeth.

“I gotta go to Colorado. Take the kid. She, uh, she needs to go there.” He half explains and Tommy shakes his head.

“I can’t do that. I’m going to be a dad.” He reveals and Joel almost chokes on his beer.

“So am I.” He murmurs and Tommy’s eyes widen.

“The pregnant - your baby?” He asks and Joel nods. “What the fuck are you doing here then? You should be with her.” Tommy growls and Joel shakes his head, his hand shaking as he sets the beer down.

“I’ve already failed her. The baby. All of them. I can’t - what if - Sarah.” He gasps, feeling the anxiety threatening to overwhelm him again. Tommy comes around the counter to touch his brother’s shoulder.

“You won’t fail them. You’ve kept them alive. Now go. You need to be there to see your child born.” Tommy insists, “come on, I’ll take you.”

You're nearly fully dilated. The midwife said it won’t be too much longer before you are pushing your baby out. She’s given you an IV, but she doesn’t have any drugs to give you. Your eyes squeeze shut as another pain consumes you, making you cry out Joel’s name since you felt safest with him. Even though he’s not here. He’s left you. He doesn’t want to be here when his child is born.

Joel rushes in when one of the women standing outside of your room tells him you’re about to push. “I’m sorry. I’m here. I’m here, baby.” Joel promises as he comes over to stand next to the bed, pushing your sweaty hair out of your face and offering you his hand to squeeze as tight as you need when you push. “I’m sorry I left. Fuck, I’m sorry baby.”

Even as you are grabbing onto him, you’re shaking your head. “No, no, no, you don’t want this.” You whine in pain. “You don’t- just goooooo.” You gasp out and clutch his hand even harder. “I’m- I know you don’t want- Sarah-“

Joel feels the guilt settle over him like fog, heavy and he can admit, self induced. “No. No. I - I won’t go. I’ve been terrified of becoming a father again. Of failing again. Of failing you. The baby. Just like a failed Sarah and - shit - baby, I can’t lose anyone else.” He chokes, squeezing your hand like it’s his lifeline.

You are panting by the time the pain passes, slumping back against the bed and letting out a small sob. “I won’t-“ you don’t finish the sentence because you know childbirth is dangerous. Anything could happen. “I love you.” You whimper before the next pain starts and the midwife tells you to start pushing. Unable to look at Joel to see his reaction as you grit your teeth and bear down.

He doesn’t respond, knowing it could’ve been the emotions of the moment and he’s never been a man to just blurt out how he feels without considering his words and the circumstances. Words like love are thrown around too much, even nowadays, and he doesn’t want you to say something and regret it. “That’s it, sweetheart. Doing so good. Just breathe.” He says, trying to coach you and reassure you like he did his wife when Sarah was born.

There isn’t time for you to focus on Joel’s non response to your confession. Focusing on your need to push and the orders the midwife is giving you while Joel steadies you is comforting. Closing your eyes when you have a moment to breathe before you are tending to push again.

His heart pounds in his chest, his eyes darting from your face to the midwife between your legs. “Doing good, baby.” Joel promises despite not having a clue how far along you are. Your nails dig into his palm and he swallows down the hiss of pain, knowing it’s nothing compared to the pain you’re going through right now.

“The head is almost out.” The midwife looks up. “The next push will be for the shoulders and I need you to push hard.” She orders, making you nod and regrip Joel’s hand. “Okay, push!” Your grunt turns into a scream as you bear down, feeling the blood rushing through your veins and your lungs start to scream for oxygen.

“You got this. You’re doing so good.” Joel promises, letting you squeeze the shit out of his hand. He is terrified for the baby to be born. Shit scared there’s something wrong with them. “You got this baby. Nearly there.” He murmurs, unable to stop himself from leaning in to kiss your forehead.

One more push and the pressure instantly goes away. A choked cry filling the room, getting louder as it squawks and you are looking down as the midwife comes up with your child in her arms. “Congratulations mama, it’s a boy.” She tells you, depositing the still slick child onto your chest.

Joel lets go of your hand, a choke escaping his lips as he stares at the baby now crying out in protest of being pushed into the world, and tears sting in his eyes. His hand raises to touch the baby but he stops, unsure of what you want and the midwife grabs some surgical scissors, asking if he wants to cut the cord. It feels surreal. Like it’s a dream he’s about to wake up from. His hand shakes as he cuts the cord and he stands by you, unsure of how you want him to proceed.

Looking down at your son, your hands shake as you hold him. Unable to believe this is real. “A- a boy.” You choke out, looking up to see Joel looking at you with longing in his eyes. He’s not hiding it right now. “Take him.” You order softly, moving to pull him off your chest. “Hold your son, Joel.”

Joel doesn’t hesitate, slowly reaching out to take the baby into his arms. He’s tiny and so perfect. Ten fingers and ten toes. His eyes like yours. His nose is like Joel’s. He’s perfect and Joel can’t stop the tears that suddenly stream down his cheeks. “Hey little man.” He murmurs, staring at the baby in awe. His son. “Hi Alex.” He whispers, leaning forward to press a kiss to his forehead.

You smile, exhausted and still cramping as the midwife continues to work on you, but you can’t take your eyes off the scene. The big, burly, gruff man is so fucking gentle as he holds his son. Starting to gently sway, rocking him as he holds the minute old child. “Alexander Joel Miller.” You venture softly, wondering how he would feel about the complete name.

Joel looks over at you, his eyes widening slightly as you name your child with a version of his own name. It’s perfect and he knows at that moment that there’s no use denying how he feels, at least to himself. “It’s perfect.” He murmurs, carrying the baby back over to you to place him in your arms, stroking his head as he settles against your chest to try and root at your breast. “Did you mean it?” He asks you softly as his eyes flick from the baby to you.

You keep your eyes on your son, not wanting to see the rejection in Joel’s. “I don’t expect anything from you.” You promise him quietly. “You didn’t ask for this, for me and Alex.” It’s crazy that you’ve fallen for him, but you have. His dedication to protecting you and the baby, Ellie, has made you fall in love with him. “Just- just don’t reject Alex, please. You don’t have to love me, or even be around me.”

Joel leans closer to you, “it’s hard to not love you when it’s already happened.” He murmurs, “I- I’m not good with words or - or emotions, but sweetheart, you gotta know that there’s nothing on this earth that I’ve ever felt like this before.” He confesses softly. It’s true. Even his ex wife didn’t make his heart pound like you do. “I’ve wanted you for months but I thought you didn’t want me after we were forced to- you know. I didn’t want to make things awkward between us when I had to protect you and Ellie and if you didn’t feel the same. I’m not good at this but for you, I want to try. I want you and our family.”

Your lip trembles and you close your eyes in relief that he feels the same way you do. “I don’t- I don’t want to trap you.” You explain. “I know that we were forced to have Alex, but I enjoyed it. I felt so guilty for enjoying that, for getting pregnant. But I don’t regret this little joy.” You look down at the way your son is still hungrily trying to suckle, grunting at your breast. “He’s a symbol of hope. That there is something to live for, fight for.”

Joel nods in agreement, “he’s our hope. You didn’t trap me. You were forced just as much as I was and I- shit - I feel so guilty thinking of that time together as much as I do.” He admits quietly, “I can’t regret that day when it brought me you and Alex. I love you, baby. I- I know I’m an asshole who can’t handle emotions most of the time so don’t expect me to say it all the time to you but I want you to know that’s how I feel.”

“I don’t care that you say it.” You shake your head, smiling at him when you look back up at the man who has saved you. “You show it. You show Ellie by letting her be herself and keeping her safe. You show me by protecting me and looking out for me and Alex.” You brush your hand over your son’s head, aware that he will still have to be cleaned up, but he’s only minutes old. “You will show your son you love him by teaching him how to survive this world, to protect those he loves.”

Joel nods, wanting to believe you and he tries despite his demons whispering in his ear about how he is going to fail. He swallows harshly as he leans in to kiss your forehead and he nudges his nose against yours, "can I kiss you?" He asks softly and you nod. He leans in closer to brush his lips against yours, soft and sweet.

You sigh into the kiss, loving how tender it is. Reaching up, you cup his cheek and caress it until the midwife slowly tries to take the baby to clean him up.

Joel pulls back, a slight blush on his cheeks when the midwife winks at him and he watches as she carries the baby over to clean him up and weigh him. “You did so good.” Joel murmurs, kissing your forehead, “you’re so fucking brave.”

“I didn’t have much of a choice.” You admit ruefully. “It was pretty much be brave or give birth in the middle of nowhere.” You chuckle. “I almost did that anyway.”

“Thank fuck you didnt.” Joel murmurs, reaching up to brush your sweaty hair back out of your face as the midwife wraps your son in a blanket. It’s surreal. Like yesteryear but it’s real life. It doesn’t feel real to Joel to be in a town with this capacity. He’s going to have to leave though to take Ellie on the rest of her journey.

****

Ellie has already bid goodbye to you and Alex and now it’s Joel’s turn. The urge to simply stay where he is. To not go and finish his duty to Ellie is tempting but he is a man of his word and you’re safe here. “I, uh, I’m gonna come back.” He promises softly, reaching down to stroke the baby’s head as you cradle him.

“You better.” You hate that you can’t go with them, but it’s not feasible. You have a two day old child. The best thing you can do is stay right here, where he knows you will be safe. Tommy has already promised to look after you. Looking up, you bite your lip. “I love you, Joel.” You whisper softly. “Be safe.”

His eyes meet yours and he nods, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your lips, conveying the words without saying them out loud. You know how he feels. You’re safe here and that’s what matters to him. “Be good, baby.” He says as he straddles the horse and Ellie shuffles on behind him, clinging to his jacket. Ellie offers you a small wave as Joel nudges the horse to move and he doesn’t look back. He can’t look back at what he’s leaving behind.

****

It’s been nearly two months since Joel left. Him and Ellie. Every day you walk to the gates and ask if he’s been spotted, or if there’s been any word. There’s been nothing, but still you continue to hold out hope. Carrying Alex in a little sling around your body, you’ve made friends with the community and slowly turned the house they had let you stay in, into a home for you and your little family when you’re reunited. You have to have hope, you’ll go crazy with worry if you don’t.

Joel lies to Ellie about her rescue. It kills him to lie to her but he has to to protect her. “Come on, let's go home.” He says and the duo are quiet as they make their way back to Jackson, down the mountain and when he enters the gate, he is suddenly exhausted. It’s like the pressure and adrenaline are gone and he’s home. His heart thumps when he stumbles into the town and sees you standing there, his eyes widening as they meet yours.

“Joel?” Your eyes nearly bug out of your head when you see the man you have been thinking about for two months. “Joel!” Holding the baby against your chest as you rush towards him. He looks worn, tired and sad in a way you can’t describe, but he’s here. Ellie right behind him. “You’re back!”

Joel wraps his arms around you, the baby between you, and he doesn't hesitate to press his lips to yours. Relieved to be home and find you and Alex safe and sound. His body relaxes, knowing he doesn't have to fight to survive right now at this moment.

You’re surprised by his kiss, figuring that he wouldn’t be the type for public displays. You don’t mind it though, kissing him back fiercely before you break away and look over his shoulder at Ellie. “Good to see both of you.”

He reluctantly steps back so you can hug Ellie. Tommy comes over to slap his back, knowing his brother well enough to know he just needs rest now. "Come on, let's get you all home." He says, walking with you all to get you back to the house you have made a home in their absence.

“I’ve gotten most of the house clean.” You tell them as you walk towards the house. “Ellie….I didn’t know if you were coming back, but I hoped you would. There’s clothes in the closet, clean. And I put some of the books closer to your age on the shelves.”

Ellie smiles at you, half hearted as she tries to reconcile what happened to her but she needs a shower and an actual bed. Joel is quiet as you walk to the house and all he wants is to hold his son, to have a moment where nothing else exists for him except his son. When he enters the house, his shoulders relax properly, sensing this is a home. You’ve made it so comfortable and he loves it, instantly at ease. “I’m gonna go shower.” Ellie says and you nod, “go shower. I’ll make some food.” You say as you work on untying Alex from your body and Ellie heads upstairs to leave you and Joel to your moment.

“I know you have to be tired, but do you want to hold him?” You ask quietly. If he doesn’t, you’ll put Alex in his little swing that hangs in the doorway between the kitchen and the dining room. Joel nods and you transfer the baby to him with a soft coo to Alex who is about to laugh or cry.

Joel looks down at the baby. He’s already changed so much in the two months he’s been gone and he hates how much he’s already missed. “Hey buddy. It’s daddy. Sorry I haven’t been around but I’m back.” He promises, leaning in to kiss his son’s forehead.

You can’t help but watch the interaction for a moment, nearly about to cry from hoping and praying it would happen one day. Alex stares up at his father curiously and you smile at the scene, wishing you had a camera. The shower upstairs turns on and you remember that you need to make them something to eat. They have to be starving.

Joel cradles his son, just staring at him, and he realizes that his prior death wish, his blasé attitude to living or dying is over. He has a purpose now. Ellie and Alex. His kids are his purpose in life and he will do whatever it takes to keep them safe.

In the kitchen, you start pulling out pans to cook. The eggs you had received this morning will be perfect and there’s still a little bit of the smoked pork. You wonder how long it’s been since Joel has eaten an omelet, you open the refrigerator to pull out the fresh mozzarella you had helped make just the other day.

Joel leans down to kiss Alex’s forehead. “You been a good boy for your mama?” He asks, feeling terrible for having left you alone for so long to look after a newborn. He remembers when Sarah was this age. He was exhausted. Her mother couldn’t bond so it was all on him to make sure the baby was fed, clean, and loved. “Your mama is incredible. She grew you while trekking across the country. In the cold weather. With no shelter. She’s amazing and we are so lucky to have her.”

You hear everything that he says, but you don’t comment on it. Aware that even if you protest, he won’t change his mind. Instead, you set out the ingredients for your meals and start whipping everything together. Alex will want to eat soon, so you want to get this done before he is demanding his own meal.

Ellie comes downstairs about ten minutes later to find Joel cradling the baby. “Can I hold him?” She asks and Joel nods, gently transferring the baby into her arms and she grins, “he’s got your nose.” She says to Joel who snorts and nods, “poor bastard.” Ellie coos, gently rocking the baby as Joel walks into the kitchen to see how things are going with the food. “You need any help?”

“No, I’m good.” You promise, looking over at him and smiling. “If you want to take a shower, the one in the master bedroom feels great.”

"I'll wait until after we eat. Ellie is desperate for food...and so am I." He confesses, stepping closer to gently hold your waist. "I thought of you every damn second I was gone."

“We walked every day to check to see if they had heard anything about you.” You murmur. “We missed you. I missed you.”

He rests his forehead on your shoulder, breathing you in, reassuring himself that you’re safe. “Missed you too.” He murmurs, “the food smells good.”

“I know you have to be hungry.” You murmur. “Smoked pork and mozzarella omelets.” You announce. “We’ve started making cheeses and hoping to get the old commercial freezer system working so we can save it.”

“That’s great.” Joel murmurs as you cook and his fingers flex on your waist until he hears Alex crying. “I’ll get him.” He says, kissing your shoulder before he heads back into the living room.

“I didn’t do anything. He just started crying and I-” Ellie looks panicked but Joel nods and holds his hands out to gently take the baby.

“It’s okay, baby boy.” He murmurs, rocking the baby and he can tell he’s hungry. “Sweetheart, I think he’s hungry. Let me finish cooking and you take care of our boy.”

“Okay.” You are hesitant to stop cooking, because you want to make the meal for Joel and Ellie, but you take the baby from his father. “Hey, sweet boy, mama’s here. Are you hungry? Is that your problem?” You have gotten used to feeding him and pull your shirt down to pull your breast out. Luckily there was a seamstress in town who could convert any bra into a nursing bra. Alex quiets down the second he senses your nipple and grunts as he latches on and starts to drink.

Joel takes over at the stove but his eyes are fixed on you breastfeeding the baby. He has missed you, thought of you in his every step to get home to Jackson. You’re just as gorgeous as when he left and seeing you with the baby has his heart thumping in his chest. He turns back towards the stove, making sure the food doesn’t burn.

There’s something about Joel and Ellie being here that makes the house seem like home. The atmosphere is even cozier than when it was just you and Alex. The baby gulps down the milk greedily and you watch as Joel finishes the omelets. “The doctors said that he’s healthy. I’m healthy.” You add.

Joel nods, “that’s good.” He watches Ellie as she sits down and asks you if it hurts to have him sucking like that and you chuckle softly and shrug, “sometimes.”

Ellie wrinkles her nose, “yeah I don’t wanna do that.” She says with conviction, “no kids for me.”

You nod, “good choice, kid.” Joel shakes his head with a snort and he plates up the food.

“Dinner’s ready, kid.” Joel says as he places the plates on the kitchen table. “Come eat.” He says despite his own stomach grumbling.

“You two eat.” You tell Joel when he tries to split the food between the three of you. “I’m not hungry right now. I’ve eaten just a little bit ago.” You had eaten already and you want them to enjoy themselves.

Joel doesn’t argue, starving after barely finding anything to eat in the last thirty miles of walking back here. Ellie digs in, no manners as always but he doesn’t reprimand her, knowing that she’s starving too. He groans softly when he digs in, the food hitting his tongue like ambrosia.

You enjoy the way the two of them are eating heartily. “There’s plenty of eggs being produced, so don’t worry about eating all of them.” You laugh quietly. “I’m about egged out myself, but it’s good protein.”

Joel hums around his mouthful, trying to not shove it in but it’s hard when he’s so fucking hungry. “Is there anything else to eat?” Ellie asks, still hungry and she knows she has to mind her manners but fuck, she’s starving.

“There is.” You nod and point towards the refrigerator. “I have some leftovers in there and the microwave actually works now that we’ve got the hydro power working.”

Joel can't remember the last time he used a microwave. Maybe the day Sarah died. He swallows the bite of food and takes a sip of water. "I can take Alex." He offers, wanting to hold his son again now that he is asleep against your chest.

“Okay.” You know that he’s missed time with Alex. He deserves to bond with his son. Handing him off to Joel, you go to the fridge to pull out some more food for Ellie. The light doesn’t work on the inside anymore, but it’s cold.

Joel cradles the sleeping baby, staring at him and memorizing his tiny features. “He’s so beautiful.” Joel murmurs, unable to tear his eyes away from the baby as you prepare some more food.

Ellie is wide eyed at the microwave, thinking it might be the coolest thing she’s ever seen and you glance over at Joel and Alex. “He is.” You agree. “And he’s so sweet. Such a good baby. Rarely cries until he needs something.”

“Gets that from you.” Joel chuckles, “resilience and being easy going.” He says knowing how calm and composed you were being pregnant and trekking across the country. “Holy shit that’s amazing.” Ellie gasps as she looks down at the hot food and back to the microwave.

You laugh and nudge her shoulder. “Wonders of the past.” You tease her. “There were whole bunches of kids who couldn’t cook except for a microwave.”

Joel snorts, “pizza rolls were my go to.” He says and leans down to press a soft kiss to Alex’s head, breathing in his scent. You serve the food that Ellie devours and soon Joel stands up with the sleeping baby. “Can you take him, sweetheart? I want to have a shower.” He says, knowing he stinks but he wanted this time with his family first.

“Of course.” You had anticipated that he wanted to shower. After that, he probably wants to sleep for at least a week. You wonder when the last time he actually slept was. “The water should be hot and I’ll grab those clothes that I think will fit you.”

Joel nods, leaning in to kiss your forehead as he makes his way to the bathroom. He groans when he steps under the hot water, allowing himself to relax for the first time in a long time. He watches the blood and dirt swirl down the drain. The memories of what he did to save Ellie go with the water, letting himself compartmentalize like he always has to avoid the guilt that comes with each person he kills. It was to protect Ellie, to save her life. That’s what he tells himself as he lathers up, “to get back to my family.” He murmurs, unable to regret the actions that brought him home to you and his son with the girl he’s come to love as a daughter.

Downstairs, you clean up the kitchen, Alex in his bouncy chair while Ellie catches you up on everything that happened. Your eyes widen when she tells you that Joel had been stabbed with a baseball bat and almost died, biting your lip to keep from crying the tears that come so easily now. You almost lost him and you didn’t even know. Her face takes on a haunted look, one you can easily interpret and you pat her shoulder gently, telling her that she doesn’t have to talk about it.

Joel rests his forehead on the tile as the water runs over his back. The images of the close calls flashing in his mind and he eventually drags himself out when the water runs cold. He wraps the towel around his waist and he grabs the razor you left on the side for him to cut down the beard that has grown out during his absence.

Once he’s bounced his little heart out, Alex starts to fall asleep in the little chair. It’s reclined position perfect for naps and you had already sent Ellie up to her room to check out the books or take her own nap if she wanted. Just anxiously waiting for Joel so you can talk about what the future might hold for you. You hadn’t stopped loving him, that’s for sure, but he might have realized that he didn’t want a life with you.

Joel comes out of the bathroom to find you setting clothes down on the bed for him, the towel wrapped around his waist and skin still damp from his shower. “Everything okay baby?” He asks as he walks over to you, his hand finding your shoulder.

“Everything’s good.” Your eyes immediately dropping to his side and they widen dramatically. “Oh my god.” You whisper, reaching out and touching the scarred skin. “Ellie told me.”

He sighs softly, sitting down on the edge of the bed, and he stares across the room at the faded carpet. “I thought I was gonna die.” He confesses, “I thought I was gonna die and leave you behind, leave Alex behind. I thought I was going to fail Ellie. She was taken and they nearly-” He chokes, unable to finish the sentence.

“They didn’t. She is-“ you shake your head. “She’s here, and you are here.” You can’t help but move closer, reaching out and caressing his wet hair. “You’re both safe now.”

Joel swallows harshly, “I couldn’t lose her. They - I haven’t told her.” His voice lowers, “the Fireflies…the doctor…they were gonna take her fucking brain. She would’ve died and I couldn’t let that happen so I took her and killed - I killed people trying to save her life. I couldn’t let her die.” He whispers, closing his eyes.

“Oh my god.” Your eyes widen in horror and you can’t imagine Joel letting that happen to Ellie. He cares about her so much, he loves her, protects her like she is his own flesh and blood. “You- you did the right thing.” You manage to choke out. “They were going to- to kill her?” Your voice drops to a whisper. “No, fuck no, assholes. They deserved what they got.” You are furious and you would have killed them too when you found out. You don’t blame Joel at all.

He focuses on your hand in his hair as he tries to control his breathing. “She doesn’t know. I- I think she would’ve wanted to die. To give the world a chance to cure the virus but I couldn’t let her. I couldn’t lose her.” He admits, closing his eyes as the pain surges inside of him.

“She should never know.” You immediately agree. “No, she- she wouldn’t understand.” You do. You would die for your son, you would kill for him. Ellie falls into that same category for both you and Joel. “She’s here now. Safe. No one is going to take her away.”

Joel nods, reaching for your hand to squeeze it. “Thank you. For everything. I never - I thought I would be killed at some point and I didn’t care. It’s why I was vicious. I didn’t care if I died but I do now. I want to be here for you and the kids. I love you. I love you.” He rasps, opening his eyes to look at you.

His vow warms you through. Squeezing his hand back, you smile. “I love you too.” You promise softly. “I was so worried about you two, even as busy as I was with Alex. We walked to the gates every day.”

He leans in to nudge his nose against yours, “I missed you both every day. Kept me going. Even when I was on my deathbed.” He says as he brushes his lips against yours, gives you a chance to pull back but he wants you, wants to reassure himself that he’s home.

“I’m glad it wasn’t your death bed.” You whisper against his mouth and press closer to him. “You’re home, Joel.”

He reaches for your waist, dragging you closer to press his lips a little harder against yours, his stomach twisting with a sudden need for you. He needs to feel you, to know that he’s home. He’s back with his family. His tongue is about to slide into your mouth until he pulls back. “Where’s Alex?” He asks, wanting to make sure the baby is okay.

“He’s asleep.” You explain softly. The bassinet is in the nursery, making sure that he wouldn’t be disturbed if he wants to sleep. “The baby’s room is right across the hall.”

He nods, reassured that you can hear the baby if he wakes up, and he presses his lips against yours again, his tongue immediately sliding into your mouth with a groan. His fingers digging into your waist as he slides his tongue against yours, his cock twitching under his towel.

You groan into his mouth, desperate to be close to him. To know that this emotion is real, that his promise that he loves you is real. Joel has never touched you, just you touching him when you made Alex, so you want to feel his hands on you.

He shifts to lay you down on the bed, pleased for be touching you like this in an actual bed. “Baby, can i- I want to taste you.” He murmurs, kissing along your jaw as he shifts to straddle you as you shift up the bed to settle against the pillows as he follows your body.

“You can- anything you want.” Joel wants you. It makes your entire body vibrate in pleasure and you bite your lip. Your body has changed since giving birth, he’s seen all of you but you don’t know how he will like the changes.

Joel kisses along your neck, breathing you in and he reaches for the hem of your shirt, dragging it over your head. Your nursing bra is exposed and he wastes no time reaching behind you to unclip it and drag it off of your body. “Jesus.” He hisses when he sees your tits, swollen with milk for his child, and he feels a little feral. “Fuck. Are they sensitive?” He asks before he touches them.

“Not bad.” You murmur, running your fingers through his hair. “They have been toughened up by your son.” You tease. “You can touch them.”

He smiles for a second before he gently cups your breast, lifting it up so he can lean down and take your nipple into his mouth. A squirt of milk enters his mouth and he doesn’t care, it’s natural and your moan of pleasure has his cock twitching.

It’s completely differing having Joel suck on your breasts. The feeling of it making your cunt clench. “Oh god.” You whimper quietly. “The midwife- she- I’m on birth control.” You explain. You don’t know how they had done it, but they had means of birth control here and the old doctor had taught the midwife.

He groans into your flesh at that news, glad that he won’t get you pregnant again so soon after you’ve had Alex. “Are you cleared for sex?” He asks, “are you comfortable? If not, we can - I am happy to just hold you.” He says as he pulls off of your breast to look at you.

“Don’t you dare stop now.” You pant as you look down at him. “I want you. I wanted you the entire time I was carrying Alex.”

He groans, "thank God. Really wanna touch you again. Wanted to when you were pregnant but I didn't think you wanted me like that." He admits and leans down to take your nipple back into his mouth. His hands slide down to your leggings, pushing his hand in to find your wet cunt and he groans around your nipple as he finds your clit.

You are in heaven, loving the attention. His fingers are thick and calloused on your clit, making you moan his name out softly. You don’t want Ellie to hear and give you shit later, so you bite your lip.

His fingers rub your clit, groaning your name as he discovers how wet you are, and his fingers slide lower to push inside of you. He is gentle, wanting to make sure you’re comfortable.

You whine his name again, loving how tender he is being. It’s as if he wants to make sure this time, only the second time you’ve slept together, is special.

He groans as your walls flutter around his digits and he desperately wants to make sure this time is slow. You’re in control now. No one is holding a gun to your head and he needs you to be all in and enjoy this. Especially with the love that has grown between you. “Baby, need to taste you.” He murmurs as he reluctantly withdraws his fingers from inside of you and he hooks them in your leggings to drag them down your body along with your panties. Once both items are tossed on the floor, he gently spreads your thighs and he leans in to nudge his nose against your thigh, kissing along the sensitive flesh as he breathes you in.

You nearly pass the fuck out. Overwhelmed by just his breath near your cunt. You’ve not had someone go down on you since before the outbreak. “You don’t have to.” You pant, but Joel just huffs lightly against your folds. “I want to.” He insists before he takes a teasing lick of your cunt to taste you.

His groan reverberates through your body as his tongue pushes deep inside of your pussy, groaning your name as he pushes your thighs back to get access to more of you. He’s hungry for you after the first taste and the sound of your moan has him grinding into the mattress. “Fuck. You taste good.” He murmurs before he resumes flicking his tongue over your clit until he’s sucking it between his lips.

Your head tilts back into the pillow, eyes closed as you just feel the way that Joel is taking you apart. Swipe after swipe of his clever tongue until he pulls your clit into his mouth to make you gasp. "Oh fuck." You moan, unable to stop the way your hips roll down. "It's so- fuck, I don't ever remember it being this good. Fuck, Joel."

His fingers dig into your hips and he groans your name into your wet flesh, his hand shifting slowly to circle your entrance. His digits caressing your folds to give you a second in case you don’t want his fingers and just want his tongue but when you moan out “please” he eagerly pushes two inside of you.

You feel full. Not nearly as full as you remember his cock inside you, but better than your fingers. “Joel, baby, fuck, I love your hands.” You whine. “So fucking big. Imagined them on me so many times.”

He loves hearing that you’ve imagined him because he’s imagined you too. So many times. “Baby. Shit.” He hisses as he curls his fingers and resumes sucking on your clit. He wants to hear you cum. He desperately needs it.

His attention being focused on you is nearly too much. Whining as he continues to pull you apart, your fingers twist into the bedsheets and you moan wantonly.

Your moans echo sweetly in his ears and he pumps his fingers a little faster. “That’s it, baby.” He murmurs against your wet flesh before he’s lapping at your clit again. The sounds so sweet and he needs you to cum for me.

It doesn’t take too long before he throws you over the edge. Making you cry out in pleasure as your vision goes white and your entire body lights up as heat floods it.

He groans at the flood of your cum on his fingers, soaking them as you clamp down and he’s eager to push them into his mouth but he also needs to work you through your orgasm. He gently laps at your clit, working you through it before he withdraws his fingers, pushing them into his mouth as you pant against the sheets.

“Joel.” You whimper his name and nearly melt into the bed. “Holy shit, holy shit, you- that was amazing.” You pant out with a giggle. You had expected Joel to want a blow job, not to make you cum. “I- I want you inside me.” You confess, feeling slightly greedy after that.

He nods, needing that too and his wet fingers grip the sheets as he climbs up your body. Your fingers grab his shoulders to caress his skin. His cock is hard and throbbing against your inner thigh as you eagerly spread your legs wider for him. His eyes meet yours, wanting to make sure you want this and when your hungry eyes focus on him, he has his answer. He reaches between you to grip his cock, positioning himself at your entrance and he slowly pushes into you, groaning at the wet heat that envelops his cock. “Fuck.” He gasps, turning his head to press his lips against yours as he slowly pushes into you.

It’s even better than the first time. Both of you want this. Both of you need this. You kiss him back, moaning into his mouth while you wrap your arms around him. Pulling him closer until he is firmly embedded, buried to the hilt in your warmth.

He slides his tongue against yours, taking a moment to kiss you while he’s buried inside of you, not moving. Savoring this moment, something he wasn’t sure he’d get to have since he nearly died several times trying to return to you. He takes a moment until it’s too much and he has to move. His hips move back slightly until he pushes into you again, slow and unhurried.

It’s slow, methodical. Love making in every sense of the word. Every rolls of his hips is softened by your own arch, meeting him as your legs tighten around the back of his thighs. He lets his weight down onto you slowly when he pushes his arms underneath your body and you love the feel of him. Surrounding you and completely overriding all your senses.

You feel like home. That’s the only way Joel can describe this feeling. He feels like he’s back where he belongs and his heart pounds in his chest. His hips press against yours as he rocks into you, deep and slow.

Your lips press together and your tongues tangle while he slowly fucks you. Unless Alex wakes up or Jackson is attacked, there’s nothing stopping you from taking all the time in the world. Your fingers drift up and down the planes of his back, feeling the muscles moving.

He kisses along your jaw, loving the way you clench around him when he adjusts his hips. He’s trying to find that spot that makes you moan but he’s in no rush. Joel feels safe and secure for the first time in years and he desperately wants to cling to that feeling. His hips pushing deep again and when you cry out against his cheek, he grins in victory and focuses on that same angle.

When he’s determined, Joel doesn’t stop. When he finds that spot, he presses against it again and again, groaning at the way you squeeze him in response. You could sob from how good it feels, but you don’t want to make him think for a second you regret this.

Every rock of his hips has him hinting that spot and he grabs your breast, squeezing it and he arches so he can bend down to take your nipple into his mouth, gently biting down. “You close?” He asks, needing to know in case you need something else to send you over the edge.

"Fuck yesssss." you hiss, pulling him back down so he can suck on your tit again. Even if you weren't, you wouldn't mind. feeling too amazing for words.

He hums around your nipple, pleased that you’re close as he keeps his thrusts the same angle and speed, feeling you tense beneath him and he knows you’re close. “That’s it baby. That’s it. Cum for me.” He murmurs into your skin.

Your nails dig into his back, but you don't think that he minds. Not the way his thrusts have started becoming harsher. Short and deep, like he's trying to stop himself from cumming before you do. One more thrust and you are crying out wordlessly, unable to even articulate a praise as you fall apart around him.

He loves it. Addicted to this already even after having you when you got pregnant with Alex. He works you through it, rocking his hips and he’s so close. It’s been so long since he was inside of you - of any woman - and it doesn’t take long. A half dozen more thrusts and he’s pushing deep, filling you up with his hot seed after you told him earlier it was safe. His lips pressing against your neck as he pants.

“So good, baby.” You whimper quietly, closing your eyes as you feel him relax against you. His cock is still throbbing inside you and it’s probably the best feeling in the world. “I love you.”

“I love you too baby.” He murmurs, shifting to nudge his nose against yours. He’s so grateful he made it home to you and Alex with Ellie still alive and well. He kisses you softly while he softens inside of you, unwilling to move. He doesn’t want to move from this house, this town. He’s found peace finally and he will fight tooth and nail to keep it. To keep his family safe, he’d do anything. For now, Joel wants to enjoy his serenity and he kisses you with a smile, excited for his future in Jackson. It’s secure and safe…what could possibly go wrong?

#pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller imagine #joel tlou

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mostlysignssomeportents · 5 months

Text

No, “convenience” isn’t the problem

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me in CHICAGO (Apr 17), Torino (Apr 21) Marin County (Apr 27), Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!

Using Amazon, or Twitter, or Facebook, or Google, or Doordash, or Uber doesn't make you lazy. Platform capitalism isn't enshittifying because you made the wrong shopping choices.

Remember, the reason these corporations were able to capture such substantial market-share is that the capital markets saw them as a bet that they could lose money for years, drive out competition, capture their markets, and then raise prices and abuse their workers and suppliers without fear of reprisal. Investors were chasing monopoly power, that is, companies that are too big to fail, too big to jail, and too big to care:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/04/teach-me-how-to-shruggie/#kagi

The tactics that let a few startups into Big Tech are illegal under existing antitrust laws. It's illegal for large corporations to buy up smaller ones before they can grow to challenge their dominance. It's illegal for dominant companies to merge with each other. "Predatory pricing" (selling goods or services below cost to prevent competitors from entering the market, or to drive out existing competitors) is also illegal. It's illegal for a big business to use its power to bargain for preferential discounts from its suppliers. Large companies aren't allowed to collude to fix prices or payments.

But under successive administrations, from Jimmy Carter through to Donald Trump, corporations routinely broke these laws. They explicitly and implicitly colluded to keep those laws from being enforced, driving smaller businesses into the ground. Now, sociopaths are just as capable of starting small companies as they are of running monopolies, but that one store that's run by a colossal asshole isn't the threat to your wellbeing that, say, Walmart or Amazon is.

All of this took place against a backdrop of stagnating wages and skyrocketing housing, health, and education costs. In other words, even as the cost of operating a small business was going up (when Amazon gets a preferential discount from a key supplier, that supplier needs to make up the difference by gouging smaller, weaker retailers), Americans' disposable income was falling.

So long as the capital markets were willing to continue funding loss-making future monopolists, your neighbors were going to make the choice to shop "the wrong way." As small, local businesses lost those customers, the costs they had to charge to make up the difference would go up, making it harder and harder for you to afford to shop "the right way."

In other words: by allowing corporations to flout antimonopoly laws, we set the stage for monopolies. The fault lay with regulators and the corporate leaders and finance barons who captured them – not with "consumers" who made the wrong choices. What's more, as the biggest businesses' monopoly power grew, your ability to choose grew ever narrower: once every mom-and-pop restaurant in your area fires their delivery drivers and switches to Doordash, your choice to order delivery from a place that payrolls its drivers goes away.

Monopolists don't just have the advantage of nearly unlimited access to the capital markets – they also enjoy the easy coordination that comes from participating in a cartel. It's easy for five giant corporations to form conspiracies because five CEOs can fit around a single table, which means that some day, they will:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/18/cursed-are-the-sausagemakers/#how-the-parties-get-to-yes

By contrast, "consumers" are atomized – there are millions of us, we don't know each other, and we struggle to agree on a course of action and stick to it. For "consumers" to make a difference, we have to form institutions, like co-ops or buying clubs, or embark on coordinated campaigns, like boycotts. Both of these tactics have their place, but they are weak when compared to monopoly power.

Luckily, we're not just "consumers." We're also citizens who can exercise political power. That's hard work – but so is organizing a co-op or a boycott. The difference is, when we dog enforcers who wield the power of the state, and line up behind them when they start to do their jobs, we can make deep structural differences that go far beyond anything we can make happen as consumers:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/18/administrative-competence/#i-know-stuff

We're not just "consumers" or "citizens" – we're also workers, and when workers come together in unions, they, too, can concentrate the diffuse, atomized power of the individual into a single, powerful entity that can hold the forces of capital in check:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/10/an-injury-to-one/#is-an-injury-to-all

And all of these things work together; when regulators do their jobs, they protect workers who are unionizing:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/09/06/goons-ginks-and-company-finks/#if-blood-be-the-price-of-your-cursed-wealth

And strong labor power can force cartels to abandon their plans to rig the market so that every consumer choice makes them more powerful:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/01/how-the-writers-guild-sunk-ais-ship/

And when consumers can choose better, local, more ethical businesses at competitive rates, those choices can make a difference:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/07/10/view-a-sku/

Antimonopoly policy is the foundation for all forms of people-power. The very instant corporations become too big to fail, jail or care is the instant that "voting with your wallet" becomes a waste of time.

Sure, choose that small local grocery, but everything on their shelves is going to come from the consumer packaged-goods duopoly of Procter and Gamble and Unilever. Sure, hunt down that local brand of potato chips that you love instead of P&G or Unilever's brand, but if they become successful, either P&G or Unilever will buy them out, and issue a press release trumpeting the purchase, saying "We bought out this beloved independent brand and added it to our portfolio because we know that consumers value choice."

