#(i imagine he would angst over being a horse. let me have this)

[panopticonseye]

first art of 2023? jean vicquemare horse. thanks to the revachol west server for inspiring this, i had fun with it!

hes a knabstrupper. i just think he's neat

[a-edgar-allan-hoe]

Wild Horses

Part 1

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Female Doctor!Reader

Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4

A/N: Just a little idea I had after seeing all the TikToks and now I am yanked onto the Ghost train. I used to watch my brother play the game but that was a while ago so bear with me here. (advice or little pointers are much appreciated). I also might make this into a short story or add another part to it, let me know y’all. Comments and reblogs are much appreciated!

Summary: Imagine being the new physician assigned to the team and a certain masked individual takes a new keen concealed interest in you. The two of you are too awkward to function.

Warnings: language, fluff, angst

You were assigned to the team as their personal physician, as requested by the higher ups in order to make sure the soldiers stayed in best health, both physically and mentally. You used to work at your local hospital before you were offered the position.

You knew the dangers and the risks involved, but you were in debt and had student loans that needed to paid. So after much hesitation, you accepted the offer, eventually being convinced by the fat paycheck.

You remembered the day you were first introduced to the team, the way everyone's eyes glued to you like a hawk, their large forms towering over your small frame in the room while you picked at the skin around your nails in nervous habit.

They were curious to say the least, wondering what the hell someone like you was doing in a place like this. And since when did they get the chance to have a full on doctor to treat them, usually they were offered combat medics. You had guts, that's for sure.

You on the other hand were nervous, frightened even, with the thought of living in the same quarters of men wrapped up within the tumults and afflictions of war without a single clue as to their current psychological state. You had seen the worst of men and humanity growing up and you no idea who these soldiers were, what they were capable of, or what their intentions might be. Maybe you should have requested that briefing before you hopped on that plane.

Amongst all of their gazes, you had failed to notice a certain masked individual in the far back of the room, his form shrouded amongst the others as he studied you. His eyes, hidden underneath the grooves of his mask that only seemed to be darkened by where he stood blocked by the only source of light, watched your every movement, from every gesture of your perfectly manicured fingers to every smoothing of the lint-free fabric of your sweater to the way you kept shifting your weight from one foot to another.

One thing was apparent; during the entire length the high ranking officer next to you introduced you and debriefed the men on what was expected and such, you had not uttered a single word, minus the small polite and somewhat strained smile on your face while your eyes told another story. Why the military truly hired you, he may never know.

After being shown your little office and workspace including your room, you were quick to settle in, decorating the area to the best of your abilities with what you had taken with you from back home in order to bring some life into the dull and two-dimensional area. If anyone questioned you on it you would just say that your own sanity is extremely vital in order to ensure quality treatment for your patients.

Once everything in your office was set up, you threw on your white coat and retreated yourself to your office space, sitting at your desk and hastily going over the files that you had completely forgotten about that were given to you regarding the soldiers' previous health before they come pouring in reporting symptoms of god knows what. Best be prepared. Jesus how many bullet wounds can a single individual have.

The soldiers were advised to do their routine physical examinations with you so the first one to come waltzing in through your office door was none other than Johnny "Soap" MacTavish, a cheeky grin plastered on his face and much too excited for his own good. That boy's got a crush on you I swear. To be honest I'd be lying if I said the whole team didn't have a schoolboy crush on you.

The men were quick to warm up to you, relieved to have a gentle soul in their midst after all the shit that goes down outside, you were like breath of fresh air. Maybe it wasn't such a bad idea to bring a doctor on board, as quiet and reserved as you were. They speculated you were just shy, the reason why you never spoke much, not knowing that you just couldn't hold a conversation if your life depended on it, especially around those you weren't close with. At first they couldn't tell because of your major rbf.

During their routine check-ups or whatever issue they had going on, they would do most of the talking, which was a good thing on your end because it helped you to piece together their temperaments. Thank the lord no one is a psycho murderer. Oh wait.

Soap is the most chattiest of them all. Boy wouldn't shut his mouth when he sat in your office. He's super flirty. But not as flirty as Alejandro.

Ghost on the other hand was reluctant to step into your office for his check-ups. After all he was usually the one to tend to his own wounds or just push through whatever it is that is going on, so he did not know what all the fuss was about in having to get his health checked. So when you call out his last name more than once might I add, clipboard in hand and scanning the area for whoever looks to be headed in your direction, he can't help but heave out a sigh, trudging over to where you stood, your clean white coat a stark contrast to the rest of the environment as you leaned against your door to hold it open.

You muttered out a small hello to which he let out a small huff as you moved aside to let the man enter, watching him walk into your office and seat himself down. That man intimidated you a bit not gonna lie. Not only could you not see his face but he had also not said a single word to you. And not to mention he was absolutely huge as compared to you, even more so in person. You also had heard a lot of stories from the other guys.

"How is your day?" You ask, shutting the door behind you as you briefly read over his previous but extremely short records on your clipboard. There's barely anything on this man. Does he not get ill?

Ghost is quiet at first, watching your eyes scan over the clipboard and curious to know just what is on those papers before your eyes flit up to meet his and catch him off guard, which causes him to answer abruptly. "Fine."

"Okey dokes." You give a quick smile.

Did you just say okey dokes.

Clearing your throat, you go over to where he sat and set the clipboard down on the table next to you beside your laptop. You didn’t have to read his body language to know he did not want to be here at all. So you were going to do him a favor and make the appointment as quick as possible.

"So do you have any allergies to any medications, any allergies I need to know of?" Your fingers hover over the keyboard of your laptop as you turn to face him, only to be met with an expressionless skull of a mask and the expressionless eyes beneath. Oh boy this session was going to be something. You had heard of how he had never shown his face, so you made sure not to question on it.

"No ma'am."

"Are you currently taking any medication?" You ask the same standard set of questions you have asked every single patient of yours, typing as you go.

"No ma'am."

Any previous illness? Disease?"

"No."

The more you ask him questions, the more he strangely finds it easier to answer. Your voice is surprisingly soft, warm even, like the start of autumn, and he finds it comforting to listen to. Or maybe it's just some technique doctors learn during training in order to relax their patients.

"Do you have any history of smoking, alcohol, or illicit drug use?"

".......sometimes I'll have a smoke, and a glass of bourbon." He's almost waiting for you to hand him a pamphlet about the dangers of smoking.

"How many times would you say?" You ask for details, your eyes still glued to the screen of your laptop as you await his answer.

Ghost is a bit confused by the amount of questions you ask, but he also has not been to the doctor's so how would he know. "Um I don't know."

"A rough estimate is fine."

"Not much, maybe 2-3 times a week or so when I'm not on duty."

"How many times a week do you exercise?" You feel silly for asking this question to a man like him but it's all part of the procedure and you almost pray he doesn't hate you for it.

"Every day." So no pamphlet?

Jesus this man has more discipline than you. You can barely get up in the morning.

"Okayyy." You mutter out, more to yourself as you enter in his responses.

Ghost finds himself watching you from his seat on the chair, his eyes tracing over and studying your features as you type away on your laptop. He thinks you're really pretty but either doesn't want to admit it or just flat out does not know that he finds you attractive.

There are certain details about you that he can't help but find himself intrigued by, like the small black outline flower tattoo on your hand that was located near the area of your thumb, running along the curve to meet the knuckle of your forefinger. He's curious as to the meaning behind it, if there was one. He wanted to ask what type of flower it was, perhaps it was your favorite? It would give him an idea as to what flowers to get you.

"Have you ever been hospitalized, had any surgical procedures done or been treated for any chronic conditions?"

"No." Ghost shakes his head before remembering his wounds from combat, wondering if that is something you should know. "Just the bullet and knife wounds from combat. Nothing too serious."

Jesus fucking christ. You were willing to bet he treated those wounds himself.

Ghost is not a fan of hospitals. Pretty sure this dude just looks up YouTube tutorials on how to fix himself instead of just going to the doctor like a normal human being.

"When was the last time you visited your general practitioner.......or just any doctor in general?" You ask the last question, willing to bet it never.

There was silence on his end as you looked towards him waiting for an answer, the clicking of your keyboard coming to a stop and only loudening the silence. Ghost could not remember the last time he had been to a hospital or even scheduled a visit. And as you looked at him, your eyes almost staring into his soul, still waiting for a response, he could not help but feel a tad bit embarrassed, as if you were judging him for not being a responsible adult. Also it didn't help that you were goddamn pretty.

"I'm gonna take that as a very long time, the last time being the prehistoric ages, correct?" There's the slightest hint of a tease in your voice.

"Uh.......yes ma'am." Ghost squints his eyes at you as you go back to typing on your keyboard. Did you just.............did you just call him…..He does not know how to feel about that. Did you just try to crack a joke? He always thought doctors were the serious type.

"Okay then." You straighten up, grabbing your sphygmomanometer off the table and turning yourself to face him. "Is it okay if I check your blood pressure?"

The man is stunned. No one has ever asked his permission for anything before. He's so used to either taking orders or giving orders that he doesn't know how to respond and stares at you for a moment, forcing his brain to process what to do next before eventually giving a nod.

"Is it okay if you take your jacket off so I can get a clearer reading?"

He nods again, still in shock as he takes off his jacket, leaving him in his black long sleeve thermal. He's almost thankful he wasn't in his full tactical gear, having to imagine you standing there waiting for him as he removes every single piece of equipment off his torso.

"Thank you." You give him a short smile, placing your hand under his tricep and gently lifting his arm in order to wrap the inflatable cuff around his bicep. You almost blush at the mere size of this man's arms. "Now you're just going to feel a slight pressure okay."

Ghost can't help but feel a slight warmth spread to his cheeks at the way you handle him with such care, as if he were the small delicate thing and not you. Now he knows why the others were so giddy after leaving your office.

As you place your stethoscope on his forearm near his elbow to listen to his blood pumping through the artery, your other hand pumping air into the cuff using the inflation bulb with your eyes glued to the numbers on the gauge, he can't help but to notice the old Donald Duck watch that sat at your wrist, the ones with the moving arms and the vintage style black leather straps.

And as he further investigated your attire, he noticed a few other details, like the colorful glittery badge reel in the shape of a pill container with the words "licensed drug dealer" printed on it that was attached to your scrub top, the glitter sticker with the words "I'm nicer than my face looks" as well a few Disney character stickers and the little frog looking keychain that hung off of your badge. He was wondering what the hell that thing was. Your accessories were awfully colorful for a general doctor. Something was telling him you either used to work with families or children. Whatever the hell managed to bring you to such a drastic change.

You brought him out of his thoughts as you shifted from your position, unwrapping the inflatable cuff from around his bicep and placing it back on the table before typing the results into your laptop. "Okay," You adjust the ear pieces of your stethoscope back into your ears as you turn back to him, "I'm going to perform some auscultations, which is just listening to the sounds of your heart and your lungs so if you could just sit up straight and relax that would be wonderful."

Simon straightens up his posture as you place your free hand on his shoulder, at this point you're not sure if you're steadying him or yourself, your fingertips just barely grazing across the bottom of his neck. He doesn't know why but, it's as if your fingers are directly touching the skin underneath, despite the fabric of his mask that separated your fingers from his skin. Your hands feels hot, like really hot and he has no clue why.

The soldier only feels his cheeks warm up even more so now as you inch closer to carefully place the diaphragm of your stethoscope on his chest, your head tilted and your eyes lowered to the floor as you listen for his heart beat. He gets a whiff of your perfume and he finds himself drawn to it. You smell like something along the lines of jasmine petals, geranium, myrrh, frankincense, and a hint of sandalwood. Now he definitely knows why the others are fawning over you. Poor Simon is praying you don't hear how his heart is nearly racing. He does not know why he is feeling this way and it slightly bothers him in the way that he has no clue what it is he is feeling.

He catches how your brows slightly furrow at the center and his heart skips a beat. Now he's fucking embarrassed and this man rarely ever is embarrassed. Maybe he's even starting to panic. Can you tell? Do you know? You open your mouth to say something but he quickly interrupts he just got back from a run so you dismiss it with a shrug, placing the diaphragm on his back now and asking him to give you a couple of deep breaths.

"Okay. Take a deep breathe in, breathe it out. Breathe in, and out."

He complies with your instructions, breathing in slow and deep breaths as you go from one side of his back to another.

"Good job." You remove the earpieces and let your stethoscope hang around your neck as you go back to your table, recording in more info. Hang on did you just, did you just tell a grown 6'4" man good job.

Even Simon is confused. Like bitch.

"Okay, so we're all done with that." You inform him, before going over to one of the drawers and sliding it open. "Now if you don't mind, I would like to have some blood work done on you, just to make sure there are no underlying issues that need to be taken care of."

Simon is silent so you turn to him. "Is that okay, Ghost, is that what the others call you? Would you like me to call you Ghost?"

Goddamn you're too polite. "That's fine by me ma'am."

"Perfect. Now is it okay if I take your blood sample?"

Ghost nods, so you grab the tools necessary and place them on the table next to you.

"Could you please roll your sleeve up and make a fist for me? Thank you." You ask him once you sanitize your hands and throw on a pair of fresh gloves. You grab the tourniquet and catch sight of the tattoos that cover his forearm as you tie the tourniquet around his arm above the elbow. You're curious to know the story behind them but you have a feeling he's not one for storytelling or just talking in general so you remain silent. You tear open the small packet of the alcohol wipe and apply it to the area. The chemical is cool against his skin as you sanitize the area before letting it air dry. Simon can't help but notice how small your hands are.

Simon watches you intently as you work, the way you are so focused and so precise with each step, and yet so gentle. It's almost cute.

"You're just going to feel a little pinch." You tell him in a soft tone, a tone you were used to using on all your little patients before inserting the needle into his vein. As if the man hasn't been shot or stabbed and god knows what multiple times before.

At this point Simon doesn't even notice the needle in his arm, he's too focused on the details of your face. He can sense that you're nervous around him and he feels bad. Even though he's just met you, the last thing he wants is for you to feel scared or unsafe around him. And even though this whole situation is awkward for him since he never was a fan of visiting the hospital, you're their physician, and at the end of the day you're there to patch them up. So he comments on your dark circles, thinking you haven't gotten any rest since you arrived here. "You look tired."

"............that's just my face." You give him that distinct smile, the same smile you have given anyone who ever commented on them as you connect the vacutainers to the needle to draw his blood, your eyes glued to the dark red liquid seeping through the thin clear tube before pouring into the sample tube.

If you thought it was quiet before, well you are most definitely wrong because the silence is absolutely deafening now.

Simon nearly punches himself for his stupidity. Why in the bloody hell did he say that of all things. He wanted to tell you he liked your dark circles but decided to bite his tongue instead. Now he's definitely not going to say another word. Better yet, once he leaves your office, he's not coming back. He's just going to avoid you at all costs in order to save both you and himself the embarrassment. He's willing to bet the others handled this way better than him.

"But I suppose I am a bit jet-lagged though. Haven't really gotten any rest since I got on that plane." You add. "I appreciate your concern."

You most definitely said that to make him feel better about himself, Simon thinks to himself as he stares at the wall and avoids your face. There was no other reason.

Once your done drawing his blood you ask him to hold the piece of cotton pad down onto where the needle was punctured as you open up the drawer where the gauze is located. "Do you have a favorite color?"

Did you just ask him his favorite color? Simon stares at you blankly. Were all doctors this odd?

"I'm guessing you like black?" You pull out the roll of black gauze, displaying it in front of you with the most deadpanned expression possible.

You've got jokes. Simon thinks to himself. If he had looked a little closer he would have noticed the ghost of a smirk on your lips.

"You should see the colors the others picked." You tease as you wrap the gauze around his arm at the elbow, making sure it isn't too tight but also not loose enough to the point where the cotton pad underneath slips out.

Simon narrows his eyes at you. Bloody fucking hell. The others picked a color?

You're pretty sure Gaz requested you get an Elmo print one he saw online once somewhere. Soap asked if there a print of the Scotland flag available. The look of hurt on his face when you said there wasn't so you improvised and gave him both the blue and white gauze. You gave him a Dum-Dum lollipop to make him feel better. The others may have also gotten a lollipop as they left your office, especially after seeing the special treatment that Soap received. Were they jealous? Maybe.

Once you tell the man he is all good to go and that you will call him once you're done getting the results from his blood sample, he nearly jumps out of the chair and bolts out of your office. He prays some unknown miracle happens and that his blood sample magically disappears so that he doesn't have to face you, firmly believing he insulted you and that you thought he called you ugly when that is not what he intended. I am telling you this man does not know how to compliment. They should make a guidebook for dummies specialized just for him.

You watch him disappear out your door with a quirked brow. Well that was fucking weird.

When Simon leaves the area he finds Soap lounging about on a chair with a sucker in his mouth.

"The hell is that?" Simon squints at the sergeant.

"Mph mph." Soap's voice comes out muffled.

"What?"

Soap pauses and turns to see Ghost looming over him. "It's a Dum-Dum."

"A fuckin what?"

"Y/n said they're called Dum-Dums." Soap pulls it out of his mouth, twisting the stick of the lollipop around in his fingers as if he were inspecting it. "This one's a cotton candy flavor."

"She gave you a fuckin lollie?"

"It's pure dead brilliant I tell ya. Why, did she not give ya one?"

More silence. Simon would be lying to himself if he said he wasn't a tad bit butthurt.

"Maybe you scared her." Soap jokes.

Simon lets out a grumbled incoherent huff and walks away.

Soap just shrugs and pops the lollipop back in his mouth.

Simon has a feeling he is going to go to bed thinking about his actions.

Part 2

[brummiereader]

PREVIOUS PART

Killing Me Softly (PART THREE/ DARK!TOMMY)

Summary: You and Tommy have barely said a word to eachother since your wedding night, the tension building, Tommy's facade finally drops.

Warnings: Language, angst, psychological mind games, manipulative behaviour, controlling behaviour, Dark!Tommy (this is a dark fic, please read the warnings before continuing)

"Where's my wife?" Tommy asked looking up from his newspaper as he sat at the end of the large dining table, a cigarette in his mouth.

"She's still in bed Sir, she said she's not hungry" Frances answered nervously clutching onto her apron. It had been almost two weeks since your wedding day and the tension was palpable. You and Tommy had barely said another word to eachother since your wedding night, sleeping in separate rooms you had been avoiding him at all costs. You hadn't left the house in five days, and even when you did it was only to venture out onto the grounds of the property, one of Tommy's henchmen always a few feet behind you. You had neither seen nor heard from your mother, friends or Tommy's family since your arrival at Arrow House, everyone giving the happy newlyweds space, that's what he said. The truth was, Tommy was keeping them from you, keeping you from telling them how miserable you truly felt. Folding the newspaper in half Tommy threw it onto the table In front of him, his chair scrapping across the wooden floors beneath him as he stood up.

" Tell her I expect to see her sitting there at that table, at noon, for when I come back" he said sternly as he walked towards the entrance.

" Yes Sir" Frances nodded as she closed the dinning room door.

"Oh and Frances" he stopped as he got to the door. "Tell the chef to make lamb" He smirked as he looked up at the large wooden stairs in the foyer.

" Yes Mr Shelby" she dutifully answered as she watched Tommy walk out the front door.

Laying in bed you flinched as you heard the door of his car slam shut. He was gone, breathing a sigh of relief you sat up looking over to his side of the bed, this was not how you thought your first two weeks of being a married woman would be, even for an arranged marriage.

Deciding not to lay in bed all day and worry about your already fragile marriage, you got up putting your light pink silk dressing gown on, one you could only imagine Tommy had picked out for you, like everything else he had chosen on your behalf. Walking down the large wooden staircase you was met with Frances waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs.

" He's gone then?"

" Yes Mam" she answered with concerned eyes.

" Did he say anything?" you questioned as your fingers picked at the wooden banister.

" He said he would like to see you at lunch Mam"

"I doubt he said it as nice as you" you smiled as you placed a hand on her arm." Thank you, Frances" you added as you walked off into the kitchen in search of something to eat.

"Mrs Shelby please, let me get you something" she called out.

" It's ok Frances I don't mind " you replied, still not used to being waited on.

Sitting by the window in the study, a book on your lap, you looked out at the gardens In front of you, Tommy's horses galloping in the fields behind them. How had things gotten so bad so quickly? You pondered as you spun your wedding ring around your finger over and over again. Tommy was a man who always got what he wanted, never to be talked back to, never to be refused, and when you did just that on your wedding night he had clearly not taken it very well. Was it all your fault though? You questioned yourself, doubting every conversation and action you had done and had over the past two weeks. You just wanted to get to know him again, did he not want that too?

"Mam, it's Miss Polly Gray on the phone, should I tell her to call you back another time?" Frances asked as she opened the door to the study.

" No no, it's fine, I'll take it, thank you Frances" you said getting up, placing the book down on the chair you was sitting on. Hurrying to the phone you quickly picked up the receiver placing it to your ear.

" Polly?"

" Y/N, how are you love? We haven't seen you in a while"

" I'm so happy to hear your voice Polly" you replied, your emotions threatening to be made known at any moment.

" Enjoying newlywed bliss?" she chuckled over the phone, completely unaware of the current state of things.

" Something like that" you sighed with a small laugh as you played with the cord of the phone.

" What's wrong Y/N ?" nothing could get past Polly, she always knew.

" Me and Tommy, well ...things have not been going that great" you replied in a shaky voice, your eyes starting to fill with tears.

" Oh love... right I'm coming over, this afternoon at four, I will have my driver bring me" Polly replied, concern In her voice, knowing too well how Tommy could get.

" Ok" you said as you sniffed back your tears.

" I'll see you in a few hours, don't worry we'll sort it all out.

" Ok, bye Polly" you said as you put the phone down. Was this a good idea? What would Tommy think of you talking about your marriage to someone else. But Polly could help, she was his Aunt after all, family, someone Tommy knew.

Looking up at the large clock in the foyer you noticed it was nearly noon, Tommy would be back any minute. Hurrying back upstairs you quickly shut the bedroom door, hoping to avoid him once again.

" Mr Shelby" Frances greeted Tommy at the door.

" My wife?" he asked as he handed her his suit jacket.

"She's upstairs Sir" she replied nervously as Tommy cocked an eyebrow in surprise.

" Did you not tell her that i expected to see her in the dining room?" He asked, his voice getting irritated with each second that passed.

" Yes Sir, she's very tired, I think she needs rest" Frances said trying to excuse you from his anger.

" Tired" he scoffed as he started marching up the stairs to your shared room. "I'm fucking tired, tired of this shit" he said under his breath, his steps echoing through the house as he walked up the stairs. "Seems my dear wife needs a helping hand getting of bed Frances!" he called out angrily as Frances hurried off, not wanting to get in the middle of a marital dispute.

"Y/N!" he bellowed as he got to the top of the stairs, throwing the bedroom door open.

" Tommy..." you replied in surprise as you sat up, eyes widening as you watched him storm over to your side of the bed.

" Been laying in bed all fucking morning eh?" he asked as he pulled the sheets away from you, scoffing when you closed your dressing gown tightly around your body.

"Why are you not downstairs in the dinning room, like I asked, hm?" he demanded to know, grabbing you by the hand as he pulled you out the bed.

" I'm not a child Tommy, you don't get to talk to me like that" you answered, irritation in your voice as you pulled his hand off you. Tommy was right behind you as you marched down the stairs to the dining room, you swore you could feel his eyes piercing into the back of your head, your stubbornness only angering him more. Once again you had disobeyed him, and this time he was going to make sure you knew it. Spinning you around, Tommy pulled you flush against his body, his arm hooked around the bottom of your back.

" Stop fucking acting like a child, and I'll stop treating you like one, ok sweetheart?" he said quietly into your ear, his breath hot against your skin, his words laced with anger as his hand traveled slowly up your back grabbing a handful of your dressing gown. Firmly holding onto your robe, Tommy spun you back around in one quick motion, pushing you down onto the dining table chair.

" Good" he said, hitching his suit trousers up as he sat down next to you, satisfied you hadn't talked back. What would be the point in arguing with him, your words would only go unheard, Tommy always had to be right. You decided not to say anything, instead you pinned all your hopes on Polly's visit, praying she could get through to her nephew and help your already rocky marriage. Lighting a cigarette, Tommy watched you as he inhaled the tobacco. He had you just the way he wanted, eyes cast down, submissive, subservient, the perfect little wife.

A knock on the dinning room door had you both looking up as Frances wheeled two plates of food in. As she made her way around the dining table you noticed almost instantly what had been prepared, your eyes darting to Tommy you watched the smirk form on his lips as he flicked the ash of his cigarette into a glass dish.

" Is there a problem?" he asked, a devilish darkness overtaking his eyes as he watched you look down at the plate of food now in front of you.

"I can get you something else Mrs Shelby?" Frances asked as she looked between you and Tommy.

" No it's fine, thank you" you answered as you breathed in the gamy smell of the lamb, your stomach already turning at its odor. His pettiness was blatant, you knew exactly what he was doing, it was childish, immature, and you refused to play along.

