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sunandflame · 19 days ago

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Marked by Hunger

They sent a vampire to find the threat—Rob Lucci, cold-blooded and immortal—but the moment he scented your magic on the wind, he knew the real danger wasn’t what you were. It was what you awakened in him.

Warnings: nsfw, smut, vampirism & blood drinking, supernatural themes

Word Count: 3157

Pairing: Vampire!Rob Lucci x Witch!Reader

crossposted on AO3

The World Government didn’t know what the anomaly was.

They only knew something powerful and supernatural had quietly rooted itself on this quiet coastal island—something not touched by Devil Fruits or bloodlines. Something unregistered. That was enough for Cipher Pol to act.

And that meant sending him.

Rob Lucci arrived at the edges of the island without a ripple. No ship. No entourage. Just the black of his coat and the gleam of his boots slipping through the fog and rocky shore like a shadow that didn’t belong.

His orders: observe. Identify. Do not engage until necessary.

But by the first sunset, he knew. It was you.

Not the busybody mayor or the tavern owner with a bad gambling habit. Not the fisherman who vanished during full moons or the children who whispered about sea spirits. No, none of them.

It was the quiet woman who lived on the cliff just beyond the pine grove. The one whose aura left a metallic taste in his mouth. Who moved like she belonged to the island—but didn’t belong to this world.

You.

He watched from rooftops. From mist. From between the trees. For three days.

And you knew.

Of course you did.

Your kind always did.

But you didn’t acknowledge him. You continued to sweep your stone doorstep in the mornings, hang herbs upside-down to dry, greet the children who passed by with softened smiles. But your wards—those invisible threads of power woven like spider silk around your home—had changed.

Stronger now. Sharper. Laced with something older than spoken language.

You weren’t running. But you were ready.

On the fourth day, the tension snapped.

You returned from the village with your basket full of dried rice and tinctures. The mist clung to your sleeves as you stepped through your gate and closed it behind you.

You didn’t sense him outside. You sensed him inside.

The candlelight hadn’t changed, nor had the silence of your little home. But he was there, near your hearth, his coat still damp from the sea air, his eyes cutting through the dim like moonlight on obsidian.

Rob Lucci. The predator who had been watching you.

"You're not hiding very well," he said calmly, like it wasn’t a violation to be inside your sanctuary, your place of power. "Or maybe you wanted to be found."

You didn’t answer right away. You set the basket down gently, letting your fingers brush over the hidden sigil beneath the counter. One word would ignite the entire house in defensive fury.

But you didn’t speak it.

Because he wasn’t attacking.

Not yet.

You lifted your chin instead, voice steady. “If I was hiding, you wouldn’t have found me.”

A flicker crossed his expression. Not quite amusement. Not surprise. Something colder. More curious.

“You smell wrong,” he said. “Not human. Not prey.”

The words crawled across your skin. He took a step forward—not aggressive, not urgent. Just inevitable.

His presence filled the room, cold and silent like an open grave. And beneath it, you felt something else: hunger. Wound tightly. Restrained perfectly.

You didn’t move from the doorway. The air between you was thick with your power—your unseen magic coiling defensively, reacting to every slight shift of his body. The runes carved beneath the floorboards trembled with readiness.

And yet… you hadn’t spoken the trigger.

Because he hadn’t crossed your line. Not yet.

“You’ve been watching me,” you said, tone even, eyes narrowing slightly. “From the rooftops. From the trees. I thought I imagined it at first. Then I started dreaming of green eyes in the dark.”

“I wasn’t hiding.”

“No,” you agreed. “You never do, apparently . That’s what makes it worse.”

A flicker passed through his gaze then, like a single crack in ice. He studied you closely. Not just your body—though his eyes did drift, slowly, deliberately—but the air around you. The faint aura that shimmered around your skin like mist. Magic. Not learned—inherited. Old.

“…Witch,” he said at last. Not a question.

You gave a soft, sharp smile. “Vampire.”

That word hung heavy between you.

Enemy.

Natural predator and natural weapon. You could feel the conflict ripple through the room like tension before a storm. His instincts told him to drain you dry. Yours told you to burn him where he stood. Centuries of blood-soaked history stood between your kinds.

But neither of you moved.

Lucci’s head tilted slightly, as if studying something behind your eyes.

“I’ve never tasted anything like you,” he murmured.

“You haven’t tasted me at all,” you shot back.

He smiled—not with his lips, but with his eyes, glinting with cold amusement.

“Not yet.”

And there it was—the crack in the standoff. Subtle. Intimate. Dangerous. You took a step forward, slowly, watching how his body tensed in response. Not fear. Restraint. Every part of him screamed predator, but he didn’t lunge. Didn’t strike.

You stopped just outside of arm’s reach, letting your voice drop lower. “Is that what they sent you for? To taste me? Or are you just disobeying your orders?”

“They sent me to observe,” he said. “To identify the threat.”

“Do you see one?”

“Yes,” he said. Then his eyes dropped—to your throat, to your chest, to your hands. “But I don’t know if it’s you or what’s behind your eyes.”

You let your magic flicker across your skin—like static, like warning. “I wonder the same about you.”

For a heartbeat, silence. Everything stilled. Then he stepped forward—and you didn’t move back. He stopped just close enough that you could feel the cold radiating from his body. Not the chill of night—but something deeper. Deathless. His voice came low, almost reverent.

“I should kill you.”

“I should destroy you,” you answered.

Another beat. Your breaths mingled.

“But you won’t,” you whispered.

“No,” he said, his voice gravel with hunger and confusion, “I won’t.”

His hand lifted—slowly, cautiously. Like even he didn’t know what he was doing. His fingers hovered near your jaw, trembling with restraint.

“Why do you smell like ruin?” he asked, his tone more breath than sound. “Why do I want to touch you when everything in me says I shouldn’t?”

You tilted your head toward his hand. Just enough.

“Because I’m not prey as you said,” you said. “And you’re not in control anymore.”

Something in him shuddered. And that was the moment. The shift. The tiny fracture in centuries of instinct.

Your standoff wasn’t ending.

It was evolving.

You stood toe-to-toe now, every breath charged with invisible force. Your magic curled defensively around your skin, sensing the proximity of a being designed to kill you. His body radiated cold—not the chill of air, but of eternity. Still. Bound. Starved.

And yet he hadn’t moved away.

Lucci's hand hovered just beside your cheek, trembling not from fear, but from control burning at its edge.

You watched his jaw shift—tight with something unspoken. Hunger. Restraint. Curiosity.

His fingers finally brushed your skin.

And your magic reacted.

A spark leapt between you—not violent, not angry. It felt like a memory. Like something ancient waking up. His breath hitched the second it touched him, like it struck something inside him long dormant. A fragment of warmth buried beneath his icy resolve.

“You’re alive,” he muttered, like it was an accusation.

You leaned into his palm. Slowly. Willfully. “And you’ve forgotten what that means.”

That crack—deep and dangerous—split wider inside him. You could see it. Feel it. Something beneath his surface rippled. He moved closer. No longer hovering, but fully invading your space.

Then his head dipped toward your throat, nose brushing your skin, breath dragging across your pulse point. His fangs didn’t bare yet—but the promise of them burned like a ghost.

You didn’t stop him.

You let him smell you.

Let him feel the hum of your blood, the pull of your magic that warned him: you were not prey. You were temptation. Poison in a golden goblet. The thing that should kill him if he tasted it—but part of him wanted to die that way.

“You shouldn’t let me this close,” he said, voice muffled against your throat.

You pressed a hand to his chest. Felt how still he was beneath the layers of black—how silent that cursed heart was.

“I’m not letting you,” you whispered. “I’m inviting you.”

And that was what shattered him. His mouth was at your throat in the next instant—not biting, not breaking—but pressing. Reverent. Testing.

You arched into him on instinct, magic flaring wild and soft at once. It wrapped around him like smoke, tasting him in return.

He stiffened, gasping against your neck as your power met his curse—and instead of repelling each other, something recognized the other.

His arms went around you without thought. Tight. Possessive.

Still he didn’t bite. But his mouth moved—sliding to your collarbone, then lower, tracing the line of your skin like it was sacred ground he didn’t understand how to walk on.

“I should destroy you,” he repeated again—but this time, it sounded broken. Pleading.

You threaded your fingers into his hair, tipping his face down, guiding him where you wanted. Where you burned.

“Then ruin me,” you breathed, “or let me ruin you.”

And when he dropped to his knees, slow and deliberate, lips grazing the soft inside of your thigh, it wasn’t dominance or hunger.

It was worship when his breath dragged slow over the soft skin of your inner thigh, lips barely grazing—never quite touching—until you trembled under his mouth. His hands cupped the backs of your legs, spreading you wider, guiding your balance as he knelt beneath you like you were an altar and offering all at once.

You felt it in the way he breathed you in—like incense curling through his senses. Not prey. Not conquest. Obsession.

And when his mouth finally met the heat of you, it was slow. Deliberate. Reverent.

His tongue parted you like a prayer, languid and unhurried, tasting every inch with a patience that almost broke you. He didn’t just eat—he worshipped. He wanted your unraveling. Wanted to hear it in your breath, feel it in the way your thighs shook around his head.

And gods, you gave it.

Your hand gripped the edge of the table behind you for balance, the other tangled in his hair, pulling, grounding yourself in the wet, relentless strokes of his mouth.

You moaned—soft at first, then louder, desperate—as his tongue pressed deeper, his hands tightening on your thighs to hold you in place while he devoured you like something sacred. The faintest rumble left his throat, vibrating against your core, and you felt the tension building—hot and terrible and close.

And still he didn’t stop.

He circled you with a precision that had nothing to do with romance and everything to do with control. He wanted your climax. Demanded it. Waited for the moment your voice cracked, and your hips bucked, and your body shook from the inside out.

And when it hit—when you shattered on his tongue—it felt like magic exploded behind your ribs.

Your power reacted, flaring outward in a shimmer of invisible energy. But he didn’t flinch. He held on through the storm.

And then—he bit.

Not at your throat.

At your thigh.

Right next to your core, still wet and sensitive from his mouth.

You gasped, your fingers clenching in his hair, as his fangs slid into your skin like molten ice—cold and burning all at once. The blood pull was slow, sensual, nothing like the stories told of vampires feeding in rage or frenzy.

No—this was devotion. This was him crossing every line he was forbidden to cross.

He drank like it was personal.

Like it meant something.

And when he pulled back, mouth stained dark, lips still brushing the wound he left, his eyes met yours—burning, glazed with something terrifyingly human beneath the hunger.

“Tell them,” he said low, voice wrecked, “that I failed my mission.”

You reached for him then—pulled him up, dragged his body against yours until he was standing between your legs again, breath mingling, blood and magic and something new pulsing between your chests.

“Good,” you whispered. “Let them come. I’ll destroy every one of them.”

He didn’t kiss you yet. He hovered—a breath away, lips stained red, breath shaking.

“I’m already ruined,” he confessed. “And I haven’t even touched you properly.”

You smiled, dangerous and tender all at once.

“Then don’t stop.”

He lifted you as though your weight meant nothing—effortless, fluid—and laid you back onto the table, his body folding over yours with quiet, devastating strength. The shadows in the room thickened, curling at the edges like they knew what was coming.

Lucci braced a hand beside your head, the other trailing down your thigh—over the bite mark still faintly throbbing. He touched it with reverence, the faintest brush of his thumb smearing your blood across your skin before he brought it to his lips and sucked.

It was obscene.

Intimate.

Possessive.

You watched him, chest rising fast as heat rolled off him in waves now. Not body heat—he didn’t have that. Desire. That was the temperature he burned with. For you.

“You’re still wet,” he murmured, voice rasping low like he was confessing a sin. “Even after the bite.”

You spread your legs wider, offering yourself without shame, your pulse thundering as your magic curled around your skin in a trembling glow. “I’m not afraid of you.”

He laughed once—low and dangerous—and leaned in until his hips were pressed between your thighs, the hard line of him pushing firm and heavy against your slick heat.

“You should be.”

And then he pushed inside.

Not cruel. Not hurried. He sank in slow—deep—and complete. Filling you with unbearable precision, like he’d been designed for it. You gasped—hand flying to his shoulder, nails digging into muscle, your body arching as he bottomed out inside you with a groan that sounded like it had been torn from the depths of him.

He didn’t move at first.

He just stayed—buried in you—his head bowed at the crook of your neck as if savoring the moment he lost whatever control he had left.

“You’re hot,” he breathed, voice shaking. “So alive.”

You tightened around him and he swore under his breath, fangs grazing your skin again. A threat. A promise. Then he moved.

Long, deep thrusts that stole your breath and gave you back something else entirely—something primal and raw and addictive. He didn’t fuck like a man. He moved like a beast in human skin—measured, merciless, with the kind of restraint that could shatter at any second.

You moaned, legs wrapping around his hips as you pulled him closer—deeper—greedy for more.

Every thrust dragged over that perfect, devastating place inside you, and your magic flared each time your body shivered around him. He could feel it—your power blooming in tandem with your desire—and it fed him.

Not with blood.

With something else.

“You’re not human,” he growled against your mouth, biting the words between kisses. “You taste like fate.”

You kissed him back hard, pulling at his hair, tasting blood and hunger and heat all at once. “Then take it. Take all of it.”

He slammed into you, hand slipping beneath your back to arch you closer as his pace turned brutal, intoxicating. You matched him—moan for groan, pulse for pulse—until the tension snapped tight inside you again.

“I’m—” you gasped, nails clawing his back.

He bit your shoulder—not to feed, just to mark—and you broke.

You shattered beneath him a second time, your cry muffled by his mouth, your walls fluttering around him in wild aftershocks that made him hiss through his teeth.

And then he came.

With a low, guttural sound, he buried himself fully—his release flooding into you, cold and molten at once, like the very essence of contradiction: predator and lover, curse and salvation.

You lay tangled together in the aftermath—his body draped over yours, lips still at your skin, as if tasting was no longer enough. He had to stay close. Had to feel your pulse.

It was the only warmth he’d touched in decades.

And now he couldn’t let it go.

The silence after was not peace.

It was awareness.

Of your body trembling beneath his. Of his cool breath still ghosting over your throat. Of the pulse between your thighs, still echoing the rhythm he’d carved into you.

Lucci didn’t move. His weight stayed pressed into yours, not crushing—grounding. Like he didn’t trust the world outside your skin. Like if he let go, it might vanish.

You brushed your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, careful. “Is this the part where you kill me?”

His shoulders rose with a breath that wasn’t quite a laugh. “I was sent here to find the anomaly.”

“And you did.”

“I did.”

The glow of your magic flickered faintly around you both, protective even now, as if some ancient part of you still didn't know what to make of this—him. He was predator. You were prey. That was the old order.

But he hadn’t fed from you in full. He hadn’t hurt you.

He had knelt.

Lucci finally lifted himself, just enough to look down at you—hair loose, mouth swollen from kisses, gold eyes unreadable.

“You’re not what they think you are,” he said.

“And you’re not what I feared,” you whispered back.

Another pause. Tighter now. Like the air itself held its breath.

“You’ll report me,” you said. “Won’t you?”

His hand ghosted your thigh, near the place he’d fed, fingers dragging slow over the fading bite. You could feel his hesitation like a second heartbeat.

“No,” he said.

That one word felt like a stone dropped into still water—ripples spreading across something deeper than either of you could name.

“You’re going to lie to them.”

“I’ll give them nothing,” he said. “Not yet.”

You sat up slowly, the ache of what you’d shared still blooming in your limbs, your magic still clinging to his skin like it didn’t want to let go.

“Why?” you asked softly.

He didn’t answer.

Instead, Lucci leaned down and kissed you again—not with hunger this time, but with something slower. Like he was memorizing you. A taste. A memory. A decision.

When he finally pulled away, his voice was gravel.

“This doesn’t end here.”

You nodded, your throat tight.

“No. It doesn’t.”

He stood. Gathered the coat he’d dropped. No need to dress quickly—he was still a ghost here, still unseen by the world. But now, you saw him. And he’d let you.

Lucci paused in your doorway, silhouetted in the moonlight like a warning and a promise.

“I’ll be back,” he said. “And next time… I won’t pretend to be observing.”

And then he was gone—vanished into the shadows, leaving your body marked, your blood humming, and your soul more exposed than it had ever been.

You touched the place on your thigh where his fangs had sunk in.

Still warm.

Still burning.

Still his.

@auryborealis because I wanna treat her with this 😏

126 notes · View notes

alexanderlightweight · 2 months ago

Note

Writing wednesday's are back babyyyyyy!!!

Honestly it's just a great relief to see you writing again 🥰.

If this verse still sparks something in you, could we have some more unicorn!Alec? NSFW/SFW is writer's choice. I ain't bothered either way.

they are back!!!!!! <3

okay so I love this verse and always will (I mean this because I’ve loved both unicorns and phoenix since I was a child) the mood does have to be right but that's more because the world building takes effort (I know I say that a lot but for about maybe a dozen or so verse the worldbuild is super complicated. a lot of others are canon adjacent or sideways so it's easier to build off). and so does developing and deciding where to go with the relationship. I don't want it always the same but also I don't want to write slowburn. but also why do I always complicate things for myself by trying to make each verse a little different to show a similar but slightly different flavor of Malec? I love my tropes and my niches but I also like exploring the various possibilities and it murders my brain. I want to be clear I do this to myself. every damn time.

and also that fucking gif sparked something in me. I was like, well shit the verse needs to come back with a bang like Kuzco... though maybe with Magnus' elegance for malec's own sanity. (and yay because despite my research binges into other verses details, I had the spoons to actually map out how some of the stuff works in this verse).

i hope you enjoy

<3 lumine

flames of triump

Alec really doesn’t know why he has to wait here, for Magnus.

He could be anywhere else and yet he’s here.

Waiting in some obscure and well-warded fae valley for Magnus to finish his meeting. His mate is currently dining with both the unseelie king and the seelie queen. There’s a problem between the two factions that’s big enough it requires the presence of both a phoenix and his mate.

Even if Alec isn’t actually needed or wanted at the meeting itself. Which is a relief because Alec doesn’t think the meeting would have lasted nearly as long as it has if he’d attended.

Another distraction breaks him from his thoughts. Another faerie arrives, the eleventh to show up and try to join him since Magnus left. She starts by waiting a little while away as she calls out to him. Her form is half-hidden in the trees as she tries to coax him with a basket of apples, her hand even daring to hold one out in offering.

Apples.

As if Alec is some common horse or mule.

