#dog is like you need rubs ground yourself master

[whereisthedamndaddymanual]

Maybe you still see me as that beautiful little boy that would ask for kisses

Maybe I still see you as the little girl that would always find a way to give me one

[just-some-random-blogger]

Edge Of Ever After | 3

Part 1 2 3 4

Sandor runs his fingers down my spine and sighs, "everything I ever touch goes to shit." He grabs my hip and pulls me close. I turn to him and nestle my face into his chest. He traps me in his arms, "but you... you turn my shit into gold."

Sandor Clegane x Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, wife!reader, smut (slight dubcon, piv, degradation), mentions/depictions of violence, heckling/cat calling, sunshine x grump, remnants of forced marriage, slow burn, angst, emotional unavailability, emotional vulnerability, The Hound being abrasive, miscommunication, fluff, typos, etc.

A/N: hello everyone its been a while a;sjkhdfa;sklfhas;lkfhs it feels weird to post fics on tumblr again after my tumblr got sent to JAIL but its only fair that i continue posting this here <3 (i post this on my ao3 first then bulk post here).

When Sandor enters the Brown Wood meeting hall, he is greeted kindly by many of the people who wished to seek audience with his wife. He vaguely overhears a conversation about someone's babe, but it's cut short.

She turns to him, just as the townsfolk flock over to him like a moth drawn to flame. She smiles, then shoos them away, concluding the meeting for the day.

Sandor watches how she commands the room. One by one the people trickle out of the hall. He watches as she sighs and rubs her belly. He watches as she walks over to him and asks him what he needed.

His eyes remain on the hand she kept on her stomach, "I wanted to… …" gods, have they upset her.

She raises her brows, "to?"

"… are you alright?" He takes her other hand with grave reluctance, "are you hurting?"

Immediately, she drops the hand she had on her stomach and grows rigid. Sandor catches the discomfort she masks with a smile.

She shakes her head, "I'm well."

Sandor frowns. He gently rubs her skin, in case his palms were too rough, "… I wanted to show you… the strawberries."

Her eyes twinkle, "oh? Have they begun to bloom?"

Sandor is winded by how brightly her face seemed so suddenly. He motions with his head, "want to see for yourself?"

The two of them head to the garden.

"Heel, pups. Dammit," Sandor hisses when the three dogs run in front of them.

With one sound and a look, the pups turn to Lady Clegane and move out of the way. Sandor grumbles and nudges them out of the way as he passes, "fuck off."

"Sandor."

"They started it!"

When they get to the garden, the puppies run around the yard, no longer interested in their masters, but instead the birds that had made the unfortunate mistake of resting dormant on the Brown Wood grounds.

Sandor was a natural fast walker, considering his stature. He's always loathed slow walkers. And though he could never loathe his bride, in this moment, he particularly itched to show her the strawberries sooner, so he took her hand and pulled her towards the garden.

He didn't notice the squeak that fell from her lips when he did so. All he knew was that she had to slightly catch her breath when they stopped.

Sandor bends down and turns to her, glancing once at the pups to see what they were barking at. When he realizes the fuss was over birds, he turns back to her and speaks, "I have a strawberry now."

She peers down and knits her brows, "… where?"

Sandor raises a brow and looks at the branch, "here."

She walks closer but only spots it when the man points at the marble sized greenish fruit.

"Oh!"

Sandor turns back to her and nods, "there are many of them already. Do you want to see?"

Before she can reply, Sandor is already examining his garden, looking for something to show. He doesn't just walk off however. He reaches his hand out to her, rather absentmindedly, and mutters something about caterpillars.

He doesn't notice how she sucks in a breath before taking his hand. He doesn't notice how her lips curve when he tells her the things the gardeners taught him.

Sandor doesn't even notice how her eyes water when he tells her that they could trade tasks, she could do the gardening and he could talk to the townsfolk, so not to burdened by their worries; she scratched the tears away by the time he looked.

The only thing he notices is how her face fell.

Gods, he done it again.

"… what's wrong?"

Sandor's insides feel like their being pulverized when he catches the way her lips quiver. It's even worse when she smiles and says, "nothing."

A line forms between his brows.

"I am just… I'm am pleased to see you look so happy."

Sandor knits his brows.

She gives an airy laugh but tears stream her cheeks in spite of it.

Sandor stutters out her name, cautiously reaching out to her.

"No," she chuckles, bringing his hands to her cheeks, "I am not sad. Truly. I am happy. I am happy for you."

Discomfort doesn't leave him when she says this. He wipes her cheeks with his thumbs and nods, "aye. I am happy because of you."

She laughs through tears again.

He feels an overwhelming urge to kiss her.

And so he does.

He pulls her close and leans down. He kisses her like he means to drink in all the sorrow she was lying about. His one hand cradles the back of her head, the other brushes down the small of her back.

He ponders how she chuckles between kisses. Maybe, she wasn't lying. He pulls away and examines her face.

She chuckles again and rubs his chin.

She sighs and licks her lips, "I like it when you kiss me like that."

His brows quirk, "like w-"

She kisses him again. He is caught off-guard when she grabs him by the collar. Sandor can't help the groan that rumbles in his chest as she brings her arms over his shoulders. He snakes his own around her torso and lifts her up.

When she pulls away for a breath and tries to wrap her legs around him, he jostles her body up, allowing her the momentum to do so. He wastes no more time keeping their lips separate. He kisses her as he heads inside.

Unfortunately, Sandor had to see to get to their chambers, so he has to pull away. She makes him cuss when he kisses her neck. He nearly kicks the fucking door down on his way in. He does the same to the chamber door then slams it shut.

Sandor throws her on the bed and heaves like a rabid dog as he looks down at her body and her wanting face. He feels himself go hard with how she licks her lips as he undoes his top. He's never loathed clothes quite as much as he did this moment.

And then she stands up and tilts her pretty face up at him. He towers over her as she grab his hands and slowly pushes them away.

"Let me," she mutters, tugging his top out of his trousers.

He has to bend to help her get it off and it amuses her. She giggles, "you're so tall."

He stirs at the sound of her voice. He wraps an arm around her waist and kisses her mouth. He can taste the sweetness of her laughter on her lips.

He huffs when he pushes him away.

She rubs her nose against his, "lie down, puppy."

His eyes widen.

She bites her lips, feeling nervous over his shock. She manages to convince herself to power through and grabs his arms. She pushes him toward the bed, "lie down."

He doesn't have to hear it another time.

Sandor sits down on the side of the bed, then sequentially gets on his back. His feet stay put on the floor and he keeps his head up to watch her closely. He is visibly straining in his pants and the sight makes her face warm. She bites her lips harder and slowly lifts her skirt up.

"Fuck," Sandor hisses, heart pounding in his chest and his cock.

She removes her smallclothes then slowly crawls on top of him, stopping just before his pelvis.

"Fuuuuccckkk," he sighs, dropping his head. His hands dig into her hips as she undoes his trousers, "you're driving me mad, seven fucking gods, woman."

She hums and giggles softly, "that's right, Hound. I'm a woman."

"H- fuck-" whatever he meant to say gets crushed into a groan when she grabs his throbbing length then aligns herself on him.

He rips at her skirts when she sinks down and leans on to his chest. She rubs his body hair, "your woman."

"Fucking hell," he rubs her sides, "all fucking mine, that's right."

She whimpers when his hands squeeze her breasts. She clenches around him, making him throw his head back. She heaves, "you take such… good care of me… wanna do the same."

Sandor nearly passes when she begins to move. She starts out slow then eases her way into a quicker pace. He groans through his open mouth as she leans further, allowing her to move more surely.

"That's it, love. You feel so fucking good, fuck."

She is encouraged, "like this?"

He doesn't have the words to agree and merely hisses.

Eventually, Sandor can't just lie down. He slowly begins to buck into her and gods does he love the face she makes.

Like a man starved, he pushes himself up, sitting himself down, and kisses her neck. He wraps his arms around her and guides her movements. He brushes his lips down her neck and hisses, "that's it, love," he nips her neck, "so fucking good for me. My lovely wife."

Sandor loosens the ties at the back of her dress. He is frantic about it that he eventually gives up. He resigns to yanking enough of her dress down to expose her breasts. He promptly licks a stripe on her soft flesh and leaves marks wherever his mouth can reach.

She tangles her fingers in his hair and tugs at the roots, "Sandor."

He hums and kisses her jaw, "my love."

They share a kiss until she has to break away and catch her breath from her rigorous movements.

He brings his hand under her skirts and squeezes her thighs, " 'm gonna come."

She squeals when she feels him rub her sensitive nub.

He hisses, "so fucking wet. Mmm, fuck, I'm gonna come inside your hot cunt. Then I'll pin you down and come some more."

"F-fuck, Sandor-"

He hisses as he clutches her neck. He doesn't put any pressure but he still has her whining, especially as he grazes her skin with his teeth. He says hotly, "I need you to be a good girl and make me come first."

She grabs his shoulders.

"Don't you want me to fill you up?"

She hums, "y-yes."

"Good girl."

She bounces on him harder.

"Fuck," he grabs her hips and helps her through it, "yes, yes, yes, just like that-"

She comes first, and she comes hard.

Sandor has to maneuver her roughly to chase after his high, and by the time he does, she's a shaking, loud mess, babbling only his name, cause that was all that's left in her head.

It takes a good while before he finally slows. He makes sure that he rides out the pleasure and fucks every drop of his seed into her softness. Then, they both go limp on the bed.

Sandor heaves. His wife does the same atop him. She can feel her cunt spasm. She can feel their hot spend leaking, but she's too tired to care.

Sandor rubs her back as he sighs, "you're incredible"

She is too dazed to say anything but, "Sandor."

Sandor wraps his arm around her waist, "I'm here, my love. I'm here."

She nuzzles her face into his neck.

He sighs in content.

"Sandor."

" 'M here."

"Is this enough for you?"

"…"

"…"

"… what?"

She lifts her head and sucks in a breath. She sighs deeply before replying, "sex… and strawberries?"

Sandor looks at her face. He is in awe of her beauty. What treachery it is for her to believe it isn't.

His silence make her eyes glass.

He grunts as he brings them back into a sitting position. He kisses her neck and rocks her back and forth, "honest to every god in the sky-- old, new, or otherwise, if I died this second… I would die the happiest I have ever been in my whole life."

Her heart throbs. When he looks at him, she knows he isn't lying. Still, she can't help to want to disagree.

And Sandor can see it. He sighs.

"I will tr-"

"Let's go to Volantis."

Her expression drops.

Sandor tucks her hair back, "this is more than enough for me… but it isn't for you. I want to be enough for you too."

She is unable to speak.

"I don't trust that fucking leech, Littlefinger, but if there is a chance…"

Her eyes blur with water.

"… at least we can say we tried."

The next second, she wraps her arms around him and shudders into his shoulder.

"Sandor."

A crack of thunder startles me, and the two horses beside us.

I watch as my husband grumbles something under his breath and hands me the lead on his horse. He steps out of the shade of the tree we were under gets drenched in the pouring rain water. Well, more drenched.

To be fair, I was still getting wet too, but it was not as bad from where I stood.

I adjust the hood covering my face to look at him. He looks around then back at me. He shouts over the rain, "we've no choice but to walk!"

I fix my hood and hand him his lead. I follow after him and we slowly trek through the wet ground, the reason why we were not on horseback. He says it was a horse ankle killer.

"You know!' I scream over the rain.

Sandor's clanking armor is still audible through the pouring rain.

"They say rain is a sign your journey will be great!"

"Yeah, and who told you that?!'

"My aunt!"

"Your aunt's a dumb bitch!"

I shoot daggers at the back of his head, "Sandor!"

"Tell her to shove mud up her arse!"

"Stoooop!" I whine.

Sandor and I continue through the sludge with our horses walking by our sides. I can vaguely hear him grumble under his breath and my worry for him, and the horses especially, begin to worsen.

"Puppy!" I call, slightly frantic, "maybe we should find some shade for a moment!"

Sandor does not look back at me, "it won't matter! The rain won't stop any time soon!"

I look at my poor steed and wipe her dripping face. I am overcome with guilt when she shakes her mane.

Without warning, a crack of lightning lights up the dark sky then a roll of thunder effectively spooks my horse, causing her to stand on her hind legs and her lead to slip out of my grip. Sandor's horse remains relatively calm, beyond the huffs she gives.

Sandor is quick to come to my aid, or rather my horse's. He pulls me back, so not to be trampled on, then manages to grab hold of her lead, shushing her until she was as calm as she could be in the middle of the storm.

I watch as his hood falls off. His face is immediately drenched with water. I frantically put his hood back on and my husband turns to me. He shakes his head disapprovingly then leads both of the horses himself. He screams louder than needed, "IT'S NOT TOO LATE TO TURN BACK, GIRL!"

I watch him as he continues to walk. I come up behind him.

"I bet your wench is worried sick over you! I bet her and your pups are at the door, praying for your return!"

"Stop calling Lucy names!"

Sandor looks over his shoulder only to look forward again and grumble.

I really don't mean to pick a fight, especially not in this weather, but I also really didn't want to go back, not when the whole of Brown Wood knew we would be leaving for Volantis to get rid of the curse. In hindsight, my integrity took the best of me in that moment. I could have just said I wanted to travel… but the again, I did not want them to think we would be leaving them to fend for themselves purely for my wanderlust.

I decide not to speak a word, but then I catch a light from afar.

"SANDOR!" I gasp and point, "LOOK!"

The Hound turns and sees the glow of a fire.

"I think it's an inn!" I exclaim, heading towards it at once.

I hurry over to the direction of the light and thank the gods when I find that I was, in fact, correct. A sizable inn was now only a few paces away from me. I turn around, seeing the struggling man and our horses slowly coming towards me.

I'm about to run back to him, but he barks out, "GO IN AND GET US A ROOM!"

I nod and rush towards the inn.

I push the door open and sigh when I feel warmth envelope me. I cautiously enter and hover by the door. The place is packed. It seems everyone here was caught in the storm, judging by how some of them were still dripping, and others had towels around their shoulders.

I look at the puddle that builds beneath my feet and feel guilty at the mess. The wooden floors were already muddy and I did not want to add to it.

I shrug off my cloak and wring it out of the open door, proceeding to do the same to my skirt and my hair, at least as much as I can.

"Oooh, lovie, oh dear!" a voice says. I turn and see an old woman approaching me, "don't bother with that and just come in."

I give a bashful smile as she reaches out to me, "what will you be needing? Some towels? Soup? I'll be happy to help, for a price, of course."

I nod, "both would be lovely. I'd like two sets of each and a room for me and my husband."

She nods, "of course. You arrived just in time. We have the one room left. I'll need you to pay upfront though, because our Golden Deer Inn is bustling, as you can see."

"Oh, of course, of course," I nod and prepare my coin purse. As I pay her, I remember, "oh. We also have two horses. I would like them to have a towel and some hay as well."

I pay her handsomely and her face brightens.

"As you command, my lady," she curtsies after taking my coin. "Go find yourself a seat, I'll bring you and your husband some supper in a jiffy. If you need anything else, or if anyone bothers you, holler for Trysha," she places a hand on her chest and nods.

I nod back, "thank you, kind Trysha."

"Of course."

Trysha walks off and so do I. I shudder as I look for a vacant table, rubbing my arms as I gaze upon the packed room. I quickly realize there is none and rub my hands. I decide to head for the fireplace and at least warm myself in the meantime.

A man seated by the warmth stares at me, suddenly uninterested in his meal. I ignore him and slowly move away.

"Oi, you, girl!"

I feel agitation build in my stomach.

"You! At the fireplace!"

I suck in a breath and ignore the call.

"OI!" the voice calls louder, "OI, YOU!"

When another voice screams through the bustle of room and I hear someone stand, my instincts takeover and I turn around. A man, stood by a table of six, is looking at me.

"So ye'rent deaf," he says, making the men at his table laugh and turn to me.

I gulp and simply stare at him. I roll my shoulders back, feigning confidence. I raise my brows in expectation.

The man with a cut on his chin rolls his jaw and chuckles, "ye wonna share a table with us? You look awfully sad and lonely o'r there. All wet and exhausted."

I feel sick as he motions to the men at his table, their eyes on me like I was nothing but meat, their next meal, "we could keep you warm."

The group cheers with laughter. One raises their pint and another whistles.

"I am not interested," I say firmly, "I am waiting for my husband."

They laugh and howl like wolves. One of the table speaks, "that's what they all say."

"I don't see your husband here."

"Come on, don't be shy."

"You dogs leave her alone!" Trysha hisses as she reenters. I immediately feel relieved at the sight of her. She walks up to their table holding two bowls, "I will not have you disrespect my customer when you lot haven't even paid for your grub!"

The man glares at her, as if testing if she'll back down.

Trysha narrows her eyes, "if you're not scared of me, which you should, you'll be scared of my sons."

And as if on cue, a large man walks in serving a plate of roast chicken to one table. The man with a thick chest and thick arms to match scowls when he spots his mother, "these blokes bothering you, ma?"

"And that's just one of them," Trysha mutters. She turns to the man, "I'm not sure yet, love."

"Ligh'en up, woman. We were only playin'," the stood man sits down, "isn't that right, sweet'eart?"

Trysha, her son, and the men at the table turn to me.

I cannot give them the satisfaction. I grip my chest and shake my head, "you brutes have a sick sense of humor and the gods will soon punish you for it."

Trysha's son squares up, "you botherin' the lady?"

"We was jus' joking!" another says, "she's a stuck up bitch."

Suddenly, that man is grabbed by the collar. Trysha's son pulls him to his feet and he begins to choke, "now, I've had a long day. It would be my joy to break all of your stupid faces, but then I'd have to mop off blood on the floor."

Trysha steps back as the rest of the table stands.

"Go on," her son says, pulling out a knife, pressing it to the man's neck, "apologize to the woman and I'll let you pay for your meals once you've finished."

"You mad fucker!" one of the six scream.

The man being held hostage begins to wince when the blade on his neck draws blood. Immediately he begins to apologize, "I'M SORRY, I'M SORRY!"

The large man releases him and demands they pay up and leave.

They collectively reach for their coin and leave some on the table before leaving.

Trysha turns to me and smiles, "your table's ready."

I watch as the men exit and slowly come towards them. I watch as her son clears the table. He steals a glance at me and mutters, "sorry about those fucks."

I offer him a smile, "you need not apologize for their uncouth nature."

I place a hand on his shoulder as he takes all the plates and pints. He stills as I ask, "may I ask for your name?"

He looks at me and clears his throat. He straightens up and mutters, "Riley."

Trysha places the bowl on the table and then wipes off the surface.

"Thank you, Riley," I smile.

Riley clears his throat and nods. He then walks off.

"Right," Trysha says, "I'll go get you your towels."

"Thank you, Trysha."

I sit down and keep my eyes on the front door. I begin to sip of my soup, surprised by how flavorful it was and relieved by how it warmed me up.

I perk when the front door opens but deflate when I see a group of men enter.

Trysha comes out with towels, the converses with those said man, telling them the inn was fully booked, but they were welcome to stay for a meal if they liked. The men talk to themselves and Trysha walks over, handing me the towels.

I thank her for it and she smiles, "we have some pie and mead, if you'd like."

I wipe my face the wrap myself with the towel. I nod, "yes, I would. Only one pint of mead, however. If you have any more stew," I pull out some coin, "I'd like a bowl as well."

Trysha smiles and nods, "I'll have Riley bring you some roast pork too."

As Trysha walks off, I continue slurping my soup. When I turn back to the front door, my sight is obscured. The group of men who entered were now at my table. My heart leaps into my mouth.

"Pardon my companions and I. We have travelled far and have grown weary. Do you mind if we share a table with you? None else are currently available."

I look at the four men and feel uncomfortable under their scrutiny. Though they appeared more civilized then the ones before, I was still uneasy.

I manage a smile and motion to the bowl of soup across me, "I'm waiting for my husband."

The man looks at the other bowl, "ah. … But otherwise, you would let us sit?"

His adamance makes my stomach churn. I take a breath and shake my head, "I do not know you, ser. I do not like to dine with strangers."

The man seems taken off-guard by my response, judging by the way he chuckles dryly. He turns to his friends, who now carry sour expressions on their faces. The man seems emboldened by this and releases anger, "it is not as though you own the seat you are on. Why won't you let us sit?"

I turn uncomfortably to my soup then back at him. I muster up the resolve to speak, "I was ushered personally to this table by the innkeeper. What I do here is my business."

The man stares at me. I can see how the comment seeps under his skin.

"Squirrel?" a loud voice calls out.

My heart races and I gasp under my breath, "Sandor." Against myself, my eyes begin to water.

One of the men look over his shoulder, and it is enough for me to catch sight of my husband, face dripping with rain water and worry. Thank the gods he spots me as well.

His face immediately shifts and he marches over to me. Without another thought, he grabs two of the four men and yanks them away from me.

I instinctively stand but could do nothing but watch as the Hound drags the two bodies out of the inn with him. The other two follow after, unsheathing their swords.

The whole place goes silent as screams sound off from outside.

I gulp.

Riley walks in. He sees me standing and presses his lips together. He places the tray of food on my table and slowly asks, "everything alright?"

I turn to him an debate if I should tell him. I don't.

I flinch when the Hound enters the next moment. Riley looks back and Sandor sheathes his sword. My husband stops when he sees the man beside me.

"Did you kill them?" I mutter frantically.

Riley turns to me and Sandor speaks, "who's he?"

"He's the innkeepers boy. He brought the food. Did you kill them?"

Sandor eyes Riley as he slowly walks over to me. Riley eyes him back and moves out of his way. The two of them stare at each other and I have to pull Riley away from him.

"Stop it!" I hiss, "Riley's no trouble ," I lightly nudge the said man away, "you're merely hungry."

The Hound glares as Riley hesitantly walks off. He looks at me one last time and finally goes back whence he came after I give him a nod of encouragement.

Sandor looks down at me as I take the other towel and wipe his face.

He grunts, placing his hand on my arms, keeping my towel on me, "I leave you for a few minutes and there's another man swarming you."

He pushes my arm down. His brows knit as he examines my face. He looks irritated, but more than this, he looks worried, guilty even.

I sigh and shake my head, "Riley saved me from a different group of men."

Only fury is left on his face, "what different group of men?!"

I sigh once more and sit down, pulling him down with me. He sits beside me and I recount what happened. His face is hard and his body rigid after he hears it.

"He should have slit their throats when he had the chance," the Hound spits on the floor to his side, "fucking craven."

"Sandor…"

He grabs the pint of mead, some of the liquid splatters on his hand and the table. He downs it in one go. His armour clanks as he sets the cup down with a bang.

I knit my brows and grab his arm, "I'm glad he didn't kill them."

He looks livid as he stares at me.

"Please tell me you didn't kill those men."

He chuckles dryly. He yanks his arm out of my grip, causing me to yelp when his armour cuts me.

I turned to my hands, thankfully finding no blood, and he immediately freezes. The next moment, he is overcome with guilt. He clenches his jaw and releases a deep breath. He takes my hands, examining it. Sandor shakes his head, "I didn't slaughter the fuckers, no. Just broke some bones they didn't need."

"Sandor…"

He shakes his head quicker. He releases my hands, "you're too kind for your own good, far too kind."

"I'm kind for the both of us, my love."

Sandor stares at me upon hearing this. I wipe his face with the towel again.

"Men are dogs… you know this, sweet squirrel."

I leave the towel on his shoulders and shrug, "I happen to like dogs more than men."

Sandor says nothing.

I brush his beard with my thumbs, "my puppy."

He sighs and takes my wrists. He pulls my hands away and shakes his head, "I'm not a puppy."

"No, you're my puppy."

He rolls his eyes, "eat. We need to get changed quickly."

I press my lips into a frown, "okay, puppy."

"Enough," he says. He begins to feast on the roast pork.

I raise my brows at how quickly Sandor was eating. I stare at him as he chomps through half a chicken as though it was a sweetie. He washes it down with some mead and muffles through a mouthful, "tastes fuckin' shite."

He grabs a spoonful of stew and stuffs it in his mouth.

"Sandor," I call through furrowed brows, ceasing to eat.

He seems not to hear me with how violently he was chewing.

"Sandor," I speak louder, placing a hand on his arm.

His cheeks are stuffed as he turns to me. His mouth is slightly open, as he stopped mid-chew.

I giggle and sigh, "you don't have to eat so quickly. You've stuffed your cheeks like a squirrel."

"Hmp," he continues to chew and muffles out, "you think you're so clever with that?"

I squint as I watch him swallow so much in one go. He takes another bite of meat.

"Beating up shitheads cost two chickens at least. Why do you think I'm always hungry?"

The notion sounds ridiculous, and yet I knew better than to contest it. In fact, I feel somehow guilty at the thought. I cannot help the chuckle that leaves lips though. I turn to my plate and shake my head, "forgive me. It's not funny."

"Quit it and eat then," he pushes my plate towards me.

He continues to inhale his food and I continue to watch with both parts amusement and concern. I consciously chew slower consequently. That is, until, Riley walks up to our table.

Sandor immediately tenses we he does.

"Are the burly brown horses yours?" Riley asks.

"Why d'ya ask?" the Hound retorts without missing a beat.

"My brother had to move them to another stable. They were too big."

Sandor takes in a breath before responding, "fine… anything else?"

"…"

"…"

"Ehm, my mum told me to tell you that she prepared hot water in the tub in your room."

I smile, "oh, thank you. Please tell Trysha I am grateful for it."

"She probably meant for me to to tell you so that you'd go before it's cold."

"Oh," I look at my plate, "alright, we'll finish up quickly."

"If you like, you could bring it up," Riley offers.

"Oh, we can? That would be splendid," I immediately stand and gather my plate. Sandor stands and grabs the satchels of our stuff from under the table.

"I can help," says Riley, picking up the rest of the plates.

We head up to the second floor and Riley leads us to our room. It's a modest psace with minimal furniture. The tub is in the corner, the water in it steaming. The bed was on the other corner, and beside it was a table with two chairs.

Riley places the plates on the table, so does Sandor, then myself.

"If you need anything, just come down and look for someone to help you," Riley says to me.

I smile and nod, "thank you. We will."

With that, he walks out and I close the door behind him.

"Don't smile at him," says Sandor, coming up behind me to lock the door. I watch him as he walks back the table, sits, and continues to eat.

"Why not?"

"Because he'll fall in love with you."

I snort at the ridiculous notion and walk over to him. I place a hand on his shoulder then turn around. I remove the towel around my shoulders and undo the ties in my hair, "help me, please."

Sandor knowingly undoes my dress.

"I don't think that's how it works."

"…"

"Falling in love, I mean."

Sandor pulls the wet dress off me and grabs me by the hips. He spins me around and looks up at me, "then you've learned nothing, little girl."

I press my lips tightly together as I am rid of my drenched clothing. My husband pulls the sopping dress down to my feet and I step out of it, kicking it aside.

Sandor eyes my body. The shift I still on me was effectively stuck on me with how wet it was. I watch him as he looks at me. My breathing gets heavier as I notice him clench a hand when he leans back on his chair.

I am reminded of my cold I actually was when a shiver runs down my spine and my skin breaks out with gooseflesh. I continue to comb out my hair with my fingers, but do so quicker. I huff in realization, "I won't be able to do my hair as good without Lucy."

The Hound lifts his gaze up and drags his chair closer. He parts his legs and positions me between them. He slowly reaches for the hem of my shift, pushing it up.

My breath hitches.

"Mmm, we should go back home," he mumbles, hand coming in contact with my thigh.

We both hiss at the feel; I, at his heat, him, at my chill. Sandor hisses, "gods, you're freezing."

My toes curl when he rubs my flesh. I lean one hand on his arm and huff, "w-well, I'm wet."

He chuckles, hands hiking up to my waist. I squeak when he drags my smallclothes down and looks up at me, "are you?"

I feel my face burn at his question and find myself pushing him away. I pull my pants up and point a finger, "so are you!"

I hear him laugh as I rush towards the tub. He sighs, "what's gotten into you, pretty squirrel? Don't like it when I'm filthy?"

I bunch my shift up then snap as I turn over my shoulder, "are you getting in, or--"

The sound of a chair skidding fills the room. I hear footsteps, but before I feel him behind me, he stops.

"Actually… I'm a lot grimier than you. You should bathe first."

I turn around and look up at Sandor. He seems to be breathing quickly. I lick my lips and remove my clothes. I feel his stare as he watches me get into the tub. The warmth is so welcomed. I sigh in relief as I scrub myself with my palms.

Sandor walks over and kneels at the side of the tub. His eyes are glued on my legs.

My heart races and I tut him, "no, husband."

He turns to me, "what?"

"We can't do anything tonight."

He stiffens and scowls. Slowly, he becomes dejected, "… is it because I broke those fuckers' bones?"

I whimper at the thought, "gods, Sandor, how many bones did you break?"

"…"

"…"

"… … … not letting me touch you won't fix them…"

I laugh begrudgingly and move towards him, "it's not that," I cup his cheeks, "though I do not encourage you to break bones."

He scowls again, "they're lucky I maimed them and not hung them by their entrails."

"Sandor," I whimper, shaking my head.

He pouts, about as much as Hound could.

I raise my brows.

He sighs, "… forgive me."

I frown, "all is well," I rub his cheeks, "I just don't think it would be proper for us to couple at an inn. That's all."

He is dumbfounded. He stares at me, as if trying to assure whether or not I was joking.

I was not, obviously.

"Fuck," he sighs, "I've forgotten you're a lady. A proper lady."

I furrow my brows at that and continue to wash myself, "one if us has to be."

He chuckles leans on the side of the tub. He watches me as I clean my chest. I feel conscious as I rub my breasts.

"I can help."

"No. You are filthy."

"Rude."

By the time I finish, I ask him to get me a towel and he does. He does not hand it to me however, instead, he opens it up and instructs me to stand. And so I do. I fidget a bit under his hot gaze, especially with how unabashed his eyes rake me over. He wraps me in the towel and plucks me out of the tub.

I squeal as he walks over to the bed. He drops me on the cushion.

"Sandor! I'm wet!" I scold as I quickly crawl off the bed.

He removes his shirt and walks back to the tub, "so you keep telling me."

I glare at him as I wipe myself down. I watch as he strips, turning away when I see his bum. I clear my throat to mask the tingle on my cheeks, as well as my giggle. I few moments later, I hurriedly run off towards our bags to get dressed.

"Don't you dare put on a lick of clothing," Sandor says as he scrubs himself down.

"Sandor," I whine, "I am serious. We cannot-"

The Hound emerges front he tub, dripping wet as he walks towards me. He yanks the towel off me and wipes himself down. I instinctively wrap my arms around myself.

"On the bed," he nods as he wipes his face and chest.

"… d-did you even clean yourself?"