If you're going to devote yourself to solving the collective action problem to make people-power work against corporations, spend your precious time wisely. As Zephyr Teachout writes in Break 'Em Up, don't miss the protest march outside the Amazon warehouse because you spent two hours driving around looking for an independent stationery so you could buy the markers and cardboard to make your anti-Amazon sign without shopping on Amazon:

https://pluralistic.net/2020/07/29/break-em-up/#break-em-up

When blame corporate power on "laziness," we buy into the corporations' own story about how they came to dominate our lives: we just prefer them. This is how Google explains away its 90% market-share in search: we just chose Google. But we didn't, not really – Google spends tens of billions of dollars every single year buying up the search-box on every website, phone, and operating system:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/21/im-feeling-unlucky/#not-up-to-the-task

Blaming "laziness" for corporate dominance also buys into the monopolists' claim that the only way to have convenient, easy-to-use services is to cede power to them. Facebook claims it's literally impossible for you to carry on social relations with the people that matter to you without also letting them spy on you. When we criticize people for wanting to hang out online with the people they love, we send the message that they need to choose loneliness and isolation, or they will be complicit in monopoly.

The problem with Google isn't that it lets you find things. The problem with Facebook isn't that it lets you talk to your friends. The problem with Uber isn't that it gets you from one place to another without having to stand on a corner waving your arm in the air. The problem with Amazon isn't that it makes it easy to locate a wide variety of products. We should stop telling people that they're wrong to want these things, because a) these things are good; and b) these things can be separated from the monopoly power of these corporate bullies:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/08/divisibility/#technognosticism

Remember the Napster Wars? The music labels had screwed over musicians and fans. 80 percent of all recorded music wasn't offered for sale, and the labels cooked the books to make it effectively impossible for musicians to earn out their advances. Napster didn't solve all of that (though they did offer $15/user/month to the labels for a license to their catalogs), but there were many ways in which it was vastly superior to the system it replaced.

The record labels responded by suing tens of thousands of people, mostly kids, but also dead people and babies and lots of other people. They demanded an end to online anonymity and a system of universal surveillance. They wanted every online space to algorithmically monitor everything a user posted and delete anything that might be a copyright infringement.

These were the problems with the music cartel: they suppressed the availability of music, screwed over musicians, carried on a campaign of indiscriminate legal terror, and lobbied effectively for a system of ubiquitous, far-reaching digital surveillance and control:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/02/02/nonbinary-families/#red-envelopes

You know what wasn't a problem with the record labels? The music. The music was fine. Great, even.

But some of the people who were outraged with the labels' outrageous actions decided the problem was the music. Their answer wasn't to merely demand better copyright laws or fairer treatment for musicians, but to demand that music fans stop listening to music from the labels. Somehow, they thought they could build a popular movement that you could only join by swearing off popular music.

That didn't work. It can't work. A popular movement that you can only join by boycotting popular music will always be unpopular. It's bad tactics.

When we blame "laziness" for tech monopolies, we send the message that our friends have to choose between life's joys and comforts, and a fair economic system that doesn't corrupt our politics, screw over workers, and destroy small, local businesses. This isn't true. It's a lie that monopolists tell to justify their abuse. When we repeat it, we do monopolists' work for them – and we chase away the people we need to recruit for the meaningful struggles to build worker power and political power.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/04/12/give-me-convenience/#or-give-me-death

Image: Cryteria (modified) https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:HAL9000.svg

CC BY 3.0 https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0/deed.en

#pluralistic #enshittification #victim blaming #convenience #a la carte

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atom-writings · 6 months

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omgg i cant stop giggling n kicking my feet BUT can i request gn!reader 'accidentally' leaving a lipstick kiss mark on russia, america, canada, greece and japan before they leave for the day and the countries dont notice until either from a mirror or someone else points it out? AAOUGUGGH

hetalia russia, america, canada, greece, and japan when their s/os leave a kiss in lipstick

1.6k words ~ gender neutral headcanons

tw: none!

a/n: hjey guys did you know being a costume director is time consuming? i did not. send help. also enjoythis idk

Russia

It was never an easy affair to get Ivan out of the house. His clinginess combined with how admittedly boring his job was made it near impossible for him to leave without you forcing him to. Today was one of those days, and you were beginning to think you’d have to leave with him.

"But darling, can't you understand? It's so cold and miserable out there..." He whines as he holds you.

He's got you positioned so that you're standing between his legs while he sits on the couch, his arms wrapped tightly around you and his head resting against your chest. So... no escape available without coaxing.

"I know, I know, but you'll be late..."

"They will be ok without me, but I won't be ok without you!"

All you can do is sigh until you're suddenly struck with an idea. You can't go with him, but you can leave something with him. And looking down at his snow-white skin, you have just the idea.

"But you won't have to be without me, Vanya!" You chide, tilting his head up to look at you. His face lights up instantly.

"What do you mean?"

Instead of responding, you lean down and press a soft kiss against his forehead, leaving a pink imprint of your lips on his face.

"That one was magic, ok? It'll stay with you the whole day, so I'll always be with you!" It's childish, and you're struggling not to laugh, but his innocent expression tells you all you need to know. He'll finally let you go, none the wiser as to what you really meant.

"Ah- Mr. Braginsky..." Some random intern was forced to prompt later in the day, his tone fearful as to how Ivan would react.

"Yes?"

"You... you have something on- on your face..."

"Huh?" He reaches up to wipe where the intern had gestured, but only smiles when he comes away with your favourite lipstick. He decides that whatever left can stay... it's just your magic, after all.

America

Alfred was a busy man for all the effort he expended to prevent that exact reality. He'd much rather spend all day playing video games at home with you, but duty calls. Though, now, was just glad that for once, you were busy as well.

“Hey, babe!” He greets you with a bright smile, resting his hand on your shoulder before moving to sit across from you. The meeting spot he had chosen was busy, but at least it wasn't far from either places you two needed to be.

“Were you waiting long?”

“No, not really,“ You respond with a sigh, twirling the straw in your drink.

”Well, that's good because uh- bad news, I won't be able to stay l-“

”Ugh! Seriously?“

He shrinks a little, fidgeting with his hair, ”Yeah, I know, but like- I can't reall-“

”Do they know you're a person? Like, a person who needs to live?“

“Technically, I'm not, babe,” He laughs, “But I appreciate how protective you are anyway.“

He continued to talk with you for a while, about your day, his day, a weird guy he saw on the street, about how you can't keep threatening his boss because he's the president- until after only a few moments, his phone rang.

He sucked in a quick breath and accepted it, only speaking for a second. Then, he got up with a dramatic groan.

“That's my cue. I guess I'll see you later, K?”

But he wasn't about to get away that easy. You shot up, grabbing onto his tie and pulling closer so you could kiss his cheek quickly.

“For good luck,” You assure, and he grins.

“What are you guys laughing about?” Alfred asks as soon as he goes back to work, looking nervously at the group of co-workers pointing at him.

“Got something on your face, man!”

Instantly, he realizes what happened and hurriedly wipes it off. His face is red with embarrassment, but he can't deny the butterflies in his stomach.

Canada

No matter how long you've been together, Matthew never stopped trying to be the picture-perfect boyfriend. At least, that's what you thought as he chose to show up with roses when he came to pick you up. It might've been a fancy event, but you're sure no one else would be doing that kind of thing. But who were you this kind of attention?

“Uhm- good evening, Y/N,” He stutters out as you let him come in for a moment.

“Awww, you shouldn't have!“ You take the roses from him and set them aside.

”It- It's nothing, really-“

”Most men wouldn't even think of that anymore...“ You assure him. He looks sheepish now as if he hadn't expected you to like your gift.

”Then- then, um- they should learn how to t-treat their partners...“

How cute. You walk over to him and stand on your toes to kiss his cheek, to which he immediately stiffens and blushes.

“Thank you, Matthew.”

“Ye-Yeah, uh-huh- yeah- y-you're welcome,” He mumbles, looking down in embarrassment. The colour gracing his cheeks almost perfectly matches the mark your lipstick left behind. You begin to say something about it, but before you can, he frantically cuts you off.

“So- we should get g-going right? Right, time to go...” He blurts out, taking your hand and almost dragging you out to the car.

Finally, once you two arrived at the event, you gathered the courage to tell him.

While you two walked, arm in arm, up to the main entrance, you suddenly blurted out, ”You have lipstick on your cheek!“

Except by that time, more than a couple of people had seen him. causing him to instantly freeze up.

The colour drained from his face, and he weakly whimpered out, ”Um, c-could you- uh- g-get it?“

You immediately obliged, cleaning off his cheek. He was embarrassed, but it was still on his mind all night.

Greece

“But do you have to?”

“Yes.”

“But-”

“I’m not getting out of this one, ok?”

“But I don’t want you to go…” His protests were typical, but that didn’t make them any less annoying. Although, it’s hard to resist him when he’s clinging to you like a lost puppy and he smells like he just finished cooking.

“It’ll only be a few hours, ok?” You sigh, finally finishing your makeup.

All he can do now is whine softly, which makes you realize there may be only one way to stop his desperate clinginess. You turn around in his arms, take his pleading face in your hands, and press frenzied kisses all over it. Instantly, his eyes light up and his lips form a dopish smile, and you know you’re free.

“Is that better?” You ask, and he nods. But before you let go, you have to admire how silly he looks with your lips painted all over his face.

By the time you return home, it’s already dark. The house is quiet, and when you check the time, you realize he would’ve fallen asleep hours ago. But considering how exhausted you are already, it’s nothing but a relief.

When you enter your shared bedroom, your thoughts are confirmed. He’s already passed out, his broad body splayed haphazardly over your blankets. At first, you don’t think anything of it. But when you turn on the light to get ready for bed, you notice the red stains still sitting on his cheeks.

Somehow, throughout the entire rest of the day, he never looked in the mirror long enough to notice the lipstick covering his face. Or, maybe he did, and just decided that your tokens of affection could stay.

Japan

Kiku was never late. Not even when tired, sick, or at war, was he late to anything. So, the one day that he allowed himself to relax with you, was naturally the first day in centuries that he hadn’t been an hour early.

“It’s gonna be alright!” You call out from the bathroom while you do your makeup, and he doesn’t even waste the time to respond. Even from all the way across the house, you can hear him desperately throwing things together.

“It is not alright!”

“You’ll still be on time!” That doesn’t seem to convince him to calm down at all, as you can hear his panicked breaths growing louder as he makes his way over to the entry door.

“Wait, wait, hold on,” You insist, and he pauses for a moment. When you meet him at the door, he looks a mess. His hair was askew, his eyes wild with panic, and his tie nearly all the way to the side.

You sigh and begin tidying him up. He relaxes under your touch, you can tell even from under his layers of stoicism; although he can’t allow himself to bask in your attention for long.

“I must go-”

“I know, I know, just…” You pull him forward, quickly pressing a kiss to his cheek. He blushes but doesn’t let that distract him. In a moment, he’s gone out the door.

After a frenzied drive into the city, he can finally breathe a sigh of relief. 10 minutes early… not great, but enough. He looks in the mirror one last time, making sure he looks his best before he finally steps out into the public when he notices it. The print of your lipstick, still on his cheek.

His touch lingers on it for a moment, his breathing stilling, before he rubs it off. You’ll just have to replace it later, he tells himself before he finally steps out of the car.

#not proofread at all #heta tag #hetalia imagines #hetalia x reader #ivan tag <3 #aph russia x reader #alfred tag #aph america x reader #hws america x reader #hws russia x reader #matthew tag #aph canada x reader #hws canada x reader #heracles tag #aph greece x reader #hws greece x reader #kiku tag #aph japan x reader #hws japan x reader

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joels6string · 9 months

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home

RE4R Leon Kennedy x f!reader

Leon's home from Spain and the only thing he needs is a familiar face.

18+ only MDNI

content: a little hurt/comfort, established relationship, unprotected p in v, oral f!receiving, creampie word count: 3k

There were fewer things in life more pleasant than the feeling of a warm mug clutched against your palm, a thick, fuzzy blanket in your lap, and a book resting on your thighs. Your fingers are flicking at the corner of the page as you took in the words written so elegant yet simple on the page, transporting you to world’s beyond. It’s raining, and the brisk autumn air begins to nip when the sun sinks below the horizon, but you’ve been nestled totally content in your home since well before the light had begun to dwindle. Dinner was forgotten after a quick shower to scrub the day off your skin, the world so colorfully illustrated in black and white sucking you in too far for you even to feel the passage of time.

Heroes and heroines, love stories and daring rescues, it isn’t your usual genre, but after enough recommendations you’d decided to give it a try, swallowing your pride to admit the praise was well earned to your friends when they asked.

Knock knock

The sound of a fist slamming brutally against your door has your heart skipping as you squeak in shock, your eyes shooting to your clock to find it was nearing 1 AM, a time well beyond acceptable visiting hours. Another two bangs, and your spine goes rigid with fear.

“Are you home?” Even through the door, the sound of that slurred voice has your terror ebbing and annoyance flowing in its place. “Can you open the door? Please?”

Though you already know who it is, you peek through the small round glass, a mess of dirty blonde hair hunched against the doorframe greeting you. Muttering under your breath, you undo the chain, wrenching the door open hard enough to have none other than Leon S. Kennedy toppling over face-first at your feet.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” you spit, your tone laced with so much venom even you feel its poison.

“Just needed to see you,” he practically whines, groaning against your cheap wooden floors.

“We’re not doing this, Leon. I told you, I’m done.”

“Please, Bug.”

“Don’t call me that.”

It’s almost embarrassing watching him try to stand, the thick arms that usually sweep you off your feet with ease barely able to push himself up, his face falling into your stomach as his foot gives way beneath him seconds after getting himself onto one knee. Instinct has you catching him from falling, and he wraps himself around you like a life raft, breathing in deeply as if he’s been trapped beneath the rolling tides and just found the surface. The desperation of it plucks at your pity chord, and your fingers thread into his hair and scrape against his scalp in the way you know he likes, soothing hushes falling from your lips as you cradle him close.

Your past with Leon is tumultuous, he is a man torn in two by the duties he’d sworn to uphold and the one thing that could convince him to give it all up and walk away. You’d met by accident, crossing paths with him at an event and leaving when his eyes as blue as a summer sky had consumed you completely. He was as sweet and playful as he was dark and deadly, and he’s careful to keep that latter side as far away from you as he could. And that quest had begun keeping him away for longer stretches, his ability to lock away the pain and anguish that plagued him beginning to fail.

Spain had been his last location, he’d told you before he left he’d be overseas for an undetermined amount of time. It had been months. After weeks of checking reports and news articles to see if Officer Leon Kennedy had been killed daily, you’d given up. The thought that maybe he’d lied had passed through your mind, maybe it was his way of finally cutting whatever co-dependent cord that attached you to each other. Someone had to be brave and strong enough to do it, and you were certain that couldn’t be you. But here he is, drunk off his ass and clinging to you with every ounce of strength he has, and whatever his alcohol-induced plan is, you hate to admit it’s working.

You knew he was back, it had been all over the news, “President’s Daughter Saved by Hero!” That happened two weeks ago. Seeing him applauded had made your chest swell in pride until you recalled telling him this drawn-out sham of a relationship was over when he’d brought you the news of his latest assignment. You couldn’t take it anymore, the distance and the secrets, the months away and the lack of contact. It was practically debilitating, but it hadn’t mattered that he wasn’t your concern anymore in those months he was gone. It felt worse than waiting for an email he’d sneak in or a spotty phone call where you could barely make out the words but the sound of his voice still washed over you like a soothing balm.

It’s why you couldn’t truly be angry now.

“Let’s go,” you finally urge, your tone gentler now, “Bed.”

It takes every bit of your strength to pull him into your bed, whiskey heavy on his breath when he collapses on top of you while mustering enough decency to kick his boots off as he sighs in what must be relief. Your lights are still on, and you’re certain the door is unlocked, but there’s no moving now, he’s too heavy and warm and familiar. You can’t be mad, because then you’d have to admit that you didn’t want this, that you hadn’t thought about the way your mattress just feels more comfortable with his weight dipping it down to the perfect point. It would be a lie.

“Leon?” you whisper into his hair–it smells like a bar, stale, musty cigarettes and sweat–but he’s already out cold, too comfortable and content in your embrace now to stay awake.

He sees more horrors in a week than most do in their lifetime, and he finds safety here. It’s something you take for granted, especially in the long stretches of his absence filled with solo dinners and lonely nights, but it’s impossible to forget as he’s curled into you as much as his large frame allows, his breathing slow and easy. The familiarity of it drags you under, your eyes drifting closed as your fingers scratch soothingly up and down his spine.

******

Butter crackles and pops over the hum of your podcast coming through the small speaker beside the sink. Early morning light filters in through the paper shades still drawn in the kitchen, the tiles cool on your bare feet while you chop fruit and various toppings for the omelet you’ve been thinking about making since last night.

Leon was still in bed, getting out from beneath his heavy body without waking him could be considered your morning workout. He hadn’t moved an inch all night from where he’d fallen asleep pressed to your chest. When your rumbling stomach had become too much to bear you’d had to pull away, despite how little you found yourself wanting to.

“That smells good,” a sheepish voice calls from the doorway, your head turning to find Leon slumped against the frame scratching the back of his head, his eyes avoiding yours, “I’ll go. I’m sorry for showing up like this. Thanks…for not kicking me out onto the street.”

“You can stay. Just take a shower. I can smell you from here.”

He laughs, his face lighting up enough to wash away the harrowing look he’d been wearing, “You didn’t throw my clothes out onto the curb?”

“I didn’t, actually. I like your shirts.”

“Well, they look better on you anyway.”

Ten minutes later as you plate fruit and omelets and pull two slices of bread from the bag on the counter, you hear him approaching, and you don’t even try to suppress the happy little smile settling on your lips. Flicking the toaster on as you spin, you soak in the sight of him turning into the room that always looks smaller when he’s in it. His hair is still damp and hanging loosely in his face, the shirt that was too tight months ago now on the verge of tearing at the seams when he reaches up to comb his locks out of his eyes. He looks better, the color returning to his face and the glow to the sea glass eyes you’d swam in so many times before. Your throat seizes for a moment when he flashes you a content smirk.

“What the hell happened?” you ask, your breath hitching when his arms cage you against the counter, his lips centimeters from yours.

“I forgot how pretty you look in the morning,” he whispers, his thumb and pointer tipping your chin up softly.

He gives you no time to comment on the blatant deflection, his pouty lips pressing to yours as he cups the back of your head, groaning when you reciprocate eagerly. Immediately, your hands find the warm, solid stretch of his chest, your hand falling instinctually to the steady beat of his heart. You’d learned early on that every symphony it beat into your ear as you laid on his chest could be the last, so the gentle taps against your palm are a welcome reminder that he’s still here. The dangers he faced had yet to lay claim.

“Missed you, Bug,” he murmurs against your lips, his nose nuzzling yours.

“Missed you, too,” you finally confirm, his relieved huff of laughter hot on your skin as he sighs in relief, kissing your forehead.

“Still mad at me?”

“Not til the next time you leave.”

“Gonna let me in the house when I get back?”

“If you’re lucky.”

It’s easy to tell he’s trying to control himself, the hardened bulge pressing against your inner thigh giving him away. His lips can’t stop pressing against yours, taking advantage of every pause in the conversation to peck at your still-speaking mouth, your arms finally wrapping around his neck warmly, his head burying into the crook of your neck. You lean your head against him, cradling him in the way you know he loves, his deep, content breaths heating the thin skin of your throat.

“I’m never lucky,” he sighs, and your heart aches for him.

This time is different, and you don’t know why. He always comes back battered and bruised both mentally and physically, but this time seems to have affected him even more than all the others. You don’t ask for details, he won’t tell you anyway, but you know he can work through it here, however slowly.

“You have a key, Leon,” you remind him with a chuckle, threading your fingers into his hair, “You can get in whenever you want.”

“You have to want me here,” he mumbles, “I have my own bed to sleep alone in.”

“I want you here.”

With those words, you pull his head up to stare into his tired eyes. You do want him here, and though your last outburst certainly had given him reason to think you didn’t, you hope he believes you now in the warm, soft realm of your embrace.

“I want you here,” you repeat, “I want you here. Not there. Do you know what it’s like when you’re away?! I make myself sick, obsessing over the news and…and obituaries…”

You pull away to read the guilt falling over his features. It had come out harsher than you intended to, but the point was made.

“I love you,” you whisper and then watch as he shatters.

“Saying things like that might make me consider retirement,” he chokes out, closing the space you’d made and leaning his forehead against yours.

“Oh yeah?” you respond, a sultry lilt to your tone as your hand drifts to the waistband of his sweatpants. “And what might convince you then?”

Before he can answer, your hand grips his already stiffened length, the way his breath trembles as you tug slowly sending a surge to your core. It takes him a moment to recalibrate as you drag your hand over him, and when he does, the ease at which he hoists you onto the counter makes you yelp, your arms wrapping around his neck as he wrestles your shorts off your hips.

As soon as you’re free, you spread your legs wide, ready for his body to notch between them in a perfect fit, but instead, he sinks to the floor. Teeth graze over your inner thighs, just the thought of how close his mouth is makes your cunt clench around nothing but anticipation. Rough hands loop around your legs, pulling you closer to the edge before pressing his lips to your clit and suckling just enough to make you buck up against his face. His hair is soft when you knot your fingers through it and lean back against the cabinet behind you, his tongue probing into your fluttering hole greedily as he seeks to reacquaint with what he’d missed.

Muffled groans are vibrating against you as he weaves through your slit, lapping at your juices leaking free before petitioning for more at your swollen bundle of nerves. You can see your arousal shining on his face when he pauses to take a lungful of air through a slackened jaw, his eyes as lidded as they were last night under the effect of alcohol. It’s shameless and unhindered the way he takes his fill, not that he was ever very timid before, but this time it feels like he wants and needs more, or maybe like he’d been afraid he’d never get to do this again.

You can already tell he won’t relent until you come on his mouth, so as the coil in your belly winds ever tighter you tug him by the blonde knots in your fist where you need him, enjoying the way he whined against your slick skin appreciatively. Two fingers slip inside you as his lips lock around your nub, curving and pressing the soft patch on your inner wall that has your vision flashing white. Every nerve is standing on edge as you lose control, your toes curling and fingers tugging on his hair hard enough it has to hurt, but he doesn’t stop or protest.

“Leon!” you cry out as you finally release his head to brace yourself on the countertop’s edge, “Lee-hmmm…”

His name is the last coherent word you get out before it’s only feral moans of bliss. You’re so close it’s like a fire burning in your limbs, every muscle tensing as you try to withhold it a little longer to prolong this moment where all you cared about was him and the way he could send you into the stars. When the tip of his tongue pinpoints and stiffens to flick teasingly before he latches once again, that’s all it takes to have the elastic snaps, sending a shockwave from your core all the way to the tips of your fingers, your scream echoing off the counters and windows. He’s satisfied with himself, smiling as he stands and lets your legs fall limply from his grasp, his hands catching your boneless body from slinking down onto the floor.

“M’gonna fuck you now,” he warns, gripping his cock that’s flushed purple and notching at your entrance, your response is nothing more than blind, sloppy kisses as you clean the taste of yourself off of his lips.

Your body welcomes him eagerly, sucking him in on his first thrust to the root. He sighs, gripping your waist to keep you still during the onslaught he’s set to release after you rip his shirt up over his head. Broad shoulders and thick pecs keep your fingers busy as you rememorize every dip and curve of his body, the slapping of skin on skin drowning out the pathetic whines falling from both of you as the sticky arousal leaking from your pussy soaks the patch of blonde hair at his base and drips down his thighs to pool on the waist of his pants he’s pulled down just enough. He’s not gentle, taking everything he needs with every hard piston of his hips, your legs quivering around him as you take every thick inch of him with no resistance.

Leon wants to slow down, to savor the friction of your silky walls over his dick that’s craved anything but his own calloused hand for months, but he can’t. Not when you’re so wet it takes all his concentration to not slip right out of your gaping hole that’s pulling him in with a vicelike grip. He wants to flip you around and bend you over the counter, take you from behind where he can arch your back by tugging your hair, your ass rippling from the force of his thrusts, but you’re still kissing him so sweetly as he fucks you this hard, his throat currently being lavished by your affection instead of strangled by a monster. And it’s that reminder that sets him over the edge.

Thick, hot ropes of cum fill your cunt as his head falls to your shoulder, his thumb flicking over your clit as he steadies his breath and his cock softens. It doesn’t take long for you to find release once again, gentler this time, quieter than the wildfire of the first and you let it ember as the mix of your releases leaks free, drenching you both and dripping onto the floor.

When he lifts his head to smile at you, his cheeks are flushed rosy pink, his eyes sparkling like gemstones before he cups the back of your head and kisses you in a silent thanks.

“I, uh, think we burnt the toast,” he chuckles, kissing you again before you can utter an unnecessary apology as the smell of charred bread finally registers, “Good thing I already had breakfast.”

Masterlist

#leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x reader #re4r leon #leon kennedy fanfic #leon x reader

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jacevelaryonswife · 3 months

Text

You Really Got Me | Part two | Professor!Michael Gavey x fem!student reader

summary: Suddenly, Michael felt vulnerable, exposed and fragile. Every year of love failure emerged drastically from a blocked corner of his heart. And he didn't like that.

a/n: sorry for the late update guys, I hope u all like it!

word count: 4k

tags: slow burn, power imbalance, slight angst

part one | ewanverse masterlist

Just this time.

It was a surprise for Michael when you showed interest in working with him. He hated being an idiot, he did, but he didn't expect a girl with your appearance to try so hard to work with him. He met many like you in his years of bachelor's degree; beautiful, cool, wealthy and socially successful thanks to daddy’s money. A privilege he never had. And he hated that. Hated it even more that most didn’t care enough about their own education while his life was molded in a continuous effort to obtain a small fraction of the success that his classmates had just because they were born into the right family.

The only thing he could count with was his mind. It's always been like that. And it was the reason for his hard-working social ascension.

Still, he knew that it was wrong to assume stereotypes at that point in life, but he couldn’t avoid such an association until you proved him to be more than deceived. Your performance was brilliant and your grades perfect, the complementary activities you performed were good, but they could be better. And he could do that; he could really elevate his experiences.

The only problem was you.

Well, him, actually.

He wasn’t good with women, he never was, not even with his ex-girlfriend.

He made improvements over the years, made good and loyal friends, although his love life had never fully geared. And that was a problem, because you didn’t present yourself as a love interest, even if his heart beat faster whenever you looked his way.

It was just loneliness, he tried to convince himself, and you were a gorgeous and smart girl. It was wrong, he knew, he was your bloody professor and that could never happen.

Michael truly made an effort not to get lost in those thoughts and not to abuse the power of his position. He didn't want to compromise the promising future in your relationship and that worked for a long time. Until that night.

The invitation to his flat was purely impulsive. The excuse he used? The biggest bullshit ever. And the most aggravating thing: you agreed with the idea. What the fuck was that?

He didn't believe it when you accepted the invitation. He didn't believe it when you entered his home. Not even when you leaned over to kiss him with fear and tenderness, or when he took off your clothes and touched your body, or when you were moaning below him.

Or when he couldn't stop thinking that night.

It's been three weeks since what happened, but his restless mind bombarded memories during all hours of the day.

Your voice, your face, your touch.

Kissing, touching, fucking.

Even in his dreams, you slept next to him since the rain did not allow your return home, waking up the other day with the most sensual shyness he has ever seen. It was necessary to activate all the locks on his body so that he wouldn’t have you again. He offered to take you home that morning, but there was nothing innocent in the request.

And then, there was the awkward feeling after the forbidden sex between co-workers. Obviously, as good adults none of you touched on the subject when you returned to lab, maintaining the false facade of normality, especially in front of Paul, his class of MMaths. Although only the necessary was said between the two of you, the exchanged glances revealed a bubbling intensity difficult to control, which consumed every active neuron in his brain.

He recognized the heat in your eyes, he believed it to be reciprocal, which made everything even more dangerous.

It can't happen again.

He tried to convince himself of that at least four times a day.

Another thing he often did again as soon as he got home was to masturbate. One, two, three times, like a horny teenager when watching bad porn. Thinking about you. Did you do the same when you remember of me? Did you want more? Because even though he refused to admit it, he wanted you.

═════════════════════

Michael was tired of correcting exams, exhausted, to be honest. His head and eyes hurt and a sudden need to stretch his legs made him get up from his office chair and go outside of the laboratory, which was separated by a door. However, something made him stop when he reached the handle.

"Oi, do you remember my friend James from physics? He asked if you're dating someone,” he heard Paul ask.

“Really?” You asked back.

"Yeah, he's really interested."

"Oh... I didn't expect that," you said, "well... I got involved with a person recently, it's complicated."

Fuck.

"I see, but if you decide to change your mind, let me know. I'm gonna have lunch, do you want something?”

“Nah, I'm good.”

“Okay, tell Michael I'll be back later.”

“Sure.”

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

What the fuck he's supposed to do now?

At the same time that his body froze, the palms of his hands began to sweat and a brief panic filled his chest. How would he solve that problem? Did you expect something else to happen? Did you want it? Or was it just a polite refusal? His brain was working at a thousand per second while new unknowns emerged. He needed to talk to you, anything, but how? What was there to say about what happened? Cautiously, he opened the door in search of your presence and tried to stay calm when your eyes met his with a smile contained in your lips.

“Good afternoon professor, Paul has gone-” Fuck that.

"We need to talk," he interrupted you abruptly, nervously.

“... okay,” you murmured with big eyes, moving in the chair.

He took a deep breath, staring at you. "I heard what you said to Paul before he left. Was it about me?"

Your posture hardened under his eyes, your eyes widened with questioning. He got you. He was impassive to find out the truth, anxious, almost obsessed.

"Yes, it was," you replied with your eyes down.

Okay.

What next?

“... okay.” His mouth dried up and a large gray image formed in his mind. What should he say now?

Do you still think about what happened? About me?

"Do you want to say something else?" You broke the established uncomfortable silence, making him sigh and close his eyes. He wanted to touch you. Your face, your hair, your lips...

"We need to talk about what happened," he lowered his head in a low voice and less determined than before. Just stop tormenting my thoughts.

“I know, but I don't know what to say exactly,” your voice was firmer than before as you got up and to face it. “I don't regret what happened. I was attracted to you, you're handsome, intelligent, and I really wanted to do what I did.”

Really?

Did you really want to?

His reasoning froze. No woman had said such things before, never, not even his ex-girlfriend. And that caught him off guard. The appreciation in your words heated his heart and radiated through his cheeks like an embarrassed teenager. He didn't know how to deal with that feeling.

Suddenly, Michael felt vulnerable, exposed and fragile. Every year of love failure emerged drastically from a blocked corner of his heart.

And he didn't like that.

He didn't like to feel vulnerable, he didn't like to relive sensations that his brain couldn't contain.

“And I know can't happen again, you're my professor, you're new in here and that can fuck your job. I don't want that to happen,” you added.

"I know," he said after a while. "I don't regret it either," he touched the left side of your face, caressing your cheek with his thumb "Not a little."

He captured the moment your lips broke, remaining motionless in front of you, inhaling the charming and spring perfume you wore, feeling your hands lean on his chest while breathing deeper, closer and closer.

So close that your faces were almost together.

Who did he want to deceive? He wanted more. Your touch, your kiss, your scent.

And apparently you shared the same desire, since your lips collided against his fervently, wrapping your hand around the back of his neck. He reciprocated the kiss at the same intensity, holding your waist and back, moving his lips deliciously. Your fingers pushed the hair of the back of his head, making him sigh softly during the kiss, pulling you closer, needy for more of you.

Not giving time for the end, Michael started another kiss as he leaned your back against the bench, holding both sides of your face while exploring your mouth with his tongue. It was so good, so right, that he almost forgot about the inappropriate location. Almost. What made him break the kiss.

“Someone can come in at any moment,” he whispered against your lips, sighing again.

"What are we going to do about it?" You asked as you lean your face to his, eyes closing.

After that, he had solved that problem. Rationally? With all the implications in force, nothing should happen. Emotionally? He would go all the way, he wanted you.

But which choice would be appropriate?

And why did his heart stand out so much in that decision? Because suddenly, the consequences didn't matter. It was impulsive, he knows, but who cares?

"I don't want this to stop," he confessed, holding you close.

"Me neither," you whispered, looking directly into his eyes now.

When did it become so intimate?

═════════════════════

And then, sneaking into Michael Gavey's flat became your secret routine. Sometimes you would take an innocent ride with your professor when it was late. Sometimes he found you somewhere far from known presences. Sometimes you would go to his house on Saturday morning and come back on Sunday night. Despite the risk, you were addicted to his smell, his touch and his company (and having sex with him).

That spring afternoon, while you were talking about your hobbies, you told him about your culinary skills and the idea of making pizza for dinner was sudden and welcome. Obviously he didn't have any suitable refractory, but he offered to go to the utensils store that was two blocks away, leaving you with restless and palpable thoughts. What if someone found out? Discretion was essential among you, but affliction and fear were always lurking. He can't be fired because of me. I can't get involved with my advisor. Your heart burned with the present complication in the situation, making you fall dramatically on the couch. How easy was it to surrender to the impulses of the heart, even if improper and dangerous?

Fortunately Michael came back in time to avoid your nervous breakdown, finding you in your panties and one of his old T-shirts that said "that's how I roll".

Without you noticing, he spent a long time admiring you, still standing holding the bags with other useful utensils and a hard stick.

"Hey, sorry, I didn't hear you coming."

And then, you saw that look. That impulsive and almost animalistic side that he had under his methodical persona and that you loved.

You sucked him to the last drop when the bags fell to the floor, going to prepare the pizza dough excitedly afterwards, temporarily forgetting any previous fear of your relationship. As a good lover, Michael returned the favor and delighted himself between your thighs while the dough rested, pulling a white and hot orgasm from you.

"Did you like it?" He asked with a conscious smile, cleaning your sweet juices and leaning over to leave soft kisses on your forehead.

"Do you still ask?" You laughed breathlessly and wrapped yourself in his arms, resting your head against his chest, being packed by his hands afterwards.It was affectionate, intimate and calm.

“You looked great with my T-shirt, by the way,” he murmured against your hair, breathing your smell.

“It's quite nerdy, you know,” you mocked, tracing circles on his arm.

"We're nerds," he smiled and held you closer. “Two big fucking nerds.”

“Definitely.”

The following hours were lazy. The kitchen was pleasantly warm as you transferred the dough to the form while Michael separated the remaining ingredients. All Day and All The Night from The Kinks made you two hum and once in a while his hands circled your waist under protests so that he wouldn't burn the sauce. Although the softness of the situation pleasantly involved you, suddenly, a discharge of reality hit your heart and brain at the same time.

Cooking together, wearing his shirt, cuddling him. So intimate, so dangerous, for you and him both. Damn conscience that constantly reminded you of the fact. Or damn foolishness for letting that happen?

“You're okay?”

What?

“What? Oh- yeah, I - I’m just thinking a lot," you stuttered, lowering your head, trying not to leave loopholes in your behavior that could intrigue you.

“About what?” But when it comes to Michael Gavey, any detail was relevant.

But then, touches came from the door and freed you from making a lie that might not convince you. "I'll be right back," Michael murmured as he adjusted his glasses, leaving you alone with a glaring mind and a pizza to finish. Fortunately the manual work entertained most of your thoughts, although the sound of the door closing with Michael outside did not go unnoticed by you, much less the minutes he spent outside. Whatever was happening left you alert and tempted to spy, but as soon as the impulse was generated, a stunned and restless Michael entered the house.

“Something happened?” You looked at him worried, approaching.

His eyes were fixed on the ground below your feet, turbulent and apathetic expression, strong breathing and trembling hands.

"My ex-girlfriend showed up. She wanted to come in, talk..." he started, still looking down, "She left three years ago, just suddenly decided that didn't love me anymore and left." Oh God. "... I didn't expect that."

Jesus Christ.

Your hands shook his face immediately and pulled him for a hug. “I'm so sorry.”

He was reluctant to accept comfort before wrapping his arms in your body, taking a deep breath, cloistering you, supporting himself, falling down.

"I didn't expect her. I waited for a long time for her to regret and come back to me, but she changed her number, job and city. She just left and never looked back."

Unprepared, just like him, you tried your best to comfort him. "You didn't deserve that, Michael, I'm really sorry."

For a long, long time, you kept him in your arms, in silence and motionless, just holding him, protecting him, trimming him. You didn't immediately notice when he finally found your eyes, but when he did, he came across a hitherto unknown countenance where sadness, confusion and defeat mixed.

A version not yet seen, but so lost and sensitive that it made your heart hurt for him.

“Thank you,” he held your face with his hands keeping you close. Unfortunately, you knew that feeling very well. "Is there anything I can do for you?"

Still part of his gaze remained turbulent, the man you admired so much seemed to have returned. “Just stay here.”

Who were you to deny that?

Even with the uncertainty about your relationship, you couldn't abandon him now, you couldn't complicate his head and heart, not after that, not when he needed you.

“Sure.”

The rest of the night was spent almost all in silence. You didn't want to address a painful subject for him, mainly because of his reaction after what happened. It was a complicated situation, especially when your own head was bubbling - however, the need to make him comfortable and know that he was well built strongly. "If you want to talk about what happened, I'll listen," you said during the break of a random episode of doctor who, snuggled up to him on the couch. For a long second, Michael remained silent, feeding your anxiety at the thought that he had gone too far.

"I relived what happened continuously for 745 days, spent a long time thinking about what happened, a really long time, until all the unknowns took the same answer. I'm tired of thinking or talking about her, but I appreciate your concern," he looked at you softly.

"Okay," you smiled and peaked your lips to his, diving back into the comfort of his chest.

═════════════════════

"So, how are things with Gavey?" Miranda asked casually, lying next to you in bed while texting someone.

You swallowed it deep, looking at the wall in front of you. Now, a fun fact: you had not yet told about your situation-ship with Michael.

You thought of several ways to introduce the subject, but no moment seemed right. It was very recent, very inappropriate, very risky. You knew she would never tell someone, much less judge, but a little fear accumulated in your mind. Obviously, the ideal moment would appear soon and you’d reveal your dirty secret. Until then, you would mislead her with an innocent lie.

“I'm fucking him.”

Or not.

“What?!” She almost jumped out of bed, turning completely to face you, her voice rising with each word. "Shut up! Are you serious?! When?! How?! I need all the details.”

And you told her. You told everything. From the first time to what happened to his ex. And of course she got pissed because you omitted the information for two months, but also understood your position.

“I can't fucking believe it, I really need daily updates about all this. I'm being serious.”

You laughed, but humor was the last thing felt.

"I don't know what to do, Miranda," you confessed. "I like Michael, I really do, I don’t know when it started, but what we are doing can generate negative consequences, especially for him, and I can't stop thinking about it. Every time I'm with him I think something can go wrong and it's driving me nuts."

“Oh honey...” She lamented, holding your hand.

"I know what I should do, rationally, but I really don't want to end things, I really like him. He's stabilized, handsome, funny in a very unique way and the sex? Fuck, it’s fucking good, and...” you looked down, “I just wish it wasn't so complicated.”

Taking it out of your chest brought great relief, but not even close to healing such anguish.

"Have you ever talked to him?"