He snorts angrily, tossing his head back and pawing at the ground, breaking it under his hooves in fury. When he’s done, the fae is gone; her frightened scent vanishes with her and only a fallen basket with a trail of apples remains.

Alec approaches it with fierce, quick steps but only so that he can crush each individual fruit beneath his hoofs before making quick work of the basket with his horn.

The smell of the fruit is fresh and sweet, tantalizing considering how long he’s been waiting here and food — fae or not — holds no power over Alec in this form. However that doesn’t mean he’s a simple beast or so easily coaxed. If anything it infuriates him, stoking the murderous rage in his belly that never quite settles unless Magnus is there with him.

The others that approach him as the hours pass are like minded.

Some offer him lumps of candied honey, fresh vegetation or rare fruits and some offer the choice bits of meat or organs for those who remember that a unicorn is not a beast of pasture.

Each is offered from a distance whether from respect or fear Alec isn’t sure.

Yet each gift is a trap.

They want to touch him.

Touching a unicorn is thought to give luck and strength and being blessed by one is a coveted boon. The hair of his mane and tail are worth as much as Magnus’ feathers and tears and just as rare and Alec knows exactly how much he’s worth and so does Magnus.

Everyone that passes the ward Magnus put up isn’t a danger, or in danger.

Because Alec has enough self-control that he won’t kill someone out of irritation, no matter how much he wants to.

—-

Magnus’ feet hasten, his steps lengthening without thought as if his very legs are yearning to make up for his lack of wings in this form.

Alexander is waiting for him.

Proud head tilted up towards the sun and the breeze playfully tugging his mane into a dance with the wind. He’s ethereal and gorgeous, glowing like obsidian under the sky and pure power to look at. At the sight of him Alexander rears in greeting, hoofs striking air in silent applause and the silver tip of his horn gleaming gold as it catches the sun.

Magnus feels the weight of his mate’s gaze and sighs, letting himself finally calm down. The gold and red feathers that twine with his dark hair flutter as the same wind playing with Alexander teases Magnus’ face, the scent of him carried in a kiss of air.

As beautiful as the sight of his Alexander is, the evidence of unwanted guests and gawkers is littered across the valley. There’s ruined gems and food and even clothes scattered across the once pristine land, though thankfully for the fae, no blood.

A pity for Magnus, however.

A single drop of blood sterilized by a phoenix tear and he could have used fyre flight to find and incinerate the interlopers rather than let them go free.

“If only we’d known the Trueblood line carried unicorn souls.” Arawn murmurs from where he’s deigned to act as Magnus’ escort. The unseelkie king’s gaze is unsettling and greedy as he looks at Alexander. “He could have been ours, then.”

Magnus knows exactly what Arawn means, considering the young blonde woman who had been the scribe during the meeting. She’d had pointed ears and fangs yet also dark, stark and nephil runes on her skin.

Fae folk mixing with nephilim isn’t unheard of and Magnus isn’t surprised that Arawn specifically keeps track of nephil bloodlines to see which one he wants his people to seduce. However that doesn’t mean Magnus will allow another to covet his mate, even if there’s nothing lustful about Arawn’s covetous gaze.

“And yet, he’s mine.”

Arawn’s unnaturally green eyes meet Magnus’ gold and Magnus lets a hint of power bleed into his voice when he speaks.

“Even if he had been yours in another life. Or another time, in the end he’d still be mine.”

Arawn tilts his head, the smile on his maw decidedly unfriendly but not yet dangerous. There is respect in his gaze and amusement as well.

“I have many sons—” and Magnus bristles even though he knows Arawn wouldn’t actually dare offer them to him or Alexander. “And your mate has a sister, does he not?”

The verbal assurance that Arawn recognizes Magnus’ claim on Alexander calms him enough that he nods. Isabelle Lightwood does carry the blood and she mingles with fae so it’s not truly far fetched. He summons a card, not with Isabelle’s name but the name of her most recent paramour. That is the best he’ll give Arawn, the fae king will have to do his own work from here.

Arawn understands and smirks, shallowly nodding his head in the closest to a bow the unseelie will ever lower himself to.

“I’ll leave you to your mate,” Arawn pauses and the card disappears from betwixt his fingers, “and I’ll remember a favor owed.”

He stays quiet then and Magnus is glad of it.

Alexander wouldn’t ever be receptive to Arawn’s plot.

Yet Magnus knows that if he were any less powerful than he is, Arawn would happily use one of his sons to try and steal Magnus’ mate

Magnus summons an apple, golden and glowing and perhaps to the rest of the world, it will look normal. Golden apples exist in the shadowworld aplenty, both in myth and reality.

Alexander neighs angrily, hoof stamping down so hard he cracks a boulder but then he’s trotting over, mane and head shaking as he passes the unseelie king. Fingers reach out, hovering over Alexander’s coat for a moment before it’s swiftly pulled back, the tips nearly bitten off from Alexander’s lunge.

The white of Alexander’s eyes are wide and wild as he bugles, teeth clacking together with unfettered viciousness and he doesn’t need the canines of a predator to be dangerous. His back legs kick out and Arawn retreat without a word.

Alexander could take off an arm at the elbow without even trying with his teeth, dull though they may seem.

Magnus tsks, clicking his tongue several times in a mocking noise that has Alexander’s attention back on him instantly.

His sweet boy isn’t actually angry, but he’s going to act like he is as he lunges forward. His muzzle knocks against Magnus’ shoulder with enough force to rock him, but not drop him and his deadly horn passes harmlessly past Magnus’ jaw. Alexander’s forelock brushes against his cheek then Magnus steps back, offering the apple with a smirk.

There’s a moment where Magnus just knows that Alexander is considering whether or not goring Magnus’ hand will actually hurt him considering his instant regeneration. Magnus can also see the moment where he decides — as always — that even the possibility of causing a whisper of pain to Magnus outweighs any vindictive pleasure gained.

Especially when they both know his boy will eat the apple either way.

With a knicker of defeat Alexander lowers his head, whuffling at Magnus palm and then the apple with a snort of disdain.

Alexander eats it despite the irritation he’s radiating.

Whiskers brush Magnus’ palm and Alexander’s eyes glitter with malice even as he chews and swallows every bite of the juicy fruit. It doesn’t matter that Magnus is teasing him and his boy could just refuse. Alexander’s too territorial to even pretend not to take something Magnus offers, especially when it’s formed from Magnus’ magic rather than by nature’s touch. He's also too proud of their relationship and of Magnus himself to refuse anything Magnus offers him.

Alexander would consider it an insult to Magnus which in his lovely boy's mind, is somehow worse than an insult to Alexander himself.

The only reason he's dragging his hooves or fussing at all is simply the principle of the matter... and the fact that Magnus made it look like an apple.

AN:

Arawn is aromantic though he’s hyper-sexual. He’s genuinely just a collector of unique things/people/powers etc and also why he has so many kids though he really does love his kids and family, in a bit of an admittedly obsessive way. He never keeps a paramour and doesn’t have a position for one.. I know i have two fics where he’s alec’s tad (father) but he is not interested in adopting or suddenly fond of alec in this fic. He just collects unique things and is regretting he didn’t seduce maryse lightwood to get unicorn fae babies or send someone else to seduce her to get unicorn fae subjects. He seriously won’t really think of Alec again other than in context to Magnus. His goal is trying to get one of sons to seduce izzy. Arawn fully believes at least one of his sons can figure out a longterm relationship with isabelle lightwood and give him the possibility of unicorn grandchildren. He’s normally even more extra and intense but he’s appropriately wary of magnus who is powerful and also a phoenix. This is him being tame.

Also Helen is implied/mentioned by appearance and while she isn’t one of Arawn’s kids, she is like... distantly related. In this, Helen’s seelie mother fled to the unseelie court using the blood ties her relative who is Arawn’s like... who knows removed cousin as a voucher because she knew the king liked unique beings (he’s arrogant enough he doesn’t need to use them if its objectionable. he just likes that they’re his subjects) so her kids would be safer under Arawn than under the seelie queen who would manipulate them far more).

Please remember this is my fanon verse building and even here Arawn is not a nice or good person, i write him favorably because there’s also a god named that and because i hate the seelie queen. Very much. Dislike. Dont like. Will rip apart 10/10 would write again.

Alec is instinctually very violent and so is Magnus. They sometimes in their own heads when annoyed/overly happy/excited/upset/mad/jealous/tired/just large emotions envision setting each other on fire or goring each other before going like ‘okay but that might actually hurt them and they’re not allowed to get hurt. ever. so i guess i’ll settle for making it very clear that i’m upset and i’m going to continue to be upset’.

So they work really well together despite the fact that they’re brat tamer/brat.

Yes. magnus uses the noises people use to signal with horses to get their attention and soothe them. Because he likes riling alec up and he likes it when Alec brats back.

Also i’m going to be real. Alec should be grateful magnus didn’t make it look like a carrot. Because that would have made alec even more indignant and he would have considered it more insulting and magnus would have done it gleefully (kink dynamics. You dont need sex to have dynamics or scenes going on especially since i write magnus and alec pretty much in a 24/7 dom/sub dynamic. No it’s not explicitly talked out, this is primal instincts and fanfic and i’m already doing research binges for billiard innuendos and how to write mermaid sex. I’m not adding researching how to write a fantasy 24/7 kink contract when it’s all based on instinct. The thought makes me want to cry.

Also this isn’t humiliation because Alec’s not humiliated, he’s outraged but he’s also like territorial so like magnus isn’t forcing him to eat the apple. Despite how huffy he is, alec would snap at Magnus’ fingers if he tried to take the apple away. Just because he’s annoyed by the fact that Magnus likes to make horse jokes doesn’t mean a small part of him doesn’t see the humor. Alec is in fact annoyed by the fact that he finds it funny because he knows he only finds it funny because Magnus finds it funny.

it’s the principle of the matter.

Alec’s literally just angry on principle and that’s part of why magnus finds it so funny.

Alec wouldn’t normally be so sensitive about people giving him apples btw except Magnus keeps giving him magical apples and so it’s become a ‘them’ thing and so not only is it insulting but its encroaching because HOW DARE YOU. ONLY MY MATE IS ALLOWED TO GIVE ME APPLES. Because instead of thinking, ‘no one is allowed to give me apples’ alec’s brain makes allowances for Magnus on instinct alone.

...about the emotional aspect of the jokes, its characterized because saeth has jokes that i’m annoyed by (not ones that actually upset me, saeth is very careful to try and not make jokes that might upset me or repeat them if one is made by accident). And part of the reason i get so annoyed is because its something i find funny, but its always something i wouldn’t find funny if saeth didn’t find it so funny or present it in such an obnoxiously on point manner. and i can’t get actually mad because its not harmful and it doesn’t actually upset me but the fact that i see where the joke is and i get the joke is infuriating.

Often times its sort of like the ‘i’m in this picture and i don’t like it’ kind of unwillingly amused feeling too.

Fuck i hope this isn’t too confusion. I have to be up in four hours so i’m giving up for the morning <3

#lumine writes #writing wednesday #writing wednesdays #flames of triumph #magnus bane #alec lightwood #malec #shadowhunters

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sorceresssundries · 1 year ago

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Imagine: post-game Gale and Tav out somewhere with some dude RELENTLESSLY hitting on Tav. Gale can take people hitting on tav, it happens all the time and he's not insecure in the slightest. But this guy is being obnoxious and obviously making tav uncomfortable. How does Gale react and also what if they fucked afterwards

You're unhinged and I respect and love you for it.

Here you go friend. Some pure, mindless smut for you!

Pairing: Gale x female Tav - NSFW

Warnings: SMUT!!!! Public sex, blow job, probably the smuttiest smut i've smutted thus far. You have been warned. This is not regency-esque euphemistic smut. Gang, this is straight up pornography.

Word Count: 1.7k

Gale could hardly believe the brazen audacity of the merchants. His shopping trip had started off pleasantly, with Tav swishing around the market stalls in all her bare-legged, off-shoulder glory, the hem of silk dress flirting with her knees and billowing as she moved. She was exquisite, obviously, and she knew exactly what she was doing. She always managed to bring home produce at far lower prices than he could ever haggle for. He enjoyed watching her play the minx, but he did not enjoy the merchants taking liberties.

Leaning against a nearby wall, pretending to read a book, he watched as she flitted between the stalls, appraising fruit and laughing with the sellers. They couldn’t help but stare at the constellations of freckles adorning her exposed shoulders and collarbones. Gale was focused solely on her—imagining her tanned, strong calves draped over his shoulders, his hand tight in the loose braid that swung across her back as he kissed the plush skin of her breasts. He thought pushing up her skirt and running his tongue all the way up the inside of her leg until..

His thoughts halted and he snapped his book shut as soon as he realised something was wrong. The squat, bearded merchant she had been bargaining with suddenly had his hand in the crook of her arm and he was leant in close enough for her to look uncomfortable. The way she was leant back and gently tugging herself away showed she was trying to politely remove herself, with little luck. Gale felt his fists ball at his side, he wouldn’t jump in yet, he knew she could handle herself…

Then with his other hand, the merchant reached forward to move a strand of hair away from her face. It made Gale see red.

In an instant, he was there. Hot with anger.

“Touch her again and there'll be naught left of you but a pitiful pile of dust upon scorched earth” Gale said quietly in the man’s ear, the grip on his arm a closing vice.

He put his arm round Tav’s waist and began to lead her away from the market and back to their home. He didn’t want to embarrass her by making a scene, and he knew better than anyone how capable she was of defending herself. But, for his own benefit, he felt he needed to intervene, before another person put their hands on his wife.

“Wouldn’t want her anyway, the slutty little..” the merchant murmured as they walked away. Gale turned sharply with palms crackling full of fury-hot weave. Before the necessary words could be spat from his lips, Tav pushed past him and with effortless strength punched the merchant so hard that blood splattered from his nose like burst fruit, and he crumpled into a heap on the floor.

“No one dare give him a healing potion.” She snapped loudly to the other merchants as he rolled in agony on the ground. “When I come back tomorrow, I want to see skin as bruised as his pathetic little ego.” The market was now quiet apart from a few whispers bouncing between the patrons. She grabbed her husband by his arm, the basket of shopping abandoned, and left quickly. Gale was suddenly very aware of how hard he was.

Just round the corner, barely any distance from where Tav’s display had taken place, she pulled them both into a dark and narrow alley, barely wide enough for two people to pass each other without turning sideways. The walls of the surrounding buildings, tall and oppressive, cast deep shadows that almost entirely blocked out the sunlight, but not completely.

Tav was pressed against him instantly, pinning him back against the cool bricks and running her hand slowly down his chest until she eventually rested her palm against the hard bulge in his trousers.

“The thrills of combat still do it for you then?” She purred against him, the scent of the sun and the sea-breeze settled and heavy on her exposed skin as he left tongued kisses on her shoulders, her throat, her jaw.

“Just you.” He said, breathless “Always you.”

As they tangled together, pushing against each other with such desperation that a passerby might mistake them for a single shadow, Gale realised they weren’t completely hidden. People still wandered past, busy with errands or chattering absently with friends. Gale could hear their voices clearly, which meant he and Tav would be heard too. And if anyone stopped to look closely enough, they would definitely see Gale of Waterdeep fucking his wife senseless against the brickwork.

“Gods.” His voice was cracked with lust. “Someone will hear us.”

“Well you’ll just have to be quiet when you come down my throat then, won’t you? my brave hero” Her golden eyes were lidded, and voice dripping with wanton desire.

Her words sparked him. His hands were suddenly all over her, pushing up her skirt and gripping the soft flesh of her backside, stroking up her spine until gripping the nape of her neck to hold her head still as he kissed her with wild urgency.

The sounds she made were beautiful, but risky. He had to put his hand over her mouth to keep her quiet and their dirty little tryst a secret. His eyes burned into hers as he kept his hand there, and her muscles stilled completely as he moved his other up her thigh and to where she was slick and desperate for him.

“No underwear, Mrs.Dekarios?” Gale tutted at her as he began to draw light, slow circles over her clit. All Tav could do was moan against his hand, and Gale could feel the spit from her mouth against his palm.

Tav was rarely quiet, in or out of the bedroom, and she was finding it very difficult not to cry out with peals of ecstasy under his touch. They had done this enough times now for him to make her come apart with barely any effort. He knew how she liked it slow and soft as he whispered words of encouragement in her ear. How she liked his hand on her throat, firm enough so he could feel her moans against his palm and soft enough for him to stroke her parted lips with the pad of his thumb. She liked it when his eyes burned into her, and all trace of his softness had blazed into rough, heated need.

“That’s it.” He said, quiet and forceful in the swirl of her ear “Don’t let them hear you” There was a lilt of playful amusement in his voice, a cockinesss which pushed Tav further towards her undoing. She couldn’t help but moan as his fingers increased their pressure slightly, now slick with her arousal.

She came in hot silence, him holding her steady as she bucked under his touch. He continued to stroke her through the waves of warm pleasure that crashed against his fingers. After she had settled, he kissed her slow and attentively. Mimicking what he would like to do against her warm cunt when he got her back home.

Tav had other ideas.

She dropped to her knees in front of him and frantically started to unbuckle his belt. “Tav” he groaned as she pulled down his trousers. “Maybe this isn’t…” Any thoughts of gentlemanlike manners disappeared into white oblivion as she licked hard along his erection.

“Gods” he groaned, his fingers tracing over her lips. "You look so good taking me like this”

Tav’s head spun at his words, her mind bubbling with white-hot thoughts of lust and debauchery.

She would do this quickly now, take him in desperation while her legs were still weak from coming against his fingers. And then when they got home she would take her time doing this all over again, letting him think she would do it the same way, at the same pace, but she would draw it out in the private sanctum of their home until his wrung-out voice echoed throughout the rafters of the tower. She would delight in pulling from him noises which even he had never heard himself make before. But for now, she would settle for whimpers and groans as his hand tightened in her hair and he spilled into her mouth.

The moans that left his chest were visceral. He loved to watch her like this, lips swollen as she moved him in and out of her mouth, the rose pink flash of lipstick smeared over her chin and his cock. Eyeliner smudged, tendrils of sweat-slick hair stuck to her neck. He could come just from looking at her. He knew that after this she would want to tidy herself up, but like fuck would he let her. He wanted to walk home with her on his arm, looking well-fucked and messy.

Tav could feel him trying to keep his hips still, so as not to push himself too far against the back of her throat, but she encouraged him forward by placing his hand in her hair so he could tangle his fingers in it as he fucked her mouth.

He had to bite down on his other hand as he came, but it still didn’t stop the sinful sounds that spilled from his lips as his hips stuttered and he fell apart completely.