"Clean enough to get dirty with your come, lover."

"Sandor."

He chucks the towel somewhere without looking and forces me back by walking closer. I press my hands on his chest to try and stop him. He hisses and stops, but not for the reason I think.

"You're fucking ice, girl," he grabs my wrists. He rubs my pulse before kissing it. He nods towards the bed, "we have to fix that. On the bed."

"But-"

"Or I'll put your smart mouth to good use."

My heart races as I walk backwards 'til my calves hit the bed. I slowly sit down and scoot up to the middle of the mattress, circling myself into a ball in an attempt to cover myself.

The Hound chuckles as he stalks over, "such coyness from my bride."

My stomach flips when he places a hand on my knee.

"Open up," he mutters, "lest you forget I've fucked you like a bitch in heat before."

I gasp out his name.

He chuckles and says my name, as if to taunt me.

I can hear my pulse in my head. I can also feel it sharply between my thighs.

"I've tainted your innocence far too much for you to act shocked," he says under his breath. "Now, on your knees."

I gulp. I feel my breathing shorten as Sandor takes his hand off me, only to grab his hardening length. I make a sound as I catch him stroking himself, pressing his thumb on his tip. I slowly shift on my knees. I prop myself on my arms and bite my lip in both agitation and expectation.

Sandor doesn't waste any time in climbing behind me. I shudder when he grabs both sides of my arse and slowly squeezes them.

I whimper when he releases me with a laugh. I whimper louder when I feel his fingers touch my center. My body tingles when he rubs my slick folds.

"Well, well, well, you are wet."

"Sandor."

"D'ya like being called a bitch?"

I make a visceral sound when he fidgets with my clit.

"Mmm, my bitch?"

My arms begin to give out as his two fingers pump shallowly into me. I groan into the sheets and arch my back. My hips involuntarily buck against him.

He hisses and grabs my hair. He clamps on my roots and tugs slightly, "that's a question I need an answer to."

I whine and push myself up again after he releases my hair and ends his prodding. I catch my breath and press my forehead on the mattress. I breathlessly reply, "I-I… yes."

Sandor moans in satisfaction and grabs my hips.

We both let out strangled groans as he mounts me. He slowly thrusts and kneads the flesh on my sides, "good girl."

His words ignite a spark in my belly. My toes curl. I clench around him. He hisses.

He moans as he quickens his pace. He deeply plunges into me one, only to stop himself and barely move at all. He releases as shaky breath, "d-does my good girl need to be bred like a bitch?"

My voice gets louder when each rut of his hips get rougher. I lean down and release my lewd noises into the sheets.

"No," my husband growls, grabbing me by the hair again, "I need to hear you. I need all of them to hear how I take my wife."

With his reminder, that we were fucking in an inn, I tense and try to muffle my sounds, "n-no- f-fuck, Sandor-" I let out a sharp cry when he rubs my clit.

He releases my hair and grabs my hip, "ooooh," he coos, "think you have a choice, do ya?"

Against myself, I make noises that are louder than I'd like. I still muffle them as much as I could but it becomes hopeless as I grow breathless.

Sandor heaves like a bull plowing through dirt. He cusses, louder and faster as he chases his rising high. The sound of his thrusts fill my ears. The wet slaps are so powerful and lewd I can only hope it was still raining outside. I feel my thighs begin to falter as the promise of hot release coils in my belly.

I choke on my spit when I come. My throat is hoarse by the time I do. I am completely limp as Sandor uses me to pleasure himself. My belly shivers. My thighs barely do any work of keeping me up. He slaps his hips into me roughly, desperate and erratic. He finally comes to a halt after a guttural grunt.

I feel my cunt flutter and clench on his cock. I feel warmth cascade in my belly. I squeak when he rubs my clit. He laughs, as if wanting that reaction.

I whine as he slowly pulls away.

"Fuck," he hisses. His hands are the only things keeping my body hoisted up.

I shiver as I feel his come drip out of my swollen cunt. I shakily whine.

"Oh, fuck," he says again, mind wild at the sight of his come leaking out.

I wince loudly when he plunges his fingers into my whole. I twitch, eyes watering at the oversensitivity, "S-San-"

"As beautiful as your cunny looks leaking with my come," he hums.

I whimper and trembles as he pumps in and out of me a few times.

"I'd rather knock you up now, so we don't have to fucking go to Volantis."

"Sandor."

"Mmm? You need to lie down?"

I slowly look to him, but squeak instead when he turns me over. He pulls his fingers out of me as to get me on my back, and I immediately feel come gush out.

He checks my thighs and clicks his tongue disapprovingly, pushing his fingers back in. He then crawls up to my side and kisses my shoulder. He grabs one of the pillows and tucks it by my bum. He slowly pulls out and rubs my belly, "that should do."

I grab his hand just as he's about to moves away. He freezes, looking at me in expectation.

My eyes begin to water at a memory of a similar scene, "the last time you did this, you left me alone…"

Sandor is struck with the realization, "… oh…"

I scratch my eyes to mask the twinge of the memory.

"I just want to clean you up, my lady."

I release his hand. A pit of dread forms in my stomach but I manage to nod, "alright."

Sandor stands and does just that. He wipes me down with a towel and even helps me get dressed into my nightgown. He bashfully asks me if he can finish his meal and by then, my dread is gone. I chuckle softly and, allowing him to do as he pleases.

Still undressed, he seats himself on the table.

"Wait, shouldn't you wash-"

Sandor eats his chicken with little care for what I have to say.

"San-"

"I love pussy flavored chicken."

[gliphyartfan]

@yanderelinkeduniverse @stars-for-thought @imprisioned-in-the-hole @screaming-until-god-hears-me @crestfallenmermaidan @ice-cream-writes-stuff @linked-heroes @eternadreeblissa

Another rewrite! …Why do I focus on rewrites?

Because I refuse to accept my earlier works as my standard when I KNOW they could be better. 😀

So enjoy!

Which bit is this rewrite? The Wedding bit!

I am PROUD to say! I have made absolutely sure the the victim of the chain’s anger was written to be as hatable as I could make them! And hopefully I made their fate worse than the original bit! I did my best to finally bring the vision in my head into my writing properly!

(….i need to learn how to make a master list for all my writing 😀)

….

…(I also need to start working on some asks…)

…(meh, later)

Enjoy my pretties!

—————

—————

‘I’ll be fine, guys!’

She totally should have seen this coming.

‘It’s Wars’ era; wandering the market alone won’t be that bad.’

The thought felt almost laughable now. These past few days had been way too calm for all of them.

‘I’ll be gone for an hour! Two hours tops! Promise!’

Of course, something like this had to happen.

Now she was dangling from a makeshift rope made of torn bedsheets, trying to escape through the window of a room she had been trapped in.

‘This. fucking. sucks!’

This is what happens when you jinx yourself. Everything had been fine; no, more than fine, for the first hour.

She’d browsed the market, admired some trinkets, and even petted a few dogs. That had been nice.

But by the second hour...

‘His Grace wishes to discuss some things with you.’

‘Sorry, I’m… flattered, but you got the wrong person. Besides, I don’t feel comfortable—’

‘That wasn’t a request.’

‘...What—?’

She should have known. There had been someone behind her, there always is. It’s when your guard is down that they strike.

And now she was halfway down a rope made of sheets, escaping a wedding she didn’t agree to, running from a Duke who thought he could just claim her.

‘I’m going to get lectured so badly after this!’ she muttered under her breath as she inched down the rope. She could already hear Time’s exasperated sigh, and Wild’s concerned scolding for sneaking off. Warriors would probably be furious that she hadn’t told him where she was going.

‘I’m not even a hero, dammit! I didn’t sign up for this kind of thing!’

Her feet dangled a few feet off the ground as she debated how to drop without making too much noise or hurting herself.

‘Damn you, laws of physics and gravity!’ she hissed.

As if the laws wanted to mock her, the knot at the top of the rope loosened, sending her plummeting into the bushes below.

‘Urk—branch! Branch!’ she winced, reaching behind her to pull a sharp stick out of her back, rubbing the area sorely. The bedsheet rope draped over her head like some absurd veil, and she tossed it aside with an irritated grunt.

She checked her hands quickly, no blood, thank god. But before she could plan her next move, she froze. Heavy thuds of metal clanked through the air.

Guards.

Her heart pounded as she ducked lower into the bushes, her breath catching in her throat. Peering through the leaves, she confirmed her worst fear: the guards were making their rounds, and judging by their armor, they weren’t from Hyrule.

‘Shit.’

She held her breath as they neared her hiding spot.

"Is the Duke really gonna marry that girl?" one of the guards asked, his tone casual, as if they were discussing the weather.

"Seems to be the case. He’s been real pleased with himself too. Wants the wedding done the moment we reach back home, from what I’ve heard. Wants to immediately leave after the peace talks in a week.”

A week? (y/n) bit her lip to keep from gasping aloud. This was worse than she thought. She didn’t have much time.

"Not surprised. Have you seen her? Bet he’s eager for the wedding night, if you catch my drift."

Laughter followed, and her stomach twisted in disgust. She grit her teeth, fury bubbling up in her chest.

"A beauty like that for a wife would sure boost his status. Shame I didn’t find her first.”

His companion laughed, “I hear you.”

Her fingers curled into fists. She wanted nothing more than to leap from the bushes and smack them both across the face. The idea of someone, anyone, talking about her like that...

But it wasn’t just that. The humiliation, the fear—they thought they could just control her, that they could strip away her autonomy like it meant nothing.

The guards passed by her hiding spot, oblivious to the glare she shot their way through the leaves.

Just keep walking, she thought darkly, gripping her dress to keep her emotions in check.

Once the guards were a safe distance away, she slowly exhaled and took stock of her situation. The good news? She wasn’t caught yet. The bad news? She was wearing a dress that restricted her movement and heels she could barely walk in, let alone run.

‘Great. Just great,’ she muttered under her breath, tugging the damn heels off and tossing them aside.

‘Can’t run or climb in these anyway,’ she thought, feeling slightly better as the cool ground met her bare feet.

Looking down at her dress, she felt a new surge of frustration. It was beautiful, kinda, sure, but that was the problem. She hadn’t picked it. It wasn’t for her—it was for the Duke, a symbol of control.

‘I need to get out of here. Now.’

She bit her lip, trying to decide what to do next. She could try to find a disguise, or maybe just rip the dress enough to give herself more mobility. The exit was close, but it would take some clever maneuvering to avoid getting caught.

‘Focus, (Y/N), focus,’ she told herself, peeking out from the bushes again.

This was not how she imagined today going. And the thought of the others being worried sick made her stomach churn with guilt. They would be searching for her by now, maybe even panicking.

‘I am never living this down,’ she groaned internally, her frustration mounting. The more she thought about the situation, the more aggravated she became.

Being kidnapped, forced into a ridiculous wedding dress, leered at by guards, this was just too much.

‘But I’m getting out of here. One way or another.’

With a deep breath, she picked up her dress, tore off a few layers of fabric, and quietly slipped out of the bushes. Time to make her move.

——

——

“WHERE. IS. SHE?!”

“Link, please—”

“Don’t tell me to calm down, Zelda!” Warriors snarled, his voice trembling with rage as he stormed forward, his eyes wild. The way he moved had Wind biting his lip, already feeling the tension in the air thickening. This was going to explode, and soon.

Impa had barely finished giving her report when Warriors marched right up to the princess, standing toe to toe with her, his eyes burning with fury.

“Impa’s men are searching every inch of the castle and surrounding areas,” Zelda said steadily, though even Wind could tell she was rattled by the look in Warriors’ eyes. “We will find her.”

“It's been nearly a MONTH, and you have nothing to show for it!” Warriors’ voice cracked. His hand shot to his hair, raking it back, his knuckles white as if he were holding back from drawing his sword. “You’ve wasted time playing politics, while she’s, while she’s out there., who knows where!”

Zelda took a step back, her expression tightening, but her voice held firm. “You know I’ve been working day and night with—”

“The Grand Duke of the overseas kingdom, here to ‘promote peace and unity,’” Warriors spat the words like poison. “Oh, yes, VERY important while someone has gone missing under the ‘watchful eye’ of your men!” His voice was sharp and cutting, each word like a knife thrown in Zelda’s direction.

Wind shot a glance at Hyrule. He didn’t need to say anything. Hyrule’s wide eyes said it all, this was spiraling fast.

“My men?” Zelda’s voice dropped to a dangerous level, but her tone was ice. “I’ve had every guard in the city searching. We've blocked every gate, checked every exit, questioned every merchant. Don’t forget, these are your men too, Captain.”

Warriors’ eyes narrowed into slits. “Apparently not anymore. You’ve got them running errands and playing security for your little peace talks. I’m ashamed to call them my men at this point.”

“Excuse me?!” Zelda’s voice rose, her royal authority barely masking the fury underneath. Wind could practically feel the temperature in the room drop, and for a second, he wondered if they were about to witness something they couldn’t come back from.

“Warriors, cool it,” Wind whispered under his breath, knowing it was useless. When Warriors got like this, there was no reasoning with him.

“Your priorities have been clear from the start, haven’t they, Princess?” Warriors wasn’t backing down, his voice low and venomous. “The Duke arrives, and suddenly, the focus is all on making him comfortable, while she’s been gone for 3 weeks—three weeks—and what have you done? Talked?”

“Don’t you DARE.” Zelda’s voice snapped like a whip. “You think I want her to be missing? I’ve had every resource at my disposal searching for her, but this city is massive, and the Duke—”

“Oh, yes, the Duke!” Warriors threw his arms up in the air, pacing like a caged animal. “I wouldn’t even be hounding you so much if you’d just let me search his quarters! But no, ‘he’s a guest,’ you said. ‘He has nothing to do with it,’ you said. How do you know that, Zelda? How?”

“Because I do! I have been keeping an eye on him—”

“You mean distracting him while we scramble to find her? If he’s behind this, if anything’s happened to her because you—”

Zelda’s expression turned murderous. “How DARE you accuse me of not caring—”

“I'm not accusing you of not caring, Princess.” Warriors cut her off, his voice now trembling with the force of his frustration. “But I am accusing you of negligence. Letting him walk around while she—”

Zelda stepped forward, eyes blazing. “You think you’re the only one who’s worried, Warriors? You think I haven’t thought of every possible angle, every possible move that could have been made? But you cannot just accuse a royal guest without evidence! If I grant you access to his quarters without cause, it’s war!”

“As if our era isn’t already used to war!”

“War is what I am trying to prevent from happening again!”

For a moment, Warriors' hand twitched toward his sword. Wind saw it, Hyrule saw it, but Zelda seemed oblivious to how close he was to losing control. His entire body was tense, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.

Wind glanced at Hyrule, who was nervously twisting his hands, but there was a glint of determination in his eyes. Wind felt it too. Enough was enough.

“This is going nowhere,” Hyrule muttered, leaning toward Wind. “We need to do something, or they’ll be at each other’s throats.”

Wind nodded, already hatching a plan. “Twilight’s got Wolfie searching, right?”

“Yeah,” Hyrule whispered back. “But the storm’s making it difficult.”

“And Time, Wild, and Legend?”

“They’re talking with the merchants. Four and Sky are questioning the guards.”

Wind bit back a groan. They were running out of leads, but there was one place they hadn’t checked, somewhere they weren’t allowed to check. Wind’s gaze slid toward the guest wing. “You thinking what I’m thinking?”

Hyrule nodded grimly. “We’ve gotta sneak in. It’s better than standing here listening to this.”

Wind let out a sigh, straightening up. “Right. I’ll distract the walking volcano.”

He stepped forward. “Wars!” His voice was calm, but commanding enough to cut through the escalating argument.

Warriors spun around, his eyes still blazing with frustration. “What?!”

“Hyrule’s got a lead. I’m heading out with him to check it.”

For a moment, Warriors just stared at him, fists clenched, his body still taut with anger. Wind kept his face casual, but held the captain’s gaze in a way only a fellow hero could have, willing him to stand down.

After what felt like an eternity, Warriors grunted, then turned back to Zelda, still seething, but slightly less dangerous than before.

Wind shot Hyrule a look. “Let’s go.”

They slipped out of the room, leaving the arguing pair behind. Hyrule sighed in relief. “That was close.”

Wind nodded, shaking out the tension in his shoulders. “Too close. Impa’s still scouring the marketplace, right?”

Hyrule nodded as they moved quickly toward the guest wing. “Yeah, but she’ll be too focused there to notice us slipping in here.”

“Good,” Wind muttered, steeling himself. “Let’s get this done.”

They hurried down the hall, the sounds of the heated discussion echoing behind them, hearts pounding but minds set, knowing they were racing against the clock to find their missing beloved, and possibly uncover a truth that no one wanted to admit.

——

——

——

Time leaned against the wall of a rundown building, the crumbling stone cold beneath his back as the narrow alleyway closed in around them. The shadows made it hard to tell the time of day, but the stench of rot, dirt, and stale air was unmistakable. In front of him, Wild stood with a scowl, roughly shoving a folded cloth into his hand.

“Stubborn fools,” Wild bit out, glaring toward the darkened streets ahead. “You ask them a simple question, and they act like you’re pulling their teeth.”

Time pressed the cloth to his cheek, wincing as the pressure stung. He pulled it away for a moment to check. Blood. Still fresh. A tsk was heard, he glanced over at Legend who looked at him with a sidelong smirk. “Getting hit by a weakling like that,” he said, shaking his head. “You must be getting rusty.”

Time shot him a dirty look. “I wouldn’t have gotten hit if you hadn’t been so focused on asking your questions that you didn’t see him pull out that hammer. Perhaps you’re the one getting rusty.”

Legend scoffed, “The hell I am. Some people are too stupid to know their limits. Not my fault they sucker-punched you while you were distracted.”

Time grunted, pressing the cloth back to the cut. The blood slowed, but it was a stark reminder of how close they’d been to losing control. It had been days of dead ends, and the longer they searched, the more tempers flared. People were scared, angry, and keeping secrets.

The sound of padded footsteps caught their attention, and Time looked up as Wolfie approached, his muzzle stained with mud and his fur drenched from the storm. The wolf shifted as he neared, and in a blink, Twilight stood before them, frustration carved deep into his face.

“Nothing,” Twilight growled, running a hand through his wet hair. “Even if the Storm hadn’t washed out everything. It’s been weeks. No new scents, no leads. It’s like she vanished into thin air.”

Wild kicked at a piece of loose stone on the ground, sending it skittering across the alleyway. “Great. That’s just perfect.”

The group stood in silence for a moment, the weight of their failed efforts heavy in the damp air. The marketplace had turned up nothing. The guards had been tight-lipped, either clueless or too scared to say anything useful.

“We’re being played,” Legend finally muttered, leaning his back against the wall beside Time. “That tip from the merchant was too clean, too neat. Someone’s feeding us false information.”

Twilight growled low in his throat. “I knew it felt off. The bastard probably got paid to lead us in circles.”

Time wiped at the blood on his cheek and frowned. “Whoever it is, they know more than they’re letting on. And someone’s paying them well enough to stay quiet.”

“Or scared enough,” Wild added darkly, his arms crossing over his chest. “Could be either. Doesn’t matter though. They’ll slip up eventually.”

Twilight’s jaw clenched, his eyes burning with frustration. “They think they can play us for fools. That we’ll just chase shadows while she’s...”

He trailed off, unable to finish, his hands curling into fists.

“We’ll get to the bottom of it,” Time said, though even he couldn’t deny the bleakness creeping into his voice. “Whoever’s pulling the strings is leaving a trail. We just need to find it before it disappears.”

They stood for a moment longer, the only sound the faint moans of pain coming from deeper within the building they’d just left. The stench of blood still lingered in the air, mingling with the sourness of sweat and dirt.

Wild pushed off the wall first, his footsteps echoing in the alleyway. “We’ve wasted enough time. Let’s move.”

Time glanced back at the building, frowning at the fading sounds from inside. The man they’d questioned wouldn’t be giving them any more trouble, but he hadn’t given them anything useful either. The city was vast, and their enemies were hiding in the cracks, pulling the strings while they ran themselves ragged.

As they left the alley behind, the oppressive stench of blood and muffled groans were swallowed by the shadows

—-

—-

—-

(Y/n) crouched behind a large tapestry in the dimly lit room, her heart hammering in her chest. The cold stone floor beneath her did nothing to calm the fire of rage simmering in her veins. She hadn’t realized so much time he passed since that foreign Duke abducted her.

She felt sick to realize she had been been missing for nearly a month, dragged into the, apparently restricted at the Duke’s request, guest wing of the castle, and now she was overhearing the very man responsible for it all.

The Duke.

His voice, low and venomous, echoed through the halls. “Find her!” he hissed to his guards, pacing back and forth. “I don’t care how many walls you need to tear down or how many peasants you need to question. That woman is mine. Her disappearance is an embarrassment I will not tolerate!”

(Y/n) squeezed her eyes shut, bile rising in her throat. She clutched her knees tightly to her chest, pressing herself further into the shadows behind the tapestry, trying to silence the sound of her frantic breathing.

“She will elevate my status beyond anything the nobles back home could dream of,” the Duke continued, his tone sickeningly triumphant. “Marrying such an exotic woman… the people here may be uncivilized and backward, but even they will recognize my superiority when I present her at my side.”

(Y/n)’s fists clenched as she listened. The disdain in his voice made her stomach churn. His words were dripping with arrogance, each syllable laced with contempt for the people of Hyrule.

“Pathetic, really,” the Duke sneered, his voice closer now, as though he were pacing just on the other side of the wall. “These Hylians and their so-called ‘heroes.’ They cling to outdated traditions and backward social norms, to so wholly believe in these ridiculous goddesses. Blind to what true civilization looks like. But they’ll see. They’ll all see.”

He paused, and (Y/n) could hear the faint rustle of fabric as he leaned closer to one of his guards. His voice lowered to a sinister whisper, though it was no less venomous. “Once I marry her, I’ll have the favor of the famed heroes of this kingdom. They seemed so attached to her. They’ll vouch for me, earn the favor of our king, and I’ll be able to solidify my control here. No one would dare defy me once I have their backing.”

He laughed softly, the sound sending a shiver of disgust down her spine. “Hyrule will fall into line, and I’ll rise even further back home. No one will question my power once they see the heroes standing by my side.”

The guards murmured in agreement, and the Duke continued. “And if she resists, well…” He chuckled darkly. “She’ll learn her place soon enough. A wife should know how to serve her husband. She’ll be disciplined into obedience, whether she likes it or not.”

(Y/n) bit her lip so hard she tasted blood, doing everything she could to remain in control. Her body trembled with barely contained fury and disgust, but she couldn’t let it out. Not now. Not when she was so close to being found.

She forced herself to take shallow breaths, her chest rising and falling slowly as she tried to quiet the storm inside her. The Duke’s voice grated on her nerves, but she couldn’t afford to lose control now. Her survival depended on staying hidden.

Another guard spoke, their voice muffled but stern. The Duke scoffed. “I don’t care what it takes. I’ll have her found, and Hyrule will learn to bow to our superior kingdom soon enough.”

Her nails dug into her palms, her skin protesting the tightness of her grip as she squeezed her eyes shut even harder.

The thought of him dragging her away from everyone she knew, to force her in front of a foreign kingdom, of forcing her into a marriage for his gain, revolted her to her very core.

She could feel the burn of anger deep inside her, but she had to stay silent. She had to stay hidden.

Breathing in deeply through her nose and letting it out in controlled, quiet exhales, (Y/n) focused on calming her body, no matter how much her mind screamed at her to lash out, to fight. Her legs cramped painfully, but she didn’t dare shift, didn’t dare move a single muscle.

For now, she had to remain in the shadows. She had to wait for the right moment, to find a way out.

And when she did, she swore to herself, there would be hell to pay.

——-

——

——-

Warriors paced back and forth in the small side room, his steps quick and agitated, his breath heavy with frustration. The conversation with Zelda had spiraled out of control, ending with the princess sternly reminding him that under no circumstances was he to storm the guest wing. Not now. Not while she was still in delicate talks with the Duke.

He gritted his teeth, hands clenched into fists at his sides. She had dismissed him, brushed off his suspicions like they were nothing. But he knew. He knew that bastard Duke had something to do with it. His gut screamed at him, instincts honed from years on the battlefield, sharpened by countless encounters with deceit and betrayal.

The Duke had been eyeing (Y/n) from the moment Zelda had introduced the group to him. His gaze lingered too long, and his smile, that polished, slimy smile, barely hid the hunger behind his eyes. Every time the Duke spoke, he oozed charm, but Warriors had seen men like him before,!self-serving, arrogant, and dangerous in their subtlety.

But it was the way he pretended to be concerned for her that sent a pulse of fury through him. The Duke’s false words still echoed in Warriors’ mind, “I do hope the young lady is found safe and sound. Such a terrible thing to happen during such a peaceful visit.”

The image of the Duke’s fake sympathetic expression, his carefully rehearsed tone, made Warriors feel sick. He had to bite back the urge to lash out right then and there.

Safe and sound? No, that man didn’t care about her safety. He was only worried about his damned political games.

Warriors could feel the murderous thoughts bubbling up inside him, thoughts he was struggling to push down. If the Duke had any hand in (Y/n)’s disappearance... He didn’t need a sword to end the man’s life. No, he could already picture it—the Duke’s smug face contorting in pain, Warriors’ hands around his throat as he squeezed the life out of him. Slowly. He would take his time, watching as the fear bloomed in the man’s eyes. Watching as he realized he had made a fatal mistake.

The thought should have disturbed him, but it didn’t. Not anymore. The rage that had been boiling beneath the surface for the past week had numbed everything else. (Y/n) was out there, somewhere, possibly in danger, and this bastard was pretending like he had nothing to do with it.

Warriors' hands shook, not with fear, but with the barely restrained need to act, to do something. He couldn't stand it. But storming into the guest wing now, or throttling the Duke on the spot, wouldn't help. Not yet. He was under too much scrutiny, with Zelda and her royal guards watching every move.

No, he couldn’t move about as freely as he wanted, couldn’t act on his anger just yet. But he could keep the attention off the others. Time, Twilight, Wind—they were moving, searching, following their own leads. Warriors had to buy them time. He had to make sure no one started questioning where they were.

Taking a deep breath, he straightened his back, forcing himself to regain control. The weight of his responsibility settled on his shoulders as he smoothed out his expression, wiping away the fury that threatened to break free. He couldn’t let it show. Not now.

He strode out of the room with purpose, his steps firm, but his mind already planning. If he couldn’t act against the Duke now, he could make sure that Zelda and Impa were too occupied to interfere. Keep them focused elsewhere. Keep the palace guards looking in the wrong places, while the others moved unseen.

First, he needed to find Impa. She had returned recently to report on the search efforts, and Warriors would make sure she and Zelda were kept busy—too busy to start questioning any absences.

If the Duke thought he could play games with them, he was dead wrong. And Warriors would make sure he didn’t get the chance to cover his tracks.

As he marched through the hallways, the image of (Y/n)’s smile flashed in his mind, followed by the overwhelming need to protect her, to find her before it was too late. He clenched his fists once more, his steps becoming more determined.

The Duke would regret ever laying eyes on her. And when the time came, Warriors would make sure of it.

——

—-

——-

Hyrule and Wind crouched in the shadow of a towering stone column, the cool night air of the guest wing stirring their cloaks. The guest wing of the castle, though technically part of the larger palace, felt worlds away from where the rest of the group and Zelda were. It was isolated, built for convenience but also privacy, which was exactly why they were there.

Beyond their hiding spot, Hylian guards patrolled the outer perimeter, their footsteps echoing softly on the stone paths. But inside the wing, the Duke’s personal guards were everywhere, pacing, watching, alert as if they were expecting something. Or worse, as if they were trying to hide something.

Wind’s voice was barely a whisper in the dark. "Why would someone have this many guards searching around like this unless they were hiding something?"

Hyrule pressed his back against the stone, eyes following the movement of two guards passing dangerously close to their position. "No one posts this many men unless they’re nervous about someone finding something," he murmured. “Definitely suspicious.”

They both waited in silence until the guards passed. Wind’s eyes darted from one end of the hallway to the other, clearly trying to figure out their next move. "Where do we start?” he asked, leaning closer to Hyrule. “The top floors? Bottom? If we go high, we can look for anything that might give us a view of what’s going on down here."

Hyrule nodded, biting his lip in thought. "But if there’s something they’re hiding, it’s probably hidden deep, right? Somewhere they think no one will look. We could start with the bottom floors—"

“Or they could be keeping something valuable up top,” Wind interrupted, eyes scanning the darkened windows of the upper floors.

A pause settled between them. Hyrule considered it before sighing, "Top floors, then. They’d expect someone to look below first."

With a shared glance, they crept through the shadows and made their way into the guest wing building, sneaking past the Hylian guards outside and slipping in through a side entrance. Inside, the hallway stretched ahead of them, dimly lit by the occasional torch, with a lavishness that was a stark contrast to the rest of the palace.

They slunk through the corridor, sticking close to the walls, their footsteps light and barely a whisper. At each corner, Wind would glance around, his instincts as sharp as ever, while Hyrule kept an eye out for anything out of place.

They climbed the stairs slowly, cautious not to draw any attention. Several doors lined the upper floor hallway, each one a possible lead, but they couldn’t afford to waste time searching them all. Time was precious. As they moved deeper into the guest wing, a sense of tension hung in the air, thick and suffocating.

Eventually, they found themselves in front of a door far more ornate than the others. Wind raised an eyebrow at Hyrule, and with a small nod, they slipped inside.

The room was richly decorated, luxurious rugs, heavy drapes, and expensive looking furniture. It was clear that this room belonged to someone of high importance.

“Where the Duke’s staying,” Hyrule whispered, eyes narrowing.

They began searching, carefully and quickly rifling through the drawers and shelves. Papers, documents, most of which Wind couldn’t make sense of. But as he sifted through a pile of letters, he paused, squinting at one.

"I can’t read this language," Wind muttered, his fingers tracing over the unfamiliar text. "But I’d recognize (Y/n)’s name anywhere."

Hyrule stepped closer, peering over his shoulder. “That’s her name, alright,” he confirmed, eyes hardening. “We need to keep these. Evidence."

Wind didn’t need to be told twice. He quickly tucked the letters into his tunic before they continued their search, digging through more documents and looking for anything that might give them a clue.

But just as Wind was opening another drawer, Hyrule’s ears twitched. He froze, his eyes widening. “Something’s wrong,” he whispered. “The guards... they’re getting louder.”

Wind straightened, his attention shifting to the noises outside. The once steady pace of the guards had turned frantic, footsteps quickened, orders barked in hushed tones. The two exchanged a look. They didn’t need to say anything; they both knew what it meant.

“They’re onto us,” Hyrule whispered.

Wind gritted his teeth. "We need to get out of here."

