#(cas writes)

“I’m at, uh, I don’t, I’m… somewhere. My mind is all over the place.”

Aaron’s heart hammers widely in his chest. “Somewhere? Can you look around for me and see if you recognise something? Anything?”

“Okay,” you reply, voice shaky. After a few moments, you clear your throat. “I’m outside the bar we all went to a few weeks ago.”

“The Tipsy Ship? The one closest to work?” 

“Y-yeah, yeah.”

Aaron grabs his keys and runs out of his house, not even thinking about locking the door as he runs toward his car. Jack is sleeping over at JJ's; the house will be fine unattended for now. “I’m on my way. Are you hurt?”

“I think so.”

“You think–” Aaron stops to take a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose for a moment before shoving his phone into its holder and slamming his car door shut. “Don’t worry, I’m on my way.”

“Can you stay on the line with me?”

“Of course.”

***

When Aaron reaches the bar, his heart breaks at the sight of you standing alone outside. He tenses up once he notices that, not only are you alone, but dry blood covers your face, there’s a large bruise forming on your cheek, and the knuckles of your dominant hand are cracked and bloody. “God,” he mutters, running straight for you and grabbing you by the shoulders. He can smell an overpowering scent of alcohol on you and he winces. “What happened? Where’s the bastard that did this to you?”

You point toward an ambulance down the road. “The coward freaked out when I punched him back and thought he needed medical attention. Most they’re gonna diagnose him with is Dumbassery and Stupid Prick Disease.” You look back at Aaron and weakly smile. “And maybe a concussion.”

Aaron can’t help it, he laughs. “At least you haven't lost your sense of humour. But let's get you home and cleaned up, alright?” 

“Can I go to yours? I don’t really wanna be alone right now.”

He smiles. “Of course you can.”

***

Aaron holds a wet cloth to your face, reaching out to grab your chin between his fingers gently when you flinch away. “Sorry, sorry.”

“It’s cold, is all.”

“Sorry,” he repeats, gently dabbing away the dried blood under your nose and the corner of your lips. “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

“I got into a fight.”

“I can see that.”

You shrug, stumbling on your feet at the movement. Aaron gently grabs you by your elbow and shuffles you toward the kitchen counter so that you’re leaning against it for support. Once you’re stable, he begins to dab the other side of the cloth over your knuckles. “It was stupid, really.”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“I know,” you sigh. It’s quiet for a few moments as you watch Aaron continue to clean up the blood. “He… the guy who punched me… I was on a date with him.” Aaron tenses. “And he kept buying me drinks and told me I had to drink them. I did because, well, free drinks, y’know?” You sigh and shake your head again, letting out a groan when it results in pain. “So stupid of me.”

“Hey, none of that. You’re not stupid.”

“Whatever you say. Anyway, I think he was trying to make sure I was drunk enough so that he could take me home without much complaint. I don’t know. I refused because I really wasn’t in the, uh, mood, and the night was a bust anyway, and he started… tryna touch me, grab me and all that, his hands were everywhere and I didn’t want them to be and…” You stop to take a few deep breaths, feeling sick at the thought of what could have happened. Aaron feels anger rip through his veins. “Anyway, he ended up punching me and I guess he wasn’t expecting me to punch back.”

Aaron grits his teeth. "Twice as hard, yeah?" 

"Twice as hard," you grin. 

“Good. That’s what I expect to hear.”

You tilt your head at him, trying to read his expression. “You’re not mad at me?”

Confused, his eyes meet yours. “Why would I be mad at you?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, watching as his large hand moves over yours, his thumb gently sweeping over your skin. “I woke you up.”

“You woke– You– That’s what you’re worried about?” He gives you a fond look. “Yes, you woke me up. But I’m glad you did. Thank you for calling me. And for trusting me to help you.”

“I don’t think I trust anyone more than I trust you.”

Aaron’s hand stills as the words sink in. When he looks up at you, he notices that you’re staring at him with so much love that his breath catches in his throat. He hasn’t been looked at like that in… he can’t even remember. But when he thinks about it, eyes never leaving yours as you blink innocently at him, not understanding his revelation at that moment, he realises it’s the way you’ve always looked at him. With complete and utter adoration. 

As if he hung the moon and the stars.

“Oh,” is all he can get out.

“Oh?” 

“Yeah. Oh.”

Your face falls and he feels guilt grow deep in his gut. “You don’t trust me back?”

“What? I never said that.” He steps closer, moving a hand to your shoulder and looking into your eyes. “Of course I trust you. More than most people. More than anyone else, really.”

“Really?”

His eyes search yours and he nods firmly, squeezing your shoulder. “Really.”

You look all over his face before looking down at his lips, licking your own as your mouth immediately goes dry. “I didn't want… I… I didn't go home with that guy because of, uh, well, you. I couldn’t stop thinking of you... when I was with him.”

Aaron hums as his gaze drops to your lips. “That’s why I don’t go on dates.”

“Hm?”

“Because I can’t stop thinking about you either.” He inches closer, moving a warm hand up to cup your cheek. “Can I kiss y–"

“Yea–"

And your lips are pressed together before either of you can finish. The kiss is soft, sweet, gentle, and full of so much raw emotion that it’s almost suffocating (in the best way). Aaron moves his lips against yours desperately, holding your face in his large calloused hands as if you might break at any moment, and you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer. The moment your tongue brushes against his bottom lip, though, he pulls back with a heavy sigh. “Shit, you’re drunk. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, it’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I’m totally taking advantage of you and–”

“Aaron.”

“I should know better and–”

“Aaron!”