They stayed there for a few moments, his head leant back against the wall and hers against his thigh. Both breathless and spent.

“Do you need to go back to the market, my love?” he panted, as he pulled her up and began to press soft, lazy kisses against anywhere he could reach. “I’d be happy to get into a fight with anyone else, man, woman or child, if this is the reaction it sparks.”

Tav laughed as they left their little hideaway in total disarray, smug in the subtlety of their tryst. They were completely unaware of just how many people had heard the sounds of Mr. and Mrs. Dekarios ravishing each other in public. Tomorrow, the market would be buzzing with gossip about the black-eyed merchant and the subsequent public escapades of the respectable wizards. But, fortunately, Gale and Tav would remain blissfully ignorant of it all. Tomorrow, they planned to spend the entire day in bed, making love and living off whatever food they could scrounge from their empty cupboards.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #gale dekarios #bg3 gale #gale fanfic

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veephoenix · 8 months ago

Text

the unmaking of a warrior | epilogue pt. 2

word count: 10k | reading time: 40mins. aprox. | series masterpost | my works ✨

Tags & trigger warnings: this takes place 2 years after the events that took place in epilogue part 1. Established relationship, dad!noah, angst, fluff, pregnancy, birth giving (flashback), mentions/descriptions of blood, sexual innuendos regarding bondage/rope play, skinny dipping, sexual content including oral sex (fem. rec.), p. in v. unprotected, creampie). Fluff, fluff, and a lot of fluff because dad!noah dad!noah dad!noah 🥹 can't get enough of him. I've wanted to write dad!noah for ages and he's finally here. And again, I've never given birth, i've never been pregnant, so excuse my lack of accuracy on that matter. If there's anything I've missed, please let me know. x

Nearly two years later

Winter had lingered longer than usual, but at last, spring had arrived, bringing with it a burst of color and warmth. The sun was gentle, neither too hot nor too faint, while a soft breeze carried the scent of blooming flowers.

As soon as the weather brightened, Noah and I began spending more time outdoors—whether it was venturing deep into the valley, lounging by the river’s edge, or simply relaxing in our garden.

This morning, I sat on a blanket spread across the grass in the front yard, with Trouble resting behind me. Her large, furry body made for a perfect backrest as I watched Levi carefully pick flowers and place them all over Trouble’s fur. At first, Trouble lay still, tolerating Levi’s enthusiastic flower-decorating, but as the pile of blooms grew, she huffed in mild protest. Once, she even let out a low growl, and I gently reminded her that he was just a baby, before telling Levi to give her a little break.

“But she looks so pretty!” he insisted, his version of “pretty” sounding more like “piuti”.

“She’s already got enough flowers on her,” I said. “Why don’t you put some on Mommy instead?”

“Yes!” he shouted, delighted by the idea. He wobbled over to me on unsteady legs, and began placing the flowers carefully on my hair.

His shoulder-length brown hair, which we had only trimmed a couple of times since he was born, had been neatly tied up in a bun earlier that morning. But after hours of running and playing a few soft strands had escaped and now hung loosely, framing his sun-kissed face. He looked so much like Noah.

When one of the flowers fell into my lap, I picked it up and held it out to him.

“Do you know what this one is called?”

He took a quick glance and shook his head before resuming his task of adorning my hair.

“It’s a daisy,” I told him.

“Daisy,” he repeated slowly.

I reached for the basket sitting nearby, filled with a mix of toys and snacks. Levi’s attention was quickly diverted when I picked a box that contained fresh strawberries cut into tiny pieces. Their sweet fragance filled the air when I removed the lid. I picked one out and held it out to him.

“Strawberry?” he asked, his eyes wide with excitement.

“Strawberry,” I confirmed, smiling. I brought the fruit to his mouth, and he took a small, eager bite, juice dribbling down his chin. I wiped it away with my thumb. “One more?” I offered, holding up another.

He nodded, this time more vigorously as he leaned in for a second bite, his tiny hands grabbing at mine to get the strawberry faster into his mouth.

With a full mouth, he mumbled something incoherent, his eyes darting to the basket, no doubt looking for more treats. I reached inside and handed him one of his toys. He eagerly accepted a wooden cart and started to roll it back and forth over my legs. At least that was better than him rolling it on Trouble’s fur and igniting her fury.

I spotted movement on the path leading from the village. A tall and slender figure made itself visible as it approached us, and that familiar flutter in my stomach came back. I couldn’t help but smile at the sight of my husband.

Noah was walking toward us. He looked so effortlessly striking wearing all black, his katana at his side and a radiant smile meant just for us. His hair, tied back in a loose bun, was longer than it’d ever been, and one loose strand was swaying gently with the breeze.

He wasn’t alone.

Nestled against his hip was Sakura, one of her small hands on his shoulder, grapping tightly at his clothing. Though she was Levi’s twin and nearly two, she couldn’t yet walk, but that didn’t slow her down—she was happy to crawl everywhere. Her brown hair was tied up in a tiny bun to match her Papa’s, and it gave her an air of determination and pride. She loved mimicking him in everything. She was a courageous and bold little one, just like Levi.

“Look who’s coming,” I said to Levi, drawing his attention toward the path.

Levi’s eyes widened, and a grin spread across his face as he spotted Noah and his sister.

“Papa!” he called out, his small body bouncing with excitement. He started to run toward his father but stopped when I pulled him back toward the blanket, keeping him close.

As Noah reached us, he bent down just as Sakura squirmed in his arms, extending her body and arms toward me. I scooped her up, cradling her close and planting a kiss on her cheek, her little nuzzle against my chest filling my heart.

With his arms now free, Noah crouched lower and scratched Trouble’s fur.

“What happened to you?” He teased. “You look more colorful than usual.”

Trouble huffed, but as soon as Noah was laughing, she lifted her head to lick his hand. Noah smiled, rubbing her head before turning his focus to Levi.

“Hey, little warrior,” he said warmly. “How you doing?” He swept Levi up with ease and tossed him into the air, eliciting shrieks of joy. Levi giggled uncontrollably, his laughter filling the air as Noah caught him and repeated the throw.

Once Levi settled, he pointed excitedly at Trouble, his eyes sparkling.

“Look, Papa! I put flowers on her.”

“I saw it. That’s a ton of flowers.”

Levi beamed proudly, then, as if remembering something important, pointed to me.

“I put flowers on Mommy, too!”

Noah’s eyes shifted, softening as they landed on me. I was holding Sakura in my arms, who was eagerly nibbling on a piece of strawberry now. Our gazes met, and in that moment, for just a couple of seconds, everything else faded. The warmth in Noah’s eyes was as if it had just struck him again how lucky he was to have me by his side, as his wife. His gaze held mine, filled with both admiration and love, and I felt the familiar heat rise to my cheeks.

“She looks soooo priti!” Levi shouted, his voice high with excitement.

Noah’s lips parted.

“Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.”

His words sent a rush of warmth through me, and despite all the years we’d spent together, I still found myself flushing under his brown eyes.

But the spell was broken by Sakura’s small voice. She raised her hand and waved it, her tiny fingers catching Noah’s attention.

“Me?!”

Noah sat down beside me on the blanket, letting Levi wander off to pick more flowers.

“You,” Noah began, poking her cheek, “are the prettiest babygirl I’ve ever seen.”

Content, Sakura gave him one satisfied smile, a bit shy at her Papa’s compliment as her cheeks tinted pink and she defleated in my lap.

Noah laughed. I would never get tired of the way he smiled at our children—of the joy they brought him.

A couple of minutes later, distracted by her brother’s doings, Sakura crawled out of my arms and followed Levi, and Noah and I both watched our twins explore their little world.

“Was she okay?” I asked Noah without taking my eyes of the children.

“She was as good as ever,” he told me. “Sat still on her spot during most of the training session, clapping everytime someone lifted their sword. Pretty sure she’s ready for a nap now.”

Seeing her playing lively with Levi raised some doubts.

When I turned to look at Noah, I caught him staring intently at me. A second after, he was leaning over me, tucking some hairs behind my ear and kissing the corner of my mouth.

“You look beautiful today,” he whispered.

“You said that yesterday,” I retorted, but the grin spread through my face nonetheless.

Noah shrugged, still leaning to me.

“I am merely stating facts.”

I tsked my tongue and placed a hand on Noah’s jaw to bring him to me and kiss him on the lips. Right as I was doing so, we heard a yelp.

Sakura, who had been crawling with purpose, always trying to catch up with her more mobile brother, had stopped by a bush. With her tiny hands she had tried to reach up for a flower perched higher than she could comfortably grasp. And as she tried to stand on wobbling legs, she toppled over, a small gasp escaping her as she fell back onto the grass.

Noah was up in an instant, rushing to her side before I could even react, his speed startling in its swiftness. Levi stopped what he was doing to look between his baby sister and his father with wide eyes,

I exhaled, seeing Noah scoop Sakura up into his arms, checking her. She wasn’t hurt, just surprised. I watched Noah’s face contorn in concern, and I was suddenly thrown back in time, to the day the twins were born.

We hadn’t known I was carrying two babies. After I had given birth to Sakura earlier than expected, we thought the ordeal was over. I had been sore, exhausted, and overwhelmed with joy as I held our daughter in our arms and then when I passed her to Noah. But before I could relish much in the moment, my screams pierced through the room, Sakura had been taken out from Noah’s arms, and he’d been ushered out.

To this day, it was still the worst and best day of Noah’s life.

He thought he was going to lose me, unaware that the pain that was seizing me had to do with the fact that there was still another baby inside me, desperate to come into the world. Levi had been bigger than Sakura from birth. Noah held this belief that he’d been taking care of his sister inside my womb and he had been a gentleman and let her out first. However, the contractions that came with him were at full force. The surprise and intensity of it all left me feeling drained, my body struggling to cope. The second birth had been arduous, and by the time Levi was born, I was too weak to stay conscious. I had also lost a lot of blood.

After Levi’s birth, Rika had rushed to find Noah.

“What happened?” Noah had asked, frozen as they placed his babygirl back in his arms, but the familiar cry he heard didn’t come from the baby he was holding. His mind was racing. He looked around. Then, he spotted Milla not too far. She was holding his babygirl. In a heartbeat, the truth hit him. He was holding a boy. There were two babies. Twins.

His gaze flickered back to me immediately, terrified of what he would see. He spotted me, pale and unmoving on the futon. Panic filled his chest as he stared at the blood beneath me.

“She is… She’s going to be okay, right?” he asked, because there was no other possible question—or outcome. His voice had barely been steady as he held our son close, unable to tear his eyes from my motionless form.

Rika reassured him.

“She’s going to be okay. She lost a lot of blood, but she’ll recover. She just needs time. In the meantime, you need to be with your children.”

As she said this, Rika placed Sakura into Noah’s free arm. He stood there, arms full, cradling both babies at once. He looked down at them, their tiny faces nestled against his chest, his long arms able to hold both of them securely. His heart swelled with joy at the sight of his twins—one boy, one girl—but worry gnawed at him because I wasn’t there to share the moment.

Noah carried them over to where I lay, sinking down beside me on the futon. He sat quietly, overwhelmed by this mixture of happiness and fear. Our children drifted into sleep, their little breaths soft and steady. Soon, we were alone. The four of us—my family.

Hours passed, and eventually, I began to stir. My body ached, and my vision was blurry at first. I blinked, trying to focus, my head heavy on the pillow. The first thing I saw was Noah, sitting by my side, his face drawn with exhaustion and relief. He was whispering softly, his voice low and calming, but it wasn’t until I tilted my head slightly that I realized who he was speaking to.

There, lying beside me on white blankets, were two wide-eyed babies. Both were staring up at their Papa, their small bodies wrapped in soft cloth. The boy yawned, his tiny hands stretching out as he blinked at the world. Sakura’s dark eyes were fixed on Noah’s face, her little fingers twitching as if already reaching for him.

I blinked, disbelief flooding my mind. Two. There were two.

“Noah...?”

He turned to me, relief spreading through him like a soothing balm as he realized I was awake. His smile was tender, and though his words were quiet, the weight of them was heavy with love.

“We have twins,” he said, as if he still couldn’t quite believe it himself. “We have two of them.”

As Noah sat back down beside me, holding Sakura close, Levi resumed his flower hunt, and I cherished the fact that our children had been born in a safe space where they could explore and grow to be who they wanted to be. Noah’s presence beside me had always felt like an anchor, always there when I needed him, but since he’d become a father, his attention and support had doubled. He caught my eye and smiled, as if reading my thoughts. I smiled back, feeling that familiar tug of affection, the one that never seemed to fade, even after everything we’d been through.

Just as I reached over to brush a stray petal from Levi’s hair, a soft rustling behind us caught our attention and I saw Rika approaching.

Noah stiffened slightly, always on alert. Rika smiled warmly, hands clasped together as she approached the front yard.

“There’s someone here to see you,” she announced. She lingered just long enough for my heart to stutter with curiosity—and a hint of worry. Sensing the suspense, she quickly added, “It’s your grandmother.”

The tension eased from my shoulders. Beside me, Noah chuckled, shaking his head.

“Always keeping us on our toes,” he said with a grin, glancing down at Sakura, who perked up at the mention of a visitor, at the same time as Trouble thumped her tail excitedly.

Grandma had always been a frequent visitor, long before Noah and I were even married. I’d tried to convince her to move into the Sanctuary, but she loved her little house in the village too much. It wasn’t far, and she promised to visit often—and she did. Her visits had only become more frequent after learning she would soon be a great-grandmother, a title that seemed to fill her with boundless happiness.

Noah stood, settling Sakura back onto the blanket next to me.

“I’ll go give her a hand,” he offered, knowing Grandma could use the extra support these days, now that she leaned on a walking stick. She’d probably appreciate Noah’s arm to hold onto.

As Noah walked toward the path from the center of the Sanctuary to greet her, I leaned back on my hands, watching him go. He moved with that quiet strength, always so sure of himself, even when the world around us felt uncertain. It was hard to believe how far we’d come since the chaos of the twins’ birth—the exhaustion, the fear, and then the joy that had followed. Now, here we were, with two vibrant, curious children and the life we’d always dreamed of.

Sakura, back to her usual determined self, began to crawl toward Levi, her hands gripping the grass as she tried to keep up with him. Levi, busy with his bouquet of freshly picked flowers, spotted her coming and toddled over to meet her halfway, offering a dandelion he’d plucked from the ground.

Inside the house, the air was warm and filled with the comforting scent of tea brewing. Noah was in the kitchen, preparing cups for everyone while the children played on the floor. I sat across from my grandmother, listening to her stories, her voice like a soothing melody.

Before long, Sakura set her sights on Noah’s katana, which hung temptingly on its stand by the entrance. Her little body wobbled on all fours as she began her mission and crawled toward it, her eyes gleaming with determination. I watched her from my seat, knowing Noah wouldn’t let her get far. Sakura seemed to sense this as well, for she paused midway and tilted her head to peer toward the open kitchen, where her Papa was busy pouring tea. Cleverly, she veered toward a cabinet, hoping to slip out of his sight. It was a smart tactic, but despite her stealth, the soft patter of her tiny hands and knees on the wooden floor soon caught Noah’s attention. Pausing, he raised his brows at the suspicious sound. The noise came again, like a small animal sneaking through the room, then silence. A grin tugged at Noah’s lips.

Moments later, a tiny hand peeked out from behind a piece of furniture, and Noah stifled a laugh as he resumed his work with the tea.

Without looking up, he said, “I can see you.”

The instant he spoke, Sakura knew she’d been discovered. Her hands slapped the floor with renewed urgency as she crawled faster.

Setting down the kettle on the kitchen island, Noah stepped out and scooped her up just before she could make her grand escape. Her little body squirmed in his arms.

“Not so fast,” he teased, tickling her belly.

Sakura’s giggles echoed through the room, filling it with a joyful energy that made all of us smile. Her small hands immediately reached towards his katana again, her fingers curling in the air toward the glimmering handle as she babbled the word: “Kitana, kitana!”

“That’s Papa’s. You’ll have to wait a little longer.”

Noah bounced her in his arms as he carried her back to the living room.

Grandma, who had been pleasantly observing, had a spark in her wrinkled eyes as she laughed.

“She’s going to learn her way with a katana before she learns to walk, isn’t she?”

I couldn’t say no to that, looking at our daughter, whose fascination with her father’s sword was growing by the day. Noah set Sakura on my lap, her tiny hands still making grabby motions toward the weapon in the distance. She was relentless.

“She’s got a strong will, that’s for sure,” Noah said, watching her as she tried to wiggle free from my grasp to make another attempt for the katana. “Just like her Mama,” Noah added, casting me a glance before heading back to the kitchen to retrieve the tray with tea and snacks.

“With a father like you, it’s no wonder she’s drawn to swords,” I teased back.

Noah chuckled and finished preparing the tea, the soft, floral scent of jasmine filling the air as he brought the tray over to the low table in the center of the room. The sliding doors were open, and a breeze swept through the space, carrying with it the scent of the garden and the occasional sound of Trouble chasing chickens outside.

“Levi, come sit with us and Grandma,” I called softly, watching Levi abandon the block tower he was building. He ran over with his usual burst of energy, his brown hair messy and strands hanging loose from his earlier play.

Sakura was already seated beside Noah, nestled against big pillows that propped her up comfortably. Her eyes were wide with curiosity as she watched her Papa take a sip from his tea. Noah handed me my cup. He smiled knowingly as he passed a cup to Grandma, then turned his attention to Sakura.

“You want some?” he asked. Immediately, he dipped his index finger into his cup and offered her a tiny drop.

Sakura leaned forward, her tiny pink lips pursing as she tasted the warm tea from the tip of his finger. Her eyes lit up, and I couldn’t help but chuckle. Of course she loved it—she was my daughter after all.

Noah glanced at me.

“Just like her Mama.”

After a while, with Levi nestled between Sakura and me, enjoying some snacks, I kept an eye on them, waiting for any sign they might be ready for a nap. Despite the day’s activities, however, both twins seemed wide awake. As the adults chatted, I didn’t notice when Levi, responding to Sakura’s insistent whispers, dipped his finger into my tea to offer her a few more drops.

It was Noah who caught him.

With a slight frown, he said, “Levi, stop giving tea to your sister.”

“But she likes it,” Levi replied earnestly.

“You won’t like it when she gets all wired and keeps you up later,” Noah warned gently.

Levi blinked, likely not fully understanding his father’s point, but he obediently wiped his finger on his shirt and muttered a soft, sweet “Papa says no more” to Sakura, who looked at him with hopeful eyes.

