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cicidarkarts · 9 months

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Blood Defied - 13: Anne

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Credence heaved the reins around Ellis’ haunches. Ellis stuck her head high into the air and tapped her front hooves.

“Been feeling a little cooped up, huh, girl?” asked Credence.

She patted the thestral on the neck then turned to rein Knight, too. Knight nibbled on her winter coat as she ensured everything was taut but comfortable. Jane galloped up to her parents and nuzzled against Ellis.

“Don't worry,” said Credence when Jane gave her a mournful look. “They'll be back. Besides, you have Uncle Umbra to keep you company. You'll be fine.”

Ashes trotted close behind and nudged Jane's flank to play. Jane gazed at Credence for a moment longer before shaking off and hopping away. Ashes followed, bucking and huffing in excitement. Credence led Knight and Ellis toward the carriage waiting for them by the North gate. As they went, Credence tried to keep any negative thoughts about Ominis and Anne out of her mind. She thought for sure she'd blab and say something humiliating and stupid on the ride there. That's why she brought her enchanted satchel: to ensure she'd have a book to occupy her mind if she needed it.

Sebastian and Ominis waited by the carriage, chatting with the older driver. When Sebastian saw her, he grinned and waved so vigorously that he almost knocked off his patchwork scarf. She and the driver hooked the thestrals up to the cart.

“You did great with that new foal,” said the driver, smiling behind his bushy grey mustache. “She's healthy as any other now.” Credence smiled. “Thanks, it was my pleasure. And Ellis helped, being as patient as she was.” Ellis snorted and lifted her head toward the sky.

Once the thestrals were in place, Sebastian boarded the carriage first. Then Ominis held Credence's waist and helped her on. She took his hand and led him up and onto one of the hay seats.

“Feldcroft you said?” asked the driver. “Yes!” said Sebastian, bouncing in his seat and beaming like he'd struck oil.

Then they were off through the North gates. Ominis pulled the collar of his dark winter coat a bit higher. It wasn't too cold, but the chill was worse by the speed of the carriage. Still, they all needed a pair of gloves to stay warm, especially given Sebastian gesticulated as he spoke.

“I didn't even tell her you guys are coming,” he said. “She'll be so happy!” “It'll be wonderful to see her again,” said Ominis.

Credence cuddled closer to him. His body blocked the frozen winter wind and his regal black coat had the most pleasing soft tweed texture. She and Sebastian were ever the function over form types, with patchwork jackets. Sebastian's forest green coat looked well-loved from the years, with a few unidentifiable stains dotting the front and a poorly sewn tear running down the side that Sebastian had to constantly stop himself from playing with. Hers had a few rips as well, being a hand me down from Kameron that she refused to sew back up.

While the boys talked about times they had playing and chatting with Anne, and about a place Ominis called The Undercroft, Credence reached into her satchel. She retrieved Dracula by Bram Stoker, a new Gothic horror she'd been wanting to read anyway. It was better than having to see Ominis’ face light up from talk of Anne.

She buried her face in the text and loudly enunciated each word in her head. It took her a few minutes to get through just the first two pages, and she had no idea what she just read. All she remembered was the force of trying to retain the words and her guilt over ignoring Anne-related stories from the boys. She started over, repositioning herself against Ominis to remind herself that, yes, he still had his arm wrapped about her waist.

“Cree!” called Sebastian. “Look!”

She looked up and he was pointing at the sky. At the same time, shadows grazed the carriage. A herd of hippogriffs flew overhead. Her mouth fell open, chest swelling with glee. They were heading into the forest. She put her book down absently to scramble to her feet and watch. Her hands rested upon Ominis’ shoulders as she used him to stay upright. The gorgeous feathers of the hippogriffs glinted in the sunlight. The charcoal grey one gave a cry and a massive flap of his wings.

“He's beautiful,” said Credence. Knight snorted.

One of the feathers floated down. Sebastian aimed his wand.

“Accio!” The moment the feather was in his hand, he held it out to Credence. “Here, Cree.” “Thank you, Sebastian!”

She took the feather and admired it. She could've kissed him. The feather was long and rigid with dark grey plumage; bits of black and white flecked the barbs and it ended in a shimmery black. It gleamed in the sun.

“This is so gorgeous,” she said. “It's one of the hippogriff's flight feathers! A remex—from his wing. These are exceedingly rare to get a hold of. They don't molt very often. The lower barbs on this feather are so soft and downy, but pretty sparse since this is from his summer plumage. Judging by the damage to the shaft and the vane here, and some missing bits of feather at the top, I’d think he’s the lead stallion, or another strong member of the herd.” “Okay, Ms. Encyclopedia,” said Sebastian. “I can’t help it, it’s so pretty. I think it could make a really nice quill.” “Quill?” asked Ominis. “Don’t you always use a fountain pen?” “Well sure, but I’d make an exception for this.”

Her grin waned a bit when she saw Ominis’ face stiffen. He didn't seem interested in the feather so she stashed it away and dropped the subject for now. When she cuddled up beside him again, his tense body loosened and he put his arm around her.

Despite that small setback, Credence felt a bit lighter. She engaged in conversation with them and wound up putting Dracula away for now. She laughed when Sebastian reminisced about one of Anne's hijinks. And even though Ominis also laughed, Credence’s spirits were higher than her jealousy.

They soon came upon Feldcroft; a quaint little hamlet, simple in its beauty. Leafless trees abound, encircling the short cobble fences and single-story homes, many of which had gardens out back. The small homes looked rather cozy with their thatched roofs and cottage windows. Some of the houses had plumes of smoke puffing out of their chimneys.

After the valleys and plains, the hamlet warmed her chilly bones. The people who lived there went about their days. A witch in her back garden swiped her wand through the air, cutting stems of her final harvest of the year and floating the food into her basket. The carriage stopped at the stables where a couple of highland cows snacked on clumps of hay while being milked.

“It's beautiful here,” said Credence. “Very,” said Sebastian as he leapt out of the carriage. “And peaceful,” said Ominis.

When he got out of the carriage, he turned toward her and held out his hand. She took it and hopped out.

“C'mon,” urged Sebastian. “Let's hurry!” “Let me help stable the thestrals first,” said Credence. Sebastian groaned, hands dramatically running down his face as if the thought of waiting had him in great turmoil. “Don't worry, Credence,” said the driver. “I've got them.” “You sure?” she asked. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, tipping his hat and smiling.

She tugged Ominis over to the thestrals and gave Knight and Ellis a pat.

“You guys did great,” she said. “Try to get some rest.” Ellis blew through her nose and Knight just barely missed a goodbye nip.

With a wave to the thestrals, Credence and Ominis followed Sebastian toward his house. It was in the midst of the town, hidden behind a couple of thick evergreens that grew near the town square. A large man had his back to the walkway, crouched and working on the wilting garden. Sebastian paid him no mind as he jogged into the house.

Inside, sitting at the round dining room table, was a woman with her hair in a messy braided bun. She faced away from them, taking deep breaths of some sort of small pouch. Sebastian silently put his finger to his lips at Credence before tip-toeing up behind them. Credence assumed by the twinkle in Sebastian's eyes that this was his sister.

He stayed low behind her and tapped on one of her shoulders. He ducked out of sight before she looked then poked his head above her other shoulder. She smiled when he tapped her again. Just as she turned to look, Sebastian went to her opposite shoulder and was caught in her fake-out. They laughed and Anne shot up to throw her arms around Sebastian's shoulders.

“Seb, you're back!” said Anne. He held her tight. “And I've got great news, too.”

He pulled away and motioned at the door where she and Ominis stood. Anne's freckled face beamed when she saw Ominis.

“Ominis! I can't believe you're here!” She slammed into him so hard that he grunted like he'd been punched in the gut. He hugged her. “Glad to be here.” Anne turned her ecstatic sights onto Credence. “And you must be that American I've heard about!” “Yeah, I'm Cre—”

She also grunted hard when Anne smashed their bodies together like sparring graphorns. Anne pulled back and looked her over with sparkling chestnut eyes.

“Oh my God, you're gorgeous! Ominis, you lucky dog!”

Credence tittered, avoiding Anne's gaze and fiddling with her scarf. Her face felt so hot. Before anything else could be exchanged, heavy plodding feet came up the walkway. Ominis, being the one mostly in the door, moved out of the way as the large man from outside entered the house. He was somehow even taller than Sebastian who was already nearly half a head taller than Ominis.

“Ominis,” said the man in a curt greeting. “Afternoon, sir.” “Good to see you again, Sebastian,” said the man. “Hey, Uncle Solomon.”

Credence shifted and resettled her body. The whole aura of the house tensed up and her muscles went with it.

“Uncle Solomon!” said Anne. “This is that American Sebastian wrote about!”

Solomon looked Credence over. His harsh brown eyes were softer now. Whether it was a lack of history or her being a woman or something else entirely, she didn't know. But a small smile creased Solomon's rugged skin, wrinkling even behind his black mane of a beard and brow. He held a large hand out to Credence.

“It's good to meet you. I'm Solomon Sallow. My nephew has told us about you.” She took his hand and firmly shook it. “Credence Painter. All good things, I hope.” “Mostly,” he replied with a deep chuckle. “I hear you've got a witty mouth.” “She's a Ravenclaw,” said Anne, grinning like that made Credence a celebrity. “I'd expect nothing less!” “Anne's always wanted to be a Ravenclaw,” clarified Ominis. “She’s obsessed.” “Oh, stop! I just think they're cool. And so smart!” “Not me,” said Credence. “I'm the dumbest Ravenclaw.”

If Ominis found that funny (which he did, given his ill-suppressed laugh), then Anne thought she was the funniest person alive. Anne cackled so hard that Credence was shocked she didn't pop a blood vessel. Sebastian’s laugh rose with every second Anne carried on.

But that all halted when Anne coughed. Then she hacked and sputtered. She grasped at her stomach and hunched over. Sebastian put his arm around her and led her to a chair as she rode out her coughing fit. Ominis went to her side and rubbed her back as Sebastian ensured she didn't fall over. Solomon retrieved that opened pouch off the kitchen table and wafted the contents under Anne's nose. All the while, Credence stood there, staring and fidgeting. She wasn't sure if she should try to help or just let the others handle it.

“I'm sorry, Anne,” she said. Anne waved at her and tried to smile under her easing coughs. Once she caught her breath, she said, “Don't worry,” in a haggard voice. She sniffled a bit and wiped her messy dark hair off her face.

“All right,” she said, nudging the guys away. “You're crowding me.” Solomon tied the pouch up. “Are you all right?” “I'm fine, Uncle Solomon. Really.”

The room calmed, though the air hung heavy on Credence's chest. She shuffled a little closer to Ominis for comfort as everyone came down from the anxiety and worry. Anne was the first to smile it away.

“Well, let's not sit around feeling sorry for me! You guys came all the way from Hogwarts to have fun!” Sebastian smiled, small and uneasy. “That's right. Anything you wanna do, Anne.” Anne cupped her chin, letting out a dramatic, “Hmmm.” Then she snapped her fingers in a faux eureka moment. “I know! Let's head out for some fresh air.” Solomon furrowed his brow, ruffling the hair like a dog's hackles. “Are you sure that's a good idea?” “Please?” asked Anne, hands pleadingly together. “Just around the neighborhood for a little while. I think it'll do me some good.”

Solomon eyed Sebastian, which was a little more subtle given he stood next to Anne. But his gaze very obviously turned to Ominis. It seemed Ominis realized eyes were upon him as his hand met Credence's lower back, wand pressing into her skin as he stroked her. With a sigh, Solomon capitulated.

“All right. But don't wander off. Stay in the village.” “Thank you, Uncle Solomon!”

After giving Solomon a hug, Anne snagged her coat off the rack by the door. She led everyone outside into the brisk air. She took a deep breath (well, deep in comparison to some of her other breaths) then shuddered and pulled her coat shut.

“Nippy out here,” she said. “Christmas is around the corner,” said Sebastian as they walked along the path through town. “You'll have to tell me what you want!” Anne whirled around toward Credence. “There's that cute guy in Ravenclaw. Duncan. Maybe Credence could get me a date with him!” Sebastian scoffed dramatically. “That git?” “He's an utter coward,” agreed Ominis. “Afraid of puffskeins, isn't he?” “But he's a weirdo,” said Sebastian. “And Anne loves weirdos.” Anne nudged him, giggling. “Shut up!” “Well,” started Credence, looking more at the ground, “I'm not so good at talking to people so I probably couldn't get you that date.” “Damn.” Anne frowned and slumped, a dramatic gesture that reminded Credence so much of Sebastian. “Cree is a Ravenclaw, Anne,” reminded Sebastian. “That means she's good with books, not people.” “I can't even be mad,” said Credence. “I was just reading on the way here.” Anne perked up. “What were you reading?” “A book that just came out this year. Dracula. My mom got it for me—” “Wait, a muggle book?” Anne's lips pulled into a huge grin. “Yeah, it's a muggle book.” “She has loads of them,” said Ominis. Anne bounced up and down on the balls of her feet. “Really!?” “I've got Sherlock Holmes, The Strange Case of Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde, Frankenstein, Moby—” Anne moved closer to her, eyes shimmering. “That's so cool! What are they like?” “Um… Well, they're a lot of Gothic horror and mystery. Maybe I can let you borrow one sometime and you can see—” Anne gasped with glee. “You'd really do that for me!? Thank you, Credence!”

As they continued walking and Credence went to wave at the thestrals, she realized they were heading quite a ways off from the center of town. Ominis picked up on this, too.

“Just around the neighborhood, huh?” he said. Anne smirked at him. “I never specified what that meant.”

Sebastian's smirk grew as well. Side by side, the twins looked near identical.

“You sure that's a good idea?” asked Ominis. “Oh, come off it, Dad,” scoffed Anne, dismissing him with a flick of her wrist. “Haven't goblins been taking up residence in that old fort nearby? I'm sure there will be—” “I've been wanting to go down to the beach for ages,” complained Anne. “Now's my only chance.” “Hell yes, let's go!” said Sebastian.

Credence shook her head as the twins hurried off down the path leading away from the village. They giggled together like mischievous school children. Ominis held her hand tighter.

“They're both idiots,” he said as they followed after them. “I can't really blame her. I mean, being cooped up all the time doesn't seem her style.” “No, it isn't. And I wouldn't mind letting her loose. I'm not afraid of goblins; I'm sure we could handle them. But Solomon already doesn't like me much. Imagine what he'll think when he realizes Anne wandered off only after I stopped by for a visit. And if things go south…” “Why doesn't he like you?” “He's an ex-Auror. He's dealt with many a dark wizard over the years, including some Gaunts. Aurors are pretty black-and-white. They see a pattern and think every one of us is like that. Doesn't matter what we tell him or what I do. I'll always be a potential criminal to him.” She put her head on his shoulder. “I'm sorry, Ominis. Maybe we'll get out of this unscathed.” “With those two at the helm? I doubt it.”

They caught up to the twins who waited for them at the fork in the road. The hilly landscape dipped down between two cliffs, where the yellowed grassy pathway disappeared under piles of slippery leaves. They traveled down the valley. Anne took a running start and slid along the leaves, shouting in joy as she did. Sebastian followed suit, sliding just a bit less than Anne. Ominis rolled his eyes as they encouraged him and Credence to try.

Credence bit her lip. She eyed up the leaf piles, trying to decide which looked the slickest and fullest. One pile had mushy bits of blackened leaves all throughout it. A rock sat before it—not too tall and at just the perfect angle. She took a breath and ran toward it. One foot bounded off the rock for extra height and she hit the leaf pile at the wettest spot. Underneath it must've been a layer of ice as it sent her flying down the pathway.

“Woo!” shouted Anne. “Go, Credence!”

Credence stopped not long after and turned to the others. They were a couple of yards away. Anne backed up and tried her technique. She jumped a little too far, though, and hit the less slippery half of the pile. Still, she beamed and laughed as she rode it out.

“You girls are crazy,” said Sebastian. “Thank you,” said Anne with a sarcastic curtsy.

Within a few more steps, the group came upon a sandy beach. Parts of the shore were lined with short grey rocks where the waves deposited seaweed and shells between them. Anne was the first to climb upon the rocks and look in between them. Credence was going to rejoin Ominis for a walk along the beach, but he went with Anne to find whatever they could in the crevices.

Credence looked away, instead focusing on the long beach that stretched down the horizon. Some spaces opened to the ocean, inviting her to sit near the calm ebb and flow of the tide.

“Look!” called Anne. “A cute little hermit crab!” “Don't let Cree see it,” said Sebastian. “She'll be able to tell you its entire life story.” He adopted a higher pitched voice. “Oh dear, there's a small crack in his shell. This is a Crackus Crab, and I'd surmise he's head crab of his little crab kingdom.” Anne cackled. “Haha,” said Credence, “I'll have you know Crackus Crab isn't even a species of hermit crab.”

Anne laughed harder, leaving Ominis to hold the poor hermit crab so she didn't accidentally crush it.

Credence smiled uneasily as she strolled down the beach. She knelt out of reach of the tide, the sand beneath her dry and soft, and watched the waves. The brine in the air encouraged her to breathe deeply. Despite the sunny sky, things looked dark to her. Grey. Eerie. She couldn't put her finger on why, though. Was it just Anne and Ominis laughing together? Standing so close, talking softly to one another. She didn't want to think she was that petty or jealous.

Sebastian sat beside her. “You all right?” She stole a glance at Ominis and Anne again—so brief she hardly noticed she’d done it. Then she stared out across the water. “I’m okay.”

She watched Sebastian out of the corner of her eye. He observed her, then looked toward Ominis and Anne. He smiled and shook his head.

“You shouldn’t worry about it,” he said. “Worry? About what?” she asked, gripping her arm. He nudged her with his shoulder. “Oh, don’t even pretend. You’re jealous. But you shouldn’t be. Ominis and Anne are just friends.” “I mean, I know.” She hunched down. “It’s so stupid, isn’t it?” “It’s not stupid. You think Ominis never gets jealous over us?”

Her eyes shot toward him, prying his expression for signs he was kidding. But his gentle chestnut eyes gazed at her, as earnest as his smile.

“Really?” she asked. “Yes, really, you big nob. I think he got a little jealous over that feather thing. I wasn't trying to upset him.” She squirmed, remembering Ominis’ soured expression. “Oh. I wasn't sure if—... I didn't mean to upset him, either. Great, now I feel extra stupid.” Sebastian gripped her shoulder. “Don't. I'm the one who started it anyway. But just like how there's nothing going on between us, there's nothing going on between them, either. Ominis has been like part of our family for years now, since he doesn’t feel like he has a real family. Besides, Anne is downright terrified of the Gaunts. She'd never tell Ominis, though.” “I won't tell him that,” said Credence. His hand squeezed her shoulder again, that gentle grin not leaving his face. “Anne thinks you're brilliant for not letting the Gaunts scare you.”