"Eat" he said as he nodded to the plate of food In front of you. Picking up your knife and fork, you cut a small piece of lamb, raising it to your lips as Tommy watched you intently. Placing it in your mouth, you looked over to him as the smugness spread across his face, he was enjoying this, enjoying his cruelness play out.

" You invited Polly to come today?" he asked as he took a sip of whiskey. Nodding, you slowly chewed on the piece of meat, swallowing harshly as Tommy watched your throat bob up and down as the food made its way down.

" Next time you invite someone, you ask me first"

" Tommy this is my home too, I don't have to inform you of everything I do" you replied, dropping your fork onto the plate, unable to eat anymore, your frustration mounting with him.

" But you do love" he said as he grabbed your chin turning you to face him. " You're my wife, so you'll do as I say. Now eat" he said picking your fork back up.

" I can't Tommy, I don't feel good " you answered. Was it the taste of the lamb already, or his controlling words that had your stomach churning, you couldn't tell anymore. Staring at him your eyes started to fill with tears. Taking a drag of his cigarette Tommy looked at you unsympathetically as one lone tear fell down your cheek. With your hand to your mouth, you bolted up, running as fast as you could to the closest bathroom. Bending over the toilet you threw up as you tried to hold back your hair away from the toilet seat.

"Hey, hey..." you heard softly from behind you as Tommy bent down next to you, collecting your hair into his hand as he rubbed your back while you hurled into the toilet once more.

Wiping your mouth you turned to him as you flushed the toilet.

" Why would you do that?" you asked weakly, tears streaming down your face.

"Do what?" He questioned a look of confusion in his eyes as he tried to fool you with his bewilderment, but all you could see was the smirk playing on the corner of his lips threatening to expose his cruelness. Turning back to the toilet you threw up again, gagging at the taste in your mouth.

" You see what happens when you don't talk to me hm, when you ignore me? How am I suppose to know anything about you, if you never say anything to me eh? he said as he continued to stroke your back.

" But...Tommy at the wedding I told you that..."

"Shh shh" he hushed you, pulling you into his chest as he gently caressed your hair, exhaling at the close contact of your warm body.

" Let me take care of you Y/N, stop fighting it." he said as he kissed the top of your head. In your weak state you found yourself leaning into his embrace, clutching onto his chest as he responded by holding you tighter against him, placing another kiss to your temple. Had he forgotten what you had said at the wedding? His sudden behaviour was confusing, he blew hot and cold with you as quick as his temper changed, you couldn't keep up.

For another hour you laid in bed, Tommy telling you to sleep as he worked in his office, ordering his men to go home for the rest of the day now he was back. But sleep was the last thing you did. Your thoughts had been consuming you as you bit anxiously on your nails. He was playing with you like a child plays with a toy, he hadn't forgotten, he knew exactly what he was doing. Having had enough of his constant change in personality, you decided to be as petty as him and play along with his little games..since he clearly enjoyed it so much. Marching down the stairs you walked right past his office as he looked up from his desk.

" Y/N, why are you not in bed? " he asked, getting up from his chair, following you as you walked out the back door to the gardens. Scoffing at him you ignored his question. In bed, exactly where he wants you to be, knowing where you are, doing what he wants, controlling you.

" What do you think your doing?" He said as he caught up to you.

" Going for a walk " you answered as you started making your way to the woods behind the house." Is that a problem?" you said sarcastically, echoing the words he would often use. Clenching his fist he watched you as you walked away from him.

" You'll get lost!" he shouted as he stood by the door.

" I'm a grown woman Tommy" you shouted back, your arms folded as you stormed off. So tempted to see his reaction, you turned around to see him staring at you, brushing his hand down his face as he then gripped his chin with his fingers.

A satisfied look spread across your face, you enjoyed the fact your defiance was getting to him, just like he enjoyed toying with your emotions. Was this a dangerous game to play though, for how long could you really keep this up?

It had been an hour since you stormed off, and you was officially lost. Fuck. Looking down at the floor you kicked a pile of sticks in frustration, Tommy having been right only angering you even more. Looking around in a panic, you tried to remember the route you took, but everything looked the same. A noise Suddenly caught your attention as you span around, your eyes trying to look through the endless row of tress in front of you. This was England, you tried to rationalise to yourself. The chances of a bear coming out at you, zero to none, a wolf maybe, or it could be the devil himself, you laughed to yourself. Is that what you was calling him now, your husband? Then you heard it again. Walking in the opposite direction you quickly picked up the pace as you glanced behind you once more, the rustling suddenly got louder, and that's when you saw it, a small rabbit not far from where you was standing, a sigh of relief swept over you as you walked over to the small ball of fluff. Bending down you put your hand out coaxing it forwards.

" Hello little guy, you scared me" you said as it quickly bounced off in the opposite direction. Your senses no longer on alert, you hadn't noticed the real threat standing next to you. The snap of a branch had you suddenly turning back around.

" Lost little bunny?" Tommy said a smirk on his face, as he leaned against a tree watching you, a cloud of smoke bellowing into the country air. Of course he had followed you, was he afraid you would run off and leave him?

" You followed me" you said, upset that no matter where you went or what you did he would always have his eye on you.

"Maybe you would prefer rabbit for lunch next time" he joked in a sister tone. " Come on, you've had your little tantrum, now let's go" he said taking your hand only for you to push it away.

" No. I'll go when I'm ready" you said adamantly as you watched the anger rise in his already tense body.

" Y/N, you're coming home with me now or els..."

" When I'm ready" you said sterner, Interrupting him.

" Fine. Spend all night here. See if I fucking care" he replied turning away from you, storming off as he threw his cigarette onto the ground. That was the last thing you wanted to do. You watched the route he took back as you slowly followed the same path.

It had been more than an hour until you finally reached the front door to your house. Walking in you glanced up at the clock it was nearly four, you hadn't missed Polly's visit. Walking through the foyer, you was met by Tommy as he walked out the living room, Polly following behind him.

" My loving wife has returned" he said sarcastically as he took a sip of his whiskey.

"Polly" you said ignoring Tommy's remark as you walked up to her, giving her a hug as you looked over her shoulder to see Tommy smirking at you. I'm glad I didn't miss you, I was out for a walk and got a little lost"

" You did miss me, love" she said kissing your cheek, smiling to you.

" But...you said you was coming at four"

"Polly arrived an hour ago Y/N " Tommy said staring at you, his mouth slightly open as his eyes glistened with mischief.

" It's alright love, you must have forgotten. One of the secretary's left a note saying you rang and changed the time to three" she said as she started to put her coat on.

" I...I didn't rin.." you stopped, looking to Tommy as he swirled the whiskey around in his glass. And then the realisation hit you, Tommy had changed the times.

With Polly adjusting her coat in between you both, you and Tommy stared eachother down, your anger at boiling point. Neither of you saying anything you just glared at eachother waiting for the other to do something.

"I can't stay love, i have to get back. We will arrange for another time" she said as she kissed your cheek once again. "Tommy told me everything, you'll settle in soon" she whispered quietly into your ear. You watched on in disbelief, what had Tommy said to her? As soon as the door shut, you marched over to your husband, anger in your face ready to confront him.

" You did that on purpose! What did you say to her?" You shouted at him, pushing his chest with both of your hands.

" You sure you're not still sick love? Don't have a fever do you?" he said, a cocky smile on his lips as he turned away from you, walking to his office.

" You changed the times of her visit, am I not allowed to see anyone?" you asked in desperation, as you tried to stand In front of him, trying to get his attention. Annoyed by your insistence on the matter Tommy Slammed you against the wall as he pushed his body onto yours.

" What if I did hm? What was you going to tell her eh? How it's been so hard for you? My poor little wife, she's suffering so much. I have given you everything Y/N, everything. Do you not remember our agreement hm?" He said angrily as he held your head between his hands, his leg between yours to keep you in place.

Nervousness building inside you, you watched as his eyes turned that sinister black you feared so much. Tears streaming down your face you looked at Tommy pleading with unspoken words to let you go. Brushing away a tear with his thumb, Tommy let out a frustrated sigh.

" Look, the sooner you start acting like my wife the better things will be" he said, gently caressing your cheek as he leaned in to press his lips to your tear stained ones.

"Kiss me back Y/N" he moaned against your mouth, desperate to feel something from you.

" Still playing hard to get eh?" he hummed against your lips as he pressed his forehead to yours, his eyes closing as his hands stroked down your arms.

" I hate you" you said quietly as your voice trembled in fear. Tommy's forehead still pressed against yours, his eyes darted open meeting the fear in yours, fury spreading across his face as you pushed him away from you. Running up the stairs you turned around to see him staring at you, his eyes never once moving from you as he watched you run up the large wooden stairs.

You didn't hate him, Tommy reasoned to himself as he sat in the dark green upholstered arm chair, blowing a cloud of smoke to the ceiling. You was just getting used to your new life he quickly justified . You're words were laced with anger though, he thought to himself as he clenched his jaw, flicking the flame of his lighter on and off as he watched you sleep in the bed in front of him, the freshly cleaned bed sheets draped gently over your body. Taking another drag of his cigarette Tommy leaned forward, his hand slowly stroking up your uncovered leg as he watched you sleep. Your skin was so soft, so delicate under his fingers, why wouldn't you let him near you? let him hold you, kiss you... touch you. Frustration building up he pulled his hand away, his shoulders tense, his jaw tightening. You shouldn't test him, he didn't want to lose his temper, he didn't want to hurt you. Stirring you started to wake up, the smell of tobacco filling your senses. Sitting up you looked In front of you to see an empty chair at the bottom of the bed, a lit cigarette still burning in an ash tray on a small table beside it. Your eyes darted around the room in panic.

"Tommy" you called out as you looked to the the landing light beaming through the half opened bedroom door. Clutching the bed sheets to your chest, fear rose in your body.

He had been here, he had been watching you...

NEXT PART

Tag list: @litteltourtius @aesthetic0cherryblossom @swordofawriter @casa-boiardi @muhahaha303 @fmo166

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Rusty | Chapter 23 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N - penultimate chapter.

Summary - Spencer’s navigates being in alone in the ICU with his ghosts. Luke tries and fails to get through to him.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - hints at sexual activity (m/m), swearing, DID, talk of antipsychotic medication, a lot of internal monologging, mentions of urine, UTI, respiratory problems, suicidal ideation, mention of past sexual assault, past near relapse, heavy talk of hospital related things.

WC - 6.6k

Chapter 23 - Only the Lonely

It was unlikely you would have been able to sleep given everything that was running through your exhausted brain. With Spencer back on the ventilator in the ICU, succumbing to multiple personalities when he was awake, the fear was consuming.

You still hadn’t seen him, not even stepped in the room while he was sedated. Your time left together was getting shorter by the day and you knew it would soon be over. You shouldn’t be wasting a second away from him, but you couldn’t bring yourself to face him yet. 

Even if your mind hadn’t been awash with thoughts of him in the hospital, you wouldn’t have gotten much rest anyway, given the activities taking place in your guest room next door. Luke and Grant had been going at it all night long, their moans and the banging of the headboard enough to wake the dead. 

Copper had been perturbed by it too, deciding to sleep in bed curled up with you and occasionally barking if the noise got too loud. The men next door didn’t seem to notice.

You stifled a yawn as you leant against the kitchen counter, sipping coffee from a mug cradled between your hands. Copper was eating his kibble you’d put down for him and would no doubt need letting out for a good run considering he’d mostly been cooped up in the house for the last few days.

You needed to sort the horses too, Willow and Rusty had been extremely neglected recently and you were sure they both needed out of their stable for an hour or so to meander in the field. 

You heard footsteps on the stairs and you braced yourself to face one of the men staying in your guest room. You sipped more coffee as Grant strolled into the room, a small, slightly sleepy smile on his lips. 

“Morning,” he nodded his head at you.

“Morning, coffee?” You motioned to the freshly brewed pot and empty mugs on the counter.

“Please, I’m plum tuckered.” He headed past you towards the coffee and poured himself a mug.

“Hmm I can imagine.” You barely hid the bitterness from your tone.

Grant slid into one of the stools at the counter with his coffee and looked a little guiltily down into it.

“Ah, I guess we weren’t all that quiet, huh?” 

“Oh you were the very opposite of quiet.” You clucked. “I mean don’t get me wrong it sounded incredibly hot the first time but after the third it was a little grating.” 

Grant’s cheeks flushed red and he still wouldn’t meet your eyes. He continued staring down into his mug. 

“I’m sorry. This is your home and with Spencer the way he is…it was inconsiderate.” He mumbled. 

“Don’t sweat it, it’s okay. Can’t say I blame either of you, a couple of handsome studs.” You teased and when Grant looked up at you winked at him. 

“You know he doesn’t know about our kiss, right?” Grant whispered. 

And I assume you don’t know about my kiss with Luke. Jeez this is like a fucking soap opera.

“I figured as much. Don’t plan on telling him, don’t worry.” 

“Thanks.” Grant smiled softly, raising his mug to his lips. “I, uh…can I be honest with you ‘bout summin’?” 

“Uh, okay?” Your brow creased. 

“I know your name isn’t Elizabeth Parker. You’re that girl that Luke’s old partner has been hunting. The fugitive.” His words almost caused you to choke on your coffee.

You coughed a little, staring at him in wide eyed horror. 

“I…I’m sorry?” You choked. 

“I saw a file in his office. How does this work? Why hasn’t he arrested you?” Grant leant his elbows on the counter. 

“We have a deal.” You huffed out a breath. “He can take me in once he helps Spencer. Once I know he’ll be okay, Luke can slap the cuffs on me.” 

“Holy cow,” Grant pulled a face. “You must really love him.” 

“I do.” You nodded, trying not to look at the ring adorned on your finger. “I want him to be okay, I want to know that he’s going to get better. I don’t care what happens to me after that.” 

You sniffed back tears as you heard another set of feet on the stairs and you focused back on your coffee and not on the pain in your chest at the thought of leaving Spencer. 

Luke traipsed into the kitchen and offered you a small smile before sidling up to Grant and wrapping his arm around the other man. You turned away to give them a moment's privacy, not able to look at them like this without hearing the sounds they’d made last night. 

You heard some whispering transpire between the two of them before Luke cleared his throat.

“Uh, sorry about last night.” He spoke, his words heavy with guilt. 

“Just, uh, try to keep it down next time?” You turned back to him with a shrug. 

“Duly noted.” Luke blushed slightly. “So, uh, the hospital called and said Spencer is exhausted. He was up half of the night vomiting. They gave him medication through his IV for the UTI but he’s still struggling to empty his bladder and it's causing him a lot of pain. 

“On top of that his lungs are extremely sore and even with the ventilator it’s likely still putting pressure on his chest. They’re worried about the state of his lungs. He’s developed some scarring and it could lead to any number of respiratory illnesses. But Doctor Ryan was able to carry out some more neurological tests this morning and he was pleased that he doesn’t appear to have any brain damage or deficits. He’s still a little hazy in places but they think that could be a symptom of the DID.”

“So it is DID?” You asked, clutching your mug tightly.

“Doctor Vikram believes so. But she can’t say for sure if it’s permanent or just a causation of his sudden lack of medication combined with the alcohol. She has some new meds she wants to try him on - olanzapine - it's an antipsychotic used to manage symptoms of DID. It blocks some dopamine receptors in the brain, correcting the overactivity of dopamine. But they want to get his respiratory distress controlled and have him breathing on his own first. So he may have a few more days where he’s unsure of who he is and even who we are.” Luke took the mug Grant was offering him and sipped from it. 

“So we could do him more harm than good?” Grant asked, looking up at his boyfriend.

“Possibly,” Luke nodded sadly. “I didn’t tell either of you this but when he first woke up, he thought I was…he thought I was one of the men who abused him in prison.” 

Grant clutched Luke’s arm, looking at him with a sorrowful expression. You pouted, putting your mug down before you smashed it and wrapping your arms around your waist. 

“Jesus,” you hissed. “Luke I…that must have been horrible for you.” 

“It, uh, was not great.” Luke down played it. “But he’s sick, I understand that. I have to understand that.” 

The three of you fell into a stilted silence after that, letting it all wash over you. You had to take the good with the bad, try and focus on the fact there could be a light at the end of a very long tunnel for Spencer. 

***

The haze of sedation hung around him, clawing to every corner of his fractured mind. He wasn’t entirely pacified, but not yet completely in tune with his surroundings. 

The first thing he became aware of was the tube in his throat, threaded down his airway. His initial reaction had been to remove it but he’d reminded himself he was in the hospital, it was supposed to be there. Thankfully the sedative medication he’d been prescribed stopped him from panicking at the strange intrusion.

He could feel the air being pushed into his lungs via the ventilation machine and down through the tube. His natural instinct was to try and breath on his own but the machine wouldn’t allow it. Sometimes he would feel ready to take another breath but couldn’t until the ventilator was ready to pump that beautiful oxygen into him. 

He was hooked up to so many machines he couldn’t move more than a few inches without tugging on a wire here or a tube there. He was being fed liquid or medication, he wasn’t sure, through his IV in the crook of his arm, the suprapubic catheter was still lodged in his stomach.

There was something in his nose too which he could only assume was sending nutrition to his painful stomach. The little tacky pads on his chest were hooked up to the heart rate monitor which was beeping steadily, probably because he couldn’t succumb to his fear while sedated like this. 

He’d gagged initially when he’d come around after the general anaesthetic. He’d tried to cough, tried to speak but of course he could do neither. The doctor - Doctor Wells he thought he remembered - explained everything to him although a lot of it got lost in his foggy brain.

Gave me diuretics to clear the fluid in my lungs. Sedated. Ventilator. Need to monitor my blood, oxygen levels, and respiratory rate. Other things. She said other things…

Can’t move without help. Nurse will sit me up. Might make me walk. Something about bronchoscopy? Multiple of them, frequent. A camera down my throat to check my lungs. 

I know what this is. Think, think Reid. You know exactly what this is, Doctor Ryan said your brain wasn’t soup so just think…

ARDS? Acute respiratory distress syndrome? Even with treatment only 25 to 40 percent of people survive. If I’m one of the minority it’s likely I won’t ever retain full lung function. I’ll need physical therapy. Might never live a normal life again. 

Goddamn my stomach hurts, why does my stomach hurt so much? Am I still not fucking peeing properly? More comfortable than the one in my dick though, that’s for sure. 

You had surgery, it hurts because you’re probably bruised around the incision site. Don’t need to urinate, don’t think so anyway. Must have been. Must be working. 

No wait. Fuck, no I do need to go. Feels like my bladder is vibrating. What the fuck do I do? How do I make this thing work? 

He ran his fingers over the tube he could feel beneath his gown, trying to convey to his bladder and the catheter that he needed them to work together. 

What is happening, what is happening? Is it…oh my gosh its leaking…no that’s gross, it hurts! Oh so gross, this is a living hell. Someone please just put me out of my…

The door opened and a nurse he didn’t recognise walked in. He made eye contact with her, frantically pointing at his stomach. She frowned at him a little, coming closer to the bed.

“Is everything okay?” She asked softly. 

He whined around the tube in his throat, pointing again at the catheter insertion site beneath his gown. The woman followed his hands and rolled down the bed sheet, rolled up his gown and Spencer tried not to be embarrassed about being naked from the waist down but it was ingrained in him.

“Oh it’s okay, it’s just a little leakage. It might happen from time to time as you get used to the catheter.” She cleaned him off before going about replacing the dressing holding the tube in place. 

Time to time? No, no please this should never happen!

“You’re probably experiencing bladder spasms which is a normal symptom of your UTI. It will pass, sweetie, the antibiotics will just take a little time.” 

Normal? How the hell is any of this normal? 

She finished redressing his incision before standing back and smiling at him. 

“Aside from the bladder discomfort are you okay? Can I get you anything?” 

A shotgun with one bullet or a bottle of your strongest pills? How the FUCK am I supposed to answer you? 

He simply shook his head against the pillow, closing his eyes as he no longer wanted to partake in this incredibly one sided conversation. 

Soon he heard her leaving, humming as she went. When Spencer opened his eyes again the tears came streaming out. 

Is this just my fucking life now? Am I destined to forever be hooked up to a series of machines? Can’t eat, can’t talk, can’t even having a fucking a piss out of my cock. 

Jesus Christ why am I not dead? How the fuck did I end up here? I was alone, how could I have survived? Someone must have…

As the realisation started to present itself in his thickly veiled brain, those eyes he remembered seeing when he’d been spitting up water and turned onto his side, the door opened again and suddenly Spencer found himself looking into those same eyes that had saved him. 

Luke? Luke, are you really here? Luke please tell me I’m not dreaming. Luke! 

“Hey, you.” Luke croaked as he stepped into the room. “Wasn’t sure you’d be up for visitors but I couldn’t stay away. You mind me being here?”

Mind? Do I mind? Of course I don’t mind! Oh Luke this is so horrible, you have no idea. I feel like I’m trapped inside my own body, I hate it, I HATE IT. Please stay, please don’t ever leave.

Oh right, I can’t speak. 

Spencer shook his head instead. 

Luke smiled sadly and padded across the room, he slid into the chair next to the bed and Spencer rolled his head to the side to look at him. 

Spencer’s fingers twitched at his side, alerting Luke’s attention. He looked like he was trying to mime something, holding a pen? Writing?

“You want to write?” Luke asked and Spencer nodded. 

For lack of a pen and paper, Luke pulled his phone from his pocket and opened the notes app before handing it to Spencer. Spencer fumbled a little with it, his hands weak and shaky. It took him a few minutes to write out a simple message before showing the screen to Luke.

Why are you here? 

“Uh, Y/N called me.” Luke rolled his lip between his teeth.

Spencer’s eyes grew wide and the heart rate monitor picked up to show his signs of distress. Luke gently placed his hand on Spencer’s shoulder, thankful the young man didn’t try and push him away this time and didn’t seem to think he was someone else.

“It’s okay, Spencer, just breathe.” Luke realised his error as soon as he said it Spencer attempted to type out another message while his heart continued to race.

Can’t breathe, machine is doing that for me. 

“Yeah, that was a dumb thing to say. Sorry. But don’t panic, please.”

Spencer frowned back at the phone and typed furiously. 

How can I not panic? Why would she call you? Why would she put herself in danger like that?

��Spence, it’s all gonna be fine, I swear. You just need to focus on yourself right now.” Luke tried to calm him.

Little hard to do that when you’re going to arrest my fiance. 

Luke sucked in a deep breath at the sight of the word fiance. Clearly he still had a few things to work through. 

“Everything will be fine, I promise you.” Luke smiled shakily.

You saved my life? 

“Uh, I guess so. Do you remember anything?” 

Spencer frowned deeply at the phone, fingers still trembling and causing him to make multiple mistakes which he insisted on correcting before showing Luke.

Kinda remember you being there when I was on the floor in the bathroom. Everything else is a blur. Not sure what’s real and what’s not.

Luke nodded slowly, inhaling shakily. 

“I was here when you first woke up, I think you thought I was someone else.” Luke glanced down at his lap and Spencer frowned in confusion. 

He wasn’t even sure when he first woke up, his dreams and his reality blurring into one. Was he awake when he thought he was here? When he ripped off what he thought were restraints but must have been…his catheter. He was awake then, but who was…oh.

Frantic tapping at the phone caused Luke to look back up at Spencer’s pinched brows and his flying fingers.

Oh fuck Luke I am so sorry. I was delirious. I wasn’t with it. I’m so, so sorry. 

“It’s okay,” Luke waved a dismissive hand. “Don’t worry about it cari…Spencer.” 

Are the rest of the team here? 

“No, they’re on a case. I didn’t think you’d want them to see you like this either.” 

Thank you. Where is Y/N? What happened after she left the ranch?

Luke inhaled again before telling Spencer everything he knew of what had transpired to lead you to New Mexico where he met you and the deal the two of you had made. He ended things with saying you were back at the ranch taking care of the horses but he could call you if he wanted to see you.

Spencer shook his head. He didn’t want you to see him like this, even less than he wanted the rest of the BAU to see him like this. His tears rolled down his cheeks as he slowly typed out another message. 

I love her Luke, please don’t take her away from me. 

Luke’s lips puckered, his eyes sad and downturned as he took the device back which Spencer was handing over to him.

“Just don’t worry about it for now, you have to focus on yourself. Are you, uh, are there any…voices right now?” Luke dared to ask.

Spencer closed his eyes tightly and shook his head. 

“Good, that’s good. I know Doctor Vikram wants to give you some medication to help but maybe they’ll go away before then. Perhaps it was just temporary and maybe they’re gone now?” 

Spencer nodded, rolling onto his back and keeping his eyes shut tightly. Oh how he wished Luke was right. But he knew he wasn’t.

“Lying is a sin, boy.” 

“Just because you can’t talk right now, doesn’t mean they won’t find out. You’re as crazy as your mother, and crazy always finds its way to the surface.” 

Goddamnit, please? Please just let me rest. I just want to rest. 

“He really does look similar to me, aye cariño?” 

Stop please, please don’t call me that? You ruined my relationship with him, was that not enough? Do you have to ruin all my memories of him too? 