A while later, with the twins still wide awake and showing no signs of tiring, Noah decided to take them out to the garden to burn off some energy.

“Come on, you two, let’s tire you up,” he said with a grin, scooping them up. The twins squealed with delight as he hoisted them up high.

Once they were in the garden, he set each of them on one of his shoulders, holding them steady with his hands.

“Papa! ‘s very high!” Levi exclaimed.

“This is called weight training,” Noah told them, pretending to strain under their combined weight. Levi and Sakura giggled, clutching his hair for balance as he wobbled dramatically.

“Hey! Easy on the hair, little minx.”

He pretended Sakura was about to slip off his shoulder, making her squeal, then shifted his balance as if Levi were the one tipping off the other side. Their peals of laughter echoed across the yard. It was the most beautiful sound I’d ever heard—made all the more precious because it was Noah who was causing it.

Noah held them firmly, with the practiced ease of a father—and a Samurai, of course— who would never let them fall. Eventually, he set them down, and the two darted off across the grass. A short while later, Levi discovered a fallen wooden branch, smooth and straight—perfect for his purposes. His small fingers gripped it with a sense of destiny, and he swung it around with wide, serious eyes.

“Papa!” he called. Then announced proudly, “I Samurai!”

Sakura, his biggest fan, started clapping her hands as she sat on the grass, hair messy and her face alight with admiration for her brother. Noah chuckled, kneeling down beside Levi, his own eyes twinkling.

“Show me your stance, little warrior.”

Levi straightened up, glancing at his father with fierce concentration, and clumsily attempted to imitate Noah’s stance, one foot forward, knees slightly bent. His little face was full of focus as he held the stick in front of him, eyes narrowed. Noah bit back laughter, unable to hide his delight at the sight of his son’s determined expression.

“You look like a real samurai, Levi,” Noah praised, giving him an approving nod. “But remember,” he added, “a samurai must have patience and strength.”

Levi nodded solemnly, gripping his wooden “sword” with purpose.

“And they look after their baby sisters!”

Noah nodded. “They look after the girls they love,” he corrected.

Sakura crawled over at full speed to join them bouncing on her hands and knees with enthusiasm. Noah, still kneeling, extended his arm to offer her support in case she wanted to try and stand up.

From our seats in the living room, Grandma and I watched the scene unfolding in the garden. The sliding doors were open to the porch, and the breeze carried the sounds of Noah’s laughter and the twins’ gleeful squeals inside. We sipped our tea as we observed the little family scene—my little family.

“Noah is so devoted to the children,” Grandma commented, “and to you. It makes me so happy to see this man so committed to his family.”

“I can only imagine how devoted he’ll be when there’s three of them,” I said, almost absently.

Grandma turned to me, her eyes widening in surprise.

“Three? What do you—?”

I gently placed a hand over my stomach.

“I think there’s a third one on the way,” I whispered.

“Oh, darling!” she exclaimed, immediately wrapping me in her arms. I hugged her back, feeling her love and excitement surround me. As I glanced over her shoulder, I caught sight of Noah looking toward me from the garden, a quizzical expression on his face. I waved him off with a quick shake of my hand, signaling that everything was fine.

“Does he know?” Grandma asked, pulling back and searching my face with a mixture of tenderness and curiosity.

“Not yet,” I replied. “I don’t want him to start worrying about me or the baby too soon. He’d only stress himself out and live in a constant state of panic.”

A soft, delicate smile spread across her face as she nodded in understanding. One last glance down at my stomach, and her eyes showed a new light as she processed the happy news.

“You’ve built such a precious family,” she noted, squeezing my hand. “This is what you deserve.”

I nodded, feeling the truth of her words settle in my heart. It was everything I’d ever dreamed of.

My attention drifted back to the garden, where I spotted Sakura crawling across the grass again, her little body wiggling as she explored every inch of the ground. Levi toddled after her, a tiny, determined protector, keeping an eye on her every move as he held the stick in his hand. When Sakura reached out for a small, spiky stone, Levi waddled over, furrowing his brow in concern.

“No, sis! Don’t touch!” he scolded in his limited but emphatic vocabulary, holding out his hand to stop her.

Despite her brother’s warnings, Sakura only giggled, flashing him a mischievous smile before crawling even faster, forcing Levi to chase after her. His little legs moved quickly, stumbling slightly but with determination as he followed her across the garden. Watching the two of them, Noah leaned back on the grass, a proud smile spreading across his face as he witnessed the bond between our kids.

When Sakura crawled back to her Papa, Noa brushed a stray wisp of hair from her face.

“Why don’t we practice your walking skills a little bit, huh? Enough crawling around,” he said, tapping her tiny nose. “Until you can stand on your own, babygirl, how do you plan on holding a katana?”

Sakura probably only caught the word “katana”. Nonetheless, she raised her arms up to him, and with his help, she planted her feet in front of her. Levi, always eager to be part of his sister’s milestones, scrambled to her side. He grasped her small hand. Noah placed his huge ones around her little body.

“Come, sis,” Levi encouraged. He tugged her hand forward, his eyes never leaving hers as he and Noah helped her up and steadied her. Sakura wobbled, almost losing her balance. She took a shaky step, then another.

Levi coaxed her along with a beaming smile, glowing with pride at his sister’s efforts.

“You’re doing it, sis!” he said, pulling her forward with all the enthusiasm his small frame could muster. Sakura responded with another happy squeal, her trust in her brother absolute as she stumbled forward, gripping his hand tightly.

From the edge of the garden, Trouble lay stretched out under the sunlight, her black eyes tracking every move. She watched Sakura’s attempts with rapt attention, her tail swishing with encouragement as if cheering on our little one.

Sakura took a few more shaky steps, her hand still gripping Levi’s for balance, until she finally lost her footing. But just as she began to teeter, Noah scooped her up into his arms before she could fall. Sakura clung to her Papa, and Trouble, as if sensing the moment, lifted her head and let out a triumphant howl, celebrating our tiny human’s success.

Noah laughed, cradling Sakura close as she snuggled into Noah’s chest, exhausted but utterly thrilled, while Trouble wagged her tail even harder, her proud gaze following. It was as if she understood the victory of Sakura’s steps and was just as invested in every small victory as the rest of us.

As Noah held Sakura, her head rested against his shoulder, her hair now loose—the bun undone, and the hairband lost somewhere in the garden. Her eyelids began to flutter, the day’s activities finally catching up with her. She gave a little sigh, her fingers curling sleepily into his shirt as she drifted off. Noah turned to Levi, extending his free hand.

“Come on, buddy.”

Levi obediently took his father’s hand, and together they headed back inside, with Trouble padding along behind them.

Once we were all back in the living room, Trouble trotted over to me, her keen eyes meeting mine with a knowing glint. She pressed her nose against my stomach, nudging me softly. I stroked her fur and gave her a gentle “Shh,” hoping she’d keep our little secret just a bit longer.

Meanwhile, Noah adjusted his grip on the now-snoozing Sakura, and glanced at Levi, who was yawning and rubbing his eyes.

“Let’s get you two to your room for a nap,” he murmured, giving Levi’s hand a squeeze. Levi didn’t protest, his tiredness starting to show. “Go give Mama and Grandma a kiss.”

Levi leaned in and placed the softest kiss on my cheek, whispering, “bye, Mama.” Then moved to hug Grandma.

As they made their way to the twins’ shared bedroom, I watched them disappear down the hallway and Trouble settled down beside me, resting her head on my lap. I scratched behind her ears.

After a little while, Noah came back.

“They’re both out like lights.” He settled into his seat with a relaxed sigh, picking up his cup and taking a long sip of his tea. He noticed Trouble, who was still comfortably nestled with her head on my lap. “Hey, big girl,” he said with mock indignation, arching an eyebrow. “Where’s my share of the cuddles?”

As if understanding his request, Trouble lifted her head from my lap and trotted over to Noah, plopping down beside him with a huff. He scratched her behind the ears and ruflled the fur on her neck. She leaned into him, accepting his attention with her usual grace.

The peace didn’t last long, though. Less than an hour into their nap, I noticed Trouble’s ears perk up, her attention shifting to the hallway. She slipped away from us, heading toward the children’s bedroom.

She had sensed them waking up.

Sakura and Levi weren’t the type to cry when they woke; for the past year, they’d developed a habit of waking each other with little noises and soft giggles, almost as if inviting each other to play.

I got up and followed Trouble, who smoothly squeezed through the gap Noah had left in the door.

When I opened it fully a moment later, I found Levi already out of bed, his face alight with excitement as he tried to wrestle with Trouble, charging at her and pushing with all his tiny might. Trouble looked thoroughly amused as she lay there with perfect patience, moving just enough to make him feel like he was putting up a real fight. His laughter rang out as he finally managed to clamber onto her back. In response, Trouble rolled over gently, pinning him beneath her massive paw in a playful but controlled move.

Not wanting to be left out, Sakura, who was obviously also awake, crawled over, her eyes fixated on Trouble’s tail as it swished enticingly from side to side. With a little pout, she reached out, trying to grab it, but Trouble swayed it just out of reach, starting a game of chase. Sakura crawled faster as she tried again and again to capture the elusive tail.

“Catch Trouble!” she called.

Levi, now up on his feet, toddled around the room with all the confidence of a young explorer, and Sakura was quick to follow, her rapid crawling fueled by her intention to keep up with either her big brother of the wolf. Her little hands slapped against the floor as she tried to match their pace, but every so often, she would fall just a bit behind, her face scrunching in frustration.

Noticing this, Trouble ever so heedful, decided to pad over to her and lay down directly in her path, as if offering a solution. Sakura’s eyes lit up, and she eagerly clambered onto Trouble’s back, settling herself with a triumphant smile as she shouted “catch!”. With her tiny hands buried in Trouble’s thick fur, she held on tightly as the wolf rose slowly, careful with each movement and letting her enjoy her “victory”. Then, with Sakura perched securely on her back, Trouble began to walk at a measured pace, following Levi’s toddling path around the room. Sakura squealed with joy, her laughter bright as she held on, her little body bouncing with each step.

I watched them all, my heart full as I leaned against the doorframe.

Come evening, we prepared for the nightly ritual of bath time, one of my favorite moments of the day, while Grandma prepared dinner. I’d insisted she leave it to us, as she was our guest, but she insisted on cooking while we took care of the children. Noah and I filled the tub with warm water, adding just a hint of baby shampoo that filled the air with a soft, sweet fragrance and created a layer of frothy bubbles on the surface. After I undressed Sakura and Noah undressed Levi, we eased them gently into the water, ensuring their little bodies had time to adjust to the warmth.

Sakura, a water enthusiast, started kicking her legs right away. The instant her tiny feet touched the water, she sent splashes flying toward me, Noah, and her little brother, setting off giggles that only grew louder as she saw our crinkled faces.

Once seated in the tub, Levi joined in the fun, slapping the bubbles with his hands and gathering foam to blow into the air—a trick he’d picked up from watching me when they were a bit younger. Noah and I washed them carefully, shampooing their hair, which sometimes turned into a bit of a juggling act as they squirmed and giggled, forcing us to keep a steady grip so they wouldn’t slip beneath the water.

“Close your eyes,” Noah called out when it was time to rinse their hair. They both complied, but Sakura’s face always tensed a little, still a bit wary of the water streaming over her head and face.

Finally clean, smelling fresh and looking irresistibly pink-cheeked, with their skin moisturized and their hair tangle-free, we bundled each of them in thick, fluffy white towels, wrapping them snugly into two little burritos. They looked up at us, eyes half-closed, as if already starting to sink into the cozy warmth, the softness of the towels hugging their tiny bodies.

I stayed behind in the bathroom to clean up as Noah carried our little bundles over to our bed. I gathered the twins’ bath toys, placing them in a basket, then paused just outside the doorway to watch. Noah knelt on the bed, playfully towering over their tiny forms as they lay side-by-side, snug in their towel cocoons. He was using his playful, bedtime voice.

“Who are Papa’s favorite little warriors?”

Sakura and Levi gurgled and giggled under their Papa’s attention. Levi reached out, and Noah leaned closer, letting the tiny fingers brush his cheek, only to “accidentally” shift so Levi’s hand tapped his nose instead. Noah widened his eyes in surprise, prompting a delighted laugh from Levi. With a grin, Noah lifted Levi’s chubby feet, playfully nibbling at his toes before turning his attention to Sakura, who had been watching his antics with wide-eyed fascination.

“What about you?” he asked. “Are you a brave little warrior?”

Sakura stretched an arm toward him, and he took her tiny hand, pressing a kiss on her knuckles. Then, tracing a line down her face, he murmured, “You’re Papa’s fearless princess, that’s what you are,” finishing with a tender boop on her nose.

He unwrapped her towel just enough to blow soft raspberries on her belly, then did the same to Levi, sending both of them into fits of giggles as they tried to curl up as if trying to escape.

“Who’s got the giggles now, huh?” Noah chuckled.

Noticing me in the doorway, he reached out a hand, and I joined him, bringing over the kids’ pajamas from the drawer.

The next morning, Sakura was suprisingly the first to wake, her little voice calling for me. I could tell immediately that she was hungry, so I scooped her up and took her with me as I sat in the rocking chair in the room, where the quiet of the early morning enveloped us like a cozy blanket. As I fed her, the soft light filtering through the window illuminated her delicate features, and I couldn’t help but smile at how sweet and peaceful my daughter looked, with her Papa’s same eyes and hair.

“Slept well, babygirl?”

With her hands around the bottle and her lips glued to the tip, her eyes found mine and she nodded.

Once she was fed and fully awake, I reminded her that Levi was still asleep, so I carried her with me back to the master bedroom, where Noah was still tangled in the sheets, lying on his stomach, shirtless, with one hand tucked beneath a pillow.

“Papa,” Sakura called.

Just hearing her say his name was enough to coax a smile from him, even with his eyes still closed. I let her climb onto the bed, and she crawled right over to him, nudging his tattooed shoulder with a soft insistence.

“Papa!” she repeated, louder this time, her tiny hands pushing against him.

“Yes, babygirl?” Noah mumbled, rolling over slowly to face her.

Sakura babbled something that neither of us quite understood, and we shared a laugh, enchanted by her morning enthusiasm.

“I know, I know,” Noah replied, stretching his arms overhead as he sat up, the sheets slipping away to reveal the entirety of his muscled tattoed torso.

After a few moments of morning cuddles, Noah got dressed and decided to take our daughter out into the garden, where they were greeted by Trouble. They settled on the porch, where Noah cradled our baby girl in his arms, the two of them framed by the glow of the rising sun.

As the first light of day crept over the mountains, Sakura cooed and babbled happily, her little hands pointing at the sky in wonder. Noah murmured softly to her, sharing snippets of thoughts and observations about the world. He pointed out the way the colors changed in the morning light, the birds flitting about, and the way the leaves shimmered with dew.

After the entire family woke up and had finished breakfast, Grandma called out the children into the living room.

“I have some surprises for you, little ones. Come here sit with Grandma.” On the floor in front of her were colorful packages wrapped in bright paper, each adorned with shiny ribbons. “Look what I brought for you!”

Levi dashed over, tugging at his sister’s hand to urge her to crawl along behind him.

Grandma began by handing them each a small package. Levi ripped into his with the fervor of a true little boy, revealing a set of brightly colored building blocks. His eyes widened in awe.

“Look, Mama!” he exclaimed, holding them up proudly.

Sakura, on the other hand, took her time, delicately unwrapping her gift with tiny fingers. When she finally revealed a plush white bunny with extremely long ears, her face lit up with pure joy. She hugged it tightly to her chest, her delight evident as she nestled her head against it.

“Do you like your new bunny, sweetheart?” Grandma asked, her heart swelling with happiness.

Sakura nodded vigorously.

After unwrapping the toys, Grandma reached behind her and brought out two beautifully folded outfits.

“For my little warrior,” she announced, holding up a small, traditional outfit for Levi—a miniature warrior’s attire, complete with delicate, intricate details that mimicked one of his father’s. “And for my little princess,” she continued, revealing an elegant white kimono adorned with tiny embroidered blossoms.

We’d kept both children in modern, comfortable clothes—soft cotton jumpers, leggings, and joggers that allowed them to move freely and easily. But seeing these traditional clothes, made with such care and attention, felt like a small window into the past, connecting them with the roots of their heritage.

Levi darted over to Noah, who was sipping black coffee by the garden, one hand cradling his mug while the other rested on Trouble’s thick fur, who stood at Noah’s waist even on all fours.

“Papa! Can you help me wear this? I’m going to be just like you!” Levi’s eyes sparkled with excitement, the bundle of cloth and miniature armor pieces clutched in his tiny hands.

Noah set his coffee down and motioned Levi closer. He knelt, carefully fastening each part of the outfit, steady hands adjusting every strap and buckle with the same focus he might bring to his own armor. Levi stood stock-still, his chest puffed out proudly. When Noah finally stepped back to take in the sight, Levi looked every inch the little warrior.

Noah chuckled softly, reaching out to smooth our son’s hair.

“Looking good, Levi,” he murmured, feeling a tug of pride at the familiar look in Levi’s eyes. It was like seeing a younger version of himself, bold and ready for anything. “Did you say thank you to Grandma?”

As if realizing his mistake, he turned around and shouted, “Thank you, Grandma!”

Grandma’s smile only grew bigger.

As we admired Levi’s transformation, I noticed Sakura still sat on the floor, a look of frustration and sadness spreading across her face. She was tugging at her sweater, trying to pull it off by herself, her little face scrunched up in concentration—and then she started to cry silently, overwhelmed by her desire to join in but unable to undress on her own.

“Oh,” I muttered as I walked to her and kneeled down. “Baby, it’s okay. We’re going to help you.”

“No need to cry, come on,” Noah interjected, scooping her up and settling her on his lap as he took a seat on the couch. “Arms up, baby.”

She lifted her arms, sniffling a little as he gently pulled off her sweater and guided her tiny arms into the sleeves of her kimono. He adjusted each fold with care, and then tied the delicate sash around her waist. Once she was dressed, Noah lifted her and propped her up on his thighs. She stood there, balanced in his hands, her big eyes taking in the soft white fabric that flowed elegantly around her tiny frame. The kimono’s delicate folds shimmered in the morning light and made her look like a tiny princess straight out of a storybook.

“Look at you. My beautiful babygirl,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Sakura stood still, gazing up at him with a tiny blush blooming on her cheeks, her admiration shining so openly that it made Noah chuckle.

“I think your daughter might be in love with you,” Grandma commented with a smile.

“You have no idea,” I interjected, and all of us laughed.