The heat rose to Credence's cheeks. She looked down at the sand and smiled, immersing herself in the golden rocks while she mulled over Sebastian’s words. If nothing else, Credence tried to take solace in knowing Ominis had people who cared about him. Especially someone as peppy and affectionate as Anne.

Sebastian's grip on her shoulder suddenly stiffened. She looked toward him. Before she could ask what was wrong, a chill shuddered up her spine. Ominis stood taller upon the rocks, his wand already out. Anne put the hermit crab in the safety of the rocks before she stood to attention, too.

“Well, well,” came a thickly accented voice.

Several smoky shadows burst to life on the beach. Within each, a stout goblin in spiked armor appeared. Their cold eyes and bared jagged teeth made Credence's stomach lurch. They were out for blood.

Ominis nudged Anne behind him. Credence and Sebastian shot to their feet, hands upon their wands. The dark clad goblins looked them over. That accented voice spoke again from the middle goblin.

“Looks like we got some nosy rotten kids skulkin’ around our beach.” “Your beach?” said Sebastian. “This has been our beach for years. We weren't looking for trouble.” “Ah, but it seems ya've found it anyway, haven't ya?”

Anne groaned in agony and gripped her stomach. Ominis flinched toward her but had to hold his ground and keep his wand ready. The head goblin's lips split into a malicious, jagged grin.

“Ah, I see one among yas has already been infected by one of our curses. A powerful one at that. Poor thing won't last much longer.” “You bastard,” spat Sebastian. “Tell me what you've done to my sister!” “Sentenced her to death.”

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mothdruid · 3 years

Text

properly

pairing: slight dom!Druig x sub!female reader

summary: after your relationship with Ikaris is falling apart. druig is the only person you can turn to and he shows you what you really need.

wc: 2.9k

warings: 18+, smut, minors dni, angst!, pet names (love, babe, baby), cheating, oral sex (male to female), vagina fingering, penetrative sex (male to female), cream pie, swearing, alcohol consumption.

a/n: i don’t not by any means condone cheating by writing this fic. this fic was inspired by an audio that had heavy cheating connotations and thought it’d be hot for a ikaris x reader x druig thingy. and this is the audio it’s based on. fyi it’s extremely nsfw

"What do you mean?"

"Ikaris, do I have to spell it out? What more do I have to say?" You stood in the living room watching as your boyfriend's facial features shifted into utter confusion. This wasn't how you wanted it to happen. It had been going on for weeks and weeks. Every time the two of you became intimate it just wasn't satisfying for you. The lack of foreplay, the length of time, and even no aftercare. You didn't plan on bringing it up tonight, but you just couldn't bear the thought of suffering another bad intimate moment with him.

Over the weeks you had thought more and more about what your relationship had become. Not only were things lacking in the bedroom, it lacked everywhere. It was bright and fun in the beginning, charming you would even say. But as the days went on they felt more like dragging, the charm and emotion fading. You couldn't help it, things had just become too mundane. Even when you tried to spice it up Ikaris just always seemed not into it. You needed something more.

"I haven't changed anything since we got together." His eyes drifted up towards you from his glass of wine. His gaze felt painful as if it was searing through you. After shifting awkwardly under his gaze you stood up, moving towards the coat rack.

"I think that might be the issue." The sound of wood shifting under Ikaris' weight as he stood up, stepping towards you filled the room. The wool material of your coat felt scratchy under your hand as you grabbed it. Ikaris stood near you now, waiting for you to say more. "What?" Your eyebrows knitted together in frustration. A hurt look took over Ikaris' confused one.

"Are you leaving? Really? Right now." A pang of guilt settled in your chest. The wool in your hand scratched harder as your grip tightened. Ikaris didn't understand, he never did. You weren't doing this to spite him, you were doing all of this to help mend your relationship. Ikaris' hand reached out, his fingers wrapping around your wrist. He gave you a concerned look, as if he wanted you to stay. Say it. You stood there waiting for the words, waiting for any kind of affection. Tears pricked at your eyes, lips pursing together as you looked at him.

"And you can't even tell me to stay." A sigh left your lips as you pulled your wrist from his grasp. "I need to leave for a bit. Clear my head." You grabbed your scarf after putting on your coat, wrapping it around yourself. Not a word left Ikaris' mouth while you got ready to leave. Only silence hung between the two of you as he hovered around you.

After you closed the door to Ikaris' apartment you reached for your phone. There was only one place that you wanted to be at. Only one person you wanted to be around. You thumbed at your screen as you made your way towards the stairs, pausing over the name. The guilt and frustration bubbled inside of you as you made your way down, step by step. You wanted it to go back to normal, but it wouldn't until Ikaris realized his own mishaps in your relationship. You waited till you reached the last step, clicking on the name to dial.

"Well well, to what do I owe this honor?"

The heat radiated in your cheeks as you took another shot, slamming your glass back on the table. You hadn't expected this to turn into a night of drinking at Druig's apartment. The expectation was actually a movie and maybe some advice you wouldn't take. Druig always had a habit of giving advice whether it was wanted or not.

"Hell yeah! Let's do another!" His accent thickly laced the words as he encouraged another shot. He leaned over to grab the bottle of liquor, unscrewing the cap and filling both your shot glasses in record time. Klink! Another shot down. This time you brought your hand up to your mouth afterwards, holding your face as you took a moment to digest the moment. Druig paused watching you with his radiant blue orbs. His hand came over and settled above your knee. You barely noticed as you laid back on the couch and closed your eyes. You're way more fun than he is.

"Than who?" Your eyes shot open as you bolted up. Druig looked at you with a confused and curious look. He raised his eyebrows and shook his head, implying again that he didn't know who you were talking about.

"I didn't mean to say that." Embarrassment flooded your system, your hands both coming up to cover your face.

"Is there something going on with him?" You felt the couch shift as Druig moved closer to you. "He isn't doing it huh?" Your fingers slivered, allowing you to peek through at Druig. It could have been the alcohol but you didn't remember him looking that good when you arrived. A dusting covered his cheeks, most likely from the alcohol. A smirk appeared on his lips as he titled his head. He hit a nerve and knew it. Your reaction gave him a new found confidence, making him lean in towards you. His breath was hot on the point below your ear. "Want me to show you what it feels like to get truly fucked."

Frozen by his words you sat there while he rested his hand on your thigh. You would have never suspected this to actually happen. It wasn't like you had never thought of Druig in this manner. "You want to be fucked, I know you do." His whisper went straight to your core, causing wetness to develop in between your folds. "He doesn't do it for you anymore, huh?" His words floated in your head as images of Ikaris pulled forward. The way his face looked when you left, sullen and hurt. Druig tightened his grip on your thigh, his fingertips felt like daggers driving into you. "You're thinking about him, aren't ya? Thinking about how he can't fuck you like I'd be able to."

You dropped your hands into your lap, settling deeper into the couch. You looked over at Druig who was only inches away from your face. His hand drifted up your thigh causing your legs to separate. "You want me to fuck you like a proper woman. That's why you came over, right?" Your lips crashed into his own while your eyes fluttered shut. Druig's hand finally made it's way to your core, rubbing against the cloth of your pants. His tongue slipped into your mouth, dominating the kiss in one single motion.

Suddenly his lips were gone though and so was he. You opened your eyes to find him standing in front of you, looking down at you. Instinctively you sat up properly on the edge of the couch. You didn't understand how Druig had some spell over you. Thoughts continued to swirl in your head, guilt and grief but it wasn't enough to stop your actions. This was something you had wanted for awhile, something you needed and craved. To be treated like a proper woman.

Finger tips caressed your cheek as you looked down at you. You looked up through your lashes at him, drunk on how his eyes raked over you. "You like that don't you? The way I look all over your body." A nod. "That's what I thought, now strip." The cold air against your skin was exhilarating. Your nipples were hard while your cunt became more wet. You could slowly start to feel your wetness on your thighs. You looked up at Druig again to be greeted with a devilish grin.

"Look at you," he kneeled in front of you, his hand coming up to your chin. His thumb ran over your bottom lip, pulling a sigh from you. "So obedient for me. I bet you're not like this with him." Your breath hitched when he brought Ikaris up. "Yeah, I know you're thinking about him. But you're mine now." His gaze on you was piercing, the feeling of prey consuming your body. You tried to turn your head to look away, but the grip on your chin tightened and pulled your gaze back to his.

"Don't look away love, tell me you want this." HIs facial expression changed as seriousness settled on his features.

"Yes. I want this."

"You want what?"

"I want to be fucked properly." His lips curved into the devilish smile again. The hand on your jaw moved back towards your hair, fingers threading through it. Druig's lips crashed into yours again, his hand tightened in your hair causing you to let out a whine. He pulled your face back from his, his eyes scanning your face. The tightness in your hair disappeared as he watched you. A shiver coursed through your body as his fingertips ran down your neck, drifting lower over your bare chest. A gasp left your lips while he flicked a nipple.

"Oh, did that feel good baby?" You study his face as his eyes raked over your body, watching his own fingers follow the curve of your breast down your stomach to your abdomen. His eyes flicked up to meet your own. Heat flooded your cheeks when his icy gaze connected with yours. "You want me to own you. Use you and abuse you." His hands hooked behind your knees, spreading your legs while easing you back against the couch. "Look at that, you're already fucking soaked." A gentle kiss was applied to the inside of your thigh. You watched as he kissed down your thigh, eyes still locked with your own.

A sharp pain settled on your thigh as Druig bit into your thigh. You threw your head back, moaning loudly at the pain. "Leavin' marks wherever I want. How are you gonna explain this to him?" His words went straight to your cunt, it flexed around nothing as it became more wet. "I know you want my cock. Want me to fill you up to the brim." You whined while nodding your head. "That's gonna have to wait dear, want you to cum on my face first." His tongue dived into your folds, slurping up all of your juices. The wet muscle flicked and dragged across your clit, sending you into a frenzy. Your hips started to rock against his face as moans ripped through your throat.

"Fuck! Druig!" He brought a hand around to your cunt, his fingers keeping a circular motion on your clit.

"That's so fucking hot baby. The way you lose control, you trying to fuck me face with your pussy." His mouth went back to your cunt while his fingers entered your cunt. The noises Druig made were down right sinful. He moaned into your cunt, the vibrations making you throw your head back. He latched onto your clit and sucked hard. Your cunt tightened around his fingers as he pumped them in and out of you. You propped yourself up on your elbows as you watched him give you the most attention you'd received in a long time. Fire set across your skin as your orgasm took over, making your hips stutter.

"Oh fuck yeah baby. You look so good cumming for me like that." Druig's fingers kept pumping, helping you ride out your orgasm. "Yeah, that's it baby, keep on going." Your breath was uneven as your body convulsed as pleasure continued to rack your body. This was the hardest you had cum in awhile. Ikaris could never. The thought shot through your mind as the waves of pleasure started to subside. Druig moved up your body, his mouth leaving wet kisses as a trail. He nipped one of your nipples before connecting your lips together again. The taste of your own juices flooded your mouth.

"You're so fucking filthy. You just want to be a toy for me, huh?" Druig moved to the couch, making you get on all fours. His hands glided over your ass as he marveled at it. He pressed himself against your ass, letting you feel his hardened cock. "I think it's about time I gave you my cock now. Let you feel what it's like to be fucked like a proper woman."

"Yes, fuck me." You moaned out as Druig undid his belt. His thick cock was heavy against your ass. He guided his cock between your folds, gathering some of your wetness before sliding into you. The stretch was heavenly, making you moan loudly. You pushed your hips back against his, making him moan.

"Your cunt feels so tight. I have no idea why he wouldn't use you more." Druig snapped his hips forward aggressively, setting a brutal pace. "Like how my hard cock is stretching you out, going deeper and deeper inside of you." Druig's hand came up to your hair, pulling it back and making your neck crane. "Oh, look at how pretty you look, looking up at me while you're being fucked raw." Druig stopped his thrusts, stilling inside of you. "Bounce your ass back on me, fuck me." His other hand came up around your throat while the other remained tight in your hair.

You started moving your hips, bouncing back against him. "Harder." You put more vigor into each movement. The tightening in your core started again once you found that one spot. The head of his cock kept hitting the sensitive part inside of you, giving you more motivation to fuck him. "Fuck yeah baby, you look so good like this. Back arched for me while you use me." A whine broke through your lips as your orgasm rippled through you.

"There you go baby, fall apart on my cock, cover it in your cum. Look at the way you're shaking while my cock makes you feel so good." Tears started to prick at your eyes as the waves of pleasure continued. "You want my cum, don't you?" You nodded quickly. "Beg."

"Please Druig, give me your cum, fill me with your cum."

"Want me to fill you so you feel it for weeks. Feel it while you lay in bed next to him? You're so fucking filthy." The hand around your throat dropped to your waist, gripping tight enough to leave bruises. His moans and groans started picking up as he started up his thrusting again. "Fuck baby, I'm close." His hand in your hair pulled back again. His thrust started to become uneven as he chased his orgasm. "I gotta give it to you now baby."

"Give it to me, please please." You begged.

He slammed into you one last time before you felt his cum shoot into you. The thrusts continued as he unloaded himself inside of you. His head fell forward, his forehead connecting with your shoulder blade. His breath was hot against your skin as the both of you tried to regain your breath. A moan fell from your lips as his cock slipped out of you, letting his cum slowly pour out of you. You slowly lowered yourself the lay down on the couch. Druig moved and sat back on the other end of the couch. He tucked his cock back inside of his boxer briefs, shucking his pants off and leaving them on the floor.

The two of you sat in silence for a while before Druig got up suddenly, disappearing only to return with a warm wet washcloth. You let out a soft moan as Druig cleaned you up. He disappeared one more time, returning this time with a large shirt of his. "Hey love, put this on, I don't want you to get cold." You sat up and snatched the shirt from him, quickly putting it on. Embarrassment and guilt wracked your body now. You couldn't bring yourself to even look at Druig.

"Listen. I uh... I'm sorry... I shouldn't hav-"

"Don't. It wasn't only you." You finally mustered the courage to look at him, tears falling down your cheeks. Druig's face fell as he rushed over to you.

"Hey, hey love, don't cry love. It's okay, it's okay."

"It's not okay! I- I cheated! I'm still in a relationship!" Druig pulled you close into his chest as your cries got louder. The warmth of his body was graceful and comforting. One hand rubbed your back while his other petted your hair.

"Love, love it's okay. You were gonna leave him anyway." He pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

"That doesn't make it reasonable." You pulled back from his chest, looking at his concerned facial features.

"Hey, I understand that what just happened should have probably waited. You need to calm down though because getting worked up isn't gonna make you feel better. Just stay the night with me. I'll go back with you tomorrow to make sure things don't get out of hand." The hand in your hair came up to your cheek, his thumb whipped away your tears. Druig helped you stand up then guided you back to his bedroom. Druig wrapped his arms around you while the two of you settled into his bed.

You woke up the next morning surprised you had slept so well. It was also almost as surprising as how well Ikaris took the break up. Druig waited patiently outside the apartment until he watched Ikaris leave. Ikaris paused for a moment as he and Druig sized each other up. Ikaris' hand patted Driug's shoulder, "Take care of her."

“Oh don’t you worry, I’ll take proper care of her.”

#druig #druig smut #druig x reader #druig x female reader #druig x f!reader #druig x you #druig fanfiction #druig fanfic #druig angst

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shmothman · 2 years

Text

Judgement | Forgiveness

Part Eighteen

Previous Chapters

AO3 Link

Tags: @veethewriter

“You.”

At Irida’s feet, Glaceon stands at attention, its hackles raised.

“Hold on,” you say, panicking. “Irida, please just let me explain.”

There’s hurt in her eyes—hurt and anger and betrayal—and guilt crashes over you like a wave, pulling you beneath its tides. Behind you, Volo is wide-eyed, terrified, his hands up in front of his chest in a gesture of submission.

“Yeah,” Irida says, eyes narrowed—her tone isn’t venomous, but it is wounded. “Yeah, why don’t you explain what you’re doing here with him.”

She glares daggers, and Volo shies under her gaze, his eyes fixed firmly on the snow in front of him.

She wasn’t there, in Jubilife, the day you brought him back from the Distortion World, but you know that she heard about his apology. His banishment. And, beyond that, she knows what you told her the day you came to her home, weeping of his betrayal. She knows how you felt for him. She knows how he hurt you.

If you have any chance at salvaging this situation, Irida needs the whole truth, now—even if there are some things you’d rather keep secret. Even if it might put both of you in danger.

“We’re looking for artifacts,” you tell her, speaking slowly as if to calm a frightened pokemon. “The verses, like the one I brought to you.”

She seems unimpressed, but gives you a look that says to continue.

You do your best to tread carefully. “Volo is an expert. He knows myths like nobody else. And we aren’t violating the terms of his banishment.”

Although, Irida sees right through that, her jaw dropping as she realizes: “you’ve been helping him this whole time, haven’t you?”

You sigh. There’s no hiding it. “Yes. I have.”

The anger builds in her eyes, but you cut her off before she says anything else, your voice growing desperate.

“What did you expect me to do, Irida? Leave him to die? He’s my friend!” You can’t help the way your voice cracks on the word ‘friend,’ and you know you’ve given yourself away entirely when she shifts her weight and looks between the two of you—back and forth, back and forth.

Mouth agape, she shakes her head, incredulous. She’s looking at you almost pleadingly now. “After what he did to us? To you?”

You grit your teeth, growing slightly angry yourself. If she would just listen to the whole story... “Yes, and will you please stop talking about him like he’s not here?”

Though, the look on his face says he much preferred being ignored as she swivels on him, irate. His eyes flick to you, wide and terrified, and you give him an encouraging nod, your eyes pleading—though pleading for what, you aren’t sure.

“I…” he says, quietly stuttering, before taking a shaky breath that steams in the frigid air. “I know that I caused harm. To Palkia and to your clan. And for that I am sorry.”

“Sorry,” she repeats, rather sarcastic and disbelieving. “Well, that fixes everything, doesn’t it—”

“I know that it doesn’t,” he says quickly, interrupting her. “I know that I cannot make up for what I’ve done.” He looks to you, then back to her. “But I will say it anyway. I promise you I will not ever hurt you, Palkia, or your clan ever again.”

Her brows furrow, and she looks to you, then back to him, then back to you. “And you believe him.”

It’s not a question.

You nod, swallowing hard. “I do.”

And you tell Irida the whole story. You tell her of bringing him back from the Distortion World, of offering him help after his banishment. You tell her of his injury, and of finding the first piece of poetry; of seeking his help with it. You don’t bring up the emotional moments you’ve shared with him—you may tell her of your feelings, later, certainly not in front of Volo—but you reiterate that you believe that he means what he says. All the while, he remains quiet beside you, but even beneath his scarf, you can tell that his face has reddened.

