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thetempleofthemasaigoddess · 5 months ago

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With a kiss we will paint a flawless view (part 1)

Dracule Mihawk x reader. This is part one of two. NSFW!!

This fic is dedicated to @madbadpadawan.

This fic is part of the Beast in Black series, and the sequel of Come close and whisper my true name.

*****

“Something is troubling you.” your lover murmurs as he turns to kiss your naked shoulder; you smile, forcing yourself to hide the stab of pain those words have evoked in your heart, an unpleasant interruption in such a pleasant afternoon.

“I’m fine, Mihawk.”

“That was not a question, and you are not.”

Silence returns between the two of you, barely stirred by the gentle murmuring of the waves. What remains of your picnic lays on the blanket in front of you; Mihawk sits by your side, his left hand resting on the sand behind him, his lovely yellow eyes only apparently focused on the sun setting on the horizon. He doesn’t insist to know more, he doesn’t point out that this morning he has seen you stare out of the window for almost an hour, silent and unmoving, lost in who knows what sad reflection, nor does he mention the vague, impalpable but persistent melancholy he has perceived around you for the last month at least. He remains silent, content to sip the content of his glass (his favourite red wine, that you have bought and brought especially for this occasion) as the breeze plays with his dark hair.

It’s not like he doesn’t care; nothing could be further from the truth. You’ve been together for years, and while Mihawk is not the most effusive of men, you know well how much you mean to him, how much he cares about your physical and mental well-being, and that he wants a future with you. Whatever problem or worry you may be dealing with, you know your partner will listen to you, respect it, and do his best to help you overcome it, just like you would do for him; on the other hand he respects your privacy and desire for independence, and the last thing he wants is to treat you as if you were a child who needed an adult to protect and decide for her.

I don’t demand to know what you’re going through, but if you want to tell me, I’m here; this is what he’s telling you, without the need to utter a single word, and you love him for it; this is not an issue he, or anyone for that matter, can help you with, and lingering on it means wasting the time you are spending with your lover, but no matter how stupid and pointless it is, you can’t stop thinking about it…

“I have entered menopause.” you confess in the end, actually feeling as if you were sharing a crime you had committed rather than a natural, albeit untimely, development all women go through sooner or later. Mihawk, who clearly wasn’t expecting something like that (and how could he?) turns to look at you.

“You’re too young for that, surely?”

“Not necessarily; my mother was only two years older than me when it happened to her, and my grandmother had it early as well. I haven’t had my period for at least two months and I did think the last one I had was unusually light and short, so…”

Silence falls again; a minute later Mihawk’s glass has been placed back on the tray and his arm has circled your waist, holding you close to his body.

“What did your doctor say?” he asks softly; his gaze is now turned in your direction but now you are the one avoiding him, despite the love and intimacy you share too ashamed and embarrassed to face his reaction.

“I haven’t told him. I’ll mention it on my next routine visit in two months, but there’s no need really, I’ve just been feeling a little tired, but thank all the Gods the women of my family don’t usually experience hot flashes…”

“(name).”

You rest your cheek against his shoulder with a sigh. “I’m being stupid, aren’t I?”

“You know I could never consider you stupid; and being a man I am completely unqualified to judge what you’re feeling, even if I wanted to.”

“I’m glad to hear that. It is stupid, because I was almost sure it would happen soon and my period has been nothing but a nuisance for years, but…”

“But?”

“I hate it.” you admit as you finally turn to look at him “I hate myself, and I hate my body, as if it had betrayed me. It doesn’t make sense, because I already knew I couldn’t have children and I know I’m still young, but… I feel old and weak and… and useless. I feel empty.”

You you hate crying, especially when there is someone there to witness your tears, and as a matter of fact you’re not crying now, but you still hide your face against Mihawk’s chest as he embraces you, holding your body (your pathetic, inadequate, withered body) as if you were something precious and delicate he wanted to protect.

“I’m sorry.” he murmurs; you’re close enough you can perceive his scent, slightly sour and deliciously masculine, but even that can’t make you feel better in the state you’re in “I hate seeing you in pain. I wish there was something I could do to help.”

“Don’t; I’m just emotional, I should get a grip instead of wasting our time together whining.”

“The time we spend together is never wasted; and since your body is changing it’s perfectly normal if your mind reacts to it.”

He holds you close, peppering kisses on your hair and brow as he murmurs your name, and in the end, almost reflexively, you feel your body abandon itself in your lover’s embrace, tension leaving your muscles and bones even though grief lingers.

“Do you love me, Mihawk?” you ask in the end, lifting your gaze to meet his; all of a sudden you feel unworthy of his love, well aware that what you share could never change simply because you won’t be bleeding four days every twenty-eight anymore, but the most fragile part of you feels he would deserve better - a younger, healthier woman, capable of giving him the child you both wanted.

“I do.” Mihawk murmurs; he presses his forehead against yours, holding you as if he never wants to let you go “I always have, and always will, until my last breath. I promise.”

You remain locked in an embrace as you both observe the sun setting beyond the horizon; your lover holds you close as you listen to his quiet, steady heartbeat. Neither feels the need to talk, or to move; to worry, to feel sad, is completely impossible when the two of you are together.

A couple hours later Mihawk receives a call from the Marines HQ - an interruption during your time together your lover appreciates as much as an invasion of locusts. Alone in the kitchen as you wash the dishes and glasses you used for your picnic, you distantly hear your lover talk, and then argue, and finally almost shout, over the Den Den Mushi; you wait until he has ended the call, and then you join your lover in his bedroom, carrying two cups of his favourite tea.

“Bad news?” you ask as you offer him a cup that your lover, now sitting on the bed, accepts with a nod of thanks, his expression still sombre.

“I’m afraid so; the Marines need me, and the other Warlords, for a mission in the Shima Peninsula.”

“That’s pretty far away.”

“I’m aware; there is a war going on in the area, that the Marines unsurprisingly can’t put an end to it by themselves.” Mihawk explains; he seems pensive, even worried, which surprises you, since your lover, almost physically unable to feel fear, is usually dismissive of or even bored by the missions the Marines entrust to him “I read about it in the paper, it’s quite a complicated situation. I might have to remain there for weeks, even months.”

Ah; so that is what he was worried about. “Well.” you murmur, careful not to spill your tea as you go sit on his lap “I don’t need to tell you I will miss you…”

“And I you. (name)... I’ll probably be asked not to use a Den Den Mushi while I remain in the area, for security reasons; I might not even be able to write to you.”

“... oh.”

It’s worse than you expected. While you and your lover are both adult, independent people, each with important duties that occupy your time and who don’t even live together, you have always kept regularly in contact, both by letter and Den Den Mushi, and are used to meet each other regularly, either on your island, on Kuraigana or in some other place you decided to visit together. To remain apart, to be unable to call and write to your lover and to hear from him, for weeks and even months, sounds honestly unbearable; but refusing the call of the World Government will bring nothing but troubles for Mihawk, you reflect as you sip your tea, especially if this task in Shima is especially important.

“You need to go.” you murmur in the end, resting your back against his chest “I know you don’t like being ordered around by the World Government, but if you refuse there might be… repercussions.”

Mihawk sneers. “You think I’m afraid of them?”

“Of course you’re not, but it can’t be a bad thing to keep the Marines happy; at the very least, if you help them with this task they’ll leave you alone for a while afterwards… and you can come visit me for a few days.”

You bat your eyelashes at your lover, who looks at you, more amused than he lets on. “On second thought, I might decide to remain on Shima for a while after my mission is over.”

“Oh, you are horrible…”

Mihawk grins; you see him take a longer sip of his tea before placing the cup on his bedside table. “I’ll have to make sure no one else sees me shift.” he considers, which immediately turns you serious. Only six months have passed since you shared your gift with your lover, and while he has already learned to control it seamlessly, turning in a werewolf on command and avoiding doing it when he mustn’t, like all of you he can’t help shifting on full moon nights - an easy situation to manage when one lives on an otherwise deserted island, but that might represent a problem if he’ll be surrounded by Marine soldiers and officers, especially considering that while werewolves are mostly considered the stuff of legend, the World Government never formally abrogated an ancient law that ordered them to be killed on sight.

“I have put you in danger.” you murmur, immediately alarmed, which your lover resolutely denies shaking his head.

“You haven’t; I knew the risks when I asked you to turn me.” he points out “It’s only one night every twenty-eight; I’ll find a way to shift without anyone seeing me.”

“I hope so. Bring the draught I prepared for you, will you? You have learnt to control the shifting faster than any adult I know, but you never know when you might need it.”

“I promise.”

“Good. You need to go soon, don’t you?”

The barest trace of guilt visible in your lover’s eyes is answer enough. “I’m expected at the Marines HQ tomorrow at sundown at the latest; which means I’ll have to depart in the morning.” Mihawk points out softly “I’m sorry, (name); I know it wasn’t easy for you to carve out a few days for us.”

It wasn’t, and it’s so frustrating it makes you want to scream - not against Mihawk, of course, and not against the Marines either; you felt better, lighter, after sharing the matter of your menopause with your lover and being comforted and reassured of his love for you, and now fate conspires against you both, separating you from Mihawk when you need him the most, after a single day spent together.

Sometimes you wonder if your lover will ever decide to come live with you on your island; no matter how content and satisfied you both are with your current situation, this would allow you to spend as much time together as you want, or at least, considering your duties towards your people and his as a pirate and a member of the Seven Warlords, you wouldn’t have to plan any single meeting in advance and then sail for almost a whole day, since you’d be sleeping in the same bed and dining at the same table. It would make things much easier, and you know your lover misses you as much as you miss him when you’re apart. On the other hand, you can’t move with him, since you’ll one day be expected to become the ruler of your island after your mother, so it would be hypocritical of you to ask him to pack his things. You have talked about it several times, and you don’t want to rush Mihawk into something he doesn’t feel ready for; you know he loves you, and that wherever he goes, no matter how far away he’ll be, he’ll always return to you. That is enough; it has to be.

“I’ll miss you.” Mihawk murmurs, exactly as you considered the same sentiment in your heart. You smile, and

“Well, I hope so.” you murmur; a moment later your tea, by now gone cold in the still half-full cup, is placed on the bedside table next to his, and you’ve turned in your lover’s embrace, straddling his thighs with your arms now resting on his shoulders. Mihawk grins despite himself, his hands rising from your waist to gently, possessively cup your breast. Recently it feels oddly tender, and heavy, you reflect vaguely; since you are obviously no longer a growing girl, it’s probably a side effect of the menopause.

For once in the last three months, you’re able to quickly banish the unpleasant thought from your mind, as you look at Mihawk under your eyelashes, innocently resting your hand very high on his thigh as if to stabilise yourself “Maybe I should go, let you rest tonight so that you’ll be at full strength when you’ll have to sail tomorrow…”

“You’re fooling no one, (name).”

“I really don’t know what you mean. Let me go, I’ll sleep in one of the empty bedrooms…”

Your mouth meets his in a soft peck, seemingly chaste if not for the quick dart of your tongue against his bottom lip, before you start to stand from his lap; Mihawk growls, and his arms cage you against his chest as he turns on the bed, pushing you under him.

“Seriously, darling, I was worried for your health and this is how you repay me?”

“Oh, I’m gonna repay you alright…”

Your lover grins as he looks at you, still caged between his legs, and at the enticing view of your chest rising and falling in rhythm with your breathing; a moment later he has lifted your skirt, exposing your body from your waist up. He slips his hand under your underskirt, his fingers brushing over your flesh, and for a moment it feels different - softer, somehow, and more prominent, as if you had gained weight, even though not to the point one could notice just looking at you. Mihawk vaguely wonders if there’s a specific reason; you’ve always been a lover of good food but not someone who overeats, and it should be easy for you to keep in shape, given your active lifestyle and the time you spend regularly in your fortress’ small gymnasium. Perhaps the recent development, and the grief and shame it filled your heart with, led you to seek comfort in eating…

“Is something wrong?” you ask, unaware of your lover’s thoughts, and he hurries to shake his head; one doesn’t need to be an expert on women to know that telling one’s partner she has gotten fat would hardly please her, especially while her body is already a source of shame and grief for her, and he doesn’t want you to think he finds you less desirable now that you’ve gained a few pounds.

Because he doesn’t. At all.

“Nothing. I was just reflecting on how… appetising you look.”

You smile, unashamedly flattered. “I’m not a food you can eat, Mihawk.”

“Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to devour you.”

“Hmm, you surely talk a good game…”

Your kisses chase each other as you take care of your clothes; you make quick work of Mihawk’s shirt and pants, while he spends a few minutes unsuccessfully struggling with the lacing of your dress before giving up with a frustrated sigh. “It’s worse than a chastity belt!”

“I’m sorry, my seamstress insisted it was more elegant than a zipper…”

“Clearly your seamstress wants you to wear this dress for the rest of your life.” Mihawk mutters; then, with a grin, he helps you lie on the bed and lifts one of your legs over his shoulder “Then I suppose I’ll have to fuck you while you’re still wearing it.”

A moment later your panties and underskirt are lying on the floor, and you sigh as your lover’s hard cock penetrates you; after so many years you’re like a lock and the key made to open it and he knows what you can handle without feeling too much pain, but he’s still gentle, still patient and attentive, as he fills you and then slowly starts to move. He hated seeing you suffer, especially because yours was not the sort of grief one could process rationally either by yourself or thanks to the support of your loved ones; he could swear and insist your menopause makes no difference for him, that you’re still beautiful and strong and clever, a desirable partner and a talented bounty hunter, and it wouldn’t necessarily help. He knows you have to deal with the changes of your body on your own, and that you can, and that you will; you don’t need to be protected, or reminded that your value as a person and as a woman has nothing to do with your menstrual cycle, if you are in pain, no matter how unfounded or inconsequential, and he would give his blood to make it go away…

How can he survive weeks, even months, without you? Without even hearing from you, and the reassurance you’re alright and still thinking about him? He’s not afraid you could look at other men, and he knows you are more than capable of taking care of yourself, but he’s already regretting the mission he accepted taking part in. He misses you already; and he knows he’s going to regret every single day you don’t spend together.

He holds you in his arms as he changes position once more, fucking you against the matress as he stands on the side of the bed, your legs locked around his hips. He can feel you claw at his back, possessive and even hungry for him, and he loves it, pain and pleasure mixed in such an arousing paroxysm of desire; every inch of him, flesh and bone and blood, his body and his mind and his soul, are vibrating with you, so close he can no longer perceive where he ends and you begin. He never thought it was possible to feel like this, or at least that he would one day experience such a perfect astonishment; but for once in his life, Dracule Mihawk is happy to admit he was wrong.

You share a smile, soft and intimate, as he pounds against you, his pushes deeper and more forceful as he feels your warmth enveloping him. Just like this, darling, you murmur, gazing adoringly at him, and oh, you’re so big and strong, and it feels good, so good, to know he’s taking care of your needs, fucking you nice and well, better than any other man ever could.

Mihawk hears you pant his name, the warmth of your body as enticing now as it was on your first time. “I love you.” you murmur; he smiles, and kisses you once more.

“Promise you’ll wait for me.” he tells you “Promise me, (name).”

“I promise I will wait for you till the end of time.”

Mihawk has never been in the Shima peninsula before. A nice place, he has been told, a once popular holiday destination famous for the production of precious fabrics and the vast quantities of gold hidden in the depths of its mines; nevertheless, he only needs to take a look at Shima to know he’s going to hate it.

It’s not because the country has been ravaged by war for almost a decade now; while the chaos and destruction wreaked by the invading army he and the other Warlords have been sent to oppose don’t leave him completely indifferent, he has seen plenty of scenes like that in his life, plenty of death and grief and devastation, and is now able to put some distance between him and the slaughtering taking place all around.

What frustrates him, and makes him regret ever saying yes when Garp called to request his help, is that he is doing nothing, spending most of his time twiddling his thumbs as days and weeks and months go by without the conflict moving a single step closer to resolution.

The situation is delicate, the Marines commander at the head of the whole operation -Mihawk hasn’t bothered to learn his name- tells them; the country whose army has invaded Shima is not affiliated to the World Government, but the authorities still hope for a peaceful resolution, which means they cannot simply send their armies, or the Warlords, to cut down the enemy troops. The two contingents are on standby, their encampments separated by a quarter of a mile of no man’s land; emissaries and ambassadors meet regularly, they argue and threaten and beg, and occasionally either Mihawk or one of his peers is sent to wreak havoc through enemy lines, or to face the paladins the opposing generals have sent to convince them to retreat. Neither party is able, or even fully willing, to best the other; they prefer to wait, hoping to wear the other party down or for some internal development that forces the enemy to withdraw.

If Mihawk thought he had known boredom in the years since he had last faced an opponent worthy of fighting him, it is nothing compared to those four months of inertia; he keeps busy training, and reading whatever paper and book he can put his hands on, but the encampment is barely large enough for a brief walk to stretch his legs, and he’s not the sort of man capable of making friends easily, not even if the alternative is dying of accidie.

Lying on his bed in the tent he shares with three of his fellow Warlords, he stares at the ceiling wondering what (name) is doing at that moment, whether she is sitting in the fortress’ audience chamber next to her mother or is preparing for a stakeout, her faithful derringer already aimed at the back of the head of the unsuspecting victim. He knows in his heart that wherever she is, his partner is thinking about him, hoping to see him return soon, but that is not enough; he has never missed her so terribly, her presence and her smile and the sound of her voice and, why deny it?, the warmth of her soft body as she lays naked in his embrace. He thinks back to that time Shanks told him he could still perceive the presence of his missing arm, years after he had lost it; what he feels now is at least partially similar, the lack of a part of him (not a limb, but a person who has become too important and precious for him to feel whole without her) becoming more painful, and frustrating, with each passing day. They have never been apart for so long since they became lovers, but that’s not all: there’s another reason, something Mihawk couldn’t explain but that is too intense to deny or dismiss it: the sensation that his lover needs him, but not because she’s in danger, or saddened and in need of comfort. Something is happening to her, something important that concerns him as well, and he should be there to share it with her…

The most maddening thing is that he has no way to know for sure. Even though he is busy for, on average, maybe two hours per week, he has been forbidden to leave the peninsula, even for a few days only, in the event that a sudden emergency arises and the Marines need their strongest allies to fight their battles for them, which means he is virtually prisoner on Shima, kept idle but not allowed to make use that wasted time. Many are unhappy with that situation, especially the other Warlords, who protest they haven’t accepted the alliance with the Marines to be kept in the backlines, but even their complaints fall on deaf ears.

If only he were allowed to at least communicate with the outside, but Den Den Mushi have been rendered unusable on the whole peninsula, in order to block transmissions between the invading army and its king; even the Marines commander receives his orders via carrier bird. Mihawk has sent a letter to (name) every time he had the opportunity, but he’s uncertain they will reach their destination, and even less hopeful he’ll be able to receive a response. At least, (name) will learn he’s still alive from the papers, which will ease her worries; still, there is nothing he wouldn’t give to hear her voice, or at least to read a letter in her elegant handwriting, for the first time in so long…

As his lover expected, the full moon nights are the trickiest, and the most dangerous, given how hard it is to find the necessary privacy to shift in an encampment inhabited by hundreds of people who must remain in the dark regarding his secret. Mihawk shifts for the first time nineteen days after his arrival on Shima; he has no way of knowing, but on that very day (name) has requested a visit from the fortress’ doctor after a sudden, violent bout of nausea as she woke up. He’s already feeling the pull of the rising moon as he slips out of the tent and then of the encampment, almost running towards the flat stretch of countryside that separates it from the closest town; a wood would have been better, the presence of trees and preys to hunt a more appropriate place for the wolf to run and feel at home, but at least he doesn’t run the risk of stumbling on some unsuspecting Marine recruit who had stepped out to relieve himself. He leaves his clothes behind a boulder and stands, stretching his muscles as he feels the moon’s soft light bathing his skin. The wolf has already raised its head inside him, ready to take over, and Mihawk lets him, the by now familiar sensation of fur covering his back and his bones changing shape enveloping him. A few minutes, and the large black wolf has taken his place; he chases after a few terrified mice, more to stretch his legs than because he’s hungry, and then he lays in an uncultivated field, looking at the moon above and thinking about his mate, who must have shifted as well but who is far away, too far from his howling to reach her.

The stalemate has been dragging for four months when one day Mihawk, and by coincidence the other Warlords as well, suddenly decides he has wasted enough time as it is. After a brief discussion, they march out of the encampment, deaf to the Marines asking and then ordering (as if!) them to stop, cross the unclaimed strip of desert separating them from the enemy, and swoop down on the invading army. To their credit, the invading troops are quick to react, their soldiers immediately falling in formation to oppose the small but deadly band of pirates. Mihawk has warned his fellow Warlords not to stand in his way, but beyond that he doesn’t care what they do, like he is completely indifferent to the opponents he finds on his path; he wields Yoru as he makes his way through the enemy lines, destroying anyone who is unfortunate enough to face him, nameless men and women who fall around him like sheaves of wheat cut by a scythe. A few swordsmen try to oppose him, and whether they’re driven by patriotism or thirst for glory, none of them is able to land a single blow on him; he’s no longer a wolf, but his ferocity, his ruthlessness and thirst for blood are characteristics any predator would approve of.