I walked over to them, smoothing my hand over the soft, white fabric of Sakura’s kimono, adjusting a fold even though Noah had already done it perfectly. She gazed up at me, her big eyes bright with excitement, and I couldn’t help but smile, my heart swelling as I took in her joy.

“You look absolutely beautiful, sweetheart,” I murmured, brushing a stray curl from her forehead. I glanced at Noah, letting a playful glint spark in my eyes. “Daddy did a great job.”

Noah smirked, a mischievous glint flashing in his eyes.

“Pretty good with belts and knots, aren’t I?” he murmured, his voice low enough that only I caught the edge of his joke. I shot him a wide-eyed look, barely able to hold back my laugh. Typical Noah, sneaking in a comment like that while Grandma and the kids were right there. Lucky for him, everyone else seemed blissfully unaware.

Then, with that familiar, warm smile, he slid his arm around my waist and tugged me closer. He didn’t even have to say anything for me to feel how much he loved being here with us, with his family.

Sakura watched us, her little face brightening as she glanced between her father and me. “Papa, kiss Mama,” she piped up, clapping her hands together.

Noah chuckled, his gaze meeting mine with a look that held years of shared stories, a million unspoken words. Then he tilted his chin up, I bent down, and he kissed me, a soft press of his lips that was so familiar yet always felt like a quiet thrill. Sakura’s giggles filled the room, the kind of laughter that made everything feel lighter, as if we’d slipped into one of the fairytales she loved so much.

After spending time with Grandma and taking a walk down to the heart of the sanctuary that morning, we met Rika’s family and other neighbors. Lunch was a communal affair in the main hall, where the air was rich with the scent of fresh rice, vegetables, and miso. Levi and Sakura spent the afternoon running about, playing with Rika and Milla’s children, giggling as they chased one another—eighter on two or four legs—, and even cautiously patting and feeding the deer that roamed around.

Trouble stalked nearby, her tail held high and a low, protective growl rumbling every time one of the other animals got too close to Levi and Sakura. She was overprotective, and it was clear she took her self-imposed role as a guardian seriously.

Eventually, we made our way back to the house, the golden afternoon light filtering through the trees. While Noah went outside to feed Trouble, Grandma approached me with a knowing look in her eye. She took my hands in hers, her warmth and wisdom wrapping around me.

“Why don’t you and Noah take some time for yourselves?” she suggested. “I’ll stay here with the children.”

“But you only just got here,” I protested, reluctant to impose. “You don’t need to jump right into babysitting duty, Grandma.”

She gave a small laugh, her eyes crinkling.

“Maybe because I think Noah should know the news,” she said.

I paused, feeling a soft swell of emotion at the thought. Her hand squeezed mine as she looked into my eyes.

“I know he’ll be even more protective and likely won’t let you out of his sight for a moment, but he deserves to be part of this journey and not miss a day. Let him share in the joy and excitement with you.”

I took a deep breath. She was right, of course. Noah deserved to be a part of this new chapter from the very beginning, and I could already picture the joy in his eyes when he found out about the life growing inside of me.

I bit my lip, but eventually nodded. With my heart grateful, I gave Grandma a warm hug.

After a quiet moment, I made my way outside, finding Noah as he leaned against a tree, watching Trouble with a satisfied smile as she finished her meal. He looked up as I approached.

“Why don’t we go out for a bit?” I suggested, doing my best to sound casual.

Noah raised an eyebrow, casting a glance toward the living room where Levi and Sakura were happily playing with Grandma.

“Again? I think both the kids and Grandma might be tired…”

“Just the two of us,” I clarified, cutting him off with a small smile.

He turned back to me, his expression shifting from confusion to understanding, realization dawning in his eyes.

A slow smirk crept across his face.

“Just us?” he murmured, his tone lower.

“Yes,” I replied, extending my hand toward him. He took it without hesitation, his warmth making me feel all the more eager to share this not-so-little secret with him.

Inside, we gathered a picnic basket and filled it with a blanket, fruit, and other snacks. We said goodbye to the children, who didn’t seem too preoccupied with us leaving thanks to Grandma’s presence. As we made our way to the door, Trouble followed us, glancing over her own back every two seconds, clearly undecided between following us or staying back with Levi and Sakura.

“No worries, Trouble. You’re in charge here,” Noah told her. She hesitated, giving us one last look, before trotting back inside and settling herself protectively beside the children, her tail curling around Sakura and tickling her in the face, making her scrunch her nose and cover her face with her arms.

Noah and I left the house with a loving laugh.

The weather was perfectly warm and clear as we set off up the path toward a hidden pond not too far, eager to savor the last few hours of sunlight. It was a secluded little haven we had discovered just before I got pregnant with the twins—a place Noah and I had made our own, keeping it a secret even from the kids for now. As much as we loved being parents, we cherished our time alone, too. Though Noah hadn’t said it outright, I could tell from the glint in his eyes how much he appreciated Grandma’s gesture in giving us this moment to ourselves.

We spread out the blanket on the sand surrounding the pond, the warmth of the late afternoon settling over us as we unpacked apples, peaches, berries, and pastries from the basket. Noah settled down and I knelt beside him, reaching eagerly for one of the chocolate pastries. But before I could take a bite, he gestured for me to sit between his legs. I moved over and leaned back into his arms, savoring the comfort of his warmth and the easy rhythm of his breath against my neck.

With his arms wrapped around me, he held a box of berries in front of us and began feeding both of us, occasionally rubbing a blueberry over my lips to tease me, pulling it back with before I could catch it. When I gave his thigh a playful pinch, he yelped, and I turned my head to meet his gaze with a glare that said, “You deserved that.”

After a while, with our appetites satisfied, I relaxed against him, my head resting on his shoulder and his chin gently perched on mine. His cheek brushed against me, warm and slightly rough—just the way I liked it. His arms held me close, my hands resting atop his as we took in the view together: the slow sway of the water, the vibrant reflections of the sun across the pond, the birds soaring overhead, and the flowers tilting upward as if reaching for the fading sun.

I felt the soft ghost of Noah’s lips graze the crook of my neck, where my skin was exposed. Instinctively I tilted my head to give him more access.

“I love the way you smell,” he murmured, his voice a low vibration against my skin.

“What do I smell like?”

“Hmm. Lavender and… baby powder.”

I snorted, laughing softly.

“So do you,” I teased, leaning in at an odd angle to nuzzle my nose against his cheek. He pulled a face.

“Please don’t tell me that,” he groaned. “A Samurai smelling like baby powder? Not exactly intimidating.”

“It makes you a responsible, caring dad.” My voice softened as I looked up at him, our faces so close I could see the flecks of darker brown in his eyes. “You’re the best father to our children I could’ve ever asked for.”

“Because you and our kids deserve only the best,” he replied, his hand sneaking up to touch my chin with a finger. He tiped it up. Then his palm cupped my cheek and he brought our lips together.

We kissed under the trees, surrounded by the earthy scent of the forest, birdsong, and the rustling of leaves in the breeze. Gradually, my body melted beneath his touch, and he shifted until I was lying back on the blanket, his mouth never leaving mine.

Since the moment I got pregnant, Noah’s affection and care had grown, and he had never stopped showing how much he loved me and how beautiful I was in his eyes. He was a grown man now; gone was the teenage boy I’d watched training tirelessly on my father’s grounds. But his heart remained unchanged, and every now and then, he’d still wear that peaceful expression while he slept—the look of that young boy I’d first fallen in love with. Now, Noah was my husband, my soulmate, but he would always also be the boy that stole my heart.

Lying on the blanket, his hands explored my body, slipping beneath the fabric of my kimono to find my skin while my fingers trailed through his hair, drawing soft sounds from his lips that stirred a warmth deep within me. I hooked a leg around him, arching to meet him, offering myself without hesitation. Noah murmured something against my mouth, and as I ran a hand down his back to slip beneath his shirt and touch his muscles, his grip on my waist tightened.

“Behave,” he ordered, his voice rough. His eyes remained closed as he untied the laces of my kimono, spreading the fabric to either side and exposing my skin to the open air, a chill raising goosebumps.

“Or what?” I teased, nipping at his lower lip.

When he opened his eyes, they were dark and narrowed, though a playful glint lingered in them.

“Or I’ll find a good use for this belt,” he replied.

“Oh? And then…?”

His brow lifted, slightly taken aback by my boldness.

“Then I’ll place these berries on every spot that makes you shiver,” he murmured, his fingers tracing down the valley between my breasts and along my sides, tickling lightly. My giggles bubbled up, and he laughed with me, though his intent was clear. “And I’ll eat every one of them off you before letting my tongue wander between your legs.”

Heat pooled low in my belly, but I maintained a calm facade.

“And you’re going to act so indecently out here in the open?” I teased, tilting my head toward a nearby deer quietly grazing in the shade.

Noah followed my gaze.

“They’ve witnessed far filthier things than that, done by you,” he teased right back.

I couldn’t suppress a wide smile before his mouth descended on mine. In a matter of minutes, my underwear was gone, and Noah was making good on his promise with focused, deliberate devotion. I lay exposed on the blanket, berries scattered across my stomach as his mouth traced every inch of me, savoring each berry he plucked from my skin. He licked away the juice that dripped from them, glancing up at me every so often.

Eventually, he shed his clothes as well. I watched him with a blissful smile, sated from my first climax, his skilled mouth having left gentle love bites along the inside of my thighs as the breeze carried away my gasps. When he finally entered me, I felt complete, holding tight to his shoulders as he moved within me, my legs locked around him and my eyes fixed on his. I lifted my head to meet him in a kiss, tasting the faint tartness of raspberries lingering on his tongue.

“Sometimes,” he said, his voice strained as he withdrew slowly, inch by inch, making me feel every exquisite part of him, “I still can’t believe you’re mine.”

I tangled my fingers in his hair and pulled him back down to me.

“I’ll be yours,” I whispered hoarsely against his lips, my nose brushing his, “until the end of days, Noah.”

Our eyes locked, and as we moved together, he would reach up every so often to tuck stray strands of hair behind my ear or simply to cup my cheek with quiet affection. At one point, his hand wandered to the box of berries beside us. He held a strawberry to my lips, feeding it to me as he held still within me, his body warm and solid against mine.

“Sweet?” he asked hoarsely.

I nodded, my cheeks flushed, overwhelmed as always by the press of his heavy body and his cock filling me completely.

“That’s exactly how you taste,” he murmured, punctuating the words with a deep, slow thrust that left me gasping. “No,” he corrected himself, withdrawing slightly, his muscles flexing under my hands as I clung to his biceps. “You taste even sweeter.” He thrust again, harder this time, drawing a cry from my lips. “That’s it,” he coaxed. “Let the Gods hear you. Let them know how good I make you feel.”

“Please, Noah,” I pleaded. “I’m so close.”

He knew, and he didn’t hold back, guiding me to the edge and staying with me as I fell, a soft whimper escaping my lips as his name echoed through the trees. He followed soon after, his released spreading through me, our bodies trembling together as we clung to each other, complete in the quiet of the forest.

Not long after, Noah led me to the water. We cleaned ourselves off, then I wrapped myself around him like a koala. He spun us in circles, making me laugh until my sides ached.

When we emerged, my hair dry because I’d kept it tied back with a kanzashi stick, we dried off and slipped back into our underwear. Feeling utterly content, I lay down on the blanket, my hair spilling around me as soon as Noah pulled at the stick with a cheeky smile. He settled beside me on his stomach. He’d collected a small bundle of flowers—jasmine, sakura blossoms, and a few other delicate wildflowers. One by one, he began placing them over my belly, just as he had done earlier with the berries. When my skin was adorned with petals, he tucked the last sakura blooms in my hair.

The sight of those particular flowers stirred memories. They were a tender reminder not only of our daughter now, but of all those years ago when Noah would visit me at my grandmother’s village home at night, stealing moments with me under the moonlight and the sheets. He would leave in the early mornings, just before sunrise and before I would wake up. When I did, he was gone, but he always used to leave a bunch of sakura flowers on the pillow as a reminder of his love.

Now, the flowers were a reminder of our past and everything we had endured—of the strenght we had found in each other and how much we had accomplished, of the man and the woman we had become.

“I have to tell you something,” I murmured, feeling the nervous tickling settling in my lower pit.

He paused, holding a jasmine in his fingers, his eyes bright with curiosity. Without another word, I guided his hand to rest on my flower-covered belly. I watched as his brows furrowed, and then his eyes widening as he began to piece it together. The jasmine slipped from his fingers, settling delicately at my navel.

A quiet breath hitched in his throat as he took in the meaning of my gesture. His eyes filled with wonder, his lips parting slightly as he looked down at my belly, his hand pressing carefully—almost reverently— over me, protective and awestruck.

His question—“Are we having another baby?”—uttered so softly and carefully, as if he believed saying it too loud might shatter the truth of it, melted me. I nodded, my smile bright and cheeks warm, the blush deepening at the comfort of his strong hand resting over our child—our third.

I felt weightless, floating in a dreamlike state as I looked into the warmth of Noah’s brown eyes, seeing the light of love and devotion that always glowed there. Not a day went by that he didn’t express how lucky he felt to have found me and to have fought for me—to had me fight for him—, how proud and grateful he was that I’d given him not only my heart but a family. I had given him happiness, the kind he’d been raised to believe he’d never deserve.

After a beat, when the news settled in, his lips found their way to my flower-covered stomach, pressing a tender kiss right where our little one was already learning the love of their Papa.

Back at home, our girl Sakura and our boy Levi played together, blissfully unaware that soon they’d have someone new to protect, to dote on, to share their world with. Just imagining their excitement and fierce protectiveness over their new sibling made me laugh, my eyes misting. Noah must have been thinking the same. He pressed his cheek against my bare skin. When his eyelashes fluttered, they sent a ripple of lovely goosebumps across my body.

My hand slipped into his hair, fingers threading softly as we lay there together, wrapped in the quietness of our deserved joy. I had a husband, an adopted wolf, a daughter, a son—and another baby on the way, created from the endless love I shared with Noah—my soldier, my warrior.

My Samurai.

✨ Author's note:

*cries* *cries more* *cries some more*

*continues crying*

Thank you, thank you, thank you for reading this story, for all your support, for encouraging me to keep going after I posted the first part (which was supposed to be a one shot). Thank your for sharing your thoughts, for commenting, for reblogging, for messaging me about this fic and sending my brain on overdrive with your brainrots. Writing this story has been a dream, firstly because I always wanted to read a romance story with a Samurai and Noah made the perfect muse for it, second because it gave me an excuse to do a lot of research on Japan and its culture and history. This is in no way an accurate historical fic, but there's so much I've read online and s much I've learnt. I wish I could've made this fic into something better and make it more accurate—perhaps longer, too. But I'm currently very happy with what we've created together, yes, together, because half of this wouldn't exist without all of you that have showered me and my works with love and care. I'm forever thankful and glad that writing and sharing these so many words have brought me close to so many of you wonderful creatures.

I hope you know that, while this is the end of the fic, I have some exciting plans for the future involving samurai!noah. I don't want to say more for the time being, but don't say goodbye to him just yet.

I hope you loved reading this as much as I loved sharing it with you and reading your comments and reactions.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart. 🥹

V. 💕

*proceeds to sob*

Taglist:

If I forgot someone, I'm so sorry! I love you! There's just so much going on in my head!

@girlfromrussia-universe | @kankuurohs | @somebodyels3 | @missduffsblog | @respectfulrebel

@badomensls | @shilohrosechicken | @moreyoulove-moreyouknow @concreteangel92 | @alwaysfightforwhoyouare

#noah sebastian #noah sebastian fanfiction #noah sebastian x reader #samurai!noah #the unmaking of a warrior #bad omens #bad omens fanfiction #noah sebastian fic

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zarnzarn · 9 months ago

Text

new fic, tw rescue from a kidnapping and s/a (calypso), illiad modern spy au

They find him in the place they were told they would.

The lot of them almost don't make it past the door with how all of them fight to get inside first. The woman inside screams and drops her basket of fruits as they storm into the kitchen, staring at them with wide, piteous eyes as they all point their swords at her.

"Where is he?" Eurylochus snarls, half-bear in his rage. The guilt has been ripping him apart, whatever he and Odysseus disagreed on before he disappeared into thin air all those months ago, driving him wild. Menelaus nearly flinches himself when he roars louder, "WHERE IS HE?"

"Have you people never heard of politeness?" The woman demands starchly, even though she's still pressed back against the counter. Menelaus sees her eyes flash with power as she scowls at them, and takes a deep breath, readying his sword.

If he dies fighting her- if any of them do- the rest will understand. It's only because of Odysseus that any of them were alive at all.

"We were told that the merchant Xen'ath made a sale to you, seven months ago," Diomedes cuts in, voice cold. "An illegal one, even for a protected one like you."

She snorts, jewellery tinkling. She looks kind, and for a desperate moment Menelaus hopes.

"What will you do, put me in jail?" Calypso giggles. "Besides, a sale is a sale. He's mine, fair and square, so if you all would kindly-"

A vase crashes by her head, scattering muddy water and making her scream.

Patroclus hasn't recovered much from the coma, but he's just as angry as any of them and wouldn't be talked out of not coming along, even though he has to use a cane. He doesn't know about how they all fell apart while he was under, but has informed them all quite clearly that not only does he not care, in this situation it does not matter.

Menelaus holds out a hand to signal him to back down, knowing that they are all barely holding onto their fury enough to get answers.

"Where is he?" Ajax cuts in quietly. They point their swords again.

She scans them all calculatingly, grimacing. Then recovers, tossing her hair over her shoulder proudly, hmphing at them.

"In the basement," She says casually, and Menelaus' heart drops. Horror suffuses the faces around him, with many eyes closing in pained resignation, even though they already knew the truth. Knew what kind of sale it had been.

Penelope had recovered over fifteen hundred victims in her search for her husband, and all of them had the same story.

"He tried to run last week," She sighs, putting her hands on her hips and talking with such casual disappointment that it makes his blood run cold, makes him want to throw up. "Honestly, I made sure that he had everything one could need, I don't know what on earth-"

"Shut up," Polites snaps. "Just- shut up!"

"Why, you-" Calypso growls, eyes turning pink as she calls her power, and with a roar of fury, Achilles rounds the table and attacks.

Menelaus whistles to the others and they all scatter. He comes out at the veranda, opening every door and cursing when there's nothing beyond. It's a beautiful house- idyllic and pristine and packed with luxury, and it makes Menelaus want to claw off his own skin.

