#'tell me upon which... horse... no wait that's not right'

[lotrmusical]

saget mir auf welchem pfade

heute sie vorüberschreite

dass ich aus der reichsten lade

zarte seidenweben hole

rose pflücke und viole

dass ich meine wange breite

schemel unter ihrer sohle

this is lovely! i love how musical 'zarte seidenweben' sounds in particular. (poem & translation)

[imthebadguyyy]

the bridgerton blues

pairing : anthony bridgerton x reader

fandom : bridgerton

synopsis : it's the first time after your wedding that anthony sees you sporting the signature bridgerton colour : blue, and it does things to him that he can only express in a much more....physical manner.

warnings : smut, heavy smut and excessive amount of fluff

a/n : i miss my grumpy viscount!!! happy reading :)

anthony huffed impatiently, foot tapping against the marble floor at bridgerton manor.

the season had begun again, and much to his relief, he would only be a spectator this year, having married the love of his life, lady, well, current viscountess y/n, which meant he didn't have to deal with the frills and fancies of the hawk like mama's in the ton, awaiting the right moment to swoop upon him with their daughters.

but by God, you were taking forever to get dressed and come down to leave for lady danbury's ball. beside him, benedict and colin sat, engrossed in a game of chess, while francesca and eloise lounged on the couch in the drawing room, catching up about life.

his mother was with his darling wife, much to his surprise, helping her get ready for a ball. he had been caught off guard when his mother had bustled in, dressed in a powdery blue gown, and had proceeded to shoo him out of the room.

"what exactly is keeping mama and y/n?" colin asked, brow furrowed in concentration as he focused on the chess board.

"if I knew I would tell you brother" anthony mumbled, checking the watch that hung on the golden chain from his waistcoat, smiling as he traced the cover, suddenly hit by a burst of nostalgia, and a surge of fondness for his late father.

he brushed it off when a giggling hyacinth came running down the staircase, leaping into his arms, forcing him to rush to catch her, eyes widening in surprise.

"hyacinth! you must always give me a prior warning or I may not be able to catch you" he chided, tucking a stray curl behind her ear and setting her gently on the ground.

"brother!! wait till you see y/n/n!! she looks like a princess!" his youngest sister exclaimed, almost vibrating with excitement. a shy gregory emerged, blushing a little as he nodded, making the three older bridgerton boys smirk, well aware of his little crush on anthony's wife.

when anthony had first befriended his wife, they had been at a mere age of ten, and anthony had rescued y/n when she had fallen off her horse at a picnic with his family and the cowper's.

ever since then, they had been inseparable, joint at the hip and at the heart.

it was of no surprise to anyone in the ton when finally, ages later, he had announced he was marrying the lady montgomery, or as everyone fondly knew her, "y/n/n"

"why so bashful greg?" benedict jested, watching his youngest brother turn a dark crimson.

"n-nothing" he stuttered out, darting in to see his sisters.

"it's because of y/n! I'm telling you brother, she looks like an absolute angel!" hyacinth chirped in, now bouncing about from step to step, just as the door of Anthony's room creaked open, and the dowager viscountess stepped out.

"she's ready" she smiled warmly at her son's, hurrying in to get her daughters to mark the momentous occasion.

brows furrowed, the eyes of the bridgertons rested upon the long winding staircase, awaiting to see what exactly was this magical outfit that had their mother and sister gushing like birds.

and what anthony saw, made his jaw drop to the very ground.

at the very top, his darling wife came into view, hair in sleek, meticulous curls, perfectly cast up in an intricate updo, adorned with pearls, framing her face with the delicate curls. her makeup was subtle, emphasizing her flowing complexion with a touch of rosy blush and wine coloured lips.

she adorned a pearl necklace and matching earrings, gifted to her by anthony himself, adding a timeless elegance to her stature.

but what really caught everyones attention was the dress that she wore, more specifically, the colour of the dress she wore.

a rich dark blue silk gown, carefully tailored, hugged her frame, showcasing the intricate details that add to its allure. the bodice, adorned with delicate embroidery, depicting subtle butterfly motifs that caught the light as the she moved down the stairs. the neckline gracefully framed her collarbone, delicate lace butterflies attached to the neckline,while the sleeves tapered down to her wrists, showcasing more of the exquisite lacework that adorned her body.

the skirt of the gown was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, flowing generously in layers of silk that rustled with each step. the deep, rich hue of the fabric evoked a sense of opulence, reminiscent of midnight skies. as she walked down, the silk caught the light, casting a mesmerizing play of shadows and highlights.

the dress matched anthony's waistcoat perfectly, and the sight was enough to make the viscount choke over nothing.

as he saw his wife adorned in the resplendent dress for the first time, his eyes widened with genuine admiration.

a hushed gasp escaped his parted lips as he took in the sight before him.

his wife, cloaked in the elegance of the dark blue gown, the bridgerton blues appeared to be like a living portrait of timeless beauty.

a warm smile formed on his lips, expressing both surprise and deep appreciation for the grace and sophistication she was emanating.

"my darling" he murmured as he swept forward, extending his arm to welcome you into them.

smiling sweetly at the bridgerton clan, you floated down, linking your arm with anthony's.

"sister, you look utterly perfect in blue!" benedict exclaimed, pressing a delicate kiss to your hand, as violet fondly caressed your cheek.

"doesn't she look like a princess brother?!" hyacinth squealed, looking excitedly at anthony. "just like one out of the fairytales" he said, looking at you with nothing but admiration and love and fondness.

"you really do look utterly regal" colin said, flashing a warm smile at you. eloise and francesca came upto you, with even eloise admitting that the dress you were wearing was nothing short of a work of art, while francesca gushed over how the silhouette was so perfect for you.

"alright, we must leave if we want to reach lady danbury's ball on time!" violet said, clapping her hands, leading her children out to where the carriages awaited.

"wait behind for just a second my love" anthony whispered into your ear, as he walked up to his valet to whisper something into his ear.

slowly, the other bridgertons departed, after you promised them to join them very soon, ignoring the smirks and nudges colin and benedict sent your way.

anthony pulled you into his study, hand gently caressing your waist, feeling the rich silk in his hands, the other hand gently reaching for your chin, lifting it to look into your eyes.

"you look utterly divine my beloved" he whispered fingers gently fondling your face, eyes absorbing every detail of your face, not that he hadn't already memorised it.

"thank you my dear" you whispered back, hands settling on his broad shoulders, taking in his waistcoat as well, the dark blue velvet clinging to every rippling muscle in his body, brass buttons complementing the coat.

"i always knew you'd look stunning in bridgerton blue but....it seems as though the bridgerton blue was crafted for you" he murmured, tightening his grip on your waist, "so stunning that infact, i do not feel the need to leave for lady danbury's ball, for I'd much rather stay here with my breathtakingly beautiful wife" he murmured again, lips ghosting over your own as his hands squeezed your waist, drawing you flush against his body.

"my lord, we cannot... we must be present at the first ball of the season" you lamely protested, heart hammering against your chest as the intoxicating scent of his musky, woodsy cologne filled your nostrils.

anthony dropped his lips to your neck, lips brushing a feather soft kiss to the sensitive skin, drawing a gasp from you.

"what if we do not go? what if we just stay here and...i worship my wife in the way she deserves? like the goddess she is?" he asked, like gently pressing kisses down to your collarbone, still as light as a feather, just enough to ignite something feral in you, but also enough to keep you wanting more.

"my lord it's the first ball of the season, and we have to-"

you were cut off by anthony's lips pressing against yours.

they were soft and plush against yours, pressing perfectly like a jigsaw puzzle, initiating a warm glow in the pit of your tummy.

as your lips met, the sensation was like a feather's gentle caress — soft, fleeting, and subtly warm. it feels like a delicate dance, a tender exploration that sparked a gentle flutter within you. the touch was akin to the brush of downy feathers, teasing and inviting, as if he was testing the waters of intimacy.

yet, as the moment unfolded, a magnetic pull takes hold, drawing you deeper into the realm of passion. the softness transforms, gradually intensifying into a fiery connection. the initial delicacy gave way to a fervent exchange, each kiss building upon the other with a growing hunger.

your lips, once feather-light, were now engaged in a rhythmic and passionate dance. the subtle warmth amplified into a blazing fire, and what began as a gentle exploration evolved into a fervent expression of desire.

the world around you faded and in that heightened connection, every kiss becomes an electric charge, a testament to the undeniable chemistry between your two souls entwined in the artistry of passion.

anthony's hands ran rampant on your body, clutching every part of your body through the silk dress, yet taking care to not scrunch the silk in anyway.

"you have no idea what you do me darling" he growled against your lips, drawing back for just a moment to watch your chest heave and eyes glaze over, hands clutching his coat and cravat so tight he feared you would rip it off.

"every breath you take, every word you speak, the very sound of your melodious voice and the very beat of your heart, all allure me to you, draw me to you like a moth to a flame" he continued, his own heart hammering against his chest.

his chest rose and fell with every word, eyes ablaze with burning passion. "every second of every day, i crave you, i long for you, i need you, and it drives me feral. but the sight of you in my colour makes me want to rip off that very dress off your body, claiming you as mine in more ways than one" he growled, hands scrunching the material on your behind.

"anthony..i crave you every second of the day as well. i need you" you whispered, a soft whimper slipping past your lips.

"hush my sweet darling" he said, sending you a saccharine sweet smile.

then, much to your chagrin, he took his hands off your waist, fixing the material and fixing his own coat.

"now, we must hasten to lady danbury's" he smirked" and you groaned, a painful throbbing between your legs becoming more prominent.

"but my lord-" you protested, only to be cut off by another searing kiss. he kissed you deep and long, and then drew back, pushing a stray curl on your forehead back behind your ear.

"our family awaits dearest" he smiled, and gently led you out to the hall.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

the grand ballroom at lady danbury's unfolded into a dazzling spectacle as it embraced the opulence of a gold and maroon theme. golden hues enveloped the space, casting a warm, regal glow. glittering chandeliers, adorned with intricate gold details, hung from the ceiling, their crystals refracting light in a dance of elegance.

luxurious maroon fabrics draped the walls, creating a sumptuous backdrop that added depth to the golden ambiance. tables adorned with golden tablecloths and maroon accents contributed to the harmonious blend of colors. golden candle holders flickered with the soft glow of candles, casting a gentle radiance on the rich maroon floral centerpieces.

the women's dresses shimmered with embellishments, and the men's attire featured accents, creating a visual symphony of sophistication, into which you walked with anthony, arms interlaced, as you bowed before queen charlotte, who had taken quite a liking to you.

"it's lovely to see the bridgertons led by a couple as magnanimous as you" she bestowed a rare compliment, bringing a hot flush to your cheeks and even to anthony's pale visage. "but now we anxiously await the news of a young bridgerton" she said pointedly, and you kept your eyes low, trying to ignore the heat blooming in your cheek.

around you, guests were engaged in a dance, the dance floor became a stage for a waltz of colors, with the many colours and tones reflecting in the mirrored walls. the orchestra, bathed in the warm ambiance, played melodies that echoed the richness of the color palette.

you noticed simon and daphne dancing, looking fondly at each other, and saw colin sharing a dance with young penelope featherington, which made you smile, always having harbored a soft spot for the girl.

you spotted eloise by the food table, with francesca, both enjoying the strawberries that were being served. benedict seemed engrossed in exploring the rich collection of paintings in the hall, and was surrounded by a group of friends.

anthony led you over to his sisters, a soft kiss to your wrist a promise to be back in a moment lingering on his lips, as he was dragged off by countless lords for a drink and a conversation about the next round of a hunt they were engaging in.

as eloise began to speak about the many cruelties of lady featherington, you spotted cressida cowper scowling over at the two of you, dressed in a pink so bright you felt momentarily blinded. she shot a contemptuous look at you, scoffing at your gown and sharing a laugh with lady cowper, that had your eyebrow creasing with insecurity.

much to your horror, she began to march over to you, along with her mother and lady featherington, much to your dismay. you searched desperately for your mother-in-law, but found her engrossed in conversation with the queen.

"my my, if it isn't the happy bridgertons" cressida sniped, flashing you a tight lipped smile. "hello miss cowper" you smiled, ignoring the anxiety bubbling in your tummy.

"cressida" eloise said coldly, linking her arm with yours. she was well aware of the contemptuous rumours she had spread about you when you had begun courting anthony and had made it her mission to protect you from her.

"what a rather unusual colour for you dear" lady cowper commented, eyes trailing down your body in disdain.

"it gives you the impression of being a little washed out" she stated, opening her fan to hide her smirk.

you ignored the tear that sprang to your eyes as she continued to comment, on the fall of the dress, the shape of the silhouette and the way your jewellery was far too showy.

you could feel eloise glowering beside you but silently begged her to keep calm, not wanting to lose her calm in front of everyone.

to your surprise, a familiar baritone cut in, a nd a strong arm wrapped around your midriff and waist.

your husband appeared beside you, a smile on his face that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"i see why you might think that, lady cowper, for all you can pull off is that rather obnoxious shade of viscous pink, and while i understand your envy at my wife's ability to outshine everyone else here in any colour she chooses, i must remind you are speaking to the viscountess bridgerton, and hence must adhere to the degree respect she commands" he stated coolly, hand gripping your waist so tight you were sure it would leave marks.

stunned speechless, the cowper's backed away, egos more than bruised and enraged , subject to sniggers and chuckles from the other lords and ladies in the room. your brother walked to anthony from across the hall, patting him on the back and whispering a "good man" to him as he hugged you, and eloise drew anthony into a hug as well.

anthony led the two of you over to his mama, who couldn't hide a smile herself at the love her son had for his wife, so reminiscent of the way their father had loved her.

"I am sorry if I caused humiliation to your name mama, but I cannot and will not let anyone talk to my wife that way" he said firmly, only to be cut off by his mother.

"I believe everyone here has been waiting to say that to miss cowper since the beginning of time, my darling, so take your wife and go home. you have done your job and proved your love and passion and told everyone that your relationship rhymes true" she said, drawing you into a warm hug and bidding you goodbye.

the carriage ride home was silent as your held anthony's hand tight, his thumb tracing patterns over the gloves you were donning, a pearly white to match your jewels.

"thank you my love" you whispered to him, eyes glimmering with unshed tears.

"my darling, i love you, all of you. please do not ever belittle yourself, because your beauty is awe worthy" he said, eyes contorted as if he was in pain at the thought of you being in pain.

"I'll try my best not to" you whispered against, leaning forward to press your foreheads together. and you stayed like that till bridgerton manor came into view.

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

frenzied kisses were pressed against your lips as anthony lifted you into his arms, earning a singular gasp from your lips. his hands, one wrapped tightly under your bottom and the other around your back was strong, as you wrapped your legs around his waist and he led you upstairs, ignoring the scurrying valet and maids and your ladies in waiting as he made it to your shared bedroom.

he dropped you gently on the bed, towering above you, hands shoving the material of your dress up. his hands crept along your thighs stealthily, finding the hooks of your stockings to your thigh garter, slowly dragging it down, exposing your bare skin to him, suppressing a groan at the soft skin.

to his surprise you reached up and grabbed him by the cravat, untying it and pulling him down to meet your lips. you kissed him roughly, a frenzied battle, with teeth and tongue clashing as he shrugged off his waist coat and began to unbutton his shirt, watching as you removed your jewellery and kept in on the table beside his bed.

his hands reached for your dress, carefully untying the many laces and unbuttoning the many buttons on your dress, watching as your bosom heaved in the corset wore.

deft fingers unhooked the corset without a struggle, and you moaned when the cold air hit your nipples, making them harden, as you pushed your chest out towards him.

anthony growled, the sound reverberating in his throat as he reached down to unbutton his tan pants, leaving him in just his underwear. his lips attacked your neck, biting into the delicate flesh and pressing kiss after kiss, sucking deep marks and hickies that were sure to stay for days after.

you raked your nails up and down his neck, stroking the skin there and raking your hands upto his hair, gently scratching his scalp as he trailed kisses down to your breasts.

his mouth enveloped your nipple in his mouth, tongue flicking and swirling around the sensitive nub.

he continued his ministrations, taking only a moment to move his mouth to your other breast and leaving lovebites on the skin.

he settled in between your thoughts, hips gently grinding into yours, as he licked and sucked to his heart’s desire, attempting to alleviate the growing tent in his pants.

you were beginning to pant, and he continued to pinch and stroke your nipple. his tongue wreaked havoc on one while his fingers gently tugged on the other. anthony could not wait any longer, the pain of the straining in his pants making him more loopy than he would admit, and he pulled away from your breast, a string of saliva from his lips to your breast.

he came back up to your mouth, kissing you with desperation. "i adore you" he painted above you, before kissing down your tummy to your thighs.

he stopped at the junction between your thighs, inhaling the musk of your scent.  

he reached for the cotton underwear you had on, gently pulling it down, and pushing your thighs apart, and a wave of cold air floated across your inner thighs, so open and exposed now.

anthony began to press hot, open mouthed kisses to the bare expanse of your thighs, stopping just below your pussy lips each time.

mere moments later, you felt an entirely new sensation— anthony's wet, warm tongue sliding through your folds. a cry of pleasure ripped from your throat, as you looked down at anthony, who had crawled between your legs with his tongue buried at the apex of your thighs.

your slick dripped down your pussy lips, costing them in your honey, and anthony licked it all up as if it was nectar and ambrosia, lowering his face to lick a long strip through your entire slit, before tilting his face even deeper into your pussy, swirling around up to your engorged clit and licking all around it and on the top of it.

the action had your hips jolting as he sucked on the nub, causing flashes of white to flash before your eyes.

"you taste more delightful than i could ever have imagined" he breathed licking the sour-sweet liquid off his lips. "my own precious honey pot" he cooed, making you flush again and your body heated up.

he sucked harder on your clit, fingers slipping into your slit to slide up and down, each stroking made your hips flail wildly.

“you taste so sweet” he murmurs, and the brush of his breath sears against your skin. the low rumbling of his voice, so characteristic of him, are dripped in hunger and arousal, the heat spreading under your skin and threatening to explode like a supernova.

"i have longed to have you squirming on my tongue my love. i will have you screaming my name until your lips know no other" he promised.

with a ravenous look at your heaving form, anthony lowered his mouth to your throbbing center again and licked a bold stripe up your clit, the sensitive bud jolting in shock and you scream in pleasure,

the ever composed lord bridgerton moans against your cunt when you tug his hair, hands holding down your hips as he watches you squirm. then anthony rolls your clit with his teeth and you come apart with a scream, hands gripping onto his hair for dear life.

you come, cunt clenching down, spasming around his tongue where he has you stretched open. everything else disappears for a moment, your body weightless with pure unadulterated bliss.

anthony shifts so he is in between your legs again, watching the fluttering of your pussy as you clench around nothing. your eyes are trained on his hips and he feels a surge of pride.

his cock was one not only of great size but of greater girth and greater skill, and he adored nothing more than watching your eyes become as large as saucers as you looked at his poor cock straining again as it had been ever since he saw you in his signature colour.

trained hands guided his cock to your entrance, tapping against it for a few seconds before he dragged the tip through your slick, making your body shudder at the stimulation. and then, he pressed a kiss to your neck, hips slamming against yours.

the first thrust was deep and claiming,and you cried out at the perfect stretch of him in your pussy.

you could barely think straight, hands digging into his back and nails sinking into his skin.

"so fucking perfect,” he murmured into your ear, rasped and breathless as he nipped on your ear. "'feel so good wrapped around my cock. so wet and warm for me my sweet sweet beloved. fuck, you're so tight right now. squeezing me so well, you love my cock, do you not my angel?"

"yes yes i love you and your cock" you changed as a prayer, eyes bashful at the use of the dirty word. "look at how your cunt clenches around me" he groaned, head dipping into the crook of your neck as his hips slammed into yours repeatedly.

you could hear the headboard banging against the wall as the pace of anthony's thrusts had your body sliding against the silken sheets.

and then he stopped

he stayed there, buried inside you to the hilt, and his cock twitched excitedly inside you. you watched the way he gripped the bedsheets tightly with his fingers until they went hite. it sent heat and pleasure into the pit of your stomach and you were sure you are going to burn. it was far too good, far too much, brimming on the edge of being overwhelming. 

there’s no warning as he pulled out, leaving his pulsing tip in, and then he thrusted all the way back inside, in one long and slick stroke back inside you, deep and rough. his cock slammed into a spot in you that has you screaming, something absolutely fucking delicious and it steals away your breath and makes you cry out. 

and then he grabs your legs, pushing them up towards your legs as he almost folded you in half, pushing your legs so far apart they almost touched your head, as he moved to his knees for a better angle.

his hips thrusted wildly as he kept fucking you, hand rubbing furiously at your sensitive clit, as you whined and moaned and screamed. he watched as your cunt, pink and perfect fluttered and twitched, and his ears revelled at the sound of the filthy, wet squelching that echoed in the room from your dripping cunt.

he landed a harsh smack to the back of your thigh that had you screaming as he then pressed his tongue to it, sucking a hickey on the spot.

sweat dripped down his forehead and yours, as you began to thrust your hips up to meet his perfect strokes, while feeling like his cock was going to split you apart.

"i want nothing more than to fill you with my seed" he growled, over the sound of your skin slapping together over and over again.

"fill me with your seed my lord. let me have carry your kin" you murmured, and you watched as anthony groaned, hand wrapping around your throat.

"such a minx" he grinned, squeezing and watching your eyes roll back.

without a warning, he flipped you over so you were on top, and his deft hands steadied you at the waist.

then he began to slowly pick your hips up, working you up and down on his cock, slamming you up and down on his cock, until you got the hang of it.

anthony felt himself drooling as he took in the way your tits bounced and you bounced on his cock as you ride him, nails now scratching down his chest as he laid a harsh spank to your ass that had you clenching on his cock harder.

he watched your body desperately ride him for all he was worth, thighs jiggling as they clapped against his own, and he pinched the fat around your waist and belly, teeth nipping at your nipple to increase the stimulation.

"m-my lord! I am going to cum!" you moaned loudly, only to turn to a wail as anthony's fingers unleashed a furious assault on your clit, as he rubbed it up and down and side to side and everywhere, covering his fingers in your slick.

with a scream of his name, you came all over his dick and his tummy, your juices spilling out of you like a fountain, watching as he scooped it up with his fingers to lick it clean.

he slammed your hips down on his even harder as you whined, and you felt his stomach tense and breathing stutter as he came, shooting his load inside you, and finally sinking into the pillow, limp.

panting, you rolled off of him, mind cockdrunk and unable to move. anthony peppered kisses to your skin and kissed the spots where he'd been rough.

"you were phenomenal, my love" he whispered, and to your intrigue, his fingers trialed down to your cunt.

you watched as he gently slid a finger in to your hole, shushing and kissing you as he blocked it with his fingers.

"i cannot have a single drop of me spilling out of you" he murmured and you moaned.

"i adore you", he mumbled, "my dear wife" he concluded.

"and i adore you, my dear husband" you smiled, meeting his lips in a sugar sweet kiss.

who would've known that wearing the bridgerton blue was all it would take for you and anthony to announce to the ton in the next three months that you were expecting the first bridgerton heir?

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

a/n : I've missed writing for bridgerton so much!! i really hope you enjoy this, and as always likes reblogs comments opinions etc are appreciated!! sending u all love and happiness and remember, my inbox is always open and i love making new friends!! happy reading ☺️♥️

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[to-the-stars8]

The Waynes' Nanny

Batfamily and Reader/ Bruce Wayne x Reader Chapters Ao3 Originally, I was going to make this a half-chapter because I wrote this on my phone while at work, but I decided I'm a bitch who doesn't do half-chapters. Anyway, here's this one. Sorry for any mistakes, it was slightly rushed because I wanted to get something out there since I've been away from the keyboard for a good moment!

Nanny in The Attic

Alfred had asked you to get some spring decorations from the attic, and you were happy to oblige. You loved decorating, it brought a sense of wonderment to your life that was otherwise filled with the endless tasks of being a caretaker. So, you took to the attic like a moth to a flame. There were boxes upon boxes, old coats strewn about, a creepy-looking rocking horse in one corner, and copious amounts of dust. 

“The box is labeled but I couldn’t tell you where the damned thing is,” Alfred said as he flipped on the light. “If you like, you could wait until I return. It might be easier.” 

You waved him off as you ventured further into the room. “No, no. You’re a busy man, Alfred. Plus, the kids are at school, and this will give me something to do today.”