"I wish I had said that night that his ex showed up, but the bitch fucked everything and I couldn't throw this bomb of sentimental confusion at him," you looked at her. "And I know myself, I have to talk to him before I get even more anxious and paranoid."

“Self-knowledge is a blessing,” she shook your hand with a comforting smile. "I’ll be here to support any decision you make."

“Thanks, honey.”

Venting with Miranda appeased part of your fears. That week you were determined to talk to Michael, even if the conclusion was bitter for both of you. It was painful to think about the end of the affair between you, but at the same time it would solve your emotional restlessness. Maybe it would be better this way, maybe all this would be nothing more than an adventure, an experience to be remembered. Maybe it would be better to extinguish the spark before it causes a fire.

Knowing each other very well, you knew that at any moment you would change your mind about your future, but you also knew what needed to be done. Therefore, when he invited you out on Friday night, you had already rehearsed how you would approach the subject.

But Michael decided to surprise you by taking you to dinner in an Italian restaurant far beyond your reality. He also anticipated your protest about the place, assuring that he would pay for everything.

“Oh gosh, no, you don't ne-“

“I insist, no need to worry.” And you knew well that there would be no discussion about it.

The cozy environment with partial lighting was not enough to mitigate the lack of belonging you felt as soon as you entered, but for your luck, everyone seemed too immersed in their worlds to perceive an intruder.

Away from other people, Michael and you sat face to face.

"That's quite a surprise," was the first thing you said when facing his beautiful blue eyes.

"This was the first restaurant I came to when I started making money, I don't know why, I just went ahead and decided to go in. I liked the feeling of being able to finally take the reins of my life, with my own money, and I want you to experience that too," he said, smiling softly at you.

"I'm here with your money," you remember him in a good mood.

"I know, but you'll have yours soon," he touched your hand on the table, watching the waiter politely approach the menu. "Choose what you want, don't care about the price."

And he mean that.

He asked for arancini balls for entry. Even though you’ve never tried it, what could go wrong with risotto balls stuffed with mozzarella cheese?

“So?” He asked excitedly.

"It's really good," you smiled, taking another little ball and leading it towards his mouth, making him laugh before putting everything in his mouth. “The other half was supposed to be mine, but I forgive you.”

"Let me fix that," he repeated the gesture, but you decided to surprise him by licking his finger while maintaining eye contact before eating the arancini. "Are you trying to make me hard in the middle of the restaurant?" He asked quietly, with a hint of fun.

"It's not my intention... yet."

As a main, you chose a classic lasagna and Michael a simple spaghetti bolognese, both accompanied by a Brunello di Montalcino. You weren't a big fan of wine, but you wanted to try the full Italian package.

It's time.

You just felt it.

You had to talk to him.

"So, I need to tell you something," you started, swallowing while you saw it partially hardened. "I... I'm afraid. I'm afraid that someone will find out about us, constantly, and it's driving me crazy. I like you, Michael, I really do, you're fucking intelligent, witty, handsome, but I don't want you to lose your job because of me, that would kill me and that's all I think lately."

He sighed hardly. Collecting his hands and looking down. "I know, this is fucking me too, I can't loose fucking my job.” Suddenly, he seemed nervous about your gaze, as if he was considering something. "I like you too and I don't want this to end, that's why I brought you here," he looked at you with tense eyes. “I think you deserve more than a quickie in my fucking office, you beautiful, smart, hardworking, and I want you to be my girlfriend. Officially.”

What?

“Officially?” You asked surprised, almost panting.

"Yes, I mean it, I want to make this right, I know we can't tell anyone until you graduate, but I want you to be my girlfriend, if you want to."

Whoa whoa. That's huge. Fucking huge. You needed to think about it. You spent weeks succumbing for fear of being caught with your professor, a relationship would certainly not alleviate the feeling, it would just get worse. You couldn't be impulsive and accept-

“Of course I fucking want to,” you almost yelled, holding his hand tightly. “But how we go-“

"The same way we're doing now."

Your chest squeezed with fear, making you look down before answering: "It's just... I don't want to harm you."

"Listen me, if something happens I'm guilty of wanting this situation, not you, it's my choice," he lightly shook your hand.

“I know I'm being paranoid,” you look at him, “But yes, Michael Gavey, I want to be your fucking girlfriend,” you smiled, feeling the famous butterflies in your stomach. "And we can always be more cautious."

He fixed his glasses and returned the smile, an adorable slight red glowing over his cheeks.

"We will.”

——————————————————————————

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mechaknight-98 · 6 months

Text

Bon Voyage (NSFW) FT Yoohyeon

Authors note: This better not awaken anything in me… oh no it did. My longest work by a county mile. Have fun.

Part II

There is a codex keeper on every expedition ship who holds the history of his people. Trained to be not only a warrior but also a healer and a scholar. The path of a codex keeper is wrought with strife and misery, but often they are venerated as heroes due to their aptitude in the myriad of professions they undertake.

The ship known as the Royal Marquis is no different For that’s crew codex keeper went by the name of Orion.

Orion was a soft-hearted and passionate Codex keeper whose humanity shone in even the darkest nights with light that could rival the stars. Born and raised on Nebula M78. Orion was taught above all to be kind and serve. For everyone knocked down by your actions you must use both hands to raise them back up. A message so engrained that even throughout all of his many runes and teachings of wisdom etched into his dark body this one hovered over him as a constant flowing and glowing halo a testament to his belief. His relentless pursuit of the ideal and peaceful was only matched by his equally fervent devotion to his faith in others and the Triumvirate. Although appreciated by many on the ship many feared the power and influence he held over the ship. His soft teal iris contrasted by pitch-black sclera held both Tranquility and Turmoil a testament to his unbreakable nature. Trained by his legendary and wizened Codex Master of acquiescence Lorgar; Orion is a truly formidable force in his own right.

Despite his jovial demeanor, Orion sticks to himself when not directly helping the crew or being consulted for his expertise. His understanding of the disdain that many of the ship’s crew had for him was palpable and understood.

This disdain went beyond and would include even those in his order, although in many ways he was an average codex keeper. Average height, average weight, etc. The only exception to his mediocrity was his academic, arbitration scores (which were exceptionally high and occasionally cause for concern) and his faith in the triumvirate as the codex preferred its applicant's faithful only to the cause. Which is exactly why Keeper Orion’s master chose him. This is why after his most recent excursion; Orion finds himself heading to His master's office. Before he could enter he saw the Codex Masters of Academics (Samuel) and Arbitration (Michael). Neither saw him as the two entered his Master's chambers.

The Codex Masters of Arbitration and Academics entered the personal chambers of the Codex Master or Acquiescence. They needed to discuss his refusal to admonish the Codex Keeper Orion, for failing to adhere to one of his core functions and losing a codex of his. they worried it would fall into the wrong hands and the lost history would be weaponized against their order. In truth, the Codex had been consumed by an accidental firing of Orion's rapidly developing and uncontrollable magic powers. The reason why the lie on the part of Orion was that in a miraculous turn of events he had developed the black lines of a mage. A feat that should have been impossible, but if there was one thing that many people knew Orion for it was impossible feats.

“Codex master of Acquiescence Logar we are here to discuss the lack of chastisement and admonishing done to your pupil codex keeper Orion, after failing to maintain his core function as Codex keeper.” Codex Master of Academics prattled.

Codex Master Lorgar looked up from his writings and looked to his other two Codex Masters

“Keeper Orion was serving his other core function when his codex was destroyed in protecting and serving the crew and citizens of the expedition ship The Royal Marquis while it was conducting the Pilgrimage when it attacked by Beyond Beasts”

“While that is true he still lost his codex and must go through the reassembly rite.” Codex Master of Academics: Samuel responded.

“He keeps an extra codex already assembled as per our written code. Plus he always prepares three when he needs a new Codex, for this exact reason.”

"Well, how will we what was lost in the data?" Codex Master of Arbitration Michael asked.

"Simple he records in both his normal Codex, His spare, and his personal Journal to again avoid the loss of information. This is why I didn't report the loss well destruction of his codex to either of you. he did all of the proper preparation before an expedition, and honestly I wouldn't have even known had it not been for him telling me, which is more than I can say for either of your apprentices who have both recently lost their codecies." Lorgar rebuked

the two Codex Masters looked at Lorgar in surprise. They thought they had successfully safeguarded the issue of their apprentice's data being breached.

This ended their conversation with Lorgar effectively and the two Codex Masters left. little did they know Orion heard the whole thing. He reduced himself as they walked out not wanting to further exaggerate their ire. After they left Orion entered his Master's office

As the weight of Lorgar's words settled over the room, Orion couldn't help but feel a sense of unease creeping over him. The implications of his growing powers and the potential consequences weighed heavily on his mind, casting a shadow over the otherwise tranquil atmosphere.

"Your ability to pass without a trace is impressive but concerning, Orion," Lorgar teased, his tone laced with a hint of amusement as he felt a familiar presence enter his room.

Orion smirked, though his expression betrayed a flicker of nervousness. "My apologies, my master. I just didn't want to expand the ire of the other Codex Masters."

"It's much too late for that. If you wanted that, you should have died when those pirates attacked and you saved both of their apprentices. By the way, your wound is finally healing," Lorgar joked lightly, though there was an underlying seriousness in his words that didn't escape Orion's notice.

"Don't remind me, had Leito listened to me I wouldn't have gotten it. Bleh I will never understand the politics of this order," Orion remarked, his tone tinged with frustration.

"For that, I appreciate it. Often we get caught up in the religion of politics and forget our Order's purpose," Lorgar lamented, his gaze thoughtful as he regarded his apprentice.

"What do you mean, Master?" Orion asked, his curiosity piqued.

"I appreciate your inquiry, but surely you have seen the devout faith and zeal that some of our order has displayed in the political arena?" Lorgar clarified his words carrying a weight of wisdom borne from years of experience. Orion nodded in understanding, recognizing the truth in his master's words.

"Now, what bothers you, Orion?" Lorgar inquired, his tone gentle yet probing.

In response, Orion slowly undid his bandages, revealing the growing black lines that covered his forearms. The sight caused Lorgar to loom over the revelation, his expression grave.

"Have you been practicing with Magik?" Lorgar questioned, his voice tinged with concern.

Orion shook his head, his gaze meeting his master's with a mixture of apprehension and confusion. Every use of his Magik powers had always been accidental, lacking intention or control. There was a silver lining, however, Orion’s Codex Keeper Glyphs were beginning to mature and become silver meaning he would be up for the mark of Mastery Exam. Something Lorgar knew he would ace guaranteed. It just pained Lorgar that as often with his apprentice every victory is hard fought and pyrrhic.

Taking note of his apprentice's response, Lorgar continued, "Does your Ward Witch companion know?"

"No, Master, but both Yoohyeon and Dami have expressed their suspicions," Orion admitted, his voice tinged with worry.

"Well, keep it that way if you can. You know the stakes if others were to discover that both Psionics and Magik powers exist in you," Lorgar cautioned, his words carrying a weight of urgency as he emphasized the potential consequences of such a revelation.

"I would become a weapon at best and at worst a political tool," Orion responded. Lorgar nodded he always appreciated Orion's ability to listen and trust. It was one of his best and worst qualities. Along with his compassion. The two things that made him an excellent leader could easily make him such a threat to the federation if he were so inclined. Planets would follow Orion to war if he raised a banner, the horrifying part is Lorgar would also join too, knowing his apprentice. So he chose to make sure his apprentice stayed low to the ground and humble because if not Orion's sincerity, Compassion, and true Zeal could bathe the starways in blood.

After he met with the codex master, Orion returned to his shared residence with the Ward Witch Yoohyeon. Before delving further into the story, let's elucidate the concept of a Ward Witch, which may be unfamiliar to some.

In the realm of the expedition ship, Ward Witches adhere to a code that intertwines service, seduction, arbitration, and attraction. They are formally trained magicians, drawing power from mana channeled through various mediums. Unlike Codex Keepers who wield psionics to directly manifest change, Ward Witches practice a more traditional form of magic, employing spell incantations and specific mediums to fuel their abilities.

These enigmatic practitioners, often found traveling in packs known as covens, blend raw emotion with guarded restraint, weaving spells that balance expression and control. Typically, a Ward Witch is paired with a Codex Keeper due to the complementary nature of their abilities.

Enter Yoohyeon Kim, an extraordinary Ward Witch hailing from Prime Terra. Versatile and adept, she excels in diplomacy, boasting proficiency in eight out of the twelve core and rim languages of the federation. Her prowess extends beyond linguistics; Yoohyeon's exceptional singing talent significantly enhances her magical abilities. Her other skills were equal in proficiency whether it be her dance, or her combat prowess if it was a skill to be master odds are Yoohyeon was a master of it.

Intriguingly, Yoohyeon's coven comprises mostly performers, each member's abilities amplifying their talents. Her excellence stands in stark contrast to Orion's averageness, yet their coupling was orchestrated by forces beyond their comprehension, guided by celestial powers and higher entities.

Yoohyeon smiled as she watched her chosen partner walk in. She lounged on their sofa as Orion walked in she waved seductively hoping to catch his eye

“Hello sweetheart,” she cooed. Orion smiled and then noticed her absence of clothing, and his body responded. He walked over to her and held her face close before kissing her intently. Yoohyeon smiled into the kiss before taking her opportunity and flipping their position. She smiled at Orion before going in for another passionate kiss. Her dainty but strong and nimble hand opens Orion’s pants for her desired piece of him at this moment. Orion could feel Yoohyeon drip onto his clothed legs as she meticulously stroked his rod in preparation for penetration. Yoohyeon reveled in the power she held over her chosen partner. When she felt his rod stiffen to its full potential she lowered herself onto him as they kissed. Orion fell victim to the rhythm of his body but before he could truly fall into it Yooyheon stopped and his hips and set his hands upon her perky petite breasts.

“Relax Sweetheart let me take the lead,” she said her voice low sultry, and stern. Orion wordlessly nods and Yoohyeon smiles before diving in. She begins by riding Orion at a tortuous and glacial pace. Orion's moans delighted Yoohyeon as she slightly increased her pace. She begins to kiss his exposed shoulder before she sucks on it with the intent of leaving a mark on "Her Codex Keeper". When she heard Orion moan again she broke the kiss to see her work accomplished she smiled. She then went back to kissing his lips as she increased her tempo slightly once more. she watched as Orion fell increasingly into submission with her. Her folds encased Orion in an almost suffocating tightness that left the keeper-headed. However, the Ward Witch also knew that she often kept the keeper breathless and speechless in bed. Something she fought to change since she loved the sound of his voice. A soothing anchor to her often hectic life, while the tone and inflection left things to be desired what he said was always a comfort to her. So to get the desired reaction, she slammed her bountiful bottom into his crotch eliciting a shared moan from the couple

“Do you like it, Sweetheart," Yooheyon asks seductively as she traces his Codex keeper glyphs that cover his body in a mirrored way to her Magik tattoos. Orion nods which causes Yoohyeon to tease him further, "Use your words, sweetheart. Do you like it?"

"Yes Dear you know my body so well," Orion says breathlessly. Yoohyeon smiles as she continues her ride she slows her lace slightly to drive Orion mad even further.

"I love the way you feel under me. I love the way you writhe and squirm but still do as I ask." Yoohyeon moaned as she neared her release.

"After all we've been through I wouldn't have it any other way," Orion replies. His words inadvertently send Yoohyeon over the edge as she cums on her partner. she continues to ride before her sensitivity gets the better of her and she hops off of his rod. Yooyhyeon lies next to Orion. She moves his hand to her ample posterior and has him firmly grip it as they remember the past. a favorite post-coitus time for the couple

"You remember when we first met Othello," Yoohyeon asked, Orion nodded

"How could I forget."

2 years earlier.

Codex Keeper Orion stood at his post getting ready for his first expedition. He was worried that he would be late so he arrived at the Royal Marquis 2.5 hours before he was supposed to. He eased his nerves by doing the glyphs of protection over the ship. He figured another once-over couldn't hurt. As he did his work he felt a presence watching him. He turned around to see a young woman with Dyed blonde and brown hair watching him. Embarrassed Orion quickly stopped his warding glyphs. the blonde smiled and said

"Well, Well, Well, Hi there," she said as she approached with a friendly tone. it put Orion at ease who smiled back at her and outstretched his hand to her. The young lady smiled and grabbed his hand but as she went to shake it she tripped causing both Orion and her to fall to the ground. The girl apologized profusely as the two of them got up.

"I am so sorry I am usually not this clumsy. My name is Yoohyeon, and I am the ward Witch for this ship." Yoohyeon finished.

Orion recognized the name and said, "Wait like the one of the Dreamcatcher Coven?" Yoohyeon's eyes went wide as not many knew her Coven throughout the federation.

"Wait you know us?" she asked surprised.

"Yes, I am a big fan!" Orion replied excitedly

"Oh, who's your favorite." Yoohyeon teased playfully

"No that's a setup because if I don't say you, you'll look at me funny but if I say you you won't believe me so I'll go with my typical answer of I don't have a favorite," Orion replied.

Yoohyeon smirked playfully, "Okay I'll accept that." she replied. Orion nods as the two of them walk together around the Ship.

"Wait I didn't get your name," Yoohyeon replied as they walked around the ship and Orion finished his Warding Glyphs

"Oh no worries Orion is my Keeper's name but my actual name is Othello."

"Oh Orion...I wouldn't peg you as a Mythology buff." Yoohyeon teased.

"I'm not I got Orion from a comic book." Orion replies

"Oh, that's way cooler than." Yoohyeon playfully affirmed. as she leaned into the Eldorian. when he caught her she smiled "Ooh sturdy body. I like it," Yoohyeon cooed.

Orion didn't lose the sense of being watched however he was put at ease by the Ward Witch.

"So this is your apprentice? He's underwhelming at first glance. Are you sure Yoohyeon won't be held back by his mediocrity?" Lady Sunshine, the Ward Witch and direct mentor of Yoohyeon, questioned Codex Master Lorgar as they observed Orion.

Lorgar's expression remained calm as he responded, "Appearances can be deceiving, Lady Sunshine. Keeper Orion may not strike you as exceptional, but I assure you, he possesses qualities that go beyond mere outward appearances."

Lady Sunshine arched an eyebrow skeptically. "Oh? And what qualities might those be?"

A knowing smile played on Lorgar's lips. "You'll see soon enough. I have arranged for a test that will showcase Orion's true capabilities."

Lady Sunshine's curiosity was piqued. "A test, you say? Color me intrigued. But forgive me if I remain skeptical until I witness this supposed potential firsthand."

Lorgar nodded, undeterred by her skepticism. "I wouldn't expect anything less, Lady Sunshine. Rest assured, Orion will not disappoint."

With a dismissive wave of her hand, Lady Sunshine replied, "Well, I suppose we shall see."

"If I may, Lady Sunshine," Lorgar interjected, "I have full confidence in Orion's abilities.

Their conversation concluded with a sense of anticipation lingering in the air, both mentors eager to see what the future held for their respective apprentices.

Over the next few hours the ship, supplies, and fuel were packed for the 8-month trip. While this was going on it was common practice for both Yoohyeon and Orion to help the crew loading. This is of significance because often Ward Witches and Codex Keepers do not do this. so a majority of the crew and passengers for the Grand Marquis were shocked. Obviously, with her impressive Magik skills, Yoohyeon was able to do a lot more than Orion but Yoohyeon while being extremely skilled was also prone to clumsiness. often her over-eagerness to be of service would cost her focus and mess her up. Thankfully for every single one of those mishaps, Orion was there to cover for her and help her. So what usually took over 25 hours to load up took five with Yoohyeon and Orion's help. After loading up the passengers and crew waited in their various quarters.

Othello was lying on his bed in his quarters, exhausted from the day's work of loading supplies onto the ship for the upcoming 8-month trip. As he started to drift off into a light doze, he heard a gentle knock on his door.

Pushing himself up, Othello stretched out his tired muscles before making his way to the door. Opening it, he was met with the sight of Yoohyeon standing there, she dyed blonde and brown hair tousled from the day's activities.

"Hey," she said softly, a small smile playing on her lips. "Mind if I come in?"

Othello's heart skipped a beat at the sight of her, his pulse quickening slightly. "Of course," he replied, stepping aside to let her enter.

Yoohyeon stepped into his quarters as she did her heightened magic senses felt the change in Othello's heartbeat as she moved closer to him. Yoohyeon smiled at that, her eyes scanning the room before settling on

Othello. "I just wanted to thank you for today," she said sincerely, her gaze meeting his. "I couldn't have done it without your help."

Othello felt a warmth spread through him at her words, his chest swelling with pride. "It was nothing," he replied modestly, though inwardly he was pleased to have been able to assist her.

As they stood there facing each other, a comfortable silence fell between them. Othello couldn't help but notice the way Yoohyeon's eyes sparkled in the dim light of his quarters, or the way her smile seemed to brighten the room.

Suddenly feeling self-conscious under her gaze, Othello cleared his throat. "Is there anything else you need?" he asked, trying to sound casual.

Yoohyeon shook her head, her smile widening. "No, I just wanted to say thank you," she said softly. "But if you ever need anything, you know where to find me."

"I don't" Othello responded bluntly

Yoohyeon laughed and said, "Oh right! room 307 just three doors down from you at 310." Yoohyeon said

With that, Yoohyeon turned to leave, but before she could take a step,

Othello found himself speaking up again. "Wait," he blurted out, his heart racing in his chest.

Yoohyeon turned back to him, her eyebrows raised in surprise. "Yes?" she asked, her voice tinged with curiosity. She could hear his heart racing and tried to hide her smile. She wondered why he was so flustered.

"I just... I wanted to say that I'm glad we could work together today," Othello said, his words coming out in a rush. "And I... I enjoyed spending time with you."

There was a moment of hesitation as Yoohyeon regarded him, her expression unreadable. Othello agonized over her pause, but then, to Othello's relief, she smiled, her eyes softening.

"Me too," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. And with that, she turned and left, leaving Othello standing there, his heart pounding in his chest.

As he watched her go, Othello couldn't help but feel a sense of joy well within him. He hoped he would be seeing more of her. he also noticed as she walked out she gave a seductive little Sashay of the room drawing his eye to her hips and her stellar rump. Yoohyeon chuckled as she walked out. her little act of seduction having its desired effect as she heard Othello's heart race a little bit faster. She bit her lip excited "Playing with you will be fun Keeper." she said as she got into her room.

Over the next few weeks, the duo's schedules would align enough to where they would see each other quite often, but never more for moments at a time, and in those fleeting moments. Orion's nerves would slowly melt away as he would see her. usually clean up a mess she made in a rush, having messed up a spell or invocation just slightly in her hectic life, but always Orion would help her out. The female Captain took note of Orion's helpfulness and brought him on to help her in conflict resolution matters between crew members along with helping the mechanics.

Captain Marie was taken aback by all of his questions but quickly learned they were not from a place of Malice but an insatiable need to know everything. It was endearing to her and also a little inspiring as he made her better by challenging thought processes and perspectives. She was a new Captain of Expedition ships so someone who asked a lot of in-depth questions helped her grow and helped foster a more in-depth knowledge of her craft

As Orion enmeshed himself in the ship's workings and culture it drew time away from his meetings with Yoohyeon, who felt increasing pains in her heart seeing him having to consistently leave her. Not used to these feelings she often would sneak little moments with him where they would catch up and talk during the end of the day in his bed. staring out his window of the ship gazing at the stars and other exceptional creatures/ ships that traveled the stars. As more weeks passed, Yoohyeon and Othello found themselves crossing paths less frequently, and their encounters increasingly fleeting yet meaningful. Othello's nerves gradually melted away each time he saw her, his heart skipping a beat at her presence.

One evening, as Othello was tidying up his quarters after a long day, he heard a soft knock on his door. Opening it, he was delighted to find Yoohyeon standing there, a sheepish smile on her face.

"Hey," she greeted softly, her eyes sparkling with warmth. "Mind if I come in?"

Othello's heart raced at the sight of her, but he managed to nod eagerly, stepping aside to let her enter. Yoohyeon heard the beat of his heart playing and felt at ease. she loved the heavy percussion his heart had and how she always knew where he was because she knew his heartbeat so well. As she stepped into his quarters, he couldn't help but notice the faint blush that colored her cheeks.

"Is everything okay?" he asked, a hint of concern in his voice.

Yoohyeon nodded, her smile widening.

"Yeah, I just... missed talking to you," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

A rush of warmth flooded through Othello at her words, his smile growing in response. "I missed talking to you too," he confessed, his gaze meeting hers.

Settling onto the edge of Othello's bed, Yoohyeon leaned against the wall, her eyes fixed on the stars visible through the window. Othello joined her, their shoulders brushing as they gazed out into the vast expanse of space.

For a while, they sat in comfortable silence, the only sound the soft hum of the ship's engines. Then, Yoohyeon spoke up, her voice quiet yet filled with emotion.

"Do you ever wonder what's out there?" she asked, her gaze still fixed on the stars.

Othello nodded, his own eyes tracing the constellations overhead. "All the time," he admitted. "But somehow, when I'm with you, it feels like the universe isn't quite as daunting."

Yoohyeon turned to him, her eyes searching his face. At that moment, with the stars as their backdrop, the tension between them crackled with an unspoken desire.

As they sat together, bathed in the soft glow of starlight, Othello couldn't help but feel a sense of longing stirring within him. And he couldn't shake the feeling that, perhaps, Yoohyeon felt it too. Othello yawned as the fatigue got to him. it was a signal for Yoohyeon to leave as Othello was probably going to go to sleep soon. Reluctantly Yoohyeon got up and began to ready herself to leave.

The fatigue of working with the crew today and maintaining his codex keeper duties left Othello exhausted, but he wanted to spend more time with Yoohyeon.

"Hey Yoon. If you want... you can stay with me...here...tonight." Othello said. Yoohyeon looked at Othello with surprise as she heard his heart race even further. she wondered if this was him being nice or if he reciprocated her budding feelings.

"Oh, I don't want to be a bother," Yoohyeon responded.

Othello felt crushed by her rejection but his heart told him to fight through it and just try again, "No please be one Yoon...Wait that came out wrong. I enjoy your time considerably." Yoohyeon noticed the little nickname he made for her. it brought her a confident sense of joy.

"Okay then sure," she said as the two lay together in the bed watching the stars. As the two got in the spooning cuddle position (Yoohyeon was a little spoon

"I read your file Othello and I have a question. How did you get the nickname Demon Dog?"

Othello laughed at the poor translation of his moniker from Eldoria Akanui which translated contextually to Hellhound, but the literal translation was "Demon Dog".

"So back when I was training under Codex Master Lorgar on Eldoria my home planet. he bestowed me the moniker Akanui "due to my ability to navigate Hellish situations with the ferocity of a raged hound. due to Eldoria having a very easy Literal translation structure. the literal translation of Akanui which is Demon Dog stuck of the contextually Hellhound." Othello explained. Yoohyeon chuckled at this adorable gaff. which inspired Othello to reach out

"Okay, so I also read your file and there is something I wanted to ask." Othello started. Yoohyeon looked at him terrified.

"What's your family like? I have a weird relationship with mine but often when I was going through yours I saw how much you cited them for giving you love and strength." Othello asked. Yoohyeon smiled as she turned around

"They are the ones who taught me to be kind to everyone. they're tough, but also gentle. They give me love every time I go back home and keep me grounded. they remind me that I am human and not some demigod of power. No matter how many fans and others try to deify me." She says happily. A homesick tear falls down her face which Othello quickly wipes away from her cheek. as they look into each other's eyes for a fleeting moment. their relationship changed. Not fully but in that moment of remembrance and sentimentality their hearts toward each other changed definitively. Yoohyeon feeling almost compelled asked Othello about his family, Othello sighed, as he tried to parse the hurt from the truth to not obfuscate who he was from Yoohyeon

"My relationship is complicated. I am what the Eldoric people called "Rigid of mind" while for the most part, I am normal appearing and biologically to others. I am from a mental capacity, not that. I was also raised in a very religious and spiritual household that held very traditional and fundamentalist views that many times I found myself disagreeing with. this served to consistently have me head with the members of my family. until I began to withdraw into myself more and more. In that I found peace outside but a war within. Anger and resentment fill my heart at a world that consistently seeks to hurt and belittle me and my accomplishments so much so that I don't know my worth most days, but at the same time despite this. they are some of the most morally sound, and soft-hearted people I know. While I would never trust them with my heart I trust them with my life, and I have learned to be okay with that. I love them as they are, and not as what I want them to be." Othello said, and Yoohyeon listened she sensed the vulnerability in his words, the anger and resentment ebb and flow as he spoke but ultimately she saw the peace he had about his family and the true love he held for him. It broke her heart that he didn't have the most glowing review of his family but despite that, he still chose to find their unified humanity and unite in that spoke to her louder than any other act of service he had presented to her. he just gave her his heart and was trusting her with it, Yoohyeon noticed this and immediately understood the responsibility she held. Othello trusted her and she wouldn't fail him, as she knew that he would never fail her. After that Yoohyeon anchored herself a little deeper into Othello's arms as the two fell asleep comfortably together.

The next day The Royal Marquis and all its inhabitants hit the halfway point of their journey. due to the previous night's intensity, Yoohyeon and Orion woke up later than usual. this caused them to miss breakfast but since they were spending a full day at the refilling station on the planet Melibone they had time to kill. Per their usual routine, the couple helped load up everything again, and this time Yoohyeon made noticeably fewer mistakes and the process went even faster. Orion was always close to her as well. everyone besides Orion and Yoohyeon noticed the almost gravitational pull the two had on each other. The Captain had barely been able to contain her smirk knowing that another Codex Keeper and Ward Witch had grown close, but in her time with both Orion and Yoohyeon she noticed they were especially well paired for each other. Yoohyeon's genuine joy and exuberance for things often mirrored Orion's unrelenting desire to know and experience things to the fullest. she knew that they had spent their "rest hours" Chatting to each other for numerous nights and often caught glances of the two giving puppy dog eyes to the other. So she was just waiting for one of them to make the first move. As the refilling finished in a record-breaking 2 hours and 30 minutes with their help she Saw Orion and Yoohyeon approach her.

"Hey, Captain everything is loaded are we good to depart?" Orion said plainly. The Captain eyed Yoohyeon's body language. she had her arms possessively wrapped around Orion's left arm. what made it even more adorable was the tracing of the codex glyphs on his skin. She also noticed that the little mantra that hung over his head changed as well. instead of Core Terran English, it was Core Terran Hangul. Her and Yoohyeon's mother tongue. She remembered him explaining how he thought it worked but she couldn't remember the actual specifics. Orion often got so excited to share his knowledge that his answers would quickly go to many layers deep in complexity. As they waited for her answer she noticed the anxiety in their touches. their bodies screamed with impatience, but their eyes and faces told a different story. The couple was fully locked in on doing their duties but their bodies had other desires. The captain wondered how long the couple would hold out before their bodies made choices that their minds weren't fully in line with.

"No we have to leave at our scheduled time frames otherwise the ports won't be ready for us and we mess scheduling for other ships yadda, yadda. Charters and Port control get mad at me so for now we will stay on Melibone and enjoy the time off. you two especially need it with all of the work you two have done over the last two hours." the captain said positively to the couple. "Go see Elric of the black blade. I heard the play is excellent."The Captain added leaving the two to explore Melibone. The first thing the couple did was get food. There was a cafe nearby the port where the two ate their first meal of the day. While eating a female voice rang out to Yoohyeon

“Yoohyeon?” Orion and Yoohyeon turned to look at the voice in the same direction of the voice. A pretty lady with dark hair ran over to the two eating. Yoohyeon smiled seeing the girl as she tightly gripped Orion’s hand.

“Jiu-unnie how are you?” Yoohyeon said happily to her coven leader. Jiu smiled as she approached and spoke to the duo.

“Oh, I'm fantastic my Codex Keeper Freyjar has been taking exceptional care of me.”

Yoohyeon heard Orion’s heart rate spike and his open fist clenched as Jiu said the name Freyjar. She looked at his face and watched his expression shift from comfort to an unreadable expression. As his heart rate mellowed it took on an unhurried pace that held an almost malevolent tone. Unaware of the silent conversation going on between Yoohyeon and Orion she sat with them. After she got comfortable she turned to her Codex Keeper who looking for her when she heard his heartbeat

“Ah Freyjar come over here,” Jiu said Jubilant. Freyjar turned to the familiar voice and walked over to see Jiu Freyjar turned to the familiar voice and walked over to see his favorite Ward Witch along with a familiar face

“Devil Dog?” Freyjar exclaimed surprised

Yoohyeon listened to Orion’s heart rate slow even further. Jiu noticed this as well but didn't want to cause a scene.

“Let's keep it professional Keeper Freyjar please call me Keeper Orion,” Orion said flatly. Jiu appreciated Orion’s attempt to diffuse the situation immensely and smiled at him. Freyjar noticed this and his heart grew jealous. Yoohyeon noticed though that Jiu and Freyjar had synchronized heartbeats whereas Orion and hers Alternated. Freyjar watched Orion with maintained an unreadable. He looked for any hint of emitting but Codex Master Lorgar taught Keeper Orion well and his face was a stoic mask. He did notice that he was latching on to The blonde lady who sat next to Jiu. That's it that's the pain point he thought.

“Okay, Keeper Orion. Who is this lady you seem keen on?” Orion tensed before Jiu came to his rescue.

“Oh this is the member of my Coven I was telling you about Yoohyeon,” Jiu explained.

Freyjar nodded still staring at Orion.

“Oh, the clumsy puppy you mentioned.”

Orion’s stoic mask slips for a moment as he turns to smile at Yoohyeon. Yoohyeon returned his smile she was happy to see it even if for a moment. The waitress arrived breaking the tension and the politics for a moment asking the group what they desired.

"Can I try one of your pastry pies one meat and one berry?" Orion asked. Melibone was known for its pastry pies and he figured such a simple meal would be hard to mess up and an excellent yet also a safe gauge for the quality of the cafe. Yoohyeon got the house special. Jiu got a simple salad and Freyjar got a steak. After that Jiu and Freyjar led the conversation as Orion barely spoke leaving Yoohyeon to speak. it was uncharacteristic of him the two often spoke and tumbled over and around each other in conversation so seeing him so guarded was concerning. She held him close and hoped he would open up.

"So Orion how is your first expedition? Is it exciting? Jiu and I have faced pirates and several webs of political intrigue," Freyjar said smugly.

"Not currently, but I appreciate the quiet. allows me to focus on my task and functions as a Codex Keeper," Orion replied measuredly. Freyjar's eyes narrowed.

"That suits you honestly. Your mediocrity has always been so baffling. I mean you barely passed trials with that mediocre Expedition you did." Freyjar teased. Jiu and Yoohyeon both froze. they sensed the growing tension between Freyjar and Orion. Freyjar was digging for a reaction and Orion wasn't giving it to him, so he kept digging deeper and deeper.

"We Graduated all the same Keeper Freyjar," Orion responded coldly.

"Yes but I mean who would want to work with someone so unimpressive? Your academic scores are average. your arbitration scores are solid I'll give you that but... that's it. you average nothing special." Freyjar said.

" Hey stop that. Keeper Orion is an excellent Codex keeper. He serves the ship and keeps everyone in high spirits.

"No Ward Witch he isn't you defend the worst of us, and all you have to say is oh he is kind. Kindness is a weakness. A codex Keeper is meant to be exemplar warrior scholars and Psion, and he's none of that." Freyjar interrupted. Jiu watched with an eagle eye as Orion's eyes twitched when Freyjar raised his voice to Yooheyon.

"Keeper Freyjar I am going to give you one chance to apologize to Ward Witch Yoohyeon," Orion said coldly

"What will you do?" Freyjar challenged Orion and didn't respond just glared silently at Freyjar, this intense psionic pressure hit him and he felt as if he was being crushed. He started to panic as breathing became labored. "Damned Pako. I am sorry Mrs. Kim" Freyjar said as he breath. Yoohyeon nodded, but hearing the name Pako sent chills down her spine. Pako was the name of the near-feral Codex keeper who went on the last major expedition with her Mentor. She had heard frightening tales about how he set a planet on fire and killed over 100 men in one day. Surely that couldn't be Orion, but she didn't know much about his past as a Codex Keeper though. The rest of the day they spent exploring Melibone the questions began to pile up and wear on her heavier with each cute moment. "What if he's a monster?" she kept asking herself.

After finishing up at the Cafe (Which Orion paid for) the group split up

When the duo arrive back at the port they are shocked to see everyone unloading The Royal Marquis. Yoohyeon and Orion quickly get back into service mode but are stopped by The Captain. "No, my two working dogs. You two rest for the rest of the day because we have new orders. In the second half of this expedition, we are going to be flying with the new mega-ship "The Dreadnaught." and taking The Royal Marquis back after we get back halfway. Also, I am under strict instructions from the new Captain to not be as fast as we were because he doesn't want to wait. so you two can rest in your new quarters tonight. Here are your room numbers and ID keys."

The duo chuckled seeing their rooms were the same numbers 307 and 310 again. After moving all of their belongings from their old quarters to their new quarters they met up in 310 (Yoohyeon’s room) this time around. As they sat together she decided to ask Othello about the Devil’s ruin

“Oh that it was a normal expedition. Just had an issue with a planet going through Civil war that was one of the port planets and to complete the mission. I brokered a peace long enough for us to get in and out of.” Othello explained

Yoohyeon knew of Devil’s run it was the ship her mentor Lady Sunshine ran, and where she had done her test. She also knew a few years back or so there was an expedition that was almost cursed. That almost took the life of Lady Sunshine, and her current apprentice Hanni, but she figured that the Codex Keeper and his apprentice who were on the ship couldn't have been related, Othello was too kind to be that merciless and seemed very hesitant to fight but today’s trip

“Hey Othello who was the ward witch on that expedition?” Yoohyeon asked cautiously.

“Oh um, I believe it was two Lady Sunshine and her at-the-time apprentice Hanni,” Othello replied calmly, and Yoohyeon’s heart sank.

“You're Pako (Hellhound), the scourge of Theros. You led a one-man campaign from Nykthos to Meletis. You're a war monster. ” Yoohyeon interjected. Othello’s heart sinks as Yoohyeon says his epithet. He gets up to leave understanding that her affection may have turned into hate. Yoohyeon watched relieved as he left but something stirred within Yoohyeon that made her supersede her mentor's warnings. She got up between him and the doors. “Tell me why you did it?” she asked.

Othello answered slowly, “To ensure everyone’s safety on Devil’s ruin I had to do some truly unpleasant things, and I didn't like the way people watched doing these things. The looks of disgust and disdain I got for playing the bad guy when I had to. I had to Kill Helios, and Hades to make sure everyone got home safe. I had to stack those bodies, on not only Theros but on Ixialan and Bant and all of those other planets we fought on that accursed expedition. The horror of it all though was while in it I had never felt more alive. I didn't have to worry about hiding behind masks. There were no discussions about offenses and hesitations or the mincing of words it was straightforward and all my choices mattered I thrived in that hell which is why I guess everyone looks at me as terrible because I thrived in it, but I'd rather be a warlord in a garden then a Gardner in a war.”