"HERE!" Someone shouts inside, and Menelaus skids to a stop and changes direction. They all reach the door at the same time, and he holds back the dizzying wave of horror at the lock on the outside as they all hack at the wood like crazed people to get in.

The door crashes down and Menelaus charges down the stairs into the dark room, scrambling for his torch.

"ODYSSEUS!" He shouts, moving it around. "ODY-"

They all go dead silent.

Odysseus scrabbles back, eyes glinting and wild in the light of the torch. He's still in the same outfit they have the last sighting of him in, dirtied and torn now, but the man wearing it is completely different- hair overgrown and body rail-thin, so much so that Menelaus for a heart-stopping second doesn't recognise him.

There's a chain around his leg, connected to the floor. A collar with an owl on it, made of metal that's been welded shut straight on and rope on his wrists. A dirty cloth stuffed in his mouth.

Blood on his legs.

"Odysseus!" Polites is the first to break their standstill, a huge grin of pained relief on his face as he rushes forward. It falls as Odysseus gives a small scream of terror and tries to get away from him, making the metal dig into his already scarred ankle.

Of terror. Of terror. Ten years of knowing him, and Menelaus has never seen Odysseus afraid.

Odysseus spits out the cloth. "Please," He whispers, voice wrecked, and they all flinch. The Odysseus in Menelaus' memory shines bright and golden, charming and funny and kind and angry and humble, despite having run missions for his kingdom since he was thirteen, sharper and swifter than all of them. This is not his friend. "Please, not them, not them, don't wear their faces too, please."

And-

Menelaus comes to with his face pressed against the wall, tears streaming down his face. Sick with rage and guilt and fury and horror. The others aren't faring any better when someone snaps over the microphones for them to hurry up and he turns back around- Eurylochus is sitting on the floor with his head in his hands, two others are vomiting, Polites has disappeared and the rest are just standing there frozen, crying. Patroclus is the only one who's kept his head on enough to attempt quiet reassurance, crouched near a trembling, animal version of their best spy and talking softly to him, trying to coax him away from cutting into his own skin with the rusted metal.

He tried to run away last week, Menelaus grasps onto desperately. It means he's still in there, fighting.

He can't take his eyes off the blood. There's so much of it.

"Eurylochus!" Polites snaps as he comes back down the stairs, a blowtorch in hand. "Hold him."

Odysseus screams at their approach and Menelaus does not have the courage to keep looking, places both hands over his ears like a child, unable to bear it.

(Penelope had opened the door to the group of them; twelve men Odysseus had run with for ten years who had no idea he disappeared until someone casually mentioned that Penelope had gone rogue and was on the watchlist for having tortured and murdered Circe.

Her eyes had been frigid. "Welcome," She said, as if they were strangers and not close friends. "You're quite lucky you decided to visit, you know. I had plans of killing you lot next."

Menelaus doesn't blame her.

She'd sent them all message after message, call after call- begging, pleading, bargaining; that they all ignored out of grudges and anger, until she'd stopped asking and done it herself. None of the fights Odysseus had had with them had even been that bad- it was just, somehow, every single one of them had just been that little bit extra annoyed as to not pick up when it had been her calling; and then Xen'ath had all Penelope's calls rerouted, so she couldn't reach them anyway.

"Queen of Ithaka," He'd bowed, Helen bowing lower at his side. "... Penelope. I- We are all so incredibly sorry-"

"Save it," She'd said, holding up a hand. "Just answer me this- would you rather run a mission or guard Telemachus? And what is your price?"

That had thrown them.

"Penelope," Diomedes had stepped forward hesitantly, looking heartbroken. "We would- all of us, any of us- we would do anything to save your husband. You don't need to fucking pay us to rescue him- we are his friends. We are your friends."

"Then WHERE WERE YOU?" Penelope screams, and her mask finally cracks with it, eyes filled with tears and mouth curled in rage. "Where were any of you when he- when I-" Diomedes grabs her and pulls her into a hug and she breaks down sobbing. "Where were all of you when we needed you?"

"Penelope," Menelaus says, stepping forward to place a hand on her shoulder. Glass crunches under his feet and guilt overcomes him again- all this while he'd been living in luxury, unburdened, his sister-in-law had given up everything to run missions on her own, feeding her people and taking down enemy after enemy while living in squalor herself, in a building full of unsavory men. Tears come to his own eyes. "Please, I beg you to believe me. None of us, not a single one- we did not know. We did not know your husband never made it home, Penelope, I swear on the Styx."

"Then you should have picked up my calls," She snarls, venomous, and gathers herself back up to push Diomedes and him away. "Now. Mission or Telemachus?")

When he takes his hands off, the silence is ringingly loud, the phantom screams still stuck in his ears. Menelaus looks when Odysseus whimpers suddenly and sees his sister's husband holding him down while Polites melts the collar off, Ajax silently working on the chain around his ankle.

Achilles shouts from upstairs and Diomedes calls back, and he comes into the room with grim eyes. "How is he?"

None of them can bring themselves to reply. The collar falls off with a thud.

"Odysseus, hey, we've come to rescue you," Polites tries again, smiling at him and holding his head in his hands so they can meet his eyes. "Don't worry now, we're here."

Odysseus is still. Too still.

Diomedes steps forward, eyes hard, and carefully pulls Polites' hands away. "He'll attack you. If shapeshifting is involved-"

Silence.

"What is wrong with all of you?" Patroclus says suddenly, scowling. "Did you lose your training along with your brains when I was unconscious? Soldiers, post-rescue protocol, now."

The command shocks him back to adrenaline, and they all burst into familiar movements, collecting pictures and pulling out shock blankets. Someone grabs Odysseus as the chain unravels and holds him still while they cut him free, and another talks gently to him as they inject him with a sedative. Menelaus is just glad it isn't him, because he doesn't think that even with his hardened nerves he could bear to face the fact that- to treat Odysseus like-

He looks away as Achilles grabs the other in a fireman's carry and makes his way to the door instead, pushing the debris out of the way to let them through.

Calypso isn't going to be held back for long.

"NO!" She screeches as she bursts through a wall, three times bigger than they left her. Menelaus slashes and she cowers back, baring her teeth in fear. Her face falls as she catches sight of Achilles running out the door, and tears well up in her eyes instead. "No, please, I can't be alone again! I can't be locked in here, please, I can't be alone, send anything, anyone, please!"

"Go fuck yourself," Ajax says savagely as he swings at her, and Menelaus grabs the person closest and yells for a retreat.

The van rumbles along. The windshield wipers swing.

"How long does the sedative last?" Menelaus hears himself ask.

"Should be done by now," Polites says, voice similarly bleak, turning to Odysseus. "Ody?"

Odysseus is crouched in the far corner of the van, staring at them all with sharp, hate-filled paranoia. Menelaus swallows and slows the vehicle, the rest of them turning to look.

"You're safe," Ajax says, softer than he's ever heard from him. "We got you out, Odysseus, you're going back home."

Odysseus narrows his eyes and snarls. Menelaus braces himself for something biting and sharp about how they could have done it earlier, better, faster. Except- "I'm not falling for another illusion, Calypso. Drop the fucking act."

Menelaus hits the brakes and closes his eyes as he presses his face against the steering wheel. "It's not an illusion, Ody, we promise. We're actually here."

"You don't have your chains any more, see?" Eurylochus tries. When he turns, they're all clearly holding themselves back from rushing forward in heartbreak; Odysseus had been the touchy one amongst them, winding around them like a hyperactive snake and hanging off them and hugging them tight and offering handshakes and high-fives, no matter that they were all hardened warriors. To have him clearly ready to throw a punch if they approach hurts. "Your collar is off- why would Calypso do that?"

Odysseus' face spasms and he grabs for his neck. Feels around as if it might be a trick, expression blank.

"Athena," He says abruptly, and Menelaus is extremely confused for a second before he recalls the owl etched into the metal and catches Diomedes' eyes in sudden horrified agony. Of all the terrible-

"Athena," Odysseus breathes, bending over with eyes wide in disbelief, saying it as if he can't believe he can. Hope flares in his eyes, before crumpling at the sudden landslide of grief that follows, tears Menelaus never saw from him at the worst of the Troy mission dripping down his face. "Athena. Athena. Athena! ATHENA! ATHENA!"

His voice is agonizing to hear, crazed and desperate, and someone rushes forward with a tranquilizer, before-

A loud clap, blinding light, and Athena, the goddess herself, appears in their mission vehicle.

"What the fuck," Ajax whispers next to him, grabbing Menelaus by the arm. They're both trembling. Everyone is. "What the fuck- that's actually her."

Athena snaps her neck around to study them all with blank eyes, nodding to a terrified Diomedes, before looking down at Odysseus. Studies him.

Oh shit, Menelaus thinks, remembering the rumors of Medusa, and motions for someone to intervene as he struggles with the seatbelt.

She dissolves her spear suddenly and- holds out her arms.

"What?" Odysseus says faintly, which sums that up too.

"What?" Athena returns, sounding- defensive? Confused? "You were the one who insisted on hugs and physical touch to be added to the rescue recovery manual."

Menelaus finally makes it over the barrier to the back of the van and gets to watch everyone's brains break slightly, and for Odysseus' mouth to drop open in sheer disbelief. Menelaus still knows him enough to recognise the look of him very much wanting to say that is not something you say in a situation like this before a smile suddenly pulls at his lips. A threadbare, incredulous giggle escapes him, then rickety, mirthful laughter and Menelaus breathes a sigh of relief.

"Yeah, I did," Odysseus grins slightly, and walks closer- hugging the goddess without a lick of fear, of course he does. The gods are famous for their pride and detachment and untouchability and of course this crazy man goes and hugs the most closed-off of them like an old friend.

Although, the way they talked to each other, and the implications-

"I'm not thinking of this anymore," Ajax mutters, rubbing at his face. "Odysseus, you believe this ain't an illusion yet, my dude?"

He pulls back and stares around at them like he's seeing them for the first time. His face twitches, like he can't decide whether to smile or be devastated, and quietly says, "You're here. You all came?"

The van bursts out in noise as they all trip over their sorrowful reassurances and apologies, almost shouting. Odysseus trembles. Blood drips to the floor.

Achilles steps forward and Menelaus feels the same alarm of a disaster incoming from earlier; he and Odysseus had never quite gotten over their irritation at dragging each other into the Troy mission and argued plenty during- he'd even heard word that they'd let a target escape once because they'd got into a fistfight.

But Achilles just gives Athena a wary look and a wide berth, and then pulls Odysseus into his arms. Menelaus suddenly remembers who'd been the first to run to Achilles and hold him when he'd sunk to the floor at Patroclus' diagnosis.

"We're here," He murmurs. "We came late, but we came. You're out."

"I'm out," Odysseus repeats, letting his tense posture drop as he leans into the embrace. "I'm out."

"You are," Athena confirms clinically, then- surprise on surprises, she kneels down to pull him closer as well.

Menelaus smiles, then climbs back to the front of the vehicle, satisfying himself with the flickering relief that slowly takes over Odysseus' expression. Gives his friend the privacy he can when he starts to have the breakdown delayed seven months, turns the keys to start the engine.

It's still a long journey to get Odysseus back to Penelope, then back to the Ithaka headquarters. But they have him now, and they'll get him back.

Menelaus, and the rest of them, will have to content themselves with that. That at least, the most they can do now, is bring him home.

He taps on his earpiece, and it crackles to life. "We have him," He tells her. "We're bringing him back to you by morning. Rest, please, Penny."

She sobs over the comms and the car drives on.

#odysseus #calypso #modern au #penelope #menelaus #eurylochus #achilles #patroclus #diomedes #polites #athena #odypen

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blushinggdawn · 1 month ago

Text

⋆˚✿˖°─★ ˙🍰 ̟ !! THE SHOUJO MASTERLIST ᥫ᭡.

💌- reading/watching || 🍧- watched 🎀- read ||❕- priority || ☁️ - unfinished || ★ - favs

kimi ni todoke 🍧

★ ao haru ride 🎀🍧

ouran hshc🍧

★ fruba 🍧

★ cardcaptor sakura 🍧

nana ☁️

akagami no shirayuki hime 🍧☁️

kamisama kiss 🎀

tonari no kaibutsu 🍧

❕paradise kiss

❕lovely complex

a sign of affection

orange 🎀

★ akatsuki no yona 🎀☁️

maid sama ☁️

imakoi

yumeiro patisserie 💌

high school debut

choking on love / museru kurai no ai wo ageru

veil (guys idk if this is even a shoujo)

sakura, saku

love me love me not / omoi omoware, furi furare 🎀

strobe edge

honey lemon soda

say i love you

cheeky brat

gokinjo monogatari (neighbourhood story - paradise kiss universe)

cipher

ultra cute

peach girl

gals

boys over flowers

kamikaze girls

honey and clover

skip beat

in the clear moonlit dusk 🎀☁️

kare kano

→♥︎ THE FAVS ╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

yona of the dawn

cardcaptor sakura

ao haru ride

fruits basket

#shoujo manga #bookshelf🍧#manga #anime #manga and anime #animanga #shoujo girl #shoujo

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silverhallow · 3 months ago

Note

Prompt. Sophie's main pregnancy symptom is hunger.

She is 6 months pregnant and she eats all of Colin's sandwiches during the family picnic.

What would happen next.

The sun shone brightly over the rolling green hills of Aubrey Hall, casting a warm glow over the Bridgerton family picnic. Laughter and conversation filled the air as blankets were spread across the grass, baskets were unpacked, and plates were filled with an assortment of delicious food.

And then, in a matter of moments, the sandwiches were gone.

Colin stared in horror at the empty platter, his stomach growling angrily as realisation dawned upon him. He turned, eyes scanning the picnic blanket before narrowing in on the culprit: his sister in law Sophie, six months pregnant and looking exceedingly pleased with herself as she took the last bite of what had once been his lunch.

“You ate all of them?” Colin’s voice pitched in disbelief. “Every single one? Sophie, I haven’t eaten yet!”

Sophie, still chewing, shrugged unapologetically. “You should’ve been faster.”

“Faster?!” Colin’s face turned a shade of red that rivaled the jam tarts. “How is anyone supposed to be faster when you inhaled them all like a damn—”

“Careful, brother.” Benedict’s warning was low but clear, stepping forward to place a protective hand on Sophie’s back. But Sophie didn’t need protecting.

She swallowed, turned to Colin with a deadly glare, and stood up.

“You want to yell at me over some sandwiches?” Her voice, though deceptively calm, had an edge of danger. “Do you have any idea what I am going through? I am growing a human, Colin. A Bridgerton human. Do you know what that means? Do you have any concept of how much energy it takes to create one of you insufferable, bottomless-pit-stomached, impossibly large-headed men?!”

Colin took a step back. “I…”

“No! No, you don’t! Because if you did, you wouldn’t be whining about your stupid sandwiches! I am carrying your nephew or niece, which means I am HUNGRY. CONSTANTLY. You think you’re hungry? Try being pregnant. Try having your entire existence revolve around eating and then immediately needing to eat again because your body is a factory dedicated to building a tiny person from scratch! And you have the audacity to yell at me over some sandwiches?!”

By now, everyone had gone silent, watching with bated breath as Sophie’s fury bore down on Colin like a storm. He had started off defensive, but now his lip was wobbling.

“I didn’t…I wasn’t trying to…”

“Oh, save it, Bridgerton,” Sophie snapped. “I am hormonal, I am tired, and I am HUNGRY. If you ever…and I mean ever…complain to a pregnant woman about food again, I swear I will personally make sure you regret it.”

Colin made a strangled sound. Then, to the utter astonishment of everyone present, he sniffled. His eyes, uncharacteristically glassy, darted to the ground as he muttered, “I just wanted a sandwich.”

Benedict smothered a laugh behind his hand.

Sophie exhaled sharply, glaring at him for a moment longer before rolling her eyes. “Oh, for heaven’s sake.” She huffed before grabbing a piece of fruit from a nearby basket and shoving it into his hands. “Eat that and stop crying.”

Colin sniffed again but took the fruit without argument.

With a sigh, Sophie sat back down, muttering about the absurdity of men and their dramatics. Benedict, still biting back laughter, wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pressed a kiss to her temple.

“I love you,” he murmured.

Sophie, still grumbling, leaned into him. “You’d better.”

#ask ash #bridgerton #Sophie baek #sophie bridgerton #benedict bridgerton #colin bridgerton #benophie #benedict x sophie #sophie beckett

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pinkies-senses · 1 year ago

Text

Bittersweet apples 🍏

Sweet apple acres was quiet, an odd scene for that piece of land as it was filled to the brim with juicy red fruits. Perfect for the taking, and yet… left untouched.

Each tree stood strong, bearing apples in different sizes and slightly different shapes. At this point, Apple Jack and Big Mac would’ve been hard at work, bucking those ripe fruits out of their leafy beds and into hoof crafted baskets.

But that quiet noon, in that vibrant green orchard, held a great unease.

The clouds were shifting in panic despite their schedule, likely the Pegasus’ doing, but Apple Jack barely paid mind to the unusual weather.

Not with the poorly hidden sobs from her younger sister filling her sensitive ears.

…And that viscous sensation that was drying and crusting on the fur of her back legs…

Apple Jack trailed behind a covered wagon that was being pulled by her older brother, Big Mac, with little Apple Bloom inside.

Despite the big wagon, it was light with very little inside.

Apple Bloom, some packages of food and tanks of water were jostled around slightly due to the uneven, gravelly road the three ponies were taking. Other than that (minus the sobbing), it was quiet.

None of them wished to speak, not after the tragedy that was forcefully bestowed on the recently. The metaphorical wounds were still fresh, as fresh as the crimson that tainted Apple Jack.

Her deep emerald eyes were locked onto the back of the Wagon, empty and void. Her throat tightened so bitterly, she knew the moment she spoke, her words would come out strained and painful.

So she let her mind get lost in the numbness inside of her, leaving her with nothing to think of.

A blank slate.

The sniffles halted momentarily, but still present before a weak voice called out from the wagon.

“…Big Mac… where are we goin’?”

Big Mac didn’t seem to hear the small voice behind him over his own thoughts and hoof beats against the dirt, so Apple Jack sucked up her pain and desire to not speak.

“Evacuatin’.” Was all Apple Jack said.

She heard a little hoof scrap against the wagon’s floor, likely her sister moving to get up, before she saw the reddened misty eyes peek through the wagon covering.

“But… why? A-and where? … Because you killed Granny?” Her voice, although mournful and tired, held animosity and anger.

“APPLE BLOOM!” Apple Jack yelled in disbelief and fury.