“Very well, then, have at it,” The old man said, heading towards the attic stairs. “Master Bruce is working from home today, and there’s an intercom on the wall over there if you want to call for help should you need it. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind lending a hand.”

You looked over to where the butler was pointing. “Just when I thought this place couldn’t get fancier. Thanks, Alfred. I’ll see you later.” 

With a wave, he left. You began to pull apart the attic in search of the alleged spring decor, and it seemed almost hopeless. There were just too many boxes. There was Christmas (which you couldn’t wait to see), Halloween, and just about every holiday decor that had ever existed. Some boxes were full of pictures and jewelry. You took a peek into some, just out of pure curiosity, and were amazed by just how old some of these things were.

Then, you stumbled onto one box that had photo albums from within the past thirty years and decided to look through them. It took you very little time to realize that these were albums of Mr. Wayne’s family.

You smiled, looking at a smaller version of your boss, as you realized just how much Damian looked like him. You also noted just how much Bruce looked like his father. Eerily so. That had to do something to his psyche. His mother was a beauty, too. You found her headshot sitting right under one of the photo albums. She had curly reddish brown hair and deep blue eyes that reminded you of Bruce’s. Mr. And Mrs. Wayne were a handsome couple with the world at their feet, but that was cut short the day they died. You were almost too young to remember but could recall some family member bursting into the kitchen to announce that the Wayne family had been murdered. It wasn’t entirely true, only Mr. And Mrs. Wayne had been killed— leaving behind a traumatized little boy. 

“Poor Mr. Wayne,” you said to yourself before putting the albums back. “Now, where in the hell is that box?” 

You looked around the room, eyes scanning when you saw it. The box was high up on a shelf labeled ‘spring’ in black Sharpie. After moving some more boxes out of the way, you began to make a path so it would be easier to move. It was going to be so easy and perfect, you thought. Once all the boxes were out of the way, you could grab the step ladder and get what you needed. 

Setting the ladder up, you climbed it, but the box was still just out of reach. You supposed that the shelf could support some of your weight, so you lifted your leg to step onto it. What you hadn’t seen was an old broken vase jutting out from one of the boxes. You felt the pain of it cutting into your leg before you knew what it was. With a cry, you fell back hard onto the floor. 

“Ow, ow,” you said, pushing yourself up. Looking down at your leg, blood was streaming from the wound. Alfred would not be happy about this, you thought. Putting your hand over the cut so not all the blood would drip onto the floor, you awkwardly made your way over to the intercom. 

You had no clue how to use it and began pressing buttons. 

“Mr. Wayne,” you would say when it sounded like you got through to a room. “Mr. Wayne, are you there?”

Finally, after about ten minutes, you got a voice coming through the other end, “Everything alright?”

“Aha! Mr. Wayne, I cut my leg pretty bad and think I need a first aid kit. Could I trouble you to bring me one?” 

“I’ll be right there,” he said. Before you could say anything back, the line went dead. 

Grumbling to yourself, you made your way to the attic stairs to sit and wait for your rescue. Blood was pooling between your fingers, and you could feel it slowly get closer to your socks. 

“I’m here, I’m here.” You looked up to see Mr. Wayne rushed up the attic steps with an aid kit in hand before stopping right in front of you. “Alright, let me see.” 

You moved your hand to the side, but couldn’t bring yourself to see just how bad it was. He put his hand on your knee to keep your leg steady, and you couldn’t help but notice just how big and warm his hand was. 

“Luckily, you don’t need stitches, just a clean-up and some bandages.” 

“What should I do?” You asked, hands already going for the kit. 

Bruce didn’t let you get close enough to grab it before he picked it up. He didn’t say anything as picked out the hydrogen peroxide, some ointment, and bandages. Pouring a little of the hydrogen peroxide onto a cotton ball, he slowly started to wipe at your leg. You yelped from the sudden sting and pushed his hand away. 

“Stop it, that hurts,” you said meekly. “Ow! Bruce, please.”

He stopped to look at you, eyes meeting yours and thumb starting to trace small circles on your knee, before speaking, “Sorry, just hold still. It won’t take much longer.” 

He began to dab the cotton ball back on the wound again, and this time you were prepared for the sting. As he worked on your wound, you stared at him. Mr. Wayne wasn’t just a handsome man, but he was pretty, too. He had the type of looks that befitted a character in a fantasy novel rather than a traumatized rich boy. His eyes, though, were such an intense blue that they were hard not to look at.

You thought out loud, “You have your mother’s eyes.” 

Bruce whipped his head up to look at you, eyes narrowing. “What?” 

You tried to not let the embarrassment show through. It was a fact that just so happened to slip from your mouth. “You have your mother’s eyes. I saw a picture of her earlier.” 

Bruce broke his gaze and continued working on your leg, now putting the bandage on. “Oh.” 

“Do you remember your parents?” You asked. 

“Yes,” He said after a minute. “Everyone said I looked like my father, but he saw more of my mother.” 

You giggled and took his hand when he offered to help you up. “She must have loved that.” 

“Oh, she did.” For the first time, you saw Bruce smile genuinely. A smile for himself instead of the kids or you. “That’s why she wanted a girl after me, but they never got around to it.” 

“Can’t picture you as an older brother,” you said as you wandered over to the shelf. 

Bruce didn’t say anything to that and changed the subject. He offered to get the box down for you, saying that you didn’t need to be reaching up or doing anything else on your leg. You weren’t going to complain and let him get the box. 

“Good thing you called me,” He said with a grunt. “It’s heavy. Now, where do you want it?” 

“The living room would be a good place to start,” you said before you checked the time. You still had a couple of hours before the kids got home, but thought that perhaps you could wait. “Maybe I should wait for the kids. They may want to help.” 

“Alfred would rather burn the manor down.” 

You could imagine it. Mr. Wayne brought the kids up in a way that they were very creative, and you could only imagine how that would transfer over in the decor. Alfred was too neat of a person for that. 

Mr. Wayne set the box down on the living room coffee table, making a cloud of dust come up from the box, before turning to you. You smiled kindly and thanked him. He nodded before heading towards the door, he stopped halfway before turning to you. 

“Make sure you clean your wound, you wouldn’t want it to get infected.” 

“Thank you, Mr. Wayne.” 

He nodded before finally leaving you. You looked back down at the decoration in your hands and huffed. It’d be a lot of work, but if you wouldn’t get it done. 

And, you did as such. By the time Alfred got home with the kids later that afternoon, he was shocked by just how well you did. The whole house was overflowing with spring delight to the point that he began to ask how you managed such a task. You only told him you had magic hands before you went to tend to the children. They were happy to see you, all of them clamoring about, and noted the bandage on your leg. 

“I got in a fight with a bear today,” you said. 

Dick rolled his eyes. “You’re such a liar.” 

Bruce suddenly popped into the kitchen where all of you were. “It’s true. I was there. I helped fight off the bear.” 

“Are there even bears in New Jersey?” Jason asked, curiously. 

Duke, on the other hand, looked horrified, “Why are there bears in the backyard, Dad?” 

You were quick to tell him that the two of you were only kidding, that the cut really just came from an accident. Duke seemed relieved, while the other kids were a bit disappointed. When they all ran off to do their own things, Bruce quickly stopped you from joining them. 

“Next time you decide to decorate, let me know in advance.” 

“You don’t like it?”

“On the contrary, actually. What I don’t like is anyone in my household getting hurt.”

You nodded, trying to reason with yourself as to why you had butterflies in your stomach. 

[whiteskullofroses]

Baldwin IV of Jerusalem x physician!reader

(Before any of you get mad this is about Baldwin from Kingdom of Heaven not the actual historical figure.)

🩷Imagine Baldwin receiving the medication for leprosy along with a new physician who has to see his face for the first time and makes him feel comfortable about it🩷

"Y/N Y/L/N, is that who you must be?" Sibylla questioned. You had just been preparing to leave for the Palace, in which you'd be treating the King when she rode up to you with her horse. Her confidence amazed you, after all she was quite beautiful.

"Yes, my lady." Looking up at her with a bit of a struggle, since it was a hot summer day, the Sun was high up in the sky causing your eyes to burn when gazing up at her.

"Good. Follow me." She ordered and waited a short while for you to straddle your horse as well. You named your horse Sihara. You felt the need to do so as she was always with you on your travels. You were blessed with the privilege of having a loyal horse, tying her to a tree to avoid losing her was unnecessary. She simply never left you.

After you two left, there was another 15 minutes before you'd arrive to the Palace because the city was heavily crowded. Neither of you spoke much, from time to time Sibylla would as you questions regarding your medical career. It was reasonable of course. Her brothers life, whom she loved regardless his illness, was now at your hands.

This put a great amount of pressure on you. If anything went wrong, the people would kill you. She and her fellow men and women of power would hunt you down no matter for how long you'd hide.

But what could go wrong? All you had to do was apply cream on his open wounds for about 3 months until they'd heal and you'd go on with your life.

~.................~

"This way." Sibylla pointed to a long corridor with two guards standing at each side. There was another hallway on the right before you'd finally arrive to your patient.

The walk was filled with anxiety. You could feel your stomach twisting inside out with every step you took. You've saved many many lives and have helped many many people to gain back their health but this time it felt like it was your first time in the medical field. Like it was your first time keeping one on this Earth.

Maybe it was because this was your first time treating royalty?

But when you reached the doorway and saw the king sitting with his back to you, all worries went away. In a weird way, you could feel his calming and peaceful energy from afar, telling you 'everything will be alright.'

You weren't sure how to announce your presence in the room, but thankfully the King heard you walking and was about to make that clear.

"Come forward." His voice loud and clear. The way he carried himself, as though he wasn't sick fascinated you and had you admire him deeply.

He turned around on his chair to have a look at you, as you bowed.

"No do not kneel." Surprised, you got back up and straightened your back. "I'm glad to meet (your father's name)'s daughter. He was a great friend of my father's"

Baldwin got up from his chair and started walking closer to you. "The Saracens say that this disease is God's vengeance against the vanity of our kingdom." He chuckled and added: "My guesses are you are to remedy this so-called curse casted upon me."

"Certainly, my lord." You gave an innocent half smile and nodded.

The king turned his head towards a table: "Come, sit."

As you walked closer you noticed there was displayed the popular game amongst men of power all over the world. Chess.

The two of you sat down, a servant served you wine and than the serious conversation began: "Y/N, I must ask this. How is the healing process going to affect my duties?"

"Not at all." You answered with much confidence. "All I have to do is apply the medicine on your wounds and areas that have in general been infected the most." Explaining to him as Baldwin leaned forward, signaling for you to go on: "This should last approximately 2 to 3 months."

You could sence that he was nervous. After all he was still so young and probably still insecure about his features, as much as someone with a disease that disfigures you can be.

"My lord, you can trust me. Worrying is out of the question here, after all I've been in the medical field all my life. I promise to you I won't let you down." Your words were full of pure determination to save him, they cut so deep into his heart in the best way possible he could just tear up.

~.................~

As you were mixing up the cream that was soon ready to be applied, the tension in the room was indescribable. Baldwin layed on the bed almost unmoving.

His upper body and legs were exposed. What you could see from the start was that his left arm was most infected, than any other body part.

Besides that he still had his mask on, which he would have to remove at some point to get the full healing process done.

The medicine was prepared. You put on your gloves and went to work.

"My lord, if you feel any discomfort during this, please warn me immediately." You stated.

He nodded and even though you couldn't see it because of the mask, the young man was blushing. So far all his personal physicians were males, and since he was sick he was never really touched by a woman in the slightest, besides his mother when he was younger, so of course he was flustered.

You applied the cream firstly on his left arm, being extra careful and waiting for any signs of nausea from the king. Sometimes treating people who have been infected with leprosy can be quite a pain since vomiting and dizziness are common side effects. Luckily the king was doing just fine and in silence you slowly applied the cream all over him. Except his face.

"My lord, may you now remove your mask please?" You smiled softly at him, really trying to get the young king to get comfortable around you since you'd be doing this for 3 months together.

"Is it necessary?" He hesitated. Feelings of shame and insecurity flooded his mind. He never let anyone see his full face, especially not a young woman whom he learned love to gossip around since his sister and her friends used to do it for as long back as he can remember. But this time it was different, and you wanted him to understand so badly: "I understand you may not feel comfortable doing so, but trust me I wish the best for you. To have this treatment the most affective it can be, I'll need to apply it on your face too." You explained as gently as you could.

After a moment, he did it. And he looked beautiful. His face was decorated with a pair of blue eyes and soft locks of golden hair. His face was of course infected, he didn't have a nose and there appeared to be a quite litteral hole in his right cheek but you didn't care. He was handsome no one could deny that.

So you smiled and commented: "My lord, I really can't comprehend why you were so afraid."

He looked up at you, who was now slowly smearing the medicine on his face.

"Is it really that hard to understand?" He sighed.

"My lord, you look just as handsome as any. Infected or not. You are someone young men should look up to. A true God's warrior."

He took a deep breath in, smelling the healing herbs on him.

When you turned around, he shed a tear.

THE END.

[fangirleaconmigo]

Hello dear! i asked this once but it was as a chat response so asking here just in case it got lost, no hurries! Bookverse! Dandi and geralt, Geralt gets turned away at the brothel (again) and Dandi decides if no one is gonna treat his witcher like he deserves, he'll have to.

(plz ignore if this is not relevant to your interests!)

Pan, my dear. I know you sent this almost a year and a half ago. I ADORE getting prompts, but inspiration strikes when it strikes, the fickle ho.

Geralt x Dandelion. Rated Explicit. Bottom!Geralt (first time bottoming).

Geralt is turned away from a brothel, and Dandelion takes care of him. This is porn with feelings. Love and smut ahoy. 7k words(ish)

-----

The woman at the door whispered something in Dandelion’s ear. 

In other circumstances, Geralt might have heard what she said. He was standing only a few feet behind the poet, and his witcher hearing was certainly capable of it. But he didn’t hear, because he wasn’t paying the least bit of attention. His mind was occupied. 

He and Dandelion had been drinking in a nearby tavern. When Dandelion suggested a brothel to relax him, Geralt happily trailed after him like a trusting pup. On the way, the witcher let his mind wander in and out of a series of increasingly vivid, sexually charged visions. He was already aroused and bristling with excess energy when they arrived at the door. 

Dandelion tilted his head towards the girl. “Milady,” he responded, “why are you telling me this? Are you proud or something? Are you also proud when you get a canker on your ass? It’s a personal situation if you ask me.” He glanced back at Geralt for support, laughing haughtily. “It is lucky that my erection is more insistent than my convictions, and that I have already promised my friend an unforgettable night in your establishment which I am loathe to renege upon.”

Geralt was at a loss, trying to put together what was happening with context clues. He didn’t need to wait long. The woman looked desperately at Geralt and leaned closer towards the poet. “I said. Humans only.”

Geralt heard it that time. His stomach sank. He felt a familiar mix of humiliation and anger, which he promptly suffocated until he felt nothing. He tugged on Dandelion’s sleeve. “Come on, Dandelion.”

Dandelion ignored him. He threw his arms out. “And? We are men,” he said to the girl. He looked around melodramatically and declared a bit too loud, “I didn’t bring my horse to partake!”

The girl at the door nervously avoided Geralt’s gaze. “Master Dandelion,” she whispered strenuously, “the witcher cannot come in.”

Sometimes the ‘humans only’ rule applied to Geralt. Sometimes it didn’t. Clearly, at this place, it did. He tugged again on his friend’s sleeve, to no avail. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

To his frustration, Dandelion ignored him yet again. The poet drew himself up to full height and stuck his nose in the air. “I pity your lack of education, dear girl, but witchers are human beings. That is just a fact. But luckily for you, I am feeling generous. If you let us in right now, I will not alert your madam to this offensive gaffe.” 

“Shut. Up. Dandelion,” gritted out Geralt. This time he grabbed the poet’s arm. 

Dandelion yanked his arm free. He briefly glanced at Geralt. “Let me handle it. I understand these types.”

Geralt groaned and looked around desperately. A few men were wandering up the footpath towards them, customers, no doubt, who would be witnesses to the whole ordeal. 

The madam appeared next to the girl at the door. She was an older woman in a lovely burgundy gown. Dandelion brightened and leaned forward conspiratorially. “Oh, I am so happy to see you, my dear lady. I hope you can clear up this misunderstanding. My friend is 100% human, I assure you,” he glanced back at Geralt. “He was born to a woman, magic though she was, and a man. Well,” he corrected himself, “we don’t rightly know who his father is.”

Geralt cringed.

“But,” the poet lifted a finger, “if you required confirmed paternity for everyone in this establishment your building would be empty as a pair of testicles after they’ve had a run at the place. You’d be in the poor house by Thursday.” The poet was picking up steam. “Half the nobility in this town claim to be descendents of great emperors, but they were secretly sired by a particular beefy blacksmith who lives two doors down, or a certain wiry goatherd who is quite randy, and one count I know of personally,” he leaned in even closer, “was sired by an actual goat, I can tell you that story…”

“Master Dandelion,” the madam hissed through her teeth, “I would if I could, but it’s a party for the warden and half the security forces will be in tonight. I’ll be shut down! You can see he’s…different!” 

“What?” yelped Dandelion. Turning and looking at Geralt, pretending to be gobsmacked, then returning to the madam. “Because of his mutations? Why, that’s sheer ignorance.  Mutations are endemic to life itself. We’ve all got them!” He batted his unusually blue eyes. “Some find mine quite charming.”

The madam was not nervous like the door girl. She looked straight at Geralt, though she had the goodness to be apologetic. “I’m sorry.”

Geralt dragged Dandelion away successfully this time, but the troubadour did not go quietly. One of the men coming down the path caught his attention. “Duke Heyward has a third nipple!” He shouted over his shoulder. “That’s a mutation! Can’t have that! Better turn him away! Errant nipples might ruin the mood!”

The man steadfastly ignored him and bowed to the madam. He was granted entrance, nipples and all.

“They’re all such tiresome, small minded, unimpressive donkeys,” Dandelion seethed as they walked back to the tavern. “Count Vamonet can’t tell a sonnet from a scrotum. Prince Galino farts when he comes, and he has to pay the girls extra for it. And the Algloval family are a bunch of inbred--”

Geralt’s attention turned inward as Dandelion ranted about the wretched local nobility and their many failings. The witcher returned to his thoughts as they made their way through the streets. 

These kinds of rants usually made him feel better, and it did, somewhat. But there was still that tension, that pent up frustration. He was still rock hard in his trousers.

“Pathetic, the lot of them. Pox on them all,” finished Dandelion, waving at dismissively at the air. He stole a look at Geralt. “You’re awfully quiet. You haven’t told me to shut up yet. Do you feel quite alright?”

Geralt sighed. “Fine. It’s fine.”

“Well, your face still looks sour.” Dandelion brightened. “Do you want me to see if Helen is interested? I can make myself scarce.”

That was the second time that night that he’d offered the same. “No!” Geralt almost shouted it. Dandelion stopped in the street. Geralt took a few steps before he realized it and he turned to face his friend.

Helen was the server girl at the tavern, who had set the night in motion. Dandelion first performed a set, then sat down, damp curls stuck to his forehead, open tunic flaunting the dusting of blonde hair on his chest. Helen, who he’d been winking at during his performance (along with every other person in the audience), informed him that she was off work, and plopped right down his lap. The poet happily spread his thighs to give her a better seat, and wrapped his arm around her waist. 

Geralt had been enjoying the evening, but at the sight of the two of them together, was seized by a growing frustration. Helen’s breasts spilled nearly out of her top and hovered near Dandelion’s face. His friend leered at them, lips so close to their gentle swell. She ever so delicately opened her legs under the table. 

She wasn’t wearing anything under her skirt, and Geralt watched Dandelion’s hand creep up her thigh. Her cunt was probably hot and wet, just waiting for him to--

“Geralt?” Dandelion had abruptly asked, stopping what he was doing. “What is the matter?”

Helen looked up. When she saw Geralt’s expression, she visibly shrunk away.

“Oh pet,” Dandelion protested, turning his attention back to her, “he isn’t angry, please, that’s just his face. He’s a big pussy cat, really.”

Geralt, realizing he was scaring her, forced a smile. It only made matters worse. She scurried away.

Dandelion seemed to be conveniently forgetting that fact at this very moment. They faced one another on the dark street. 

Helen is terrified of me, Geralt thought of saying. That was what Geralt meant to say. But something else came out of his mouth. “I don’t want you to make yourself scarce. I don’t want you to go anywhere.”

Dandelion looked surprised, and then intensely interested. He shoved his hands on his hips and looked down at where Geralt’s trousers strained to contain his cock. His tongue darted out and wet his lips before making eye contact with some effort. “Well. What do you want, Geralt?” He asked it casually, lightly. “There are other girls that don’t work in brothels. The night is young, yet. Tell me. What were you imagining for tonight? Talk to me.”

What were you imagining?

Geralt tried to remember the thoughts that excited him on the way to the brothel. Why had he been so very distracted that he’d missed the door girl’s whisper? 

They were visions of pretty girls servicing Dandelion, right? Perhaps those visions should have been of the girls servicing him. But...Geralt stood, taking a moment to recall his fantasies. Well, pox on it. Fuck. The girls weren’t even in them. 

It was all Dandelion sprawled out in bliss, with his trousers shoved down to his ankles. It was Dandelion with his head lolling back, eyes half lidded, lips open. It was Dandelion thrusting languid and whining up into welcoming lips.

Surely, he, Geralt of Rivia, didn’t want his friend that way. He didn’t think he was that kind of man. True, there had been youthful experimentation at Kaer Morhen, but it was all boys there, what else were they going to do? When he’d fallen for Yen, he thought....well he thought that was that. But now. Fuck. He was beginning to doubt.

Geralt looked into the quizzical eyes of his dearest friend. Then he turned on his heel and fled. He could hear Dandelion chuckling and calling out to him. “Geralt, come back! Blast it!”

But the witcher made a beeline to their shared room at the tavern. He was dressed for bed and under the covers with the candles out by the time Dandelion returned. Dandelion came in humming, carrying a lantern, and two glasses of wine.

“Good evening, Geralt.” Dandelion said loudly, shutting their door with a graceful tap of his heel. “I see you are already in bed for the evening.”

Geralt didn’t know what to say. “Helen wouldn’t have you?” He muttered bitterly. “She looked so eager.” But he dragged himself up to lean against the headboard. The covers fell around his waist, so he grabbed them and clutched them to his chest.

Dandelion set the lantern and glasses on the side table, and shrugged off his coat. He was still humming to himself. His lightness of spirit was slightly insulting, when Geralt was so obviously set on brooding.

The poet came to sit on the edge of the bed. Geralt’s heart raced as the mattress dipped and the warmth of Dandelion’s body filled his space.

It all felt different now, the shared room, the shared bed. All of it. The air crackled. The witcher was terrified. That was why his pulse was racing, right?

His friend sat in uncharacteristic silence for a few moments, contemplating the bedspread and then Geralt. After a moment, he spoke softly. “Geralt, those idiots were pricks to you tonight.”

His compassion caused a warmth to blossom in Geralt’s chest, but that was the kind of thing that makes a man lose control. So he shoved it down and avoided his friend’s eyes. “It’s fine.” “No, it’s not,” said Dandelion. “But well,” he smiled, still looking softer than usual, “you’ve always got me, and about a thousand other friends, to whom you are as ordinary and human as a person can be. Boring even. And the whores at that place are rubbish anyway.”

Geralt half smiled despite himself and looked up. “You said their advanced techniques would change my life.”

“I lied to make you feel better.”

Geralt gasped in sarcastic shock.

“You know,” said Dandelion. Now he was the one looking down. “I haven’t told you this yet Geralt. But I was once a harlot myself.” 

Dandelion raised his eyes and for a brief moment, they looked into one another, trying to read what the other was feeling. The air between them was fragile, as though a wrong word could shatter whatever was changing between them.

Geralt wanted to be sensitive, but he was overcome with images of Dandelion naked and in compromising situations. It was the same images that had plagued him earlier in the day. “Did you... like it?”

It was the right thing to say, at least for now, because Dandelion relaxed. “I did.” He shrugged. “Most of the time anyway. Like any other job in that regard. I don’t want to brag,” he said, in his characteristic way that indicated he very much did want to brag, “but I was too popular. I got too successful. And I preferred to be famous for my music. So gradually, I-” he picked at the bedspread, “-stopped.”