Without another word, they slipped back out of the Duke’s room, their movements fast and silent as they retraced their steps. But as they neared the exit, Wind suddenly skidded to a stop, his sharp intake of breath making Hyrule nearly crash into him.

“What?” Hyrule whisper-yelled, his voice barely above a breath. “What is it?”

Wind didn’t answer right away. His eyes were fixed on something, a frown pulling at his lips. "I saw something," he muttered, his voice distant. He turned on his heel and bolted toward a door down the hall, leaving Hyrule no choice but to chase after him.

“Wind!” Hyrule hissed, following close behind. But Wind didn’t go far. He stopped abruptly at the door, his expression hard as he pressed his hand against it.

Hyrule caught up, his heart racing. "What are you doing?"

Wind’s frown deepened as he tested the handle. It didn’t budge. The door was locked tight, and it felt... wrong. He pressed his palm flat against the wood, eyes narrowing in concentration. “I... swore I saw something. Or heard it,” he muttered, shaking his head in frustration. For a moment, he seemed to contemplate something, his brows furrowing.

But then, he shook it off. "We should leave. Now."

Hyrule opened his mouth to argue but stopped himself, sensing the urgency in Wind’s tone. With a reluctant nod, they turned and made their way back toward their exit.

.

.

.

.

Behind the door, muffled by its heavy wood, several guards stood holding it shut, their grips tight and faces tense. Inside, several more restrained a struggling figure, (Y/n), her body thrashing against their iron holds. One of the guards kept his hand clamped over her mouth, silencing her desperate attempts to scream.

Once they were sure the intruders had gone, one of the guards pressed his ear to the door. "They’re gone," he whispered.

The leader of the group turned to his men, his eyes cold. “Good. Bring her to the Duke. Now.”

(Y/n) screamed into the guard’s hand, her eyes wide with panic, but her cries were swallowed by the oppressive silence of the corridor. She kicked and fought, refusing to go down without a fight, but her captors held her fast, dragging her out of the room and down the dimly lit hallway.

The castle’s walls echoed with her muffled struggles, but no one came to her aid. No one heard her, save for the men who would deliver her to the one person she wanted nothing to do with the most.

——

——-

Warriors stood across from Zelda, his posture rigid, his hands clenched tightly behind his back. His voice was low, firm, barely restrained. "Either you help me find her," he began, each word deliberate, "or when we do find her—and we will—you will face immense shame for doubting me."

Zelda, sitting behind her desk, kept her gaze locked with his. Her expression was calm, but there was tension in her shoulders. "Captain," she said, her voice equally measured, "I am deeply concerned for (Y/n), more than you know. But I cannot, will not, risk instigating a war with the foreign kingdom over one person. As important as she is, and believe me, she is, I must think of my people, of the kingdom."

Warriors’ jaw tightened, biting back the retort that sprang to his mind. It wouldn’t be the first time someone had risked everything for a single person. He thought bitterly of Cia and the war of eras she had unleashed in her misguided obsession. But he didn’t say it. Instead, he took a breath, forcing the words down.

"One more time, Princess," he warned, his blue eyes locking with hers, cold and unwavering. "This Duke is hiding something, and you're blinded by your duty. When the truth comes out, and it will, you will regret not trusting me." His voice dropped even lower, carrying a dangerous edge.

Zelda remained composed, but her fingers curled slightly where they rested on the desk. Though her face showed nothing, Warriors could see the subtle shift in her stance, the way her body tensed as if bracing for the weight of his words. He had struck a nerve, even if she refused to show it.

Her reply was steady. "I cannot be reckless, Captain. You know that."

For a moment, neither spoke. The silence between them was heavy, filled with unspoken tension. Warriors stared at her for a long beat, then turned sharply on his heel, leaving the room without another word. His strides were quick and purposeful, but his mind was anything but calm. He moved through the halls in silence, his footsteps echoing in the vast corridors of the castle.

When he reached his room, he leaned against the door after closing it behind him. A heavy sigh escaped him as he closed his eyes, letting the tension drain from his body. But the relief was fleeting. His mind raced, his thoughts a storm of anger, worry, and frustration.

The room was quiet, too quiet. For a moment, he let himself stand there in the stillness, his heart pounding. Then, there was a faint sound—shuffling, the softest of movements.

His eyes snapped open.

---

(Y/n) hit the ground hard, pain radiating from her cheek where the Duke’s hand had struck her. She winced, one hand flying up to clutch the stinging skin, her fingers trembling. The world tilted for a moment, her vision swimming as she tried to gather herself.

The Duke loomed above her, his face twisted with fury, his eyes dark with something far more sinister than mere anger. "You stupid, insolent girl," he spat, his voice venomous. "Do you have any idea what you’ve cost me? Do you even realize how much trouble you’re in?"

(Y/n) didn’t answer. Her cheek burned, and her body felt heavy from the struggle against the guards. She managed to push herself up slightly, her eyes filled with defiance despite the pain.

The Duke’s lip curled in disgust as he glared down at her. "You’ve been nothing but a thorn in my side since your group arrived." He stepped closer, towering over her. "But don’t worry. I’ll make sure you understand your place soon enough."

(Y/n) glared up at him, refusing to cower. Her heart pounded in her chest, but she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her fear. She bit the inside of her cheek, trying to stay focused, trying to think of a way out of this.

"You won’t get away with this," she muttered, her voice hoarse.

The Duke laughed, a cold, cruel sound. "Oh, I already have."

The Duke's lips curled into a sickening smile, one he likely thought was charming, as he crouched down to meet (Y/n)’s gaze. His tone, dripping with mockery and condescension, was meant to sound sweet, gentle, almost affectionate. But the cruelty underneath it was unmistakable.

"Oh, my dear," he cooed, as though comforting a child, "you really don’t understand the opportunity you’ve been given, do you? The honor of becoming my wife? The status you’ll gain. Not just in this kingdom , but in my kingdom as well. You’ll be revered, admired by all. The people will look up to you as a noblewoman, married to someone of true importance." His smile widened as he stood, straightening his clothes with a casual air. "You’ll settle down once you return home with me. All of this fighting, this rebellion... it’s unbecoming. But it’s cute. You’ll learn soon enough that your place is by my side."

(Y/n)’s chest heaved with a mixture of rage and disgust, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. His words were vile, each one dripping with misogyny and entitlement, and she couldn’t hold back the sharp retort that burst from her. "I see right through you," she snapped, her voice laced with fury. "You’re pathetic. You have to resort to underhanded tricks to rise in status because you know you’ll never be anything on your own." She met his eyes, her glare defiant. "You think marrying me will get the heroes to vouch for you, don’t you? That somehow being tied to me will give you an edge, make you seem important. But they’ll see you for the snake you are."

The Duke’s face twisted in anger, his hand snapping up as though to strike her again, but (Y/n) didn’t flinch. Instead, she let out a bitter, sarcastic laugh, staring him down with a smirk. "Go ahead," she taunted. "Raise your hand again. But remember, no one wants a bruised bride, do they? It doesn’t matter what you do to me, Duke," she spat his title like a curse, "I’ll make sure everyone knows what kind of monster you are. Touch me again, and I’ll scream it from the rooftops."

For a moment, the Duke froze, his hand hovering in the air, his face a mask of fury. Then, slowly, he lowered it, his eyes narrowing into slits. "You little harlot," he hissed, his voice trembling with rage. "You dare speak to me like that?"

(Y/n) met his gaze, unyielding, even as her heart pounded in her chest.

"The talks with your pathetic princess are nearly over," he said, his voice regaining its cold, calculating tone. "And once they are, you will leave with me. There is no escape. You’ll be mine, whether you like it or not. As for your little group of so-called heroes..." He smirked cruelly. "Perhaps I’ll let them write to you, if they remain useful to me. But don’t get your hopes up."

He turned to leave but paused at the door, casting one more look over his shoulder. "And don’t even think about tearing your gown again. It’ll be remade, and if you ruin it once more..." His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper. "There will be consequences."

The door slammed shut behind him, leaving (Y/n) alone in the cold, suffocating silence.

As soon as he was gone, the fury and frustration she had been holding back erupted. A scream tore through her clenched teeth, her entire body trembling with rage. Tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision as she pressed her palms to the stone floor, her nails digging into the cracks.

She wanted to punch him. To knock that smug, arrogant smile off his face and make him feel the pain he’d caused her.

Her hand drifted to her cheek, the skin still stinging from where he’d struck her. The tears finally spilled over, and she sniffled, trying to hold back the sobs that threatened to escape.

She wanted to be back with the others, where she was safe, where she didn’t have to endure this nightmare. Where she could hear their voices, their laughter, and feel the comfort of their presence.

——

——

——

The Chain moved differently now, more focused, deliberate. Their usual camaraderie was muted, their laughter and conversations replaced by an eerie silence that cloaked them like a shadow. They no longer exchanged pleasantries with Zelda or Impa, nor did they speak to any of the royal guards as they had before.

They were careful. They avoided the guest wing entirely, making Zelda suspicious, yet she could do nothing about it. They hadn’t broken any rules. They hadn’t acted out of line.

But something was off.

Her attention remained on the Duke, but doubt gnawed at the edges of her thoughts. The diplomatic talks were drawing to a close, but instead of relief, Zelda felt an unfamiliar tension rising within her. The Duke’s demeanor had changed. He seemed...happier. Almost too pleased.

His remarks, while outwardly appropriate, struck her as increasingly odd. Every time he expressed his sympathies over (Y/n)’s disappearance, it felt rehearsed, hollow, his words laced with a strange satisfaction she couldn’t quite place.

Zelda took a deep breath, forcing herself to dismiss the unease that coiled in her chest. "Things will turn out okay," she whispered under her breath, repeating the mantra like a spell. Link, was just overly worried, his protective instincts clouding his judgment. He had always been that way, especially when it came to people he cared about. This was all just...a misunderstanding.

But despite the calm she tried to project, the unease remained, simmering beneath her composure.

Several days passed in a haze of diplomacy and pleasantries. The talks concluded, and everything seemed to be falling into place. Yet the uneasy feeling that had plagued Zelda refused to leave, growing stronger with each passing hour.

Now, standing in her chambers, Zelda felt her stomach drop as she stared at the translated letters and documents laid out before her.

Her hands trembled as she traced the familiar writing, the unmistakable references to (Y/n), and she felt her heart pound in her chest, her pulse echoing in her ears. The words blurred slightly, but there was no denying their meaning.

.

.

.

She had been wrong.

Across the room, Warriors stood with his arms crossed, his gaze cold and unblinking as he stared down at the documents. His expression, once filled with frustration and warning, had turned to something far more unsettling: icy, controlled fury. Impa stood beside him, her face a mask of stoicism, but even she couldn’t hide the tension in her voice as she reported her own findings from the foreign guards she had interrogated.

Zelda’s breath hitched, and she pressed her hands to the table to steady herself. Her vision swam for a moment, and she wished with everything in her that this wasn’t real. That she had been right all along. That she hadn’t been so very wrong.

But the truth was undeniable, and it hit her like a hammer.

Warriors’ gaze remained fixed on her, cold and unrelenting. There was no anger in his voice when he spoke, but the words cut deeper than any reprimand. "I warned you," he said quietly, his tone almost indifferent, as though he had resigned himself to the inevitability of this moment.

Zelda swallowed hard, trying to keep her composure, but her hands wouldn’t stop trembling. She couldn’t look at him. Couldn’t look at any of them. She had doubted them. And now...

She had been so terribly wrong.

——-

———-

——-

The Duke paced back and forth in his chambers, watching with satisfaction as his servants hurried to pack his belongings. Everything was proceeding as planned. He could already envision his triumphant return home his ship laden with wealth, power, and his soon-to-be bride.

He smiled arrogantly to himself, imagining the rise in his status, the envious looks of the other nobles. Of course, it was only natural. His noble blood, his impeccable lineage, was destined for greatness. The girl, (Y/n), should consider herself blessed to stand beside him as his wife.

"She’ll settle down," he muttered under his breath, adjusting his cuffs with a self-satisfied grin. "Once she realizes her position... she’ll understand how fortunate she is."

His reverie was shattered by the sound of hurried footsteps. One of his guards rushed into the room, eyes wide and face pale with unease. "M-My lord," the guard stammered. "You’re needed in the throne room. The princess has summoned you."

The Duke's mood darkened instantly. "The throne room? What could she possibly need at this hour?" he complained, irritation lacing his voice. He had to retrieve his bride from her chambers. He had far more important matters to attend to, like ensuring his ship was ready for departure.

Before the guard could answer, Impa appeared in the doorway, her expression impassive. She stood tall, unmoved by his complaints. "Your presence is requested by Princess Zelda," she said firmly.

The Duke glared at her, puffing up his chest in indignation. "I am a nobleman, Lady Impa. Surely, whatever the princess wishes can wait until I’ve—"

"It cannot," Impa interrupted, her tone cold and unwavering. "The princess is waiting, and it would be... unwise to keep her waiting any longer."

The Duke’s scowl deepened, but something in Impa's gaze told him there was no room for negotiation. Still, too confident in his own success, he relented with a huff. "Very well, I shall go. But this had better be brief," he muttered as he followed her down the corridors.

When they arrived at the throne room, Princess Zelda was already seated, her face calm and unreadable. The Duke forced a polite smile, bowing low in a show of respect. "Your Highness," he said smoothly, "I hope I haven’t kept you waiting. I understand you are quite busy, especially with my impending departure."

Zelda inclined her head slightly, her tone neutral. "I appreciate you taking the time from your preparations to attend to this matter."

The Duke straightened, his eyes sweeping the room. His heart leapt when he noticed the heroes, the Chain, standing off to the side. For a brief moment, greed flashed across his face. The heroes, known throughout the realms, were looking at him with mild curiosity, but there was no suspicion in their eyes. Perhaps he could further ingratiate himself with them...

He smiled and stepped forward, bowing slightly. "Ah, the heroes of legend. What an honor to meet such esteemed individuals. I am the Duke of—"

"We know who you are," Time interrupted calmly, his voice steady and devoid of emotion. "Just as you know who we are."

The Duke’s smile faltered, but he quickly recovered, laughing lightly as if Time’s response were a friendly jest. "Of course. Well met, indeed."

Zelda cleared her throat, drawing the Duke's attention back to her. "There have been... rumors circulating as of late," she began, her tone still calm, though a slight edge crept into her voice. "And I would like to clear them up before your departure. An outside perspective may help us resolve this matter."

The Duke’s confidence swelled once more. He could play the part of the nobleman offering his assistance. "Of course, Your Highness. I would be more than happy to offer my insight."

Zelda smiled briefly before her expression turned serious, her eyes narrowing slightly. "Tell me, Duke. Have you abducted the heroes’ companion in an attempt to wed her and elevate your status between our kingdoms?"

The question landed like a blow. The Duke froze, his heart skipping a beat. His mind raced as he struggled to maintain his composure. He forced a smile, though it was far more strained this time. "I-I’m not sure I understand, Your Highness..."

"You know exactly what she means," Warriors spoke up, his voice a low growl as he stepped forward. His blue eyes, cold and piercing, locked onto the Duke. "You know, of course, the identity of our dearest companion, correct?”

The Duke’s heart began to race, but he kept the smile plastered on his face, hoping to diffuse the situation. "Ah, yes, Lady (Y/n)... It is truly terrible how she has gone missing. I had hoped to meet her properly. I have always admired her bravery and strength..."

Warriors’ eyes narrowed, studying him for a long moment before relaxing ever so slightly. "Odd, don’t you think?" he said, his voice deceptively calm. "She vanished without a trace, yet no evidence, no sign of struggle, was found where she was last seen. Nor anywhere else in town. It’s almost as if... someone took great care to ensure there would be no trace."

The Duke felt the sweat begin to form on his brow. He forced a nervous chuckle. "It is certainly strange, yes. But I assure you, I know nothing of her disappearance. Still, I will offer any help I can. Perhaps... my resources might assist in the search?"

Zelda's eyes bore into him, unblinking. "Of course, Duke," she said softly, "you have expressed your concern for her safety many times and it is only right we ask you to assist us before you leave."

The room fell deathly silent. The Duke's smile faltered as the weight of tension hung in the air, his confidence beginning to crack under the pressure.

The Duke’s smile faltered, though he tried to hide it behind a facade of confusion. His voice remained calm, though there was a growing tension in his words. “I truly don’t understand what you are implying. This must be some kind of misunderstanding.”

Warriors scoffed, the sound sharp and cutting. “I’m sure you hope it’s a misunderstanding,” he said coldly, his eyes narrowing as he glanced over at Zelda.

Zelda sighed, raising her hand slightly. “Enough,” she said, her voice calm but laced with authority. “We all know exactly what this situation is about.”

The Duke blinked, his unease deepening as Zelda’s gaze pierced through him. She took a breath, her tone steady as she spoke. “We know what you’ve done, Duke. You abducted (Y/n), intending to wed her in some twisted scheme to raise your status between our kingdoms.”

Her words hung in the air, the disbelief just barely audible in her tone, though her composure remained flawless. The Duke could feel his heart pounding, but he forced a smile, trying to salvage the situation. “Your Highness, I—”

“She’s not pleased about being taken by the likes of you,” Twilight said, cutting him off. His arms were crossed, his voice low with a simmering anger barely contained.

The Duke’s jaw clenched, his fists trembling as his composure began to slip. His lips curled into a tight sneer, though he tried to maintain a semblance of control. “I will not be spoken to in such a manner!” he spat, his voice rising in pitch. “Princess Zelda, if you even think our kingdoms will ever be allied after this, after I speak to my king, you have another thing coming.”

Warriors, leaning casually against a pillar, glanced at him with a cold smile. “If your homeland is filled with arrogant scum like you, Hyrule will be far better off without an alliance.”

Zelda shot Warriors a sharp look, but he returned it with an icy stare that made her look away, her lips tightening in disapproval.

The Duke was livid now, his face flushed with rage. “You have no proof!” he shouted, his voice echoing through the hall. “No proof at all! I never imagined I’d be disrespected in such a way, especially by a princess whose own control over her soldiers is so... lacking.”

His insult was veiled, but the implication was clear. He smirked slightly as Zelda narrowed her eyes at him, even as the tension in the room thickened. “I have no interest in assisting anyone who would dare accuse me of such—”

He turned sharply on his heel, preparing to storm out of the throne room, when something solid and unforgiving struck him hard across the face. The force of the blow sent him sprawling to the ground, his world spinning as stars exploded in his vision.

He lay on his back, stunned and dazed, his hand pressing against his cheek where he had been struck. A dull ringing filled his ears, and as he groaned, trying to sit up, a voice reached him, cold, furious, and all too familiar.

“I’ve been wanting to do that for weeks.”

His breath hitched in his throat as he slowly lifted his gaze. Standing over him was (Y/n), dressed in her usual tunic and pants, her hand still clenched into a tight fist. She was glaring down at him with an intensity that chilled him to his core.

The Duke’s heart sank as reality crashed down upon him. His plan, his entire scheme, had just fallen apart in a single, humiliating moment. And there, standing before him, was the very woman whose life he had sought to manipulate.

Her eyes blazed with fury as she looked down at him, and for the first time, the Duke felt a deep, gnawing fear that his plan wasn’t going the way he wanted it to.

——

——-

—-

(Y/n) sat on the edge of the bed, the cold darkness of the room pressing in around her. Her arms were tightly wrapped around her knees, trying to ground herself, but the pain in her cheek pulsed, a constant reminder of her failed escape. She sniffled, though not out of sadness, her frustration and anger were boiling under the surface. The increased patrols made it impossible to find an opening, and her latest attempt to flee had been met with failure.

Tears welled up again, stinging her eyes, and she bit down on her lip. But these weren’t tears of despair—they were born from sheer rage. Through clenched teeth, she muttered, “I’m going to make him regret taking me… he’s going to pay for this.”

She buried her face in her knees, shaking with fury. The walls of the room felt like they were closing in, and she hadn’t noticed the slight movement along them. Something had slipped through the small crack in the window, moving silently across the shadows. Another presence followed it, a ball of deep green light, small but vibrant, floating into the room like it belonged.

The dark shape continued its crawl along the wall, eyes locked on her from the shadows. The green light slowed, hovering closer to where (Y/n) sat, its soft glow a stark contrast to the oppressive darkness.

(Y/n) remained as she was, struggling to calm herself, talking to no one in particular. “I won’t give up,” she whispered fiercely. “I’ll gouge out that stupid Duke’s eyes if he tries to touch me again.”

The bed shifted beneath her as a weight slowly pressed down next to her. Her heart jumped, and she snapped her head up, prepared to scream at whoever had come in, assuming it was the Duke or one of his guards.

But her voice caught in her throat. There, staring down at her with wide, familiar blue eyes, were three faces she never thought she’d see again.

Legend. Hyrule. Wind.

For a moment, she was frozen, the disbelief crashing over her like a tidal wave. They were just as shocked, their emotions shifting rapidly, but one thing was clear on their faces, horror. Legend's gaze was fixed on her cheek, on the dark bruise marring her skin.

"(Y/n)..." Legend whispered, his voice low, rough with restrained anger. He frowned deeply, his expression hardening. “Was it the Duke? Did he do this to you?”

Hyrule was already lifting a hand toward her, his fingers glowing faintly with healing magic, his touch gentle as he reached for her bruised cheek. Wind, meanwhile, had his pirate’s charm in hand, speaking in a whisper to the others on the other side of the line. The charm was connected to Wild’s slate, allowing the rest of the heroes to hear. “We found her. She’s exactly where I thought she’d be.”

(Y/n) blinked, her mind racing to catch up with what was happening. “H-how…?” she stammered, her voice barely more than a whisper.

Wind, still glancing at her as he spoke into the charm, turned his attention back to her with a soft, apologetic smile. “We never stopped looking. I saw you, just for a second, before the guards took you around the corner and through that door. I could hear you through the door, but... I couldn’t do it alone, not with just Hyrule. We had to pull back and regroup, find the others, plan out how to get you out.”

His expression darkened with sadness as he continued. “We were so close, but we had to retreat. I’m sorry we couldn’t get you sooner.”

Tears welled up in her eyes again, but this time, they weren’t from anger. She let out a small, shaky laugh, relief flooding through her as the tension of the past few days melted away. “I don’t care,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “I don’t care how long it took. You found me.”

Before any of them could react, she threw herself forward, wrapping her arms around them tightly, her body shaking with quiet sobs of relief. Legend, Hyrule, and Wind all stilled for a moment before they returned the embrace, each of them murmuring soft apologies and reassurances into her hair.

“You found me!” she said again, her voice a mixture of laughter and tears as she held them close. “You found me.”

She then burst into tears, holding onto them for dear life. The relief of being found so strong it tore down the brave face she had on this whole time.

—-

——-

—-

Once (Y/n) had calmed down, Legend slipped Ravio's bracelet onto his wrist, its power thrumming faintly as it activated. Without a word, he wrapped an arm around her waist and nodded to Wind, who gripped her shoulder tightly. The next second, (Y/n) felt her body shift as they melted into the wall, blending into the stone, now part of the very structure of the building.

The sensation was strange at first, but (Y/n) was too focused on getting out to care.

Legend pulled them along slowly, careful to keep his pace measured. Wind, with his typical energy, seemed uncharacteristically focused, scanning every shadow for potential danger. Above them, Hyrule shifted into his fairy form, his tiny glowing figure darting ahead and around corners, silently signaling to the group when guards were passing or when they needed to halt and wait.

The quiet was tense but necessary. They moved like shadows, avoiding detection by inches as guards patrolled the halls. Every time a guard came near, Hyrule would zip back, his hands waving frantically for them to stay still. The minutes felt like hours, but finally, after navigating the sudden maze of the the guest wing, they slipped out into the night air and made their way back to where the rest of the heroes were waiting.

The moment (Y/n) was led into the small clearing where the group had made a temporary camp beyond the castle walls, it was like a dam had broken. She barely had time to take in the sight of them, Time, Sky, Twilight, Wild, Warriors, Four, before they were all moving toward her, each of them enveloping her in hug after hug.

She cried again, the sheer joy of being back with them, safe. Each hero had the same expression, utter relief and unbridled joy that she was back with them, whole and alive.

They held her as though they couldn’t bear to let go, each of them murmuring apologies, pressing their foreheads against hers, reassuring her over and over that she was safe. She could hardly breathe through the overwhelming flood of emotions.

Tears continued to roll down her cheeks as she clung to them, the weight of everything finally settling. “Please… I..I need to get out of these clothes,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “They took my favorite ones when they captured me.”

Before she could say anything more, Sky stepped forward, pulling something from his pouch. It was a pair of familiar pants and a tunic, her clothes. “I made sure to purchase duplicates,” he said softly, a gentle smile on his face. “I always kept a set with me, just in case. I thought… well, I thought you might need them someday.

She stared at him, eyes wide, and without thinking, she blurted out, "I could kiss you for this."

Sky flushed a deep red, his eyes widening for a moment before he coughed into his hand, trying to compose himself. "Just… doing what I can," he muttered with a small smile.

The others, still surrounding her, began to apologize once again, each of them looking torn between guilt and relief. But she shook her head, cutting them off before they could continue.

“We can talk about all that tomorrow,” she said, her voice still shaky but firm. “Right now… I just want to get as far away from that place as possible, use one of you as a hugging pillow, probably cry a bit more.”

She sniffled, “ Just…don’t leave me alone. Please? Not for a second.”

The tension in the air dissipated slightly as the heroes exchanged soft smiles and nods of understanding.

Carefully they led her away from the castle. Leading her towards the inn in town they had paid for rooms in.

That night, they took turns letting her cling to them, none of them leaving her side. They slept in the same room, surrounding her with their warmth and presence, posting themselves by the windows and the door for her peace of mind. For the first time in days, she slept without fear. Falling asleep to arms wrapped around her and kisses pressed on the top of her head.

——

---

——

Morning came slowly, the light creeping into the room as (Y/n) woke with a start, her heart racing. For a split second, she panicked, her mind spinning, believing she was still trapped in that horrible place. But then, an arm wrapped around her, pulling her towards the person, a hand gently rubbing her back.

It was the scent that helped her settle further.

Of hounds and goats, and forests.

She looked up to find Twilight beside her, blinking the sleep from his eyes. The others stirred around her, each of them waking with the same soft, tired smiles. "You’re safe," Twilight murmured quietly, squeezing her shoulder. “You’re with us. Go on, say it back.”

Tears pricked at her eyes again, but she bit them back, taking deep, steadying breaths. "I’m with you," she repeated, grounding herself in the present.

“Atta girl.”

Wild, havjng left while they slept to make breakfast, had whipped up one of her favorite meals for breakfast. The moment the familiar smell hit her nose, her emotions caught up with her, and she burst into tears once more.

The heroes all jumped in panic, worried something had gone wrong. "What happened? Are you okay?" Wild asked, rushing over, his face full of concern.

“I… I didn’t think I would miss this taste,” she had a wobbly smile, laughing through the tears. "But I missed it so much."

They quickly gathered around her, offering her comfort as she cried, until finally, her tears slowed.

They all sighed in relief, and after a few more minutes, (Y/n) calmed down, taking small bites of the meal as they all sat around her.

Once she had eaten and bathed, feeling more like herself for the first time in a month in the clothes Sky had given her, she told them everything. How she was taken, who had done it, and the Duke’s twisted plans for her.

The air around the camp turned cold, their faces darkening with anger. Their rage only deepened when she told them about how the Duke had struck her. Wind and Hyrule looked devastated, their faces filled with guilt as they lowered their eyes.

Before they could utter a word, she raised her voice, firm and unyielding. "Don’t," she said, her eyes blazing. "Don’t you dare blame yourselves. You did everything you could to protect me. I don’t like that I was hit, but I would rather take one hit if it means you found me when you did."

Hyrule, his eyes still brimming with guilt, lifted his hand and gently pressed it against her bruised cheek, sending a soft wave of healing magic through her. There hasn’t been much pain the first place since he first healed it but remaining pain melted away as the last traces of the bruise disappeared. "I’m sorry," he whispered softly.

She leaned into Twilight’s arms as he pulled her against him, wrapping his arm securely around her. She allowed herself to breathe for a moment, the tension slowly leaving her body.

Warriors left the room in silence, his steps heavy but deliberate. As the door closed behind him, the air in the room seemed to lighten, but the tension wasn’t gone, just shifted. Time waited a few moments before following, slipping out into the hallway to find Warriors.

Down the hall, Warriors stood by a large window, arms crossed tightly over his chest. His eyes were fixed on the distant silhouette of the castle, the source of all their troubles. The morning light cast a glow over him, he seemed calm, but Time could see the whites of his knuckles as he gripped his arms, holding himself together as tightly as he could.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. Then Warriors broke the silence, his voice low but full of barely restrained fury. “I want nothing more than to shake Zelda for not believing me. For dismissing my warnings,” he muttered, his jaw clenching. “And the Duke… I want to personally hurt him with my own two hands for what he planned, for what he already did to her.”

Time didn’t respond right away, choosing his words carefully. He knew that feeling well, the burn of rage simmering beneath the surface. “You’re not wrong to feel that,” Time said finally, his voice calm but understanding. “I feel the same way. I’d like nothing more than to make him pay for what he’s done.”

Warriors’ shoulders relaxed slightly at Time’s words, but the tension still held him rigid. “Then what are we supposed to do with that?” Warriors asked, his voice hoarse with frustration. “That anger, it’s just sitting there, and I can’t get rid of it.”

Time stepped closer, resting a hand on the windowsill beside Warriors. “We use it,” he said firmly. “We focus it on getting justice for (Y/n). This isn’t about satisfying our rage; it’s about making sure she’s never hurt like this again. We take that anger, and we channel it into action. Into planning.”

Warriors stared at the castle a moment longer, then nodded, though his fists remained clenched. “I’ll do that,” he said quietly. “For her.”

Time gave him a brief, approving nod before turning back toward the room. As he walked away, he glanced over his shoulder. “I’ll tell her you went to patrol around the building for a moment,” he said. “Take this time to calm yourself before you come back.”

Warriors said nothing, but Time could sense the gratitude in his silence. With a final glance, Time returned to the others, leaving Warriors alone with his thoughts, the faint light of the castle still casting its shadow over the town.

———

——

———

The room was still as her voice faded. (Y/n) slowly lowered her fist, her chest rising and falling as she took a deep breath. A small, satisfied smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. "That. Felt really good," she muttered under her breath.

Zelda, standing beside her, let out a short huff of amusement. "I’m sure it was," she said, her tone light, though her eyes stayed fixed on the Duke, who was still staring at (Y/n) in disbelief, his cheek already bruising. The silence stretched, the tension in the room palpable as all eyes turned toward the disgraced nobleman.