“You should feel safe here–”

You press your lips against his again, effectively shutting him up. It’s a much shorter kiss this time, but not any less enjoyable. “I do feel safe, Aaron. Here, with you.”

“You do?”

“Of course. You make me feel safe; you always have.”

He visibly relaxes and pulls you into a hug. “So have you.” He sighs against you, resting his forehead against your shoulder. “I like being with you.”

“I like being with you too, Aaron.”

He smiles against you and holds you for a moment more before pulling back, hands still wrapped around you. His heart breaks at the sight of the dark bruise forming on your face and he leans forward to press a tender kiss against the skin, careful not to hurt you in any way. “I wonder how long we’ve liked each other.”

“I fell in love with you the moment I saw you, I think.” 

Aaron’s breath hitches at the admission. “You’re in love with me?”

You tilt your head at him, fighting back a smile. “Did I not make that obvious enough?”

“I… didn’t want to get my hopes up.”

“Well, get them up, Hotchner, because I’m in love with you, and I’m not going anywhere.”

Aaron’s face softens and he presses a kiss to your cheek, sighing in relief. “I’m in love with you, too.” He runs his hands lovingly over your back. “Now let’s get you changed into some comfortable clothes and into bed, yeah? It seems like we have a lot to talk about tomorrow.”

“Can I sleep in your bed with you?” 

He presses another kiss to your cheek. “There’s no other place I’d rather you be, sweetheart.”

tag list: @criminalskies @ssahotchnerr @hotchs-big-hands @citrusiove @sillyhotchsgirl

In the dark, everything was amplified. It didn't matter that you couldn't see, when your skin grasped more than any other sense, when your ears heard every sigh and echo off the metal walls. 

He had seen you before, using whatever fancy tech he wanted in his helmet while you were bare below him, or pressed in front of him while he took you from behind over a storage crate in the hold. It gave him a power over you, that he could move around you in the dark, follow your steps as you did tasks outside the ship, even see how long you've been asleep based on your temperature and breathing. Sometimes he was even able to coax you awake under dim lights with his mouth hot and purposeful between your legs and his hand guiding your own over your eyes as you awoke.

It happened when he came back from a hunt, sometimes it went poorly and he wanted to get out his frustration, or it went well and he was still high on adrenaline. He was still not one to lose control and give over to his emotions. It was never reckless, every movement intentional and forceful. It made you wonder just what he did to deal with it before you were here. Other times, when the ship was in hyperspace for a long time, or you were waiting between jobs as he worked on the ship, that was when you took charge. 

But -

The first time it happened, he had wrangled a quarry into the carbon chamber more forcefully than usual, but you couldn't blame him, the thing was running its mouth and jerking its several arms around just enough to be annoying but not enough to provoke a fight, and it knew that the puck said warm and unharmed, so short of taping its (large, smelly mouth) mouth shut, the Mandalorian was at a bit of a loss. 

Your hands were clenched around the tools you had been using when he came in, perhaps unconsciously ready to use the wrench and mallet as weapons, which would have been about as useless as throwing a rubber dart in comparison to everything the Mandalorian was, let alone carrying. 

He stalked towards you and reached for the tools, your hands realizing how tightly they were grasped around the metal objects. Wordlessly, he stared at you - you knew he was, after weeks of working nearly silently side by side you knew how to read his cues, though none had felt so strong and deliberate as this before - and tugged the tools out of your grip. He tossed them on the floor and you flinched at the sound. Without breaking your eye contact with his through the visor, he took another step closer and raised a tentative hand, hovering just above your hip. The heat of him crowding around you in the cool of the hull, the disturbance of the air against your chest and the line of your hip, were just enough to make you glance down and then back at him. You caught your breath as some sort of emotion rolled through you and your chest heaved with a sudden breath, you caught your lip, and nodded. 

The stillness shattered as the background hums in the hold suddenly seemed elevated, giving a low muted thrumming noise for your shared breathes and rustles of clothes. The Mandalorian gripped your sides with both hands, large hands pressed against your soft flesh, before spinning you around so quickly you almost get twisted around your own feet, but he seemed to predict that and lifted you even as you stumbled, and your feet landed evenly below you as you reached forward to grab the side of the crate he had pushed you against for balance. Your brain was moving half a step slower than your body as base functions took over for touch, heat, feel, smell, and you realized he was going to try to take you from behind. You wanted to be able to see him, the way he would hold you, how the beskar would feel under your hands, the way his shoulders would shake with the effort of - oh gods, you almost buckled as he brushed against you. You gasped wait and gripped his hands. You felt him stop and hold himself stock still as you turned around. You let go of his hands and boosted yourself up on the crate, now seated facing him. He was still frozen, breath somehow muted under his helmet, the only sign of life from his tense frame was the rising of his shoulders with breath above the armor.

You skipped his hands this time, reaching forward and grabbing his belt, guiding him back towards you. It’s ok you said. Now his hands fell to the outside of your knees, and you grabbed the back of his gloves again, sliding his hands to the inside of your thighs even as you parted your legs to him. Please you said determinedly.

There was no more need to pause, to wait, to ask. He acted on what he wanted, you told him what you wanted in return, there was no need for conversation about the helmet, his face, even your clothes. You were wearing a long wrap today, and you started pulling the fabric up under his hands as he crowded against you again. With only your underwear left, you tilted your hips toward him and leaned back on your hands as he pushed himself firmly against you, the delicate fabric hiding nothing, your warmth and softness reacting to the fabric, armor, and warm swell now cradled between your thighs and against your core. You breathed out, no control left over your instincts as you moaned at the sense of pressure against your core. Now your hands both grasped, frantic, uncoordinated but with the same goal, as he ripped your underwear down your legs, and you grabbed his shoulders to grind against him even as he worked at his belt and zipper. The reverberation of the sound of your own voice continued against the background echoes of the ship’s engine, your breathy gasps tuning higher and high, and an uneven low moan from the modulator of the helmet, now close enough to you that you could hear the tone of his speech in a language you didn’t know between his own broken groans. 