The unsanctioned assault is as quick as it is deadly; dawn has barely raised when the

Marines’ commander is called out of his tent, and finds himself face to face with the severed heads of the enemy’s generals thrown at his feet, their respective next in lines bound and gagged behind them, ready to concede defeat and beg for a peace accord, in order to avoid another bloodshed.

The commander is highly disgruntled, since the Warlords acted of their own accord, without seeking permission and defying every order they had been given, but those seven did in less than two hours what the Marines couldn’t in six months. He has no choice but to accept the enemy’s surrender, begin the peace negotiations, and write to the Fleet Admiral to inform him of the latest developments.

The Warlords depart, mostly confident the Marines can take it from here and there is no longer need of their services, once again without asking for permission. Mihawk has not been at home in four months, and his last bath dates back to then; part of him is unhappy he’s going to present himself to his lover in that state, but he knows that she would never forgive him if he lingered for such an inconsequential reason, even for just an hour more.

He wastes no time with good-byes; he retrieves his bag from the tent and reaches his ship at the harbour, where a favourable wind is blowing. Mihawk is soon leaving the Shima peninsula behind him, without looking back and hoping he will never have to set foot on that blasted place again.

“My lady?”

“...”

“Please wake up, my lady…”

“Hmm… no…”

“I’m sorry to disturb you, my lady, but you really need to wake up…”

“For the Gods’ sake! Am I not allowed even a moment of rest?” you exclaim as you finally open your eyes; it’s not like you to react so impatiently, even and especially if the person talking to you is one of the servants, but the nights you have slept soundly in the last four months have been far and between, and naps like the one you had been taking on the sofa in your study (a new piece of furniture, that you had moved there especially for occasions like this) have literally saved you from going insane, and being forced to wake up feels like torture “I just wanted to sleep a little…”

“Forgive us my lady, but…” the two men in livery in front of you share a glance, suddenly unsure they’ve done the right thing deciding to disturb your sleep “Lord Mihawk is back.”

For a moment you fear you’re still dreaming. “... what?” you ask as you struggle to move into a seated position, your movements made clumsier by the added weight on your belly “Are you sure?”

“We’ve been informed his ship has docked at the harbour; the portmaster offered to call the fortress to have a carriage sent for him, but he preferred to borrow a horse to save time. He should be here in a few minutes. What would you have us do?”

“I…”

You bite your lip as you stand, your hand immediately rising to hold your belly, a habit you have gotten into ever since you learnt of your pregnancy, as if fearing even the most careful movement could put your baby in danger, and the presence of your arm were enough to shield them. It’s illogical, you know it well; but given the upheaval your life has experienced in the last four months, you might be forgiven if at certain moments rationality escapes you…

Your pregnancy. Your baby. Three months have passed since the doctors confirmed what you had already started suspecting but didn’t dare believe, and you still struggle to convince yourself that it’s true. You’re pregnant, and you’re gonna have a baby… your lover’s baby, a son or a daughter, who you have conceived together during one of your many nights -and mornings, and afternoons…- together, and who grows in your belly, becoming heavier by the day. A normal, perfectly natural development, that millions of women all over the world experience every year, but that you never expected might concern you, not after what happened on that terrible night so many years ago, when you lost both your father and your child. You had been assured getting pregnant again would be impossible, and in fact it never happened, nor when you still slept around hoping to give an heir to your feud, nor in the following years, despite the -err- very passionate relationship you share with your lover.

And you thought you had entered menopause, and were sad because of it! How foolish you have been, especially considering this is not your first pregnancy, but how could you imagine it, so many years after you had ordered yourself to stop trying, to stop hoping, and to resign yourself to never becoming a mother?

You have been visited by the most capable and experienced doctors of the kingdom, and none of them has been able to explain it. It’s nothing short of a miracle, my lady, one of them has commented as he washed his hands after examining you, and you thought that maybe you didn’t need to know how, but only to be reassured that it was true, that it had happened, and it had happened to you.

And now this. Mihawk is back, which you did expect, just not yet; you have read about the end of the conflict on the Shima peninsula in yesterday’s paper, but while the pictures showing your lover safe and sound, and victorious, made you heave a sigh of relief, you expected him to be busy for a while longer before he could come back. But years after you became lovers Mihawk is still able to surprise you… just like you’re gonna undoubtedly surprise him, when your lover sees the state you are in.

The servants are still looking at you, patiently waiting for your orders. You sigh, rubbing your eyes as if that were enough to clear your mind. “Forgive me, that was discourteous of me.” you apologise “Please take care of lord Mihawk’s needs when he arrives; I’ll be waiting for him here.”

“Very well, my lady.”

They bow out; now alone, suddenly nervous as if you had not been as close as it’s humanly possible for two people to be for years, and even though you have every reason to think he’ll be happy to hear about the baby, you consider the possibility of changing your dress, or to move to the adjoining bathroom to check your hair and make up, before realising nothing of it is necessary - not from you, not with him. With nothing else to do apart from waiting, you sigh and sit back once more, both of your hands resting on your belly as you stare at the room’s door and wait to see it open.

Mihawk’s heart is pounding as he climbs the steps that lead to (name)’s apartment, alone, no longer needing to be accompanied as he walks through the fortress he by now knows as well as his residence on Kuraigana. As he reaches the floor he stops, feeling suddenly… Insecure? Shy? Anxious?

It is odd, first of all because those terms have been banned from his vocabulary ever since he was a teenager, and equally important, because this is (name), his (name); Mihawk would bet his life she’s going to welcome him with open arms -and legs, hopefully; after four months with only his right hand for company, he can’t wait to bury himself in his lover’s tight and warm pussy and show her how much he has missed her- happy and relieved to see him safe and sound. After all his lover knew he would be gone for a long time and have difficulties keeping in contact, and they have always supported each other’s endeavours as a pirate and a bounty hunter respectively; even in the event she didn’t receive his letters, she has no reason to complain because of his long absence and the fact he didn’t call.

So no, the welcome that awaits him is not the reason for his current anxiety; what is, then? The lady Veressa, who he met briefly as he arrived at the fortress, assured him (name) is alright, so he has no reason to worry in that regard; on the other hand, the older woman seemed… what? Not exactly worried, or scared, but somehow anxious, and she has urged him to go to her daughter immediately, as if there was something important he had to see, or to discuss about with (name).

What the hell is happening? Mihawk keeps asking himself as he stares at the door of his lover’s apartment, the pounding of his heart almost deafening; part of him wishes he could take a bath, and change his clothes, before presenting himself to (name) for the first time in four months, but Mihawk considers that thought only for a moment before dismissing it. Right now all he needs is to make sure she’s fine, and to kiss her; and then perhaps they can take a bath together.

He knocks. “(name), it’s Mihawk.” he announces as he opens the door without waiting for an answer; he steps into the room and his gaze immediately falls on the woman sitting on a sofa (a new piece of furniture, he vaguely reflects, strangely out of place in her study) without a book to read or her derringer to clean, simply waiting - for him.

She smiles at him, radiant and more beautiful than ever, and Mihawk thinks he would have endured any hardship, and stayed away for years rather than months, if it meant being welcomed back like that. “My love.” he murmurs, his heart overflowing.

“You’re back.” (name) whispers, the tone of a woman who dares not believe her eyes; she stands - or at least she tries, oddly awkward and cautious as she grabs the sofa’s armrest to heave herself up, an arm wrapped around her middle. Mihawk is immediately concerned; is her lover sick after all? Why does she move like that? And what is she wearing…? “You’re here; I wasn’t expecting you yet, I thought you’d have to stay longer on Shima…”

“I came as soon as I could; I wasted enough time in that blasted place already.” he explains quickly as he reaches her; his hands find hers, and a kiss is pressed to her knuckles “My darling, are you alright? You seem..”

“I’m fine, Mihawk; really. But…”

She bites her lip, looking expectantly at him as if waiting for a response to a question Mihawk has not perceived; reassured but still confused, he follows her gaze down her body, to the soft protrusion of her belly, and one does not need to be a midwife to comprehend the state his lover is in, but like her, Mihawk has ordered himself to stop thinking about the possibility ever since they have discovered (name) is infertile, and even just considering what is evident and clear and real in front of his eyes requires more courage than for a moment he can gather.

He’s staring silently, his mouth half-open, until with a soft smile (name) takes his hand and gently places it on her belly, his fingers instinctively spreading to feel, gauge, and this is different from any body he has ever known, not the softness of fat nor the luscious curves of her femininity, it feels hard - almost like a shield, a shell, protecting the fragile treasure inside.

“I thought you had put on weight.” he murmurs, more to himself than to her.

“Excuse me?”

“The last time we have been together; as I caressed you I… I thought you had gained a few pounds, and I thought it odd, because you have never been a big eater…”

“Well, I hadn’t; it’s another sort of pleasure I have indulged in, rather than food.” she confesses, a tiny smile blossoming on his lips; Mihawk looks at her, for once in his life stunned beyond words, but (name) knows and loves him enough to perceive what he wants, what he needs, and smiles as she rests her hand on his over her belly.

“I’m pregnant.” she declares “Mihawk, you’re going to be a father.”

Mihawk looks on, fascinated, as the drops of water dripping from the fingers of his raised hand fall on (name) heavy belly, slipping down sideways or pooling around her belly-button. He’s sitting behind her in the large oval bath-tub, her back resting against his chest, (name)’s body snugly cradled between his legs; they have already washed and cleaned each other (“I’m sorry, I am covered with sweat.” “Don’t say it; you know I like you hot and bothered.”) and now they’re enjoying the first precious moments of intimacy after four months. Mihawk rubs his lover’s back gently, and feels her relax in his embrace; knowing that she had to deal with all of it by herself because he had left her alone fills him with guilt, even though (name) assured him she could never resent him given the circumstances, but Mihawk is determined to make up for it. He’s never leaving her (them) alone again; and he’s going to protect them with his life if need be.

The tub is filled to the brim, (name)’s belly emerging like an island in the middle of the sea; the thought brings a smile to his face.

“How is it possible?” he murmurs; he doesn’t really need to know, since the several doctors his lover has consulted have agreed her pregnancy is going well and she has every reason to be optimist, but he can’t help wondering “You told me it was impossible; and we have been having plenty of sex for years now, you never got pregnant.”

“I have no idea.” (name) admits; she’s writing her and Mihawk’s names with the tip of her finger on her belly “None of the doctors can explain it; maybe… maybe it’s precisely because we have done it so much that it happened? If you plant a seed a million times, sooner or later it will take root, no matter how barren the soil is.”

It’s as good an explanation as any, and they both reflect on it as they hold each other. (name) shivers when Mihawk’s strong hands cup her breast, the touch gentle and cautious but confident as he fondles the soft flesh and stimulates her erect nipples. Her chest has gotten bigger, and Mihawk can feel himself growing hard under the water; he has considered the possibility that her state has affected (name)’s libido, but he’s pretty sure there are no particular contraindications to a pregnant woman having sex, and he wants her at least to know how absolutely ravishing and irresistible he finds her…

(name)’s moans of pleasure are music to his ears. She rests her head against his shoulder, arching her back as if to lift her chest and offer her body to his ministrations. “Are you happy?” she asks when their eyes meet.

“Do you really have to ask?”

“Well, I know it saddened you when you found out I couldn’t get pregnant, but it was years ago, and at the time we weren’t in a relationship; it’s also possible to start having second thoughts when something you had until now only discussed suddenly becomes real.”

Mihawk grins, determined to reassure the woman who has now turned her head to look at him, looking even more unsure than she sounds. He kisses her temple as he starts caressing her belly, a soothing, protective circular movement.

“I’ve never felt so happy in my life; truly, I… I didn’t think I could feel so happy.” Mihawk confesses in a whisper “I was yours already, and felt blessed to be your man, but now… I love you so much, (name); and I’ll always be here with you, and our baby. I promise I will never leave you.”

They share a kiss, sweet and deep and passionate; (name) turns cautiously in Mihawk’s arms until her belly is lightly pressed against his, and now they’re all locked in an embrace: him, his lover, and his baby. He’s going to be a father; Mihawk still can’t quite believe it. His life is going to change forever -technically it already has, even though Mihawk still can’t see how; for a man used to having full control of his life, to taking care of his needs alone and to not having to worry about anything, and anyone, else, it’s quite a big change, but the swordsman is all but disgruntled. He is elated, and can’t wait to meet his baby, who will be born…?

“When are you due?” he murmurs as he holds his lover in his arms, and it’s like that first question has opened the gates to all those that follow “Do you know whether it’s a boy or a girl? Have you started preparing for childbirth? Should we think about names?”

(name) laughs gently as her damp fingers play with his hair. “It’s still three months before the baby is born, so we have all the time to prepare for the big day. I asked the doctors not to tell me their gender because I didn’t feel I needed to know; do you?”

Mihawk thinks about it for a moment; in his heart he’s mostly indifferent to the whole matter, as long as the baby is healthy and the delivery is as quick and painless for (name) as it can be; he knows there is absolutely nothing he can do about either matter, and the knowledge does scare him a little. If something were to happen to her, to them, and he was powerless to help… “I… don’t, no; let us find out on the day they are born, shall we?”

“Good idea; which means we should have at least one name ready in either case.”

(name) rests her cheek against her lover’s shoulder, looking up at him in a way that makes the usually restrained swordsman’s head spin. “Should we have a girl… do you want to name her after your sister?”

“... you would be alright with it?”

“Of course. It’d be a way to have her back with you, in a way, and to remember everything she has done for you.”

Mihawk considers the offer for a minute, less enthusiastic than many men -and brothers- would be in his place. The truth is, while he will never forget his sister and will forever love and miss her, he’s not sure he wants a constant reminder of her around him, day and night. So many years after Yoru’s death, he still feels pain every time he thinks about her, the guilt for not having been there to protect her when she needed it and after she had sacrificed her happiness to raise and protect him so intense and overwhelming he sometimes can’t bear to look at himself in a mirror. He knows (name) means well, and he loves her for that, but what if history repeats itself? What if he ends up failing his daughter, and her mother, like he had failed her namesake? What if one of his enemies threatens baby Yoru, and once again he’s not there to protect her?

He has never believed in fate, nor doubted his strength; but when his child is concerned, Mihawk is not willing to risk it.

“I’ll think about it.” Mihawk murmurs in the end as he forces himself to smile, not wanting to ruin the happy moment he and his lover are sharing; thank all the Gods (name) doesn’t seem to perceive his distress, or more likely she does but wisely decides not to comment. She offers her mouth to Mihawk once more, and he happily kisses her.

“If we have a boy then we could give him your father’s name.” he suggests a moment later. The water is getting colder, which means they’ll have to leave the tub soon, and at the moment no one, no enemy, not the Marines, not even a God descended to earth, could ever tear him away from his lover, but he’d gladly remain here forever… he, (name) and their child, both in his arms, his to protect and love.

(name) smiles; it seems easy for her, even though she surely loved her father and mourned his death as much as he did with Yoru’s, and Mihawk envies her. “His name was Sargol; not a name I would inflict on an innocent baby. Father always said the other children made fun of him because of it.”

Mihawk is ready to bet their child will easily dispatch any bully who tries making fun of them. “Then let’s both think about it.” he suggests; he sees his lover shiver, and starts rubbing her arms to warm her “It’s like you said, we still have time. This name will be our first gift to our baby, we will have to choose it wisely.”

They leave the tub soon after, quickly drying themselves before walking naked to the adjacent bedroom, hand in hand; they reach the bed, Mihawk insisting on helping (name) to lie on her back before curling protectively next to her. “Are you sure you’re not cold?”

“I’m fine.” she reassures him with a smile “Tell me about Shima. Given what has been written in the paper it seems that if you and the other Warlords hadn’t intervened the conflict would have lasted for another decade.”

“Probably; it was all very stupid, the Marines had us come and then kept us on the sidelines, doing nothing.” Mihawk confirms; the longer his collaboration with the World Government lasts, the more he regrets having accepted their offer “Next time they can deal with their crisis on their own, I’m not wasting any more time.”

“Well, I’m proud of you; you helped stop a bloody war.”

The swordsman grins; he would be lying if he said that he doesn’t feel flattered by his lover’s admiration. “I just wanted to come back to you; I didn’t know about your pregnancy, but I felt I had to be here as soon as I could.” he explains; his fingers brush against her cheek “Gods, you are so gorgeous.”

“I’m fat, Mihawk. I have started waddling like a duck, and I’m not even sure my lady parts are still where they’re supposed to be, because my belly covers them.”

Mihawk’s grin grows wider. “Allow me to check.” he offers innocently, and a moment later his hand has slipped down his lover’s side towards her buttocks and then between her thighs. (name) gasps. “Mihawk! I’m six months pregnant!” she points out, almost appalled, but she’s smiling as well, and her legs have opened slightly, allowing him entrance.

“I’m well aware, my darling. And this would not be our first time either.” he considers; (name) had been pregnant already the last time they slept together, on Kuraigana, and the previous one as well, when they spent a week on an exclusive resort island, far from duties and concerns of any kind, free to focus on each other and on the way their bodies could make each other sing “And to think you thought you had entered menopause…”

“Well, i-it was a much more reasonable explanation than a pregnancy, that’s -hmmm- that’s for sure.”

“I’m aware, but it’s ironic, is it not?” Mihawk insists, as his middle finger disappears inside his lover’s warm cavern “You felt as if your womanhood had withered, and instead it was flourishing. You felt empty, but you were fuller than ever…”

Finally, (name) grins back at him; she arches her back, shamelessly opening her legs, and reaching towards his already hard cock. “I missed you, you know? I missed your presence and your voice and your kisses… but I think what I missed the most was this.”

“Oh? So this is what you want me for, to warm your bed and nothing more?”

“If it’s any consolation, my bed has never been warmer than since you have started sleeping in it…”

Mihawk says he’s glad to hear it. He moves carefully as he pulls his hand back, making (name) whimper in protest, and kneels between her legs, looking at the woman waiting eagerly in front of him - waiting for him, and for the pleasure and satisfaction he can give her. How beautiful she is, so soft and warm and feminine, her already gorgeous body made fuller and more curvaceous by her pregnancy; he never found expecting women attractive, but this is different, she is different, she is his and he has put a baby inside her, and while he can’t wait to meet their child, Mihawk wouldn’t complain if his lover’s pregnancy lasted for a while longer…

“Tell me if it hurts, or if you feel uncomfortable.”

“I’m not made of glass, Mihawk; and I want you so much.”

“I want you too, my beauty.” Mihawk murmurs, and a moment later he has lowered his face between her legs, licking and sucking as if his life depended on it; he feels (name)’s body spasm, her hands clawing at his shoulders as if the woman feared being swept away, and suddenly she’s screaming, loud enough for the whole fortress to hear, and Mihawk is kneeling on the bed, his arms tight around his lover’s thighs as he kisses her core, panting into it. They have both been waiting for this for four months, but Mihawk still feels he has much to make up for; because of this he waits to make her come twice before gasping for air, his well-trimmed beard wet with her fluid.

“You are… an animal.” (name) pants as they both catch their breath; she smiles as her lover lies by her side, as she uses her finger to tenderly clean his mouth “That was the filthiest thing… I fear I will never feel clean again in my life…”

“Meaning you didn’t enjoy it?”

“I absolutely loved it; now let me reward you, please?”

Mihawk smiles as he bends to kiss her. His hand is caressing her stomach, but his yellow eyes are fixed on hers, on her beautiful face; he can’t wait to meet their child, but (name) is much more than simply the mother of his baby, she is his partner, the woman he loves, his mate, and he wants her to never forget. “Would you prefer to stay on top?”

“I’ll squash you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, you’re not that heavy. You’ll tire yourself more, but perhaps you’ll be more comfortable without me pressing on you.”

The reasoning seems to convince her. A moment later they have switched positions, Mihawk lying on the bed as (name) sits on his lap, doing her best to weigh more on her calves than on him; he’s painfully, amazingly hard, the perfect beauty of the long, thick member as usual stealing her breath away. She doesn’t doubt her lover still finds her attractive, and more importantly that he’s happy he’s going to become a father, but she still feels clumsy, heavy and graceless as he takes him in her hands, stimulates him like she has learnt he likes, and slips it inside her. Mihawk’s hands are holding her hips, his pretty mouth moaning her name in an endless litany; the moment the tip of his cock presses against her core, (name) hears him sigh with a naked, almost visceral relief, as if his lover had been allowed a single breath of pure air after a lifetime spent underground. “Yes…” he hisses, grabbing more forcefully at her “Like this, darling… take me, take all of me, it’s all yours…”

She seems to take his word for it, because a moment later Mihawk is the one groaning as his lover’s warmth envelops him; (name) stretches over him, her forearms resting above his shoulders as she finds his mouth for a kiss. “Mate.” she purrs, and it takes Mihawk all of his ample self-restraint not to explode there and then; she lets his hands slid down (name)’s back until they are grabbing at her buttocks, and then she has started moving, fucking herself on his cock, and he has missed this so much, the perfect syntony between their bodies, enough that he has become addicted to it, enough that he knows he’ll never be able to live without it.

