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csigirl3137 · 3 years ago

Text

Unexpected

Pairing: Hiccup Haddock x Viggo Grimborn

Word Count: 1465

Warnings: Battle, sword fight, smut, anal sex, anal fingering, orgasms, possessive Viggo, sex with the enemy,

Authors Note: I'm new to this ship, but hey I fricking love it.

Summary: A sword fight between Hiccup and Viggo takes them into the woods away from the main battle. The fight turns into something unexpected.

White hot pleasure races through Hiccup's veins, the large hand over his mouth muffling his cry as the cock inside him drags over his prostate, the man behind him shoving Hiccup back up against the rough bark in front of him with every thrust.

There's muffled clanging to the left, metal on metal, the sounds of multiple explosions off to the right. His riders were giving the hunters hell.

And what was he doing?

Well...

Hiccup is currently pinned against a tree trunk, leather pants around his knees, completely wrecked, dick rock hard and throbbing as a man he very much should not be letting fuck him but he's letting him anyways, fucks Hiccup towards an orgasm he knows will probably exceed every single orgasm he's ever had at his own hands.

"You're going to have a very sore ride home my dear, and you'll most likely be walking funny for a couple days" Viggo's familiar deep, silky, accented voice is right by his ear, the pace at which he fucks in and out of Hiccup, increasing.

Hiccup whines softly, not wanting anyone to hear him. The hand Viggo had over his mouth is now possesively wrapped around Hiccup's throat.

The combination of the arm around his waist, the thick tree trunk in front of him, the cock in his ass, and the large hand around his throat; Hiccup is completely helpless at the hands of the hunter chief.

He couldn't escape Viggo if he wanted to.

"We shouldn't... gah... oh gods..." Hiccup's eyes roll back in his head as he tries to speak only to dissolve back into moans and whimpers as Viggo makes him see stars.

"We shouldn't what? Hmm?" Viggo waits for a response from the wrecked rider, making sure to adjust enough to sharply hit Hiccup's prostate with the next few thrusts, the boy turning to goo, moaning in response.

"Use your words dear boy." Viggo taunts in the riders ear, knowing very well Hiccup was barely able to think straight right now, let alone form words.

It takes a minute but finally Hiccup manages to speak.

"We shouldn't be doing this!" He gasps.

Viggo hums in response, his grip on Hiccup's throat tightening a little as he pulls the boy back more securely against him. He's fairly certain he already knows the response he'll recieve, especially as he slows his thrusts.

The young green eyed rider currently impaled on his cock whines in distress at the decrease of the speed of Viggo's thrusts.

"Oh gods no! Please don't stop, Viggo please don't stop." Hiccup gasps desperately.

Thats the first time the young Hooligan has said his name since Viggo finally managed to disarm and pin him to this tree, his sword against Hiccup's throat.

And now here he was fucking the young rider.

Viggo smiles darkly and resumes the pace of his thrusts before Hiccup spoke.

"You feel even better than I'd imagined my dear." Viggo kisses the side of Hiccup's neck, the pleased sound the rider makes shooting straight to Viggo's already hard cock.

"Maybe I won't let you go when I'm done with you. You'd make a very, very pretty pet." Viggo nips at Hiccup's pulse point drawing a gasp from Hiccup. He starts to suck a mark there on the riders pulse point, not caring that Hiccup would have to lie about its origin to his friends.

Viggo wanted Hiccup wearing his marks.

He'd suspected that Hiccup would look pretty all marked up with Viggos marks, and as he watched the skin of Hiccup's neck start to turn purple under his ministrations, he discovered that he was right.

"Viggo..." Hiccup had started to struggle a little in Viggos grip, the last thing he'd said coming off more threatening than considering.

Viggo yanks the boy back against him, trapping Hiccup between his body and the tree as he increases the pace of his thrusts again, Hiccup clawing at the bark on the tree as he's fucked, whining softly, tears running down his cheeks as he tried to prevent any of the actual sounds he wanted to make from escaping.

"As much as I want to completely claim and own you," Viggo growls into Hiccup's ear, relishing in the shiver that rolled through the riders body at his words. "When you finally become mine, it'll will be even sweeter because you'll have decided that you want to be. Not because I forced you too. Remember that dear."

Hiccup isn't quite sure what Viggo was saying, only catching a bit here and there, but essentially getting the message that Viggo wasn't gonna keep him right now.

He yelps as the hand of the arm Viggo had around his waist closes around his cock and starts to stroke up and down Hiccup's shaft with the pace of Viggo's thrusts.

"As much as I'd like to draw this out darling, the battle seems to be ending and so our little tryst must do the same." Viggo's thrusts into his body over his prostate, his stokes of Hiccups cock and his silky voice push Hiccup over the edge.

The hand around his throat is flying back up to clamp tightly over Hiccups mouth as he tenses, and then screams, his orgasm crashing over him in a wave of white hot heat.

The young Berkian completely shatters in Vigho's grip, eyes rolling back into his head, body spasming, scream escaping his lips, walls clamping down tightly on Viggo's cock.

Viggo cums with a growl, fucking Hiccup through both their orgasms. He takes perverse pleasure from knowing that not only will Hiccup be sore sitting in the saddle flying back to the edge and walking funny the next couple of days, the young man also has to make the long flight back to the edge full of Viggo's cum.

A feral, possessive, heathen instinct rears it's head in the back of Viggo's mind as he thinks about Hiccup stuffed full of his cum, all his riders around and completely unaware. It was an ultimate claim.

God he wants to drag Hiccup back to his ship and completely destroy him again in the privacy of Viggos quarters and his large bed.

He looked so pretty shattering for Viggo like that.

Viggo withdraws from Hiccups body cum leaking out as he does.

Hiccup groans and goes slack against the tree in front of him for support. His legs are visibly shaking.

Viggo tucks his cock back into his pants and then uses one of his large fingers to swipe up some of the leaking cum from around the edge of Hiccup's hole, the boy crying out as Viggo uses his finger to push it back inside.

"Until we meet again my dear." Viggo presses a kiss to Hiccup's neck and then he's gone.

Despite wanting to just pass out against the tree in front of him from pleasure and exhaustion, he can't let his friends find him like this so Hiccup quickly tucks himself back into his pants, wincing at the sticky feeling of the cum leaking from his ass.

The thought of having to fly back to the edge full of the dragon hunters cum, that invisible claim mark so blatantly on Hiccup now, even tho his friends wouldn't know, makes Hiccup's dick twitch.

"Oh gods." He sighs as he turns around, presses his back against the bark of the tree, and sinks to the ground, hands pressed against his eyes.

What had he done?

He debates going to find them but then decides that his riders can come find him.

He needs a minute to get collected.

And so that's how Toothless and the riders find him, sitting on the ground, back against the tree trunk, still panting, but looking considerably less "I just had sex" like.

"Hiccup are you alright!?" Astrid helps Hiccup to his feet.

"I'm okay, just tired. Viggo's quite a skilled swordsman." He reassures them.

"Where is Viggo?" Fishlegs asks. Hiccup shakes his head.

"I don't know. He disarmed me, slammed the butt of his sword into my stomach and then I woke up against this tree." It's a blatant lie but his friends seem to take the words in stride.

"We got the lense. Let's go home." Hiccup holds up the lense that he'd pilfered from Viggo's belt as Viggo fucked into him.

So maybe he'd had an ulterior motive. But he still very much enjoyed how he'd been fuxked by his adversary and wondered if it would happen again.

His friends cheer at the sight of the metal piece.

Hiccup doesn't have to have super hearing to hear the roar of anger that echoes through the hunter camp on the opposite side of the island as they take off into the night as Viggo discovers what Hiccup has done.

#hiccup horrendous haddock iii #httyd #httyd rtte #rtte #rtte viggo #viggo grimborn #vigcup #hiccup #toothless #Viggo

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dwellordream · 3 years ago

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“Henry's marriage to Catherine had long since grown cold. Though his wife remained, and would remain, loyal and devoted, Henry was in very different case. The raptures of the early days had faded and the consequent demands upon him for self-discipline and generosity had found him wanting. Catherine was five years his senior. In I527 he was still in his prime, in his mid-thirties, she over forty. As king he could satisfy desire all too easily, for who would refuse a king easily, especially a king such as he? Fidelity was rare among monarchs and the temptation besetting him, in particular, strong.

At first Henry had been a gallant husband. Catherine had accompanied him to every feast and triumph, he had worn her initials on his sleeve in the jousts and called himself 'Sir Loyal Heart'. He had shown her off to visitors, confided in her, run to her with news. Though there had been talk of a lady to whom he showed favour while campaigning in France, he had slipped home ahead of his army and galloped to Catherine at Richmond in order to lay the keys of the two cities he had captured at her feet.

We cannot know when he first succumbed to the temptation of adultery, but it must have been within five years of his marriage, when there appeared on the scene one Elizabeth Blount, a lady-in-waiting of Queen Catherine and a cousin of Lord Mountjoy - and she may not have been the first. She caught the king's eye during the New Year festivities in I5I4, that is, shortly after he had returned from the first campaign in France. Bessie Blount eventually bore him a son, in I519. Subsequently she married into a gentle family, the Talboys of Lancashire, with a dower of lands in that county and Yorkshire assigned by act ofParliament. Hers, then, was a fate less than death; and her son, the duke of Richmond, was occasionally to acquire considerable political and diplomatic significance.

Next there was Mary Boleyn, since 1521 wife of William Carey, daughter of a royal councillor and diplomat, and sister of Anne. That Mary was at one time Henry's mistress, and this presumably after her marriage, is beyond doubt. Years later there was a strong rumour that she too had born Henry a son, but we cannot be sure. Anyway we may guess that the liaison was over by l526, and when her younger sister climbed on to the English throne, with perhaps pardonable pique, she dismissed Mary from the court. The latter was to do well enough, with her family at the centre of affairs during the reign of her niece, Elizabeth I - which was more than could be said of Bessie Blount. And finally there was Anne, Thomas Boleyn's younger daughter.

Following in the wake of her sister, who had been in the entourage that accompanied Mary Tudor to France in 1514, Anne had crossed the Channel about 1519 to enter the household of Queen Claude, wife of Francis I, an amiable lady who had several young girls in her care and supervised their education. The newcomer to the royal school must have been about twelve years old. She stayed in France until the out- break of war in 1522 and then came home, by which time she was on the way to becoming an accomplished and mature girl. She does not seem to have been remarkably beautiful, but she had wonderful dark hair in abundance and fine eyes, the legacy of Irish ancestors, together with a firm mouth and a head well set on a long neck that gave her authority and grace.

On her return, if not before, her future had apparently been settled, ironically by Henry and Wolsey. She would marry Sir James Butler, an Irish chieftain and claimant to the earldom of Ormond, to which the Boleyns, rivals of the Butlers, had long aspired. Anne was therefore to mend the feud by uniting families and claims. Had this familiar kind of device been executed, and had this been the sum total ofher experience ofhow marriage and politics could interweave, things might have been very different for England, if not for Ireland. But Butler's price was too high and Anne remained in England.

Her father, aided perhaps by her grandfather, the second duke of Norfolk, had meanwhile brought her to Court, as he had her sister before her. There she eventually attracted attention, first from Sir Thomas Wyatt, the poet, a cousin of hers; then from Henry Percy, son of the earl of Northumberland and one of the large number of young men of quality resident in Wolsey's household. Alas, Percy was already betrothed. At the king's behest, Wolsey refused to allow him to break his engagement and, summoning him to his presence, rated him for falling for a foolish girl at Court. When words failed, the cardinal told the father to remove his son and knock some sense into him. Percy was carried off forthwith- and thus began that antipathy for Wolsey that Anne never lost.

But it may well be that, when Henry ordered Wolsey to stamp on Percy's suit, it was because he was already an interested party himself and a rival for the girl's affection of perhaps several gay courtiers, including Thomas Wyatt. The latter's grandson later told a story ofhow Wyatt, while flirting once with Anne, snatched a locket hanging from her pocket which he refused to return. At the same time, Henry had been paying her attention and taken a ring from her which he thereafter wore on his little finger. A few days later, Henry was playing bowls with the duke of Suffolk, Francis Bryan and Wyatt, when a dispute arose about who had won the last throw.

Pointing with the finger which bore the pilfered ring, Henry cried out that it was his point, saying to Wyatt with a smile, 'I tell thee it is mine.' Wyatt saw the ring and understood the king's meaning. But he could return the point. 'And if it may like your majesty,' he replied, 'to give me leave that I may measure it, I hope it will be mine.' Whereupon he took out the locket which hung about his neck and started measuring the distance between the bowls and the jack. Henry recognized the trophy and, muttering something about being deceived, strode away.

But the chronology ofAnne's rise is impossible to discover exactly. All that can be said is that by I525-6 what had probably hitherto been light dalliance with an eighteen or nineteen year-old girl had begun to grow into something deeper and more dangerous. In the normal course of events, Anne would have mattered only to Henry's conscience, not to the history of England. She would have been used and discarded - along with those others whom Henry may have taken and who are now forgotten. But, either because of virtue or ambition, Anne refused to become his mistress and thus follow the conventional, inconspicuous path of her sister; and the more she resisted, the more, apparently, did Henry prize her.

Had Catherine's position been more secure she would doubtless have ridden this threat. Indeed, had it been so, Anne might never have dared to raise it. But Catherine had still produced no heir to the throne. The royal marriage had failed in its first duty, namely, to secure the succession. Instead, it had yielded several miscarriages, three infants who were either still-born or died immediately after birth (two of them males), two infants who had died within a few weeks ofbirth (one ofthem a boy) and one girl, Princess Mary, now some ten years old. His failure to produce a son was a disappointment to Henry, and as the years went by and no heir appeared, ambassadors and foreign princes began to remark the fact, and English diplomacy eventually to accommodate it, provisionally at least, in its reckoning.

Had Henry been able to glimpse into the second halfofthe century he would have had to change his mind on queens regnant, for his two daughters were to show quality that equalled or outmeasured their father's; and even during his reign, across the Channel, there were two women who rendered the Habsburgs admirable service as regents ofthe Netherlands. Indeed, the sixteenth century would perhaps produce more remarkable women in Church and State than any predecessor - more than enough to account for John Knox's celebrated anti-feminism and more than enough to make Henry's patriarchal convictions look misplaced. But English experience of the queen regnant was remote and unhappy, and Henry's conventional mind, which no doubt accorded with his subjects', demanded a son as a political necessity.

When his only surviving legitimate child, Mary, was born in February 1516, Henry declared buoyantly to the Venetian ambassador, 'We are both young; if it was a daughter this time, by the grace of God sons will follow.' But they did not. Catherine seems to have miscarried in the autumn of 1517 and in the November of the following year was delivered of another still-born. This was her last pregnancy, despite the efforts of physicians brought from Spain; and by 1525 she was almost past child-bearing age. There was, therefore, a real fear of a dynastic failure, of another bout of civil war, perhaps, or, if Mary were paired off as the treaty of 1525 provided, of England's union with a continental power.

Catherine, for the blame was always attached to her and not to Henry, was a dynastic misfortune. She was also a diplomatic one. Charles's blunt refusal to exploit the astonishing opportunity provided by his victory at Pavia and to leap into the saddle to invade and partition France had been an inexplicable disappointment. Of course, had Henry really been cast in the heroic mould he would have invaded single- handed. But established strategy required a continental ally. Eleven years before, in 1514., Ferdinand of Spain had treated him with contempt and Henry had cast around for means of revenge, and there had been a rumour then that he wanted to get rid of his Spanish wife and marry a French princess.

Whether Henry really contemplated a divorce then has been the subject of controversy, which surely went in favour of the contention that he did not - especially when a document listed in an eighteenth-century catalogue of the Vatican Archives, and thought to relate to the dissolution of the king's marriage - a document which has since disappeared - was convincingly pushed aside with the suggestion that it was concerned with Mary Tudor's matrimonial affairs, not Henry's. Undoubtedly, this must dispose of the matter even more decisively than does the objection that, in the summer of 1514, Catherine was pregnant. In 1525, however, the situation was different. Charles had rebuffed Henry's military plans and, by rejecting Mary's hand, had thrown plans for the succession into disarray.