Yoohyeon was taken aback by Othello’s Alacrity himself but still very much reconciling with the revelation that he was a warlord…a reluctant warlord but a Warlord nonetheless. Despite learning about Othello's past, Yoohyeon couldn't shake the deep connection she felt with him. As they sat together in her room, his words about his past weighed heavily on her mind. Yet, when she looked into his eyes, she saw genuine remorse and vulnerability, which only deepened her empathy for him.

"Othello," she began softly, reaching out to touch his hand, "I understand that you've had to make difficult choices in the past. But that doesn't change how I feel about you." Her heart raced as she spoke, her hand trembling slightly against his.

Othello’s gaze met hers, his expression a mix of gratitude and disbelief. "You... you still feel the same way?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

Yoohyeon nodded, a small smile playing on her lips. "Yes, I do. Because despite everything, I see the person you are now—the kind, compassionate man who's always there for me. That's the Othello I've come to care about, and nothing can change that."

As they sat together, their hands intertwined, Yoohyeon felt a renewed sense of connection with Othello. Despite his past, she couldn't deny the chemistry between them or the hope she held for their future together. She did have one question remaining,

“Where was your support when this all happened? Why do all the stories paint you as doing this all on your own?” Orion considers Yoohyeon’s words and thought about the cleanest answer before he replied

“They say in War there is this fog war this uncertainty whenever one engages in large-scale combat engagements. To me, it's a spotlight I know what I need to do and when it needs to be done, so it's all a matter of performance and that's liberating at least for me. Take my battle with Helios. I had no idea he was going to set his city on fire to stop me all I knew was that if I defeated him I would be successful. So everything I did that night. Saving the children women and men as Pompeii burned Nykthos Freeing Kruphix teaming up with Xenagos to finish Helios were all part of taking hold of the spotlight and doing all I could with it.”

Yooyheon watched in wonder as Othello spoke with childlike innocence about his experience. She didn't realize that he never set Pompeii to blow. All the stories about it only mention it as a major event going on. They also never mentioned him saving people. Every record only mentions his fight with Helios and the total fatality count. It also never mentioned Kruphix (who is the current and beloved leader of a unified Theros Along with his lover Klothys) all of these critical facts drastically change the story of how she saw the story. Whenever Othello told stories his contained hope and this striving to be better for the sake of others made her realize something deeper about him. He wasn't some moral-lacking warlord. He was a boy trying to live up to his Heroes and the expectations placed upon him. this made everything click about Othello. Yoohyeon smiled overwhelmed by seeing him in a new light she grabbed his collar and kissed him their kiss lasting several minutes. When the two broke the kiss Othello was speechless. As he stared at Yoohyeon trying to catch his breath.

“Whoa.” was all Othello could manage.

“You want to be a hero. You want to do the right thing. Vanquish evil and save the princess.” Yoohyeon said. “Tell me the full story,” Yoohyeon said her eyes lit with Joy. Othello looked at her confused before acquiescing to her as he always did.

“When we arrived on Theros we were only supposed to be there for 25 hours to load and unload we had guaranteed safe passage for being with the federation as long as we stayed neutral which we did. We talked to no one housed no prisoners and no one even left the port. At the fourth hour, the Nykthos private militia came for Lorgar (larger originally hails from Theros and was a child soldier under Heliod before leaving the planet, which everyone knew but Heliod took offense to so we are all taken as prisoners to be executed via the fighting pits. My master doesn't rattle easily but the situation rattled him. We enter the fight pits and I go on an absolute tear of victories. 22 to be exact the crowd loves it they love me. So I decided to leverage this love to declare the fight for everyone who is enslaved currently’s freedom. This is the part where I kinda blackout and go 121-0 this ends with Helios having to free everyone in the prison. He only has one condition we leave with all the prisoners. We accept that beside us the only prisoners are a man named Kruphix and his son Xenagos. So we leave but I don't trust Helios so I go over our ship and find bombs planted on them. I tell Lorgar who tells the federation. The Federation declares an immediate act of intervention when the leaders of Thermos decide to let the planet burn. So Tiro removes him and his husband from power and leaves the planet. But Heliod sets off to Pompeii the planet-destroying Volcano central to Theros and says to everyone “I'll turn this planet into a burial ground” Lorgar is adamant we leave but I can't in good conscience let an entire planet die so I tell him

“If I lose my life today may I not see you tomorrow before I fight my way to Nykthos. Devil’s Ruin leaves me on Nykthos. I challenge Helios for the city and I beat him. As he reeling in his loss he decides to stab me. Xenagos covers me and kills Helios but he dies protecting me I stop the volcano and give the rule back to Kruphix and he reinstates their previous form of government. The federation arrives too and they get me back onto the Devil’s ruin to the surprise and chagrin of everyone on the ship.”

Yoohyeon sat enthralled as she listened as Othello finished his story. Yoohyeon moved closer to him, and a heavy silence hung in the air, both of them processing the weight of his words. Yoohyeon sat beside him, her gaze softening with a newfound understanding and admiration for the man beside her.

"Othello," she began, her voice gentle yet filled with sincerity, "I had no idea... what you went through, what you sacrificed. You're incredibly brave, you know that?"

Othello met her gaze, a hint of vulnerability flickering in his eyes. His heartbeat spiked causing Yoohyeon's smile to grow a little bit. She loved the feeling she gave that made his heart race, " I wouldn't consider it brave it was just the right thing to do…Thank you though, Yoohyeon. It means a lot to hear you say that."

Yoohyeon reached out, gently placing her hand on his arm. "You're not just a warlord or a hero, Othello. You're a person who faced impossible choices and did what you had to do to protect others. That takes incredible strength and courage."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Othello's lips, touched by Yoohyeon's words. "I never thought of it that way... but hearing you say it... it means everything."

Their eyes locked an unspoken understanding passing between them. In that moment, they shared a profound connection, a bond forged through honesty and vulnerability. Yoohyeon felt her admiration for Othello deepen into something more, a warmth blooming in her chest that she couldn't ignore.

"And you know," Yoohyeon continued, her voice softening, "I'm here for you, Othello. Whatever you need, whatever you're going through... you don't have to face it alone."

Othello's expression softened, gratitude shining in his eyes. "Thank you, Yoohyeon. That means the world to me."

As they sat together in the quiet of Yoohyeon's room, their hands intertwined, a sense of closeness enveloped them. At that moment, they both knew that their bond had deepened into something more than friendship. before anything else could happen the door opened to Yoohyeon's room to Siyeon, Jiu, Sua, Dami, Marcus, Elric, Freyjar, and Ayara. Orion instantly tenses seeing them which Yoohyeon notices she grabs his hand.

Throughout the second half of the trip, Yoohyeon and Orion fell into very different patterns. the new Captain Claw is very standoffish with the two new additions to his crew Orion and Yoohyeon, despite both efforts to make themselves helpful. This captain wasn't fond of Keepers nor Ward Witches so having multiples both on his ship sent him on edge. He believed they discarded their humanity for power. Sadly due to Orion's aversion to being around the other Keepers, he stayed with The captain more often. As the two watched over the port and the ship the captain softened slowly to the Keeper. Whereas most Keepers he had seen ashew their humanity he was surprised to see one cling so desperately to his. it was interesting, to say the least.

Yoohyeon spent a lot of time with Jiu and Siyeon though which meant a lot of time with Freyjar, and Ayara. She was surprised to see their perceptions of Orion. Freyjar harbored Jealousy towards the other Keeper, and Ayara lived in abject terror of him which was surprising since she only had positive things to say about him. so she did her best to avoid mentioning Orion in either's presence. This became difficult because Siyeon and Jiu wanted to know every detail about Orion. So in fielding these questions, she spent a lot of time away from Orion.

this led to him working with the crew a lot more and as their interactions became fleeting and Yoohyeon became more enmeshed with more traditional Keeper and Ward Witch relations she grew more irritable. there was this insincerity that everyone around her head kept her guard. She couldn't be who she was, nor could she say what she wanted as freely as when she was with Orion, and so her clumsiness started to plague her again, Jiu covered her and helped her but while it was familiar it wasn't what she wanted. she often found herself saying in her head "Orion would have told her she messed up here and given her his big dumb smile telling her it would be alright."

Eventually, the stress of being perfect got to her and she lashed at Sua. She messed up a basic spell that made Sua laugh and Yoohyeon just snapped.

"Unnie don't you have anything better to do? I mean come on I barely messed up, besides haven't you also messed up this spell as well." She snapped. Surprised Sua looked at Yoohyeon her magic lines were changing and growing.

In a calculated move Jiu told Yoohyeon to find Orion, She wanted to ask him about something. Yoohyeon groaned "Can't you do it yourself unnie?" Luckily Orion just happened to be in between chores as he became as indispensable to Claw as he had been with the previous captain. He saw Yoohyeon and waved. Yoohyeon saw him and for a moment her burden eased. her heart rate slowed to a reasonable pace and each other Ward Witch knew what to do.

"Oh Orion how are you?" Dami asked

"I am good Dami just enjoying the little free time I have. The Captain needed to have a crew meeting and gave me some time off."

"Why are you helping the crew so much?" Freyjar questioned annoyed.

"Because I don't like spending time with y'all honestly," Orion said bluntly.

Jiu, Dami, Elric, and Marcus laughed. Yoohyeon pouted. then got up

"Well since you're being such a dick I'll leave." She said.

"Yoon wait I wanted to ask you something."

"Oh, now you want to talk to me?" Yoohyeon said

"Yes I miss you and I want to spend time with you." Orion made sure to emphasize you with Yoohyeon. She didn't catch on to this as she was operating under the "I don't like spending time with y'all"

"Oh really just a couple of seconds ago you were eager to say how little you enjoyed time with us all."

"Yes, All emphasis on all. because minus Freyjar, Ayara, and (Orion looks over to Sua who licks her lips at him with a seductive look. Orion points at Sua). I enjoy spending time with you all individually." Yoohyeon knew that Sua was teasing the poor keeper, she liked boys who flustered easily and Orion flustered very easily. So she was constantly teasing him, but in that moment of the weight of being the crown jewel of Dreamcatcher's coven, it was just another annoyance.

"Gosh, I can't believe I ever liked you... you're such a dick. you know what Maybe Freyjar is right about you. you're mediocre at everything so you try to hide it by busying yourself."

The air shifted. Orion tensed. Every Ward Witch heard his heart rate spike and then go dangerously low, this was the lowest it's ever been. Orion tried very much to see Yoohyeon's perspective but he was seeing red. he chose his next actions extremely meticulously. He slowed his breathing and took 5 deep breaths before leaving. Yoohyeon swore she saw black lines of magic manifest on his body for a moment as a bizarre monster crawled around his left shoulder.

"Go ahead leave, and be forgotten because who wants a hero? Heroes are childish." Yoohyeon spat.

The air shifted again and the temperature dropped. Freyjar smirked as he made eye contact with Orion. his plan of feeding Yoohyeon all his drivel finally pays off. The stoic mask she wore cracked.

"You take that back," Orion said. his voice shifted into an active that was unfamiliar to all present. Red hot tears streamed down Orion's eyes, as he turned to face Yoohyeon. Yoohyeon's surprise was palpable. She took a step back and saw the emotions swirling within Orion, and her heart softened. She also realized she pushed him a bit too far.

"Orion I am so sorry.

Freyjar's laugh drowned out her apology

"No, No Yoohyeon. You almost had him. he was this close to breaking down like the sad man-child he is. Don't apologize for the real world is a vicious and vile place, with no place for heroes." Freyjar said. Orion's Stoic mask broke. he turned to him.

"Everyone looks down on me. Everyone always points to my naivety, saying it's a problem that I am too childish when I live in this hellscape of a Galaxy ruled over by people like you. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate it. I hate you. I hate you. I hate you." Orion repeated.

Before anyone could react He warped to Freyjar grabbed him by his collar and threw him and every one in another warp to the arena. He summons his War spade and makes a room closing around Him and Freyjar. Yoohyeon knew of his Claustrophobia and how it drove him mad which would make reaching out to Orion that much harder. Knowing this she began clawing at the barrier. When that didn't work she began chanting spells, but in her stress and panic she kept making tiny mistakes ruining the efficacy of her spells and strengthening the barrier that Orion had created

"you say I am not special. well, let's play a game. I am going to hit you until I get tired or you stop me. if you die eh, if not cool. Begin." as soon as he said that the room began closing triggering Orion's Claustrophobia. His rage compounded by the panic created a unique combination of desperation that pushed him to fight as hard as possible. Yoohyeon knew she had to stop this as this was all her fault. Orion closed in on Freyjar who summoned his sword (named Summer) and made an excellent lunge, that was easily dodged by Orion. Orion raised his weapon and with one mighty swing, he swung the flat side of his war spade.

a sickening crunch could be heard as Freyjar hit the floor after being hit by Orion's weapon. The Ward Witches understanding that Orion was so far gone broke through the barrier *barely with their combined power. Orion turned to face them as they encircled him. Their faces were filled with fear and terror but also pity. Pity that drove Orion to higher depths of rage. the faces replaced themselves with others who held similar looks in the past. their words rang out to him

"Violent tendencies, Rigid personality. An immature child." these were all phrases that their looks said to him, but Orion was done playing by the rules of a world he deemed beneath him at that moment. His mask of Stoicism shattered beyond repair. Now everyone saw who he was under all the calm, under all the kindness, all the amicability; A boy forced to grow into a world that hated him and what he valued, and that weighed heavily on everyone present. Especially Yoohyeon it broke her heart that she of all people was to push him this far.

"Don't you dare look at me like that? You all wanted the monster you tell tales of the Great Demon Dog of Eldora. You created this," Orion yelled

Then silence hung in the air as his proclamation rang true. He was a monster the systems that they all believed in created someone who needed to stop him, and Yoohyeon stepped up.

"Orion I am so sorry." She said with tears in her eyes Yoohyeon's apology hung in the air, heavy with regret as she watched Orion's tears fall. The weight of her words hit her with a force she hadn't anticipated, and for the first time, she saw the vulnerability beneath his stoic exterior.

Orion's response was immediate, his voice trembling with emotion as he struggled to regain his composure. "You... you hurt me, Yoohyeon," he managed to say, his words choked with pain. "I thought... I thought you understood me, but..." His voice trailed off, lost in the turmoil of his emotions.

Yoohyeon felt a pang of guilt pierced her heart as she witnessed the raw anguish in Orion's eyes. She had never seen him like this before, stripped of his usual calm demeanor, and it shook her to the core. With a shaky breath, she stepped closer to him, reaching out to gently touch his arm.

"Orion, I didn't mean... I didn't mean to hurt you," she whispered, her voice trembling with remorse. "I was... I was angry, and I lashed out without thinking. But that's no excuse for what I said. I know you're not... you're not mediocre. You're extraordinary, and I... I was wrong to doubt you." she grabbed Orion and pulled him into a hug. he collapsed in her arms.

"Why does everyone hate me?" he asked vulnerably. "Why do they push me to hurt them?" he asked. Yoohyeon held him as he cried The other Ward Witches gave them space to not interfere. Orion was bested, not by might but by emotion. "I try to help and be a Hero like Z, or Saber, or Val-Zod, or Orion and they all look at me like I am wrong and I should fall into their ways," Orion said through cold tears. Yoohyeon held him close as the others left. Eventually, they traversed back to Orion's room, and for the first time in weeks, Yoohyeon felt safe. she and Orion spent the rest of the day together holding each other close. their bodies making up for lost time and connection as their minds processed everything. Orion also never dismissed his war axe. Yoohyeon noticed this and decided to take her next step in understanding him.

"You cling to your war spade why?" Yoohyeon asked

"It makes me feel safe. Lorgar made it for me after I lost one of the many swords that Keepers usually wield. Often my strength is hard to withhold so the dainty long swords that other Keepers wield often chip and shatter under my grasp. He built this for me using Materials from across my solar system, and he named it Apokolips after keeping in line with my name." Othello explained

Yoohyeon nodded understanding which led to her next line of questions "You mentioned your name came from a comic character what was his story?" Yoohyeon asked eager to see more of Othello, and less of Orion for today. She also loved the way Orion told his stories. he was always so expressive.

"So in all of DC comics, there is one villain that stands above all. his name is Darkseid. He wields the omeaga effect a powerful bevy of abilities that make him the most dangerous villain in the universe, but he has a son who in a calculated move by both parties to gain intel on the other Darkseid gives his son Orion to the peace-loving and heroic High Father of New Genesis. the high father does the same with his son. This leads to a Villain being raised by a hero and a hero being raised by a villain. Orion despite his nature becomes one of the greatest heroes in the DC universe, and it is made all the more grandiose by his refusal to give in to his darker impulses." Othello explains

Yoohyeon smiled and, said, "Do you have darker impulses, Mr. Hero?"

"Yes, I do. Every day I see the weakness and folly in those around me, and I wonder to myself if it would be easier if I ruled. If I trampled over the old war and made a new one but better, but I am reminded that many people wouldn't benefit from that cruel a ruler and so I remain steadfast in heroism." Othello replied.

"So where does the name Apokolips come from in Orion's story? why is that significant." Yoohyeon asked.

"Oh, I forgot Apokolips is the planet Orion was born on," Othello replies. Yoohyeon laughs in comfort as she cuddles closer to Othello.

"I've missed you so much," she said.

"I have as well," Othello replied

"Why didn't you make time for me then?" Yoohyeon asked skeptical

"I didn't want to get in the way of you and those close to you," Othello answered, and Yoohyeon turned to him.

"You're cavity-inducingly sweet you know that right?" Yoohyeon replies

"that is a new phrase but I'll keep it in mind," Othello replies.

“I always forget you're not from Earth, I guess the bronze metallic skin and glowing runes should have been a dead giveaway.” Yoohyeon chuckled

“Wait really?” Othello questioned

“Yeah, your English is consistently clear easy to distinguish the words. How did you get so good?” Yoohyeon asked with genuine intrigue

“Honestly reading comics and watching Superhero videos from Earth. It gave a path of translation to a lot of ideas and concepts I had but didn't have the tools to express, all of the vibrant colors create a contrast from a majority of Earth’s content being almost monotone. Like so many of the stories told boil down to the same thing, and I have noticed at least in the hero genre of storytelling they go above and beyond in all facets so the stories pop more. I've read both George Orwell and Walter Simonson and I remember more of the latter’s work than the former.” Othello explained

“Oh really. Do you have any of the comics you read?” Yoohyeon asked. Othello nodded. “Can you read me one?” Yoohyeon asked. Othello nodded again as he got up and grabbed book one of Orion by Walter Simpson, and he began to read it to her.

Tales of Orion's Challenge spread quickly over the coming weeks. The Captain urges to avoid bringing any of it up but does chuckle as he was quite annoyed with Keeper Freyjar so having someone take him down a peg made him smile.

Eventually, reports reached outside of the ship, and a conflict resolution meeting was forced upon all of the Ward Witches and the Codex Keepers.

The 12 coven Mothers and three Codex Masters oversaw the meeting through Video call. Lady Sunshine was surprised to see Orion among those present. Orion pleasantly waved at her Lorgar and greeted her with a bit more enthusiasm. It was then that it all clicked for Lady Sunshine and who she had set her apprentice up with.

Lorgar knowing that his apprentice wasn't just fighting people wildly asked one question,

"Keeper Orion. What happened."

Orion explained it as he recorded ( he left out all of his emotions on the matter which was noted by everyone present), but as soon as they got to the part where Yoohyeon started attacking heroism. Everyone who knew Orion Knew that was what sent him over the edge.

"Yoohyeon how could you?" Lady Sunshine interjected when Orion explained Yoohyeon's part.

Uncomfortable with seeing Yoohyeon yell at Orion was quick to take the blame.

"No Lady Sunshine the fault is mine. I neglected my duties as a Keeper to stay in contact with my assigned Ward Witch leaving the air for tension despite external factors the fault of Keeper Freyjar's injuries are all mine."

Lady Sunshine was left speechless (a rare occurrence) and Lorgar swelled with pride and knowing. Orion's demeanor and presence were all there. Lorgar also noticed the way he looked at Yoohyeon and the closeness the two displayed at the beginning of the meeting. Orion was smitten and protecting his paramour. Lorgar laughed internally. What was concerning was the revelation that it took 5 Ward Witches to break his barrier. His powers were exponentially increasing again. A fact that was not lost on the other Codex Masters.

"What do you mean barely cracked the barrier?" Lady Moonlight asked

"My powers have been volatile often increasing their efficacies in moments of high stress. So it took the combined efforts of the 5 present Ward Witches to break the Simple barrier I made." Orion answered a look of terror went through the Ward Witches Council

“But why use your phobias as a means to secure a victory?” lady Moonlight asked curious

“Because I'd rather die than lose,” Orion explained

“Wait what is your name Keeper?” lady Twilight asked

“Orion Lady Twilight.” Orion acknowledged. A look of recognition crossed over the weathered and wrinkled face of the elder Ward Witch.

"Wait you're Pako the scourge of Theros? Aren't you boy?" Lady Twilight asked. Orion gritted his teeth and nodded.

"Well no wonder you nearly killed him. You know you're classified as a weapon of mass destruction by the federation." Lady Twilight reminded, and this changed the atmosphere of the meeting. "I don't know why the federation caters to you. You are a verified world-ending threat with the temperament of a child," Orion's response sends chills throughout the room.

"The same reason I let the Federation get away with all of its wrongs going through the process of addressing it would assure both of our destruction, but make no mistake. I am always aware of how you all see. I am a threat and I will always be as long as I stay true to who I am. My response let me be and I'll let you be." Lady Twilight didn't appreciate Orion's flippant tone but she respected that he stood for with spine unlike so many in the federation.

"Proudly displaying that Eldorian Backbone I have heard so much about. I may not like you but I respect it. Take care of Sua for me."

"Oh, you're Sua's mentor that explains a lot. You have my word to the best of my ability I will protect everyone you place under me." After that, the meeting was over with the leaders understanding that it was a simple misunderstanding and that at least one adult was handling it.

after the meeting, Yoohyeon and Othello sat alone in his room. He was reading Orion to her and she was cradled in his arms and body listening to his voice ease her but she just kept feeling this uncomfortable heat well inside her. She constantly was shifting trying to get comfortable but couldn't. Yoohyeon's and Othello's feelings for each other have reached a fever pitch, and their bodies are fed up with their minds

"Hey, Othello," Yoohyeon said.

Othello looks to Yoohyeon and she kisses him with an intense fervor. this kiss ignites a fire deep within the two. when it breaks Yoohyeon teases Othello when she feels his erection poke her.

"Well someone is excited." She comes in a sexy voice. Othello moans.

"Well yeah, have you seen how hot you are." Othello challenged

Yoohyeon smiles a rosy blush crossing her face. "Oh baby Flattery will get you everywhere." she goes in for another kiss this time with more passion. Othello's and Yoohyeon's tongues meet and dance while they kiss. Neither looks for dominance but dances with a willing partner.

Yoohyeon smiled as she gripped tightly onto Othello. Their kiss broke the built tension of the last 4 months 1 week and three days. They break this kiss, and the solid foundation of love and adoration they felt for each other quickly melts into liquid desire and lust. the two tear off the clothes of each other, and go back to kissing. Yoohyeon can barely contain her eagerness as she stares into Othello's eyes she can tell he feels the same. She goes back in for another kiss as the two lovers paw at the other's naked forms. Hands intermingle and dance with bodies as lovers begin to familiarize themselves with each other in this intimate moment. Yoohyeon breaks their kiss and looks into Othello's eyes. Yoohyeon nestles closer to Othello tentatively, her heart pounding with a mixture of nerves and longing. the stress of all this tension she felt being by him washed over her along with the overwhelming safety she felt. She reached out, gently cupping his face in her hands, drawing him closer until their lips were mere inches apart.

Their eyes met, a silent exchange of emotions passing between them. And then, unable to resist any longer, they closed the distance, their lips meeting in a tender kiss.

Time seemed to stand still as they lost themselves in the moment, the world around them fading into insignificance. For Yoohyeon, it was a moment of clarity, a realization of the depth of her feelings for Othello.

As they broke apart, breathless and flushed with emotion, Yoohyeon gazed into Othello's eyes, her voice trembling with vulnerability.

"Othello," she began, her voice barely above a whisper. "I... I love you."

The words hung in the air, the weight of them echoing in the silence that followed. Yoohyeon's heart raced as she waited for his response, her entire being consumed by the intensity of her confession.

Othello's eyes widened in surprise, his own emotions swirling beneath the surface. He reached out, taking Yoohyeon's hand in his, a gentle smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"Yoohyeon," he said softly, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "I love you too."

And at that moment, amidst the chaos and uncertainty of their world, they found solace in each other's arms, their love a beacon of hope in the darkness. As they began to kiss again Othello began tracing Yoohyeon’s tattoos. Yoohyeon giggled as she was tickled by Othello’s surprisingly soft hands. As his hands travel around her body Othello’s psionics begin to unravel around the two in a mirroring way to Yoohyeon’s magic (small aside: typically Psionics and mages aren't supposed to consummate relationships under the effects of their special abilities but for how ingrained Yoohyeon and Othello’s abilities are to their sense of self it's hard to separate their powers from themselves) passionate and fiery crimson energy and the physical manifestation of Othello’s psionics crashes into Yoohyeon’s cool sea foam green arcane weave. As their energies intermingle the two begin copulating. Yooyheon sinks onto Othello’s cock and moans. When she adjusts to him residing within her she opens her eyes to see him breathless under her. She smiles as she begins to ride him. In hopes of reciprocity, Othello meets her halfway with thrusts of his own into her sex. Yoohyeon moans as Othello fills her up. She watches as Othello watches carefully trying to ascertain her reactions and make her feel as pleased as possible. Yoohyeon smiles and puts his hands on her ample ass.

“Give it to me.” Yoohyeon encourages and so begins the slow and deep methodical thrusts of Othello. Eager to please he plunges in her pussy and slowly pulls out 75% of the way before plunging in again, and again. As he thrust into her he slightly changed angles to see what Yoohyeon liked. On the fifth repetition, he found it and Yoohyeon screamed. “They're right there,” she yelled as he hit her G-spot. Having a greenlight Othello picked up his pace while reaching down to her clit. Extending his finger he traced figure eights around the bud. This combination sent Yoohyeon reeling. Her eyes rolled back and she moaned.

“Keep going. I'm so close,” she screamed excitedly Othello obliged and picked up Yoohyeon and increased his pace. The change in angle allowed Othello to reach further into Yoohyeon who smiled as their faces became even as he lifted her up and down. Yoohyeon lost herself to pleasure as she was ravaged by Othello’s rod. Eventually, she couldn't take it, and her orgasm tore through her tight frame.

“Oh God.” She yelled before cumming all over Othello’s cock. Othello continued his work on Yoohyeon until her walls contracted in such a way that seemed to milk him almost, but what took him over the edge was Yoohyeon saying. “Please cum in me. I need it I need to feel you all of you.” her words sent metering to his orgasm, and he began to paint her walls white with his seed. Yoohyeon groaned as her sex only grew tighter. After what seemed like hours the couple’s bodies calmed down.

Yoohyeon spoke, ”So who's your favorite member of my coven now?” she teased.

“Aish.” Othello groaned but was quick to smile as he pulled her close.

In the coming weeks, Yoohyeon completely divested herself from her Coven friends and spent all of her time with Orion, and they fell into familiar patterns of helping the crew and Captain. The crew appreciated Yooyheon’s help immensely as being able to instantly fix numerous problems at one time was such a relief. She spent less time stressing about appearing perfect and poise and just living her clumsiness also faded. The others kept their distance especially Freyjar who was reeling over the fact that 5 Coven Bound Ward Witches had to save him from someone he deemed as lesser. Especially since Orion was given no consequence for his actions. He was scolded by his Codex Master for riling up the young man. The worst insult (minus the cracked jaw) was that Orion apologized. He considered his actions beneath himself the nerve, of him. Freyjar would mend his wounded pride and get his retribution. As tensions simmered aboard the ship, Freyjar seethed with resentment in the confines of his quarters. His bruised jaw throbbed with every pulse of anger, a constant reminder of his humiliation at the hands of Orion. But Freyjar was not one to suffer such indignity lightly.

Gazing into the reflection of his own anger-filled eyes in the mirror, Freyjar formulated his plan for revenge. He knew he couldn't confront Orion directly; the Codex Keeper's growing influence among the crew made him untouchable. No, Freyjar would have to be more cunning.

With a smirk curling his lips, Freyjar began to reach out to like-minded crew members, whispering words of dissent against Orion's leadership. He found willing ears among those who harbored their grievances, promising them power and prestige in exchange for their allegiance.

Meanwhile, Yoohyeon found herself caught in the middle of the growing tension. Her loyalty to Orion was unwavering, but she couldn't ignore the undercurrent of discord spreading throughout the crew. Sensing trouble brewing, she tried to mediate, but her efforts seemed futile against the rising tide of animosity.

One evening, as the crew gathered for their nightly meal, Freyjar made his move. With calculated precision, he subtly turned the conversation against Orion, planting seeds of doubt and discontent among the crew. Orion arrived at the meal late with Yoohyeon. The couple was surprised to see the multitude of glares presented to them.

Caught off guard by the sudden shift in the atmosphere, Yoohyeon watched helplessly as the situation escalated. She knew she had to act quickly to prevent further conflict, but the rift between her crew and her friends seemed to widen with each passing moment.

As tensions reached a breaking point, Yoohyeon made a split-second decision. Stepping forward, she confronted Freyjar, her voice filled with determination.

"Freyjar, this ends now. We're all on the same side here, and we need to work together if we're going to survive out here in the vastness of space."

Freyjar's gaze hardened, but Yoohyeon held her ground, refusing to back down. Behind her, Orion watched with a mixture of concern and gratitude, realizing just how much Yoohyeon meant to him. Orion smiled. Orion had been doing a lot of that lately with Yoohyeon he noticed. In hopes of de-escalating the tension, he made a silent gesture for himself and Yoohyeon to leave. So they did.

Watching Orion flee swelled Freyjar with pride as the two left the cafeteria with their tails between their legs.

As the expedition came to a close the tensions reduced as well. All was quiet that was until the last day.

As they were doing the paperwork and needed documentation, to wrap up their duties for the last 8 months A blip happened.

Arriving at the spaceport a little late due to an asteroid field’s interference the group was greeted not by federation members but by Pirates The Dreadbeard Pirates to be exact. They were the most dangerous and massive pirate organization in this region of the galaxy and expanding. They were ruthless and often left no survivors. So when their ship was boarded and Captain Claw was killed there was only one person to look to as a leader.

“So who's the Captain of this ship?” Dreadbeard said as his blade left Claw’s chest. Orion stood motionless as the remaining crew pointed to him.

“Aye, a codex Keeper and a Captain that's a rare sight.”

“Well, I just got promoted. You just killed the Captain.” Orion responded

Dreadbeard laughed “Fair Fair. Hopefully, you'll be more reasonable than he was.

“No I'm worse, but I am more sporting. So here is my play. I don't want to have to clean up and do paperwork to fix this mess so we’ll vacate, and we will forget this ever happened. I'll come up with a legitimate reason as to why Captain Claw was dead because otherwise, I'll kill you and anyone who stands by you.” Orion answered

Dreadbeard smiled as he raised his sword but before he could even mount an attack he noticed a cold feeling in his chest. He looked down to see a spade connected by a psionic chain thrown from Orion. He looked up

“I feel cold,” he said as he fell to the ground. Orion turned to the rest of the pirates. As the pirates watched their captain collapse to the ground, a hushed silence fell over the ship dock. Orion's eyes bore into each of them, his expression unreadable yet filled with an unmistakable intensity.

"Now, here's how it's going to be," Orion declared, his voice cutting through the tension like a blade. "You have two choices: you can leave this spaceport peacefully, or you can join your captain on the ground."

The pirates exchanged nervous glances, unsure of how to respond to this unexpected turn of events. They had expected a fight, a display of dominance from their captain, but they had not anticipated the swift and decisive action that Orion had just taken.

One by one, the pirates began to lower their weapons, their bravado crumbling in the face of Orion's unwavering resolve. They knew better than to challenge a Codex Keeper, especially one who had just dispatched their fearsome captain with such ease.

"Alright, we're leaving," one of the pirates muttered, his voice tinged with defeat as he gestured for his comrades to follow suit.

Orion watched as the pirates retreated to their ship, their tails between their legs. He knew that this encounter was far from over, that the Dreadbeard Pirates would undoubtedly seek retribution for their fallen captain. But for now, he had bought the crew precious time to regroup and strategize their next move.

As the last of the pirates disappeared into the darkness of the spaceport, Orion turned to his crew, his gaze unwavering.

"Prepare for departure," he commanded his voice firm yet tinged with a hint of urgency. "We need to get out of here before they come back with reinforcements."

With a sense of purpose, the crew sprang into action, their movements swift and coordinated as they prepared to leave the spaceport behind and face whatever challenges awaited them in the vast expanse of the galaxy. As they set course for their next destination, Orion couldn't help but feel a sense of annoyance building within him, knowing that they were close to being finished only to make things exponentially messier. He groaned as they changed course to Terra.

This led to The Dreadnaught arriving back to Terra 45 minutes later. Upon arrival, everyone dispersed except for Yoohyeon and Orion who due to being captain had to do closing paperwork. After that Yoohyeon followed Orion to his post-expedition debrief where he dropped off this expedition’s codex. After that, the couple was finally free.

Othello now off duty stood next to Yoohyeon and asked “So dear what do you want to do now?”

Yoohyeon smiled, “It doesn't matter as long as you're with me we can do whatever.”

“Yoon I meant in the short term.” Yoohyeon burst into an embarrassed smile. Oh well, let's get some food then.” Othello gave a thumbs-up and followed his paramour

As they walked through the bustling streets of Terra, Yoohyeon, and Othello were enveloped in the lively atmosphere of the planet's capital. Neon signs flickered overhead, casting colorful reflections on the pavement below, while the sound of chatter and laughter filled the air.

"Hey, how about that place?" Yoohyeon suggested, pointing to a cozy-looking café nestled between two towering skyscrapers.

Othello glanced at the café and nodded in agreement. "Looks good to me," he replied with a smile.

They entered the café and found a table by the window, where they could watch the hustle and bustle of the city while enjoying their meal. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air, mingling with the tantalizing scent of baked goods.

As they perused the menu, Yoohyeon couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over her. Despite the chaos and danger they often faced in their line of work, moments like these were what made it all worthwhile – simple, everyday moments spent with the person she loved.

Their conversation flowed effortlessly as they waited for their food to arrive, touching on everything from their favorite memories to their hopes and dreams for the future. As they shared laughter and stories, Yoohyeon couldn't shake the feeling that she was exactly where she was meant to be – by Othello's side, exploring the vast and wondrous galaxy together.

Yoohyeon smiled, her heart full of love for the man sitting across from her. "And I wouldn't change a single moment of it," she replied, reaching across the table to gently squeeze his hand.

As they savored their meal and each other's company, Yoohyeon couldn't help but feel grateful for the journey that had brought them together – a journey filled with adventure, danger, and, most importantly, love. And as they lingered in the café, lost in their little world, Yoohyeon knew that their story was far from over – it was only just beginning.

As they sat together in the cozy warmth of their shared quarters, Yoohyeon leaned into Othello’s embrace, feeling a sense of contentment wash over her. She cherished these quiet moments they spent together, wrapped up in each other’s arms, sharing stories and memories.

“And that’s it, the story of how we first met,” Othello recounted, closing his journal with a satisfied smile. Yoohyeon couldn’t help but smile in return, her heart swelling with affection for the man beside her. She still hadn’t tired of the way he told stories, especially ones as significant as their own.

Sitting up beside Othello, Yoohyeon flashed him a toothy grin, which he mirrored with a happy smile of his own.

“Two years and still going strong. Impressive,” she remarked, her voice filled with warmth.

“Yeah, it’s been a crazy ride. We’ve outlasted Jiu and Frey, which was a surprise to me since we fight way more than those two ever did,” Othello corroborated, a hint of amusement in his tone.

Yoohyeon chuckled, her gaze softening as she looked at Othello. Despite the ups and downs they had faced, their relationship had only grown stronger over time. And as they sat together, basking in the glow of their shared love, Yoohyeon knew that there was nowhere else she’d rather be than by Othello’s side.

Yoohyeon laughed, “Well when fight we arrive at some resolutions instead of letting resentment build, and our makeup sex is better” she stated bluntly taking a page from Othello’s book

“Fair.” Othello acquiesced

Yoohyeon smiled as she began stroking him again. Othello smiled before getting up and lining himself with Yoohyeon. He plunges into her familiar and comforting cavern.

“Oh yes,” Yoohyeon mewls as he plunges into her. As Yoohyeon's playful touches grew more intense, Othello found himself lost in the moment, the warmth of her affection enveloping him like a comforting embrace. But as her hands grazed his skin, he felt a sudden tension in the air, a subtle shift that brought his senses back to the present.

With a gentle touch, Yoohyeon's fingers brushed against the bandages that concealed Othello's hidden secret. In an instant, the fabric gave way, revealing the intricate black lines of magic etched across his skin. The air crackled with energy as Yoohyeon's eyes widened in surprise, her gaze drawn to the mesmerizing patterns that danced across Othello's flesh.

"Othello, what... what is this?" Yoohyeon's voice trembled with a mixture of dwindling lust, awe, and apprehension, her fingers tracing the contours of the arcane markings with hesitant curiosity.

#kpop fanfic #fanfic #male reader #dreamcatcher fanfic #dreamcatcher smut #yoohyeon #yoohyeon smut #dreamcatcher yoohyeon #space opera

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pursuitseternal · 7 months

Text

“Dark Kissing:” 🫦 nsfw, making a Vampire Bride in “Our Blood is Thicker:”

(Ascended) Astarion x Cordehlia (Tav) | E | 2.6K of the Nsfw Dark Kiss

Art by co-creator and illustrator @marimosalad , NSFW version on X

Summary: Cordehelia rouses herself to feed, but the Dark Kiss is far more dangerous than merely awakening. She must be checked, subdued, brought under control by her love and creator by any means necessary

CW: Rough Sex turns Romantic, blood kink, hair pulling, Feral Vampires getting freaky, The Knee™️, (lovingly) Dom!Ascended Astarion, my interpretation of Van Richten’s “Guide to Vampires” 2e, heartbeat kink, nothing like feral sex followed by soft cuddling aftercare

Previous Ch | ao3 Link | Masterlist

Chapter 19: Dark Kissing…

🫦💞🫦💞🫦💞🫦💞🫦💞🫦💞🫦💞🫦💞🫦

“Astarion…” she purred, voice thickened with his blood, a bit strange on her tongue, as if she savored every letter in his name.

