#DO YOU REMEMBER THE PROMISE YOU MADE ABOUT ICE ADO

[cuteteacakes]

OH, SO MAPPA DOES REMEMBER ITS GOLDEN CHILD🙎‍♀️

[chaoticsealover]

A tale of serpents and dragons:Prologue

Aemond Targaryen x Martell OC

Hello everyone! Hope you all are doing fine :) I'm just passing by to drop the next part of this fic: the prologue. I hope you like it as much as I do, and again, feel free to comment whatever your feelings are while reading it and of course, I accept any kind of constructive criticism that you may have. Without further ado, I let you enjoy the prologue :) Enjoy your reading!

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

Warnings: Curse words. Mention of ghosts. Mention of death.

Introduction |

King's Landing, 120 AC

The Red Keep silhouette towered over King’s Landing like a dragon, thought Nymeria, a big red dragon who has been converted into rock and forced to keep quiet and silent, with his roars and fire guarded into his stone heart. 

She has always dreamed of dragons: dragons that emerged from the sea, dragons whose wings were made of palms and flowers whose flight left a trace of jasmine scent, dragons whose throat threw out daggers of ice instead of fire, freezing everything around them when they passed by.  She didn’t remember when she started to dream about dragons, she just knew she did. It was something that has happened since she was a baby; at least it was something that happened since she can remember. Her father told her it was just a product of the stories her nana Sisi told her before sleeping, of dragons and gods, and of men who were closer to the realm of the gods than that of mankind.  But she didn’t agree with her father:  even if Sisi hadn’t told her those bed-time stories, she was sure her dragons were still going to come at her in dreams. It was inevitable. They were a part of her now. She didn’t tell her father that, of course, it would have just upset him, or worse, he would have called her childish. Although her father referred to her as child, affectionately by all means, she despised it. She was not a child. Well, maybe not an adult either, but she knew too much for being a child. She has devoured almost half of the library of the Old Palace. She now knew about flowers and plants, wild animals that lived beyond the wall, she knew about the philosophy of the great authors, and she even knew about how a woman came to be with children and the process of birthing (although that is something she preferred to store in the deepest corner of her mind and she vowed to never have children the first time she read about it).  Not only was she keen on learning the theoretical, but she was also versed in the art of the spear. Her father had initially wanted her to train with a sword, which she did for a time, but it bored her. Swords were harsh and cold, it didn’t feel like a companion to her. She knew how to handle it and how to use it, but it still didn’t feel like it was hers. But the spear, that was her calling. It was harsh too, but it was also graceful. The spear felt just like an elongation of her arm. The spear was hers as much as her own heart. 

She has convinced her father to let her bring her spear to King’s Landing with her after pleading to him for weeks and promising she would not cause any trouble with it. And there she was, sitting in her carriage, with Sisi to her left and her spear to the right.  Through the small windows she could see the streets crowded with people selling all kinds of products, from pigeon meat (which she hoped they would not serve for dinner) to wines imported from Dorne.  She knew they were closer to the Red Keep as Sisi was already combing her hair to look perfect and fixing her dress to “look like a western princess” she said. They have had arguments about this: why couldn’t she wear the dresses she wore at home? Or her fancy trousers she wore in the Old Palace when there was some important event? Her father had tried to explain to her how their customs were slightly different from theirs and that it would have been an offense for them if she would have appeared wearing those clothes there. Still Nymeria continued complaining about it with the hope to finally convince her father (as it always ended up happening) but this time it didn’t work as she was now wearing a not so comfortable pink toned dress with some intricate hair updo that was starting to give her headaches.   The narrow streets then opened to a square and they entered through the first doors of the Red Keep.  In her mind, when she entered the Red Keep there were going to be dragons flying around, dancing between them, spitting fire out of their mouths alongside their riders with silver hair and purple eyes who were almost gods. But what she found when they crossed the doors of the Red Keep wasn’t exactly as godly as she had imagined…