Zelda straightened, her expression hardening as she addressed him. "I have several questions, Duke," she began, her voice cold but measured. "How exactly did you think this plan of yours would work? Kidnapping someone of her standing, did you truly believe you could force her hand in marriage and no one would question it?"

The Duke's face twisted, and he opened his mouth to speak, but Warriors stepped forward, cutting him off with his own biting words. "Your plan had more holes than you realized," he said coldly. "The marriage wouldn’t have lasted a moment once it was discovered that she was unwilling. You thought bribing officials and keeping her hidden would fool us forever?" He shook his head, disgust coloring his voice. "It was only a matter of time before it unraveled. You were a fool if you thought otherwise."

The Duke’s face turned a deep shade of red, his fury rising at being called out so plainly. His hands clenched at his sides as he shot back, his voice trembling with anger. "You dare speak to me this way? I demand reparations for this grave insult!" he shouted. "This slander against my name will not—"

Before he could finish, Impa stepped forward from the shadows, her voice calm but lethal. "Slander?" she echoed, her gaze sharp. "I hardly think so, considering what we found in your quarters. Documents, letters, correspondence with bribed officials. You paid them to turn a blind eye, to pretend they hadn’t seen her."

A murmur rippled through the room as the weight of Impa’s words sank in. The Duke’s face paled, his fury giving way to panic as he realized how exposed he truly was. He opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out, his rage crumbling into disbelief.

Warriors’ expression darkened, his icy gaze settling on the Duke. "You’re finished," he said simply, his tone unforgiving. There was no satisfaction in his voice, just a cold, calculating edge.

For a brief moment, Zelda’s face flickered with something close to shame. She quickly masked it before the Duke could notice, turning her attention back to him, her voice steady. "Your actions have consequences, Duke," she said, her tone regal and final. "And you will face them."

Zelda's expression remained steely as she turned her cold gaze back to the Duke. "The officials you bribed will suffer the same fate," she said icily, watching as the color drained from the Duke’s face. "Their involvement in this conspiracy will not go unpunished."

The room seemed to grow colder, tension thick in the air. Zelda shifted her focus to (Y/n), her voice softening, though still serious. "While we all know the answer, (Y/n)," she began, "I must still ask you formally, was it the Duke who orchestrated your abduction with the intent to force you into marriage?"

Without hesitation, (Y/n) lifted her chin and answered firmly, "Yes."

Zelda gave a short nod, her expression one of grim determination. "Then it is decided. I will arrange for the Duke’s immediate departure." Her tone left no room for argument, her words carrying the full weight of her authority as the Princess of Hyrule.

The Duke, suddenly realizing the gravity of his situation, surged to his feet, his face red with fury. "You can’t do this!" he bellowed, his voice shaking with desperation. "I demand—"

Zelda didn’t flinch. She stared down at him, her icy gaze unyielding. "You are no longer welcome within the borders of the Hyrule Kingdom," she declared, her voice as sharp as a blade. "From this moment forward, you are outlawed and forbidden from ever returning to our lands."

The Duke's face flushed a deep crimson as Zelda's words cut through the room. His composure cracked, and he shot to his feet, voice trembling with barely contained fury. "You can't do this!" he bellowed, slamming a fist onto the table before him. "I demand reparations for this insult! I am a noble of considerable standing! You cannot simply throw me out like common filth!"

Zelda, unimpressed, remained calm, though her eyes blazed with cold authority. "Your title means nothing when weighed against your crimes. Hyrule will not be blackmailed by the likes of you."

The Duke’s lip curled in disdain, his tone shifting as he desperately tried to appeal to reason. "This is all a misunderstanding! I was only thinking of the kingdom! A union with someone as... independent as Lady (Y/n) would have strengthened ties. I saw an opportunity to guide her, to help her understand the complexities of noble life. It was for the good of the realm—"

"Forcing someone into marriage is hardly a diplomatic solution," Zelda interrupted, her voice hard.

The Duke ignored her, eyes narrowing as he turned toward (Y/n). "And as for you, Lady (Y/n)," he spat, his words coated with venom, "I suspect you enjoyed the thought of having my power and status. Isn’t that what this is really about? You've must have resented your place in the world, haven't you? You crave more. Why else would you go through such trouble, surrounding yourself with these so-called heroes? If you’d just accepted the offer, none of this would be happening."

(Y/n) stared at him, her anger barely held in check, but before she could retort, the Duke turned his attention to the Chain. His eyes flicked between them as if trying to gauge which one might be swayed by his manipulative words. "And you," he said, adopting a falsely genial tone, "surely you understand how these things work. Men of our stature, of our experience, must sometimes take necessary actions for the greater good. You cannot possibly condone such insolence from one as lowborn as her."

The heroes’ expressions darkened, each of them standing a little straighter, shoulders tensing. But it was Warriors who stepped forward, the calm command of his noble training radiating from him like a sword unsheathed. He inclined his head slightly, addressing the Duke in a measured, almost pleasant tone.

"I must admit, it is a rare thing to witness such a... unique perspective on marriage and nobility," Warriors began, his voice smooth, his smile thin. "But your words, how… interesting. You believe dear (Y/n)’s resistance is due to her desire for power and status, is that correct?"

The Duke, sensing an opportunity, straightened his spine and smiled smugly. "Indeed. Women often dream above their station, after all. It’s in their nature to be ambitious, to latch onto those who can elevate them." He glanced at Zelda, his tone condescending. "Even the most... esteemed among them need guidance."

Warriors nodded thoughtfully, as if in agreement, and the Duke, emboldened, continued, "Exactly! It's the duty of men like us to make the difficult decisions. Women, you see, they don't understand the weight of responsibility that comes with power. They get emotional, irrational—"

"Interesting," Warriors said, cutting him off. His expression hardened, all traces of civility draining from his voice. "Because from where I stand, it seems you're the one whose emotions are driving your actions. Manipulating officials, forging documents, and resorting to brute force to get what you want, sounds like desperation, not diplomacy."

The Duke's smugness faltered. "I... I merely sought to secure what was rightfully mine!"

"You speak of women needing guidance," Warriors continued, his voice turning sharp, eyes flashing with anger at his words, "yet it appears you're the one who needed guidance. You thought coercion, lies, and violence were the answer. And when faced with resistance, you attempted to shame Lady (Y/n) and Her Highness, as though they were the ones at fault for your crimes." He gestured to the rest of the Chain, who stood, eyes burning with disgust. "Do you really think any of us would support you? You’ve proven yourself to be nothing more than a coward."

The Duke, realizing he’d been led into a trap, turned a deep shade of red, his hands shaking. "I-I—how dare you speak to me like this! I won’t be lectured by some glorified soldier—"

Before he could finish, he sneered as he looked at (y/n) who scoffed, the Duke lunged at (Y/n), rage overtaking him. His hand shot out, aimed to strike her, but (Y/n) was ready. She stepped forward, her fist flying before the Duke could lay a finger on her. The punch landed squarely on his jaw, sending him stumbling back.

(Y/n) didn’t stop there. As the Duke clutched his face in shock, she delivered a swift, brutal kick to his crotch. He doubled over, gasping for air as he collapsed to his knees, groaning in pain.

"I was wrong about the earlier hit," (Y/n) said, glaring down at him, "THAT one felt really good."

Impa, along with the royal guards, stepped forward immediately, seizing the Duke by his arms and dragging him to his feet. "Take him," Zelda commanded, her voice cold and final. "Escort him to retrieve his belongings and see to it that he leaves our kingdom immediately."

The Duke, still doubled over and groaning, could only offer a weak protest as the guards hauled him away. Impa followed silently, her presence a dark shadow looming behind the fallen noble.

Zelda watched them leave, her expression impassive, before turning to (Y/n). "Well done," she said softly, her voice carrying an air of finality. "It seems justice has been served."

Zelda stood in silence for a moment, her hands folded neatly in front of her. Her gaze shifted from the door where the Duke had been dragged away, then back to (Y/n). She took a slow breath, and when she spoke, her voice was softer, more uncertain.

“I... owe you an apology,” Zelda said, meeting (Y/n)’s eyes. “For not believing in you or in what Warriors had tried to tell me. I should have listened sooner.”

(Y/n) exhaled slowly, crossing her arms as she considered her words. "Logically, I get it. You were stuck between me and your entire kingdom, and your hands were tied in a lot of ways. I understand that.”

Zelda gave a small nod, hope flickering in her eyes.

“But emotionally,” (Y/n) continued, her voice tightening, “it still hurt. A lot. It’s going to take me a while to forgive you for that. Just because I understand doesn’t mean my emotions fall in line. There was a moment where it felt like it was me against everything, and you were standing with him.”

Zelda’s face fell, though she tried to mask her hurt behind a fragile smile. “I see... I’m sorry that I caused you pain, and I don’t expect your forgiveness right away. I just want you to know that I’m grateful you understand, even if only logically.”

(Y/n) gave a curt nod. “I know I’ll forgive you eventually. But I just need time.”

Zelda bowed her head slightly. "Take all the time you need. Thank you for being honest with me." She hesitated for a moment, then turned to leave. Before she passed through the door, she glanced at Warriors, her expression apologetic, almost pleading for some kind of acknowledgment or absolution.

Warriors, however, merely looked back at her with hollow eyes, no anger, no hatred, just a cold, unreadable emptiness. Zelda’s lips pressed into a thin line, and she quickly left without another word.

Once she was gone, the tension in the room broke. Several of the heroes immediately surrounded (Y/n), their moods lightening.

“That punch was incredible,” Wind grinned, throwing a playful jab in the air. “I thought he’d choke on his own teeth!”

"That was a well aimed kick too," Twilight added, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. "Couldn’t have happened to a better man."

Four, less vocal but still visibly pleased, nodded approvingly. “You took him down before he could even blink.”

Legend rolled his eyes. “Pathetic man. Acting all high and mighty just to end up whining and crying like a child.”

(Y/n) laughed, though the tension still lingered in her shoulders. “People like him are everywhere back in my world too. Power hungry, entitled, always thinking they’re owed something.”

“I’d say you handled that pretty well,” Warriors remarked, his tone light but still holding an edge. "Not many can say they’ve landed a hit like that on a duke."

(Y/n) smiled, though there was a weariness in her expression. “I never wanted to be targeted by someone like him. But I guess that’s just how things go sometimes.”

The heroes chuckled, exchanging light banter as they began to shift focus to their plans for the evening. The mood in the room had turned, easing into something far more relaxed. They talked about finding somewhere to get a decent meal, or perhaps just enjoying a quiet night to themselves for once.

But beneath the laughter and casual conversations, there were unspoken glances being passed among the group. Each hero’s eyes flickered with something darker, something more dangerous. They hadn’t forgotten the Duke’s words, nor had they let go of the cold fury building inside them. Each of them was already calculating how they would deal with the Duke once and for all.

(Y/n), blissfully unaware of the tension simmering just below the surface, continued to chat with Wind and Four, oblivious to the silent promise the others were making to themselves.

The Duke wouldn’t escape justice. Not if they had anything to say about it.

And as plans were made with (y/n) to relax for the evening, the true reckoning was yet to come.

——

————

——

The Duke stormed through his lavish quarters, his face twisted in rage. Ornate vases shattered against the walls, and the fine tapestries he'd hung to flaunt his wealth were torn down in fits of fury. His chest heaved as he threw whatever was in reach, shouting to no one in particular.

"That damned woman ruined everything!" he bellowed, his voice echoing off the polished wooden walls of the ship. His mind replayed the events of the throne room, how his meticulously crafted plan had fallen apart, how (Y/n) had humiliated him in front princess and the heroes. The memory of her punch, the jeering eyes of the heroes, and Zelda’s cold condemnation burned in his mind like a brand.

His hands clenched into fists. He didn’t care that (Y/n) had been innocent. It didn’t matter that he had tried to force her into a marriage. What mattered was that his plan had failed, and now he was the one who looked like a fool.

“She should have kept her mouth shut!” he seethed, pacing back and forth, his boots clacking against the finely polished floors. “She could have had everything! The wealth, the title, being wed to a man of nobility like myself! What more could she have wanted? A commoner like her, rising to such heights, and she threw it away! Stupid girl. She could have lived in luxury, been pampered for the rest of her life.”

He paused, his pacing halting as he turned to glare out the small window of his chamber, his hands shaking with the force of his grip. “And now, thanks to her, my reputation is in ruins. That cursed woman has cost me everything! The king will surely look down on me. The other nobles will mock me for failing to bring her to heel. Me! They’ll say I’m weak, that I couldn’t handle one woman.”

His voice dropped to a bitter mutter as he resumed his pacing. “It’s all her fault. She is the reason for this disgrace.”

Suddenly, the ship lurched violently, nearly knocking him off his feet. He staggered, slamming into the wall with a sharp grunt, his palm bracing against the wood to keep from falling. The room tilted dangerously for a moment before righting itself, and the Duke cursed under his breath.

“What in the—” he hissed, pushing himself upright. His brow furrowed, and his temper flared anew. “Incompetent fools! Can’t even keep a ship steady on the water! I’ll have the crew flogged for this!”

He stomped toward the door, still muttering under his breath about the ineptitude of the lower class. But just as his hand reached for the door handle, the ship lurched again, this time with even more force. He was thrown backward, his back slamming into the table, scattering papers and broken trinkets everywhere.

“What is going on out there?!” he roared, scrambling to his feet once more. Anger and frustration warred with a growing sense of unease, but he shook it off as he stumbled into the hallway, determined to find the captain and demand an explanation for the erratic movements of the ship.

Whatever was happening, it wasn’t normal.

And the Duke wasn’t prepared for what awaited him on the deck.

The Duke stormed out onto the deck, the chill of the night air biting at his skin. It was dark, the moon hanging low in the sky, shrouded in thick clouds, and the wind whipped through his hair, making his coat billow around him. His frustration boiled over as he squinted into the blackness, seeing no one around.

"Where the hell is everyone?!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the howling wind. "What is the meaning of this reckless sailing?!"

No response came. The only sounds were the crash of the waves against the ship's hull and the eerie groan of the wood beneath his feet. He waited, fists clenched at his sides, his blood pumping hot with rage.

“Answer me, damn you!” he shouted again, his voice cracking slightly with the force of his anger. Still, no one replied. The deck was eerily empty, the shadows stretching longer in the flickering lantern light. He could hear the distant rush of water and feel the ship sway beneath him.

The silence hung like a weight on his chest, growing heavier with each passing second. The Duke muttered under his breath, "Where is everyone?"

As if in response to his words, the ship lurched again, harder than before. The violent motion knocked him off his feet, sending him sprawling onto the deck. His hand smacked painfully against the wood, and he winced, scrambling to his knees with a groan.

“Blast it all!” he cursed, rising shakily. His hand still throbbed, but his pride ached worse. "What is going on?!"

A low voice drifted through the wind, calm and measured, with an edge that sent a chill down the Duke’s spine.

“They’re not on the ship anymore.”

The Duke’s head snapped toward the voice, his eyes widening as he peered up towards the helm. There, silhouetted against the night sky, stood a figure. His stance was casual, one hand resting on the railing, while the other hung loosely at his side. The wind tugged at his blue scarf, but he stood steady, unbothered by the storm raging around him.

The Duke’s breath caught in his throat. He recognized him.

The Hero of Warriors.

Warriors gazed out toward the sea, his expression unreadable, not bothering to acknowledge the Duke’s presence right away. His voice was low, cutting through the night like a knife. “The crew was given a choice.”

The ship rocked again, this time more violently, and the Duke had to reach out to steady himself against the mast. The wind whipped around them, howling through the rigging like a vengeful spirit. Warriors, however, didn’t move, standing firm as if the tempest was nothing more than a gentle breeze.

“They made their choice,” Warriors continued, his tone steady and cold. “Fortunately for them, they didn’t struggle.”

The Duke’s heart raced. His mouth went dry as the full weight of the situation pressed down on him. “What... what do you mean, they didn’t struggle?” he demanded, his voice trembling slightly despite his attempt to sound authoritative.

Warriors finally turned his gaze towards him, blue eyes cold and sharp, cutting through the dark. He stepped forward, slow and deliberate, descending the steps from the helm with an eerie calmness that only made the Duke’s fear intensify.

“But you,” Warriors said, voice dropping lower as he drew closer, “you and the men in your pocket? You won’t be given a choice.”

The Duke’s breath hitched, and he took an involuntary step back.

Something heavy landed behind him with a thick, sickening thud. The Duke froze, his heart hammering in his chest. Slowly, dread pooling in his stomach, he turned his head. His eyes widened in terror as they landed on the twisted form of one of his personal guards, crumpled grotesquely on the deck. The man’s limbs were bent at unnatural angles, and his lifeless, pain filled eyes stared blankly at the Duke. His throat tightened as bile rose, but he couldn’t tear his gaze away.

He stumbled backward, his breathing rapid and shallow, before his gaze flicked upwards. A strangled gasp escaped him as he saw several more of his guards, their bodies dangling limply from the crow’s nest, their legs bound, swaying in the wind like gruesome puppets.

Panic gripped him. His chest heaved as he staggered back further, his hands trembling uncontrollably. This wasn’t just some accident or punishment, it was a spectacle. A message.

Up above, on the crow’s nest, a figure stood with their arms raised, weaving through the air. The Duke could see them moving, and as their hands shifted, the wind seemed to respond, whipping through the sails with forceful gusts that made the entire ship creak and groan under the pressure.

“Eager to participate,” came Warriors’ cold, casual voice behind him, drawing the Duke’s attention back. “The sailor was particularly enthusiastic about dealing with you.” Warriors’ gaze remained locked on the Duke, his expression hard as steel. “He came up with the idea to hang your men like that. Thought it’d make an impression on you.”

The Duke swallowed hard, his mouth dry as dust, eyes darting from the swaying bodies to the figure atop the crow’s nest. He recognized him now, the youngest Hero amongst the famed group, the legendary baton of his in hand, controlling the very gales battering the ship.

Wind’s movements were precise, almost rhythmic, and with each shift of his baton, the wind seemed to intensify, as if the very element was singing as it bent to his will. The sight made the Duke’s blood run cold.

Warriors took another step forward, his voice dropping into something colder, more dangerous. “You should thank him. He’s made sure your men won’t feel a thing anymore.” His eyes narrowed. “But you, Duke, you don’t get that mercy.”

The Duke’s knees buckled as he stumbled back again, the gruesome sight above him and the bone-chilling presence of Warriors before him coiling around his heart like a vice.

Warriors stepped forward, the ship groaning under the force of the wind as if the entire vessel knew what was about to unfold. He looked at the Duke, a calm, almost dispassionate gaze fixed on him. "I’m not here to lay a hand on you," he said, his tone as steady as the sea before a storm. "No, sadly that’s not my role tonight."

The Duke swallowed hard, but Warriors continued, his boots tapping lightly on the wooden deck as he descended the stairs, his steps calm despite the chaos surrounding them. "I’m just here to deliver a message from the rest of my companions. Your fate was sealed the moment you decided to target *her*." His voice was sharp, cutting through the howling winds that now whipped fiercely around them. "If you had been smarter, if you’d offered your services to us, covered our tracks when we needed it... perhaps you’d have a chance at redemption."

Warriors stopped, his voice lowering, but still audible over the roaring wind. "But you didn’t. You chose to lay your hand on the one person you never should’ve touched." His words struck like a hammer, and the Duke’s face paled, his confidence unraveling in the face of the calm malice in Warriors' voice.

Panic welled up inside him, and the Duke’s voice trembled as he tried to negotiate. “M-My king will hear about this! This will start a war! You can’t—”

Warriors tilted his head slightly, a mocking smile tugging at his lips. “That’s only if you manage to make it back to your king.” As if on cue, the haunting melody of an ocarina began to play, seemingly from nowhere. The Duke’s eyes widened as dark clouds began to roll in, blotting out the moon, and thunder rumbled ominously in the distance.

The ship groaned louder, the wooden beams straining under the building pressure. The Duke felt the deck shudder beneath his feet, a terrifying crack ringing out through the air as though the ship itself was beginning to break apart.

Desperation filled his voice as he stumbled forward, hands shaking. “Wait, please! Sir Hero, you have to see reason! I can—”

But Warriors simply shook his head, watching the Duke with cold, unwavering eyes. “Pathetic,” he muttered, the distaste clear in his voice.

Before the Duke could respond, Wind landed beside him with a graceful thud, having swung down from the crow’s nest with his grappling hook. The Duke’s eyes flickered with hope as he latched onto Wind’s arm, clutching him in a last, desperate bid for salvation. "Y-You! You must convince him! Convince him to see reason!"

Wind looked down at the Duke with a wide grin, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Where’s all that noble decorum now, huh? Funny how it disappears the moment you’re cornered.” He wrenched his arm free with little effort, leaving the Duke to stagger back. Without another word, Wind turned and joined Warriors, pulling back out his Wind Waker and preparing to play.

The eerie notes of the baton began to fill the air, and the wind responded, sang to his command, swirling and intensifying as Wind conducted the melody.

Just as the song reached its peak, Warriors, his hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword, glanced back at the Duke. "You know," he said, almost as if the thought had just occurred to him, "I don’t think I ever learned your actual name."

The Duke blinked, his mouth opening in disbelief as he tried to stammer out a response.

Warriors shrugged, already turning away. "I suppose it doesn’t matter anymore."

At that moment, Wind’s song reached its climax, and a massive cyclone formed, engulfing Warriors and Wind in a spiraling vortex of air. Within moments, they vanished, whisked away by the magic of the winds, leaving the Duke alone on the rapidly deteriorating ship.

The ship rocked violently, tilting dangerously to one side as the storm fully unleashed its fury. The Duke stumbled, his heart hammering in his chest as he watched the sea swell beneath him, the waves rising higher and higher. The ship’s creaking intensified, sharp cracking sounds echoing as the wood began to splinter.

“No… this isn’t happening!” the Duke muttered to himself, shaking his head. “This—this can’t be happening! It’s all just a nightmare…!” His voice rose in pitch as he backed away from the railing, eyes wide with denial. “I’ll be fine! I’ll be fine!”

But the ship lurched again, throwing him to the deck as the storm raged on, the winds howling like a beast hungry for destruction. The vessel groaned one last time, a final, desperate sound as it began to split.

The Duke’s terror reached its breaking point. He scrambled to his feet, screaming at the top of his lungs, his voice hoarse and raw with panic. “No! No, no, no! This can’t be happening! Someone, anyone, save me!”

His scream echoed across the stormy sea, but there was no one left to hear him. As the ship gave its final shudder and the waves crashed over the deck, the Duke’s cries were swallowed by the storm, lost in the unforgiving darkness.

————

———

——

———

————

A week or two later, (y/n) sat with a few of the heroes, relaying the latest rumors she’d overheard from the guards and servants. “They say the Duke’s ship was attacked by pirates and destroyed by a massive storm,” she said, looking down at her tea. “Apparently, no one survived.”

The group exchanged surprised glances. Hyrule raised an eyebrow. "Pirates and a storm? That's some poetic justice."

Twilight chuckled. “Ironic, considering the Duke’s ambitions.”

Legend leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms. “He got what he deserved. Swift and final.”

(y/n) sighed, leaning back. “Karma works fast sometimes.” She jumped a little when she felt a pair of hands settle gently on her shoulders. Time had snuck up behind her, his presence calm but strong as ever. He leaned down slightly, his voice low as he murmured, “At least, now, the Duke will never lay a hand on you again.”

She smiled, nodding in agreement. "I’m relieved, but... I can’t help feeling sad that the crew had to die. They were innocent, after all." Her voice softened. “I just wish pirates were like Wind.”

Legend snorted. “Tell him that, and he’ll get an even bigger head than he already has.”

Four piped up with a smirk. “Big head? He’s barely got a head at all with how small he is.”

Twilight laughed, joining in. “Maybe the wind carries his brain away every time he uses his Wind Waker.”

Hyrule, attempting to defend their absent companion, shook his head. “Come on, Wind’s not that bad!”

(y/n) laughed, clearly entertained. “Wind’s a sweetheart! Just because he’s small doesn’t mean he’s brainless.” She grinned at Four and Twilight. "He’s got more brains than you two combined."

The group descended into playful bickering, with (y/n) gleefully holding her own as they teased and defendedd Wind. Time’s hands slipped away from her shoulders, and he stepped back, the sound of her laughter lightening his expression. Witout a word, he turned and quietly left the room, letting their cheerful voices fade behind him.

As he stepped into the corridor, he was greeted by Wild and Sky. Wild gave him a nod. “Warriors and Wind are waiting outside.”

Sky smiled, glancing back at the door. “Sounds like there’s a bit of chaos going on in there. You did good work, Time.”

Time gave his usual half-smile, a faint curve of his lips that spoke volumes. "Appreciate it." He watched as Wild and Sky exchanged grins and headed back into the room, eager to join in the lively spat still unfolding within.

Time continued outside, where Warriors and Wind stood waiting. The breeze was cool, the sky darkening as evening approached. Wind was leaning against the railing, a slight pout on his face, while Warriors stood tall beside him, his arms crossed in quiet satisfaction.

“Good work, both of you,” Time said, his voice steady and appreciative. “The Duke won’t trouble her again.”

“Good work yourself for summoning that storm.” Warriors said with a chuckle.

Wind sighed dramatically. “Legend’s been such a bother ever since I asked for some of his cursed rings. He’s so stingy! Like, come on, it’s just a little curse. I needed them for the guards!”

Warriors chuckled. “You’ve got enough mischief to handle without cursed rings. But honestly, I’m just glad the whole thing with the Duke is over. He was a problem that needed solving.”

There was a pause, Warriors’ face more thoughtful as he asked, “The crew we let go... you think they’ll keep quiet?”

Wind perked up, his eyes glinting mischievously. “Oh, absolutely. We gave them the Duke’s valuables and a hefty amount of rupees. No one’s going to open their mouths about us after that.”

Time nodded. “They would not be lying when they say they were attacked by pirates,” Wind snickers at that. “They never had any loyalty to a man who treated them like tools. Those that did? They were as pathetic as he was.”

Warriors sighed, a small smile forming as he shook his head. “Shame we couldn’t have done more to him. But I suppose watching him crumble in fear was enough.”

Wind stretched, clearly pleased with the outcome. “The fear in his eyes? Priceless.” He grinned wide. “I’ll take that as a win.”

Time nodded again, the shadows in his expression fading as the three of them moved on to simpler topics, small banter about their next steps, where they would go, what else to do now that the Duke was no longer in the picture.

It was as though the events on the Duke’s ship were already distant memories, the murder of the Duke and his men insignificant.

All that mattered now was (y/n), and where next they would go with her by their side.

[brainr0t-landfill]

T

Chapter One: You get baptized.

Captain Price x male reader

(T.W: forcemasc fetish, kidnapping, forced headshave, reader is currently girlmoding, implied stalking, implied cheating)

The road to your new home is long and wet John is stiff in his seat as the cold lights of the bumfuck, misreable town you called home for years bleed across the dark car he wonder if you can see them if you're still awake, rain splashes against his front window.

Wrongness gnaws at something burried deep in his chest even though it's been hours since your struggle has died down; your desperate pleas and pathetic threats muffled by an old rag and held in place by duct tape, all the frantic energy in your soft body weighed down by exhaustion, he feels bad for you so confused and lost but he knows he's doing what's right like his old man always told him.

"No one finds their true love, son."

He'd tell him sitting on his old throne shallow, warm glass of whiskey in hand.

"You make it, wives like your mother are for husbands like me. I didn't find her on the side of the road as she is today, made her i did."

The contradiction is that Senior Price was more shaped by his wife than his wife by him John's mother with her dishwasher white knuckles and red stained lips, an ex whore, a cols blooded creature in a warm home trying to make her claws into wings.

The contradiction is that John never wanted a woman like his mother, never wanted a woman at all.

On the edge of town he stops the truck, turns the engine off and steps outside walks through the murky mud puddles to the trunk pops it and beholds you, curled into yourself with eyes like a desperate dog you thin wrists held together by zip ties, knobby knees knocking against eachother.

He kneels infornt of you on one knee like a crude mockery.

"I know you're confused."

He tells you rubbing across your ribs,

"But in due time you'll get it luv, I'll be so good for ya, never gonna want for nothing y'hear?"

He gives you his best smile but you don't respond he shushes the sniffles with a heavy hand grabbing you by your scruff and dragging you out, you don't struggle at all and he gently rips the tape off it leaves red lines across your pretty, soft cheeks and pink lips glossy with spit.

"Please, please I won't tell anyone I need to go home please please-"

He stands there as you kneel on the ground big paw rubbing at your sore jaw as you work yourself into tears and sobs begging for things you don't want, he sees your eyes stuck where the sun is setting on the other side of the road desire peeking out like teeth.

"Shhh, shhh it's alright now, it's alright"

He tells you as he rubs his hands across your beautiful locks, such a shame

"I'm not gonna hurt ya luv, no, no not at all. But you need to trust me, alright?"

He looks down at you and clicks his tounge in dissapointment but of course, men are proud animals they play best when they think they'll win, they grasp at any chance to prove their loving masters wrong.

"Looky here, let's make a deal, yeah?"

He takes a deep breath and plays a gamble, rolls the dice knowing he holds every card.

"A year, ya stay with me a year, listen, and be good and if by the end of that year ya still wanna go back home, I'll let ya. Hell I'll even drive ya, drop ya off at the door. But untill than you play by my rules, yeah luv?"

He asks and rubs his calloused hand over your cheek watches the war raging behind those eyes.

"O-okay."

You croak out and your trembling seizes as you steel your shoulders.

"Okay, y-you've got a deal, just please don't hurt me."

He pats your head and takes the clippers out, drags you to the gutter, walk you on your knees deep into the filthy water, stains your pretty, modest white skirt not that you'll have much use of it anymore.

You start screaming again struggling like a feral dog, he thinks of what name to give you, dogs get new names after all to know what they should answer to your old one never fit you anyways.

"What are you doing-? What are you-"

He starts it up and runs it across your scalp, your soft hair falling into the water and your sweat stained blouse as be buzzes it all off, there will be better cuts in the feature; neat crew cuts like his in barber shops before your wedding and once every month, routine trims and beard oil.

"Oh don't pretend you don't know luv, look at you! Even with ya short height everybody can tell, ya make such an unconvincing girl, sweets but that's alright. Everybody strays sometimes, not ya fault ya never had anyone to guide ya right, ya just trust me, alright? Ya just trust me."

He burries your face in his crotch to muffle your noises as he shaves your head feels you go limp with shame.

He pities you, he doesn't know what it's like to be seen after a life spent hiding, to be in the light after two decades of chasing it.He strips you off your skirt and blouse there, pockets your jewelry and wedding band takes out your I.D and taps your picture there.

"Ya recognize her?"

Your lips twitch, mishapen face scrunched up in shame.