But that strangeness hardly registered, his body winding tight with lust as he looked into her own crimson eyes, as her lips drank him down for the first time. He could feel himself inside her, coursing in her veins, pumping in her whole body, not just that sweet, slick channel he longed to fuck into once more. Something deep inside him unlocked, robust and powerful and all consuming.

Blood ran down her chin, a sight that made his every breath race from his slack-mouthed, fang-licking grin. Her lips were cool on his wrist, warming hotter the more of him she drank. “Oh, my love,” he groaned, slinking to straddle her prone body between his thighs. “I could watch you swallow me down for hours…”

“You have, my love,” she chuckled, thick and deep in her chest as she hardly broke from his flesh.

A flash filled his mind, stronger than their tadpoles, their bodies and minds and souls as one. It was as if he relived every time she had sucked his cock, tasting himself on her tongue, feeling the way her throat closed with all the cum he spewed countless times over countless years. Instantly, his cock strained again against his leathers, that claustrophobic feeling of clothing suffocating his ever-growing desire.

His need to have her.

And yet she drank more. Until his skin began to tear, his head growing slightly light. “Enough, Cordehlia,” he whispered, a grind of his hips above her, his wrist freeing from her mouth.

Only to be ripped back by her fiercely strong grip once more. “But you taste so good, my love,” she crooned, “and I am just so hungry.”

Astarion recalled all that reading, gritting his teeth as he pulled against her, fought against the way both her hands clawed into his arm. “You will listen to me,” he ordered. Louder. “You must stop, or else you will die.”

Her voice made him shiver, unnatural and dark. “I think that’s already happened, hasn’t it?” One last musical laugh from her bloodstained lips, and she sank her newborn fangs into his forearm to feed all the more.

A growl on his lips, Astarion dug deep into whatever new well of power, of strength lay inside him. Never mind the way his heart actually began to rap harder in his chest, in lust and in fear. “You will listen to me, Cordehlia,” he hissed through clenched fangs. Wrestling his arm from her mouth, he felt every muscle in her body move to attack, ready to spring. Wanting more. “Ah, ah,” he smiled, darkly, determinedly. Catching her hands, he pinned them over her head, staying them with all the strength he could find, even as she thrashed and kicked and snapped her teeth. “Little Raven, I promised you I would save you, now you have to trust me just a little further. You are still being remade, turning into something so beautiful, so fierce I can hardly believe it. Why don’t we try a little something else to busy your lips and tongue with, hmm?”

A roar from her mouth, she bucked him off, sending him clean off the bed. Astarion braced himself against the wall, feeling less dizzy and stronger the less she drank. Somehow, his body knew what to do, more than that which was just between lovers. He knew he had to subdue her, keep her safe, lest she endanger herself.

A duck of his head, and he dove out of her tackle. Wild and crazed with bloodlust, she might be, but all that grace was yet to come back to her. He gripped her by the back of her shirt, his fingers easily tearing through that linen, baring her even paler flesh for him to see at last. “Come on, Cordehlia,” he laughed as she turned, eyes narrowed and breasts heaving with her pants, “you used to put up a better fight as a girl.”

Yes…. She took the bait, racing for him blindly, only to be shoved from behind and laid flat out on the floor at the foot of the bed. She froze for that moment, wind knocked out of her, even though her undead lungs required none of that now. He needed to finish this, needed to subdue her in more than one way. His hands ran down her back, lightly tracing over the bumps of her spine. “I’m going to strip you, my darling, going to take your mind off that pit in your stomach. You hunger, and I can sense how painful it is, my love. Let me ease that pain.”

“Want me… to say please?” She panted, breathless as she gasped for air.

“If you’d like, my darling…” he wasted no second of his advantage, shimmying down her trousers, ripping them like paper with such ease in his new and powerful hands.

“Fuck you, Astarion,” she grunted trying to get up, but he just covered her backside with his whole body and grabbed for her hands again to capture them against the floor.

“That is the idea, my love,” he tried to chuckle, the same jibe as they had made many times before. But never like this. Never with every instinct in his ascendant brain screaming at him to claim her and finish the task at hand. He settled heavily on her back, pushing her as hard as he could into the ground to keep her steady, her two cold hands in one of his, he tugged off his shirt and freeded the laces of his breeches.

But for all the pounding drumming in his head that could have blinded him, he looked down at her. Pinned, subdued, ready and panting and sweating.

He didn’t see some creation half-made. Didn’t see a servant or slave for his use.

It was her, addled and unsure and newborn. Lusty and scared. And he tried to slow that reborn and foreign beating in his chest.

“Cordehlia,” he leaned forward, tracing the pad of his tongue up her chilled, pointed ear. “My sweet, I’ve got you.”

Still she fought, twitching and jerking under his hold, but his hands rested on each of hers to slide them next to that mess of fiery red hair. He could see her breathing so hard as her skin pulled between her ribs. She needed calming, claiming… he suckled on that cool right ear, forcing the urge to bite into her flesh again back into his stomach. Something inside her purred, her voice maybe, her soul perhaps. But whatever it was, he did it again. And again. Suckling on the edges of her ear as it twitched. Feeling her flesh mildly warm now with his blood flooding her and her lust taking command.

Her breathing grew softer, steadier and less frantic, he sensed her rising heat, smelled the way slick began to gather between her folds. His cock jolted to feel her begin to buck beneath him, almost grinding against the floor as her hunger traveled below her belly to simmer lower and stronger. Shifting carefully if quickly, his knees spread her wider, his sharp ears hearing her arousal dripping to the wood beneath them.

The way she raised her hips ever so slightly as he slipped between her thighs drew some kind of noise from his throat. Feral. Hungry. He loved it, laying his whole length down to cover her head to toe. Her skin was cold, a strange shiver raced down his spine as he pressed her into the floor. As he pushed her apart, letting his cock slip in so naturally, so slowly, finding that wet and tight warmth he craved more than air.

A low purr seemed to sound from her, her back arching against his chest. She hissed, a little roll of her hips, pleading for more of him. raising herself against him, she wriggled his cock deeper, bracing for his thrusts to begin. “Please, Astarion,” she breathed, voice honey-thick in her throat, “you wouldn’t leave your Bride unsatisfied, would you?”

Bride. At the word, he groaned loudly, fangs wet as he smiled, shoving his cock deeper inside as he buried his face into the crook of her neck. “Never, my darling,” he rasped. Another guttural noise, and he released one hand from hers, wrapping that length of bright fiery hair around his hand once… twice, and yanking her head back slightly. “You are mine forever now, my love until the stars fall down.”

Warm lips pressed against the cool ivory of her neck, careful to keep his teeth covered, lest he stir awake her bloodlust again. But Cordehlia wasted no time, slamming and wriggling her cunt against his cock, easing forward to easy back again.

A hiss rushed from his mouth against her skin each time she dared to move. Finally, he rocked into her ever so slightly, letting his cock sink all the way into her, letting that aching, pulsing head brush against that edge of her channel. Curling, she snapped her hips hard against him, stealing his breath.

Another snap, and he groaned, that insatiable hunger for her growing unbearable. That reality of his freedom, his power starting to course in his veins as she bucked back against him with even more fervor. “You’re an eager little thing,” he sighed, running his tongue over the scars on her neck, taking her ear into the warm, wet of his mouth once more. “I like you this eager,” whispering, he savored the way she shuddered beneath him.

“Then give me some of your own eagerness back, won’t you? I would hate to do all the work for you… my lord…”

Enough of coyness and carefulness he decided as he grasped her head, pulling her mouth to his to assume control. He needed her on his tongue again, needed to devour and consume and dance with her lips as they had a thousand times. “I love you,” his words breathed between her lips as he sucked more of her with each kiss. “I never want to do this with anyone but you ever again.”

A wish he had made once, so long ago under the elven forest and stars.

He could almost smell the woods near their homes, almost hear that babbling stream and feel the moss beneath them as every sinew sought the release they both craved. Thrust after thrust, he could feel her pressure rising, the way her thighs began to shake, her mouth panting and sighing heavily against his open lips. He could taste himself on her tongue yet, that rich iron, that tingling sensation of power, the same that raced down his nerves… and just like that, he knew she was about to seek more of him.

Drink more of him.

A yank of her hair in that fist, and he pulled her off his flesh just as her own razor-fangs snapped shut. “Tch, naughty, my bride,” he teased. A trail of caresses down her spine, and he raised himself. One hand rested on her shoulders, hair tugged just tight enough, he slipped his warming touch around her hips. Her clit was hard, aching and easy to find, and it was so simple to circle it. To make her moan for him, to raise her ass up just that little bit higher and take him all the deeper. To angle himself as he slammed into that spot inside that he knew better than she did herself.

He chewed into his own lip, clenching hard but not to draw blood. No, he needed her sated. Pleasured. Flooded with the bliss they shared now.

Lord and Bride.

Maker and beautiful creation.

Her pleasure tore into him, every muscle that clenched around him pounded as if his own. Her voice cried his name, that she loved him… her sweet words panted over and over again as she crumbled to the floor, boneless, bloodless, hot, and writhing.

Slowly, he pulled out, turning her on her back, longing more than anything to see her smile. Radiant, breathtaking, her breasts heaved as she caught her wind, her hair streaked over her damp and sweating face, and most beautifully, she smiled at him through her bliss. Her little fangs peeked beneath her rosy lips, her tongue wetting her mouth as she pulled those fiery, loose strands from her cheeks and chin.

Reverently, his own hands helped to clear her forehead, strand by precious strand. Laying his body atop hers, a groan slipped from his lips as she raised her hips to slot his cock back into her seeping, wet folds. He breathed her name, believing for the first time that she was with him again, saved.

Now made of one flesh.

Sharing one blood.

A blood that ran hot and thick forever between them.

He couldn’t hold her close enough, couldn’t thrust into her smoothly or deeply enough. He couldn’t taste enough of her on his tongue or feel her slightly chilled breath sweep into his own lung in any amount that would satisfy. His fingers gripped against the back of her head, weaving tightly again into that mess of her locks, the other wrapped firmly around her breast, the hard, cool nipple pressing into his palm like stone as he gripped it, as it swayed in time with his taking of her.

That tether between their bodies, that bond between their minds, something within them snapped taut, his heart beating in her chest, his very essence hers too. Every sensation between their bodies doubled, coursing harder as he drove her to the edge of her climax, thrown there himself as her side. She clawed at his back of ancient scars, body arching and trembling as she groaned her love for him again.

And this time, he followed, pouring every last bit of himself into her, making and remaking her anew. His cock shuddered, jolt after jolt of pleasure bursting from his core into hers. Seed seeped, hot and slick and mixed into one as he lowered himself into her arms.

Nestled into that bloodied crook of her neck, he could do nothing but breathe, forcing his eyes to remain open, to assure himself that this was it. That it was done.

That every little bit of trust she had put in him was replaced tenfold. And would be repaid again for the rest of their immortal lives.

Touch ghosting up and down his back, she smiled against his forehead, lips pressing their strange, cool kiss just beneath the edge of his curls. “I love you…” she whispered, almost imperceptible. Almost inside her own mind.

With a grunt of effort, he slipped from inside her, a tender kiss on her lips before he reached up and over the top of the bed to grab for the blood red covers. The heavy fabric fluttered as he draped it over them both, as his hands tucked it around her shoulders, her back. “I love you, my darling…” he kissed her cheek, “my consort…” he kissed her forehead before staring softly into those searching, crimson eyes, “…my bride.”

Astarion pulled her into his chest, rolling her to rest against his warm flesh and racing heart. “Rest, my love, we have eternity to make up for lost time now.”

His hands traced through the softness of the blanket, and his warmth seeped into her skin. She wouldn’t let it out from her lips just yet, how strange it was now to be the one corpse-cold, to be the lover to seek the warmth of her love. But as she nuzzled closer into that perfect dip in the muscles of his chest, she smiled.

A tear leaked from her eye.

To hear that ancient pattern of his heart beating beneath her ear again.

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postmodernbeliever · 6 months

Text

how to relax - fox mulder x female reader (smut)

a seemingly endless case in the middle of nowhere has you stressed out of your mind, to the point where the only thing that doesn't push you too far is fox mulder. with all that stress and no way to reel yourself in, your partner decides he wants to help show you how to relax.

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wrote this bc sometimes we (i) just need a (toe curling) self-insert to satisfy our (my) daydreams. i dedicate this to all those who are chubby and in love with fox mulder. if you prefer to read on ao3, you can find me at the same username.

my ao3 | word count; 5,419 (i got excited, okay?)

content tags (i copied from ao3 bc im lazy): dom fox mulder, praise kink, fluff and smut, cunnilingus, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, hand & finger kink, subspace, size difference, belly bulge, co-workers, mutual pining, idiots in love, pet names, stress relief, cross-posted on ao3, smut, subtle plus size reader, soft fox mulder, mentions of freudian shit bc come on this is the x files, talking you through it, fox is literally so awoooooga the whole time, fox gets cocky as always, fox mulder the munch, bathroom sex, fox just can’t help himself literally so i hope you enjoy

✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°✩ ✮ ⋆ ˚｡𖦹 ⋆｡°

you’d been beyond stressed all day, but that wasn’t out of the ordinary for you. what was frustrating was that you had managed to grow so agitated that it seemed nothing could help you calm down.

your work with the fbi was your life, in all its stress-inducing, time-consuming, hair-splitting glory. you were as tight-assed as they came (ask literally anybody!) all of that pressure on top of a naturally anxious and irritable demeanor made you difficult to enjoy being around, and you knew it. but today, of all days, it was truly catching up to you physically. the muscles of your jaw were sore from the tension they held, fighting between your teeth for release. your head swelled between your eyes and nose, pulsing softly like a glowing light that wouldn’t dim. your throat was dry, your footsteps heavy, your hands restless; you were wound so tight that everyone you encountered feared you might snap like a rubber band, lashing against them in recoil.

fox mulder was the only one who had stayed on your good side all day, which is surprising, given your partner was typically the casual aggressor of your everyday life- what with his constant nagging and ridiculous speculations about every crime you investigated. he never once changed his attitude, let alone change the color shirt he wore to work every day. yet it seemed this time he was off the hook, because the case you’d both been assigned was dragging like no other.

it was your fifth day in the desolate yellow countryside of a rural town you so lovingly renamed as bumblefuck, virginia; all you possessed was an immaterial, mulder-esque lead that couldn’t be pinned down (as your fellow agent was torn between shapeshifter and werewolf). on top of that were ten dead bodies, no evidence, and a motel room with broken air conditioning, complete with a leaky sink. you were sick to death of the heat, and the town, and the local policemen who seemed to have but two executive functions: hit on you or ignore your assertions. for a stagnant fifth day, you’d experienced more frustration than ever- the cops have begun to give up on catching a suspect, fox was investigating muddy footprints all afternoon like the freak he is, and you were stuck to sit in the closet-sized archives room at the local library where teenagers and nagging townspeople came in to ogle the “fbi lady”… jesus, no wonder your head hurts.

fox came by every so often to check on you that afternoon. once with a cup of coffee, once with half of a sandwich he’d thoughtfully taken a bite out of to piss you off, and again with dirt all over his face and a wild story about how he caught a glimpse of his x file mid-attack. if you weren’t used to his personality by now it might’ve made things worse, but in a way his teasing and subtle acts of service were the only soothing memories you had to reflect on. he was a moment of consistency between the endless chaotic installments of the afternoon.

at the end of the day, you were mentally exhausted, hungry for the other half of that sandwich fox ate, and in need of the shitty motel bed; at the very least some peace and quiet, just for one night. but it seemed your partner wouldn’t let you have it.

you’d had about an hour to yourself before fox materialized in your motel room. after a shower that quickly ran cold, you slipped into a sweatshirt, a threadbare set of sleep shorts that were a bit tight for your pudgy legs, and two flimsy socks that didn’t match because you hadn’t packed for a trip this long. you’d tried watching the television, but the antennae were spotty no matter how you arranged them. the air conditioning machine clanked and whistled nonstop, and hiding under your pillows didn’t dull the racket. the best part was when you tried to light the little bedside yankee candle and the lighter ran out of fluid- but not before it sparked and burned your thumb. you’d finally begun to decompress when a familiar knock sounded from outside. summoning a forcibly loud groan- so your tall visitor heard exactly how you felt- you clambered off the creaking bed and towards the door, which revealed his trademark smug smile.

“good evening, watson!”

“what do you want?” you sighed, closing your eyes.

you felt his hand push your shoulder to the side, and the man squeezed past you into the room. you scoffed and said, “oh, please, make yourself at home!”

“i will, thank you,” fox teased. “i came to check on you.”

“because?”

“well, you’ve been a wreck all day! didn’t laugh at one of my jokes. you nearly bit the sheriff's head off tonight when we checked in at the station before leaving… i just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“oh? well, you know what? no, mulder, i’m not okay. we’ve been stranded out in the middle of nowhere for a week with no leads and no progress and the food here sucks and i haven’t had a single good night’s sleep and all my socks are dirty!” you ranted, pacing in front of the half-open door like a lunatic.

fox grinned as if he knew something you didn’t and turned from you, heading towards the tiny bathroom tucked in the corner of the room. you slammed the front door shut and followed him, snapping, “what, you come in asking how i feel and just walk away? explain to me how that makes any sense, mulder!”

the agent leaned against the bathroom sink, hands laid curiously on the lip of the counter. he dutifully watched the little crystal droplets that fell rhythmically down the ceramic bowl. the air surrounding him felt charged, like if you stepped too close, you’d get shocked; almost as if his thoughts were electrifying the oxygen.

he frustrated you beyond belief sometimes. the man stood in your bathroom like his day was going perfectly fine. a gray t-shirt clung to his lean arms, hugging the curves of his biceps like it was tailored for him alone; his sweatpants were black and littered with lint from the hairy couch in his apartment, and they hung low on his hips, peeping the waistband of his black boxers like a well-known secret. his hair was pointing every which way in its tawny misdirection, and he had the nerve to inspect your sink, and lick his lips like he had all the time in the world to enjoy the southern sticks and lupine mysteries, all while you had to scour newspapers and sleep in ten minute increments to survive.

“mulder, what the hell are you doing?”

“your sink is leaking.”

“yeah, i know, sherlock.”

“did you ask them to fix it?”

“mulder, i will not hesitate to kick you out.”

“jeez, somebody’s worked up.”

the man pivoted on his feet, facing you with a newfound sense of purpose. you were prepared to object his statement, but were silenced by his hands finding your hips. he was so quick to slide you up onto the counter that you forgot your rebuttal- in fact, in his rush to relocate you, you’d forgotten to think entirely. he had your thighs pinned to the cold, white countertop, and parted so he could press his tummy to the spot where your legs met. his shirt rode up in the moment, and you could feel the warmth of his bare skin against the fabric of your shorts.

fox’s hands felt rough. you stared at them, at the sheer size, and recollected all the little stolen glances of those fingers sifting through his filing cabinets, or analyzing your field notes, or polishing his gun. countless vivid reminders of the strength of them as they pulled you back from bullets and unexpected staircases flashed before your eyes. how often you longed for them, you couldn’t say, but it was clear to you now as those same hands held you down that you had taken a serious liking to them.

it took you a while, but you managed to mutter, “what are you doing?”

fox could only smile wider and say, “you need to relax, don’t you?”

“what does that-”

“why don’t you let me help you?”

you swallowed thickly, feeling a bubbling heat rise in your belly. his calloused palms rode up your legs, finding room for his thumbs to begin drawing soft, sweeping circles against your hip bones. your brain clouded so fast you forgot to answer.

“i’ve never seen you so aggravated before… like, by every little thing. i mean, i know you get annoyed, but these past couple days have been so rough for you, haven’t they? just can’t calm down, can you? you look so tired, so tense. i can feel all the tension you’re keeping right… here,” he consoled, letting up on your hips to press a hand to your lower abdomen. when you sucked in a nervous breath, the man pressed a little harder, and you twitched beneath him. “i can fix that for you, if you want. show you how to relax a little.”

“y-you’re not even supposed to be in here,” you wheezed, “agents… agents aren’t supposed to consort in the same room, mulder, remember?”

“awh, come on, don’t start following the rules on me now! don’t you wanna feel better, honey?”

fox spoke like every word was a secret, leaning in close to your ear. the scruff of his five o’clock shadow brushed against your fresh face, eliciting a spidery chill down your spine.

“what’s gotten into you, mulder?”

“i asked you a question, sweetheart.”

you panicked, swallowing air like it was water. these kinds of questions felt new coming from him. anxiously, you let out a shaky breath and nodded, hoping that was enough. you couldn’t handle much else.

“is that a yes?”

“...mhm.”

“can you say yes for me?”

fuck. “yes.”

“good girl. it’ll help, i promise.”

it seemed he couldn’t be going any slower than he was just then, gingerly removing his hands from your waist and biting his lower lip like the reincarnate of a dream you’d entertained too many times before. you watched with a spinning head as his long, spindly fingers hooked under the waistband of your shorts. his pale eyes twinkled at you, sage steeped in milk, as he asked, “can i?” in that lilting voice he uses only when the room is begging for quiet. when you eagerly nodded, he chuckled, “lift up for me a little, okay?”

you followed orders and pressed your shaky hands to the tile, raising your hips so he had room to slide your shorts down. his face melted at the sight of you underneath.

night after night, he’d fantasized about those doe eyes of yours watching him free you up like this, but he never imagined he’d get the chance. until this afternoon, when he resolved to create the chance. through all these years working beside you, he’s only grown to admire you more. you were cunning, you were gentle with kids, you were smarter than he ever could be (even if you disagreed.) but you were also tired. you lived alone, you slept alone, you never asked for help and you declined every offer. fox hated to see you facilitate your own frustration. and this past week has only exacerbated his need to fix it- watching you so angry, so pent up, so in need of attention- he couldn't bear to let you suffer any longer. it seems he’s been lucky, too, because you sat quietly, patiently, all so that he could take care of you. grateful for the opportunity, fox didn’t want to waste any more time.

with those dreamy fingertips grazing your underwear, fox was the spitting image of boyish charm. he admired the worn black and grey striped fabric covering what was left of you, thinking aloud, “had these for a while, huh?”

“since i was in college,” you muttered, “everything i wore was dark back then.”

“nothing’s changed. you’re very punk rock,” he winked.

you didn’t know you were capable of laughing in your current state, but it came bubbling up in a nervous overflow. he watched your lips curl, and the way you threw your head back like you couldn’t stop yourself. you felt embarrassed to be so swayed by his stupid humor, but you had no choice. not when he had you wrapped around his finger like this.

“you’re a dork.”

“you like it, though,” he reassured.

you watched the man hesitate, eyes darting down to your lips; you closed your eyes, hoping it would nudge him in the right direction, and you were right. fox had to crane his neck down a bit- because even with you on the counter, he was still taller- but he made himself level, and he pressed his lips to yours so gently you almost didn’t feel him there. what announced him was the taste of him, actually; stale coffee on his tongue, and what you deduced to be the black-label chapstick, the kind that tasted like medicine. you toppled into him like you were falling off a cliff, clinging to the hem of his shirt in longing.

fox seemed to like how you hung on him. it made him feel risky. his hands meandered across your tummy, pushing up under your sweatshirt and roaming the soft skin of your back. he caught your bottom lip between his teeth and tugged softly, and when you opened your eyes in surprise, he nudged your nose like a kitten and let it go. he was good at taking control like this, at making your nerves ebb and flow to his pace. you were so entranced in the way his lips meshed with yours that when his dominant hand found its way to your hips again, you mewled in anticipation.

“you sound a lot prettier when you’re not arguing with me,” fox joked. you met him with a soft sound from the back of your throat, and his eyebrows furrowed in amusement. “can barely speak, can you?”

“mm-mm,” you answered, trying to trap his lips again, but he pulled away.

his eyes shifted shade, and you were now seeing yourself reflected in much darker irises. your back shivered against the mirror on the wall. he broke eye contact and let it linger on your legs, his palms swiping over the skin with intention. swiftly, he bent over and began pressing kisses to your inner thighs. you let out a strangled whine, which made him shudder.

“you want me to get to it, hm?”

“please, f… mulder,” you whispered, blushing like a fool.

the man rose again to lock you in a soft kiss, one so much more loving than the others that it let butterflies loose in your chest. interrupting their fluttering, he prodded, “what was that?”

it was out of you before you had a chance to weigh the outcomes. “please, fox.”

having teased long enough, fox dropped to his knees and pushed your panties aside. his mouth was so slick from all the time it spent on yours that it was dangerously warm as it pressed against your heat. you let out a lewd string of moans as his tongue trailed a long, torturous stripe between your folds, taking his sweet time getting to the top. he felt you throbbing, all the blood in your body pulsing like a heartbeat for him. his lips, just a bit swollen, peppered a few gentle kisses to the skin before surrounding your bud and starting to suck.

you squeezed your eyes shut so hard it nearly brought your headache back. fox grunted between your hips, the pads of his fingers pressing hard into your bones. you softened for his tongue as it swirled inside your pussy, tracing shapes to drive you insane. your hands burrowed into his cropped cut and tugged in desperation, which he liked so much it practically made him growl; the sound bounced between your walls, sending a sensation into your stomach that made your legs tremble. he felt so good inside you like this, lapping like a puppy at your water; you bucked against his big nose, craving the friction, and he responded with relentless thirst for you.

“fuck!” you whined, “fox- agh,”

coming up for a gulp of air, you caught a glimpse of his slick chin as it glinted in the yellow light. “feels good?”

“shit,” you panted, “yes, obviously… more,”

“more, huh?” fox licked his lips with hungry eyes. “i’m gonna need you to say please, baby.”

“jesus, fox, please! pretty please, baby, please just keep going,”

“fuck, don’t call me names…” the man swooned at the broken cry in your voice, resolving to give you whatever you needed until the day you die. now wasn’t the time for confession, though, so he filed that away for later. “pretty please. god, you’re good.”

you nearly choked as he pushed two fingers into you, curling them in a rough come-hither motion. he bombarded you with himself, sucking hard on your clit and fucking his fingers into the swelling spot inside you, making you lurch against his touch like an animal. with your head thrown back against the motel mirror and pretty mouth gasping for him, he realized that his dreams could never do this moment justice. the sugary, tangy taste you left on his tongue, your soft skin that smelled like shower suffocating him, the way his name rolled off your tongue- you were the real fucking deal, not some half-assed daydream that got him off at night. you were beautiful, and for not being a praying man, being on his knees before you felt right. who was he to stand eye to eye with you, when down here where you were perched above him like an angel, he had so much more room to worship you?

“fuck, i- oh, i’m…” you whimpered, grinding against his face with fervor.

“let it go, honey, come on,” he cooed, “i’ll take care of you.”

“b-but i- i’ve never- oh my god!”

the agent watched you battle with yourself, all the while writhing on the countertop, so he carefully brought his thumb to your clit and picked up the pace. he rose to you again, using his free arm to slither around the base of your back and pull your body flush against his. you bunched his shirt in your fists helplessly and hid your face in his shoulder. it took all his strength not to collapse right then and there, but he kept moving for you, and you rocked against his palm like you were made for it. when he realized you were going to need a little more help, he gave it to you.

you were stressed, after all, and sometimes somebody’s just got to talk you through it, right?

“never had it this good before, hm? nobody’s ever made you cum, sweetheart? you poor thing,” fox twitted, clicking his tongue. “you work so hard. my smart girl, so good at her job, so independent… you deserve to be taken care of, to feel good, baby. to let go of all that stress,”

you struggled to think straight as his gruff voice battled the ringing in your ears. his palm pressed against your back with so much care, like if he moved it you’d shatter into a million pieces. it was all so much, to have your partner with you like this; to hear him breathing beside you, to feel his fingers in a place you’d never thought they’d be. he saw the gears turning in your head still, and he wanted to shut your brain off for good. and god, did he. fox coaxed it right out of you like it was his job.

“come on, good girl, you can do it,” he whispered. “cum for me, honey, i know you can. show me you can.”

for every moment of danger you found yourself stuck in, fox was there to protect you. when you got reprimanded by a director, he was there to hold your hand behind the safety of the desk. when you were late and needed a cover, he was prepared with a detailed story. you’d forgotten a raincoat a comical number of times, so many in fact that he began keeping a spare in his office for you to borrow. fox was always there, waiting to help you, to guide you, and if it was fucked up (so far as to call it freudian) then so be it- you needed it from him. you needed his safety, his warmth, the strength of his arms around you. his reassurance.

and to hear him care for you like this, too, to pull on your strings and unravel you like a tired tapestry… god, nothing ever felt so good.

fox’s eyes rolled back as you twitched on his fingers, moaning his name like a prayer into the stuffy bathroom air. your hands struggled to find a place to stay as they combed through his hair frantically, tugging and trembling; it was like you’d never been touched before in your life. you had, but very few times, and it was just like he said- nobody had done it right. but he had. it felt like his hands were crafted to please you. they knew exactly where to touch, how fast, how gentle, how deep. the man figured you out instantly, which was as exciting as it was terrifying. you’ve never felt so out of it in your entire life.

you panted wildly, and fox gave soft kisses to your hair while you tried to regain your composure. but you couldn’t. you couldn’t get a grasp on anything. the world was floating in limbo around you, all inconstant; the countertop felt as foreign to you as flying did. but even in your daze, you craved more- the second he stopped, you needed him to start again. you could barely speak, but he heard your mumblings: “m…more, more, f… foxie,”

that nickname gave him goosebumps. slowly, he said, “baby, i don’t have anything with me for that,”

“don’t care. please.” you begged. there was no way he could say no to you, not when your pretty, cloudy eyes looked up at him how they did.

“okay, baby, okay.”

fox gave no warning, but nothing would have prepared you anyway- you instinctively opened your hips wider just to make enough room for him. he pushed all the way in, letting himself bottom out; the man let out a moan so guttural that you clenched around him in reflex. you were lucky enough to see him make that pretty ‘o’ face, and that might’ve been enough for you, honestly, but it wasn’t for him. he needed you, and he needed you fast.

his thrusts were no match for all the grinding you could do. he snapped back and forth like a whip, hips rolling so hard that it felt like he was digging inside you deeper each time. you dragged your nails down his back, trying to find something to hold onto, but his moans in your ear as he hid his face in your neck were so distracting you kept having to start over.

“jesus, baby, you’re so tight for me,” he grumbled, “feels so good, you’re doing so good… fuck, my good girl.”

his praise made every nerve in your body short-circuit. it didn’t matter how he moved, you couldn’t stop babbling. he tugged your hips forward a little more, making you slump against the mirror, and you clutched the countertop for dear life.

“can’t use your words, huh, baby? look at you, smartest analyst in the fbi and you can barely speak, all because of me,” he tormented. the man pressed his right hand against your tummy again, just like he had before, and he growled with lust. he seized your hand and pressed it flat beneath his in the same spot, and he fucked you harder, forcing it down until you felt his thrusting beneath your palm. you never thought you’d feel anything like this, not with your soft stomach, but he was making it possible.

“you feel that, pretty? feel me inside you, filling you up? you’re mine now. all mine.”

you had no control. you whined, “foxie,” jerking your hips against his cock in a craze.

“god, that’s right, that’s my girl.” he smiled.

“s-so… a-agh, please!”

“mm, i know, baby, keep going,”

you had no more words left, you’d used them all. fox had figured out how to take away all your stress, yet in the process, he took your whole mind with it. now you were just his, a thing to be kissed, a fleshy body for him to praise. for a control freak, you loved being the one under another’s control for once.

you scratched at fox’s shoulders, a mindless drop of drool dribbling from the corner of your mouth. you felt his cock as it swelled against your slick walls, and how it poked against your insides, and if that weren’t enough, he moved his hand to your clit again and resumed rubbing those blissful circles into it. you could only sit there and grind against his touch, muttering strings of curses and unintelligible sounds.

“agh, baby, you’re so pretty like this,” his moans were growing harsh, turning into whines. “all fucked out, mm, so pretty for me,”

his hips started snapping erratically, and your back arched against the increasing speed. his teeth met your shoulder and he bit softly, grumbling, “i’m so close,”

in what felt like a cry but came out as a strangled whimper, you warned, “m’gonna… agh…”

fox watched your face screw up in pleasure, and it pushed him right over the edge. your body collapsed as you let go, and he rushed to hold you to him and keep you upright. all the way in your gut, where your hand once rested, you felt him pooling all over, thick and warm. his thumb swirled you slowly, working you through it so you didn’t get too shocked. he was stationary for a while, unable to move from the overstimulation; but when he did, he watched the stuff bubble out of you, though only just a bit. his throat closing up at the sight. he gathered some of it on his fingers and raised them to your lips, and you licked them sweetly. his stomach churned as you gazed down at his hand with foggy eyes, somehow still lustful after all he’d done to tire you out.

“good job, baby, you were so good for me,” he crooned, leaving sloppy, tired kisses all over your neck. “someone’s gotta take care of you, don’t they?”

you just murmured little hums, and he loved every second of it.

“you hear me, pretty girl? nobody takes better care of you than me, you got it? who takes good care of you?”

“foxie,” you admitted in your mindless bliss.

“that’s right, baby, foxie does. you’re all mine, honey,” he gushed. “not so stressed anymore, are you?”

“mm-mm.”

“are you okay? take a deep breath for me.”

you tried to speak, but the words weren’t forming. you couldn’t string anything together. all you could do was make quiet noises and mutter his name. “mmph… foxie,”

“here, come here, honey.”

fox tucked his hands beneath your thighs, and after instructing you to wrap your arms around his neck nice and tight, he carried you from the croaking bathroom sink to the motel bed, where he took extra care in laying you down comfortably. he climbed on top of you and adjusted your shirt, smoothing the fabric over your plush tummy and drawing a dopey smile from you.

“stuck in your head, hm?” fox asked.

he’d read up on this type of thing before- subspaces. typically common in BDSM practices, but not exclusively. there was a study conducted that detailed the experience theoretically as a headspace induced by rushes of endorphins, causing the receiver to fall into a trance-like state. he remembered reading how when someone is in a subspace their ability to communicate can be impaired and so can their judgment. it was also suggested that asking grounding questions may help coax people out of them (don’t ask how he found such a study.) so being the guy he is, he took everything very slowly from there, and followed the science.

“can you hear me, sweetheart?”

“mm.”

“good. what’s my name?”

your stomach fluttered at the question, and warmth pooled between your hips at the softness with which he asked, but your brain was two steps behind. it took you a minute to answer, and you could only do it with your eyes closed. “foxie,” you muttered.

“good girl, good job. that’s right,” he rewarded you with a kiss to the collarbone. beneath his breath he muttered, “fuck, if that isn’t cute.”

he could see you were somewhere else. all of your behavior was so needy. you might’ve thought you were a headcase before, but he’s no stranger to id impulses either; he saw how you pushed into his palms, how you refused to let go of his shirt, and he just wanted to help you through it. he wanted to make sure you felt safe.

“baby, can you open your eyes for me? can you let me see your pretty eyes?”

you peeked through one and saw his handsome face staring back at you, that toothy grin blooming flowers in your chest. slowly you opened the other, and even though the world was swirling, you managed to keep them open.

“you’re doing so good, thank you, baby,” he chuckled. “now, i’m gonna put your shorts back on, okay?”

“m’kay.”

you took a deep breath. he watched your chest rise and fall, and your cheeks burn even redder than he thought possible. your hand held his wrist tightly, tight enough that he prayed your nails would leave little moon-shaped marks behind. you shook your head and tried to wipe away the fuzzy feeling.

“what’s my name again?” he asked, noticing how hard you were trying to focus. he tapped on your hip so you’d know to lift them, and he wriggled your shorts back on, admiring how they hugged the skin.

“f-fox.”

“good. what’s my job?”

“you’re… a profiler,” you volleyed, feeling a little more grounded with each passing second.

“good girl. and where are we, honey?”

you squinted at him and smiled, “bumblefuck, virginia.”

when fox laughed, it felt like all the angels rung their bells. something about seeing his face light up and whatever was plaguing him, whatever he was in danger of, just wash away in the moment was nothing short of enlightenment. you wished he’d laugh more, so you could see divine intervention on the regular.

“coming back to me, hm?”

“yeah,” you giggled.

fox leaned down and pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “i’m trying not to let my ego explode right now, you know,” he smirked, “i never thought you wanted me so bad.”

you blushed, hiding behind your hands. “i… oh, god.”

“no, no, it was cute! really. you… you don’t know how badly i’ve wanted to do that.” he promised.

“i’ve never felt-” you paused, wondering if it was worth saying. yet, if he could bring you back to earth after fucking you stupid, what secrets could you hide from him? “i’ve never felt like this about anyone before.”

“who, me?” fox laughed.

“mhm. it’s just… agh. you. it’s only you, fox. embarrassingly so.”

it was his turn to blush then. fox leaned down to catch you in one more kiss, and you felt his hand search the bedsheets for yours so he could tangle your fingers with his own. he didn’t want to break away, so he said it right into your mouth, pausing for air: “god- i have- loved- you for- so long.”

fox couldn’t help but feel proud of himself as he laid down between your legs, resting his head on your warm belly like it was a pillow. you instinctively took to his hair, playing with the chocolatey tufts and wishing he’d never move. he fit so perfectly right there, and now you couldn’t ever let him go. you didn’t want to.

with one last kiss to your hip, fox grinned. “told you i could help.”

#spooky mulder #x files #fox mulder #smut #smut and fluff #fox mulder smut #x files smut #fox mulder x reader #agent mulder #fox mulder x you #praise k!nk #soft d0m #Spotify

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y-rhywbeth2 · 10 months

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Gods and Clergy: Bane

Link: Disclaimer regarding D&D "canon" & Index [tldr: D&D lore is a giant conflicting mess. Larian's lore is also a conflicting mess. You learn to take what you want and leave the rest]

Well, I did the murderhobos, might as well cover the deity and daily business of our favourite hot-topic-shopping dictator and co. now? Ahahahahaaaaa There is too much goddamn material on Bane, I'm going to kill Ed Greenwood-

Intro: If you're not consumed with fear and hatred while trying to take over a city which you intend to rule with cruelty and an iron fist then this is not the religion/political party for you. If this is not the religion/party for you, please lower your neck so that I can attach this slave collar to it.

Banites: The hierarchy and rituals and stupid toys of the church of Bane is what you get when Lawful Evil and Lawful Stupid have a horrible, overcomplicated offspring called Lawful Sadistic. Bring me the avatar of Bane I'm going to stab this fucker Also, being goth is mandatory.

Dreadmasters: More teleporting! Bossy, immune to fear and fond of magic rods. Also, do you remember that "divine oath" Durge and Gortash swore...?

The Chosen: Should be way more impressive than what we saw in game. Forging unbreakable oaths! Pet beholders! Detachable shadow spies! Etcetera!