When you finish speaking, silence rings through the snowy wasteland. You all but hold your breath.

Finally, Irida heaves a great sigh, and some—but not all—of the anger seems to leave her. “Unbelievable,” she mutters, under her breath.

Despite your better judgment, you reach for Volo’s hand, and when your fingers brush his, he almost jumps. He looks at you, alarmed, and you can see in his stormy gray eyes what he’s thinking: do you want to make her angrier?

But your expression softens, and when you give him a nod, he accepts your hand, trembling just slightly.

Irida sees this and shakes her head again, pinching the bridge of her nose. If she hadn’t already guessed the feelings you still hold for him, well... she certainly knows now.

“Right.” She says. “Great. Fantastic. Any other big secrets you’re hiding from me?”

“No,” you say, wracked with guilt. “No, honestly.”

She rolls her eyes. “Well. You’re not a very good liar, anyway.”

You hold tight to Volo’s hand, anchoring yourself as much as you anchor him.

And Irida sighs. “I trust you,” she says to you, and your eyes snap up to meet her intense gaze. “I trust you not to let any harm come to this region. I don’t trust him—” he tenses as she looks to him, “—but I trust you.”

“Irida—” you start, but she holds up a hand.

“Honestly, I don’t want to hear anything else right now. You lied to me, and I’m angry. I’m going to go home, drink some tea, and attend to my duties as Clan Leader. We can talk more later.”

You deflate.

When she turns to Volo again, he grips your hand tighter. “As for you,” she says, “I’d better not see you again. If you try anything—” her gaze flicks between you, and you blush, her implications clear, “—I will be the first to stop you. Mighty Sin—er, Lord Palkia, is not happy with you. Just know that.”

Glaceon circles her feet with a cry, and she gives it a pat on the head. Then, she gives a decisive nod, looking between you once more, and turns on her heel, leaving you standing in silence, joined by the hands, at the mouth of the cave.

And when her retreating back has grown small in the distance, Volo collapses to his knees.

You follow him down, tears in your eyes, and he breaks entirely, not protesting when you wrap your arms around him and hold tight, both of your breath steaming heavily in the freezing air, coming out between the folds of your scarves.

“I’m sorry,” you say, and although he’s sniffling, he gives a short laugh of surprise.

“Why are you apologizing?”

Great, fat tears begin to spill onto your cheeks, and you scrub at them fruitlessly with your gloves. “I don’t know. I should have told her sooner. I should’ve told all of them.”

“You were trying to keep me safe,” he reminds you. “It’s my fault.”

“I need to be able to do both,” you say. You need to protect him and tell the truth. “I can’t… I can’t keep lying to my friends.”

When he gives a sob in return, you pull back to press your forehead to his, clinging to his coat. He looks at you, wide-eyed and teary. The closeness of him is as dizzying as it is comforting, the look in his eyes tumultuous, fearful, sad.

“Why are you putting yourself in danger for me?” He asks, so broken, so vulnerable—and you know what he’s really asking. Why don’t you just leave him.

And the thought occurs to you that it would be so easy to show him how you feel. Pressed together like this, it would only take a simple tilt of your head to kiss him; to explain why you would put yourself in any danger, why you would lie to the people you care about, why you won’t leave him. It’s because you love him.

It’s because of the way he lights up when he hears about mythology, and the single-minded focus with which he pursues his passions. It’s because of his smile, his laugh, the way he jokes with you; the way his hand feels in yours, the way he hugs you. The way he tries to make things right. The way he’s been putting one foot in front of the other.

But more importantly than that, it’s because you don’t think his mistakes need to define him. It’s because you want to see him grow, to see him have a future. Even if he didn’t want you to be a part of that future, you would want him to be happy.

And so you whisper, “because I care about you, Volo,” and you hope the rest is self-evident.

You wish you could tell if he understands, if he realizes what he means to you, but you don’t know what the look in his eyes means—this sad, hopeful, teary expression that pulls on your heartstrings, that makes it all the harder not to pull down his scarf and press your lips to his.

But you shouldn’t cry out here. Salt water or no, the tears will freeze right onto your faces—so you gently wipe his cheeks with gloved fingers, and try not to lose yourself in the way he leans into your touch, the little of his face that’s exposed to the elements pink in the cold.

You pull the both of you up to standing, still huddled close together, shivering. “Come on,” you say. “Let’s get this verse back to the hut.”

He sniffles. “Do you... need to follow her?” He asks, looking after Irida.

“No,” you shake your head. “She needs some time. I’ll go see her tomorrow. She’ll... she’ll come around. I know it.”

There is a fondness in his tearful voice when he says, “if anyone can convince her, it’s you,” that makes your heart flutter.

“I really hope so,” you tell him.

#volo x reader #judgement | forgiveness #volo #pla #pla spoilers #pokemon #sef writes #sorry this chapter is shorter! in my defense its also early lol

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lollytea · 2 years

Text

There’s Sunshine in Your Smile: Chapter 4

[READ ON AO3]

Hunter had stabbed himself in the foot.

(Not literally, of course, though that would certainly have shown Willow that his vigilance over potential stabbings in her garden was not irrational. However, she probably would have argued that self-infliction was both a petty and nonsensical way to prove a point. Hunter was forced to concede that she was correct in this imaginary debate they were having in his head.)

He hadn’t realized he was hungry until he had scarfed down the last of his food, which was small enough that it wouldn’t have taken long in normal circumstances, unless he wanted to make it blatantly obvious that he was stalling. But Hunter had cut his already brief time in half because he was so thoroughly enticed by a juice box and an abomination goo sandwich.

(“You need to stop calling it that.” Willow complained with a sniff of disgust. This was a side of her that Hunter was beginning to take impish joy in igniting. “I’ll never be able to stomach jelly again if you get that imagery stuck in my head.”)

He took his time with the goreberries and even Flapjack had caught the hint to pace himself. His bird had left the remaining fruit for Hunter and was currently racing Clover over the heads of Willow’s trees. The two palismen had clicked together like magic.

And then, only a single berry remained, its existence a palpable reminder that once it was gone, Hunter had to be gone.

But he couldn’t just leave it there. Now its lone inhabitation on the plate was drawing attention to itself. He had even caught Willow glance down at it.

She knew.

They both knew.

The anticipation was outright crackling from the damn thing and when Hunter finally couldn’t take it anymore, he popped it in his mouth and sealed his fate.

And then, there were no more excuses. No more obligations to tether him here. He had to leave.

The claw of guilt was already digging in deeper, though he knew it wasn’t entirely about the job itself. Afternoon patrol was minimal work at best and totally tedious at worst.

For Hunter, the appeal was the authority it represented, the Golden Guard in all his eminence. And during weeks when assigned missions were scarce, it was his only opportunity to get out of the castle, so it was something he looked forward to.

And now here was this girl and this garden of hers, smiling and shining and melting away all of his devotion to the task at hand. He didn’t care about the gold mask right now. He wanted to stay here, and that was the true source of his guilt.

The title of Golden Guard had been a gift from his uncle, an honour to receive, and something he had promised on his own soul to uphold.

And what was he doing right now? Fighting with himself not to blow it off for the sake of…

Of…

Of something completely insignificant to his life’s one and only purpose.

“Hunter?”

Willow was watching him intently, apprehension straining her features. He had been silent for a moment too long, and she seemed to know what came next.

But that didn’t stop her from shooting to her feet alongside him as he abruptly stood up.

Hunter had put his metaphorical foot down. Which hurt a little, as it had already been metaphorically stabbed.

“I have to leave.” He announced, a clipped tightness to his voice.

“But you just got here,”

“Yeah. And now I’m just leaving.”

“But--”

“No buts. I did something for you, you did something in return. That’s where it ends.”

Hunter paused in his dutiful march out of the backyard to look over his shoulder at Willow. He nodded purposefully, with an expression he hoped read as sincere as he felt. “Thanks, by the way. To you and your Dad.”

She did not smile at this. Her frown only deepened.

“You can’t just--”

“Captain, I don’t know if you’ve realized this yet, but I’m not the kind of witch who wastes time. I’m not gonna linger around for no reason.”

“What if there was a reason?”

“That being?”

“Um…”

“Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

Hunter would not let himself entertain the notion for very long, as it would surely weaken his resolve (and burn his traitorous ears) but…

She really wanted him to stay.

“Hunter, just…just wait a second.”

He was caught by the wrist.

In that miniscule beat of total silence, Hunter strategized on how to logically approach his next move. He considered how she might ensnare him once again, and how to avoid falling into the trap.

Let’s see, the first time, when she convinced him to follow her home, it had revolved around the Lump of Hell and Pain. But what had been the turning point where he completely folded?

He remembered how she had looked at him.

And then the second time, when she had insisted he stay for a snack, even when he had pushed against her efforts?

Once again, she had looked at him.

So, when Willow gave a tentative tug and he reluctantly turned around, he refused so much as a glance at her face. He kept his eyes resolutely locked on the spot where she was gripping him, her fingers bunching around the cuff of his glove.

“I was thinking… maybe you could help me with my garden?”

“That’s not a dire reason for me to stick around and you know it.”

“Well…” Her fingers loosened, as she fumbled for excuses. They absentmindedly spidered up his arm. “It’s a scorcher today so it’s really important that all my friends are watered properly…”

Still not dire enough.

“But there’s all this garden and only one me so…”

Her voice faltered, clearly realizing that this simply wasn’t going to work. She couldn’t plead her flimsy case in a way that sounded urgent, and even if she could, Hunter was done playing along with her games today. It was immature anyway.

Willow’s hold came almost completely undone, save for the fingertips that still hesitated to let go and, on the verge of defeat, she sadly drew her hand away. As she did so, her thumb slid a line down his inner forearm, the gentlest brush, a tickle against his skin.

His knees liquidized so fast, Hunter nearly collapsed on the spot. His legs buckled, subtle enough that Willow didn’t notice but mentally captivating enough that he felt a flash of worry for his health.

Then came her last effort, not even remotely confident in her odds, as she said in the softest voice that ever fell off her lips “Please…”

The sensation in the back of his mind scuttled down his neck, leaving a prickle of goosebumps in its wake.

His answer was instantaneous.

“Okay…”

Well. Damn.

“Okay?” Willow blurted. She had been so certain that this wasn’t going her way, that she didn’t even sound convinced.

She didn’t believe him. He still had a chance to back out. He could leave.

But then, but then, Titan help him, this hopeless excuse for a Coven official….

But then Hunter did such a frantic inventory of Willow’s garden that his brain threatened to overheat from the rapid-fire calculations. He managed to rack up a conclusion regardless.

“It looks like--” He cleared his throat, annoyed with how feeble his voice came out. He shook out the arm where Willow’s touch still tingled, in a gesture that probably looked pointless and ridiculous to the girl in front of him.

But once it no longer felt boneless, he was confident to proceed.

When he spoke again, it was detached and succinct. The Golden Guard. “It looks like you have the ingredients here for a whole plethora of essential goods.”

With his regained composure, he was capable of finally looking at her.

She was staring at him strangely, somewhere between confusion and suspicion.

Hunter swept a hand across the garden, gesturing from one plant to the next.

“Sleeping droughts, energy supplements, key components for important potions and elixirs, etcetera, etcetera…” He rattled off.

“A lot of your harvest is edible too, thus would be necessary ration in case of emergency. And that’s not even touching on all the rare specimen you have here, the properties of which I’m not familiar with, but would be foolish to disregard.”

Willow’s arms had crossed, her weight shifted to one hip. With one eyebrow raised, he couldn’t recall her ever giving him a more unimpressed look. And he had locked this girl in a cell.

She did not seem to like the Golden Guard very much.

“What are you even saying, Hunter?”

“I’m saying that it’s irresponsible that you haven’t yet registered this garden for official Coven protection.”

Her eyes flared.

“You’re not seriously calling me irresponsible for--”

“But considering its value, it must be sufficiently maintained. And the current heat is concerning.” He shrugged one shoulder, eyes betraying him by glancing askance. “And as you’ve informed me that it’s too difficult a task to handle alone…”

The anger left Willow like a snuffed out green fire.

In a matter of two days, Hunter had successfully become the stupidest witch in the Emperor’s Coven.

And there were a lot of stupid witches in the Emperor’s Coven.

He could not begin to describe the full extent of Willow’s delight, as his brain was already in complete tatters. But all the semblance of competence he possessed was used to register that giddy grin, those crinkled eyes and her unforgettable dimples as she shoved a watering can into his hands and put him to work.

Hunter should be outright furious at himself right about now. But after a moment of staring at the pale green object, painted with flowers, his facial muscles decided that he desperately wanted to smile. And though it twisted reluctantly on his mouth, smile he did.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

Willow was chattering away about her limits, (Yeah. Apparently the terrifying force of nature known as Willow Park had limits.) namely that she was incapable of conjuring a spell to water all her plants at once.

She demonstrated with a spin of her finger. A puny spell circle poured a gush of water over a singular shrub.

“Sometimes I wish Luz hadn’t told me so much about her world.” She lamented with a sigh. “I mean, I don’t really. But I also do. Sorry, you probably don’t know what I mean.”

“I know what you mean.”

He wasn’t lying. Hunter had become quite familiar with his emotions torn in opposite directions. (Case in point: Literally everything that had led him to the point of ditching patrol and watering some girl’s flowers.)

“I’m always thinking about that world, how easy it must be to keep a garden healthy.” Willow’s head tipped back to the sky. And then Hunter was reminded that not only did she belong in the garden, she belonged in the air.

She peered at him over her shoulder, one of her pigtails spilling down her back. “Did you know rain doesn’t boil in the Human Realm?”

“I’ve heard.” Was all Hunter said, careful not to splash too much or too little water over the plants he was tending to.

Willow’s eyes slid shut, as the sun bathed her face. “I hope I can see it one day.”

They worked in parallel, Willow seamlessly intertwining her body through the bushes and blooms, (He wasn’t certain how much sentience they had, but they seemed to clear paths for her.) and Hunter methodically stepping from one plant to the next. Start. Stop. Water. Start. Stop. Water.

Every so often, he would steal glances at Willow out of the corner of his eye. He learned that not only did she talk to her plants, but she had a specific routine with every sprout in the garden.

To some she whispered, to others she announced with a royal air and a dramatic flourish, some liked corny jokes, some liked to be fawned over and some liked an affectionate stroke around the petals.

Now, as far as Hunter was aware, plants did not possess personalities. But then again, he would not be surprised if Willow had somehow tapped into some kind of nature mental link, similar to that of a witch and their palisman.

He was pretty sure Terra could do….something like that. He was never explained the specifics, as Terra liked nothing more than to pretend Hunter didn’t exist.

He probably wouldn’t have bought the notion that a fourteen year old girl would have a budding ability akin to a Coven Head. But underestimating Willow’s capabilities with the words ‘fourteen year old girl’ could be a dangerous mindset and Hunter wasn’t dumb enough for that.

Or maybe…

This was also a possibility…

Maybe Willow couldn’t actually telepathically communicate with her garden and she was just odd.

With this perspective in mind, Hunter listened to her babble away to the friends she had grown herself, bright and bubbly. Without making the conscious decision to do so, he wound up watching her.

She flittered around a scalectrica bloom, making a huge fuss over the intensity of its fire stained petals, fluffing them up as though it were a hairdo. The voice she was doing was so foreign from her own soft lilt and so goofy sounding that it may have been solely for her own entertainment.

At this very moment, was Willow demonstrating herself as an extraordinarily powerful witch…or was she just being a kid?

He kinda liked the latter. It was…it was weirdly…

Immature.

No. No, that wasn’t the word for it. Hunter recoiled a little at the use of the word he frequently used to criticize himself in order to describe Willow. It was something else entirely.

(He knew the word. But it would be far too troublesome to let himself think it.)

He didn’t realize he was smiling so wide until his cheeks ached. And though he tried to subdue it, he could still feel it linger on his face as he averted his attention to a cluster of moonflowers.

The sprinkle of his watering can reminded him of rain.

Rain.

Though he had remained tight lipped on the subject from earlier, the concept had been plucking at him.

Belos said the Day of Unity would bring upon an era of pure Utopia. And Hunter truly believed him, and so he knew in his bones that if this supposed era was as wondrous as his uncle had described, then surely, Willow Park would get to see the rain.

He hoped she got to see the rain.

Hunter would like to see it too.

Maybe, though probably not, but maybe, maybe when she saw it, Hunter would be standing beside her.

Though probably not.

He imagined a Utopia would need its Golden Guard, not a dumb boy possessed with childish curiosity. Exploring the new world with Willow likely wouldn’t be an option for him.

And that was a good thing. It had to be a good thing.

Just as he was edging dangerously close to considering how he felt about this whole situation, Hunter stubbed his toe. It hurt a billion times worse than the metaphorical stabbing.

He broke out into a loud string of curses, alerting Willow, who had been in the middle of asking a gallberry bush about the hot gossip between the nearby bloodwheat and fire hedge.

“Whatever you do, don’t talk like that in front of my Dads.” She warned. “Are you okay?”

“No. What even is this and what’s it doing here?” He hissed through clenched teeth, gesturing wildly at the large, battered cauldron that Willow had turned into a makeshift flowerpot. It was overflowing with a crowd of magnificent dragon lilies.

“That’s my leftover cauldron from when I was in the abomination track.”

Hunter’s shock was so pronounced that he entirely blanked on his throbbing toe.

“You were in the abomination track?”

Willow’s brow furrowed at that, and in a stark contrast to her precocious nature, jutted her lip out in a pout. “You don’t have to sound that surprised.”

“Captain, you eat, sleep and breathe plants. The only way I can picture you raising abomination is if you build them out of bushes or whatever,”

“Oh! That reminds me.” Willow’s lip tweaked. There was a perilous glint in her eye as she shuffled into Hunter’s space and whispered “Wanna hear something cool?”

And.

So.

This was around the point in the afternoon where Hunter gave up.

He let it go. Dropped it. Just completely and utterly abandoned any intention of carrying out the rest of his patrol shift. Nah, nope, nuh uh, it was simply not happening today.

The ever-present guilt, the anxiety, the duty, it all flew to the far corners of his mind, shoved away before it all burst out of him at a later date, (And by the Titan, it certainly would.) because for the time being, something far more powerful had seized control of him.

Willow had opened her mouth and spoke of wild magic.

Hunter often left his window open ajar on hot nights, which had once led to one particular moth fluttering in, bewitched by the heady glow of his wall torch. Predictably, the stupid creature had caught itself on fire.

Hunter had been thirteen at the time. Sure, he had some sympathy for the thing but his first reaction was an eye roll. Surely there was at least an ounce of instinct hardwired into that microscopic insect brain that told it not to get too close to something that radiated burning heat.

Well, as Hunter grew older, he learned that every living creature had its flame. And at this stage in his life, he could admit (to himself anyway.) that wild magic might be his.