"No, ya don't, ya never did..."

He thinks for a second, what to name you, who to make you, how to love you.

"Tommy, Tom Price, ya recognize that?"

You nod and he brushes the hair off your scalp as he leads you back to the car, lays you in the back seat to stew, throws his uniform jacket over you.

"Wait-"

He looks down, at you half hidden under the jacket, pulls it further, tucks you in to hide a body that's of the past.

"Yes luv?"

"What's you name?"

He smiles and huffs out a laugh that's been brewing for weeks, weeks and weeks of watching you, feeling your yearning eyes burn kisses on his skin.

"Jonathan, Jonathan Price, ya can call me sir."

[neerdokells]

This New Life, Part 12

Master remained as Fuckpet and spent the following week in Charlie's care. During the day, he was used as a living display at the shop, and Portia reported that Charlie was very pleased with the impact he had on sales; at night, Charlie and Evan took him wherever they were going. I'm told that, when Evan was Brutus, Master was given to him as a reward for good behavior, but he had to earn it.

I started to venture out of the house more, as I grew more comfortable with the notion of passing for a real person with a legal identity again. Portia was still a raging ball of hormones, but by Thursday she had it under control enough that she was able to get ready and head out for work without railing me first. I was actually kind of disappointed; but she made up for it with an incredible night when we reached the hotel.

I tried to narrow down the location as we walked around the forest, the direction of the magic leading us off trail and to a clearing. It was late afternoon by the time we found it, and we realized it was buried and we didn't have a shovel. I touched the ground and had it split, elevating the earthen pot to the surface. I took a deep breath, picked it up, and rubbed it. Smoke began to billow out, and I set it down.

“Who awakens the great–hold up.” The smoke suddenly collapsed into a massive man, who looked surprisingly similar to Yakov, except he was built like a brick shithouse and had to have been pushing eight feet tall. He leaned in and looked more carefully at me. “I thought your kind were extinct.”

“Well, I think they were, yeah.”

“You don't get wishes.”

“I don't want wishes.”

“Good. Because you’re not getting any. It's not even my turn! How did you find me?”

“I followed the scent of genie magic.”

He grumbled and sat down on a rock. “What is so important you would wake a genie two hundred years before his turn comes up? Do you have any idea how valuable that downtime is to us?”

“I don't actually, I'm sorry. But I need answers, and I didn't know where else to get them.”

“And why should I answer them? You can't compel me, I cannot be bound to you! Give me one reason I shouldn't just go back in my vase and forget all about you.”

“Would kindness be a good reason? Our comraderie as magical beings?”

“Leaving now,” he said, standing.

“If you go into that vase before answering our questions, I'll rub the lamp,” Portia said.

“You wouldn't!”

“Fine. Test me.” She crossed her arms and waited. He tried to stare her down, but she wasn’t having it, and eventually he cracked and sat back down.

“You swear that you will not rub that vase if I answer your questions?”

“All of our questions.”

“You swear that you will not rub that vase if I answer ALL of your questions?”

“Honestly and in good faith,” I added. He huffed.

“Do you, Portia Lauren Neumann, swear to not rub that vase, if I answer all of your questions honestly and in good faith?”

“I swear,” she answered. “You knew my name?”

“Parlor tricks, on the scale of magic I operate with. What was so important you had to disturb me?”

“What happens if I change form while pregnant?” I asked.

“The baby changes with you. Wait. You don't know this?” He closed the distance between us and picked me up, then smelled me. “You were changed into a fairy!”

“By another genie.”

“Really? Which one?”

“Yakov.”

“Yakov, that old dog! Of course it would be him! How is he?”

“Human.”

“What?” So I explained how I came to be a fairy, and he stood there holding me a foot off the ground the whole time. “Show me.” He set me down.

“It's safe?”

“Safer than not changing.”

I wasn't sure whether that was a threat or not, but it seemed wise to do what he asked. I reverted to my base form, and found he was suddenly also only a couple inches tall. He looked me over.

“Bunny. Interesting. I thought Yakov would have gone cat.”

“He did. My form changed when I bound myself to Portia.”

“You bound yourself–okay, we need to talk.”

“About what?”

“How the fairies went extinct.”

He grew to about six feet tall as he walked back to sit on the rock and I returned to Portia form. He asked what we knew of fairies, and we told him–Portia knew some folklore, I knew basically what Yakov had told me, and that was about it. We told him the whole story about cursing Master, and why, and how we’re trying now to understand what happened to me and what is now happening to me. He seemed a blend of disappointed and distressed, and began explaining the nature of fairies to us.

Essentially, he claimed that every magical being serves some role in the balance of the world, and are bound by rules that relate to their place in that balance. Genies themselves  translate human creativity to raw, powerful, creative magic, but are bound by the rules of maintaining balance. Fairies, on the other hand, are an expression of anthropomorphic nature–we are the human impact on the natural world, which makes us very powerful in the ways we can manipulate nature, but also exceptionally susceptible to being tamed.

“Genies are what we are, always. If you wish for a genie to become a mouse, we become a genie in the shape of a mouse. Yakov is still a genie, on some level, though cutting himself off from the rest of us made him mortal. But if a fairy grants you a wish, and you wish for them to become a mouse, they become a mouse. The fairy is gone, forever.”

“So when they were stuck in a form my husband forced on them,” Portia asked, “they could have been stuck in that form, and with that mind, forever?”

“From what you’re saying, I think the only thing that stopped that from happening is that they’re bound to you instead of him. Things like brainwashing, contract terms, deals, and mystical bindings change fairies on a fundamental level. You’re both very lucky that your bond was stronger than Malcolm’s brainwashing, or there would again be no fairies in this world.”

“Is that what happened to the other fairies?” I asked.

“They, well, okay.” He sighed. “Because of their tie to human stewardship of nature, they crave structure to a certain degree. In the wild, they gathered in hives, communities where there were clear leaders and rules. Yakov told you that fairy magic is not bound to balance in the same way that genie magic is, but what he failed to mention is that your magic is all chaos, but your mind and heart are all order. We are all bound by the balance, just in different ways.”

“So, wait, are you saying our relationship, their love for me, is just a desire to be subject to someone?” Portia asked.

“No. I’m confident the love is very real, and very powerful and passionate. What I’m saying is that, being a fairy, that love is going to find expression in a desire to serve, to be defined by you. Esme wants to be tamed because they’re a fairy–they want to be tamed by you because they love you. Which has been better for them than what happened to the old fairies. They always gave themselves over to humans or human-inspired structure, but when destructive habits of tending the world became the norm, the fairies became subject to desires and whims and masters who brought destruction upon them. I don’t think it was always intentional; you know, a human and a beautiful shapeshifted fairy fall in love, bind themselves into a marriage covenant that gives them a narrowed definition of self, and next thing they know they're aging and unable to change form or do magic.”

“You mentioned aging.”

“All magical beings are immortal, unless something causes them to lose it. Yakov chose the life of a human over the life of a genie, so he’s mortal because human lives are limited. As long as Esme remains a fairy, they will neither age nor die; they would have to be killed or made mortal.”

“But, about the baby,” I said.

“Being a fairy is a magical nature, not a biological one. You are, for all physical matters, Portia, and she is Malcolm. What you carry is the genetic child of Portia and Malcolm. It will change form whenever you do; but if you’re a cat, the baby is what a cat would be if it had those parents. Its form is not set until birth, so if you’re Portia when you deliver it, it will be a perfectly normal human baby. If you’re in fairy form, it will be a fairy.”

“So I can change as much as we want, until the baby is due?”

“You must! Remember, you are very susceptible to getting stuck in human ideas of you. If you stay in any one form too long, you may get locked into it, even if Portia desires to pull you out of it. You were lucky once, do not tempt fate with this again. She is not forgiving.”

It was getting to be dusk before we were done getting all the info we needed from Assad, as we learned his name was. I offered to bury his vase again, but he said that having it rubbed by a magical being on his century off afforded him a rare chance to just kind of walk around and experience things in person for a little bit. He took on a more normal human-looking form, picked up his vase, and walked with us to the entrance of the forest, where we parted ways.

[bakugostiddies]

Okay but like- I just know Shigaraki fucking loves having his cock worshipped.

What he loves most about it is the power he holds over you. Shigaraki gets painfully hard every time you drop to your knees before him at the slightest command. You look so desperate, so needy for him, and he gets off on it.

He never forces you to touch him; he doesn’t even touch you at the beginning. Shigaraki expects you to do all the work. He knows that you will always pleasure him regardless of where you are or what you’ve been doing. The man is a menace; he tugs on your sleeve during league meetings to get you under his desk, he beckons at you from across the room and expects you there without delay, he displays his hardness to you in public shamelessly because he knows that you are his and his alone.

Most of the time, however, he just spreads his thighs and leans backwards in his chair, showing off his bulge to you, and gestures for you to kneel before him. And you do; thats why Shigaraki keeps you around.

First, you mouth at him over his pants, creating a wet spot on his crotch with your spit and drool. You unzip him with your teeth and work his boxers down carefully, so as not to disturb his position. God forbid Shigaraki having to move in the middle of you servicing him. Then you stroke him gently, lovingly, spit on your hands and your face disheveled.

Shigaraki always feigns apathy, but he constantly finds himself using all of his willpower to avoid cumming in your palms. The real struggle begins, however, when you begin placing kisses on his length, getting more and more sloppy as you devolve into desperation.

Eventually, you stop using your hands to pleasure him and they sneak between your own thighs to rub at your clit. He hates when you pleasure yourself- how dare you when he’s right in front of you, when its your job to give, not take? He’ll pull you off his cock to slap you across the face. You moan at that, of course. Fucking whore.

Shigaraki then stuffs his cock down your throat, forcing you to gag on it. Its your punishment for being so needy, such a slut for him. He tells you as much with breathy whispers, calling you a “fucking cockslut” and “a villain cumdump.” You’re wet, dripping onto the floor as he facefucks you. You moan around his length, your hands fondling the parts your mouth can’t reach, and you hump the ground for any release. Shigaraki thinks you look pathetic.

“Acting like a fucking bitch in heat for me,” he pants out, twisting his fingers in your hair. “Do you need your master to relieve you?”

You whimper and he pulls you off his cock so he can slap you with it on the cheek, leaving your cockdrunk face dirty with precum and your own spit.

“Say it,” Shigaraki hisses. “Fucking beg for me.”

“Please, god, please please please master, ple-”

You’re incoherent pleas are cut off by the tip of his boot sliding down to rest at the apex of your thighs, pressing slightly against your clit. You almost scream, but your mouth is suddenly bullied open by his cock once more. You suck eagerly, humping yourself harder and harder against his boot like a fucking dog.

Shigaraki removes his hands from your hair and simply watches your desperate movements, sloppily swallowing around him while rocking yourself back and forth against his shoe. You’re dripping against the leather, probably creating a puddle on the floor, but you don’t care, it feels too good, too fucking good- Shigaraki pushes his boot forward a bit without warning and you moan against his cock. Just a bit more, a bit, you’re almost there, shit you’re almost there-

You cum all over the tip of his leather boot, your thighs convulsing and your mouth screaming against Shigaraki. Your mess elicits a groan from him, and with a quick pump into your mouth, he cums as well, filling your throat before tucking his softening dick back into his pants. You collapse on the floor below him, but he pays you no heed. You’ll be fine, and Shigaraki would take care of you later. He never mistreats his plaything. But he has more pressing matters at hand.

Shigaraki turns to face the subordinates sitting before him, their eyes as wide as saucers and their mouths wide open. He smiles crookedly.

“Enjoying the show?”

[mammonsturtle]

Chronicles of a Fallen Warrior -Gone to the Dogs- -MC’s Visit-

A/N : Wanted to write something short, @rays-doodles27​‘s question if MC was here, so I wanted to give MC’s side of things if they were here.

CW: mild cursing and general angst

First part

The Devildom.

You hadn’t been there since you left the exchange program, you did keep in contact with the boys though things had gone radio silent as of late.

They had kept in contact with you and talked to you daily. Though they knew they couldn’t bombard you with texts and calls once you had to get back to your life in the human world.

You missed them all, especially Mammon. You were worried since he always came calling to you whenever his brothers gave him hell. You were always there to comfort him and to defend him from his brothers. It was odd to you that he had gone silent on you too.

It’d be foolish to think that everyone was getting along while you were gone.

As Solomon had escorted you to the House of Lamentation, you felt a chill run down your spine. Something had to be off as the house was still and dark, any sign of life wasn’t seen from the outside. You let Solomon know when you needed him to escort you, and open the gate, the old creaking must have alerted the inhabitants living the house as you can see the lights come on.

As you stood at the door, you could hear a stampede of footsteps behind the door before the door opened up, your demons almost falling over themselves.

“Mam- MC?” 

“Hi,” You looked at the group of Avatars, they had looked quite disheveled and even Asmodeus looked like all self care had gone out the window ages ago. “Were you guys expecting Mammon?” You inquire as the fact that they had called you Mammon was telling. 

You knew Mammon was going to snap eventually, you just didn’t expect it so soon.

“Darling~~!!” Asmo throws himself on you as you stumble back, “Oh, we’ve missed you...And we need your help.” You could tell he wasn’t himself as well as the other brothers, as they were in the same shape.

Oh, were you supposed to fix this family again?

“Mammon’s no longer living with you?” You asked as you sat in the living room, though you’re not surprised. You knew the brothers weren’t the greatest with treating Mammon with any love or respect. Yet you knew Mammon always let them use him as a punching bag out of love for his brothers.

A love you couldn’t understand and wondered how Mammon put up with it.

As you sat in the living room, the brothers were looking at you with hope that you could fix them again as you had done before. You shake your head, “So what happened now?” You ask as you knew the brothers were the cause, once again.

The brothers proceed to tell you about the dog incident, and the entire time, you couldn’t help but feel angry with them. You groan as you rub your temple, surely the strongest beings of hell had no idea that their actions and their words had an impact on Mammon? 

Mammon of course, for the greater good of his family, let himself be used and abused. That never sat right with you, of course, human morals were vastly different from demons’ morals.

By the end of it, you couldn’t help but understand why Mammon had finally had enough of his brothers. Even you could feel yourself feeling the same, Satan of course could feel the waves of wrath emanating off of your shoulders.

“So none of you questioned why Mammon was acting strangely? No one asked about the only book that was just laying on the ground? No one questioned the dog that was just watching all of this going on? The fact that Mammon wasn’t talking at all the entire time didn’t hit you like a brick that something was wrong?” 

Your fists were clenched into tight balls as your nails dug into your palms, “I can’t believe you would treat a stranger’s dog better over your own brother!” You scream at them as they all visibly flinch at their master’s outburst and rightful outrage. “Of course, I can see why you would. All you ever do is point out his flaws, you never say anything good about your ‘dear’ brother.”

“Dear god. No wonder Mammon felt like shit seeing you all treat him as if you all actually loved and cared about him. Quit lying to yourself that you all would actually want him back.”

“MC, perhaps you can help us bring Mammon back home? He’ll listen to you.” Satan suggests, feeling slightly meek as your rage was still felt as the brothers all murmur in agreement. Why in the Devildom did they ask you to fix them the moment you came back to visit them?

“No wonder he left this family. I’m disappointed- Disappointed would be too generous.” You mutter as you get up to leave, only for Lucifer to grab your hand. 

“MC. Please. We’ve made a grave mistake. We had taken Mammon for granted, we will try to do better.” he admits as he dared not look at you, his pride wouldn’t allow it as you groan and flicked your hand out of his hold.

“I can’t be the only person fixing this family, I did it once, and it looked like things were looking up. But as soon as I leave, it goes to shit. As if I was never here, why are you all surprised that Mammon left?”

You could only shake your head in disappointment and you head out the door, but gave the brothers one last look. “Change starts with you, and I doubt you’d all change for Mammon.”

With Solomon escorting you to the casino districts, you felt the heat of a thousand lights and blares of the various jingles and sounds of the district. The casinos looked like it had become more alive than your last visit as you could have sworn the little casinos weren’t here before.

Something of course must have changed since you last visited the casinos with Mammon. Of course, the days of Mammon inviting you out as his lucky charm were long over. You had missed those days, you and Mammon had good times, even if Mammon lost some nights. Mammon always showed his gratitude, in his own way of course whenever you did accompany him.

When he won big, he’d shower you with whatever you desired, and when he didn’t, he appreciated your comfort and your unconditional love. Even when you were both out late and in for a lecture from Lucifer, you were always quick to defend him. 

As you and Solomon stepped into the biggest casino building, it was like blood in the water to sharks as the demons all stared at you. A pretty little soul ripe for consumption before a tanned demon in a maroon suit stepped forwards towards you and Solomon, the sorcerer quick to guard you. 

“Ah, you must be the little human Mammon brought here many times before.” he greets as he watches you light up and step forward from the sorcerer at the mention of the Avatar’s name.

“So Mammon’s here?” You ask as Archemond chuckles and you give Solomon’s hand a squeeze to ease his worry. “May I see him?” you ask the other demon as he muses at your excitement and Solomon’s wariness. 

“Well, that depends on your handler, doesn’t it?” he asks as you give Solomon a pleading look, Mammon was the reason you had come back into the Devildom after all. You give a small, but assuring smile. “I’ll be fine Solo. I know what spell to use if he turns on me.” 

The sorcerer relents as he lets you go. “No harm will come to MC?” Solomon dares the demon as the latter holds up his hands in a mock surrender, “Please, if that were to happen Mammon wouldn’t let me leave the premises alive. He’d throw me to my own dog once he’s done with me.” 

Archemond turns as he motions you both to follow him and you and Solomon followed him in the elevator. As elevator kept going up from the ground up, you could only imagine the scenery get smaller as you could see the whole Devildom nightlife from how high up Mammon was living now.

As soon as the bell chimed, Archemond steps out first as you follow him out, at a reasonable distance of course. There was a knock to a door as you could only sit back and watch everything unfold.

“Whaddaya want?! I’m busy ‘ere!” Yup, that definitely sounded like Mammon, with an extra bite at the end. You did remember some days where they were mostly associated with Mammon having his bad days where he’d rant and rave about his bad luck or his brothers giving him a hard time. 

“The human has come to see you.” the underling responds as there was silence on the other side before the jingle of grimm could be heard along with the sound of a chair screeching.

“What human?” Mammon snapped from behind the door, but since you couldn’t wait, you moved from your spot and went to blurt it out just to see Mammon.

“Mammon! It’s me!” You called out. And as soon as your voice was heard, the door had flung open with such force, it might had crushed Archemond between the wall and the door.

“MC?!” Mammon appears before you, as if he’s seen a ghost but turns into relief now that you had come. But he approaches you as you flash a smile, one just for him. “MC.” he speaks your name so fondly and so softly as he takes in your presence as you were here with him now.

Your moment with Mammon was interrupted by the groan of Mammon’s underling groaned as he tossed the door aside, and Mammon snarls at his right hand man, “Whaddya still doin here? Get yer ass outta here and back on the floor!” he commanded as his beleaguered demon huffed and made his way out.

As soon as you two were left alone, you immediately hugged your first man. You were taking Mammon in and you still remembered the scent of Devilish No.5 as it clung onto his very being. Despite how warm he felt, you could there was a coat of coldness that hung on his shoulders. He was different from the last time you had seen him since departing from the Devildom. His goofy self was there, you figured, yet it seemed buried deep inside of him.

Not to be seen by anyone again. 

“I missed you Mammon.” You finally breathe as you melt into his embrace. It was as if you never left him, he always did give you the best hugs. It was a familiar gesture you both shared with each other. His arms wrapped around you as you look up to see that winning smirk of his.

“Of course yer did, who wouldn’t want to miss the Great Mammon? Ya oughta be grateful!” He replies as haughty as he had always presented himself. Yet with you, he was more than willing to drop that facade. It was only you who know who he truly was. As he gazed upon the unconditional love that graced your face and eyes, he sighs in content.

“...I missed ya too Treasure.” Mammon whispers in your ear as he stroked the back of your head as he held you. “It’s been lonely since ya left.” he confesses as you would have been what he needed since that day of the dog switcheroo and the fallout with his brothers.

He had everything he wanted, his penthouse was fit for a top boss like himself. The glitz and glamour of the rich and famous adorned his shelves, countless material wealth stood as trophies of his wealth as they decorated each space of his suite. But they were not as rich as the love and comfort you had given him. 

His new digs lacked the familiarity of your things that he’d secretly keep. A shirt or two, or those little notes and gifts you left for him when he wasn’t looking. He makes a note to himself to get some of his belongings from the House back to his penthouse.

Speaking of the House of Lamentation. He gently releases you from his hold and studies your face as you look up at him with questioning bambi eyes. He groans lowly and he half heartedly releases you from his hold.

“Ya ain’t here cause of them, are ya? If yer are, I ain’t going back!” Mammon asked fervently, not that the surprise visit from you was something he was wanting from you. He just had a hunch that his brothers sent you in their place to get him back. 

You sigh as you shake your head, “Of course not. I had to see them first before coming to you.” You rub your temple as you couldn’t help but frown, “To say I was disappointed in them was an understatement. They should have seen this coming for a long time. And they deserve it.” 

You look at Mammon as he wonders over your words and you go up to cup his face in your hands and let your foreheads touch. The sudden flush of red on his cheeks appeared and you couldn’t help but smile.

“I’m proud of you Mammon. You finally stood up to them, and now you’re free. No more insults, no more accusations, and no more punishments.”

Mammon’s red cheeks were warm against your hands, and he let the words sink in. No more abuse from his family, whom were supposed to love him as much as he did them. But alas, they had always taken advantage of his devotion to his family.

“Yeah...It is. It really is MC.” he gives you a sad smile and before you can say more, a loud yip had interrupted you.

“I think I have what you’re looking for Mammon, but why the need?” Archemond questions as he guides Mammon to the antechamber of his penthouse suite.

“Jus something, I just wanna teach my brothers a lesson.” Mammon mutters as the other demon chuckles, “That so? You done rolling over for your brothers?” Archemond snickered and stopped at one pupping pen.

Before Mammon was one of the many hounds that his underling bred and he observes as the hound growls lowly at him. Archemond holds up a white pup by the scruff, and as he whined, blue eyes upon blue eyes gazed at each other.

“He’ll do.”

“They’ve gone completely gaga over the little pup for the last couple of weeks, it’s amazing.” Archemond reports as Mammon muses over his latest profit reports and he huffs. 

“So you were right,” Mammon grumbles and lays his head in the papers as the latter chuckles, “Of course, everyone loves a puppy. Until they grow up, then they lose their charm. You know all about that don’t you?”

“So...This is him?” You ask as you peer down at the hellhound pup that wiggled excitedly in between you and Mammon and you had squatted down to pet him. To think, something so cute and innocent was enough to tear the brothers apart.

The little hellhound that Mammon had used against his brothers just to prove a point, was scampering around the both of you until you pick him up. “I have to admit, he is cute.” You comment before you notice the pout on Mammon’s face and you laugh. “He’s nowhere as cute as you though Mammon.” You assure him as you give him a peck on the cheek.

“Ya don’t hafta tell me that, I know I’m cuter!” Mammon complains as the pup decides to snooze in your arms. You chuckle quietly as you look down at the pup and gently placed him in a little dog bed near Mammon’s desk. There were some toys, a food and water bowl, and some pads for him. You tilt your head before returning to Mammon, giving him a hug.

“Are you keeping him?” You ask as Mammon sighs, “Ya know I like cats better than dogs. But I guess I can make an exception.” He sighs as he pats the pup. “A brutal reminder for my brothers if they see us. Punishment for them this time huh?” His eyes were forlorn at the thought, but you both knew they had deserved it. His arms stayed close around you as he sighs, melting into your warm embrace and you both knew that you’d be like this for a while. 

“Stay a while MC?”

“Of course Mammon.”

[willowwhispersspeakeasy]

hi hi, can you please do the dog boy/person mc but with the dateables? thank you!!

sequel to this request

Dateables with dogboy! MC

warnings: reader will be gender neutral this time (but im still calling it “dogboy” bc I think its cute~) mild power play, mild pet play themes, no horny this time

Diavolo

oh you are simply the cutest mc! he was worried at first, your already kind nature now being blindly trusting. and it would seem you’ve decided to view him as your “master”, which he doesn’t mind. you need someone to look after you and he’s happy to receive your attention.

“come here pup!” Dia pats the top of his thighs, grinning as you bolt towards him. he laughs as you throw yourself into his lap on the couch. he rubs your back at your ears as you buzz with excitement. 

hes going to spoil you with affection for these 24hours. he won't let you leave his lap, absolutely not. hes going to call you all of the cute names too. puppy, baby, good boy, good girl, anything and everything. 

Barbatos

oh dear, what an interesting turn of events. Barb is calmer then Dia of course, gentler with you. he’s a busy demon and having you on his heels like a lost puppy, while cute, is a little difficult to deal with. 

“what is it little one? you’re still following me.” he sighs, setting down the tray he was carrying. 

“’m sorry master... I just feel safer when im with you.” you admit shyly. Barb is taken aback, his many years as a servant hes never been seen as the “master”

“come here little one, I'm sure I can find a use for that cute boundless energy of yours.” he smiles softly, opening his arms and letting you attach yourself to his side.

Solomon

he offers to turn you back first. he can finagle a spell of some kind to speed up the process. if you refuse and want to stay a pup he will be intrigued, but leave you be. 

“well if you don't want me to change you back why do I still find you attached to my hip?” he mused teasingly. Solomon was gentle as he rubbed your ears, smiling as your tail began to wag. 

“’cause I wanna spend time with you master!” your hand flew over your mouth at your unplanned honesty. Solomon raised a brow, chuckling. 

“oh? maybe your “master” should teach you some tricks hm? now, sit.” he instructed, pointing at the ground at his feet. you followed without hesitation, looking up at the sorcerer’s mischievous grin. “good dog~”

Simeon

how adorable~ Simeon is smitten with this turn of events. you are just so cute and you refuse to leave his side. at first he doesn’t treat you any differently then usual, but when it becomes clear you are much needier for his affections he will indulge you. 

you lay with your head in the angel’s lap. his fingers gently petting your scalp and rubbing at your ears. after a fun playdate with Luke you were now exhausted and needy for cuddles. 

the angel hummed an old hymn, turning the pages of his novel. the smell of him and the gentleness of his touches lulling you into a soft slumber. 

Luke

hes worried. mc? are you okay? you’re acting just like a dog? are you going to have to stay like this? Solomon and Simeon will have to reassure him that in a day or so you will return to normal. 

the little angel laughs wildly as you pin him down and roll around the hill. he doesn't get a chance to play much, seeing as hes always around adults all the time. you pretend to growl at the grass, tail wagging as he laughs once more.

you spend the rest of the day picking flowers and berries. playing games about adventures and magic and fairy tails. Luke finally falls asleep on your tummy, belly full of sweets and dreams heavy with imagination. Simeon thanks you after you turn back, thanks you for letting Luke be a child. something he doesn't get to do much. 

[translations-by-aiimee]

The Husky and His White Cat Shizun - Chapter 30

Original Title:  二哈和他的白猫师尊

Genres: Drama, Romance, Tragedy, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter Index

Chapter 30 - This Venerable One Doesn't Want to Eat Tofu

"Hey, hey, did you hear? Elder Yuheng violated the sect rules. As punishment, he has to kneel in Yanluo Hall for three days."

In the morning class the next day, the disciples gathered on the Platform of Righteousness and Evil to practice and meditate. In the end, they are all teenagers and 20-year-olds, and they couldn't just do as they were told. If a master wasn't paying attention, they'll start whispering and gossiping.

The news that Chu Wanning had been punished quickly spread.

The disciples who witnessed the beating yesterday were not shy about sharing the gossip with others.

"Wow, why are you guys finding out about it so late? Oh . . . So yesterday Elder Lucun took you up the mountain to collect night dew flowers? Well then - you guys really missed out on a lot! Yesterday evening, in the Qingtian Temple, there was flesh and blood flying everywhere. It was horrible. Elder Yuheng was beaten with more than two hundred strikes! More than two hundred strikes! Not a single one missed! There was no mercy!"

The disciple made a particularly exaggerated expression every time he said a new sentence. No need to mention the show he was putting on for all his junior brothers and sisters surrounding him.

"Do you actually count all two hundred strikes? Even a big man could be killed, not to mention Elder Yuheng. He couldn't stand it and passed out. This made our young master mad. He rushed in and fought with Elder Jielu. He said not to lay another finger on Elder Yuheng. Ah, that scene—"

His facial features were wrinkled up like a steamed bun. He squeezed his eyebrows. Finally, he stretched out a finger, swaying from side to side, and summed it up in three words:

"Tsk tsk task."

Immediately, a younger sister disciple paled: "What! Elder Yuheng fainted?"

"Young Master and Elder Jielu got into a fight?"

"It's no wonder I didn't see Elder Yuheng in this morning class . . . so pitiful . . . what crime did he commit?"

"I heard that he beat a civilian in a fit of rage."

". . ."

Such gossips drifted into Xue Meng's ears from time to time. Life-Death Peak's young master had completely inherited his shizun's temper, so he was very irritable. It was unfortunate that more than one person was gossiping about this. There were groups all over the Platform of Righteousness and Evil, all muttering "Elder Yuheng was punished" and so on. It made him feel so irritated, but there was nothing he could do.

In one corner was Xue Meng, veins bulging on his forehead, and in the other was Mo Ran, unable to stop yawning.

Xue Meng couldn't direct his anger anywhere else, so he viciously spat at Mo Ran: "The plan of the day relies on the morning. You dog, you're so lazy in the morning! What has Shizun been teaching you?"

"Huh?" Mo Ran said with sleepy eyes followed by another big yawn. "Xue Meng, that's enough. I can handle Shizun's lecturing. Who do you think you are? I'm your cousin. Behave yourself when you talk with your cousin. Don't be so rude."

Xue Meng said fiercely: "My cousin is a dog. Be whatever you want to be!"

Mo Ran laughed: "You're so mean. If you don't look out for your elder sect brother, think about how disappointed Shizun will be once he finds out."

"You still have the audacity to mention Shizun! Let me ask you, when he went to the Court of Discipline yesterday, why didn't you stop him?"

"MengMeng, he's a shizun. Yuheng of the Evening Sky, Beidou Immortal. What did you want me to do?"

Xue Meng was furious. He drew his sword, his sharp eyebrows furrowed angrily: "What the hell did you call me?!!!"

Mo Ran's grin stretched from ear to ear: "Be good, MengMeng. Sit down."

Xue Meng bellowed: "Mo Weiyu, I'll kill you!!"

Shi Mei was caught between the two, listening to their daily bickering. He couldn't help sighing. He silently held the edge of his forehead, trying to concentrate on reading his book: "The sun and the moon are poured in the pot* when the spiritual core is first formed. The way of heaven cannot be interpreted, and life and death are involved in the process. . ."