“Spencer? Spence, are you okay?” Luke’s voice cut above the racket in his head and he opened his eyes suddenly. Luke was standing, leaning over him. “Your heart is racing again, is everything okay?” 

Spencer lifted his hand, made a grabbing motion and thankfully Luke realised what he meant and handed him back his phone. A few moments later he turned the screen back to Luke and the words staring back at him on his own device shattered the older man to his core.

For the rest of his life, Luke Alvez would never get over reading those words typed at the hand of the man he still held so much love for. If his own heart rate were being monitored, the machine might just malfunction given how frantically his heart beat seeing those gut wrenching words looking back at him. 

Nothing is okay. I wish I were dead. 

***

“Still not sold the old ranch?” Grant’s voice carried across the stable from where he was filling Rusty’s food trough. 

You glanced up from where you were shovelling hay in the next stall. 

“How could you possibly know that?” You cocked an eyebrow at him. 

“My place hasn’t sold, it was an educated guess.” His lip quipped at the corner. 

“I guess people just aren’t in the market for all that land these days.” You sighed wistfully. “I’m gonna miss this place.” 

“I don’t think you gotta worry about that, little lady.” He walked out of the open paddock, past you towards Willow’s where he started replenishing her food. 

“What do you mean?” You followed him with your eyes curiously. 

“Contrary to popular belief, me and Luke did find some time to do some talking last night. All he wants is for Spencer to be happy and he knows you make him happy. I’m not making no promises or nothin’ but Luke’s a softy, a romantic at heart. I think you might find yourself able to stay here longer than you planned.” Grant smiled knowingly at you but it only added to your confusion. 

“I’m a fugitive wanted by the FBI. He’s not just going to give me a pass because I’m in love with Spencer.” You scoffed, leaning against the fence that separated you. 

“You willingly put yourself in danger for him. You put Spencer’s needs above your own freedom. It might not be ethical or hell even legal, but Luke is a kind soul and he can be awful forgiving if he wants to be.” 

“Don’t say things like that.” You sniffed back your tears that had suddenly accumulated. “Don’t say things like that and get my hopes up. It’s his job to arrest me. He’s not just going to let that slide.” 

“Hmm,” Grant shrugged. “Whadda I know, I’m just a simple cowboy?”

He smiled at you before turning away and going back to his task at hand. You stared at the back of his head as he acted as if nothing had happened. 

You couldn’t get your hopes up. There was no way Luke was going to let you off the hook for murdering your step father and escaping prison. 

But he had proven he would do just about anything for Spencer. Would that go as far to include allowing you to get away so the two of you could have a life together? 

You couldn’t even let yourself entertain the idea for fear of everything coming crashing down around you. 

***

Time is moving so slowly. Does time always move this slowly? Need something to do, a book or a chess board or something. Anything. I’m going to lose my mind. 

The nurse comes in every half hour give or take. It’s been twenty two minutes since she was last here, suctioning my airway. God I hate that, makes me feel sick. Makes me want to cough but I can’t cough because of this fucking tube.

Checks my blood, my oxygen levels. Checks my heart rate and my respiratory rate. Medicine every few hours, that horrible aerosolized spray through my breathing tube. Hate it. Hate everything. 

Doctor comes every hour. When was the last time she was here? Probably give me another bronchoscopy, maybe take some tissue samples. 

I’m so tired. Didn’t I just sleep? Why am I so damn tired? How long has it been since Luke was here? Hours, it’s been hours. Days? Guess he’s not coming back. 

Spencer had well and truly lost track of time. His medicine had him in and out of hazy sleep and he had long ago passed the point of knowing what day it was. In reality he had been back on the ventilator for six days, and just because he didn’t remember seeing Luke again after his first day back in the ICU, Luke had been to visit every day.

Most of the time Spencer would sleep during his visits but even when he was awake he was never lucid, and never Spencer. One day Luke had an entire conversation via his phone's note app with Cat Adams. Another he had a very confusing exchange in which Spencer flitted between Benjamin Merva and Raphael. 

The most horrifying experience had transpired yesterday when Spencer presented solely as one of the men who had attacked him in prison.

He’d gone into hideously gory details about the assaults he and his partners had inflicted upon Spencer. Luke wanted to smash his phone into tiny pieces by the time the man who wasn’t Spencer typed out, don’t you remember how good he is at sucking cock? Ay dios mio, it should be illegal. 

It had taken everything in Luke’s power not to vomit reading those messages typed by Spencer’s hand but not his mind. 

You and Grant went with him everyday but Luke was the only one who braved going in his room. 

“You told him you wanted to die, of course he’s not coming back, estúpido.” 

Oh god not you again. Why are you always here? Send someone else, Tobias, Cat, even my dad. Not you, please. 

“I’m always going to be here. Why would I ever leave you?” 

I can’t do this, I can’t spend the rest of my life seeing you., hearing you. I thought it might be temporary, but you’re never going away are you? 

“I’m not going away because you don’t want me to go away, cariño.” 

Please stop calling me that. Please? 

Tears snuck from his eyes as he laid there in the shell of a useless body, allowing his breathing, the one thing he’d always been in control of, be dictated by a machine. 

This was an all time low for Spencer Reid. If he couldn’t even do something as simple as pull oxygen into his lungs, what was the fucking point of anything? 

“You did this to yourself. I told you, suicide is a sin and you’re being punished for trying to take the cowards way out. It’s God’s will.” 

Tobias? Tobias, please don’t leave. 

God I never thought I’d say that. 

“How many times did you think about doing that after what we did to you? How many times did you want to kill yourself after prison, querido?” 

No, no I didn’t. Wouldn’t let you win, couldn’t let you win. 

“Hmm is that why you brought that dilaudid two weeks after you were released? Just enough to end it all. Woulda taken it too if you hadn’t found that ring. He saved your life and he never even realised, hijo de puta.” 

A phantom memory encased him then, the dilaudid vials in one hand, needle in the other. He’d been looking for something to use as a tourniquet when he’d opened a drawer and found the ring box hidden inside. 

He never told Luke that he’d seen it and no surprise, Luke had never given it to him. But it had been enough for him to want to try. He’d flushed the dilaudid down the toilet before Luke had any idea. 

It was my fault. All my fault. Would have married him in a heartbeat. Still would, wouldn’t I?…

No. No I wouldn’t. I love him, I’ll always love him. But she’s the one I want to spend the rest of my life with. 

“Not gonna happen now though is it? Because of you, you idiota. Because of your stupid decision to stop taking your meds she had to seek help from the only person she could. And now he’s going to arrest her and you’ll be all alone again. Well, apart from me. I’ll always be here, mi corazón.” 

Goddamnit I wish you wouldn’t be. How do I make you go away? 

“I’m a part of you. I’m in arraigado - ingrained - in you. I’m just as much a part of you as you are me.” 

Fuck, this is so unfair. Fucking Christ the nightmare will never be over, will it? 

“Shh cariño, it will be okay.” 

Spencer’s tears continued to roll down his hollow cheeks, focusing on the discomfort in his dry throat at the tube lodged inside it. 

He laid there in his husk of a body, listening to the steady beep beep beep of the heart monitor, the loud pumps of the ventilator as it kept him alive when his uncooperative lungs wouldn’t work for themselves. 

The almost imperceptible drip drip of the IV as it delivered antibiotics and fluids to his spent frame. The soft spasming of his stomach as the catheter worked constantly to remove every drop of liquid from his bladder before he could even register the need to urinate. 

How long could a person live like this? At least when they had him in a coma he wasn’t aware of all these things being done to him, wasn’t coherent of his total lack of autonomy over his own body. 

This must be what hell is like, surrounded by ghosts and being able to do nothing about it. Maybe I am dead after all, maybe this is just what death feels like. 

The door opened almost right on cue and the doctor walked in, followed closely by a nurse. He knew the drill by now and laid back and allowed it to happen, not that he could do much else. 

“Are you feeling okay, Doctor Reid?” Doctor Wells asked as she glanced at his vitals. 

By way of communicating he tapped the bedrail once. Once meant yes, twice was no. It was a lie and they probably all knew it. 

The nurse set up next to his bed, a small silver tray of instruments. A catheter was threaded down inside of his breathing tube so she could suction out any mucus that might have gathered in the tube and impede the machine's ability to do its job.

As always, he gagged at the intrusion, tried to cough but couldn’t. He laid back and took it, hating the way it felt and knowing he would never get used to that sensation even if he was on this machine the rest of his life. 

After suctioning came the medication, the spray which was administered down his tube and also made him gag furiously. He knew the bronchoscopy was coming, that was why Doctor Wells was here. She finished noting down his vitals before she turned to him with the tiny camera in hand. 

“We’re just going to take a few more tissue samples okay?” 

Tap. 

He closed his eyes while she went about her business and tried to ignore the way it made him want to vomit. It was all over in no more than five minutes but Spencer hated every second of it. 

“Your respiratory activity has been improving greatly, I’m hoping once we get the results back from these samples we might be able to start weaning you off the ventilator. Does that sound good?” 

Tap. 

The nurse was cleaning him with a damp cloth, he always tried to go to another place for this. His dissociations usually happened so easily he wasn’t even aware of them but this was one mortifying task his brain would not let him detach from. 

She moved him around like a goddamn rag doll manoeuvring him so she could remove the clothes he’d been dressed in, he assumed brought in by Luke in a last ditch attempt to help Spencer feel something akin to human. 

He had to admit it was better than the scratchy hospital gown, his flannel pyjama pants were soft and cosy and the t-shirt he wore he had a suspicion was one of Luke’s old FBI Academy shirts although he couldn’t really see it over all the equipment he was plugged into. 

He could have been more help, he could move his limbs and make the whole thing slightly less degrading but he didn’t. Instead he allowed her to lift his shirt, wash under his grossly smelling armpits, over his chest, around his catheter insertion and then his neck. 

Replacing the shirt she gave the same gentle attention to each of his arms, careful not to disturb his IV port. 

It was what came next that Spencer found incredibly dehumanising. 

The sheet was removed from the bed and his pyjama pants tugged down his legs. The way in which she cleaned his genitals, lifting his sad, flaccid penis as she wiped the cloth in those hard to reach places made him shudder. 

It felt like a violation and tears never failed to leak from his eyes but there was nothing else he could do. 

It was clinical, of course it was, she was a professional. But it didn’t stop Spencer from screaming internally at what his ravaged brain perceived to be an assault. 

Stop touching me! I don’t want it! Don’t want it! Please stop touching me! 

They’d noted early on that this part of the cleaning ritual caused his heart rate to skyrocket. It was understandable given what they knew about his traumatic past. No one had said as much but the doctors had all seen his full medical history, including the reports from Milburn infirmary. 

All they could do was to try and keep him calm, Doctor Wells mumbled soothing epitaphs while the nurse went about her business in an attempt to distract him. Judging by the heart monitor, it never worked. 

Finally she was finished and redressed him, covering his lower half with the sheet and steadily his heart rate lowered again once he was no longer being touched. 

“We want to try and get you moving, is that okay? We don’t want you to develop bed sores or for your muscles to atrophy.” 

No, no please don’t make me move. I’m so tired, so, so tired. Don’t want to move, just leave me here to die. 

Tap. Tap. 

“Doctor Reid, I’m sure you understand that once we can get you moving and off the ventilator you will have a lot more freedom. You might be able to wash yourself. The swelling in your urethra is settling nicely too, you might even be able to use the bathroom. But you won’t be able to do any of those things if you don’t first let us help you move.” Doctor Wells was no nonsense. He liked that about her. 

She’s right, dumbass. You wanna be stuck in this bed forever? At least once you’re back on your feet you can put yourself out of this godforsaken misery once and for all. 

Tap. 

“That’s what I thought.” Doctor Wells smiled. “Okay, we’ll start by raising the bed and then we’ll help you up okay?” 

Tap. 

Doctor Wells nodded to the nurse who was suddenly back at his side, pressing the button on the side of the bed to raise it. 

Spencer felt the bed shudder and jolt a little before his top half was being lifted so he was in more of a seated position. 

From this angle he had a direct line of sight out of the window into the corridor. A set of beautifully familiar eyes were staring back at him, hidden deep inside an oversized hood.

He blinked multiple times in quick succession as he tried to ascertain whether or not he was imagining things. But he wasn’t. You were really there. 

His heart monitor started frantically beeping again and Doctor Wells glanced from the machine to Spencer with a frown on her face. Spencer was staring out the window, one weak arm raised a few inches off of the bed as he tried pointing to the apparition in the window.

He made a pathetic whimpering sound through his tube, trying to explain without his words what he was trying to communicate. 

Tap tap tap. Tap tap tap. 

Please someone get her, I need her, please someone understand. 

Doctor Wells looked out the window and saw you standing there, arms hugging your waist. It was the first time you’d ventured out of the waiting room, the first time seeing Spencer since you’d found him in the tub. 

Doctor Wells nodded to the nurse to wait a moment while she made her way across the room and out of the door. Spencer stared dumbly through the window as he watched the two of you conversing but couldn’t hear what was being said.

Your body trembled and he saw you shake your head a few times. He felt more of his own tears falling. 

“She doesn’t want to see you, of course she doesn’t. She hates you, you put her through hell. She wants nothing to do with you.”

Then why is she here? 

He closed his eyes, leaning his head back against the pillows, not wanting to know what was going on. He’d only be disappointed and he’d dealt with far too much disappointment in his life. 

“She’ll never look at you the same. She hates you, she’s terrified of you. You tried to kill her, do you remember?”

No, no that wasn’t me! That was you, one of you, not me. I would never…I love her. I wasn’t myself, wasn’t me. I would never hurt her.

“You were very much you when you threw her up against the wall and slapped her, Spencie.” 

I didn’t…didn’t mean to. I was a wreck, my mind wasn’t working properly. I didn’t mean to hurt her. 

“But you would probably do it again. You aren’t well, you can’t be trusted to be around her. She’s too good for you.” 

The voices were once again blurring into one loud tone, he couldn’t decipher who was who. 

She is too good for me, of course she is. But I would never hurt her again, I wouldn’t, I WOULDN’T.

“It doesn’t really matter either way. She’s going to prison and you’ll never see her again.” 

He didn’t hear the door open again over the barrage of voices in his head screaming for attention. He didn’t realise Doctor Wells had returned until he felt a soft hand on his forearm, immediately silencing all of the yelling and throwing him into a deep quiet. 

The hand on his arm wasn’t sheathed in a latex glove like he’d grown used to from the doctors and nurses. It caused him to still, his heart monitor betraying his viciously thumping heart. 

He knew that soft touch, he would know it anywhere. It was emblazoned in his mind, solidified to his memory. He swallowed around the tube and almost gagged at the feeling. His forehead creased deeply in thought.

Y/N, is that you? Princess, are you here? Please say something, let me know it’s really you.

As if you could somehow read his thoughts he heard a breath being sucked in and then your shaking voice met his ears.

“S-Spence? Spence, it's me. Can you o-open your eyes?” 

Yes, yes I can do that. 

Slowly he lifted his lids and there you were at his bedside, gently brushing your fingers against his arm and staring down at him from the large hood hanging around your face. It didn’t take his full brain capacity to figure out why you were hiding yourself in this way. 

More tears fell from his tired eyes and he tried to smile at you but it was just a little too much effort. He wanted to speak, needed to speak but the apparatus keeping him alive dictated he couldn’t. 

Instead he shuffled a little, rolling his arm on the bed so his palm was facing upwards. You glanced at it with a soft frown but it didn’t take long for you to realise what he meant. You cautiously slid your hand in his, his weak fingers curling around your own as his heart monitor continued to beep frantically.

His fingers twitched against your hand, you didn’t understand why. You didn’t realise that he was trying to communicate with you the only way he knew how. His fingers tapped and brushed against your own in a strange series of what seemed to be dots and dashes, as though he was trying to tell you something. 

He knew you didn’t understand morse code, but he allowed himself to pretend as he spelled out the only thing he wanted to say to you in that moment. 

dot-dot. dot-dash-dot-dot. dash-dash-dash. dot-dot-dot-dash. dot. dash-dot-dash-dash. dash-dash-dash. dot-dot-dash. 

I love you. 

@kalulakunundrum @katrina0-0 @bakugouswh0r3 @prettyboyandthefangirl @zooni92802 @babyspiderling @pleasantwitchgarden @djsjjsjsjsjsnsnsns @bringitonhomejohnb @chineray1234

[outsidersheadcanons]

Imagine each one of the curtis brothers getting injuries or something and the rest having to tend to him!! Where would they get the injury from? What are they all like when they are hurt? How do they react to being taken care of? I can imagine this somehow being funny and angsty at the same time

I love this prompt!! <3

Darry

Let's start with my bbg Darry <3 he gets himself hurt a lot from roofing :( and sometimes it's bad enough that he needs to take off a few days of work

There was one time where he lifted smth wrong and pulled a muscle in his back. It hurt so bad he practically fell off the roof, so his boss sent him home (it was kinda lucky bc it was a Friday).

For the rest of the weekend, Soda took over his chores and responsibilities (cleaning the house, grocery shopping, laundry, and so on). He and Ponyboy even made Darry breakfast in bed on Saturday (and even though the eggs had wayy too many shells in them. his heart melted)

Darry's pretty self sufficient, so even when he's sick/injured he doesn't need too much help doing anything (and everyone kinda stays away from him, bc he can get pretty grumpy sometimes lol)

Sodapop

So... Soda's injuries usually come from being reckless and showing off. One day he decided that doing backflips on the ground wasn't enough... and uhh let's say after falling flat on his arm off the roof he learned that maybe it was.

Sodapop is whiny as hell when he's sick/injured 😭 (and all he wants is attention. being in pain scares him so he was GLUED to Darry the whole time in the ER)

He loves being taken care of <3 a little too much tbh. If you let him he'll ask you to do EVERYTHING "Pony can you flip the page for me 🥺🥺"

Soda also seems like the type to want everyone and their mom to sign his cast (which is fine bc everyone wrote nice things on it! (except for Dally ofc). Pony even drew a cute picture of a horse on it to cheer him up)

Soda doesn't mind being hurt/having a cast that much because it attracts girls to him even more than before (if that's even possible). But soon the DX is full of pretty girls asking "Soda what happened to your poor arm 🥺" (he'd rather die than admit it but he loves the attention <3)

Ponyboy

When Pony gets hurt man. It's over 😭 he starts panicking and his mind immediately goes to "I'm gonna die 🤯"

ABSOLUTELY hates being hurt and will get all emo about it "I don't even remember what it's like for my (insert injured part here) not to hurt 😔"

WILL not accept any help/intervention at all. One time him and Johnny were climbing an old tree and Ponyboy fell off onto his hand and broke it (it was so swollen it turned. BLUE) and almost ran away again when Darry told him they were going to the ER.

He didn't need a cast, just a brace. But he thought the x rays were pretty cool and showed em to the whole gang (greenstick fracture, if anyone's curious).

Like Soda he's needy as hell and he WILL use his injury to his advantage. "Darry it hurts so bad ☹️ can we get some ice cream??" or he'll suddenly. be unable to do his homework despite writing w/ his left hand and having his right hand be broken 🤔

Also. he gets grumpy when he's in pain (angst goes up 150%). It's very overwhelming for him and sometimes. he'll just break down sobbing.

[fan-goddess]

Chapter Three: Before and now

Catch up on the fic here!

Authors Note: Abrahams backstory is never brought up to my knowledge, so I’ve made it up for the sake of this. Plus, since we don’t know his age for certain I’ve made him about early twenties like 23/24.

Chapter Summary: You have to find a way to deal with this new predicament, and the only way you can think of doing it, is with talking Abraham. Though it may not go as planned

Taglist: @valeskafics, @omgbrcat @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @blue-serendipity @anjelicawrites @lexwolfhale @helaenaluvr @scarletbedlam @tssf-imagines @vhagar-balerion-meraxes

Warnings: Talks of arranged marriage, kissing, angst, possessive husband, soft stuff, marking, suggestive talk, swearing, grinding, praise, hickeys, (if I miss any let me know!)

“I’m here to offer this horse to your parents, so they’ll allow me to ask you to marry me.”

You’re frozen. You sit in front of the mirror with your head in your hands, as you rethink the moment over, and over again. You admit, you don’t know what it was you were thinking when with a nod of your head, you wordlessly agreed to Abrahams proposal.

Your mother, who had been holding her breath next to you in anticipation, let out an ear ringing shriek and a mouthful of praises towards you when you’d said yes. Your father though, who like your mother had held his breath next to you, did not immediately begin shouting his praises and his thanks to the lord for a good marriage. Instead, he looked at you from the corner of his eyes with worry, and what could possibly have even been fear.

Whilst your mother had begun muttering to herself about all the planning, it was your father who’d murmured a few words to Abraham to most likely send him off, before he took your shoulders in his hands and brought you over to the sofas.

“Sweetheart,” He began, his head hung low to make sure he could look you dead in the eyes. “Are you sure about this? Abraham is a nice man! I’m sure if you had doubts or wanted to stop this then-“

“Yes dad, I’m sure about this!” You’d interrupted, snapping out of your small daze to place your hands on his own shoulders, your eyes determined as they looked into your fathers worried ones.

You’d smiled at him in reassurance, yet on the inside, you were screaming. You were terrified even. For the first time in your life, even with all the talks from your parents and the pages from the books alike, you were scared of what your future marriage could be like, and what it meant for your future.

It’d been most likely your greatest fantasy when you were a child. To be married to a kind, good man, who would give you some children, maybe even a dog too, to care for from the comfort of your home. It was a lovely and comforting daydream that got you through your childhood. Only now, that daydream was slowly unraveling before your very eyes. The worst part was you had no idea why you’d said yes to marrying him in the first place.

Abraham from what you could tell from the years you’d known him, was not kind. You don’t even know if he could be described as being a good man for gods sake. You barely knew him at all, and yet still you’d said yes. Maybe it was because deep down you knew he’d make a good husband. He was always as respectful as he wanted to be around other women, and he always volunteered to help out the other men around the site when he could, your dad being one of them.

Still, your main fear that managed to run through your head practically hourly, was the fact your life was about change so dramatically it was as if you’d just been pushed from the highest cliff in the world. The fact your future had changed so much from what you’d thought it’d be that it frightened you.

It was about a week later, with this thought still managed to make its hourly course through your head, when you found yourself walking in the direction of the stables to find your new husband to be one sudden afternoon.

Your hands are in your pockets clenched into harsh fists when you get to the open doors, and when you peak your head round, you find his back is turned to you whilst he tends to one of the horses. The same horse he used in his proposal it looked like.

You walk closer, finding your mouth filling more and more with cotton the more you get closer to him. By the time you get to the horse, you’re getting the strongest urge to turn around and run away, which you very honestly nearly do.

“You can touch her you know, I won’t let her hurt you. Her names Autumn. One of the younger kids made me swear on it when she were still a foal. Couldn’t say no to the little thing…” His voice makes you jump slightly with a hand flying to your chest from the sudden acknowledgment, and when he turns around to look at you, his bright blue eyes practically manage to burn holes into your clothing as he stares unblinking, your heart feeling as if it was beginning to somersault while you try to calm yourself with deep even breaths.

You sigh though after possibly a minute, and step closer to the horse to gently placing a hand on top of her muzzle. You even laugh slightly when she pushes herself deeper into your touch. “She’s beautiful….” You murmur with a small smile.

“Yeah, I suppose she is.” You may not have turned your head to him, but even still you could clearly see how Abraham was not looking at Autumn when he said that last sentence.

A tame sort of silence envelopes the two of you though as you continue stand there, gently brushing Autumns nose with the lengths of your fingers and laughing as she welcomes the affection you give her gladly with small whinnies of excitement even making its way past her mouth.

The silence is comfortable for the time yes, but still, your voice betrays you as you begin asking the question you feel burning within you to ask him. The question you feel you need to know.

“Why did you do it?” You say, not being able to bear looking at him in fear all the courage you’ve someone managed to gain in the short time you’ve been with him will flush the moment you make eye contact with him.

“What, ask you to marry me? There isn’t exactly a clear answer for that I’m afraid love…” He grins at you from the corner of your eye, and you hate that even from where you’re positioned you can still feel your body betraying you at the smallest of attention from him. Flushing bright pink in utter bashfulness from his words alone.

“Then try and tell me!” You snap, using that little boost of courage to say the words you want to say. “Because from what I’ve noticed, all we were at first was acquaintances at best, before you all of a sudden turned up at my door one day and decided to ask me to marry you-“

“That weren’t the first time we met.” He interrupts, a tight look on his face as he attempts to distract himself by turning away from you to brushing Autumns coat. Yet this does nothing to quench your hunger for knowledge as you now find yourself finally able to turn to him and persist with your questions.

“What- what do you mean?”

“When we were kids, I remember seeing you on some set of swings in a kids park. Your hair was wrapped in some kinda ribbon, a pretty blue one I think, and it somehow unraveled while you were swinging. And I just remember thinking while your hair quickly came undone and you laughed it off without a care in the world, that you were the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen in my life.”