“How DARE-“ but before she could finish her sentence, Big Mac’s booming voice quickly dashed out fire was starting between the two sisters.

“ENOUGH OUT OF BOTH OF YOU.”

A quiet hush fell over all of them, only the gravel beneath their wheels and hooves acting as background noise.

The silence from him afterward was as deafening as his sudden outburst. Apple Jack and Apple Bloom knew that their usual mute brother only spoke a complete sentence when he felt he needed to or if he was incredibly upset.

It wasn’t too long before the red pony grunted out another response to the two.

“Apple Jack did what she did to save you. Granny was sick-“

“She wasn’t hurtin’ nopony, Big Mac-“ Apple Bloom protested but was interrupted by her older brother.

“She. Was. Ill. Apple Bloom. Of course she wasn’t trying to hurt nopony, but her sickness would have killed you too.” He said gruffly.

“But…” Apple Bloom started before giving up silently.

“Apple Jack.”

The said pony stared into the wagon, trying to stare into the back of her brother’s head.

“She’s still a filly. She don’t understand what is happenin’. She just watched our granny die.”

“Big Mac…”

“Apple Bloom needs to know what’s goin’ on, you can’t just kill somepony and not elaborate.”

Big Mac paused a moment before finishing his lecture.

“Later when we find a place to settle, you and I will have a talk. Alone.”

For the first time in hours, a gentle gust of wind rustled the apple trees. The three of them were silent once more.

Apple Jack opened and closed her mouth… before repeating the process three more times.

What more would there be to discuss? What could Apple Jack say to any of this?

The tragedy of having to forcefully take her own mother figure’s life was a hard blow to her already, but the way her little sister spoke to her as though she was some rabid animal for doing so…

What was there to say to that?

To be continued….

#mlp #pinkies senses #apple jack #big mac #apple bloom #mlp infection au #mlp fanfic #mlp infected au #mlp creepypasta

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primulagoldworthy · 27 days ago

Note

Honestly even just a snippet of the paperweight alternate ending would be cool 😍

Hiii. Sorry for the late reply. Since many are into the Elris-ship right now, how about a snipped from:

- Autumn Light (wip title) / 2 chapters

The third alternative ending where Elain and Eris decide to give their marriage a shot. Elain chooses a quiet life away from everyone in the Autumn Court.

Remember this is just a first draft, not the final version, so I might still change and add things!

Lucien carried the woven basket behind his house, his fingers brushing over the rough fibers as he walked. The tomatoes grew best close to the ivy wall. They were small, mostly tasteless yellow things, the product of a season too cool to produce anything sweeter, but over the years, he had developed a taste for the bitter little fruits.However, when he inspected the hedges, he noticed that the fruits were still green and puny, having not gained any color in the last month.

As so often these says, frustration coursed through him, and dark, twisted rage clouded his mind. What if he just burned it all down? The vegetables, the greenhouse, the damned house that felt more like a cage than a home recently, even the sprawling forest that surrounded him. The Spring Court, the entirety of Prythian, and especially the Autumn Court. He wanted to burn. it. all.

His mind spiraled further into darkness, and he clenched his eyes shut, struggling to will himself to see reason.

It had been her choice. Her actual, real fucking choice. She’d declared it to his face, her eyes burning with conviction and something he couldn't name, and ever since that moment, he had regretted every choice he had made that led to this. Regretted not claiming her when he had the chance.

And now, she was another male’s wife.

He could feel the weight of it. Feel what he was doing to her—how good it made her feel—and it twisted his insides in a way that was both maddening and unbearable.

For weeks, he had struggled with everything, his temper rising, his mind spiraling, his appetite lost in a tempest of anger and sorrow.

“Just the male I was looking for,” a voice interrupted his dark thoughts.

Lucien’s entire body tensed with a rush of rage, sorrow, and an all-consuming jealousy. He turned sharply to face his eldest brother, Eris, whose grinning, too-pretty face held an unsettling smugness.

It took every ounce of self-control he had not to lash out, to unleash the pent-up fury that simmered just beneath the surface of his skin.

“What do you want?” he snapped, his voice low and filled with an unfamiliar edge.

News had reached him just last week.

Elain was with child.

They had only been married for three months. Three months that felt like a lifetime—three months of relentless torment and personal hell.

“What. Do. You. Want?” Lucien repeated, each word sharp as a knife.

“Don’t come at me like that,” Eris replied, feigning annoyance.

Lucien knew he had no right to confront him this way. Rhysand had taken him to Velaris three and a half months ago, laying everything bare on the table. He had given Lucien the choice, and Elain had been there, standing by silently as if waiting for him to make a move. But Lucien hadn’t believed they would actually go through with this. Even now, he couldn’t quite grasp the reasons behind her decision.

It felt like a betrayal that cut deep, leaving him in a state of turmoil, teetering on the edge of invoking a Blood Duel every single hour. Despite the constant reassurances through the bond they shared, confirming that Elain was anything but miserable, doubt gnawed at him.

“I told you to take her if you wanted to. You refused, claiming that it should be her choice. Well, she made her choice, so stop being mad at me."

“You can never make me believe she enjoys that hellhole of a place,” Lucien shot back.

“Oh, but she does. She’s grown close with Mother, who has taken quite a liking to Elain. Even more so now that—”

“What do you want from me now?”

Eris let out a heavy sigh. “I came to reassure you that she’s fine.”

Lucien remained silent, the storm inside him unstoppable. He knew that already; he could feel it through their bond. It didn’t stop the fear that something might still happen someday, that she could be hurt.

“And I also came to share something else with you. You’re angry with me, but have you ever considered why she chose to marry me in the first place?”

Lucien’s brow furrowed. “You know why,” he mumbled, gesturing around as if to say it was to take down Beron.“

"Let me tell you the real reason: She chose me because I am the closest thing she could get to you.”

The words hung in the air like a venomous cloud. He held his breath, unsure how to respond to the nonsense he was forced to hear.Eris continued, his voice more serious.

“Could you feel how terrified she was on our wedding night?”

A growl escaped from Lucien’s throat, but Eris quickly raised his hands in defense.

“You know me better than that. I would never have touched her without her consent. But she insisted. We tried, but it didn’t work out at first. I wasn't expecting her to be... untouched."

Lucien clenched his fists. "You-!"

"Oh, don't worry. She enjoyed it, you know. Once I figured out what she needed, I winnowed to the Manor and borrowed some of your clothes. I put them on, turned out the lights, and... it worked. Do you understand what that means, Lucien? I leave the smallest ember burning in the hearth so she can see the reddish gleam of my hair. She keeps sniffling your shirt while I fuck her. She pretends that I am you. It doesn’t bother me as much as I thought it would; I knew her true motives before I even proposed. It was always you she wanted. She even mumbles your name in her sleep, curling herself around my body.”

Lucien’s ears began to ring as he tried to make sense of Eris’ words, of the pain he wanted to inflict on him with lies, lies, lies -

As if it wasn’t enough, Eris contiuned. “Elain told me you were terrified of the possibility that she might like you. It almost broke her while she waited for you to prove her wrong, to show some kind of genuine interest. She wouldn't have lasted much longer with the constant rejection from you. I offered her another path. A way out of the Night Court.”

The words stretched between them like a taut string, ready to snap.

The sharp ache in his chest intensified. Despite the suffocating lump lodged in his throat, he managed to speak.

“Yes, Lucien. Your mate loves you. All she ever wanted was you,” Eris said.

“You expect me to believe that?”

“Toss me one of those pathetic tomatoes from your basket. Just toss one over to me, and I’ll promise to only ever speak the truth about Elain to you,” Eris proposed, his expression genuine.

Lucien’s fingers trembled at the offer, the promise of the truth. Numbly, he tossed one of the small green fruits to Eris, who caught it effortlessly in his palm. He popped it into his mouth, grimacing at the sour taste.

Lucien waited, his heart pounding in anticipation for Eris to reveal that he had merely been toying with him in the cruelest way imaginable. Fate couldn’t be this miserable.

“Everything I said about Elain is true,” Eris said, the truth behind his spoken words cutting through the fog of Lucien’s mind.

“Every single word of it.”

Lucien’s heart skipped a beat and stumbled in its rhythm. That terrified, dark, trembling flesh in his chest cracked. And then it shattered into a million pieces, each fractured piece scattering like shards of glass through hos soul, cutting the very material it was made of.

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machoestofmen · 3 months ago

Note

if you feel up for it... I'll put in a request for number 11 of the "I can't" prompts with some Cecil/Kain or Cecil/Kain/Rosa nonsense?

Ship: Cecil/Kain/Rosa Fandom: Final Fantasy IV "I can't..." prompt: "...promise you that." - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - The night of their escape from the Tower of Zot, while everyone else had fallen right to sleep, Kain had felt too troubled to bother with finding a bed after Rosa landed everyone in Baron. From dusk to dawn, he had spent his time at the top of the eastern tower, watching the sun disappear and then reappear, with the cool wind of early spring going through his hair. By the time he picked up his helmet to put it back on, he blinked at the dew that had gathered on it; at least it wasn't wet on the inside too, and so he put it back on with little fuss.

Going back inside the castle, he found Cecil and Rosa eating in the mess hall, enjoying a somewhat spartan breakfast alongside many Baronian soldiers. Cecil was always quick to forgive, and Rosa was even more so, and it seemed that the soldiers were enjoying such mercies after having been tricked by Cagnazzo into trying to kill Cecil and whoever might have allyship with him. Kain, of course, would never afford himself any forgiveness, even if it was freely given. He stiffly moved along the walls of the room, looking to escape notice and perhaps come back to get something later, assuming the pit in his stomach would let him keep anything down.

"Oh, Kain!"

Had it been Cecil, he might have pretended to ignore it, but it just had to be Rosa to call his name. Kain cursed internally, and turned to face her. "Ah. Good morning, Rosa. I hadn't seen you there," he lied. He didn't move any closer to the table.

"Come," Rosa beckoned with a gesture, "take a seat and get something in your system. It would do you a world of good to have some food."

"I... feel unwell," Kain declined with an excuse. At least it wasn't a lie. "Maybe when the morning has decided to ease its relentless assault, I'll be up to it."

Cecil, who had just cleared his plate, stood up and looked at Kain with sympathy, shining just as brightly with that damned forgiveness as his radiant soul. Kain had to turn away, knowing that his heart would always be mottled with black stains in comparison, even if he was no corrupted Dark Knight. Despite this obvious refusal, Cecil either disregarded it or objected to it outright when he said, "You and I need to talk. We can go to my room for some privacy."

Fighting a growl in the back of his throat, Kain muttered, "...Very well. I wouldn't have thought I was so easy to read."

Clapping Kain over his armored shoulder, Cecil motioned for Kain to follow him. They went outside, headed to Cecil's quarters; Kain wondered if he could catch the noises of Cid and his team tinkering with the Enterprise to distract him from the uncomfortable silence between him and Cecil, but he was not blessed with luck in that either; such was his lot in life in all regards, it seemed.

Once they were in Cecil's room and the door was shut, Cecil took Kain's his hands into his own immediately, and his face shifted to reflect the sadness he must have felt for the Dragoon's various misfortunes but had the decency to not show in front of everyone else. "I know what this is all about already, Kain," he said, "and it's not your fault. It never will be, it was Golbez who violated–"

Kain threw Cecil's hands aside. "Golbez barely had to do a damned thing, Cecil," he snarled. "It was me that was a dark fruit, ripe with jealousy, there to be plucked. If I'm to keep the metaphor going, all Golbez did was catch me in his basket when the wind knocked me out of the tree."

Righteous fury burned in Cecil's gaze, his sadness being replaced instantly. "Everyone has their flaws, Kain," growled the Paladin, his voice somehow still sounding so beautiful with all its self-flagellation and chagrin. "I have innocent blood on my hands too, even more than you do! We both know it, every Mysidian knows it too, and so will every Mysidian in the years to come! Do you believe for a moment that I don't flay myself alive inside every day for that? Even if the Elder of Mysidia and many others forgive me because I became a Paladin, all the light in the world will never undo my cowardice, my mistakes, and the death left in my wake because of it!

"I will never be clean, Kain. If I had been on the west side of the landslide and you on the east after Rydia leveled the mountains between Mist and Kaipo, my mind would have been even easier to ensnare than yours. Weighing your sins against mine, I couldn't possibly spurn the idea of forgiving you for... what, for being jealous?"

Kain may have been a bit bigger than Cecil, but he certainly didn't feel like it, especially not with how much Cecil's sheer aura had intensified since his ascension. Kain did a good job at obscuring that with his own anger. "I don't need your pity," he bellowed, "and I certainly don't need you lessening my own crimes against the people of Fabul, of Troia, and against you! You and Rosa were literal inches from death because of my treachery! Because of my weakness! Because of–"

Both men were ready to start hurling fists at each other when the door to Cecil's room was flung open, with Rosa standing in the doorway. "Because of nothing that was your fault," she said sternly. Cecil and Kain ceased their argument as Rosa closed the door more gently than she had opened it. Any strength that Kain had gathered from his raging vanished. "You may have been able to be taken advantage of, but it's still Golbez at fault for actually doing it."

"Rosa, I..." Kain gasped out. I will not cry. I will not cry. I will not cry.

Rosa stepped forward, putting her arms around Kain's middle and hugging him tightly. He could never fight her, even all the hatred that Golbez boiled under his skin could ever bubble over and turn to him deliberately harming a hair on Rosa's head. When Cecil followed suit and embraced him as well, Kain fell apart, unable to fight his own tears, let alone his loved ones. "I will always... be the weak link in this chain," he groaned. "Even knowing what I would be up against, no... no promise I make could guarantee yours and Cecil's safety. Protect yours and Cecil's hearts from being... broken again. That wretched warlock makes me dangerous, Rosa."

Reaching up and taking off Kain's helmet, Rosa assured him, "As though we haven't faced greater dangers than Golbez's sorry attempt at keeping a leash on you." She looked him in the eye. "As though we won't be a far greater danger to him than he could ever make you to us."

Kisses on both of his cheeks from both of his lovers were more of a promise to him than he could ever make to them.

#final fantasy iv #ffiv #cecil harvey #kain highwind #rosa farrell #polycule #tumblr prompt

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stuffymcstuffsworld · 14 days ago

Text

Planting roots 1

It was a beautiful day. The perfect time to ditch all the work awaiting him. But of course, it's a lot harder than it used to be.

Now that he's king, he can't go anywhere without being recognized. He pulls on his disguise and slips our the window. Not doubt, off to leave all his responsibilities on his subordinates.

He flies for a while. Taking in the fresh air and stretching his wings. There was nothing like the feeling of freedom.

He spots a nearby grove and lands. This seemed like a good place for a nap. Relaxing against one of the trees. Although... he was getting a little hungry.

Glancing up, he spots a shiny red fruit in the branches. With a grin, he reaches up, grasping it with his large talons. Free food! How lucky. He chuckles.

Opening his mouth, ready to dig his fangs into the crisp skin. Suddenly, his delicious treat was snatched, and in front of him stood a tiny demon in a straw hat. The little thing looked rather peeved.

The next thing he knows, he's being repeatedly smacked with a broomstick. "How! Dare! You! Thief!" He's confused at first but is overall amused by this tiny imps fury.

"Stealing all my hard work! Bet you don't even know how long it takes to grow these! Never worked a day in your life, probably!" Raising the broom once more.

"Okay! Okay! I get it!" He chuckles. "I'll pay for it." "I don't want your money! You probably stole that too! Out get out of my orchard! Shoo!"

Imagine him... the demon king. Being chased away by a petite devil with a broom! He can't help but feel excited as he thinks about it. This could be the kind of fun he's been looking for.

He decided to leave for now and return later. It would certainly be worth it to see those angry eyes and puffed up cheeks. Like getting a new toy!

◇◇A few days Later◇◇

He strolls along the path in between the orchard trees. His horns just barely miss the branches. Glancing around, hoping to catch a peek at his latest fascination.

Ah ha! There they were. Zipping around tossing fruit into baskets. Just as he's about to say hello they snap their head in his direction.

Beady eyes locked in on him, no doubt, ready to strike. He raises his hands up. "I'm not here to fight... or steal produce." He assured.

"Then why are you here?" They grumble, crossing their arms over their chest. He offers a grin and extends a hand. "I'm here to work. I figured you could use the help."

Ah, he could practically feel a frozen tundra as they glared at him. He figured he wouldn't be welcomed at first, but surely he can worm his under their skin.

"So what should I do first? Should I carry all this... ah... I just realized I never got your name." He gives a charming smile in hopes for something othe that a broom to the face.

"Boss. If you're gonna work around here, you're gonna half to call me boss." They grunts. Shoving basket after basket into his arms. He awkwardly follows behind, trying not to drop anything. "Yes, boss!"

#welcome to demon school iruma kun #mairimashita! iruma kun #reader #demon king #delkira #reader farmer

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blackjackkent · 2 months ago

Text

OK, so the possessed statue that is coming after us is called "Wrath of the Stone," and true to its name, it certainly does not seem like it's in the mood to bring us a fruit basket.

Ouch.

Among other things, Rocktimus Prime here throws lots of rocks, smashes us around with its hammer, and summons a metric fuckton of deepstalkers.

"I don't think it likes you, Harding!" Bellara calls out at one point.

"Why does everyone think this is *my* fault?" Harding grouses back.

To be honest, I actually don't fully understand why the Stone is so Wrathful about Harding, given that Harding is apparently inheriting a bunch of ancestral power. The way that I've written this story thus far, the actual much more likely target would seem to be Helena, who has no magic rock-moving powers and is, from the Stone's perspective, just a normal surfacer interloper who has lost all touch with her heritage.

Anyway, time to see if the Oracle has more to say.

"Did you feel it? Fury. Such fury... and with you as its mark."

"M... me?" Harding asks unsteadily. "But why?"

"Good question," Helena says. She keeps her voice deliberately steady, but there is perhaps a subtle note of threat in it. She doesn't like any of this - doesn't like that some element of this stone magic is treating Harding like an enemy, when she came down here for answers. "Harding hasn't done anything bad, right?"

"There are horrors in the depths..." Valta answers placidly. "They have awakened to you now. Look within for your answers... and beware..."

And with a noise like crystal grinding on rock... the statue's eyes go dark.

Harding's eyebrows shoot up and she cries out with sudden urgency, "No! Wait! I have more questions!"

But the statue is silent now, the life gone out of it.

"Huh," mumbles Helena, unimpressed.

Stalgard snorts softly. "She does that. Riddles, riddles, riddles, 'oh, I am a rock.'"

(A/N: Haha.)