*(T/N: 日月壶中灌 - referring to the Daoist practice of leisurely inactiveness)

Three days passed in the blink of an eye and Chu Wanning's period of reflection came to an end.

According to the rules, the next thing he had to face was a three-month grounding period. During this period of time, he could not leave Life-Death Peak and needed to go to Mengpo Hall to do miscellaneous chores, clean the corridor pillars of Naihe Bridge, sweep the steps in front of the mountain gate, and so on.

Elder Jielu was anxious: "Elder Yuheng, to be honest, I don't think you should do these things. You are the best shizun of your generation. Doing this kind of dishwashing and floor cleaning . . . it feels wrong." He trailed off, leaving half the sentence unsaid --

The main reason is that the old man doubts whether you can even sweep floors, cook and wash clothes!

Chu Wanning didn't doubt himself at all and went to report to Mengpo Hall in an orderly manner.

All of Mengpo Hall, from the chief steward to the servant, was shocked to hear that Chu Waning was coming to do hard labour. They were terrified, as if they were approaching the enemy.

Chu Wanning, dressed in white, arrived in a flutter.

His handsome face was cold and calm, completely expressionless. If you added an auspicious cloud under his feet and a whisk between his arms, he would've looked like the picture-perfect immortal.

Manager Meng Potang felt very ashamed and uneasy. He was actually supposed to make such a beautiful man wash vegetables and cook.

Chu Wanning didn't have the self-image of being a beautiful man. He stepped into the kitchen and coldly swept his gaze over the crowd, who couldn't help but take a step back.

". . ." Chu Wanning was straightforward. "What should I do?"

The chief steward coyly pinched the edge of his hem and thought about what he should say. He cautiously went with: "How does this elder feel about washing vegetables?"

Chu Wanning said: "Okay."

The chief steward was greatly relieved. He originally thought that Chu Wanning led a very pampered life. He might be reluctant to do this kind of labour, however, all the other jobs were either dirty and tiring or required some skill. He was worried that Chu Wanning wouldn't be able to do a good job. Since Chu Wanning easily agreed to wash the vegetables, he didn't need to worry about it.

As it turns out, the chief steward was really naive.

There was a clear stream in front of Mengpo Hall. Chu Wanning went to the stream with a basket of green vegetables. He rolled up his sleeves and began to wash the vegetables.

This area is under the jurisdiction of Elder Xuanji. Occasionally a disciple of the Xuanji sect passed by. He saw Chu Wanning actually washing vegetables and was so scared that he couldn’t even get a word out. He rubbed his eyes three or four times to make sure he wasn't seeing things. He said in astonishment: "Elder Yu-Yuheng -- good-good morning."

Chu Wanning raised his eyes: "Good morning."

Elder Xuanji's disciples shivered and fled.

". . ."

Chu Wanning didn't bother to talk with them and continued with his business. He broke the leaves, washed them, and threw them back into the basket.

He washed them very carefully. He broke each vegetable leaf apart, repeatedly brushing them thoroughly. The consequence of that was -- come noon, the basket of vegetables still hadn't been washed.

The man waiting in the dining room was anxious, pacing around in circles: "What should we do? Why hasn't the elder come back yet? If he doesn't come back with the vegetables, how are we going to make the stir-fried beef and vegetables?"

The chief steward looked at the sun and said: "Forget it. Hurry, let's replace it with braised beef."

So, when Chu Wanning returned, Mengpo Hall had already served the beef. The stew was so crispy and flavourful that there was no need for vegetables at all. Chu Wanning frowned. He held his vegetables, rather unhappily, and coldly asked: "If you didn't want the vegetables, why did you make me wash them?"

The chief steward's hairs stood on end. He wiped the cold sweat on his forehead with his handkerchief and said something that he regretted: "That's not it. I was thinking you could make a pot of stewed tofu with vegetables?"

Chu Wanning had no expression. Still holding his vegetables, he tilted his head and pondered silently: ". . ."

The chief steward hurriedly said: "If you don't want to, that's alright--"

He hadn't even finished speaking before Chu Wanning asked: "Where is the tofu?"

Chief Steward: ". . ."

"Elder Yuheng, do you . . . know how to cook?"

Chu Wanning said: "I'm not completely ignorant. I'll give it a try."

At noon that day, all the disciples happily entered Mengpo Hall as usual in groups, looking for somewhere to sit. Then, they headed to the counter to get their food served.

There was no shortage of food on Life-Death Peak. The food had always been plentiful and today was no exception.

The braised beef was fatty and lean, the fish shreds were vibrant and rich, the farmhouse pork was golden and crispy, and the chopped pepper fish was red and tempting. The disciples rushed to grab their favourite foods, lining up around the hall, asking the chef to add a spoonful of sweet and sour pork ribs to them, pour some marinade on the rice, or add some spicy sauce.

The ones who always made it to the front of the line first were Elder Lucun's disciples. The little guy at the head of the line had a big pimple on his nose. All he had on his mind was some Mapo Tofu. He skillfully carried the wooden tray to the last counter without raising his eyes and said: "Shizun, I'd like a bowl of tofu."

The shizun, with pale, slender fingers, handed him a plate full of tofu.

However, it wasn't the Mapo Tofu he was familiar with. Instead, it was a plate of strange food with a charred black colour and indistinguishable ingredients.

The disciple was surprised: "What is that?"

"Tofu boiled with bok choy."

Mengpo Hall was full of people, so the disciple didn't pay attention to answering the other person's voice. He said angrily: "Are you an alchemist? Can you even call this tofu with vegetables? I don't want it. Take it back!"

While cursing, he glared at the shizun there. As a result, when he saw the person standing behind the counter, the disciple screamed in fright and almost knocked the tray over.

"Elder Yu-Yuheng!"

"Hmm."

The disciple was on the verge of tears: "No, that's not what I - I didn't mean that just now. I. . ."

"Since you're not eating it, I'll take it back." Chu Wanning said blankly, "Don't waste it."

The disciple stiffly picked up the plate, handed it to Chu Wanning then left with his tail between his legs.

In a short while, everyone knew that Elder Yuheng was standing at the last counter, so the originally lively Mengpo Hall was suddenly silent.

The disciples lined up like a pack of puppies, and they hurriedly grabbed their food, panicked. They went up to the last counter respectfully, greeted the elder, and stumbled away.

"Hello, Elder Yuheng."

"Mmm."

"Good day, Elder Yuheng."

"Good day."

"Elder Yuheng has worked really hard."

". . ."

The disciples were very disciplined and were acting with an abundance of caution, so Chu Wanning accepted the tense greetings from each disciple, but no one dared try his pot of boiled tofu with green vegetables.

Slowly, the line was getting shorter and the food in front of other shizuns was almost gone. Only Chu Wanning still had a pot full of food. The pot of vegetables was completely cold and untouched.

Chu Wanning's face didn't waver, but his heart was conflicted. He had washed them all morning. . .

At that point, his three disciples showed up. Xue Meng was still in silver-blue light armour, refreshing getup. He bounced over with excitement: "Shizun! How are you? Does your wound hurt?"

Chu Wanning was very calm: "It doesn't hurt."

Xue Meng: "Well, that's good."

Chu Wanning glanced at him and suddenly asked: "Do you eat tofu?"

Xue Meng: ". . ."

[tales-unique]

FAITH, LOST  II

Tagging @chelseareferenced so she can read this goodness first hand! ;3

Chapter 2

“You have got to be joking!” Heisenberg can’t contain himself, not that he ever censored himself in the past. This is beyond ridiculous, even for the high and mighty bitch herself. He’s quick to turn on his heel to stare down the deceiver but he doesn’t call her out. Not yet anyway. He doesn’t need to, not when Lady Goliath looks about ready to burst a vein. “Mother Miranda, I must protest!” Lady Dimitrescu hisses, eyes practically glowing with rage. “Heisenberg hasn’t the faintest idea of the gift you are giving, he’d sooner throw it to the dogs!”

You wince at how little she regards you, conflicted. As it stands Lady Dimitrescu is fighting viciously to no doubt claim you as her own, which bodes marginally better than the man who would sooner toss you aside without a second thought than look at you. The Countess stands tall but her posture reminds you of a petulant child, demanding to be given what they want. Albeit a regal one. All while Heisenberg stands there with a mean snarl on his lips that brandishes his impressive canines, aimed squarely at Mother Miranda. Lady Beneviento sits silent as the grave watching the exchange while her devilish doll wiggles in excitement on her lap. Lord Moreau lingers on the edge of the fray, wringing his hands; he’s clearly distressed at the fighting and you almost feel ashamed for being the cause of the turmoil. “My decision is final,” Mother Miranda states firmly, voice echoing unnaturally around the room, her form already receding towards the doors. “Mother Miranda, please!” Lady Dimitrescu calls out, a brief look of panic flitting across her porcelain features when she receives no response at all. The cracks are already showing — she will not get her way today. In a desperate attempt to regain control she turns to Heisenberg, who stands tense as he watches Mother Miranda leave. “Heisenberg!” She seethes, hands balled tightly into fists that threaten to snap the delicate neck of her opera length cigarette holder into splinters, “say something!” You watch, helpless, as he casually lifts his hammer, taking his sweet time under Lady Dimitrescu’s smouldering gaze. The others have already made a hasty retreat, following their Mother’s steps closely, leaving you at the mercy of the feuding siblings. When Heisenberg finally locks eyes with her, hammer set proudly on his shoulder, the tension is so thick you struggle to breathe. Then, he smirks. The tautness of his body melts away into a well versed confident swagger, complete with a wolfish grin, and Lady Dimitrescu recoils so quickly in rage that you fear she’s given herself whiplash. The tirade of pure and unadulterated hatred that spills forth is in no way befitting of a woman of such high standing but Heisenberg seems unaffected. In fact, it amuses him to see her become undone when he ignores her. You don’t understand how he’s so calm when faced with such venom, practically cowering when she turns to you, face twisted in indignation. “Now don’t be a sore loser,” he tuts, quickly tugging you to his side, “Mother Miranda made her choice, are you really going to defy her?” He teases, grin widening at the sight of faint colour spreading on the Countess’ face. Heisenberg always knew how to get under skin and make her squirm. Sparing you one last glance Lady Dimitrescu turns sharply on her heel to leave, huffing in annoyance and frustration. Neither of you are worthy of even a biting retort, it seems. “You can breathe, you know.” You startle at Heisenberg’s teasing remark, finally releasing the breath that you didn’t realise you had been holding the whole time. You had been so transfixed on the very real prospect of your demise at the hands of a nine foot tall Vampire woman that you may have neglected that small fact of life. Lightheadedness makes your vision swim and for a moment you think you’re about to faint. If ever there was something to make you feel like you had one foot in the grave that moment was very much it. It does not bear repeating. Heisenberg takes in your deer-in-headlights expression, chuckling at the way his stare makes your little hummingbird heart flutter more. You’re absolutely petrified. It’s understandable, he knows that he’s dangerous and your little flock has more than enough stories about the big bad Lycan master that lets his hounds descend from the ominous Factory to feast on the nonbelievers. Utter bullshit. Well, mostly. But they don’t need to know that, of course. “So,” he drawls, tilting his head, “Mother Miranda says you’re my new— what was it? Ah, right, right, my new servant.” It’s a statement, but you’re not sure if he fully understands what he’s supposed to actually do with you, just like Lady Dimitrescu remarked. You nod shakily, bringing your still bound wrists up in a feeble attempt to warm yourself. It doesn’t offer much, the metal is so cold it brings your skin out in goosebumps. Thankfully, Heisenberg notices. “Oh, uh, sorry about that,” he clears his throat, a sudden switch, and with a flick of his wrist the shackles snap apart and shoot off to the side. They clatter to the ground unceremoniously, rusted and broken. It’s almost sad how much you relate to them at that moment. “T-thank you,” you answer meekly, rubbing at your sore wrists. The blood rushes to your fingers, making them tingle. It’s an odd, but muted, sensation, given the gravity of your situation. He doesn’t reply, merely tips his hat at you before motioning for you to go ahead of him. You’re unsure if it’s because he’s a gentleman or if it’s a power play but you move regardless, your pace hesitant. You’re not eager to be thrust out into the chill of the mountain, not that it’s any warmer inside at this point. You can only hope that the Factory is better than this.

It’s so much worse. The heat— it’s humid, stagnant, and downright heinous. Steam hisses and spits from rusted, internal pipes that streak across the walls and ceilings of the corridors, making the air humid and cloying. Your feet ache through your boots as you try to keep up with Heisenberg's strides, echoing off the metal grating underfoot in an annoying clank clank clank rhythm. In an attempt to cool yourself down you try to sweep up your damp hair from where it sticks to the back of your neck, grimacing at the wetness that covers your fingers. You’re a sweating mess and you hate it. The elevator is your near breaking point. In such a small space the heat intensifies, stuffy and borderline unbearable. It’s normal, your muddled mind tries to rationalize, since the lower levels are closer to the furnace, and it’ll get better once you go up, but it doesn’t take away from discomfort. You notice with great irritation that Heisenberg is barely batting an eyelid, though it’s to be expected. He lives there, of course he’d be used to it. The ride to the upper levels is uncomfortable and not just because of the humidity. His eyes are on you the entire time, at least you think so given those round glasses that he wears obscure his eyes from your view, no doubt wondering just why he’d taken in such a mess. And a mess you most certainly are. Heisenberg can see how your desperately try to keep stringy, moist hair from plastering itself to your sweat-soaked skin, failing miserably as the rebellious strands slip from your fingers. There are dark patches to your simple dress, made worse by how it clings to your body from the heat. He can barely stop himself from smirking when you curse quietly under your breath, rolling your eyes in irritation as you fuss over your hair. It’s the first time that you’ve shown some real spirit. Your annoyance is refreshing on your flushed face, the dim, artificial light casting you in a dewy, warm glow. Sadly, it’s not enough to overpower how badly you need a bath and fresh clothes. “Well, here we are,” he announces as the elevator stops and the door opens up; your new home. It’s another long hallway that looks similar to the dozen odd that you walked through to get here, but you do notice that it’s comparatively cooler. It must be near the top of the Factory. It’s a pleasant relief and you follow Heisenberg to a cluster of rooms a little lighter on your feet. The tour is, well, barely that, as he shows you a bedroom, a kitchen, and a bathroom, all outfitted with the barest of necessities and far too much scrap metal, tools, and other engineering components. You linger in the doorway of the modest bedroom, staring at the single bed pushed up in the corner as though that’s the out of place object in the room. He leaves you for a moment, fumbling through papers and projects on the heavily cluttered desk that takes up the length of one wall, and you wander the hallway, peeking inside rooms with doors slightly ajar. Most are storage rooms with all sorts of junk inside, but one looks salvageable with an old, banged up couch and minimal debris. As you look about envisioning how to make it more homely, leaning against the door frame, you’re not paying attention and it gives Heisenberg the perfect opportunity to scare you. “Found yourself a room, huh?” He whispers into your ear, pulling back quickly as you shriek in alarm and swing out your arm instinctively to hit him. You can barely hear your heart hammering wildly in your chest over the sound of his raucous laughter, retreating from him quickly. “Why would you do that?” You shout, wide eyes staring at him. Heisenberg can barely pull himself together, breaking into small fits of laughter at the sight of your astonished expression, exhaling deeply to try and ground himself. “Couldn’t help it,” he explains, grinning at you, “it was a perfect setup!” Flabbergasted, your mouth falls open at his response; this man was one of the four Lords of the village, not some child playing tricks! Noticing the offense you take at his actions Heisenberg scoffs, his own expression souring as he turns away from you. What was he honestly thinking? You were just another haughty, stuck-up, loyalist to Mother fucking Miranda that clearly wouldn’t know a joke if it came up and slapped you in the face. “Bathroom is right there, you reek,” he snaps harshly, pointing into a small room lined with cracked, dirty tiles and rusting, dated appliances. You glare at his back, wordlessly going inside and doping your best to slam the door shut, but all you manage is a half-descent rattle. You look about yourself and suppress a shiver of disgust, staring at the old, rusting shower that has clearly seen better days, questioning whether you can forgo washing after all. Needs must, you think to yourself, as you dig out the cleanest towel you can find from a rickety old cabinet in the corner. Thankfully the water is fine when you turn the handle and you quickly strip to take advantage of the first good thing since you came to the Factory. As you stand under the tepid spray you wonder if you are, as Mother Miranda had said, perfect for this task. Doubt nips at your resolve and tries to whittle down your faith, but you refuse to let it win. You must succeed, for Mother Miranda.

[inlovewithhisblueeyes]

Borrowed

Pairing: Henry Cavill x Reader

Word Count: ~1.4k

Warnings: Talks about Suicide, Survivor’s Guilt, Depression, Parental Abuse, Panic Attacks, Use of Platonic Pet Names

A/N: Today is my 22nd birthday. I have always had issues regarding my birthday and getting older. I spent 12 years of my life actively wishing I was dead and never expecting to make it to 18. It’s hard for me to understand that I’m still here 4 years after my believed expiry date. I’m getting better each year at dealing with all the feelings that come with my birthday. I’m okay and this piece helped me get out what I struggle with telling others. The nice thing at least is this year I’m not spending this day alone.

You let out a shaky breath as you laid out in the grass. The stars were just barely shining through the cloudy sky above you. The night breeze was still warm enough that you didn’t need a jacket. It would have been a pleasant night if the voices lurking in the back of your mind had taken some time off for once.

Tonight they were screaming at you, louder than ever before. Their voices bounced off the walls your mind, echoing endlessly. The pain in your chest was too much to bare. It was a crushing weight that threatened to flatten you to utter nothingness. No matter what you did to cope it just wasn’t working like it normally would.

Tonight they were screaming at you, louder than ever before. Their voices bounced off the walls your mind, echoing endlessly. The pain in your chest was too much to bare. It was a crushing weight that threatened to flatten you to utter nothingness. No matter what you did to cope it just wasn’t working like it normally would.

You had to swallow down the bile that was trying to creep up your throat. There was an ever present fear seeping from every single pore as you did the one card you had left to play. You didn’t want to do this on tonight of all nights. Hands shaking you type out the words that could save or damn you.

10:28 PM Midnight Picnic. Delivered …. Read ✓

The swell of anxiety becomes too much as you wait for those little dots to appear. You toss your phone next to you as you struggle to hold back tears. The voices seem grow into a roar as the minutes slip away. Everything he ever said to you is stuck on repeat in your head

Burden….

You held him back…

It was your fault…

You ruined his life…

If only you hadn’t been born…

You didn’t deserve to be alive…

They all loved him better than you…

Useless…

Replaceable…

Selfish…

You hadn’t even realized that the tears had burst out, painting your cheeks, your neck, your shirt and most likely staining the ground under you. It’s not until you feel something pressing down on you and warmness chasing the tears off your face that you realize you had been hyperventilating. A soft clicking comes from somewhere behind you as you finally open your tear-blinded eyes. There, resting on top of your shaking form, was a fuzzy face you knew too well.

“Kal, up,” the figure behind you utters,” You gotta let her up, boy.”

The bear of a dog gave a disappointed huff before doing as his master commanded. You felt warm hands gently help you sit up and soon after you feel a solid mass against your back and two long legs incase yours. If anything, the close contact caused your panicking to cease only for a moment. Henry’s arm wrap around your shoulders and he settles you against him. Kal lays himself down by the two of you.

“I’m here for you, Bunny. I know how you might be a little trapped right now, but I want you to try and listen to me alright,” he whispers and waits for the nod that comes between your gasping breaths,” See you’re doing so well already. Remember that exercise your gram does with you. I know you do. Can I help you with it?”

You nod again as you try to unscramble the wires in your brain. You feel his breath tickle the top of your head as he continues to hold you tightly.

“Good bunny. I want you to try and tell me 5 things you can see. Take all the time you need okay?”

“St-t-tars…” You start between gulps, “Grass…..Kal…..uhmmm”

“You can do it, sweetheart,” Henry says as he reaches down and gives your shaking hands a squeeze.

“Your Flops… Trees..”

“Now 4 you can feel.”

“Your Hand…the ground…the breeze…my shirt,” You respond with your voice a bit stronger than before.

“You’re doing great. 3 things you can hear,” Henry adds giving your hands another squeeze.

“You..me..the bugs.”

“We’re almost there. Tell me 2 things you can smell.”

“My lotion and detergent,” You voice, feeling yourself come back even more.

“Last thing. What can you taste?” The Brit asks.

“My tea from earlier,” You sigh slumping into him more.

The two of you remain there, listening to the night’s music. You continue to come down from your attack and your breathing gets softer and softer as he holds you. A few more moments pass before he loosens his hold on you because he knows that you’re back in control. You stay against him as you try to find a thought you can easily share. You wiggle away from him slightly and then turn yourself sideways so you can rest your head above his heartbeat.

“I’m so sorry.” You murmur into his warm chest,” I couldn’t be in my place anymore.”

“It’s alright, Bunny,” He mumbles, the nickname causing your nose to scrunch up slightly,” You’re the one who keeps wiggling that nose of yours like that.”

You chuckle softly before taking some deep breaths.

“I can’t stop thinking about it you know. How I never planned to be here this long and here I am still here. It feels like I stole someone else’s time. Someone more deserving,” You express, desperately trying to keep yourself from getting worked up again.

Henry wraps his arms around you again, giving a squeeze to tell you to continue.

“I know Megan says that it’s okay to not have a plan, but I don’t like that. I don’t like feeling like I have no control. I always thought I wouldn’t make it to 18 and every year that passes hurts more because I feel like I’m on borrowed time. That maybe this is all some sort of dream or something and I’ll wake up and I’ll be back in that house with him,” You blubber.

He keeps holding you tight and slightly rocks you in his arms. Kal even moves to rest his head on your leg.

“I still hear him in my head. He keeps telling me how I ruined his life, that he can’t see his girlfriend as much because of me, that I’m causing him all these problems-“

“Bunny,” Henry cuts you off,” Your father was wrong. He had his problems just like you, but he shouldn’t have taken it out on you. You’re not the reason why any of his life turned out the way it did…”

“But I killed him didn’t I? Speed up his desire to do what he did. The thing that I was supposed to do,” You cry into his chest.

“Y/N, you didn’t kill him. He should never have made you feel like killing yourself was the only way to help him. You are not on borrowed or stolen time. You were meant to be here. You deserve to be here. Your life matters to me and Kal and so many others. I know this time of the year is rough, but you did something you never did before. You reached out to someone instead of handling this alone and I am so damn proud of you,” Henry uttered and he held you tighter, blinking away the own tears in his eyes.

You sob harder at that, letting it all out. He lets you sob for as long as you need to. Occasionally rubbing your back and whispering how proud he is of you over and over until it sticks. The tears eventually run dry and you breathing evens out once more. You listen to each breath he takes, the praise he gives you. The silence only broken by a small dinging from nearby. Henry adjusts to slightly to see his watch alert midnight.

“I’m only going to say this once so don’t get too annoyed. Happy Birthday Bunny,” The man whispers to you,” Now I know we can’t do anything to crazy to distract you but I may have brought part of the festivities early. Theres two cupcakes in the car with your name on it. How about I grab those, we go inside, curl up on your couch, and watch The Little Mermaid? Maybe I can start calling you fishy instead huh? Kal thinks its a good idea right bud.”

Kal huffs loudly in approval before getting up to stretch and do his business. You laugh at that as you pull away from him slightly. “Thank you Hen. I really needed that.”

“That’s what friends are for. Now let’s go before my cheat day passes by.”

A/N 2: If you've read this far, I want you to know you're not alone. Trust me I know it feels like that sometimes, but there are people who are there for you. I'm one of those people if you need it. You deserve to be here in this life just as much as I do. ❤️

[nesswritings]

Mine, Forever

Oikawa clears his throat, breaking the silence. “I’ve been thinking, and I finally have a task for you. You know Ushiwaka, correct? Since you failed to take me out, I’m hoping you can take him out.”

a/n: My piece for @inarizahki's mafia collab. Thanks Sunny for the slight peer pressure to do this, it reminded me how much I love writing and mafia au's. Sending my love to you <3 <3 <3 word count: 2.2k

Warnings: stockholm syndrome, dub-con, general mafia topics (violence, guns, blood, etc.), death mentions, slight yandere oikawa, alcohol and drugs mentions, nsfw content at end

Shit. The bullet missed, hitting the man’s shoulder instead of going clean through his head. Below there already was a commotion, curses and directions being shouted out by someone. Time was limited, and you had to get back before you got caught. Karasuno was expecting you back safely, though the assassination was a failed mission. Survive, get back, and recover from this shock, then you could try again. Stairs in the back, the gun left behind so you could leave quickly.

But arms caught you as you emerged from the door at the bottom, your instincts already kicking in. The grip was too tight, and there were others there. Outnumbered, and stuck in this position. Your eyes rested on the muscular man you had attempted to take out, his slumped form against an alleyway wall as another man pressed a blue handkerchief against the wound. But that sight was short lived, your chin forced up to take in a new man, a man who didn’t seem to belong with the rest of Seijoh.

“You hurt Iwa-chan, sweetheart,” he cooed, ignoring the flinch from the nickname. Oh, that wouldn’t do, his eyes tracing over your outfit. It was easy to catch the small snag of the patch, pulling at the collar to truly take it in. A smirk set on his face, lithe fingers tearing the patch off the fabric before it was handed off. “Ah, so cute and clueless you’ve been involved. Don’t worry, they’ll pay in a different way. But you. You’re mine, princess, and don’t you ever forget that.” Dark words from a pretty man, words that only made him smile as he caught you off guard. But the rest understood, a murmur coming from Mattsun. “Don’t worry, I won’t let your pretty head hit the ground. So just relax.”

You sit up in the bed, your breath racing and your heart pounding in your chest. Only a dream, it was only a dream. No, it was a dream of the night you had been caught, the night Karasuno had been raided and the bloody massacre on the base. Oikawa had promised you’d pay in a different way, but you weren’t sure how that would happen. You weren’t used for sex, you weren’t on the streets trafficking drugs. No, you were stuck in this small room daily, with meals delivered and the blinking red light of the camera being a reminder that someone was always watching.

How long has it been? Days passed slowly and blended together. You would see Oikawa most days, though you refused to talk about Karasuno and who you were. But, despite the challenge, the company was nice. At least a week of being here, you knew that much, but the world would be different if you ever left.

The knock interrupts your thoughts, sitting up as you see the aforementioned man walk in. Two trays instead of one, the suit sharp with the light blue accents. Meant to seem less intimidating, and to show that they had a sense of style, Oikawa had once told you. A useless fact that stuck with you, the tapping against your cheek snapping you out of your thoughts for good.

“Eat up, princess.” Oikawa left little room for debate, settling at the desk with his eyes pointed at you. His gaze drops to his phone, glancing over the latest update. Iwaizumi would heal with time, though a nasty scar from the bullet would remain. Oikawa clears his throat, breaking the silence. “I’ve been thinking, and I finally have a task for you. You know Ushiwaka, correct? Since you failed to take me out, I’m hoping you can take him out.”

Ushijima, a man you knew simply by name. Larger than Seijoh, far more terrifying, and a beast of a man to mess with. Rumors always spread about that man, whether it was about how he tortured someone or his latest acquisition. Someone like him was far beyond your paygrade, your fork dropping onto the plate as you processed the request. “I can’t.”

“Oh, you can. And you will.” Oikawa didn’t bother with finishing his food, leaving the half-touched plate on the desk. “I’ll send someone for you soon. Until then, be good.”

Another typical day, outside of that small taste of freedom. Even if you weren’t to be trusted, your hands bound with rope, you were out of that room. A small taste of fresh air, finally able to see where you were. The Seijoh headquarters, luxurious and full of their distinguishing light blue accents. You follow behind closely, almost in shock at being led into Oikawa’s office. A meeting in progress with his closest men and an invite from the leader. His lap, with little choice.

Boring, dreadfully boring, but the interaction was nice. Though they continued on as though you weren’t there, it gave your mind a break from thinking over your mistakes. No, your focus was on the warmth of Oikawa, the gentle swirl of his fingers on your thighs. The touch was enough to distract you, your head resting against Oikawa’s shoulder. Far more gentle than that night, almost as if he cared. Maybe he did. It was a bad mindset to let yourself fall into, but if he cared, there was no reason to let your guard down a little.

“You’re dismissed for the day. Iwa, make sure to get some rest.” Oikawa accepts the grunt from him, waving off the men without a care in the world. His focus was on you, his new pawn to use as he needed. “You’re staying, sweetheart.” His hands move to keep a tight grasp on your waist, leaning forward to let his cheek rub against yours. There was so much he could do, so much he wanted to do, but trust was a little more important. Establish that trust, then he would be able to have his way with you. “You’ve been kept in that room for far too long, haven’t you? You can spend your days by me, if you’d like. All you have to do is listen. Deal?”

He wanted you to be on board with the Ushijima plan. Maybe he thought you were dumb, but you weren’t, your eyes locking on the map on the wall. Pins marked where various fights had been, a giant red X over where Karasuno had once been. Your home was gone, and there was no return to those you considered family. “It’s a deal.”

You had freedom, though in an unconventional way. Oikawa was glued to you, or you were at his side. Like a master and a dog, though you were granted alone time once you were brought back to your room in the evenings. The freedom helped you to keep track of the dates, to keep track of time, and to learn more about Seijoh. Members, the history, what their plans involved. Oikawa trusted you, or you would meet your end after you completed what he needed you for.

The plan was in place, and the night quickly approached. Everyone was counting down the hours until the fall of Shiratorizawa, until Seijoh would be the ones in charge of the entire region.

“Your dress, your highness.” Makki’s teasing voice was the only one in the small room, your eyes looking at the bag. Oikawa had mentioned a party, but dressing up? You stand from the bed, the dress revealed. Black and silky, bound to be tight and short on you. And, of course, jewelry with blue accents, as if being with Oikawa wouldn’t expose you. “Thanks, Makki.” Your fingers run over the material, looking at the mafia man who didn’t budge. He was going to help you get ready. This was beyond embarrassing, a groan leaving your lips. “Make it quick.”

Tight enough to show off your figure, yet loose enough for Makki to strap the pistol to your side and give it a teasing pat. Everything was almost too good, letting him escort you out to the main entrance. Seijoh was gathered, and more than ready to go.

“Thanks, Makki.” Oikawa offers his arm out for you, his plan for the night set in place. Keep you next to him, entertain you, and have you take out his enemy during the deal. “Come along, princess, we don’t have all night.”

The drive was nearly silent, sandwiched between Oikawa and Iwaizumi. You were his precious gem, his special girl, his hidden tool, compliments he had showered you with in the past days. When the car stopped outside the venue, you could feel warm fingers intertwining with your own, a squeeze following. “Just wait for my cue, cutie, then a bullet to the head. Do a good job for me, and we’ll get you out of that stuffy room.”