“I love you.” he moans, and (name) smiles as he kisses him once more.

“I know.” she answers primly, and Mihawk glares at her, incredulous, as the woman sits up, her lovely breasts bouncing with every push. For a moment, even frustrated as he is, Mihawk can’t help staring.

“(name)...!” he hisses, the threatening tone somewhat ruined by the fact that his eyes are pleading, begging for an even more powerful relief than the one he’s soon to find in (name)’s tight little pussy “Don’t play with me…!”

She giggles, and then decides to be merciful. “I love you too, Mihawk.” she murmurs gently as he bends once more to peck at his lips “And I always will. Now be good and let me fuck you.”

Mihawk obeys.

You’re having a bad day.

Which is surprising, considered that the last two months have been, if not exactly the easiest, the happiest of your life.

Your lover has slept by your side every night since his return; this is by far the longest period you have spent together, but unlike what happens with some couples, no matter how close, you rarely argue, and spend most of your time together in complete harmony. Yes, it’s almost like being on a honeymoon… if only you wouldn’t feel more and more alike to a pachyderm with every passing day, with your own body rebelling against you.

No matter how excited you are that you’re soon going to meet your baby, and reassured that according to the doctors everything is going well and by the constant presence of your lover and your mother, you must admit being pregnant is harder than you expected.

Your belly seems to grow bigger every day, which is of course a good sign; on the other hand, having been used to an active lifestyle since you were a little girl, it feels weird, and frustrating, having to spend most of the day simply resting, and feeling tired even after half a day spent lying on a sofa or at most sitting at your desk - behind which you no longer fit, incidentally. Your mother has reminded you more than once that the lack of energy and constant fatigue are a normal experience for women in your state, since your body is now working for two and your baby, no matter how small and inert, drains a good percentage of your energy, and you’d obviously spend the next year lying still on your bed if it meant making sure your child is safe and well looked after, but there are moments, and sometimes days, in which it’s hard to keep your frustration under control.

You’ve been strictly forbidden from using your gun, and from training in any way; you’ve tried explaining to your doctors that while using the fortress’ small gymnasium is obviously out of the question, a few hours spent with target practice would only do you good, and you’d be more careful than ever handling your weapons, well aware of the dangers for you and your baby. The answer has been unanimous: out of the question; until the birth of your child, you’re not even to even glance at your collection of rifles and guns, including your beloved derringer. You’re encouraged to take a walk in the gardens, preferably not alone and avoiding the warmest hours of the day, and to attend the various meetings and audiences you routinely share with your mothers, with your rump firmly placed on a comfortable chair, but any physical effort beyond that must be avoided at all cost, which is easier said than done.

You hate feeling idle, especially while everybody around you looks more active than ever. Your mother seems to have grown twenty years younger ever since she has known she is going to become a grandmother, and especially after Mihawk, who she has always been very fond of, has joined you at the fortress; everything you can no longer do, either because the doctors forbade it or you’re simply too tired, falls on her shoulders, and while she’s still in excellent health and more lively than many your age, being reassured you can remain in bed, resting in your lover’s arms or at most writing letters or reading while she takes care of everything, fills you with guilt. You’ve been raised surrounded by unconditional love and support, but now that you're an adult and she’s not as young as she used to be, you should be the one taking care of and supporting your mother, not the other way around!

Mihawk is also impeccable in his taking care of you. While you’ve told him more than once that you could never hold the months he wasted on Shima against him, since it was a very important mission and at the time neither of you knew you were pregnant, your lover is clearly determined to make up for the time you spent apart. He accompanies you at all your doctor’s appointments, is always ready to support you every time you have to exert yourself, and insists on keeping several blankets in your -now shared- room even though the nights on the island are quite warm at this time of year and, you’ve pointed out innocently one night, you’d receive more warmth if he kept you in his strong arms.

Not the type to fuss, not least because he knows how careful you have been since you’ve become aware of your pregnancy, he nevertheless remains by your side constantly, as if to protect you from any danger or threat you might stumble into. His hand is always resting on the small of your back as you walk, he makes sure you always have a chair, and a blanket, and a glass of water, wherever you go, and he has even started giving you foot massages - not very sexy, perhaps, but your poor lower extremities appreciate it very much. At night, he spends hours talking to your child, his cheek resting on your chest as he tells them how much he loves them already, how he can’t wait to meet them and hold them in his arms, and that whatever happens he’ll be always proud of them, and ready to defend them with his life. Then his gaze meets yours, and a softness you’re ready to bet no one else in the world has ever witnessed fills his yellow eyes. “How will I ever thank you enough for this splendid gift?” he murmurs before he moves to kiss you “I love you so much, my darling; you’ve made me happier than I remember ever being.”

He’s sweet, passionate, no matter how unattractive you feel in your state, and protective, he has always been, and you know he will keep all the promises he has made to you and your baby; because of this you do your best to be strong when you’re together, to keep your fears and griefs in the depth of your heart in order not to worry him.

You don’t tell him how hard the first stage of your pregnancy has been for you, when you felt so alone; you had your mother, yes, and so many other people ready to support and help you, but you missed your lover terribly, more acutely than you ever had since your relationship had started. It wasn’t like you felt the need to be protected; rather, you had the impression something around you was wrong, as if you had lost your way while walking on a path you had known your whole life. Why wasn’t he with you? That was his place, with you and the child he had put inside you and who grew with every passing day; you knew rationally it wasn’t his fault, that refusing the call of the Marines could bring trouble and he didn’t even know about your state when he had left. Resenting him for having abandoned you would be stupid, petty, and unfair, but in those first few weeks, as you were tormented by nightmares and you woke up screaming in the middle of the night, already convinced to find blood on your sheets as your baby died just like it had happened to his half-sibling years ago, it was hard not to feel yourself abandoned, alone with a child you felt unable to protect, while his father was away, free of worries. As Mihawk had warned you, contacting him via Den Den Mushi had proved impossible, and the letters you had tried sending him had been returned to you; you didn’t doubt he had also attempted to write, and thought about you constantly, but you spent so many nights crying, and feeling alone, small, fragile, certain that the miracle you had experienced would not take root, and your baby would die leaving you powerless, and empty, once more.

These fears have gradually subsided, since you have entered your second trimester (which meant, as the doctors explained, that you had left the period in which there was a higher risk of miscarriage) and especially since your lover has returned, but you still can’t leave them behind you completely. You still wake up in the middle of the night, protectively held in Mihawk’s embrace but unable to find comfort in it. You know that while older than average for a woman at her first pregnancy you’re healthy and strong and there is no reason to doubt both you and your child will be fine, but once again, your heart is instinctively scared while your mind is rationally optimist, and it’s easier to give in to fear than to hope.

The only moments you are completely at ease it’s on full moon nights; as you turn, the baby shifting with you in your womb, you feel an enormous weight disappear from your chest, leaving you free to breathe for the first time in twenty-eight days. While well aware of her state and excited she’ll soon meet her cub, wolf-you doesn’t know fear and anxiety; surrounded by her friends who play and howl, she lies on the grass, letting the moon’s soft light bathe her as she munches on a prey her mate or her mother have hunted for her, and listens to the tiny heartbeat matching hers, dreaming of when her pack will be complete.

Her pack…

There is one topic you haven’t had the courage to broach with Mihawk, namely where he is going to live once the baby is born. The current state of affairs (you on your island and him on Kuraigana, visiting each other regularly to spend a few days together) may have worked for the two of you until now, no matter how hard it still is to say good-bye, but the arrival of your child is destined to change everything. Given how attentive he is to your needs and excited for the birth of your baby, you are confident Mihawk will want the three of you to live together; there are pirates who leave their partners and children in some harbour town and visit once in a while -or depart never to return- but he is not that sort of man. The choice seems obvious: Mihawk knows you cannot leave your island, that you have duties here, he has developed a good relationship with your mother and has even spent two full moon nights with your pack. Despite his introverted nature and strong preference for his own company (and that of a few accurately selected people, like you or his friend Shanks) you know your lover would be happy living on your island permanently; he wouldn’t be forced to share your duties as the lady’s consort, and could continue his business as a pirate as he wants.

You haven’t discussed the matter in a while but you’re well aware you’ll need to do it soon, preferably before your baby is born; nevertheless, every time you have the chance to address the subject (as you and your lover take a night stroll in the gardens, or while you are in bed, his cheek resting on your chest as you play with his dark hair) your courage fails you.

Why does that happen, again and again? Even though your lover is a predominantly taciturn man, you’ve always been able to talk openly, both of troubles one of you was experiencing and about matters that could potentially create friction between the two of you - which fortunately never happened. Then why do you hesitate? You have never been as close as you are now, both physically given the two consecutive months he’s been sleeping in your bed, and emotionally, but something stops the words in your mouth every time you try to broach the subject. Do you feel guilty because you’re basically asking him to move in with you, having refused to do the same for him? Do you fear that he could refuse, too jealous of his privacy and independence despite the deep love for you and the new life you’re soon going to deliver?

The last thing you want is for your lover to sacrifice his happiness for you, but becoming the lady of your island is your destiny, what you’ve been prepared to do since you were born, and even though your mother is still in excellent health with many years in front of her sooner or later the moment will come for you to take her place, a moment that will also influence the lives of the people closest to you. You want your child to be your heir, which means they will have to be raised on the island, and Mihawk knows it, but…

You need to do it; and you will, you decide one day as you see your lover reaching you on the bed, his dark hair still damp after his bath, naked save for his sleeping pants. “Are you comfortable?” he asks in a murmur as he lies down next to you, smiling as he sees you snuggle against his side “Shall I fetch a blanket?”

“Since you’re here I have all the warmth I need.” you reassure him with an adoring smile; corny, perhaps, but that doesn’t make it less true. Tomorrow you’ll talk, you promise yourself as you share a few lazy kisses with your lover, the gentle caress of Mihawk’s hand on your by now huge stomach gently lulling you to sleep; you will make sure you’re not disturbed, discuss calmly about both the matter of his residence, and together you will find a solution. You always do. “Shall we sleep? I’m quite tired.”

“Of course. Good-night, my love.”

Mihawk lies on his side, his arm draped around you; he seems… pensive, somehow, as if he had something important on his mind, but not worried, which reassures you. Tomorrow, you think; tomorrow you’ll talk, but until then you’ll treasure the delicious sensation of his body next to yours.

#One Piece #One Piece Live Action #OPLA #Dracule Mihawk #Mihawk #Dracule Mihawk x reader #Mihawk x reader #Steven John Ward #Bellona's stuff

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hoejosatoru · 2 years ago

Text

How You Get the Girl

“Broke your heart, I’ll put it back together”

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Bonten!Rindou

Summary: Y/n and Rindou have been long time friends, both harboring their true feelings for each other. When y/n kisses Ran at a party, it causes unexpected consequences

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings: Drinkin mentioned, angst, Rindou punches Ran in the face lol, oral (fem receiving), fingering, cream pie, not proof read bc I'm silly, MDNI

Knock knock knock!

“Well would you look who it is! The man who can’t tell time, apparently,” you not-so-kindly greeted Rindou. The two of you planned to have a movie night and catch up, but he was over an hour late.

“Sorry,” your best friend replied, not waiting for you to invite him in. “Got stuck at work.” He was already shrugging off his suit jacket, a soft blue that went well with his lilac mullet. You nosily looked at the label.

“Since when can you afford YSL?” you questioned. Rindou, much as like his brother Ran, had always been into fashion, but brand names were not something they grew up having access to. Nor did you, and as you looked over at him you reckoned his outfit probably cost more than your rent this month.

“Since I started working at Bonten,” Rindou replied. He followed you to the living room, where you already had popcorn, m&ms (his favorite), and drinks out. He felt his heart squeeze at the thought of you setting up for him, just for him to be late. “Fuck I’m an asshole for making you wait.”

“You are, but I forgive you,” you replied, settling on the couch. You tossed some popcorn in your mouth. “So what is this Bonten place? And what are you doing that they’re paying you so good?”

Rindou sat next to you, his thigh muscles straining his suit pants. You quickly pulled your eyes away. Those sort of views brought thoughts you were not trying to entertain right now. “We do... stuff.” He put a handful of m&ms in his mouth.

Your brow pique. “Stuff? What kinda stuff pays YSL money?”

“Stuff that is none of your business,” Rindou replied teasingly. He knew not knowing details got you annoyed. You and Rindou had known each other for years and knew exactly what buttons to push on the other. As luck would have it, button pushing was both of your friendship love language. The more you teased someone, the more you like them. Besides, you were admittedly nosey.

“Ugh whatever dude,” you rolled your eyes, “Whatever it is, it sounds seems shady as hell.”

“Did you invite me over to grill me about my job or watch a movie?” Rindou countered. He leaned back on your couch, unbuttoning the top two claps of his shirt. He rolled up up his sleeves revealing the tattoos on one side. His forearms, you noted, looked very toned. Rindou had always been into working out, but it looks like he put on some muscle recently. Another thing you definitely should not be allowing yourself to stare at.

“I can multitask ya know?” You huffed, clicking on the tv. You put on one of yours an Rindou’s favorite movie, just like always. It allowed the two of you talk without having to worry about really paying attention to what was on the screen.

Rindou cozied up to you, leaning into your body and resting his head on your shoulder. This was not the first time he did this, but it surprised you nonetheless. Yours and Rindous friendship always had… weird moments. Moments were the line of friends or more felt blurred.

Nothing has ever happened between the two of you beyond a hug. Yet there were moments like this where one of you lingered on the other. Where the air between you felt charged. Where your heart fluttered in your chest.

Maybe you were delusional. Or more likely, it was one sided, fueled by those feelings you refused to admit existed. Rindou was not a very serious guy, at least not with you. He probably thought nothing of resting his head on you, you were longtime friends after all. It was totally normal for friends to do, but the little twisting in your stomach made it feel like more.

After the movie ended, you went to move a little and felt Rindou’s dead weight on you. He had a fallen asleep. No wonder it was so quiet.

“Wake up idiot,” you gently shook his shoulder.

Rindou grumbled, “I’m up, I’m up.”

“Yeah now you are because I woke you up,” you replied. “Remind me not to let you have wine any more. Shit puts you to sleep.”

“You’re not wrong,” Rindou’s voice was gravely from sleep. His arms went above his head, stretching his body. His shirt lifted, revealing his lower stomach, the ink disappearing below it… Jesus you were really being tested today. “Can I stay over? Don’t feel like going home now.”

“Of course.”

“Are you gonna make me sleep on the couch again? I barely fit on this thing,” he complained.

“You invite yourself to stay over and now you’re trying to steal my bed from me?” You asked, with performed annoyance.

“Well you are shorter than me,” Rindou replied. “Or, ya know, we could just share your bed, dummy.” He flicked your forehead as punctuation.

“I should make you sleep on the couch just for that.” You rubbed the spot he flicked. “But fine, only to shut you up. If you snore, though, I’m kicking your ass out.”

“Deal.”

Your heart was doing that stupid fluttering thing as you walked back to your room with Rindou. He’d been in it before, of course, but never to sleep in it. The thought of sleeping next to Rindou all night got your pulse and mind racing.

“Got anything that would fit me?” Rindou asked.

You looked at him. “Probably not.”

“Mind if I sleep in my boxers then?”

You pretended to look for something in your drawer so he wouldn’t see you blush. “No. I’d think you were psycho if you slept in work pants anyways.”

You heard Rindou chuckle behind your turned back. As well as the telltale sign of clothes hitting the floor. You slipped into the attached bathroom so you wouldn’t have to look just yet. You were sure your face was red. You changed into your pjs- thank god your cute ones were washed- brushed your teeth then returned.

When you returned, you found Rindou sitting on your bed. “Really? Versace underwear?” Making fun of him was your best defense mechanism and you really needed it in that moment. Seeing Rindou near naked on your bed was enough to make your whole body buzz. Not to mention that he definitely has put on muscle, which only made his tattooed body look better. You tried not to stare.

“Shut up. They’re soft.”

“Yeah, so are the ones you can buy from Target,” you climbed onto the other side of the bed. You made sure not to get too close to him. Your bed was only a full, so there wasn’t that much room to play with. “Remember if you snore I kill you.”

“Kill? I thought I was just got kicked out,” Rindou replied, slipping under your covers. What a strange, confusing sight.

“Yeah, well I changed my mind,” you replied. You turned away from him, unable to look at him like this any longer. “Goodnight, Rin.”

“Goodnight, y/n.”

As silence settled between the two of you, you were met with a heaviness in your chest. You could feel his warmth, even on this side of the bed. You wanted so desperately to move closer, to feel it directly on your skin. The space between you literally felt like a magnetic force, one you knew you had to fight.

You couldn’t deny it, those feelings you had. The stupid fucking crush you had on your best friend. It made you feel so stupid. And this situation wasn’t helping. The way Rindou had been so casual about sleeping next to you, boxers and all, told you he didn’t see anything romantic about your relationship. It was no different than sleeping with one of his guy friends. You already knew that, of course, knew that you were just friends. And you loved being friends, you really did, but it didn’t change the fact that every reminder of how he felt about you didn’t sting.

You pushed those thought away before they brought tears. It wasn’t easy, but ignoring them has become second nature to you at this point. You squeezed your eyes shut and waited for sleep to take you.

***

There was a moment of surprise when you woke up to the feeling of warmth pressed against you. For a half second you forgot you let Rindou stay over and you were glad it came back to you before you punched his sleeping body out of fear. Your back was still to him, but you’d both moved closer to each other in the night. He was on his stomach, squished against you.

Your face heated at the feeling of him against you. It felt so nice, you wanted to lay in it longer, but you didn’t want to push it. You tried to roll away quietly but Rindou stirred the second you moved.

“Morning beautiful,” Rindou chirped, his voice raspy from sleep. Your heart clenched at his words, but you knew he was teasing you. Your hair was always a mess in the morning.

“Oh, shut up,” you grumbled.

“Someone isn’t a morning person,” Rindou noted, stretching lazily. The sheets dipped lower, revealing his toned stomach.

“I’m usually in a better mood when someone doesn't hog my bed all night,” you replied. Rindou’s lips spread into a teasing grin. “I’m guess you want breakfast?”

“Please.”

“Only cause you said please.”

About 20 minutes later you and Rindou sat at your little kitchen table, eating French toast. Thankfully Rindou pulled his pants back on. There was only so much you could take.

“How come you don’t wear your glasses anymore?” you asked. You’d always loved Rindou in glasses; you thought he looked really cute in them. In the past few months, though, it was rare to see him in them.

“Contacts. Ever heard of ‘em?” he replied, mouth full.

You rolled your eyes. “Yes, idiot, but contacts existed when were in college and you never used them then.”

“Trying a different look I guess,” Rindou said, “Ran said I’d pick up more chicks without glasses. They made me look like a dork.”

You ignored the pang in your chest at the thought of him with other girls. “You are a dork.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Just being hones,” you replied. Then, more quietly you added, “But I think you look good in glasses.” You kept your eyes on your plate, not wanting him to catch just how much you meant that. A silence passed before Rindou spoke again.

“You going to Sanzu’s party next week?”

“Yeah, are you?”

“Of course,” Rindou said, “I wouldn't let you go to Sanzu’s place alone. He's weird.”

“He’s your friend.”

“Yeah, but I have weird friends.” You laughed, unable to deny that. The people Rindou had been hanging out with recently were a bit... different. It all circled back to that damn Bonten company he was working for. You made a mental note to ask Sanzu about it after he had a few drinks. Everyone knew liquor loosened his lips.

Rindou helped you clean up the dishes, before getting ready to leave. “Leaving here in the clothes I came in? What will your neighbors think?” he asked with a teasing, boyish grin.

“Considering that there was no moaning or headboards banging on the wall, probably that you were a terrible lay,” you retorted.

“That’s bad for my reputation,” Rindou replied, “Gonna need you to at least pretend to moan my name before bed next time.”

You snorted. “You’re so gross.”

Rindou laughed. “I’ll pick up at 8 next week.”

***

“How do I look?” you asked Rindou when he arrived on Saturday. Blessedly, on time.

Rindou looked you up and down, making you more nervous than you cared to admit. “Honest answer or polite answer?”

Your brows knitted. What the fuck did that mean? You suddenly felt self conscious, but couldn’t help yourself. “Honest.”

“Hot.”

Oh? You were expecting something bad.

“Then what was the polite answer?”

“I was just gonna say you looked nice,” Ridnou answered, “didn’t wanna make it weird.”

“Since when have you ever worried about that?”

Rindou chuckled. “Touché. And also you're welcome.”

“Thank you,” you emphasized your delivery.

The Uber Rindou ordered arrived and you were on your way. The ride wasn’t too long and you and Rindou chatted along the way. The party was already fairly full when you arrived, but Sanzu zeroed in on both of you when you arrived. He was already pretty buzzed.