And like that, your courage quickly dissipates as you stand looking at his back feeling utterly breathless, with the only word you’re able to say being a small oh under your breath you doubt he even heard.

He turns to you so the both of you can make first eye contact, and you swear your heart almost breaks when you see his vulnerability shining through his eyes at that moment. Seeing Abraham Lee break down for a woman probably for a long time, if not maybe even the first. “I asked you out, I think a year later. Still thought you were beautiful then, even though you didn’t have your little ribbons any more.”

“Mum tried to make me, but according to her I’d developed my dad’s stubbornness.” You laughed, and for the first time you find yourself really looking at him. You even find yourself utterly entranced with that damn smile of his that somehow manages to make him all the more pretty. The soft one you’ve never seen in the presence of others. A smile you’ll realise months later is left only for you to look at and admire.

“I still think you’re beautiful now, by the way. I always tried to look out for you, when I could. When I heard your dad needed some help with the labour, I couldn’t find myself resisting the chance.” You can feel your cheeks flush at the statement, and you even feel yourself almost needing to turn away for a minute when Abraham begins to look at you with such burning intensity it makes your lower half flare in that familiar feeling.

“Don’t do that…” He murmurs, so quiet you barely heard him.

“Don’t do what?” Your brows furrow, and you can’t help but bite your lip in confusion.

“That. Don’t do that. Cause if you keep doing that, then I may just end up doing something to you that I don’t want to do to you in a filthy place like this.”

Your heart feels like it freezes for a moment, before everything manages to go still. The only thing you could hear right now being the practically erratic beat of your heart in your throat.

Sex had never been a thing you thought you’d ever desire from a person. To you, it had always been just an added involvement in your future marriage. Yet now, with Abraham, your future husband, not even four steps in front of you, looking at you with such dark wanting eyes, you find yourself very much edging closer and closer to your breaking point.

“What if I want you to show me what it is you want to do to me though?” You murmur, and everything goes deathly silent as you regret everything you ever said or done leading up to this moment. Regretting everything you’ve ever said to him. There is no way Abraham would still want to marry you after you’ve just said that. After what you’ve just done.

“Say that again little one.” He practically growls, his voice sounding somehow deeper than what it was a couple seconds ago. You can see his grip on the brush in his hands has vanished as it falls to the floor, and how now his knuckles have turned white with how tight he’s clenching his hands. Even his eyes, which were once a blazing light blue, have turned so dark at the moment they look almost somehow black. “Say what you just fucking said again for me.”

You manage to shudder a breath, and repeat the words he so wishes to hear so badly, somehow able to do so without a stammer. You wouldn’t be surprised though if he could hear the frantic, uneven sound of your heartbeat as it beats loud as a drum in your chest. Yet Abraham still continues to just stand there, now looking at you so intently you almost feel the need to look away at something else. Anything else.

You do begin to try, but a gasp rips itself from your chest as Abraham somehow makes his way in front of you, and firmly places his hand on your jaw, so he can force you to face him. To face his thundering look as he practically devours you whole with his eyes alone.

“When I’m looking at my fucking wife, you won’t dare turn away from me. Do you understand me?” He snarls.

You nod the best you can, and another gasp tares through you as you suddenly realise that he’s kissing you.

Abraham, your fiancé that by tradition you should be staying as far away as you can from to prevent any speculation, is kissing you like a man possessed. And by the way your arms instinctively seem to swing around his shoulders to hold onto him, you very much appear to love it.

“Such a good girl for me…” He murmurs, his lips consuming you whole as he manages to move you against the walls of the stables, effectively trapping you against his own body. “Gonna be such a good wife for me… I just know it.”

You hate the way you preen at his words. The way your body reacts and submits to him so easily and willingly. Yet you also can’t help but love the way he pulls these feelings from you that you never thought you’d ever really get to experience in real life.

His hands greedily feel and grab at your whole body as they roam you eagerly. Mostly focusing, to your eagerness, on your breasts that strain against the jumper you’d decided to wear today. He continues to praise you though as his mouth begins to suck at the available flesh of your neck, drawing small noises from you that you can feel make his lips turn into a confident smirk against your skin.

His lower body grinds against your thighs as he marks you, and with an audible whimper, you realise you can feel his cock, hard and throbbing, pushing against you.

“Do you feel me?” He murmurs, thrilled by the way you shiver as his breath brushes against your ear.

You nod your head slightly, eyes clenched shut as the rush of everything hits you. Yet Abraham seems to be unsatisfied with you as his hand ventures and clasps around the length of your throat, effectively forcing your eyes to open wide in surprise and your mouth to open slightly with a silent gasp.

“I thought I told you to never look away from me?” He snarls. Everything within him right now purely animalistic. His eyes reminding you of a stormy ocean in that moment as they glare at you, forcing you to make sure his words stay inside your pretty little head.

“Yes.” You murmur back, shifting from foot to foot best as you can as you feel your body reacting in ways you’ve never reacted to a real man before. It’s a strange fleeing thought, when you realise you’re reacting like this towards your husband to be. The man you’re supposed to be keeping yourself pure for, is the one you are currently willingly keeping to give yourself up to in a stable of all the places.

“Abraham…” You murmur, waiting until he hums in acknowledgment against your skin till you begin talking again. “I don’t want to give myself to you physically right now, here of all places.”

His movements freeze, and yet the words can’t help but spill even more than how they were before.

“I want to be able to give myself to you on our wedding night. I want to have a family with someone, which due to recent circumstances that someone has now become you. I’ve always wanted children someday, Abraham.” You can’t look at him, too afraid of what his face will reveal to you. So instead, you merely stare ahead and look at the wall in front. Eith his stupidly quaffed hair of course being in your field of vision. Teasing you as even more words continue to spill more and more.

“I’ve always wanted kids. Ideally two boys, and then a little girl, who’ll always know that her brothers and her father will look out fiercely for her whenever she needs them. And the thing is, I don’t know if I can have that with you. You’re a good man, I know that. But I don’t know what you will be like as a husband, or even a father for that matter. I’m scared Abraham.”

His finger flex around the skin he holds, and you can feel a shaky breath against your neck that leaves shivers down your spine as he begins to speak.

“My father was not a good man,” He begins, and by the way his face stays sheltered in the curve of your neck, you know this will most likely not be a happy story. “He wasn’t good for the family. He stayed in his room all day, and wouldn’t contribute to the family at all. I was an only child, so I was the one who needed to step up and contribute. It was I who needed to be the man. I was the one who needed to provide for me and my mother. My father passed a couple years ago, but me and my mother didn’t care much.” His breath is still shaky, and your arms immediately open wide to enclose them around him. Which to your slight surprise, he welcomes wholeheartedly with a tight squeeze of his own arms around you. “My mother left about a year after. She couldn’t deal with it all ‘parentally, but I don’t blame her. We still talk, sending letters to each other every so often. I’ve even told her about you…”

“You’ve told her about me?” You ask, surprising even yourself with your sudden loud input in this tense moment.

“Of course?” Abraham finally pushes himself away to look at you, a look of disbelief on his face, as if he can’t believe you just asked that question. “Why wouldn’t I?”

You shrug, and suddenly take notice of his slight red rimmed eyes, and the slight wet fabric that clings to your neck.

You must say you’re surprised that Abraham accepts your wordless answer, given his reaction when you tried to use it earlier. But now he seems to only allow it so he can continue his story. And as the good wife you find yourself wanting to be for him, you listen diligently.

“I refuse to be my father, little one. I will not neglect my children and make them believe they’ll need to help provide for their own future. I want to show my boys what they need to become strong, and how they deserve to be loved and cared for. I want my daughter, who I know will look beautiful just like her mother, to know that she can always rely on me. On her father. Because while she may not even be here yet, I already somehow finding myself caring for her. Just as much as I find myself already loving you.”

[dim-paper-lanterns]

caught chp 16 of wsms right before I turned in 😈

[Pony was] fiddling with a loose playing card he’d found in the cup holder of the T-bird; the ace of hearts now WHY does that feel like a chekhov gun?? whats up with the detail 🤨

“But just running? Ain’t that boring?” Dallas asked, glancing away from the road and over to his brother momentarily. Greasers didn’t really do sports. It didn’t seem like something Ponyboy would be all that in to anyway. DALLY 👿👿👿

“You let me know your meet schedule. I wanna come see you win.” He said, giving a gentle squeeze before letting go. DALLY 😊😊😊

he's trying, oh my GOD is he trying

super happy that dally is actually keeping it together for pony (stable job, saving money, etc.) was genuinely expecting him to be crazy unstable and relapse hard for the angst factor. pumped to see that's not the case. Pony deserves better

actually...now that I mention it....you're not just building this up to let it crash, are you 🤨🤨

not dally's tipping point being that pony said that time shepard had a longer jail record 😭😭 he's so 17 yo boy

STOP IT RN dally hoping pony would have a stronger reaction at not being able to stay with him full time

The older boy was doing his best to hide how excited he was. He felt like a kid again. HES 17 LET HIM BE A KID 😭😭

Sure, it was small, but it was bigger than the room they’d had in New York. I'm not liking that implication 🙁😟😟 also, idk if I'm imagining things, but I sort of got the impression that the Winstons were living a bit better back in NYC. maybe not soc level, maybe middle class? idk, but that would def raise some eyebrows as to why the brothers' room was so small.

THE TRAIN TRACK SHEETS STOP IT RN

And Dallas wasn’t going anywhere. that feels a bit like foreshadowing. THAT FEELS A BIT LIKE FORESHADOWING 👿👿

not pony beefing w the FUCKING HORSE 😭😭

NOT PONY-HORSE AND JOHNNY-HORSE BEING FRIENDS 😭😭😭

lnd I need to thank you so hard for that little moment of pony-kid talking to pony-horse. was grinning like an idiot the whole time.

📎 Where the Sun Meets the Storm by Legends_Never_Die

[fizzyxcustard]

Invisible

Fandom: Robin Hood (BBC)

Pairings: Guy of Gisborne x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Pining, angst, insecurity, vague smut mention, attempted ghosting

Word count: 1880

Summary: From the imagine, "You are in love with Guy and he is still pining for Marian. You cannot carry all the pain."

Comments/notes: Takes place around season 2, despite the above GIF being from season 3. This fic was requested by @sazzlep

As always, if you enjoy, please consider a reblog. If you wish to be added to my tag list for any character, fandom, or fic series, let me know.

Marian had disappeared, leaving you with the shattered pieces of Guy’s broken heart. While trying to mend your own heart, you were busy tending to Guy’s. And that pain was becoming unbearable. Shifting the weight of two broken hearts was crippling you. 

Guy had left your home again at nightfall, having borne his heart to you. The woman he loved and had lived in high hopes of wooing, had run off into the forest with her outlaw lover. In the time you had known Marian, you had been on fairly friendly terms with her. But you had always been aware of her manipulative tactics, taking advantage of Guy’s feelings for her. For all those months and he had been completely blind to it, only seeing her sweet smiles as a hope for something more than just friendship. 

You stood at your front door and watched his dark shape, atop a black horse, disappear into the gathering dusk. You and Guy had been close friends for years, being each other’s rock, and this has been the case since he came to Nottingham as a young man. He had been swept up into duty for the Sheriff, but the two of you had still remained close. Guy had been the one who comforted you when your mother died, and had even brought you food when you fell upon tough times. Potential suitors had come to your door, and if they had not been to your liking, it was Guy who had told them to leave. 

How long could you continue this for? Every day you saw him and you felt more of your heart become warped from the inside, like a disease spreading outward. The only cure would be to take yourself out of the situation completely and sever yourself from him. 

The moon was high in the sky and you remained in that spot for some time, feeling the red hot tears fall down your cheeks. All of your pain was invisible to him; in his own anguish, he had completely overlooked you. 

***

Guy woke the next morning, light bursting through the window. 

Realisation hit him hard that he had overslept. 

He shot out of bed and began dressing quickly, only to see a piece of parchment on the stone floor at the foot of his door. Guy reached down and took the parchment, noting that there was no envelope. The parchment had just been folded. Upon opening it, he instantly recognised your beautiful handwriting. It brought a smile to his face. 

Guy, 

While I know that you are in the midst of deep pain, I must leave Nottingham. I plan to move back to my father’s home and search for work. I cannot carry the weight of both our broken hearts on my shoulders. 

May God watch over you and keep you safe. 

Leaving? But why? 

Guy raced from his chambers, heading down towards the courtyard where he slipped out to the stables and collected his horse. 

Once he had rode to your home, he jumped from the horse and banged on your door. No answer. Your own horse, a brown and white mare, had disappeared from the small field behind your house. 

Your father’s home was a two-day ride, and within seconds, Guy’s horse was galloping through the small patch of woodland which was to the north, leading out onto the main road. Surely you could not have gotten far. Guy was a far more experienced rider than you so would easily be able to catch up to you, despite your head start. 

***

The ride that morning had been pleasant. The sun was shining amidst a cloudless sky. A gentle breeze took the edge off the early summer heat. A simple breakfast was still sitting in your stomach quite nicely; bacon, eggs and freshly baked bread. There was an inn about half way, at the perfect place for you to stop, before continuing on the next day for the second part of your journey. 

All morning and you had imagined Guy’s face upon opening your letter. Would he even care at all? It seemed that he didn’t. Normally Guy was up around dawn, ready for his duties. He should have caught you just before you left, but you had not seen him. And you had given your letter to Abe, one of the guards, at the castle gate, two hours after sunset. Surely Guy would have received it by daybreak. 

You stopped for a quick break, taking a sip of water from a skin in your leather satchel. You sat down on a fallen tree trunk and took a deep breath, looking up at the rays of sunlight piercing through the bright green leaves. 

Suddenly you heard galloping hooves coming from behind. A figure emerged from the edge of the curving path, and got larger, moving towards you quickly. 

“Guy?” you whispered, feeling relief wash over you, but also fear. 

Guy stopped his horse a few feet from yours and jumped from the saddle, storming over to you. He stood in front of you, his arms crossed. “What is going on?” he asked, his voice tinged with frustration. His silver blue eyes were wide in irritation. 

“I told you in my letter. I can’t carry both of us anymore.” 

Guy sighed and sat down beside you. “Maybe you could start with telling me what you’re carrying and stop being so stubborn in carrying it yourself.” 

You looked at him, narrowing your eyes. “Are you sure you really wish to know? Because after I tell you, you won’t want to know me anymore.” 

Guy scoffed and rolled his eyes in annoyance. 

You looked at him, seeing that all too familiar smirk begin to form on his face. It made your heart flutter. 

“If you really believe that then you know me less than I thought you did. In fact, you don’t know me at all.” His tone was accusing and full of irritation.

You could see the offense written on Guy’s face, and you reached out to take his hand. “I didn’t mean it like that, Guy.” 

“Then how did you mean it?” he snapped. “You’re all I have in my life, yet you seem to think that I’ll walk away from you. Despite you being the one who was ready to walk away from me…” The words trailed off into a whisper and loud sigh. 

“Do you want to know the real reason I’m leaving?” you asked. “And if you do choose to turn your back on me then that is your choice.” 

Guy hissed. “I will never turn my back on you.” He pointed his finger at you in anger as he spoke. 

You got to your feet and took a deep breath. “All these years we’ve known each other and I’ve been invisible to you. You’ve never noticed all the times I’ve had to smile at you but wanted to weep. You’ve never seen how I feel about you. Instead all you’ve ever seen is a woman who has taken advantage of you and used your feelings for her to get what she needed. It’s crippled me.” Tears fell down your cheeks. “I love you, Guy. I love you so much and never once did you ever see it. I know you don’t feel the same way and I’m not expecting you to.” 

Guy got up from the tree trunk, and without a word, curled his hand around your cheek and kissed you. The kiss immediately became wanting, needing and hot. 

Reluctantly you shifted your head away and looked up at him, your tears blurring your vision. “I told you that I’m not expecting anything from you...” 

He smiled. “I’ve loved you from since the first moment we met. I was always invisible to you. I valued and respected you far too much to ever overstep any boundary. I was terrified you would think I was dishonouring you. Marian became my way of letting you go, but under it all, I never could. She was the hope of something I could never have with you.” 

“All I ever wanted was for you to be happy, and because of me, you tried to gain love in a place where you would never find it.” 

“It wasn’t because of you. It was my own cowardice. I would look at her and see you, in everything she did. Then with each man who attempted to court you, I could see how impossible it was for me to ever think you’d be mine. A lot of those men were honourable and so much more than what I could ever wish to be.” 

“I know you, Guy, and all you’ve ever wanted is to be loved and needed by someone. I’m offering that to you if you’ll take it.” 

Guy kissed you again, and then let his lips trail down your neck. “And I will give that back to you tenfold, my love.” 

***

The two of you rode your horses back to your home, watching as thick clouds began to swarm in, threatening rain. 

By the time your house was visible, spots of rain began to fall. 

You pulled on the reins of your horse, bringing it to a stop in the pen behind your house. Guy had already dismounted his horse, his hand reaching out to take yours. You couldn’t help but smile and giggle as he helped you down, his ice blue gaze never unlocking from you. 

The two of you kissed again, the rain starting to pour all around you. The horses by now had wondered away into the small wooden shelter which was situated at the back of the paddock. 

“Let’s get inside,” you told Guy. 

He smiled in response and wound his arm around your waist as the two of you walked to the door of your home. 

Once inside, you started a fire and put a large pot of water to boil. “I need to head into the market for food shortly. I hope the rain stops,” you told Guy, glancing out of the window. “Is there anything in particular you would like for dinner? I can cook us a meal.” 

Guy never answered, but instead kissed you again. 

A short time later and the two of you were idly tangled together in your bed, having just made love. You noticed that Guy seemed the most content he had done for quite some time; he had a faint smile on his face as you rested in the crook of his arm. The only sound was the tapping of rain on the roof, and it soothed you. The heavy weight in your heart had now lifted. 

“Was that how you imagined our first time to be?” you asked. 

Guy grinned and kissed you again. “It was so much better than any of my expectations.” He gripped your hand tight in his and then kissed your head. 

“I suspect the Sheriff will be looking for you.” 

“He can wait.” 

You looked across at Guy as you began to slip from the bedclothes and pull your dress back on. “You’re taking a big risk thinking that. You know what he’s like.” 

“I don’t care anymore. I’ve got you, and that’s all that matters to me now.” 

***

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[its-actually-minicika]

The Harshest Winters (18+!)

Part 2;

Pairing(s): Jacaerys x Reader (rip king 🤍), Dark!Aemond x Reader (though it's very much one sided on his behalf);

Warnings: angst galore, mentions of SA, blood and gore, allusions and descriptions of death AND sex, book canon Aemond- need I go on?

Author's Note: The support received on the last part was insane :")) so here I am, writing another one! If this gets enough attention, I might just turn it into a series; Nonetheless, I hope you guys enjoy!

Also, this isn't proof-read; We die like men tonight :") Part 3 is out now! <33

(Y/N) and Ser Cain ride through burnt-down forests, scattered with ash and blood - twisted loyalties reveal their sick ambitions, and the girl is faced with a very tough decision.

"How'd you even manage to get into Harrenhal? Aemond may be blind in one eye, but he keeps an iron fist over who enters and leaves the Keep." Her hushed voice echoed through the empty forest.

Ser Cain looked at his lady with a glimpse of reverence, that could almost be confused with one of slight amusement.

"I must admit, I got plenty of help." He barked dryly, running a calloused hand through his blonde hair. "You may have had no friends among the Greens, but there was a certain wood witch that wanted you gone as soon as possible."

(Y/N)'s eyes widened in momentary shock. Her mouth opened and closed back up again, before she finally managed to form a proper sentence.

"Alys? Alys Rivers?" She asked tentatively, amusement licking at her fair features.

"Us bastards always find a way to help one another," Cain let out a roaring laugh, that brought a level of warmth to the Lady's weary heart. "I wanted you safe, and she wanted you gone. We reached a deal very quickly after that."

"No way you struck a deal with Aemond's bedmate." The girl huffed out in disbelief, "She'll be in a lot of trouble if ever he finds out... There is hardly anything for her to gain from freeing a war captive."

"Aye, he will be mad..." Her sworn protector made a short pause, "Yet there's nothing that stirs someone on more than jealousy." The knight sighed, lost in deep thought. "She has everything to gain from this - the walls talk in Harrenhal, my Lady. And they... well, forgive me for being so blunt - speak stories on how the Kinslayer loses sleep by visiting you in your chambers at night."

The girl's cheek are caught ablaze; the innuendo was more than clear on Ser Cain's face alone. She stills her horse and throws him a jaded look.

"As you saw when you guarded my door, ser - he does intrude often. But there was never a moment where we..." As her words came to a halt, the girl huffed out in a discontented breath, "I would rather die than spread my legs open for the usurper's kin."

"I know." Cain reassured her, a wide smile plastered on his face. "With the way you were gripping that candle holder, ready to swing it at me, I can only imagine the hell you gave Prince Aemond."

"It wasn't nearly as much as he deserved. I'm afraid I failed to do Jace justice."

Wordlessly, Ser Cain reached for her saddle, and gave her shoulder a tight squeeze. His other hand came to grip the horse's bridle, forcing both mares into another sprint.

"We can't stay in one place for long." He wanted to apologise, but (Y/N)'s reassuring smile made him calm back down again.

"Trust me. If there is anyone who wants to put as much distance between them and that disgusting psychopath, it's me."

For a while, the only noise made in the smoked out forest was the gallop of the horses and their shallow panting. After a while, even that proved to be too little.

"I have to ask," The woman started, quirking her brow up at the knight, "Where are we going? Riverrun is hardly a safe space - Aemond will go there first, once he gets notified of my absence."

Following her own logic, (Y/N)'s eyes widen.

"My brothers. Father and grandfather...!"

"You needn't worry, my Lady!" Cain Waters assured the girl with a delicate brush on her arm, "We like to think that we thought of everything - and Riverrun has been emptied since the very beginning of the Kinslayer's wild attacks."

A sigh of relief etches it's way from the girl's throat.

"Your father raised your grandfather's army - he's marching to Dragonstone, with Kermit, to aid our true Queen. As for your youngest brother and grandfather, they're both in the Eyrie - where Lady Jane Arryn is expecting you, too."

"So that's were we're heading." (Y/N) concluded with a deep sigh. "We won't reach it tonight."

"No." Cain agreed, but soon added determinedly, "We'll probably reach the Saltpans on the morrow. We'll hide a while near the Trident and, when the time is right, march North towards the Bloody Gate."

"Gods be good, it will take us weeks." She exclaimed through a shallow breath. "We can't afford spare that much time. Aemond will be hot on our tracks, that much is for certain."

Cain's eyes softened at her outburst, and the robust man bit his inner cheek.

"We have to take this chance - for your safety, my Lady." He tried to encourage her with a crooked smile, "Do not worry about the Kinslayer. I'll kill him if he touches you."

The way in which he spoke oozed with honesty and determination. His eyes were like two silver daggers, scanning, searching for any danger that could put his Lady's life at stake.

Cain was a loyal knight, Lady Tully concluded, a trusted friend and fantastic travel partner. He was her sworn shield - and men, willing to devote themselves to a cause in the way he did, waiting for nothing in return, were very few and far between.

The tiniest shadows of a smile dance across her tired features. She takes in a deep breath, and allows her shoulders to relax.

"I know you will, Ser Cain." She confirms with a small nod, focusing her attention to the road ahead.

Still... when a dragon stands between a man and his duty, what brainless knight would ever rush to a lady's aid?

Aemond's footsteps echoed through the wailing keep. His armour fell heavy on his shoulders, and the sword in his grip was fully drenched in blood.

Of all the men slain by his hand that day, Simon Strong, the old fool, had screamed the loudest. He begged until his last breath for mercy of the Warrior and the Mother, for a chance to prove himself and his loyalty to the Crown, but to no avail.

Of all the guards assigned to Harrenhal by his darling mother, all but one died, as fallen victims to his endless frenzy.

"If the words you speak are truthful," Aemond mocked him with an airy laugh, "Then pick up this sword and clash it with mine. Should you be innocent, the Warrior will grant you strength enough to defeat me."

But no Warrior, and no other God, beckoned his call that day.

Instead, Simon Strong died with his head severed, and body still twitching with a sword in hand.

Now, it was Aemond's turn to wail and sigh at the sight before him - the last knight he kept alive, a boy as green as grass, petrified beyond belief.

When he spotted the One Eyed Prince, the boy all but fell to his knees, begging for forgiveness through tear stained cheeks and apish breaths.

"Your Grace, please, you must believe me!" He deplored helplessly, "I had no part in this - I didn't know!"

Aemond felt his lips quirk up in a cruel smile. The view below him was beyond pitiful; a most amusing glimpse into what the Conqueror himself must have experienced when he put Westeros through the judgement of steel and flames.

Still, even the most amusing jesters become ridiculous when faced with the passage of time.

"Exactly. You didn't know." His honeyed voice rang out into the cluttered room. The Crown Prince took a step forward, reveling in how the knight pressed himself deeper into the ground. The stench of piss flared up his nostrils.

The boy had shat himself.