Bane: Boy, the world (and my sanity) would've been a much better off if this dude had gotten intensive therapy instead of divine power!

(This thing is too fucking long and should perhaps be split into two posts but ooooh my god am I not editing this anymore.)

---

Bane's clergy often hear their god whispering his dogma in their dreams:

"Serve no one but me. Fear me always - and make others fear me even more than you do. The Black Hand always strikes down on those who stand against it in the end. Defy me and die - or in your death find loyalty, for I shall compel it. Submit to my will, [as uttered by my ranking clergy] since true power can only be gained through service to me. [Spread the dark fear of Bane.] It is the doom of those unguided by me to let power spill through their hands. [Those who cross the Black Hand meet their dooms earlier and more harshly than those who worship other deities.]" - Bane's Dogma [with 14th century addendums in brackets]

Bane is basically the quintessential villain of the Realms. When a person pictures the face of evil, they picture this god and his followers.

The most important thing to know about Bane and his religion, in my opinion, is summed up here:

"The summons [from Ao] had come wearing the face and form of that which each of the gods feared most. [...] To the Black Lord, Bane, the summons came in the guise of absolute love and understanding, its light searing his essence as it carried him from his kingdom." - Shadowdale

You want to give one of the most evil bastard in the pantheon a panic attack? Give him a hug.

Following a brief version of a backstory that has been given for him; the mortal who would be Bane was born on Abeir, Toril's linked twin planet/parallel universe. There he was a nameless battle slave to Maram of the Great Spear - an ancient primordial being of absolute evil whom the Netherese had summoned into the world, where it broke free and started inflicting horrors upon the world. While in the service of said horrifying evil, the young slave nurtured ambitions of having absolute power for himself.

While on Toril he teamed up with his two future frenemies, Bhaal and Myrkul, and they killed (or possibly subjugated) his master and took his power for themselves, before heading off to nag Jergal for his job. After bickering, the ex-slave known only as "the Bane of the Ancients" wins the draw and gets to be what he always wanted - the epitome of tyranny with godlike power. The next step for him is to conquer the mortal world and destroy all the other gods so that none have power and control over him.

Banite religion is founded on the principle of making Bane's dream of global domination possible. Every Banite is a link in the chains of Bane's power. What they rule, he rules. All Banites strive to take over something (village, city, kingdom, army, whatever). All Banites are expected to aid and obey their superiors in this domination.

When in control, a Banite is to use their power to "further the cause of hate, fear, destruction and strife." Doing so within the control of the law is preferable, but chaos is tolerated as long as that chaos is wielded as a tool with perfect control. You can get voted into power by stirring up people's fears of minorities, or start the apocalypse and present yourself as the saviour - but you must not be overwhelmed, or you have failed.

The world is divided into slaves who have no power and exist to serve, and the powerful who command them. Bane is the rightful master of all and all are to serve him, and by extension his followers (those with the strength to seek, take and hold power), willingly or by force. Control is the key virtue in the eyes of the faith. Always be in control and/or be controlled by somebody more capable/deserving of power than you. As their lessers are expected to obey every order perfectly, the superiors are expected to be competent in their leadership and wield perfect command.

Banites pride themselves on being cold and decisive in all that they say and do. They also enjoy cutting sarcasm. It's vital to appear in command of yourself and the world around you - shouting, loss of temper and other outbursts of behaviour that suggest a lack of control/power are avoided like the plague. Two Banites on the brink of killing each other may appear to be in the midst of only a polite, but insistent disagreement.

Bane used to enjoy watching his power hungry idiots backstabbing each other to climb the ranks while overzealous worshippers splintered into factions and started killing each other (most notably a divide between the divine-magic based orthodoxy and the arcane-magic based reformers/"Transformers".) Then Mystra technically killed him during a fight with Torm in the Time of Troubles, and Cyric took over his church. When Bane made a comeback in the 14th century he immediately decided they wouldn't be doing that anymore. Now it's an united rigid hierarchy from top to bottom, and Banites are a well organised, well equipped unit.

The laws of the heathens are irrelevant, but a Banite who gets caught breaking those law trying to achieve their goals is expected to suck it up and do the time for failure - unless they've been doing such a good job that everybody's too far under their control to try and punish them for it, in which case great job. A+ in Bane worship.

Banites typically establish themselves in an area by finding a location out of sight of a civilisation and building a fortress, where they build their power until they are too strong a force to drive off. Taking over an existing fort is also a possibility. The temple is run like a military base: spartan, with only tapestries showing Bane's symbol and religious texts on it for decoration. The courtyard is meant for military drills and rituals, and there's a mass hall for dining and holding prayer. They like pointy architecture. And black. Oh, and the torture basements! Can't forget those. It's also where they keep a variety of trained monsters in pens. You may end up sharing your cell with a displacer beast or something, but don't worry about it.

Banites have a secret network of teleporting spells. The actual "portals" will be any space of stone big enough to stand on, which are magically connected to other points (also stone). If you stand on one and speak the correct password, then it will teleport you to the destination designated by that password. There are no spells or barriers that can prevent the teleporter from arriving at their destination. Banites can bring others along with them if they are physically connected when the password is said. They can't bring more than 100lbs of inanimate matter with them.

All are welcome to convert to Bane. There will be an interview where your intentions are checked, although if it turns out you're not actually evil-aligned you can still join. There's a good chance that they'll use magic to turn you into an "incorruptible champion of evil and uncompromising disciple of order" anyway; "for Bane recognizes the value of those who have seen the lure of good and turned away from it to serve evil."

Or just use dark magic to twist you from a person into a weapon/guard/servant bound to the service of Bane anyway.

Banites are also able to ensure loyalty with a magically binding divine oath called the Dark Promise, cast by his favoured priests (Dreadmasters). It's an old spell, back from the early days when Bane was a new god and his followers were vulnerable, and is not used as often. When the spell is cast and the oath is made, a set of circumstances are set into motion that targets of the spell must follow to the letter. The promise must have Bane's interests at heart and the conditions and stipulations cannot be endanger the individuals' lives. If the oath is violated, it drains the oath breaker's life force. The damage done by this spell cannot be healed, and if the oath breaking does not cease then they will die.

Bane is one of the few exceptions amongst the gods in that his worshippers are all henotheistic rather than polytheistic. Banites consider worship of other deities "foolish," Bane is the only master you should truly serve. All under Banite rule will be forced to convert to the worship of Bane. They are however willing to cooperate with the followers of Loviatar (pain), Talona (disease), Malar (predation), and Mask (thievery) as Bane has terrified these gods into allying with him. From a certain school of Banite thought, this means that they and their followers are part of the chains of Bane's will (the gods/faithful in question probably wouldn't agree). Bhaal was, or perhaps still is, a servant of Bane and he and Myrkul have also been counted amongst Bane's allies in the past, despite their tendency to squabble, so cooperation with Bhaalists and Myrkulites is not unimaginable when it serves both their deities.

Banites do not get on so well with... anybody, but they particularly hate worshippers of Ilmater (compassion), Tyr (justice), Helm (non-Banite order), Lathander (optimism/renewal), Torm (champion of the innocent), Oghma (knowledge) and Mystra. If they get their hands on one they'll usually torture them and leave their mutilated bodies somewhere for the distressed public to find. Bane and Cyric are still at war, both due to humiliation and the fact that they're still fighting over areas of divine power that the other has stolen/reclaimed from the other, and the corpses of Cyricists that fall into Banite hands are usually found with "heretic" branded on their foreheads as a warning to others who worship the usurper.

Banite clergy are expected to always be armed, and it is mandatory that you at least wear something black at all times. For ceremonial purposes, Banites wear black armour or robes with a blood-red cape. Wizards like to enchant their robes so that they swirl and give off illusions of glittering with "black stars" and have blood dripping off the hem. The higher in the ranks you go, the fancier the clothes get. Banites used to have facial tattooing, although this made them rather easy to identify and kill off when Cyric took over and some purges took place. The highest ranking Banites can be identified by a gem that they wear on their forehead. Banites are not expected to wear anything that would identify their religious affiliations if it would get them persecuted, but they do like decorating their clothes with spikes and are are expected to dress in a certain specific colour that I'm getting sick of typing out. When Bane rules the world we will all be dressing as goths under threat of execution...

Each priest has a ceremonial staff denoting their rank, which they will have at these rituals. When a Banite dies they are buried with it. They are unenchanted and purely for ceremony, at most being used to light braziers. It starts with a simple black wood staff [level 1], which at higher ranks has an ivory skull at the top [lvl 2-4]. Higher yet they add silver plating, and the skull is the size of a fist [lvl 5], and the even higher level priests that skull has ram horns [lvl 6]. After that you get real human skulls! [at lvl 7+]! They're allowed to decorate theirs how they like, as well as adding enchantments. So gemstones, magic runes, etc.

Bane's holy symbol is the Black Hand, a symbol of terror recognisable to the entire Realms. Versions include a black handprint, a black claw or a metal gauntlet embedded with jewels. Priests usually wear a replica of the hand as a carved pendant of black stone. There is another Black Hand seen on his high-ranking priests: elbow-length gloves crafted of flexible metal mesh or chainmail, usually worn on the left hand. It emits an eerie dark radiance, i's supposed to be black, and a non-Banite found wearing one can expect every Banite on the planet to hunt them to the ends of the world for this blasphemy (also it's about 50,000gp in value jfc). The gauntlet cannot be damaged by force and absorbs all spells of third level or less. Area of effect spells are not negated, but cannot affect the wearer. It can drain magic out of items, should the wearer touch them with intent to do so. The wearer can then discharge all of the absorbed magic into the body of another by touching them, causing them damage. They can also paralyze undead and living beings via touch.

To question or disobey a superior is to question or disobey Bane himself, and is answered by torture, disfigurement and/or death. The word of a Banite of superior rank is law, and you will do literally anything they ask you to do.

Banites have invented a magic whip (a mystic lash) that does all sorts of fun nonsense in case that happens. It's made of glowing red energy. If the priest needs their hands free then the whip can actually wield itself (need to scourge that annoying initiate, but you don't want to look up from your book? Then good news!) If the wielder choses, a lash of the whip may cause one of the following; paralysis, memory loss, seizures, extra damage plus the disintegration of equipment, or electrocution.

One is expected to greet those of higher rank by kneeling in front of them and kissing their boots

At the bottom of the hierarchy are the novices, who are addressed by the title of "slave." If they're good enough, Bane will send them a dream vision or manifest as a voice speaking from one of his altars - he will name them, and they are allowed to enter the first rank of the priesthood… of which there are 12 ranks with their own unique addresses, which everybody is expected to memorise. Disrespect to a higher rank will, as mentioned, involve insulting Bane and lead to torture, disfigurement and potential death.

The only time you're not expected to use the titles is when in the presence of heathens, Banites will address each other as Brother/Sister Faithful (when speaking to an equal/lesser) or Dread Brother/Sister (when addressing a superior).

Banites do not refer to each other by name, only by the name of their rank (unless there are too many individuals of the same rank. In the case you had a room full of Black Fangs, you would address them individually as Black Fang [Surname].) It's generally impossible for eavesdroppers to learn the names or personal details of a Banite.

The rankings are determined by character level, and are as follows:

Watchful Brother/Sister/Sibling

Deadly Adept

Trusted Servant

Willing Whip

Hooded Menace

Black Fang

Striking Hand

Vigilant Talon

Masked Death

Dark Doom

Higher Doom

Deep Mystery

The Deep Mysteries include the Deeper Mysteries… which have their own ranks! Secret, higher levels which are unknown to those of the first 11 levels who must address all higher ranking Banites as "Deep Mystery." There is no official means by which a Banite is bestowed this title, they bestow them upon themselves if they believe they should have the rank. The test lies in the fact that in order to keep the title their fellow Banites must also begin using them - in other words if you are not a pretender and truly have the power and authority to hold this title, then your siblings in the faith will follow.

The ranks of the Deep Mysteries, in order of authority, from lowest to highest:

Vigilator

Lord/Lady of Mysteries

Lord/Lady of the Hand

Imperceptor

Dark Imperceptor

Grand Bloodletter

High Inquisitor

The High Imperceptor is the Banite of highest rank of the Deep Mysteries, supreme living servant of Bane, and unlike the prior titles this one cannot be self-bestowed. I haven't seen any explanation for how it is bestowed, but I imagine Bane decides.

Banites don't bother with set holy days. We will have a holy day whenever the leading priest decides we're having one, and it will be called whatever they decide it is. This usually means a) somebody fucked up, time for a public punishment; or b) we've got an enemy/traitor, time for human sacrifice.

Rituals are to be held in as close to pitch darkness as is possible, gathered around the Black Altar (a wood table covered in a black cloth, a block of black stone - whatever, just so long as it's black so we can give it an ominous name). The Black Altar is to be made holy by having a replica of the Holy Hand of Bane floating above it (this too has to be black in colour). This is a levitating 6 foot tall stone hand that can sense alignments within a 60 foot radius, and it will attack good-aligned people on encountering them. When not in use it patrols Banite locations, seeking out spies and intruders and killing them.

And that the Seat of Bane will be placed in front of the Black Altar. The chair is black, its back is carved into the shape of a hand. Senior clergy sit in the throne when acting as Bane's voice for the rest of the congregation. So the leader of the area's Banites sits in the chair, and that means Bane is sitting in the chair. While sitting in it, the seated can read the thoughts of all beings within 90 yards. it can project a forcefield around the chair; can nullify magic in the area; allows the seated to see through illusions and invisibility; know the alignment of everyone present; allow the seated to speak with dead; and also conjure walls of fire. If the chair is knocked over, it causes a massive explosion of fire that kills everyone around it.

Then the party. With minimum partying and maximum solemn, ominous chanting and deep, heavy drum beats. Those guilty of disobedience or other failures will be chained to the altar and whipped in front of the congregation. And then there's the human sacrifice: "Sacrifices had to be humiliated, tortured, and made to show fear before dying to be acceptable to Bane, and they usually met their deaths through slashing, flogging, or being crushed by the Hand of Bane."

The traditional power base of the Banite faith was Zhentil Keep, the base of operations for the Zhentarim. The Black Network has once again been taken from Bane by Cyricists however, after the death of Fzoul Chembryl a few decades back - Fzoul was a Chosen of Bane and basically his favourite servant (who has since been made into a quasi-deity bearing some of Bane's divine power, that he may continue to serve) and Zhentil Keep is currently in ruins. The loss of the Keep (for a second time) destroyed Zhentarim power, and now they're mostly just a bunch of mercenaries with good connections on the black market trade routes (slaves, drugs, weapons, etc) as far as I can find.

The Dreadmasters are Bane's specialty priests, making up 10% of all Banites. Dreadmaster is a unisex title. They spend their time doing all the spellwork and making all the delightful inventions that have been giving me a headache. They have a stupid number of spells given to them. Nobody else's specialty priests have this many fucking spells.

They cannot feel fear from sources other than Bane

They can, however, project the feeling of absolute terror into every being within 10 feet of them, usually causing everyone to run screaming.

They can completely destroy the souls of the dying

Create extra evil undead

Create powerful, still sapient undead servants from dead Banites (from ghouls up to vampires)

Create animated suits of armour that serve the Banites, powered by people's souls

Make a warding symbol drawn with a mixture containing three drops of blood from a collection made by sacrificing 30 people. The ward is invisible and cannot be detected, and when activated it drains the life out of everyone present.

They have a supernatural knack for reading other's true moods and intentions They have a supernatural level of charisma and authority over their servants, who cannot help but be fanatically loyal

They are exceptionally skilled in the artificing of magical wands, rods and staves. When they use them the magic of the items is increased.

They're the ones who cast the stonewalk spells that make the teleport network run.

They're also the priests responsible for binding the Dark Promise.

"The Chosen of Bane are tyrants in every sense of the word, consumed with the quest for absolute power. Hand-picked by the deity of tyranny and fear, [they] are both charismatic and filled with hate [...] They seek only to rule with absolute, unchallenged authority over every living and undead create across the world."

They are unbothered by temperature, both hot and cold, as well as resistant to being burned or electrocuted.

They do not age, though they will still die at an age where they would've died if they did age.

Supernatural insight into motives and emotions, and a massive boost to their charisma.

They can mind control people, are immune to fear, can share this immunity with others or increase the fear they feel.

They can also cast gaes, which is basically exactly the same as the Dark Promise, but doesn't necessarily have to benefit Bane (blasphemous as that sounds).

They can summon undead beholders to serve them

They can grant their own shadows independence as an undead creature of the same name (shadows), While separate the shadow is free-willed, though the two remain telepathically linked.

They are served by a retinue of their own master's servants including: doppelgangers; helmed horrors; beholders; undead Banites; hell hounds; imps; displacer beasts; Banelar nagas (evil snake things with human faces)

Bane doesn't like using avatars, if he needs to manifest on Toril he just possesses people in positions of wealth and power who transform into handsome, yet "oily" looking black haired men as long as he's inhabiting them. The souls of these people are forced to watch as the god does what he wants. Once the body is "worn out" from all the punishment he puts them through (mortal shells, so fragile) he'll move to another evil or neutral mortal via touch.

If he strikes out with his gauntleted hand, then there is a good chance that the person stuck will drop dead.

In combat he warps the face into a more beastial visage. His hands become talons capable of "rending flesh and bone" and in the Time of Troubles when he was first forced to manifest as a normal human he immediately started editing the body into a more demonic visage although that might've been because he'd just crash landed in his own temple and destroyed it, and only had a few moments until his torture happy zealots turned up to find what seemed to be some random dude standing in the wreckage. He was in kind of a panic trying to make sure they saw Bane, God of Tyranny not... that.

His other manifestations as a pair of blazing red eyes staring out from the darkness, and a black, taloned hand which was the temperature of ice to the touch. They work exactly like his other manifestation.

Bane sometimes announces his presence, and that he is paying attention to you, with the sudden manifestation of the giant footprint of a boot, scorched into the earth. He shows his approval of his followers through their sudden discovery of a black sapphire. His disapproval is shown through the sudden appearance of red carnelian, ground into dust.

He is served by various devils, beholders, death tyrants (the undead remains of beholders that failed him), black dragons, banelar nagas and pride incarnates

Bane can cast any spell at will, save those that heal or create.

Bane was slain in the Time of Troubles. After his death his followers had an even bigger row between those who were loyal to Bane (orthodoxy) and those who worshipped his portfolio instead of the god himself and switched to Cyric. Many of the Orthodoxy began worshipping Iyachtu Xvim the Godson, son of Bane (whose mother was either a fiend or a fallen human paladin, nobody's sure).

Xvim was doing a pretty ok job in his nascent godhood up until 1372 DR, when Bane hijacked the essence of himself he'd left in his son and destroyed him - being reborn within his body and immediately regaining the rank of Greater Deity. About a few years following the Bhaalspawn Crisis, the year where Bhaal was supposed to be reborn from the death of his kids but failed.

Bane went on to continue being one of the most infamous, powerful and dangerous gods on Faerûn up until the Second Sundering, when suddenly we've got confusion.

In BG3 canon, the Dead Three are clearly greater than quasi-deity status. Due to new rules that WotC pulled out of their ass, gods of lesser deity status or higher cannot manifest avatars. Bane can still empower clerics and have Chosen, so he's most likely still a Greater Deity in BG3.

In Descent into Avernus, the Dead Three are apparently quasi-deities now, forced to exist in permanent avatars on Toril and unable to grant spells of have Chosen.

I think this nicely explains what I mean when I say D&D has no fucking "real" canon, it's all just a mountain of everyone's headcanons.

#Bane doesn't need to torture people; having to learn all the stupid details in his religion is already hell #enver gortash #long post #baldurs gate 3 #bg3

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thatfrailsoul · 16 days

Text

– Autumn's fallen leaves

tarot pick a pile reading ( → 1, 2, )

"The princess out of school", Edward Robert Hughes

Each year, time and time again as their leaves fall, the trees show us their courage. Their incredible strength to let go of a part of them that no longer serves them. Even if it took them so long to nourish them and grow... They let go of everything, accepting and embracing this needed end. Gifting themselves a chance for a new beginning, full of growth and better health.

They are preparing now to do it once again. And as life and its cycles guides them... It tries to guide us too this time. It tries to help you... to let go of something. Something that is only weighting on your tired shoulders, slowing you down.

Take a deep breath, give yourself a needed moment of reflection and rest. Wander through this painting, through its details... Which one caughts more your gaze? To which part of the painting it belongs to? Pay attention - it is showing you where your message hides and awaits.

These days have been... a little harsh on me. It was difficult to bring myself to fight it and endure it, even though I so desperately wanted to make it through. So this reading, these messages, speak right to my heart. Giving me a needed reminder and moment of reflection. And I hope it will help you too..♡

I had this reading in mind for a little while, but wasn't quite sure. At least until I've received a request from the kindest soul exactly about these same thoughts and concerns. It was the needed (gentle) push for me to do it, so I deeply thank the one who requested this reading.♡

– Pile One,

the queen of swords, the emperor, the four of wands

There is so much control, so much presence within you, in the way you choose your life... But in that strength and power, if looked at closely, one can see the shades of fear, of desperate need...

Every little detail was already planned, analysed. Every outcome is expected, good or bad. Every path is already prepared so it can change its course in case of an obstacle or its end... Everything already leads to that one specific goal and outcome. The one that you imagined, perfectly pictured, for so long in your life... That it just can't be otherwise, it just can't pass you by. Not this one.

You are giving constantly to this so much work and intention, so much of your mind and heart, that even the slightest deviation feels like the whole world, your whole life, falling down.

You don't know what else you can do, how else you can make it more secure and successful, more perfect in your eyes... Or perhaps in the eyes of others... And it is consuming you, the pure stress and fear of just a thought that things might not work out.

It is all changing, shifting, day after day, in every area of your life. It is all evolving, and not really in a direction and way that you would've choose, in those that you would feel comfortable to be and live... And the only remaining thing, project and situation that is so important and indeed so powerful to give you back that control on your life, helping you to regain your balance back... Is becoming strange. Sometimes too slow, sometimes too sudden. Sometimes too stagnant or too confusing and dark. It is slowly but surely using all your back up plans, without slowing down, without showing you its horizon and its end... Making you afraid of the moment in which you won't simply have any other idea, opportunity or choice... While the path will continue to evolve, leaving you behind with that little that remains of yourself after all these sacrifices...

But is it really changing so much, this path? Is it really being ruined by everything you try? Or were you the one that made so many deviations trying to avoid all the obstacles and catastrophies that you thought you saw and needed to don't let closer to yourself?

Because there is an incredible power within you. Power of will, of hope, of patience and courage when it comes to protect yourself and your desires and dreams. A power strong enough to clear out a path as you will walk through it. But also... Enough to destroy it, if only you convinced yourself enough of it.

And this is something unique, not at all so easy to find in us, not so easy to learn and use. And when we, desperate and afraid, find this power within us... We tend to use it to protect ourselves from the obstacles and opponents of the outside, instead of using it against the thoughts and feelings inside our heart and head... that have much more power over our journey, its ups and downs, and sometimes their end.

This is indeed for you - this goal, this dream, this journey. It's not only you who wants this outcome, but that goal wants you too, that desire wants to be yours.

It is the right path, you are on the right path. It is the safe one for you, even if so many times you expected the worse and tried to flee.

There weren't any problems impossible to resolve, or obstacles too heavy to remove. There was only you who made a "mistake" of thinking that you never could be able to face those things or do them. There was only you who had so much passion and desire, conviction that it is for you, fused with that fear and uncertainty still present within you. There was just this mix of certainty and, ironically, confusion. The inner knowledge of what you want but confusion on how to get there, if you even could.

There was just this strong, incredibly powerful, courageous heart and mind. That, confused exactly like you, tried their best. Focusing more on avoiding and finding new routes. And not on showing you, teaching you, how you could've make it work regardless, following your original plan and decision, without sacrifices and changes that you felt forced to make.

Now it is already done. And it's just fine the way it is. It's not worse nor better. It wasn't the wrong way. It was just different. You tried and you felt it. You felt deep down in you that the way you chose again and again, perhaps was not quite the easiest one...

But now, today, in this moment, you have once again the possibility to choose how to do it. You have a chance to stay, to not run away. And to try to do your thing, how it feels right for you, and not how it seems more safe.

This journey is safe and right one for you, for who you want to become, regardless. So start to go through it with the same way that desired you would. Use your knowledge, your confidence, your power of choice. Not to avoid things, to escape and hide in hopes of finding another opportunity somewhere somehow... But to stay tall and strong and, gently, fight it. Showing this world, those people, this environment and to your own self, that things can and do work differently sometimes.

Showing and reminding all of you that it is not always the journey that changes us, but sometimes we are the ones to simply remember how much it means for us, without holding back. Without giving up.

P.s. Let me know if you chose this message and how it felt to you, if it resonated at all..♡

And if you would like to receive more clarity and guidance about your situation (through a personal or free reading) you can find out more about it here!♡

– Pile Two,

the four of cups, the queen of swords, the empress

It is quite easy to find, to constantly notice, all the things that are not working out no matter how hard you try. It is quite easy to remember all the things that you pictured, all the things that you so ardently wanted... and that never really manifested in your life.

It is easy to focus on them because it's so hard to ignore them. To ignore that pain, pressure, frustration that you feel in each moment of your life... when all you ever wanted was to just be safe, living a good and peaceful life.

So no one can tell you to don't do it. No one can have a say on how you should feel as you go through so many problems and challenges in your life now. But... Your heart and mind can and will still do it.

They will show their tiredness and sadness through the emptiness that you feel in your chest. Through the fog that is overwhelming your mind and making your thoughts so difficult to follow or find. They will show it to you, they will speak to you in the only way they can: a tired body, that doesn't have anymore the needed strength. The needed health.

And you know it. You already see it in the way you react less and less to this life. At least on the outside... Because you are still human, it still hurts, you still feel so many emotions that explode bottled up in your heart.

You are becoming calmer, in the eyes of others, but you are slowly destroying yourself from the inside. The only place were you used to feel and be safe, and that now is not anymore able to hide you from the reality of your life.

It is difficult, impossible, to ignore all of this... And you don't need to do it. But in the same way you shouldn't ignore those little, tiny, good things that are still present in your days either.

It might seem so useless, to try to focus on them, holding onto them so desperately when they are so few... But they are enough for your heart and mind that just need to know that there is light and warmth too. It is so little, but it is exactly what you need to find that strength again. To find that hope and simple knowledge that things can indeed be different. That it will not always be this way. That this is not the end...

Or perhaps it is. An end of this long and troubled phase of your life. An end of this tiring fear. Perhaps it is finally the moment of change. A shift that will start first within you. In that mind that will realise a one little but important thing: you don't need to choose between seeing life all in black or white, you can see it and feel it as it is. Complicated, different, strange... Just real.

A life that needs and gives importance to both things. A life that doesn't ignore. Exactly like you shouldn't. Not the bad things, that you just need to feel in order to be able to remember, overcome them and in the future avoid... And not with the good ones, that even if little, are still a demonstration of how things can and will be different. How they can and will transform.

You gave a lot of yourself to all your problems, challenges, obstacles on your path... But you gave so little credit to your strength, your patience, your own existence and everything that transformed you in the incredible soul that you are now.

A soul that perhaps, indeed, can't be the one to resolve it all... But that can still make it through.

Just don't ignore it. Don't ignore those good parts of your life or you that are still here, that are still relevant, that are still deserving of the same acknowledgment, attention and trust as the ones that you give to those negative and challenging parts of your life.

P.s. Let me know if you chose this message and how it felt to you, if it resonated at all..♡

And if you would like to receive more clarity and guidance about your situation (through a personal or free reading) you can find out more about it here!♡

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absurdthirst · 9 months

Text

A Marriage of Convenience {Regency!Pero Tovar x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 20.5k

Warnings: Dying parents, arranged marriages, mentions of dying in child birth, fear, anxiety, panic attacks, poor Pero has PTS, virgin reader, vaginal sex, oral sex (female receiving), conversations about birth control, mentions of spousal beatings, pregnancy, childbirth

Comments: When your dying father sends you to Spain to wed Don Tovar, you know nothing about the man besides that he is a widower with two small children who will never love you. Finding your place in his household will take a stiff spine and a loving heart, making peace with your marriage of convenience.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

**Follow @absurdthirst-writes and turn on notifications to stay up to date on all new fics.

|| MasterList || Pero Tovar MasterList ||

“Father, you cannot send me away.” You shake your head, dread welling in your stomach and you press your hand to the silken material of your day dress, the stays of your corset the only thing keeping you upright at this moment. Not that your stays are as tight as most of the noble ladies that come and go on the marriage mart. You have no desire to be married, to be chattel to a noble man and birth his children. Even though your father has just informed you that the man you are to marry already has children. A widower who is not so choosy as to a new wife that he is willing to take on an old maid who is nearly set upon the shelf and discarded at every social function during the season.

Pero Tovar is the name of the man you are to wed. Not only are you to be married off, but you will be shipped away from your home. Sent to Spain with no one that you know around you. Completely without allies and unable to easily go home if you are unhappy. Your father had met him in London and arranged your marriage before returning home to inform you. “Please.” You beg softly. “Do not make me marry a man I have never laid eyes on.”

“You have no choice. I am dying, daughter. You heard the doctor. I have months left. I do not wish to leave you without stability. The time has come for you to marry. I cannot allow you to delay it anymore. Tovar is a wealthy man. He has a large estate and two children from his late wife. He doesn’t need some young maid to birth children for his heir. He is stern but he has very strong morals. You’ll be safe with him and that’s all that matters. Please do not argue with a dying man.” Your father begs and you choke, tears stinging in your eyes as you embrace him and he rubs your back, knowing these moments before you go to Spain will be the last you spend together.

The day has come for you to leave your father, and despite your best efforts, you weep. Over the course of the month, he had grown more frail and could not even accompany you to Spain to see you wed in person. Embracing him in his sickbed, you know word would come that he had passed, your cousin inheriting the home you had grown up in, and all the wealth your father had accumulated. Your dowry is carefully packed into a large trunk, generous enough that if it had been known, several in London would have made you their wife. Instead, you will be Lady Tovar. “I love you.” You murmur, wishing you could stay until he had left this earth. “I love you father, I am sorry I was not the boy you wished to carry your legacy forward.”

Your father tuts, “don’t be silly, child. You are my life. After your mother died…you are everything to me. My world. I love you. If you could have everything, I’d give it to you.” He promises and cups your cheek, his hand shaking.

Your eyes sting with tears and you grip his hand, pressing a kiss to the back of it. “I know.” You promise, reluctantly pulling back.

“Go. Go live your life. Just promise me you’ll be happy.” He orders and you sniff, wiping your cheeks and you nod. It takes everything in you to leave his chambers but you do and you make your way down to the carriage to begin the start of a very long journey to Spain.

The trip to the ship takes nearly a week. A broken carriage wheel, a broken axle, and a thrown shoe from one of the horses. It seems as if the entire trip is cursed. You occupy yourself by writing letters and reading a few of the books you had packed into your reticule. Wondering if your father has passed already and praying that he has not. When you finally reach the ship, you sigh as you stare at the sails. Rather than just a short journey across the channel, it will be another week, sailing up the coast of Spain before you disembark. Your betrothed’s men should meet you there to carry you to his summer estate in the country.

When you step foot on land, you are relieved and exhausted, anxious and ready to be in your new home. Your husband to be doesn’t come to greet you, not that you expected that anyway but you are greeted by his secretary. “Señorita, I am Carlos. It’s a pleasure to meet you. Come this way, the carriage awaits us.” He says, gesturing to the horses behind him as the staff begins to gather your things to secure them for the final leg of your journey.

The carriage seems to be sturdy and soon you are pulling away. “Tell me about your lord.” You beg, having heard very little from your father beyond the rudimentary information. You want to know more about the man you are supposed to wed. “What is he like?” How a man treats his staff says a lot about him. That is what your father always told you.

Carlos looks at you, appraising you for a bit until he answers. “He is stern. Unforgiving but fair. He knows wrong from right and is only violent when the need occurs. He loved Maria, his first wife, but after she died, he has become a recluse. His children are cared for by the staff and he rarely interacts with them. If you want my honesty, señorita. The house needs life and love once again. It’s cold and lacking happiness.”

You bite your lip, repressing a small shiver. He sounds…..austere. Unyielding. You feel for the children who seem to have lost both their mother and father at the same time. “How old are the children?” You ask politely, aware that if he was not giving love and attention to his children, it would be your job. You remember how terribly you had missed your own mother, though your father had been your rock through grieving.

“They are five and seven. They do not remember their mother. Both too young. Luis - the youngest - was the child born when Maria lost her life. She doesn’t remember her mother. Alejandra, she - she doesn’t remember her either. They are - needing love and attention as all children do and their father - he is a busy man. That’s why he wanted a wife who was capable of nurturing his children when he is unable to.” Carlos explains and you glance out of the carriage as the Spanish port city turns to countryside.

“I see.” You wonder if the children are too painful a reminder of his late wife. If that was the reason he could not be around them. “And his holdings?” You ask. “He is a lord, is he busy with his lands?”

Carlos nods and sighs. “My lord works long hours to make sure that the estates and the lands that are used by his people are properly maintained.” He tells you, making you feel a bit better about the situation.

“Then I will make sure that he has a comfortable home and well behaved children to come home to.” You promise.

Carlos nods, appreciating your compliance and he watches you as you look back out of the window. You are beautiful, have an air of maturity the other girls, the local ones, had lacked. His lord has been searching for a wife for a while, but no one has fit his criteria. He doesn’t want a simpering girl who wants romance, he needs a partner who can assist him with his home and his children. Carlos knows that Pero’s heart is cold, iced over after the death of Maria and he doesn’t know if anyone can melt it.

The good thing about you is that you know that love and romance are not expected, nor required in most marriages. You aren’t a starry eyed little girl who will wish that her husband falls desperately in love with her. From everything you are hearing, that would be quite impossible. You will settle for mutual respect. The rest of the journey is spent quietly thinking, making plans for your new home that could be tossed out the window the moment you arrive. You do not even know if your future husband will be there to greet you.

When you pull up outside of the summer home of Don Pero Tovar, it’s beautiful and instantly takes your breath away. It’s picturesque and grand but when you have a closer look, you can see the cracks, the work that needs to be done. The shutters are crooked and need new paint. The flowers are gone and the paint is peeling everywhere. “Oh. I- it’s beautiful but-” You start and Carlos finishes your statement, “it needs work. After Señora Maria died, Don Tovar just let the place go, too preoccupied to maintain it.”

You nod, understanding that he might not have had the heart to continue to look after the details that make his estate a home for his family. “Then I will hire workers to restore his home to its former glory.” You decide with a smile, eager to get to work and contribute.

Carlos hums as the carriage comes to a stop, “if he allows it. He - it’s - it’s almost like he is stuck in the past, never moving forward.” His eyes widen and he shakes his head, “please señorita, don’t - he mustn’t know I said that.” He murmurs and you nod, “it’s our secret.” The secretary exhales and reaches out to open the door to the carriage, stepping out and holding out his hand to assist you down.

There is no staff lined up to greet you. No betrothed waiting at the door to introduce you to his household. The pots next to the large double doors of the house are empty, filled with dirt and sticks. Providing an unwelcoming air and you try to think of it as some kind of omen. “Well, it is late.” You excuse, biting your lip as you look around.

Carlos looks guilty as he opens the door to guide you inside to find the housekeeper, Señora Garcia. “Come, let’s take you to your quarters and we shall start fresh in the morning, you have had a long journey and I’m sure you’d rather meet everyone after resting.” Carlos says and Señora Garcia nods, “also, your lady’s maid, Carmen, will be waiting in your room to help you prepare for tonight. We will bring dinner to your room.”

You tilt your head. “Prepare for tonight?” You ask, confused by what he means. “What is happening tonight?” Surely he does not mean that Lord or Don Tovar meant to wed you tonight after you’ve only just arrived? You have not even met the man, you had hoped to have a conversation before he becomes your husband.

“The wedding.” Carlos says like you should’ve known. “Did no one inform you that Don Tovar wanted to be married as soon as you arrived?” You shake your head and Carlos sighs. “You are to be married tonight. Carmen will help you dress and we will bring your trunks up to your quarters. The wedding will be at eight. We will bring food to your room beforehand and a bath. You’ll be the lady of the house tonight.”

Closing your eyes, you try to suppress the tremble that races through you. Stiffening your spine and taking a breath before you open your eyes and nod. “I will be ready when Don Tovar says.” You agree, making Carlos nod in approval. “I would also like a cup of tea to be brought up, right away.”

Carlos nods, “sí, señorita. I’ll make sure you get your tea.” He assures you and you sigh, following Señora Garcia up the stairs to your quarters. The house is dark and damp and there seems to be no sign of life anywhere. You immediately feel alone and cold, regretting leaving your home, your dying father for this pitiful estate.

****

By the time your tea arrives, it’s accompanied by your meal. Cold and unappetizing, you wonder why the cook would send you a plate such as this. Investigating your room, you find that it has not been properly aired out, dust still sitting on the window sills and the candle holders not refreshed with new candles. It seems as if you are to be un-welcomed or the staff who works here is completely unskilled in how to run a house.

“Señorita, bienvenidos.” Carmen says as she walks in, “I am sorry I am late. I am your lady’s maid and I am here to assist you with getting you ready for your wedding to Don Tovar. Was your dinner acceptable, señorita?” She asks and notices your frown, “what is wrong?” She prompts, wanting to be there for the soon to be lady of the house.

“The meal was cold,” You explain, understanding that she is not to blame for that. “As was my tea.” You tilt your head and look at the lovely young woman. “Have you worked for the household for long?” You ask. “Is this how meals are normally delivered?” If it is some kind of custom, you would try to be more understanding, but you don’t think that it is.

Carmen shakes her head, “absolutely not. I- you shouldn’t have had a cold meal and cold tea. Please, señorita, let me get you a new, hot -”

You interrupt her, “no. It’s not - I’ve eaten it now and I do not have time to waste. I need to bathe and get ready for my future husband.” You inform her and she nods, “I will go fetch the hot water and we will get you ready.” She promises and rushes off.

You are grateful that your trunks have been delivered, your dress you had made clean, if slightly wrinkled from being packed. Airing it out, you had hoped you would wear this while marrying a man that you had met before, but it seems unlikely to happen now. You had not even heard any movement in the large house.

Carmen works diligently to clean you up, washing your back and making sure the dirt from the journey has been washed off prior to your wedding. Once you’re dry, she works on styling your hair and soon enough, it’s time for her to help you into your dress. “What’s he like?” You ask her as she buttons your dress and Carmen bites her lip. “He’s…direct but fair.”

“That seems to be what everyone says about him.” You hum. “Is he a handsome man?” Carmen glances at you nervously. “He- some think him handsome. But-“ she glances around your empty bedroom and lowers her voice. “He has a - a scar. Over his left eye.”