“Drinks are in the kitchen,” Sanzu nodded the area. “If you don't mind, I need to borrow Rindou for a few minutes.” You nodded, slipping away to let them talk. Of course your nosy ass would be asking about the later.

“Hey y/n. Long time no see,” a familiar voice said from behind you. You spun around finding Rindou’s brother, Ran, smiling down at you.

“Hey Ran, what’s up?” You have only hung out with Ran a few times, though it was mostly in large groups. When you met Rindou in college, Ran was attending school elsewhere, so you didn’t know him nearly as well as Rindou. They seemed to get along fairly well, besides the normal brotherly quarrels. He’d always been pleasant to you, though.

As you chatted with Ran, you didn’t notice Rindou staring. His blood ran cold when he saw you were talking - laughing - with Ran. Rindou loved his brother, but he could be a total dick at times, especially when it came to girls. He liked to torment Rindou, even though he denied. If he saw something Rindou had, he wanted it him for himself just so he could exert power over him. It started with toys as kids and had progressed to women.

Rindou was very selective with the girls he brought around Ran. He almost never brought a girl he was talking to around Ran. The second Ran picked up on Rindou having feelings for a girl, he couldn’t help but sweep in and see if he could steal them for himself. Annoyingly, he was pretty successful. The only thing that stopped him was if Rindou was actually dating the girl; Ran wasn’t that much of an asshole.

Still, Rindou was self conscious. He felt he lived in his brother’s shadow in many ways, but especially when it came to women. He knew they almost always wanted him more. It sucked, but nothing came close to how he felt seeing Ran talking to you. All the other times Ran stole someone from him it was annoying, but you? That would be devastating.

Rindou has had feeling for you since college, but he was too scared to tell you. It made him feel like a pussy. He’d promised himself he was goin to tell you soon, but kept chickening out. Especially since he often doubted you felt the same. He purposefully tried to keep you away from Ran and not show interest in you if he was around, but he knew Ran couldn’t resist a girl that looked like you. And oh god the way he was looking at you made his stomach churn. Rindou wanted to go over and interrupt, but he knew that would alert Ran.

“Dude you’re not listening to me at all,” Sanzu complained.

“I don’t wanna talk work at a fucking party, Sanzu,” Rindou replied. Sanzu followed his eye line before he could pull them away.

Sanzu chuckled. “Looks like trouble. Better stop being a pussy and tell her how you feel.”

Rindou narrowed his eyes. He never told Sanzu much about you either, since they all worked together. He couldn’t trust him with that information with Ran around. “I don’t like her.”

Sanzu full on snorted. “Right and I don’t like alcohol.”

“Whatever, man.” Rindou grumbled, stalking away. He decided he had to go over to you. At least scope out the conversation under the guise of getting a drink.

“Hey Rin!” you greeted. He had to hide his smile, but he loved you were so happy to see him even though you were literally just with him.

He poured himself a drink. “How’s it going over here?”

Ran answered, “Good. I can't believe you’ve kept y/n hidden from me. She’s so funny.” Rindou gripped his glass a little tighter. Don’t react, don’t react, he told himself.

“Yeah, she’s alright.” He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose, his nervous tick.

“Hey wait! I just realized you’re wearing your glasses agin,” you noted. You don’t know how that got past you before. He’d been waiting for you to comment on it, but in front of Ran was not ideal. “Is that cause I told you you looked good in them last week?” you teased.

Ran’s brow piqued. Shit. It was because of that, but he couldn't say that now. “I ran out of my contacts.”

Before anyone could reply, Sanzu’s voice was filling the room. “Spin the bottle in the living room!”

Ran smiled at you. “Sounds fun.”

Rindou grumbled, “What are we in fucking high school?”

You rolled your eyes at him. “Oh, come on Rin, it will be fun.”

“Yeah Rindou,” Ran said in a way that made Rindou wanna smack him. Despite his complain, Rindou joined the two of you in the circle of players. You watched as people took turns spinning the bottle and kissing who it landed on. Each time it was spun you held your breath, hoping it wouldn’t land on Rindou. Luckily you did not have to watch him kiss anybody yet.

Then it was your turn. You gave the bottle a good spin, your pulse drumming with anticipation. Maybe it was wrong, but you were willing it to stop on Rindou. The bottle moved slower, slower, slower and... Stopped. You looked up into a pair of violet eyes. But they were not Rindou’s.

“My lucky day,” Ran smiled. Well, it wasn’t Rindou, but it could have been a lot worse. You leaned across the circle, Ran meeting you in the middle. He kissed you longer than was required, his hand on your cheek keeping you there. You couldn’t complain; Ran was good kisser. You found yourself a little breathless when you pulled away.

Instinctively, your eyes flicked over to where Rindou was sitting, but he was gone. You caught a flash of him storming out to Sanzu’s backyard. A pit formed in your stomach, feeling something was wrong. You excused yourself to go after him, hearing Sanzu say, “Trouble in paradise.” Followed by a chorus of “oohs.” It really was like you were still in high school sometimes with this lot.

You found Rindou in the backyard, lighting up a cigarette. You didn’t know what to say, so you blurted out, “I thought you quit?”

“What’re you my fucking mother?” Rindou snapped. He’d said that to you tons of time in college when you were on his ass about quitting. It had always been playful, with no bite to it. This one was razor sharp.

“No, I’m your friend who you told you quit,” you replied. You were thrown off by his demeanor.

“I just bummed one off Takeomi, okay? Sometimes I need one when I’m... in a mood.” Smoke flittered around his face as he spoke. He was certainly on edge.

“Okay...” you began carefully, “But why are you in a mood?”

Rindou sighed. “You really don’t know?” Rindou stared at you, searching your face for something, but you didn’t know what.

“No, I don’t.” He looked disappointed with your response.

“I don’t know, maybe it’s fucking weird you made out with my brother in front of me?” he said icily.

“Seriously? That's what you’re mad at? It’s a fucking game Rindou I had no control over it,” you replied. You were annoyed art his reaction, but also anxious about how mad he was with you. Had you just done something that would mess up your friendship? But it was a game.

“It’s still fucking weird,” Rindou said. He dropped the cigarette, grinding it into the patio.

“Well you don’t have to be such a dick about it,” you snapped.

“How am I dick for not wanting to see my friend make out with my friend? It’s gross.”

“Jesus Rindou, I get it. It was a fucking game. Maybe you shouldn’t have joined if you were gonna be such a bitch about it,” you fired back. You were both heated and the rational part of you knew you should end the conversation, but your emotional side wouldn’t let you pull away.

“Maybe you shouldn’t throw yourself at my brother,” Rindou replied. “He’s just gonna wanna fuck you, you know. You’re wasting your time if you think he actually likes you.”

His words stung you. Not that you cared if Ran liked you, but he made it seem you like were inherently unlikeable. Unworthy of being the object of someone’s affection. Maybe that’s how he felt about you. You swallowed your angry tears. “Fuck you, Rindou.” You stormed back towards the house.

“Whatever go back to Ran,” Rindou grumbled behind.

“You know what? Maybe I will.” You slammed the door behind you. Anger clouded your sense. Who was Rindou to say that to you? He doesn’t care about you. Fine. You’ll go to the Haitani brother who did find you attractive.

Ran’s height made him easy to find. His eye’s lit up. “Something wrong?” He asked as you dragged him over to a quiet hallway.

Your anger made you bold. “I wasn’t done kissing you.”

A wide smile spread across Ran’s face. “So finish what you started.” Your lips were on him in a second. You wrapped your hands around his neck as he gripped your waist. He really was a good kisser. His tongue sliding into your mouth and working you up with ease. You leaned into him more, you just wanted to go further, to get lost in him, to forget about your fight with Rindou. Forget what he said.

Suddenly, Ran was torn away from you. Your eyes snapped open finding Rindou fuming at his brother. Before anyone could speak. Rindou punched Ran in the mouth.

“What the fuck?” you demanded.

Rindou ignored you, speaking directly to his brother. “Fuck you, Ran.” Rindou stormed off as quickly as he appeared, leaving you thoroughly flustered.

Ran was rubbing his jaw, laughing. Wait, laughing? Why was he laughing. “I knew it,” Ran said. You stared at him, dumbfounded. “Rindou likes you.”

***

He likes you. Ran’s statement had been playing on repeat in your mind for the last week. After Rindou had punched Ran, you searched for him at the party but he was long gone. You had left then too, not really being in the party mood anymore.

You were so confused by Ran’s statement. How could Rindou like you? Sure, there had been moments, glances, words, that made you think maybe, just maybe, your feelings were reciprocated. But the rational part of your brain always squashed that as wishful thinking. You were friends, nothing more. Right?

Ran seemed confident, though he was the type of guy who was confident in everything he said, truthful or not. To make matters more confusing you hadn’t heard from Rindou at all the entire week, which was strange. You wanted to reach out, but you wouldn’t even know what to say. You were still hurt by his comments, too.

The radio silence from Rindou made it all the more surprising when he showed at your door Saturday night. A storm was rolling through and his dripping hair indicating he got caught in it.

“Jesus, what are you doing out in this?” You questioned, ushering him in. Your concern for him superseded your more complicated emotions.

“I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t just show up but I had to see you,” his voice was shaking. From the cold rain or nerves you couldn’t tell.

“Is everything okay?”

“I’m sorry y/n,” Rindou began, “I’m sorry for everything. What I said. How I acted. You were right, I was total dick. I didn’t mean any of it.”

His words lessened the sting inside you a little. You appreciated it, but you weren’t going to let him off without sharing how you felt. “Thank you. It honestly hurt a lot to hear you say that. I appreciate you saying all that I just… don’t get why.”

Rindou gave you the same look he gave you in Sanzu’s backyard, though there was something deeper, softer to it. It made you shiver. “I’m sorry, I can’t say it enough. I- it kills me that I hurt you when all I’ve ever wanted was-“ Rindou paused suddenly his face lit with anxiety. You were on edge listening to him, leaning in as if ever cell in your body was urging him to continue.

Rindou swallowed and then continued. “All I ever wanted was to love you. I was so jealous seeing you with Ran. I thought I blew all my chances and now you were gonna fall in love with my brother. It killed me. But I shouldn’t have taken that out on you. I’m so fucking sorry, y/n. I ruined everything.”

Your heart clenched at his declaration. You could barely process what he was saying. He loves you. He’d always loved you. All this time. Knowing that melted away any last bit of anger or hurt you felt. You’re forgave him completely in that moment.

“I forgive you Rin.” You took a deep breath, ready to release the words you held in for so long. “I’ve loved you too, for so long now. I only kissed Ran for that stupid game… well the second time I did because I was mad at you and that was fucked up. I’m sorry.” Rindou shook off your apology. He’d been a dick and felt he deserved it.

You took his hand in yours. “Ran could never make me feel how you do. I’ve only ever wanted you. Nothing is ruined if you don’t want it to be.” His eyes met yours, full of love and relief. You had no idea how much it meant to him to hear you say that.

“You’ll be my girl? For real?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, “For real. Forever.” A heartbeat later your lips were together. Rindou pulled you close to him, as if he was scared this was a dream and you were going to disappear. The way he kissed you made your head spin. Like Ran, there was want and desire, but there was something deeper, more plush in how his lips moved against yours. How his tongue slid into your mouth. How his hands held your waist with fierce care. If his words didn’t convince of his love, this did.

You both broke apart for a second, giggling and catching your breath. Your foreheads pressed together, not wanting to go too far. “We are idiots,” Rindou said.

“So dumb,” you agreed. “But if being stupid gets me kissed like that, then I’m okay with it.” Rindou grinned brightly before pulling you back in. You both made for your room, rarely ever pulling away from each other. When your calves hit the bed you fell back, taking Rindou with you.

His hands were on either side of your shoulders, smiling down nervously. “Are you sure want to... go further? We don’t have to yet if you don’t wanna,” Rindou said.

You laugh. “Rin, I’ve been wanting to get your clothes off for so long I’m not about to stop us now.” Rindou grinned wickedly.

“Guess I shouldn’t make you wait any longer then.” Rindou yanked his shirt off while you slipped off your own. “Let me.” Rindous pants were already on the floor as he helped you out of yours. He climbed back on top of you, both only in your underwear. He kissed you again, reaching back to clip off your bra. Blood rushed to his dick as he finally, finally, got to squeeze your boobs. “Fuck you have nice tits.”

You blushed but smiled brightly. You ran your fingers through his lilac hair, which was still a little damp from the rain, as his lips wrapped around your nipple. He sucked gently, rolling the other with his fingers. You gasped, arching into the warmth of his mouth, the pleasure of his touch. He repeated the action on the other breast, causing arousal to flood your pussy.

“Rin,” you whimpered. Music to his ears. “Need more.” You hooked your fingers into his boxers, pulling them down. Your cheeks dusted at the size of him. He was so hard and all for you. It thrilled you. Your eyes drifted over to his lip, tracing the lines of his tattoo you’d never seen before. “I’d always wondered if it was fully connected.”

Rin snorted. “What did you think there was an underwear sized blank spot?”

“Maybe.”

Rindou chuckled, slipping his fingers into your underwear. “You know what I’ve always wondered?” He slid them off you. You didn’t miss the breath he drew in, finally seeing your pussy all wet and need for him. “How you taste.”

“Rin!” you gasped as he dove into you. His strong hands kept your thighs apart. He licked long stripes up your slit, enjoying your taste and how you squirmed. He sucked on your clit, his eyes flicking up to watch you squirm and gasp. You made eye contact with him, light a fire in your tummy.

You could feel Rindou smile against you as he continued. His tongue swirled over your throbbing clit, his fingers slipping into your soaked heat. “Oh fuck,” you moaned, fingers tangling in his hair. He loved how you pulled it, making his scalp burn. Rindou was pressing into your g-spot hard and fast. “Nngh- fuck Rin right there.”

He responded to your cries instantly, pressing harder, licking faster. He felt you humming on his fingers before the first moan even escaped your lips. Rindou had secretly thought about this moment for so long, but nothing he imagined lived up to experiencing you cum on his tongue.

“So fucking sweet,” Rindou said as he licked up your release. The sweet, blissed out look on your face made his cock feel heavy. He need you now.

“Rindou,” you whimpered, “Please, need you inside.” He was glad you agreed. He teased your hole with the tip of his flushed cock until he couldn’t help but sink into you. His head fell back, hissing through his teeth.

“So fucking tight,” he groaned, “Can’t believe I’ve missing out on pussy this good. I’m dumbest man alive.”

You laughed at his babbling. “Why don't you fuck me like you’re making up for lost time, then?”

Rindou’s eyes burned with lust. He hooked a hand under your leg, pressing a knee up to your chest. He leaned into you, a wide smile on his face. “I might just be the luckiest man alive.”

With that he began snapping his hips into yours. His rhythm was deep and long, working you easily. The head of his cock hit your sweet spot with every thrust, making your pussy pulse and back arch. “’M so close Rin.”

“Cum for me baby,” Rindou urged, “Lemme feel you squeezing my cock.” His words sent you over the edge, eye rolling back as you were blinded by pleasure. You moaned his name, feeling yourself throb around his thick cock. Rindou cursed, his own orgasm washing over him as he watch you com undone. He slowed, letting himself milk out every last moment.

Rindou collapsed on top of you, both catching your breath. You pushed his damp hair out go his eyes. “If I’d known all it took to get you to admit how it felt was kissing Ran, I woulda done it forever ago.”

Rindou rolled his eyes, but smiled. “I’m just glad we’re done being idiots.”

“Oh we are definitely still idiots,” you replied, giving him a quick kiss. “But now we are idiots together.”

A/n: that corny ass hallmark ending lmfao. Ty for reading though<3

#rindou smut #rindou headcanons #rindou haitani smut #rindou fanfic #rindou haitani headcanons #rindou hcs #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers fanfiction #tokyorev x reader

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starry-pierrot · 9 months ago

Text

Time Flows

It's been well over a thousand years since everyone was given a golden skull necklace, a thousand experiences eventually will tire someone out. And others will follow.

Kallamar/Robin/Polycule ocs

Others included: Lamb, Narinder, Leshy, Heket, Theo (Yellow cat) ocs

Tw: Death. Lots of death. But not bloody death just gentle passing on.

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AIGHT got another one, I apparently can't write linear at all so you're all going to be getting bits and pieces. But this one specifically was inspired by another comic from @circuscountdowns . Please remember that what I write is not necessarily canon to their COTL story nor should it be taken as canon. I am not at all involved in their own writing process and have no insight of what they choose to do.

With that out of the way-enjoy!

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

Kallamar had been rather off lately. Robin wasn’t sure what was going on but whenever they were together he seemed to be distracted with something. Did someone say something to him? Kallmar could annoy others but so far he hasn’t gotten himself any sort of enemies. Sure maybe a rolling of the eyes as he complains about the crystal’s around the cult not getting polished enough. But nothing that would warrant anyone being outright rude to him.

Plus the other cultists knew better.

No something else has to be bothering him. Robin quickly set up the little plate of food as they waited for their husband to show up, making sure all the little finger sandwiches were just how he liked them. All nicely sliced and even with only a little bit of tomato sticking out. A smile on their face, that posh squid was such a dork.

Hearing the home’s door open, Robin turned to a smiling Kallamar, “Are those finger sandwiches?” he asked, perking up just a bit. Walking just a bit quicker into the room as if it was the first time he’s been served that specific food.

“Kallamar I always make you finger sandwiches.” An amused huff as the squid quickly sits down and takes one to put on his own smaller plate.

“But you like to see me excited don’t you?” He laughed while pouring out the tea for the both of them, “Thank you, love.” Kallamar waited for Robin to take their own seat before he took a bite of his own food.

Robin enjoyed these little moments between them, usually Robin would be busy in the Tailor’s Hut or they’d be with Aspen and Harper. But when they had a moment to themselves Robin truly felt content. “So…Kallamar, I couldn’t help but notice you seem a little upset at something lately.” No point in beating around the bush.

Those words got the squid to stop mid bite and stare at Robin for a moment, suddenly he seemed to deflate with his shoulders drooping and the sandwich going back onto the plate. “I supposed you would have noticed sooner or later. But please do not worry I am…it is a family matter.”

“Considering we’re married I would think I’d be included in the ‘family matter’.” Robin pointed out a little curtly, making Kallamar flinch just the tiniest bit. Robin didn’t go through all the trouble of learning and becoming friends with his family to not be included in at least some things. Especially when Heket challenged them to a little sparring match to, ‘Make sure Kallamari wasn’t marrying another wimp’. That frog sure as heck bruised their tailbone.

“You are! And you will be, I just…need some time.” Kallamar had already looked deflated but now he looked like a kicked puppy. Robin sighed and shook their head before reaching over to hold his hand on top of the table.

“Alright alright. I am a patient person. I can wait. But I want you to come to me if it ever gets to a worse point, okay?” A loving smile, “That’s what I’m here for. To help you.”

Kallamar gave an appreciative smile as his own hand squeezed theirs back, “Thank you. I promise I’ll let you know when I can. And I will be telling the other two. “

“I trust you.”

—

It was a week later when Robin had been working late into the night in the Tailors Tent, a request from Narinder of all people asked for a lace collar. He wouldn’t say what it was for but considering his and the Lamb’s anniversary is coming up Robin has made a few assumptions. The lace was covered in an intricate camellia pattern with other yellow and white flowers, once it was finished it would be attached to a leather collar and with a new and pristine silver bell.

Honestly it was going to be beautiful and Robin wanted it to be one of their best works, hence the late nights. Hearing the curtain of the doorway open Robin’s ears flicked, “We’re closed! Unless you need a hand with stitching something up you’ll have to come back tomorr-”

“Robin.” Ah.

“Kallamar? You’re up late, don’t you need your beauty sleep?” Robin smiled as they looked back putting down the tools. Their smile was wiped off their face, however, as they looked at him, Kallamar could usually be found smiling or at worse frowning. But he had a serious look on his face, it was obvious now was not the time to joke around. “..Sweetie? Is everything alright? Is this about the family matter?”

“It is.” He walked closer grabbing a stool and sitting down in front of Robin, his eyes glancing to the floor.

“You aren’t fighting with your siblings again are you?” Robin asked, concerned knowing the last time this sort of thing happened during an argument between him and Leshy.

“No. No we aren’t. But this does involve them and I need to have a very important discussion with you.” Reaching over Kallamar took Robin’s hands in his own, staring at their joined hands for a moment before he looked up to them. The golden skull necklace catches his eye as it shines in the light of the candles. “My sweet sweet pearl, we’ve lived a long long life thanks to the Lamb. Longer than any mortal has.”

Kallamar was rubbing their knuckles as he talked, “And it seems that Shamura has grown tired of living. They wish to move onto the next part of life.” What’s left of his ears droop as he squeezes their hand.

Robin felt their heart squeeze in their chest, Shamura was the most wise of the five siblings and eventually became much like an older friend to Robin. “Oh Kallamar, I’m so sorry,” Robin turned the hands and was now squeezing Kallamar’s own, leaning in to bow their head. “But I’ll be here for you and so will Aspen and Harper.”