His whimpers broke through the otherwise silent room. A mixture of "Please"s and "Your Grace, don't"s - it left Aemond dissatisfied and forlong, irked to no end.

"You say you have seen this knight around." He hummed in admission, "Pray tell, what was his name again?"

"C-Cain! Cain Waters! He was a broad man, with a straight stubble and long, blonde hair!" He shook his head after each and every word, desperate to prove himself. "He had a scar - right here, on his left arm! And a broken nose - it curved to the left side, and he said he'd gotten it from a brawl!" The boy blabbered incoherently, spewing as many things as he remembered from the immediate memory.

Aemond chuckled at his words, raising his hand out to stop the disordered boy. Wordlessly, he held his arm out, enouraging him with a curt nod to raise to his feet again.

"You have an excellent memory, do you not? It seems like you remember a lot of things."

The knight nodded fevereshly, trying his hardest to stop his limbs from giving out.

"Yes, yes, Your Grace! I talked to him countless of times, I can recognise his voice with my eyes closed!"

Aemond quirked his head to the side, and let out another curt laugh.

"Good, very good, indeed! And, tell me..." As he spoke the last of his words, Aemond Targaryen got closer to the shaking boy, "You call this level of interest... not getting involved?"

Without waiting for an answer, Prince Aemond let go of the soldier's hand, running his sword through his stomach in a simple, yet effective movement.

"Y-Your G-Gh..." He strained himself to hiss though his bloodied mouth, before falling on his knees, his hand placed atop his wound.

"You've proven yourself very useful." Aemond asserted dryly, "Just as you said."

The Prince turned back on his heel again, and began marching towards the open door. With a bored expression on his face, he threw the child one more dejected look, and added, "But I've simply no more need for you."

The knight's endless gagging filled the room with a paculiar sense of dread. Somewhere along his way, Aemond got a hold of a kitchen wench; he grabbed her with his bloody hand, and clicked his tongue in pure disdain.

"Clean that up." Was all she was instructed to do.

Daylight had long broken the sky in two, as Cain and (Y/N) finally reached the Saltpans of the Trident.

Tired, and famished far beyond belief, the two stopped at the gate of an ale house, dismounting their horses and knocking on the door politely.

A couple of seconds went by, until a small click of a key was heard on the other side. An old woman stepped outside, holding out a crossbow, that was still too big for her wide frame.

"I said, no more scoundrels, and ruffians, and thieves, and men! Away, away with you!"

Her wrinkled hands swished and flicked about, right under Cain's nose, who swallowed a small laugh, and gently raised his hands out in taciturn surrender.

"No ruffians, scoundrels or thieves sit in front of you, ma'am. ... Though, of being a man, I must admit I'm very guilty."

Upon hearing his words, the old lady shook her head, with a strength so great, (Y/N) was sure her eyes would pop out.

"Oh, no, no! I said, no more of those around here!" She repeated again, though she lowered her crossbow from Cain's face, upon hearing the sound of his mellow voice.

"Madam, I... We beg you to reconsider." The Lady's voice rang through the open clearing. As she glanced up at the old, plump woman, her features turned soft and pleading, begging for help, like a child would to her wise mother.

She gripped Cain's biscep with her left hand, ensuring that their host would see her amethist ring, that now rested upon her ring finger. "My husband and I are so tired from our long journey and... as you said, Madam, the streets aren't safe."

The house's owner squinted at them with a hardened look, but then, almost too suddenly, she stepped aside for the two to come in.

"You'll have to forgive an old spinster," The woman smiled tightly over her shoulder, "It's just that in these parts of the Reach, you don't know in who to trust."

"Aye, we hear that." Cain replied with a warm smile, leading his lady inside with a hand respectfully placed above her waist. "Great thinking!" He leaned in to whisper in her ear, congratulating her on the ability to adapt to their situation so fast. "If I didn't know any better, my Lady, I'd say you didn't need me to make the trip."

She gave her a polite smile, and sheepishly bowed her head.

"Perhaps you don't know any better, then." She laughed at him teasingly, before moving her attention back to the old maid.

"My husband and I travelled no small distance - we live near Bitterbridge, but we decided to join with our relatives near Crossroad's Inn." She gave Cain's hand a tight squeeze, and looked at him affectionately, before pressing on. "With with the war looming over us, nothing is more important than family."

The old lady smiled at them, showing off her three gold teeth. Her eyes held no malice now, and she shifted her weight from her left foot to speak. "Mine mother was from Goldengrove - a proper Lady. She was almost a lady in waiting for Brianna Tyrell."

Looking almost wistfully to the side, the inn wench let out a melancholic sigh.

"Oh, but what am I sharing these stories for?" She questioned jokingly, while clasping her hands together. "I'll prepare breakfast for you two. And a bed - to sleep in for the night."

Cain offered the woman a small nod, and smiled tightly in reply.

As she made herself busy with boiling some eggs, the man leaned in, muttering lowly to his lady.

"She didn't ask us for how long we'd stay. She assumed right away we'd be gone tomorrow."

Taking in his cautious words, (Y/N) hummed, as she nibbled on her bottom lip.

"And if her words are true about her mother, then she served as vassal for the Hightowers, as well."

"Do you think she's a Loyalist, my Lady?" The knight choked on his own breath.

"It might be too soon to tell."

The man's eyes fell back on the dirty window, that offered but a shallow peek into the outside world. His face contorted to one of great concentration - Much like it did years ago, (Y/N) mused to herself, before an important Tourney.

"We'll tread lightly. ... It might be a good idea to show our support to Aegon when we talk amongst ourselves at dinner."

"An easy conversation to over-hear, of course. Especially after a glass or two of wine."

Their little dialogue ceased a moment, and both travellers shot each other a warm smile.

"W-W-Wait, just because I brought the letter here, that don't mean I'm gon' speak to the young master, too-" The strained voice of a serving maid bounced off the stone walls of the black Crypt.

She looked around frantically, shaking her head with so much dedication, that her braid came undone onto her shoulders. The servants around her made no attempt to soothe the girl, or take her under their protection - for they, too, were scared of the wrath that resided deep inside of Aemond.

Still, a raven, who's beak carried a letter that spoke naught on the outside, besides it coming from an inn in the Saltpans, had come to Harrenhal that afternoon.

A more educated one from the flock of young maids tried to decypher its contents in the light of day, but to no avail. The letter had to be opened. And it had to be opened by their reckless Prince, first.

"H-How do we even know it's something important?" One elder girl chirped shyly. "What if it isn't, and Prince Aemond punishes us for wasting his Grace's time?"

A shuddering thought went through each and every resting body, that rang clear through their bodies, like a blade would on young flesh.

"And what if it is important?" Another spoke up, "We'll all be executed for not bringing it to him, sooner!" She sobbed into her hands.

"Bring what to Prince Aemond?"

The rise of the unknown voice elicited a scared gasp from each member of the pitiful assembly. Comically, they all turned on their heel at once, gripping their throats in horrified wonder.

None but Alys Rivers stood before them, her own hands resting on her hips and her cascade of black hair, fraiming her expecting face in a gruellingly gorgeous way.

"Seven hells! You had us scared to death, Rivers!" One maid or another chastised her deeply.

Upon hearing the lack of reverence in her voice, the Strong witch clasped her hands tightly together, and glared upon the crowd with a look full of disdain.

"You ought be careful with how you address me. You forget yourself, wench."

Her words were cutting and scornful, and yet, they had no effect on the defying servant.

"I should be careful with how I speak to you?" The tiny woman let out a small scoff, "'Tis you who should sooner not forget her standing. You aren't mistress of this Keep. You are naught above us in station."

Caught in the red, Alys scorned down at the meek, servant girl. Her back turned awfully straight, and she demured in a demanding tone.

"You will either tell me at once what it is you're hiding, or I will have my Aemond take all of your heads." She let out a small chuckle, and carried on, "You'll see how much power I have over this keep and you - for I carry the Dragon's son, and his fires already lick at my womb."

The possibility of Alys Rivers carrying the Kinslayer's bastard sent a shiver down their hollow spines. Soon, the girls threw each other a despondent look, and settled their eyes upon the floor.

"It's... a letter from the Saltpans... m'lady." The same maid who provoked her now spoke. "We don't know of it's contents, but..."

Silence fell over the windy crypt. Alys quirked up a brow in amusement, and extended her arm out in palpable anticipation.

"I'll carry it to him, then. Make haste, give it to me, and begone."

For once, her command was almost immediately executed. The plump girl that had brought the raven inside hurried to give the parchments to her, and scurried along the dark hall, making herself scarce and unseen.

Alys' green skirts kissed the grounds which the woman walked, leaving a rustling echo along the large halls with every calculated step.

She reached for Aemond's Quarters, and slyly made her way inside.

"My Prince," Her voice rang out, "A letter addressed to you has just arrived."

The eager polishing of Aemond's sword was the only noise in the room for a while. He hummed expectantly, putting an end to his endeavours, and getting a hold of the enclasped letter with two of his long fingers.

Silently, much like a predator would it's prey, he analysed its contents, feeling a smug smirk tugging at his upturned lips. He lowered it after a while, and looked out the window, lost in the depthness of his thoughts.

"My Prince, what does it say?" Alys inquired officiously, dropping her head over his thighs. "Is it of an important matter?"

Aemond let out a joyous laugh - and, whether it was due to his amusement over Alys' stupid question, or due to the contents of the flimsy letter, was up to anybody's guess.

"Tell those kitchen wenches to prepare for a grand feast for tonight. We have reason to expect very pleasant company."

The man rose from his chair and smirked to himself once more, before making his way towards the grand oak doors of his private chambers.

He stopped on his tracks, however, to assert the woman on his bed once more.

"Alys... should you come to my room unannounced again, I will have your head for it." He uttered neutrally, with a bemused rise of his brows.

"Do you think it wise to leave tonight?" Cain's pleasant voice rang through the girl's ears, as the two made good haste scarping down on the dinner they paid for.

"Tonight?" The girl hushed back at him, before taking a sip of her wine. "You don't trust the old lady, do you?"

"Aye, I must admit, I don't." Cain confirmed her laid out question, as he followed the woman's form into the small kitchen again. "I can't shake off the feeling that something bad is about to happen."

Placing her hand atop his in a pacifying manner, (Y/N) squeezed tightly, putting an end to his restless thoughts.

"Then we should leave tonight. Wait until she's fallen asleep, sneak out and mount our horses. We can sleep when we reach the Bloody Gate, or hidden away in the forest." She concluded with a stone faced look.

Cain bit his lower lip and clicked his tongue in distaste for the plan. "I'm sorry for making you go through this, my Lady. A young woman shouldn't be forced to sleep outside, under such pitiful conditions."

"But it's better to be safe than sorry," She assured him once again, "And I've slept in worse than grass and branches - you should know."

The knight's face twisted into pure rage.

"I swear to you, my Lady, I will have his head for all he made you go through. I will."

"There would be no one else I trust more with the task." She smiled at him happily, and a pang of sisterly affection surged through her bones. "Let's finish eating. Then we'll retire in our room and start packing up."

Cain nodded in agreement, and offered the girl one of his many placid smiles.

The evening went on with little to no commotion - the night displayed the hour of the wolf, when the two finally made their way outside their room, and onto the small corridor that led to the stables.

Still, their footsteps, however careful, alerted their horses, who'd grown so accounstomed to Cain's presence.

With a small huff of their muzzles, they rested their head upon the separating barrier, and shook their manes expectantly.

"That's it, those are my good girls." Cain hushed to them, untying their bridles from the putrid wall. "Let's go for a ride, shall we?"

In the same manner he did the night before, (Y/N)'s sworn shield helped her up the saddle, and secured her belts in place. Soon came his turn, and, before they both knew it, the pair was exiting the stables with tentative steps, stopping at the entrance.

"We'll take to the North road, but we'll travel slightly East. We'll be on Arryn grounds... and hopefully more safe."

"That sounds like a plan." Lady Tully agreed with a tight expression on her face. She let out a shaky sigh, opening the inn's gates with a strong jerk of her hand.

Cain clicked his tongue once, twice, three and four times, until both horses broke into a hasty sprint. With his hand over both bridles, he guided the horses over to the stony road.

The night was clear. The shadows scarce. And yet...

A looming figure washed up before them both, swallowing the light of the moon and shaking their foundations to the very core.

"Ha..." (Y/N) let out a laugh in disbelief, feeling her heart rising to her throat.

Cain's face tightened, and his knuckles turned white over the saddle's head. His body contorted in fear and disgust for the man above them, as he took in a deep breath.

"Run." He instructed dryly.

When a horse races with a dragon, which one of them wins? - It was a rather stupid question, for this was a race that the poor horse would lose everytime, no matter it's good breeding or strong muscle mass.

"TO THE FOREST, BACK INTO THE FOREST!" Ser Cain yelled out, turning both animals around, hoping for a chance of escape.

"Have you lost your mind?! He'll burn the trees down!" His lady's reply came and went, swallowed by the wind, and the ring of Aemond's cruel laugh.

"What other choice do we have?!"

That much was true, the lady admitted inside her head. Aemond was ruthless, and, chances were, they would both die either way. If there was even a slither of hope that they'll survive by confusing the man, they had to take it.

As the horses ran, Cain tried his best to untangle their bridles, but (Y/N) shouted after him.

"Don't!! Aemond won't burn me with his dragon, he needs me alive for my grandfather's banners! But he won't hesitate to hurt you, should we be separated!"

With one hardened breath after the other, the two made their way back into the forest, where Cain reached out to unbuckle his lady's saddle. His stiff fingers made slow work - the exhaustion, fear and speed with which they galloped made it extremely hard for the knight to see even three inches ahead of him.

"We get off the horses!" He alerted the woman, as beads of sweat rolled off his forehead. "From that distance, he can't see us - he'll think we're still on them! We'll have to run from that point on, but we must take the chance!"

(Y/N) replied in kind with his instructions, and both lady and loyal knight jumped off their horses' saddles, hitting the ground with a ferocious impact.

Pain surged through her limbs and bones, but Cain quickly grabbed her hand, and dragged her further into the forest, and farther away from Aemond's roars.

Their strained breaths and silent whimpers echoed through the quiet woods - they ran and ran, until their feet gave out on them, and the two reached a small cave.

"Come -" The man encouraged with a raspy voice, as his knees buckled below him.

For a while, there was silence. (Y/N) swallowed thickly, and whispered to her tired knight.

"We should stay here for a while. Maybe an hour, or... Shit, he won't leave either way, will he?"

"Aye, my Lady, not without you." His grey eyes came to clash with her (y/e/c) hues. A look of strange determination took a hold of his harsh features, contorting his brows in such a way, that they almost mended through themselves.

"From here we could go to Maidenpool. The forest covers enough a distance for such a feat."

"Maidenpool?" The girl's voice shook with fear, "It's nose to nose with King's Landing - going there is a death sentence!"

She closed her eyes tightly and kicked her leg into a nearby stone. "Shit, shit, shit - we were so close!"

"I shall challenge him to a fair fight." Cain mustered up to say. "The Kinslayer has no honor. But he still values the tradition."

The lady's eyes shot wide open, and her head shook to the side. "No, absolutely not. Aemond is well rested - you haven't slept in two days!"

"I must. What other choice do we have?" He repeated with a shaky voice, as he wobbled back on his feet again. His eyes trailed over the girl's small silhouette, and patted her back keenly.

"You stay here, my Lady. Should I arise victorious, I'll come back and find you."

With each word of their heated dispute, both companions raised their voices.

"No - not a chance. As your Lady, I'm commanding you; and as your friend, I'm begging you - let me come with."

"There should be no need for that." Aemond's deep voice rumbled out.

Cain wasted no time to place the girl behind his back, and unsheathe his sword with one swift movement.

"... How?" (Y/N) asked him in pure disdain and disbelief.

"Lady Alys sees many things. Before I left, she saw you in the fires of the kitchen, wasting away in this cave to rot."

The Crown Prince gave the girl a mellow smile, as he took a step ahead.

"At first, it made little sense to me. Especially since that withered whore sent me a raven, assuring me of your whereabouts in her inn." Hearing the calmness in his voice, the girl spat out a low curse.

But Aemond laughed at her display, and gently shook his head.

"The view you get atop a dragon, My Lady, is a very valuable thing. You can already guess my frustration when all I saw were pesky trees, but then... then I saw this cave."

Cain let out a low growl, and measured the One-Eyed Prince with his wild stare.

"None of that matters now." He spoke calmly, cutting him off, "We've to reach an agreement, Kinslayer. Pull your sword out now, and face trail before the Gods."

As his eyes trailed across Aemond's clean armour, the knight let out a strained snarl.

"Lest you be scared to, of course."

That seems to be the final drop for Aemond, who suddenly unsheathes his own Valyrian steel sword, and places it atop Cain's breastplate. "You'll regret ever taunting a dragon."

"We'll see."

Having said the last of their words, the men swayed on their feet, clashing steel with steel. When Aemond charged him, Cain moved barely fast enough to avoid the blade's sharp edge.

No sooner was Aemond's first slash blocked, that the knight made another - this time, the Kinslayer's armour proved to be pivital, as the sword rang though his breastplate, without making any damage to the warm body inside.

Hard and fast the cuts came, from low and high, from left and right, and each one Cain managed to block. The frustration in Aemond's eye etched itself into Vhagar's mighty roar, so barbaric and wild, that it sent a shiver of dread down (Y/N)'s spine.

Her knight caught one blow high on his armour, and a painted trout had lost its head. He countercut, and the Prince imposed his own shield, lunching in a fiery backslash.

Cain moved to his right, but the Kinslayer blocked him with a quick side-step, and drove him back the other way... towards the darkness of the cage, hoping to blind him and take his head.

The knight gave ground until he felt the shadows dancing on his back. A quick glance over his shoulder showed him what was way behind, and that recklessness almost cost him his head, when Aemond began his attacks anew.

One hit over his legs by (Y/N)'s dagger sent the Prince tumbling on his back, but he surged his way on his feet again with a rash counter-attack. He let out a wild roar, and his cold steel plowed into Ser Cain's flesh, where his shoulder joined his neck, stopping at the knight's breastbone.

The blood came rushing out in a hot, black gush - Ser Cain's knees folded slowly, as if for prayer, and when he opened up his mouth, only blood came out.

"NO!" The girl yelled out in a blood curling shriek, and she tumbled forward, trying to get a hold of the knight's bloodied cape.

With his last ounce of strenght, Ser Cain pushed the girl aside and slashed his sword up in the air - but Aemond spun like a turret, and blocked his mindless hack with a teasing smile on his face, discarding his sword to the side.

"I hope your God's a sweet one, Waters bastard." Aemond hummed through his hooded eyes, "For you're going to meet him shortly."

Wincing from the pain that was now licking at his opened flesh, Ser Cain spat over Aemond's boots, while gripping his shoulder to stop the endless rivers of blood, that were being eaten by the dirt.

Unamused, though still smirking, the One Eyed Prince raised his sword in the air, to deliver that one, final cut.

"STOP!" The Lady's voice rang through the tiny cave, grasping Aemond's attention.

Standing tall, she gripped Cain's sword in her own stilled hands, and brought it back to her own stomach.

"If you kill Cain now, I'll run this blade right through my insides!"

As if fallen under a spell, Aemond spat a low curse out, and rested his sword back on his hip. Wordless still, he pushed the knight down with the end of his Achile's heel, but raised his hands up in quiet surrender.

"I mean it!" She sobbed into the open space, her eyes never leaving Aemond's. "We'll see then what kind of support you'll receive from the Riverlords for your usurper kin!"

As if to accentuate her words, she pressed the sword deeper into her scorching heat, applying enough pressure to draw out a little cove of blood.

"Let him go. Let him live, and you can bring me back to Harrenhal, yeah?" The girl asked the Targaryen Prince tentatively.

"Hmm."

So very slowly, Aemond's feet carried him to (Y/N)'s direction. With one hand still raised in the air, he lowered the hilt of Cain's sword, pushing the tip away from her convulsing body.

His lonesome eye trailed low, enough to meet the poke of her clothes, and Viserys' second son let out a disappointed sigh.

His hand reached to cup the girl's jaw, and he gingerly turned it from side to side - inspecting it, just as he'd done when they first clashed wits in her prison cell.

"You've lost weight." He remarked through a furrowed brow.

Suddenly, his hand trailed lower still, all the way down to her neck, which he gripped gently, possessively.

"You are in no position to make demands. Do you think he won't come after you again if I let him live?"

"You all but severed his right hand - he will never fight again." The girl begged him with logic and fact, whilst swallowing thickly, as her heart hammered out of her chest.

"Let him live." Her hand ghosted above his tightening grip, her eyes frantically searching for his. "If you do so, I won't put up a fight ever again."

The final words of her vow caused a pleasant shiver run down Aemond's back. He falthered his grip on her throat, and moved both hands to cage her in between his body and the cold stones.

"Keep your... fucking hands... away from her." Cain hissed from his laying place, trying his hardest to get back up on his feet again.

Aemond's body tensed again, but, before he could move away from (Y/N) and do anything, the girl gripped his cheeks with both hands and brought his eye on her again.

"Stop it, Cain." She preleened through a shaky breath. "It's done."

Aemond's throat rumbled out in a purr of satisfaction, and he harshly grabbed the woman to bring her outside with him.

The monstrous Vhagar awaited them with open wings - and an open jaw -, which made the girl stop on her tracks and plant her feet into the grimy ground.

"I can't get on top of that-!" She uttered pleadingly, shooting Aemond down with a jaded look.

"You will watch your tongue, churl. That is Vhagar. And you will be riding her tonight." He pulled the woman near him and approached his dragon with four swift steps.

'The bond between a dragon and their rider it's a sacred thing.' Jacaerys' voice rang out in her ears.'The dragon always knows what the rider is feeling... Sometimes even better than the man himself.'

"You should be honoured." Aemond disrupted her trail of thought with an assertive remark, "Very few have been introduced to the Queen of the Dragons before."

His touch made her nauseous. Her head was swirling with a hundred unanswered questions, and the way Vhagar looked at them both only stirred her along more.

As Aemond reached for (Y/N)'s hand, the she-dragon let out a disapproving roar.

"Sagon gīda, Vhagar." He hushed gently, as if sharing a sensual secret with an old lover. "Rības issa udra. Umbagon nykeēdrosa."

His rough palm clutched the girl's one tightly, and he jerked her hand forward to touch the dragon's scales.

Restless, Vhagar tried to move away, rejecting the touch of the woman she didn't deem safe for Aemond.

'Dragons have a way of knowing how we all feel. If you wanted me dead now, Vermax wouldn't be so keen to please you.' Jacaerys laughed inside her ear.

But (Y/N) wanted Aemond dead. And of course, Vhagar knew that.

It came to no surprise that she was declining her touch. Still, Aemond persisted.

He moved behind the girl's small frame, and pressed his body against hers so harshly, that she tumbled forward, coming into full contact with Vhagar's scarred belly.

"Gīda, Vhagar." He whispered again, "Dohaeragon issa. Rȳbagon se rības."

Slowly, yet surely, the weary groans of the she-dragon ceased, as Aemond kept reassuring her.

When the Prince felt the bond satisfactory enough, he threw the woman over his shoulder, and began climbing to his dragon's saddle.

(Y/N) let out a disparaging heave, and she had to repeatedly remind herself just how close she was to a dragon's jaws, as to not hit Aemond over the head with all her strenght.

Once they reached the top, Aemond gently lowered her onto the saddle, making fast work on the belts around them.

His hand ghosted between her legs, in a feigned attempt to check the bindings, and the lady shot him a disapproving frown.

Whilst letting out a dangerous chuckle, Aemond shook his head and mounted himself behind her. "Are you ready?" He murmured into her left year.

Not even waiting for an answer, he rose his head and commanded clearly;

"Sōvegon!"

Thoughout the whole ride, the girl kept her eyes closed, despite Aemond's numerous attempts to make her open them.

They reached Harrenhall not even twenty minutes later, and the lady had to stiffle a bitter laugh as she dismounted the glorious beast.

If only her and Cain could have travelled faster; then nothing bad would have ever happened.

Cain...

She turned to glance at the ground, and closed her eyes for a quick prayer.

Though she believed not in the Old Gods or the New, her heart beckoned her to hope for his safety.

She let Aemond carry her back inside, not even paying attention to her surroundings.

He lost a lot of blood, her psyche echoed back to her, But there is a chance he made it out there.

The light click of doors closing grounded her back to her harsh reality. Peeling them from the ground, Lady Tully turned her eyes to the decour of the room, and took a step back once she realised this wasn't her old tower.

"You'll be sleeping with me from now on, My Lady." Aemond's velvety voice fell upon her deafened ears. "We won't have any other shameful accidents - not as long as you're under my protection."

The woman felt as if she could gag at any given moment. If Aemond thought, just for a second, that she'd bed him or become his whore, he'd be unpleasantly surprised.

She'd rather sleep on the floor. Or see herself rot back in the Dungeons.

Almost as if he could read her mind, Aemond let out a low hum.

He came before her, and scooted closer. His hand reached up, resting above her collarbones, and his breath hitched in his throat.