You inhale sharply, wondering how a man like Tovar got a scar over his eye. You’re worried now, scared that he is going to be a rough man. “He’s a good Don, fair and harsh but I think you will be good to have in this house. We need light, we need love. It’s been missing for far too long.”

It doesn’t take much longer for Carmen to declare that you look perfect. Your nerves flutter in your stomach and you press your hand to it in a meager effort to calm them. “Then perhaps you can show me a little of the estate while we walk to the chapel?” You assume that there is a chapel on the grounds that you will be married in. Giving your maid a weak smile, you try to hide the fear.

Carmen nods, “of course, señorita. Come, let us go now. Your intended will be waiting.” She says and you exhale shakily, trying to gather yourself to get married to a man you’ve never met before.

The estate is beautiful, the ground neglected like the house, although you can tell someone had once cared for them a great deal. You wonder if that was your soon to be husband's late wife. It doesn’t take long for you to see the stone chapel, overgrown and yet the soft candlelight coming from the windows gives it an enchanting glow. You take a deep breath and glance at the maid for some reassurances.

Carmen squeezes your arm and winks at you, “everything will be fine.” She promises but you both know she has no way to assure that. You stand in the entrance of the chapel when the violin starts to play and you swallow harshly when Carmen gestures it’s time for you to go. You exhale shakily and step foot into the main hall of the chapel.

****

When you step into the chapel, Pero keeps his back turned. Your father had shown him your miniature so he knows you are a beautiful woman. Not that it makes a difference. He has far exceeded the socially acceptable grieving period for Maria and now he’s expected to get a wife. He needs a mother for his children and a woman to maintain his estate. The music plays as you walk down the aisle and when you approach him, he turns around and inhales sharply when he sees your face. You’re gorgeous. A woman most men would kill to wed but he doesn’t care about looks, he cares about you filling the position that has remained empty in his home. He wonders if you like the look of him.

Your steps forward stumble briefly, but you recover. Catching your breath and smiling softly, you find him to be most handsome in a visceral, viral way. Rough and not exactly tamed, although many would say that you were possessed to think that way. HIs eyes are dark and watching you, making your skin heat and you wonder if your future husband approves of you. Stepping closer to him, you stop directly in front of him and take another breath. “Don Tovar.” You murmur, curtsying prettily.

You curtsy so perfectly, it’s almost enough to make him smile but he doesn’t. He hasn’t since Maria died. His life is now black and white, his love taking all of the color in the world with her when she died during childbirth. “Señorita.” He greets you and takes your hands, turning towards the priest who was called to marry you. Pero’s secretary and Carmen are to bear witness to the marriage and Pero is glad there’s no audience to see him remarry a woman he doesn’t even know.

The priest recites the vows in Spanish and you follow along closely. Listening as he proclaims that marriage is a sacred duty to your husband and you can barely look at your intended. Sneaking a glance and trying not to fidget. “I do.” You murmur quietly when you are asked if you take the Don as your husband. Your eyes meet his and you bite your lip, wondering if he is unhappy. He is frowning, he must be unhappy with his decision to marry you.

Pero remembers his wedding day to Maria. How excited he was. Young and eager before the days of war to marry the woman he loved. He was ready to have a future with her and it was ripped away from him on one fateful winter day. Tovar recites his vows and when the priest declares you husband and wife, he leans in to kiss your cheek. “Welcome, mi esposa.” He whispers once you are married.

A kiss on the cheek was not what you expected, turning to find his lips when he pulls away leaves you flustered. “Gracias, husband.” You murmur quietly. His secretary and your maid clap quietly and you turn back to them with a smile, thanking them for witnessing your vows.

Pero takes your hand to guide you out of the chapel and to the carriage awaiting to take you back to the main home. Pero doesn’t say a word as you are carted back and when you arrive, the housekeeper takes your hand to assist you inside. “There’s no need to arrange our bed chamber. My bride will be spending the night in her own room.” Tovar reveals with a grunt.

“Yes, Don Tovar.” Carmen nods and you are left feeling rejected even if you had been nervous about the wedding night. It is silly to think of, but you hope it’s because he wishes to get to know you before you become intimate.

“Then I wish you a good night, husband.” You nod politely to him and wait for him to speak.

Pero turns to look at you, reaching for your hand and he bends down to kiss the back of it but it’s cold and emotionless. “Buenas noches, señora Tovar. I will see you tomorrow so we can discuss your duties. Carmen, escort her to her room. Garcia, vamos. We have much to discuss.” Tovar says to his secretary who nods and steps beside him as he strides over without a glance back towards you.

“I see what you mean.” You murmur to your lady’s maid as she starts to guide you back up the stairs. “He is devoid of much emotion, although at least he is polite.” It is better than some men that you had met. “Is there a library in the house?” You ask curiously. “I fear that I had brought many of my own books when packing my trunks.”

“There is a library, señora. It- it needs organizing. It has been neglected for many years but the children do study there during the day. It needs a refresh. Perhaps you may ask Don Tovar if he will provide you with the tools to refresh the room where the children learn.” She says and you hum, letting her escort you back to your chambers.

****

“She is beautiful, no?” Carlos asks his employer who grunts as he sits down in the chair, working on removing his shoes and his wedding attire, wanting to be comfortable. “She is but you know I don’t care for beauty. I need a woman to run the house. To show those fools in society that I have fulfilled their requirements. I don’t need her company, I just need her presence. Her father was desperate to marry her off before his death and her dowry was enough to keep her without spending my coin. She’s suitable for the role and I’m hoping the children will attach to her.” Pero says and Carlos nods, “we shall see.”

You wake up shrieking as a pitcher of cold water is tossed on your face while you lay in your bed. Bolting upright, you flail your arms, hearing giggling as you try to blink and see what or who is attacking you. Finding two children grinning at you in defiance as the oldest holds the empty pitcher in his hands. It is still dark outside, at least you think it is, for the curtains are still drawn over the large windows. Pero’s children. Your husband’s children have woken you up by throwing water on your face. You leap from the bed right as you hear the pounding of footsteps and the door to your room bursts open.

“Alejandra! Luis! Mierda!” Pero growls as he storms into the room to find his children standing there with their hands behind their backs. “What is wrong with you?” He growls, turning to face you when he sees you are soaking wet, his eyes dipping down to the white gown you’re wearing, now see through and he swallows harshly at the sight of your nipples. Carmen rushes in and he turns towards her. “Gather water for a bath to warm her up and get her a robe.” Pero demands and turns back to his children. “I was walking past when I heard the commotion. You cannot do that. Why would you do that?” Pero hisses at his children who stare at him defiantly.

“We thought it would be funny.” Alejandra answers and Pero inhales deeply.

“That is not acceptable. You will miss breakfast and today, you’ll be writing lines - saying you will not abuse your new mother.” He says lowly and Luis shakes his head, “she isn’t our mama. We don’t want her. We want our real mama.” Luis stomps his foot and Pero pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Go to your rooms before I get the belt.” He threatens, knowing he wouldn’t actually hit them but every day they test him and push him closer to physical punishment.

“Papa-” Alejandra chokes and Pero hisses, “do not test me girl. Now get out of my sight.” He hisses and the children rush out of your room.

“I am sorry.” You murmur quietly, covering your arms over your chest and shivering in the cold. It is chilly in the room since there is not a fire laid in the grate and you wish that you did not feel so exposed with his eyes on you. “I- I do not know what happened.” you shake your head. “I was sleeping and then - I just - they do not wish for a new mother?” You had expected that the children were accepting of your new husband marrying again, but it is apparent they do not want you here. That will make things more difficult for you if you expect to forge any kind of bond with them.

“They are loyal to their mother.” He answers curtly, wanting to add that he is too but he feels that would be too insensitive. “They will come around. They have been troublesome and I am hoping a female presence will help them adjust.” He says and Carmen rushes over with your robe to help you cover up.

“Thank you.” You wrap the robe around you and find that your husband does not seem to care for you being here any more than his children and you swallow harshly, feeling incredibly alone. “I see.” You nod and decide that you might as well broach the subject since he is here. “Then I have permission to discipline the children?” You ask him. “If they are to respect me, then they need to see me as an authority figure as well as a motherly one.”

“Yes, but I do not physically punish them. You are welcome to discipline them as you see fit. I have struggled to control them. They do not seem to want to be around me and I - I must admit I am a little hopeless about how to handle them.” He confesses, “if you can control them, you’ll have my admiration.”

You nod, thankful that he will allow you to curtail his children’s rambunctiousness. “I also wish to reorganize the library and freshen up the house to make things more homey.” You add. You do not tell him that his home is desperately in need of repair, but that would be something that you would be able to tackle with a good scrubbing and a good airing out. “Would that be acceptable to you?”

Pero nods, unable to argue with you when you are doing exactly what he wants to be done. He needs his home to be returned to its former glory and his children to be nurtured and loved in ways he has failed. “Very well, señora. I will let you prepare for the day. Breakfast will be brought to you and you are permitted to explore the house as you see fit. It is your home now.”

“Thank you.” You murmur quietly, wondering if you would ever have a meal with the man you call your husband. “However I will order dinner to be served in the dining room this evening.” It will be the first time you will have imposed your will and you wonder if he will dismiss your wishes. “Perhaps the children can join us?”

Tovar nods, “very well.” He doubts he will eat dinner with you. That implies that you are having some kind of relationship and that isn’t what this is. You’re here to fill a position like if he were to hire a new housekeeper. Pero stares at you for a moment before he steps back and makes his way down the hall to his office.

You blow out a breath, happy and yet slightly discontent with his answers and you feel like he has no intention of trying to get closer to you. It’s like he does not actually want you here, but needs you. “Well, good morning to you as well.” You huff sarcastically under your breath.

Pero continues on with his day, attending to the finances due at the end of the month for the tenant rents and salaries for the staff, signing off on the accounts for the food and necessities. It’s a laborious job but Carlos can only do so much. Your presence here will alleviate the household requirements from him but the estate needs maintenance. The day gets away from him and he is soon preparing for lunch.

You sigh, exhausted and wipe your brow as you collapse into a dusty couch and look around the room. The library will be days in the making to turn into a lovely place to read and teach the children. Who have been watching you warily and not paying attention to their tasks. They are seated at a table, their books open, but neither one of them has completed an assignment. “How do you like the gardens?” You ask, looking over at them. “Is it lovely to have picnics there for lunch?”

Alejandra glances at her brother before she answers you, “we don’t have picnics in the garden. Papa doesn’t really like for us to go outside.” She tells you and Luis nods his agreement, making you frown. “He says it’s dangerous to go outside in the gardens.”

You purse your lips, not remembering any kind of warning about staying out of the gardens. “Perhaps your papa means that it would be dangerous for you to go out there by yourselves?” you offer, standing up and wiping your hands on your apron that you had covered your day dress with. “Why don’t we see about having the cook make up some picnic food and we can take lunch out there? Explore and take in the fresh air.” It was obvious the children were bored and isolated, running around in the gardens would be good for you and them. Perhaps it would even help them like you.

Alejandra is cautious as she watches you, placing her pencil down so she can look at you properly. Luis tugs on her sleeve, shaking his head, and she pushes him off. “The garden, Luis.” She says pointedly and the little boy giggles, making you tilt your head. “What’s so funny?” You ask and Luis shakes his head. “Nothing.” Alejandra answers, “a picnic would be lovely.”

You frown but nod. “Alright. Put your books away and we will venture into the kitchen.” You smile. “Perhaps the cook has made cookies for us to have.” You shouldn’t bribe the children with sweets but you want to break through their prickly exteriors. They are still young and it has been a long time since their mother has been lost to them. “How does that sound?”

Luis nods, cautious but easily swayed by cookies. Alejandra is more reserved, offering you a look as she closes her book and you smile at her, trying to disarm her cautious nature. The children soon have their books stored away and they rush towards the kitchen, calling out for the cook who has become a mother figure for them. Señora Lola. “¡Ay niños!” She exclaims as they practically slide into the kitchen.

You can’t help but smile as the children greet the cook with obvious affection and your complaints about your first dinner being cold are forgotten for the moment. They hug the cook excitedly and both begin talking at once, turning and pointing to you. When the older woman looks up at you, you nod your head politely. “The children and I would like to have a picnic luncheon in the gardens.” You explain in Spanish. “Would we be able to put together a suitable fare for this?”

Lola nods, “of course, señora. I can prepare a basket for you and the children.” She assures you, “would you like a cup of tea while I prepare lunch?” She asks and you nod, moving to sit down at the kitchen table while the children tell Lola about their lessons. You can sense that she’s like a mother figure to the young ones and you’re glad they have had someone since their mother passed. Lola works fast to get you a cup of tea and the children a glass of milk while they wait.

“Thank you.” You watch as she moves about the kitchen, finding her to be quick and decisive as she gathers her ingredients. This is not a woman who is sloppy or resentful it seems. It makes you wonder why the food was so horrible the day before. When the kids are busy drinking their milk, you smile. “Tell me about yourself, Señora Lola. It is obvious you have been with the Don’s household for many years.”

Lola smiles, “my mother was the cook before she retired. My father was the Tovar’s butler and they fell in love and had me. Mi mamá taught me everything I know and we have been in the Tovar household for three generations. My son is a gardener. My husband is the groundskeeper. Maria - bless her soul - was the heart of the home. She lit up every room she was in.” Lola sighs and glances at the children.

“I understand that I am new.” You venture softly. “And I cannot replace Señora Tovar, but I would like to bring some comfort and happiness to her family.” You know that you can’t just force these people to accept you. Not when they had lived for so long with the ghost of the woman who had left them broken. You bite your lip. “Will you help me do that, Señora Lola?”

Lola nods, “if you can bring hope and light back to this home, you will forever have my admiration and gratefulness, señora. You are Señora Tovar now.” Lola tells you and you bite your lip as she prepares the lunch.

Once the lunch is packed away in a basket along with a large bottle of lemonade, you have Carmen bring you a quilt to spread on the grass to sit on. Guiding the children out of the large, glass doors into the garden, you smile at the bright sun and fresh air. The weather is beautiful and you can see yourself bringing the children out here often. “Where would you like to sit?” You ask, looking around the neat but barren gardens. It’s obvious Lola’s husband keeps them up but there has not been any new flowers or plants added for some time.

The children point to a spot near the pond and you allow them to guide you towards it. Carmen spreads out the blanket and you settle down with the children. Pero is standing up to stretch when he sees you and the children on the lawn. He tilts his head and wonders how you managed to get them to sit down for more than five minutes. Maybe he did make the right decision.

Eating outside seems to have been a magical treat for the kids. They ate politely and minded their manners after the promise of running around after they finished was made. You can tell they enjoyed it and by the time you had to pack up to go back to the house to finish their lessons they were sleepy. Making you smile at the way they leaned against one another.

****

“Señora, is this the color you prefer for the drapes?” Carmen asks you as you appraise the different materials and pattern samples. It’s been a month since you’ve been in Pero’s home and you have been slowly working on bringing the home back to its former glory. The children have grown closer to you, wanting their meals in your company, yet still no sign of your husband.

Pero walks down the hall, the portraits of his ancestors lining the walls and he notices the change of the decor. Everything seems dusted and shiny, and the rugs are pristine. It’s fresher and brighter. He knows it’s your doing and that makes him smile, assured he made the right decision to marry you.

“I think it will look lovely in the breakfast dining room, don’t you?” You ask, finding Carmen to be a wealth of information and a good judge of character and design. As the two of you had grown closer the more time you spent going through the house room by room. Even the kids were helping when it was time to scrub walls and beat rugs out in the garden. You had turned it into a game where you covered their eyes and spun them around before they whacked the rugs with a broom. They had giggled and fallen down, but it was worth the extra time it had taken to freshen the rugs. “Perhaps, even if he does not dine with me, Don Tovar might enjoy reading his paper and drinking his tea in a bright and cheerful room.”

“Papa! Papa!” Alejandra rushes up to her father who is shocked at her cheerful greeting.

“Sí, mi tresoro.” He answers and she grins, “we are going into town today.” She declares and Pero frowns, not liking the idea.

“Whose idea is this?” He asks lowly and Alejandra says your name. Pero sighs and tells his daughter to lead him to you. She takes his hand and guides him to the kitchen where you are sitting with Lola. “Hola.” He greets his cook who smiles at him and says “hola señor.” His dark eyes turn to you, “Alejandra tells me you are taking the children into town today?”

“I am.” You nod as you set down the book you are making notes in. Carmen hustles to put the fabrics away and you send your husband a small smile. “The children need new shoes and I have several merchants that I wish to visit.” You glance at Alejandra with a proud look. “The children have assured me that they will be well behaved, and they are excited to spend their own pin money.”

Pero frowns, “I do not like them going into town. I do not want you going into town. It is dangerous.” He says, remembering when Maria went into town while with child and was knocked over. She went into labor early with Luis and that’s the night that she died. His hands shake a little and he shakes his head, “you are not going. I forbid it.”

Your brow arches and you look towards Carmen and Lola. Both women quickly bow and disappear. “Alejandra,” you urge his daughter. “Go and find your brother.” You urge her as you stand up and brush your dress down. If you are going to disagree with your husband, you are not going to do it in front of the staff or his children.

Pero meets your defiant gaze and he clears his throat, “I will not allow you to go into town. It’s dangerous. If you need something, you can tell the staff and they will go and get it.” He compromises and you glance around to make sure no one is around.

“Don Tovar, I appreciate your concern for my well-being but I am not a child and I will not be held hostage on your estate.” You declare. “I will take a footman and a driver with me, and exercise all caution. But I am going to town. Now….is there anything you wish for me to get while we are there?”

Pero clenches his jaw, remembering that moment Maria was carried into the house, her screams still echo through the halls of his mind. “No. I forbid it. You won’t be leaving this estate. That’s an order.” He growls, reaching for your wrist to grip it, his hand shaking as he remembers the night Maria died.

You wince when he grabs your wrist, squeezing it hard enough that your breath catches in pain. You wrench your wrist away from him, yanking your arm down and stepping back, your eyes wide with both fear and anger. "I am your wife. Not your servant." You manage to keep the fear from making your voice tremble.

“You can’t go. I - I can’t - Maria - she- please. You cannot go.” He shakes his head, his chest starting to heave and he hates how anxious he’s become at the thought of losing more from his life. He has barely spent a moment with you since the wedding but the idea of his children losing another woman from their lives makes his chest tighten.

Fear turns to worry, making you step forward and reaching for his arm. “Pero?” You do not use his Christian name often, but you use it now. “What is wrong? Take a breath.” You urge him, frowning at the way that your husband has turned from cold and demanding to panicked. “Talk to me.”

He pants, unable to calm himself down, and he clings to you, pulling you close and he can’t control his thumping heart, remembering the night he lost Maria, the night he lost the light of his life. He closes his eyes, trying to control himself but he’s failing.

You nearly stumble, but you don’t resist him. Holding onto your husband’s waist while he trembles. He’s obviously horrified by the idea and you can’t understand why but you don’t want to make him do this. “Alright, alright, I will not go into town.” You give in, hating that you are but perhaps you can talk to him and come to agreement later on when he has calmed down.

Pero inhales deeply, remembering what his doctor told him to do, and he tries to calm himself down, grounding himself with your touch. He takes several moments before he opens his eyes, his gaze meeting yours. “I- I’m sorry, esposa.” He murmurs, his hands still gripping you.

"It is alright." You murmur soothingly, wanting nothing more than to make him feel comfortable around you. You are supposed to be here to help him, and it seems like he needs help with this. "I am here, I am right here." You assure him with a smile.

When you smile at him, he jerks back and lowers his hands, the shield back up as he gathers himself and clears his throat. “I, uh, I am going to go - go back to my office. I trust you will send Carmen in your place to town.” Pero says and quickly turns to rush back to his office, away from you and the children once more.

You stare after your husband, completely flabbergasted and frustrated. The man dictates that you must stay at the estate, not go to town and has an apoplexy before fleeing back to his study without giving you a reason why you must be a hostage. Blowing out a frustrated sigh, you turn and curse your husband's stubbornness. You need to know what happened to Maria and why town is forbidden.

Alejandra and Luis shake their heads when you tell them you are no longer heading into town. “Please. Tell Papa we must go!” Alejandra whines, clinging to your skirts.

“I’m sorry, amor. He won’t allow us. We must listen to him.” You say and she shakes her head and looks up at you to stomp her foot.

“I hate him!” She cries and runs off, followed by Luis. You sigh and sit down just as Carmen comes over with a tea tray.

“Señora, I do not wish to speak out of turn.” She says and you shake your head, “when do we hide our feelings and thoughts, mi amiga.” You smile at her and she smiles back, glancing around when she takes a seat beside you.

“Don Tovar has - has a lot of fears about you going into town because that was the night he lost Maria.”

You frown, unsure of why going into town would cause a woman to die in childbirth, but you take your tea and listen. “I do not understand.” You shake your head. “Maria died giving birth to Luis, I thought?” You frown, knowing you will need to soothe the children’s feelings later on, but you want them to be able to calm down before you try. If you know why your husband fears it so, you can explain better to disappointed young children who don’t understand why they cannot have fun.

Carmen glances around again, “Maria was far along with Luis when she wanted to go into town to fetch more yarn for knitting. She - she was an independent woman and Don Tovar, he - he worshiped the ground she walked on. She loved him and he loved her. When she went into town, she was robbed for her jewels and coins and thrown to the ground and it sent her into early labor. The thugs were never apprehended and she was rushed home and the doctor was called. That was the night Luis was born and Maria died. They thought Luis was going to die too but he survived. Don Tovar was never the same.”

“Oh.” Your shoulders slump and you can understand why Pero is fearful of his wife going to town now. Even if he does not love you, the children have grown close to you and it would hurt them to lose you. “That is so sad.” You look down into your tea with a sigh and wish for a moment that this had been explained to you sooner. “I better understand why he is so hesitant, but he cannot think that the children will be kept here forever, does he?”

“He has…attacks when he has concerns about the children’s safety. I think - I do not wish to speak out of place but I think that’s why he has pushed the children away.” Carmen says and you nod in understanding. “I think he wishes he could connect with them but it’s hard since all he sees is Maria. He loved her. She was his childhood sweetheart and they married young before he left to fight in the war.”

You sigh softly, knowing you would find it romantic if he didn’t push his children away. To close himself off from pain. “Then I will make him.” You decide with a firm press of your lips. “I will go talk to the children. Inform Lola that the children and I will be taking lunch in Don Tovar’s study.” You decide. “Since he refuses to take his meals in the dining room, we will come to him.”

Carmen won’t argue with you, knowing it is futile, so she nods. “Very well, señora. I will tell Lola now and will let Carlos know.”

You shake your head, “not Carlos. I want it to be a surprise.” You say and she nods, “sí, señora.” You smile and she stands, bowing her head before she exits the room, leaving you with the news to tell the children.

****

Pero looks up from his papers when there is a knock on the door and he calls out “come in.” When you enter followed by the children, he’s shocked. “Señora?” He frowns, setting his pen down.

“Husband.” You send him a smile and guide the children over to the table that sits in front of the sofa and they sit down. Alejandra is still pouting, but her tears have dried and she is not so angry when she was told her papa feared for her safety. “Carmen will be bringing in our lunch soon.” You explain with a cheerful smile. “I thought that since you work so hard and are so busy, we would join you here to have lunch together.”

Pero’s frown deepens, “lunch together? Are you not able to have lunch in the kitchen?” He asks and you raise your eyebrows at him.

Pero bites his lip and you answer him, “the children would like to spend some time with their father seeing as we are no longer going into town.” You say and Alejandra stands up to walk over to Pero, reaching for his hand, “please papa. Let us have lunch together.” Her pout is Pero’s unraveling as he nods, standing up from his desk chair to walk towards the sofa.

Luis grins, unaware and still too young to understand his father’s hesitancy, but he begins to tell his father about the Spanish Armada that the governess is teaching the children about lately. “Sí, mijo. The English defeated us.” His dark eyes meet yours as he answers questions Luis excitedly asks him and he seems to relax a little. Lola and Carmen bring the meal in and the four of you begin to eat.

“I have decided to ask Carmen to direct any traveling merchants to our house when they are going through town.” You take a sip of your tea and look at your husband. “As well as inquire about children that are near Luis and Alejandra’s age that might wish to come play with them. Soon the house will be ready for visitors.”

Pero frowns, “why would we require merchants to come to my home?” He asks as he picks up his glass of wine. “And for the other children…I suppose it will be good for them to mingle with others.” He concedes that point, glancing at you and he’s taken back once again by your beauty, especially when the light hits your face.

“We require merchants to come to your home because the children need new shoes, their own are pinching their feet and the cobbler cannot make their shoes without measuring their feet.” You point out. “Also, I enjoy socializing and since I am not permitted to go to town, I will simply have town come to me.”

Pero sets his wine glass down, “I suppose that is for the best. I want the children to have everything they need, I want you to have everything you need. You - I am guessing one of the staff told you about Maria?” He asks, curious if anything has been said about his behavior.

You could lie to him, but you don’t. “I was told about the night Luis was born.” You admit softly, understanding how such a thing could haunt the man, especially since he was a soldier in the war. You wonder if the poor boy you have come to love even gets any acknowledgement on his birthing day, or if grief is too overwhelming. “You have my deepest sympathies.”

Pero swallows the lump that always forms in his throat when he thinks about Maria and that fateful night. In a way, he’s glad he didn’t have to discuss it with you, to relive that horrid night, but another part of him knows he needs to discuss it with you, to tell you why he brought you here and has yet to consummate the marriage. That time is not now though with the children here. “Gracias, mi esposa. I- I would like to have supper with you tonight…if you want.”

Your head tilts in surprise but you don’t voice it. “That would be lovely, Don Tovar.” You murmur softly, aware that he is asking for a dinner that is apart from the children. “I will ask that Lola makes your favorite dish.” You offer, smiling slightly. “Do you have any preference for dessert?”

Pero’s gaze dips down to your cleavage. You are a beautiful woman and he has not indulged in pleasure since Maria died apart from a few times where he had spent his coin and then felt incredibly guilty after when he felt like he was betraying his beloved wife. Tonight is about giving your marriage a chance, giving you a chance when he’s been so closed off from you since your wedding night.

You don’t miss the way that your husband's eyes dip down to your breasts and you wonder if he has finally decided to acknowledge that he has a wife. You aren’t ignorant of the relationship between man and wife and yet you have still retained your chastity well into your marriage. Pero mumbles something about a sweet and you nod. “I will make sure that is what you get, if you so desire.”

He nods in appreciation and Luis takes his attention by handing him a cookie from the tray. “Gracias, mi amor.” Pero smiles at his son.

“Papa, will you come and ride with us tomorrow?” Alejandra asks, wanting him to join them for their riding lessons.

“I- I am busy, mija. I-”

Alejandra shakes her head, her lower lip trembling. “Papa. I want - please.” She begs and Pero looks at you, a little lost.

“Your Papa is a very busy man, sweetheart.” You remind her gently. “Although, I believe that he should be able to join you for at least one hour? Yes, Don Tovar?” You ask, glancing from Alejandra to your husband. It will allow the children to see their father and still not take too much time away from his busy work. Although you feel as if he spends much of his time working so he does not have to grieve. “How does that sound?”

Alejandra nods, “please papa. Just an hour. Por favor.” She pleads and Pero nods, not wanting to see his daughter so pouty.

“Sí, mi amor. An hour. Let’s go riding for an hour.” He compromises and she surges forward to hug his arm, “¡gracias, papa!”

You smile at your husband’s shocked face when his daughter smothers him in affection. Nodding when he looks over at you, asking if he is doing things right or perhaps seeking help. He’s doing something that will make his children very happy and it’s a good thing. “Now we need to finish eating.” You tell the children. “Papa needs to get back to work, so finish your lunch so we can leave him to it.”

Pero nods, rubbing Alejandra’s back and he leans down to kiss her head. He can’t deny the way his heart twists at how much he’s missed out on with his little girl and his son. He knows he needs to be a better father to them. “Let’s finish eating.” He says and Alejandra nods, letting go of her father to settle down to eat. Lunch is finished in companionable silence and Pero is soon kissing his children on the head, promising them he will have dinner with them tomorrow.

“Go start your studies again.” You tell the children, smiling when they rush off and you turn towards your husband, slightly flustered to be alone with him for the first time. “I will clean up and get this mess out of your hair.” You promise. “Thank you for not turning them away. They talk about their papa every day and want to spend time with you.”

Pero smiles, watching the children rush off after kissing his cheek then yours, and Pero watches them with his heart thumping. “Gracias, señora. You - you brought me back to my children and I- I never knew how to bridge the gap. I- I cannot repay you for that.”

“There is no need for repayment, Don Tovar.” You assure him, still calling him by his formal title since he has never permitted you to use his Christian name. “That is my job.” You know that he would rather be quit of your presence so you nod and quickly turn around to gather the meals up onto the trays to be carried back to the kitchen.

Pero swallows harshly, “please…call me Pero.” He says and reaches for your hand. He squeezes it, and his heart twists as he thinks about you and how beautiful you are yet he feels like he’s betraying Maria.

“P-Pero.” you murmur, feeling shy now that he has stopped you from your task. You bite your lip as you stare into his dark eyes, wishing that you could tell him how handsome you find him. “Is there - something else you wished for, Pero?” You ask quietly.

Pero stares at you for a moment before he withdraws his hand. This is progress but he knows he shouldn’t venture into his attraction to you. It will only lead to heartbreak, either his or the children’s. “No. That is all. I shall see you later for supper.” He says and clears his throat.

You are disappointed, knowing that he wanted something else but you don’t push him. He had shown that he had no wish to have a relationship with you. “Yes, Don Tovar.” You revert back to your formal politeness and you pick up one of the trays and you will send Carmen in to gather the other. “Good afternoon.”

Pero frowns, wishing to hear his Christian name from your lips and when you carry the tray out of the room, he leans back against the chair, sighing and rubbing his face. He wants this to work. He needs this to work. For the children’s sake. Dinner tonight will be his chance to redeem his terrible behavior.

The rest of the day is spent with the children. After asking Lola to make the Don’s favorite meal, you had finished their lessons and then took them down to the kitchen for both their dinner and their baths. Laughing when they pouted when getting into the water, and then pouting when they had to get out. Once they are clean and in their nightclothes, you chatter and joke with them as you take them back upstairs to put them to bed. Leaving you little time to get ready for dinner with your husband, but it is for the best. You had no time to think about why he wanted to have dinner with you now, so long after your marriage.

Pero adjusts his jacket - not the latest trends but well made, none the less- and he paces in the dining room, wondering if you aren’t coming as the minutes tick by. When you finally appear, you look beautiful and his heart flutters in his chest after laying dormant for so long. He strides forward, taking your hand in his and leans down to press his lips to the back of your hand. “Esposa, you look beautiful.”

“Forgive me for being late, Don Tovar.” You curtsy for him and hate how handsome he is in his evening jacket. “The children were begging for another story before bed and I could not say no.” Your own preparation for dinner had been rushed and you hope that he is not disappointed by your appearance.

Pero shakes his head, “don’t be silly, esposa. The children come first. I trust they are in bed?” He asks and you nod, “they are asleep and in bed.” You smile and Pero keeps your hand in his so he can guide you to your chair. He pulls it out and helps you sit before he makes his way over to his own seat.

Once you are seated, Pero sits across from you and Carmen immediately marches into the dining room with the first course. “Don,” you venture, smiling your thanks to Carmen as she sets down the soup. “I believe that we should hire more staff.” You tell him. “My maid also acts as the housekeeper and now she is serving our dinner. I believe that we need a butler and perhaps a full time housekeeper. That way we are not overworking our staff.”

“You are in charge of the household. If you wish to have another, I will have Carlos and Lola ask around in town.”

You lift a brow in surprise, your soup spoon nearly to your mouth and you take your bite and swallow before you respond. “Thank you, I will have them ask immediately.” You smile at him again and Pero glances back down at his own soup as if he is shy. “The children are excited about riding with you tomorrow. I was surprised they had not learned already but they have come so far in their lessons.” If it is a rebuke, it is a small one. The children had been very far behind in their lessons and some had not started at all. You had been working diligently to get them on track to where they should be. “They are very bright children. You should be very proud of them.”

Pero’s stomach twists with guilt. He barely knows his children. He doesn’t know that they are behind in their studies when you mention they have much to learn. The guilt twists in his stomach again and he knows he can’t hide from them anymore. “I am.” He answers softly, offering you a rare smile. You are so kind, he doesn’t want to tarnish you with his sins.

Surprised by the smile, you offer one of your own and hope that he is starting to care. You continue to eat in silence, waiting for Pero to talk to you but the silent sounds of eating settles between you. It’s sad, really. This man doesn’t have more questions about his children and doesn’t seem interested in them. When you are done, you set your spoon down and quietly wait for the next course.

Carmen brings in the next course and Pero is struggling to find the words to make conversation. It’s been so long since he had dinner with someone and he’s a little out of practice with his etiquette. “Are you liking Spain or do you miss your home?” He asks you after rubbing his hands together.

“Truly?” You shrug one shoulder and look down at the plate in front of you. “I have not seen much of the country since the carriage ride to your estate.” You remind him, trapped here by your husband’s wishes. “But what I have seen is beautiful. Carlos is very hopeful we can restore the gardens and the greenhouse to their former glory.” You had learned that Pero had ordered that the garden not be planted, just maintained. As flowers would die off, they would not be replanted. At least until you had arrived. You suppose it was because Pero’s first wife had loved spending time in the gardens. The little pond of water had apparently been her favorite spot.

Pero wants to bite out that the gardens are not to be touched but then he remembers why he brought you here to marry him. He needs someone to maintain his home. “Perhaps we can take a ride soon, I would like to show you my country.” He says softly and looks up after he cuts into his meat.

“I would like that.” He might not mean it. Might not ever do it, since he seems to blow so hot and cold, but you smile. “I have missed riding.” You haven’t gone for rides since the children would want to come with you and they were not accomplished enough to go so far and you do not know the area. “But there has been plenty to keep me busy. Have you any opinion on the changes, Don Tovar?”

Tovar looks out of the window to the beautiful gardens, now full of flowers after your dedication to the garden, and he turns to look back at you. “The gardens looks gorgeous, mi esposa.” He says and turns back to his meal. “You are bringing the estate back to its former glory.”

“Thank you.” You feel proud that even if he is a man who does not interact with you much, that he sees your improvements to his home. “Was there anything that you wished to discuss with me?” You ask quietly. “I thought that might be why you asked me to have dinner with you?”

Pero sighs, setting down his cutlery. “I wanted to discuss…if you were looking to have children of your own. We never got a chance to discuss it and I wanted to address the matter as it would mean us…consummating our marriage.” He says, trying to be as matter of fact as possible.

“I had hoped to one day have children.” You confess setting your own cutlery down and hate how handsome he is despite how aloof he acts. “I have put those dreams aside, now.” You look away, back down at your food and you aren’t hungry anymore. “It does not seem that you are interested in….consummating our marriage.”

Picking up his glass of wine, Pero knows he has failed in your marriage already. He’s been selfish and he isn’t sure how he can fix it. The thought of betraying Maria in this final way has his stomach twisting. “Are you- are you interested in consummating the marriage?” He asks softly.

You need to be honest with him. So you are. “I am not interested in being used.” You admit bluntly. “I have no experience with intimate relations, but I do know what to expect.” You assure him. “However, I would not accept being used to fulfill your needs and then ignored until the next time you have use of my body.” You could very well ruin your chances of any kind of relationship with Pero, but he asked. “You are a very handsome man, and I have found myself thinking about you often, but if you have every intention of satisfying your lust and then pretending I don’t exist until the next time you want to touch me, I would rather you just leave me untouched.

Pero nods, appreciating your candor and the way you hold yourself. It makes you more attractive to him. He sips his wine as he contemplates his answer. “I do not wish for you to feel used and I am not capable at this time of more than physical release. If you wish to experience pleasure, I will ensure you are satisfied with our marital bed. However, if you yearn for an emotional connection, then I would suggest we permanently place any relations on hold.”

You smile, albeit sadly. “Don Tovar, I have never expected love in an arrangement. I am not a silly, romantic girl. However, I will require you to respect me if we were to share our marital bed. Take your meals with me and perhaps some evenings beyond our pursuit of pleasure. I don’t require your heart, I know your first marriage was one of love and your affections still lay with your late wife.”

Pero is taken back by your refute to his offer but he appreciates your directness. “Very well. I assure you that I will try my best to ensure you are satisfied physically. Shall we - would tonight be appropriate or do you wish to wait until it happens naturally?”

You hum, amused by the idea of physical relations happening naturally with a man who has not spent more than two hours in your presence since you have been married to him. Perhaps it is foolish, but you want to know what it is like to be touched. “Tonight is fine.” You assure him and pick up your cutlery again. “Do you have any preference for physical intimacy? I do not have any reference, so I will need to be told if there is something I should not do. Or should do.”

Pero nods, “very well. Let us finish our meal and I will allow you as much time as you require to get ready for our consummation.” He assures you and continues to cut into his meal so he can finish eating. Dessert is soon served and you eat in companionable silence before the dishes are cleared away. “Take your time.” He tells you as he stands and waits for you to gather yourself from the dining room table.

You nod. “Give me twenty minutes.” You ask as he takes your hand to walk you to the stairs. “Then I will be ready.” You noticed that he did not answer you about his preferences but figure that he would just show you tonight. After all, it is a husband's job to teach his wife about how he prefers love making.

Pero watches you walk up the stairs and he exhales shakily, realizing that this will be a big step towards cementing your marriage as husband and wife tonight. He clears his throat and makes his way to his chambers to clean himself up. It’s been a while since he’s been intimate but he remembers that women do not like being with men who smell like a long day. He washes and dresses in his linen nightshirt, deciding to keep things simple for the act. Inhaling deeply, he makes his way down the hall to your chambers.

Tovar knocks on the door, heart thumping in his chest, and when you call out for him to come in, he slowly opens the door. “Hola, esposa.” He murmurs after he shuts it behind him. He takes in your figure, glowing in the firelight and his cock twitches under his shirt.

“Hello, husband.” You bite your lip and wonder how he will approach you and this. “What- what do you want me to do?” You ask, watching him carefully, more nervous than you had expected to be. You don’t think he will hurt you, but you had been told the first time is painful and that you would learn to enjoy it. “Do you wish me to get on the bed?”

Pero shakes his head, walking over to you to take your hands in his and he exhales shakily, suddenly nervous. It’s been so long since he’s been with a woman, especially his wife. His heart clenches when he briefly thinks of Maria but he pushes that aside. “Esposa, eres hermosa.” He murmurs, letting go of your hand so he can reach up to caress your cheek. You are beautiful and any man would be lucky to have you as their wife. You deserve better than him, than some half shell of the man he used to be. He slides his hand down to caress your neck and your collarbone, his fingers playing with the edge of your gown. “Can I take this off?” He asks, his dark eyes meeting yours, burning like embers in the flames of the fire.