He reached a hand between you even as you hitched your legs higher on his hips, angling and opening yourself even more fully to him. The texture of the leather dragged on your most sensitive skin, and you couldn’t help it, you had to close your eyes as your head fell back, and you began to beg. Please, please you gasped I want you, I just want you and you felt just the tips of his fingers on your wetness, nothing but the grip of his hands and his wordless, sightless stare enough to make you ready. You didn’t want to feel anything else first, you just wanted your Mandalorian, all of him, all at once. 

He muttered something in the strange, uneven words, accented on some syllable and pattern you couldn’t quite follow, especially in your current state, before hearing Basic again, -so fucking beautiful, please let me- I can’t stop- and you felt one gloved hand guiding his thick cock to your entrance, and slowly, driving himself fully into you. Your head came up with a snap and a gasp, and you worked your arms around his shoulders, your forehead meeting the side of his helmet as you pushed yourself as close as you could against him, and you felt him meet you, one arm wrapped fully around your lower back and one across your shoulders, dragging a hand up and down your spine.

He was stretching you so fully, so deep that you needed this, needed to anchor yourself to the rest of him, the only way that your body could make sense of the delicious weight of him inside you, pressed against you, wrapped around you. You both fully gave up on words in any language as he rocked his hips against you. You wrapped everything in your being around him as close as possible, your mouth next to his ear only separated by the helmet. Something about the firm press of beskar against the planes of your body set free a permission in yourself that you didn’t know you needed, to grab at him, gasp as loudly as you needed, hold yourself as much as you could, knowing that he could stand up to it. You didn’t want him to pull away to drive into you, his whole solid being as close to you as possible and throbbing deeply was all you needed.

He matched your intensity, holding you steady as he worked against you, feeling your sweet warmth holding him inside, every soft curve and every ridge of muscle. Your softness and your strength, matching his, never needing to leave, just needing to be closer, closer, closer-

Your voices were in sync as your hips and arms moved together, holding you against him on the edge of the crate, and you felt him move faster and more shallow, felt the pressure build as your most inner muscles began to tighten. He found his words in Basic first. -sweet girl, fucking feels so good, fuck, I’m- I’m-  You caught up and cut him off, tightening your ankles and raising your knees to widen the spread of your hips. You were past coy now, crying out please don’t stop, I want you to come inside me, please- permission asked and given, he grasped your ass and nearly lifted you off the crate as he rocked his hips against you, and now all you needed to do, and really could do, was hold on tight as you felt the tight point of heat inside you suddenly break, and thank the gods that quarry was well in carbon, as your voice cried out against the steel walls of the hull. His voice just behind yours as he kneaded his hands in your soft flesh in time with the pulsing stretch of him inside you as he came, filling you with each final thrust between your legs.

You lost the sense of where your arms and body were and were fully draped on him. Head still leaning against the helmet, not realizing your hands had gone so far as to burrow under the cloak and nearly under the neck of the cowl leading to the bottom of his helmet. He loosened his bruising grip on your hips and used one hand to lean against as he set you fully down on the crate, one arm still supporting you around your back. You remained pressed together, front-to-front, and-

Ladislava entered the room. Her clothes were torn and stained beyond recognition, blood and dirt caked deep into the fabrics. Bruises and scrapes covered every inch of exposed skin, and she walked with a lameness in her gait. She cleared her throat to get the attention of the two others in the room, unable to keep the despair from seeping into her face.

“Lady Edelgard. Lord Vestra.”

Edelgard looked up from where the two were scouring over some battle plans, her face immediately falling.

“Ladislava?” Edelgard abruptly stood from her seat. Hubert regarded her with his usual cold demeanor, his face devoid of any and all emotion, perfectly crafted to hide the swell of anxiety and unease he felt inside. 

“We did not expect you back so soon. What has happened?” he asked cooly. But the fear bubbled beneath the surface, threatening to rear its ugly head and break through. Any breath, any sound could be the one to give him away. His skin prickled with discomfort, for too much, too much was out of his control.

Ladislava remained silent for just a moment too long. Edelgard continued in her stead, her voice laced with desperation.

“What of Ferdinand's forces? Have they returned? Why is he not with you?!”

Ladislava’s shoulders slumped, her composure crumbling.

“Your Majesty, I… must regretfully inform you that our reinforcements arrived… too late.”

Edelgard choked on a breath. “What do you mean ?”

…What?

Too late…?

Hubert's heart felt like it had come to a complete stop. He grunted in discomfort, but it was quiet enough that neither of the others in the room paid him any mind. There was no other tell that could yet give him away. He was still protected behind his unfeeling, unthinking mask.

“I am so dreadfully sorry, Your Majesty,” Ladislava continued, voice shaking. “Upon arrival we were already overwhelmed by Riegan’s forces. Ferdinand and his battalion were completely bested. It was all we could do to get ourselves back alive.”

Hubert trembled where he stood. He tightened his grip on the battle plans he’d brought to Edelgard for review.

“My own battalion suffered major losses. It was clearly Claude’s intention to entrap us in Alliance territory from the beginning. He and Lord Gloucester must have planned for this to happen exactly as it did.”

Edelgard cursed, falling back into her seat. “I should have sent another general with him… Damnit , I never should have let him go alone!”

“Please, Your Majesty. This is not your fault. It is mine. I could not move quickly enough. It was my duty to put a stop to this, and I failed.”