(Something he was not willing to admit just yet was that there might also be a second flame, one still early in the developmental stage.)

So. Yeah. Vindication for the moth. Sorry, moth.

“Okay, okay!” Hunter hovered excitedly around Willow as she multitasked between tending to her plants and laying out the basics of a hypothesis.

Flapjack had arrived from above, sensing Hunter’s shot of adrenaline and was now flapping and twittering between him and Willow, basking in the flying sparks of the Unknown(!)

“So, what you’re saying is that they would be able to function entirely independent from the witch who conjured them? So, they wouldn’t require their creator’s magic source at all to survive?”

Willow shook her head, not as jittery as Hunter but clearly enthusiastic. She was grinning ear-to-ear. At some point, she had magnetized so close to him that he could smell the floral scent off her, which was either perfume or a side effect of being a plant witch.

“They would need a daily intake of water but if the transfusion worked and the shrub inside them took root, a plant based abomination should be able to keep itself functional through photosynthesis!”

“That’s the sun, right?”

“Yep!”

“A solar powered abomination? And it grows berries? Ha!” Running his fingers through his hair, Hunter couldn’t help the wired laugh that split out of him. His mind was reeling. “That’s so fascinating! Has anyone ever attempted it bef--”

He stopped short. No, of course they hadn’t. It was illegal.

And for good reason too. It was highly unlikely that sort of experimentation would be successful. It was danger waiting to happen.

Willow had taken notice of his sudden silence. “Everything okay?”

“We….really shouldn’t get too carried away talking about this.” Hunter muttered firmly. It was a reminder to himself, an indisputable truth that Belos had seared into every facet of his mind through an intricate braid of episodes, blood, nightmares and the drip drip drip of that deathly sludge.

“Messing around with this stuff could get someone hurt.”

But when he got all tangled up in his studies of the forbidden, he allowed the reality of it all to slip his mind.

Sometimes it was too overwhelming to unpack just how selfish he was to forget.

Willow was silent for a long moment, He wondered if she was gearing up to argue about this, or perhaps his abrupt rejection of her innocent theory had upset her.

They shouldn’t have talked about this in the first place, and now he had to deal with the fallout of ruining a conversation in which he was actually comfortable.

He didn’t even want to stop talking about it.

Finally, Willow shrugged.

“It guess it can be. Any kind of magic can hurt.” Her tone was nonchalant, conversational.

“But not in the way wild magic can.”

“Well, I’m not really a wild witch. I mostly stick to plant spells,” She placed one hand on her hip as the other dramatically tossed back her hair. Her demeanour was a faux air of chilliness that was so strange on her, that it was funny. “But when I had you in those vines earlier, I could have crushed you like a goreberry.”

Hunter smirked, loosely folding his arms. He subconsciously mirrored her posture, arrow straight and challenging. “You’re way too nice for that.”

“Maybe so.” Willow agreed, that hilariously stoic look on her face. “But if I had made that threat, your first thought probably wouldn’t be how grateful you were that I was using by-the-book magic to kill you. It’d be ‘oh no. Death.’”

Something about her monotonous delivery made Hunter crack up, though he was extremely conscious to the giggles slipping out being a stupid noise, and he made an effort to stifle it with his backhand.

But then his amusement cracked the walnut that was Willow and she burst out laughing too. And of course, once it spread, it became difficult to stop.

“I would not have said ‘Oh no. Death.’”

Flapjack agreed with a cheep, landing atop Hunter’s head.

“Sorry I got it wrong.” Willow cocked her head playfully. “You’re just such an enigma.”

“That,” Hunter pitched a pointer finger, the pad he raised just an inch from Willow’s nose. Her lashes fluttered, eyes crossed. (Something squeezed at Hunter’s heart.) “Is very true.”

Her eyes lifted to rest on Hunter, smile glowing.

That look caught him off guard, brazen and undone. His finger faltered.

A moment earlier he would have second guessed himself, unsure of what to make of it, unsure if he had said the right thing.

Being seen as odd to other people had never bothered him before, it went in tandem with being annoying and he was well accustomed to that. Being liked hadn’t been Hunter’s concern for quite a long time.

But then he met some kids who called him a friend and it was like a door blown off its hinges, a door he hadn’t even known was closed, let alone locked. It had felt like such a delicate thing, having friends, like one fumble could shatter it all.

But Earlier and Now were two entirely separate realms.

He wanted to say this was surprisingly easy, being here with Willow, but that wasn’t the right word for it. His breath still hitched, he would still open his mouth with only a sputter instead of a sentence, but it was alright. Willow botched her words sometimes too.

And that was okay.

It was more like breathing or falling asleep or the language of quiet whistling that he shared with Flapjack alone in his room.

Natural. That was the word.

This friendship felt natural.

“Do you want to help me sow seeds?” Willow had asked once they finished watering.

How the Hell do you sew seeds?

“I don’t know much about the whole gardening thing,” shrugged Hunter, scratching his cheek. His thoughts snagged on his disastrous attempts to stitch the Golden Guard sigil into his cloak, before Darius had intervened. “Also I’m….not great with a needle and thread so,”

Her giggle was tiny, barely even there, and Hunter wondered how she managed to laugh at him so frequently yet never made him feel like he was being ridiculed.

“I promise it’s easy.” There was something so simplistic and innocent about the way Willow made promises. Hunter had a difficult time doubting her. Which was strange, as it defied everything he knew about promises as complex, sacrificial things. “C’mon, I’ll show you.”

She showed him.

He had found that he quite liked it when she showed him things, even if the Lump of Hell and Pain was involved.

Willow prattled on about the shrubs they would be planting as she spread out a layer of fresh fertilizer. When Hunter shifted to assist her, she drummed two fingers against his wrist.

“Before you do anything, you should lose the gloves,” She suggested.

Hunter’s dumbstruck look made her backtrack.

“I just don’t want you to get them dirty. But if you don’t want to--”

“It’s fine. I’ll take them off.” Said Hunter, far more snappish than intended.

It wasn’t that he had any big grand reservations about the thought of flaunting his bare hands, it was just….it was just weird. Most of the time, he didn’t like looking at them. But he figured it would be even weirder to make a big thing of it.

He pinched the fabric from his fingertips and slowly pulled off his gloves, one after the other.

One wrist was disguised by a branded sigil, though the other spotlit trails of dark protruding veins. He had pale narrow palms that splotched red in odd places, knobbly knuckles that bulged against his long fingers and chipped uneven nails. Lining the edges were faded scars and remnants of blisters.

Naked hands, riddled with faults. Not so different from the rest of him, really.

Hunter’s lip tightened with distaste. They were perfectly standard pair of hands but he would never stop viewing them as sorta pathetic looking.

When Hunter was little, long before he had developed caution as second nature, he had been a recklessly curious thing, who tended to paw at everything he didn’t understand.

He hadn’t understood anything.

This led to a smattering of nicks, bites and burns documented over the years in the glove buried canvas of his skin.

He liked to detach himself from these hands. These scarred, curious hands that had once been small and stupid.

When Hunter lifted his head, Willow snapped hers in the opposite direction, the colour in her cheeks like a dusting of pink pollen, as she plunged her hands into the soil.

Willow’s hands were nothing like Hunter’s. They were small, most of their size in the wide, cushioned palms. Her fingers were short, blunt and practical, with dirt already digging under her neatly clipped nails.

Three cinnamon coloured freckles were splayed across the side of her wrist and Hunter mused, for longer than he should, that if you connected those dots with your fingertip, you could draw a little triangle.

The skin of her hands was drier than the cloudlike softness of her face, and depending on how she fluttered them, he caught one or two peeks of her cracked calluses.

If his bare hand were to touch hers it would be a lot rougher than he originally thought.

Not that he had given it much thought, of course.

By the time Willow’s took note of his staring, Hunter had already cut his gaze away to rake his fingers through the fertilizer. He didn’t know what he was doing just yet but he could certainly make it look like he did.

Willow walked him through the process of planting seeds and yes, her first promise to Hunter had not been broken. It was easy. Ridiculously easy.

This aspect of gardening was swift and relaxing and Hunter didn’t even mind the texture of soil as much as he thought he would. It was soft and crumbly in his hands.

“You know, I always figured plant witches just sprung stuff out of the ground,” Hunter remarked, tracing a useless circle where he had just planted a seed.

“So, Most Powerful Witch in Her Track. What’s the deal with you down on your knees, digging in the dirt?”

Willow wiped back her sweaty forehead and turned a broad grin on him. The only way she could possibly look more in her element was if her ears begun sprouting leaves. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. With a perspective like that, you’d never make it in my track.”

That wasn’t the only reason.

“Enlighten me.”

She hummed thoughtfully, readjusting herself into a more comfortable sitting position.

“This garden was my passion long before my powers developed,” Her gaze pooled with pride as she skimmed across her worlds upon worlds of thriving life. A slight breeze rustled the trees.

“So when I finally started to grow into myself, I had an immediate connection to plant magic. Nobody knew plants like me, nobody loved plants like me and the plants could sense it.”

“But you have magic now. So why do you still have to--?”

“I don’t have to.” She deadpanned, as though it were obvious. “But it’s always nice to put in the extra effort for what you love. I still love plants and they love me. Plus a more hands-on approach enhances our connection,”

Her dimples popped with a smile. “And that in turn enhances my magic! Cool, huh?”

Hunter’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh…Huh. Weird.”

“Weird?”

“Well, it’s just…this is the human way, right? It’s just weird to think there’d actually be value in that.”

“A lot of witches think like that.” Willow said with an exasperated shake of her head. “Which is why nobody believes me when I tell them this is how I got so good.”

“Hey, it’s less competition.” Hunter shrugged.

“I don’t care about that, Hunter.”

“That’s fine. I’ll care about it for you.” He did a sarcastic little spin of his finger. “Less competition. Woo.”

Willow smirked, a teasing glitter in her eye. “Okay, that’s settled. You shan’t tell a soul about the secret of my power, are we clear?”

Hunter set a hand to his heart. “Shan’t tell a—smmph!”

“Ssssshhh” Willow had smushed the pad of her filthy finger against his lips. “I am a soul and you were about to blab.”

“Captain!” Hunter protested. “Stop, that’s gross, it’s—Ugh!”

His face scrunched up in disgust. “Dirt in my mouth, dirt in my mouth, blech, uck,” He frantically spat into the ground as Willow cackled at him.

And when Hunter laughed in response, it was a low warning.

He pounced on her and she shrieked, attempting to bat him away with her flailing hands but Hunter refused to relent until he had successfully gotten her back. Once his thumb had managed to leave a smudge across her cheek, he was satisfied.

But Willow just could not let him have his win and things escalated. It was all a bit of a blur, actually. Around five minutes of rolling in the dirt later, both Willow and Hunter were caked in the stuff and their faces were stretched into lunatic grins.

Willow had announced that there was no clear winner, only for Hunter to say that while he respected her opinion, she was wrong and it was him.

She responded by flicking another spot of soil at him.

By the time Hunter’s giddy buzz died away and he began to worry that returning to the castle like this would draw attention, Willow had already spelled the two of them clean.

He then proceeded to dirty his cheek two minutes later and all she could do was throw her hands up and sigh.

The time spun by and the only determination of the passing hours was the gradual droop of the sun. Hunter had decided that once streaks of pink painted the sky, that was his sign that he must leave.

They continued to chat as they worked, topic fluid as it had been during their morning message thread.

Willow had asked about Hunter’s favourite book at some point and wound up receiving a barrage of information about Ruler’s Reach. It hadn’t occurred to him that she was just asking for a basic synopsis before he had reached the gore dripping contents of chapter 46 in in his page-by-page recount.

He stopped abruptly, figuring that being a fanboy was not the image he wanted to represent, and asked her favourite book in return.

Willow had obliged, eyes alight and happily explained that while she wasn’t a huge reader like Luz or Amity, she had this one beloved novella that had been tucked away under her pillow for years and years and she still wasn’t sick of it, pouring over the memorized words when she had trouble falling asleep.

“It’s not in great condition though. It’s sort of falling apart,” She added with a sheepish smile.

Hunter liked that idea. Willow owning a book with a damaged spine and frayed corners and pages well worn by time.

Just like Hunter.

Maybe, on occasion, they had read during the same hours, vastly different stories for vastly different individuals, and yet everlastingly connected by the same night, the hang of the same moon.

It was a totally dumb and insignificant notion, but Hunter pocketed it in his heart to think about the next late night in that deathly silent castle, as he turned a tattered page and felt the icy bite of being entirely alone.

Willow told him a story pillared on themes of politics, life, and the relationship between witches and nature. It focused on a warrior queen who grew a new kingdom from a forest beneath the sea, only to realize forty years later that she had destroyed the already existing ecosystem that had been there before, and her efforts to undo her hubris.

There were battles peppered here and there, but it lacked the raw emphasis on violence that Hunter’s book had revolved around, which he considered detrimental to his overall review.

He didn’t really get the appeal but Willow certainly did, and he liked to listen to her recite the quotes like poetry, they sounded prettier when she said them then they probably looked written down, her voice imbued with some kind of magnitude that one could only understand if they poured over the pages like she did.

She seemed to care more for the beauty of flowery prose and symbolism than the gaping plot holes. Which Hunter also didn’t get, but she loved it in such a way that he hoped she never stopped loving it.

“Would you, as a plant witch, have a favourite plant, or are you, like, obligated not to?” Hunter asked, once they had pattered around the subject of Willow’s track.

At this point in the afternoon, they had phased out of garden work without noticing. Hunter was now lazing by the goreberry bush, having invented a game of tossing a berry high into the air and Flapjack would swoop in and attempt to snatch it in his beak

He was successful nine times out of ten, though Hunter and Willow still cheered and clapped every time, hyping the little bird into a frenzy.

“Huh.” Said Willow, like Hunter had asked something profound.

“What?”

“I don’t think, for as long as I’ve been alive, that I’ve ever thought about a favourite plant.”

“So, I’m about to witness a milestone.” Hunter said dryly. He quirked a smile. “Cool.”

Willow tutted, winding her arms around her tucked up legs. She plopped her chin on her knees. “Now, that’s just putting pressure on me.”

“Even better.”

“Hmm…” She rocked back and forth as she ruminated, gazing around the expanse of her garden.

“Any day now.”

“It’s a tough question!”

Hunter snorted.

“I think…” She said finally, slow and pensive. “If I were to consider a favourite plant, I would probably just consider my mood and equate it to the language of the flowers.

Hunter clenched a triumphant fist. “So, they can talk!”

This was becoming one of his favourite Willow laughs, where he uttered something that she hadn’t expected and it surprised a laugh right out of her. It made a very pretty jingling sound.

“Not like that. I mean….look at this.” Willow climbed to a stand and drifted past where he was sitting. When she realized he wasn’t making any effort to follow her, she lifted a finger.

“Up.”

Hunter let out a strangled yelp as a plump, fuzzy bloom erupted directly beneath him, successfully launching him to his feet. He was stumbling where he stood, arms thrown out to keep his balance when he processed what the Hell just happened.

“Hey!”

Willow’s giggles wobbled high the air, catching in the breeze.

She led him to a patch of technicolored flowers. They resembled curled up wrinkled paper, all crawling up stems and tight for space. Willow gestured to it all with jazzy hands and a silly little “Ta da~”

“I’ve never seen flowers like this before.” Hunter commented, crouching to his knees for a more thorough examination. “And these are your favourite? In the whole garden?”

“No, they were my favourite plant yesterday. Because that was when I was determined to start my Flyer Derby team. It was game time.” She emphasized, punching a fist into her palm. “And that’s exactly what gladiolus flowers represent. Battle! Strength! Integrity!”

With every declaration, her fist pumped closer and closer to Hunter’s face and if this were anyone else, he would swear he was about to be socked in the jaw.

This new bout of information had piqued his interest, and something was beginning to bubble, to sizzle, to explode.

“There’s a….a code for flowers?” He asked, making absolute certain that he was hearing this right.

“Exactly! Of course there’s also a language behind plants native to the Boiling Isles and it’s pretty much common knowledge. However, there’s barely any witches who are interested in the meanings behind Human Realm flowers. Which is a little sad because I’ve always found them--”

“Teach me.”

Willow’s prattle came to a staggering halt and she gaped at Hunter like he had suddenly turned himself upside-down. She even cocked her head in an attempt to see him right side up. “You—you’re really….? I didn’t think flower language would be your thing.”

“Are you serious? This is exactly my thing.” Hunter corrected her, grinning.

There was potential here for something structured and elaborate, which was very much within the realm of Hunter’s interest, and he was so willing to expand on it further that his head was beginning to spin.

“Really?”

“Yeah! I mean, you said so yourself, when it comes to Human Realm flowers, it’s practically a dead language, right?”

“Yeah?”

“So!” Hunter did not recall leaning into such close proximity to Willow until she took an instinctive step back, and when he clapped his hands on her shoulders, he was too filled with enthusiasm to second guess it.

“Just think of the information you could conceal in a bouquet without risk of it being compromised! Secret plans, strategies, all things confidential. It’s a completely untapped method of communication.”

“Hunter, I don’t think the meanings behind plants are detailed enough for that,”

“Then we’ll add to it! We’ll develop it into something more complex, using the already existent language as a basic structure. It’ll be fun!”

He didn’t realize he was jostling her until he caught the glasses sliding down her nose. The sense of something out of place bothered him, so he absentmindedly pushed them up.

Willow’s eyes were blown wide, which was to be expected when he was spitting out so much information at a possibly overwhelming rate. He thus made an effort to speak slower when he opened his mouth again.

“Look, I picked up texting fast and I know I can pick up this too. Just teach me a basic understanding of deciphering flowers, that’s all I ask.”

At that, Willow’s bewildered face twitched into something mischievous. “And just who exactly would be sending you flowers, Hunter?”

Hunter blinked at her, uncomprehending.

Was she seriously not following him here?

“Who else? You, Captain.”

In what was an extremely perplexing reaction, Willow was so stunned that she blushed pure fire, a strange noise squeaking from the back of her throat.

She turned away from him, fingers gripping the hair from her scalp like she was having some sort of meltdown, before seizing tight on her pigtails.

Hunter stared at her, wondering the extent of her reservations about awesome new forms of language. He had expected her to be a lot more enthusiastic about the whole concept of what was essentially texting but with flowers. Now, he knew Willow loved both those things, so what was all this about?

He inched closer, attempting to peer at the face directed firmly on the ground. This fuss was truly bizarre.

“Captain?” He murmured, voice thick with hesitation.

She chanced a glance up, only to immediately lock eyes with Hunter. He picked up the soft stutter of her breath and the wild flare of jungle green irises, but before he could say anything more, she had shoved him away by the face.

“Ack-- ” Hunter grunted, attempting to pry away the hand that was squishing up his nose.