Kallamr let out a wet little laugh, tears building in his eyes, “Dear you’re going to have to pull your head up. I can’t read you when you’re looking down.” Robin’s head snapped up at the reminder, an apologetic smile.

“Aspen, Harper and I will be here for you.” A reassuring squeeze of the hands once more.

“I know you will. But…this has made me think some things over. About life…my family and all three of you.” Robin quirked a brow curiously, “I have come to the conclusion that…I have also grown tired of living.”

Robin stared. They stared for a long moment as their brain tried to process what he had just said, already they can feel their muscle’s tensing.

“I want to move on, Robin.” He said quietly as he gently pulled them forward to lean his forehead against theirs. “I think I have lived for far more than enough.”

Robin could swear their heart squeezed hard in their chest, eyes glancing down to the golden skull necklace he still wore before looking back up at him. Tears gathering in their eyes as they took a deep breath, pulling away to look at him once more, “....you wish to move on along with your sibling?” Their voice was quiet, fragile.

“I do.” Once more Kallamar’s hands squeezed theirs, this time staying in a hug like grip in an attempt to comfort. “And I would like for you to move on with me. If that is what you wish.”

Robin was quiet as they thought about it. It has been well over…what a thousand years since they were given this necklace? More than any normal person could hope for. So much time. So many things they’ve been through and experiences. They've traveled, went to hundreds of celebrations, so so many birthdays and all the little moments between this silly little polycule they found themselves in.

Would they be able to feel anything in the afterlife? The Lamb preaches how death isn’t the end, it's just another journey but Robin had always questioned it. Just a smidge. Even going to some lengths of trying to speak to the dead during a bit of a crazy Blood Moon party, it didn’t work at the time. Though they swear they heard the Lamb mumble about the misuse of symbols.

But then again Robin was dating a former god. There had to be some truth to it.

“I know death has never been easy on you.” He quietly began to speak again, “When Leon died it took you weeks to feel better. And I know you still visit his grave with fresh daisies every month.” Leon had been a dear friend to Robin, “And then Lamar had passed..,” another good friend. “If you wish to live longer I will not mind. I’ll have nothing but time in the after and I can wait for you.” Lifting their hand Kallamar places a slightly wet kiss to their knuckles.

Robin still had plenty of friends, despite being able to live longer they still managed to keep their friendly nature about them.Those friends would still be in the cult, they would still live their lives with or without them. Under the Lamb’s care they would be alright.

Besides life has gotten just a taaaad bit boring.

“You know…I think I’m a little tired too.” A half sob slips out as they use one hand to wipe at their eyes.

“Are you sure? I won't be upset if you wish to live longer, love.” Kallamar reassured, his own hand replacing the one that Robin was using.

“No…no this is okay. And I know I’m going to cry like a child but-it’ll be fine. I have to get back on times clock sometime right?” Their voice wobble as they’re coming to terms for what was going to happen. “I expect you already spoken to-?”

“Just make sure everyone gives me enough time for me to make burial garments because I am not dying before making my masterpieces!”

“Yes. And they’ve agreed to be laid to rest as well.” Kallamar moved closer, leaning his forehead onto Robin’s once more, a quiet pause. “So..Robin will you die with me?” Another one of his charming smirks on his face.

Robin couldn’t hold back the snort, “Ppf-oh such a char-aha-charmer!” Giggles taking over them both, “Yes…yes I’ll die with you, Kallamar. I’d follow you to the ends of the earth.”

—--

It was about a week later that Robin and everyone else had their golden necklaces removed and the flow of time was once more working. They were assured they still had a long while before anyone were to pass but it was no shock that the first was Shamura. The old spider had passed underneath their favorite tree, the one they always sat and read to the kids. It had been during sunset.

Their burial garment was woven with patterns of their past, spiders, their once previous crown and their story's conclusion of being in the Lambs cult with their family. All made with sparkling spider silk of course.

It had been hard on everyone but eventually things returned as normal as they could be.

Then at a terrible turn of events Aspen had turned ill and passed away, Robin and Harper gave Kallamar all they could when it had happened.

About three years later Kallamar’s health started to decline. It was getting hard for him to move and he had to take on easier meals to eat. Soon he was in his own bed in the Medical Tent. Robin knew the time would be soon and so they stayed along with Harper, the Lamb giving them a special pardon from their duties until Kallamar has passed.

“You won't believe what Jude did the other day-” Harper as usual was talking Kallamar’s ear off, not that he minded. He loved to watch her tell him all about the juicy gossip from the village. Robin smiles as the two continue to talk, “You would think he would get a clue but no!” The two of them were laughing which quickly turned into one of them coughing.

Robin was quick with the cup of water as they helped Kallamar sit up, “Easy now, love. Slow.” Kallamar slowly took a sip giving Robin a pat of appreciation, once he was finished they gently laid him back against the pillow. “Better?”

“Very. Thank you.” He smiled.

The doors to the room opened and Lesy was walking in with Theo, Heket right behind him, “How’s he doing nurses?” he asked.

“Oh just fine! No difference since yesterday!” Harper provided to her chaos embodied brother-in-law, the worm giving a firm nod before moving to the foot of Kallamar’s bed.

Heket moved over next to Robin, the both of them sharing an acknowledgement, “Narinder will be by later. He and the Lamb had to handle a situation.” She signed before pulling out a basket from underneath her cloak.

“Are those puff pastries? Heket! Oh you know just what I like, sister.” Kallamar excitedly bounced in his bed, hands reaching over as Heket pulled the plate out of the basket. Once he had them in his hands he couldn’t help the little sound of satisfaction.

“Of course I made them. Don’t know how long you’re going to last, might as well just feed you every little sweet thing in the compound.” Robin’s ears flicked back for a moment, sure Heket was telling the truth but they still didn’t like to hear about guesses on when he was going to move on.

Eventually Narinder came along with the Lamb and everyone had a small knucklebones game night, it was full of laughter and love.

But somehow without anyone seeing, without anyone noticing, while Lehsy and Narinder had been playfully arguing and causing a roaring laughter of the place….he slipped away.

The Lamb of course had noticed first, their laughter abruptly stopping. Then it was Heket, Harper, Robin and finally Narinder and Leshy. The room was silent for a moment before a quiet sob from Harper broke everyone out of the spell.

It was odd how Kallamar looked like he was asleep with a smile on his face, as if he was just resting. Soon the whole room was full of tears and quiet sobs, Robin shook as they tried to stay quiet. Usually they’d prefer to mourn on their own, never quite liking anyone to touch them or to even offer their condolences.

But when Heket had offered her arms Robin quickly slipped against the frogs chest and cried.

Soon preparations for the funeral began, the whole family included their own touches much like when Shamura died. Robin was sure to have his casket made out of the nicer pile of wood.

Kallamar had been dressed in the fanciest clothing Robin could design, with all the glitz and glam he ever wanted. And just like Shamura’s there was a mural of his story woven into the garment as well as a forget-me-not stitched right over his heart.

Just as they were about to close the casket for burial a bright light from between the clouds shined through, making every bit of crystal on him shimmer and shine for just a moment before it faded back behind the clouds.

Leshy, while he couldn’t see it, jokes he bribed a sun god into giving him the prettiest funeral ever.

Life went back to moving forward. More different than it was before but still moving forward.

Soon Heket went.

Leshy's husband.

Harper.

And finally it was just Robin and Leshy left. The two had taken to seeing each other every day and managed a few final days of mischievousness together, much like switching out the Lamb’s sermon book. Instead of notes for the morning sermon the Lamb was met with confetti that went absolutely everywhere.

Or how they managed to tie a bow to Narinder’s tail while he was sleeping, he had no idea until the Lamb came around and couldn’t stop laughing at how adorable it looked.

Soon however, it was their own time. Unlike Kallamar they had not been surrounded by their family, but in their bed in the middle of the night. Sleeping and soon with a final breath they too slipped away.

—--

The world was a beautiful creamy white color, the fog not frightening nor uncomfortable. Robin had thought it’d be a little colder but all they felt was warmth. Looking down they notice they’re wearing their burial garments,which was odd. They shouldn’t be buried yet.

A red light catches their attention,the Lamb was standing right there waiting at the gate. Robin took a moment before they walked forward,“Hello, Robin.”

“Here to usher me through the gate, divine one?” Robin smiled, “You know you’re either really good at being quick about it or you don’t do this very often.” The Lamb usually could be found somewhere in the cult, with how many souls die so often you’d think they’d be far more busy.

“I have my assistants. But this time I thought I’d pay a personal visit.” A soft smile on their face, “Leshy is going to miss you. As will Narinder and I.”

Oops. Wrong thing to say, Lamb. Tears began to well up in Robin’s eyes, “D-don’t say that! You’re supposed to be making sure I’m at peace, Lamb!” The Lamb laughed as they stepped forward to wrap their arms around the crying deer.

“Sorry sorry, but you’re going to be crying anyways. You have plenty of people who wish to see you…they’re actually making quite the ruckus.” Another laugh as they pulled back and directed Robin to the gate. “You should go.”

Robin couldn’t see anything beyond the fog but they’re sure they hear the slight bit of sound echoing from somewhere. Ears twitching as they take a step forward and then another and soon they were almost through when-”Oh!”

The lamb quirked a brow when Robin turned around, “Tell Leshy I hid his game pieces in his flower pots!” A laugh slipped out before one final wave and the Lamb was alone once more.

Though from the sounds of cheers and declaration of love they could hear…Robin was home.

-----

Thank you for reading!

#I cried like six times writing this because I AM A BABY #cotl #cotl kallamar #cotl heket #cotl leshy #cotl narinder #cotl shamura #kallamarxoc #my writing #did someone use Theo as a name for yellow cat #i can't remember

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somestorythoughts · 5 months ago

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Eldritch Echo -Pt 11

It's over! I am admittedly not thrilled with the ending but I think it works well enough. Enjoy!

tag: @mezmatch

It turns out that what Fives meant by “he blew up” is that for some reason one of Fox’s troopers had brought their explosives, and while rolling out of Palpatine’s way had clipped one to his robes. Fives has been checking on Char regularly since the healers let him have visitors, having grown fond of the trooper while on Coruscant. He had already been planning to introduce Echo to him, now he wondered if Echo might be able to reassure Char, who had lost an arm to Palpatine’s sabers.

“How many did you lose in the fight?” Jesse asked. Fives grimaced.

“Two dead, no one uninjured. Four of them are going to need prosthetics, including Char. Fox was electrocuted, but the healers said he’d make it. And before you ask, yes Kix I’m approved to be walking around, I made myself armor and got away with bruises and a lightsaber burn.”

Kix narrowed his eyes, but Fives for all his willingness to cause chaos wasn’t in the habit of lying to medics so he left it at that.

“What will happen with the war, with the Chancellor dead?” Hunter wondered out loud.

“The Separatists have been quiet since everything went down; it looks like they’re floundering without the Chancellor feeding them information.” Rex replied. “Cody and some of the other Commanders are strategizing the best ways to take advantage of this, they’ve already sent a couple ships to harry Grievous. The Guard’s being taken care of at the Temple for the foreseeable future, and the 501st is on leave. General Skywalker isn’t taking the revelation of the Chancellor’s actions well. Cody said he put your squad on medical leave too Hunter, so you’re welcome to join us in trying to navigate this weird building.”

“I’m pretty sure the Temple is sentient and watching us.” Fives jokes. At least, Rex thinks it’s a joke. Nope, it’s a joke until proven otherwise he does not want to think about it.

“Are troopers allowed into the Jedi Archives?” Tech inquired.

Fives shrugged. “Apparently there’s a squad assigned there, they supplied us with the Temple’s map, so I assume so. Want me to forward you the map?”

“Yes.”

Fives reached for his comm and tapped it. After sending the map to Echo’s squad, and as relieved as he is that Echo has a squad looking out for him it’s strange to think of Echo being in a squad without him, he turns to his twin’s new squadmates. “So. Tell me what my little shit of a younger brother has been getting up to.”

“I AM NOT YOUNGER…”

Rex laughed, the rest of the troopers following behind him, and for the rest of the day, all was well.

Without the Chancellor feeding them false information and informing the Seperatists, the war ended not long after the man was revealed to be a Sith Lord playing both sides. Grievous was defeated, and Dooku vanished not long after. The Republic and the Seperatists had entered a truce and were currently negotiating. That the Seperatists’ cooler heads had been able to set a truce may have had something to do with the Banking Clan and the Trade Federation being thrown into chaos when several files that were never supposed to be within reach of some very effective well-protected lawyers were made public.

And if a few files had been released to keep the more warmongering senators too busy trying to cover their asses to interfere, while. Vod only gossip among themselves and they’d appreciate it if said senators stopped spitting such baseless accusations against the Corries.

Nor did anyone know why certain Senators had decided to vote in favor of a Clone Rights Bill and to condemn the Senators and political aids that had been accused of abusing the Coruscant Guard, though they had previously refused to give a firm opinion on the Bill.

Fives and Echo were in one of the Temple cafeterias with the Bad Batch, a few members of Torrent, and about twenty Jedi younglings that would not know war, would not know what it was to lead armies into battle. Today’s lesson was how to make pancakes.

Things weren’t settled yet, there were still thousands of details to iron out. But the future was looking bright, they were together, and there were pancakes in the not-to-distant future.

The Domino Twins grinned ear to ear, the Bad Batch mocked them and was immediately shoved in return, and one of the crechemasters told them to hold all horseplay till after the lesson.

They'd be alright.

#its over!#i've now down the this-was-supposed-to-be-a-oneshot-why-does-it-have-chapters thing #so yeah it is complete #eldritch echo #clone troopers #arc trooper echo #the bad batch #arc trooper fives #domino twins #bad batch echo #fix it au #eldritch

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lya-dustin · 1 year ago

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Shock and Delight

Chapter 6

Daeron’s main suspects are all gathered in the same place.

Lucky for him Helaena was going to call on their sister’s household because her sweet nature doesn’t see them for the treacherous vipers they are.

Helaena had visited Dragonstone in recent years, she and Aegon had gone for Visenya’s anointing and the twins’ namedays ---Jace and Aemma as well as Rhaena and Baela’s--- in father’s place and corresponded frequently with them.

You worry for nothing, they are harmless, she had said as she had the children readied for their playdate with their cousins and asked the handmaiden to set two or three places at the table as she expected Daemon’s daughters and Aemma to come to dinner.

They are vipers, he had said shocked that she’d invite them over to dinner with their family.

The only vipers are over there, Helaena had said looking at the Tower of the Hand where grandsire and the lords of the Small Council were gathered for a meeting.

Perhaps she was right, there is nothing fiend-like in them, he notes as they ladies laugh over some anecdote over tea. None of the women here where the bloodthirsty monsters mother had said they were after Aemond’s loss of his eye.

Aemma gave a frustrated huff as she gave up her embroidery, Rhaenyra talked with Helaena about the virtues of having the children’s hatchlings remain with them to foster their bond and the twins seemed perfectly capable of holding their violence.

Rhaena sketched on the seat beside him, and Baela posed with a book in her hands and a foot hanging off the side of the couch in front of them.

“Out with it, Daeron the Daring, what is it that has you looking at us like we are bugs Helaena is planning to pick apart for her boards?” Baela the Bold asks without breaking her pose. Rhaena the Radiant paused to look at him with as much curiosity as she did at the ball.

They were pretty, though Baela was the one who stood out with her boldness, Daeron preferred Rhaena’s subdued and more ladylike nature.

“The Morning Scandal. Seeing as my niece’s words are apparently frequent guests in the sheet, I would like to know which one of you is the gossipmonger who insults so many under a pseudonym.” He is as blunt as Aemond in hopes it gives him a result. Aemond can get all that he wants with a blunt sentence and a bored look in his face, a power Daeron has yet to develop.

“I am three years older than you, Daeron. I would rather you call me Aemma than niece, makes you sound like an old man.” Aemma the Adored points out and he bites his because he knows Helaena is only ten moons older than her and doesn’t mind when she calls her niece from time to time. “And no, I am not the writer, I just happen to be one her favorite subjects.”

This she says with a look of annoyance, as if she hated the attention her words got. Reminds him of Aemond when he is sought by every girl who finds his and rudeness to their liking ---which is all of them.

Then again she is their half-sister's daughter and some resemblance was expected.

“Neither am I nor is Rhaena, before you ask. I can’t be bothered to care about gossip, if it were Rhaena it would be extremely complimentary about Ser Corwyn in its latest issue. He danced with her twice and came to call earlier.” Baela shot down his accusations with ease. It was annoying to say the least.

Perhaps he can study them closely at dinner. If they accept Helaena’s invitation, that is.

“I think they would suit.” Helaena says to her spouses as they wait for their guests to arrive.

If you saw her ---heard her too--- you would assume she was this overly sheltered

“Aemond is too resentful for her. Likely thinks its her fault father didn’t let mother maim Luke in revenge for his eye.” Aegon made a face at the seating arrangements.

“Oh, I disagree. He would’ve let Lyonel ruin her if believed that. They are evenly matched, besides most of her suitors are intimidated by her height. She is as tall as you, husband.” Elissa said as she moved Baela’s name with Rhaena’s thus changing her partner from Daeron to Jace.

They are much happier now that Elissa is theirs.

They had wed the Valyrian way in Dragonstone last summer, Daemon and Rhaenyra had been so kind as to officiate for them and give them the bridal suite to take sweet Elissa’s maidenhead that night.

Soon they would be retiring to the newly built Summer Hall claiming to need fresh air and privacy for the birth of their third child.

They love Elissa, Elissa loves them and if Targaryen Exceptionalism had included polygamy, they would have happily married her and poor little Maelor wouldn’t have to be passed on as Helaena’s to hide the truth.

She hopes he has hair as red as Elissa's, a perfect blend of his mothers and fathers. Even if he takes after his mother, no one will dare call him a bastard.

Not when those who love to harass their sister and nephews are those who want Aegon king. And the Morning Scandal wouldn’t publish anything on it, Helaena knows the writer and has been supplying her with every miniscule detail of court and the parties she was too young to attend.

“If Aemond weds Aemma, mother gets her assurance Rhaenyra won’t kill us. We only need to make that happen so when the dragons dance, we don’t die.” The Dreamer revealed the reason she wanted her brother to find his helpmate in Aemma.

They do not wish to usurp Rhaenyra, and they won’t, they only wish to live in peace with their wife and three children.

But mother believes all that her father tells her, and Ser Otto says they must start a war and kill everyone they love because he wants to rule through Aegon.

He will never get his wish; Helaena has seen the future and refuses to let it come to pass.

“That dream again?” Elissa asked softly and the princess nodded.

It is incoherent, pieces of death and fire and terror and ends with her being pushed out the window by Lady Misery.

She sees her babes die, sees Aemond kill Luke and die by Daemon’s sword, sees Aegon destroyed and murder their sister while her only living child watches. It is a nightmare that grows longer and clearer as their father weakens.

This morning when they held court and mother sat on the Iron Throne, she saw her mother sit on piles of headless corpses and holding Jaehaerys’ head on her lap.

She had told Aegon and Elissa about it, and both had decided their silent defiance of mother and grandfather must become louder and impossible to ignore.

If Aemma weds Aemond and one of the twins marries Daeron, mother would see reason and the war will never happen.

This dinner doesn’t need to be a success, the Dreamer only needs for the One Eye to truly see the person beside him.

#aemma velaryon #aemond targaryen x velaryon!oc #rhaena targaryen #rhaena targaryen x daeron the daring #aegon ii targaryen x oc x heleana targaryen #oc:elissa piper #daeron targaryen x rhaena targaryen #shock and delight fic #bridgerton!au #ocappreciationtag #fyeahhotdocs #fyeahasoiafocs

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idontknowanametouse · 5 months ago

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Miraculous Rewrite AU. Chapter 3: Stormyweather

(homophobia, autistic meltdown, implied ableism)

(stormyweather redesign inspired by @miraculous-metamorphosis and @wormzandgutz)

-You ready, love? – asks Mireille, opening the door and entering Aurore's dressing room.

-Almost. – she sighs, irritated, closing the makeup kit. – Honestly, why do they want to do this poll? It was already decided that they liked us equally, that's why we present the program together!

-I don't know, it must be something to increase the audience or something. But everything will be fine, our contracts do not allow for a dismissal like that, so out of the blue, for no reason at all. Let's go?

-Let's go. – and smiled at her girlfriend, holding her hand for a brief moment before they went to the set where the program would be broadcast live.

-Welcome back, viewers!! – Alec exclaims, and Aurore has to stop herself from rolling her eyes. God, how she hates that man's voice when he is on TV. – As we said in the last block, you will vote for your favorite weather girl on our channel: Aurore Beaureal or Mireille Caquet, and also for the one you want to stay on the program!

What?

They both look at each other, eyes wide, having no idea how to react or what to do in this situation. They can't ask Alec, what the fuck? Nor can they stop the program or the vote from taking place. If they do anything, they will be fired. Which isn't much, since one of the two is apparently going to be fired anyway.

They can't do anything. After all, they are just weather girls.