“Too successful,” Geralt asked, unable to keep the curiosity from his voice. “Were there enough women to keep you busy?” he asked. “Seems like they wouldn’t have to pay for services.”

“You’d be surprised,” the poet answered. “They don’t pay you to fuck, Geralt. They pay you to leave without a fuss.”

Geralt nodded. He supposed that made sense. 

Dandelion picked up his wine glass from the side table. He took a sip and swallowed primly with pursed lips. Geralt watched his throat bob with fascination. He realized that he was staring, so he picked up his glass to give himself something to do other than gape.  

“But truth be told,” Dandelion’s voice lingered on the words casually, “my specialty was other men.”

Geralt should not have picked up his glass. It was a mistake. He was taking a sip the moment Dandelion said ‘men.' He coughed, and pounded his chest.

Dandelion chuckled richly. “Are you alright?”

His friend was laughing at him. Geralt was a mess of righteous indignation, hope, and desperate desire.

“‘M Fine,” he said, putting down the glass. He wanted to avoid his friend’s gaze, but that would be admitting defeat. He met Dandelion’s mirthful, predatory eyes. He immediately lost composure.

He was looking at the poet’s lips. His collarbone. The way his shirt was slightly transparent, and how every time the poet took a deep breath, his chest rose and Geralt could see his nipples. 

“You’re blushing.”

“No, I am not,” mumbled Geralt defensively. “Witchers can’t blush.”

“Sure, my darling, if that is the story you prefer.”

It was the first time Dandelion had ever called him darling. He called him my dear all the time. Geralt loved it every time, but darling was just a little more...romantic.

Geralt had no idea what to do with his face, his hands, or his rebellious cock, which was every bit as hard as before.

“What are you thinking about Geralt?”

Why did Dandelion sound so blasted smug? The prick. Geralt’s fingers trembled, his pulse raced. He decided to just let his body speak for him, without thought. “If I came to your brothel. In those days.” He tried not to stammer, but he sounded halting. He decided to just push the words out. “Would you have serviced me? A mutant.” 

He was staring at his own hands now. He almost jumped when Dandelion’s hand covered his own, warm and tender. 

Geralt looked up, relaxing into the touch.

Dandelion looked amused, but fond. “That depends.”

He was toying with him, the fucking bastard.

“On what,” Geralt asked flatly.

“I’d ask to take a look at your cock.” His eyes sparkled. “To see if it is mutated of course.” He moved his hand to the side of the sheet and pinched, as if ready to pull it aside.

Geralt tried not to smile. A smile would be an admission that the charms of his friend had vanquished him yet again. 

“Well, go on,” teased Dandelion. “Answer me. Will you let me inspect your prick to see if it is too mutated to fit in my mouth?”

“You’ve seen my cock,” Geralt grumbled, wriggling, trying to hide how the aforementioned anatomy twitched at the forthright, confident manner of his friend. 

“Yes, but I don’t remember what it looked like,” said Dandelion with faux innocence that did not suit him. “I’ve only seen flashes. In and out of baths, that kind of thing. And of course, I have always been too gentlemanly to sneak a peek.”

“Liar.” Geralt bit his cheeks. He nodded at where Dandelion’s hand held the corner of the blanket. “Well, go ahead.”

Dandelion’s face broke into a shit eating grin. He took the edge of the sheets and pulled them aside. Geralt inhaled fast and held his breath. He had on a flimsy undergarment with an opening at the front. His excitement was extremely apparent.

Geralt wriggled a little again, repositioning himself. He felt utterly exposed. Why was it making him more aroused than he had ever remembered being in his life? 

It was Dandelion’s reaction to his body. Geralt could smell lust, and the wave of it that came off his friend was so powerful, the witcher was instantly intoxicated by it. Furthermore, the poet was looking at him with such a ravenous expression that Geralt blinked. It called to mind a wolf staring at a cut of raw meat.

Geralt was used to being the hunter. He had never been the prey. A thrill ran through him the likes of which he had never experienced.

“Geralt.” The poet was suddenly earnest, tight, and controlled. The switch made Geralt dizzy. His friend pulled his hands back, and squeezed his own thighs. 

“Yes?” Geralt rasped.

“I cannot restrain myself any longer.” His voice trembled. “If you want me to stop now, you’re going to have to throw me out on my neck”

Geralt tried to respond, but only an airy squeak of nothing came from his mouth. He tried again. “Good. Don’t. Don’t restrain yourself that is.”

“Fucking hell. Sweet Melitele’s milky tits.” 

Dandelion scrambled to straddle Geralt’s lap. Eyes shining, he cradled the witcher’s face in his hands. Geralt’s arms, of their own accord, wrapped around the poet.

Dandelion kissed him with such ferocious tenderness, Geralt felt his eyes prickle. That ferocity...Dandelion had wanted to do this for a very long time. Maybe years. And the tenderness. Dandelion kissed him like he was the most fragile, precious creature in all of creation. 

The thought that Dandelion might have been harboring a hidden love for him was a shocking revelation. But Geralt could not fully grasp it. Not when his body’s reaction to Dandelion’s tongue and his weight on Geralt’s lap was leading him to yet another shocking revelation.

“Dandelion,” he cleared his throat and tilted back just enough to leave a sliver of space between their lips as they panted.

“Yes, Geralt.” 

“Am I...this kind of man?”

Dandelion threw his head back and laughed. It was a bit rude actually. He ground his hips ever so slightly on Geralt’s hard cock. Geralt made an aborted noise of pleasure.

“Oh, I quite think you are darling,” Dandelion said smugly. “Wait. Does that vex you?”

Once again, Geralt didn’t want to think. He just wanted to respond. “I don’t think so,” he said. Then he realized the truth. “No. Not a bit.”

“Ah, well then. Shall I proceed?”

“Please do.”

Dandelion slipped off of his lap. Geralt found it difficult to abide the loss of his body. “Wait.”

Dandelion’s response was muffled by his shirt slipping from his head. “Apologies, my dear, but I must make haste, in case you change your mind.” 

His dearest friend was pulling off his clothing at a blinding rate, vibrating with an air of disbelief and excitement. 

“I won’t change my mind.” After it came from Geralt’s mouth, he realized that it was true.

Dandelion flashed him another smile. “Still. I won’t take any chances.” 

Dandelion was quickly naked and scrambled back onto the bed without much grace. “Hips up.” 

Geralt lifted his hips. Dandelion stripped away Geralt’s underclothes. Then, they were naked together. 

What shocked Geralt the most was that it felt like the most natural thing in the world. He felt nothing but pleasure at the sight of Dandelion’s full erection, nestled in a puff of blonde curls. He felt nothing but excitement when the poet straddled him yet again, his solid but soft torso in Geralt’s grasp. The witcher groaned at an embarrassing volume when Dandelion wrapped his nimble fingers around his cock.

“May I, love?” Dandelion licked his lips.

Geralt’s heart almost stopped. “Say that again,” he whispered.

“May I....love?”

“Please. Yes. Anything.”

Dandelion scooted back and dragged his warm tongue up the entire length of Geralt’s erection, lingering on the tip, kissing it messily. 

Geralt writhed. “Please.”

“Please, what?” Dandelion batted his lashes then sucked Geralt’s entire cock into his mouth. Geralt almost shouted, but managed to clap a hand over his mouth and turn it into another moan.

He wanted a release. He wanted to explode.

His mind may not have realized his feelings for his friend, but his body was certainly aware that this was something he’d been holding in for a very long time.

But Geralt didn’t just want to cum. He wanted to do it on his friend, in his friend, it didn’t matter how.

“Let me. I wanna.” He gasped. “Fuck.”

Dandelion looked at him with soft but hungry eyes as he bobbed on his cock. At the sight of the poet’s expression, the way he looked stuffed with Geralt’s cock, the witcher thought he would lose it. But his friend expertly stopped just before Geralt’s peak. 

He toyed with the witcher like that for some time, bringing him to peak, then pulling away. As he did, he ran his hands all over Geralt’s body. He murmured sweet nothings to him.

“You’re so gorgeous like this love. Look at you. Oh, fuck you’re stunning. I can’t believe I get to look at you like this.”

Geralt melted. He melted into his mouth, he melted against the bed. He became a blubbering, begging mess of a man. 

“Please, oh, please. Just let me. Just. Oh, fuck.”

Just when he thought he had reached the height of pleasure, Dandelion began to use his fingers. 

“Spread your thighs, darling.”

Geralt thought to protest. He felt self conscious. But he had said that Dandelion could do anything, and he’d meant it. Allowing himself to act without overthinking it had gotten him here, so the strategy was clearly working.

He spread his legs obediently.

Geralt fell apart when Dandelion cupped him, caressed him, and massaged him firmly in places he’d never even seen. 

Vaguely, he thought that the room next to them could probably hear him whining. If he were allowing himself to think about it, he might have been embarrassed. But he wasn’t.

When Dandelion returned his lips to his cock, he also grasped his shaft, moving both his hands and his mouth expertly, Geralt came. His body locked up and his moans were silent and airy. He covered Dandelion’s head with his hands and thrust into the eager lips of his dearest friend. He shoved and shoved until he released in a haze of animalistic desire.

Then he fell back, slackened and panting. 

Dandelion kissed his softening cock. He licked up all of Geralt’s spend and made a show of swallowing it for him.

Geralt stroked Dandelion’s damp locks lazily. “Fuck.”

“Fuck, indeed.” 

Dandelion crawled into his arms, placing a sweaty kiss on Geralt’s temple. They were both damp, from sweat and tears. Geralt squeezed him tight, waiting for the thudding of his heart to subside.

“Fuck.”

When Dandelion’s erection brushed his thigh, Geralt wanted to kick himself. He had been so wrapped up in his own pleasure, he’d been selfish. He needed to make sure Dandelion got satisfaction as well.

“What can I--” the witcher stopped, realizing he had little idea what the fuck he was doing. What could he even offer? Back in Kaer Morhen in his teen years, there had mostly been furtive yanking and sucking in closets and dark dormitories. And here he was with a proper expert, a former professional. What skills did he really have? How did you fuck a man without hurting him? Shit, he couldn’t fuck anyone right now anyway. He leaned forward and kissed Dandelion. “What do you want, poet?” He figured that was a better question, instead of promising something he couldn’t deliver, at least not in a competent way. 

Dandelion had a half smile, like he was up to something. “Well, since my wildest dreams are coming true today, I’m just going to ask for it.”

Geralt barked a laugh, and felt slightly, deliciously self conscious. “Alright. Spit it out.”

Dandelion leaned closer, kissed Geralt’s cheek, and whispered provocatively in his ear. As he did, he traced languid circles on Geralt’s chest and stomach. This, Geralt thought, was what made Dandelion so popular. That and the expert cock sucking.

“Witcher mine, I have been following behind you for years,” he murmured sensually. “And do you know what has always confounded me?”

“What?”

“Having to stare at your round, juicy looking, perfect peach and never being invited to fuck it.”

Well. Geralt hadn’t expected that. He’d never really thought of himself that way. As an object of such fervent desire. 

“My. Ass?”

“Oh yes, love. You’d better believe it.” Dandelion’s eyes fluttered closed and he hummed in bliss, like one did after taking a big bite of a pastry fresh out of the oven. “The shapeliest ladies have nothing on your delicious plump looking posterior. Has no one told you?”

Dandelion had called him love again. Geralt was beginning to understand that every time Dandelion called him love, the witcher felt willing and able to scoop out his own organs and gift them to the poet if he so desired them.

"No."

“That is a tragic story indeed.” Dandelion ground his rock hard cock into Geralt’s thigh. “How someone with such a perfect ass has never been told about its charms.”

Geralt allowed himself a slightly smug smile and he squeezed Dandelion tighter. He kissed the side of the poet’s head and hummed into his hair. “Really? That good, huh?”

The poet growled and rolled his hips again. “Please, Geralt. Don’t make me beg.”

Well. Shit. Geralt’s heart beat faster. “I want to, but. I don’t. I’ve never.” Then he just blurted it out. “Does it hurt?”

Dandelion stopped what he was doing and rolled over, propping himself on arm. He looked absolutely gleeful. “You mean I would be the first? Me?”

Geralt looked away and flushed a bit. He hummed his assent.

Dandelion practically whooped. “I will be taking Geralt of Rivia’s virgin ass? Have I died? Is this heaven?” The poet caught himself. “I mean, of course, only if you want to.” He tried to sound sexy and soft again, but his leering smile looked ridiculous.

It was a pathetic effort, but it still pleased Geralt for some reason. He was doomed, wasn’t he?

“I’m not a virgin. Obviously.”

“Still. May I?” 

“Just. Be careful. You will, right?”

Dandelion took one of Geralt's hands and nuzzled it. Managing to find gentle sincerity within himself, he said, “Of course I will, love. I will be gentle. I will be tender. I will make it so very lovely for you.”

Geralt nodded. “Alright. What do I do?” He felt a bit moronic asking, but he would feel worse if he did something wrong.

“Well, I was rewarded by the sight of your handsome face in ecstasy. Now, since for all I know, this could be my only chance, I would be honored to enjoy the sight of your perfect, round ass jiggling as I fuck it.” 

Geralt swallowed. “So, I turn over?”

“If you please.” Dandelion scooted back on the bed, kneeling, watching rapturously as Geralt agreeably turned over. The witcher was rewarded with a low whistle. “Oh, yes. Sweet mother of mine, what a specimen of a posterior.” Geralt could feel Dandelion’s soft, strong hands gliding over his body and squeezing his ass. The effect, along with Dandelion’s evident enthusiasm made him prickle with pleasure.

“Shut up.”

“I will not. I am already writing the ballad as we speak.”

There was no use telling him to shut up again. Geralt closed his eyes and reveled in the sensation of being caressed. His scars were particularly sensitive, and Dandelion was sliding his hands over every last bit of him.

“Hands and knees, my dear witcher.”

Geralt obediently rose onto hands and knees. Dandelion moaned, gravelly and wanton. Geralt could hear him stroking his own cock as he squeezed one cheek then the other. Experimentally, Geralt arch his back, and enjoyed the strangled groan-laugh behind him.

If he had felt exposed before, that was nothing compared to what he felt now. Now he felt completely, utterly vulnerable. And yet? His body buzzed with pleasure low in his abdomen. 

Geralt could hear Dandelion shift. Then he felt a kiss, followed by a playful nibble the back of his thighs. Dandelion leaned away to reach for something.

“Relax, love.”

Geralt heard Dandelion remove his rings, and then he heard a tin of something open and close. Then Dandelion’s fingers were at his entrance, slippery and wet. Geralt shivered. He flinched.

“Shhhhh,” Dandelion quieted him and patted his haunch as though he were a skittish mare. Geralt relaxed. 

“It’s alright,” cooed Dandelion. “The famous poet Dandelion will be your first. Think of the stories you will be able to tell your grandchildren.”

“You’re an idiot.” Geralt chuckled but his laugh turned into a drawn out ‘oooo’ as Dandelion entered him with a finger. “See, that’s nice isn’t it, Geralt?”

It took Geralt a moment to answer. It was a new feeling.

“Y-y-yes?” he said. 

“Is that a question or an answer, my witcher?” Dandelion asked playfully. He slid further and Geralt released a sigh. His body wanted to scoot away, and shove backwards at the same time. But Geralt decided not to do either. He just held still and allowed himself to feel.

“Yes.” He answered breathily, but with more confidence that time. 

Dandelion scooted closer. Geralt could feel the warmth and the softness of the hair on the poet’s legs as they pressed against his. How his friend managed to slip in a second finger at the angle, Geralt wasn’t sure. But the tightness, the fullness, made him whimper. 

“Oh, that sound,” growled Dandelion. “I cannot wait another second, Geralt, my dear, I am going to fuck the sense out of you.”

He could hear slippery noises as Dandelion quickly slicked his own cock. The poet grasped him with one hand. Geralt stole a glance back and saw his friend’s ravenous, predatory face. He saw the blonde poet grasping the base of his cock, lining himself up. The tip of his tongue was stuck out, and he was lost completely in the moment.

Dandelion felt Geralt’s attention and he looked up. They locked eyes right as Dandelion pushed. Geralt whimpered and his body jerked, but Dandelion held his hips stock-still with surprisingly strong hands as he pressed inside with an excruciatingly slow gentleness. “Here you go, love. You can take this, can’t you?” he purred.

Geralt sensed that taunting Dandelion right now might yield some interesting results. “I won’t break. Fuck me already.”

Dandelion’s eyes ignited and he squeezed Geralt so hard, he knew he would be bruised. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Yes. Fucking do it already.”

It was daring talk for an amateur, Geralt knew. But he had stopped thinking. He was just spouting off now.

Dandelion bent over him and wrapped his arm around his hips like a vise and thrust. Geralt could tell his friend was still holding back, but the motion made him feel such shocking fullness, that it chased all rational thought away, emptying his mind.

Dandelion pulled back then. Right when Geralt thought he would slip away, Dandelion thrust again. Geralt marveled at how tight he could feel, the sounds the poet could punch from his throat. The sounds were cut off every time Dandelion’s hips made impact, but grew louder and more frantic with every stroke.

Dandelion’s hair brushed his back. He could feel his friend’s lips by his ear. “You love it, don’t you. Your ass is the perfect vessel for my cock, isn't it?” he whispered, his necklaces slightly grazing Geralt’s shoulder blades. The poet was beginning to sweat and his chest dragged down Geralt’s back.

Geralt nodded. It was difficult to manage while bouncing on another man’s cock.

“Say it,” Dandelion challenged him.

“Yes. I’m yours.”

Dandelion tenderly brushed Geralt’s hair away from his neck, and kissed the back of his neck as he fucked into him.

As the witcher’s body became more lax and able to accept the intrusion, Dandelion thrust with more power. Geralt had to brace himself against the wall to keep from slapping into it.

Dandelion was no longer treating him with kid gloves. Geralt had no idea that his body would allow anything inside that deep. He bounced and shook and cried out. He felt like some kind of rag doll.

“Dandelion,” he whispered into the dark. 

“Say that again,” came the response from behind him.

“Dandelion.”

Dandelion’s pace grew more furious and punishing. Geralt was shocked by what his body could take. Dandelion began to sound like him, grunting, and moaning.

But right when he thought Dandelion would peak, he stopped and pulled out.

“Don’t stop,” Geralt begged. He writhed and reached back, grasping to pull his lover back.

“Be still,” Dandelion chided.

Geralt obeyed. He quieted himself and became still, waiting on hands and knees. His thighs trembled. His hair stuck to his sweaty, sticky body.

Just when he was ready to ask Dandelion what the fuck he was doing, he felt the poet grasp both sides of his ass and part him. The cool air caressed Geralt on his sensitive skin and he shivered.

Dandelion swore a filthy oath in several different languages, only some of which Geralt understood. 

“I’m going to watch myself cum in you, witcher.”

Dandelion leaned forward and pushed down on Geralt’s back. The witcher wasn’t sure what the poet wanted, until his elbows buckled and his face was smashed against the pillow.

Dandelion hummed, ever so pleased with himself. He whistled. “That’s better. What a view.” He grasped the witcher, trapping his hips.

Geralt closed his eyes, determined to feel everything, to remember everything. The fat head of his dearest friend’s cock nudged him. By now, Geralt was fucked, slick, and ready.

Now it was the poet’s turn to whine like an animal when he slid inside Geralt. 

“Look at you, swallowing my cock. You were made for me to fuck.”

The pillow under Geralt’s face grew damp, and he groaned into it as Dandelion took his pleasure.

The poet shoved as deeply as he could when he came, and the sound he made was cathartic. He held Geralt still, draped over his back, as he rode out his pulsing orgasm.

“Oh, Geralt. My darling.” He whispered it so quietly into Geralt’s back, that if Geralt were not a witcher, he might not have heard it.

Dandelion collapsed next to Geralt and pulled him close. They held each other in the dark, by the flickering lamp. They lay intertwined, clinging to each other, allowing the enormity of what they had done to settle over them. 

What if everything changed.

What if nothing changed?

“Geralt?” Dandelion’s voice was surprising small. “Kiss me?”

Geralt ran his fingers through Dandelion’s hair. And he kissed him.

They would start there.

[throneofsmut]

Bound In Flames - Part 2

Eris Vanserra x Archeron-Sister-Reader || WC: 1.7k || Warnings: None

Summary: Feyre and her younger sister go hunting in the forest behind their family's cottage and go through life changing experiences.

****

The next morning Feyre and you made your way to the village square, the trampled snow coating the road into your village was speckled brown and black from horses and passing carts. Elain and Nesta clicked their tongues and complained under their breaths as we all trudged along. Causing both Feyre and you to roll your eyes. They only came in hopes of spending the money you’d get from the wolf fur and deer hide.

Elain let out a noise of disgust, making you look over your shoulder at her. She’d stepped in mud. . . well at least it looked like mud. Nesta's face was drawn in a grimace at her side, her eyes locked on Elain’s filthy boot.

“You know you didn't have to come.” You direct at both of them, now a couple steps ahead of them.

Nesta spoke for both of them—like always—“As if.” She scoffed, her eyes flitted between the back of your head and Elain’s boot.

“Feyre! Y/n! Help me!” Elain’s whines making Feyre and you stop.

Looking at each other before huffing out simultaneous breaths of annoyance. It was market day, which meant you might get a fair amount of coin for the pelts and here you are wasting time because Elain stepped in mud.

Feyre turned around and walked a couple steps back to where Nesta and Elain were, crossing her arms across her chest as she stood before Elain. You remained still where you stood a couple feet away. “What, Elain?”

She shook her filthy boot in front of her, “Clean it!”

“No.” Feyre turned back around, joining you where you were just watching your sisters unamused.

“Y/n, you help her!” Nesta insisted, now helping Elain to remain steady while standing on one foot.

“Hell no.”

You nudged Feyre, the both of you turning back around to continue making your way to the village square. Only making it a couple steps before Nesta spoke again, “Y/n--”.

But you cut her off before she could keep going, yelling over your shoulder, “Either keep up or go back home, your choice!”

Finally making it to the village square, Feyre and you stood looking around, assessing.

The cobbler and clothier you usually went to, locking eyes with both of you across the square from their separate stands. Then at the same time you both noticed a woman, a mercenary, to be exact. With eyes still on her, you leaned your head closer to Feyre, “She’d probably give us more coin than—”

“What are you two waiting for?” Nesta questioned, cutting you off. Elain and her now stood on either side of Feyre and you.

Feyre opened her mouth to tell them what you had suggested but quickly shut it as she was cut off.

“May thee immortal light shine upon thee sisters,” said the pale-robbed younger woman who was now standing directly in front of you.

Nesta and Elain clicked their tongues; Feyre and you stifled groans. Perfect. This is exactly what you need, the children of the blessed in town on market day, distracting and riling everyone up. So you did the only sensible thing, you grabbed Feyre’s arm pulling her along as you made your way past the woman, towards the mercenary, leaving the acolyte to argue with Nesta and Elain by her side. Not your problem—not right now.

Which is why you nodded at Elain before walking away, “We’ll meet you here in a hour.” You didn't give her a chance to respond before the two of you slipped away into the crowded square.

You approached the mercenary, the weapons on her—gleaming and wicked—were enough to make you stop two feet in front of her.

“I don't barter goods for my services,” she said, her voice clipped with an accent you'd never heard before. “I only accept coin.”

A few passing villagers tried their best to look disinterested in your conversation, especially as Feyre said, “Then you'll be out of luck in this sort of place.”

She was massive even sitting down. “What is your business with me, girls?” Even though she addressed both of you, her gaze was on you.

She could've been anywhere between five to ten years older than you, but you supposed you two looked like girls to her in your layers, gangly from hunger. “We have a wolf pelt and a deer hide for sale. I thought you might be interested in purchasing them.”

“You steal them?”

“No.” You held her stare. “We hunted them ourselves. I swear it.”

“How.” Not a question—a command.

So you told her how you brought them down, leaving out how you said a prayer for the wolf, and when you finished, she flicked a hand toward the satchel Feyre was wearing. “Let me see.” Feyre pulled out both carefully folded hides. “You weren't lying about the wolf’s size,” she murmured. “Doesn’t seem like a faerie, though.” She examined them with an expert eye, running her hands over and under. She named her price. You blinked once—but stifled the urge to blink twice. She was over paying—by a lot.