For a moment the king evidently thought of advancing his illegitimate son - who, in June 1525, was created duke of Richmond. But this solution was to be overtaken by another which Henry may have been contemplating for some time, namely, to disown his Spanish wife. Catherine, therefore, was soon in an extremely embarrassing position. Tyndale asserted, on first-hand evidence, that \Volsey had placed informants in her entourage and told of one 'that departed the Court for no other reason than that she would no longer betray her mistress'.' When Mendoza arrived in England in December 1526, he was prevented for months from seeing the queen and, when he did, had to endure the presence of Wolsey who made it virtually impossible to communicate with her. It was the ambassador's opinion that 'the principal cause of [her] misfortune is that she identifies herselfentirely with the emperor's interests'; an exaggeration, but only an exaggeration.

The king, then, had tired of his wife and fallen in love with one who would give herself entirely to him only if he would give himself entirely to her; his wife had not borne the heir for which he and the nation longed, and it was now getting too late to hope; he had been disappointed by Catherine's nephew, Charles V, and now sought vengeance in a diplomatic revolution which would make the position of a Spanish queen awkward to say the least. Any one of these facts would not have seriously endangered the marriage, but their coincidence was fatal. If Henry's relations with Catherine momentarily improved in the autumn of 1525 so that they read a book together and appeared to be very friendly, soon after, probably, Henry never slept with her again.

The divorce, which came into the open in early 1527 was therefore due to more than a man's lust for a woman. It was diplomatically expedient and, so some judged, dynastically urgent. As well as this, it was soon to be publicly asserted, it was theologically necessary, for two famous texts from the book of Leviticus apparently forbade the very marriage that Henry had entered. His marriage, therefore, was not and never had been, lawful. The miscarriages, the still-births, the denial of a son were clearly divine punishment for, and proof of, transgression of divine law. Henry had married Catherine by virtue of a papal dispensation of the impediment of affinity which her former marriage to Arthur had set up between them.

But Leviticus proclaimed such a marriage to be against divine law - which no pope can dispense. So he will begin to say. And thus what will become a complicated argument took shape. Henry had laid his hand on a crucial weapon - the only weapon, it seemed, with which he could have hoped to achieve legitimately what he now desired above all else. How sincere he was is impossible to determine. More than most, he found it difficult to distinguish between what was right and what he desired. Certainly, before long he had talked, thought and read himself into a faith in the justice of his cause so firm that it would tolerate no counter-argument and no opposition, and convinced himself that it was not only his right to throw aside his alleged wife, but also his duty - to himself, to Catherine, to his people, to God.

At the time, and later, others would be accused of planting the great scruple, the levitical scruple, in Henry's mind. Tyndale, Polydore Vergil and Nicholas Harpsfield (in his life of Sir Thomas More) charged Wolsey with having used John Longland, bishop of Lincoln and royal confessor, to perform the deed. But this was contradicted by Henry, Longland and Wolsey. In 1529, when the divorce case was being heard before the legatine court at Blackfriars, Wolsey publicly asked Henry to declare before the court 'whether I have been the chiefinventor or first mover of this matter unto your Majesty; for I am greatly suspected of all men herein'; to which Henry replied, 'My lord cardinal, I can well excuse you herein. Marry, you have been rather against me in attempt- ing or setting forth thereof' - an explicit statement for which no obvious motive for misrepresentation can be found and which is corroborated by later suggestions that Wolsey had been sluggish in pushing the divorce forwards.

Longland too spoke on the subject, saying that it was the king who first broached the subject to him 'and never left urging him until he had won him to give his consent'. On another occasion Henry put out a different story: that his conscience had first been 'pricked upon divers words that were spoken at a certain time by the bishop of Tarbes, the French king's ambassador, who had been here long upon the debating for the conclusion of the marriage between the princess our daughter, Mary, and the duke of Orleans, the French king's second son'. It is incredible that an ambassador would have dared to trespass upon so delicate a subject as a monarch's marriage, least of all when he had come to negotiate a treaty with that monarch.

Nor was it likely that he should have sug- gested that Mary was illegitimate when her hand would have been very useful to French diplomacy. Besides, the bishop of Tarbes only arrived in England in April 1527, that is, a few weeks before Henry's marriage was being tried by a secret court at Westminster. The bishop could not have precipitated events as swiftly as that. No less significantly, another account ofthe beginnings of the story, given by Henry in 1528, says that doubts about Mary's legitimacy were first put by the French to English ambassadors in France - not by the bishop of Tarbes to his English hosts.

He and his compatriots may have been told about the scruple or deliberately encouraged by someone to allude to it in the course of negotiations, but did not invent it; nor, probably, did Anne Boleyn - as Pole asserted. It is very likely that Henry himselfwas the author ofhis doubts. After all, he would not have needed telling about Leviticus. Though he might not have read them, the two texts would probably have been familiar to him if he had ever explored the reasons for the papal dispensation for his marriage, and he was enough of a theologian to be able to turn to them now, to brood over them and erect upon them at least the beginnings of the argument that they forbade absolutely the marriage which he had entered.

Wolsey said later that Henry’s doubts had sprung partly from his own study and partly from discussion with 'many theologians'; but since it is difficult to imagine that anyone would have dared to question the validity of the royal marriage without being prompted by the king, this must mean that the latter's own 'assiduous study and erudition' first gave birth to the 'great scruple' and that subsequent conference with others encouraged it. Moreover, Henry may have begun to entertain serious doubts about his marriage as early as 1522 or 1523, and have broached his ideas to Longland then - for, in 1532, the latter was said to have heard the first mutterings of the divorce 'nine or ten years ago'.'

By the time that Anne Boleyn captured the king, therefore, the scruple may already have acquired firm roots, though probably not until early 1527 was it mentioned to Wolsey who, so he said, when he heard about it, knelt before the king 'in his Privy Chamber the space of an hour or two, to persuade him from his will and appetite; but I could never bring to pass to dissuade him therefrom'. What had begun as a perhaps hesitant doubt had by now matured into aggressive conviction.”

- J.J. Scarisbrick, “The Repudiation of the Hapsburgs.” in Henry VIII

#henry viii of england #j.j. scarisbrick #history #tudor

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mrsalwayswrite · 4 years ago

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It’s Always Been You (Eugene Roe x f!Reader)

I have mixed feelings about this piece. But who doesn’t love Soft Roe?

Warnings: couple swear words but PURE FLUFFY FLUFF

Words: 2700

Tag List: @happyveday @saritanotserena @sydney-m @evelynshelby

I stood in front of the mirror, unable to believe the person looking back was actually me. I brushed my hands down the front of the gown, enjoying its smooth, silky texture. Such a contrast to the stiff, dirty ODs I had become accustomed to. Light makeup on my face, something I had not indulged in for years. I looked… dare I say… beautiful. Even as I witnessed myself dress up in the mirror, I doubted my own reflection. It felt like I was someone else. Today, though, that was what I wanted.

It was a Sunday and everyone was still celebrating being in Zell Am See. We had thought Germany was beautiful but it had nothing on Austria.

In his pilfering, Captain Speirs had found an abandoned, wealthy home that he thought I might enjoy. He purposefully pulled me aside and told me to investigate the master bedroom before anyone else got to it. At my questioning look, he just gave a wink and said he would stand guard until I was done. Without another word, he lit a cigarette and rummaged through his newest acquisitions.

Intrigued and still confused, since everyone knew I did not care much about finding treasures, I wandered into the home and up the grand stairwell until I finally reached the master bedroom. My jaw dropped when I saw what he was referring to and purposefully left for me. I owed him a huge bottle of liquor after this. Whoever the wife was that lived here had expensive taste. There were racks of beautiful gowns and dresses, ranging from whimsical day dresses to breath-taking evening gowns. I spent about an hour just touching all the beautiful gowns, in awe that clothing like this was even real. Even the heels and few pieces of jewelry left behind boggled my mind in their quality. It was a fairytale. It had to be.

So, I had decided while all the men were continuing to get drunk, blow things up and joy ride…. I was going to embrace my femininity. Something I had not enjoyed since Albourne, so long ago.

Now here I stood, having spent entirely too long getting ready for some kind of elegant ball. The gown I commandeered was an emerald green color, making me feel like I was wearing a gemstone, with wide straps but left my arms bare and dipped low in the back. The red lipstick I found made my lips pop in the bright light of the bathroom. My favorite thing was the small gold chain necklace I discovered half hiding under a dresser, as if dropped and forgotten by whoever was leaving quickly. I wondered if in another life this could have been me regularly, attending socialite functions and dressing up like a princess. Instead I was used to dirt and blood marring my skin, ill-fitting ODs and a helmet that constantly slipped over my eyes.

For this moment, just for tonight… I could pretend otherwise. Pretend I was someone important, someone elegant.

When I finally stepped out of the wealthy house, Speirs took one look at the gown draped over my arm and the pair of black heels dangling from my hand, and suggested I use the officer's house to get ready in.

Taking a deep breath, I took one last look at myself in the mirror. If only my family could see me now, I thought. I slipped on the heels and walked out of the bathroom, the gown trailing lightly behind me.

Tonight was about me. Doing something special for me. To remind myself I was more than just a soldier, more than the scars I now bore from our time in combat. That I had not completely lost myself to war and its carnage. Beauty could still be found in the little things...the stolen moments. Like a stunning gown and red lipstick.

I could hear the officers downstairs, talking about something, followed by a sharp bark of laughter from Nixon. Before I disappeared into the upstairs bathroom, I had told them I was going to watch the sunset by the lake and if I came back after dark to not worry about me.

Being extra careful in the gown, I descended the stairs. One foot at a time. One nervous breath at a time. Beyond aware of how different I looked.

As I stepped into view of those lounging around, most playing poker at a table in the middle of the room, silence struck. I could feel their eyes land heavily on me.

"Holy shit." Nixon said, mouth dropped open.

I stepped down the last two steps, brushing down my gown to smooth out the nonexistent wrinkles. I tried to tease, their amazed looks making me uncomfortable. "I swear, it's like you guys have forgotten I am in fact a woman."

"Uh huh. Can't forget that right now." Nixon took a sip of his drink in hand.

Harry asked, a smirk on his face as tapped his cards against the table. "Where you going dressed like that?"

"Going to watch the sunset." I reminded them.

"Dressed like that?!" Nixon sputtered then narrowed his eyes at me. "Looks like you're planning on meeting someone."

"Does a woman have to dress up only for a man?" Before anyone could answer, I pointed a finger at the officers. "The correct answer is no. I can dress up for myself. I'll be back in a while."

"Y/n?"

I looked at Winters, surprised to see him sitting in an armchair near the fireplace reading while the other officers were playing cards. "Sir?"

"You look beautiful."

"Thank you, sir." I smiled at Winters, receiving a soft one in return.

"You got a weapon on you?" Speirs asked around a cigarette between his lips.

"Maybe."

He froze, then slowly pulled the cigarette out and started to rise from his seat.

"Christ! Yes! I've got my knife! Anything else, dad, or can I go now?"

"Be smart, don't stay out too late or talk to any boys." He deadpanned, shuffling the cards in his hand. The gleam in his eyes let me know he was just teasing, but would also have no qualms stabbing anyone who bothered me.

Amidst the others chuckling, I groaned. "I'm leaving now."

Quickly, I walked out before anyone could try and convince me to stay or worse- go change.

Thankfully, even in the fading daylight, the air was still somewhat warm where I did not need a shawl. I could hear some faint cheers from the enlisted men but I slipped behind the rows of houses and headed down the lakeside path. I walked towards my favorite spot overlooking the lake. Colors danced upon the water, making it appear as if on fire. A few ambitious stars peeked out from above in the sky painted by angels. Never before would I have imagined finding myself somewhere so absolutely gorgeous. If heaven was real, I hoped it looked like Austria.

Standing there, I found myself humming and gently swaying to a Billie Holiday song. My arms wrapped around myself loosely, I tried to soak in everything. I wanted to remember this moment forever, to create new memories to replace the bad ones. The nightmares.

"Blue moon you saw me standing alone

Without a dream in my heart

Without a love of my own…"

"Y/n?"

I turned to look over my shoulder, not expecting anyone else around. The voice was a dead giveaway but I was shocked our Cajun medic was down this way. "Hey, Gene."

He stood several paces from me; his medic satchel, that he never went anywhere without, hanging off his side. He stared at me for a long moment, eyes dancing over me in a way that made me self-conscious of how much skin showed. Suddenly, he blinked rapidly as if waking from a dream. "What…" he cleared his throat, "what are you doin' here?"

"Watching the sunset." I glanced over my shoulder at the lake then looked back at him.

"Mmm...dressed like you should be in the pictures?"

I laughed, even as I felt my face warming. I ran my hands over the gown, still in awe that I was wearing something so expensive. For the most part of the past 4 years, I had been caked in grime and sweat; even though my skin was clean now, I felt too dirty to wear something so fine.

"I've never worn anything like this. I just...wanted to do something...for myself."

"Mmm… well, I'll leave you be. Goodnight." With a single nod, he hesitated then turned around, beginning to walk up the path back to the houses.

"You know…" I said loudly, watching his feet still as he turned back around to look at me. "It would be a shame to be dressed up and not able to dance."

He ducked his head slightly, a bashful smile on his face. I could see the uncertainty on his face. The desire to dance, to hold me close but also the concern for crossing that unspoken line separating us. For two years we had been tiptoeing around our growing feelings. Both aware but never acknowledging. It was in the secret looks, the subtle soft touches, the constant desire to seek one another out amongst a crowd, the solace our presence created when together. The knowledge hung there between us, with one slip we would both fall headlong over that cliff. So we kept back, together as friends but separate as lovers, even if we could read the desire in one another's eyes. It was safer this way.

Until now.

Without a word, he slowly approached me, as if waiting for me to change my mind, to tell him no, to maintain our status quo. My lips only turned up in a smile as he drew closer, encouraging him, telling him I wanted this. He dropped his satchel carefully on the ground. Our eyes locked, both aware of how this moment could change everything we had built. Carefully, he reached forward and clasped my hand, pulling me into his body. My lips parted on a quiet gasp, feeling his warm breath span across my face, his hand holding mine… and for once, neither one of us was covered in the blood of a fellow paratrooper. I lifted my hand to his shoulder, the muscles tensing underneath my palm. When he made no further movement, I grabbed his other hand and placed it on my waist. For a moment I thought he would reject this, to walk away as he seemed to stay frozen. Then with the softest whisper of my name, as if that was the key to unlock this moment, he pulled me even closer and took the lead.

In the stolen evening gown I found and Gene in his ODs, we danced. Like there was no war to haunt us. No rules against fraternizing. No fear of the future that lay before us. It was just him and I, in this moment of beauty and joy and life. We danced. He led me in a simple box step. Our pounding heartbeats, the fluttering of my gown and the soothing sound of the lake lapping on its shore, the only soundtrack we needed.

"You are beautiful."

My face heated up at the compliment. "It's the dress and lipstick."

"Non, mon chérie." He drawled in that perfect accent and tipped my face back to meet his soft gaze. "It's you. It's always been you."

I stared into his soulful eyes, a new burning in them. Where once it had only been a candle trying desperately to beat back the darkness; now a bonfire replaced it. Something darkness knew it could never defeat. This man who held me so tenderly, like I was some kind of priceless gem, who had seen the brutality and horrors of war but still kept going, still trying his hardest to save his men even when others would have given up. He was beautiful, both inside and out.

"You need to stop lookin' at me like." He whispered; eyes glued to mine.

It was when he spoke, I realized we were no longer dancing. When had we stopped? Our bodies were still pressed together, our fingers now entwined but our feet rooted to the path. The air between us felt anything but still. An ardent intensity hovered between us, binding us to the moment, preventing us from escaping it. The sounds around us disappeared. All I could see, all I could feel and sense and taste… was him.

"Why?" I asked, my voice breathy.

"I might be tempted to mess up your lipstick."

A nervous giggle escaped me. Instead of dispelling the profound moment, it only seemed to enhance it. With deliberate slowness, I moved my hand on his shoulder to the back of his neck. "I wouldn't mind."

His hand moved to cup my cheek, holding me still as he leaned in. His lips ghosted over mine, the sweetest of sensations. It sent sparks shooting through me. After he leaned back just out of lips reach. Our eyes met once again, our breathing quickening even from the faint touch. As if our bodies were synced, I rose up at the same time he leaned forward. This time when our lips met, it was with a kiss long overdue. Our lips molded to one another, basking in the taste of the other. Both my hands slipped to the nape of his neck. His hand on my cheek drifted to the back of my head, keeping me from moving away. His other hand slid to my lower back, drawing me closer… and closer.