“Fine, Hunter.” Sighed Willow, and once she finally let her hand fall, he got a clear look at her.

The ghost of a full face flush still blotched in her cheeks but she had regained enough composure to smile. It was that peculiar smile that Hunter had seen touch her lips quite a few time today, and the only emotion he could compare it to was exasperation.

“I’ll teach you some flowers. Maybe we’ll start tomorrow. And…” Her voice lowered, gaze retreating to the ground. “Maybe once you’re semi-fluent, I’ll send you one or two messages. Maybe.”

Hunter guessed that he had failed to disguise how pleased he was, as Willow promptly laughed at the look on his face.

“You still haven’t answered my original question.” He said as he followed her through the garden. Because if there was one thing Hunter was becoming accustomed to, it was following Willow around.

“Which question?”

“What’s your favourite plant? Today’s favourite plant?”

Willow’s footsteps halted. She sucked down on her bottom lip in consideration before fixing a look on Hunter that he could not hope to untangle the meaning behind. Her eyes travelled from his bare fidgeting hands all the way to the stray forelock that dangled over his eye.

“I haven’t decided yet.”

#huntlow #the owl house #toh #toh hunter #willow park

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kazemitsuyuri · 3 years

Text

Sweater weather

summary: you convinced yourself to make him a scarf for the cold seasons. with the quite unpleasant results, you expected him to hate it. but bakugou left you with nothing but butterflies.

genre: hcs, fluffy fluff 😊

warnings: swearing

a/n: funny how i'm writing about cold seasons while it's literally july lol anyways enjoy this little piece (kinda like a part two of "warm on a cold night") 🤩

so it was the cold seasons

this year, the weather was especially cold with temperatures going down daily

last time, bakugou made you a damn sweater (read here) which you absolutely adored

so it would be reasonable that you wanted to get him something in return to fend off the cold

you initially planned on buying a scarf from the stores

but looking at the sweater he took his precious time and effort into crocheting for you, your guilt insisted you on knitting him one yourself

now... you're not the best at doing crafts as you'd describe yourself as clumsy and uncreative, not to mention your laziness

and bakugou spoiling you, having you do absolutely nothing when he's around is to blame

yet you decided to step up your game and knit him a damn scarf

how hard could that be?

well unbeknownst to you, this wasn't as easy as you thought

you didn't even know how to knit to begin with and your craftsmanship wasn't the best per say

but the important thing is that you try, right?

you used orange and black wool because when you look at those two colours, all you could think of is bakugou

and after sprinting accross town to buy the supplies, watching tutorial videos online, cursing at your inability to be patient, almost crying and giving up, you've finally finished

the results were... not what you've anticipated

and by that i mean it was completely a disaster

it was shaped like a scarf, yes, but the colours were all mixed up and did not form little "x"s like you wanted

"if i were him i'd never put this thing around my neck," you mumbled, holding up the piece while frowning to yourself

ugh but you tried so hard on it too so you didn't really have the heart to throw it away

so instead, you hid it under your pillow and went to do some house chores

you had to cook dinner because he had a late night patrol shift which meant you don't cook = both of you starve, so you got busy and kinda forgot about the scarf

remeber how you hid the thing under the pillow? the one on the bed? the bed in the room you two shared?

gee, what a great hiding spot, he would have never found it

he found it that very night, having had an early leave from work

after showering, he saw some wool poking out your pillow

he got curious and so he took it out of its brilliant hidding place

you panicked when he asked you about it

you tried to lie, tried.

but apparently heroes can detect lies just as well as policemen, or was it just because it was bakugou you were lying to?

"y/n, you made this?"

"yes, i mean i tried to make it for you. i really wanted to give you something in return for this sweater," you pointed to the one you were wearing, "but then it... didn't come out as well as i hoped..."

now,,, as blunt and honest as bakugou was, you were expecting a laugh to the face, a harsh feedback, something like "this looks weird as fuck"

you've gotten quite used to those, they hurt sometimes but wouldn't hurt you too much

you knew him like the back of your hand, you trust and love him so those words don't really mind you much

but all he did was held it to his chest, observing it with his ruby red eyes while nothing escaped the lips you kissed every night

you reached out your hand to retrieve it, thinking he didn't like it but didn't want to hurt your feelings,

"it's okay, katsuki. i know it doesn't look good, i'll try to make you another one, of if you want i can just go to the store to buy an actual scarf"

but the moment you touched the scarf, he huffed and turned away from you

to your surprise, he wrapped the scarf around his neck

his back was facing you so you couldn't see his blushing face, his nose hidden in the scarf, slowly inhaling the scent of the hand lotion you always used

you protested, still believing he was pretending to like it, "it's really not good, you know what, i'll buy you a decent scarf tomorrow."

he turned around, catching you off guard

his arm snaked around your waist and pulled you into a hug

"i don't want some shitty scarf from the fucking stores, idiot. this one... smells like you."

you hugged him back, smiling ear to ear, your heart melted like butter as he kissed your cheek, his way of thanking you

but then, you'd keep asking him if he was sure that he didn't want another scarf

to which he replied by flicking your forehead lightly and scoffed, hand holding up the scarf on his neck, "no. i like this and this only. this is the best fucking scarf in the universe."

and he actually really loved it

true, it wasn't the best looking, but you - the person he loves so much - made it for him

you're his damn partner, of course he knew your clumsiness and your imperfections

but he loved you no matter what, because you're... well, you.

he wore it constantly, at home, at work, on missions...

it's like how often mikasa wore eren's red scarf from attack on titan - ALL THE TIME

he refused to take it off

the only times he took it off were to take showers or to sleep, and of course to wash it

the heroes and interns that worked at his agency would awe at the sight of him wearing your scarf; they felt all fuzzy inside seeing how much their boss loved his beloved,

while you were embarrassed to see your disastrous creation being seen by everyone

which he would always reassured you, "if anyone talks shit about it, i'll blow their ass into outer space."

oh and the teasing from the bakusquad

no, they weren't teasing you. it was him.

"bakubro is a total softie for y/n~" -sero

or "dude have you even washed it? i mean you've been wearing it everyday🤷‍♂️" -kaminari

they all got blasted into space and lived happily ever after:) the end. lol

nevertheless, bakugou would let you know he loved your gift when ever you felt insecure about it

"a little bit of practice and you can knit our future kids some clothes, babe"

"oh yeah? how many kids are we talking about here? so i could buy enough wool for them" you joyfully joked back

"a fucking soccer team"

"KATSUKI!"

🤭🥴

367 notes · View notes

edendaphne · 3 years

Text

“Discordant Sonata” Chapter 21

>>Click here to read on Ao3<<

>>Click here to read on Wattpad<<

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CHAPTER 21: IMPROVVISANDO

Music glossary: Improvvisando: with improvisation

Glossary: Wǎnshàng hǎo : Good evening Shīfù : Teacher/Master

(Mood music: Night of Beijing - Jia Peng Fang)

That evening

Marinette fidgeted with her napkin, occasionally sipping her now-lukewarm tea while sitting at the kitchen bar counter. Chat Noir sat on the stool beside her in silence, also nursing a half-emptied cup. She checked the clock for what seemed to be the hundredth time in the last few minutes.

“It’s about that time. I’ll head up to my room to let Ladybug inside. Will you get the door if your visitor arrives before she does?”

“Sure,” he replied, uneasy but compliant, doing his best to avoid staring at the black eye she’d received earlier that day.

Marinette set her cup in the sink and headed upstairs, leaving Chat alone with his thoughts.

He tried to keep his fast-beating heart in check, subconsciously clenching his jaw. It was finally happening. He was going to meet “him”: The Guardian of the Miraculous.

Following the events at school earlier that day, Adrien had walked Marinette to her house, where her family invited him to stay for a cup of tea until his “ride” arrived to pick him up. Of course, he’d eagerly accepted. It was nice to interact with the family as Adrien instead of just as Chat Noir.

After leaving, he hid away and transformed so he could sneak in through Marinette’s balcony as he usually did.

Upon transforming, however, he found a series of voice mails from Ladybug that she’d left during Adrien’s attempted abduction. Her voice was frantic. He could hear the urgency and distress in her tone, and a heavy blanket of guilt settled onto his shoulders as he listened.

The first message asked him to come to their school, that it was an emergency, to please call her back as soon as possible. He chewed on his lip, wanting nothing more than to hide away in a cave in shame.

The second one must have been left right after she’d rescued Adrien and left him at the school nurse; she’d called to let Chat know the incident had passed. Then she asked if he was okay, since she hadn’t heard back from him. He sighed. Typical Ladybug, always worrying and thinking about others first, even when she was having a rough time.

The last voicemail caused a trail of ice to trickle down his spine as he listened. Ladybug informed him that she had scheduled an impromptu meeting with the Guardian at the Dupain-Cheng’s house that evening, with Marinette’s permission, and that it was of utmost importance that he attend.

He shivered as goosebumps appeared on his arms and he swallowed hard. What was the purpose of this meeting? Was he in trouble for not showing up today during ‘Adrien’s’ kidnapping? And why meet here, at the Dupain home, instead of somewhere more private and away from civilians? What was the Guardian like? Would Chat get reprimanded and treated with disdain for having been their enemy for all these years, or would he be understanding and forgiving?

More importantly, would he have to disclose his identity to him, or to both him and Ladybug, to prove his loyalty? He winced at the mere thought of it. The last thing he wanted was for Ladybug to think less of him, or to pity him. Especially after the kidnapping attempt.

Additionally, if they were to learn that Hawkmoth was Gabriel Agreste, would they want to confront him head-on? Adrien didn’t feel ready for that, for several reasons.

First of all, would he be able to protect Ladybug, as he’d promised her? Hawkmoth had shown that he’d developed some sort of new power. Either that, or an entirely different person had become involved and was helping him. In any case, he didn’t know what exactly they were dealing with anymore.

Secondly, if the time came and he had to hurt or even kill his father, he didn’t know if he’d be able to do it. Yes, Gabriel was a monster and Adrien despised what he had become. But what if the damage was reversible and there was still a way to bring him back to normal? He just had to know, before doing something he might permanently regret.

The sudden ringing of the doorbell startled Chat out of his thoughts and he practically fell off his seat.

He ran to answer the front door, looking to make sure no one else was around. At the last second, he remembered to detransform and slip on the hood of his zip-up sweater (the one Marinette had gifted him), pulling a scarf over his nose and mouth so he wouldn’t be recognized if anyone outside were to catch a glimpse of him.

He looked out through the peephole, only to see the very top of someone’s head, balding with grey hair, and a little bit of their eyebrows.

Huh. Somehow Adrien thought the Guardian would be a bit… taller?

He turned the knob and the door opened, its squeaking hinges somehow louder than usual. Peeking out from the side like a scared tortoise, he checked to make sure the individual matched the description he was given, then stepped back to allow the door to swing open all the way. The older man stepped inside, closing it behind him.

“Hello,” Adrien said meekly, bowing his head slightly. “You must be…”

“Yes. I am Wang Fu,” he replied, bowing politely in greeting. “It is very good to see you again, Adrien Agreste.”

While Adrien’s face scarf efficiently concealed the way his jaw dropped when the elder man called him by name, there was no hiding the way his eyes grew to the size of dinner plates.

“W- what?!” he sputtered. “How did you—”

The man called Fu chuckled, stroking his beard. “It was a long time ago, but we’ve met before.”

Adrien lowered his scarf and frowned in concentration, falling silent for a few seconds. Then it dawned on him.

“YOU!!” he gaped. “I do remember you! It was my first day of lycée! You fell down in front of our school and I helped you up. It was you who put the cat miraculous in my bag that day, wasn’t it?”

“That is correct,” Fu confirmed.

“But why me? You could’ve picked anyone, so why did you choose someone like me?”

Fu’s smile faltered when he said this. Adrien had said “anyone”, but he could see that Fu knew what he’d actually meant. Why did you choose someone as broken as me?

The man folded his arms behind him, considering his answer. “Guardians are bestowed with several powers and abilities. One of them is to locate and select good candidates for the miraculous jewels. And so I was led to you.”

Chat grimaced in confusion. “So if you already knew it was me, why bother to ‘test’ me?”

“My powers as a guardian may lead me to a potential candidate, but ultimately the choice is still mine to make. It was a simple test, but it showed me what your first instinct would be if you saw someone in need. The answer I received was satisfactory. You were meant to be Ladybug’s Chat Noir.”

Adrien sighed, running a shaky hand through his hair. “Honestly, a couple of months ago I wouldn’t have known whether to hug you because I got to become Chat Noir, or whether to punch you because I had to become Chat Noir. But it’s because of you that I got to meet Ladybug, so I am grateful to you for that. It’s good to finally meet you. Officially.”

He extended his hand and Fu took it with a smile, giving it a firm shake.

Afterwards, Adrien’s gaze fell, brows scrunching together. “I can’t believe it. All this time, you knew. You could’ve told Ladybug who I was years ago. She could have figured out a way to take away my miraculous while I wasn’t transformed, like at school, and she would’ve had one less enemy to deal with. It would’ve––” he pursed his lips, expression full of shame, and he lifted his eyes to meet Fu’s once again, “–it would’ve made it easier for her. She would’ve suffered less if I’d been out of the picture. So why didn’t you?”

Fu’s countenance became somber, his eyes carrying years of pain and regret. He took a few moments to consider his words. “When I was a boy, barely a teenager, something terrible happened. Hundreds of innocent people died, and it was all because of me.”

Chat almost reeled back as if he’d been smacked across the face, puzzled about the sudden switch in topic. He remembered Ladybug briefly mentioning this a few months ago, on the night they danced together. He waited for Fu to elaborate.

“I was only trying to protect them,” the older man explained. “After I was orphaned as a child, the monks of the Guardian Temple took me in. They became my family. They were stern, but fair and kind. It was a tough childhood, but I was happy.” He sighed. “However, there were those who would try to steal the miraculous and use their power selfishly. It was an endless struggle. Many were lost over the years. I longed for peace. I wanted my family to be safe, I wanted us to be left alone. So I did what I thought would be a better route, an easier one; one with less hardship and bloodshed. You see, one day while I was supposed to be on guard duty, I sneaked away to where the miraculous box was kept. I put on both the ladybug and cat miraculouses and used them to make a wish: I wished that our enemies would disappear.”

The older man exhaled, squeezing his eyes shut, the memories of what came next clearly still haunting him. Adrien couldn’t help but hold his breath while he listened.

“It worked,” Fu resumed, voice quiet and slightly shaky. “But as you might have suspected, there is always a price to pay; a balance that must be maintained. Therefore, because of my wish, all the monks in our Guardian temple and the innocent people of the surrounding village were ripped away from me, along with our enemies. The wish was technically fulfilled, but I never suspected that the cost would be that high. I have had to live with that in my conscience for over a hundred years.”

He clasped his hands behind his back, appearing more vulnerable than Adrien would have ever expected. He continued, “Since that time, I have both seen and caused much death in my lifetime, protecting the miraculous box alone as the last Guardian. So, you see, if there was even one person I could save, I had to try. I wanted to trust in the miraculouses, like I should have decades ago, during my misguided attempt to control the outcome of a complicated situation.”

Adrien absently rubbed his arm, pondering Fu’s words. “Looking back,” he began, “I can see the reasoning behind a lot of Ladybug’s decisions and principles, now that I know your story.”

“Indeed. Ladybug is a remarkable young lady; I knew that even back then. When I would ask her if she was willing to risk her life for the sake of a stranger, she would say yes, every single time. If anyone can persevere for the greater good, it was her. Was it unfair of me? Probably. Have I asked too much from her? Absolutely. Have I made mistakes while trying to guide her? Yes. Many of them.” He put his hand on Adrien’s shoulder. “I wanted to save you that day by giving you the cat miraculous. But I never would have guessed that it would also doom you and force you into a role of servitude. I hope that you will forgive me for this.”

Adrien’s heart pained for Fu as he admitted his guilt. “You couldn’t have known it would’ve turned out that way. It wasn’t your fault,” he insisted.

Fu shrugged. “I try to tell myself that, but I can’t quite convince myself. The situation made sense once Ladybug told me about Hawkmoth.”

“You mean, when she told you that Hawkmoth was my father?” Adrien asked.

“Yes,” Fu replied. “I had my suspicions, because it would explain your motivations, but I had no proof, no way of finding out for sure. It made sense that Hawkmoth would be Gabriel Agreste. The butterfly miraculous requires its wielder to be creative and inventive, since it relies on their ability to convert the subject’s emotions into a source of power. And he had the motivation.”

Adrien hummed in agreement.

“Additionally, such a clever and talented individual getting ahold of the cat miraculous would be incredibly dangerous. I’d be lying if I said I had never considered taking your miraculous away. But even still, it was safer to let it all play out. I didn’t want to repeat past mistakes. And if Hawkmoth was Gabriel Agreste, your fate if you were to lose the cat miraculous would have been disastrous. Maybe it would have even alerted him about the presence of a Guardian in Paris. But now that we know the truth, we can plan accordingly.”

Adrien gulped. So Fu had considered taking his miraculous away before. “A-are you going to tell Ladybug who I am?”

Fu shook his head. “It is not up to me to decide when it will be right for there to be no more secrets between you two. I only know that it is not yet time.”

Adrien curiously tilted his head, brows furrowed in confusion. “How do you know that?”

As Fu started to answer, Adrien heard a doorknob twist open behind him and he quickly pulled his scarf back over his features.

The door opened and Ladybug’s voice exclaimed, “There you are! What are you two doing out here in the entryway?”

Adrien cleared his throat, then stammered, “R-right, pardon my manners. Please, come in.”

Fu walked past him, entering the living area. He took Ladybug’s hands between his, shaking them briefly, and said, “Wǎnshàng hǎo, Ladybug.”

With a small bow, Ladybug replied, “Wǎnshàng hǎo, shīfù. Thank you for coming at such short notice. Please, have a seat.”

Chat entered the room, having transformed now, and stepped forward to greet her.

He stopped short, realizing that he wasn’t quite sure how to greet her since last night’s development in their relationship, not to mention being very conscious of the Guardian watching them. He settled for a hug, which she returned, squeezing him tightly, and added a quick, discreet peck on his cheek. He smiled, feeling his face heat up.

Pleasantries aside and everyone seated, it was Ladybug who spoke first.

“Thank you both for being here. There’s a lot we need to talk about.”

----------

A transformed Wang Fu stood at the bedroom window, curtains drawn, chanting in a language that neither Ladybug nor Chat Noir understood, holding the last of several metallic talismans he’d blessed and scattered around the room. The pair kept their eyes on him, marveling at the efficiency and care that he put into each incantation. There was something sacred, even holy about this ritual. They could feel powerful magic emanating from his form, invisible bursts of energy swirling about the room, dancing all around them in a silent symphony.