“Why?” You questioned.

She looked beyond you—past you. “I'm assuming those two girls watching from across the square are your sisters. You all have that brassy hair—” her eyes cut back to you. ”Except you. You don't really look like them and you all have that hungry look about you.” Of course, they were still trying their best to eavesdrop without being spotted.

“We don't need your pity.”

“No, but you need my money. The other vendors have been cheap all morning thanks to the zealots hanging out in the square.” She jerked her chin towards another child of the blessed who was now getting a rise out of a fruit vendor.

Feyre and you were still looking at the acolyte and vendor when the mercenary grabbed your hand and with the other reached into her coat, pulling out the coin purse and placing it into your now open palm. You held her gaze as she folded your fingers over the heavy coin purse. She gave you a small smile and nodded once which you reciprocated. “Thank you.”

She nodded once more before her eyes tracked movement behind you. Nesta and Elain—no doubt. Her eyes were still on them as she began to speak, “Word of advice, from one hunter to another. Be careful. Don't go deep into the woods, not even as far as you did for this—” she gestured down to the pelts in her lap. “There's been more and more fae attacks.”

You nodded, but felt Feyre stiffen beside you, “Thanks again.”

Both of you only made it a couple steps, before a hand clamped down on your forearm, you didn't have to look to know it was Nesta. “They're dangerous,” She hissed, her fingers digging into your arm as she continued to pull you away from the mercenary. Elain pulled Feyre away.

Feyre and you looked at each other before staring at Nesta for a moment, then Elain, who seemed to go pale. “Is there something we need to know?” Feyre questioned quietly.

You couldn't remember the last time Nesta tried to warn Feyre or you; about anything. Elain was really the only one she bothered trying to look after.

“They’re brutes, and will take any copper they can get, even if it's by force.”

Feyre and you glanced back at the mercenary, who was examining her new pelts. “She robbed you?” Your voice came out tight.

“Not her,” Elain murmured. “Some other one who passed through—”

“Why didn't you report him,” Feyre cut her off. “Or tell me.”

“What could you have done?” Nesta sneered. “Challenge him to a fight with your bow and arrows? And who in this sewer of a town would even care if we reported anything?”

“Why didn’t you tell me, then?” You asked quietly, coldly.

Nesta stared at you for a moment before finally answering your question, “Because you probably would’ve killed him and it was just a couple of coppers anyways.”

Narrowing your eyes at her, about to correct her, when someone caught your eye and you gave a tight smile. “Fey, your little friend is waiting for you.” She followed your gaze, nodding once at him—at Isaac.

“I’ll see you at home later," she said.

You nodded at her in understanding, “Be safe, coming back.” She nodded and walked towards the old barn where her and Isaac always met.

Reaching into your pocket, where the coin purse was, you pulled out two twenty-mark coppers, handing one to Elain and one to Nesta. “Get what you want,” then gesturing towards your family’s cottage, “then we’ll go back”, you said to your two older sisters.

The trek back was silent. Not that you minded, you were still thinking about what Feyre and the mercenary had said to you, that you were different.

Once the cottage came into view, you let Elain walk in first, grabbing Nesta’s arm to stop her. “What?” She arched a brow, her blue-gray eyes hard as they bore into you.

“You're right.”

Her brows furrowed, “Right about wha--”, but you cut her off.

“I would have killed that mercenary.” You breathed.

“I know, but it was only a couple of coppers.”

“No, you don’t know. I wouldn’t have killed him over the coppers. I would have killed him for hurting you and Elain.” You confessed and her eyes softened slightly almost imperceptibly. As Nesta looked at you as if she was seeing you for the first time. Really seeing you. “Now get inside, it's cold.”

Her eyes searched yours, for what you didn't know, but then wordlessly she stepped inside the cottage. And you followed in after her, going towards the stove to heat up some venison for dinner. Feyre came back just as you were plating it up and for once you all had a peaceful dinner—or as peaceful a dinner your family could have. After we all moved to gather around the fire, our father was dozing off in his chair, Nesta and Elain whispering to each other, Feyre braiding your hair, as you stared into the fire. Losing yourself in it, letting the flames relax you.

You figured this is as good a time as any to talk to Nesta about Tomas Mandray. Turning towards her, you opened your mouth to speak but there was a roar that half deafened you. And you sisters screamed as snow burst into the room and an enormous, growling shape appeared in the doorway.

For other parts: Bound In Flames Series Masterlist

part 1 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10 part 11 part 12

Taglist: @historygeekqueen

*If you would like to be added to the taglist for this story or to my general taglist, please either reply to this post or send me a message.

[asumofwords]

Smoke, Fire and Ash

Warnings: This fic includes noncon, dubcon, manipulation, violence, death and inc3st. Tags will be added as the fic goes on.

This is a dark!fic. 18+ only. Read at your own discretion. Please read the warnings before continuing.

Summary: You are the eldest daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon Targaryen. You are forced to navigate the difficult surroundings of your upbringing and the eventual disintegration between your family and the Hightower's relationship. What will happen when your older and estranged uncle suddenly takes a more sinister interest in you? (Dark!Aemond x Reader)

Masterlist

Characters: Aemond Targaryen X Reader, HOTD characters.

Note: Daemon looked at his daughter and was so proud of her, and also so frightened for her. He was like oh shit.... Please don't go sicko mode on me right now. If he was anyone else, she would have done it...

Chapter 45: Smoke, Fire and Ash

The look your father had given you was new, but a command nonetheless. And so after Vermithor had finished feasting upon the dead horse from the camp, you followed your father on Caraxes, flying back towards Dragonstone.

The flight seemed longer than the journey there.

It seemed to drag on as you flew beside your father, his gaze on you, burning a hole in the side of your face. You glanced at him few times, offering smug smiles to the Rogue Prince, to which he returned.

You are your father's daughter.

As you reached the ocean and began to fly across it, the sun had slowly begun to rise high in the sky, and you felt a small ache of fatigue. The suns rays glistened on the water below like diamonds.

Your side had begun to burn from tensing, but that could wait until you delivered the good news to your Queen.

You could not wait to tell your mother of what you had done. You had singlehandedly secured the Riverlands for her. This was a win for you all.

A step closer to securing the Iron Throne.

The sky was a soft and gentle blue when you finally reached Dragonstone, circling around the volcanic top beside your father, as you both made your descent down to the island below.

Vermithor landed shortly after Caraxes, and clunkily moved to allow you to slide from his back. You walked alongside his body until you reached the side of his face.

There was ash caught in the crevices of his scales, and blood smeared along his snout and the front of his chest. He smelt of fire and smoke, and the metallic tang of blood, and gore surrounded the both of you.

The smell of war.

And whilst the scent was repugnant, you sighed dreamily, leaning your forehead against his scales, hand brushing gently as you whispered praise to him. The dragon purring in response.

“Ao gōntan sīr sȳz.” (You did so good.) You scratched at his cheek, eyes still closed, forehead leant against him.

“Sȳz, Vermithor.” (Good.)

You felt the Bronze Fury bristle slightly, and the burning gaze of your father on the back of your head once again.

He uttered your name.

You turned, looking at the man.

The Rogue Prince, for once in his life had no witty quip, no snarky comment, or jest to make. He stood stiffly as he looked at you, small amount of ash on his person and hands resting at his sides.

Daemon simply stared at you with an intense warmth. 

Why was he looking at you like that?

Then just as sudden as he appeared, he had pulled you desperately into his arms, tucking your head beneath him.

“You stupid girl.” He uttered into your hair.

You were so shocked by the movement that your hands hovered beside him, until finally coming up to grasp around his waist. He was warm, and inviting, and safe.

A small huff of a laughter left your lips as he squeezed you tighter, kissing the top of your head roughly. Daemon held the back of your skull roughly as he always does with one hand, as if terrified you may fall away beneath him with the wind.

“You stupid, stupid girl.” He repeated.

A tiny smile slithered onto your face as he held you.

He pulled you roughly away from him, gripping your arms as they slightly stung from the movement. His light, violet eyes searched your face crazily, fingers brushing your hair behind your ears, before pulling your face towards him, lips pressing against your forehead. 

“You stupid, brilliant, little thing. Ñuha byka vīlībāzmio.” (My little warrior.) He breathed breathlessly. 

His eyes floated to the large dragon behind you, who watched the interaction with curiosity, and also possessive protectiveness of his new rider.

Vermithor had lost one rider, and he surely would not lose another.

Daemon's fingers brushed against your cheeks roughly, seemingly trying to rub away what you assumed was settled smoke and ash upon your pores. You smiled up the Rogue Prince as he continued to stare at you.

He was not mad.

He was proud.

You had done well.

“We should tell the Queen of the new updates in the Riverlands.” You said breathlessly.

A guffaw left Daemon's mouth as he watched you, before roughly pulling you to his side and down the track, towards the castle. 

As you walked, neither of you spoke. You could tell the mans mind was racing away from him as he continued to glance at you, mouth opening and shutting. 

Then finally,

“Are you mad?”

You shrugged in humour.

“You claimed the Bronze Fury, flew across the ocean and decimated an army.”

You shrugged again.

“Do you have any idea of what you’ve done?”

Shrug.

“You may have won us the war.”

You blinked.

It would not be that simple, but it would definitely get you one step closer.

Once you entered the castle walls, you felt jittery in anticipation of what was to come.

Of walking into the Painted Table chambers and declaring a victory for your mother.

Of showing proof of your usefulness.

To prove that you were better suited out there, than in here. That you were willing to do anything to win this war. 

Anything.

All heads turned as you entered.

Your arrival was announced and suddenly the air was sucked out of the chambers. Your mother walked on stuttered steps, looking at you in confusion before standing before you, hand coming to touch your face softly as she looked you over.

You only beamed, back straightening as you lifted your head, nodding at your Queen.

Rhaenyra looked at her husband beside you, then back to you, before she returned to the table. 

Before she could even reach her usual place, Daemon's voice excitedly carried across the room.

“The Riverland’s have been secured. Harrenhal and House Bracken have been taken.”

All eyes were on you again, and Rhaenyra looked at you in confusion. 

“How?”

“Vermithor has a new rider.”

You lifted your chin higher, as you walked towards the table with your father.

Pride swelled in your chest. 

Was this what it felt like to be a Queen? 

To be a God?

“The Princess claimed Vermithor, took to the Riverlands and burnt the entire Green stronghold there to a crisp.” Daemon's voice came quickly.

Rushed.

Excitedly.

“The Riverland's are yours, Your Grace.” You bowed your head as you spoke.

I did this for you. 

For us. 

For them.

“You claimed the Bronze Fury?”

You nodded.

Jacaerys stood behind your mother, at the side of the table walking closer to you now.

“You flew to the Riverlands?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

“What of Harrenhal?”

“Yours, My Queen.”

She smiled, looking at the Painted Table, as Lord Bortimos stepped forth to place a metal indicator over the Riverlands and Harrenhal. 

Hers.

Rhaenyra gave you a nod and smiled, and the pride rushed back inside of you. She was pleased. You had done good. You had made her see what you could do.

What you were capable of.

Jacaerys however, did not look pleased. 

She nodded to the table as all stepped forth, hand pointed towards map. 

“With the Riverlands secured, we can now cut off trade to the Golden Tooth, weakening the Lannisters. This will shift the tide in our favour considerably. Though I have fears, not enough.”

She smiled at you again, and you beamed, feeling Daemon beside you.

Not one of the Lords spoke, nor congratulated the Queen, instead they all stared at you.

They looked almost shocked by your presence, your actions. The actions of a woman, you likened. Let them underestimate you. You were ready to open your mouth to address the tension, but then your hands caught your line of sight.

Slender fingers were covered in ash, and hints of blood, likely from rubbing the scales upon Vermithor's face. Your fingernails were caked with the ash, as grey and black smudges were smeared along the skin.

The sleeves of your dress were covered in a thin layer of the grey powder, causing the black to look almost white.

And now you knew why they stared. 

You probably looked like you had crawled from the Seven hells themselves.

You wondered what the state of your hair looked like now. Perhaps just as dark as your brothers...

And yet despite the tension from the Lords watching you, there was something unmistakable coming at you in waves from your eldest brother. His eyes never once leaving yours as he stared. 

His posture was stiff, and those hands you had held many times before, were bawled into fists beside him. Sensing the tension, Rhaenyra cleared the room of the Lords, dismissing them and thanking them for their time, only to reconvene when summoned.

You watched as your cousins, Rhaena and Baela gawked at you in awe as they left. Prince Corlys nodded, and Princess Rhaenys smirked.

They were proud.

So why was Jacaerys so visibly enraged?

As the last of the Lords left the chambers, your mother turned to her knights, dismissing them and the guards as well, until all that were left in the room were the four of you.

It was silent for some time, as both parties waited for the other to speak up, to voice their gripe. To begin the argument that had been brewing the moment you arrived.

“Have you gone mad?” Jacaerys asked incredulously.

“Have you?” You scoffed.

“You left us, without consulting first, without a note. Not even a word to the council? To us?” Came the aggravated voice of your brother, who stood wearing all black, watching you intently.

“I saw a problem, I found a solution. And now, the Riverlands are ours.” You smiled.

Your mother and father watched the both of you bicker in uncomfortable silence.

“What would have happened if Aemond was there? If you had been killed?”

“I wasn’t.” You bristled.

“You could have died.”

“And yet, I didn’t. You should be happy. At least I did something.”

“You put us all at risk!”

“Risk?! At least I’m taking them. I know you would much rather have me stuck in these walls, all the more useless than already, so that you can look like the better fit for succession.”

The words rushed from your lips before you could stop them, but you held steady.

Rhaenyra shifted as she stepped forward towards you, whispering your name softly.

“Don’t.” You snapped. 

The tension back inside of you.

“What did I do wrong? What did I do, but do what was asked of me. What was needed of me. I went to the Riverlands and I did what I had to, because I knew what needed to be done.”

“If you had been caught-“

“I had spent Gods know how long in that Keep after Lucerys was murdered. Do you think another day in that very Keep would make any difference? Do you think any of that would make a difference? Whilst I waited for you to come?”

You let out a bitter laugh, “Because I just did something that did. We hold the Riverlands now, there is no question about it. Which means we are one step closer to taking back Kings Landing.”

“You could have died!”

“Dying would be better than sitting here, watching you all cast me aside, time and time again! I am not weak! I am the eldest, and I have done things you could not even imagine to keep you all safe. To keep this war from breaking sooner than it would have.”

“Y/n-“ Your mother started.

“Let me finish! I have spent my entire life preparing myself for the throne. Preparing myself for my duties. Preparing you for yours!”

You angrily looked at Jace, “Why was I not named successor? Please tell me, because I had time plenty to think about it in the Red Keep with Aemond watching over me as I slept.”

“Now is no-“

“No, please. Please mother, I beg you to enlighten me. Because when has Jacaerys shown even a skerrick of interest in the throne? When has he ever known duty? Sacrifice?”

“I have sacrificed plenty.”

“Oh, what? Being called a bastard? Is that your only suffering in your life?” 

“Watch your mouth.” Your mother snapped.

“Tell me!”

Your chest rose and fell rapidly as you wildly looked at your mother and brother before you.

Both looked shocked at your outburst, like they had been waiting for you to snap, but the reason for it was not what they expected.

“I have just claimed, once again, the second largest dragon in the realm. I flew to Riverrun, for you. I razed their army to the ground and watched every single man fall. I made sure that each and every single one of them burned.” You scoffed a laugh.

“So tell me, why not me?”

“You have gone rogue.” Jacaerys growled.

You laughed. 

It was funny.

Rogue.

As you stood next to the Rogue Prince himself.

Your father.

You looked at Daemon and Rhaenyra.

“As if you didn’t have two men sent to the Red Keep to take the head from Helaena’s child in front of her. As if you didn’t make her choose which son to save, and then do the opposite."

You spin to look back at Jacaerys, "And you call me rogue? This is war! Unlike you, I know my duties, and I am willing to do anything to ensure mother takes back her rightful place on the Iron Throne.”

“Y/n, enough. You are clearly in shock, and need to rest.” Your mother pleaded, though you could see the patience in her eyes begin the flicker.

“Tell me why, and I shall never ask you again. Tell me why, and I will go rest.”

It was silent in the chambers. 

You felt Daemon's hand come to touch your back but, you shrugged him off angrily.

“You don’t even truly know why do you?”

You were met with silence.

You shook your head angrily.

“I have done everything that you have asked of me. I have held my decorum. I have gone to meetings with Lords and Ladies. I have studied philosophy and politics, and language and war. I trained with the sword, with Ser Harwin, with my brothers. With father. I ride the second largest dragon in the world! I have readied myself for the throne since birth." You spat, pacing about the chambers as you spoke,

"Gods, I let him touch me and did not say a word to any of you, so that war would not break loose! I have done everything to keep you all safe, and you throw me aside like some second fucking son.”

“Wh...Touched you?” Your father halted, grabbing your arm as you looked up at him angrily.

“Oh, don’t you all act as though you did not notice something had happened. You were all so pressing with your questions on what was wrong, and I had dismissed them knowing it was the right thing to do. I did this to protect you.” You sneered, shaking him off.

Your mother and Jacaerys suddenly looked less angered, and all the more concerned, stepping towards you.

The Queen's hands came out to touch you but you moved back away from it, shrugging your father from you again.

“He didn’t take my maidenhead if that is what has you so worried. Don’t worry, I won’t give birth to a bastard child.” You hissed angrily.

“What did he do to you?” Daemon's voice became raw with anger. 

Your mothers face held some form of understanding. 

She was a woman. 

She would know.

“I don’t want your pity. I don’t care about what he did to me. It is meaningless now. I want to know. Why not me? Haven’t I given enough? Haven’t I given you everything that I have? That I am? And yet all anyone else does is take from me!"

You stepped forward, hands angrily moving across your body, "Would you have named me successor if I had been born a man? I have been cursed to the same fate you were born into. I have done everything that was needed of me, and more." You inhaled raggedly as you felt a familiar rage begin to build higher and higher inside of you.

"I have been the dutiful daughter. Princess Sister. Niece. What more could I give? Will it ever be enough for you? Will I ever be enough?"

You look at your mother, and sneer.

"I will never be a son."

"You are my daught-" Rhaenyra begins and you interrupt her.

"Do not mistake me, I love you all dearly. I would throw myself head first into the flames for you. I would lay on my own sword if it is what you asked me to do. Though sometimes I question if it is reciprocated.” 

The bitter words spilt from your lips before you could even stop them. The more they came out, the more words followed. It was a never ending of stream of consciousness, that you had tried so hard before to bury. 

But burying oneself is suffocating, and for the first time in months, you felt yourself breathe. 

“Y/n…Please.” Daemon touched your face, pulling you to look at him as he watched you sadly.

“Tell me.” You turned your head to look at your mother. 

The woman you loved most dearly in life.

Someone who had raised you to be as headstrong as you were today. To believe that men and women were equal, and that women deserved to be in positions of power, where men had previously prevented it.

And that is why this stung you so greatly.

“Please, mother.”

Rhaenyra stepped forward and grabbed your hands, looking down at them. You kept them limp as she held onto you, watching her face.

She sucked in a breath.

“The realm is simply not ready for two Queens. One is a shock enough already, and we have seen the way that the people have split the realm in two; in support of Aegon, and support of me. If I were to name you successor, our support would be halved."

She took a deep breath, squeezing your hands tightly, "Please know that I did not do this because I didn’t think you were not worthy, or ready to sit on the throne. You both are.” She looked at Jace who was still intently watching you, though all malice had gone from his face, and a solemn frown replaced it.

You gripped her hands roughly.

She gave you the saddest of looks and it made your stomach clench. 

“It is not what I had wanted for you. You know more than anyone that if Aegon hadn’t-“

“I understand.” You said dully, voice devoid of emotion. 

“Y/n.” Your mother pleaded.

You squeezed her hand once, and gave her a short and curt smile. You pushed down your anger deep into your chest, letting it burn inside of you.

You knew there was nothing more to be done. 

And so you bit your tongue. 

“Apologies, Your Grace.” You paused, giving her a small smile, squeezing her hand in assurance, “I will continue to uphold my duties to this family, and to the realm. I swear to you as my Queen, that I will do everything that is needed of me in order to win this war.” You bowed your head before turning to look at Jacaerys.

“I am sorry, my Prince. Please take no offence to my outburst. It seems I am tired after all. You will be a fine King, just as mother said.”

You let go of your mothers hands before turning to smile stiffly up at your father, and began to make your way to leave for your chambers. Rhaenyra called out to you and you turned.

She looked as though she was struggling to find words.

“It’s okay. Once we have won this war, and you take back the Iron Throne, you will be able to create a new order. Like the one you have spoken about for so long." You paused, looking at your family before finishing,

"And I will make the realm bend to it.”

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[hooked-on-elvis]

"The first requirement of acting: to believe in what you’re doing"

MILDRED DUNNOCK TALKS ABOUT WORKING WITH ELVIS IN LOVE ME TENDER

It was an odd role in which to make his screen debut, but Elvis gave it his all and tried not to be intimidated by his costars, who included the fine character actress Mildred Dunnock, twice nominated for an Academy Award, as his mother. Critics would pan the novice actor — he was, after all, an easy target — but Dunnock was surprised at his solid performance. “When I came back from making the picture, my friends saw it and said, ‘Why Millie, this boy can act!’ This rather threw me, because I said I had spent twenty-five years trying to learn how to act, and Elvis Presley hadn’t spent twenty-five minutes. So I do not in any way depreciate his value as an actor.”

The truth was, Dunnock, a fellow southerner, had taken a shine to Elvis, and when he confessed to her that he didn’t really know what to do, how to make the lines ring true, she took it upon herself to coach him. First the former schoolteacher had to educate him in the art of theatrical projection.

“Elvis would have a line like, ‘Can’t do it, Maw, can’t do it.’ And he would say [it] really pleasant and nice. But I’d tell him to say it like he really meant it. And after a certain number of tries he would finally say [with strong emphasis], ‘I can’t do it, Maw, I can’t do it!’ And Mr. Webb would say, ‘Shoot.’ ” In one of the film’s most crucial scenes, the family was led to believe that the Yankees had killed Clint’s brother. “He really hadn’t been killed,” Dunnock remembered, “but my baby Elvis was upstairs, and I was in the kitchen cooking. There was only one line of dialogue in this scene, and it was mine. All the rest was plain action. I was going to say it firmly, so I rehearsed it and rehearsed it. The lighting men decided what they were going to do, and we sat down and drank Coca-Colas and waited for about two hours.” As Dunnock told the story, the director finally said, “Everything seems ready, so let’s rehearse it one time.” Elvis said, “Yes, sir, Mr. Webb.” Then the director took Elvis through it, saying, “In this scene, the Yankees come by horse up into the backyard, which you can see from your window upstairs. You come down and go to the window and see those Yankees kill your brother. You go to the sideboard, open the drawer, and pull out a gun. You start across that floor to go meet those damn Yankees, and end of scene.” “Yes, sir,” Elvis said confidently. “The Yankees are going to rap on the door,” Webb continued. “I’ll go, ‘Ready, lights, shoot,’ then I’ll make a knocking sound, and that’s your cue to come down those stairs. Understand?” “Yes, sir.” Webb called for action, and rapped out the knock. In Dunnock’s retelling, “Elvis came down those stairs, went to that sideboard, took out that gun, and when I said my line, ‘Put that gun down, son!,’ well, he dropped it right away. Mr. Webb said, ‘Cut! Cut! Oh, my God, what are you doing? You’re supposed to keep on going!’ Elvis said, ‘She told me to put it down.’ ” Most actresses of Dunnock’s caliber would have held her head, livid at having to put up with so inexperienced an actor. But Elvis had gotten to the real mother in her, and she chose to frame his blunder as an asset. “You see, for the first time he heard me. Before, he was just thinking about what he was doing and how he was going about it. It’s a funny story, [but] I also think it’s a story about a beginner who had the first requirement of acting, which is to believe in what you’re doing.”

Excerpt from book "Baby, Let's Play House: Elvis Presley and the Women Who Loved Him" (2010) by Alanna Nash

Elvis and Mildred Dunnock. Love Me Tender (1956)

[inncubus-honey]

this is mw2 canon. im ignoring mw3 for now. no editing as well. just a little something as i work on something else, enjoy.

simon riley thought he lost everything all over again when your body crumpled to the ground in front him during a mission years ago, just the two of you doing a recon mission. a storm of bullets were raining around yall when one had nicked your neck as you ducked for cover with simon.

he dragged your body next to him behind the crate he was hiding behind, your hand clamped down on the gushing wound as you started up at him with wide, doe eyes as he hovered over your body. blood slipped from your lips, staining them in a crimson hue.