–

As soon as the broadcast ends, along with her promise of a good future in her career in meteorology, Aurore goes to Alec and hits him on the knees with her cane. Marching angrily to the elevator, she waits for the door to close behind her, with Mireille trying to catch up to her from the hallway, so she can scream in fury.

She isn't mad at Mireille, she would never be mad at her because of that. She is mad with that shitty presenter who worked for the shitty enforcers of this shitty network.

When she arrives at her building, all she wants to do is get to her apartment, lie in bed and cry in frustration. And then the elevator stops and the lights go out.

-AH, FUCK YOU! – she exclaims, sitting on the floor, boilling in anger. Feeling her cell phone vibrate, she takes it out of her dress pocket and sees that it's Mireille. She answers, her voice defeated. – …hi, Mimi…

-Aurore, I heard one of the executives talking to an investor, from what I understand, they did all this shit because we are publicly dating and this investor threatened to stop the sponsorship because of that.

Aurore's blood boils. Is that why they destroyed her future? Because of some old, homophobic, jealous piece of shit who couldn't stand her and her girlfriend being happy?

She fees her breathing quicken, fury rising in her chest. She can't hear what Mireille says, and only stops when she sees it.

-What the fuck is that? – she murmurs, taking the umbrella in her hand to try to ward it off. It looks like a big, black insect, but

Suddenly, Aurore remembers what happened a week ago, above the Eiffel Tower. That horrible face made of black butterflies.

Horrified, she tries to swing the umbrella to hit the insect or at least make it go away, but it is in vain. That blackness merges with the umbrella, blurring Aurore's mind.

-Love? Aurora? – Mireille mutters, in panic. She hears something she can't understand, then hears a name she started to fear a week ago: “Hawk Moth.” – Shit. No no no no.

She realizes she needs to do something. In panic, the girl almost flies to an empty studio. She needs a camera that can broadcast to the entire city.

-Girl, did I tell you that your outfit is really cute?

Marinette fees her cheeks warming up and a slight smile appearing on her lips. She is very happy that Alya noticed the outfit she thought of for the day, as it is one of her favorites, particularly. Even though it is simple, they find it adorable: it is a sailor school uniform, like the ones in anime, black with green details complemented by a black belt with green details and a bow on top of her head, her hair arranged in a small braid at her back.

-Ah, thank you very much… you also look very beautiful!

-Oh, do you think so? Thanks!

Alya really looks beautiful, simple and gorgeous, with a white sweatshirt, a short black skirt and a headband of the same tone holding back her curly hair.

For the last week, after the whole thing with Stoneheart, Marinette has been looking like a nervous wreck, thinking that an akuma would appear at any moment, and in fact it could happen, but she really needed to relax. It was actually a good idea to invite Alya to spend some time there on Sunday, as she, despite being very electric, brings peace to their heart.

Unfortunately, this tranquility soon evaporates, as the TV broadcast is “hacked” by someone, with the image suddenly changing and showing… Mireille, one of the girls at her school who is Alya's friend and also the weather girl, looking like about to have an anxiety attack…?

-LADYBUG, CHAT NOIR! – she shouts, her eyes filled with despair. – THERE IS AN AKUMA IN PARIS! I don't know where she is, or what she looks like, or what powers she has, but I know she's coming here, to the broadcaster!! Please come quickly before something very, very bad happens!!

Fuck.

What was she going to do? What was she going to do? She couldn't reveal her identity to Alya like that, but she also couldn't go away out of the blue without any explanation! Only if…

-I HAVE TO GO TO THE BATHROOM! – she suddenly exclaims, getting up and running over there. She locks the door from the inside and exclaims, in her best possible voice: – Oh, no!! I think I got stuck!! Alya, can you try to find the spare bathroom key in my room?! Unfortunately, I don't remember where I left it!!

And, knowing full well that that key doesn't exist, she transforms into Ladybug and leaves through the window.

–

She and Chat Noir meet at the top of the building.

-How are you doing, my lady?

-Hi, Chat. Let's try to do it quickly this time, okay?

-What's the rush, Ladybug? The akuma hasn't even gotten here yet.

-I think it's Aurore Beaureal.

-How do you know?

-Intuition. Anyway, I have some things to do, so let's do it quickly.

-You really don't like this?

-Do you like?

-To be honest, one of the reasons I accepted was so I could decide something about my own life and act like myself for at least a part of the day.

-…that…is very sad, but we need to talk about it later.

-…are you really okay, Mari?

-Don't call me that when I'm Ladybug!!

-I'm sorry, but did something happen? You seem really nervous.

-It's nothing!! I just want to finish as quickly as possible!! – he's so fucking annoying, can't he see that she just wants to do it quickly and be left alone?!

-…I'm sorry, Ladybug.

He looks a little upset. Shit, she fucked up, didn't she? She didn't know how to socialize outside of her trusted circle, and now, because of that, she hurt Chat Noir. Before he can even apologize, the two hear a loud bang below and see the studio door flying away, pushed by strong winds.

-Fuck. She is here.

They immediately start going down the stairs, nervousness seeming to speed up her heart more and more, and stop on the top floor, where the station's owners work, prepared for when she appears in the elevator.

Well, she shows up. It is just a little scary.

She was definitely Aurore, just a much darker version of the girl. Her pigtails were transformed into lightning bolts, constantly changing in a crazy zigzag. The skirt was made of dark clouds, occasionally releasing small storms at her feet, which floated, never touching the ground. Her skin was gray, her ears were pointed, and her eyes were completely white. She wore a dark leather coat open, revealing an outfit tailored like a rag doll's, black and white striped tights and black pointy flats.

Ladybug swallows. She knows Aurore. Maybe she can talk to her.

-Aurore.

-Stormyweather. – the voice, despite still being hers, sounds like thunder. However, it is also cold, completely different from her usual expressive tone.

-Mireille called us to help you.

-You'll help me if you get out of my way and let me destroy this bastard.

-He's not here anymore.

-Then, I destroy the tower. It will be enough.

There is no way to talk to her, Ladybug realizes and understands this. She makes a slight sign with her hands. Chat Noir sees it and attacks.

As soon as she sees him coming towards her, Stormyweather creates a gale so strong that it pushes them back and destroys the lamps in the corridor, leaving them in the dark.

-Where is she?! Where?!! – Ladybug screams, her voice bordering on despair, only increasing when she feels a fast wind passing by her.

-Calm down, I have night vision!! I'll take you!! – Chat Noir then grabbs her arm and starts running.

She hates it.

They hate that with their entire being, feeling the two bodies rubbing together painfully, feeling everything heightened.

Please no, please no… I can't deal with this right now…

-Go quickly!! – she exclaims, trying to hold back the pain. – What if the military arrives, like that time?! They will kill her!!

-They won't!! We will arrive first!! They know that only we can fix everything!!

-Still, what if they arrive?! What if… – she is interrupted when he opens the door.

She hated being in the dark, with her hand being grabbed and being dragged to places she didn't know. It was almost painful, almost too much. But it gets much, much worse when they get back to the roof.

Stormyweather created a real storm, almost a hurricane, above the building. There is lightning and thunder and wind and sounds of wind and cold and heat and ice and rain and light and bangs and things touching and it is all way too much.

She starts blinking uncontrollably. Involuntarily, their feet go further and further back, seeking refuge on that staircase. Her eyes begin to fill with tears, and she feels a scream threatening to escape her throat. Desperately trying to protect herself from the sensations, protect herself from everything, she crouches on the stairs, starting to rock, back and forth, and slams her hands against her ears and screams and tries to just stop feeling.

-…! Ladybug!!

Chat Noir tries to grab her hands in panic, but this only makes Ladybug scream even more, tears escaping from her squeezed tight eyes and her feet hitting the stone floor.

What should he do?! What is that?! Why is this happening?! How should he act?! He is starting to panic, until something falls in front of him.

A towel.

Even in that state, she called lucky charm. She trusts him. She knows she can't fight Stormyweather, so she trusts him to do it.

He will.

He, not knowing if he should interfere, carefully closes the door behind him, returning to the collapsing ceiling with the towel in his hands.

-I will take care of everything, my lady. Do not worry. – he murmurs, perhaps to her, perhaps to himself.

Chat Noir quickly realizes that he doesn't have the same ability to create complex (and somewhat insane) plans as Ladybug, so he decides to do everything in a… simpler way, let's say.

By climbing onto an almost collapsing billboard, running over it towards Stormyweather, jumping on top of her and using the towel to cling to her and have an opening to cataclysm the umbrella in her hands.

Of course, he panicks slightly when the two started to fall, but he manages to use one of his crutches to stabilize his descent and hold Aurore (who is screaming a lot) with his other arm.

-C-Chat Noir? – she murmurs, shaking a little. - What happened?

-Don't worry, we've already solved everything. Can you wait a little here? I'll be right back.

-Ok…?

Chat Noir heads to the stairs, gently opening them and asking in a whisper:

-My lady?

-Hmm? – Ladybug replies, raising her head.

-How are you?

She does not answer.

-Could you call the miraculous ladybug, please? Then I'll take you home.

She holds out her hand and he throws the towel to her. She throws the towel up again, and the object turns into a billion ladybugs.

-Do you want help getting up?

She shakes her head and goes to him, her body curled up, as if protecting herself from something, and they both return to the roof. To his surprise, from the newly repaired elevator, Mireille appeared, and is now talking to Aurore.

-… cyan dress with white cloud pattern on the skirt, baby blue flats…

-Hmm? – Chat Noir's attention turns to Ladybug, who is whispering to herself. Then, he notices that she is describing Aurore and Mireille's clothes.

-Tea green sweater, skirt in the same tone with a white lightning pattern, gray tights, white ankle boots, sun pendant around the neck…

Realizing that she must be doing this to self-regulate in some way, they leave, with her hugging him and clinging to him.

–

-Aurore!!

The girl is startled when she hears her own name, and, as she turns towards the repaired elevator, she mutters:

-Mireille?

-Are you okay?! My god, I thought something really bad was going to happen!!

-I… don't remember… what… – suddenly, a flash of memory. – That son of a bitch took advantage of me and turned me into something?!

-…yeah… at least you looked prettier than that first guy. Anyway, let's leave soon, I resigned.

-What?! Mimi, no!! Why?! Just because of me?! You shouldn't have done that!!!

-Love, listen to me: firstly, I would never work for a broadcaster like that if I knew that shit, and I know you wouldn't either. Secondly, I was already going to be fired after taking that camera and breaking into the broadcast out of nowhere without anyone knowing.

-…ah…

-Do you want to go get ice cream to calm down a little?

-I want to, but… can you carry me? I left my cane in the elevator of my building… which is broken…

-Of course, sweetheart.

–

As soon as they land on the roof, Ladybug mutters:

-…sorry.

-Why?

-For that thing. For letting you down.

-Why apologize? You were clearly not well. I took care of the situation myself and it wasn't a problem, and if you're about to have it happen again, just let me know. But… can I ask a question?

-Course.

-What happened?

-Hm… I didn't want to say that so as not to change anything between us, but now there's no way I can do that… I'm autistic, and at the time I was so stressed about things and anxious and there ended up being too much around me, and that happened… it's called meltdown…

-Why didn't you want to talk? It wouldn't change anything.

-Wait, seriously?

-Yeah. You are my friend and even though I don't understand much about it, I will try my best to help me, you just need to let me know. Also, don't we have other autistic classmates, if I'm not mistaken? I would be a fucking asshole if I treated you differently because of this.

-…thanks. You are the best.

-Don't exaggerate, come on.

-At least the best partner.

-We only work together for a week.

-Stop contradicting me. – Chat Noir turns to go. – Hey, wait!

-What happened, Buggaboo?

-Stop that. You said a bad word, I'm proud of you.

-I learned from the best. – and smiles as he leaves.

Ladybug, using her poor climbing skills, manages to hang from the wall of the building to the bathroom window, entering, detransforming and exclaiming, upon opening the door:

-Oh dear!! The door unlocked by itself! It's a miracle!!

–

Alya strokes Marinette's hair while she naps on his lap and watches TV, until her cell phone rings loudly (and even then, Marinette doesn't wake up) and she answers:

-Hello?

-Hi, Alya, it's Aurore.

-Ah, hi, Aurore! Is Mireille there with you?

-Yes she is!

-I'm sorry about what happened to you.

-It's okay, we're over it. Here, y'know that news blog of yours?

-Uh, yes, why?

-Does he perhaps need two presenters who hate TV channels a lot

-…Yes. – and a smile emerged on his lips.

That one was really quick, but I really liked how it turned out! I think it was a nice introduction to Ladynoir dynamic and also Aurore and Mireille (they'll have other appearances in the future). Next chapter is Dark Cupid, which means things are going to start to get really good!

#miraculous ladybug #mlb rewrite #mlb au #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #adrien agreste #adrien graham de vanily #chat noir #aurore beaureal #stormy weather #chapter 3

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amysteryspot · 2 years ago

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Ghost | Thomas Shelby x OC

Series Masterlist

Summary: Tommy confronts Eve after she stole the Russian's jewels.

Warnings: +18, swearing, mild smut, choking, smoking, mentions of kidnaping (canon - non explicit)

Word Count: 1.3k

“Dainty little thing, you know. When you see her, won’t give a penny for her, but let me tell you mate, she can break into any safe, without leaving a trace, nor being caught. She’s a fucking ghost, yeah.”

Tommy was fuming. When he laid eyes on Eve, he was sure that he would kill her on the spot. A fucking ghost. Alfie couldn’t have described her better, now he realised. Such a fucking ghost that she left the Russian safe with the selected jewels and some more, without anyone realizing it. Not a trace of her, not a clue of who was responsible for the robbery.

If he hadn’t been so worried about Charlie, he would have gone to her the previous night. Luckily they have located his son and rescued him before the exchange, he would have gone to her and killed her.

Eve wasn’t hiding, or at least she wasn’t making it difficult to find her. Maybe it was her plan all along, playing him. Alfie had warned him that she was sneaky, he never told her anything about disloyalty to her employer.

She has been waiting for him, leaning against the wall, cigarette between his fingers and the smoke swirling around her.

Tommy didn’t know what enraged him the most—the jewellery scattered across the table or the smirk on her lips.

“What the fuck were you thinking?” He spat at her, slamming the door behind him.

She didn’t even flinch to answer him.

“I did what you’ve paid me to do.”

“You were paid to sneak into the safe, get the jewellery and deliver it to me.”

“Our agreement was that I would steal the jewellery and deliver it to Alfie,” she answered nonchalantly, smashing the cigarette on the ashtray and blowing out the rest of the smoke. “But I’ve heard that you two had somewhat of a fallout, so I thought it would be wiser to deliver them to you myself.”

“They had my boy!” He shouted, anger boiling through his veins.

“I know.”

This was the last straw to Tommy. He was on her in the blink of an eye, left hand pressed firmly around her throat, pinning her against the wall, while the other held her wrist down, giving her no chance to reach for the switch knife he knew she always carried with her.

Eve gasped, apparently not in shock but just as an involuntary reflex. She licked her lips, a dangerous smile lightning her face.

“You fucking bitch!”

“Should I feel bad that you’re calling me a bitch,” she asked, pouting a little and then letting out a little laugh.

He tightened his grip around her throat, making her gasp again. It was almost too distracting seeing her struggle like that against his hold. Tommy couldn’t help the rush of desire coursing through his veins at the feeling of her chest raising and falling against his forearm.

Bringing her free hand up, Eve’s fingers closed around his wrist, not to escape his grip on her throat, apparently, but just to have something to hold on to. Her mouth fell slightly open as she looked at him through hooded eyelids.

“Don’t act all high and mighty, Shelby. You would have double-crossed me if I hadn't done it first.”

He did his best to look unfazed, trying to figure out how she knew about his plan.

“It must have been tricky to plan how to dig the tunnel without putting your men at risk, considering the location of the safe and the security. Well, not for you, I guess. You were a tunneller, after all.” She said, a brow raised at him.

Tommy’s fingers loosened around her throat, not enough to set her free, but enough to draw her attention at the change in pressure.

“You thought I wouldn’t figure it out? Oh that’s cute.” She smirked, mocking him.

“That’s why you left with all the jewellery?” He scoffed. “If I'd got my hands on you last night I would’ve killed you.”

“It’s what you came here for?” She asked, inching her leg up, pressing her tight against his crotch. “To kill me? Could’ve fooled me.”

There was no denying his growing erection, nor the faint groan that escaped his lips at her ministrations. It was a mix of the adrenaline from last night with the way she was always a step ahead of him. Tommy didn’t remember the last time someone made him feel this way.

“Stop fooling around, Thomas, and do what you came here for.”

His lips were on hers in a heartbeat. Tommy pressed his body against hers, his hand letting go of her wrist to feel her up. He kept the other hand against her throat, but Eve didn’t seem to mind it.

Her free hand travelled up through his body, fingers threading through his hair until she tugged at the longer strands at the same time she bit his lower lips.

Tommy groaned, tasting the blood on his mouth and the feeling of her lips against his throat. The hand that had been around her throat was now groping her breasts.

Eve lost no time to start and undress him, her lips kissing and nibbling all around his neck, teeth scratching his skin, then her tongue licking the skin right below his earlobe.

“Such a good boy.” She cooed, lips brushing against his ear.

Tommy swore, grinding against her, desperate for some kind of friction. His hands moved down her body, finding the hem of her dress and getting under, pulling the fabric up as they made their way back to her waist.

Her skin was soft, a pleasant contrast with the lace of her lingerie. Tommy searched for the buttons of her dress while kissing down her neck. Feeling a long line of fastenings, going from the top of her spine all the way down to the low of her back, he clutched both sides of the fabric and pulled it in opposite directions.

Tommy was expecting a lecture or some kind of comeback from her, telling him that the dress was expensive, or that she would charge him for the damage. Instead, the sound of her laugh reverberated through the walls.

“Hum, I thought that you would like it a little bit rough.” She said, letting the dress fall to the floor and stepping out of it.

The contrast of the black lingerie with her skin, the curves that he had already had the pleasure—or was it privilege?—of feeling under his fingers, the spark of danger in her eyes… Eve was definitely the image of pure sin, and she didn’t seem to mind it. She liked it.

Eve took a step to the side, leaning against the table.

“Are you going to fuck me here, Tommy, huh? On top of all of this jewellery? All of this money.”

At the moment his body had a mind of its own as he took a step forward and brought her into a searing kiss. He, indeed, fucked her on top of all the money and jewellery. And then one more time between the satin sheets of the bed.

Tommy didn’t understand the effect she had on him. It was out of character for him to feel this way towards somebody.

Exhaustion got the best of him before he could think better of it. He woke up exasperated the next morning, no sign of Eve in the room besides her scent on the sheets and a note on the table.

Thanks for the night. I took the liberty of taking my payment already, so you won’t have the trouble of looking for me.

He counted the money and inspected the jewellery, but had no time reminiscing about Eve’s disappearance. Tommy had a feeling that this wasn’t going to be the last time he saw her.

#thomas shelby #tommy shelby #thomas shelby x oc #tommy shelby x oc #thomas shelby fanfic #tommy shelby fanfic #thomas shelby imagine #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders #peaky blinders fanfic #peaky blinders imagine #amysteryspot #mystery writings

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girlfriendsofthegalaxy · 2 years ago

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tuesday again 1/10/2023

the more injuries and minor surgeries i pick up throughout my life i get more convinced i do actually play first person shooters as a power fantasy but not in the normal way. recovering ok, this was prescheduled and premeditated, just extremely tired

listening

are you havin any fun? this tony bennet version is good enough. the SINGULAR line "and nervous indigestion" has been stuck in my head since thursday.

youtube

reading

another pitch for Molly White's Web3 Is Going Just Great, bc HOO boy did a lot of shit happen last weekend. every crypto gaming project that folds feels like a personal gift to me. i did feel slightly insane last year bc the hype was so intense, everyone at my old job was fully bought in, and i got cited on two "performance reviews" for not being "excited enough" about crypto. anyway i hope my boss' two teslas explode.

watching

watched a ton of shit this week, including the entire run of the vampiric interview tv show, which i WILL have more coherent thoughts about later. what a horrible, messy, incredibly satisfying bit of television.

guillermo del toro's pinocchio made me fucking bawl my eyes out and i'm a little resentful of that. stupidly, stupidly beautiful film.

i'm here to talk about s/tar wars the bad b/atch, or at least the second season's first two episodes.

the whitewashing and general racism around the clones has been a problem since attack of the clones but has really only gotten worse with time and is especially bad in this outing of the franchise. i'm not super qualified to talk about this, but i think @unwhitewashthebadbatch is a good starting point.

my biggest storytelling beef is that it feels very much like a DnD campaign that is trying to be a blades in the dark campaign. the format and tone aren't quite right. this show neither focuses on the immediacies of survival right after the republic's collapse, nor where the Bad Batch are trying to fit themselves into a new world, and it really suffers for it. there's almost nothing about parenthood (bc Omega is still tagging along on missions, and she is still twelve). i still don't really know the story this show is trying to tell, but am forced to conclude that a weekly show for children about guys who can do some sick flips is not the correct medium since i still don't fucking know what story this show is trying to tell.

there are eight products on shopDisney for this show and two of them are on clearance. i do not anticipate this series will be renewed past s3. apparently according to some advance reviewers this picks the fuck up after the midpoint of the season but i'm not holding my breath.

production wise, the backgrounds and lighting have gotten way better, they've really leaned into a luminous sort of matte painting that doesn't always pretend to have depth. i like how the rocky set in the second episode feels very much like a live-action limited-budget set. looks very much like a soundstage but animated, and i think that's oddly charming. i do like the location we visited in e2, wish we got to see more of it or talk really at all about the significance of the location. like. we have a literal castle chase and we don't talk about the castle At All. come ON.

one of the few canon trans characters in star wars deserves a better show with more coherent storytelling. love star wars! wish it was good.

playing

largely fallow week. shouts out to the app Flick Solitaire bc i played through a hundred and fifty levels in the past few days

making

some knitting problems i have to mull over before i post, bc i created an entire kerchief thing in a percocet haze but am unhappy with the finish. we shall see! might frog it but i'll post about it before i do

#tuesday again #tuesday again no problem

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abitohoney · 2 years ago

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Missing Scenes - A Collection of Jinx, Silco, & Sevika One-Shots

Part 6 - Pink and Blue

Pt1, Pt2, Pt3, Pt4, Pt5, Pt6

AO3 Link

Rating: Teen, mostly SFW (note my blog is not for minors)

Tags: Sevika, Silco, Jinx, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Good Parent Silco, Found Family, Father-Daughter Relationship, Humor, Jinx Needs a Hug, Silco Needs a Hug, Sevika Deserves a Raise, Young Jinx

Word count: 1.4k

Summary: A collection of one-shots set during the time-skip, mostly centered around Jinx growing up as Silco's adopted daughter. Many will likely involve Sevika, whether she likes it or not. Lots of awkward, funny, and good family feels.