Ladybug cast a furtive glance at her partner. He’d been quiet for a little while, after learning about his attempted akumatization the night before. Ladybug had told him that it was Marinette who let her know, and that Plagg was the one who had informed her.

She’d called Master Fu before going to school to let him know what happened last night, and he promised he would figure out a solution. He’d spent all day preparing these special talismans, which would ward off akumas and keep them from entering this room. But only this room. He wasn’t strong enough to cast such a potent, long-term spell over a larger area; especially not at his age.

Fu, or rather, Jade Turtle, was silent for a few moments after placing the last charm, a silver one with indecipherable symbols carved into it, then turned around to face the couple.

“The talismans are almost done being enchanted,” he said, pretty out of breath, beads of sweat present on his brow. “There is one more thing that needs to be done. But I think I’ll need your help for this, Ladybug.”

Ladybug stepped forward in response. “Sure, Master. What is it?”

“I would do it myself, but, well… let’s just say I’m not as young as I used to be.”

“Of course Master, anything you need. Just tell me what to do.”

Fu removed his bracelet, the turtle miraculous, and turned back to his civilian self, then handed the jewelry to her. His kwami, Wayzz, floated next to them awaiting instruction.

“If you could transform with my miraculous to finish the protection spell, I’d very much appreciate it. I’ll show you what to do when you’re ready.”

The young woman gaped at him, having never transformed into any hero other than Ladybug before.

“Oh! R-really?? S-sure! No problem...” She took the bracelet hesitantly, studying it like she’d never seen it before, then excused herself to the ensuite for privacy.

In the bathroom, Ladybug detransformed and removed her earrings, handing them to Tikki for safekeeping. She put on the emerald stone bracelet, staring at it as if it might try to crawl away from her if she wasn’t careful enough.

She squeezed her eyes shut in preparation. “Wayzz, shell on.”

Jade green light shone around the bathroom, and Marinette felt the magic of the turtle miraculous engulf her form. When it passed, she gulped and opened her eyes, lifting them to the mirror to catch a glimpse of her newly transformed self.

“Whoa.”

The heroine stared at her reflection across the way. She ran her fingers over the various bits of fabric and armor, taking the time to appreciate the feel and texture. Somehow, she felt quite powerful. Tough. Solid. Almost like a sentient brick wall.

“Wow, Marinette! You look incredible!” Tikki whispered to her.

“Aww, thank you Tikki,” she replied. “It feels so different, but it’s also really cool.”

Sparing one last glance into the mirror, she finally emerged from the bathroom. Fu was seated at the desk chair across the room, taking a short breather. Chat was speaking to him in hushed tones, but turned around when he heard her re-enter the bedroom.

His jaw dropped and he gasped.

“Oh my God, you’re adorable!” Chat blurted out. He caught himself and turned tomato red, then stuttered, “Umm! S-sorry, I––”

Ladybug (Lady...turtle??) giggled, stepping forward to stand beside him once again. “Thanks,” she replied shyly, reaching up to tuck some hair behind her ear as she usually did when she was nervous, but her hand bumped into her suit’s hood instead. Not quite sure what to do with her hands, she folded them in front of her as she awaited further instruction.

Tikki flew in front of Master Fu, bowing her head in greeting. “It’s good to see you again, Master!”

“Likewise. I hope you are doing well,” he greeted back.

Tikki flew over to Chat Noir, to say hello to him as well. “Hello, Chat Noir! It’s nice to formally meet you,” she chirped happily.

Chat beamed and answered, “Tikki, right? It’s great to finally meet you too! I must admit, you look a little different than I thought you would.”

Tikki giggled. “Did you think I’d be more insect-like? Maybe with six legs and an exoskeleton?”

Chat shrugged timidly. “Well, I mean… Maybe…?” ‘Ladybug’ and Tikki looked at each other and snickered at his reply.

Fu smiled at their interactions fondly, recalling times spent with loved ones, allies no longer here. With a small grunt, he stood up to continue the protection ritual.

“This way, Ladybug. Chat Noir and Tikki, please stand over there; we’ll need a bit of space for this. You might feel a bit tired once this is finished, so be sure to get plenty of rest tonight,” he instructed.

Tikki perched on Chat’s shoulder as he moved towards the edge of the room. They spoke in hushed voices as Fu instructed Ladybug and had her repeat phrases from his notes.

While they waited, Chat turned to Tikki and whispered, “By the way, I wanted to thank you... for helping Ladybug and keeping safe all these years. She means a lot to me.”

If kwamis could blush, Chat was sure that’s what Tikki’s face showed at the moment. “It’s been a pleasure to be her kwami. She’s the best! I’m glad you’ve gotten to know her and see what a sweet person she is.”

Chat smiled, cheeks dusted pink. “I am too.”

------

Many minutes passed, and Ladybug and Fu finished casting the protection ward. Chat helped Fu gather his things as Ladybug excused herself to transform back to her regular hero self.

As she re-emerged from the bathroom, Chat handed her a glass of water and invited her to sit on the bed so she could catch her breath and gather back some of her energy. “Welcome back, Lily-bug,” he greeted her with a wink. Ladybug beamed at him, accepting the water and taking a seat next to him.

Fu stood beside them, having finished gathering his belongings in a satchel. As he gave Ladybug time to rest, he asked, “Do either of you have any questions about the protection ritual, or about anything else?”

Ladybug replied, “I actually do have some questions, sir.”

Fu nodded.

“Master... why did Hawkmoth attempt to akumatize Chat Noir last night? If he’s tried it before, why did he not succeed during other nights?” Ladybug’s questions came faster once she got started. “Since he tried to akumatized Chat, does that mean he knows where he lives now? Is Chat even safe here anymore? What about the Dupains? Are they gonna be okay? How much does Hawkmoth know?”

Chat looked at Fu expectantly, realizing that he, too, had those same questions.

Fu replied, “The owner of the butterfly miraculous sends out his butterflies in search of a specific strong emotion, but is not aware of their location until after the host accepts it. He is able to learn some vague details about why they are feeling that certain emotion. My guess is that he was able to locate him while he was having a nightmare. So, no. He does not know that Chat Noir lives here. His powers have limitations, just like you do with yours. He is more powerful since he is older and more experienced, but even he can’t overextend the capabilities of his miraculous.”

He paused, stroking his beard, and contemplated. Then he asked, “Did something happen last night to make your emotions different from what they normally are?”

Ladybug and Chat Noir looked at each other, blushing furiously, stammering as they attempted to answer without divulging too much unnecessary information.

Fu raised an eyebrow, then chuckled knowingly, raising his hands to stop them. “It’s okay, I don’t need to know the details.”

“Umm! I-it’s not what you think!”

“M-master, don’t misunderstand–”

“Y-you see–”

“What happened was…”

“My guess is–” Fu interrupted, “–That Hawkmoth sensed your great joy last night, and became enraged. He couldn’t stand the thought of you being happy because it would mean that he is in the wrong, and his pride won’t allow him to accept that.”

Chat and Ladybug fell silent, looking downcast, as the explanation both made sense yet was immensely disheartening.

“There’s something else, Master,” Ladybug spoke again. “Something happened at school today. Akumas, but they vanished without a trace. I mentioned it to you earlier today over the phone. Have you ever heard of such a thing?”

“Ah, yes. And all that remained was two white feathers?” Fu asked.

“That’s right. Could the akumas still be out there because they haven’t been purified?”

Fu shook his head. “Allow me to explain. Firstly, as Ladybug already knows, two of the miraculouses in my box went missing when the temple of the guardians was destroyed: the butterfly and the peacock. One of them fell into Hawkmoth’s hands sometime within the last few years. But after hearing about what happened at the school today, we can now confirm that Hawkmoth is currently in possession of not just one, but of both of them. Either that, or he has someone else working under him.”

“The Peacock… of course!” Ladybug gasped, voice filled with dread.

Chat looked at her, then back at Fu, waiting for him to elaborate.

“The Guardian’s Grimoire calls them ‘sentimonsters’, mystical beings created out of thin air using the peacock miraculous, which harnesses the power of emotions. They can be created and destroyed whenever the wielder desires. Usually they are simple creatures, designed to be helpers or perform smaller tasks. However, they can also be more sophisticated, even indistinguishable from other humans, although an enormous amount of energy is required to create these complex sentimonsters. One can even ‘borrow’ the appearance of an already existing person. In this case, Hawkmoth chose not to give the sentimonsters the ability to speak, so they couldn’t divulge their secrets, in the event that they were caught.”

Ladybug shuddered. “What the hell?! That is so creepy.”

“Indeed.” Fu looked over at Chat, who had remained pensive throughout this exchange. “Any thoughts, Chat Noir?”

Chat looked up at him, trying to figure out how to phrase what he wanted to say. “I… I think I remember seeing the peacock miraculous in my father’s safe once. I only caught a glimpse of it; I just thought it was some of my mom’s jewelry he kept as a memento. I had no idea it was a miraculous. Otherwise, I would’ve had Plagg help me break into the safe and taken it with me when I ran away from home. There are so many things my father never told me… I’m sorry I don’t know more.”

Ladybug reached out to hold his hand, giving it a small squeeze, which he returned.

“You’ve done more than you know, believe me,” Fu replied as he unconsciously squeezed his satchel, which contained the electronic tablet where his copy of the Grimoire was stored.

He stuck his hand in his pocket and stepped forward, handing Chat Noir a card with his cell phone number.

“Call me if you have any questions, either of you. Even if it’s the middle of the night. Wayzz will make sure I hear my phone if it rings; he’s a much lighter sleeper than I am.”

“Thank you, Master Fu,” replied Chat, smiling. “And thank you too, Wayzz.”

“Thanks, Wayzz. Thank you, Master.” said Ladybug.

“Also, I must remind you once again that your identities must remain a secret until things settle down. There are negative effects that could happen if you are revealed too soon, and I’m not sure what they could be; but it’s best not to find out.”

Ladybug frowned. “But when will that be, Master? It would be so much easier to be able to communicate without having to transform.”

Fu shrugged helplessly. “I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for that. We must allow things to continue to develop on their own. I'm sure we’ll know when the time is right.”

Ladybug let out a displeased sigh. Chat nodded, glancing away with a worried look in his eyes. Despite Ladybug’s eagerness (and despite his own curiosity), waiting suited him just fine for now.

After saying their goodbyes, Fu left the pair behind and let himself out with a final wave. The two heroes remained in the bedroom, contemplating what had been discussed.

After sitting in silence for a few moments, unsure of what to say next, a lightbulb seemed to light up inside Ladybug’s brain, and she began typing away into her yo-yo communicator. Chat watched curiously, wondering what she was up to.

Moments later, she hopped out of the bed to jot something down onto a sticky note from Chat’s desk, then walked back.

“Just because we can’t tell each other who we are doesn’t mean we shouldn’t be able to contact each other when we’re not transformed. Kwamis aren’t pagers, after all.”

“Pagers? What decade is this, anyway?” Chat razzed.

“Hush, you,” she mock scolded him, suppressing a smile. “ Anyway! Here’s my brand new, Chat Noir-exclusive email address,” she said, handing him the note with a wink.

Chat’s eyes lit up. “Wait, really??” He unfolded the paper as if it was a Christmas present, excited to read the contents. His eyes widened and he burst out laughing.

“ ‘[email protected]’ ?!”

“What, you don't think I’m great?” she teased, striking an exaggerated, Chat Noir-style pose.

Chat’s snickering only intensified and he nodded. “Oh, for sure! The greatest!” he agreed.

Ladybug smirked. “I made it just now,” she explained. “So you’re the only one who knows about it. We may not be able to hang out in person yet, but I’d still like to talk to you during the day. Plus, it’ll come in handy for emergencies.”

“Buginette you’re a genius!”

Ladybug giggled, feeling her face warm up despite herself. “M-maybe we can message each other when you have some free time? I mean… now that you don’t have to worry about getting akumatized in your own room anymore. Your bedroom’s pretty much the safest place in Paris now, thanks to Master Fu.”

“And thanks to you, as well, my dear ‘Lily-bug’,” Chat reached up to take her hand, gently pulling her down to sit next to him. “I feel much better already. And knowing I can talk to you anytime makes me feel even safer.”

She scooted closer, setting her head down on his shoulder. “Y-you know… you make me feel safe too, Kitty.”

Chat’s insides twisted into pleasant little knots, suddenly feeling rather warm. “Really?”

He felt her smile as her hand squeezed his arm, her other one sneaking across their laps to wrap her fingers around his own. “Yeah. I know we’ve only been allies for a short time, but I’ve already lost count of all the times you’ve saved me or sacrificed yourself to help others. Our partnership grows stronger every day, and I think Hawkmoth knows it. He knows we’re stronger together. And it’s only a matter of time until we can be together without these masks too, I just know it.”

He turned towards her, putting his fingers under her chin and lifting her head to have her look up at him. Their eyes met, her pupils dilating as they focused on his own, and he could see a bright blush blooming on her cheeks.

“Me too,” he whispered, as he brought their lips together.

She blissfully melted into him, letting out a small noise of contentment. She deepened the kiss, reaching behind his head to caress his hair with her slender fingers. Their kisses and breaths mingled together and they lost track of everything else around them.

A little while later, they faintly heard the grandfather clock striking the hour in the living room, then some noises as the Dupains shuffled upstairs from the bakery to get ready for bed.

Ladybug pulled back and they separated, his lips still tingling from her touch.

“I… I should probably get going soon,” she lamented with a small shrug. “It’s starting to get late.”

“Would you like me to walk you home? Or rather, to somewhere around your neighborhood?”

She shook her head. “That’s not necessary. Besides, I’m closer than you might think,” she added a bit cryptically.

“I wish you could stay,” he said softly, reaching up to tuck some hair behind her ear. He gave her nose a tiny smooch. “Just a teeeeensy bit more?” he begged, giving her the best kitten eyes he could muster.

Ladybug giggled shyly, cheeks still dusted with pink. She gave his own nose a peck, her lips soft and inviting. “Well… I guess I could stay just a little bit longer,” she said with a smirk.

“Purr- fect,” he said, capturing her lips once again.

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

Note:

Many of the events in the “Volpina” and “Collector” episodes happened in this AU, albeit heavily modified to suit the story. Adrien found the grimoire in his father’s safe, took it out to study it, and Lila stole it. Since Adrien didn’t act impressed about Lila knowing Ladybug, she didn’t magnify the lie and claim to be Ladybug’s best friend; therefore, Ladybug never showed up to call her out on her lie, and Lila was never akumatized.

However, Tikki did see the book in the dumpster and retrieved it, and Marinette showed it to Master Fu. After Gabriel discovered the book was missing and pulled Adrien out of school, Fu made a copy so that Marinette could return it to Gabriel, and Adrien was allowed to attend school again. Currently, Adrien has no idea that this is how Fu acquired his grimoire; he merely assumes that Fu has always had his own copy.

Of course, Marinette began to suspect that Gabriel might be Hawkmoth because he owned the grimoire. Gabriel akumatized himself into the Collector in order to avoid suspicion, and with Chat’s help, almost succeeded in obtaining the ladybug miraculous. Ultimately, Ladybug outsmarted him, got him to accidentally “collect” Chat, and succeeded in purifying his akuma. But by then, Gabriel had “proven” he was an innocent civilian and Ladybug dismissed his potential involvement as Hawkmoth.

----

P.S. Another note: Certain things that are similar but not identical to canon have been in my outline since the beginning, so I apologize if they're a little confusing (such as the protection talismans being similar to Ladybug's akuma victims' lucky charms or the destruction/disappearance of the Guardian Temple)

#Miraculous Ladybug #Ladynoir #Enemies AU #enemies to lovers #Marinette Dupain Cheng #Adrien Agreste #Chat Noir #Ladybug #fanfiction #Discordant Sonata #ML AU #aged up #Eden writes

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shutupanddance · 3 years

Note

New follower here! Could you write a piece with Benoit Blanc and a reader who is a shy timid secret admirer who gives him little gifts on his desk then sneaks out. But Blanc being the awesome detective he is finds out and ends up giving the reader a little kiss on the cheek?

Gracias!

Adorable!! Love it!! Enjoy ;)

It had been happening for months now, on and off. The detective would return to his office after being out in the field, and find something gift-wrapped on his desk. Sometimes in a paper bag, sometimes in wrapping paper, sometimes simply tied with a ribbon.

The thing is, you were leaving them.

A friend of yours had been helped by Benoit Blanc, and you were involved. Since then, you have followed every one of his cases, and left little tokens of appreciation on his desk while they were being solved.

You figured he deserved it, after all the service he put in for the community. And for how he helped your friend. Secretly, though, you just thought he was an amazing guy, and wanted your gifts to send that message.

Today, you have the same goal. You just left Blanc’s office, and are now making your way back home, having deposited a simple candle with an ornate holder.

You smile against the biting cold, shiver, and pull your coat around you. Your scarf had blow away just a few days ago while you were out ice skating, and you haven’t had time to replace it. You find that the cold doesn’t do as much damage, though, when your cheeks are already pink with excitement and happiness.

You don’t notice that anything is different when you first enter your apartment. It isn’t until after you’ve changed into some warm clothes and put a kettle on that you realize there is something on your kitchen island. A gift.

It’s wrapped in decorative paper, covered in blue snowflakes and glitter, and tied with twine.

A small gasp escapes you, and you feel the air whoosh over your lips. What is this?

You gingerly untie the twine, and the paper falls away. Inside is a beautiful, deep purple scarf. To replace the one I lost, you realize.

You’re trying to figure out who could have left this. And why would they give it to you? How did they know you lost your scarf? You pull it out from the paper and begin to wrap it around your neck, when you notice a note, tucked away in the fabric folds.

Y/N -

I don’t mean to intrude (although I know you have already been in my office), but I believe you are in need of a scarf. I hope this serves you well.

- B.B.

You feel many emotions run through you at once. Panic, guilt, embarrassment, but then surprise, warmth, and excitement. And something even softer that you can’t quite place.

Without giving yourself time to think, you grab your coat, tie the scarf snuggly around your neck, and head back out into the cold. You know the way to Benoit Blanc’s office well, so it doesn’t take long.

You practically burst in, to find the detective lighting the candle you had just left.

Benoit looks at you for awhile before setting down the lighter. You’re smiling, even though you’re a bit embarrassed. He notices your neck.

“I’m assuming you like the scarf?” He chuckles. You nod.

“It’s beautiful.”

There’s a strange moment of silence, and you really aren’t sure what to say. Thankfully, Benoit takes care of that for you.

“I simply wanted to thank you for your gifts. I know you have a great appreciation for what I do, though I can’t quite understand it, and to have an admirer during the tougher cases has lightened my day many times.

I suspected it was you, but I didn’t want to assume. I was following you a few days ago to confirm my suspicions, when you lost your scarf.”

You smile.

“Well, thank you.”