"simon..." your voice was horse as you called out to him. his copper eyes widen as well as he moved to hold you in his arms, comforting you to the best of his ability in the bullet storm continued.

"you're gonna be okay, love...please for me.." he whispered to the universe as he had grown to love your company in the 141. he loved drinking tea with you outside whenever yall could or cooking dinner together for the barracks that night.

as you continued coughing up blood with your eyes fluttering shut every now and then, simon called for an evac and medical help in his radio which was met by a call from price.

when he reached the heli with you in his arms, price gently guided him onto heli and nikolai took off for base. upon arriving back at base, price had to gently remove your body from simons arms who held you in a death grip to his chest.

"simon...you need to let them go." price spoke as he tried to remove from simons grip. his gaze only sitting ahead of him at the seat in front of him as he continued to bring you closer to his chest.

"simon, lad..." price whispered to him which caused simon to finally go limp in grip on you, crumpling in the seat as price handed your body off to someone else. unbeknownst to simon, price had to fake your death as you were chosen for an undercover mission and had be dead to the world.

years later, the 141 sends simon and soap to mexico to help with el sin numbre. upon entering the masion where they were located and finding valeria to be el sin numbra, simon met up with soap and alejandro on the roof. when talking with others, you were brought up to the roof by alejandro who found you in valeria office as her right hand. alejandro threw you by your arm before soap and simon, alejandro telling you to give them any information you have on valeria.

simons body frozen at the sight of you before him. he saw you die. he held you in his arms as it happened. he looked over you as you stood before him; his eyes catching the long white scar on your neck. your eyes were more tired, more lines and crows feet, more scars littered your face and skin the more he looked.

"simon...its been awhile." you joked with a crooked smile as simon walked closer to you. soap and alejandro watched on in confusion as to what was happening with you two. before you had a chance to move back from how close he was getting to you, simon took hold of your wrist to keep you right in front of him.

your eyes searched his eyes for any kind of reaction as he got closer to your face. your face burned as he got closer, its been years since you were close to him and you missed it.

"im sorry for not telling you, simon...but i couldnt tell cause of the nature of mission", you started speaking to him as he just watched you over,"t-this isnt how i wanted to reunite with you, simon..." you told him as he gently moved his hand from your wrist into fully holding your hand.

the heat upon your cheeks was deepen as simon gave you his full attention, waiting to hear the full story as to why he lost you.

"i know i left you in such a state...i remember wanting to drop out of the mission when we were on the heil and you held me. but shepard wouldnt let me drop at that point, i should have told you in some way about the mission...i see i was wrong for not doing so now." your wavered in some points as simon kept not on saying anything leaving you to remember how he wouldnt release you on the heli.

"oh stop being so stoic, simon. go on...shout, scream, say something!" you wanted the tense silence between you both to end with either simon speaking or walking away or something. his copper eyes softened as he slowly brought up a hand to cup your cheek, brushing his gloved thumb along the apple of your cheek.

"you're as beautiful as the day i lost you..." his voice was gruffer than you remember, but you still remembered it as your simon. tears welled up in his eyes as he brought into his embrace upon the rooftop. his love was back in his arms, his love was alive and thats all that mattered to him.

simon riley felt whole again after years and this time he was not letting you go.

[sihtricfedaraaahvicius]

warnings: just a lot of anger and heartbreak.

pairing: Sihtric x you (f)

summary: Uhtred and his men are ordered to bring you to Wiltunscir, to marry a nobleman, but Sihtric is not planning on letting you go.

word count: 2,9k

note: looks like there might be one more part after this!

Part I Part II Part II Part IV: The Pain.

You cried as you sat upon a horse, knowing this was it. The day your journey to Wiltunscir would start, to be wedded to a man you didn't even know, but was twice your age. Only so your father's fear of having his name disgraced would be put to an end.

'What's the matter, princess? I heard he's not that bad of a man,' Uhtred said as he saw your tears, but upon hearing you cry harder, he quickly turned and got on his horse.

'Lord, where is Sihtric?' Finan asked. 'I do not know,' Uhtred said, 'I informed him a few hours ago, but if he won't be here soon we have to leave without him. We have a long journey ahead of us and little time to waste. It is already noon, we can't wait much longer.'

Finan looked over his shoulder and saw you cry. He rode his horse next to Uhtred's and leaned over to whisper softly.

'Lord, I do not have a good feeling about this. It doesn't feel right to bring this young woman into an arranged marriage, just because of a weird nightmare Alfred had.' 'I know, Finan, I do not like this either, but I am sworn to Alfred. I have to do this or he will banish me for not obeying orders.'

Both men looked back at you with sympathy in their eyes, but quickly turned their faces when they heard voices approaching.

'Sihtric, you can't do this.' 'Watch me, Father, just watch me.' 'You will get yourself killed!' 'Alfred will never know, Beocca, unless you tell him.' 'You cannot take her and run off!'

Their argument was heated, which made Finan and Uhtred look up in surprise and confusion. You looked at Sihtric and felt your stomach turn. The man you wanted to be with was now going to escort you to marry someone else.

'Sihtric, what is this about?' Uhtred said and he looked at Beocca.

Beocca threw his arms up, trying to speak, but nothing came out.

'Sihtric?' Uhtred asked sternly. Concern grew on his face as he watched Sihtric climb up on your horse. 'Hey, Sihtric, that is not your horse, mate,' Finan tried to make light of the situation, but he quickly shared a worried look with Uhtred and Beocca.

Sihtric didn't say a word. He settled behind you in the saddle, pulled you against his chest, and without a word he kicked the horse into a gallop.

Uhtred and Finan were too taken aback to follow right away, and Uhtred looked at Beocca.

'Father, what is this about?' 'That boy of yours,' Beocca said, but he stopped talking, closed his eyes and muttered a quick prayer. 'Father?' Finan said, with a worried smile. 'The princess,' Beocca said, 'she is in love with Sihtric. And he is in love with her.' 'What?' Uhtred asked, confused, 'since when?' 'Before you left to Cippanhamm.' 'Cippanhamm?' Uhtred looked up at Finan, 'but that was nearly a season ago.' Beocca sighed, 'yes, it was.' 'But how did he know about her? I hadn't seen her until this morning. I had not even heard a word about her until last night,' Uhtred tried to make sense of Beocca's words.

Beocca quickly explained what had happened. That he had caught you and Sihtric outside and pulled you apart, about the letter you wrote him before they left for Cippanhamm, and about how he had made Sihtric and you meet in the church.

Uhtred and Finan looked at him with big eyes.

'They did what in a church now?' Finan asked. 'Not a word, Finan, not a word,' Beocca snarled and made a cross, but Finan couldn't help but chuckle and he turned to Uhtred. 'This explains his reckless behaviour before we left for Cippanhamm, lord. Remember we suddenly had to keep him out of fights here?'

Uhtred nodded and rubbed his hands over his face.

'What am I supposed to do?' he asked Finan and Beocca, who both had no answer for him.

In the meantime, Sihtric had held you tight with one arm around your waist as he had galloped away from Wessex, without having said a word. Once the fort was not in sight anymore he slowed the horse down and eventually stopped in a field. He got off the horse and helped you down safely.

'Sihtric,' you said, having no more tears left, 'what are you doing?' 'I don't know,' he admitted, as he paced back and forth. He took your face in his hands and as he looked in your eyes, you saw the exact moment he broke. 

He stepped away from you and reached for his axe, fell down to his knees and started to strike the axe down into the defenceless ground, groaning in anger with each strike. Over and over again until his arm was hurting and his throat was sore.

You watched him do it and you were too overwhelmed with everything, that all you could do was sit down and watch the man that you love being broken into pieces, right in front of you.

After a moment that felt to last for ages, Sihtric finally dropped his axe as he let out one last deep, loud, broken and hopeless grunt. And as you shivered at the sound of him you heard horses approach.

'Sihtric!' Uhtred yelled. 

Finan had already gotten off his horse and ran up to Sihtric, who had his head in his hands as he sat down. Finan looked at you and you gave him a nod that you were at least calm.

'Sihtric, what is your plan here?' Uhtred spoke, 'running off with the princess? And go, where? Alfred's entire army will be looking for you, you won't stand a chance. They will claim you've taken her hostage if this ever comes out.'

Sihtric was breathing heavily as he cried. Then he slowly walked up to you and kneeled down in front of you, his head low as he took your hands.

'Sihtric, don't.' you whispered, but he gently helped you up your feet. He looked at you, defeated and on edge, and you felt he was more unpredictable than ever.

'Let her go,' Uhtred said, 'we have to talk about this. But we can't stay here, we should move. She will ride with me.' 'I will not allow you to take her away from me!' Sihtric shouted, and he pulled his knife as he shoved you behind him.

Finan jumped back and Uhtred threw up his hands, and you just froze.

'Sihtric, boy, don't take it out on us, eh?' Finan said, 'we like this as much as you do.'

Sihtric didn't speak, he kept his knife up and looked back and forth between the men.

'Put down the knife, Sihtric,' Uhtred said calmly, 'you might hurt yourself.'

Sihtric's stance weakened, and his hands were shaking as he tried to control his tears.

'We won't resolve it this way. We need to move, find a place to stay and talk about this, okay? But not here,' Uhtred said, 'lower your knife, and let her go with me.' 'No!' Sihtric cried, and continued with a broken voice, 'she stays with me! I will not let you take her to Wiltunscir.' 'Sihtric, she is to marry a nobleman. There are worse fate for women here,' Finan said. 'He will marry her and he will make her a slave, will he not?' Sihtric hissed, 'we know men like that. We have fought men like that. I have killed men like that, and I will do it again.'

Finan desperately brushed his hands through his hair, he was at a loss, and Sihtric then lowered his knife as he broke down again.

'Now you listen to me!' Uhtred raised his voice. He walked over to Sihtric and punched him in his face, twice, to which he fell down onto his knees, but didn't flinch at the pain. You shouted at Uhtred and wanted to attack him, but Finan held you back. 

Sihtric just laughed as he felt the cut on his forehead, caused by Uhtred's rings, and he wiped the blood away from his nose, which Uhtred had hit with his second punch. Finan knew they were about to lose Sihtric if he didn't calm down soon, as he was becoming a danger to himself and everyone around him with his reckless behaviour.

'You will let go of this, now!' Uhtred said firmly, and he grabbed Sihtric's hair to lift his head up and face him. 'You will ride with us and we will stop at the closest town. Where we will eat and we will sleep, and tomorrow we will talk about this when your head is clear. Do you hear me?'

Sihtric breathed heavily and spat out the blood which had run down his throat, but he didn't say a word.

'Do you hear me?' Uhtred shouted and yanked Sihtric's head back further. 'Yes,' Sihtric groaned, with a voice that didn't even sound like his own.

Uhtred pushed Sihtric's head down as he let go of him. He walked over to you and Finan, who had let go of you by now.

'You ride with me,' Uhtred said.

'No,' you heard yourself say, and you stepped away from them. Uhtred gave you a bewildered look as you then ran to Sihtric.

'My darling,' you whispered, as you took his face in your hands and looked into his exhausted eyes. And even now, when his face was painted with his own blood, which ran down his forehead and from his nose, down to his lips and his chin, you still thought he was the most beautiful man you had ever seen. He brought his hands up to yours and gave you a weak smile, 'I will not let any other man touch you, ever,' he whispered, and he wrapped his arms around you.

'Can you believe this?' Uhtred said quietly so you couldn't hear it, and he gestured to you.  'Lord,' Finan said and shook his head, 'leave me out of this.' 'How crazy must the man go before she sees he is a danger?' Uhtred asked, in complete and utter disbelief, 'if he keeps this up he will be the death of her. The death of us even.'

Finan clenched his jaw and nodded.

'Lord, we have to find a way to solve this. Sihtric will not leave her side, and she won't leave him either by the looks of it. But if we take her to Wiltunscir as planned, with Sihtric -' 'Then there will be a slaughter,' Uhtred finished Finan's sentence. 'Aye. A bloody slaughter.'

Uhtred patted Finan's shoulder and gave him an understanding nod.

'We ride, now.' Uhtred said as he walked to his horse, and so did Finan.

You helped Sihtric up and carefully wiped the blood from his face, and he closed his eyes to your gentle touch. You were both tired and emotionally drained, and all you wanted was to be in his arms. But the next town was not near and you wouldn't reach it until late night, so there was no time for comfort, or so you thought.

Sihtric helped you up on the horse, but before he did he told you to sit with both legs on one side. You didn't quite understand why, but you did as he asked. And when Sihtric climbed in the saddle after you, you understood why. He pulled you against him and you wrapped your arms around him as you looked up into his eyes. He gave you a comforting smile, and you just couldn't hold yourself back anymore. You placed your hands onto his neck and you kissed his lips. You pulled back fast, as if you were shocked by your own behaviour in front of the other men, but it wasn't long until Sihtric pulled you back in and he kissed you slow and deep.

You heard Finan clear his throat not far away from you, but you both ignored him, and soon you heard their horses walking away. Sihtric held you tight with one arm around your waist as he kicked the horse to walk, but his lips didn't leave yours until they felt bruised. After that you buried your face in his neck and held him tight, and you didn't let go until you reached the town, where Uhtred arranged two rooms at the town's Inn to stay the night at.

The four of you walked up to the bedroom doors and Uhtred opened both. Sihtric pulled you into one of the rooms with him as Finan and Uhtred stood in front of the other opening.

'Sihtric,' Uhtred said, 'I know you do not wish to leave her side, but it's better if-' but Sihtric slammed the door before Uhtred could finish.

Finan chuckled and walked with Uhtred into the other room, and they decided they would not interfere anymore, for it was hopeless.

Before you ended up in bed with Sihtric, you made sure his bruises and cuts were clean and not giving him much discomfort. But to that he smiled and said this was nothing compared to his battle wounds. He promised you he was fine and calmer than before, and he just wanted to be with you and think of nothing else anymore. 

You helped him untie his armour and he finally seemed more relaxed as he watched you fumble with the laces. When you finally had taken off his armour and he wasn't wearing much else anymore, except for his lower garments, he pulled you into bed with him, where he carefully took off your clothes, and he apologised for his reckless behaviour in between kisses.

And the man who had been rough and dominant with you just the night before, seemed now as if he had never existed, for his hands touched you in the most gentle way. Sihtric kissed you, soft and slow, pouring all his love for you out in the sweetest moans you'd ever heard, and he made love with you in the most sensual and passionate way. And even if he was a beast, a brute, and a Dane, he was your lover. And tonight he was tender, and he made you feel his you love like no one else ever would or even could. You were his and his alone, and he was yours and he would always be yours, even if it would cost him his life.

And for the first time since you had met, you could finally fall asleep in his arms, and you had never felt so safe and complete as you did then.

The next morning you were woken early by Uhtred banging on your door. You both got ready as quickly as you could. But not before Sihtric had told you how he loved you and made sweet love to you again, which felt even better in the morning, and it left you both flustered when you sat down with Uhtred and Finan for breakfast.

Finan chuckled when he had taken a good look at the two of you. You both still had red cheeks and a glow that you'd only get after making the kind of love you just made. Uhtred could also tell what had been going on, which only made the situation worse.

'Sihtric,' Uhtred said, 'how do you think this was going to work.' And with that question Uhtred quickly brought you back to reality.

'There has to be a way,' Sihtric said, 'there just has to be. What if we just disappear?' 'I don't know,' Finan said, 'you'll need a place to live. And you are a familiar face by now, Sihtric, and people talk.' 'What if I just go back to Wessex?' you said. 'You can't go back to Wessex,' Uhtred said, 'at least not with Sihtric.' 'Maybe Dunholm? It is captured by the Danes now. They'd welcome you,' Finan said. 'Until they find out who she is,' Sihtric said. 'Sihtric is right, she will become a target,' Uhtred added.

You took a deep breath and looked up at Sihtric, who had his arms around you. You did not want to leave this man, ever. And you felt like you could burst into tears any moment now, which Uhtred saw, and he then knew that this wasn't just some fling, but real love.

'There might be a way,' Uhtred said slowly, and everyone looked up at him.

He hesitated to continue for a moment.

'Beocca,' he said, 'told me that there is a way.' He looked up at Sihtric, and continued, 'You could carry her off. Meaning that you marry her and bed her, which will need a witness. But this way the marriage can hold. She will be seen as dishonoured, as you are a Dane, and she is a Christian,' 'Believed,' you interrupted, 'believed to be Christian.' 'Believed to be Christian,' Uhtred said with a soft smile, 'and therefore no Christian men will want her anymore, for she will not be worthy. She'd be blemished. But this means that she will most likely be banished from Wessex and her family.' 'I do not care about Wessex or my family,' you said, and you turned to Sihtric, 'let's marry.' 'Is this true?' he asked, 'if we marry, will she be free?' 'Free of Wessex and her family, yes,' Uhtred said, 'but we can never know what that nobleman will do, who is expecting a bride soon.'

Sihtric looked at you, and he gave a light and nervous chuckle. 'But who will marry us?' you asked. Uhtred looked at Finan, who smiled. 'Beocca will,' Finan said, 'I know he will.' 'But then we have to go back to Wessex, and we can't do that,' you said. 'It is only half a day's travel to Wessex, I can fetch him,' Uhtred said, 'but are you sure?'

Uhtred looked at you, 'Are you sure you want to marry Sihtric, and give up any claim you have to Wessex and know your family will banish you?' 'Uhtred,' you said, 'I would give my life for him.' And you felt Sihtric's arms tighten around you as Uhtred gave you a confirming nod.

'Then I will fetch Beocca.'

[liaa--qb]

'WRONG DECISION'

[ Dark yan (male) Arya x Daenerys

WARNINGS : DUB con, possessive, Dark, Yandere (male) Arya, obsession, fingering, oral, explicit, cheating, manipulation, angst

Summary : Daenerys arrives at Winterfell to rule with John but things may not go well planned as her strange brother in law takes some special interest in her, extremely special interest.

Part 2

( Young Garret hedlund is boy Arya fancast here; U can have ur own✌ or may be Harry Gilby is my other fancast)

Once I saw in suggestions, i liked idea of this ship, I want you guys to tell me how was it before I continue this further ! would love likes and share ❤ Thankyou

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Dany arrived at Winterfell, and she couldn't help but sense an unfamiliar tension in the air. The villagers and city folk did not seem particularly welcoming, which heightened her unease. John, on the other hand, appeared less concerned, and she considered that he might be right. It was likely because she was a newcomer, and history had shown that outsiders often brought trouble with them. Perhaps John's approach of allowing time was the wise one.

As she neared the main palace gate, she spotted two figures standing there. A striking young woman with long, luscious red hair stood next to a young man in a wheelchair, lost in his own world. Their gazes upon Dany held different expressions.

John dismounted his horse and greeted her with a smile. "Come meet my family, my sister and brothers," he said. Dany nodded and walked alongside John to meet them. After a brief introduction between her and John's sister Sansa, Sansa responded, "Winterfell is yours, Your Grace," though her smile appeared uncertain and forced.

Thankfully, Bran was more approachable, and a short conversation with him eased Dany's nerves. Meanwhile, John asking Sansa, "Where is he?" as he scanned the surroundings, to which Sansa merely shook her head and smiled, replying, "You know him, John."

As the temperature dropped and darkness settled in, they made their way inside for dinner. Dany couldn't help but conclude that her journey to the winter-ridden North was not as picturesque or thrilling as she had anticipated.

The place exuded gloom and a lack of joy, and the people's welcome seemed lacking in enthusiasm. Along the way, John was accosted by unkempt individuals who seemed to have an urgent need to speak with him. Dany found herself once again left alone, her attendants and friends having gone inside. She initially decided to wait for John to join her, but his conversations with his old friends seemed interminable.

While waiting, she couldn't shake the feeling that someone's eyes were fixed on her. She scrutinized her surroundings, but there was nothing to suggest anyone was there.

It was likely just her imagination may be, but the persistent unease began to wear on her. Annoyed, she eventually approached John, urging him to come inside with her, but he politely declined, suggesting she go ahead and rest, assuring her he would join them later. Her irritation grew; it was only her first day in Winterfell, and she was already disenchanted with her new surroundings.

As she walked down the corridors, the sensation of being watched and closely observed persisted. She tried to dismiss it, attributing it to her unfamiliarity with the place and its inhabitants. To combat her unease, she focused on her surroundings and tried to maintain a cheerful facade. Nevertheless, the feeling of someone's unwavering gaze bore down on her, sending shivers down her spine.

As Dany ventured further into the labyrinthine passages, she found herself in a towering, cave-like hallway. Its obscurity was offset by massive square-cut windows etched into the grey stone walls, offering a panoramic view of the exterior. Her heart quickened as the human presence dwindled, leaving her in a haunting solitude.

In this dim expanse, she suddenly perceived an elderly woman engaged in a haunting chant, reminiscent of a sacred invocation. She ceased her incantation and turned her gaze upon Dany, a faint but eerie smile gracing her lips.

The woman's attire was unremarkable, typical of the denizens of Winterfell, but her conduct unsettled Dany. It was evident that the woman's attention was not fixed on Dany herself but rather on something concealed behind her.

The elderly woman tenderly took hold of Dany's hand, her eyes reflecting warmth and kindness. Although the sudden gesture alarmed Dany momentarily, she found solace in the idea that an old woman's blessings were preferable to the disconcerting silence of strangers. Her anxiety grew as the woman continued to peer beyond her, prompting Dany to inquire, "What troubles you? Is there something amiss?"

With grace, the old lady replied and, for a moment, lowered her gaze, not releasing her grip on Dany's hand. She then presented a necklace adorned with dark beads. "Take this," she murmured, "for you are the Dragon Queen. May my ancient gods watch over you. I pray for your well-being, our radiant queen."

Dany hesitated as she accepted the small trinket, yet the genuine warmth displayed by the elderly woman, unlike others, persuaded her to retain it. "Thank you," she replied with an uncertain smile, "I hope to win the favor of all here."

Eager to depart, Dany bid her newfound acquaintance farewell. However, the old woman clutched her hand firmly and, with widened eyes, whispered urgently, "Listen to me. Trust no one here too readily; people are not what they appear to be. They wear many faces. Be vigilant."

This sudden shift in demeanour startled Dany, and she quickly withdrew her hand, nodding her acknowledgement before hastening her steps. Regret washed over her for venturing alone, compounded by the plummeting temperatures and chilling gusts that did nothing to alleviate her growing unease.

Dany quickened her pace as she approached the grand hall's entrance, determined not to squander a single moment. Many well-wishers sought to greet her, but she merely acknowledged them with a nod and a fleeting smile. Her mind was abuzz with questions about how people perceived her—wondering if they thought of her as a queen racing about like a madwoman. Thoughts raced through her mind: "Would these people accept her? What did Sansa make of her?"

With unwavering determination, she resolved to win Sansa's favor in the days to come. Having endured her fair share of hardships, Dany believed that Sansa, too, would empathize with her. They would undoubtedly form a deep bond over time. However, one thing was certain: tonight, she would not grant John access to her bedchamber. A mischievous smile naturally crept onto her lips at the mere thought of it. He deserved this playful retribution, for he had kept his queen waiting for far too long. Dany envisioned the delight on John's face when she teased him or, even better, when she whisked him away on a dragon ride. His startled expression would be a sight to behold.

though lost in her tender thoughts of John, she failed to notice a treacherous broken pipe beneath her, resulting in an impending stumble. However, in the nick of time, strong hands grasped her waist firmly, preventing her from meeting an unfortunate fall.

Dany opened her eyes, her breathing slowly returning to normal, while attempting to discern the nature of this timely intervention. She found herself on the brink of tumbling onto unforgiving rocks due to her misstep on the shattered pipe. A pair of rugged, calloused hands held her securely.

As she gingerly touched those hands, her gaze shifted upwards to encounter the face of her savior. A breath, momentarily held in suspense, now hitched in her throat. It was a man, a rather young man by her estimation. His profound, obsidian eyes scrutinized her with an intensity as though she were an enigma he was diligently trying to unravel.

Only then did Dany realize the potential awkwardness of her situation, a woman cradled in the arms of a man in such close proximity.