Timidly, his fingers came down to gently carress them, and the One Eyed Prince had to bite back a deep moan.

The contrast between his rough fingertips and her soft skin felt exquisite, and so, so right.

For a second, he thought about the kinds of sounds that might come from her haughty mouth as he slowly entered her. How her face would twist in pleasure, as he gradually, gently, taught her the art of the bedroom.

His lustful thoughts came to an end when he noticed how her face contorted in disgust and displeasure.

Familiar anger flared within him.

She was a whore. A lowly girl who, no doubt, spent every day spreading her legs to his bastard nephiew before, taking him into her sacred depths whenever he so wished to.

So why was she resisting him?

Did she not feel his touch as electrifying as hers was for him?

"Don't be scared. I will not bed you." He uttered near her swollen lips. "I take no pleasure in claiming what's not freely given."

An arrogant smirk tugged at the ends of his upturned lips.

He brought his thumb to brush over her lower lip, toying with it until he forced himself to let it go.

"But it's in a whore's nature to be begging for cock. And you will be pleading for mine before the Spring's end, I can promise you that."

Taglist:

@ohitsthemaster @bellameshipper

Translations:

"Sagon gīda, Vhagar." = Be calm, Vhagar;

"Rības issa udra. Umbagon nykeēdrosa." = Obey my words. Stay still;

"Gīda, Vhagar." = Calm, Vhagar;

"Dohaeragon issa. Rȳbagon se rības." = Serve me. Listen and obey;

"Sōvegon!" = Fly;

[galway-girlatwork]

Fandom: Triple Frontier-This is completely AU.

Rating: Mature-There is angst and fluff. Maybe some smut but ya gotta squint

Central Characters: Reader/Frankie “Catfish” Morales

Central Relationship: Frankie/Reader

Word Count: 2,525

AO3

Please do not copy my work. Please re-blog if you liked it and tag me.

Music inspiration: The Fiery Cross By Bear McCreary

Thank you to @almostfoxglove for the beautiful mood board and letting me know that I can go anywhere

"Not all who wander are lost."

SUMMARY:

Fairy rings do not exist. Fairy rings do not exist. Fairy rings do not exist.

Witches are not real. Witches are not real. Witches are not real.

How many times can he repeat this in his head for it to take hold? A thousand? A million?

What happens when a man transcends time and space and falls in love with a witch?

It’s just a bunch of hocus pocus, right?

Beyond Time's Edge

Frankie Morales had always been one for adventure. A New Yorker with a penchant for thrill-seeking, he'd traveled far and wide, but nothing could have prepared him for what was to come. A solo vacation to England had seemed like the perfect way to unwind. The rolling hills, quaint villages, and the ancient folklore had drawn him in like a moth to a flame. Little did he know, his adventure was about to take a turn beyond his wildest imagination.

On the third day of his trip, while exploring the serene countryside of Sussex, Frankie stumbled upon a peculiar sight. A ring of mushrooms, perfectly circular, nestled in the midst of a lush, green clearing. A fairy ring? He’d heard the stories—stepping into one could bring bad luck or, worse, take you somewhere else entirely. He chuckled at the thought, stepping inside with the nonchalance of a man who didn’t believe in such things.

As soon as his foot touched the ground within the ring, the world around him shifted. The air grew thicker, the sky dimmed, and a strange, tingling sensation crawled up his spine. The sounds of distant birds and rustling leaves faded, replaced by a deafening silence. Then, just as suddenly, the world reappeared—but it wasn’t the world he knew.

Frankie found himself standing in the middle of a forest, but it was different—wild, untamed. The trees were taller, thicker, and the air carried the scent of woodsmoke and damp earth. Before he could process what had happened, he felt the ground beneath him shaking, hearing thunderous sound of horses coming at him. He did the only thing that made sense to him, which was run. He’d barely made it into the thickness of the trees, Nike’s slipping on the steep incline, caused him to lose his balance, sending him ass over feet down the hill, the air being knocked from his lungs as he laid there, staring up through the thicket of branches overhead. That was when he felt the sharp pain, hand pressed against his side, feeling something warm, sticky and wet. Fuck, he thought, blood. Son of a bitch, he was going to die in the middle of a god damn forest. The branches above him blurred as he laid there, thinking he just needed a minute to rest, before he would get to his feet and find his way back to the village he’d been staying in.

Una had been gathering herbs deep in the forest when she sensed it—an unfamiliar energy, powerful and disruptive. Someone had either come or gone through the ring. She was always amazed when it happened, the power it took to travel through and not end up dead. She’d heard stories growing up, about how it felt as if your insides were coming through your skin and always took great pains to stay away from the fairy ring but something deep within was calling to her and she decided to needed to see which one it was. One hand grabbed the end of her dress, hiking the hem up, steps quick and determined, as she ran into the clearing, seeing a man, dressed rather odd, knowing he’d come through, seeing his blood, soaking the forest floor.

Without hesitation, she rushed to him, mind already working through healing incantations, as she kneeled next to him, lifting his shirt, a hole in his side, wondering what impaled him.

Frankie groaned as he tried to move, but pain shot through his body. His vision hazy, and his head throbbing. When he blinked, he saw a woman crouching beside him, fingers hovering just above his skin, chanting in a language he didn't recognize.

"Easy now," she murmured, her voice soothing as she carefully placed a hand on his forehead. Warmth spread through him, and the pain dulled. "You've had quite a journey. I am going to have to clean the wound, no stitches, or whatever is inside will fester if I do.”

Frankie blinked up at her, trying to make sense of the situation. "Where... where am I?" he asked weakly.

"You're safe," Una replied, her tone gentle but firm. "Ye crossed through the ring, and ye been injured in the process. My name is Una. I’ll take care of you."

He squinted, trying to sit up, but she pressed him back down with a surprisingly strong grip. "Don't move. Ye torn something inside. Just let me work."

Frankie wanted to protest, but something about her presence calmed him. She moved with the grace of someone who knew the forest like the back of her hand, reaching into the small pouch at her waist, pulling out various herbs and powders.

As she began mixing them with her fingers, chanting as she did, working some kind of spell. Holy fuck, was she a witch? Chuckling, he shook his head. Witches weren’t real. Just like fairy rings weren’t real. This had to be some kind of joke, one of the guys pulling off one hell of an elaborate joke.

"What are you... doing?" Frankie managed to ask.

She gave him a small smile. "I’m a healer. These herbs and spells will ease your pain and help you recover." Gently applying the mixture to his wounds, she could see the relief washing over his features. “We’ll need to wait a time, before ye can stand. Twill be easier for me to heal if ye are within the cottage. I’ve got food and water. Then I’ll help you get back.” Taking off her dress, leaving her in nothing but her shift, she rolled it up and lifted his head, putting it beneath him, gently laying him back. “Just rest for a few.”

As the hours passed, Una watched him sleep, looking over the clothes he was wearing. The fabric that encased his lower half, was a deep blue, rough to the touch. He wore a shirt with buttons she’d never seen before, the material thin and soft. His hair was a wild mess of brown curls, stubble graced chin and cheeks along with a moustache. She’d never seen a man with one before, fingers gently caressing his face, she found the hairs soft and prickly, a contradiction in her mind.

When he finally woke, dusk was settling over them. “We need to go before dark, do ye think ye can stand? My home isn’t far from here.” She knew there were all kinds of wee beasties in the dark and though she was a healer, the dark fae would still have a field day with them if they didn’t get back before then. It took some time, he was heavier than he looked but just as the tendrils of dusk let go of the sky, the cottage came into sight and she sighed with relief as she pushed open the door.

He marveled at the quaintness of the place, the air thick with the scent of dried herbs and candle wax. She laid him on a cot by the hearth, tending to him, hissing as wet cloth was pressed against the wound, the pain radiating up the entire left side of his body.

“I know it hurts but I have to clean the wound, apply a salve and then I will need to wrap it. Once that is done, ye can rest while I make a healing tea and get some broth in ye belly. Ye’ll need ye strength before the next full moon. I think that is when ye be able to go back. I’ll keep ye safe, swear it.”

Over the following days, Frankie slowly regained his strength under Una's care. He was a modern man, used to hospitals and doctors, but there was something about her magic that felt natural, even comforting. As they spent more time together, he found himself drawn to her. She was not only kind but strong, wise, with a quiet confidence that intrigued him. She moved with grace but determination which was evident when she’d left him one afternoon to go hunting, she said, offering to go for her. To which she laughed when she asked if he knew how to use a bow and arrow, his answer being a resounding no. She’d come back with quail, watching in awe as she cleaned them and set them to cook over the fire.

Una, found herself growing fond of Frankie. His stories of the future fascinated her, but what struck her most was his resilience. Despite being out of his element, he wanted to help her around the cottage once he was able to move again without being in too much pain. Full moon was coming soon and even though she knew he’d have to leave, she taught him as much as she could and he was eager to learn. How to gather herbs, brew the healing teas she’d made him drink every day, he learned quick, laughing often over his clumsy attempts but there was a building tension between them that was getting harder to deny.

One evening, as they sat by the fire, she looked at him, expression serious. "Ye can't stay here forever," she said softly. "Full moon is in five days’ time. Whatever happens, you’ll have a place here, with me”

He reached out, taking her hand in his. "Una... I don’t want to leave you."

"Ye have to go back, Frankie. Your place is in your time, just as mine is here. But that doesn’t mean we have to forget each other."

He stood, taking her by the hand, pulling her towards him, looking down into the greenest eyes he’d ever seen, fingers undoing the braid that held white blonde hair in place, before his hands cupped her cheeks, thumbs caressing her skin. Leaning down, he gently kissed her. Her hands found his hips, digging into the rough cotton of the pants she’d stolen for him. She was hesitant at first before she began kissing back, swearing he could feel her magic swirling around his mind. Picking her up, he moved towards her bed, gently laying her down before stripping off her gown, tossing it to the floor where his clothes ended up next. He watched as she came to her knees, hand cupping his cheek before she kissed him, pressing her self against the warmth of his skin.

She pulled him towards her, as she laid back on the bed, feeling his entire body against hers, his lips at the skin of her neck, teeth nipping at her earlobes, causing a small moan to escape her throat. He moved down to her breasts, suckling at erect nipples, back arching off the bed, feeling the hardness of him against her pelvic bone. He had to have known, some where in the deepest recesses of his mind that she was a virgin, never knowing the touch of another. His name was a hushed whisper as she clung to him.

Frankie didn't need any more encouragement as he positioned himself between her legs, his cock hard, throbbing with need. He entered her slowly, savoring the feeling of how tight she was, the head of him, hitting that barrier, looking down at her and before he could say anything, her hands, cupping his ass, pulled him towards her and before he could blink, he was buried inside of her.

The pain was brief, like a bolt of lightening striking the ground, but the after effects of it, radiated through her body. She could feel him, not only filling her body but her soul, magic flowing around them, making her swear she could see stars behind closed eyes. Wrapping long legs around his waist, nails dug into his shoulders, drawing blood from the small crescent shaped marks. There was a tightness, deep within her, coiling tighter and tighter, before exploding, feeling her self clench around his cock, as fingers twisted in the curls at the nape of his neck. Knowing this would be the only time she would have with him, she wanted to experience everything.

He didn’t know how much longer he could hold out. He knew when she came, her orgasm blindsiding both of them. It was like a white-hot heat that was scalding his blood as his lips found hers, kissing her, before laying his forehead against hers, letting out a loud moan as he came, filling her with his seed. They lay there for a moment, catching their breath, before he rolled off of her, not wanting to crush her with his weight, laying on his side, an arm around her waist, blazing a trail of kisses along her shoulder as she laced her fingers with his.

Five days passed in which they barely untangled themselves from her bed, before they found the fairy ring that would take him back to the 21st century. They stood together at the edge of the forest; the air thick, not only with magic but with the bittersweet goodbye.

"Take this," Una said, pressing a small charm into his hand. "It’s a charm, to protect you. Maybe, one day, it will help you find your way back to me."

Frankie leaned in, capturing her lips in a final, lingering kiss. "Do you really think I will find you again?" voice thick with emotion.

“I don’t know.” Walking him backwards, hand cupping his cheek, she kissed him one last time before she shoved him into the middle of the circle, feeling the air being sucked from her lungs, magic swirling around him, and in a flash, he was gone. She stood there, alone in the clearing, her heart heavy but filled with hope, just as she knew her belly was full with his child.

Some loves are meant to transcend time, and she knew that their story was far from over.

[optimizche]

Missing (Part 10) [Aemond Targaryen x Reader x Jacaerys Velaryon]

Warnings: ANGST. Fluff. Pininggggg.

It didn't come as a surprise that you began to loathe traveling on horseback just as much as Aemond did. True to his promise to you, the two of you were making your way back to Winterfell from near Moat Cailin, moving forward along the Kingsroad.

Wondering how you managed to endure this journey just a few days prior had you questioning the silver haired Prince if he still had some of the sleeping draught left with him. Perhaps he could give you a drop of it to ease the queasiness in your belly.

Wrapped up in almost identical cloaks with their hoods pulled over your heads, you sat in front of Aemond on the horse's saddle. It was a source of comfort, his arm secured firmly around your waist, holding you against him while he gripped the reins with his other hand.

"Oh Gods, here it comes again," you whined, urging him to stop the horse from moving.

Hurrying to reach a thicket of bushes by the roadside, you retched, emptying the contents of your stomach until you were certain there was nothing left.

"There, there," Aemond coaxed you, a hand running up and down your back his other hand keeping your hair away from your face.

"I don't know what is wrong with me," you moaned, weakly accepting a few sips of water he offered you to rinse your mouth.

"You need to drink some, too. The loss of body water will worsen your state," he said, pressing the mouth of his waterskin to your lips. Managing to take a few slow sips, you wiped your mouth on your sleeve, rising to your feet from your hunched posture. Only to be hit by a wave of intense dizziness.

Quick from his swordfighting reflexes, Aemond caught you before you collapsed on the ground. "That's it," he said, lifting you up into his arms. "We need to find an inn where you can rest."

"But we-"

"I don't think you can take any further travel atleast for the day. You've been sick thrice since we began our journey. Rest is what you need right now," he spoke in a tone that indicated that he'd not entertain any further protests from you.

Once you had settled into your room in a small roadside inn, Aemond tucked you into bed, fretting over what you could manage to eat and keep down.

"I'm not letting you fall asleep on an empty stomach. I'm going to ask the innkeeper if she can make us some leek soup and bread," he said.

"Aemond, I don't think I'll be able to eat any bread," you replied weakly.

"I'm getting some regardless, please just try eating a few morsels of it if you're feeling better, okay?"

"Okay," you agreed, struck by how caring he was being. Perhaps he was feeling guilty for abducting you, leading to you falling ill. "Could you please send for some water as well?"

"Of course," he smiled, leaving the room at once.

As you watched him walk away, you realized that he still remembered that leek soup had been a favourite meal of yours since your days in King's Landing. An inexplicable twinge coursed through your heart at the memories of your life before going missing.

It hurt, every time you imagined how different your life would have been. Now that Aemond was well and truly returning you to Winterfell, hoping to reach the castle on the morrow, the prospect of leaving him stung bitterly.

Of course, there was still some resentment remaining on your side and his as a result of the actions both of you had taken. But above all, this man was once a boy who had held your heart. He had been your everything. The reason you woke up with a smile and learnt to dream and love. That would never change.

He would always be your first love…

Sitting on the floor beside him, after having finished with your dinner, the two of you gazed at the fire burning in the hearth.

"Well, I am mighty proud of you managing to drink a cupful of the leek soup," Aemond eventually broke the silence, his tone jesting.

"Shut up," you returned, nudging him with a roll of your eyes, a smile on your face nevertheless. "When did you become so caring, Aemond Targaryen?"

He looked at you, mockingly affronted. "What do you mean? I was always caring! Atleast when you were involved."

"But you never fetched me food," came your reply.

"I think I became soft when taking care of Helaena during her pregnancy," he said, instantly feeling guilty at the way your beautiful face fell. He placed a hand on yours. "I'm saying all the wrong things, aren't I?"

"No," you murmured, a distant look in your eyes as you looked at him and through him at once. You brushed a hand across your belly. "Do you think I could be…? The nausea and…"

…and you hadn't had your moon's blood this month although it wasn't uncommon for you to be a few days late here and there.

Beside you, Aemond stiffened, his own heart turning into lead, the vision of your belly swollen with the child of his nephew both saddening and angering him. It left a bitter taste in his mouth.

"Well," he swallowed the sudden, painful lump in his throat. "If that is what is the cause of your illness then you have nothing to worry about. You will be a wonderful mother."

"You think so?" you breathed, beaming, feeling excited at the likelihood of carrying a child and simultaneously relieved by his reassurance.

"Of course," Aemond smiled fondly at the twinkle in your eyes, his jealousy of Jacaerys forgotten in wake of the radiance on your face. To him, you looked like starlight. "Although I must confess my envy of the father of the child-"

You slapped his arm, laughing. "Let the pregnancy be confirmed atleast."

"Well, if it is true, you must write to me with the happy news," he said, giving your arm a squeeze.

"Well, nothing is established yet," you waved lightly. "But, seriously, though, what are you going to do after escorting me to Winterfell?"

"Perhaps I will travel on horseback to take a ship to the Free Cities. There's nothing left for me in Westeros now," he sighed. "You will be happy and safe with your Prince. I may detest his bloodline but I am certain that Jacaerys will make sure to look after you. My drunken fool of a brother will never let me see my mother or my sister or my children. I will lose my head if I even think of going back to King's Landing."

"What will you do in the Free Cities?" came your query.

"Since becoming a sellsword is out of question, given my distinct appearance, I think I will become a farmer," he said and you snorted in the most unladylike manner.

"I cannot imagine that. Prince Aemond Targaryen, the second son of King Viserys The Peaceful, having the blood of Aegon The Conqueror, spending his remaining days as a farmer?" you asked in disbelief. Having such a mundane life was not what you had imagined for him.

"Perhaps I will finally find some peace," he spoke in a wistful voice.

A long moment of silence passed.

"Will you? Truly find peace?" you asked, the words simple but significant in their gravity.

"No."

"Neither will I," you conceded, feeling his intent gaze upon your face. "Although we must do what is right. I must return to the Blacks."

The confession made you feel vulnerable before him, his one blue eye intently observing you. This feeling of vulnerability was welcome, not something that were afraid of. Aemond had always made you feel safe, listened to you with no judgement, given your childhood self the support you sought.

"I wish I had stayed at Driftmark," you whispered suddenly, voice barely audible. "I would have fought for your eye just as fiercely as your mother did."

"I wish you had stayed at Driftmark," he echoed. "I wish you had stayed long enough to hear the entirety of my conversation with Aegon."

Your blood suddenly ran cold. "What do you mean?"

Aemond's lips turned into a sad smile. "Aegon said 'You marry her then' when I reminded him that Helaena is our sister. Then I said…"

"…I would have performed my duty, if Mother had only betrothed us," you completed the sentence, the pain of the words still freshly etched in your heart.

"Did you hear what I said to him after that?" he asked, his voice turning low.

Palms clammy at your sides, you clenched your fists, shaking your head. "I didn't. I ran away…"

"I said to Aegon, 'Being a second son, I wouldn't forget my duty, but I'd always choose love.'"

Eyes flying to his face, you silently assessed him, trying to find even the slightest hint of deception.

"Love?" you asked, voice tremulous.

"Love, ñuha dōna rūklon," he affirmed.

"Don't lie to me about this. Don't play with me so callously, Aemond," you said, shaking your head to keep the sudden tears from pooling in your eyes. "I can't take it-"

"Helaena was my duty. But you were my love. You were my peace, my happiness."

"No, Aemond-" you made a move to back away from him but his arm shot out, capturing your wrist.

"No, don't run. Not again. You ran away from the Red Keep's weirwood tree that night and you ran away from the cave near Storm's End that day. I need you to hear the truth," he spoke, desperation in his tone. "You always were my first choice, dōna rūklon. You were the one I loved and wanted to spend the rest of my life loving. Without giving me a chance to explain myself, you ran away-"

"But that night when you claimed Vhagar-"

"My arrogance and want for power clouded my mind. I was a child. I never thought I'd lose you. It was my mistake, taking your love for granted," he said, pulling you towards him.

"Aemond," you exhaled, heart racing.

He smiled knowingly. "You still don't believe me."

Your didn't respond, still stunned.

"Let me kiss you," he said. "Please."

"But-"

"Just one kiss, ñuha dōna rūklon. If I am to lose you forever on the morrow, let me kiss you just one last time," he insisted.

Swallowing, your eyes slowly fell to his lips before meeting his eye and you gave a small nod.

Drawing you into his arms, he met your mouth with his own in a passion so unrestrained, it made you shudder. His ardour took your breath away, his fingers undoing your hair until it fell freely down your back.

The softness of his lips was insistent against yours, mouths parting in unison until his tongue found yours. Moaning, your hands went to his shoulders, travelling up into his silvery mane. Warmth returned to you, flooding overwhelmingly into your heart, thawing it. He nibbled into your lower lip before running his tongue over it to soothe the sting and you felt yourself melting away…

With a sigh, you broke away to take a breath you had forgotten you needed, only to return to him once more.

"I love you, ñuha dōna rūklon," he murmured between kisses and you felt like you were floating on a cloud, his silken hair slipping through your fingers, the familiar spiced musk of him filling you with such comfort. "I love you so much…"

"A-Aemond…" you moaned, allowing him to kiss along the curve of your neck, his arms encasing you more protectively. "We should stop…"

He snarled, his breath like dragonfire against your jaw before he found your lips again. "Please," he begged between kisses. "Stay with me. I need you. I will spend the rest of my days becoming the man you wanted me to be. I-"

"Aemond," you sighed, resignation in your voice while you pressed your forehead against his shoulder. "I must return to Winterfell. The realm is in the midst of a war. I cannot abandon the one true Queen."

Just speaking the words had a sobering effect and you reluctantly let go of each other.

Hurt was apparent on his face, his smile utterly heartbroken. Like he was trying to be brave for himself. And for you. "I suppose you are right. You have your Prince to return to."

Despite the fact that it was you who was insistent upon returning to Queen And Jacaerys, Aemond's despair stung at your heart. It was almost like he was surrendering.

Giving up.

"I will write to you. Everyday," you tried to console him, your words sounding hollow to your own ears. "We will stay in touch, Aemond."

Hearing this, he smiled even more mournfully.

"You have my word, ñuha dōna rūklon. I will always be with you, if it is only through my words, because I cannot watch as you become my nephew's wife and the mother of his children," he said, placing a hand on your belly.

"Jacaerys hasn't asked-"

"He will ask you, when you are reunited. Mark my words," Aemond said. "I've seen the way he looks at you. And as much as I loathe him, I know that he is no fool. He will not let the one he loves slip away the way I did."

You opened your mouth to speak, but he interrupted you, clearly wanting no further consolation, knowing it wouldn't heal his shattered heart.

"Will you do me a favour?" he asked eventually.

You nodded.

"I shall give you a letter on the morrow, when we reach Winterfell," he said, his tone one of utmost seriousness. "Read it only after you are within the walls of the castle."

"Okay."

"Promise me. Only after you are within the walls of the castle. You owe our relationship this courtesy," his echo of one of the last words you had spoken to him at Driftmark that night made you agree.

"I promise."

"Good," he said, running his fingertips across your cheekbone. "Now get some rest. We shall depart at first light."

The weight of the letter felt like a million bushels in the pocket of your cloak as you slowly made your way to Winterfell.

Having given you one last, teary eyed kiss, Aemond had climbed back upon his horse, departing swiftly, leaving you to make your way to the Stark stronghold on your feet.

It was you who had insisted that he left you a healthy distance away from the castle, knowing full well that Jacaerys would have asked Cregan Stark to deploy his forces to search for you.

You did not want Aemond to be caught for abducting you. He would be imprisoned or executed for certain.

Before you even made it to the outer walls of the castle, you could hear Jacaerys' voice calling your name.

He came running towards you, pulling you into his arms before you even had a chance to breathe.

"Thank the Gods, you are safe, my darling," he said, relief palpable in his voice. It was only when you pulled away from the embrace that you noticed the dark shadows under his eyes. He hadn't been sleeping.

When you mentioned as much, he laughed.

"Here you are, returning from being abducted and you're worrying about my health?" he asked incredulously. "Come, you must be so tired."

He led you to your chambers in the Winterfell castle, ensuring that you were warm and safe, asking the servants to serve you breakfast, before departing to call the Maester. And to inform Cregan Stark that you had returned.

You ignored the array of hot bread, crisped bacon, boiled eggs, porridge, fruit and steaming tea that you were served, choosing the moment of privacy to pull the letter Aemond had given you out of your cloak.

As soon as you opened the piece of parchment, you realized that it wasn't a letter Aemond had written.

It was a letter written to him.

By Helaena.

Sweet brother,

Do not spend a moment worrying for me or the children. We are all safe and well. Ever since Aegon has returned from Winterfell, he has been rather kind with regards to Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, even though he is indifferent towards me.