The kiss deepened, pulling long dormant feelings from both of us, now finally exposed without reprimand. In the midst, his hand snaked up my side to brush a thumb over the underside of my breast. At the sensation, I gasped in the kiss, surprised by his forwardness. Surprised by the pure wanton need it shot through me. As my lips parted in the gasp, his tongue thrust into my mouth like he owned it. As if he needed more of my taste. Needed more of me. As if a simple kiss would never be enough. Not to him. He quickly drew my own tongue in a dance that soon left my knees weak and wobbling. I found myself clinging to him, not just in desire, but also to keep me upright, else I melted into a puddle of sheer bliss.

All too soon, we were forced apart by our lungs screaming for air. He pressed his forehead to mind, his hand still skimming my side from my hip to the underside of my breast and back down.

"It’s you. It’s always been you." He whispered as if finally able to confide his deepest secret. The words spilling forth like water out of cracks in a dam, held back for too long. "Since I first talked to you in Toccoa about tryin' to sneak a laxative into Sobel's coffee. And in Bastogne… you were always there for me. Checkin' on me. Makin' sure I knew I wasn't alone. But we're in a goddamn war and I couldn't say nothin'. Seein' you standin' out here, lookin' like an angel, I just...I had to…"

I pressed a finger to those kiss-swollen lips of his, silencing the onslaught of secrets. "Gene, I'm going to need you to stop talking and kiss me again."

He smirked, nuzzling my neck for a second. When he spoke, I could feel his hot breath and lips against my skin. "Yes, ma'am."

This time there was no hesitation, no wavering in dilemma. Our lips touched and it felt like it was meant to be. No great fireworks in the night sky, no great orchestra announcing our love. It felt more like two puzzles pieces finally fitting together. Like the sun peeking through on a cloudy day. It was perfect.

When we broke apart again, I felt delirious with joy and the look on his face said something similar. I laid my head on his chest, his arms wrapping around my waist. Bodies pressed against one another, molded together like clay. Without a word, we began swaying. The soundtrack of our shared heartbeats and the lake's waves drowning out anything else.

Nothing in the world had changed. We were still paratroopers occupying Austria. Men were still dying. The war was still going strong in the Pacific. Evil endured.

But in this moment, in our own little world.

Everything changed.

#band of brothers #Band of Brothers fandom #band of brothers fanfic #band of brothers x reader #band of brothers imagine #eugene roe #eugene roe x reader #ronald speirs #ron speirs #lewis nixon #richard winters #harry welsh #reader insert #mzwrites

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ultlie · 2 years ago

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the odds of another student wandering down here and catching them in this act were zero to none. unless the supreme leader had done something considerably huge on a maniacal scale, they often left him to his own devices. on the other hand, Kaede was respected and well renowned among the academy, so the fact that she'd gone missing and hasn't drawn attention yet was odd. how did he manage to prevent any suspicions from being drawn? did he.. somehow pilfer the girl's cell phone and send a text message to Shuichi that states she'll be tied up with something incredibly important and not to bother her? besides, they aren't always together - just extremely close enough that trust was a staple in their relationship. even for a detective, he didn't always read so deeply into a simple text. Kokichi already knew that no one in their right mind would care enough for him to come looking, so that fact alone was a key detail in how this situation fell into place. all of this was premeditated. the playful antics, the jokes, the lies - it all worked out. he knew Kaede was vulnerable when it comes to empathy. so using that to his advantage and making sure there would be no interruptions, he'd perfectly manipulated a situation where he'd have her all to himself. now here she is: wrapped around his finger, moaning and squirming like the walls are closing in. all because of him..

❝ you're mine .. all .. mine .. mine .. mine .. MINE .. MINE .. MINE!! ❞ the words sounded out with each thrust he made, which continued with increased intensity. his fingernails scrape the plump flesh of her hips, using them as leverage - they were fucking on a bean bag chair of all places. her insides were so warm.. enveloping him in lust that he's never quite felt before. in fact, this didn't just come off to him as mindless sex. his heart fluttered every other time she'd even so much as glance in his general direction. it was undisclosed outside of this situation alone just what Kokichi was thinking because he's such a weaver of lies. his true feelings for her were deep-rooted and sequestered away within him, and they weren't just sexual fantasies.. believe it or not, there's a human behind the mask.

of all the times she'd curse his name in anger; now she's moaning it. not only that, but she's begging him to keep this going - and he was determined. when those legs wrapped around him, it took every fiber within him not to burst. a little premature cum was harmless for him, but she probably wasn't too keen on that happening.. right? nonetheless, he didn't wanna finish and wrap things up too quickly. getting to this point took a lot of work. surely he'd do it again and again and again, but.. there was no reason their fun had to end just yet. ❝ I wonder how many times I can make you cum ~ ❞ biting the corner of his lip, Kokichi's palm met with the other's neck; precisely where he'd gone berserk with hickeys. not hard enough to relinquish air flow to her lungs but enough to add pressure, he begins choking her. the thrusts became a lot more rough as he did this, the hue of his eyes glossing into nothingness - almost like something had just snapped. the supreme leader was destroying his precious underling.

The game room was getting filled with moans and whimpers from this prodigy, at this point it couldn't be helped but to let go and have her body enjoy it even more as he took the time to touch and feel. She wondered, how exactly was he this skilled in knowing what to do with her? To get her to this point from a kiss...boy was she quite weak. Yet, this only revealed and proven more how much this lust she was feeling was kept away for this long it was very much needed to let it out. And the supreme leader had made it all that much better. Although, she had a small thought of 'why me'? Why her out of any of the other female classmates here? She knew how often they all butt heads with him, including her...but maybe that was the fun of it for him. How much she had stood up against him, called him out on his bullshit and all only to be lead here like this right underneath him and his control. Ironic yet sexy.

The feeling of his slim fingers that kept rubbing against her soaked underwear felt like it was the closest to touching her until he made his next move continuing on. Even with his next praise to her was like a song to her ears, making her feel even more good just by words. She mustered a "Mhmm" in response to him, taking brief glances down but making sure they were kept on him. And did it ever make her melt just trying to keep focus on him once those two fingers finally slipped their way in. Another lovely moan through her breath, her hips lifted on its own against his hand once they were in. It was bound to be the next point yet just the feeling of those fingers exploring within her still felt like a lovely surprise. "So good...this feels way too good...! Keep going p-please...!" Unfortunately, it wouldn't have lasted as long as she'd like to once he pulled them out now. The pianist could have prepared herself to do some more begging if she must but it was on to the next. She watched as he brought himself up, removing and loosening his few accessories below to then reveal his erection with ease.

Violet hues widened, realizing that this next step was surely coming, her mind hesitating for a moment despite it was bound to happen sooner or later. "Aahh!~ Ngh!" Before she could find any words to speak up, the tip all the way down his shaft had been pushed in between her folds, the feeling of it taking over as his choked moans made music along too. Thanks to him, Kaede must have been incredibly wet to make sure it was that easy to push on in but even through this feeling it felt foreign. It did hurt just a little, but enough that pain went away once he proceeded to thrust. Yet she didn't push away, her body was on fire now, it finally got what it has been aching for this long after much teasing. Her legs wrapped close to him, making sure he wouldn't be going anywhere. Kaede held onto him, her eyes returned to connect with his, words no longer could be found except for his name and breathy moans from now on. The sweet, lustful ultimate pianist belonged to him now.

#lock the door ( nsfw. )#belovedblossoms

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secretpajamas · 4 years ago

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a different kind of rush;

an ezra x reader fic

pairing: ezra (prospect) x female reader

rating: explicit

genre: romance/smut/and they were roommates (oh my god they were roommates)

words: 5.6k

part 2 of 2 (read part one HERE)

please scroll to the end to “content” if you would like to know specific smut-related content before reading!

When you emerged from the shower, you changed into your long sleep shirt (the thing was far too old and ratty at this point to be considered a “nightgown”). Even though it wasn’t dark out yet, you figured you might as well go to bed at the rate this day was going.

As you slowly crept through the tent partition, you noticed that Ezra was gone—and so was his gear.

You found a note in Ezra’s barely-legible scrawl placed at the foot of your bed.

“Starstone quality check,” you mumbled, reading the note aloud.

Starstone was so finicky that it was necessary to check up on it in storage to make sure it maintained its stability. But you knew in your gut he was avoiding you. While he was out, you cleaned the filters and checked the tanks like you always did—minus the filter and tank that Ezra was currently using—the methodical work helping soothe your nerves a little.

When Ezra came back in, you were sitting up in bed, reading the book Ezra’s kid Cee had hand-written (“She didn’t come up with the story, but she basically rewrote the whole damn thing herself. Smarter than she knows, that kid.”). It wasn’t your usual kind of story, and not even your usual medium of consumption (you preferred late-night radio dramas, but they broadcast from the Ephrate—the signal was spotty at best in the Fringes and nonexistent here in the Reach), but it was captivating nonetheless.

You didn’t look up from the book as Ezra walked in. Neither of you said a word.

Part of you was relieved that you didn’t talk about it.

The other part of you was desperate to talk about it.

The next morning, you woke to Ezra sitting at his makeshift desk—a chair set in front of an old wooden shipping crate—swirling together the starstone enzyme bath. He was wearing a pair of boxer shorts and a gray t-shirt, his hair already matted with perspiration from the heat.

You grumbled and slowly sat up.

“Mornin’, sunshine,” Ezra said, not lifting his eyes from his work.

“Mmph,” was your sleepy response.

“Oats are ready if you have a hankering,” he continued, gesturing with his head towards the “kitchen”—another wooden shipping crate, this one with a battery-operated stove placed on top.

You were suddenly very awake at the promise of food. “Please tell me there’s coffee, too.”

“Haven’t made it yet,” he replied. “Go easy on the stuff, you’ve drunk near all my supply.”

“I believe food and board is included in my contract.” You yawned before shuffling your way over to the stove.

“Food and board, sweetheart, not drink.” Ezra held the canister of freshly mixed enzyme solution between his knees as he twisted on the cap with his hand.

Your stomach rumbled and you eagerly grabbed your bowl of oatmeal. After wolfing down your breakfast, you filled Ezra’s rickety kettle with water and set it on the stove, turning the power up to high. You pawed around the mismatched collection of canteens piled next to the stove until you found two clean ones and set them out, along with four packets of powdered coffee (three for you, one for Ezra). It was the instant stuff anyone could grab for cheap at a shuttle station, and it tasted wretched, but it did its job.

As you waited for the water to boil—not long when the water in storage was already warm thanks to this planet’s heat—You heard Ezra stand up and approach you. When you felt his hand brush the small of your back, you shivered.

Ezra huffed. “Are you cold? For cryin’ out loud, woman, it’s hotter’n two channel-rats fuckin’ in a wool sock.”

“Must be caffeine withdrawal,” you lied, knowing full well it was Ezra’s touch.

He rubbed his thumb back and forth and you nearly shivered again. “I suppose it’s high time I replenish our supplies,” he said, “lest you pillage the remainder of my coffee.”

When the kettle began to whistle, you switched off the stove and poured equal amounts of hot water into the cups—and unequal amounts of coffee packets. All the while, Ezra’s hand stayed on your back.

“Speaking of supplies, we could use another full O2 tank,” you said, trying your best to ignore how your stomach did somersaults every time Ezra absentmindedly rubbed his thumb against the material of your sleep shirt, “and coolant for the air circulators.”

“I’m well aware,” Ezra said, “but thank you kindly for the reminder.”

You offered Ezra his canteen of coffee. You mourned the loss of his hand on your back, but feeling the brush of his fingers against yours as you handed him his cup was nearly as electrifying.

“S’posin’ we pull a good haul of starstone today, I can ready the pod for the shuttle station tomorrow,” he said between sips. “Be back within a couple days’ time.”

You swallowed down a lump in your throat along with your coffee. You did need supplies, but it was hardly urgent—was he really that keen on avoiding you? But the way he just touched your back—he’d never been more intimate than friendly pats on the shoulder before—

“The shuttle station gets a clearer radio signal to the Ephrate,” Ezra continued, “I can have a good an’ proper talk with Cee.”

Oh. He wants to talk to his kid, you moron. Why did you make this about yourself and your ill-timed masturbatory ventures?

“I’ll hold down the fort, then,” you said between gulps of your coffee.

“I’m countin’ on it,” Ezra said. “Now let’s score some stone afore this bitch of a planet bakes us alive.”

–

Ezra was gone before you woke, but you had expected it. He told you as much last night. But you still couldn’t shake the notion that he was avoiding you. You sighed deeply before untangling yourself from the bedsheets and crawling over to make your morning coffee.

On the table, the kettle was already set out on the stovetop, along with three coffee packets, a clean canteen, and a note from Ezra.

“Radio at 21:00,” you mumbled. That was tonight—so he was planning to call you as soon as he got in. You couldn’t help but smile as you made your coffee.

You didn’t have to mine today or tomorrow, thanks to working double-time yesterday (and your aching muscles certainly reminded you of that), but there was still plenty to do around the tent. After gulping down your coffee, you started with the pile of laundry in the corner. It was the most urgent order of business, based on how it was beginning to climb up the wall—and how much it stunk. You filled a basin with water and soap and got to work.

While hanging the garments to dry, you noticed a pair of Ezra’s compression pants had a tear in the thigh—thankfully, it was on a side seam, so you could easily sew it shut. You noted to fix it as soon as it was finished drying. You wondered if you could mend anything else, noting Ezra’s ratty assortment of boxers and briefs. If he made any cash in the aurelac rush, he certainly didn’t spend any of it on underwear. You could mend holes, but you couldn’t work miracles.

As you waited for the clothes to dry, you snacked on a ration bar and read more of Cee’s book. You were invested in the characters now, despite your initial skepticism of the subject matter. You had to admit, it was a bit of a page-turner. After a while, you didn’t want to put it down. You moved from sitting at Ezra’s desk to leaning against one of the tent supports to laying on your bed mat, your eyes glued to the page.

When you finally came to a satisfying enough chapter to pause your reading, you looked around for a piece of scrap paper to mark your place. You picked up Ezra’s note and tucked it inside the pages before shutting the book. You noticed the laundry hanging up was dry—had you really been reading that long? Oh well. Time to get mending.

–

You had mended Ezra’s pants, a pair of his socks, and were about to sew a button back on the pocket of your suit when you heard your name crackle from the radio headset in the corner. Startled, you dropped your work, the button skittering across the floor.

“Gimme a minute!” You shouted, hoping your headset would pick it up from across the tent. You quickly found the runaway button and placed it on Ezra’s desk before scrambling to your side of the tent to put on your headset.

“Sorry about that,” you said, “I’m here. You get in okay?”

“All in one piece,” came Ezra’s voice in your ear, “give or take an arm.”

You rolled your eyes at Ezra’s wisecrack. “Talk to Cee yet?”

“Not yet,” Ezra said, “with the time difference between here and the Ephrate, she’s still in class. I shan’t interrupt her studies.”

You looked at the book where it lay on Ezra’s desk and smiled. “Well, when you call her, tell her I said hello.”

“Will do.”

“So, what station did you end up at?” You asked.

“Trinity,” Ezra replied.

“Trinity,” you said, “don’t think I’ve been on Trinity since the rush.”

“Ain’t any different,” Ezra said, “still got egregious docking fees and an abundance of unpleasant company.”

“Already shooed away a pick-pocket busker, haven’t you?”

“Several,” Ezra grumbled, “Damn this stump, they think I’m an easy target.”

“Were any of them good players, at least?” You asked.

“Truthfully, the boy on the panpipes was a talented little devil,” he said, “both in playing his instrument and his victims. I let him pilfer a coin from my pocket—I fancy myself a patron of the arts.”

You snorted. “You keep coin in your pocket? On Trinity?”

“Sweetheart, it’s the decoy cash,” Ezra explained. “You keep a couple low-credit coin in your pocket for the vandals so that they don’t go scroungin’ for the heavy-hittin’ gems in your suit lining.”

“Speaking of your suit lining,” you said, “I’ve been doing some mending.”