 A quiet cough from the man snapped her back to reality, prompting him to readjust his stance.

In a moment of self-consciousness, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment. She couldn't help but ponder the judgments that others must be passing, wondering if she should have conducted herself differently. Despite the scrutiny of onlookers, she maintained her composure and attire, maintaining eye contact with her rescuer.

"It was exceedingly kind of you to save me," Dany replied with a gracious smile.

The man was slender but possessed a commanding height, surpassing even John in stature. His jet-black hair complemented the darkness of his attire. He gave a subtle nod and responded, "It was a mere duty, Your Grace. Queens must be protected, especially a queen as auspicious and exceptional as yourself." His voice was youthful, crisp, bearing a certain frigidity, yet oddly soothing to the ears.

Dany was confident that he was much younger than John, perhaps even herself. His attire resembled that of a skilled warrior, absent armor yet markedly superior to the typical resident's clothing, reminiscent of what a prince might wear. She thought he appeared to hail from a noble court, evident not only in his demeanor but also in his visage. His face exuded a striking beauty—different from John's but characterized by a wild, captivating allure.

Observing her contemplative gaze, he couldn't resist a smirk that carried a hint of cruelty and intrigue. "Is scrutinizing my face providing you with any insights, my queen?" he quipped with a challenge in his eyes.

Dany, somewhat flustered, shook her head in a mixture of embarrassment and self-deprecation. "Please forgive me, it's just that I have a peculiar habit of assessing people. As a queen from a distant land and a newcomer... it helps alot?" she stammered, concluding her words with a self-conscious, almost awkward laugh.

"Indeed," he responded, his tone swift and frigid. His demeanor exuded an air of unshakable confidence as he stood tall, his posture erect, and his folded hands behind his back. Their eyes met, and within his gaze, there sparkled a glint of curiosity, as if he were peering deep into her soul with a trace of amusement.

Internally, Dany grappled with the overwhelming sensation of nervousness he invoked in her. She had just met him, yet his presence was exceptionally daunting. This unfamiliar unease was unsettling; no one before him had ever stirred such profound trepidation within her.

"I would appreciate an introduction," Dany uttered, a warm smile adorning her face, despite the fact that her breaths hitched beneath the weight of his penetrating gaze. He tilted his head, his response delivered with an air of nonchalance, "I thought my queen possessed the magical ability to discern everything about me with nothing more than her prolonged and enchanting stare."His words flowed with a soothing cadence,

 and Dany found herself incapable of sustaining eye contact with him. She frequently glanced around as she conversed, feigning composure. "Yes, it is regrettable that I lack such a power... I do wish I possessed it. Alas, you'll have to offer this new queen an introduction of yourself," she conceded, her voice a gentle, measured tone, her eyes returning to meet his as she toyed with her fingers.

She longed to meet his gaze directly, but her inability to do so weighed upon her as she sensed his intense scrutiny, patiently awaiting her response. Her tongue seemed to falter as she struggled to form even the simplest of words. In an effort to gather her composure, she gradually raised her eyes to meet his, delving deep into the bottomless depths of his own.

Undoubtedly, she mused to herself, he possessed a striking countenance. Yet, Dany couldn't help but believe that he likely viewed her as a fledgling queen, unable to produce even the most basic reply. Internally, she felt the weight of impending defeat pressing down upon her.

Their silent exchange was mercifully disrupted when John's voice rang out from behind, shattering the oppressive tension. Dany was profoundly grateful for the interruption.

 John warmly embraced the young man and then turned to Dany, introducing him with unbridled enthusiasm. "Dany, allow me to present Arya !, Arya Stark, second son of Eddard and Catelyn, Prince of House Stark and Winterfell and my little brother," John announced, patting Arya's back while grinning broadly.

Arya acknowledged Dany with a brief smile and a nod, introducing himself as John's brother continued. Flustered by the sudden revelation, Dany managed only a hurried apology. "Oh... I didn't know, pardon me, Prince," was all she could stammer.

"No need for such formality, my queen. You may call me by my name if you so desire. I find little pleasure in such titles," Arya interjected. John intervened, taking charge of the situation, "I intended to introduce you, but it seemed you had vanished into thin air." With that, he guided both Arya and Dany into the hallways, where their dining awaited, thankfully dissipating the tension.

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The chill in the air continued to intensify, and while the snowy landscape outside exuded its own unique beauty in the nocturnal stillness, a prevailing sense of gloom and silence also hung in the atmosphere. Dany reclined on her bed, wrapped in a long, loose, and thin gown, her fingers gently toying with the strands of her cascading hair.

After the passing of two or three days, it became increasingly evident to Dany that the task of endearing herself to her newfound northern family was proving to be quite arduous. No one extended themselves to her; no one inquired about her well-being, her contentment, or her happiness.

She found herself isolated, even though it was only her fourth day in this place. Her second day had largely been consumed by rest, much like everyone else who was fatigued by the extended journey. Dany couldn't hold anyone at fault for this, especially considering the frosty weather, which only encouraged her to remain within her chambers, ensconced by the warmth of a crackling fire.

One aspect that deeply perturbed her was John's minimal presence. He only appeared during supper or dinner, never taking the time to meet or engage with her privately in her chamber. Had he become so engrossed in reuniting with his old friends that he had inadvertently neglected her? Dany admonished herself for allowing such thoughts to fester, reasoning that it was only natural for him to require time to reconnect with them after enduring so much suffering.

She yearned for the moments when he would take her along with him during his work or reunions with his old friends, rather than leaving her on the sidelines as if she were invisible, bearing witness to their animated conversations.

Although she acknowledged the irrationality of her sentiments, she still found herself feeling isolated during their gatherings for supper and lunch. However, she steadfastly believed that with time, they would all come to cherish her, and she drew strength from that conviction.

Remaining idle in her quarters wasn't contributing positively to her mood. Dany concluded that if she truly desired the affection and admiration of the people, she would have to actively engage with them, getting to know them on a personal level and earning their regard through her actions. With this newfound resolve, she rose from her seat and exchanged her attire for a beautiful blue gown, a dress that evoked memories of her early travels and felt intimately familiar.

Emerging from her chamber, Dany ventured outdoors, her steps accompanied by Missandei. The surroundings appeared vast, resembling a sprawling expanse, except for the blanket of snow that enveloped everything. There, she spotted John and Arya engaged in conversation, with children playfully darting around them. As she approached, it was evident that they were discussing the training of these young ones.

"Greetings to both of you. What's happening? Any noteworthy developments?" Dany inquired, her demeanor exuding a bright and sweet smile. John responded with a warm smile too, while Arya, displaying a hint of irritation, distanced himself and began preparing his bow and arrow. Dany found this change in demeanor unsettling for a bit.

"It's merely a minor discussion. Arya suggested that we continue training the children, but I proposed that, thanks to the dragons, our situation has improved considerably. We need not risk the lives of these little ones; they are unprepared for the impending war," John explained.

Dany nodded in agreement, asserting, "Yes, I believe children should remain unharmed at all costs. Their lives are precious, as it is their safety for which we are all fighting." She gazed at John with profound admiration and leaned in for a passionate kiss, their moment interrupted by the resounding thud of Arya's arrow hitting its mark.

Arya, his tone chilled, addressed Dany, "So, are you not precious, and are your dragons not precious to you, my queen?" He pointed his arrow toward its intended target.

"What do you mean my prince ?" Dany replied to Arya's assertion.

Arya, his bow now lowered, fixed her with a piercing gaze. "Yes, you heard me correctly, my queen," he continued, his tone unwavering.

"Do you genuinely believe that anyone's life among us holds less significance than another's? I, for one, do not share that opinion. Regarding your heartfelt concern for these children's safety, let me remind you that I, too, was once a child, and I faced some of the most perilous trials. So did Sansa. I don't believe you were much older yourself when you were sold to Khal Drogo's Dothraki horde."

Those words acted like pointed daggers, thrusting into Dany's consciousness and summoning the shadows of her painful past. She felt vulnerable, her humiliation laid bare by those memories, now exposed so openly in front of everyone by this boy. The urge to shout or shed tears swelled within her, but she remained speechless, her gaze cast downward. But she had made a vow to herself to rise above these emotions.

"Let me correct you, Prince. I was not sold. I was Khal Drogo's wife, their queen, just as I am yours. I chose to go to them, and I ruled them. I was not their slave. Yes, my marriage was far from a dream, but I was their queen. They worked for me, and they killed for me," Dany replied, voice tinged with a sigh, conveying the weight of her complex history. In the midst of it all, she felt John's reassuring touch, his hand gently rubbing her back.

now Arya's expression had shifted, no longer bearing the edge of provocation but now displaying a genuine sense of admiration. It appeared he had something to say but held back.

John intervened with a diplomatic tone, saying, "She's right, Arya and please I understand that your intent wasn't to hurt her, but it would be more gracious to use polite words in her presence. She's new here and unfamiliar with your straightforward demeanour. I am confident that you'll find common ground with time. Let's set this topic aside for now and return to it later, shall we?" He offered a small, reassuring smile to ease the tension in the air.

Dany found herself reveling in this moment, for it felt far more gratifying than the others. She was now with all of them, nestled close to John, and embraced by his warm hands, basking in the semblance of a harmonious royal family.

She held John a bit closer, her eyes filled with affection, as she playfully inquired, "Will you visit my chambers tonight? I've been missing you." A shy, yet wide smile began to form on John's face, which he attempted to conceal while casting his gaze in all directions. "I have some important matters to discuss, but if you want it, I shall certainly come."

Just then, the extreme resonant thud of Arya's another arrow hitting its target again shattered the moment, jolting both John and Dany slightly. "Oh, my prince, it appears you're poised to break everything around us in mere moments," Dany quipped, her voice steady.

Arya regarded her with a sly smile playing upon his lips. "It appears, my queen, that you may be unfamiliar with the intricacies of defence and weaponry, aside from your dragons," he taunted, a challenging confidence gleaming in his youthful and notably handsome countenance.

His youthful face radiating a kind of wild, captivating beauty. Yes, he was, indeed, pretty she thought. Dany now felt certain that Arya possessed the same sort of "wild beauty" that Viserys had spoken of, the attraction that had captivated Rhaegar with Lyanna Stark.

She recalled Viserys describing Lyanna as not an extravagantly glamorous princess, yet undeniably possessing an alluring quality that had ensnared many a prince, including Baratheons. There was no denying it—Arya exhibited precisely that captivating allure that Viserys had attributed to Lyanna Stark, and the familial bloodline seemed to cast a striking imprint upon his features

 Dany was not one to readily back down from playful challenges, especially not when it involved her future brother-in-law. "Indeed, my prince, I may not be well-versed in the ways of weaponry, but I am eager to learn and would greatly appreciate it. While I may not wield a sword like a seasoned warrior, I do engage in daily discussions about warfare with my army," she responded with a childlike grin, snuggling closer to John's side.

Arya emitted a wry chuckle, and John chimed in, "Would you like to give it a try? It's not all that difficult, really," his lips curving playfully.

"Do you think I should?" Dany asked John with an innocent, childlike curiosity.

Arya, however, interjected, "One can only fully grasp the art of weaponry when they know how to wield it. There have been many kings who shy away from the battlefield, hiding like cowards. But I know you're not like that. While it might be a challenge for someone as extraordinarily beautiful as you, perhaps those around you have unintentionally discouraged you—indirectly pointing at Ser Jorah," Dany's heart swelled with appreciation for Arya's words, though she couldn't help but feel sorry for Jorah, who stood nearby.

"But I wholeheartedly endorse your acquisition of even a modicum of expertise in weaponry. It's for your own benefit. A person cannot fully understand their possessions until they know them—how to hold them, how to use them to the fullest. Simply listening to armies and commanders is insufficient. It would serve you well, my queen," Arya said confidently, his words resonating with a truth that struck a chord with Dany.

She felt a tinge of regret for never having shown an interest in defense training, solely relying on her dragons and armies. What if, someday, there were no dragons?

With confidence etched across her face, she turned her gaze towards John and Arya. "I would love to try. You're absolutely right, Prince," she affirmed. John enthusiastically nodded in agreement, saying, "Go for it."

Dany made her way toward Arya, gently slipping out of John's warm embrace as she approached the bow. However, uncertainty shadowed Arya's expression as he cautioned, "I hope you'll be able to handle this..." Before he could complete his sentence, the hefty bow and arrows began slipping from her grasp—too heavy for her to manage. She attempted to maintain her composure, but it was proving to be quite a challenge. John couldn't help but laugh. "Doing well?" he teased.

Dany, feeling irritated by his playful taunt, retorted, "Yes, yes, laugh all you want. Perhaps later, it'll be my turn to have a good laugh at your expense." She struggled to manage the unwieldy weapon, contorting herself into bizarre positions in her determined efforts.

At that moment, Ser Davos and Tormund, a massive man whom John referred to as his friend, joined them, engaging John in a conversation. Dany's focus shifted from the bow and arrow to their discussion. Ser Davos, after exchanging glances with Arya, turned to him and said, "Prince Arya, we require your presence. I wish to share something with you and John. I would appreciate it if you could join us."

Hearing this news left Dany feeling a bit disheartened. She couldn't help but wonder why John always had to leave her alone among strangers, and why these northern men seemed hesitant to share their matters with her. "Not right now, but I will join you later. Thank you. In the meantime, feel free to share everything with John," Arya replied to Ser Davos, his attention focused on polishing his sword.

"Certainly, my prince, as you wish," Davos responded with a nod. He swiftly set the bow and arrows aside and made his way over to John. Dany took John's hand with a sweet, pleading expression. "But what about our practice? I thought we were going to have some family time."

John shook his head, asserting, "It's important. Arya is there to guide you; he's exceptionally skilled with swords and bows. You are having a family time, and both of you will spend time together." Dany nodded, her gaze lowered.

"Listen, I know he can be a bit brusque with outsiders at first, but believe me, no one will adore and protect you within the family like he will. You two will get along well, and we'll have our time together alone later definitely," John assured her, offering a warm and comforting smile. As Dany moved back towards Arya's direction, not before turning  and calling out to John, "I'll be waiting, and we need to discuss our important matters as well." She flashed a mischievous smile at him, to which John bashfully bowed and departed.

Arya instructed her, "Pick it up and give it a try." Though he shouldn't have been so commanding with her, his tone bore more authority than request. Annoyance flickered across Dany's face as she replied, "As you wish, my prince."

After enduring Arya's continuous barrage of instructions like "pick it up," "you're holding it wrong," and "wrong again," Dany finally summoned all her strength, a force she rarely exerted even during her dealings with her dragons. She managed to grasp an arrow and the bow, taking aim at the target board.

The bow proved too heavy; its long wires pinched her skin, causing her to lose her balance on the weapon once again. However, this time, it didn't fall. Arya swiftly moved behind her, snatching the bow and steadying Dany's hands, holding onto the weapon more firmly. They stood close, too close, now. His cold breath brushed against her neck, making her even more nervous and causing her to shiver.

"Don't shiver. Why are you moving again? Stay in the position I showed you," Arya whispered into her ear. She understood it was part of a teaching lesson, but she wasn't accustomed to such proximity with anyone. Not even John had been this close to her in their early days. His warm breath tickled her, something she desperately wanted to ignore but couldn't. It distracted her once more, and she lost her balance on the bow, but Arya promptly caught it and forced his hands on her even tighter onto it.

Now he was so close that no air could pass between them. He pressed her body tightly against his, not allowing her to move, his other hand holding her waist firmly. "Yes, this is the correct position. Now, see and feel," he whispered again near her ear.

Dany wanted to move away from him, but how could she convey that it was too much for her to bear—this closeness, this proximity? He would surely mock her for having such thoughts. In the end, she felt she had no choice but to go with the flow; at least she might learn something. She struggled to keep her focus on the bow, arrow, and target. However, her concentration was constantly shattered by his whispered commands, his breath caressing her neck, and his firm grip on her waist, pulling her back against him to improve her balance. The sensation made her cheeks flush. Even lovers rarely held each other this closely in open.

Once, Dany suggested, "I believe I've learned enough, and you should go to John. He might need you." However, Arya rejected the notion, murmuring in her ear, "What about your needs?" as he adjusted her hands on the bow and positioned the arrow.

 She began to turn and face him, yet his firm hands halted her, compelling her to remain in her current position. In a composed tone, he reassured her, "Don't move, be still. You have no reason to hide or be shy around me and I have no intention of leaving you alone."

Dany couldn't help but be overwhelmed by a mixture of shame and an uninvited desire that coursed through her. Some part of her body reveled in this intimate closeness, the strong possessive hold, and his seductive whispers. Her whispered "Thanks" didn't sound like gratitude but more like a suppressed moan, which only deepened her sense of shame.

Abruptly, Jorah interrupted, saying, "I believe they're summoning our queen for dinner. Missandei informed me to bring her." Dany gazed at Jorah, who kept his eyes away from their direction, wearing an expression of discomfort and avoiding any acknowledgment of their closeness.

She quickly moved away from Arya's grasp, in her hurry to set aside her sharp arrows, inadvertently cutting her skin in the process. A whimper escaped her lips, which prompted Arya to grab her injured wrist once more, his eyes fixed on the bleeding cut. "Oh, I'll tend to it myself. Ser Jorah, please ask Missandei to prepare a herbal paste; this is a minor injury," she replied to Arya, though it seemed he wasn't even listening to her.

Dany felt a shiver run down her spine as she observed him place her injured finger in his mouth and begin to suck on it which she wasn't expecting. Her heart raced at the intimacy of the moment. Ser Jorah appeared clearly annoyed but remained in place. The situation was highly gross, particularly for two individuals who were essentially strangers, especially considering the potential future relations between them. He held her wrist firmly, engrossed in the act as if he was savoring it more than anything else.

Finally, he released her finger, and Dany hastily withdrew, saying her goodbyes. She couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze properly. In that moment, she realized that Princess Sansa was also present, watching the scene from the upper floor of her chamber. Dany nodded at Sansa, who reciprocated the gesture, and then quickly departed with Ser Jorah.

[caramel1mochi]

ぐちゃ ! (Splat!) [Yoru x F! Reader] [4]

Heya everyone!

Just a quick note; if you spot a random 'You' halfway through a sentence, it's supposed to be 'Yoru' but it keeps getting autocorrected and it doesn't stop NO MATTER WHAT SETTINGS I CHANGE.

Anyway, that's it, have a good one!

❤ฺ·。

Yoru x F! Reader

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 4.5 / Part 5 / Part 6

Genre: Fluff, a tiny amount of angst. Very tiny. Trust me.

Synopsis: Hapless doesn't even begin to describe you. With your life flipped upside down within the span of a day; you're left to rely on your best friend Tala to help you pick up the pieces and build the new one forced upon you. And this 'luck' seems to have caught the attention of one of her friends.

。+❤ฺ·。❤ฺ·。+❤ฺ· +❤·。❤ฺ·。+❤ฺ·

At first, you thought Neon was being dramatic when she talked about how the contingency of you having your own room was a terrible one. You had to have your own private space after all, right? You were a bloody adult.

Unfortunately, having your own space also meant that you were free to cuss and rant in Tagalog all you wanted while throwing your belongings around in a skewed sense of ‘organising’, or whatever ran through your mind at the time.

And that’s exactly what you’ve been doing since you escaped Omen’s sight.

Who the hell did Yoru think he was? That’s the question that you kept asking yourself, furiously grabbing your blanket and airing it. You knew his type. The ones who think they’re entitled just because they helped you a few times? And even then, you didn’t ask for his help! He offered it! So why was he getting on his high horse?

Gah, it was all just so moronic, you thought as you set the blanket down and folded it to properly fit the small bed.

You didn’t notice that, over the course of the past few minutes; your voice increased in volume and so did the loud thuds as you threw your items around. Which is the reason why two knocks on the door interrupted your incessant fury.

With a barely audible screech, the metal door slid open to reveal, thankfully, a familiar face.

“Oh, hey Neon.”

“Hoy, what’s going on here?”

You sighed and walked off to your vanity desk, organising the magazines you tossed.

“You heard that, huh?”

Neon laughed, already stepping in and running her fingers through the painting you had hung up. Delicately, so as to not ruin it, though. You were already pissed enough and god knows that she could tell.

“You don’t know how thick the walls are here, huh, Y/N–” she shook her head, “sorry, A/N.”

Just as you met her gaze with a smile, you were quickly pulled into a hug. So quick, the tufts of your hair barely even had time to settle as she tightly wrapped her arms around you.

“By the way, welcome to the team! I’m so happy you’re finally with us!”

“I’ve been here for a week, dummy.”

Despite your sarcastic remark, you felt all of your anger melt away in an instant, promptly hugging her back.

God, she was just the cutest.

“I just thought I’d give you the welcoming nobody else was going to!”

Nobody else, huh? That phrasing reminded you of a certain someone. Neon quickly pulled away. And immediately, just looking at her incredibly amicable round eyes stomped out any lingering hint of wrath you felt. And you couldn’t help but grin at this sight.

“Neon, seriously, what’s going on? Did everyone leave and you just have nobody to talk to?”

“Well, yeah, but since we have free time, we get to do something!”

…

Wait, she wasn’t joking?

“They’re actually gone?”

“Technically, they’re in a meeting right now. We’re just not a part of it.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. How come there wasn’t even an announcement? At least some chatter from the others as they made their way there? Is that why it was quiet enough for Omen to have heard you and Yoru arguing?

“There’s a meeting right now?”

“If you don’t know about it, then it means that you’re not gonna be in whatever they’re doing. Wanna go see?”

Before you could even open your mouth to answer, you were already pulled to the empty hallways and forced to march down with her, her grip on your left wrist as hard as it always is. But this time, after all the training and the way Harbour would slap your back as a way to express his joy, safe to say that you were definitely used to it.

On another note, your shoulder blade definitely had a crack in it somewhere.

“Wait, wait, where are we going?”

“To check out the meeting room! I don’t think you’ve ever been there, yet!”

With how silent the hallways were, you could hear your very steps echoing. And it made sense after what she told you.

However, this silence would allow you to listen in on a very distant yet muffled voice in just a few seconds. And with how harsh the tone was, its recognisable pitch, you could tell it was Viper before you could even make out one word.

The closer you got to the meeting room, the more audible her voice was. And just like that, you both found yourselves moving towards a wide open door, the only source of light coming from the centre of the table, projecting something to them as Viper explained whatever.

Both of you took a peek inside to see what the fuss was about. But it was hard for you to get a look at the model of the building they were examining, seemingly surrounded by a body of water. Not when everyone sat in a circle around said table. You began glancing at many agents you both recognised and didn't recognise.

There was Phoenix, Jett, Gekko, Skye, and…

Yoru.

“Ugh.”

“What?”

You cleared your throat, forcing a smile, but not without questioning how Viper tolerated such a man’s presence, not when he sat like he owned the place. Slouched on the chair, arms crossed, completely uninterested.

“I mean– is it, uh, is it usually this dark?”

“Not really. Whenever it’s dark like this, it means something serious is going on. Me and Sage actually made a little rhyme for it whenever we’d see Viper or Brim mess around with the light switch!” 

As she went on her little tangent, your eyes bore into the back of Yoru’s head with unrelenting anger. God, he just looked so punchable.

“It goes like this; if there’s light, then the workload’s light! If it’s dark, then you better get ready for some dark stuff! It’s not creative, but we were making up songs while we were surrounded by a bunch of rocks and had to wait for a rescue.”

Only after you observed the way his hair moved upwards did you realise that Harbour sat amongst them. Uh oh. He was in on this mission, too? That means you won’t be able to talk about this bomb thing you discovered until he gets back, right?

“A/N?”

“Yeah– I was, uh, I was just listening to what Viper was saying. Freaky stuff.”

“I know! I wouldn’t want to be Yoru right now, but he says he’s used to scouring things near the deep ocean.”

You scoffed.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever he says. So, what’re we doing until they’re back?”

You met her gaze. And of course, she beamed with a smile, her brown eyes glimmering under the harsh lights above you.

“So, A/N, since we both have free time and money, you wanna go do what I’m thinking we should do?”

…

“Uh, I don’t think I should be wasting–”

“Hoy, don’t be such a wuss! We’ll finally get to buy you that makeup you always wanted!”

Though you perked up at this, it quickly died down once you had another reason not to do this.

“No way, what if we–”

“We have time, money, freedom, and no rent to pay. You’re out of excuses and coming with me.”