Chapters will not necessarily be in chronological order, nor do they require that any other chapter be read for clarity.

AN: This has been posted on AO3 for quite some time. I'm just now getting around to posting it here.

Silco entered his office in a tizzy, slamming the door behind him before marching over to his desk and throwing himself into his chair with enough force to send it rolling back several inches. Opening one of the desk drawers, he removed an ornate box and flipped the lid open, revealing half a dozen or so cigars. He reached to remove one, but his hand paused as a soft creaking sound could be heard just above him.

"Jinx, child, please come down," Silco groaned, knowing full well, without needing to look, that his adopted daughter sat hidden in the rafters above him.

A pair of small boots suddenly appeared, dangling precariously above Silco's desk, and much to his dismay, his open box of cigars. He swiftly reached out and pushed the box well off to the side of the desk just before Jinx's feet came crashing down. Little Jinx had landed in a low crouching position, her face mere inches from Silco's as she leaned forward to rest her hands flat on the desk to steady herself. She smiled awkwardly, possibly fearful of a potential scolding or dismissal.

"Did you need something, or were you just hoping to eavesdrop?" Despite the harsh words, there was no hint of malice in Silco's tone.

Jinx sat back on her haunches, crossing her legs before her as she made herself a nice little seat atop the various paperwork lining the desk. She nervously played with the hem of her shirt, averting her eyes from Silco's.

"I- I was going to ask you to help me with something," Jinx said quietly, "but I wanted to make sure Sevika wasn't here too."

Silco's expression faltered. Since taking in young Jinx he had relied heavily on Sevika for assisting with the many challenges of raising a young girl. Even now, after a good several months, he was constantly finding himself in situations he was not prepared for and it appeared this was about to be another one. He watched her now, as she fidgeted, clearly trying to gather the courage to ask him some favor that he likely wanted no part of, or had no experience with. Regardless, he waited patiently for her to explain what she wanted.

"Could you help me paint my nails?" She finally asked, her wide blue eyes now on his mismatched ones. She held out her hands, revealing her plain nails. "I tried to myself, but it's too hard and I did a bad job," she added sullenly, looking down at her lap as if ashamed.

"Jinx, you don't need to change your appearance."

"But you wear makeup," Jinx countered innocently.

Silco's mouth opened, ready to retort, but she had apparently caught him off guard. His lips pressed together in a tight line as he regarded her.

"I cover my scars so as not to frighten you," he finally replied, "Your nails are fine."

"But your scars aren't scary. They're cool, like your eye," Jinx replied. "Please?" she added, giving Silco a pleading look that was disgustingly sweet, at least by his standards.

Clearly not about to win this battle, Silco acquiesced with a sigh. "Do you have the paint?"

"Yup!" Jinx replied with a smile and an excited little jump from her seat on the desk. She quickly reached into the satchel attached to her belt, pulling out two small bottles filled with neon pink and blue paint. She set them at the edge of the desk near Silco, and placed her palms flat against the desk, her skinny little body squirming in excitement. "In an alternating pattern please!"

Silco silently reached for the blue bottle, twisting off the cap to reveal the attached brush. He eyed one of Jinx's hands, which was currently jerking around as she practically danced from her seat.

"Be still, child!" Silco chided softly. He placed his empty hand gently across the back of her hand to still her.

"Sorry," Jinx whispered, her smile never faltering as she watched Silco lean over her hand and smear a blob of blue paint on her pinky nail. He skipped a nail, as instructed, and applied a liberal amount of paint to her middle fingernail.

Silco was just about to paint the last blue nail when the door swung open. Silco's attention remained on the task at hand while Jinx swung her head around to see who had entered, smacking Silco's face with a braid and causing him to miss his mark, smearing paint onto the skin just above Jinx's nail. He released a heavy sigh, which apparently was lost to Jinx as she was quick to tell their guest to leave.

"We're busy!" Jinx snapped at Sevika, who stood just beyond the door, watching with veiled interest as her boss sat hunched over, removing the paint he had just inadvertently applied to her finger.

Unable to get Jinx to sit still, Silco set the cap back on the blue paint and glanced up to regard Sevika. "What is it?" he growled, impatience evident in his tone and furrowed brows.

"Sir, just got these reports back from the refinery," Sevika replied in monotone as she strode towards Silco's desk. She shot Jinx a nasty look as she rounded the desk to place the paperwork on a small area currently not taken up by Jinx's bottom half. Jinx stuck her tongue out before turning the other way to scowl and sulk.

Sevika glanced down at Silco's paint job, her brows raising at the sight. "You're putting far too much on. It'll never dry that way," she pointed out flatly.

Silco tilted his head to the side to regard her indignantly. "You assumed I was proficient in painting nails?"

Sevika stood silently beside her boss, staring down at him with a stoic expression as he all but shot daggers back at her, his scarred eye smoldering in misplaced fury. He was more short-tempered than usual today, if that was even a possibility.

A quiet giggle pulled them from their stare-off, both of them turning their attention to Jinx who was poorly stifling her amused laughter. Silco was by no means a comedian, so perhaps it was simply him berating Sevika that she found so entertaining.

"I can assist," Sevika offered, though the way she said it through gritted teeth, she likely had no desire to.

"Yes, please enlighten me," Silco sneered and pushed his chair aside to allow Sevika to step closer. Jinx's scowl returned as she watched Sevika grab the brush from the blue bottle and begin removing the excessive globs from Jinx's nails, leaving a nice light coat on each one.

Appearing anything but pleased, Silco's attention remained on Sevika's clearly more refined handiwork. With the blue all repaired she capped the bottle and started on the pink. After doing a couple nails she held the brush out to Silco. Reluctantly, he took it from her and scooted closer to Jinx again as Sevika stepped aside. Hunched over, and now with two audience members, Silco attempted to paint the remaining nails. His long fingers held remarkably steady as he applied just the right amount of paint this time. Finishing the last nail, he shoved the cap back into its respective jar and sat back in his chair.

Jinx held her hands out in front of her, inspecting her nails. A big smile plastered across her face and she leapt from the desk, throwing her arms around Silco's neck. "Thanks!" she squealed, disregarding how close her mouth was to his ear. He didn't flinch though, rather just gave Jinx a quick pat on her back. When she released him, she held her hands out in front of her again. Somehow she'd managed not to smudge them.

"I'll come back later to discuss the reports," Sevika muttered, before turning to leave.

"Can I practice on your nails?" Jinx asked Silco, completely disregarding Sevika.

Silco sat silent, his eyes on Jinx's smiling face, but watching Sevika from his peripheral as she headed for the door.

Sevika rolled her eyes, apparently fully aware that Silco was waiting for her to leave before allowing Jinx to paint the kingpin's nails.

Once the door closed, Silco sighed once again.

"Yes."

#arcane #jinx #silco #sevika #found family #arcane jinx #arcane silco #arcane sevika #powder #arcane powder #honey writes

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utilitycaster · 2 years ago

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Welcome to what may or may not become an ongoing thing as I finish Streams of Silver, the penultimate book of the first two trilogies of the Legend of Drizzt, ie, the ones I bought as ebooks. Let us assess along the following scales.

Lord of the Rings Parallels: Dwarf sets off on a journey to reclaim his lost mountain homeland. They leave home, but are chased by someone specifically in pursuit of their halfling companion, due to an object said halfling possesses. They need to flee the first real city they stop in after, among other things, causing a scene in a tavern. Wizards are spying on them from afar. They stop in a relatively kindly learned place. At one point, a beautiful woman gives Drizzt healing herbs and generic brand lembas bread. When they find their mountain stronghold, it has a hidden door that requires some degree of knowledge of the dwarven culture to open. Said stronghold is full of mithril, and was overtaken by hostile foes because the dwarves delved too deep. Someone appears to fall in battle in the stronghold, but does not.

Regis was alive but taken by the enemy.

(the Evermoors bit is far more like The Hobbit Mirkwood crossing in vibes though, as is the outwitting of trolls)

Conclusion: LOTR as FUCK. [do not respond to this with more LOTR parallels. this post is about me having fun, not about how good a nerd you are.]

Reminders that this is D&D: speaking of trolls, the regeneration and fire are a plot point, which is well done. I don't know AD&D nor do I feel the need to so there's probably other stuff. Also, they sure do be going into dungeons and finding dragons in the Icewind Dale trilogy.

Women?: Catti-brie is capable in battle, gets some armor and weaponry, and more importantly gains some degree of personality and is even a viewpoint character for the villains scenes, which is great! I still find Wulfgar so boring (he is not a woman but he allegedly has feelings for Catti-brie, which we are repeatedly told about but there is no reason other than "she is the only human woman his age around"). Sydney was pretty great though. She sucked, but at least she like, did things. Also I enjoyed Dove Falconhand's brief appearance in the Dark Elf trilogy and would like to see her more so Lady "legally distinct from Galadriel" Alustriel mentioning her was nice. Also Guenhwyvar is a female extraplanar panther. Is Guenhwyvar a girlboss? discuss.

Villainy: Apparently we haven't seen the last of Artemis Enteri but personally I loved the evil wizard subplot. Hopefully we get more of that because Mr. Enteri is fine enough but there's only so many times you can mention his jeweled daggers and excellent sword hand and stealth but wizards can fuck you up in thousands of exciting and fun ways.

The naming of parts: Looks like Mr. Eoin Colfer was not the first person to name a somewhat amoral bastard man "Artemis".

We still do not have any excuse for someone being named "Catti-brie" though and it is kind of funny when other women are named shit like Catti-brie and Alustriel and Dove Falconhand and then there's just good old Sydney.

Lavender orbs: yeah they're mentioned multiple times. Not as lavender orbs, but "lavender" is said a lot in reference to Drizzt's eyes. I did not count how many times but I may do so for The Halfling's Gem.

Other things:

You can tell the Dark Elf trilogy was written later because it is notably better. Like, this is still readable but it's way rougher.

Ideal scenario is they trade Wulfgar for Regis and Guenhwyvar but they probably won't.

Speaking of LOTR, "Twinkle" is the stupidest weapon name of all time. Mr. Do'Urden please explain what the fuck you are thinking. I know you also at some point get a different scimitar named Icingdeath and all I can think of is that 30 Rock scene where the Donaghy siblings are naming their fists for punching reasons and one of them says "Say hello to Bono and Sandra Day O'Connor."

#m reads lod #if I do this again I'll come up with a tag. we'll see how the next book is #as always: f.r. fans please be normal or i will turn off reblogs. i come neither to bury drizzt or r.a.s. nor praise them i'm just chilling

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musebluebird · 1 year ago

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Ivan smiled sideways. So she did remember his question in the elevator. He definitely wasn't the only one who could feel the palpable sexual tension between them. "Has no one ever told you that you're very bossy?" He mocked, letting out a small chuckle before beginning to brush his lips against the bare skin of her leg. The sexual tension was palpable between them, Ivan believed that once they fucked he could - somehow - 'get' Lydia out of his system. "And very impatient, sweetheart." One of his hands slid down to cup her butt and gave her flesh a gentle squeeze. Ivan allowed himself to sink into her for a moment, softly pressing his lips to the back of her knee. He wanted to push her over the edge, almost have her in the palm of his hand begging him to give her what they both knew she wanted. It's not that Ivan didn't want it—nor did he want a serious case of blue balls—but part of him liked that side of her where Lydia turned into a pleading little thing under his touch. He liked the idea of taking her over the edge, having all that control over her. Did that make him a selfish bastard? Probably yes but Ivan wasn't going to deny that he wasn't one either. Not that he had expected before that day that sex would be on the table but at least he hoped he could come to an agreement with his wife about it. Mainly because after what his mother had experienced with his stepfather, Ivan was not going to go around fucking around unless the two of them agreed otherwise. Although after spending a little time with Lydia, Ivan wasn't sure he wanted to share her anymore, with anyone to be honest. Maybe they could add sex to whatever that marriage was going to involve. He wasn't going to complain if they fucked every morning and every night.

Her legs parted and he licked his lips in anticipation. One of his hands kept her dress up and with the other he allowed himself to trace the lace of Lydia's underwear with the tips of his fingers. White like her dress, apparently she was wearing stockings with a garter belt. The mere image made his cock hard and she also had some little matching lace panties. He was almost sure that she was one of those bridal lingerie sets and that the wedding planner had surely had something to do with it. If that was the case, Ivan was going to make sure to send the woman a gift. "I like this little thing that you have here tho, is this for me, honey? I feel blessed." He liked the way phrases like that managed to push Lydia's buttons and get on her nerves. The flirty tone was present in Ivan's voice. He had every intention of letting his wife know exactly what he was looking for. What did he want? Her. He wanted to feel her skin desperately, he wanted to kiss her, caress her, give her all his attention that night. Maybe backing out of their own wedding reception wasn't such a bad idea. After all, the worst thing that could happen was that some people were not going to be happy. The only thing stopping him was that Ivan needed to use this wedding as more than just an update on his marital status. He needed to use all of that as an advantage to elevate his status. It was no secret that Ivan was a kind of 'street dog', an underdog who had made his way through blood, sweat and tears. He had done what he had to do but now the fact that he was marrying Lydia somehow helped fix his position somehow. Whether he like it or not her dad was a person with enough power and Ivan could help himself a bit from that. Mutual benefit, right? He still would need to keep an eye open but a win was a win.

He kissed her inner thighs, taking his time on one leg and then her other leg nibbling mildly on the skin of her thigh before burying his face between her legs. His tongue traced her folds over the fabric of her panties. Bold move. He could feel her wetness, almost smell her anticipation for what it was coming. The hand that was on her butt pressed her even more against him. Ivan nibbled mildly on her skin before sliding his tongue along the edge of her panties. Teasing her was definitely a new challenge for Ivan which he found very entertaining. Lydia was like a box of surprises that he couldn't wait to discover. He allowed himself to gently slide her panties down her side just enough so that he could lick her folds, tasting her for the first time. "So damn sweet." The taste of her on his tongue was exquisite. Almost like an elixir. Damn. It was going to take all of his self-control not to plunge his cock into her at that exact moment. His cock was hard just thinking about it. She was a walking temptation and if he didn't fuck her soon, he would definitely have blue balls.

"Still, a bit extreme, don't you think?" Although on second thought, maybe not. Lydia was well aware of the importance of needing to be careful but even this seemed a bit like overkill. Besides, what was it he had said before? That if someone tried anything, he would know about it faster than she could even blink? Oh, and that nobody would even try anything because of his reputation. In different words and probably far fewer words but that was a reminder swirling around in her head. Did he really think people were pathetic enough to try and cause chaos on his wedding day? That being said, she supposed she could understand to a degree, given whatever he involved himself with. After finding out about her father, she'd never been the same since. Their relationship was rocky at best, and even Lydia knew she needed to tread very carefully around the man. At least Ivan was honest with her and she knew where she stood with him. If he caught her trying anything with him, she'd be dead. Heck, if she were a man, she would already be. They already had that conversation. But her father? Lydia knew he did not hesitate to stick a knife in someone's back, and she knew all it would take was a fraction of a second for him to turn on someone. He used people to his advantage, took what he could get from them to get ahead, and disposed of them when they weren't of use to him anymore, or a better offer came along. Whatever means necessary. He'd told her that to her face. The thought of him trying something today, his daughter's wedding day, had crossed her mind a couple of times but she dismissed it because he was too on board with the idea. Too eager. Which only made her unable to stand him even more. Encouraged her to stay as far away from the man as humanly possible. And she never even considered Ivan may have been concerned about him since they came up with the stupid idea between them and Lydia was forced - and very bitterly so - to go along with it. Deep down, though, she thought maybe somewhere, deep, deep down in whatever was left of his soul, he still loved his daughter but had the most peculiar way of showing it. That if it boiled down to it, he would not put his only daughter in jeopardy. To say she trusted him would be bullshit, though. Lydia didn't trust anyone, not anymore. Trust needed to be earned, and so far everyone proved time and time again that she could not trust anymore, no matter what.

His question about whether she could see her feet earned a laugh leaving her lips. A laugh! Was she actually laughing at something her husband said? Without any indicator of sarcasm or malice? That had to be a first for her today. Not to be mistaken for softening up for him because that wasn’t the case and would never be. At least, that was what she convinced herself of. She couldn't stand him or anything he stood for. Yet there were all of these filthy thoughts lingering in her mind, thanks to before. “No, not that I need to look at my feet but now I definitely can’t…Not with you and your big head blocking my vision.” A pathetic rebuttal, really. And a weak one for her. But it wouldn’t be Lydia if she didn’t come up with something or other. Or at the very least tried to sound like she was composed, put together. But this time, instead of it being spoken in the usual sour tone she had especially for him, it was more teasing and even playful. It was literally anything to distract her from all the other thoughts running rampant in her mind, trying to forget whatever that was back in the elevator. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't help but let her mind drift back to only moments before. God, this man was going to be the death of her. "Maybe they would. But now we'll never know because the hero of the hour is upon us. My two brain cells are eternally grateful." Quite possibly the nicest thing she had said to him this far. Were they...bantering? Such a peculiar feeling it was. She had grown accustomed to dishing out snide remarks and hearing sneering retorts in return. This? This was a bit different. Like they were actually joking. Like they were actually tolerating each other. Whatever. It meant nothing. She was sure it wouldn't take long before they were hurling insults at each other once again. With the buckles of her shoes removed, Lydia stepped out of them, letting her feet brush against the floor. Making no effort to put on the new pair.

Yet...the atmosphere changed once more. With a question from her husband's mouth, there was the sexual tension permeating the atmosphere once again. All that mental effort to sort herself out and shed whatever feelings she'd had back in the elevator, the attempts evaporated into thin air with a few mere words from Ivan. A wicked smirk graced the woman's lips as she carefully eyed him, considering her answer with a thoughtful hum, which turned into a quiet but audible gasp as his hand came into contact with her skin, brushing against her leg. Her pulse quickened, her stomach doing flips laced with both anticipation and excitement. "Need? Oh, I don't know - needing and wanting are two different things..." she teased, goosebumps rising against her skin at the contact. Growing impatient, Lydia needed him to do something - anything at this point. Preferably without interruption, but she was growing restless. How could she think straight when he was on the floor before her, his fingers exploring underneath her dress? His lips followed suit. "Ivan, please -" she let out a breath, breathing pattern growing heavier as his lips pressed against her thigh. Closer, but still not enough. And she was impatient. Lydia's eyes almost widened at the sound of her own voice, how needy she sounded - almost like she was about to beg him. But no, of course, she wasn't about to do that. She let her fingers brush through his hair, beckoning him a little more forward with a light push, adjusting herself so he was that little bit closer to where she so desperately craved him. "I think it's time you got that answer to your question back in the elevator," she murmured, her other hand reaching down to her dress, attempting to lift it up higher. His words echoed through her mind: If I lift up that dress, are you going to be wet? So bold, and if she were in the right mind, she would've ought to have slapped him for that. But at the same time, he had caught her off guard - and it didn't help how hot it sounded, coming from his mouth. She couldn't stop thinking about it. The what ifs. But hopefully, now she was about to get the answer to that question. Hopefully. "Now, preferably," Lydia added at the end, a signal of her impatience.