Edelgard was silent, quiet tears falling from her eyes onto the papers strewn across her desk. Hubert stood unmoving next to her, barely breathing. He stared into the nothingness of the ground, fearing that any attempt to speak, to move, to breathe would result in him completely falling apart.

“Ferdinand,” Edelgard choked out finally. “He's… he's…?”

“I’m afraid so, Your Majesty…” Ladislava said solemnly.

“How can you be sure?” Edelgard demanded, slamming a fist down on her desk, the words thick with desperation.

“I watched as Claude himself delivered the finishing blow to General Aegir. I… I tried your Majesty. I moved as quickly as I could, but I… I was too late…”

Too late.

Reinforcements were called as soon as they'd received word from their stronghold against Gloucester territory that the Lord had retracted his allegiance. How did they not make it in time. How had Claude managed to pull together such forces in such a small amount of time?

...Ferdinand…and his battalion…bested…

His battalion? Sure. They'd been hand-picked by the man himself, but perhaps they were not as skilled as Hubert remembered. Surely even if none of the battalion made it, Ferdinand was absolutely skilled enough to best Riegan and make it out alive.

…

But the Ferdinand he knew would never abandon his men, would he?

His mind was at war with itself, Hubert realized. Trying, in vain, to match sense and logic with desires and desperation. To look at all the facts that had been presented to him and promptly cast them aside, instead opting to believe what he so badly wanted to be the truth and make up evidence to support it.

Ferdinand… you fool. How could you do this…?

Hubert brought a shaking hand to his chest, willing his damned lungs to take in air. He couldn't breathe. But no, he was breathing too much, too quickly, too shallow. The oxygen couldn't make it to his brain. He couldn't breathe, he couldn't think .

“Ladislava, you are dismissed. Please inform the others. And, please see to it that no one comes looking for us for a while.”

“Consider it done, your Majesty.”

…

“Hubert?” Edelgard asked softly. The man hadn’t moved an inch since he’d asked Ladislava why she was here.

Finishing blow… General Aegir…

Hubert choked on a sob and his body finally gave in. He fell to his knees, the paperwork he’d been desperately clinging to falling from his grasp and fluttering across the floor in front of him. His heartbeat thumped in his ears. He couldn’t hear anything else. He didn’t want to hear anything else. Damn it all , he'd heard more than enough.

Lies. It all had to be lies. Hubert could not stand the words otherwise. Ladislava was simply mistaken. There was no way that Ferdinand von Aegir fell to the likes of Claude von Riegan. The notion was laughable. Asinine. And this was no time for jokes, damnit, they were in the middle of a war!

“...ubert…!”

Claude was a devious schemer and a brilliant tactician, this much praise was due. But Ferdinand could never, would never fall to the likes of him. Ferdinand was a brilliant fighter, his quick wit and sound decision-making saving them on multiple occasions. His prowess on the battlefield was truly unmatched. Even the Empire’s most skilled fighters couldn’t best him in their training. Ferdinand himself had felled general after general of high standing in both the Kingdom and the Alliance.

“...Hubert!...”

…

It was Edelgard’s voice. Somewhere out there, trying to reach him. He wanted to grab for it, to latch on to it and never let it go. What he should have done when Ferdinand insisted that he and his battalion take the initiative to begin marching through Gloucester territory.

“Do you not trust me, Hubert?” Ferdinand had demanded, sporting his typical half-pout whenever Hubert had tried to talk him out of charging forward into enemy lines. Hubert had to give him credit, though, he was particularly motivated to get moving on this mission.

“You need to use that head of yours to think sometimes, Aegir ,” Hubert had scolded. “You’re a general; your topmost priority needs to be the survival of yourself and your troops.”

“I will be in Gloucester territory, Hubert. They’ve sworn fealty, and will undoubtedly send reinforcements should we require them.”

Edelgard had agreed then. “He’s our best chance to actually make some headway into Alliance territory while they’re still reeling from the split with Gloucester and Phlegethon territory. We have to trust him, Hubert.”

“Then let us send additional Empire forces,” Hubert had countered, his tone almost desperate. “One battalion won't be enough to counter Riegan’s army should the worst come to pass.”

“So that's it then, you don't trust me!” Ferdinand accused. “You don't think I can handle this!”

“Ferdinand quit spouting nonsense, you know damn well you're one of the only people in this world that I do trust,” Hubert bit back. “It is Riegan that I wouldn't trust half as far as I could throw him.”

Slight color had dusted Ferdinand’s cheeks. “Well, to be fair Hubert, you could probably throw him quite far.”  

“Ferdinand, this is truly no time for your dreadful jokes.”

Edelgard stepped in then, resting a reassuring hand on Hubert's shoulder. “We cannot afford to part with more forces right now, Hubert, we are already spread so thin. We have to trust in what few allies we’ve made. It is the only choice we have.”

Hubert had finally sighed in resignation, dread weighing heavy in his heart. “Yes, Your Majesty.” He turned and walked away, having nothing else positive to say on the matter.

Ferdinand offered apologies to Lady Edelgard before running after him.

“Hubert, don't you think that this is a little ridiculous, even for you?”

Hubert had bit his tongue and kept walking. Ferdinand groaned in frustration, running to catch up to him.

“Hubert, for the Goddess' sake, will you slow down and talk to me?”

“I doubt I have anything to say that you wish to hear, Ferdinand,” Hubert bit back. 

“Then will you at least stop and hear me?”

Hubert stopped abruptly, Ferdinand nearly tripping over himself so he didn't collide into him. Ferdinand had muttered something under his breath as he regained his composure, moving so that he and Hubert were face-to-face.