She stepped out of the carriage followed by her nana and stood next to her father just as she had been told. Her face must have been a mirror of her mind in that instant: there weren’t any semi-gods nor dragons, but in front of her stood an old man with blonde hair falling alongside the frames of his face and next to him a brunette woman with 3 silver-haired children. They definitely didn’t look like gods. The tall one looked like he has had 3 good nights of sleep in his entire life. Nymeria chuckled at her own thoughts. Next to him stood another boy, a little bit shorter than the other, with eyes that reminded her of the sea in Sunspear when her father let her go to the beach. But not a god, just a boy with pretty eyes she thought. The last one in line was a girl with long silver wavy hair. She had pretty hair, and a pretty face. But when Nymeria was to smile at her, she downed her eyes and left Nymeria with the impression she didn’t want to be her friend. How bored she was going to be if this was it. Maybe she could slip at night and go to the library to read. Or maybe she could convince her father to let her train with her spear and the other children.   Yes, she would do that. But when she was thinking about her spear, and the sea and the night getaways to the library, she was interrupted by her father.

“My daughter, Princess Nymeria Martell of Dorne”

This was the signal. She bowed as her father told her in front of, she supposed, was King Viserys. He looked old and tired, but had a warm smile on his face. He may not be the semi god she had wished to see, but he seemed nice at least and what one could hope for the gods to be kind at least? 

“My pleasure Princess Nymeria. I can still recall the first time I saw you when you were a baby” King Viserys' tone was tender and although his face was not the most pleasant to look at, his smile was kind and she found herself liking him more than she thought she would. 

“Well, I cannot quite remember it” the words flew out of her mouth without a second thought. She felt her father tense up next to her and it only took her a look at the Queen and the children's faces to see that her answer was not appropriate for the situation. After hesitating for a few seconds, she tried to fix her slight mistake by adding  “Your Grace”.

King Viserys burst out laughing and so his nervous father seemed to relax again and all of them let out little laughs “A fierce little one. I like this one”.

That same night Nymeria found herself in bed earlier than she was used to. Her nana Sisi has promised her that if she went to bed early, she could train with her spear the next day in the morning, otherwise, she would not have enough time for it. So, half happy and half resigned, she went to that big old wooden bed which made her feel like she was being swallowed by a whale. No matter how hard she tried to fall asleep, it was an impossible mission: she drank the glass of water on the nightstand, tried to focus on her sleep, and even tried to sleep with her head at the feet of the bed. But it proved to be a hopeless matter. Pissed at herself, she woke up and sat in a chair next to the window. King’s Landing was splashed with a million little lights in every corner and the noisy sounds of the capital were almost imperceptible. She kept looking through the window with the hope that one of the dragons came to greet her, and even maybe, he would let her touch him and then she would tell him about her dream dragons and how she waits for them every night to come back to her. But it never happened and she just kept looking at the infinite row of buildings and never-ending streets of the capital. How she wished that at least she could have a book right now… Well, maybe… maybe she could? She remembered how when talking with the king and telling him about her love of books, he had told her how her chamber was going to be next to the library, in the same part as the chambers of the rest of the royal family.