You heard Ezra’s raspy laugh through your headset. “Don’t suppose you’ve been sewin’ up my underthings.”

“Those are hopeless,” you remarked, “I meant your spare compression pants.”

“Ah!” Ezra said. “I do recall those had a rip in ’em. I was fixin’ to fix those.”

“Well, I figured I’d do it as long as I had the time,” you said. “Also darned a pair of your socks.”

“Are you anglin’ for a raise?” You could hear the smile in Ezra’s voice.

“Your listing did say ‘compensation negotiable,’” you replied.

“Hmm. That it did,” Ezra said. “Perhaps we shall negotiate upon my return.”

The radio line lay silent for a moment, and you felt a nervous pang in your stomach. Enough small talk. You needed to say something about what happened the other day—even if it was just to apologize.

“Ezra?”

“Yes, sweetheart?” He replied.

“Is everything... Okay? With us?” You asked, trying to suppress the anxiety in your voice.

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Ezra replied, before quickly adding in lowered tone, “Did somethin’... rub you the wrong way?”

“Kevva help me,” you grumbled, feeling the wave embarrassment crawl up your spine. “I’m so sorry, Ezra. It won’t happen again.”

“Stop apologizin’. There ain’t a thing wrong indulgin’ in a little well-earned self-pleasure.”

The way he said pleasure made your breath hitch. You hoped like hell it didn’t pick up on the radio.

“If there’s one thing I’ve come to realize in my years,” he said, “is that there’s no use feelin’ shame in feelin’ good.”

His voice was smooth and deliberate now. That bastard knew exactly what he was doing to you. “So don’t you stop yourself because of me—truthfully, I don’t mind. Not one bit.”

Hesitantly, you reached down to press the heel of your hand against your clit, choking back a moan threatening to escape your throat—but not entirely succeeding.

You heard Ezra’s breath coming loud and heavy through the radio. “Are you touchin’ yourself right now, sweetheart?”

“Yes,” you gasped out, your previous inhibitions completely shattered.

“Fuck,” Ezra replied. “Thank Kevva this radio headset is hands-free.”

You heard what might have been Ezra undoing his zipper—and your suspicions were confirmed when you heard a low moan through the radio.

“Ezra—”

“Do you have the faintest idea what you do to me, woman?” The line swelled with static and the throaty rasp of Ezra’s voice. “Told myself not to—made myself not think of you like that. It ain’t proper. But when you—you let me watch—”

You whined and slid your hand beneath your underwear. “I was thinking of you,” you confessed, “always thinking of you—”

“It’s a cryin’ shame,” Ezra said, “all I’ve got is spit-slick and a weak hand wishin’ like hell it was you.”

You sped up the pace of your fingers as he continued.

“If you were here,” he said, “I’d bury myself inside you so deep—ah, fuck—’til you were the only thing I could feel.”

At his words, you slid two fingers inside yourself up to the knuckle, arching your hips, trying to get them as deep as they could go, thumb tirelessly working at your clit.

“I want that,” you panted, “I want you.”

“—Make you come on my cock again and again ’til you’re dizzy with it,” he said, “fuck you so hard you feel it the next day.”

Ezra’s words were pushing you close to the edge. “Ezra, I’m gonna—”

“Do it,” he groaned, “let me hear you, sweetheart.”

You came to the overwhelming sound of Ezra’s broken moans and your own desperate cries and the static of the radio and the beating of your heart—

a discordant symphony of absolute ecstasy.

–

Ezra returned the following night with a full pod of supplies. You worked together like a well-oiled machine, moving various goods from the pod to the tent in an orderly fashion. You both made small talk—Cee was doing well at the Academy, the shuttle station shop was stocked enough with what they needed, no, they didn’t have real coffee, just the shit stuff in packets.

Despite the friendly conversation, the air was thick with unspoken words.

It was hot out—as it always was on this planet—so you breathed a huge sigh of relief when you had both moved all the supplies to the tent and you could leave the sweaty pod. You both discarded your helmets and stood in front of the air circulator on Ezra’s side of the tent, sifting through the supplies and placing them where they belonged throughout the tent.

When you reached at the same time as Ezra for a can of coolant, your hands collided, sending a shockwave up your arm and stopping your breath.

You both froze, staring at your hands where they met.

Slowly, carefully, Ezra intertwined your fingers with his.

“Hello, sweetheart,” he whispered, those beautiful brown eyes of his gazing at you tenderly.

You couldn’t take it anymore—you climbed over the pile of supplies between you and pressed your lips to his.

He let out a surprised little noise against your mouth before returning the kiss with fervor, wrapping his arm tightly around you and pressing you close to his chest.

“Couldn’t—stop—thinkin’ of you,” he said between kisses.

“Do you want to—can we—” You gasped against his mouth.

“Yes,” he breathed, scrambling to work at the zips and fasteners on his suit. He didn’t object when you reached out to help remove the suit—and honestly, you weren’t thinking of it as helping him, more like getting all your clothes off as fast as possible because holy shit this was happening. Ezra had already removed his boots when he took his helmet off earlier, and you were only dressed in your undershirt and shorts, so this blasted contraption of a suit was the main obstacle.

You both managed to get the damn thing off and Ezra kicked it aside. He reached back, grabbing his sweaty t-shirt behind the collar to tug it over his head. You grasped the hem of your top and pulled it up and off, throwing it to the growing pile of discarded clothing.

You were about to strip off your shorts when Ezra reached for you again, kissing your mouth, your jaw, your neck, down to the tops of your breasts along the edge of your bra. You scrambled to unclasp it, letting it fall to the floor. Ezra wasted no time, cupping a breast in his hand and lavishing kisses on the other. When you felt the wet heat of his tongue against your nipple, you cried out, grabbing his hair and giving it a tug. He moaned against your breast before pulling away to look at you.

“Let’s take this to a bed,” you urged.

Ezra nodded vigorously in agreement and you both stumbled over to his bed mat, falling atop the sheets in a tangle of limbs.

Ezra sat up and you situated yourself on his lap, wrapping your legs around him. You could kiss him like this for hours, his tongue in your mouth, your fingers in his hair, his hand steady and warm on your back.

When you both took a moment to catch your breath, Ezra cleared his throat and looked you in the eye, his expression almost timid.

“I must confess, I have not had the chance to... partake, since I lost my arm,” he said. “I may not be as formidable a sparrin’ partner as I once was.”

“Ezra, I’m sure it doesn’t matter,” you said, leaning in to kiss him again. He stopped you with a press of a finger to your lips.

“Allow me to enlighten you.” He shrugged with his stump. “Nothin’s as it once was. I can’t even take a piss the same way. Ever try to hold a dick with a hand that ain’t there?”

“Can’t say I have,” you said.

“Oh, hush, birdie, you can understand the sentiment,” Ezra grumbled. “Everything is at the behest of my damned weak hand. I can’t read my own handwriting anymore. Can’t shoot like I used to—my grip’s shit on the left. Even gettin’ dressed is harder than minin’ aurelac.”

He took a deep breath and ran his fingers through his hair before continuing. “And as long as we’re on the subject of minin’, I can no longer mine most things on my lonesome. Each harvest is hardly half of my previous yields, and I got the kid to support on top of everything. Now, Cee deserves every bit of that support, do not misunderstand my words—I would move Kevva and earth for that girl. But such meager wages do tend to make one feel... inadequate. A man’s work is no petty thing.”

You listened to Ezra attentively, not knowing how you could get it across to him that he was no less of a man in your eyes than if he had two arms. You wanted to reassure him, but he pressed on.

“So please, allow me to posit this caveat,” he said, “that I intend to make love to you, and to do so to the fullest of my capabilities—but even my best efforts may prove... unsatisfactory.”

Make love. Ezra wanted to make love to you. Your heart stuttered in your chest.

You were so stunned by Ezra’s choice of vocabulary that it took you a moment to process what he said.

“Oh,” you said. “You don’t think you can make me come.”

Ezra ducked his head; you could have sworn he was blushing. “You always cut right to the quick.”

You cupped his cheek, running your thumb along the little white scar there.

“Ezra, I don’t care. I just want this. With you.” You glanced down to where you straddled his lap, rolling your hips a little against his growing arousal. “And forgive me if I’m assuming things, but it seems like you want it, too.”

Ezra moaned quietly at your movements. “My desire was never in question, I assure you,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smile.

You leaned in and kissed him softly. He returned the kiss before gently moving you off his lap.

“Lie down, sweetheart,” he whispered, and you eagerly obliged, reclining on the mattress. He settled on top of you, propping himself up on his elbow, kissing you passionately. Eager to get your hands on him, you hooked a finger under his waistband and gave a tug.

“Whoa there,” Ezra said, “slow down, spitfire.”

You moved your hand away. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’, believe me. But those clever hands of yours will have to wait, because I’ve been starvin’ for you,” he said with a sly grin, kissing a path down your breasts to your stomach, “and I can no longer deny myself a taste.”

It took a moment for your Ezra Translator to kick in. “Oh.” You scrambled to shimmy your shorts and underwear down. Ezra took over, pulling them all the way off and tossing them over his shoulder before leaning down to continue his trail of kisses.

He nudged at your thigh with his head and you eagerly opened your legs for him. Rough stubble tickled your thighs as he kissed his way to your cunt. At the first feeling of his hot breath against your clit, your hips jumped up out of their own volition, knocking Ezra off his left elbow and face-planting him onto the bed beneath you.

“Sorry!” You squeaked. You reached out to steady him but stopped yourself—you knew he hated being helped.

“Hell’s bells,” Ezra grunted. He gripped at the sheets with his hand as he slowly pushed himself to sit upright.

“Left arm ain’t worth shit,” he grumbled under his breath, “can’t even hold me up.”

“It’s alright, Ezra,” you said, “we can try again.”

“Indeed we can,” Ezra said. He lay down on his back next to you and motioned to his chin. “Take a seat, sweetheart.”

“Um,” you started. You’d done this before, but not like that. “I don’t want to—hurt you.”

“Kevva’s sake, woman, I ain’t gonna break,” Ezra said, then added with a grin, “if I suffocate on account of your cunt, I will embrace death with open arms. Well, one of ’em, anyway.”

“Oh, shut up,” you said with a groan.

“Here lies Ezra, drowned in pussy,” he continued teasing, eyeing you with a wicked grin.

You hesitantly shuffled toward him. Drumming up some courage, you knelt above him, one knee on either side of his head. You were so nervous that you could hear your pulse roaring in your ears.

Whether impatient or just eager, Ezra grabbed you by the hip, then, and urged you down onto his mouth.

You gasped, bracing yourself as you felt the white-hot warmth of his tongue against your cunt. You choked back a moan, your hips stuttering forward, trying not to grind down too hard on his face. Ezra was having none of that. He urged you to move, his hand gripping your hip and firmly pulling you forward. With a little more certainty, you rocked your hips forward and back, making his tongue slide against your clit in long strokes. You moaned again, louder this time, and Ezra hummed his desperate response, burying his face in your pussy like a man starving.

You rutted against him urgently, your thighs beginning to burn from holding yourself up over him. Your movements became less graceful, more desperate—you slid forward too far, causing your slit to grind against the bridge of his nose, and you’d be embarrassed if didn’t feel so damn good. You were right on the precipice, moments away from shaking apart, when Ezra stilled your hips with his hand and brought you back to his tongue. He latched his mouth over your clit and sucked on it, wet and sloppy and fucking perfect.

“Fuck, Ezra,” you gasped, the heat coiling inside you tighter and tighter, “I’m gonna come, I’m gonna—”

Ezra growled, his teeth grazing your clit for a moment, and the jolt of sensation just on the right edge of pain had you coming so hard you thought you might black out. You stumbled forward, reaching out to break your fall, your cunt pulling away from his mouth. Somehow, Ezra knew you needed more, reaching behind his head for you and guiding you back in place with his hand. He began to lap at you again, working you through another shaking shockwave of pleasure.

You had to pull away before it was too much. You collapsed next to Ezra on the too-small mattress, trying to catch your breath, feeling your thighs burn and your cunt twitch and your heart sing.

“Give me a minute,” you gasped.

“Take all the time you need, sweetheart,” Ezra said, equally breathless.

You turned to look at Ezra. His face was flushed red, beads of sweat dripping down to mix with your slick that had ended up all over his mouth and chin—and his nose. He looked absolutely filthy and you’d be mortified if he didn’t look so damn pleased with himself.

You reached for your discarded t-shirt and gently wiped at his face, cleaning up the most offensive wet patches before tossing it aside again. “Sorry,” you said.

Ezra chuckled. “I do not accept your apology, ma’am,” he teased. “That was sexier than hittin’ a motherlode of aurelac.”

“Now that’s high praise,” you teased back.

“C’mere and kiss me,” he all but whispered, reaching out to hold your chin between his thumb and index finger. You closed the distance and pressed your lips against his. It was almost chaste—if not for the knowledge of where that mouth had just been.

He pressed his forehead against yours. You breathed deeply, absentmindedly playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

You looked down at the straining bulge in his pants, snaking your hand down to stroke at him through the fabric. A little choked moan tumbled from his throat at your touch.

“Let’s take this off,” you said, thumbing the waistband. He nodded in agreement, laying on his back and lifting his hips so you could pull his pants down and off in short order. His cock sprang free, hard and aching.

You licked your lips. “No underwear?”

“Too fuckin’ hot for underwear,” he said, gasping when you gently rested your hand on the crease where his thigh met his hip.

You moved your hand up and down his thigh, making him squirm and thrust up against nothing but air. He practically whined, his hand clawing at the sheets.

“Touch me,” he begged, voice cracking.

“I am touching you,” you said with a wolfish grin.

“Damn it, woman,” he groaned, “if the heat don’t kill me, you sure as shit will have the pleasure yourself.”

“Patience,” you chided, not sure how long you could keep this up—you wanted him inside you, and you wanted him now—but you loved seeing him spread out and desperate for you.

Finally, you wrapped your hand around him and gave a long, firm stroke. He threw his head back and moaned, arching into your touch. You licked your lips as you studied his cock, the thick length of it twitching ever so slightly in your hand. You rubbed at the underside of the head with your thumb and your mouth watered when a bead of precome welled up at the tip. On instinct, you moved down to lick it off.

Ezra cursed, bucking up to meet your mouth. You held him down by the hip before taking him into your mouth as far as you could.

“Fuck, sweetheart—I—fuck!” Ezra cried out, clawing at the sheets with his hand, writhing against your hand where it held him down. When you tentatively reached down to gently squeeze his balls, he nearly sobbed.

“I’m gonna—” Ezra gasped.

You pulled your mouth off of him, then, replacing it with your hand, not moving, just holding him at the base.

“Hold on, I didn’t say stop,” he said with a breathless chuckle. “Everything alright?”

“I want you inside me,” you whispered, barely audible.

Ezra reached out to still your movements. “I don’t have protection, sweetheart,” he said, voice strained.

You bit your bottom lip, averting Ezra’s gaze for a moment. “I have the implant,” you said, looking him in the eye again.

Ezra’s eyebrow shot up. “Well, shit, woman,” he said. “Thought they only had those fancy contraptions in the Ephrate.”

“They do,” you said. “I did have some decent money, once. In the rush. Before my crew took it all and left.”

“You and I have trod similar paths, so it would seem,” Ezra said.

“The rush left a lot of us in the dust,” you said.

Ezra nodded. “The deadliest dust there is.”

After a long moment, he sat up to kiss you, just a gentle press of lips. You put your arms around him and closed your eyes, breathing with him for a moment.

“How do you want to—which way should we—” you stumbled over your words.

“You may have me whichever way you desire,” Ezra said, voice low in your ear, “and I will do my darnedest to provide.”

“Can—can you be on top?” You started, “I mean—I will if it’s easier, but my thighs are kind of killing me.”

Ezra chuckled, and you thrilled at the vibration of it against your chest. “Lay back,” he said.

You complied, laying down on the bed mat. He reached behind you to grab the pillow.

“Lift up that pretty ass of yours for me,” he said, and you did. Kneeling before you, he placed the pillow under your hips.

“Reckon my knees will hold me up longer than my arm,” he said, gripping your hip to tug you towards him.

“Guess both our thighs will be burning tonight,” you said with a sly smile.

“Worth every ache,” he replied, taking himself in hand.