“Look, I know you don't trust Claude. And to be truthful Hubert, neither do I. And I'm sure Lady Edelgard has her own reservations. But this is war, and sometimes we need to take risks.”

Hubert crossed his arms. Since when was Ferdinand the sensible one, leaving him to be the dramatic? He despised the way their roles had been reversed. “Risks that involve one of our most skilled generals practically throwing himself to the wolves?”

“Hubert, please,” Ferdinand had truly begged, his pleading gaze holding Hubert firmly in place in front of him. “I need you to trust me more than you distrust Claude.”

Hubert took a deep breath. “Ferdinand, of course I trust you. You know damn well you're the only one I think capable of pulling this off other than Lady Edelgard or myself.”

Ferdinand had smiled then. “My men are skilled fighters. Even in the case we do cross blades with Claude’s forces, I know that we can hold our own. Especially considering we've got you on the back swing.” Ferdinand gave Hubert a playful nudge. Had anyone else dared touch him, they'd be reduced to atoms. But, seeing as it was Ferdinand, Hubert could only fight the smile that threatened to make its way to the surface. In vain, of course. Ferdinand beamed brighter when he saw the small smile tugging at Hubert’s lips.

“This is going to work, Hubert, I promise.”

Hubert shook his head. “No, I need you to promise me something else.”

Ferdinand tilted his head in question. Hubert took Ferdinand's hands into his own, the latter blushing from the gesture and from Hubert's intense gaze.

“You must promise to return to us. Unscathed if you can, but you absolutely must return to us. To me.”

Hubert hadn’t entirely meant to include the last part, but he dared not take it back. Ferdinand was astounded by Hubert's serious demeanor, paired with such blatant, genuine concern for his well-being. Usually Hubert's care came in the form of snide comments and back-handed compliments. This was… uncharacteristic.

Ferdinand would be lying if he said it didn't unnerve him. But, steeling his resolve, he gave Hubert’s hands a comforting squeeze.

“There is nothing in this world that could stop me from returning to the Empire. Rest assured, Hubert, this isn't the last you'll see of me.”

“Hubert, please, look at me.”

He looked up. But he could not see. His vision was completely clouded, as though they’d been shrouded in the densest fog. 

“You were right. I should have listened to you," Edelgard began, voice quivering. "Oh, Hubert, I am so sorry.” 

He felt the warmth of Lady Edelgard’s embrace around him, her body shaking with the force of her sobs. He hugged her back, burying his face in the crook of her neck. He could not remember the last time he'd broken down like this in front of her. He could not remember the last time he'd broken down like this period.

Edelgard continued whispering desperate apologies to him as they both cried.

Eventually the tears stopped and they sat there, their quiet, ragged breaths the only sounds in the room. They were oddly grounding, in a way.

“Hubert,” Edelgard asked softly, her voice hoarse.

“Yes, Your Majesty?”

He was shocked with the clarity of his own voice despite having just sobbed harder than he had in decades.

“Can you ever forgive me?”

Hubert’s head fell, the smallest hint of a chuckle on his lips. “Oh, Lady Edelgard, there is nothing to forgive.”

“It is my fault-”

Hubert immediately stopped her. “You made the call that you believed was best for the Empire. You mustn't begin to doubt yourself now. Ferdinand surely didn't. And neither do I.”

Hubert looked up, and his heart cracked at the sight of her. Her eyes were red and wet with fresh tears. He hadn’t seen her this broken since… since she'd come back from Those Who Slither in the Dark all those years ago. 

He failed to protect her then. He must protect her now.

“Hubert…” 

“Lady Edelgard, you have spent your whole life fighting for what is right. You inspire all of us to fight with everything we have, to see your vision come to pass. Ferdinand was surely honored to fall fighting for a better future for the people of Fódlan. He would not resent you for this.”

“But what about you, Hubert?” Edelgard asked desperately. “I didn't listen to your concerns, and now, the one you held most dear, he’s…”

Without thinking, Hubert took Edelgard’s face into his hands.

“My Lady, there is not a thing in the world you could do that would make me resent you. He… Ferdinand is not the only one I hold most dear.” 

Edelgard visibly melted in relief, falling back into Hubert's arms as fresh cries tore their way from her lips. Hubert held her tight.

"You sure you want to do this?" Zoe asked, putting on gloves that came from an old hair dye kit. "You can say no, I wouldn't blame you. Cartilage piercings are no joke. And with industrials, you're making two holes it can be a bit brutal."

Gary looked at her opening a piercings kit bought online. He should have said no. He should have backed out and left the trailer all together. That would have been the rational thing to do. 

Gary was well aware of how bad of an idea this was. But he wasn't doing this for rational reasons. He knew why he was here and why he was doing all of this. Besides what's the worst that could happen? He would have to take it out because it's infected and deal with another scar? What's another scar at this point? His body was covered in them it was too late now to be concerned about scarring. 

He nodded, watching her line up her tools on the bathroom counter carefully and set up the needle and jewelry.

" I warn you it's gonna suck to take care of if anything happens let me know." 

"If I can handle surgical scars for months, a piercing I asked for should be fine." 

"Alright, if you say so." 

She grabbed a sharpie and Gary's chin to direct his head for easier access to his left ear. She drew a dot for the entry point and a line to mark where the bar was going to go and exit from.

"We don't want to go too low and put too much pressure on it when you sleep. I don't want to put it too high and risk rejection. You have pretty good anatomy so we have wiggle room." 

Gary tried to visualize the jewelry where her line was with his untrained eye.

 "Looks good to me, let's do this."  He turned back toward her.