Nymeria quickly stood up and convinced about going on with this little adventure, she put on the silky robe that Sisi had packed from Dorne. It smelt like jasmine and orange blossom, and it reminded her of the long walks in the gardens of the Old Palace with her father. How she wished she was there now. But she wasn’t and she was in dire need of a book, any book, it didn’t even need to be a good one, just an entertaining one that would either keep her reading all night or otherwise, made her fall asleep in the first few pages. It would work anyway.  With this though in her mind, she cautiously opened the door of her room. To her surprise, the guard stationed there was peacefully sleeping like a baby, even a trickle of drool was falling from his mouth. Well, this was going to be as easy as stealing a lemon pie from Sisi’s tray. Carefully, she stepped out of the chamber and closed the door silently. Then, she walked down the hall following the vague instruction the king gave her.  According to his indications, the library was supposed to be at the start of the next hall, just a minute or so more walking. To her surprise, the halls were almost in complete darkness and although she prized herself to be brave, the truth was that all the haunting stories she had ever heard about the Red Keep were crossing her mind. Maegor the Cruel had killed every person who was working in the construction of the keep, so, maybe, their ghosts had stayed there forever to haunt the little girls who dared to escape their rooms at night. Her spear, she needed her spear. She would feel safe, if she had it with her, she could fight every enemy that she found in this gloomy hall. Suddenly, she heard a little crack behind her and she could swear she saw the shadow of a big man after her. Nymeria then found all the bravery and strength she could in her little body and ran till she was out of breath and could touch the doorknob of what King Viserys had told her it was the library. In an instant, she opened the door and closed it behind her. Nymeria could feel her heart in her chest; it was going so fast that she thought the entire keep could hear the pumping of blood through her veins. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath: she was at the library, she was just safe. It was in this instant when she heard a noise behind her and armed with all the courage she had left, turned ready to put up a fight with whatever was following her. She turned abruptly, and she was faced by the immensity of the sea of Dorne in those mornings after a storm. For a brief moment, she could swear she was at home looking at that same sea. 

But it was not the sea of Dorne which was in front of her, but the silver-haired boy with pretty eyes. His eyes were looking at her perplexed and Nymeria felt embarrassed about her attitude. She must have looked stupid. Like a lost little girl. She hated that. She was not a little girl anymore. They both keep looking at each other in silence, without speaking to each other. It’s awkward, though Nymeria, so she decided to speak up but before she could open her mouth to say anything, the boy pronounced some words.

“I didn’t know I was going to have company tonight” The boy hesitated for a few seconds before adding in a whisper “Are you okay… princess?” Nymeria felt her cheeks reddened and building up courage she answered as calmly and collected as she could.

“I’m sorry if I scared you, I was just looking for a book. They didn’t let me bring one from home” 

The boy looked at her, hummed and returned to the desk in which he was seated with a book. What was she going to do now? What was the correct thing to do? Stay and choose a book? Leave and do like anything has happened? Well, that would be even weirder than this. So Nymeria stayed and wandered about the library. The thing was that the library wasn’t even that big and even though she tried to disappear from the boy’s sight it was almost impossible. She tried to focus on looking at the titles of the books but all of them seemed to be pretty boring books about herbs or either way some old ragged books about laws. She didn’t know if it was better to have stayed at her chambers. At least she wouldn’t be in this situation with the boy with ocean eyes. 

“I don’t think you are going to like anything in that section. It’s pretty boring” The boy spoke up and Nymeria turned to face him “At least I don’t find anything there quite… entertaining”

Nymeria looked at him and his hair. It was frizzy, but the light of the candles made the silver of his hair look the same color as the sand of Dorne. He is pretty, she thought. How she has wished to look like that: silver-haired, blue deep ocean eyes. But no, she was there, with her common brown hair and her normal brown eyes. How boring she must look to him. How oddly ordinary she felt in that instant. But she was not going to show that to him. She may look ordinary, but she was a Martell with the blood of the Rhoynar and the first men.  Finding new and renovated confidence in her looks after all, she answered back.

 “Oh, then, what would you recommend Prince…? I’m sorry; I’m not quite good with names”

“Aemond, my name is Aemond” The little prince looked calm, as if he was not bothered at all by the fact that she didn’t know his name. Would she be mad if he didn’t know her name? Well, she couldn’t be, right? She didn’t remember his, but she felt like it would be nice if he at least remembered her name. She found herself wishing he remembered her name “I don’t know what you like, but I enjoy this one” He lifted up one of the books from the desk and Nymeria stood up next to him, she was so close she could almost touch him. 

“It’s about Old Valyria Princess Nymeria” He remembered her name. He knew who she was.  Not knowing why, Nymeria felt her cheeks heaten up again. What was happening that night to her? 