Before you could retort, she grabbed your wrist and pulled you down the hallway once more. And, of course, with her contagious joy, you couldn’t help but also share her excitement for this trip.

It’s been a while since you had the freedom to dress the way you wanted. Wait, scratch that, you never really had said freedom unless you slept over at Neon’s house as a teen... Huh, maybe she was right. With how everyone else around here dresses, what’s the harm if you decided to wear fishnet stockings, right?

❤ฺ·。

Most of the agents left the meeting room excited, chatting with each other about the plans they'd set and what they're going to do. Mostly, however, about the unique location of the base. Even Harbour was excited, even though he had every right to be since it was in the middle of the ocean.

However, surprisingly enough, Phoenix wasn't one of them, following Yoru with an incredibly sour expression. Unable to read the room, he didn't realise the Japanese wanted to be left alone.

"Nah man, there's no way Viper took me out of the mission so quickly! I got cheated!"

"Phoenix. It's a base surrounded by water."

"And?"

"And the section we need to get into is submerged in water."

"So what?! Fire can still be useful!"

Yoru stared at him with a blank expression, before walking away. And Phoenix immediately followed. As per usual, with a preposterous counter-argument ready. If he could, Phoenix would burn an injured person if it meant he’d somehow be able to heal them.

"Wait wait, hear me out, I heard from somewhere that if you put fire on ice, it burns instead of melting 'cause of some chemical jargon. What if, by some force of nature, the same thing happens to the water?"

"You'd just be boiling it, idiot."

"Oh, come on. You're making it sound so useless!"

Yoru stopped and met Phoenix's gaze, both of his hands in his pockets.

"Why don't you go check if Neon has something planned?"

There was a reason she, Sage and Jett always had those outings, she was the mastermind behind all of them.

"Nah, no chance, fam. I saw her and A/N leave before the meeting was over, she's gone gone."

Already? Yoru thought, before shaking his head and both of them continuing down their path.

"Then go shoot some bots, or something. I have stuff to do."

"No way! After the shouting match I heard there, I ain't touching that spot until tomorrow."

"Tch, what? Shouting match?"

"Yeah, fam. Shouting match. Omen and I were chilling in the lobby and we heard shouting from there. Dunno what was up, but..."

Phoenix then remembered a key detail. Didn't Yoru tell him earlier that he would be training, and that's why he was unavailable most of the day? Then that meant… He chuckled to himself.

"Wait, was that you? Mate, how feminine does your voice get when you’re mad?"

"Did you just compare my voice to A/N's?"

"Wait, that was A/N? Why was she yelling?! Nah, there's no way you started an argument with her! Weren’t you just getting along?"

Disinterested in the conversation, Yoru took out his butterfly knife and began flipping it, its clacking sticking out against the moderate silence around them. Getting along is a stretch, he thought.

"Put down the tinfoil hat, Phoenix. There wasn't an argument. I just told her what was on my mind."

"Mate, what's on your mind can make the bloody president resign! Remember when you obliterated Sage for a small mistake?! I swear I saw her cry!"

"For the last time, she was sweating. And what's wrong with telling her to quit being passive?"

"That's not harsh?"

"She agreed with me, idiot."

"Look, I get what you mean, but I still think you should be nicer with your words, you feel me? A/N's kinda sensitive, unlike me."

Yoru immediately stifled a chuckle and cleared his throat.

“I’m already nice in one way. I’m not slathering my words in honey.”

“Mate, you’re hopeless.”

And with that, Yoru had no further retorts or desire to continue such a fatuous conversation.

But just because he shut himself up doesn't mean he didn't have ammunition upon ammunition of counter-arguments. And the most important among all of them; this was Valorant, not some daycare. People here should be used to harsh words. Thankfully, he was one of them, which is why he was unconcerned when you snapped back at him.

Nevertheless, he took a turn and walked down the hallway, their shared path dividing into two.

"Whatever. I'll see you after the mission, Phoenix."

Phoenix stared at him walk down the corridor, crossing his arms. And as per usual, despite his concerns, Yoru absolutely did not give a damn. It was evident just in the way he’d walk.

Maybe Phoenix should apologise for you, or fully scold him when he gets the full story.

❤ฺ·。

For the first time in a while, the fresh air of the outside world freely filled your lungs like mystical fairies sparkling some dust of serenity in you. And though it matched the one on the island you’d frequent for training, this one was different. This air was littered with a sense of peace.

You had been out shopping for the past few hours, with nothing to worry about. Not money, not anyone, nothing, other than keeping an eye on Neon so that she doesn’t stray too far away and leave you alone. It was a record for you to go so long without stressing about anything, at this point.

“You know, now that I think about it, that bracelet kinda adds to your look, doesn’t it?”

You held up your arm and lifted the long sleeve up in confusion, staring at it in the mirror. Of course, angling yourself in such a way so that the other customers couldn’t see what was going on. And you could definitely understand what she meant.

“Oh, yeah, it does.”

She stepped up behind you, both of her hands behind her back as she sported a cheeky smile. Did you even need to say anything to know she had something in mind? You flinched once she pinched your loose plain shirt and lifted it up, almost like she was grossed out.

“Jeez, this plant is so metal and stuff, your outfit is so boring in comparison.”

You rolled your eyes with a smile, waving her away.

“I know, you don’t need to say it.”

“What do you think of this?”

As if it was on cue, she immediately lifted a charcoal black top, its design carefully formed to fit the shape of a dainty hourglass figure. High quality, multiple patterns delicately laid throughout alongside a few buttons that helped it pop, it was so pretty. Without wearing it, you knew it fit you, and you already imagined what to connect this with.

But it wasn’t before you immediately shut this idea down.

“Neon, I’m not wearing a corset again!”

“Why not?! It’s not like anyone will say anything!”

“But it’s too much! I think I’ll just go with the choker this time. Maybe next month I’ll come back and get this.”

You pointed at the simple black choker you held. And immediately, you were met with an unamused expression.

“This doesn’t even have a pattern on it.”

“I wanna take it slow. What would Harbour say if I showed up in that?”

She giggled, putting the corset away.

“The guy dances with death every single day; seeing you in knee-high boots is not gonna do anything to him. Right…?”

You blushed, jokingly shoving her away and turning to the shelves where the chokers were set. 

“Tumahimik ka! He’s like, forty!” <Shut up!>‎ 

Neon laughed, refusing to take her words back.

Then, one choker caught your eye. One with a heart in the centre, holding the whole thing together. Right next to a spiked one you considered getting, it was irresistible. And you flinched once Neon suddenly snatched it, observing said spikes.

“Why not this one? It looks cool.”

You rolled your eyes, putting back the plain choker in favour of the one with the heart. Then, you stepped away from the shelves, looking around for the cashier. It reminded you of Yoru. 

“I don’t like spikes.”

“What’re you talking about? You wore spikes all the time.”

“Not anymore. They look like they’d hurt.”

Neon cheekily smiled.

“Yeah, duh! Yoru has these gloves with spikes on them. And once, I saw him punch someone with it, I think he got a scar on his cheek from those spikes!”

You threw her an expression of disgust, before walking down the aisles and towards the cash register you found. Neon took the choker with her and followed, intentionally holding it with her left hand so that it would be hidden out of your sight.

“Neon, that’s so crass.”

“But fighting is crass! You think we look like pretty ballerinas when we’re on the field? No way, we look like animals!”

You smiled and met her gaze.

“I’ve spent my entire life working in customer service. Nothing can shock me after that.”

Neon set the two chokers on the counter. Unlike you, she didn’t bother to look at the cashier as he worked, watching you take out your wallet.

“Oh, right, I forgot. Didn’t you work in a salon once?”

“Don’t remind me.”

You both continued chatting as you purchased the items. And being so distracted with whatever she was saying, you didn’t even notice that you were also buying the spiked one, the worker setting them both on a plastic bag.

And with a smile, he handed it to you, both of you immediately making your way out of the store.

Within the next few seconds, you already had the heart choker wrapped around your neck, angling your somewhat-messy bob so that it would cover some of it from the passerby. It felt uncomfortable for the first few seconds, but you quickly got used to it once you saw your reflection on the nearby window. And pretty was an understatement.

Neon scrutinised you with a wide smile on her face.

“I can’t believe it, you look less like an NPC, now!”

Before you could retort, Neon’s phone buzzed and she quickly pulled it out. And immediately, she began rapidly typing back, her smile falling considerably fast.

Her sudden wide eyes immediately concerned you. 

“What’s up?”

“I, uh– we should go back.”

“Why, what happened?”

“Phoenix’s telling me the mission went south, they’re hurt! We have to go back and check on everyone! Come on!”

And with that brief yet sufficient explanation, she grabbed your wrist and rushed down the sidewalk; bits of her electricity cracking with each rapid step. 

You were pulled away faster than you could comprehend, now forced to share her panic.

❤ฺ·。

You came back to chaos.

The area was filled with the panicked voices of your fellow co-workers, most of them standing in the hallways just outside the infirmary rooms. Each door closed, and there was no sight of the two healers.

“I can’t find anyone!”

Neon called out, the unnerving atmosphere clearly getting to her. And you couldn’t blame her, not when each voice was louder and less recognisable than the last, everyone clumped together into one blur of various colours in the medical wing. None of them were people you knew.

Then, you heard a distant voice, high pitched, babbling in a language you couldn’t understand. But you knew you heard that voice before.

“Do you hear that?”

“Hear what?”

Gah, there’s no time.

You grabbed her wrist and moved through the crowd, mumbling an apology with each person you gently pushed. And with each step, that voice had gotten louder and louder with every room you passed.

But it promptly went silent.

Just as you ushered a blonde man out of the way, suddenly, the door on your right violently swung open to reveal Sage, holding a dishevelled Jett close to her.

“Jett! Jett, what happened?”

Neon quickly rushed to her friend, but you noticed how the door was immediately slammed shut behind them, giving you no time to see what else was inside. Jett responded to her question, but it wasn’t a coherent string of sentences, Sage patting her back in reassurance as a teal aura wrapped around her hand and the Korean’s left shoulder.

“She’s gravely injured. Just give her a minute.”

Both of you noticed how she clutched her right bicep tightly, an odd discoloration blocked by her hand. And with her white skin, the harsh pink was obvious despite Sage’s efforts to heal her. With the way her sleeve was violently ripped to bits, a deep black painting the edges, it was concerning.

“What happened? Who’s in there?!”

“Follow me. We need to get her to a quiet room.”

And with that, all four of you made your way down the medical wing, moving towards an empty area.

You gently shut the door as Sage quickly worked on healing Jett, the discoloration slowly shrinking to a more manageable size, enough for her to be able to fully cover it from you and Neon. And both of you noticed how, despite her shock, she really wanted to keep it concealed. But only Neon had the guts to speak out.

“How bad is it?”

“Third degree burns. It was much more gruesome when it first occurred, but I have it under control.”

“Third degree burns?”

Sage met her gaze, strands of hair sticking out in a disorderly manner, alongside the sweat that dripped down her chin. In every sense of the word, she was exhausted.

“I’ll tell you later. I just need to get this fixed, urgently.”

You nodded, understanding what she meant. With the injury strong enough to put Jett in shock, you could tell why she didn't want to explain right next to her.

"Is everyone else okay?!"

You piped up. And thankfully, you both earned a nod.

"We managed to escape before the base completely exploded. I'm not even sure what happened."

"How? You weren't there?"

Jett winced once Sage's hands wrapped around her arm, forcing her to stop holding it so tightly. And despite you both now being able to get a clear look at her arm, there was only a blotch of light pink that slowly shrunk as the healer worked. It looked less gruesome than the glimpse you got just minutes before, thankfully.

And it seems like she’s gotten calm enough to be able to form sentences.

"I– I think I need a drink. Uh, Neon, can you help me out?"

"Sure, no problem."

And with her support, Jett and Neon left the room, walking extremely close side by side so as to keep the Korean from losing her balance.

Immediately, just as the door shut, your eyes darted over to Sage's.

"What happened, exactly?" 

Sage took a deep breath, grabbing the nearby rolling stool and taking a seat. One more second, and she knew that her legs would've buckled under her weight.

"I’m not sure, I wasn't with them, but I know something went wrong. When I arrived, Jett had a massive burn on her arm and Yoru was disfigured. From what she told me, sections of the base were falling apart."

Disfigured…?

You watched her rest her head on her hand, taking a deep breath.

"Is, uh," you started, nervous, "Is Yoru okay?"

"I– I think… he's stable. I have to go check in on him, nevertheless."

Sage suddenly stood up and immediately aimed towards the door, the conversation cut short. And just as she went to leave, you quickly caught her attention once more.

“Wait, is there anything I can do to help?”

She met your gaze, weakly smiling.

“Water would be great. But make sure you knock first. I’ll be right next door.”

You nodded. And with an even wider smile, she promptly turned on her heel and took her leave, heading towards the Japanese.

With a sigh, your mind drifted back to Neon and Jett. They should be in the cafeteria, right? She mentioned something about water. Maybe you should go there as well.

❤ฺ·。

The serene silence amidst the HQ was flipped on its head. Now, despite escaping that constricted hallway where constant words dripping with anxiety were exchanged, you still felt tense. What happened to Harbour? Skye? Was Jett okay, even after she was healed? What about Sage? She looked absolutely spent. And…

What about Yoru?

A loud clunk snapped you out of your trance, and you blinked to find yourself in the doorway of the cafeteria, Neon standing right over the sink, a glass being filled up with water in her hand. Just as you arrived, she turned off the faucet and faced Jett, neither of them catching on to your presence as they chatted. Their tones low and melancholic, it only added on to the intensity of the general situation.

Jett seemed to have calmed down, judging by her relaxed posture as she took the glass from Neon. There, she noticed you, weakly bringing up her good arm to wave.

“Hey, A/N.”

You waved back, awkwardly smiling.

“Hey… are you doing okay?”

“Yeah, I’m alright, I was just telling Neon what happened. By the way, did Sage say anything about Yoru?”

You approached the sink, taking out a glass and washing it.

“Uh… She said he was stable. I’ll give her the water and check in for you.”

“Thanks, you’re the best! Also, nice choker.”

You smiled to yourself, muttering a ‘thanks’ whilst you worked. Even in complete anguish, she somehow managed to notice it and even compliment it. What a sweetheart, you thought.

The water loudly swirled in the glass as you filled it.

“Is everyone else okay?”

“Nobody else got hurt, just me and Yoru. And he got the worse end of the stick, by the way.” She rolled her eyes, bringing the glass of water up to her lips. “Of course it’s us.”

“Seriously, what happened to Yoru?”

“I’ll tell you when you’re back.”

You groaned, turning to look at them as she gulped down, presumably, the second glass of water.

“Come on! Sage won’t tell me, and now you won’t tell me?”

To be fair, she didn’t know what happened.

“It’s– it’s awkward for him, okay? I don’t want him to get mad if I told anyone! And it’s not like I told her, all Neon knows is that a pipe burst on my arm!”

“What?”

“Yeah, straight through! Burned like hell!”

Now you knew why she was so desperately trying to cover her arm. It must’ve looked so grim.

You let out a huff, noticing the look of genuine concern over Jett as she explained. And it wasn’t the fact that she was hurt, more-so about Yoru, and how he’d go ape on her if she said anything. Like that mattered in this situation.

“If this is how all missions are gonna be, then isn’t it fair that I should know?”

Neon awkwardly laughed. Clearly, she hoped you wouldn’t bring that one specific point up.

“Okay, A/N, wait, I know this all looks bad but I swear, not all missions are like this. This only happens, like, once in a blue moon!”

“And that moon came up right after I–”

Oh, right. Luck. 

You held up the glass of water, a few droplets falling to the ground.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You promptly left with the glass, heading back towards the room where Yoru was. And your mind was slowly dipped in turmoil with each conversation you had. Sure, Jett was shocked, but she clearly came down from it and was ready to talk.

God, how big of an ego did Yoru have, and why did everyone just accept it?!

You sighed and took a turn, working to push these thoughts off of your head.

Yoru was hurt. Seriously hurt, by the way they talked about him. You shouldn’t be holding a stupid grudge when his life was in danger. Maybe, just this one time, you could give him a pass…? Until he gets better, that is.

❤ฺ·。

The rest of the day, even after it ended, wasn’t easy for anybody. The lingering aroma of death still haunted the halls even after the break of dawn and you were marching down the hallways alone. Out of everyone, you carried the most burden. Mentally, that is.

Yoru was completely unconscious. You were sure of it.

Even though Sage didn’t let you in the room after you’d given her the water, the entirety of the day went by without a single sound from him. And you watched that door like a hawk. Only Sage left that room, but there was no sign of the Japanese.

You couldn’t help but think, was this all your fault?

You remembered how people back home would avoid associating with you because of your luck. After Neon befriended you and disappeared without a trace, your reputation was set in stone.

And with what just happened, were they wrong not to think otherwise? According to Neon, this never happens. And Yoru, after insulting you, was subjected to a horrible fate.

Was he even–

You stopped in your tracks once you saw a familiar figure sitting at one of the tables of the cafeteria. Back turned towards you, you recognised him by the spiky hair.

“Yoru?”

You called out, concern bleeding into your tone. He turned around, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, before looking back at his food.

“Hey.”

You quickly moved up towards him, laughing awkwardly. Relief overwhelmed you like never before at the sight of the grumpy Japanese. Just seeing him alive in front of you, it was cathartic. And wearing a plain white tee, you would’ve never guessed it was him, either.

“Yoru! Juskó, are you okay?” <Yoru! Oh my god,>‎ 

He ignored you as you approached his left, not turning his head all the way to meet your gaze. And weirdly enough, instead of some gourmet food, he was drinking a glass of water with ice in it, swimming like pretty mermaids.

“What do you want, lady?”

You placed a hand on your hip, furrowing your brow. Jeez, now you remembered why you argued.

“I wanted to check in on you, I thought you died! I was worried about you!”

“Tch.”

He lifted the glass and took a sip, and your eyes immediately locked on to his exposed right arm. There was a harsh light-pink tone that overtook the entire limb. Ungloved, every single detail was free to be scrutinised.

…

Was he purposely not looking at you head-on?

With this in mind, you immediately moved in front of him. And now, you finally got a good look at his face. And the sight was… incredibly hard to look at, to put it lightly.

The right side of his body, whatever wasn’t concealed by his shirt, was painted in the same pink, and it looked verbatim like first degree burns. And this was after Sage healed him, you couldn’t imagine how it looked when he was first found. How did all of this happen…?

But you could see a deeper red near where his neck was, like that part wasn’t healed properly.

It must be so painful for him to even grab the water and drink… Ugh, okay, scratch that. Too vivid.

“Go away.”

He said through gritted teeth, snapping you out of your shock. And quickly, you cleared your throat with an awkward smile.

“Sorry– do you, uh,” you looked at his right arm, pink, seemingly useless, “do you want me to cook you something?”

He raised an eyebrow, insulted. And it’s not like he didn’t catch on, either.

“I’m ambidextrous.”

…

“Yeah, but… I’m– I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

He took another sip, breaking eye contact with you. And with that, you heaved a tired sigh, turning to the stove to your right, completely unused. If he came down his high-horse and just admitted that the heat of the stove would get to him, there would be sympathy. But how could you be mad at him in this state? 

He was clearly helpless despite his aversion to showing vulnerability.

“Yoru, whatever you want, just say it, I’ll make it. No skin off my back.”

“I want you to leave me alone.”

God, he was impossible, even when you were trying to make amends. 

You sighed, finally turning to the stove to make your own food. Neon wouldn’t mind if you used some of her ingredients, right…? The grocery trip you would’ve gone to yesterday was cut short by… well, you know. Hey, the choker made you feel confident, at least.

You moved to the fridge and got to work, taking out what was needed for your own breakfast. It’s been a while since you’ve cooked your own food, so you might be rusty.

Yoru winced once the clunk of your plate ripped him from his day-dreaming, watching you as you sat in front of him with your breakfast. Thankfully, no plate for him. 

But as much as he didn’t want to admit it, the food smelled okay. Which was surprising considering the bland stuff he watched you consensually eat. Yoru quickly recognised the dish as tapsilog thanks to Neon, who would usually make this whenever she was forced to cook.

“So, what happened?”

He raised an eyebrow.

“You know, the mission, and stuff. Jett hurt her arm, and you…?”

You looked him up and down, noticing how the burns only took over the lower right side of his face, having grown threateningly close to his eye. Just a few more inches, and he’d have a clouded lens. Would Sage be able to heal that?

Like an approaching wave of volcano, the sight of Yoru slightly smiling immediately caught your attention.

“Didn’t Jett tell you?”

“Uh, no? She didn’t want you to get mad if she did.”

“Tch.”

You rested your arms on the table and waited for him to continue.

…

Ugh. 

“So?”

“It’s not a big deal. One of the pipes burst on Jett’s arm, I covered her from the upcoming explosion, and accidentally took the damage from the wall of pipes behind me. That’s it. Now stop–”

“Wait, wait, what?!”

A wall of pipes went off on him? The toxic fumes, everything? And he was so nonchalant about it?! Just the burns on Jett’s arm, whatever you caught, looked agonising. And he had double that amount explode right on him.

If it weren’t for the existing marks on him, you’d definitely think he was lying.

“How aren’t you maimed, at least? You look fine!”

“Sage’s magic does wonders.” He proudly pointed at his neck, where the deep pink resided, “This spot was mangled when I woke up.”

To say you were horrified would be an understatement. No wonder Sage didn’t allow you to see him. You really didn’t want to believe what he was saying was true, either.

“You’re saying that you covered Jett from the explosions, but it hit you. How?”

“I wrapped the rift around her front. But I swallowed the damage from behind.”

“What–”

Wrap the rift around her? What does that even mean? Like, a mystical shield?

“Why didn’t you– you know, wrap that… around both of you, all the way through?”

“Lady, I had two seconds to keep her safe. I thought I had my back against a wall, at first.”

…Keep her safe? Did those words really just leave Yoru’s mouth without a hint of irony or sarcasm?

“But what about you?”

“What about me?”

“You kept her safe. Do you care about Jett that much?”

Yoru wryly laughed at such a stupid concept, immediately dismissing you with a wave of his good hand.

“As if. I acted on instinct.”

And yet, his instincts demanded he put her before him? Even if those pipes weren’t behind him, he fearlessly covered her on both sides using everything in his arsenal; even himself. Doesn’t sound very selfish to you, you thought.

Wait… 

“Are you gonna hold this over her head?”

“What the hell do you take me for?”

…

Wow. You really weren’t sure what to think about him.

Yoru pushed the chair back and went to stand, but you quickly held a hand up and stopped him.

“Yoru, wait.”

“What?”

You sheepishly slid your plate of food towards him, an awkward smile lifting your lips.

“You didn’t eat yet.”

He stared at you, and his hostile expression quickly softened at such an unexpected offer. Alongside that, you could also sense an air of confusion.

“I’m not eating that.”

“You need to eat something, Yoru. You’re hurt, your body needs it.”

“I’m not in the mood.”

“One bite, at least? Please?” 

“I don’t want your–”

“Just this once!”

He stared at you for a few seconds, clearly annoyed at how persistent you were. Where did the coward A/N go, the one who couldn’t even tell Harbour she was too tired to go back to training? He thought.

…

He sighed, pushing the chair forward and taking the fork into his hand.

“Fine. Just so you’ll shut up.”

You beamed with a smile, watching him pick up a small piece of the beef with his fork.

However, your smile quickly fell once you noticed his face slightly twist at the sight of it, despite the steam that escaped it. To you, it looked incredibly delectable, and frankly, it was a crime you weren’t the one eating it.

“What’s up? Do you hate the seasoning?”

“No. Meat’s just not my first choice.”

“But I thought you liked hibachi grills.”

He shook his head.

“Nevermind.”

He took a bite, leaving you even more confused.

You stared at his face as he ate, not realising how weird you looked, not when you really wanted to know what he thought of the food. It’s not like you didn’t ask yourself why the hell it mattered. Wasn’t this the same man who called you spineless to your face just the day before?

And you felt bad just because he… saved Jett’s life, and didn’t plan on holding it against her.

You turned your gaze away, unable to stop yourself from smiling.

“What’s your deal?”

You shook your head, a quick and impossibly awkward giggle escaping you.

“Nothing. You know, now that I think about it, I should get back to training.”