He slowly rubbed at your slit with the head of his cock. You moaned, your cunt clenching against thin air as you felt wetness dribble down. Ezra dragged his cockhead through the slick, gathering it before rubbing at your clit directly. You gasped at the jolt of pleasure lighting up your body—it felt so good you could cry. You could hardly stand the teasing anymore, wanting him inside you now more than ever.

“Ezra, please,” you begged.

At your urging, he lined himself up and slid inside you with one deliberate movement. The sensation of his thick cock filling you up, the almost-aching stretch of it—it was better than you ever imagined. He grabbed you by the hip again to pull you even closer as he began to thrust into you at a steady pace.

“Look at you,” Ezra said, his voice gravelly and low, “takin’ my cock like it was made for you. Shoulda known you’d feel this good, sweetheart.”

“Ezra,” you panted, “Ezra.”

You looked up at Ezra as he filled you completely—from his pupils blown wide and his lips slightly parted, to the broad expanse of his shoulders, to the torso adorned with freckles and scars, to—fuck, where his cock was seated deep in your cunt—he was more beautiful than any gemstone.

You could tell Ezra was trying to control the pace of his thrusts, biting his lip in concentration. You didn’t want him to hold back.

“Harder,” you breathed.

“I ain’t gonna last,” Ezra said through gritted teeth.

“I don’t care!” You cried out, clenching down on him.

“Fuck!” Ezra leaned forward and braced himself against the bed, arm trembling with the effort as he set a brutal pace, fucking into you hard and deep and unrelenting. You nearly screamed.

“Touch yourself, sweetheart,” Ezra’s voice was frantic and loud, “come for me, please, please, fuck!”

You rubbed your clit for hardly a moment before you shook apart, your cunt spasming around his cock, your body consumed in flames of pleasure so intense you could hardly breathe.

Ezra managed a few more thrusts before he came with a shout, his cock inside you as deep as it could go.

–

In the aftermath, Ezra collapsed beside you, absolutely exhausted. You turned your head to kiss him, lazy and slow.

“If it’s alright with you,” he said, his breath warm and close, “I’m inclined to take the day off tomorrow.”

“We’re sure going to be sore,” you sighed.

“Well, yes,” he agreed, “but I’m keen on more...sparrin’ practice.”

“You can say sex, you know,” you laughed, “not everything has to be a metaphor.”

Ezra smiled. “I do have an inclination to run my mouth, don’t I.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.”

Ezra just rolled his eyes before taking your hand in his, your fingers twining together.

“I just realized,” you said, looking over at Ezra’s desk, “I could’ve sat on that chair instead of your face. Would’ve made things easier.”

Ezra’s eyes widened a fraction, looking over at the chair, then back to you.

“Why didn’t I think of that? I am dumber than a box of rocks,” he said with a chuckle. “But I do believe my method is superior.”

“We’ll have to test your theory,” you said. “Do some serious research.”

Ezra nodded eagerly before setting a steely expression with a furrowed brow. “Of course.”

content: phone sex (well, radio sex if you wanna get technical), cunnilingus, face-sitting, blowjob, vaginal sex

a/n: listen. all the scifi sex I write will conveniently make use of “the implant” purely so they can raw-dog it. also like where tf is ezra gonna go buy space condoms. this is set in the fringes of the galaxy. it’s not like he can pop over to space cvs and get some cosmic cock wrappers for his magnum dong. they don’t carry them at the shuttle station, okay?

and yes I DO go back and forth in my fics deciding whether “come” or “cum” is hotter/more grammatically correct/etc and this is a come fic, apologies to the cum crowd

special thanks to taylor (@damerondjarin) for the exchange of messages that inspired this fic, and for all the moral support thereafter. believe it or not this entire fic was supposed to be JUST the face-sitting sex scene and uh it expanded from there. Oops.

#ezra prospect #ezra x reader #ezra prospect x reader #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction

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doubleddenden · 3 years ago

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So while I can't say I really enjoyed the majority of BDSP, this was a rather interesting team to run with.

Emperor the Empoleon just kinda got way too attached to me way too quick. He was the strongest too and his affection rose way too quickly, leading me to believe he is very clingy. Best moment I think was how he soloed Bertha, it and Flint's Infernape went toe to toe, and how it stood against Cynthia's Murder Milotic until I could come up with a plan.

Zeppelin the Drifblim was a pain and a half to get and involved having to work with the game's stupid 24 hour time change lock (I know it was there originally, didn't need to come back), but I eventually caught it. For a bit it was the strongest, then the weakest, and I almost boxed it. But it's Aftermath ability actually came in handy when the League decided to get fun and interesting. It's responsible for taking down Flint's Lopunny that was hopped up on an Evasion boost Baton Passed from his Drifblim, and also responsible for ending the Swords Danced menace of Cynthia's Garchomp.

Bussee the Lickilicky is next, named after one of my friends since I caught it as a female Lickitung in the Grand Underground. I did not want it at first, but it chased me down and a buddy of mine dared me to catch it, so I did, and it immediately evolved before the 2nd gym. I honestly did not think a goddamn Lickilicky would ever find it's way within my ranks, let alone be named BUSSEE (pronounced Bussy but every time it's sung like that one YouTube poop), let alone be USEFUL. She wasn't much for winning but as a wall and all around coverage, she was great. Bussee took down Cynthia's murderous Milotic after it wiped half my team and kept recovering, and worked in tandem with Zeppelin to take out Lopunny. Like holy shit, underdog moment.

Skorpio the Drapion was also a Grand Underground find. It's one I really wanted to test since I remembered Paul's being a beast in the anime. He was the baby, the last to evolve, but he did his fair share of fighting and even worked wonders helping me catch the Lake Trio. It's sad that I had to box him for the League, but he's alright.

Vespa the Vespiquen was a complete accident as I was trying to get to another wall to pilfer for a Skull fossil. I never had a female Combee before and it evolved fast, like before gym 2. I was actually tempted to box her, but she's just too good, and I got attached. In the league she helped with the bug guy, Flint, Will, and even Cynthia, where it Destiny Bonded her Gastrodon.

Skull the Rampardos was one I REALLY wanted and influenced me to get BD. I hunted for 5 god forsaken hours to find this thing, and I eventually did after finding several shiny statues. It was surprisingly useful in a few gyms, and especially against Will and the bug guy. His power was incredible, maybe too much so. It grew like a weed and hit like freight train, especially against Team Galactic.

Lastly but certainly not least, Himpo Potato the Hippowdon, male despite what the team maker would say. I'd say I spent way too much time with him considering he was always lagging behind, but he was useful for pretty much every battle he went in. He solo'd a few gyms, fought a few e4 members, and bought time against Cynthia's murder squad after stopping her Lucario.

Anyway, I may not like the game, but I always like my teams I put together.

#pokemon #bdsp #Empoleon #Vespiquen #drifblim #drapion #Rampardos #hippowdon #Lickilicky

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mason-knight-retired · 3 years ago

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Half way through the night, Mason plucks Marie off the dance floor and leads her to the bar.

“Mase,” she complains. “I was dancing.”

“I know,” he laughs. “But I wanted some time with the guest of honor before you get too deep into round two of that alcoholic haze you have going on.”

She sighs a little. “Sometimes being a biotic sucks. The buzz never lasts long enough.”

“I can help with that. “ He motions to the salarian behind the bar for a round of drinks – more for the table where some of Marie’s squad congregates as well as something special for himself and Marie. Maddox spares him an irritated glare for stealing his dance partner but Mason ignores it. If he’s picking up the tab for the celebrations tonight, he’s going to at least snatch a few minutes with his favourite girl.

He’s about to turn back when an asari in a black formfitting dress cocks her head and gives him an appraising look that he returns with a small inclination of his head and a small raise of his glass.

“Ugh, really?” Marie mutters from beside him. Mason turns to her in surprise.

“What?”

Her eyes shift from him to the asari then back again. “That,” she says, wrinkling her nose delicately, She’s so cute, and an absolute knock out in that sparkly dress.

“What?” he says again, even though he knows full well what she means. “Spit it out, Rie.”

“I… you know what, I’m not even going to ask. I’m wearing heels, got my sparkle on and a drink in my hand and I am celebrating tonight. Who knows when we might be able to do this again?”

Mason taps his glass briefly against hers. “Amen to that.”

Mason leans back against the bar, eying the small crowd gathered around the table.

“So, your squad,” he starts. “Tell me about them.”

Marie immediately straightens, flicking a strand of hair over her shoulder. The pride shines bright on her face. “They're amazing,” she says.

“Of course they are,” he says, amused. They look like an interesting bunch, even if they’re all smashed off their faces right now. But then it was a party, that was the point. “They're yours.”

Marie eyes him suspiciously and he throws one hand up. “I mean it. You're a good leader. I wouldn't be going with you on the Berlin if you weren't. I like my skin too much, thanks.” He raises his glass, glances at the asari once more and winks.

“Ugh, you’re insufferable since Dr Lyons put you back together.”

He laughs at that but then his smile fades slightly. He tilts his head and tries to catch her eye. He worries what he says next might piss her off so he keeps his tone fairly neutral. “But you and Nico though? Is that really a good idea?”

“Isaac knows not to send us together when it’s boots on the ground. But I want him with me.”

“I know he wants that too. Speaking of the captain, though, is he planning to make an appearance tonight? I sent him a message.”

Marie shakes her head. “Not his scene.”

“Ethan looked him up. Seems like a good man.”

“He is. I think you’ll like each other.”

“Hm, that’s all I can ask for. But that other one on your squad-“

Mason jerks his chin towards the group and watches as the curly haired kid snatches a drink from a burly blonde and a dark skinned man calmly takes it out of his hand before the liquid can slosh across the table. Another man leans back, arm draped across the back of the curly haired kid’s chair.

“-The greasy looking one that thinks he’s some kind of twentieth century cowboy….”

Marie chokes slightly on her drink. “Thurman?”

“Yeah. Is he going to be a problem?”

“Why would you think that?”

Mason pauses to choose his words carefully. They’ve faced their fair share of distrust from the Alliance and while most of it has died down since their results speak for themselves, there’s still plenty that would be glad to see them all morphed into dragoons and executed. And Mason would rather sleep on the Berlin without having to worry about waking up with a knife to his throat.

His hesitation seems to be all that Marie needs and her eyes flash. “He knows better than that, but if there’s any problems, you come to me about it, Mase. Me. Promise me that.”

Mason throws up his hands in surrender. “Of course.”

He’s about to say more when a wall of heat manifests at his back. He’s instantly enveloped in a familiar cologne and a pair of lips plant themselves to the side of his neck as a wide hand slides across his stomach and tucks into the inside pocket of his jacket.

“I knew you took them,” Ethan says into his ear, breath hot enough to make Mason shiver. Ethan draws out a small case. “These are mine.”

“You can have them,” Mason says, trying to ignore the ember that threatens to ignite at the other man’s close proximity. “They’re awful.”

“A new drell blend I found on the wards. Supposed to make you see stars.”

“Makes you see something alright. It’s too strong. Should come with a warning.”

“Serves you right for trying to pilfer. First my shirt, then my cigarettes. Poor form, Huntsman.”

Ethan mouths at his neck again, pointedly ignoring Marie and Mason is forced to swat him away so that they can continue their conversation. Ethan’s low rumble is all he hears before the heat disappears and he’s left alone with Marie once again.

“What?” he says dryly, noting her stare and the high climb of her eyebrows. He doesn’t need to ask but he does anyway.

“So fucking married,” she mouths behind the rim of her glass.

Mason rolls his eyes. “No, that’s just what Ethan is like. He’s like that with everyone, especially when he’s been drinking.” He gestures to the dance floor, where Ethan is currently twirling the tiny one from Marie’s squad around to make his point. What was her name? Harris? She stares up at him with eyes like saucers. “Bloody peacock,” he adds affectionately.

Marie wrinkles her nose and opens her mouth to say more before apparently thinking better of it and Mason nudges her lightly. “Go back to your drink, Miller,” he says, knowing she’s dying to rib him more about it. “Just because you’re loved up in engagement land doesn’t mean-“

“Engagement land, pfft, that’s not a thing, Masey. You’re drunk.”

“No,” he says slowly then wonders if she might have a point. It was starting to get a little fuzzy around the edges and he was having a hard time trying to tear his gaze away from how good Ethan’s ass look in those pants. “Okay, maybe.”

They’re still laughing together when Nico shows up to steal Marie back to his side.

#this is so dumb #and i swear it had a point when i started writing it #but then i forgot it #and well whatever #party shenanigans #marie miller #ethan sinclair #mason knight #im pretty sure you can see the exact moment i gave up here lol

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darkmindsotome · 4 years ago

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Losing The Lot

Fandom: Love365 Masquerade Kiss

Pairing: Kazuomi Shido x MC

Word count: 4,043

Warning: NSFW Smut

Written by: darkmindsotome

Tagging @voltage-vixen as requested. Prompt #7: Strip poker

Darkmindsotome Masterlist

---

Losing The Lot

My laptop beeped ending the latest transmission from the EAC. I closed the device and slid it under the seat of the car that was currently winding its way through crosstown traffic in the rain to take me back to my apartment after successfully completing my latest mission.

I closed my eyes and rolled my neck, sinking into the cushioning of the backseat. I didn’t typically find all missions exhausting but being a spy was both physically and mentally demanding. I watched the streetlights blur against the rain on the window, happy to finally be able to relax.

My mind wandered wishing for nothing more than to sink into a hot bath and then curl up on the sofa with a big tub of Lady Borden ice cream and binge on Mission Impossible films. My phone vibrated next to me and when I saw the caller my heart jumped.

“Welcome back.” A voice I had missed hearing for the last few days spoke before I had even placed the phone near my ear properly.

“I won’t ask how you found out I was back in the country again.” I smiled. Despite how exasperated my words sounded I was seriously happy to hear the voice of the man I loved.

“Can’t a guy take an interest in his Girlfriend these days? Did you get me a souvenir?” Kazuomi sounded like an excited child. His energy and upbeat attitude brushed away the tension in my body.

“You wanted a souvenir? Kazuomi I was on a mission, not a vacation.” I playfully chastised him knowing full well any kind of reprimand from me would go unanswered as it usually did.

“So you didn’t get me anything at all?” I could practically see his pouting face even over the phone.

My wonderfully mischievous guy who worked harder than he showed to anyone. A man who was at the top of official lists as one of the world’s most wanted bad guys. Who was labelled a playboy the world over and covered in multiple gossip columns constantly never showed this kind of vulnerability to others. He was far from pristine white, his actions were always a little shady but I trusted him. I felt a warmth bloom in my chest as I thought about it.

“I didn’t say that.” I laughed our conversation was coming to an end as my car had stopped at the curb of my apartment and I knew I would lose reception for a few minutes as I entered the building. “I’ll bring it over to your place tomorrow.”

The door to the car opened and instead of seeing the driver, I saw my boyfriend.

“Why not just give it to me now?” He had a look on his face like he had just pulled off the biggest prank of his life and the smile could have made my knees buckle had I not already been sitting.

He was outlined by the lights behind him that were casting a shimmering aura over him. As if he needed to be painted in a sexier manner. This guy was a walking advert for sexual desires and just oozed appeal. A natural charmer I really would not be surprised to discover his friend's claims that celestial beings had fallen under his spell.

“What are you doing here!?”

“Is that any way to greet your man? Although I have to say you look good even when pulling that face.” He winked at me his brown hair was caught at the moment between lightly damp and becoming unstyled by the rain. A few droplets of water fell from the tips of it and ran down his neck finding the open collar of his shirt and vanishing beneath it.

“You!” I gave him a light slap as I got out of the car pretending not to notice that I was jealous of a raindrop. My eyes fell on a familiar vehicle and I couldn’t help but roll my eyes. “I can’t believe you showed up in the limo.”

“I never go anywhere without it.” He shrugged as if this sort of thing was normal for everyone. If there was one thing he enjoyed it was opulence and dammit if he hadn’t provided a good show of it to the point where very little was able to still shock me. He bent over and grabbed my suitcase from inside the car, tapping the roof after he shut the door sending it on its way. “Come on let’s get inside before we both drown.”

He grabbed my wrist with his free hand pulling me towards my building. The warmth of his grip where his skin touched mine had me willingly follow him in a trance. I really was a hopeless case.