“Do you know about Old Valyria Princess?” She looked at his face, he looked thrilled, almost enchanted by those words. Of course she knew about Old Valyria, and about dragons, and about all the tragedies that have occurred there. She was fascinated by it. Sisi had told her everything about it, and even though she had the certainty the book couldn’t tell her anything she didn’t already knew about dragons and semi gods, she accepted the book in his hands.

“My nana Sisi told me about it. And about dragons and how their scales are even bigger than you and me” The little prince let out a little funny laugh.

“Well, some of them are not that big yet. Have you ever seen one?” 

“No” Her little eyes looked at him. She was lying to him: she has seen dragons. Her dream dragons. She knows their wings, and their eyes and she knows the smell of their burning hearts. Like blood. 

“My brother and my sister have one. And my nephews.  They are not that big” She could perceive a hint of resentment in his tone. Does he not have a dragon?

“And yours? How is your dragon?” The silence invaded the room for a few seconds. Nymeria was starting to think that maybe the question wasn't appropriate. Prince Aemond looked at her nervously.

“No, but I will have one”

His voice was clear but behind it a curtain of sadness veiled his face. She knew that sadness, that anger too. No one ever believed her about her dragons, which were all too real for her. She could touch them and fly with them, and they would answer to her voice. In that moment, she felt connected to that little boy who claimed himself to be a prince but inside he was just afraid of being little more than a kid. Just like her. He needed this future dragon, as well as she needed her dream dragons. They were just shadows of the tomorrow, of their own dreams and their own nightmares. They were children playing a game of chess they yet needed to understand. 

So she told him all about her dream dragons. Nymeria didn’t know why she trusted him, but she did. She knew he could have laughed at her, told her she was crazy, that it was just dreams. But he didn’t do that. He listened to her, like he cared about her dragons. His ocean eyes were staring directly at her, glistening with eagerness and hope and Nymeria felt the words fall out of her mouth, unable to stop. He understood her. That’s all she needed. 

That night, both kids sat there, in the middle of the library among books about love ballads, battles and wars telling each other stories about imagined dragons and unborn ones, unaware of their fates collapsing and intertwining together for the rest of eternity. They didn’t know at that moment, but Aemond Targaryen and Nymeria Martell would have many more nights together to talk about dragons and dreams. How they wished to have known at that instant years later. But isn’t that what always happens with time? It will always win the race.

TAGS: @blue-serendipity

[shidouryusm]

THE SKY WILL BE FULL OF STARS

Pairing: Iwaizumi Hajime x f!reader.

Content: Fluff, Iwa being a softie, them having lots of love

Warning: Slight making out, suggestive teasing by reader (only once I guess).

A.N: I found inspiration to write this yesterday at 2:30 a.m , as I was sitting on my balcony and seeing the dead silence of night. Hope you guys like it.

The night emanated a calming aura. Every now and then, soft breeze would blow through, caressing your face and cooling down your body. It was a soothing feeling. The Tokyo city was still bustling through, but none came towards the balcony of the apartment you resided. A comfortable silence was blanketed thoroughly. You loved nights like this so without further ado, you picked your lemon iced tea and and played a soft lofi music while you sat on the balcony floor. You looked above to take in the sky. A dark navy blue canvas filled with thousands of glittering constellations. It seems as though somebody flicked a paint brush dipped in white and created this beautiful scenery.

You took a sip of your tea, enjoying it contently and closed your eyes. The mind took a trip down to the memory lane and parked in the right spot. You reminisced about a similar night like this, years back and smile. Surely the night sky had looked like this way back.

“Babe?” a voice broke your trance and you see the big figure of Iwaizumi Hajime shadowing at the threshold of the balcony.

You look around to see him properly. He just came from the shower. The little towel hanging from his neck, he removed the towel and placed it in the drying rack. He patted your head gently and asks,

“What are you doing out here, baby? Its a bit chilly.” 

“Nothing much. Just taking in the night view. Come and join me in here, baby” You say, tugging him with you. He smiles as he swept over the threshold and sat down at the tiled floor. Hajime positions himself behind you and pulled you closer to him. 