"Sweet! Now, I gotta clean the area." She chirped opening the box of Q-tips and cotton swabs.

He was appreciative of her saying that and her gentleness as she carefully dabbed a q-tip saturated in alcohol to his ear in the area of where she was going to pierce. She grabbed the needle with one hand and Gary's ear with the other. 

"Ok, now I want you to take some deep breathes," Zoe stated, in a half-whisper.

Gary took in a deep long inhale of air and with a swift motion Zoe stabbed the needle through the tough cartilage of the tip of his ear. He hissed in stinging pain, his eyes watered but he did his best to keep still.

"Keep breathing, Gary" She gently reminded him sliding the bar into the new holes she had created. Gary tried to force his breathing to slow and remain deep, he tried to pay attention to the cool sensation of air entering his lungs and not the wet stinging pain in his ear. Zoe tightened the balls on the ends of the bar and like that it was all over. 

"You did good! You did even better than Duncan getting his nipples done." 

“Very well played today, Lessi,” Lia’s strong, familiar hand came to rest on the small of her back, “Mommy is so proud of your performance today.”

“Thank you,” Alessia said, her voice a little breathless as she blushed faintly.

The roar of the crowd was a fading echo in Alessia’s ears, replaced by the thunder of her own heartbeat. The adrenaline still sang in her veins—a wild, electric current left over from her winning goal.

The inside of the locker room was its usual chaotic way, a cacophony of cheers and clinking bottles, but all of it blurred into a dull hum for her.

Lia’s eyes held a heat that had nothing to do with the game, “I think… that earns you a reward.”

“It does?” Alessia’s eyes widened, shining with excitement at the prospect of her impending reward, “What’s my reward, Mommy?”

“Absolutely, sweetheart. I’m giving you permission,” Lia’s voice dropped to a low, conspiratorial whisper that sent shivers down the younger blonde’s spine, “The whole night. As many as you want.”

That was music to Alessia’s ears—a feral, greedy thrill shot through her, “Wait… really?”

“Yes, really. You’ve earned it, Lessi,” Lia murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, “Go ahead. They’re all waiting for you.”

Alessia’s gaze swept across the room, no longer seeing her teammates, but a menu of exquisite possibilities, “I… I don’t know where to start,” she breathed, the sheer hope of her reward making her head spin.

Lia smiled, brushing her hand through Alessia’s hair,  “Take your time, baby. There’s no rush—I know they’re all waiting in anticipation, I know that Le is especially. She’s always such a needy, eager, poor thing.”

Alessia followed Lia’s gaze to where Leah was sitting across from them, looking very much in need of release.

“Don’t keep her waiting,” Lia teased, giving Alessia a gentle push forward.

Alessia didn’t need to be told twice, her legs propelling her across the tiled floor in three swift strides. Leah looked up, a gasp catching in her throat as Alessia descended upon her.

“I was hoping I’d be the first you’d pick, Lessi,” Leah breathed, her eyes darkening with hope and desire.

Alessia’s response was pinning Leah against the cold metal of the lockers—the clang echoing sharply,  a few heads turning their way but no one intervened.

This was the way that things were, and this was Alessia’s reward after all.

The younger blonde made quick work of finding the waistband of Leah’s shorts and yanking them down her thighs in one rough, efficient motion.

“Fuck, Lessi,” Leah moaned, her head thumping back against the lockers as her body was already pliant and yielding, “So eager already.”

Alessia didn’t bother with the preamble, sliding two fingers through Leah’s slick heat to find her already drenched, trembling on the edge.

“Wet already,” Alessia growled, her own desire nothing but a tight coil in her stomach. She drove her fingers deep inside,  a merciless, steady rhythm that had Leah crying out, her hands scrambling for purchase on Alessia’s shoulders, “That’s it—do you like that?”

Leah could only nod, a strangled yes escaped her lips as her hips began to piston, Alessia smirked in glee.

“Don’t move for me now,” Alessia taunted, yanking her own shorts and underwear down with one swift motion, and making quick work of fastening the harness of the strap around her, “I’m claiming my prize.”

Without so much as another word, Alessia wasn’t gentle about the way she thrusted deep inside of Leah, mesmerized by the rapid flutter of her eyelids, and the way her mouth fell open in a silent, blissful scream. 

“Take it, slut,” Alessia stated, using her hand to grab a fistful of Leah’s hair in her hand, “Take it all.”

“Fuck, Lessi… Fuck,” Leah’s body tensed, and a high broken whine escaped her lips as her climax tore through her violently. Her inner muscles clenched and fluttered around Alessia’s hard thrust, while Alessia rode her through it—never slowing down, never getting gentle… not until Leah’s legs gave out and she slid down the locker, a boneless and breathless heap on the floor, with her eyes glazed over.

“Perfect,” Alessia murmured, pulling the slick strap free with a satisfied smirk playing on her lips, before she gave a look over at Lia, who gave her an approving nod from across the room.

“Nicely done, pup,” Lia praised warmly, “Who are you going for next?”

Alessia didn’t have to think much about it before her gaze caught Emily— a coy smirk spreading across her face as she stalked over to the defender, “You’re next.”

Emily swallowed hard, the lump in her throat visibly moving, “Me?” she squeaked, her bravado from the pitch completely vanishing under Alessia’s intense focus.

“You,” Alessia confirmed, her voice dropping to a low, commanding tone that brooked no argument. She didn’t wait for a reply before her hands were on Emily’s shoulders, turning her and bending her over the wooden bench in the center of the room.

The air hissed between Emily’s teeth at the sudden submission, “Lessi…” she whispered, somewhat afraid of what was to come.