The door unlocked with a click that was lost against the sound of the downpour of water. We both walked in and Kazuomi put the suitcase he had pilfered from the car next to the kitchen counter. I closed the front door behind us only to find myself wrapped up in a pair of strong arms and my damp bare neck claimed in a rush of fiery kisses.

“Mhm, Kazuomi…” I purred as he chased away the chill on my body from the rain with his lips. I loved his kisses, I’d never met someone who kissed like him before.

“No one says my name like you do.” He returned my purr with one. Even as his lips travelled over my skin his hands began pawing and kneading at me through my damp clothes. The cold fabric clung to the flushed flesh under it. “How long are you planning on keeping me waiting?”

“Waiting? On what?” While is still had enough of my senses to talk back I did. This was our little game that fuelled the fire in both of us. An endless game of cat and mouse where neither of us was willing to simply give in.

“My souvenir of course.” He buried his head in the crook of my neck before drawing back to capture my ear lobe lightly between his teeth, giving it a gentle tug. “But if you don’t have one… I guess I could claim you instead.”

Before he could latch on to me and make it impossible for me to move I spun around in his arms and placed a finger on his lips enjoying his reaction as he wondered what I was doing.

“As tempting as that is I do have something for you.” I made sure to rub myself just a little against him as I pushed him back. There was no way I was going to make getting things all his way that easy for him, I never did.

“Oh?”

I moved past him and clipped open the suitcase searching for the gift I’d found for him. A rectangular box slipped out from under some of my clothes and I picked it up suddenly feeling a little nervous about giving the third richest guy in the world something so pathetic.

“I didn’t see anything that really got my attention but I found these and thought you would probably like them.”

“A deck of cards?” Kazuomi didn’t display any of the elitist reactions I imagined. Instead, he looks seriously amused and happy with his souvenir.

“Their special cards, here see?” I keep forgetting this guy can be so incredibly down to earth it naturally makes me smile as I pluck the box from his hands and crack it open to remove one of the cards.

After rubbing the image on the card the figure that was once dressed in fanciful clothes and opulent robes revealed more and more skin. The idea was the longer you played with the cards the more of their secrets the heat from your hands uncovered. I thought that concept alone was so incredibly Kazuomi I just had to get him a deck.

“Impressive.” His eyes light up at the new discovery reminding me of a kid watching a magic show for the first time.

“You like them?”

“My beloved brought me a gift of course I love them.” He held the cards in his hand and dragged me back to him with the other. It was such a smooth and fast movement I could feel my insides jolting at it. He bent down to whisper in my ear. “You really are a naughty girl though. To think you would get me a gift like this. I hope you’re ready for a game.”

His voice was intoxicating, neither of us moved our eyes remaining locked as the heat between us ignited our competitive natures.

The clean apartment had become a mess in a matter of a couple of hours. Items of clothing were dotted around like breadcrumbs trailing a path to us as we sat either end of my white corner sofa playing Texas hold ‘em.

After scrambling around in drawers and cupboards looking for something we could use in place of betting chips we found a bag of candy and split it 50/50.

Several hands later, most of the clothes on the floor were mine. I had played several card games in the past and I was confident enough to say I could put up a good fight. It was, however, just my luck that my charming boyfriend also had a reputation for never losing. This fun, kinky game was rapidly becoming my waterloo.

I was now left with only my shirt and underwear while Kazuomi was only missing his jacket and waistcoat. His brown eyes were paying way more attention to me than his own cards. It was really distracting and I kept fidgeting in place, willing my mind to focus on the cards and not the impossibly attractive man in front of me. How was he even winning when he wasn’t even paying attention anyway?

“You look like you have something to say.” He was still smirking after watching me lose my skirt. I made sure to stay out of his reach as I disrobed but that didn’t stop him from making some suggestively sexy gestures of his own like licking his lips and slicking back his damp hair from his face. I don’t know if it was the time we spent apart or what but he looked so different right now, my heart started to pound so hard I could feel it.

“What makes you think that?” I shrugged trying to hide how hot I was getting while I shuffled the cards.

“You are giving me the most adorable glare. I just love it when your little miss perfect mask slips off.” He had crawled towards me over the sofa on all fours like a prowling lion. It would only have taken a small pounce to have me trapped under him, an idea I can’t say I minded at all but the game was not over yet.

“Just deal the cards.” I shoved the shuffled deck towards him and watched as he calmly rolled back into his original seat accepting them.

“As my Lady commands.”

Competitive spirit reignited we returned to our little game. It is probably about this time that a normal person may consider the fact that this was not going well and forfeit. As a certain hardened gambler playing me so often remarked though part of the fun in a game was never knowing how things were going to turn out until the very end.

I think at this point from the heated stares and the way in which we were responding to each other’s every move there was no question where this was going to end. It only remained to be seen who was going to come out on top?

After checking my hand, I was a little relieved to see some good cards, King and ten of diamonds. The smiling face of the girl dressed in the increasingly dishevelled robes of the King looked back at me. I know I got these cards for Kazuomi as a kind of novelty gift but honestly even I’m a little turned on looking at them.

Kazuomi didn’t exactly have the unreadable poker face I had seen at Masquerade when playing cards there with other people. It was not deadpan but it may as well have been for all the hints it was giving away.

He was smiling serenely. Every now and then he brought his hand out to take a drink from the table, pulling it back, brushing lightly over his own thigh drawing my attention to the growing bulge in his lap. It was subtle enough that he could still claim he had no idea what I was referring to should I bring it up.

I was more than familiar with his little teases at this point and refused to acknowledge it, my eyes returning to the game as the next cards flopped onto the cushion between us after we each threw in some ‘chips’ to bet. I was looking at more diamonds Queen, eight and four.

This should be easy I was holding a great hand so far. I nearly smiled imagining that I might get him to remove some more clothes. To hide it I instead licked my lips and rubbed my thighs together adjusting myself in the seat. When did I get this wet? Embarrassment suddenly hit me and I could feel the heat rising from my core to colour my face.

“Call.” He announced his move and I could hear a little strain in his voice.

Glancing over I could see the same anguish of forced restraint that I was feeling. I nodded not trusting my voice currently to not blow my cover and reached out to turn the fourth card. Three, another diamond. I could feel my body unconsciously relax a little after seeing the new card.

There was only really one card that could beat me now, I end up putting half my chips in the pot and he calls again. I look over at him, his wolfish grin had grown and dammit if he didn’t look like the very definition of lust in a dictionary.

Eight of clubs fell on the river. This changed things a little there could be the chance he may have three of a kind here I decided to play it a little safe and just make a small bet.

“Call.”

Again? Seriously? I ran some very quick calculations that honestly made very little difference to the commitment I had as to how to play my hand.

“King high flush” I flipped over my cards smiling as I called it out. I felt the rush of anticipation coursing through me. There was a very low chance I was going to lose, 2% in fact.

“Nice! Very good hand.” Kazuomi nodded still smiling.

“Thank you.”

“Not quite good enough though. Ace high… flush.” As he flipped his cards over I couldn’t take my eyes off them and the defeat it dealt me.

“Wha-? No way how many times is that you’ve won?” I pouted far from ready to give up on the game between us it was like a new fire had been lit. I had been so close that time.

“I haven’t been counting. I would say I’ve at least won enough to enjoy a good show.” His eyes had turned predatory as he provoked me.

“Well, I suppose I should continue the performance then.” I raised myself to my knees, remaining on the sofa.

Walking my fingers up the front of my shirt and slowly unbuttoned it. My eyes never left him as I let the fabric glide downwards before dropping to the floor. I felt a new rush of excitement that had nothing to do with a card game. His predatory look and that smile on his face had morphed for a fraction of a second revealing how he was also struggling to keep himself in check.

“I would be more than happy to call it here if you don’t want to continue.” I decided to push a few buttons. It isn’t very often I got to see him this close to the edge after all.

“Oh? Are you admitting defeat?” The crack in his mask sealed shut behind a reinforced veneer.

“Never, I’m in this till the end.” My firm denial brought back his smile.

“Then it’s a race to the finish. I’ll warn you now I won’t hold back.” Kazuomi’s voice issued his warning like a devilish promise sending a shiver straight up my spine. His curved lips had me thinking of his kisses and how badly I craved for them to be covering me right now.

“That makes two of us.”

The next game started and it felt like a slow torture. I had Ace of clubs and a King of diamonds, another decent hand. Luck seemed to be at least interested in keeping these matches between us close.

I bet and he calls. Ace and three of clubs falls on the flop with the Ace of diamonds. It looks like I could be in with more than a slim chance here. I tap my hand to signal a check. He bets and I raise then he does something he hasn’t done all night.

“All in” His bet throws me for a loop.

I check my cards again quickly wondering what could actually beat them. Pair of aces or deuces… that made two hands that could trump mine. There was still a higher chance of me being ahead right now.

Looking up at my boyfriend who was still as unreadable as before, I found him enjoying watching me waver on this last game. If he loses after calling 'all in' that was it. I would not only have won the hand but he would have to strip completely. My crushing defeat could become a momentous victory in the blink of an eye. 95% chance.

“Call.”

After making my bet the cards move again, the five of diamonds appears on the turn. Victory was so close I could almost feel it.

“Check”

“Check” Our call was in unison and you could cut the sexual tension with a knife.

Everything was dependant on this last card. The chances of failure were slim and then it hit. Queen of clubs fell on the river. My hands tremble a little as I turn over my hand.

“Ace King, that gives me three of a kind.”

“Jack five,” Kazuomi's words sounded muffled in my ears as I looked at the cards he held. My eyes blew wide at the hand he hit back with. Of all the low blows to be given tonight. “Flush, I win.”

“Jack and Five of clubs? No way!”

“It was just a lucky hand.” He chuckled seeing how animated I was.

“That is more than lucky that’s unbelievable! Why the hell did you play that?” I wasn’t trying to be a sore loser. I just couldn’t believe he kept that hand going through the game until he got lucky on the river.

“I’m a great believer in being in it to win it and this was the last game of the night. I figured if I was going to lose I should make it memorable.” He shrugged the grin on his face turned into a shit-eating smirk. The look was unashamedly seductive it should have been illegal.

“Loose? You didn’t though you totally destroyed me!” I huffed scooping up the cards and candy from the sofa and putting them on the coffee table with an artless thud.

“I’ll happily hear your complaints in bed. Right now I’m claiming my winnings.” He took my petulant act of clearing the sofa as an invitation not waiting for my reply.

In his impatience he threw me back on the sofa, climbing on top of me silencing any protests I might have by kissing me ferociously. Our bodies became a tangle of limbs, stroking and grabbing at each other. This was more our MO. Passionate, wild neither of us willing to let the other win even now. The spy and the ex target, Kazuomi and me.

It was a no-holds-barred battle between equals. I found myself wondering if we would ever reach a point where we weren’t playing these games. If he would become the focus of one of my missions in the future placing us right back at the starting point. So many ideas and concerns, worries for another time. Right now I was more than happy to just focus on the man I loved.

My hands travelled over him pulling his shirt free of his trousers and snaking up under the fabric. His taut muscles flexed under my touch as he moved unperturbed locating my weak spots. He trailed kisses from my ear to my collarbone and tried to go lower only to be yanked back up as my hand gripped tight on his belt preventing him.

“Have I ever told you that I love how unpredictable you are?” He kissed me hard, his tongue twisting against mine in a way that had me breathless as it brushed over the roof of my mouth.

“Have I ever told you that you talk too much?” I somehow managed to backtalk him. His hands traced the edge of my bra, releasing the clip at the same time as I unbuckled his belt. My hand slipped down grasping his hardened length he had been flaunting throughout the game. His hips bucked pushing it into my palm as he groaned. “Mmm god, I missed you.”

“Missed you too.” He kissed me quickly before pulling back long enough to pull his shirt over his head, the buttons were apparently too much effort to bother with. “You have some time off now right?”

“Mhm, until the next mission at least.” I nodded and pumped my hand a little. The lust in his eyes had turned them nearly black, I bit my lip.

“So there’s not a problem in me keeping you up all night then.” His hand plunged into the thin fabric of my panties. The pad of his thumb brushed over the bundle of nerves as he slipped his fingers deeper inside.

“Ah! …. Kazuomi” I cried out my body writhing under his touch. I wanted more, I wanted him.

“Yeah?”

“I L-” My words, the ones I never said outside of the bedroom were cut off with a growl from him.

His teeth sunk into the flesh of my bottom lip leaving it feeling deliciously sore. I felt his hands move to shove the waistbands of his boxers and trousers free of his hips. The removal of the restricting clothing had his arousal standing to attention pressing into my inner thigh. My body clenched around the fingers buried inside me.

“How much more were you planning on making me fall for you? Careful with all that cute stuff it kills me.” Kazuomi removed his fingers, my body naturally chased his desperation taking over wanting to reclaim the friction it had lost.

The sound of fabric tearing should have concerned me but I was past the point of caring about a destroyed set of lingerie. He pushed into me slowly I didn’t think I could have gotten any hotter but as I was forced to stretch around him I felt like I was being filled with liquid magma. Sweat was prickling on my skin and I willed my eyes to remain open. I wanted to see him.

Our heavy breathing, pants, moans and cries rang out. Each of us taking turns to tantalise and tease while our bodies rocked harder and harder together. My vision sparked white as an orgasm claimed me. Kazuomi helped me ride it out against him before joining me in my euphoria and falling flat on top of me. Our bodies were still joined together, muscles twitching and the sweat running freely combining our scents in the air. My heart was hammering in my chest, my pulse throbbing in my head in the aftermath of the wave that had washed over me.

I reached up to run my fingers through my man’s soft brown hair knowing him to be a man of his word and looking forward to the rest of our night as we pushed each other to the brink, jumping together into paradise. I was finally home.

---

#summer of smut #summer of smut writing challenge

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hannahmcne · 4 years ago

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Wrecked - C1

Mal drew thick, dark lines into the wall mural of Jay. She focused particularly on the contour of his shoulders and long, streaky hair. Rain pattered down on the roof and rolled off into the streets below. The door onto the scaffolding was shut, and the window blockaded with cardboard and duct tape. Outside, it had been raining for two days. It was late October, so the precipitation was a mixture of dirty water and grey slush. God bless the barrier for preventing air circulation and giving everyone on the Isle garbage-infused rain.

They weren’t freezing, mostly thanks to Evie who made their clothes and kept them warm, and Jay for hauling cardboard and tin sheets on top of their roof to help seal it up. Mal had been layering for the last three days. Tank top on long-sleeve shirt on short-sleeved shirt on Evie’s special Isle jacket. Carlos, Jay, and Evie were also layering. Right now, her team was huddled in a small spread of ratty blankets amid the few mattresses they’d managed to pilfer. Carlos was fiddling with one of his gadgets, Evie was embroidering something, and Jay had leaned back, pulled his beanie over his eyes, and gone to sleep.

As Mal added a vibrant blue color over the emblem on Jay’s jacket, she heard a panicked gasp from behind. She spun with the spray can outstretched and stared at Carlos, who was looking around in surprise. Both Evie and Jay looked equally surprised.

“Did you guys hear that?” Carlos asked in shock.

“Hear what?” Jay asked. He looked around the apartment suspiciously. Mal studied the look on Carlos’s face. He looked amazed as he searched for the source of the sound he’d heard. A sense of dread spread throughout her stomach.

“It was a girl.” Carlos said, sounding amazed. “She asked, ‘what’s your name?’”

Mal had to swallow a gulp as she lowered the spray can and pressed her arms to her sides to stop them from shaking. “No one said anything, Carlos,” she said softly. “You probably imagined it.”

“Or it could have been your soulmate.” Evie shrugged, setting down your project. “Did you get kind of a warm or a cold feeling along your spine?”

“Yeah.” Carlos nodded. “Yeah, I did. What’s a soulmate?”

“Just your other half.” Jay waved the question away, sitting back like everything had been resolved as Mal’s grip grew increasingly tight on the can. “It’s not as big as it’s cracked up to be.”

“I think they’re wonderful.” Evie’s eyes turned dreamy. “I haven’t had my first contact yet, but I’m sure they’ll be royalty from Auradon!”

Jay snorted. “Yeah, whatever,” he scoffed. “It’s not automatic True Love, Evie. A soulmate is more like… your best shot at a best friend.”