He took in the view like you did. It was a comfortable neighbourhood in Tokyo city and it sure had been a little costly. But thanks to your and Iwas job, both of you had been able to enjoy this little luxury. You moved your head behind and rested it on Iwas shoulder. You took in his scent. Fresh from shower with a dash of citrus. Humming in content, you stayed at this position for a while.

After a few peaceful moment of staying like this, Iwa moves his hands, one had snaked around your waist, pulling you flush against him and the other hand slowly caressed your cheek. You leaned into his touch and kissed the palm of his hand. This sudden move made him jerk a little bit in surprise, causing you to lift your head.

“Hey, what happened? You okay” you ask, worry laced in your voice. But soon the worry is masked by your laugh as you see him blushing till the tip of his ears. It was his ever-so-familiar little shock at your affection and kisses. You hadn’t seen this kinda reaction from him in ages.

“Oi, don’t do it like-” he huffs and you just chortle at his words.

“Iwa, please. I haven’t seen this reaction since high school and its been 2 years of our marriage, for crying out loud. Why are you so flustered like you haven’t seen the whole of me before” you say and laugh. He seems to grow even more red. He huffs again and mumble,

“yeah, still...”

You move closer and place a kiss on his cheek, you hand moving up to play with his hair and the nape of his neck. You move to place another kiss on his lips, then jaw and again moving back to his soft lips, ghosting your own against his. He leans in and connect his lips with yours, moving in a rhythm. Cradling your face between his hands and deepens the kiss. Teeth clashing occasionally. He removes one hand and pulls you by your waist, closer to him till there’s no space, soon it gets a bit sloppy as he leans in even more to the point of dipping you.

Who would have tell, this was the same man who became a  flustered tomato just from a hand kiss, few moments back? 

You pull away, breathing again. A little giddy from the ministration. He smirks at you being like this and said,

“Guess I still have this power over you, brat” he says while nosing your cheek and pecking it.

You nudge at his shoulder and he pulls you closer again, placing your head back where it was.

“Hey, Iwa. You remember it was a starry night like this when we first sneaked out of house at night to meet.”

“hmmm...although there wasn’t any reason for us to do. We met at school the next day, anyways.”

“You have been a buzzkill since birth and even God can’t help it. That was amazing for us. Although we just talked our way through, I remember”. You said indignantly.

“Yeah, cause I was too nervous for anyone to see and recognise us” Iwa confesses. You gasp in surprise.

“Really? Hajime, the fearless? Scared to make a move?” You mimicked his voice.

“Shut up, you” He hides his face at the crook of your neck and huffs a bit, tickling you.

You laugh and move your hand to comb his damp spiked up hair. Hearts beating in sync. You then whisper your hidden confession of that night.

“You know, Hajime, that was the night, I realised I’m neck deep in love with you and decided I’ll marry you. I had promised to the stars of the sky.

He looks up, hearing your confession. His olive green eyes reflecting against yours, playing the memory, 12 years back.

A more or less night like this, a sky full of the blinding stars, above the two teenagers who discovered love and silently made the same promise of spending their life together.

Iwa rested his forehead against yours. You gave out sigh. A sigh that portrays the comfort between you two. You stayed like this, feeling each other and time stretched to eternity.

The sky will be full of stars and you would still fall short to say thanks to each of them, for merging your life with Iwaizumi Hajime. 

He could feel his eyes become glassy as he admires your beauty. 

The sky will be full of stars and Hajime would still fall short to say thanks to each of them, for having you as his significant other, his better half.

How he had found solace in you. How patient you had been. How you always contribute to give him the same comfort that he always tries to give you. The person who is a strong reflection of himself. That person is you. And would always be you.

The sky will be full of stars and both of you would still fall short to say thanks to each of them, for having each other and spending the life together.

Manifesting this teenage dream into a beautiful reality.