I do not hope for his forgiveness, nor do I expect it.

It was my mistake, seeking comfort with you outside the boundaries of my marriage. I know that by giving birth to your children, I've put you in a rather difficult position, not just with your brother, but also with your best friend.

It was wrong of me to encourage you to become closer to me, just as you were reeling with the blow of having lost her. I see that now, how desperately you love her. How you always have. It was written across your face whenever she was around or was even mentioned.

Despite what I have done to her, after birthing the twins, she was kind enough to kneel before my husband to ask for mercy for the children. Her magnanimity has deeply moved me.

Please, find her and do not let her go again. You both need each other, even after all that you've done to each other.

All my love,

Helaena.

A tear fell from your eye, staining the parchment with the immense pain you felt. It felt like the air had been knocked from your lungs.

That fool, you thought. This is why he had asked you to wait until you were within the castle before reading the letter, because he knew that you'd want to find him but by the time he'd be gone far away-

"My Lady," came the voice of the Grandmaester of Winterfell, bringing your raging thoughts to a sudden halt. "You wished to see me."

"Yes, Maester," you said, hurrying to the elderly man standing before you. "I need you to examine me, I wish to know if I am carrying a child."

You sat in an armchair, listlessly nibbling on a berry, waiting for Jacaerys to arrive.

"My darling," he said, sitting down on the chair before you. "The maester told me that you are doing well."

"I've healed from the injuries I sustained after escaping from the Lyseni sellsword who had abducted me," you lied, trying to be as convincing with your story as possible, while simultaneously despising yourself for deceiving Jacaerys. "My moon's blood has been a bit late, though, and I wanted to know if I am with child. Your child."

The expectation in Jace's eyes broke your heart, even as he reached out to clutch your hands in his. "Are you…? he asked eagerly.

You shook your head in response. "No. My illness was a reaction to the sleeping draught the sellsword had given me before trying to take me to King's Landing to give me to the Greens for a ransom."

Jacaerys looked crestfallen at hearing that you weren't pregnant. But he recovered quickly, his enthusiasm returning.

"I wrote to Mother, informing her that you've returned to me safely," he said. "The days you were went missing, I spent consumed by the torment of losing you."

Your heart sank, suddenly thinking of Aemond, knowing how he had suffered when you had disappeared from Driftmark.

"I wrote to her earlier, asking for her permission and I'm delighted to say that she said yes," Jacaerys said joyfully, his brown eyes glowing with warmth. "Of course if you are in agreement as well…"

"With what?" you asked, confused.

"I asked Mother to allow me to ask for your hand in marriage," he said, getting down on bended knee before you, your hands still in his. "I love you so much, I couldn't stand the thought of living my life without you."

You gaped, heart pounding as you thought of Aemond's prediction.

"My darling," Jacaerys Velaryon spoke. "Will you marry me?"

Author's note: What do we think, fam? ⭐

Part 11

[sensitiveheartless]

Ok so in my sick and weakened state I have been watching a very relaxed Breath of the Wild stream to chill, and just hear me out—I think a BOTW AU with Chuuya in the role of Link could be really fun (not that I need more active AUs but let me live, it’s a coping mechanism)

The two of them share some similarities as characters (both short, powerful, missing memories, and also most of their friends are dead)

And Chuuya is just such a melancholic character, I think the atmosphere of BOTW would work for him. I like the idea of him wandering through Hyrule and having all of these quite moments camping out in nature. (Interspersed with the chaos of fighting monsters and running from guardians, of course)

…and of course, then there’s the opportunity for Dazai to be in Zelda’s role. (A member of the royal family who can nullify the calamity as long as he’s paired up with Chuuya’s destructive abilities) Which a) has LOTS of angst potential, and b) has lots of potential for hilarity because, well—Link hears Zelda’s voice periodically throughout the game. Can you imagine what Dazai would do with the power to be a disembodied voice haunting Chuuya? He would pop in whenever he could just to snark at him and try and nudge Chuuya towards regaining his memories.

Dazai, waking Chuuya up in the shrine of resurrection: Chuuya! Chibi! Oh most loyal hound—! Oh, finally, it’s about time you woke up. See that slate over there? Go fetch!—if you can reach it from all the way down there, that is. Hurry it up, now, ah, Chuuya is so sluggish in the mornings! Time is of the essence, oh grand hero!

Chuuya: …I just woke up and I don’t know wtf is happening but I am suddenly full of rage

Dazai, when Chuuya gets thrown off a horse: *ephemeral snickering* Ah, how majestic. The kingdom is in such good hands. Ohhh, what a strong a kick to the stomach from your noble steed, you really went flying — that’s our chosen hero for you!

Chuuya: >:|

Dazai when Chuuya finds a new hat to wear: Oh for the love of Hylia not again. Are you telling me that even without any memories at all, you still have an utterly horrendous sense of style??

Chuuya: …You know, you really aren’t encouraging me to save you from that castle.

(Also Mori would get to be King Rhoam, who did admittedly have the best interests of the kingdom in mind but in the process did things that were not good for his kid’s mental health)

(Which means Chuuya would get to meet ghost-Mori on the Great Plateau, and Mori is the one to very roundaboutly start Chuuya on his journey to being able to fight the Calamity with Dazai, which kinda fits—but also the idea of Mori chopping wood and flying around on a paraglider in this part is really hilarious to me)

Oh, and last point: this way, Chuuya would get a SWORD >:D (lots of swords actually lolololol)

[loafandfish]

After getting multiple requests for more soul crushing angst by multiple people, I have finally obliged. While writing, I was listining to Two by Sleeping At Last, and although the story isn’t based on the song, the line “I will love you without any strings attached” gets me every time so I had to make it a theme.

No Strings Attached// John

⚠️WARNING⚠️ Mentions of being attacked, blood, and violence. The people have spoken and this is what they want.

For as long as she’d known John, everything came with strings attached. She wanted to join him and James on a trip to the docks? Only if she gave him half her lunch. She wanted him to bring her extra leftovers from Salome? Only if she helped him with his chores. That pretty much meant doing them all herself while he goofed off.

And when it wasn’t favors, it was contests.

…

“Hey if you beat me in a staring contest, I’ll give you this cool rock I found. I’ll probably get to keep it.”

“Oh, you’re on!”

…

“I just beat Andrew in arms wrestling and I think I can beat you.”

“What? No you couldn’t. I’d bet my lunch on it.”

“Hah! And I’d bet my dinner.”

…

No matter the circumstance, there was always strings attached. It’s how it had always been between the two. Deal after deal and bet after bet. It made their lives more interesting, more fun.

Even when Y/n began to follow Jesus along with her fishermen friends, their friendship never changed. It wasn't selfishness that kept these deals going. Y/n would've done anything for him, and she knew he would not hesitate to do the same. It was just a habit for the both of them. By now it was practically their love language.

And speaking of love, the contests really helped cover up her crush on him as well.

So never in a million years did Y/n ever imagine something would change that. Especially not something as simple as a walk.

...

"How about these? They look edible enough." Y/n picked a few berries off a branch, presenting them to Mary. Her friend shook her head, a small smile on her face. "Not unless you want to vomit for a week. Let's keep walking."

Y/n's shoulders slumped as she tossed the berries onto the ground. They'd been searching for too long now and she was starving. She could only imagine how much worse Jesus and the disciples felt after such a long day. She silently prayed they would happen upon something to eat.

Mary stopped in her tracks, pointing to a small tree in the clearing a head. "Look over there!"

Sure enough, the fruit of the tree looked ripe. If Mary was happy, they must've been edible. Y/n thanked Adoni for answering her prayer and hurried over to the tree.

After a quick inspection, the women began to fill their baskets. Y/n had to hold herself back from eating it all right there.

"It smells so sweet, I don't know how long I can wait."

Mary laughed, reaching for a taller branch. The larger fruits grew higher. "I know! I'm very excited to get back to camp."

"The boys will be happy we actually found..." Y/n paused halfway through her sentence. Mary froze as well, her hand lowering slowly.

They had heard a noise coming from the road.

Hesitantly, the two turned toward the sound. It was one both Y/n and Mary were familiar with, but they hoped they were wrong. But no matter how much they wished, there was no mistaking that noise. It was a horse clad in metal armor. A Roman horse.

Sure enough, a soldier came riding around the corner. Mary dropped her basket in fear.

Y/n's heart hurt for her friend. She only knew bits and pieces of her story, but enough to assume the trauma a Roman had caused her.

Without moving, Y/n whispered at her friend. "It's alright. Maybe he won't notice."

Not a second later, the man turned his head, staring straight at them. He had noticed.

Mary's breath hitched and Y/n stepped closer to her. She knew she had to do something before he came over. She needed to protect her friend. Slowly, Y/n faced the raven haired girl, placing her hands on her shoulders. "Mary, you need to get out of here. I will distract him."

The poor girl never tore her eyes off the man. She was horrified at the sight of him. Still, she managed to get a few words out. "But... but you'll be here-."

"No buts. I'll be fine." Y/n took a quick glance at the soldier. He had hopped off his horse. "Go back to camp and I'll catch up with you."

She nodded quickly and as soon at the Roman began to walk towards them, Mary took off in the direction of camp. Y/n watched as she disappeared into the trees, then began to walk quickly in the opposite way.

To her terror, the plan worked as the man ran after her. She sped up even more, hoping he would give up.

"Hey, woman!"

She lowered her head, beginning to sprint.

"Don't ignore me!"

His footsteps sped up.

"I command you to stop!"

At this, Y/n ran as fast as she could. Her feet kicked up dirt as she dashed toward the denser part of the woods. The trees were so close. Just a little further...

A harsh shove caused her to tumble forward. The Roman man towered above her, but she would not let herself freeze. Y/n scrambled up, ready to somehow fight off this stronger, more skilled man. He was a soldier, for goodness sake! She was just some kid from Capernaum.

"Why do you keep running, woman?" The Roman sneered. "I don't like being ignored."

Y/n backed away, but he followed. He reached out, grabbing her wrist. "There's no use in making me angrier."

So Y/n shoved him back with a strength she didn't know she had. The Roman flailed his arms, stumbling backward with a shocked look. It was so out of character, that had Y/n not been in a life threatening situation, she would have found it amusing. Before she could make her escape, his shock turned to anger.

"Well now you've done it." He sneered, gripping her arms so that his fingernails dug into her skin. Y/n gave him the nastiest glare she could muster, stomping on the man's foot.

He let go of her , quickly reaching for his injury. Y/n took this chance to sprint, this time in the direction of camp.

As a child, she and her friends would often race, whether it be to win a bet against John, or just to spice up a walk. Unfortunately, she had never been the best runner and usually ended up next to Simon in these competitions. So Y/n couldn't bring herself to be surprised when the soldier eventually caught up to her once more. The act of defiance had only made him more infuriated.

He grabbed her arm, shoving her up against a tree. Y/n's head hit the trunk and stars danced in her vision. The Roman brought his face so close to hers, she could smell his vile breath. "You are dead, woman."

With a swift movement, his hand was around her neck, squeezing the air from her lungs. Y/n panicked, unable to breathe or even think. Her chest was burning from the lack of oxygen. She clawed at his arm, but he didn't let go. Her head was screaming with voices that weren't her own. Under different circumstances, she would have been confused, but now was not the time to question. The absence of air was making her crazy with fear.

Just before she thought she'd black out, the soldier was ripped off of her. She dropped to the floor, gasping like a fish out of water. She drank in the fresh air desperately, putting a hand to her chest in an attempt to slow her racing heart.

Looking up, she saw a few of the disciples and relief flooded her body. Her friends were here and she would be safe. Those voices in her head were not from insanity after all.

The ringing in her ears eased enough to hear James and John pouring out their passionate, "Sons of Thunder" rage toward the Roman. For a moment the man didn't know what to do.

But he was still a soldier. A ruthless killer.

So with a skilled swipe of his hand, he unsheathed his dagger, pressing it to John's chest. Y/n felt her heart drop.

"Step back!" He ordered the rest of the men. With a nervous glance, they stood down, moving away. The rage in Big James's eyes nearly made the Roman falter.

"If you touched her, I will burn you to the ground." John hissed at the man, ignoring the knife completely. He was not afraid.

But the Roman wasn't either. He sneered, barking out a harsh laugh. "You're hardly in any position to be threatening me."

He lifted his head toward the other disciples, gesturing at the dagger, still pressed against their friend's chest. "None of you are."

When none of them replied, the soldier smiled. "Good." He looked back to John. "Now you're coming with me."

Y/n stumbled to her feet in horror. She knew exactly what the man would do. He was going to imprison her friend for attacking a soldier, but not for long. Those who crossed Roman officials never survived for more than a month. Their supposed "life sentences" were always cut short.

So without thinking, she launched herself at the man, tackling him from the side. Not for a bet, not to win a contest. This was for John, no strings attached.

Y/n hit the ground hard, bringing the soldier down with her. His helmet rolled off completely as the two wrestled to pin the other. What Y/n didn't realize was the Roman had not let go of his weapon.

Before any of her friends could step in, the soldier pierced the knife through her side, just below the ribs. Y/n pushed herself off of him in shock, her hands flying to her stomach.

It took only seconds for blood to seep through her fingers.

For a moment, John could only stare. He didn't even breathe. Everything that was happening... it wasn't possible. But when his eyes locked with Y/n's, he felt reality sink in.

A pained whine caused him to tear his eyes away from the girl he loved. He spotted the Roman on the ground, the one responsible for this.

In that minute, all he could see was red.

If anyone ever asked him to recall that moment, he wouldn't have been able to. It was almost as if he'd blacked out. All he knew is that one moment, he was staring at the man on the ground, and the next, the disciples were dragging him off of the Roman. He didn't know how long the gap in his memory was, but it had been long enough to beat the soldier to a pulp.

With rage filling his veins, he tried to go back, but his brother stopped him with a hand to his chest. "Don't."

John's eye twitched as he watched the soldier writhe in pain. James spoke again, catching his full attention. "Y/n is hurt, brother. Think of her."

Just like that, the soldier left his mind as quickly as the anger. He turned to see Andrew leaning Y/n against the trunk of a tree. Her jaw was clenched in pain as he sat her down.

In an instant, he was kneeling in front of her, cradling her face in his hands. His eyes searched her for any other injuries he didn't know of. Of course, the stab wound was most prominent. The more he looked at it, the quicker his heart raced.

“No no no, Y/n you‘ll be okay.” She had never heard John’s voice sound so soft before. His words were gentle, but the panic shone clearly in his eyes. He was holding himself together, but it wouldn’t last long. “Just stay with me, please.”

"Hah, I saved your life." She let out a light laugh, half delirious. "Guess you really owe me one."

Under normal circumstances, John would have laughed too. He even would have joined in on their little habit of favors and bets. But now was not normal, not when his world was crashing down around him. He glanced behind him at the group of a shocked disciples, gesturing at one in particular. “Matthew, I need one of your handkerchiefs.”

Keeping his eyes away from the injury, Matthew fumbled for the cloth, quickly handing it to John and backing away just as fast.

Y/n hissed as the handkerchief was pressed over the wound. She knew the pressure would slow the bleeding, but it only made it hurt more.

“I know it hurts. You just have to trust me, okay?”

She did trust him, that much was true. She trusted him with her life, but the searing pain made her push his hand away. “Okay, you can stop n-.”

Another agonizing pang shot through her as he ignored her words. “Stop.”

“But Y/n we need to-.”

“No.”

“You’re bleeding out!”

“There’s nothing you can do!” Her shout caused a silence to fall over the group. They knew she was right. None of them were even close to being doctors. Y/n shook her head, bringing her voice back to normal. “We can wait until Jesus comes back. He can heal this.”

Her eyes met with John’s and her voice dropped to barely a whisper. “Until then, can you hold me?”

Without hesitation, he gently pulled her to his chest. She gasped as the wound sent a jarring shock to her body, but it was worth it. Hearing his heartbeat soothed her.

John, on the other hand, was not comforted at all. His heart ached as he cradled his best friend in his arms. It should have been him. He should have gone with the Roman. Any prison sentence was more bearable than this.

Glancing back at the others, he grew angry realizing they were doing nothing. Now was not the time to stand around in shock. Y/n was right, they needed a miracle right now. "You heard her! Go get Jesus!"

Big James nodded, masking his worry for both his friend and his brother as he led the group back to camp.

The two were left alone in the clearing. All that was left to do was wait. John knew he couldn't do anything and it drove him insane. He gently brushed the stray hairs off of Y/n's face.

“I’m sorry, Y/n.” John choked back a sob through clenched teeth. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to protect you.”

A ghost of a smile crossed her lips as her hand cupped his cheek. John leaned into the touch, placing his own hand on top of hers.

“Please… don’t apologize.” Y/n’s voice was airy and light. “It’s not your fault. Promise me you’ll never think that.”

He didn’t understand this. It was his fault. He hadn’t been there for her. He should have been there. And now it was too late to take it back. He knew this was the truth, but how could he say no to Y/n? John owed this to her, to keep at least one promise. He throat tightened as tears sprang to his eyes. He moved his head to the side, placing a soft kiss on her palm.

“I promise.” He whispered, his voice still muffled as he pressed his lips to her hand once more.

“Good.” A real smile crinkled at the edges of her eyes. The sight sent knives into John’s chest. He knew she was in agony, yet she smiled for him. Her selflessness baffled him.

With a shaky breath, allowing herself lower her hand. “I’m so tired. I need to-.”

“No.” The rough edge to his voice surprised her. He almost sounded angry, a complete change from moments earlier. She knew that anger was not directed toward her. For the first time since she’d known him, John was scared. Purely, inexplicably terrified. “You need to wait until Jesus gets here.”

“I don’t know if…” Against her will, here eyes fluttered shut. She wanted to keep them open, but it was so difficult. Her eyelids had grown heavy and she couldn’t bear it any longer.

“Don’t close your eyes, love.” Yet another change of tone. His breath came out shaky from the effort of holding back his tears. “Keep them open for me, yeah?”

She hummed in response, but couldn't bring herself to open her eyes. John shook her gently, which should have hurt but she felt nothing.

"I can't lose you, can't you see that?!" He buried his face into her shoulder, shutting his eyes tightly. "I'm not strong enough for that."

The sudden absence of pain allowed Y/n to move. She carefully wrapped her arms around him, gently patting down his messy curls. "John, you're a son of thunder! You can handle anyth-."

"Not this." His shoulders shook with silent cries.

A few moments of silence passed, aside from John's muffled sobs. All Y/n could do was run a comforting hand through his hair. After a second, she spoke up.

"John?"

"Yes, love?"

She breathed deeply, but she still felt nothing. "The pain is gone."

"The pain...?" He lifted his head, worry etched on his face. He glanced at the wound which hadn't stopped bleeding. In fact, the handkerchief had long been soaked through. "But that doesn't make any sense."

"And I feel..." She tried to think of the words to describe it. "I feel like I'm floating almost. Everything is hazy."

John's heart sunk to his stomach. She was getting worse by the second. He prayed that Jesus would come soon.

With tears staining his face, he pressed his forehead against hers. Neither of them said a thing. Y/n was slowly loosening her hold as she grew weaker by the second. John was determined to take in her presence as much as possible. He so desperately didn't want this to be his last moments with her, but that wish was foolish. Jesus was still nowhere in sight.

"Y/n, I have something I need to say."

He could feel her light breath on his face as she answered with a soft hum. The response was the only indication she was alive. Her body was completely limp in his embrace. He knew time was running out. It was now or never.

Before, he would have been nervous at the mere thought of confessing. Now, it could be his last chance. The thought terrified him to the core. She had saved his life, so she deserved to know.

“I love you, Y/n."

All bets were off. It was the honest truth.

"I love you without any string attached.”

He sat up straight again, opening his eyes to see her face. Despite the tears blurring his vision, he could see the small upward tug of her lips. No words were said, but he didn't need any. He knew the smile meant she loved him too, no strings attached.

Right then, John heard his name being called from a distance. He looked back to find his brother running toward him at full speed. For a moment, John felt his hopes were lifted. But Big James came near, kneeling before he gave him the bad news. "We searched everywhere. We can't find Jesus.”

“What do you mean you can’t find him?” John felt a pang of dread hit him again.

“I mean exactly what I sa-.”

“Well you can’t mean that.” John cut off his older brother with a hiss. “We need Jesus now!”

James shook his head, trying to keep himself together. He wanted to scream and shout, but his little brother was in distress and needed him. He was the oldest and had to keep his emotions in check. For John, he had to.

“Let’s get her back to camp, brother.” Big James stood up, clenching his jaw to keep his voice steady. He had to look away, knowing that the sight of his dying best friend would break him for good. “Maybe He will be back by then.”

John nodded, slowly at first, but faster as his hopes were raised once more. It would be more likely that Jesus would be near the camp. He shifted Y/n carefully in his arms so she wouldn’t fall as he stood.

James put a hand in his brothers shoulder, giving him the most hopeful look he could muster. “She will make it.”

The two brothers prayed the words would be true.

…

Back at camp, the disciples were in disarray. No one could find Jesus anywhere. Mary had been gone for quite some time as well. After telling the disciples about the Roman, she had disappeared completely.

John rushed Y/n into the women’s tent, setting her down gently. Mother Mary gave him a reassuring look, promising to do everything she could. Despite her kind words, John still had to be dragged out by his brother.

So there the disciples sat in deafening silence. Simon had suggested doing something useful to pass the time, but no one had the strength in them to move. The weight of stress was crushing, an exhausting burden to carry.

John eyed the tent, unable to tear his gaze away. Every bone in his body told him to rush in and make sure Y/n was okay. But he knew there was nothing he could do.

In that exact moment, Mary came out of the tent. The group stood up, their hearts racing. Her face was sullen as she looked at each of the boys. She locked eyes with John for a moment, then glanced away. Slowly, she gave the disciples a small shake of her head, and casted her gaze back toward the ground.

For a moment, no one dared to move. No one even breathed. No words had been said, but they understood Mary as if she’d spoken clear and loud. A simple gesture set their world on edge. No one wanted to accept the horror of it all, the meaning of her gesture, the truth behind the tent’s curtain. Y/n was gone.

Then John broke the silence, letting out a humorless laugh. “You’re lying.”

They waited impatiently for the punch line of this horrible joke. Surely, it was all a prank. Any minute now Y/n would walk out, her smile glowing in the evening sun.

Any minute….

But that minute never came.

“You’re lying!” The younger disciple’s blood had run cold. For many, the weight of reality hit them like a rock, but for John the horrors slowly dawned on him one by one. It was not a single moment of realization, but many moments. He was frozen as the truth tortured him from inside until it was no longer fiction.

Mary could not look him in the eye again. “I’m sorry.”

With that, he rushed forward. Toward the tent, toward his beloved. He needed to see her.

But the strong arms of Simon and his brother held him back. He strained against their hold, heels digging into the dirt as he tried to push himself away from them. “I have to see her. Let me go!”

They did not let go.

“Please I need to see her! I have to-.”

The words died in his throat as he fell to his knees. His body shook with sobs and his fingers dug into the ground. His heart burned like he had been stabbed himself. She was gone.

Then there was Big James, kneeling directly in front of him. Without a second thought, he pulled his younger brother into his arms. The sound of John’s cries were muffled in his shoulder.

There sat the Sons of Thunder, holding onto each other so tightly in their grief. The silent tears of the older brother were vastly different than the weeping of the younger, but they felt the same pain.

“I should have been there.” John gasped through his tears. “I should have been with her but I- I wasn’t… and now…”

He couldn’t bring himself to say it.

His grip tightened in his brothers shirt as he let out a strangled cry. “I was going to ask for her hand.”

Big James shut his eyes, more tears falling in the process. “I know, brother. I know.”

“I loved her so much, James. I still do.” He finally lifted his head from his brother’s shoulder. Grief was etched into his face. “No strings attached.”

At that moment, Simon walked up behind him, placing a hand on John's shoulder. Andrew came up with tearstained cheeks, doing the same. Slowly, each disciple followed, comforting each other as they mourned their friend.

...

As evening turned to dusk, a familiar face came into the camp from the woods. Jesus of Nazareth had returned from a long day of praying and preparing. When He saw the disciples in their circle, He took a breath, preparing Himself for what was about to happen.

John heard His footsteps before He had come near. With a broken voice, he spoke to his teacher. "Where were you?"

"I was preparing."

"Preparing?" John stood up, his voice growing louder. "We needed you here!"

"John-."

"You were the One who could heal her!" The disciple continued, taking a step forward. It was foolish to be angry at the Messiah, but he couldn't help it. Jesus could have fixed this but He hadn't. "How could you let this happen!?"

James put a hand on his chest to stop him, but his younger brother continued. "The Messiah is supposed to bring good to Israel! Well, this isn't good! If you were here, you could have healed her. But no, you were away and she had no one to help. Now she's..."

The burning in his throat cut him off. For the first time that day, he really looked at his teacher's face. Just like him, there were tears in His eyes. Just like the rest of them, Jesus wept for the loss of a friend.