#sorry this sucks #so bad #no gif cause sexy content incoming #ivan ft. lydia (01)#m: ivan levan

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royallyprincesslilly · 2 years ago

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Title: Light Of Morning {7}

Chris Evans x Reader

Warning: Plot, Cursing, High Angst, Pregnancy Fic, Pregnancy Talk, Conversation alluding to pregnancy termination

Words: 4.6k

Summary: What is done in the dark, comes to light. With the light of morning comes a whole new set of problems.

Note: Italic text is a recalled memory. Also, y’all know I’m obsessed with multiples, so--yeah.

Thank you so much for reading. I hope you enjoy this!

If you did, please, LIKE, COMMENT, REBLOG!!! ❤️❤️❤️

***NOT Edited/Proofread***

Previous Chapters: {1} | {2} | {3} | {4} | {5} | {6}

~~~~~~~~~~~

Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep.

Your body felt heavy but there was no ache. Your head clouded as if you were under water. When the backs of your eyes panged with a burning sensation you squinted until you were finally able to open them. Now it looked as if you were looking underwater. Closing your eyes and opening them a few times you tried to clear the haze. You could hear a distant conversation that sounded tense. After a few moments, you were able to make out the sound of your parents’ voices. Around you, nothing looked familiar. Slowly, you scanned the room until your eyes landed on the IV cord above you. Following it you found yourself connected to it. You were in a hospital.

Clasping your head, you tried to remember what the hell happened. Like a fast-forwarded movie you recalled bits and pieces. Raised voices, tense facial expressions, your parents, Scott, Ms. Lisa, Chris, Haley. With that your eyes snapped open and in a rush it all came back. Chris and Haley. Your belly sunk and swirled threatening to empty its contents. The conversation got louder.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

“I shouldn’t be here? This is the only place I should be.”

“Your presence is not needed. She is here because of you.”

“Please—please don’t keep me from her. I—I know this looks bad; I know--.”

“Looks bad? Chris, you revealed you impregnated my daughter on the same day another woman revealed you impregnated her too!”

Your father’s anger was blistering. You were surprised this entire room wasn’t on fire. You remembered as a teenager how afraid you were of his anger. You’d always been daddy’s good girl for this reason.

“I didn’t!”

Chris groaned loudly. “I didn’t—she’s lying.”

“Then you figure it out. Don’t drag Y/N into this in her condition.”

“At least tell me if she’s okay. Is the baby okay?”

“Leave,” your father said in his “that’s final” tone of voice before he slammed the door in his face.

When your mother turned her face lit up. “Y/N.”

She hurried toward you and dropped into the char beside your bed at the same time she enveloped your hand in hers.

“Are you alright?”

You nodded, swallowing the nausea, anxiety, confusion, sadness and hurt that was bubbling in your stomach.

“You scared us half to death,” your father added coming to your other side.

“I’m sorry. What happened? Is the baby ok?”

“The babies are fine,” your mother said placed a hand on your cheek.

You sighed out your relief. If something had happened, you would have never been able to forgive yourself. Slowly your mother’s words hit you.

“Babies?”

She smiled widely and looked at your father who was also smiling. “Babies. Apparently, you’re carrying twins.”

Your jaw dropped as shock filled you.

“Twins?”

They nodded in unison. You’d just wrapped your head around the idea of a baby, your baby and now there were not one but two of them.

“Twins,” your mother confirmed.

The silence in the room stretched, you all were probably thinking about the same thing. What had started as a fun, and steamy night turned into a mess and was now a fucking train wreck.

“Jesus,” you whispered as you rubbed your forehead.

“It’s okay honey. You’re not alone in this, no matter what you decide,” your father said.

“What do you mean what I decide?”

“We all heard what happened earlier,” he began before your mother swatted at him.

“Hush Maurice.”

“Hush?”

“It is not the time nor the place.”

“Not the time or place? No, I want to hear what he has to say mom.”

“Fine. We heard another woman come forth telling us Chris also got her pregnant. It would be understandable if you wanted to terminate and start fresh.”

Your eyes widened.

“Terminate. You think I should end the pregnancy?”

“I think you should do whatever it is that is right for you. Whatever you decide we are on your side. Just like a military op, you have to think of every variable for a successful outcome. Is this really what you want? Your children and their half sibling? Being juggled by Chris with his two families?”

At his blunt and pragmatic words your stomach churned again as your heart panged.

“I uh—ehm, mom, dad would it be all right if you guys went to get me something to settle my stomach? I just still feel nauseous.”

“I could stay and your mother--,” your father began before your mother cut him off.

“Come on Maurice. Let’s give her some peace and quiet.”

Your father nodded then placed a kiss at the top of your head before walking out with your mother. Finally alone, you dropped your head back on the pillow and closed your eyes. You replayed the entire fiasco from earlier, slowing it down and pausing at will. You dissected every look, every move until you were ready to vomit. He’d slept with Haley, Haley your most disliked person from your childhoods, Haley who’d been after his dick for years, Haley who he never paid any attention to and swore he wasn’t interested in. He’d slept with her without a condom. He’d told you he’d never gone raw with anyone but you, he’d made it seem like what happened between you was—special.

Tears stung your eyes and before long you felt them rolling down your cheeks. You tried to stop them, tried to get a grip of and get yourself under control but as the seconds ticked by your tears flowed more and more. In a matter of minutes, you were audibly sobbing with your hand pressed to your chest over your heart as if it would be able to repair the injury to the organ. Dropping your head back, you slid down in the bed and rolled into a ball on your side. You brought your hands to your belly for the first time since awakening and held your bump.

You tried to quiet your sobs but no matter what you did—bit your lip, overed your mouth, pressed your lips together—the sobs kept coming. Everything was well with your pregnancy, but you still felt such incredible loss within you. You were fine, unharmed, the babies were thriving, you hadn’t lost anything really, but you felt like you’d lost everything, and you couldn’t understand why.

Was it because of what this all meant? Was it because for your whole lives you’d always felt that Chris was yours in more ways than one. You’d always known he saw you and understood you and no matter what you’d have each other, and no one could take either of you away from the other. Over the last few days, you’d grown closer in a way you hadn’t been as friends. In that time, he’d made you feel things and it went past his cock. You’d felt like something had changed between you; you’d felt like though the present was uncertain the future had a possibility for anything when it came to you.

“I do love your daughter; I love her very much and would absolutely marry her if she’d have me.”

His words made your heart hurt more right now. Why would he say that? How could he say that especially knowing now about Haley? Holding your bump tighter you wept until you fell asleep.

~~~~~~~~~

-The Next Day-

The trees zipped by outside as the sunshine beamed down. One thing was always certain, the light of morning would always bring about a new day. This day was a fresh one, one full of possibilities for many, full of hope but for you, you were having difficulty seeing it through hopeful eyes. For the fourth time, everything had changed overnight. The first was waking up the morning after with Chris, the second was waking up and finding out you were pregnant, the third was when you woke up with outward evidence of you being pregnant. Sighing you rubbed your forehead.

“Are you okay honey?”

“Yep, I’m okay. Just ready to get home.”

“Your mother made all your favorites this morning, so you have a nice meal and then relax,” your dad said.

That’s sweet of her,” you replied.

Your phone vibrated in your back pocket and without hesitating you pulled it out and saw an incoming call from Chris. Freezing you stared at his name as a thousand things went through your head. This was the fourteenth time he was calling, and the fourteenth call you’d leave unanswered. Part of you wasn’t even sure why you were avoiding him. It was the logical part, the part that said you had no claim on him, no say in what he did and who he did what he did with. He was his own man. The other part of you knew just why you were avoiding him. After everything that was said between you, the things you’d done with each other, to each other.

When the phone stopped ringing you sighed and hit your head back on the headrest then closed your eyes. You needed to get out of here and back to your real life. maybe that was what you needed, space to breathe to put things in perspective. Your father’s words echoed in your head.

“It would be understandable if you wanted to terminate and start fresh. “I think you should do whatever it is that is right for you. Whatever you decide we are on your side. Just like a military op, you have to think of every variable for a successful outcome. Is this really what you want? Your children and their half sibling? Being juggled by Chris with his two families?”

Two families. Tears pricked your eyes again, making you clench your jaw. You were tired of crying. You weren’t normally this emotional. It would take a lot to make you shed a tear. Now you couldn’t not shed a tear. Frustration filled you as you closed your eyes with so many questions and voices still inside your head. The longer you played and replayed the events over and over the more wavering your decision to continue the pregnancy.

Before, though it was still an uncertain situation, some things were a given, the baby would have two parents involved, two parents who were at the bottom of it ready for a child, two parents who only wanted the best situation possible. Now you questioned all of that. How could he be ready for a child when he was still going around in his free love day? How could this be the best situation possible to bring an innocent life into? Two of four wheels of this messy caravan had fallen off and it was now tipped to the side wobbling on with just two wheels. This was a dangerous situation not just for the babies but for you as well.

Once the car stopped you and your parents walked inside the house. Your mother went straight to the kitchen to fix you a plate while your father brought your things upstairs to your room. Neither of them said anything else but the unspoken words hung in the air creating such tension you feared anything would set off the bomb. You sat at the dining table and sighed. Your parents had always loved Chris, always loved and rooted for him to quote on quote lock you down. he was their favorite man in your life. There was a time you overheard your parents trying to bribe Chris into marrying you like you were chattel. Now you sensed he was definitely their least favorite person in the entire world. It was possible he was even lower than the devil now and that said a lot.

Your mother emerged with a large plate of everything but the kitchen sink and placed it in front of you. The delicious smells melded together and hit you like a stack of books. Your mouth instantly watered as you moaned.

“Mmm, this smells incredible mama.”

She smiled and gently caressed your cheek. “Then there should be no problem you finishing it all. After all you’re eating for three.”

You stifled a groan and plastered a fake smile on your lips as you nodded. You didn’t really have an appetite, but you knew you had to eat something. Even if you decided to end the pregnancy next week, today there were still two beings that needed nutrients. Sighing again, you picked up your fork and dug into the meal. One bite turned to two then ten and soon you were stuffing your face using the food as a distraction from everything that was going on. All you focused on was the spices and flavors of one of your favorite dishes from your most favorite person, the person who would never disappoint you—your mother.

True to your word, and to your mother’s delight, you finished the entire plate. When you tried to join her in the kitchen to help clean up, she refused, telling you to shower and get some rest. Though you protested you weren’t tired, she insisted. After thanking her with a genuine hug you went upstairs to your bathroom to prepare for your shower. You avoided looking at yourself, you suspected you looked nothing like your glamourous New York self and more worn down than anything. When you stepped into the shower you stood there, still as a log and allowed the water to beam down onto your body. You didn’t know how long it would take for the stress to melt off of you, so you stood there for as long as you dared.

Ten minutes hadn’t done the trick, so you went on to fifteen. When you felt the water running cooler than the scorching temperature you’d set it to you gave up and gave yourself a good lather and scrub trying to wash not only the scent of the hospital away but the memory of Chris’ hands, lips and body that you feared had now been imprinted into you. You rubbed and scrubbed until your skin burned. One lather turned to three and by the time you realized you were on a fool’s path you’d used half the bottle of your soap and was now crying under the shower head stream with your lips pinched together so not a sound came out. You’d listened to pretty words from pretty lips and had now been catapulted into an ugly reality. You held deep suspicions you’d fallen in love with your best friend, and it was technically a one-sided love, a love that would only end in heartache and regret. Remnants of the conversation you’d had in New York came back to you.

“Why’d we never get together, Y/N? I wanna know. We’ve been friends since we were eleven."

“Because I know everything about you, and you know everything about me,”

“Some would say that’s a good thing.”

“Not for us. I know too much. We’d never work. Our uglies won’t play well together.”

You squeezed your eyes feeling how right you’d been that night. You wished you could blot out the memory, blot out the words and commit them to outer space, never to be thought of ever again but still it all replayed.

“How would you handle my tendency to push people away?”

“Hmm—not let you push me away.”

“Great plan, dork. How would I handle your tendency to be a flirtatious dick?”

“By knowing I only have eyes for you.”

You turned your back to the wall and slid down to the floor. This was not a winning situation. There was only one thing to do—remove yourself from the equation. It was time to go back to New York and back to the realities of your life.

By the time you got out of the shower, you’d composed yourself enough that no one would know you’d spent almost an hour crying unless they were really up close to you. The plan was to get some rest, but you decided to pack instead. For the first time in twenty-four hours, you looked at your reflection. The dark circles around your blood shot eyes said it all. Sighing you shot message to your cousin and assistant, Tandy requesting the first ticket back to NY.

MSG: Get me the first ticket back to NY. No questions, no excuses just get it done Tandy.

You didn’t want a discussion, didn’t want any possible chance for her to talk you into staying or talk you into another crying fest. You were pretty confidant you’d gotten to a point of numbness which meant you could keep your crying bouts at bay but didn’t want to risk testing the theory.

MSG Tandy: Consider it done. I’ll get back to you.

Nodding you applied your face products then stepped back into your bedroom. You’d expected an empty room but that wasn’t what you’d gotten. Chris sat at your window seat with his head hung low. Your gut lurched and you weren’t sure if it was baby kicks, nausea, or anxiety. He lifted his head then sprang to his feet.

“Y/N,” he began taking a few steps to you.

You backed up and gave him a cautious look which stopped him in his tracks. A look of hurt washed over his features but he raised his hands in defeat and stepped back to the seat.

“I’ve been worried sick. Are you okay?”

Silence. He had to be joking. Were you okay? When you didn’t answer he continued.

“I—I tried to see you in the hospital but your parent—I wasn’t--,” he sighed and paused. “I’m sorry.”

Releasing a huff, you turned to your closet and pulled out your suitcase. You heaved it onto the bed then flung it open.

“What’re you doing?”

Again, you didn’t answer him. this time he stepped closer, and you backed up again. The tight clench of his jaw said he was annoyed, and it made you angry.

“Puddin’, talk to me. Please.”

“Don’t call me that!”

You hadn’t meant to shout but your emotions had gotten the best of you. The silence in the room stretched and he stood there as you continued to fling clothes into the suitcase you’d just unpacked.

“Where’re you going?”

“Home.”

“I thought you had a week.”

“I don’t. I don’t have any more time to waste here.”

“Waste?”

You heard the hurt, but you bypassed it. He didn’t get to be hurt right now.

“Wait—Y/N, tell me you don’t believe her.”

“Her? Haley, you mean, the other mother of your child?”

Chris gripped his head and pushed his hands through it. From the looks of it he could have pulled out some strands in the process. He took another step to you and reached for your hands.

“Back the fuck up!”

Again, hurt spread over his features. “Y/N, she’s lying.”

“Bullshit! I have known you for a long time Chris. I know every single one of your tells. I know when you’re lying, I know when you’re hiding something, I know when you’re full of shit and right now you’re full of shit. Don’t insult my intelligence. Leave!”

You pushed past him and went to get more of your things. He followed.

“Come on.”

The more you ignored him, the more he stuttered trying to find words that would make their mark. None of them did. After a few minutes of his attempts, he groaned.

“We hung out a while back at the quarry. We had a few drinks, listened to some music but that’s it.”

Fresh anger filled you at the mention of the quarry. This was the same quarry the two of you often went to together. He’d taken her there. You looked at him with the “yeah right” face.

“One minute we were drinking and having some laughs and the next I know I wake up the next morning with no memory of the night before beyond those drinks and laughs. She was nowhere to be found, only Scott was there. I swear. You can ask him that’s the hand ta’ God truth.”

“So, in your infinite Chris wisdom since you can’t remember what happened, nothing happened. What the fuck Chris how can you be so stupid!? You know who Haley is. You know how she is, but you still took her to the quarry—our quarry. You fucked her and now she’s having your kid!”

“I didn’t! I would remember doing that. I was drunk off my ass with you, but I remember every detail of your night together. I remember every touch, every smell, every kiss, every taste, of you. I remember it so much detail it haunts me at nights. I would remember.”

His voice spoke of conviction, his words shook you, but you saw the glimmer of uncertainty in his eyes. He hoped he would remember. You fought the tears stinging your eyes and turned your back to him.

“The facts are simple. You spent the night with the woman I hate the most in Boston and now weeks later she’s pregnant. I’m going home.”

“So you’re not going to believe me?”

“When she walked in that day, I could tell something happened. Your face gave you away. When she announced she was pregnant, Scott’s face gave it all away. Something happened between you, he knows it. i—I can’t be here.”

“I’ll go with you.”

“No! I don’t want to be anywhere near you right now. I need space, time—I need to think about my next move.”

Again, the silence stretched. “Your next move? What does that mean?”

You didn’t answer, instead, you kept packing the last bits of your things.

“Y/N, what does that mean?”

“There is a lot to consider. We may have thought things were one way but now there is more to consider. Two women pregnant for you, two separate families. In no way were things before clean and easy but now it’s—too messy Chris. I will have no peace in this scenario—none. This baby—these babies don’t deserve this life—I don’t deserve this—pain.”

The word slipped out. You’d meant to say life instead. It was becoming impossible to fight the tears now. Sniffling, you quickly wiped your cheek.

“Puddin,” Chris began.

“Stop.”

It was a whisper, but he heard you loud and clear and did just as you said. He sighed and hung his head.

“Babies? More than—wow.” He took an audible breath then continued. “I wouldn’t do this, especially after what happened between us in New York. I thought these last few days showed you what I--.”

“You would do this Chris. This is classic you. Remember, I know too much.”

You saw when your words rang the bell. His eyes locked with yours then dropped to your belly. Seconds later, his hands encapsulated the small bump. “I want--,” he began but was cut off by his ringing phone. Sighing, he took it out and both of you saw the name on the ID— “Haley”.

You closed your eyes and ignored the pang of pain in your heart. Stepping away from him, you steeled your spine. “You should go. Your world just got exponentially bigger. You should go deal with it while I deal with mine.”

His face scrunched. Ignoring his phone, he tucked it back into his pocket and went for your hands again.

“Y/N, you can’t just—we started--.”

“Nothing.”

The pain in his eyes was too much for you to watch, so you walked away. Thankfully your phone chosen then to ring.

“Hello? When? That’s perfect. Thank you, Tandy. See you tomorrow.”

You ended the call and went around the opposite side of your bed hoping to create space between you. Chris didn’t move or speak but from the slump in his shoulders you knew this was all taking a toll. He needed his best friend right now no doubt, but lines had been crossed between you and this was too personal. You couldn’t be the one who coddled him and put a hand on his shoulder. It hurt.

“So that’s it?”

“Yep.”

“No discussion, no—nothing just---what you go back to New York and me LA with nothing resolved? Don’t push me away, Y/N.”

You clenched your jaw, kept your head low and eyes trained on your suitcase. When you didn’t answer or acknowledge him, he crossed the room to you and turned you to him.

“Chris let’s just stop.”

“No. We started something. That night meant something, the day at the lake, the afternoon under the willow tree, my mom’s study, they meant something. You know it just as well as I do. Now you want to go back to our separate worlds while using Haley as an excuse. I know you don’t believe it’s my baby.

“What I know is this behavior has always been you. Your motto has always been here for a good time not a long time. You don’t commit, you don’t monogamy past a certain point, you like things casual, easy, fun and uncomplicated. You got that that night with me, and you struck again with Haley. I know who you are Chris, that’s why we’ve been such good friends. I see your Dorian Grey; I see your truth and have never judged you for it. That truth, your ugly is why none of those instances should have happened. Our uglies could never play well together.”

You saw the tears in his eyes, and you prayed they didn’t spill over. You knew you couldn’t handle that.

“Wow,” Chris said voice clouded with emotion.

“We made a mistake—so many mistakes and you’re not the only one to blame. I am too. We have to stop making them now and the only way to do that is go back to how things were.”

Slowly you watched as he got your words.

“You’re going to—Y/N—no. Please don’t. Come on! You know damn well this pregnancy was a sign, this baby was meant—these babies were meant.”

“And yours and Haley’s?”

At a loss for words, he closed his mouth and sighed. “This is the time I need you to believe me and--.”

“I can’t,” you finished.

“You really think so little of me?”

You scoffed. If he only knew what you thought of him. “Go Chris. I’m sure in time we can pick up this friendship like nothing happened but—I need—we both need space.”

He closed his eyes and stepped away from you as he rubbed his forehead. Slowly, he walked to the window you knew he’s climbed in through but before he climbed up, he turned back to you.

“This isn’t over.”

With that he climbed out the window leaving you standing there fighting with every single ounce of iron will you possessed to keep it together. You waited and waited until you heard his Camaro zoom down the street. Only then did you know it was safe to cry, and cry you did. You cried until your eyes were swollen shut making it impossible for any tear to slip through. You cried releasing the dream that had started to form of you Chris and a baby creating the perfect imperfect family. You cried letting go of all the times he'd kissed you, made you shiver, made you shout his name to the heavens. You cried begging your heart to close and harden. You cried thinking of the two lives that deserved better, the lives that you’d begun to want more than anything.

You cried until you were all cried out because come tomorrow, the time for tears would be gone and you’d have to rebuild anew.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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