Carlos leaned forward, listening to every word. “What do they do? Who are they?” he asked.

“It’s someone who you connect with better than any other person in existence.” Jay said. “Almost everyone has one. If you get really in-tune with yours, you can actually start sharing thoughts and senses, but that’s extremely rare. Most people just get to talk with theirs mentally every once in a while. You usually hear them for the first time when you’re twelve to fourteen, but evidently with some people it happens a bit later.” He leaned over and pinched Evie’s arm, who yelped.

“You have one then?” Carlos asked. “A soulmate?”

“Yeah.” Jay nodded. “I heard mine almost two years ago, back when I was thirteen. She’s a girl. We talked swords for a few seconds.” And, like clockwork, they looked up at Mal, who had to fight to keep the telltale colors of sickness off her face. “Do you know yours, Mal?” Jay asked.

Mal stared with wide eyes and a cold began to creep down her spine. For a moment, she thought it was dread, but then she felt her soulmate’s tentative emotions creep through her and realized it was actually their connection opening. Horrible timing. She panicked. “I don’t have a soulmate,” she said quickly. “I’ve never felt a connection like what you’re describing.” There. Clever words.

Against her will, a deep and resounding sense of betrayal filled her. She turned back to the wall and arced the spray paint over her mural.

“Why would you say that?” her soulmate asked. “That’s hurtful.” Mal bit her lip as she tried to shove his feelings away like they were her own, but unfortunately, he was much more accepting of his emotions than she was. She didn’t know how to explain that her own connection was unlike anything she’d ever heard about and it freaked her out. She didn’t know how to tell him that she had never felt the things he felt on a daily basis and they scared her every time their connection randomly opened. She did know, however, to tell him to quit doing that in as commanding a tone as she could. It rarely worked.

“It’s a weakness. An abnormality. They could tell someone.” Mal said in a brash, stubborn tone. Not just someone, of course. If this information ever found its way back to her mother, who knew what would happen? Maleficent, the Mistress of Evil, had never had a soulmate and felt nothing but disdain for those who did. The words “weakness” and “abnormality” had fallen straight out of the Dark Queen’s mouth. She was powerful, she had told Mal, because she didn’t have some pathetic fool attached to her like nearly everyone else. And, she had pointed out, more people lacked soulmates on the Isle than anywhere else. To have a soulmate… it was a characteristic associated with Auradon and heroes and everything good in the world. The thought that her own daughter could have such a trait - it was too shameful to consider.

“So what?” he asked, just as stubbornly. Mal felt anger, hot and fierce, spike through her. She couldn’t tell if it was hers or his. The more they talked, the more the emotions blurred. She heard his voice in her ears like he was standing next to her. His emotions ran under her skin in an icy stream that seemed to warm her up as it rushed by. It was strange.

“So, I don’t want to get beaten up because my soulmate and our whole connection is super freaky,” she snapped. It wasn’t just an insult. Most people had their first connection when they were twelve or thirteen, like Jay had said, but she’d had hers at the age of five. As she’d gotten older, they’d had more and more full-length conversations, which was practically unheard of. And despite that, he was secretive. She didn’t know his name, his age, his parents, anything about him. Mal wondered if he was the son of a minor villain and was embarrassed by that. She could let slip who her mother was and lord it over him, but she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of finding out things about her when she knew nothing about him.

“Who would beat up someone because of their soulmate? And besides, our connection’s just different because -” He stopped talking abruptly.

“Because...?” she asked with a furrowed brow. Realization began to dawn in her head. He knew. His guilt creeped through her spine; cold and condemning. “You know?” she sputtered. “You know what’s wrong with us?”

“Nothing’s wrong with us,” he corrected. Indignation began to build in her heart.

“Oh really? So everybody blabs to their soulmate as much as you do?” She looked back up at the mural on the wall and realized her eyes had started to glow as she aggravated herself more and more. She quickly calmed herself down before her friends could notice.

She directed her attention to him. He had noticed something that was making him uneasy.

“It’s because you have magic,” he said quietly. “Really strong magic. Am I right?”

She blinked. That hadn’t been at all what she was expecting. “Is that a problem?” He must have felt the power surging behind her eyes - an all too common occurrence, as anger was a very common emotion on the Isle. Mal wondered how he knew that he’d been feeling the effects of magic. Fascinating.

“No, not at all. It’s just… I think that’s why our connection is so strong,” he explained. Her irritation grew into frustration. The Isle of the Lost’s barrier suppressed all magic within its borders. Yet somehow, even though she couldn’t use it, she got all the awful side effects. Side effects like him.

“Whatever,” she thought to him, officially done playing host to this mysterious voice for today. “Whatever, whatever, whatever.” Then she screwed her eyes closed, focused, and threw him out of her mind. The chill faded in her spine. She felt a sense of accomplishment at being able to shut the door between them, even though she knew it would now be a few more weeks before she’d have the opportunity to wrench any more answers from him. That, and the next time they talked, their connection would be stronger. It always was when they learned new things about each other or about the connection. She wondered what would be different this time. Maybe she’d actually be able to shut his emotions out of her system like she could with hers?

“Jay,” Carlos said, pulling her attention back to her friend’s conversation. “How can I talk to my soulmate again?”

Mal groaned internally. If this was their conversation for the next hour, she was going to scream.

#descendants #disney #disney descendants #mal #ben x mal #queen mal #ben #king ben #evie #jay #carlos de vil #soulmate #fanfic

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mamabearcat · 5 years ago

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INUKAG Fanfic Rec List - SFW

Over the last few years, I’ve suffered from on again/ off again insomnia, where some nights I go to bed, don’t sleep at all, and then get up again – rinse and repeat. Rather than spending all night looking at the ceiling and pondering my place in the universe, I pass the time by reading fanfiction. A LOT of fanfiction. And now you, dear reader, get to reap the benefits.

All these fics are T Rated and under by the writer. Also, I’ve only included COMPLETED fics, so there will be some missing from this list that I would absolutely recommend. I have a huge ass list of uncompleted favourites also, but I understand that not everyone likes losing their heart to a fic only to find out that it was last updated in 2005. Log onto fanfiction.net and go through the fics I’m ‘following’ if you want to see those - I’m bearpluscat on there too.

I don’t claim this to be an exhaustive list, or the best of the best; it’s not even all of my favourites. This is just a list of fics that I have really enjoyed and would happily read again, and thought others might enjoy too. There’s probably some that I’ve forgotten, in fact I’m sure there are, so please don’t be upset if you’ve written an Inuyasha fic and I haven’t put it on here!

I’ll also post a list of NSFW fic recs (which is a lot longer - does that infer something about me, or the Inuyasha fandom in general?)

SHORT FICS (Less than 20,000 words)

Feminine Wiles By grandlarseny: Kagome's broken Inuyasa's rosary! But fear not! Kaede has another one. But what's this? KAGOME HAS TO PUT IT ON HIM HERSELF? Watch Kagome carry out her kinda evil plots on an unsuspecting halfbreed with some SangoMiroku spying on the side Rated: Fiction T - Humor/Romance - Inuyasha, Kagome H. - Words: 9,770 Published: Jan 27, 2004

Good Dog By FrameofMind: Oneshot. Inuyasha’s being strangely...nice. But Kagome is about to discover that it is, in fact, possible to have too much of a good thing... InuKag Rated: Fiction K+ - Romance/Humor - Inuyasha, Kagome H. - Words: 13,723 Published: Oct 4, 2005

He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not By TouchofPixieDust: Inuyasha watches as Kagome shows Shippo how to play the flower petal fortune telling game, He Loves Me, He Loves Me Not. It has the hanyou asking himself all sorts of questions. Rated: Fiction K+ - Romance/Humor - Inuyasha, Kagome H. - Words: 2,346 Published: Feb 28, 2006

The Talk By TouchofPixieDust: Mrs. Higurashi explains the facts of life to Inuyasha and Kagome. This is The Talk excerpt that was requested from my story Kagome's Baby. Rated: Fiction T - Humor - Inuyasha, Kagome H. - Words: 2,885 Published: Jul 21, 2006

Sick As A Dog By Bons Baisers: Woes and wails and puppy dog tales, that's what Inuyasha's made of! When a puppy infected with canine distemper bites Inuyasha, all sorts of hell break loose for everyone's favorite hanyou. Won IYFG's Best Oneshot award and won second for Best Romance. Rated: Fiction T - Romance/Humor - Inuyasha, Kagome H. - Words: 11,305 -Published: Apr 2, 2007

Of Demons and Schoolgirls By Mustard Yellow Sunshine: That jerk, Inuyasha... what right did he have to destroy the demon and save her from certain peril? Bastard. Rated: Fiction T - Humor/Romance - Inuyasha, Kagome H. - Words: 5,645 - Published: May 12, 2007

Kiss of Life By LadyCash: Kagome is injured, far from the well and modern medicine. What can be done to save her, and what will InuYasha do? Rated: Fiction T - Drama/Romance - Inuyasha, Kagome H. - Words: 5,369 - Published: Jan 28, 2008

Earthshake By SugarRos: COMPLETE:: Canon:: *WINNER BEST DARK/DRAMA 2009* Natural Disasters are nothing to laugh at... and so Kagome realizes as she's trapped, hundreds of feet beneath the rubble of what was once her school, with her classmates dying one by one, and absolutely no hope of rescue. Rated: Fiction T - Angst/Romance - Inuyasha, Kagome H. - Chapters: 2 - Words: 14,528 - Published: Feb 15, 2008

Blood and Bandages By Aryndiel: Kagome comes home to find Inuyasha badly injured and reacts in a way that surprises her mother. Mrs. Higurashi wonders: who is this strong, unwavering young woman who looks like her little girl?Rated: Fiction T - Drama/Hurt/Comfort - Kagome H., Kagome's mother - Words: 3,166 - Published: Apr 9, 2008

If I Were You By FrameofMind: Oneshot. A good deed lands Inuyasha and Kagome in an odd predicament... Rated: Fiction T - Humor/Romance - Inuyasha, Kagome H. - Words: 10,544 - Published: Apr 27, 2009

White Dogs on Blue Cotton By ArtisteFish: Caught up in the rush following her unexpected return to the past and to the man she loves, Kagome realizes a little late that some of her wardrobe choices aren't quite as private as they used to be. Post-canon, InuKag reunion, super-duper fluffy. Rated: Fiction T - Romance/Humor - Inuyasha, Kagome H. - Words: 2,198 - Published: Feb 23, 2016

I Hear Your Silence By KeiChanz: Her silence spoke louder than any words ever could. Rated: Fiction T - Romance - Inuyasha, Kagome H. - Words: 8,469 - Published: Jul 6, 2016

The Pilfered Bride By ArtisteFish: "If your husband didn't want you gone, he should have taken better care not to lose you." She knew she should have been more careful, she should have listened to Sango, she should never have let her guard down when her guard-dog wasn't around to watch her back. Post-canon, InuKag Rated: Fiction T - Romance/Humor - [Inuyasha, Kagome H.] - Words: 7,576 - Published: May 12, 2017

Not Much Longer Would You Be Mine By WitchyGirl99: There was this one girl. Her name was Kikyo Hidaka, and she looked at Inuyasha the way that she looked at everyone else. He'd think of Newton's first law of motion: a body continues its state of rest or uniform motion unless it is acted up on by an external force. His current state wasn't satisfactory. He needed an external force. Enter Kagome Higurashi. InuKag. Rated: Fiction T - Romance/Drama - [Inuyasha, Kagome H.] - Chapters: 2 - Words: 14,541 - Published: Dec 26, 2017

Protect By KeiChanz: Kagome receives some unwanted male attention while staying at a village and it leaves her feeling uneasy. Inuyasha is having none of that. Rated: Fiction T - Romance - Inuyasha, Kagome H. - Words: 8,548 - Published: Mar 12, 2018

For Her By akitokihojo: "Who did this to you?" Inuyasha seethed. Kagome's expression twisted sadly, the trembling in her chin and bottom lip bringing something to ache dully within his chest. She shook her head, looking down before shrugging her shoulders, and he tensed his fingers against her jaw so as not to allow her to completely turn away from him. Rated: Fiction K+ - Drama/Hurt/Comfort - [Inuyasha, Kagome H.] [Sango, Miroku] - Words: 4,490 - Published: Sep 8 2019

CHAPTER FICS

Father Figure By Torenza: Kagome’s world turns upside down when her mother brings a new man into the home – her ‘surprise’ fiancé. But Kagome feels far from neglected as she finds her place at home threatened, and her double life in the past jeopardised. Rated: Fiction T - Drama - Chapters: 13 - Words: 68,542 - Published: Feb 8, 2003

Kagome's Baby By TouchofPixieDust: There is a new addition to the Inuyasha gang. How will the group react? Can Kagome be a jewel shard hunter AND a mother? Rated: Fiction T - Romance - Kagome H., Inuyasha - Chapters: 21 - Words: 59,269 - Published: May 14, 2005

Freak Attraction By ArtisteFish: A birthday outing to see a foreign circus turns into a nightmarish mistake when Kagome stumbles upon a circus of a very different nature and meets a sideshow freak with dog ears and a human heart. AU, Complete Rated: Fiction T - Supernatural/Drama - Inuyasha, Kagome H. - Chapters: 12 - Words: 101,398 - Published: May 29, 2015

Adorable Curse By Alannada: [Complete] Once upon a time there was a handsome prince cursed in the most horrific way. Would a simple, yet fair miko save the prince? True love kisses, spelled artifacts and much more awaits Inuyasha crew in this story. Rated: Fiction K - Humor - [Inuyasha, Kagome H.] Shippō - Chapters: 39 - Words: 48,602 Published: Aug 12, 2017

#inukag fic rec #inukag fanfic #inukag fanfiction #fic rec #fic recs

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thepilgrimofwar · 4 years ago

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Pure of Heart

Solendis waited in the guest wing, seated by the fire in the common room. He waited, not for the usual staging of a diplomatic talk, or to speak about strategy from the war room. He waited for something more important than any of that. He waited for the boy, who seemed to be dragging his family off-track.

“Evening Mr. Bladeborn,” he said when Vissehn finally appeared. The Steward had heard him and his son laughing on the roof tops, drunk and high off Bloodthistle. Thankfully, only the House Huards had been around to bear witness to this. Lest his son’s reputation be besmirched.

The hallways seemed smeared with light; his pupils blown wide, Vissehn wondered if he touched one, if perhaps his hand might also become so brilliant and glowing. His laughter chimed through as he ambled-- staggered-- towards the guest wing.

It had been a bloody success; he had brought down the cold and sad walls he had seen springing up around Stenden’s heart and head, crashed into them like a meteor of bawdy songs and pilfered liquor, and now the boys laughter played over in his mind, shining like a new coin. If he’d been robbed of a boyhood, well, he would lend some of that to another; find the kindred spirit beneath the stuffy layers of velvet and linen and silk, bear it and bask in finally not being alone.

Neither of them needed any more years being alone in their youth.

He careened into the common room, he wasn’t even looking to the crackling flames. Vissehn had only eyes for windows, and stars. In that candid moment, before he knew of the other man, his youth revealed like so much bare skin, he was every inch the vagabond he had espoused-- wind tousled hair, cheeks freckled and high in color, the acrid scents of liquor and thistle a cloud around his shambles of an outfit.

When he heard the voice, he turned hard on a heel, spinning almost comically towards his chosen surname. “Oi, Steward Emberheart?” Vissehn saluted breezily, squinting a moment to make sure he had the right man. “Cor, you look like yer brother in this light, almost thought I was seein’ ghosts!” He grinned, his good mood taking even the barbs out of his jests.

Solendis folded his arms, taking measure of the man- no- the boy in front of him. He did not like what he saw. This was Stenden’s agent of choice. True, Vissehn was a capable killer, a proven agent that had served greater names than theirs in the past, but all in all, the boy in front of him was a bad influence. He made Stenden forget his station, the decorum that separated nobility from the commoners- and possibly the only thing that held the Emberglades together.

“Enjoying yourself?” He spoke firm, arms folded, ears flat against his skill and a gaze that only disapproving parents could muster. “You may have free run of the house as my son’s agent, but don’t for one second believe that you’re free to do as you please- without consequences.” Solendis rose to his feet, towering slightly over Vissehn. “I understand that you believe you are helping Stenden by…” he made an offhanded gesture at the roof. “Relaxing. But you are doing the complete opposite.”