John bit his lip to stop it from trembling. What was he doing? This was the Christ, the Savior of the world! How could he be angry? How could he chastise the Son of God?

Jesus shook His head, placing His hands on His disciple's shoulders. "John, didn't I tell you there would still be heartbreak? That there would still be suffering?"

He lowered his face to the ground in shame. "You did, Rabbi."

"If I told you that there would still be trials, then why do you doubt My goodness? Why do you doubt that I cannot use evil for good?"

"I'm sorry, Rabbi." For the hundredth time that day, John cried. "I'm sorry for my lack of faith."

Without hesitation, Jesus pulled him into an embrace. John was in awe at His compassion for a sinner like him. He had just rebuked the Messiah, yet he was in His arms.

"I forgive you, but in your suffering, remember the goodness of God. For I turn sorrow into joy."

John sniffed, nodding his head. Jesus stepped back, holding John's face in His hands.

"Now that won't always mean raising a loved one from the dead..." A smile tugged at Jesus's lips. "...but perhaps this time it will."

Without another word, He promptly made His was toward the tent. John was frozen, unsure if he had heard his Rabbi correctly. Jesus turned back before entering, addressing Ramah and His mother. "May I?"

Mary nodded, a knowing smile on her face as Ramah watched, her mouth open in shock. She couldn't believe what she was seeing. Neither could any of the disciples.

When Jesus disappeared into the tent, all was silent. No one knew what to expect. The Messiah's words had been plain as day, but they were miraculous. They waited, for what seemed like a lifetime, for their teacher to return.

When He finally did, Y/n was at his side, smiling as brightly as usual. She was standing in front of them, completely alive. No one dared to moved.

There she was, the love of John's life, the girl who had nearly died in his arms. She was right there. He blinked slowly, like he was in a dream.

It wasn't until Jesus gestured for him to come over that the miracle finally hit him. Y/n was alive. She was dead and now she lived. Jesus, the Lamb of God, had done this.

John ran forward, pulling Y/n into his arms and spinning her. The impact of the embrace left to two breathless, but their smiles were as bright as day. He touched his forehead to hers, holding her face in his hands as he soaked up the fact that the was still here.

After a moment, he let go, looking back at Jesus. He stood behind them, watching the scene with misty eyes. John immediately ran and hugged Him tightly. "Thank you, Rabbi."

"You don't doubt that I turn sorrow into joy now, do you?" Jesus laughed, patting His disciple on the back. He then nudged John back toward Y/n.

"Forgive Me if I'm wrong," said the Messiah who was never wrong, "but I believe you two have something to talk about."

John raised a brow in confusion, but Y/n grinned sheepishly. "He's right. I think there's something I owe you."

"You? Owe me?" John blinked incredulously. "You sacrificed you life to save me. What could you possibly owe me?"

"The truth." Y/n answered so quickly, she nearly interrupted him. "I heard what you said before. I couldn't speak then, so now I owe you the truth. I love you too."

She loved him too.

He didn't know what to say in response. It was everything he'd ever dreamed of. So instead, he took a step closer. "May I kiss you?"

A smile tugged at the corner of her lips as if she had been waiting for the question. "You may."

And so without a second thought, he pressed his lips to hers. He poured out the love he had felt for her for years, the pain and and anguish of losing her, and the overwhelming relief of getting her back into that kiss.

When the two parted, John's heart was exploding with joy. His arms were still wrapped tightly around her, like he was afraid to let go. He closed his eyes again, his face so close to hers that their noses touched.

“I will love you forever.”

“No strings attached?” The grin was evident in Y/n's voice. John's smile brightened to match hers before kissing her again.

“No strings attached.”

[gee-arid]

I'm kinda curious, do you have an reason to give the miraculous for each characters? Like why turtle to Ivan?

I do! It links back to my au though- So congrats! More lore dump!

Because ive given Nathaniel and Marc the ladybug and cat miraculous, they get to distribute the other miraculous. They share responsibility for this and choose based on their own experiences with their friends/classmates.

The reason they share responsibility is different to canon because they learn quickly the importance of trust and teamwork (will be explained soon).

The moment the box was passed over to Ailes Rouges and Veilleuse, they discussed it together, without names and shared the miraculous between the two of them to look after until the time came for the appropriate hero.

(explainations below cut, lots of words, no art in this one lol)

Creation Box:

Butterfly + Peacock: Same as canon (right now anyway, considering giving Adrien the Peacock, something something angst), following same beginning point anyway.

Bee: Juleka - Nathaniels choice. The first choice for Juleka was actually the tiger (explained further down). But shes chosen as the bee officially. I know this girls got pent up rage shes too scared to show or let out without a mask. The bee will be good for her :)

Fox: Marinette - Marcs choice (His first choice would be Nath if its after theyve met and become friends outside their alter egos, but is either declined or unable to be found (for obvious reasons); though Nath would likely choose the same, torn between her and Alix). If youre looking for creativity, someone with a strong enough imagination to create and spin stories strong enough to convince another person its real? Marinettes perfect for the job. Especially creating illusions of people.

Turtle: Ivan - Nathaniels choice, if youre looking for defence, someone strong to help protect people, Ivans your guy. Hes seen it first hand, particularly with Mylene, but after years of being in the same class as him, hes experienced his protection too.

Zodiac Box:

Rooster: Markov - Nathaniels choice. This one was a bit of a gamble. Markov cant see kwamis, but if he can be akumatised, it stands to reason that he can be a hero. Despite being a robot, he still only gets one use of the roosters power, as hes not human the magic has to draw from his power and since hes so small, he only has a small bank to draw from. Despite this, being small gives him more leeway into where he can go, as my roosters power is rejuvination, its important that they can get around to other heroes easily.

Goat: Alix - Nathaniels choice. The goat in my au is all about movement, and who better for than than Alix. Not to mention, theyve been friends for years, Nathaniel would trust them with his life.

Rat: Nino - Nathaniels choice. If youre looking for someone to multitask, Ninos got experience. Particularly with herding people, experienced with his brother, and occasionally his own friends. Nathaniel used to be close with Nino in previous years but drifted apart before canon present. He still believes Nino is responsible and trustworthy enough for the job.

Ox: Luka - Marcs choice. (Nathaniel would choose the same). Who else could be calm enough not to flinch at the sight of oncoming danger. Hes the older sibling of Juleka (not twin), and often cool and laidback. While he may not be super close to either hero, he knows their identity, a magical suit doesnt change a persons heart song. Luka is the perfect candidate for the Ox, he trusts the magic enough to know it wont fail him. Its just a hunch but dont you think hes already experienced with this worlds magic?

Horse: Sabrina - Nathaniels reluctant pick. There is no other person Nath has seen who is so co-ordinated. Someone who knows exactly what is going on and when and where. Despite her dubious alegions in the classroom, she can be trusted to keep a plan on track. Also shes a horse-girl, dont @ me.

Dragon: Aroure/Mirelle - Marcs pick. A dragon is experienced in the elements, and who else is more experienced than Aroure and Mirelle. They both are aware and skilled in the weather area, this experience leads to incredible skill with the dragons power. They are rarely apart these days but are very busy with their jobs, so they both become the Dragon, they swap out with eachother when one or another is busy, and it works.

Snake: Max- Nathaniels choice. Max is a person who thinks in numbers. Hes able to keep an exact time line in his mind, able to run numbers and percentages on the spot. Max is simply the most efficient Snake. His ability to think logically lends to his skill, he can effectively keep track of whats happened and whats the best course of action. Nathaniel trusts his judgement and his silence, Max is smart enough to understand the concequences and risks of an alterego.

Pig: Kim - Nathaniels hesitant choice. Now honestly, Kims the obvious pick for a superhero, hes like.. classic superhero build and attitude. However, Nathaniel hasnt always had a particularly friendly attitude with him. So despite the present situation he will always be slightly on edge with Kim. Either way, hes a straight forward kind of guy, perfect for the hunt of the pig. Nathaniel can only hope he doesnt get too much to handle, maybe he'll see Kim in a different light after. Or maybe not.

Dog: Rose- Marcs pick (Nathaniel would choose the same). The dog is all about loyalty, friendship, lowering someones guard. Who else would be perfect for the job than Rose? She is able to see the good in a person no matter what, she can keep a persons attention long enough for a job to be done, if getting a job done through affection is not an option.

Monkey: Zoe.. or Adrien - Marcs choice, Zoe, once shes transfered from abroad, becomes a quick friend of Marcs. They both have bright senses of style and well like-calls-to-like. Shes pretty laidback and adaptable, she can work on her feet which works well for the monkey. Nathaniels choice, Adrien, is also fairly new to the social scene but Nathaniels hung out with him enough by proxy that he can get a grip on his personality. He, like Zoe, is pretty adaptable, maybe less laidback from what hes seen but always willing to try something. He doesnt give up, thats important for a monkey too. Also i dont want to leave Adrien out :(.

Rabbit: Alya - Marcs hesitant choice. Shes been seen around akuma attacks before, always with her phone out and recording. Despite this shes always able to help a citizen run away or hide. Shes also friends with Marinette and from what Marcs heard, shes fairly reliable. Theyre not close to eachother for Marc to be certain, but shes around attacks enough to be reliable, shes consistently helpful, and is fairly knowledgable in akuma related activities; she'll work.

Tiger: Kagami - Marcs choice. The tigers original holder was Juleka (chosen by Nathaniel). Who else would be best for going unnoticed than the invisible girl. However after using it once, she declined to use it again. Its not what she wants. Nathaniel understood, he could see it wasnt good for her. So, Marc chose Kagami next. Kagamis sneaky, able to sneak up on someone and not hesitate. If Juleka was like a rouge, Kagami is more like an assassin.

[aredlemon]

My Job. Ao3

Summary:

Roman comes face to face with what can only be described as a hybrid from hell.

Or

Uh so Roro gets hunted by this thing

Notes:

I’m *not* gonna say sorry for this being poster later than promised (fanfic authors curse caught up with me) cause *someone* (I know you are reading this) wants me to be more confident.

Cw: Blood/gore (slightly, only like a bit), not really angst/mostly action and scenery descriptions, implied character death (but maybe there is a sequel who knows~)

Pairings: none!

~~~

As the wind roared and echoed, rain started to fall. The skies opened wide, full rivers crashing down on the soil. Clouds hid any trace of the sun, one would mistake the early morning hours for midnight. It was cold, the September breeze having been turned into a tornado, destroying what the rain couldn’t.

Screams were heard as the people of the imagination abandoned their homes. Children’s cries muffled in the embraces of their parents. The once quaint town had turned into a hellscape.

Sudden thunder made the earth shake. As lightning struck flames burst out. A fire fuelled so quickly even the abundance of water was not able to tame it. Flames rose up to the sky, enveloping the brick and wooden houses.

———

Roman ran and ran through the fallen buildings and ruins, he couldn’t help but allow the tears that had prickled at his eyes to stream down his face. A face no longer bright and beaming with glee. Blood, sweat, and tears all decorating it.

He couldn’t stop now. He had to keep on trying. Trying to guide this monster and the destruction it brought with it away from the city. Away from his people.

———

The beast growled low and heavy. Sharp teeth speckled with blood glistening in the golden flames. No animal had been able to escape its path and now it had a new target.

It was truly something out of the depths of hell, pure concentrated evil. A hybrid with the face and upper body of a boar, transitioning into the lower half of an eagle. When on its hind legs it towered over the tallest of the village’s horses. Wings spreading so big they practically blocked the sky out of anyone’s view.

As it flew near the ground it huffed and puffed, ignoring the fleeting people in favour of the one who had attempted to kill it.

———

When Roman first came vis-à-vis with the creature the day was still normal. Sun shining down upon the fertile valleys, a light breeze swaying the tall grass, birds chirping. An idyllic scene.

What had caught his attention were some dreadful noises, a loud tearing accompanied by an agonising wail.

As he walked towards the noise he unsheathed his sword. It wasn’t unusual to find deer being hunted down by wolves, a somber sight for sure, yet one the prince was accustomed to.

When he looked the beast in the eyes he swore he saw the devil himself. It immediately dropped the deer carcass and lunged forwards. Roman quickly fell to the side, covering his face. That was when the wind started to pick up and clouds darkened the otherwise clear blue sky.

Swiftly rising to his feet Roman swung his sword at the foul beast, barely grazing its right wing. That’s when all hell broke loose. The beast let out a loud growl, sending a shiver up the prince’s spine. It charged for him, missing him by mere millimetres.

At that moment Roman decided to run, he was woefully unprepared and wasn’t keen on being the monster’s main course. Before he could take two steps it threw him on the ground. Roman fell on his face, sword joining him on the floor in front of him. He could feel the blood run down his right cheek, as well as the mouthful of dirt he was assaulted with, but that was the least of his worries.

The hybrid pinned him down and got ready to bite his head clean off. Thinking on his feet (or rather his stomach) Roman reached for his sword and blindly lifted it above his head, successfully injuring the beast, if the moan of pain it let out was any indicator. That’s when he got a chance to run, quickly scrambling to his feet he took off.

When he approached the outskirts of his kingdom he started to yell for the people to run. Most of them had already realised something was wrong, since the weather had gone from a perfect sunny day to now the sky being nearly black and the wind shaking anything it collided with. The residents didn’t think twice before starting to flee, guards trying to organise them. Some offered to help but were quickly dismissed by their commander. Roman didn’t want any one of the townsfolk to be hurt.

———

Now Roman was battling against the strong wind and rain, trying to avoid any of the wreckage and flames, running despite feeling his legs ache with each step.

The beast was catching up with him, he could feel its stare on his back. That’s when he saw an opportunity open up, the thick, mile long, forest that separated his and his brother’s sides of the imagination. It was the perfect place to trap the monster, rendering its wings useless, and perhaps even turning them into a disadvantage.

The forest was dense, trees so close to one another the sky was no longer visible behind their leaves. Not many creatures lived here, apart from the occasional squirrel or bear. A place mostly inhabited by insects.

———

These woods were a place Roman knew like the back of his hand, able to navigate through the flora with ease. He manoeuvred through them, suddenly tripping over some newly fallen tree trunks. Turning around he came face to face once again with the beast.

It looked angrier than ever. As it went to bite down on his neck Roman expertly leaped out of the way, rolling behind a tall and broad tree stump. Noting the absence of his sword from his hands he felt scared. The sound of teeth and claws against metal filled the air with a final snap of the blade.

Picking up speed he sprinted away from it,his clothes tearing as branches caught onto the fabric. He could feel some of them pierce the top layers of his skin but he didn’t care. All he cared about was ridding the imagination from this thing.

———

Few minutes passed before the beast caught up with him again. As it charged forward Roman ducked, barely avoiding the hybrid and letting it collide with an incredibly tall tree. When he heard the light snapping sound of the bark he got an idea.

Whistling to lure the monster he started a game of chase with it, nearly avoiding its attacks, making sure they would always be followed by the cracking of the same tall tree. As the beast charged one last time Roman felt it lightly scratch him. Despite that the tree finally came down with a loud thud, trapping the beast by its right wing, seemingly knocking it out.

Approaching with care, Roman picked up a branch, poking it a few times. The beast continued to lay there motionless, was it even breathing? He took a sigh of relief before going to find something sharp to ensure it was gone for good.

———

Suddenly his knees gave out, causing him to fall flat on the ground. The world had started spinning, his head feeling heavy. As he looked down on himself he noticed the cause of this. A gash starting from just under his right pec, ending near the left side of his stomach.

It wasn’t incredibly deep yet it still bled quite a lot. The adrenaline coursing through his veins must have stopped him from noticing its severity, not to mention the pain he was already feeling from fumbling through bushes and crashing into branches.

He tried to reach a hand out, an attempt to press his clothing down on the wound, to try and stop the bleeding. His hand remained still by his side, unresponsive to the brain signals being send. Roman tried again, he couldn’t go like this.

A faint ringing echoed in his ears, his eyes feeling heavy. He shifted a bit backwards, resting his back against the length of the fallen tree’s trunk. His head lolled back, eyes fluttering closed.

‘Is this how it ends?’ Roman thought.

This couldn’t be it. He had to make sure the beast was dead, he…he did what he was supposed to! He fought and he tried his hardest. What would his people think? Would they mourn him or be disappointed he left them unprotected? What about the other sides? He didn’t even want to think of what they’d say when he didn’t come back home.

———

The sky had started clearing up, heavy rainfall coming to an abrupt stop. The sun shone through the leaves, creating intricate shadow patterns. Droplets of water slid down the leaves from high above, mimicking a light trickle.

Roman’s shirt had turned a mix of brown and red. Stained from both the dirt he had fallen down onto many times today as well as the blood leaking from his wounds.

———

A sudden noise surprised him. It took him a few moments before realising it came from him. A sob.

There were still things he wanted to experience, battles for him to fight.

A tear made its way down his cheek, eyes still shut, he let out a shuddering breath.

‘I can’t…I’ve got to make sure they’re safe…’ he thought, the world around him coming to a halt as his body relaxed.

———

The edges of the gash had started to scab over. Blood soaking his skin, once tan now turned pale. Hair damp with sweat and rain stuck to his forehead. The scar on his cheek had long stopped bleeding, ‘twas a simple scratch after all.

———

A slight rumble was heard echo through the forest. The beast must have still been alive. Roman couldn’t even open his eyes. He had to get up, finish his job.

As the world around him fell silent the last thing he heard was the snap of a branch and the guttural growl of the monster.

Notes:

Here ya go~ who knows…maybe I’ll make a second part…

(Feel free to have this be its own part and the second its separate story)

-ARedLemon

[multifandom-worlds]

My Dear General - Chapter 1: A Gift for the Tolan Empire

Genre: angst

Word Count: 1.4k

Warnings: Parent selling their child for profit, sex slavery (concubine), Creepy Thor, mean family members, harsh/derogatory language

Authors Note: I know those warnings are a lot, and if they drive you away, I understand! Basically themed in the middle ages when concubines were common. Also, this is not a reflection on how I feel about Thor, I promise! Don't come for me! If I missed any warnings, please let me know!

Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5

Tags: @sarahscribbles @simplyholl @holdmytesseract @otome-and-fanfiction @lokisgoodgirl @buttercupcookies-blog @lokiprompts @ladyofthestayingpower

She was sitting in the back of the carriage, watching as the countryside of nothing passed at a snail's pace. Astrid, accompanied by her three brothers, Alaric, Arne, and Aidous, travels by horse and carriage from their home to the city of Thovur in the Tolan Empire, where Astrid is to remain for the rest of her days as a peace offering from the Kingdom of Azailia to Emperor Thor of the Tolan Empire. Being the only daughter of King Malik, it was, as he put it, her duty to occupy the Emperor for the rest of his life - or hers - to ensure he does not threaten her Kingdom. 

Two of her brothers snicker at her, knowing exactly what she will endure. It did not matter that Astrid was the oldest of King Malik’s heirs, she was a woman, and thus, she was not worthy of the throne. Her brother’s paid her little respect - she simply was not wanted by her family. She herself suspected this was less about keeping the peace and more so just about getting rid of her completely. 

She ignored her brother’s taunting, deciding to focus her thoughts on Thor and imagining what he must be like. How would he look? Would he be kind to her or rough? Is he the ruler legends speak of, or would he be different? Her thoughts drift to the General - Loki. There are rumours about him being the most ruthless killer in the entire empire, but also that he is one of the most ruggedly handsome men. Her thoughts shifted once again, this time to the last words her father spoke to her.

“My dearest daughter, my firstborn. You will be sent as a peace offering to Emperor Thor; he will care for you and give you the life I cannot offer you. Go now, my child. Follow your destiny. Protect your people.”

The way he spoke made the kingdom believe she was sent to become his queen, but Astrid wasn’t stupid - she read the correspondences; Thor wanted a concubine who could bore him heirs and nothing more. She had hoped she would have no chaperone for this trip so she could escape before arrival, but her brothers sat across from her, hindering her chances. 

“Enjoy your gowns and fancy jewellery now, for once we arrive at the palace, you will be nothing, Princess.” She heard the oldest of her brothers, Alaric, say. The way he emphasized “princess” made her blood boil. He was mocking her, reminding her that she wasn’t going to be treated like a princess; she was going to be treated like a common whore. Arne laughed at her expense, thankful to finally be rid of their sister for good. Astrid closed her eyes, leaning against the seat, wishing for the journal to be over. 

They enter the city after several long hours on a bumpy road before the Tolan Army flanks the carriage on all sides, forcing the driver to stop. The most commanding voice Astrid had ever heard before began relaying orders; the words were barely audible above the whinnying of horses outside. One of the most beautiful brown horses Astrid had ever seen made its way to the front of the carriage, the rider obscured by the roof before he dismounted his steed and his face finally came into view.

The general.

“Everybody out of the carriage and identify yourselves, now!” He orders, his voice gruff and powerful. Alaric stepped out first, his two brothers stepping out directly after him. They stand before the carriage door, preventing Astrid from following the famed general’s orders. 

“Alaric sir, first prince of the Azailian Kingdom. These are my brothers, Arne and Aidous.”  

Loki clicks his tongue in annoyance. “The pretentious, overzealous, incompetent sons of King Malik, I should have known. What brings you to Thovur? You are a little far from home, boy.”

Alaric, in awe of Loki, continues speaking, undeterred by his insults, while his brothers share apprehensive expressions. “We are delivering our sister to Emperor Thor and collecting the gold payment. The Emperor is expecting us.” 

“I was unaware Malik had a daughter, although it does not surprise me that he would be one to sell his own child for partnership and protection during wartimes,” Loki spoke before glancing from the princes to Astrid, still in the carriage. “Step aside, or I will have you moved out of the way of the Princess.”

The three brothers immediately step to the side, not wanting to anger the general. Astrid tentatively steps down from the carriage, standing before Loki. Their eyes met briefly before Loki strides forward, bowing his head, the rest of the army kneeling, heads bowed. “Greetings, Princess. Welcome to Thovur.” Loki spoke before taking her hand in his and kissing it. Astrid blushes, this man was the first person in her life to treat her like this and sound genuine when addressing her as Princess. 

Her cheeks burn a fiery crimson before Arne speaks up. “With all due respect, sir, our sister is not worthy of such titles. She is nothing but a whore; she is to be the Emperor’s concubine; she does not deserve such treatment.” Astrid’s expression drops - her brothers must ruin everything for her. 

Loki turns his attention away from Astrid; his brows furrowed in anger as he levels his gaze on Arne. “Watch your mouth, boy.” He then turns his attention to Alaric and Aidous, placing his body between Astrid and her brothers. “Do you two share the same sentiments?” 

Alaric does not hesitate to agree while the youngest, Aidous, looks down at his shoes, avoiding the general’s piercing stare and shifting his weight awkwardly. Alaric, frustrated with the youngest’s non-answer, decided to answer for him. “Yes, he does.”

Loki, angered by the answers he received, turned to one of his soldiers before giving orders. “Escort these two….” Loki begins, gesturing to Alaric and Arne, “....back to their land; they are to go no further; I shall bring the 3rd Prince and the Princess to my brother myself. Now, get these revolting, vile, immoral “men” out of my sight.”

Two soldiers rise before taking Alaric and Arne by the arms and unceremoniously shoving them into the carriage before instructing the driver to turn it around. Another soldier leads Aidous to their horse while Loki turns back to Astrid, offering his arm to her. “You, my Lady, will be riding my horse; that way, I can personally ensure your safety.” 

Astrid cautiously takes his arm as he heads her to his horse, helping her on once they arrive. Once she was securely in the saddle, Loki took the reigns and began walking through the city to the palace. The townspeople bow their heads in utmost respect as the army passes through the streets, arriving at the palace gates.

Loki assists Astrid in dismounting before he escorts her and Aidous to the throne room, where Emperor Thor waits. “Ah, brother, how kind of you to accompany my newest breeder. She's even prettier than Malik wrote about. The fact he kept such a fertile flower hidden is a tragedy." 

He steps down from his throne before striding over to Astrid, running the back of his finger down her cheek. "You are going to give me such beautiful heirs. Why wait until tonight?" Thor spoke in her ear. Astrid visibly tenses up, clenching her eyes tight as Thor's hands move down further her body, failing to notice her discomfort.

But Loki does. 

His fingers clench into a fist, watching his oaf of a brother disrespect her. He spoke up, determined to buy the Princess sometime. "Brother, I fear you will have to wait, for you and I need to discuss expansion plans." 

"The fate of the empire rests upon me having heirs to take over. I do not need to remind you who is Emperor, brother. Go now, take the boy and escort him home; I will have a courier deliver payment for her once I determine her worth.” He spoke with authority, leaving no place to argue. Loki resigns, taking Aidous by the shoulder as Thor returns his attention to Astrid. Her screams could be heard echoing through the palace.

“I’m sorry, son,” Loki says, his voice genuine. “I tried to buy your sister some time but couldn’t. It is obvious you do not share your brothers' feelings for her. I give you my word; I’ll do what I can to keep her safe here; it’s best you return. I will give you one of our horses.”

Aidous looks back at the palace doors with a frown. “Thank you, sir. If she attempts an escape, please assist her.” 

“I will”