“Thank you. Now, I believe it is your day off? Best be getting you back to your warm home.”

You nod, a little worried you’ve made him uncomfortable. But he’s smiling so gently, and his eyes fall on you with such softness…

He gets the door for you. And as you say goodbye, he plants a gentle kiss on your cheek.

If it weren’t for the cold, you’re sure he’d notice your blush.

“If you ever become more interested in my work,” Benoit says slowly, “I could always use an extra hand.”

You can hardly believe your ears.

“I’ll keep that in mind!”

If only you knew the adventures that await you…

#knives out #knives out imagine #knives out fanfiction #benoit blanc #benoit blanc x reader #benoit blanc imagine #masterlist

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vannybarber · 4 years

Text

Put Some Respect On My Name!

Summary: As a wife and a mother to the kids of this asshole, respect is the one thing you better be recieving from him...after some good 🍆 of course. That's number one right there.😏

Ransom Drysdale x Black Reader

BIG ASS PLOT

Words: 5.3k

Warnings: Pregnant¡Reader, swearing, insults, angst, mentions of cheating, SMUT, breeding kink, spanking, oral (female receiving), praise kink, unprotected sex, mentions of religion, threats of violence (nothing extreme).

So here your are. Sitting on you and Ransom's shared California King bed looking at his friend, Derek's Instagram story, disappointed and angry. But mostly angry. Some nasty ass trick is sitting on your baby daddy's lap. Her loppy floppy tits out with a drink in hand and him drinking a Moscato, the one beverage he loved to order everytime he went out.

Last year for New Year's, you had to stop him from ordering more or else you were going to be cleaning him up after puking everywhere at midnight instead of getting a kiss to start off another year.

Your two year old daughter was in her playroom across the hall making a mess with her toys. Usually you'd be down there playing with her but your swollen stomach done prohibited you from doing a lot of things now. But it most definitely ain't stop you from getting what you want from Ransom every day and night. Nothing could ever stop you guys from getting yo freak on. Nothing.

Hugh Ransom Drysdale is most definitely an asshole and you're not gonna sit here and lie, acting like he completely changed when you guys came together. That boy still has his moments, but of course, it would be a chilly ass day in hell before you sit there and take his bullshit. He been learned that.

At this point ,you were thinking of ways to get on his ass about it when he comes home. Should you get the bat and wait at the door on some Beyonce shit ? Or put some bleach in his Fruit Loops like Cardi the next day ? Those sounded a lot better than what you decided to do. You were gonna wait till he got back home and calmly confront him on it, regardless of what your hormones wanted. 6 months pregnant and anger do not go together. You're WAAAAY more vulnerable and bound to do anything now. So you just watch your daughter brush her baby doll, hitting her on the head cause she won't sit still, rubbing your bump and wait for him to come home.

You hear shuffling downstairs and keys hitting the bowl by the front door. His big head home now and you're beyond ready.

You check the time and it's 2:46 am. You been put your child to sleep hours ago. You were just watching Wild N' Out to pass the time, thinking of how you were gonna start off without making yourself even more mad. The baby nor you need any of that. You were internally praying he was gonna get his ass over here soon cause your ass knocked out for a little bit. You were sleepy as hell right now.

Hearing those expensive ass Chelsea boots hit the sleek stairs and up to the second floor, you woke the fuck up real quick. You stay quiet and watch him walk in your daughters room and check on her. You can see with the nightlight him smile and rub her brown cheek with the back of his forefinger, whispering inaudible words to her. Fuck him and his adorable ass.

He bends back up straight and walks out her room closing the door a little and make his way across the hall to your room. He sees you and your pregnant state in your white tube top and grey booty shorts. Simple yet the baddest bitch he's ever laid eyes on and ever will. He smiles while locking eyes with you and all you do is narrow yours back at him getting upset all over again, regardless of the sweet previous moment shared with your baby girl.

He gives you a 'what the hell ?' look and comes over to give you a kiss but you jerk your head back with the stank face and a 'boy move out my face' quietly leaving your mouth. Now he's REALLY confused.

"Mama, what's wrong with you?"

You look at him like he just asked you to get on your knees and bark like a dog.

"What's wrong with me? You really asking that?" raising your voice on the second question.

Technically, he has the right to ask, being that he doesn't know what you know. He probably doesn't even know that Derek was recording him and that broad. Nor does he know that you texted Derek to keep recording him so you know nothing escalates.

Call it what you want, but you know how your man is. He's immature and irresponsible as HELL. If something had popped off that really threatened y'all's relationship, you would've been in that bar with your child on your right hip, earphones in her ear and tablet in hand, cussing him and that girl out.

"You wanna tell me how your night went?" You tilt your head asking sweetly, with a drop of sarcasm. You truly are a petty ass piece of work. And you love it.

"Just get to the point Y/N. The fuck did I do this time ?" At this point he's now visibly annoyed. But you ain't care. This situation is on his part. Y'all could've had a nice night, fucking while Big City Greens playing in the background on the T.V. eventually waking your child up cause you loud as hell, but nooooo. That ain't happening now.

You grab your phone and open back up Instagram, Marta popping up on your feed with Harlan reading a book. You like it and search up Derek's @ then click his story. You flip through countless tabs until you see the man-child standing in front of you, on the screen. You motion him over to the bed.

"Come here, asswipe."

He rolls his eyes, but moves them feets anyway. You turn your phone to him and let the video play. You watched it about a thousand times so you know exactly when it ends. After it does you pull the phone back in your lap and give him a questioning look.

Sometimes it's hard to read his expressions and this was one. It was a mix of slight guilt and double the annoyance. He backs up and stands back at the end of the bed, arms crossed.

"Really? This why you're upset?"

You swear you almost slapped him. And this time you couldn't blame the hormones because it was gonna be ALL YOU. You take a deep breath and lean your back against the cushion headboard.

"I KNOW you did not just ask me that as if I ain't supposed to be bothered by the fact that my husband got some random woman on his lap while I'm at home with his daughter and his growing child."

You deadass don't believe him right now. He really pressing you as if he don't know how you get when you're angry, especially while pregnant.

"My feet hurt. I am TIRED. I can't even move for more than 5 minutes without getting sick and having to sit down. The you come at me with this bullshit" you continue. "What the hell is wrong with you ?"

He just deadpans you. And you stare at his ass right back. You not playing right now.

"Y/N, you never get upset when I go out with my buddies and get hammered." He's flapping his arms around raising his voice at every word.

"What is the big deal now? It's fucking late and you're doing all this right now. What the hell?"

You gather the strength and get out the bed to close the bedroom door cause you about to go AWF.

Getting back on the bed fully sitting up and supporting your own weight, you tie your butterfly braids up in ponytail.

"Listen, you raggedy shitball,"

It's about to go down. You adjust yourself, ready to release the wrath.

"I don't give a damn how late it is. You know better than to go out and let some bitch get close up on you like that. Were you even thinking about me or your kids while she was on you? The fuck was going through your mind? Oh wait, I forgot. You don't fucking think. You have to actually have a damn brain."

"Raggedy shitball? Real mature, babe. Real fucking mature." He says rolling his eyes, finally getting his shoes off and putting them under the chair were his scarf and coat are draped over.

You continue with your rant.

"Ironic for you to comment on maturity, Hugh."

Yep, that's right. You said it. You called him by his ugly ass first name. Linda and Richard must've been out they damn mind naming him that shit. He whipped his head around, any sense of expression just completely wiping from his face. Perfect. Just the reaction you wanted.

"Don't call me that." He stated, pure disgust in his words. To be honest, you don't even blame him. But like stated before, you petty as hell.

"Hugh, Hugh, Hugh. Your name is fucking Hugh" you say in a sing songy voice. Damn, it feels good to be a gangsta.

"You don't get to tell me what to do right now. And back to what I said before. Why you let that girl in your lap like that ?"

"It was completely harmless. We were just having fun. Like you said before, you aren't a jealous person. Stuff like that shouldn't even be affecting you like this." He gets on the bed beside you and your face tore back up again. He's really getting in this fucking bed beside you like nothing.

But he was right though. You aren't a jealous person. A girl can come up to him at a party and flirt right in your face, but you'd never be bothered. Cause at the end of the day, her ass is getting rejected and he's gonna be inside you later the same night. He's yours and you're his. Simple.

"Ransom, just because I'm not a jealous person doesn't mean I'm gonna keep my mouth if our relationship is threatened." This man is actually delusional.

"You never entertain other girls when I'm around and here you are with a girl on your lap and I'm not there to say or do nothing. And you know your shitty friends will just encourage it. "

At this point, you started to get really insecure. Maybe it's the hormones, maybe it's just your logic. But your mind started racing like NASCAR. What really happens when he's out and you're at home? He wouldn't put your marriage and family at risk over a bitch...right? He hasn't cheated on you, has he? These thoughts really weren't good for your right now.

But he must've read your expressions. You were zoned out and he knows you're an over thinker so he had to stop you real quick. He puts his large left hand over your thigh, rubbing it and his right around your ass, leaning his head against your arm, trying to get you to chill. It almost worked, him knowing you liked your thighs rubbed, especially in your state.

But you caught that shit right away. You moved out of his hold and turn your body completely towards him. And then you ask him.

"Have you ever cheated on me?"

He freezes, you swear for at least 2.4 milliseconds and whips his head around to look at you. You turn your head away, somewhat regretting you even asked. You know this fucker loved you and your family with everything. He even said in his vows he would give his all into you. And you believed him. But fuck that right now. You need to know.

"Are you GODDAMN serious right now?!"

Okay, you paused for two things; he used God's name in vain, which you HATED, due to you growing up religious. Even though you don't practice it very often, it still bothered you. And two, he yelled, completely disregarding the fact that your kid is across the hall sleeping.

You snap your head around, braids hitting your face with super saiyan speed and kick him in his hip.

"What the shit, Y/N?"

"First of all, you know how I feel about that fucking word. STOP USING IT. And two, your daughter is sleeping so you need to keep your damn voice down!"

He's rubbing his side with a distorted look, but you could care less. You were fed up. This imbecile wasn't showing you any respect and your weren't gonna wait for him to get it right.

"How the hell would you feel if I went out, sat on some random dude's lap and entertained him while you were at home with our kid? Matter a fact, I'll do one even better. How about while I'm PREGNANT with YOUR baby, that YOU put in me, I sit on him and letting him rub my belly?"

Ransom has a big ass breeding kink. When you told him you were pregnant he was ecstatic. The though of him knocking you up, his seed growing inside of you just gave him pure ecstacy. And don't even get started on when your bump started to form. He was fucking every chance he got. He was in a theme park and you were his favorite ride.

You know you were playing with fire, but that shit felt AMAZING. He was really feeling how you were feeling right now. Them veins were popping out his neck and his face was slightly turning red. Baby boy was LIVID.

"Y/N, cut that shit out. I'm not doing this with your ass tonight." He looked at you with these eyes you've only seen when his family pissed him off at those gatherings he dragged both of you to. Before you had your first child of course. You went to them less after your daughter's birth because he didn't want her around his shitty family. You completely understood.

"Nah, baby boy. Since you want to be so inconsiderate and a triple asshole tonight, you can lay here by yourself and bathe in it." You got your big ass out the bed after minutes of struggling. Grabbing your black Betty Boop pillow with her cute afro, your charger, phone and your Hot Cheetos out the night stand and slipped on your slides, you waddle across the room, heading into the guest bedroom.

You refuse to sleep in the same bed as him, especially since he refuses to admit he's in the wrong. If you stay in there, you're just going to get even more frustrated and you don't want to harm your baby.

"Y/N, baby. What are you doing? Come back in here" he called you from the bedroom.

You shut the door and lock it. You'll be damned if you're gonna come running back cause he aSkEd you to. You settle in the bed, plug your phone up, grab your chips and turn When They See Us on the T.V.

Ransom just lays back on the bed in defeat. He didn't even make an effort to get you back in the room because you're stubborn as a mule. But he takes this time to go over what just happened.

He truly didn't think you would make a big deal. Like you said before, you're not a jealous person, so he didn't think he'd have to worry. Boy, was he all the way wrong. And you did have a point about you entertaining another man. That had his blood boiling. He gets at most irritated when you come with him to events, like the Oakley Country Club in Watertown and you're everyone's distraction.

It was your first appearance with him there and you being a sight to see, had all eyes on you and your body. Hell, even the women were checking you out, no envy or jealousy in sight. He knew then, he was gonna keep you close. You don't remember ever leaving his side that evening. He even volunteered to go into the bathroom with you. He didn't want to take a chance with the females either.

But in all seriousness, he couldn't bear the thought of you with another man. Especially now that you're married and have two kids together. But he really couldn't believe that you'd even suggest that he had been unfaithful to you. Your reasons were plausible, yes, but he was honestly...hurt. He knows what kind of guy he is comes off as, but he'd never intentionally ruin what you guys have built. You were the only one he truly let close.

He knew what he had to do, even though he dreaded it. He had to go apologize. He hates when you're upset with him. Absolutely hates it. Plus you were looking sexy as hell tonight and he need some of that round brown ASAP, no rocky.

Ransom got up and opened the door, making his way down the hall to the guest bedroom, but not before checking his baby's room. She was still fast asleep, little snores leaving her body. Exiting her room, he knew your door would be locked but tried to open it anyway. When it didn't budge, he knocked a couple of times. But you was knocked out.

Then he remembered. Lifting his hand to the top of the door frame, he searched for the thin key that unlocked the bedroom doors. Once he felt it, he grabbed it and inserted it in the door knob. Click. He pushed the door open and looked around to see the T.V. screen on, but paused, and you lying on your side with the Cheeto bag still open like a damn fool.

He shut the door quietly and made his way around the bed. He closed the loud ass bag, which caused you to stir and reposition your legs. He set the bag on the nightstand and crawled into the bed with you. He stared at you for a moment. Looking at your full lips and your wide nose.

Your afrocentric features were always so mesmerizing to him because they were different from all the other women. They were unique and he understood why you took so much pride in them. You had the damn right, especially looking that good. You were never afraid to embrace them. No person of color should ever be afraid to. Ever.

After what felt like an hour of weird ass staring, Ransom started to shake your arm, trying to wake you. You're a heavy ass sleeper, so it took him a while. You opened your eyes, squinting trying to figure what the fuck just woke your ass up. Feeling a dip in the bed and a presence next to you, Ransom comes into sight.

Even though this man is finer than a MOTHERFUCKER, you still turned your nose up when you looked at him. Your ass was still mad and it was ridiculous. Understandable, but ridiculous as hell. You could only imagine what he wanted now. You roll your eyes.

"Listen, I know you're still pissed at me and whatever, but I just came in here to.... apologize."

He averted his gaze to the T.V. You know how difficult it is for your baby to apologize for anything because even though he clearly in the wrong, he will never ever accept it nor admit it. And damn sure never apologize.

"I realize how you felt when you saw that video", he continued. "I would be even more pissed if you were the one in someone else's lap and I couldn't kick their ass as soon as I saw it."

You chuckled a little bit because it's true. He would be angry as shit. Although, you'd never be in that position because you love and respect him too much. But you let him finish before you spoke.

"With that being said, I'm sorry for my actions. Believe it or not, I'm still getting adjusted to being a husband and a father. I'm still struggling to give up my old habits and the shit I'm so used to doing. It's not easy, baby."

You grab is strong jaw and make him face you. He hasn't made eye contact with you this entire time. You almost felt bad, but he needed to understand. Understand where you were coming from and understand how it made you feel.

"Ransom, I'm not asking you to completely change who you are. I just want to know that you're in this for good. Because you can't turn back now. We've come too damn far. And I'll be damned if you decide to give up your responsibilities. Your ass gon' be grass."

He smiled a teeny bit, because what can you say? You're a natural born comedian. You can turn any situation in to some funny ass shit. But you get back to your point.

"I want you to be able to go out and have fun, but also come back and be a husband and a father. I value my independence just as much as you, so I get it. Just remember what you have. Don't fuck it up for some pussy, alright? That's all I'm saying."

You look him in his sea blue eyes. Damn, them thangs are hypnotic as hell. But you search for something that tells you he understands. That's all you fucking want. Him to understand. But you definitely got your answer.

Just as you were about to ask him, he shoots his face towards you and attacks your mouth like a damn wild ass pig. You were thrown all the way off, but you checked back into reality and kissed him back. You guys had this amazing ass way of getting in sync when you kissed. No matter who initiates it, you flow amazingly.

After a few mintues of saliva attack, you pull away tryna breathe cause he was about to take all your fucking oxygen. He laughs at the look on your face. You end up cracking up too. You can't help it. And he knows it.

"I completely understand, mama. I've definitely taken this into consideration. I learned my lesson." He smiles down at you. Internally you're proud as fuck because it's like you raised a bad ass kid into a well behaved one. The power your ass holds is amazing.

Then you look at the door trying to figure out how the hell he got in the room. "The key." You nod in realization. He rubs your thigh again, and this time, you don't stop him. Instead he stops himself. You look at him confused as fuck.

"But I'm gonna let you sleep in here, since you seem to be so cozy." He was messing with you. Fuck him. He gets up off the bed and head towards the door, but not before looking back to catch your reaction. You had a 'get your ass back over here' look on your face. But he just smirked. That signature smirk.

"What's wrong, sweetheart?" He really out here testing you right now. The balls on this motherfucker...

"Ransom, get your ass over here and give me what I want." You look down at his crotch, imagining him without his wool Reiss pants. He follows your eyes, still holding that smirk, but not forgetting to widen it. You lusting after his fLeSh turned him on bad. And it felt so good.

You already know you're to hard to resist. Everyone loves chocolate. Even Ransom's lactose intolerant ass.

You start to rub your belly, purposely drawing his attention, really making him turned on for you. You can feel that that tropical rain storm in your Fenty underwear.

And that boy was ready to start swimming. He expediTiously got back on the bed and in between your legs. You give him that look and that's all he needed. Connecting your lips to his and moving them in perfect sync like always, he starts rubbing up and down the side of your full belly.

"So fucking perfect and all of it's for me."

You pause.

"And who said all of this was for you, Mr. Drysdale?"

Not amused by your comment, he slaps your ass louder than a bitch and you shut your ass up real quick. Not before letting out a little giggle though.

He lifts your heavy ass and pulls the tube top over your head, letting your swole breasteses fall into position. Your areolas widened since having your daughter and Ransom LIVED for it. You were definitely enjoying them massages and those lips treatments he gave you when they were sore, just like now.

He starts kneading the left breast and continues to make out with your face like an animal. His left arm is holding your ass up. He eventually lays you back down, knowing damn well his ass is tired of holding you. You ain't blaming him either.

He hooks his lips on the nipple of the same breast, twirling his deadly tongue all around it. You moan with your head thrown back cause it feels good as hell. He lets go and replaces his mouth with his hands and twirls the nipple with his mouth on the other.