“Shh, you’re fine,” Alessia took herself in hand, guiding the smooth, silicone tip through Emily’s folds, that already happened to be slick with anticipation, “Just be still, and let me have my fun for now.”

Emily shuddered in anticipation, “Please.”

Alessia granted it, one with one powerful, fluid thrust that sheathed herself fully inside Emily, whose resulting cry was half-shock, and half-profound relief. She started to set a brutal pace immediately, her hips slapping against Emily’s ass with a sharp, rhythmic percussion that filled the room. 

Alessia leaned over, her chest pressed to Emily’s back, and her mouth near to her ear, “You watched me with Leah, didn’t you?” she breathed, punctuating each word with a deep, driving thrust, “You got yourself all worked up over it, huh? You wished for that to be you.”

“Yes!” Emily gasped, her fingers clawing at the smooth wood of the bench, “God, yes, Lessi. So… deep, fuck.”

Alessia reached around with her hands tugging Emily’s hair while she buried the strap-on deeper, no consideration for gentleness of her teammates when she was more concerned about making herself feel good.

“Take it, yeah…just like that,” Alessia commanded, her voice guttural, “Bend over, Em and take my whole length.”

Emily let out a shrill moan, her back arching violently as a raw, guttural scream was torn from her lungs, “Please, Lessi. I need… I need to come.”

“You can come when I can say you can,” Alessia stated, firmly, “And that’s not yet.”

“Please,” Emily whined, desperate for any sort of relief.

“Quiet, I’m having fun with you, Em. Don’t you like it?” Alessia’s voice was mock-sympathetic, “You want to help me earn my reward, don’t you? Just stay there, and let me bury myself inside of you.”

Alessia continued to slam her body into Emily’s with relentless thrusts, not paying any attention to Emily’s words that dissolved into incoherent babbling while her body tightened, coiling like a spring. 

The blonde could feel the impending crash, driving the strap into the brunette harder as her own breath came with ragged grunts, “Come for me, Em,” she said, the muscles in her thighs burning with delicious effort, “Now.”

That’s the only words Emily needed to hear—her internal muscles clamping down on the strap, with incredible force as the waves of pleasure shattered through her. Alessia held herself deep, grinding into her as she spasmed, drawing out every last shuddering pulse until Emily collapsed forward, completely spent.

“Thanks for your help, Em,” Alessia murmured, pulling out of Emily as the brunette was left trembling and gasping over the bench.

“You’re enjoying yourself a bit too much, aren’t you, baby?” Lia teased, an amused glint in her eyes, “Go ahead, who are you picking now?”

“I am, Mommy!” Alessia insisted, bright eyes and straightening up, wiping the sheen sweat from her forehead, “I think… Ky next!” she landed her gaze on Kyra, who was watching with parted lips and dark, eager eyes.

“Is it… my turn?” Kyra was a lot more cautious, hesitant to move from her spot on the bench since she knew that Alessia was known for her stamina—her relentless need to keep on going until she could no longer.

Alessia stalked over, the harness still snug around her hips. She didn’t speak, but simply held her hand out.

“Let her use you, baby,” Lia encouraged warmly.

“Kay den…” Kyra mumbled, taking it with the same hesitation, “Be gentle, Lessi?”

Alessia didn’t answer, instead just pushing Kyra’s legs apart with deliberate force with her movements devoid of hesitation. The silicone tip pressed against Kyra’s entrance, already slick and somewhat inviting. With a single, unrelenting thrust, Alessia bruised herself to the hilt, eliciting a sharp, high-pitched cry from Kyra.

“L… Lessi!” Kyra gasped, her back arching off the floor as her hands scrambled to find a way to Alessia’s sweat-slick arms. Her arms squeezed shut, then snapped open, wide with shock and overwhelming sensation.

There was no waiting for Kyra to adjust, setting an immediate, punishing pace with each thrust inside of her, deep and unyielding. The relentless rhythm drove the air from Kyra’s lungs, leaving her gasping and whimpering. Her hips tried to move, to wriggle free but the sheer force of Alessia’s movements left her helpless, her body jolting with every powerful drive.

Devastating pleasure coursed through Kyra like wildfire. Her body was overwhelmed, trembling beneath Alessia’s relentless onslaught.

Kyra whined as each thrust sent sparks of ecstasy through her, ratcheting up the pleasure to unbearable levels. Her eyes rolled back in her head, her body jerked and writhed uncontrollably.

Tears welled up in her eyes as the waves of ecstasy crashed over and over her again, over and over again. Alessia was pure power and strength, and Kyra could do nothing but submit and take it.

Lia watched from a short distance, her keen eyes nothing but rapid breakdown in Kyra’s composure—the younger girl’s whines became increasingly desperate, her body trembling under the relentless assault. Lia’s expression softened with concern as she saw the tears spilling down Kyra’s cheeks.

“That’s enough, pup,” Lia cut in, her voice firm but gentle. She stepped forward, placing a hand on Alessia’s shoulder to stop her movements, “Easy there, you’re pushing her too far.”

Alessia wasn’t quite ready to give up on Kyra just yet, keeping the same powerful rhythm of her thrusts, “She can take it,” she mumbled.

“No, baby. Don’t overdo it with her,” Lia stated, gently taking hold of Alessia’s arm to pull her off the younger girl, “I know you’re having fun, but know your limits.”

Reluctantly, Alessia pulled out with a sullen expression while her chest heaved with exertion. She looked down at Kyra, who was lying completely limp on the floor, her breathing shallow and uneven. 

A flicker of guilt crossed Alessia’s face before she masked it with a satisfied smirk, “She could’ve gone on for longer.”

“Know your limits,” Lia repeated with an amused look, scooping Kyra up into her arms, “You’re okay, baby. Lessi just wanted to play with you.”