"But those weren't answers!" Harding says furiously. "She gave me nothing. COME BACK!" she bellows up at the statue - and her eyes with a sudden blue-purple light, glowing like starfire.

"MAKE HER COME BACK!" Harding rounds on Stalgard, her voice suddenly taking on that same resonant quality that the statue's voice had, sending a rumbling through the whole cavern around them..

Helena jolts a step backwards in alarm, one hand coming up in a defensive attitude. "Harding..." she says sharply.

Harding blinks. Then her eyes clear, the light fading from them, the anger ebbing away into deep frustration. "It's all right. I'm all right. Sorry," she mutters hoarsely. Turning, she stalks away down the stairs. "We're done. Let's just... get out of here."

#bjk plays datv #helena mercar #veeeeeery interesting #helena is NOT enjoying any of this

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smaller-comfort · 8 months ago

Text

wip wsunday, 2 modern au fragments and a bit of devotional. I *want* to post bits of my sanguinalia thing but I caaaan't. >:xxxxxx

------

can't stop, won't stop (modern au, aephorul/resh'an, college/post-grad years; call it the sequel to gotta start somewhere. probably counts as a kinktober thing; the boys go toy shopping.)

Devotional isn't the silliest thing in my wips. it's this. this gets absurd. there are costumes involved. it starts off fairly innocuously, though.

"Let me buy you something fun for my birthday." Aephorul sat down on the couch beside Resh'an and set his laptop on the coffee table.

Resh'an squinted at him. "That's not how birthday gifts work. And I know I'm bad with dates, but I'm pretty sure your birthday isn't for another three months." He frowned. "...it's not, right?"

"It was yesterday," he said gravely. "You didn't even wish me happy birthday. I was completely devastated. Absolutely bereft. Abandoned by my boyfriend-"

"You are such an asshole." Resh'an elbowed him sharply.

Aephorul managed to keep a straight face for half a second longer, and then lost it. "Your face! Oh my god-" He tried to fend off Resh'an's elbow again, but Resh'an nailed him in the solar plexus. "Oof- fuck- ow- this is abuse- motherfucker-"

He wasn't really sure what it said about either of them that this kind of thing ended up being foreplay at least 75% of the time. Not that he was complaining- well, maybe he was complaining a little. Resh'an fought dirty and his elbows were sharp.

--------

staycation: monday (modern au, aephorul/resh'an petplay)

this one is also very silly. most of the modern au is in aephorul's pov, so it's an interesting exercise to write resh'an's viewpoint, particularly when aephorul is being submissive.

I feel like I'm missing the point of petplay with this entirely, but I'm having fun with it.

"Sure you don't want a spoonful of peanut butter?" he asked while he loaded the dishwasher. "Because I kind of do. Maybe some fruit? The grapes are still good."

"Grapes," Aephorul said icily, "are poisonous to dogs."

"You're so obnoxious." Resh'an smiled fondly. "It's almost like you want to be muzzled."

Aephorul stared down at the floor and didn't say anything. He was trying to hide behind his hair, to disguise the fact that he was blushing hard enough for it to visibly darken his cheeks. Aephorul was teetering on the edge, and it wasn't going to take much of a push to put him all the way under.

But Resh'an wasn't going to push; he didn't need to. Aephorul would get there just fine, all on his own.

------

devotional ch 4 (barma'thazel/elysan'darelle)

why yes, this story has snowballed out of control, why do you ask? this chapter is probably just going to devolve into some good old fashioned monster fucking. who knows, though, maybe somebody will get pegged.

aephorul sends barma'thazel a gift basket after chapter 2.

"This is the problem," she hissed. "You're a general, not some common prostitute."

"I am our Master's servant," he corrected. He ate one of the chocolates; they'd been enchanted to survive the ambient heat of this place, but it melted into velvety richness on his tongue. He closed his eyes and ate another one; it was as decadently delicious as the first, and it had some sort of crunchy center. Amazing.

"You really should try one of these." He held out the box. "It might put you in a better mood."

She looked almost like she wanted to fling them back in his face. "This- it's demeaning. You deserve- mmf!"

He popped one of the chocolates into her open mouth and tilted her chin up, forcing her lips closed. For all her skills with sorcery, Barma'thazël still moved faster than she could react.

Elysan'darelle's eyes widened with fury, and then scrunched shut as the taste of the chocolate hit her. Her hands flew to her mouth, but not before her tiny moan of pleasure escaped. When she opened her eyes again, she shoved Barma'thazel away from her and stamped a hoof in frustration.

#wip whatever #nattering #sea of stars #philosopher's bone(r)#barma'thazel/elysan'darelle #my fic #me when i realize that 75% of the stories in this series involve pillowfights or play-wrestling or scuffling like #ohhhh this is a Thing isn't it #aephorul outweighs resh'an considerably and it's all muscle; plus he did martial arts for years #elbows notwithstanding resh'an gleefully loses all of their fights #'slutty redheaded stick insect' vs 'sullen captain of the wrestling team'

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braveclementine · 1 year ago

Text

Chapter 13

Warnings: None. (Will however be a 18+ reader book)

Copyright: I do not own any Marvel characters or locations. However, I do own a few OCs like Elizabeth, Katherine, Stacy, and Jessie. I do not condone any copying of this.

Shuri was the one to wake you up early the next day. Grumbling, you rolled off the bed, stumbling over the door and yanking it open.

"It's so early." You complained as Shuri walked into your room wearing a white T-shirt and a blue short skirt. Your sister was still fast asleep in the bed, completely oblivious to the royal princess standing in your room.

"But we have so much exploring that needs to be done!" Shuri squealed. "Come on, you can't tell me that you don't want to see the entire island, do you?"

You sighed, trudging over to sit on the couch. "Alright, alright, just let me wake up."

Shuri practically squealed, jerking your sister awake.

"What the fuck?" Y/S/N groaned, sitting up in bed, wiping her eyes, "Oh, hello Shuri."

"Hello Y/S/N." Shuri said, grabbing one of your suitcases to rifle through your clothes. She threw something at you, which you ignored as it landed beside you on the couch. "Come on! Get excited! Get dressed! I want breakfast."

You sighed, looking over at the two-piece bathing suit she wanted you to wear underneath a light blue sundress.

You moved to the bathroom, tossing on the clothes, before stepping out. You put on a pair of sneakers that went with the skimpy dress, before you and Shuri left- your sister lucky enough to go back to sleep.

Shuri was bouncing with ridiculous energy as you headed through the grand hotel, and you could feel yourself waking up as energy started to fill you too. You rarely traveled, so being in someplace new and exotic was certainly enticing.

Shuri and you went to one of the buffets that were inside of the hotel. There was such a large variety of food, you had to explore- though not taste- everything.

There were normal breakfast foods like waffles, pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausage, and several different breakfast pastries. There were also several different cereals- whatever you could think of, they had.

There was a order station where you could ask one of the cooks to make you a fresh omelet. There were also what you would consider 'lunch' food, like pizza. And they had several different pizzas, including a candy pizza which- no. That just looked disgusting.

There were also large baskets of fruit and also bars with chunks of fresh fruit. And of course, a dispenser with several types of juices and sodas. There was also three different types of milk and four different types of coffee.

You found that Shuri and you weren't the only ones down here for breakfast. Okoye quickly joined your side, both being Shuri's guard for the day, and her soulmate. Tony, Fury, Maria, Stephen, Steve, Bucky, and Sam were also up and Shuri, Okoye, and you joined them at the table.

"What are you girls up to today?" Steve asked.

"Swimming!" Shuri said joyfully. "There's an amazing slide that we're going to go on, right Y/N?"

"Uh, yeah." You said, having no idea what you were talking about. Some water slide?

"Nothing to dangerous." Steve commanded you.

You smirked. "So no petting the wild cats?"

"There's wild cats?" Bucky asked, eyes lighting up.

"Oh yeah!" Shuri said excitedly, almost bouncing up and down in her seat with excitement, "When it gets dark on the island, a bunch of cats will come out. Oh, and we could go swim with the wild pigs too. Or maybe the flamingos? Or the dolphins?"

"How about all of them?" You said with a laugh.

"Oh yes, great idea." Shuri said.

"What's a great idea?" T'Challa's tired voice sounded from behind us. Nakia was with him at the moment, but no guards.

"Apparently they're going to swim with pigs, flamingos, and dolphins." Sam said, shaking his head as he ate his bacon.

"You cannot swim with flamingos." T'Challa said with a bit of a smile.

"But we could take pictures among them!" Shuri said.

You felt exhausted already and the day hadn't even started. "What are your guy's plans?"

"Surfing." Bucky and Sam said at the same time.

You nodded, "Sounds like fun."

"Do you mind if I come with you and my little sister?" T'Challa asked.

"Not at all." Shuri said. "We can tease you relentlessly now."

You giggled, "Sure, you can come."

"That's what she said." Tony muttered under his voice. Stephen pinched his ear sharply. "Ow!" Tony shouted in surprise.

"Knock it off Tones." Stephen muttered.

You just ignored him, though the corner of your mouth was just rebelling, trying to smile.

"Hill, Coulson, and I were also going to look at the island pigs." Fury said, rolling his one good eye, "Not sure why, but I guess so."

"Because they're cute!" Maria protested on the other side of him.

Sam lifted a piece of bacon up to the light, "And delicious."

Maria glared at him while you laughed. Fury chuckled too.

Shuri finished off her plate much faster than Okoye or you. She bounced up and down impatiently, waiting for you to finish your plates so that you guys could leave. Once you put your fork down, you barely got a breather before she was grabbing your hand, trying to pull you out of your seat.

"Oi! Woman!" You muttered. "You're breaking my circulation."

Shuri grinned. "Come on you guys! We can't just eat all day!"

"You've been here for less than an hour." Tony pointed out.

"Exactly, much to long." Shuri said.

T'Challa laughed, getting out of his chair with the grace and dignity of, well, a King. He took my other hand, "Alright, Shuri, let's go."

Okoye also stood and the four of us made our way out of the buffet to go and figure out what to do first.

Turns out the water slide that Shuri had mentioned was the one that was most famous in the Bahamas. The one that is shaped like a pyramid. The one where you can either go down on your ass or in a tube. The one that you went through and the sharks were all around you.

"Um, we're going to kill ourselves on that thing." You said as Shuri took off her shirt and skirt, leaving her in an orange two-piece bathing suit. She folded up her clothes, putting them in one of the beach bags that she had over her shoulder. You reluctantly followed suit, putting your shoes and sundress in the bag as well.

Shuri rolled her eyes, dragging you up the stairs. "We only have to ride it twice."

"Twice." You repeated. "You're crazy."

"Come on, going down without a tube is easier anyways. We're getting the hard part out of the way!"

T'Challa was no help, looking amused at the interaction between his sister and you. Okoye, of course, was up for just about anything that Shuri wanted, as long as it wasn't dangerous and T'Challa didn't disapprove.

You were screwed.

You waited anxiously, shifting from foot to foot as you quickly ascended the stairs towards your doom. Your heart was pounding in the chest, every person going down the slide screaming their heads off, faces screwed up in anxiety.

"Do you have a fear of heights?" T'Challa asked as you looked over the edge again, shivering.

"Um-" Did you?

"Don't worry, you'll be perfectly fine." T'Challa said, putting an arm over your shoulder. God he looked so hot in just a pair of black swim trunks. His dark chest was deeply defined and he was being absolutely idolized by half of the female population around us.

The top just coming sooner and sooner before Okoye went first. She made not a sound as she disappeared down the slide.

Shuri, bouncing for excitement, wriggled in anticipation, waiting for the lifeguard to tell her that she could go.

As she went down the slide, you heard her whoop in excitement.

You swallowed as it was your turn now. You stepped onto the slide, feeling the cool water pool around your feet. Hmm, maybe you should've gone for a swim first, before heading directly for a water slide.

"Keep your arms crossed over your chest and your legs crossed at the ankle." The lifeguard instructed you as you laid down, waiting for his single. Your heart was pumping, trying to jump out of your chest as you followed his instructions, "Remember to stay on your back."

It was nearly a vertical fall. If you leaned forward, you'd probably just fall into midair.

Okay- not really- but still.

"Alright, you can go." He said.

Without thinking, you used your heels to push yourself forward, and then you were flying down the slide. You screwed your eyes shut, screaming as you went down. There was a whoosh of exhilaration through you, your stomach dropping. You opened your eyes as you went through the tunnel, but you were going to fast to even see the sharks.

You climbed up to your feet as you shot out of the end of the slide, stumbling over to where Shuri and Okoye were standing.

"Okay, wasn't to bad." You admitted, now that you were standing on solid ground.

"Right! That was so fun!" Shuri squealed.

T'Challa shot out the other side of the slide, almost doing a back flip, his legs sticking straight up in the air as he tumbled out.

You giggled.

"You were very graceful brother." Shuri said with a grin as he climbed out to join us. He simply grinned back, shaking water off his head.

Shuri and you went back up the slide to use the tubes. This time as you bottomed out on the slide, you were in a long glass tunnel, the water calmly pushing you through so that you could see through the glass and observe the sharks.

It was hard to see, as the glass was very thick and the water was dark, but you could still see the sharks if you concentrated hard enough. It was so nerve wracking to think that if the glass just magically broke, you would suddenly be in a pit of water with sharks.

Sure, they were probably well fed, but still, wouldn't you take a bite of dessert even if you were full from your meal?

The thought made goosebumps pop up on your arms, and you were glad when the ride was done.

The four of you spent a majority of the morning and the afternoon exploring different pools and slides. You would occasionally see someone that you knew, and you'd stop to chat, maybe even do something with them, and then inevitably, you'd part ways.

Rhodey and Clint joined you guys for lunch at one of the outdoor places. You ordered a chicken finger and french fry basket, continuously slapping Clint's hands away as he tried to steal your fries.

Clint and Rhodey joined you guys as you continued on. Eventually though, Shuri and Okoye were both getting tired walking around so they went back to the hotel while you stayed with three of your boys.

"What do you guys want to do now?" Clint asked as you tossed your lunch baskets.

"Can we go down to the ocean?" You asked. "We've been spending time at the pools, but we haven't been to the ocean yet."

"Sure sweet mama." Clint grinned. He gave you a piggy back ride down to the ocean, which was just absolutely beautiful.

He put you down once you touched the sand. You gingerly walked around the seaweed that was scattered on the beach. There were several tourists down here, laying down on towels or plastic chairs. Lots of kids were out, playing in the surf. Some ski jets were speeding around past the buoys. Seeing that one of the men had a metal arm, you grinned and nudged Clint.

"Well damn, the old men are driving those?" Clint teased.

You giggled.

Clint pulled his purple T-shirt off, putting it where the rest of our stuff was sitting in the sun.

You, Clint, Rhodey, and T'Challa played in the ocean before you all laid down on the beach. You fell asleep between Clint and Rhodey.

A few hours, you woke up with a towel over your back, your face pressed into Rhodey's chest as he held you there. You smiled a little, loving how caring everyone was.

"Well don't you guys look tuckered out." Sam's teasing voice sounded from somewhere behind you.

You rolled over, seeing that Steve, Bucky, and Sam were standing there, all of them soaking wet, and looking rather pumped up.

"Did you have fun on your ski jets?" You asked as you sat up. Bucky moved to sit behind you, running his cold hand down your back. Steve and Sam both sat down in front of you, not bothering to keep their voices low.

"Yeah, it was very fun doll, I'll take you on the back of mine tomorrow." Bucky said. You leaned back into his chest, his arms wrapping around your body.

"How are you feeling?" Steve asked, scrutinizing you with his eyes. "You've been drinking plenty of water today, right? You don't want to get dizzy or faint, especially with all of the time that you're spending in the sun."

Sam chuckled, "Don't be such a dad, daddy."

Steve blushed, glaring at Sam out of the corner of his eye. "I'm just making sure our girl is alright."

"I'm alright Steve, thanks for worrying about me." You said sweetly. "T'Challa and Rhodey have been making sure I've been drinking plenty of water all day."

"Good." Steve said, looking like he was resisting sticking his tongue out at Sam.

Bucky just laughed quietly, his mouth on your neck sending vibrations through your entire body.

When the other three did wake up, you guys headed back up to the hotel. You went back to your hotel room, finding it empty, and went ahead, taking a shower, washing salt and chlorine off your body and out of your hair. Sand seemed to have found it's way into every crevice that your body had and it was a pain to get it all out. But you wouldn't have changed anything about your afternoon for anything.

You got dressed in a nice F/C dress, because you knew Tony wanted to take you guys to a fancy restaurant.

Thor was there to pick you up at the door, looking rather handsome in his Navy blue suit with a white dress shirt and matching blue tie.

Loki joined you, wearing a black suit with a white dress shirt. You ended up walking into the restaurant on either God's arms, receiving stares from basically anyone who kept up with current events and knew who Thor and Loki were.

"The blush on your cheeks makes you look stunning pet." Loki grinned as you were flushed with embarrassment.

The new nickname made your stomach turn.

The three of you were the last to join the other nine waiting members of your soulmate bond. It was custom for the five days leading up to the wedding, you were supposed to have one meal with only your soulmates and no one else.

Loki pulled out the chair for you at the circular table before you sat down, moving it in for you. You felt like a princess of sorts, and wondered how long this treatment would last. You liked it, for sure, but you hoped that you would also be able to scoot your own chair in eventually. But soulmates were usually even more attentive to their soulmates before a bonding ceremony, so that was probably what this all was.

The conversations flowed easily, starting with what you guys had done with your day, to what you guys hoped to do before the wedding, after the wedding and bonding ritual, souvenirs you were looking for, all the way to missions and politics.

As dessert came around, you were starting to feel the full affects of the active day. You pushed you plate away gently, waiting for the night to end so that you could go back upstairs and get some sleep.

Fury was the one that caught on that you were exhausted and said, "Well, we have quite a few busy days ahead of us. We should probably head off to bed now."

Everyone promptly agreed, chairs scraping back against the tiled floor as we up. Tony and Stephen accompanied me up to my room and I watched a little enviously as the two of them walked back to their hotel room, hand in hand. They'd probably have a really fun night tonight.

You sighed as you headed into your own room. You hadn't even seen your father yet. Maybe you'd go and see him tomorrow. After all, the wedding was in four days and you still hadn't chosen who would walk you down the aisle.

You took care of all the necessities before climbing into the empty bed. Y/S/N was probably with Ben at the moment, she might even stay over with him.

However, you did take comfort than in less than a week, you would be married to the people you had been waiting for most in your life, and you would never spend another night alone ever again.

⬅️➡️

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