Vissehn looked up at his friends father as he rose, one brow lifting to that jaunty arch that made the youth look puckish and fey. Solendis was a tall man; taller than Vissehn and certainly bore down with the paternal disapproval that had likely cowed Stenden in his more playful years. The light of his evening was dimmed in the derision he heard in Solendis' tone, but not with shame. "Yeah, you got good liquor down in the cellar and bad locks to go with them. Sounds like a mighty enjoyable evening to me."

Eyes glittering with that cold mirth, he let his lips curl up in that wicked grin. "Naw, see, the plans to let him get all cozy comfy an then ruin th'Emberglades by exposing that their Lord is--" he gasped theatrically. "A fuckin' lad who wanted to live a little! Gods an' ghosts, whatever'll everyone do? Carry on with all their lives cause it don't fucking matter if a boy has a moment to hisself?" He snorted and tossed his name of golden hair. "Consequence, hoo M'lord I'm just a peasant brat what didn't get that stirling education, you'll have to use smaller words than that." He feigned a poor imitation of woe, the light never leaving his eyes as he already turned to walk off.

Solendis maintained his composure, sticking to his condescending gaze of disappointment. But as Vissehn began to walk off, he raised his voice. “You’re a smart boy, educated or not, so listen to me. Stenden cannot afford to be a boy, not now, not ever. I’m not sure where you’ve lived exactly, but the entire system that holds the Emberglades together is predicated on the ideas of nobility- exclusivity- the right to rule because we are a cut above the rest. Let the people see him the boy he is and not their Lord, and you’ll have what we have now, only ten-fold.”

The bark of authority in Solendis words made Vissehn straighten-- though perhaps not for the intended reason. Hackles raised and blood thick with liquor and assurance, he turned and closed the distance faster than his stumbling in the hall had would indicate.

This close to the man, Vissehn could see the weight of years in the lines around his eyes, the necessities he had born in the name of the Emberglades; he’d been illused and run up by wars and ledgers and lost causes. In other times, Vissehn might have sheathed his bladed tongue and let the man go on with his platitudes and his conceptions, but alcohol made truth out of anger and the commonborn youth had so much truth in him.

“Cut above?” His grin pulled sideways. “Oh, fancy that, cut above. See, even piss drunk an’ half blind from thistle I shoulda never mistook you for Sederis, cause there was a bloke that knew the truth in it, didn’t he?” Vissehn’s words were sharp with laughter. “Ain’t a single soul of us better than the dirt we’ll die in, save by the deeds done on it, not the blood we’re born of.” He canted his head and let his gaze streak over Solendis.

His following snort showed how much he thought of the inspection. “Your father seems to have ‘predicated’ that he was right to rule by sowin’ more graves than any other fucker; how his get carry on is on them, I figure.”

“My father sowed those graves so he could reap almost three centuries of peace!” Solendis responded to Vissehn’s snort. “And there is more blood that has yet to be spilled to let Stenden enjoy three hundred more. Leave it up to people like you and we’d still be a wartorn backwater, stabbing each other over better plots dirt. Content to accept your lot, and do as you please. No ambition to change things for the better! Nothing beyond what can be touched and felt on the morrow!”

Solendis threw his arm out to his side, gesturing at the manor and everything that surrounded it. The fields, the villages, and for now, the soldiers that were fighting on their behalf from all over Quel’thalas. “So yes, we are a cut above the rest. Because building a better tomorrow is more important that the price we pay today. That was something Sederis understood, before the end. It is that, which puts Stenden a cut above the rest.”

“Which includes you.” He brought his arm back round and pointed his finger at him, the distance now close enough to bring his fingers inches from his chest. “You more you remind him that he’s a boy, free to do as he pleases, the more you drag him down to your level. Keep it up and he’ll be back to square one- No one will bear an ounce of respect for him. His words will carry no weight as they did at the start. And I’d sooner be damned before watching him get humiliated- and underestimated like that again.”

Sobriety was the better part of wisdom, and even when not a bottle or more in, Vissehn could not be called wise. “Like me, eh?” His voice was low and soft, a shadow coming to those bright eyes. “And what the fuck do you think you know about me?”

He was in Solendis space then, closing that distance so that the finger extended pressed against the fabric of his tunic. “I know your lot-- a merchants lad’ll break your bones, a lords son’ll bury the lot. I know how many of my cousins had long ears after their mums spent a spell as maid in a manor. That’s how you shape your tomorrows-- kill the kind that don’t match, or if you’re feelin’ charitable, just fuck it into them. You all pretend to some greatness, somethin’ pure and noble of the blood, but I seen what your lot do when no one important is lookin, and your kind is as base as mine. Leastwise we don’t have the gall to claim ourselves any mans betters.” The deep hate in him seeped out into his words, and he pushed forward so the finger jabbed hard against the fabric. “That you think Stenden’s greatness has got anything to do with Mereded, or you, or this bloody manor and name-- that’s where you’re wrong.”

Vissehn grabbed Solendis’ wrist, his lean and long fingers gripping tight enough to show the strength of the boy but not yet painful. “I’ve bled and killed for better tomorrows-- cut enough short for others to know the weight of a future and how little it really is. Stenden’s got a greatness to him, but it’s not been inherited from warlords or passed on by cuckolded politicians. He’s got vision, a heart big enough to carry the burdens of his ancestors an’ a mind canny enough to know when to hold fast or when to fold.”

He released Solendis, shaking his hand as though he had touched something filthy. “Everyone ‘round here got their heads so full of shite, Emberheart, Illithia, sayin’ names like they got weight behind the letters somewhere. You want a son at the end of this? Stay out of my way. Elsewise Emberglades’ll get a Lord, for certain-- one without a soul. I’ve looked into the eyes of the livin’ dead, and I’d take on a scourge and a legion afore I have to see another home lost to a man whose got more nobility than soul.”

Solendis rubbed his wrists, “Then I’m afraid to say that such horrors await you.” The Steward spoke evenly, knowing better to test the patience of an impulsive drug addled youth- With a body count to his name. “Maybe not now, maybe not for a hundred more years. But when Stenden is a boy no longer, you’ll find that he’ll sell his soul on his own accord. Because you are absolutely right. You are right. Stenden has greatness to him, he’s growing into it right now, but all great rulers understand that a soul must be sacrificed to rule-.”

He let his arm sink to his sides. “To rule well with kindness, and justice. To put his people first. That leaves no space for himself or the baseness you seek to encourage.”

Then his hands clenched into fists. “You claim I know nothing of you? Well, touché Mr. Bladeborn- or whatever your namesake truly is! I am not those men who inflicted misery upon you and yours, they are not my lot!” He thrusts a finger at Stenden’s office, still glowing with candlelight within. “HE is my lot. Stenden, Riah, even my brother, THEY are my lot. We live, trying to undo the sins of our fathers, to make the blood they spilled and injustices they wrought WORTH it.”

Solendis pushes himself forward, folding his arms once more. “So, you tell me to stay out of your way? Let my son live a little? Indulge in his desires? Your way will turn Stenden into one of those Lordlings you hate.”

“He doesn’t have to sell shit!” Vissehn roared, losing the thin threads of control he had on himself. His hands shot forward, clawed to grab Solendis by his tunic but at the last moment he jerked his hands back as though burnt. “You can be kind an’ good an’ still have power-- The High Cleric, The Knight Commander-- you can take lives an’ still be good, and real. Don’t need a title, don’t need a-- a legacy to protect. You’re gonna kill him an’ not even have a body to mourn!”

He ran his hands through his hair manically, laughing roughly. “You’re offering your fuckin-- your fucking son-- for a future that you can’t even see is all going to shite! You’re layin’ him on an altar and lettin’ the world go in with the knife. Gods, I might as well be fuckin’ trying to reason with Her!”

The eyes that turned on Solendis were thick with undisguised disgust. “He ain’t your lot. You might have gotten him on his mother, but he’s got more of Sederis in him, an’ that means he can be more than you’re giving credit for.”

Vissehn turned away and rubbed his face, exhausted from the anger he’d let fly. He was a tall youth but he was so lean, hungry in every sense and it showed in the way the light flickered over the sharp edges of his cheeks and the faint hollows beneath. His head pounded, the lights were all too much, and he’d thought of Her for the first time in-- in too long. “You’re not my employer, an’ until the time Stenden sends me off like th’nothin I am, I’m his. However long he’s got a soul burnin’ in there, he’s got me.” The weight of the declaration settled in his soul, and he realized he meant it. “You want to know the ilk who is swearing themselves to your lad?” The words tumbled out before his reason and self preservation could stop them.

“Vissehn, once of the Hawk.” He shrugged and let his grin return, still wicked but dimmed. “My deals-- my vows-- are good.”

Solendis gives a moment for his confession to sink in. “Ah, so,” he speaks after taking in its meaning. The rumors were true. He had heard whisperings after looking to Zarannis’ background and the tribe of Tel’dorei that she had spent the best years of her youth with- The Hawk Tribe. The boy was Unwelcomed- Exiled- Dead in the eyes of his clansmen. “We could never confirm if you wore the mark that all Exiles of your kind wear. But I see where all that spite comes from.”

His arms unfold, reaching for his chin, a calculating look flashing in his eyes. “Very well. I think there’s no point on harping-on on what’s already been said. You belong to my son’s retinue. You say you’re good on your promises- Then good. Serve him well. Just know that Stenden, like Sederis before him, understood the meaning and value of sacrifice. It’s only a matter of time before he offers his soul to the Emberglades.”

Vissehn did not look back as he left Solendis in the common room, the stifflegged walk to his own rooms too long by far. Solendis had no answer from the youth to that parting volley, only the seething quiet of rage contained poorly behind clenched teeth. Vissehn slammed his door, knowing it would only cement whatever the man thought of him and finding he wanted to prove every base thought true this time. Let them think him a roustabout; a good for nothing witches get. He was and worse, for all they would ever know of him.

When the door closed, though, he slumped against the wood, hand rising to catch at his collar.

In the dark spanse of his suite, he stared. He stared until the shadows held no mystery, until the ghosts and monsters summoned with just Her thought had dissipated into vapor and paranoia. Only when he was sure, only when the lock slid I to place and the windows shuttered against the night, did he settle on the overstuffed coverlet.

Vissehn pulled up the tunic, palm grazing the fabric of the binding beneath. His fingers pushed between the layers of bandage, and he twisted until his breath came short and his vision swam.

People like you.

You’re the first real friend I’ve had Viss.

He threw himself down on the bed, eyes closed as he tried to find the moment under the stars, the burn in his belly.

Instead, the press of Solendis finger seemed to burn instead, the judgement lingering long after the night and sleep claimed Vissehn, once-of-the-Hawk.

@retributionpriest @stormandozone @thanidiel

#Epilogue #Solendis

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eyeofmud · 5 years ago

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my holiday exchange gift to @shadesyste <3 happy wintersend!

My dear Reina,

I do hope this letter finds you quickly, seeing as you are now a remarkably hard woman to track down. It has been too long without hearing you, seeing you, so I find myself compelled to send this. I say so long, it has hardly been a month since I left Ferelden behind and I while I can still feel the chill of its winter under my skin I find my thoughts wandering to warm nights. Fortunately, there are other things to occupy my time than cleaning my dagger.

Spring has arrived in Antiva, finally, and the streets bustle with far more activity than your Ferelden cities. I cannot say I miss the quiet there but I can say I have missed some of your noise. The docks are the loudest, with the waves and the shouting sailors vying for attention with street market hawkers. One day I shall bring you here, the port of Antiva City is a sight everyone should see at least once. It shines in the sunlight, but it is the shadows I am interested in, but you know this. The city is alive in more ways than one, though if I am successful it will not be quite so lively for long. But that is for the future and today all I wish to tell you is I have arrived back in my city and already I find myself yearning for the place I just left.

I have missed many things, in truth. I have missed the warm sun of my Antiva more than I can describe to you but it pales in comparison to how my arms ache to hold you. I have missed the sound of your breathing next to me and the softness of your hair between my fingers. When you wake do you do so with my name on your lips as I do yours?

Ah, pretty words are they not? I found them in a book of poetry an urchin left in an old weapon stache I should have known would be pilfered. But they are true of a sort, and if I were to add my own words they would fall short. Maybe I will keep the book, and read from it to you when I see you again.

Until we next meet,

-Z

My dear Reina,

Yesterday I found myself slipping through a festival held in a city square. I wasn’t on festival business of course, but one cannot find themselves in a dance without joining in no? Even before I could see it I could hear the music and smell the flowers, light bouncy melodies and red carnations littered the streets far ahead of the celebration. In summer the cities often reek of rotting fish and leather but today the only thing in the air is the scent of soft petals. Even the backstreets held an air of anticipation for the festivities. I admit I stopped and lingered for a moment, hidden in an alley near the main square. There is nothing better than listening to dancers just around the corner. Except being a dancer I suppose. Would you ever want to dance in a square surrounded by flowers and music? I doubt in the Circle you had much reason to dance, I could teach you. Just imagine in, my hands on your hips and your body close to mine and my lips by your ear.

Can you picture it caro? Sweet carnations on your tongue, the music bright and swinging, my fingers brushing your skin as we dance. The summer sun would not be able to keep up with you, mi amor. I took a flower, one of the far too many to be missed carnations, and hopefully, by the time this letter reaches you, it will be sufficiently dried out. But who knows, I have never sent a pressed flower before. There are many things I have never done before meeting you. Perhaps you can say the same, and we can keep teaching each other.

Yours,

-Z

My dear Reina,

I hear you have been busy making a name for yourself after I left, saving cities from darkspawn and rebuilding the Wardens from the ground up. Dangerous business for anyone else. Tell me you do not sleep with any windows open, though if you do I am sure you are never defenseless. You are a remarkable woman, amor, and I am proud of what you have accomplished even if I cannot yet tell you myself. But, soon, I think I will. What passes for autumn here is beginning to arrive and it finds only empty darkness with its chilly winds. When I am done here I will return to you before anything else. I can think of nothing else I wish for once this is over, and yet I also find myself wondering of all the places I could show you here in Antiva. A busy, beautiful woman such as yourself deserves a hard-won vacation do you agree?

I still have the poetry book, if you are curious. Most nights I would read one or two, comparing them and thinking about which ones would make you laugh so the corners of your eyes crinkle up or the ones which would curl your lips like you do when you’re trying not to laugh or the ones you would genuinely enjoy. When I read them to you you must tell me which ones I got right.

Soon I will see you again, hold you again. Reina, amor, it has been a long time without you but now there is no shadow over us. No darkness between us. You are a busy woman, even from Antiva I can see the tension in your shoulders. When I return will you allow me to ease them? Have you missed me as I have missed you? It is far too late at night for me to be writing this, my candle burns low even as I try to put my thoughts into words fast enough.

Soon,

-Z

Smoothing out the last of Zevran’s letters Reina places a hand against the heavy parchment. It only arrived yesterday but he must have written it well over a week ago. Cold air sighs gently across Reina’s ankles as she retrieves her own parchment and pen, raising goosebumps on her skin. Shivering she adjusts the shawl she’d grabbed to go over her nightgown, glancing towards her now open window. When did this happen, she could have sworn she closed it when night fell. Reina stands, she needed a new ink well anyways, and crosses her bedroom quietly.

Outside the stars shine brightly over Vigil’s Keep and the chilly breeze whistles across the scaffolding holding the tower together. Looking out Reina can’t make out much beyond the shadows of night falling across the stone and wood, must have just been the wind blowing the window open.

“Amor, I told you to lock your windows at night.”

In her chest, Reina’s heart stops. The letter had read soon but she never thought- And yet his voice is in her ear and hands she’s dreamt about for a year are wrapping around her waist from behind and there’s no air, no air in her lungs because Zevran has stolen it from her in a breathless kiss. He tastes like forgotten memories and starlight and Reina throws herself into the kiss, wraps her own arms around him and holds him to her like she thought she might never again. But it doesn’t matter now, how often she read his letters or how much she missed him, because Zevran returned to her. Just like he promised.

A kiss tasting of salt, starlight falling on a pressed carnation.

#dragon age #dragon age origins #zevwarden #zevran x warden #zevran arainai #reina amell #<3

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