Heart beating fast in your chest, you allow him to help you out, knowing how the evening would progress. Mingling, staying glued to his side, looking pretty. Inside and outside of Seijoh were bound to be the same, and the least you could do was behave. If Oikawa was playing nice, you would as well. Being led around while nursing various drinks and small appetizers was relaxing, only required to give a smile and accept the occasional kiss or dip of fingers underneath the dress slit from Oikawa. A tease, but no one noticed, or they didn’t dare to say anything to him. Fear and tension were in the air, but for unspoken reasons.

By the time Ushijima shows up, you were escorted away, as Oikawa claimed that their talks weren’t suited for ladies like you. Iwaizumi stands next to you, his presence both comforting and terrifying as you steady the shot. Your finger itches to pull the trigger, adrenaline already coursing through your body. So long without an assassination, without a task to complete, and it was coming to backfire. As Oikawa’s hand rises in the air, your finger moves to hover over the trigger, pulling as soon as his fist closes.

Bang. The smell of gunpowder and commotion follows the noise, your brain already guiding you through your old process. Wipe the gun down and get the hell out of there. Iwaizumi stops you before you could run, cocking his head towards the back. Even if you had shot him, the resentment must have passed by now. One of his hands rests firmly on your back, the other grabbing the gun, leading you away from the chaos and out into the fresh air.

You scramble to sit up on his bed as Oikawa finally arrives, blood spatters on his white shirt and a streak across his forehead. A smile graces your lips as he presses closer, the smell of blood strong as your lips meet. Sweet, gentle, until Oikawa got hungry, your hair spread along his sheets in an instant and his teeth nipping lightly at your lip.

“Good fucking girl, aren’t you?” The words make your heart flutter, the streak of blood in your vision for a moment as his lips move to suck on your exposed collarbone. Your head was heavy between the pleasure and the alcohol from before, soaking in the praise from Oikawa. “Took care of Ushiwaka for me. You’ll be mine forever, won’t you?”

You feel the fabric of the dress being bunched around your waist, a moan slipping from your lips as his fingertips tease your clit. “Yeah, yours forever.” You were too occupied in how his fingers danced over your clit, unable to see the smirk that graced his lips. Panties were pushed aside, fingers finally entering your wet cunt. Your hips bucked as his fingers thrusted brutally into your sweet spot, back arching and pussy tightening around them. “There, please Tooru, there!”

“Patience.” Oikawa would spend his entire night ruining you, learning every inch of your body, marking what belonged to him. You were of Seijoh now, and he had no intentions of ever giving you up. But he could give into your demands, feeling you were worthy of a reward. You did what he asked, his thumb rubbing your clit as his fingers continued to hit the spot that made your toes curl. He hums softly as you tighten around his fingers, slowing his pace to a gentle pumping and glancing at your fucked out face. “Not yet, darling.”

His hand is gentle over yours like always, guiding it to his clothed cock. You bite your lip, looking up at him with wide eyes. Expected, yes, but your thighs were still shaking and it was hard to focus when those fingers continued to work your cunt open.

“I love you, cutie. You’ll do it for me, won’t you?” Oikawa leans closer, letting his fingers curl up and his lips press against yours. He soaks up the cry that leaves your mouth, only pulling away when you begin to nod frantically.

Your hands undid his slacks, pushing them down enough. Maybe not a large cock, but intimidating enough in the tight underwear. “I’ll do it, Tooru. Anything for you.”

“That’s a good girl.” His fingers pull out of your cunt slowly, dragging along the dress to clean them. It was time to take matters into his own hand, fishing his cock out. “Don’t be a brat. We have forever together, cutie, you and me.”

[multiplefandomsblog]

Byakuya x inexperienced!reader pt.2(NSFW)

request; hi !! so to whoever wrote the Byakuya x inexperienced! reader um i-i ilysm TOT would it be alright to ask for a part 2 of it, maybe reader has more experience and is ready for whatever 'mAstEr' Byakuya has in store?? (and maybe m a y b e Byakuya loses control of himself bc his innocent reader has finally been corrupted— OKAY THANK YOU BYE

warnings; so muCH CORRUPTION KINK!!!, pet play, master kink, dom!Byakuya, begging, Byakuya neglects reader a tad, s&m, reader is kind of a brat(just a littttleeee bit), sex toys/vibrators, bondage(handcuffs), overstim, forced orgasm?, unedited, slight dumbification, reader has female parts and uses female pronouns and names, slight praise kink, manhandling, humiliation, begging, dacryphillia, light dark themes(lmfao) there’s like, no fluff at all.

note; phew! okay this one, im kinda kinda proud of- i even put together a small byakuya playlist to get into the mood hehehe, it surprisingly helped a lot! i got into the byakuya mind space zone :0 anyway, thank you sm for requesting and i hope you enjoy!

(also p.s. this is a second part to this so you don’t have to read that first, but it’d help? kinda? idk your choice broskis ;0)

word count; 1.4k 

•••••••

“Master.”

Byakuya’s shoulders tensed, fingers almost tearing the pages of his book as he heard your voice, seductive behind him. His eyebrow quirked up at the tone of your voice, a small barely noticeable smirk adorning his face. He could hear the neediness, seductiveness, submission from just the title you uttered out. Instead of moving his head behind him, he decided not to let his eagerness to look at your show. So instead, he pretended to keep reading his book, faking disinterest. Even though he heard the way you spoke, heard the way you spoke so needy for him, wasn’t enough for his insatiable hunger. 

So he decided he would tease you until you were sobbing for him, begging for him. You weren’t going to get what you want until Byakuya does first. Ah, the look of desperation on your face he still had engraved in his mind, he could feel his pants tighten slightly.

Pouting at his unresponsiveness, you swiftly made your way to the back of his chair, caressing your hand lightly against his shoulder. “Master, look at me.” You persisted, bending down to lean your chin on his shoulder, face next to his as you folding your abdomen over the shirt you were wearing. To clarify, his shirt, and just his shirt. He could recognize the white cotton material, and as much as he wanted a peek, his need to see you on your knees for him was much bigger. 

Instead of letting you see his eyes, his eyes full of lust and want, he focused them onto the page, glazing over the words, yet not quite registering them in his mind as you preoccupied it. “M-master why aren’t you…” You trailed off, gulping as the realization of what he wanted—or at least thought he wanted— dawned on you. Slowly getting on your knees, you sat on your heels in front of him, head bowed down to look at his shoes. “Is this what you wanted?” You peaked up to try and take a quick look at his face, a low whine rumbling in your throat as you saw Byakuya flip another page. 

“I-I’ll act like a dog for you..! R-ruff ruff! I-is this enough? P-please..! I don’t like it when y-you ignore me…” You huffed quietly underneath your breath, feeling little shame for the act you had just performed in front of your heir. Though you were upset Byakuya hadn’t even spared a glance to you, you would be lying if you said you didn’t love the humiliation; your panties had been soaked the moment Byakuya decided not to talk nor pay attention to you.

 “Master please, I n-need you.” he didn’t even need to say anything, and yet here you are, sitting on your knees and barking for him; convinced that this is what he wanted, not what you secretly needed. He wanted to laugh, he made you like this. He made you so corrupted, and he felt disgustingly proud of that fact. “Hm.” Deciding to throw you a bone, he closed his book and fixed his eyes on you, “You’re a good pup for me, no?” 

He reached down to tap your chin. Getting a bit eager, you rose up, straightening your thighs so they were vertical. Grabbing eagerly onto his thighs, you leaned your head into his touch, looking at him with an adoration that seemed impure. “Y-yes! Yes, I’m a good puppy. I’m such a good pup for you, only you!” Your doe eyes stared up at him loyally, making him growl underneath his breath. 

“Look at you, you weren’t even able to take it last time, and yet you’re still coming back to me for more? Will you even be able to handle what I’ll give you?” You opened your mouth to say you could in protest, yet Byakuya cruelly interrupted, “After last time? You could barely handle it.” There was a snarl painted across his cold face, and yet it only seemed to make you wetter. 

Even if he seemed like he was mocking you, you could still hear the softness in his voice as he trailed off. You detected his worry, and so you did your best to show him you could handle it. Your voice wavered, but you stood your ground, clutching whatever was left of your confidence tightly, “I’m not the same as before, master.” Not only did you Byakuya with your newfound confidence, but you surprised yourself as well. 

You didn’t even recognize your voice, but you didn’t care, it seemed to be working. Leaning and hovering over Byakuya’s slightly stunned figure, you challenged, “I’d be more worried if you could handle me.” Your hands gripped Byakuya’s knees as you used them to support your body that had been arched against him. Byakuya’s stunned expression only lasted so long as his face twisted into a snarl, before kissing you roughly, teeth clashing against his.

As he kissed you, he could feel your hands slipping slowly down the valley of his thighs, and so, he pulled away suddenly and leaned down, perching your stomach on his shoulder. Confused, you let out a “Mast-?”, before he stood up, your body being hurled up along with him as he walked with ease. 

Dropping your body on the mattress, Byakuya quickly searched his table for the handcuffs, sighing satisfied as he found them. Smiling widely, you held your wrists out for him, slightly startling but pleasing Byakuya. In a rare moment, he snorted, “Good girl. ...Though, you’ll soon regret that.“ Standing up from the bed after he tied you to the headboard, he searched his drawers once again, bringing out something pink this time.

Glancing side ways to see your terrified face, “Remember this?” Your eyes widened at the familiar toy he fiddled within his hand, your heart beating erratically fast. “You still think you can take it?” He hunched over your body, one hand supporting his body, and one hand holding the toy scarily close to your glistening cunt.

Waiting patiently, he watched your expression, searching for any type of hesitation, yet finding.. none?

Snarling at your persistent face, he tried teasing you, to scare you to say no, “We never got to see what this did, did we now?” He said through gritted teeth, testing you by pressing it against your hole, making your legs widen slightly from contact. He looked at you in disbelief, “You’re not even- Wow, you… you really are my little slut, aren’t you?” His smile, villain-like. Beaming up at him, you inhaled sharply in relief as he finally understood, “Uhuh! Ye-ssss!” Your jaw dropped, eyes rolling back in your head as you arched your back into the vibrations that Byakuya had turned on suddenly. 

“M-master, it feels really good..!” You felt like your brain was scattered, fuzzy as you lost yourself. What was your name again? Pet? It didn’t matter anyway, as your legs shook from your first orgasm. Feeling Byakuya press the toy harder against your clit, you arched your back on instinct, wailing out pleas. “Gonna cream, s-second timeee!” You whined, breathing sounding more like wheezing as your chest heaved from the overstimulation. Your drool trailing down your open mouth, and getting on his once clean dress shirt you wore.

Your eyes scrambled back up to look at your master, wanting to see his eyes you adored so much. Gasping and frantically looking around as you didn’t see him, “M-ma-!” You squirmed against the toy, panting for air as you felt it rub against your clit slightly. “Right here, baby.” 

Your face whipped towards the sound of his voice, eyes focused on him, though your vision was slightly blurred from the tears of pleasure and possibly desperation. Your gaze was intense, unblinking, yet the rest of your face was a fucked out mess, your body twitching and writhing without control as you still kept your eyes on him.

“Hhnng!” You didn’t want to take your eyes off him, but you couldn’t help it as your third orgasm came up, forcing you to scream into his pillows. “M-m-!” You sobbed out, unable to speak his name as moans and cries overlapped it. He could see your body twitch from the toy, squirming away from it as the oversensitivity eventually got to you.  

He swiftly got to action, yanking your twitching legs wide apart, pushing the toy deep inside your pussy instead of your clit. He sighed shakily as he saw how easy the toy slipped in, your screams sounding like music to his ears. He could feel you squirming against his iron-tight grip on your ankles.  “You said you could take anything. Am I wrong? So take it.” The sound of his voice scared you in all honesty, but you couldn’t seem to even focus your attention onto how dangerous he sounded, as you fell into yet another orgasm. 

[keigoslovebird]

Next Chapter

Pairing: Ushijima Wakatoshi x Reader

Warnings: Manga spoilers!! Pregnancy and references to pregnancy, you have a child (obvi), aged up characters, breeding kink, negative self image (on Toshi’s part), references to alcohol, self deprecating language, very fluffy Daddy Toshi shenanigans

Genre: Fluff, smut

Word count: 8.3k

Author’s note: I had so much fun writing soft husband Toshi, if it isn’t obvious by the word count. I just want to rub his soft belly and tell him how much I love him. Hopefully you enjoy this as much as I did writing it!

Note: Flashbacks indicated by italics

Wakatoshi Ushijima has always been a man of few emotions and even fewer words, with just one thing on his mind—volleyball. 

Since he was a young child, he has always slept, eaten, breathed volleyball. Nothing came close to his fiery, burning passion for the sport, not that he had the time to care about anything else.

That all changed when he retired from professional volleyball at the ripe young age of thirty-one, the years of wear and tear on his body finally catching up to him. He knew it was time when the pain in his joints was so severe he could no longer keep up with his much younger teammates. It was a difficult, emotional decision, but he ultimately viewed it as passing the torch to the next generation of volleyball players.

The announcement of Wakatoshi’s retirement was met with great sadness from the sports community at the loss of such a talented, renowned player, but he left behind an exceptional legacy marked by achievements and historic wins. 

His final game with the Schweiden Adlers concluded in a symbolic victory, this chapter of his life drawing to a close the same way it began—with Wakatoshi as an indisputable champion. Every player, coach, and audience member rose from their seats, clapping and screaming words of encouragement. Each of his teammates got on their knees, lowering themselves to press their foreheads into the floor of the stadium, bowing in an ultimate show of respect. The sight of his peers, his coaches, the entire auditorium giving him such an impassioned send off made a heavy lump form in his throat that refused to go away, no matter how many times he tried to swallow it down. Tears pricked at his eyes but he didn’t want to cry, not in front of all of these people.

The dam broke when you sprinted across the court, wrapping yourself around him in a bone crushing hug.

“You did so well Toshi. I am so proud of you,” you praised through choked sobs, pressing your tear-stained face into his neck. Your watery eyes and trembling smile shattered whatever willpower he had, his own tears streaming down his face like a waterfall. All those late night practices away from you, the excruciating injuries, the heartbreaking losses, all led up to this moment. This was the last time the Super Ace would step foot on a volleyball court as a professional player, but all good things must come to an end. 

The screaming and clapping was so loud you could barely hear his quiet, trembling whisper of, “I love you.”

----

It took him awhile to adjust to what one would call a “normal” life, one that didn’t include daily flights from country to country or backbreaking practices that lasted from sunup to sundown. Sure he still went to the gym and practiced with the volleyball net strung up in your backyard, but it was nothing like his grueling schedule when he was a pro athlete. To make matters worse, the blinders he wore his entire life that blocked out anything but volleyball prevented him from finding any real hobbies of his own. This meant for the first few months, your husband followed you around the house like a lost puppy, just wanting to be a part of whatever you were doing.

You would be cooking dinner, some soup simmering on the stove, when Wakatoshi’s massive form would come up from behind you to shyly peek over your shoulder. 

“What’re you doing?” he wondered, resting his head in the crook of your neck.

You could feel a smile tugging at your lips at how cute he was being, getting used to domestic life, something you never really got to experience until now. Before, you would often be sleeping when he came home at night, and still be asleep when he left in the morning. “I’m just cooking, do you want to help me?” you asked, holding a knife out to him to cut some vegetables. He nodded silently as he took the knife from you. 

His chopping skills left much to be desired, but what could you really expect from a man who only ever held a volleyball?

Another time you were sitting on the couch, scrolling through Twitter on your phone. You could feel your husband staring so intensely you were afraid he’d pop a blood vessel in his head.

Looking up at him, you cleared your throat and asked, “Did you need something, Toshi?” You set your phone down and gave him a questioning look, hoping to solve whatever was troubling him.

He was pensive for a moment, his eyebrows scrunching as he figured out what he was trying to say. “No, I just… There’s nothing to do,” he answered finally.

You nearly burst out laughing at his concern for simply being bored, but you held it in. “Of course there’s something to do!” you exclaimed, “You can go on a walk, read a book, watch TV, or even just take a nap.”

His head tilted quizzically, unsure of what you were suggesting. “A… nap? Why would I sleep? It’s the middle of the afternoon,” he questioned, sounding like you had proposed he eat sand and not to take a quick snooze.

You chuckled and walked over to the chair he was sitting in, plopping yourself down into his lap. “Sometimes people sleep in the middle of the day because they’re tired, or just because they want to,” you clarified, “We can go take a nap right now if you would like.” 

Suddenly Wakatoshi stood up, causing you to squeak in surprise, his arms securely carrying you bridal style.

“W-what’re you doing!?” you squealed, panicked by your sudden lack of solid ground, slightly struggling in arms. 

He tilted his head again, reminiscent of a pet confused by its master’s orders. “We’re going to take a nap together, yes? I’m taking you to our room,” he said, jerking his head in the direction of your shared bedroom. 

You stopped squirming once you took in his words, your belly fluttering with affection. Sighing happily, you snuggled your face against his chest, giving him a simple “mhm” in response.

That day Wakatoshi took his first nap since he was six years old and to this day, he still swears he’s never had a more restful, peaceful sleep in his life.

Those instances happened less and less often as he figured out ways to occupy his time that didn’t involve volleyball. 

You adopted a dog, a commitment you didn’t want to make in the past due to both of your busy schedules, but your lives became a lot less hectic after Wakatoshi’s retirement. Your husband made it a daily ritual to take your puppy Leo out on a morning run, both of them returning tired and sweaty before promptly passing out for an hour. He took up a job at the local university to help coach their men’s volleyball team, deciding to try it out when the requests to lend his wisdom and skills kept coming in. Although, his favorite pastime now consists of him standing outside on the patio, beer in hand as he sweats over the flames of his fancy silver grill.

But perhaps the most significant change in your lives came in the form of your son, Hidetoshi. 

Much like your refusal to commit to taking care of a dog, neither of you wanted to have kids while your lifestyle was so unfit to raise a child. You didn’t mind making those compromises for your husband, having known the path he would take since you started dating in high school. Frankly, you didn’t mind not having children at all, so it surprised you when he was the one to broach the subject. 

“What if we did?” he inquired under the darkness of your bedroom.

You turned over to face him, reaching up to gently stroke his cheek. “What if we did what, my love?” you murmured.

His eyes flitted across your face with an uncharacteristic nervousness. “What if we decided to have a child?” The shock on your face made his stomach churn uncomfortably and he almost regretted saying anything at all, but his fears quickly vanished as your expression melted into a soft smile.

“We’d have to talk about it more but I’d love to have your children, Wakatoshi Ushijima.”

You had a deep, lengthy conversation about your wants, needs, plans for the future, and whether or not a kid would fit into them. Once all of your cards were on the table you decided to start trying to get pregnant, a mission that your husband took very seriously.

Even as a teenager Wakatoshi’s sex drive wasn’t very high, and his frequent absence and exhaustion in his adult life made it somewhat difficult for you to have sex often. You made up for it where you could, having phone sex and masturbating together over FaceTime, once you convinced him to do it. When he was bewildered as to why you would suggest such a salacious act, you explained you were a grown woman with needs and if he wasn’t there to take care of them, he’d have to help you in other ways. Once he realized how serious you were, he agreed. 

But your husband as a young adult and your husband post-retirement are almost two  completely different people in regards to sex. He has seemingly unlimited reserves of stamina, built up over years of rigorous, intense training, and he no longer had an outlet to expend them. So, his new outlet to test his endurance became you and your body.

He began fucking you every chance he got with the vigor and gusto of a hormonal teenager, seeking to make up for lost time. He asked for sex at all hours of the day, waking you up in the middle of the night with the insistent prodding of his arousal and lazily thrusting between your thighs in the early hours of the morning before you had to leave for work. He fucked you in every room in your house and on every surface—on the dining room table, in the shower, on the living room floor, and even on your back patio when you both got a little too drunk on some cheap rose. 

You welcomed Wakatoshi’s insatiable hunger with open arms, unable to resist your strong, ridiculously handsome husband, but that, coupled with his seemingly limitless stamina, spelled trouble for your muscles and pelvis. In the first year after his departure from professional sports you had to call in sick to work seven times, too tired to function, too bruised to look presentable, and too sore to walk to the bathroom. At first he felt guilty for fucking you out of commission, but the way you begged him so sweetly to pound your needy, gushing cunt deeper, harder, faster and how you whimpered with delight when he bit bruises down your throat, he didn’t feel that bad. A baser, more primal part of Wakatoshi’s brain purred at his marks covering our body and relished in the way you limped. You were just too tempting, too irresistible not to ravage you every chance he got.

After you agreed to start trying for a baby, your partner’s already voracious sexual appetite became downright menacing now that he had a goal to strive for. 

“Gonna breed you, gonna fill you so full with my cum and knock you up,” he grunted as he battered into your sore, dripping hole, your body folded in half in a mating press.

“P-please Toshi! Ah~ please,” you babbled, nonsensical and uncertain what you were even asking for. He had been fucking you for so long everything was muddled into a singular dreamy, intangible haze of pleasure and ecstasy. 

Wakatoshi gave your clit a slap, hard enough to make you cry out. “Please what? Please breed you like a bitch in heat? Please stuff you full with my cum?” He leaned down to wrap his fingers around your throat, squeezing with enough force to make your head swim and forcing you to look into his wild olive eyes. “Well, what is it?” he demanded.

“W-want you to b-ah! Want you to breed mee,” you slurred, too drunk on the delicious feeling of his cock dragging against your pulsing walls to form a more coherent sentence.

His thrusts grew sloppy and uncoordinated with his impending orgasm. “G-gonna give you what you want, you cock hungry slut, I’m—” He came with a choked, shuddering groan, his warm cum flooding your awaiting womb.

You were both basking in the afterglow, exhausted and soaked in sweat and your combined fluids, when you noticed the furious blush spreading across your husband’s cheeks. “I apologize for what I said during sex. I… I don’t know what came over me,” he confessed, giving your shoulder a remorseful squeeze.

Giggling, you leaned forward to kiss his cheek. “Don’t be sorry. I really enjoyed it,” you proclaimed, “I love it when you get rough with me.”

Trying to get you pregnant gave your husband a new goal to strive for and he has never been one to do anything with less than his all.

Thanks to your husband’s dedicated efforts, you got pregnant six months after you started trying, to your shared elation and delight. Those two little lines filled you with as much excitement as they made you anxious, but as long as Wakatoshi was by your side, everything would be okay. 

Seeing your little bundle of joy in a 3D ultrasound changed you, changed Wakatoshi forever. Up until then you had only seen him as a colorless little blur on a computer screen, but getting to watch his precious face scrunch and his chubby legs kick reminded you that he was a real living being. The late night sprints to the bathroom, horrible morning sickness, and miserably aching back were all worth it when you were able to hold Hidetoshi for the first time. With his olive eyes, brown hair and chubby cheeks, he was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen and to this day he still is. 

Taking after his father from the start, Hidetoshi was a happy baby that rarely fussed or cried, not that you complained. He slept soundly through most nights, so soundly you slept in a chair by his crib for the first month to periodically check he was still breathing, despite your husband’s insistence the baby would be fine. Your mother-in-law had insisted that you and Wakatoshi would be exhausted for the first several months after the birth. Imagine her surprised when you and Wakatoshi looked just as well-rested as usual, better even, since you no longer had to deal with pregnancy. Many people, relatives and strangers alike, were astounded at how charming and polite your son was, even as a newborn. He was happy to just sit and play with his toys as you had lunch, smiling and waving at everyone who passed by.

A man as attractive as your husband with a boy as sweet as your son meant that, much to your irritation, women were tripping over themselves to flirt with him. To make matters worse, Wakatoshi picked up your son alone most days due to your office job preventing you from leaving early enough to go with him. This meant many of the moms at Hidetoshi’s school thought your husband was single and they weren’t shy in their pursuit.

A crowd of women surrounded Wakatoshi as he waited for school to end so your son would come running out with his arms spread wide, confident his daddy would always catch him. Most of the moms simply stared at your husband with dreamy looks in their eyes, attempting to make small talk with him.

One especially bold mother reached out and stroked his bicep, slightly squeezing to get a feel for his muscles. “My my Ushijima, you’re so handsome and strong,” she purred, batting her eyelashes at him.

“My wife thinks so as well,” he grunted as he gently but firmly removed his arm from her grasp. 

The woman looked as if he had slapped her across the face and cursed her family. “Y-you’re married? But you don’t even have a wedding ring!” she spluttered, “If you have a wife then where is she everyday?” 

“I do have a ring. I just don’t wear it on my finger because I’m afraid of losing it,” he clarified, lightly tugging on the chain around his neck for emphasis, his ring clinking softly against the metal. “I’m happily married to my wife who cannot be here because she is hard at work providing for our family. Do not disrespect my wife or my marriage again or we will have a problem.”

After that the other moms kept their distance, choosing to admire Wakatoshi from afar. It did not, however, stop them from staring with envy on the rare occasion you came with him to pick up your child, glowering at you with an intensity that surely wished you would drop dead. Your husband paid them no mind and neither did you because at the end of the day, you’re the one he chose to marry and have a child with. They can all flirts and look as much as they want, but they’ll never have him like you do.

----

Fast forward to present day, Wakatoshi is seven years into his retirement at the age of thirty-eight and Hidetoshi is now six.

Your husband is an assistant coach part time for the men’s volleyball team at an up and coming university, the rest of his time divided between you and taking care of your son. Hidetoshi just started kindergarten, growing far too fast for your liking. He seems to have gotten a double dose of his father’s genes as he’s already several inches taller than his classmates, though you can tell by the way he smiles and the slope of his nose that he’s yours as well. He’s the perfect combination of both of you—he has Wakatoshi’s tenacity, work ethic, and confidence and your sense of humor, intelligence, and empathy. He continues to amaze you every single day and you nor your husband couldn’t imagine a boy more wonderful than him. 

These days your lives are a lot less busy than they were when your husband was still a pro, but sometimes it doesn’t feel that way. With all the playdates, school functions, and parent-teacher conferences combined with your own job, Wakatoshi’s games, and regular house chores, sometimes it feels like you’re right back where you were ten years ago. This time, however, you have your incredible husband and son helping you and you wouldn’t trade your life for anything, no matter how hectic it may be.

Today is Saturday, it’s the weekend, and you’re only awake because of the bright sunlight that’s streaming through your bedroom window and hitting you directly in the face. You rub the sleep out of your eyes with the back of your hand, yawning loudly as you stretch your tired limbs. As soon as you try to get out of bed Wakatoshi’s arm around your waist tightens, pulling you flush against his solid, muscular chest. 

“Don’t leave. Don’t need to be anywhere,” he mumbles into his pillow, voice even deeper and raspier with sleep. His legs entangle themselves with your own so you’re completely enveloped in the warm, comforting embrace of your husband.

“Need to start getting ready for the party,” you sigh drowsily, but make no efforts to remove yourself from his sleepy but surprisingly strong clutches.

“Not yet,” he says simply, and that’s when you realize when he’s doing. He’s slowly, lazily grinding his morning wood on the soft curve of your ass. You’re a little more awake now.

“Oh I see what this is about,” you chuckle, wiggling yourself against him teasingly. 

He groans quietly under his breath, but you can feel the sound rumble in his chest. “Want you,” he says, still groggy from just barely waking up. His fingers find the hem of your shirt and he slips them underneath it, trailing his digits lightly down your stomach, making you shiver.

“Little man will be up soon,” you halfheartedly protest, but you can feel the warmth pooling between your legs.

“He’s not up yet, we have time.” The movements of his hips become more insistent, more demanding and you have to stifle your mewls behind your hand. Wakatoshi easily maneuvers his hand into the waistband of your panties, making a satisfied hum when he discovers you’re already dripping for him.

You’re still resisting, though it’s weak and feeble. The list of all the preparations you have to make for the barbecue still manage to just barely cut through your sleepy arousal. “We have so much to d—ahh~” You try to sound firm, but it just comes out as a breathy moan when he begins rubbing your swollen clit. 

He uses his other hand to push up your shirt that’s actually his shirt, tracing small circles around your nipples with his rough fingertips. You try to push your hips into his hand in hopes to gain more friction, but his arms keep you locked in place. 

“No need to rush. Let’s just enjoy this,” he insists, but the finger massaging your bud gets faster, knowing just how to make you whine after all the time he’s had to learn your body. He pinches one of your nipples between two fingers and squeezes with just enough force to make you gasp.

His erection has gotten even harder at the sound of your mewls and whimpers, hot and achingly hard against your ass and your cunt clenches in anticipation. Your slick is dripping out of you in thick, syrupy strings that makes your thighs sticky, but you can’t bring yourself to care.

“Please Toshi, need you,” you beg, desperate for your husband to stuff you full just as he’s done so many times before.

Wakatoshi doesn’t respond, opting to push his pants and underwear down to his knees and you almost sigh in relief, just needing to satisfy the desire that’s threatening to burn you from the inside out. You’re so hot you feel like you’re burning and you throw the comforter off of you to try to escape the heat. He removes the hand that was in your panties, instead using it to rub his hard length along your slick folds. You’re keening and so so needy, gasping each time the head catches on the tight ring of muscle around your entrance. 

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he grits out, barely able to control himself.

Your breath is coming in short, uneven pants as you try to sink yourself down onto him. “I love you so much I...”

That’s the moment when he sheaths his entire cock inside you in a singular fluid movement. You let out a strangled moan, relishing in the familiar burning as you stretch to accommodate how thick he is.  Your pussy clamps down on him like a vice, molding perfectly around his length.

“It’s like you were made for me, made to take me,” Wakatoshi growls, sending another wave of arousal rippling through your body. He stays still for a moment, breathing deeply because he doesn’t want to cum and have this end so soon.

He starts moving his hips, thrusting slow and deep to reach the spongy spot inside you that makes you scream. The hand on your breast reaches around to grab your throat, stifling your moans into small, stuttering gasps. You whine each time he shoves himself deep inside you, his cock dragging deliciously against your spongy walls.

You stay like that for a while, bodies joined in the most intimate of ways as Wakatoshi moves his hips in leisurely, unhurried strokes. Your body is hot, sweaty, thrumming with the pleasure that’s so overwhelming all you can focus on is the intoxicating feeling of your husband’s cock deep inside you. The tightening in your core signals your impending orgasm, but each time you get close to the edge, it escapes your grasp over and over again. You need him to pound into you faster, harder. You need more.

“Toshi please, I-I need,” you manage to stammer out, but your words are stolen from your throat as he sharply thrusts as deep as he can, the tip of his cock smashing against your cervix with just the right amount of pressure. 

“Don’t worry. I know just what you need.”