All you could do was mumble cuss words and grab his hair. He was really fucking you up and the real fucking didn't even start yet.

Trailing kisses all the way down your beautiful bump, down all the stretch marks till he reaches your shorts. He wasted no time getting them off and disposing them on the clean floor. Whatever he throw on the floor HE'S picking that shit up, not you. You'll make sure of that.

He looks directly at your covered pussy with excitement in his eyes. More excited than you were, if that's even possible. He takes his thick index finger and rubs you through your panties, completely soaking them. You just watch him, lust dialating your pupils.

He yanks them off, almost taking you off the damn bed at the same time, so you had to re-adjust yourself. He spreads your legs on their sides of his wide shoulders and licks from your core to the hood that covered your clit. You jerked a little cause you were in your second trimester, the horny trimester. You were 🌃 sensitive 🌃.

Then his annoying ass starts lapping in circles in super saiyan speed. You cry out and grab your left breast, squeezing and rubbing it. He stretches his left hand out and takes the right one, doing the same thing. Your back was continuously arching. You know your baby was fed up.

After a couple of more laps, your body finally can't take anymore and you cum all over his mouth. He has the audacity to keep going, even when your clit is hypersensitive, making you literally whimper, so you have to slap his head to get him to stop.

He pulls away with that stupid famous smirk.

"All that shit you're always talking, but you couldn't take a little sensitivity?" He teases you. But that's alright, cause you gon' remember that next time you're on your knees for him. When he comes, you not taking your mouth off him until you feel like it.

"Just fuck me already before I change my mind." You don't know why you even said that shit. He can tease you all you want. You'll never not have your legs or mouth open, ready for him to stick his dick wherever he feels.

He just chuckles, cause he knows that too.

Taking your body, he flips you on your left side and settles behind you, dick right against your ass. Its one of your favorite positions because he could hit your sweet spot perfectly this way. And he could rub your bump at the same time. Beneficial for the both of your greedy asses.

He was taking way to long so you grab his dick and line it up with your pussy and push the tip in slowly, playing with your own arousal. Ransom just watched. He loved seeing you desperate for his stupid ass, but you gave zero fucks at the moment.

Finally you slip his huge ass girth inside you and you moan out loud as hell. You really just be turned on by anything at this point. He then takes back the lead and pushes further till he bottoms out inside you. He's heavily breathing his hot ass breath on your neck like a weirdo, but fuck it.

Once both of you are adjusted, he starts moving in and out of you. The position made your walls hella tighter and he was already hitting your spot. His tight arm is wrapped around your stomach now. You constantly moan his name and he's just encouraging it.

"Ransom, fuck, baby just like that"

"You love when I fuck you like this, don't you pretty girl?"

You hated when he called you "pretty girl, sweet girl, or good girl" because you become a straight whore for him right away. He's such an asshole.

"Yes, Daddy- please don't stop"

"Tell me how bad you want it baby"

There he go with these fucking games. Always wanting to hear you beg.

"I want it so bad, Daddy ! pleASe give it to mE"

Happy Ransom?

He starts to pick up the pace and you feel the pleasure in your toes. It just travel from there all around your body and you can't say anything but "don't stop" and moan uncontrollably.

You start getting close and he can tell by the way you pick up the moans. So he starts going faster. But never forgetting to add a little nasty dialogue.

"I can feel you ready to come sweet girl. Keep clenching around me baby" That shit just made you even more whore-knee. If you weren't already pregnant, he was definitely gonna put a baby in you that night.

"Baby I'm close- fill me up Ransom please "

You're begging for this man to cum inside you, but he always wanna play a damn game.

"Hmmm do you truly deserve to cum baby? I don't know if you do.."

You wanted to hit him so bad, but he wouldn't let you come if you did. So you go along with it.

"Yes Daddy I'll do anything- Please just let me cum !" You screamed.

At this point you were loud as 🌃fuck🌃 .

After more begging he finally let you come.

"Oh shit Ransom- FUCK" You come all over his dick and shortly after, he came right behind you. Filling you up just like you wanted. He slumped against your back and you lowered your shaky leg.

"You always take me so well baby girl." He starts kissing your neck. You could literally hear that loppy ass smile he has on his face everytime y'all get done. But you get all tingly inside because you love when he praises you. Makes you feel proud of yourself.

"Well there's not much to take so...it's whatever." What are you without a teasing remark after every other sentence? But he always has a clapback.

"Its funny you say that because the other day you were practically in tears because my dick was "too much for one woman to take" and that I was practically torturing you." At this point you're turned over facing him grinning like a Cheshire cat and him smiling right back at you.

"Oh shut the fuck up, with your annoying ass." You snap back at him playfully, rolling your eyes.

"You love me, my chocolate bunny." He let's out an audible yelp when you kick him in his leg. You hate when he calls you that. "Cut it out Ransom, or you're not touching me for a week."

There you go again saying the dumb shit. You both know that YOU could never go through with that.

"Fine by me", he states unphased. Cause he knows you could never.

You roll your eyes for the 50thousanth time.

"You're lucky I love your ass."

"I love you too pretty girl" he winks.

Just as you were about to get up, you hear something jiggle the doorknob and someone huffing and puffing outside the door. That little girl over here jumping up and down tryna to open the damn door. You're literally hollering at her struggle. Truly sick in the fucking head.

"Mama! Where Papa ?" Ransom grins as he throws you his blue sweater so you can cover up and gets up to let your baby girl in.

You truly cannot stand this guy.

This all came to me so fast 😭 I hope y'all like it lmaoo

#cevans #chris evans #chris evans fanfiction #chris evans x reader #chris evans smut #chris evans fluff #smut #ransom thrombey fanfic #ransom thrombrey #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #chris evans imagine #chris evans x black reader #black reader #andy barber smut #steve rogers smut #avengers #captain america #blackexcellence

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romchomp · 3 years

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nana rewatch notes-episode 14

- “i had thought tokyo was a warmer place” in contrast to the previous “it never snows in tokyo” comment. i cannot keep doing this

-so the snowstorms were normal where nana lived

-“compared to my hometown tokyo is like a tropical forest” is nana enjoying herself? it’s hard to know how nana feels during this period of the story lol

-nana says she “hates cunning women like that” suggesting that she prefers more straightforward ways of communicating- but this isn’t entirely true. not to mention that this is clearly hachi overthinking and worried about upsetting shoji. nana has already recognized hachi as a sincere+earnest person before. nana views hachi’s attempts to please shoji as dishonest, which isn’t?? all that fair??? i guess you can see it as hachi trying to manipulate the situation but i just…idkkk

- i think nana’s comment comes from hachi’s usual willingness to put herself in vulnerable situations and seeing hachi hesitate purely to please shoji- rather than being forthright in her affection, bothers nana.

-nana giving hachi her jacket and hachi giving nana her scarf. a literal exchange of warmth. (i also think you could add that hachi wishes she could offer more/ feels that she didn’t help nana as much as she did her)

-“she seemed to fit better with the snowy mountains” oh boy. the snow metaphors never end

-hachi says she IS a cunning woman. this line immediately follows “i was no longer the pure woman who would continue dating shoji expecting nothing in return. but i pretend to be. because i didn’t want nana to hate me”

-nana’s idea of a cunning woman was someone who wasn’t honest/forward about what they wanted; and wanting something is exactly what makes hachi feel impure- or better yet, realizing when you don’t want something.

-we’re finally seeing hachi acknowledge her own wants+needs in a relationship. and this is (kind of?) the second time we see her admit that she isn’t happy with the ways things are going with shoji and she obviously has some guilt attached to those thoughts.

“i didn’t want nana to hate me” so nana’s words got to her a bit lol. but i think hachi would’ve thought this no matter what bc of her internalized guilt- she thinks she should be happy with shoji as is.

- can i also say how susceptible this line is to a queer reading? hachi slowly admitting to herself that she isn’t happy with her boyfriend, feeling impure and guilty bc of it, and afraid that it will cause her girl best friend to hate her??? sounds really fucking gay to me.

-this is def one of my favorite episodes lol

- i am OBSESSED with how the characters are positioned in this scene. both hachi and sachiko looking away from shoji (and each other), while nana is right in front of him and the only one verbally confronting the situation. the pain shoji has caused both hachi and sachiko is laid right out in front of him, as he avoids looking at anyone.

- “i don’t want him. i don’t want to look at his face.” and she physically can’t. her perception of shoji has been shattered. he was someone she expected to never hurt her.

-the way everyone is now highly saturated compared to the background indicates how unreal this feels to hachi.

-this is also...a moment of growth for hachi. i think in the way she rejected shoji.

-“i wasn’t mature enough to forgive his betrayal” im sorry you feel that way. hachi you have so many ideas abt relationships that concern me pls see a therapist

-“i had too much pride to cling onto someone who had just hurt me.” hachi i think you could use a little MORE pride. also, wanting to be treated decently isnt just pride? it’s sad that hachi doesn’t feel that she deserves to end things with shoji or be upset about getting hurt.

-god hachi’s character offers so much good commentary on modern womanhood though.

-i still to this day have conflicting feelings abt the scene between hachi and junko. i wouldn’t call hachi crying over her ex-bf she just caught cheating “playing the victim”. while junko is applying this to how hachi behaves generally (and in a general sense it holds some truth), this is...literally not the time.

-it’s also unfair to suggest hachi was the only selfish person in the relationship. shoji was hardly willing to meet her halfway. hachi was careless and not very observant but shoji straight up didn’t enjoy her company. shoji was selfish too.

-i get that a big part of hachi’s characterization is that she always faces direct consequences and no one makes excuses for her, but this is literally not her fault lmao

-so far my favorite nana eps are 1,9, and 14

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#did not realize it’s been over a week since last episode’s notes #sorry about that #holiday stuff yknow #nana #ai yazawa #episode 14 #finally….shoji is DONE #i have so many feelings about junko guys #i would say that im pushing my lesbian hachi agenda but i think shes doing it herself

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jaceyneedsabetterusername · 4 years

Text

Lavender Lace

Pairings: Tom Holland x Femdom!Reader

Summary: Edging Tom (no plot whatsoever which is super rare here cause I’m a slut for plot)

Warnings: Edging (male receiving), unprotected sex (because it’s a fic and there is no pregnancy or STD’s unless I say lol), Dom!Reader-Sub!Tom, Creampie, Cockwarming, Reader doesn’t cum (sorry)

Word Count: 1860

A/N: I wrote most of this on my phone so I’m sorry if there are any words that autocorrect changed. I looked through and changed the ones I saw but just in case I missed any, my apologies!

Part 2 out now!

______________________

Tom lied on the bed, hands tied up above his head to the bed frame. His beautiful body was on full display against the sheets, small freckles adorning his taut skin. A glistening layer of sweat made every dip and rise of his body shine deliciously, his defined muscles exaggerated by the light shining off it. His chest heaved up and down as he attempted to calm himself down yet again and his biceps flexed as he pulled against his restraints. “Fuck! Please, please please…” His voice was broken and desperate- but not quite desperate enough.

“Awe, Tommy. You’re doing so well,” you cooed, rubbing your hand lovingly across his firm thigh, “But I think you can go a little longer.“

Tom groaned in frustration, his cock already painfully hard and leaking precum. He hissed and bucked up into your hand when your hand went back down to pump his impressive length. Your hand glided up and down, adding a twist at the top around the tip. “Please-”

You stopped your movement but kept your hand still on his member, shaking your head, “No cumming until I say.” You chided, voice gentle in stark contrast to the torture you’d been putting him through for the last hour. Tom’s hips bucked upwards again, desperate for release, making you chuckle, “Look at you. So handsome. So desperate.” After a few moments, his breathing calmed down and your fingers circled feather light across his pelvis and down over his thighs, “Let’s get you a little more desperate.”

Tom shook his head, “I need to cum. Please, please let me!”

You almost felt bad for your boyfriend. He looked almost in pain and you really did want to please him more than anything but you also knew that he loved this torture. If he really wanted you to stop, he only had to say the safe word. That weird simple little word had yet to leave his lips, which meant the fun could go on, guilt free.

Your middle finger circled his tip, so agonizingly light that he couldn’t tell if you were there or his brain was just creating sensations to cope with the torture. “Just a few more, love. Think of how good it will feel when you finally get to cum.” With that, you licked a long, slow stripe up the underside of his length before taking only his tip into your mouth and swirling your tongue, lapping up the abundant pre-cum that had been practically pouring out at this point.

Tom pulled at his hand restraints aggressively, “Agh!” He almost screamed out as you brought him to the edge yet again with only small kitten licks to his tip while you stroked his shift with your hand. Tom was so painfully close, it only took mere seconds before he was crying out again.

“I’m gonna cum!” He warned and you took your hand off completely, causing him to cry out. You crawled up his body, kissing a line up along the way. You made sure that his cock rubbed through the valley of your breasts, concealed by a lacey lavender push up bra that did wonders for your chest. When you made your way to his lips, you straddled his waist, just above where he needed you most, and kissed his lips.

“What number was that?” You whispered lightly into his ear.

His eyes opened to find yours only mere inches away and he could have cried. You looked beautiful. Sultry, sexy, confident. Tom, on the other hand, appeared to be a few seconds from tears. His big beautiful chocolate eyes were practically black, pupils blown so wide they nearly overwhelmed his entire irises. His brown curls stuck to his forehead from where he’d attempted to desperately bury his head in the pillows. “Nine.” Tom managed barely, only able to focus on the intense pressure between his legs.

You kissed him again, lifting yourself off him just enough to move the thin fabric of your thong aside before sitting back down, his length sliding between your slick folds as you rocked your hips.

“Fuck!” He hissed out, eyes screwed shut. He had already been so close that this alone almost sent him over the edge.

Your nails scratched lightly over his chest as your ground on him. You moaned a little when his head bumped your clit as he passed through your folds, so close to finally being inside you. “You’ve been such a good boy, Tommy. Where do you want to cum?” You asked, reaching over his head to untie the scarf you’d had him bound by. Immediately, his hands were on your hips.

He timidly asked, “Inside you?” Even after all these years together and the fact you were on birth control, it was still a request he felt weird making.

You smiled against his skin as you licked up his neck, still moving your hips against him, “You can cum inside me when I hit ten, understand?”

“I don’t think I’ll make it. I’m already s-so close.” Tom stuttered when he felt the tip of his cock finally slide into your warmth.

You squeezed your walls around him, just to torture him a little more, “You’re gonna have to, love. If you cum before I say, I’m gonna have to stop and ruin it.”

A genuine look of fear ran through Tom’s eyes and you knew he’d behave for you. He wanted this - nay, needed this - so badly. You began to bounce on his length, his cock rubbing against every wonderful spot inside you. Your hands came to your breasts, palming them through the thick fabric of your bra. “One.”

Tom’s hands struggled to stay on your hips, knowing you might edge him longer if he stepped out of line, “Let me touch you.” He begged and you only nodded, reaching for his hands and placing them on your breasts. He pulled the fabric down and raked his nails gently over your nipples, making you breathe out in pleasure.

“Two,” You moaned out, “Three.” You kept bouncing and you could feel him twitch inside you. “Four. Five.”

“I’m not gonna make it. I’m so close.” Tom was almost crying, legs struggling to stay still as he used every ounce of willpower to not let go here and no. He was so close, all it would take was a millisecond of losing concentration to snap.

You slowed down and just sat on him yet again, not moving but clenching your walls around his aching member and he audibly whined, “You’re gonna make it or I’m gonna get off and leave you writhing on the bed. Then you can watch while I finish myself off. That what you want?”

He shook his head aggressively, his hands moving back down to your hips to keep you in place, “No, no, no! I’ll make it to ten!” You noted the movement of his hands and maybe if he hadn’t been so well behaved all this time, you would have punished him a little more for trying to take control but you could see in his eyes how painfully desperate he was, how hard he was trying to be good. You wouldn’t punish him for it - this time.

“Good.” You began to swivel your hips, just like you knew he loved it and he threw his head back into the pillows, eyes shut tight as he struggled to keep his composure. “Six. Seven.” You reached down and ran your thumb gently across his cheek where an actual tear slid down, still moving on his cock, still drawing this out, “Eyes open, love.” Tom struggled to comply, knowing that one of the only things keeping him from busting right this second was trying to take his mind anywhere but this situation. Seeing you looking so damn sexy bouncing on his cock was sure to send him over. But he managed to pry his lids open and lock eyes with your blown out orbs. You bit your lip and smiled, “You’re doing such a good job. Eight.”

“Shit!” A broken moan tumbled from his lips as he flexed every muscle in his body to keep it at bay. He was gonna snap and there was nothing he could do about it, especially at this painfully slow pace you’d been counting at.

“Nine.”

Tom’s heart raced as he waited for that last number, that last bit of permission before you would let him finally release. He didn’t think he’d ever been this painfully hard and it made him look back at every other time he ever thought he had blue balls and smack his past self. He had no idea what it was like to be this achingly close. “Please, please-”

“Ten. Cum for me baby.” You finally allowed, raking your fingers down his body, making sure to graze over his nipples.

The orgasm hit him like a semi, crashing into across his body hard and fast the very moment you permitted it. “Agh! Fucking hell!”! He was nearly sobbing, his hands squeezing tightly into your hips and bouncing you up and down at just the right pace. Again, something you let slide. He had just been so good for you, he deserved it. His seed shot deep into you, warm and overflowing and waves of pleasure just kept coming. Tom didn’t think he’d ever cum this hard or long in his life, himself surprised when more and more hot ribbons seemed to just. Keep. coming.

Finally, he slowed down, arms slackening weakly against your thighs as he came down from his high. He was still sheathed inside you, his seed leaking out around his cock, down his cock and along your inner thighs. You had never been so full and you didn’t want it to end. You leaned forward, coming to lay on his chest, head in the crook of his neck. When you moved, your walls instinctively fluttered around his sensitive cock and Tom hissed, his grip suddenly tightening on you as the stimulation became too much.

Once you had positioned yourself comfortably on his chest, he wrapped an arm around your body, rubbing large stripes up and down your side. You twirled his hair in your fingers and listened to his wrecked breathing with a bit of pride knowing you made him feel this good. “You did so good for me, Tommy.”

He sighed heavily, “Thank you.” You giggled a little, knowing his brain was still moving a little slow. He wasn’t thanking you for the compliment- he was thanking you for finally letting him cum.

“Wasn’t too much?” You asked, hoping you didn’t go overboard. Logically, you knew he’d use the safe word if it was too much but you just wanted to be sure you hadn’t gotten a little too lost in the power.

Tom shook his head with a chuckle, pulling you closer into his body, hissing yet again when your heat shifted around his overstimulated softening length. “Just right. Any more and I might have died, though.”

You both laughed at his joke before you cooed in his ear, “Oh, love, you can take it. We’ll just have to break your record next time.”

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