Mouth dry from that simple touch, you nod. Watching him as his eyes seem to shine like a dark flame and you can help but to think that he is most handsome. His hands skim down over your waist and he tangles the material of your nightgown in his fingers and slowly starts to drag it up. Exposing you to the warmth of the fire and it makes you even hotter as your skin starts to burn from the simplest touch. Tonight you will just let him touch you, hopefully show you what he likes. Maybe you can help him by letting him find pleasure with you.

Pero tosses your gown to the floor and steps back, his dark eyes running down the length of your body. His eyes focus on your tits, swallowing harshly as his gaze lowers to the thatch of curls at the apex of your thighs. “Hermosa.” He murmurs, stepping closer to you, and he reaches out to caress your waist, pulling you up against his body. “Tell me if you want to stop. Or you don’t like anything.”

You nod, wanting to touch him but you don’t ask. Knowing you would hate feeling rejected if he pulled away. Your breathing stutters as his fingers slide up and brush the underside of your breast, nipple hardening and you bite your lip so you don’t moan wantonly. “Pero….” Your whisper is soft, pleading and you wonder why you are so eager to have this man touch you.

His hand squeezes your breast until he notices that you want to touch him so he reaches for your hand, bringing it to his chest. “You can touch me, esposa.” He assures you, inhaling the scent of your bath oil as he leans in to run his nose along the length of your neck.

His own dressing gown is hanging open at the neck and your fingers slide inside to touch hot, tanned skin. Biting your lip and trying to concentrate as his fingers brush over your nipple and make you gasp. Looking down, you see the gown tenting over his cock and your cheeks burn, but you are curious to see what it looks like, reaching down and brushing the fabric close so you can see better.

Pero hisses when your innocent fingers brush his cock. He reaches down, guiding you to wrap your fingers around him. His skin is hot and velvety and you explore him with utter lack of knowledge but he enjoys it. He likes that you have no expectations of him. He can just feel. He murmurs your name and his hand lets go of yours, letting you explore him while his palms continue their own adventure, palming your ass in his grip.

It feels wicked and yet you know that it is perfectly natural to touch him. You need to learn how he feels since he is perhaps the only man you would ever sleep with. Unless you remarry and your husband is obviously a hale and hearty man. “It is so hard.” You murmur in wonder. “And yet so soft.” You gasp when you feel a wetness on your skin and look down to see a smear of liquid on your finger.

He refrains from chuckling at your virginal observations. “Take your time, esposa. We are in no rush. No rush at all. I want to make sure you feel good.” He assures you and he slides his hand down between your legs, finding you wet and wanting him. He loves that and he is going to make you cum. From his fingers, from his cock. He finds your clit and loves the gasp that escapes you as he starts to rub the bundle of nerves.

Your eyes flutter closed and you hand to cling to his shoulder before your knees buckle. “Oh…ohhhh my….” You whimper, your grip on his cock loosening. You don’t know what he’s doing to you but you need more of it. “Pero.”

Pero grabs your waist, keeping you upright and pressed against him while he works your clit. His lips brush your neck by accident and you shiver against him. He rubs your clit a little faster, wanting you to cum for him for the first time. “That’s it, esposa.”

He doesn’t seem to mind touching you, increasing how fast he is rubbing but he’s groaning against your ear and encouraging you. For what you don’t know, you just know that your stomach is fluttering and clenching right up until stars burst behind your eye and you gasp as your cunt clenches on its own and a wave of heat floods your core.

Pero keeps you upright, working you through it and groaning when you bury your face in his neck. He groans your name softly and slides his finger back to gently push it inside of you, wanting to stretch you out so you feel less pain when he finally fucks you.

“Ohhhhhh.” Your eyes wide, mouth hit against his skin as you moan. Surprised to feel his fingers inside you and your body jolts when he pushes them up and presses against something inside you, “oh Pero.” You whimper, closing your eyes and unable to help yourself, you kiss his neck.

He curls his fingers, knowing he needs to make this good for you. He pushes his fingers a little deeper, loving the way you kiss his neck and he knows he should stop you but the intimacy makes his heart twist, his stomach clench. It’s been so long since he enjoyed the touch of someone else. “Fuck.” He curses, his cock twitching.

“Is this- is this how it feels?” You pant softly, your hips rocking up to his hand. Chasing the feeling that he pulls out of you. “All the time?” You are surprised that there aren’t more babies in the world if sex feels like this.

“Sometimes.” Pero chuckles softly, adding another finger, “sometimes it feels good, sometimes it’s just a physical release to relax. Quiero - I want you to feel like this all the time we are intimate, mi esposa.” He murmurs, his hand squeezing your ass to encourage you to rock down onto his fingers.

You feel so good, rocking on your feet as you wantonly move in your husbands arms. Kissing along his neck every time you grind down onto his finger, you feel that sensation start to build inside of you again. “Pero.” You whimper, clutching his shoulders and clenching around his fingers. “Pero- I- again- it’s- it’s-“ you cut yourself off with a small cry, another wave of pleasure and heat flooding you and making you forget about everything but the bliss of his fingers.

The way you clamp down on his fingers has his cock leaking. To hear you so unabashedly enjoying yourself has him groaning and he works you through it. His fingers soaked and he knows you are ready to take him. “Mierda.” He hisses, pressing his cock against your hip as you come back down to earth. Soon enough, he’s withdrawing his fingers and he wipes his fingers on his nightgown. “Come on, esposa. Lay down. I want to fuck my wife.” He says with a slight smile, knowing it’s taken way too long to get to this point in your marriage.

You hum, nearly floating on a cloud as you walk over to your bed and pull the covers back. Climbing into the bed and knowing that you will come out of it properly wed is thrilling and you lay back amongst the pillows. Watching as he walks towards you. “Are you going to remove your shirt, husband?” You ask softly, wanting to see your husband as fully as he has seen you. There is no love between you, but there will be passion and you wish to know what he looks like.

Pero bites his lip, wondering if he will be good enough. If you will like the scars on his body from his battles won in the war. He exhales shakily and nods, reaching for the hem of his shirt so he can lift it over his head, fully exposing his body to you as you lay in your bed.

He is strong, you can tell that from the corded muscles that spoke of your husband doing much more than just being an idle lord. Bunching and rippling as he stands still for you inspection, you don’t hesitate to let your eyes roam over him. Widening slightly when you get your first look at his cock without some fabric blocking your view. “You are…handsome.” You admit breathlessly. “It- you make my core throb.”

Your words surprise Pero and he smirks, slightly cocky that you are satisfied with his appearance. He shifts closer to the bed until he is kneeling on it, his fingers caressing your ankle bone and up your leg. “That’s good. That’s lust, esposa. Do you desire me? Do you want me inside or you?” He asks, kneeling between your thighs and he doesn’t touch you so you can make the final assessment before he consummates the marriage.

Even though you are innocent, you are aware of what should happen. Feeling bold by the lust that is in his own eyes, you spread your thighs to reveal the thatch of curls covering your core. “Please, Pero.”

“Mierda.” Tovar mutters and caresses your thighs. When he looks into your eyes and sees your certainty, he nods and reaches down to grip his cock. Shuffling closer, he notches himself at your entrance and slowly, so slowly, pushes inside of you. “Fuck.” He pants, trying to control himself but you’re so wet and tight. He exhales shakily and pushes deeper, wanting to make sure you are as comfortable as possible despite him taking your innocence.

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling a pinch but it is not the painful experience that you had been led to believe that it was. Moaning softly as you feel him deep inside, seemingly deeper than his fingers had been, and throbbing. Your fingers dig into his shoulders again and you slowly open your eyes as you breathe out. “Pero.”

The urge to bury himself inside of you is strong but he remains in control, slowly rocking his hips so he can work his cock deeper inside of you until he is settled inside of you. He knows you are a keen horse rider so your innocence was likely taken during a saddling but he doesn’t care. He’s damaged goods himself and he knows some men would want you to be intact but this is kinder to you and to him. He closes his eyes once he’s fully inside of you, his fists clenched as he tries to not spill his seed before you can experience the pleasure of sex.

“I- I feel so full.” You whimper, your fingers dragging across his skin and your legs shuffling slightly. He’s so still on top of you and it makes you want to move, need to move. To chase the same sensation you felt when you had his fingers inside you. You gasp when you think of what you heard your maids back home giggling about. Riding a man as if he were a horse and you clench down around him thinking about riding Pero like that, his cock deep inside you.

Pero hisses when you clamp down on his cock and he inhales deeply. He reaches down to grab your thigh and he lifts it higher so he can sink deeper inside of you. “Fuck.” He pants and starts to move slowly.

You moan again, eyes widening at how well you feel him. “I- oh Pero.” You whimper, trying to roll you hips down but he has you nailed to the bed with his cock. “I-f-fuck.” You stammer out, the curse unfamiliar on your tongue but it feels like it is necessary for what you are feeling right now as your husband moves inside you.

Your curse has his cock twitching inside of you and he groans when your walls squeeze him. “Fuck, esposa. You feel - it’s - perfect.” He allows you a minute access to his thoughts and that seems to make you wild. Clamping down on his cock and arching your back to egg him on. He starts to move faster, lowering his hips and groaning your name as he tries to make this good for you.

You enjoy the rough sound of his voice. Moaning again as he starts up a rhythm to his movements and making you nearly gasp every time he pushes deep. You slide your hands down your back, playing over scars and working muscles rippling under the skin. You feel like he approved of your curse so you do it again, followed by his name. “It’s so intense.”

He likes to hear that because it’s a lot to him too. To be intimate with his wife. He never imagined he’d remarry but he starts to think it’s possible to have a marriage with you, to be able to survive without Maria…perhaps even be happy. He enjoys your touch and slides his hand up to cup your breast, squeezing and he shifts so he can lean down to take your nipple into his mouth.

You hadn’t expected his mouth. Wrongly assuming that kissing being too intimate meant any part of your body and not just your lips. “Pero!” You cry out loud enough that the servants might hear and arch your back up, wanting more of the pleasure of his mouth at your breast. “Oh fuck, oh fuck.” You whimper, shivering.

He loves hearing you curse, his cock twitching inside of you, and he switches over to your other breast. He bites down on your flesh, nipping and sucking, and he moves inside of you, grinding deep. “You like this, hermosa?” He asks, lost in the pleasure of being inside of you.

“Yes, yes Pero.” You moan, closing your eyes and lifting your legs to wrap them around his waist. You know that you are making him feel good. At least you hope you are. Feeling his thrusts start to build faster, his breathing catching and starting to pant against your skin. “So much.”

He grunts when he feels you starting to clench around him and he drops his hips so he can press his pelvis where you need him more. “Cum for me.” He pleads with a groan, needing to feel you cum before he finds his own high. “Por favor, esposa. Cum.” He demands and drags his tongue along your sternum.

You shiver at the feeling of his tongue on your skin. “Ohhhh Pero!” You cry out, body starting to shake underneath his with the next thrust of his hips as you start to fall apart. Pleasure whipping through every inch of your body as you moan.

He clenches his eyes shut when you clamp down on his cock and he bites down on your shoulder as he barely manages to pull out of you, his hot seed spilling on your thigh. “Fuck.” He pants, cock twitching against your hip as he rides his orgasm.

Your eyes open and you frown in confusion as you feel the wetness of his seed on your skin. “I- is something wrong?” You pant quietly, wondering if you’ve somehow disappointed him.

He frowns, pulling back to look down at you. “What are you talking about? I- nothing is wrong.” He’s trying to catch his breath and he shifts to lay down beside you. “It was good.” He assures you, “did you not enjoy it?”

“You-“ You bite your lip and look up at the ceiling. “You spilled your seed on my thighs.” You murmur quietly, wondering if there was something wrong with you that caused him to do that. He was supposed to finish inside you. That’s what everyone said.

Pero closes his eyes, trying to conceal the pain. “I know - I know we aren’t - tonight was our first night but - but I can’t risk you being with child so soon.” He admits, reminded once again of Maria dying during childbirth.

“I-I am so sorry.” You close your own eyes, mortified that you had brought up something so personal to him. “I understand. Forgive me for being so thoughtless.” You know you have ruined things and you swallow down a sigh.

Pero shakes his head, shifting to swing his legs over the side of the bed. “Don’t worry, esposa. I- I’ll leave you to clean up. I have work to attend to.” He declares as he stands and reaches for his nightgown. “I shall see you tomorrow.” He says, turning to look at you after he edged towards the door.

You nod. “Yes.” You know he wants to leave and you sit up, his seed cooling on your skin. “I will clean up and then choose another book from the library before I go to bed. Goodnight, husband.”

“Buenas noches, esposa.” Pero says and swiftly leaves your room. Tonight, he gave in to his desires and left you upset after he pulled out of you. He knows you will urge him to have a child soon and he isn’t sure he is ready for that conversation but for now, he will retire to his quarters to read over the accounts before he falls asleep. He’s not entirely sure how long he can continue keeping you at arms length but he has to try. He cannot lose another wife.

****

The next morning, you are surprised to find your husband in the dining room when you come in. “Buenas días, husband.” You see that he is reading some papers, so you move to your normal seat with the cup of tea you had retrieved yourself when you had gone in to see Lola. “I hope your night was restful.” You had decided that you understood where Pero stood on getting you with child and you wished to speak with him about it. “Have you ever used a- a condom before?” You ask him. “My maid back home said they can be purchased from the chemist. Perhaps that would be a good solution?”

Pero raises his eyebrows over his newspaper, watching you for a moment until he chuckles. “Is that what you wish for us to use? I am happy to let you manage our…situation if you wish.” He trusts you and he isn’t sure when that changed.

“You said that you did not wish for me to be - to have a child.” You don’t add the ‘yet’ portion because you feel like he would rather that be ‘at all’. “So a co-condom would help.” You shrug, slightly self conscious now. “We don’t have to use one.”

Pero nods, understanding what you are saying and he appreciates your planning. “Let us have Carmen fetch us some things and then we have the choice.” He says, knowing that it will be hard to keep away from you now that he knows how you feel. The passion inside of you scares him and he knows if he allows it, he will lose himself in you. He can’t put his heart back on the line and the children need a mother. With a nod, he goes back to eating his pan con tomate and knows that you will take care of the issue of birth control.

Carmen brings you a plate of food and you thank her, eating in silence with your husband. You had not expected grand conversations with him, at least at the beginning, so you do not try to disturb him with idle chit chat and when you stand after finishing, you give him a small smile. “Have a good day, husband.” You wish him softly.

Pero watches you go and realizes that maybe he doesn’t just want this to be a marriage of mutual benefit. He finishes his breakfast in peace and decides to spend the rest of the day near the children.

****

“Where is my wife?” Pero asks Carmen, who frowns, “she’s in her chambers, Don Tovar.” She answers and Pero frowns, making his way to your rooms and he is even more confused when he enters and calls your name, only to find you aren’t there.

Biting your lip, you urge the horse faster. Knowing that you are breaking your word to your husband, but it cannot be helped. Luis is feverish, and Carmen and Lola had been nowhere to be found when you had gone searching for them. Frantic about your husband’s son, you know it would destroy Pero to lose the last bit of his wife that she had given him. So you broke your promise. Currently racing to town to fetch the doctor, you pray that the instructions you had given his sister were working and that you will be able to bring the doctor back from town in time.

When Pero finds the children, he’s frantic when he’s told that Luis has a fever and you have left to go to town to find the doctor. He can hardly contain his anxiety, his hands shaking, and he growls at Carlos, “I’m going to fucking find her!” He feels like he’s losing control, his heart pounding and his breathing is heavy. His legs feel like lead and his brain focuses on you and his children. Is Luis dying? Is this his punishment for his time in the war? Is he going to lose you? He pants and collapses to his knees, Carlos reaching out to steady him as his vision goes cloudy. “I- I - can’t save them.”

It is to your detriment that you haven’t been to town, wasting precious time to find the doctor and demanding that he come with you back to the Tovar estate. Shaking with fear and praying that you make it back in time to help your little boy. You didn’t give birth to him, but you have grown close to the children and you have come to love their personalities now they are being taught and challenged, time being spent with them. The mischief of your first meeting was long gone. Rushing to your horse and as soon as the doctor is mounted on his own, racing for home.

Pero manages to stand up, shoving Carlos away as he demands to know where you’ve gone. “I - Alejandra said she’s gone to the town.” Pero doesn’t waste a second, rushing to the stables and swinging his leg over his stallion, no saddle, he pushes the horse to the limit as he gallops towards town. Images of you injured or dead flash in his mind and he realizes how you have wiggled his way into his mind and heart. Your kindness and the feel of you beneath him have his heart twisting at the thought of anything happening to you.

Frowning, you spot a rider in the distance on the road. Unsure of who it might be, you glance back at the doctor who is on your horses heels and then forward again. Recognizing the haste in the way you see the horse being pushed, dread knots in your stomach, realizing that it must be your husband. Lifting a hand, even though he is too far away to shout to, you wonder if he will beat you for disobeying him.

Pero sees you as he gallops and he nearly falls off of the horse when he pulls on its hair to slow it down. “You - what the fuck do you think you are you doing?” Pero yells as you approach him and the doctor’s horse skids as he comes to a stop.

“Luis! Luis has a fever!” You cry out, panting for breath as your horse stomps and shakes underneath you, “I- I had to get the doctor.” Your own mother had died from a fever sickness and the idea of losing his little boy on your watch makes you want to be sick. “I- we must hurry Pero! He cannot die, not like mama!”

Pero nods, knowing that now is not the time to have this argument. “You’re unharmed?” Pero asks and you nod frantically. His heart is pounding but you are safe and unharmed from what he can tell so he turns his horse around and the three of you gallop back to his estate, back in front of the sick little boy in record time. Pero kneels beside Luis, watching the doctor and he swallows harshly, “por favor. Just - do something.”

You twist your hands, knowing that Pero is worried and you start to pray yourself. Carmen has Alejandra in the other room and you can hear her comforting the older child. The doctor works and you worry, pacing the floors continuously, eager to bring the doctor anything he might need and bringing in the basin of cold water that Lola brings up.

Pero holds his son’s hand while the doctor assesses him and murmurs prayers as you kneel beside him. He reaches for your other hand, squeezing it as he prays and the doctor starts to drain the boy’s blood in hopes of bringing down the fever. “Bleeding should help the fever break. If not, I have some bark I think will help.”

Pero swallows, his throat is dry, “whatever you can do. I- I can’t lose him.”

You try to be there for him. Sitting strong and praying as the doctor continues to bleed the boy until he claims that it is enough. Wiping him down and checking his forehead again with a small frown before he moves over to the teapot he had requested with boiling water. You squeeze Pero’s hand and glance at your husband’s worried face.

Pero doesn’t know how long he lays there, his heart and mind weary as he watches his son. The doctor gave him the tea and left, stating it “is in God’s hands now.” He’s not eaten, he hasn’t slept. He just sits there and watches the little boy breathe. He doesn’t know where you are, he sometimes wonders but he’s too concerned about his son.

You watch. Waiting for anything and everything that Pero or Luis might need. Often leaving the room to comfort Alejandra and to let her know how her brother is doing. You don’t want her to feel forgotten and eventually you allow her to come into the room after promising to be quiet. The two of you sit in a chair behind Pero and eventually curl up together and fall asleep together from exhaustion and worry.

Pero isn’t sure when he fell asleep, perhaps the exhaustion got to him and he simply rested his head on the cool sheets, his eyes closing without his knowledge. “Papa.” He doesn’t hear the weak murmur at first. “Papa.” A small hand touches his hair and Pero’s nose wrinkles. “Papa.” The voice is stronger and wakes Pero up, his head shooting up to see Luis lucid and awake.

“Luis” He gasps, reaching for him to check his views. His eyes are clear, his forehead cool but not cold. He’s okay. “Mi amor.” Pero chokes, wrapping his arms around the little boy to pull him into his arms.

You wake up, rousing Alejandra in your arms and nearly sob with relief that Luis is awake and alert. “Mama, is Luis okay?” Alejandra demands, her own worry for her brother causing her to not think about what she calls you. Your eyes widen and you try not to tear up at the honorary name, nodding and brushing her tangled hair back from her face and holding her close despite being on your lap. “It looks like he is.” You hum. “Go hug him and your papa.”

Alejandra nods, rushing over to her papa and her brother and she wraps her arms around them. Pero shifts, gathering the children into his arms and he sniffs, trying to ignore the tears that sting in his eyes as he embraces them. “Te amo, mijos.” He murmurs and looks over at you, “come here, esposa.” He gestures for you to come over to them.

Standing up, you are happy to see such a touching moment between the small family. You know you are a part of it now, but they are reminders of his wife and very dear to him. Walking over, you ruffle Luis’ hair and smile. “You gave us all a fright, Luis.” You hum, sliding your hand to your husband’s shoulder.

Pero reaches up to grip your hand in his, his terror at losing you or one of his children now subsided and in its place is joy that he doesn’t have to suffer another loss. The four of you embrace until Carmen comes in to attend to Luis, wanting him to eat something and drink. Pero tells Alejandra to stay with her brother and she nods. “I need to speak with you.” Pero says to you, his voice deepening as he reaches for your hand.

You swallow, aware that he will now punish you. You had disobeyed him and you know from everyone that Pero is a stern man. You follow him quietly, wondering why he is still holding your hand as he guides you out of the nursery towards your bedroom.

When Pero opens the door to your chambers, he pushes you inside. “What were you thinking?” He hisses, dropping your hand as he glares at you, “I told you to never go into town.”

“I was thinking that Luis was in danger.” You won’t apologize for your actions, but you understand his anger. “He needed the doctor and I could not find anyone.” You stand straight and stiffen your spine. “If you punish me, that is you right. But I would do it again. My mother died of fever and I did not want you to lose your last gift from your wife.”

Your words take Pero back and his jaw drops, staring at you as he absorbs your words. Your kindness knows no bounds it seems and that’s the moment it clicks for Pero. Unable to stop himself, he surges forward and you think he’s about to hit you but he doesn’t, instead, his lips press against yours.

You had flinched, you could admit that yourself but then you are gasping against Pero’s mouth, shocked that he is kissing you. He had told you that he wouldn’t do that again; it was too intimate for him. Yet his lips are warm and soft against yours and you cannot help but melt into him.

His hands grip your waist and his mouth moves against yours, his tongue sliding along your lower lip as he pulls you up against him. You moan into his mouth and his hands reach down to tug your skirts up, his hands soon pulling his cock free from his breeches, hard and aching. He needs you and he hopes you want him too.

You had expected a beating, not for your husband to fuck you. But you aren’t going to push him away. Your fingers tug on your petticoats and you quickly push them down. “Husband.” You gasp out when he pulls his lips away. “Please.” You whimper, enjoying his apparent need for you.

His hand grabs your thigh, lifting it over your hip so he can position his cock at your entrance and he pushes inside of you with a groan. “Fuck, hermosa.” He murmurs, caressing your thigh as he pushes deeper.

“Oh god.” You would probably collapse if he didn’t have his hand on your waist and use his strength to keep you upright. Wanting to kiss him again, you wonder if that was a fluke and he wouldn’t kiss you but you turn your head to kiss along his jaw while he throbs inside you.

He turns his head to kiss you, pressing his lips against yours as he starts to move inside of you. You’re so wet and tight and alive. You’re alive. He focuses on you and your touch, his mouth moving against yours as he presses you against the wall.

You had never considered that your husband could fuck you against a wall, and yet, it’s thrilling. You moan into his mouth and cling to him, not caring that his hips push you back against the wainscoting every time he thrusts into you. Your own tongue touches against his and your entire body shivers with pleasure.

“Fuck. Mi esposa. I- Don’t want to lose you.” He murmurs, kissing along your jaw, and he kisses down your throat as he lifts your hip a little higher so he can push deeper inside of you. “Fuck. Please. I need - I need you.”

“Pero.” You whimper, closing your eyes and letting him do whatever he needs to you. You are starting to fall for him, especially with how he worried for Luis.

It’s hard to imagine his days without you now. Cold nights alone have turned into passionate escapades scattered throughout the day, touches leading through the night. He has tried to stay away but you’ve drawn him in. He continues to work his cock in and out of you, groaning as he presses his lips to yours again.

Closing your eyes, you give yourself over to him completely. Clinging to him as he fucks you so deeply you know they you will be feeling him for days after. Even though he’s not wearing a condom, you expect him to pull out and spill his seed outside your body. The condom had been great and you loved the feeling of him pulsing inside you.

Pero kisses along your jaw, breathing you in and he needs you to clamp down on his cock. He grabs your other thigh, lifting you up completely as the adrenaline surges through him and he grunts as he lifts you up and down his cock, still pressing you against the wall.

Gasping, you wrap your arms around his shoulders and try to wrap your legs around him, your skirts bunched between you. “Fuck, Pero, I- I love you.” You moan quietly; needing to at least whisper it even though he doesn’t feel the same way. “So close.”

He hears it but he doesn’t respond. Instead, he presses his lips to yours and when you whine into his mouth, he groans against your lips when you clamp down on his cock. He should pull out but he doesn’t, too focused on you and how you feel and how he could’ve lost you. He grunts and keeps thrusting you through your orgasm until finally, he’s pushing deep and filling you full of his hot seed, painting your walls.

Your eyes widen and you are too busy worrying about the feeling of his hot seed inside you. Knowing he will regret it you are savoring this one moment. “Pero- Pero you have to let me- I have to bathe.” You whimper.

He doesn’t release you, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pants again at your chin, enjoying the feel of you surrounding him. “Don’t.” He murmurs, not wanting to let you go just yet. He can’t lose another person from his life that he cares for.

You frown but you don’t push him away, deciding that he knows what he is doing. “Okay, husband.” You pant softly, feeling him throb inside of you and start to soften. “Is-is this my punishment?” You ask teasingly.

Pero chuckles softly, pulling out of you and lowering you down to the floor. Your skirts settle down and he reaches down to tuck his cock back into his breeches. “No punishment.” He assures you and reaches for your hands, “please…just do not go into town unless you are escorted.” He compromises, knowing that it will be hard to overcome his anxiety surrounding town but he cannot keep you prisoner.

You bite your lip, aware that your husband is compromising. “Yes.” You murmur softly, leaning in and pressing your lips to his cheek. You don’t want to push him for more than he will give you so you won’t kiss him on the lips unless he kisses you first. “Thank you, Pero.” You hum, smiling as you pull back to look into his dark eyes. “I will have an escort.”

Pero nods, letting go of your hands and he is pleased that he could compromise. The idea of you going into town terrifies him, he doesn’t want to lose you. The children clearly love you and he - he has affection for you.

****

Pero looks up at you as you enter the dining room. He stands up, walking over to pull your chair out for you, taking over the job from the footman. “You look beautiful, esposa.” He murmurs, caressing your cheek as you stand before him and he helps you sit down.

“Thank you.” You give Pero a smile, but you’re slightly nervous. Your monthly time has been missed for several months now and you woke up feeling nauseous and your breasts being sore. You are with child and while your husband has become warmer to you, you don’t know how he will react. It’s true that there have been several times since the day Luis was sick that he hasn’t worn the condom, he had also still worn it and never said anything about having children with you or your confession of your feelings. You’ve never repeated those words again. “I’ll just have some weak tea and toast.” You tell the footman before he disappears to let Lola know you are ready for breakfast.

Pero frowns, usually you order more at breakfast and he wonders if you are unwell. “Are you ill, esposa?” He asks and wonders if you are okay. He watches you as you eye the cup of tea with a grimace and he calls Carlos over to order the doctor to come to the house.

“I think that I might have some kind of stomach malady.” You admit with a small groan, covering your nose from the aroma of the tea. “It should pass.” You have an idea of what is wrong but you don’t wish to alarm Pero.

Pero is concerned but knows the doctor will help you and Carlos will ensure his swift arrival. Your breakfast is hardly touched and he will inform Carmen to let Lola know to prepare a light but generous lunch for you. He is concerned, knowing how Luis was and he’s terrified that you are going to end up with the same fate.

After breakfast, you still feel ill, laying down and resting even though you know you should be watching the children. You feel dizzy and nauseous and you wonder if all women feel this way when they are pregnant. You are sure that is what is going on, emptying your stomach of the tea and the few bites of toast you had managed into the chamber pot under your bed.

Pero greets the doctor, escorting him to your chambers. This is the same doctor who was present when Maria died and the midwife called for him after there were complications. The two men exchange a look before Carmen announces the doctor’s arrival. “I will leave you to it.” Pero says after everyone enters.

“Oh, I didn’t know Pero was calling a doctor.” You sit up, embarrassed and hoping that the nausea has passed. “I am afraid that I am not quite feeling myself.” You admit when he tuts and brings his bag over. “I think- I think I might be ….” You lower your voice. “Expecting.”

The doctor nods, “very well. Let us check and we can confirm, Señora Tovar.” He says softly and under Carmen’s watchful eye, he performs his tests. Feeling your stomach, he smiles. “Congratulations, Señora. You are with child.” He offers you a soft smile and Carmen grins, “congratulations.”

“Thank you.” It’s a relief to know that is what is wrong, but you wonder how Pero will take the news that you are expecting his child. “What can be done about the nausea?” You ask him softly. “My mother died young and I have never been around someone expecting.”

“I have a tea I can provide your cook with to assist with the sickness.” The doctor informs you and is soon bidding you goodbye. When the doctor exits your quarters, Pero looks up, eyes questions and the doctor pats his shoulder. “I believe your wife had good news.” Pero swallows, knowing what that means and he thanks the doctor before Carlos escorts him out.

Exhaling shakily, he walks over to your room and knocks, entering your chambers to find you sitting on the edge of the bed. He sits down beside you and reaches for your hand, “esposa.”

“I’m sorry, Pero.” You start quietly, looking down at your joined hands. “I know that you wished to wait, or to never have children with me.” You are worried that he will be upset, that it will ruin the closeness you have felt with him lately. “I do not know what happened. I’m - I am going to have your child.”

He squeezes your hand, “don’t know what happened? I think I do.” He chuckles softly. “And…and I’m not angry about it. I knew what could happen and you are an incredible mother to Luis and Alejandra. I think you’ll be amazing.” He assures you, “and I - I want to have a child that is half you and half me.”

You let out the breath you had been holding and smile. Relieved that he is not upset and you are able to be excited for the first time. “I think it will be wonderful.” You admit, although you frown after a moment. “I promise I will not go into town, even with an escort, when my time draws near.” You don’t want him to worry about another wife, even if he doesn’t love you, he would worry.

Pero nods his gratefulness, knowing you now understand his anxiety and reaction. Especially after you ran off to fetch the doctor. He knows he is going to be even more protective of you. “It’s good news, hermosa.” He promises, leaning in to kiss your forehead, brushing his nose against yours until his lips brush your lips.

You’ve found there is comfort in his kisses. A certain sense of home that you’ve not found anywhere else as the nights in his bed progressed. It was often you ended up sleeping together after your pleasure but you had never voiced that sentiment of love again. You desperately want to say it again, but you are afraid to, afraid of being reminded that you are not his late wife and he had warned you that he wouldn’t love you.

****

As your pregnancy progresses, Pero gets more and more anxious. He’s nervous of the birth, reminded once again of Maria dying after giving birth to Luis. He swallows harshly as he leans against the wall, trying to calm his racing heart. You’re going to give birth soon according to the midwife and each day makes his anxiety threaten to overwhelm him.

Every day that passes, you can see your husband slowly start to unravel. He is sleeping less and worrying about you. Not even allowing you on the stairs without someone. Making you ring a bell to have someone come help you. Most often he works from your chambers, moving his work to your writing desk. You sigh as you slide your hand over your stomach, panting slightly. The pains had started last night but you had kept it from him, knowing he wouldn’t sleep and he desperately needed the rest.

Pero sees Carmen rushing through the halls and she slows down when she sees him. “What’s happening?” He asks, frowning, and the young woman bites her lip. “Tell me.” He demands and Carmen knows she can’t deny him, “she’s having pains. The birth is happening. I must fetch the midwife.” Carmen rushes out and Pero’s eyes widen.

“Fetch the doctor too. I will take no chances.” He says and Carmen nods, rushing off. Pero drops everything he is doing and rushes to your chambers, “esposa. Is it true? You’re having pains?” He asks, eying you in the chair in the corner.

You would deny it, to spare him a bit more time but another pain makes you clutch your stomach. Bending over slightly as you start to moan quietly. It lasts for a long time and by that time you relax, you are panting. “I am.”

Pero rushes over to you. Guiding you over to the bed, “come, you must lay down.” He shakes his head, trying to take your shoes off. “Why didn’t you send for me?” He asks, caressing your ankle as you settle against the pillows.

“You have not been sleeping.” You remind him quietly. “I know you need rest and if I told you, there was not any rest in your future.”

Your whimpers make his heart clench and he shakes his head. “Mi - esposa. Come, do not worry about me. I will worry until the babe is in your arms and you are well and healthy.” His voice wavers for a moment and he wonders if you notice as he wipes your forehead of the beads of sweat.

“It will be well.” The midwife has assured you that you are carrying well for a first time birth and believes that it will be a simple thing. Reaching for his hand, you smile at him softly. “I have already asked that you be allowed in the birthing room if you need.”

Pero is surprised and pleased, kissing your damp forehead. “I won’t leave you.” He promises and brushes his lips against yours. “I’ll be here. Every single second.” He vows as Carmen comes back in with water and a flannel.

You get changed into a clean nightgown, Carmen helping you although you don’t mind your husband being there. He has seen you naked more than your own nanny when you were a child. Getting settled back down into the bed, you grip Pero’s hand and cry out when the next pain washes over you.

Pero lets you squeeze his hand as you try to ride the pain. You whimper and Pero frowns, “where is the midwife?” He asks, starting to get impatient. “And the doctor? I called for him as well.” He growls, looking over at Carmen.

“They are coming, Don Tovar.” She assures him, knowing that he is worried about his wife. Everyone has seen how much the Don has come to care about his wife and they are all happy for him. You are kind and loving and it will be good for him to love again. “The doctor is impressed with your wife and has already said he will come whenever summoned.”

“He needs to be here. I will allow no one to take a singular risk. I won’t have my wife’s health and the baby’s health put in danger.” He hisses and squeezes your hand when you groan at the pain. “Are you - you need anything?” Pero asks, wanting to make sure you have everything you need.

“Water.” You beg quietly. Labor is harder work that you realized and you feel parched from it.

Pero nods and squeezes your hand again. “Whatever you want.” He promises, kissing your hand and rushing over to the tray Carmen had brought you earlier.

Pero returns with the water, letting you sip it and he wipes your forehead with the wet rag Carmen hands him. It seems like the sun is setting when you are finally ready to push. The midwife checking you and announcing it’s time. Pero is terrified, this was the time Maria lost too much blood. He remembers the sheets being soaked with it as Luis cried. He grips your hand, sweat beading on his brow as his heart starts to pound

Clenching your teeth together, you try to make sure that you don’t scream during the next pain. It makes Pero uneasy every time, he pales when you scream and grip his hand as tight as you can. You know that he is scared and even though you are in pain, you’re worried about him.

Pero feels unwell but tries to stay strong, each clenched scream bringing you closer to having his next child and he is terrified. Terrified of losing you. During your marriage, he has grown close to you. Spending many nights in your bed, even if he hadn’t touched you. He can’t imagine his life without you now. “Come on hermosa, you can do it. Push.” He urges you on, wanting you to concentrate.

Nodding, you sit up slightly and start to push. Bearing down with all your might, you see the midwife between your thighs as you start to feel more pressure.

Pero watches you push, his eyes darting between you and the midwife and he’s worried, he’s so scared that he’s gonna lose you. His hand grips yours as he watches you push and he’s silently praying.

“I can’t- it is too much.” You gasp out, falling back against the sheets as you pant.

The midwife clicks her tongue and looks up at you. “One more push, señora, and the bebita will be in your arms.” She promises you. “Next time the pain comes you push as hard as you can.”

“You can do it, hermosa. You can do it.” He eggs you on, sweat beading on his forehead as he watches you struggle. “Come on, mi amor. Come on.” He says, wiping your forehead.

You close your eyes, tears leaking out of the corners as you barely hear the words that you have wished for far longer than you should have. Holding his hand, you nod, bearing down with all your strength and pushing your baby into the world. Feeling them slip from your womb with a rush of relief.

Pero watches the midwife cradle the crying babe, her smile wide and Pero starts to cry, relieved and so happy at seeing his child born. “Felicidades, Don Tovar, it’s a boy.” She announces and Pero leans in to kiss your head.

“A boy, amor,”

“A boy.” You sob, exhausted and relieved and more than a little emotional about hearing ‘amor’ again. Almost terrified that he is thinking of his late wife and reliving that horrible night with a happier ending through you. “We have another son.” You pant, reaching for the baby when the midwife hands him to you.

Pero looks down at the screaming babe in your arms. His eyes sting with tears and he looks at you in awe. “A boy. Another boy.” He murmurs, kissing your forehead. “Amor.”

“He’s beautiful.” You murmur quietly, brushing your hand over his wet forehead. “Perfect.” His ten little fingers are curled into fists and he has ten perfect little toes. “Isn’t he?” You ask, looking up at your husband after you manage to tear your eyes away from your new baby.

Pero leans in to rest his forehead against yours, loving how you are cradling the baby and he knows Luis and Alejandra are excited for his arrival. “He’s perfect. So is his mother.” He murmurs, caressing the baby’s head.

You hum, not sure how to take that and look back down at the baby. He’s turning his face towards you and crying, searching for your breast. “Put him on the breast.” The midwife tells you. “Your milk will come.” You nod, opening your nightgown and guiding him towards your breast and gasping when he latches into your nipple.

Pero watches in awe, the midwife working on helping you with the afterbirth and the baby mouths at your nipple. Pero kisses your forehead again, he’s so perfect. You’re perfect. Hermosa, I- I love you.” Pero chokes, never imagining that he’d fall in love again but he couldn’t help it, you’re too beautiful and kind. The children love you and you’ve made his life so much better.

Your eyes widen and you look up at Pero in shock. “You- you love me?” You ask in astonishment, sure that would never happen for you. He nods and you start to cry. “I love you too Pero, I love you and our three children.”

Pero leans in to kiss you, “I love you. So much. I- I didn’t think - after Maria - you’ve brought this home, my children…me…back to life.” He murmurs and kisses your forehead. “Mi esposa, hermosa, amor. You are everything to me. I owe you the world.” He murmurs, looking down at the little boy.

Your smile is watery, but overjoyed. You had come to Spain to marry a man you didn’t know and was told that he could never love you. Now you have a beautiful son, two other children that adore you and your them, and a loving husband. Your father had chosen right. You were a family.

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