Yoru watched you stand up and quickly walk off, escaping his line of sight within a few seconds. And for a moment he questioned your sudden switch, before completely dismissing it and eating his breakfast.

Unlike you, his emotions had minimal control over him. 

He didn’t care.

❤ฺ·。

As much as you didn’t want to admit it, you sort of understood now why people gave Yoru a pass on his abrasive behaviour. After putting his life on the line, allowing himself to get severely injured, all for the sake of Jett’s survivability? How could you hate him after that?

You sighed to yourself as you worked, struggling to find the muscle that ejects sundew. How did you do it last time? All you recalled was angrily pointing at Yoru… Wait, maybe it’s connected to your index–

Nectar suddenly engulfed your hand by accident, dripping down to the floor.  Wrong trigger…

You sighed and left the training range, moving towards one of the tables where a box of tissues sat, like they were waiting for you.

Then, a set of cyan slits caught your attention, and you turned to find Omen standing near the lockers. Just seeing him felt incredibly calming.

“Hey, Omen.”

He met your gaze, but his awkward posture quickly set you off.

“What’s up?”

…

“A/N. Nice choker.”

You grinned in pride, using two fingers to caress the heart choker once more. Second compliment on the accessory, already? And from Omen, too. Maybe this thing’s paying off.

“Maraming salamat. Thank you. But are you okay?” <Thank you so much.>‎ 

Omen shook his head, turning back to his locker.

“Nothing, I was… set off by the smell just now.”

You awkwardly laughed, quickly working on wiping the nectar away, desperately praying he didn’t read up on your abilities and didn’t know it was coming from you.

“I’d forgotten what you can do.”

Damn it.

“Sorry about that. Used the wrong muscle, and stuff.”

“What were you trying to do?”

He gently closed the door to his locker and approached you. Panicking, you immediately wiped up the remaining liquid and tried to find the trash before the scent could irritate him any further. You really didn't want to be reminding Omen of his biggest fears. He was too sweet to be hurt like that.

Where was the trashcan?!

“I wanted to shoot that sundew bomb again, but I don’t know how I did it the first time.”

“I see. And… isn’t Harbour your coach?”

“Well–”

You really hoped he wouldn’t have asked this question. But at least it wasn’t Yoru asking you this. It’s not like you didn’t think about it, either. But he was exhausted just like the other agents. You couldn’t bother him, not after what just happened.

“I– I wanted to practise alone, you know? I’m not in the mood to talk, and stuff.”

Omen stared at you in silence for a moment, before nodding.

“Very well. I was about to leave, anyway.”

Uh oh.

“Uh, wait–”

You quickly held up a hand and stopped him just as he took one step away. And thankfully, he did.

“You know, it– uh, it’s not so bad having you around.” You awkwardly smiled. “Mind staying? It’ll be fun just to talk.”

“Talk?”

You nodded, anxiously scratching at your bracelet. And the few seconds that passed felt like whole hours, before he finally spoke up.

“I can do that. Let’s go.”

Even though Omen had a soothing aura, talking to him was also incredibly stressful. At least you could go off of the eyebrow movements with Yoru. But him? There was literally nothing other than maybe the slits.

Nevertheless, you both entered the training room, and only now did you remember the puddle of nectar you accidentally left behind. Omen stopped, took a deep inhale, before ‘clearing his throat’.

“I didn’t want to say anything, but I have half a mind to turn this scent into a candle.”

…

“Is… Uh, is that a bad thing?”

“Just tempting. The smell’s pleasing to the soul.”

You eagerly smiled and stopped right in front of him. In the vast area, your voices echoed like you stood in a massive field. A massive dull, closed off and grey field, but I digress.

Separated into two classifications, poison and nectar, you were delighted to discover than he smelt the latter.

“Candles that smell like everyone’s favourite thing ever? I’m up for it!”

“I’ll need a cup-full of it first. Then, I’ll see if I remember the steps…”

You both continued chatting about nonsense as you tried to summon the sundew.

And for the whole hour that you were there, progress was naught. For some reason, you just couldn’t find the trigger for it. All you did was summon more of the nectar by accident. But you avoided crushing the building to bits.

Omen even offered to leave to let you focus, but you couldn’t part. Not yet. Not when he was exactly like Yoru, albeit a kinder version of him. One you could talk to without being looked down on for existing.

You sighed, pulling back your hand and staring at it. Your arm started to ache with how much you kept it pointed straight forward, and how much pressure it took to keep producing the nectar, but nothing would come out.

However, your mind drifted elsewhere.

“Omen… you saw what happened to Yoru yesterday, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Is that, uh, normal?”

Omen met your gaze, and you could sense his confusion by the subtle tilt of his head.

“Yes, we all get injured in this line of work.”

“No, but, he had pipes explode right on him. He almost died. Does that usually happen?”

He crossed his arms and leaned on the wall once more, clearly pondering. It’s not like he didn’t know the answer to your question. But considering the dread that bled into your tone as you spoke, he wanted to figure out how to ease this information onto you.

“...What happened to Yoru was a rare instance.”

Before you could let relief calm you, he immediately spoke up again.

“I understand how fun your friends make it seem, but, A/N, Valorant isn’t a fun get-together. Dying on the frontlines is still highly expected.”

All relief was squashed within a second, and you put down your arm in surprise. Omen noticed this, quickly continuing his sentence.

“Obviously Sage can bring us back should that ever happen, but my point stands.”

You awkwardly laugh, feeling panic suddenly engulf you like a flood. Something he also took note of.

“Kailangang magbiro ito…” <This has to be a joke…>‎ 

You stretched your right hand, struggling to keep the poisonous fluid and everything alongside it at bay. As much as you tried to keep yourself relaxed, your shaky voice gave everything away.

“W– well, is there, you know, a way to get out of this? This isn’t what I– it’s too much, you know? It’s– It's not– I don’t think this is something I can handle.”

“I… can’t say for sure.”

You put your hands on your temples, struggling to keep calm.

With how little they talked about it, you never realised how appalling the circumstances were, not until you saw it in action. You saw the burns on Yoru, and those burns were after he was healed. You couldn’t not imagine what he looked like when it all first happened. But most importantly, how did he feel? How much pain did he endure before he passed out? And how high were the chances of that happening to you?!

Amidst the turmoil in your head as you mumbled nonsense in Tagalog, you hadn’t realised that Omen stepped up to you, the slits combined with his presence snatching your attention with ease.

“You’re sure there’s no way out of this?! Mali ito, ako– hindi ako dapat nanatili rito!” <You’re sure there’s no way out of this?! This is wrong, I– I shouldn't have stayed here!>‎ 

He put his hand on your shoulder, his touch slowly bringing you back to reality.

“Take it easy, A/N. You’ll be alright.”

“No I won’t, what if that also happens to me?!”

“It won’t. I guarantee it won’t.”

“But– but–”

“You let your fear control you too much, A/N. Half the things running through your mind are impossible scenarios.”

He saw the poison that dripped from your hand. You didn’t notice it, but thanks to this, being around you forced him to remember his own array of problems.

“Wh– what? How do you know?”

His posture loosened, giving you an air of amicability.

“It happened to me when I first became… this.” He pointed to himself. “It’s only when you truly get on the field do you realise how repetitive things really are.”

…

How repetitive things really are? As in…

“So… I’ll– I’ll be fine?”

“You will. And you’ll even be laughing at yourself a few months from now. That’s what I did.”

His lighthearted tone took its toll on you in a positive way. Just by the softness of his voice, it managed to calm you down and force a smile to lift your cheeks.

Omen was just so… kind.

“How are you feeling?”

You sighed, running your dry fingers through your hair.

“I– I feel better.”

“Good. Now, how about those candles we talked about?”

…

“That– that sounds… It sounds great. Okay, yeah, let’s do it.”

With a friendly pat on the shoulder, you both walked out of the training room and headed towards elsewhere, ready to get your mind off of everything.

[dreamtigress]

WIP Wednesday

Here's a snippet from Chapter 1 of Vakantie, my Kanej vacation fic where they take a trip to Kaz's childhood home for the first time. He's set up layers of security measures to protect the secret of the farm, including different aliases, which Inej is just finding out about. Fun trivia: Their cart horse for the trip is named after one of my amazing Beta readers.

Inej stared at her identification as they headed south. She pondered the alias, noticing that his was rather obviously a nod to Matthias. Inge was close enough to Inej. Even if Inge wasn’t a Suli name. They both shared Kaz’s original surname of Rietveld. I doubt he set these up as siblings.

“Wait, Kaz… how long have you had alter egos set up for us that are married?”

“No comment.” He pointedly gazed at Tessia’s rump.

She glared at the side of his head. “Avoiding the question won’t keep me from asking again.”

He sighed, “Since the last time I transferred ownership of the farm.” 

Wait. The farm’s in these names? Now she had even more questions. He’d still not answered the first one, however. “That still didn’t answer the question, Kaz.”

He looked off into the distance, his answer quiet, “Right after you left on The Wraith the first time.”

“Over two years!?” Inej realized she’d raised her voice when birds in a nearby field spooked and flew off. Their palomino mare was remarkably unfazed.

Kaz looked at her now, a bit of defiance on his face, “If anything happened to me… I needed to make sure the farm would be in good hands. You would’ve been notified of your inheritance upon return to Ketterdam.”

She glowered at him, eyebrows raised, “Did that require us to be married?”

He blinked, and she noted the tiniest flush in his already sun warmed skin. “It was the easiest way to set up the inheritance, and give you the ability to own land in Kerch.”

“Kaz Brekker, you don’t fool me for a second. You set up false identifications, forged documents, and convoluted schemes like most people put on socks, and you want me to believe you went with the easiest way to do something?” By the time she’d reached the last word, she was nearly shouting.

“Inej, I…”

“Married for over two years! And you didn’t tell me. Not once. Not even this summer!”

“It’s on paper for our aliases…”

“It’s so obviously more than that!”

“What… what would you like me to say here?” Kaz sounded ready to placate her, whatever it took.

Soft tagging these fine folks if they have anything they'd like to share: @sparklepocalypse, @tinyarmedtrex, @intosnarkness, @cameliawrites, and @hotpinkmurex.

[lokis-army-77]

Wild Hearts Pt. 1

Cowboy!Eddie Munson x female reader

Word Count: 1866

Reader is back home from college and ready to show her father she has what it takes to help out with the farm, little does she know the new ranch hand will be somewhat of a pain in her ass... until he isn't.

Warning: Nothing in this chapter except the reader calls her dad "daddy" a few times, but obviously not in THAT way.

Masterlist 

next>>

College had been an experience, to say the least. The stress of taking five to six classes a semester and taking mini-semesters in summer and winter I had little time for myself and barely any time to call home. I never thought I would miss the smell of the barn or getting up before the crack of dawn to help with the long list of daily chores. The closer it got to graduation, the more anxious I was to return home. I craved the rolling hills and the beauty of the Appalachian mountains, I needed to feel the wind in my hair as I rode my horse through acres upon acres of pasture, her hoof beats falling into rhythm with my racing heart. I was a cowgirl born and raised and college life had drained me.

The flight back home had been a late one and thankfully only lasted around four hours which gave me plenty of time to try and sleep. But, even though packing and waiting at the airport almost all day had exhausted me so much that the crapy airplane seats were actually comfortable, I couldn’t get any rest. 

Thoughts plagued me of how the ranch might have changed in the almost three years I had been gone. Mama and Daddy always kept me up to date but our last real phone call that didn’t involve the planning of my homecoming, was maybe five or six months ago, granted there were texts in between but there were just to say ‘hi’ and ‘I love you’, maybe to wish me luck on a big test. Even though I was nervous, I was excited too. I was ready to see my family. 

…

When the plane landed, I rushed to the baggage claim, grabbed my suitcase, and then hightailed it to the exit where I spotted my dad waiting just past the exit doors, cowboy hat and all. I raced to him and he took me into his arms, hugging me tightly. 

I could feel his chest shaking as he chuckled. “Nice to see you too, Baby doll.” 

“I missed you so much.” I hugged him tighter.

He just laughed and shook his head. “You saw me a week ago when I came to put all your stuff into the moving van.” 

“Yeah, but a week is such a long time.” I finally let him go, standing back to smile widely at him. 

“Come on,” He reached for the handles of my luggage. “Let's get you home, your Mama’s dying to see ya.” 

I followed him to the old beat-up blue pickup truck that stuck out amongst the shiny new cars in the parking garage like a sore thumb. The passenger-side door creaked as I opened it and the smell of the ranch hit me square in the face, hints of hay and horse. Sparse glimpses of brown and white hair were the tale-tell sign that our border collie Maggie had been sitting on the scratchy cloth seats. There was dirt everywhere inside but it didn’t matter to me as I sat on the warn dirty seat next to my Dad, it was familiar. 

As we drove we fell into easy conversation. Mostly about my time at college and what’s been going on at the farm, all the stuff that was never said over the phone.

“Your brother has started driving. Nearly gave me a heart attack when I let him practice by driving the hour to town on Thursday.” Dad laughed. 

“Lord, Dad, you have more courage than me. I would never get within fifty feet of him inside a motorized vehicle. Remember when he tried to run me over with the lawn mower when he was seven?” I sighed, remembering being chased around the front yard by a child who was hysterically laughing at me as I tried to get away from him. 

“Yes, I remember.” He shook his head and rolled his eyes. 

“Even though he tried to kill me, I’m excited to see him. Did he really have to get sick right before my graduation?” 

“You know him, the kid always ends up with a bug during important events. Missed the first day of Spring round up this year 'cause he had a fever.” 

After that, we settled into a nice quiet, I turned up the radio and the sounds of Kenny Rogers, George Straight, and Waylon Jennings poured into the cab. I mouthed the words as I watched the fields pass us by in the dark, I could only imagine what it would look like in the daylight. Wide open fields with either cattle or horses grazing, plenty of corn growing as well as other crops, and the mountains in the background with the clear blue sky above. 

…

I was kicked out of my daydream when the radio was turned down when we were maybe thirty minutes from the house. I turned to look at my dad, eyebrows raised in silent questioning. 

“Almost forgot to tell you but we hired a new ranch hand a couple of months back when Alan hurt his back. He’s a few years older than you so you’ll  get along real well.”

“Oh, okay. That’s nice to know Dad.” I paused. “Does this new guy have a name?”

“Uh, we call him Munson but his first name is Eddie.” 

I nod, listening to him. “Cool, maybe I’ll get to introduce myself to him tomorrow. We don’t ever get new people around here.” 

I could feel myself becoming more and more excited as Dad finally turned onto the old dirt driveway. It curved through the hills and pastures for almost three miles before the lights of the house could be seen and even then it was another two before you pulled up to park. 

The sky was as clear as ever and it was almost like you could see to the ends of the universe as you looked into the night. Never had I missed something more than when I looked up at the night sky when I was in college only to find that the light pollution dulled out the stars so much it was almost like they had never existed.  

As we came closer to the house, I could see two awaiting figures backlit by the front porch light. Mama and Randy, our other ranch hand, stood waiting. Mama jumped up and down as Dad parked the truck then bounded down the stairs and directly to me. Throwing open the passenger side door she took me into her arms. 

“Oh, my baby girl.” She planted dozens of kisses all over my face. “Missed you so much.” 

“I missed you too, Mama.” I smiled, laughing as she squeezed me into a tight hug. I hugged her back as best I could with the restriction of the seatbelt and the awkward position. 

“Was your flight okay? Are you hungry? Sleepy?” 

“It was long but good,” I answered. “And yes to both. I’m dying for something to eat and my own bed.” 

She let go then, allowing me to unbuckle myself and exit the vehicle. 

I couldn't help the giddy laugh when I spotted Randy's lanky form striding past my parents as they hugged. He opened his arms and I ran to him. He picked me up and spun us around before placing me back on solid ground. 

"I've missed you, Trouble." He squeezed my shoulders tight. "Let's get a good look at ya."

He held me away from himself and studied me as I smiled widely at him. 

"I'm no more trouble than you are." I laughed at the nickname he had given me as a young child. 

“Mumhm, if you say so.” He playfully ruffled my hair before pulling me into one last hug. “Really glad you’re back.” 

“Me too. I’ve missed this place.”

“Well, it’s missed you too. I think the horses could tell you were gone. Plus it just never felt the same without you buggin’ me all the time.” 

I pushed away from him, my face stuck in a permanent smile. Randy had always been like an unofficial uncle to me, especially since he was Dad's closest friend and had always been in my life.

After the greetings in the front yard, we moved into the house where I sat down and Mama began cooking a late-night dinner of farm-fresh eggs and crispy bacon. It was a meal I had longed for since leaving home and now I was finally getting it. 

It tasted like heaven on a plate and I devoured every bit of it, even asking for seconds. I hadn’t eaten in hours and there was just something about traveling that made you extra hungry, especially in the middle of the night. 

When the food had been eaten and all my things had been brought upstairs to my room, everyone told me good night. Mama and Daddy both gave me a kiss on the cheek before closing the door and letting me settle in. 

My room looked the same as it had before I left. It seemed Mama had been keeping up with the cleaning because there was no trace of dust or the slightest stuffy sent rooms get when they’ve gone unused for a while. The small twin bed still had the old white comforter on it with the colorful patchwork quilt my grandmother had made, before she passed, draped across the foot. I traced the painted white wrought iron bed frame with my fingers, it was cool to the touch. 

Turning around I looked at the wooden dresser. I eyed it wearily, thinking about how I would have to put all my clothes up soon, but that could wait a few days. While thinking of clothes, I went to my suitcase, which was lying on the floor beside my bed, and pulled out my pajamas. 

It felt nice to be in something so thin and simple, like a spaghetti-strap tank top and shorts. Having my travel clothes off of me felt so relieving like I had been cleansed in some sort of way. 

I turned my light off next and was about to climb into bed when out of the corner of my eye, I saw the lights of the barn. Usually, they were off by this time of night as we neared almost two in the morning. So, I walked over to the window and leaned over my desk to see outside. To my surprise, in the light of the barn door, was a man. With it being dark and the only light on him being from behind. It wasn’t Daddy and it wasn’t Randy, so it must have been the new guy, Eddie. 

He was working on something I couldn’t quite see, but fortunately for me,  I could see the way his biceps bulged against the shirt he was wearing even from this distance. I watched him for the better part of ten minutes before he paced back into the barn and the lights shut off. After that, I had no clue where he went. 

So, with new thoughts about the new guy, I fell back onto my bed. Exhausted and excited to be home.

...

Cowboy!Eddie taglist: @munson-blurbs @munsonology @my-malachai-stilinski @tiannamortis @chrissymjstan @chelebelletx @breathinfive

[life-in-the-monster-haus]

Nightmare Nightmore Highlights.

I'm not gonna recap or analyze the episode too much I just wanna share a few of my favorite things! Not really any spoilers, if you've already seen the leaks of Abbey and her mom floating around then you're all caught up.

Draculaura is throwing a party for the holiday of Nightmore, but I couldn't possibly care less. I'm here for Abbey!

Heath has the same reaction to seeing Abbey for the first time as a lot of us did. in Awe of her beauty. same dude, same.

She towers over everyone! even the boys! I am in love!

Draculaura is like a smurf compared to tall powerful Abbey.

Abbey's eyes aren't purple anymore, they are brown! and so pretty! breaks up the abundance of purple in her hair and outfit I am super into it!

Abbey's hair blend is the colors of the Bi flag and I have no choice but to stan.

Mama Bominable threatening to bring forth a cold harsh merciless winter upon Bloodgoods head if she doesn't produce Abbey is such a mood. I love me a good mama bear.

WHERE IS NIGHTMARE!? why is this messenger dragon hanging out in Bloodgood's office but her horse isn't!? The episode even has nightmare in the title but I see no Nightmare the horse. I don't like it. A headless horse person without their horse is just a zombie... why are you booing me? I'm right!

Draculaura already has her license in this gen? I'm here for it! Also Clawd chose to sit next to her. Also Clawd said "nailed it like a coffin" which was only ever said in G1 by Clawdeen and that makes me happy.

This is the second or third episode where Lagoona inexplicably has flat teeth, the music video for her doll did this too. I'm not exactly a professional animator but I've studied it enough to know that rendering characters off model is a fire-able offense. Fix it Nickelodeon.

Heath encouraging Abbey to use her ice powers telling her she is strong, charismatic and beautiful. ahhhh! my heart!... I've mentioned on here I'm not much of a shipper per-se. But that was a lie, Habbey was one of my OG ships and it brings me such joy to see them again! I needed this since the only Heath we got during G2 was this:

*Long suffering G2 sigh*

Yeti's in this universe seem to basically be water benders and I am okay with that! Mama Bominable is fuckin pissed! LOL Bye Bloodgood it's been nice knowing you!

Damn, Abbey's dad didn't contribute any genetics to that her at all. Mama Bominables genes were like "this is MY child!" I do love that she has horns and a more pronounced underbite, perhaps Abbey will get these traits as she grows? Or maybe her buns are hiding her horns? IDK but it's fun to imagine! I wonder where they got the idea to give their yeti Horns... HMMMMMMM

it's a mystery, we'll never know.

This isn't even a highlight I'm just taking pictures of Mama Bominabe at this point, I love a strong woman willing to murder the school principle for her daughters safety.

SHE CALLED ABBEY SNOW ANGEL AHHHHHH- I'm sorry I just had to get that out.

The boy is in love! .... And he actually says something really profound. I'm so impressed G3 is giving Heath some depth and not just making him a one note idiot... Don't get me wrong, I liked one note idiot Heath but there was more to him than that.

Heath trying to kiss Abbey on the first day of meeting her is absolutely a G1 call back.

in her intro episode he kissed her hand and his lips froze off.

I love everything about this episode! I love that Abbey is Nepali! it's way more accurate to her Monster type and before some nerd tries to get in the replies and go "Actually Russia occupied Nepal at one point" that's true, they did BUT! the myth of the Yeti originated in 1937, Russia didn't occupy the Himalayas until the 1960's.

This episode is my new favorite! I heard a rumor that we won't get any new Monster High episodes until after the new year, but if they are anything like this? they will be worth the wait!

[smokiedokie]

My brother called me to watch the next three episodes of IWTV with him and omgggg the JOY I feel at being able to experience this show again for the first time through him and hear his theories on where this is all leading… I’m so thrilled. He’s never watched the movie or read the books so he’s going into this totally blind. Some interesting ideas he has so far:

A) he’s so much more insightful than I was/am watching it. He’s picking up on SO MANY things that I didn’t pick up on until I rewatched (he’s even pointed out stuff I’ve never noticed— my favorite so far was in episode two where Daniel is served rabbit while Louis feasts upon the fox, symbolizing their predator/prey relationship — HOW THE FUCK DID I MISS THAT; AND HE GOT IT IMMEDIATELY. He also pointed out that in episode three at the poker game he calls all the white men by their names, no more “sirs” attached— AGAIN, HOW DID I MISS THAT??)

B) He thinks season one is going to end with Claudia’s death; he doesn’t know why or how but he thinks she’s going to die at the end of season one as the big cliffhanger and then season two will end with Louis killing Lestat (he’s thinking ahead to other seasons and how things will play out later!! His MIND!!) Which is so interesting bc as we know, it happens the other way around, but I love how close he’s getting without even realizing!!

C) He thinks Louis killed Lestat in the early 70’s and that’s what prompted him to seek out Daniel in the first place, as a way to justify his actions to someone and tell himself he was right. That’s why the modern Interview is more nuanced, Louis has more separation from the murder to understand where Lestat was coming from.

D) he thinks Louis WANTED to turn Daniel in the 70s and Daniel was against it (I brought up what we hear in the first episode where Daniel asks Louis for the Dark Gift and Louis rages at him, but my brother thinks that’s misconstrued somehow) and he’s reaching out again to set the record straight about his true feelings about Lestat and also breach that subject again

E) He REALLY likes the relationship between Louis and Daniel, he’s picked up on the importance of their relationship and expects it to develop well before I did. When I first watched the show I was a big fan of the movie, so I just assumed Daniel served only as the crux for Louis to tell his story to; I didn’t think the modern era stuff was all that important until we were well into the season because I assumed Daniel’s role in the show would be the same as it was in the movie: the audience sub-in. But my brother picked up on the nuance between the two immediately and honed in on it. He thinks they’re both of on a high-horse off and is waiting to see who will crack first.

F) He suspects NOTHING of Rashid, just thinks he’s a weird servant guy