Alessia huffed in disappointment, but that didn’t last long before her gaze focused in on Lotte now with a predatory look.

“I guess it’s my turn now?” Lotte asked eagerly, spotting Alessia’s smirking face, “Do whatever you want with me, Lessi.”

Lotte’s dark eyes mirrored Alessia’s with a hunger of her own—there was no pretense, no nervousness, just a shared, thrilling understanding.

Alessia’s answering grin was all sharp edges, backing Lotte against the same set of lockers. Her hands went to the waistband of Lotte’s shorts, but the defender was already steps ahead, pushing them down with own thighs.

Eager, and perfect—just the way that Alessia liked it.

The strap on still slick from Kyra, found its target with unerring accuracy. Alessia drove into her in one deep, claiming stroke that punched a ragged groan from Lotte’s chest.

“God, yes. Just like that,” Lotte’s head fell back, a pleased throaty laugh escaping her mouth, “Keep on, please… keep going.”

This was a lot different from the others. Lotte met her thrust for thrust, her hips rolling back to meet Alessia’s with a powerful, athletic grind.

It wasn’t any type of surrender, nothing but fierce, joyous collaboration. Alessia fucked her hard, the sound of their bodies connecting in a wet, rhythmic slap that echoed off the tiled walls. She gripped Lotte’s hips, her fingers digging into the firm muscle there, using the leverage to plunge even deeper.

The challenge, the sheer vitality of it, spurred Alessia on, “You feel so good taking it,” she growled, pistoning into her with a relentless pace, testament to her own seemingly bottomless stamina. She could feel the building tension in Lotte’s body, the way that her confident movements were starting to come more frantic, and less controlled, ““So strong. I can feel it… you’re close, aren’t you?

Lotte could only muster a nod, a strangled moan being her only answer as her body began to tremble.

Alessia beamed a wicked grin, sliding her hand around and her fingers to find Lotte’s clit, and that was the final key—toying her fingers to press on the exact pressure point that would cause Lotte’s climax to crash over her with a guttural cry, her entire body seizing as she came, her back arching beautifully.

The blonde held her through it, driving into her through the pulsing waves until Lotte’s strong legs finally buckled and she slumped forward against the lockers, entirely spent and breathless.

With a small satisfied sigh, Alessia pulled out as her own skin glistened with a fresh layer of sweat. She patted Lotte’s hips fondly before turning to survey the rest of the team—her eyes, bright and searching, immediately found their next target.

Vic.

The younger player was watching from a nearby bench whilst her knees were drawn up to her chest, “My go?” the girl was timid to ask, her bottom lip caught between her teeth, with her eyes wide, dark pools of anticipation.

Alessia wandered over with the harness still snug around her hips, “Are you ready?” she asked, taking Vic’s hand in her own as she led her to the centre of the room, a more open space as the blonde guided her down onto cool tiles, onto her back.

“I am,” Vic breathed out, her words full of reverence and need, “Please, Lessi. I’ve been… I need it.”

That was just the permission that Alessia required, not bothering with the teasing as she settled in between Vic’s legs. The silicone tip pressed against Vic’s entrance, which was already slick and welcoming, and with a single, smooth thrust, Alessia buried the full length inside of her.

It was a ruthless, pounding rhythm from the very second that she entered her—no warm up, or gentle build.

This was Alessia’s reward—it was about taking what was rightly hers to take. Pushing until there was nothing left to give. Her thrusts were deep and mechanical, a perfect, unending piston motion that stole air from Vic’s lungs.

“Oh, God…” Vic moaned, her hands making a useless effort to grab anything to ground her, “Lessi…”

Alessia watched her, enthralled by the rapid breakdown. She saw the tears welling in the corner of Vic’s eyes—not from the pain, but the sheer, overwhelming intensity of it. Seeing the way that Vic’s mouth hung open, slack and gasping. She leaned down, bracing her hands on either side of Vic’s head, her thrusts becoming shorter, harder and more focused.

“That’s it,” Alessia murmured, her voice thick with effort and desire, “Just let it happen. Let me handle everything. Don’t move, you just need to feel it.”

Vic’s whines pitched higher, becoming nothing but broken pathetic little sounds that only fueled Alesia to continue. She could feel the familiar, fluttering tension beginning to build deep within Vic, the tell-tale sign of an approaching climax.

But Alessia didn’t let up. She drove into her, harder, aiming for that sweet spot with brutal precision.

“Come on, Vic,” Alessia grunted, her own muscles burning with exquisite strain, “Let go.”

Vic’s body went rigid. A silent scream contorted her features as her orgasm detonated, a silent, seismic event that locked every muscle in her body. Her cunt clamped down on the strap-on with a vice-like grip, pushing over and over in relentless waves.

Alessia still didn’t stop. She just kept pushing—fucking her, riding out the climax, extending it and pushing her through it and straight into the oversensitivity.

Vic’s eyes rolled back, and her head lolled to the side. The intense, continuous stimulation was too much. The broken whines ceased. Her taut body went utterly, completely limp beneath Alessia. Her breathing, which had been frantic gasps, evened out into a shallow, unconscious rhythm. 

The next thing Alessia knew, Vic had passed out—her system simply shutting down from the sensory overload.

Alessia finally stilled, the strap still buried inside the unconscious girl. She pulled out slowly, watching as Vic didn’t so much as twitch. 

A deep, primal satisfaction settled in Alessia’s chest, looking over at Lia, who was watching with a proud smile, “She’s out cold,” she stated, her voice sounding a little hoarse.

“She took it well,” Lia purred in approval, “She was such a good girl for you,”