Wakatoshi is fucking you with so much force that your eyes are rolling back in your head, and all you can hear is the wet slapping sound each time he’s sucked back into your wet heat. He’s close, you can tell by the breathy groans he’s making, but so are you. You clench and spasm around him, growing impossibly tighter and bringing both of you closer to climax. His merciless pounding of your insides just gets faster and rougher, and his other hand moves down to rub your clit in tight, fast circles. 

The pleasure that clouds your senses is overwhelming, just dancing on the edge between pleasure and pain and your body can’t take it anymore. Your vision goes white as you cum, cunt clamping down so hard Wakatoshi can barely move. You clamp a hand over your mouth to keep from screaming, your body shaking and trembling as you gush around him. The endless clenching of your muscles practically milks his orgasm out of him, a stifled groan leaving his lips as his thick, hot cum coats your insides. All you can do is moan softly in appreciation, too incoherent to say anything else. 

Your husband presses a kiss to your sweaty neck. “Are you okay?” he asks, taking in the sight of your limp, spent body. 

You haven’t caught your breath yet and your lips won’t form proper words, so you make the only noise you can, “Mmfmm.”

You whine as he slowly pulls out his softening length with an audible pop, sensitive cunt spasming at the slightest stimulation. He untangles himself from you and you want to reach out for him, but you’re too boneless to even attempt to do anything yet.

As Wakatoshi gets out of bed to get a warm washcloth, you hear the familiar sound of little footsteps making their way towards your room and you shoot up in bed, fully alert. You quickly pull the covers over your body, just in time for Hidetoshi to come bounding in.

“G’morning Mama! Where’s Daddy?” he wonders, his little head poking around the corner.

Your husband comes out of the bathroom, now fully dressed and washcloth in hand. “I’m right here, Hidetoshi.” The boy runs straight towards his father who picks him up effortlessly, swinging him around in the air as he squeals with delight. “Did you sleep well?”

Hide bobs his head enthusiastically, “Mhm! I had a dream I was a professional volleyball player just like you.” 

Your loud, exaggerated sigh draws both sets of olive eyes to you, but you train your gaze on your husband. “Have you been putting ideas in his head?”

Wakatoshi shakes his head no, but the child in his arms pipes up first, “Daddy has been showing me videos of his old matches from when he was with the Schwimmy Addles.” Your husband makes a noise of surprise, a guilty look on his face now that he’s been found out.

“You two are going to be my undoing, I swear,” you chuckle as you flop back into the fluffy pillows.

Hide squirms in his father’s arms, reaching out to you, but the man recognizes the warning look in your eyes and tightens his arms around him. “We should let Mama finish waking up first. Why don’t we go downstairs and make breakfast?” he asks, tickling his sides.

The boy shrieks with laughter and wriggles even harder in Wakatoshi’s arms. “F-fine Daddy! Stooop it!” Your husband stops his tickling and hoists your son over his shoulder, gently patting his back.

He passes the washcloth to Hide. “Why don’t you give this to your mama? Then we can go have something to eat.” 

Hide uses his little arms to hold the cloth out to you and you take it from him, nodding with gratitude. “Thank you sweetie, now go with your daddy.”

Your husband starts walking towards the door as a small, chubby hand waves bye to you and you blow kisses to them as they disappear into the hallway.

Using the washcloth, you clean the mess between your legs and muster the monumental effort it takes to get out of bed. You begrudgingly walk over to your dresser to put on clean pajamas and brush your hair so you’re presentable for a meal with your family. The sound of the fire alarm going off has you racing downstairs to the kitchen where Wakatoshi and your son should be.

As you slide into the kitchen and almost fall on the slippery hardwood in your haste, you realize your panic was for nothing. There’s a pan on the stove, grey smoke billowing out of it. Upon further inspection you discern that it’s eggs, you think, that are simultaneously under and overcooked. The guilty parties are sitting at the kitchen table a few feet away, a jug of milk and a couple of boxes of cereal surrounding them. Hide is shoveling spoonfuls of Cheerios into his mouth as your husband eats his own breakfast, only slightly neater in his approach.

“So… you tried to cook?” you ask, quirking an eyebrow at the large man chewing his Wheat Chex. He looks over at you and nods, mouth full with milk and cereal. “I’m guessing it didn’t go very well, judging by all the smoke,” you say slowly. Your husband simply shakes his head no, unbothered by the fact that he nearly gave you a heart attack.

Deciding it’s not worth the argument or the work to make a proper breakfast, you sit down next to Hide and pour yourself a bowl of Cheerios. He smiles at you, mouth open and full of disgusting half-chewed food, but you still return his beaming grin and ruffle his hair. The both of them are troublemakers in their own ways, but they’re your troublemakers nonetheless.

After you’ve all eaten breakfast, you lay a notepad in front of them that has a list of all the things you have to do before your guests arrive for the barbecue. 

You’re standing between them, pointing at each task on the list. “I still have to sweep and vacuum the house, Toshi you need to go to the store and buy all the food, and Hide you need to pick up all your toys that are in the backyard. We have a lot to do today and everyone has to do their part, okay?” you urge, looking between the males on either side of you and they both nod emphatically.

With everyone so busy, it’s difficult to find weekends where they’re all available so this get together has been planned for months. You’ll all be seeing friends and loved ones you haven’t seen in a long time, and it’s a team effort to make sure everything is ready for tonight. 

----

You finish all of the tasks on time, with an hour to spare thanks to your joint efforts. 

Hide is playing in his room while you and your husband get dressed and ready for what will likely be a long night of socializing and entertaining.

As you’re doing your makeup and getting ready for the party, you notice Wakatoshi staring at himself in the mirror, shirtless. His brows are furrowed, a deep frown on his face as he scrutinizes his reflection. He pinches his belly with both hands, scowling at the softness that used to be hard muscle. Tracing a finger along the stretch marks on his stomach and arms, he sighs heavily.

“Babe, what’s wrong?” you ask from the bathroom. 

Your husband walks over to lean against the wall behind you, his unreadable expression reflected in the bathroom mirror. He hesitates before answering, “I’ve let myself go.”

You set your mascara down on the counter and spin around to face him. “Wakatoshi, what in the world are you talking about?”

“I just said what. I heard a couple of my players say that I’m not as strong or as fast as I was when I was a professional.”

You loosely wrap your arms around his torso, squeezing gently. “Of course you’re not what you used to be, Toshi.” At the sight of his deepening frown you quickly add, “You’re so busy being a father, husband, and coach you don’t have the time to work out like you used to.” Getting on your tippy toes, you press a kiss to his nose, “And that’s okay.” It’s a rare occasion that he looks this vulnerable. His anxiety and self-consciousness are so clearly written in his features and it makes your heart ache for him. 

“It doesn’t bother you that I don’t look like that anymore?” he asks, pointing at the framed photo of his first win with the Japan National Team that hangs on the wall.

“Why would it bother me? This is the body races my son across our backyard, helps me fix our home we bought together, and makes love to me every night. I love you just as much as I did back then, and even more now that we have Hide,” you reassure him and you mean every word of it. Sure he’s not the most romantic of husbands, but he’s your husband and you love him just the way he is, with or without muscles.

A smile tugs at the corners of his lips and he squeezes you even tighter to him. “I know I probably don’t say this as much as I should, but I love you.”

You pepper kisses all over his eyelids, lips and nose. “And I love you more than anything, Wakatoshi. More than you will ever know.”

Your hands lovingly caress his chest that’s softer now, but still sturdy and muscular, and his arms that are not as lean anymore, but are still just as powerful and capable. “For the record, I love how soft you are these days. It’s great cushioning for when we cuddle.”

“Hidetoshi says the same thing,” he recalls, smiling at the thought of your beloved son.

After giving him a knowing look, you go back to putting on your makeup. “See? I told you. That boy is just as smart as his mother.”

It’s nearing five o’clock so Wakatoshi goes to the backyard to start grilling the food for everyone, while you and Hide finish plating the fruits and vegetables you prepared earlier.

You work in comfortable silence until your son turns to you, his eyes shining with unanswered questions. “Hey Mama?”

Putting down the strawberry you were holding, you sit down on the stool next to him and hold his hands in yours. “What’s on your mind, sweetie?”

“Do you not want me to be a volleyball player like Daddy? Is that why you got mad when I told you he showed me the videos?” 

You almost break your neck with how fast you shake your head in denial. “Of course not! I wasn’t mad, it’s just…” you start, trying to find a way to phrase your thoughts that he’ll understand. “Daddy’s job was very hard. His body still hurts a lot from all the times he got injured when he played volleyball. And… his job took him away from me and I missed him a whole lot.”

The look on his face is so reminiscent of his father, it’s like young Wakatoshi was frozen in time and plopped into the chair right next to you. With the way his eyebrows are scrunched up and his mouth is downturned as he thinks, he really is the spitting image of your husband. “Did it make you sad?”

Taking a deep breath, you hold your arms out to him so he can climb into your lap. “Sometimes it did. Mostly at night when I was all alone and Daddy was really far away.”

He rests his head against your shoulder, looking up at you. “Do you wish Daddy had a different job?”

You look out the window at your husband who’s starting up the grill, then look back at the sweet, round face of your boy. “No, I don’t. Daddy’s job was really important to him and it made him so happy that I grew to love it too, even if it made me sad sometimes.”

He sits up in your lap, thinking hard about what you said as he plays with your necklace. “Does Daddy still wish he could do it?”

“Probably, but it’s okay. If he hadn’t stopped, we wouldn’t have you, and you make our lives so much brighter and happier. Your Daddy and I love you so much, you couldn’t even imagine it.”

He spreads his arms out as far as he can. “This much?”

You shake your head. “Nope. Even more.”

“Wow, that’s a lot.” Hide’s eyes are wide with surprise, mouth slightly agape as he tries to imagine something so large and vast.

Laughing, you press a kiss to his head. “It sure is a lot, baby. Now why don’t we finish putting out all the food so we can go see what Daddy’s doing?”

Your son leaps out of your lap to grab handfuls of grapes and blueberries from the cartons on the counter, dropping them into the divided sections of the serving platter. “Aren’t you going to help me, Mama?”

You give him a look of mock offense before standing ramrod straight, giving him a mock salute. “As you command, Commander Ushijima.”

You carry both trays of food out to the backyard, not trusting Hide’s ability to hold them upright, while he carries a volleyball in his arms. Wakatoshi turns at the sound of footsteps, a small smile on his face as your son drops the volleyball, barreling straight into his legs with a force that makes the man grunt.

Hide looks up at his father, both arms wrapped around his legs. “Whatcha doing Daddy?” he asks.

Your husband reaches a hand down to ruffle his hair, a slight look of pain in his eyes from the boy slamming into his shins. “I’m just getting ready to start cooking the food for tonight. Do you want to help me?” He bends down to pick him up and Hide quickly hops into his arms, well practiced and effortless with how strong your husband is. The man points to different parts of the grill, explaining what they do, taking care to keep the boy far away from the flames. 

Setting the plates down on the table, you inform Wakatoshi, “Hajime and Tooru should be here soon, so should Tobio and Eita. Satori called and said he might be late, something about his luggage getting lost.” At that moment the doorbell rings, signaling your first guests are here. “I’ll get it. You two stay here and get the food on the grill.”

You open the front door, greeted with the familiar faces of Hajime and Tooru. “It’s so nice to see you two! Come on inside, don’t be shy,” stepping aside, you hold your arm out to welcome them into your home. 

“Mrs. Ushijima you get more and more beautiful each time I see you,” Tooru teases as you snicker in response.

“I see marriage hasn’t changed you at all, has it?” you question, more so directed at Hajime. 

“I tell him people are going to get the wrong idea,” the shorter man replies, sounding exasperated.

You usher them towards the backyard before picking up various soda and beer cans. “Wakatoshi and Hide are both in the back. You two go ahead and keep them company while I bring these out.”

It takes a few trips before you join them in the backyard, handing each adult a can and a juice pouch to Hide, who’s sitting at the picnic table with Tooru while Hajime chats with your husband. 

“How old are you now, little man?” the brunette asks.

Hide holds up five fingers plus his thumb as he swings his legs back and forth. “I’m six! I just started kindergarten.”

They both wave at you as you join them, sitting on the other side of the table. Tooru leans in towards you, a hand cupped around his mouth, and you tilt your ear towards him. “He’s so… polite and well-mannered. Are you sure Ushiwaka is the father?” he whispers, narrowing his eyes.

You lightly smack his head, glaring daggers in his direction. “Yes, obviously. Look at them, they’re basically twins.” Tooru looks at the boy sitting next to him then at your husband standing at the grill, then back to your son, then back to your husband. Hand on his chin, he takes in their matching olive eyes and hair and similar expressions, nodding seriously.

“I was just making sure.”

The doorbell rings a couple more times, Tobio and Eita arriving one right after the other. With almost all of your guests present, everyone is drinking and catching up, some casually passing a volleyball back and forth with Hide.

You’re in the middle of telling Tobio that Hidetoshi is too young to be thinking about his future career when the doorbell rings once more, indicating the last of your guests has arrived. You rush inside to get it, not bothering to check who’s there because you already know who it is. Swinging the door open, you pull the man into a tight hug. 

“Satori! We’re so glad you made it,” you exclaim, giving his back a few hard slaps.

The redhead pulls away from you, smiling. “I’m so glad I was able to make it in time. The airport lost my luggage, then my parents forgot to leave me a key to their house so I had to wait until a neighbor could let me in. To make matters worse, I got stopped by security when I landed because of this,” he says, holding up a white box with a bow around it.

You quickly grab the box, shaking it to try to hear what’s inside and sniffing it for good measure. “Ooh la la, did you bring us some fancy French chocolates?” you ask. “Actually, don’t tell me, Hide will want to open it.” You hand the box back to him and gesture him to follow you, “Everyone’s in the back so just follow me.”

With Satori in tow, you step onto the back porch and call your son’s name. He hands the ball to Eita before running over, eyes lighting up when he sees the man standing next to you.

“Uncle Tori!” he shouts, launching himself into Satori’s arms.

“Hey there Little Toshi, how you been? Keeping your dad out of trouble?” he asks, hugging the boy tightly.

“I think so! Well… we burnt some eggs this morning and the smoke machines started beeping, but that doesn’t count, right?”

The red-haired man waves his hand dismissively. “Of course it doesn’t. Any crimes committed in the name of breakfast are excused,” he insists. Pulling the box out from behind his back, he offers it to Hide. “I brought you something all the way from France, do you know where France is?”

Hide takes the present from him, “Yeah, it’s in Europe! Daddy showed it to me on a map.” He struggles a bit with the bow before he decides to just rip it off, lifting up the lid.

Satori points to the various chocolates laid on top of wax paper. “This one is filled with something called ‘ganache,’ which is basically just more chocolate, but it’s liquidy. That one over there has caramel, and the one right next to it is a bonbon filled with strawberry jelly. I picked all the best ones just for you.”

The boy smiles, eyes wandering over the chocolates like they’re bars of gold. “Thank you Uncle Tori! I bet they’re really yummy.”

He pats Hide on the head. “I hope you enjoy them lots. Now I gotta go say hi to your daddy, where is he?” Your son points to where Wakatoshi is standing at the grill, a spatula in one hand and a beer in the other as he chats with Tobio. “Thanks Little Toshi,” he says, ruffling his hair.

Satori walks over to your husband, pulling him into a crushing bear hug before he can say anything. “Wakatoshi, it’s been too long! I sure get lonely all the way in France, have you guys ever thought about moving?”

Wakatoshi freezes for a moment before giving in, hugging the man back, though slightly stiff in his movements. “We will not be moving to France. Hidetoshi will be raised here in Japan.”

The redhead releases him, sensing his discomfort. “Well, it was worth a shot. How’s your retirement? You miss being a pro?”

“I do miss it sometimes, but it was necessary to let a better, younger player take my place. I wouldn’t trade a few more years on the court for the life I have now with my wife and my son.” 

 Satori lets out a loud whistle. “I never thought I would hear the day that Wakatoshi Ushijima would say he cares about anything more than volleyball.”

“Volleyball was my entire life before, but they’re my entire world.”

The shorter man just smiles, silent for a moment before pointing to the apron your husband is wearing. “I didn’t think you’d actually wear that thing, Wakatoshi!” The apron black with bright red lettering that says ‘Wakatoshi: Grill Master,’ with a drawing of a flaming steak next to it.

“It keeps my clothes clean. Why wouldn’t I wear it?” he asks, genuinely curious. The redhead just laughs and shakes his head, patting him on the shoulder.

Your husband finishes grilling the food, much to the excitement and relief of the many hungry men who have been circling him like a hawk. Everyone takes from the piles of meat and vegetables, noticeably happier now that their stomachs are full. You’re all sitting around the picnic table, laughing and enjoying each other’s company.

Hajime recalls a story from when he first signed on as the athletic trainer for the national team. Wakatoshi had approached him after practice, saying he had a serious issue that he wanted someone to take a look at. Concerned for his player’s wellbeing, naturally he took him into the locker room and Wakatoshi took off his shirt. At first, he thought he might’ve stretched one of his ligaments too far or had even torn his rotator cuff muscle. Imagine his surprise when Wakatoshi pointed to an ingrown hair on his back, saying it was inflamed and causing him pain. It was then that Hajime had to explain that he’s not that type of medical professional, and that he should make an appointment with a dermatologist.

 The sun starts to set, but with the fun everyone is having they barely notice. The night begins to wind down once Hide yawns, rubbing his eyes tiredly, and it sets off a chain reaction of yawning that reaches every person at the table. Your son starts tugging on your sleeve, informing you he’d like to go to bed. Not wanting to leave him alone in the house and taking note of the exhaustion on everyone’s faces, you politely suggest to end the night early. A chorus of heads bob, indicating their desire to head home and sleep. 

All three of you hug and kiss everyone goodbye, waving to them as they drive away. You sigh from exhaustion and head inside to put Hide in bed. You and your husband hold each of his hands and take him to his room, pulling back his covers so he can climb in. 

He yawns again and closes his eyes, settling into his bed. “Night night Mama, Daddy. I love you.” 

You stroke his cheek lovingly before placing a kiss on his forehead. “Goodnight sweetie, I love you too.”

Your husband comes up from behind you to kiss Hide as well. “Sleep well, Hidetoshi. I love you.”

With your son asleep in his own bed, all you have to do is take off your makeup and brush your teeth before you too can sleep. 

You’re in the middle of washing your face when Wakatoshi comes into the bathroom to brush his teeth.

“I enjoyed tonight, I hope you did too,” he says.

You turn around to look at him and smile. “I did, it was amazing to see everyone in one place. It’s been years since we were all able to see each other.” After you finish washing your face, you stretch and yawn loudly, telling your husband, “I’m getting in bed now, join me when you’re done.”

Climbing under the sheets, you nestle yourself into the softness of your bed. You nearly doze off right then, but the shifting of the bed under Wakatoshi’s weight keeps you awake just a bit longer.

He slides in behind you so he can spoon you, an arm slung over your waist. 

“Goodnight Toshi, I love you.”

“Goodnight, I love you too.”

Before he falls asleep, Wakatoshi thinks of all the things in his life that led him here, to you, his wonderful wife, and his precious son.

Leaving professional volleyball was one of the hardest decisions he’s ever had to make in his thirty-seven years of living, but the end of that chapter of his life gave him Hidetoshi.

He knows that every moment of uncertainty, suffering, and hardship was worth it because it ultimately led him to you and your son, to this life you’ve built together. 

He’d do it all over again a thousand times over if it meant that your beautiful, shining face would be there to greet him in the end.

[melissa-kenobi]

1: congrats on 300!!

2: may I request anything fluffy with Wolffe. Maybe some cuddling or taking a nap together?

Hiii Alyssa 💕

Hehe thank you so much sweetie!!! & yesss of course you can!! I live for soft, fluffy Wolffe, I absolutely adore this man (he is by far my favourite clone, I shouldn't have favs - I know, I'm sorry!!) Also I don't even know if this is fluff... 😑

"Wolffe?"

"Hmm..." The man in doubt let out a low hum of acknowledgement, eyes downcast on his holopad, reading through the thousands of reports that had happened in the past 2 weeks. The past two weeks, maker knows what the 104th had been upto for him to have gathered such a plethora of reports. Stuck in his own little world of reports, he had accidentally ignored what you were saying only to look up and see you stood infront of him, your arms crossed with a slight frown on your face.

Raising an eyebrow in disbelief, you snatched the holopad from Wolffe before locking it away.

"Y/N! What are you doing? I've got th-"

"I don't care. You've been at it the entire day, and I mean the entire day! Have you even had a look at the time?" You grumbled in annoyance, your boyfriend was tiring himself out, his armour was scruffly thrown on the chair, his usual styled hair was curling out in all sorts of places. But worst of all were the bags under his eyes. His cybernetic eye watched you carefully, while his normal golden brown eye watched you tiredly. You could see the exhaustion creeping up on him as he let out a deep sigh, rubbing his eyes harsly.

"Wolffe..."

"I know cyar'ika, I j-just need to finish these!" Wolffe protested as he got up from his seat, ready to get his holopad back before you stood infront of him and blocked his way with a hand on his chest.

"No."

Wolffe blinked back at you a few times. "What do you mean 'no'?"

"I mean no. You are not going back to that holopad for the next 8 hours at least." You guided him to the bed that was located on the left side, roughly pushing him to sit down. "Don't make me force you Wolffe."

"Y/N, cyare, you don't understand. I need to finish them. The General needs them for tomorrow." Wolffe sat up in bed, getting ready to stand once more.

"Maker help me, I swear to you Wolffe if you do not go to sleep right now, I will use the force to make sure you do." Before Wolffe could get another word in you cut him off. "And besides, I can talk to Master Plo about this."

Wolffe let out a little growl. "No. Do not talk to the General about this."

"I will if I have to." You retorted, standing your ground. Eyes glaring at his as you crossed your arms, a frown etched onto your face, ready to keep Wolffe in that bed at all costs.

"Cyare..." Wolffe spoke softly, his eyes tired as he watched you. You shook your head in reponse.

"Please Wolffe. Just for an hour or so, I can't- you look exhausted, hell you look worse than you did when you had your cybernetic eye done." You pleaded, cupping his tired face in your hands.

Wolffe gave you literal puppy dog eyes, and if you weren't such a stubborn woman, you would fallen for them. "Please cyare? For me?"

Wolffe let out a deep sigh, the minute you had touched his face he was a gonner, and then you had to go and use his words agsint himself. "Only if you stay with me..." He murmured in a small voice, looking down at your robes as he fiddled with them.

Your heart clenched in adoration for this beautiful man, he was still so shy with you after being together for a year or so. His fingers twiddling with your robes as you placed a soft kiss on his forehead. "Of course cyar'ika. Just let me get out of these robes and I'll join you."

Wolffe let out a little grin as your lips left his skin, and watched you quickly change out of your clothing before tucking yourself into his shoulder. He wrapped an arm around your waist pulling you even closer to him as he snuggles into the crook of your neck.

"Y/N?"

"Mmhh..."

"Did you set the alarm?"

"Of course I did. We'll be up and ready before you know Wolffe." You whispered, leaning up to kiss his lips.

Little did Wolffe know you planned to let the man sleep til dusk.

***

Hours later, well 7 hours later to be exact, Wolffe had woken up. His eyes fluttered as he rubbed them, not feeling you beside he abruptly sat up, scanning the room for any sign of you. He saw your Jedi robes were still here, lightsaber too, but your brown cloak was gone, as were your boots.

Where on earth could she have gone?

Wolffe muttered to himself, he would have called out for you, commed you even but he didn't know where you were. Slowly but surely he pulled himself out of bed, tracing a hand over where your body laid with him, the mattress was still warm, so you couldn't have left that long ago.

Pulling on a shirt he slipped out from under the covers in search of his girlfriend only to open the door and bump straight into her.

"Y/N!" He yelped as he held onto your waist for stability, eyes frantic as he finally focused on who else was stood there. "General!"

"Commander. You look well rested, I'm glad you've been taking care of yourself." General Po commented as he took in Wolffe's dishevelled state.

"I-i er. I was jus-"

"Do not worry Wolffe, there is no need to explain yourself. I'm glad the reports have been done and on that note I will leave you to be."

"Padawan?"

"Yes Master?"

"Do not forget what I said." You nodded in response, a small smile curling onto your lips as Plo walked away. Wolffe guided you back into the room, sleepy eyes watching your every move as you took off your boots and joined him back in bed.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" You asked, squeezing his cheeks before placing a soft kiss directly on his lips.

"What was the General doing outside? What did he mean by the reports are all done? Why did he question you?" Wolffe let out in one entire breath, softly grabbing your arms too look at him. "What have you done?"

You blinked rapidly before letting out a little giggle. "I've never heard you talk that fast before! Can you do it again?"

"Y/N."

"Don't worry about it Wolffe. It's sorted, and no I didn't tell him about the work piling up but I did mention that we have other people having their jobs for a reason." You smiled before lying down in bed and pulling the covers up to your chin, then covering your face.

"I- I don't- Why would you do that for me?" Wolffe asked as he climbed over you, settling his legs on either side of your body while he pulled the covers down from your face.

"Because I love you silly. And I don't like seeing you stressed." You smiled as he leaned forwards, placing his forehead against yours, his tanned hands cuping your face. "Plus you have this cute little wrinkle that appears in the middle of your eyebrows and it makes you look old."

Wolffe let out a small huff before rolling his eyes kissing you deeply. His lips against yours as he sweetly conveyed his love for you into his kiss. "I love you too cyare. So much. You have no idea how grateful I am for you."

"I know sweetheart. That's why Master Plo gave us the day off." You giggled. "We can finally spend some time together."

You swore you'd never seen Wolffe grin so hard before he flopped right onto your body, wrapping his arms around your waist as he lay on your chest.

"Thank you Y/N."

***

[goodwriterwithbadhabits]

Show Offs

Master List

~~

     To say your relationship was complicated was an understatement. Having seven partners often resulted in one of two things, either you all paired off for a semi calm moment, or every single person tried for one person’s attention, there were no exceptions. During those times, it was almost like a contest to see who their target would give the most attention to. Typically, everyone wanted JB’s attention, which made sense, cause he was probably the absolute best boyfriend, however today, it seemed everyone’s attention was on you. The only exception to this rule was when Mark wanted attention, he was always subtle about it, and it was usually only you or Jackson, even though he swore he liked everyone equally. 

Got7 was supposed to be rehearsing, and technically, they were, but between Yugyeom’s ridiculous amount of added body rolls, and Jinyoung and Youngjae seemingly having a high note battle, you were starting to get suspicious as to their intentions. When they sought Jay B’s attention, they were more direct, sitting on his lap, paying him compliments, and being on their best behaviors. 

“Ya! Jackson,” Mark huffs after the younger man’s third backflip, “You’re going to hurt yourself, stop.” Mark reprimands into his mic, which was wholly unnecessary seeing as Jackson was standing right next to him. 

“So he’s trying to show what a good hyung he is.” Jay B’s soft, but still sudden, voice makes you jump, not expecting him to be joining you in the audience. “Did I scare you?” 

“Aren’t you supposed to be rehearsing?” You ask, turning your attention back to the boys onstage, who were cheering on Yugyeom as he practiced his Lullaby dance break. You settle into Jay B’s side easily, letting him wrap an arm around your shoulders. 

“Watching them try to impress you is way too entertaining.” 

“Oh, but you’re not going to try?” You tease, glancing up to see him smirk at the comment. 

“I don’t need to impress you, baby.” Your heart flutters at his cockiness, but you still have to tease him for it. 

“Someone’s confident, how would you feel if I said I was going to sleep in Mark’s bed tonight?” He just shrugs, finally looking down at you. 

“I know you love all of us, me included, and when you want my attention specifically, or vice versa, we’re mature enough to tell each other directly.” You blink up at him for a moment, thoroughly impressed with his little speech. “Also good luck with sleeping with any one person tonight, it seems everyone really wants your attention.” He finally cracks a proper smile, which you mirror. 

“Speaking of, why is everyone showing off today?” Once again, you look back to the boys onstage. 

“Bambam, Mark, and Jackson are leaving for a while, heading home. Pretty sure they want you to come with.” 

“Then how come Jinyoung and Youngjae are as well?” 

“I’m not sure. I think they’re just trying to make sure you stay here.” 

“Ah,” You nod along, “Bamie hasn’t been showing off.” 

“Are you kidding? He’s wearing thigh high sparkly boots.” He laughs in disbelief that you hadn’t noticed. 

“Okay, but to be fair, that’s not very out of character for him. He’s like a peacock.” Jay B snorts at the comparison, making Jinyoung, who was taking a break on the edge of the stage look over at the two of you. “Is your mic on?” He doesn’t answer, just hands you the microphone and flicking on the switch when your voice doesn’t carry at first. “Hey boys.” You call, making the other 6 look over at you. Your face warms a little from the attention. 

“Hey baby!” Jackson cheers, earning a smack on the shoulder from Mark. Your giggle rings through the venue, which makes several of the boys grin as well, especially Jackson. 

“You know I love you all, and I love spending time with you, right?” They nod, and Yugyeom even shoots you a finger heart. “So you know that if you wanted to ask me to go on vacation with you, you just need to ask?” Bambam looks away, while Mark awkwardly rubs the back of his neck as his face tints pink. Jackson opens his mouth to ask you, but you hold up a hand to stop him. “But before you get your hopes up, I’m contracted to be here in Seoul for another three months, I can’t leave the country.” 

“Dammit.” Mark huffs. 

“Aww, that’s bullshit.”  Jackson whines, while Bambam just stomps his feet like a child having a tantrum. 

“Sorry boys.” 

“I’m going to die of a broken heart.” Jackson gasps dramatically, falling to the ground like a shakespearean actor. 

“Okay, babe. Lets leave the acting to Jinyoung, yeah?” Your teasing is met with a laugh from most of the boys and another dramatic gasp from Jackson. “I’ll make you a deal, if you finish your rehearsal with no more showboating, I’ll take you all out for samgyeopsal later.” This elicits a cheer from the group, and a laugh from you when Jackson jumps up to celebrate and blow you a kiss. 

“Then I suppose I should get back to work.” Jay B sighs, nudging you so he can sit up. “I’ll take that.” He steals the mic from your hand, making you pout slightly. 

“Honestly, I should have my own mic at this rate.” You joke, which makes him chuckle. 

“You really should.” He agrees, dipping down to leave a chaste kiss on your lips before heading towards the boys. 

“How come Y/n gets a kiss?” Yugyeom huffs as Jinyoung helps the older man back onto the stage. 

“They asked.” 

“Can I have a kiss?” Jackson pouts, sending puppy-dog eyes to his leader. Jay B smiles softly, gently cupping the younger boy's chin. 

“No.”