Reblogs are highly appreciated

This was something I wrote and cried simultaneously  cause Iwaizumi Hajime isn't real.

[belit0]

Caught in the Act

sharinganslut

can you like have madara ruining your shit and tobirama and hashirama come in and catch you (female reader) thank you i’m just a slut😀 and fuck anon i want people to know i’m horny

We are all horny ppl when it comes to the Uchiha. I fucking support you a lot, I’m like that but with Indra

Rating: E

Pairing: [Uchiha Madara / Fem Reader]

Additional Characters: [Senju Hashirama] [Senju Tobirama]

Tw: Domination, Degrading, Roughness, Some Praising

“Tell me why do I have to be here when this is a favor requested of you?

"Because if I have to suffer Hashirama’s lack of intellect, you as my lover will too. Now find that man’s fucking coat so he can stop bothering me.”

It’s nothing new to witness the leader of the Senju lose and forget his Hokage dressing gown, but it’s something that always causes great annoyance to the leader of the Uchiha. Outraged at his old friend’s lack of responsibility, when Hashirama asks him to help find it for him, Madara only avoids exploding in the air because he knows it’s a good excuse to spend time with you and not working.

“I could be taking a nap at home… Or having some sweet jasmine tea while thinking about the beautiful face you make when you get angry… Maybe even eating something while I remember your muscles on me and- ”

“You’re walking on thin ice, [Y/N]. Shut up and look.”

With a tense posture, Madara passed by you, heading to check out the different rooms of his best friend’s house. Imitating his action, you took a different route from him, and searched the other end of the big building.

Sliding the door of Hashirama’s main room, you hit the target first. On the large two-person bed, stretched out, red and immaculate, lay that piece of cloth that gave reason to your lover’s grumpiness.

Entering the bedroom, you slid your hand over the material, feeling the softness in your fingertips. A mischievous urge attacked your mind, and a great idea to provoke Madara suddenly struck you.

Quickly, to prevent him from catching you in the act, you put on the Hokage garment, which was considerably large. Hashirama was monstrously tall, so the cloth touched the floor and dragged over it when you slid it over your shoulders.

Laughing weakly, you looked at yourself in the mirror on one of the walls, and found that the cloth was not at all flattering in your form. Even more tempted, you tried to keep your composure, and prepared for the stampede that would come upon you in a minute.

“Dear! I found it! But there’s something wrong with it, hurry up up and come have a look!”

After a second, you heard Madara’s footsteps approaching the room where you were, and the anticipation in your chest began to grow. Suddenly, you regretted your stupid joke a little. Walking down the corridor, you heard him talking, without even reaching the door.

“What do you mean by something wrong? If you did something to that damn piece of trash I swear that-”

Posing, you surprised him with a… great… idea. With both arms in the air and over your head, you put on the best smile of satisfaction that your features could have had at his reaction, and despite the growing anxiety in your stomach about his glance, you rejoiced for a second in the situation.

Yes, one second.

From the door frame, the Uchiha was paralyzed by the image you offered to him. His eyes had quickly changed from a deep black colour to a bright red, with an unnerving dancing pattern in them, characteristic of Mangekyōu.

His shoulders were stiff in their stance, his chest was forced up and down by clearly strained breathing, his biceps were increasingly inflated with every second that passed thanks to the two fists he held tightly on either side of his body.

His hair began to bristle, and the tension in the air became extremely heavy. Not brave enough to speak or look him in the eye, you put your hands together in front of your legs, bent your shoulders and your head. Reducing your size as much as possible, as if trying to make yourself invisible to Madara’s terrifying gaze, you waited for the inevitable.

With the voice that made your blood run cold and your hair stand on end, he spoke, intimidating from across the room.

“What… are you… doing… with… that…”

“I-I-”

A grunt erupted from his chest, deep and serious, animalistic, making you exult when it hit your ears. Without courage, you continued to stare at the ground.

“That… belongs… to him.”

You nodded, hoping that your good behavior would calm the beast in front of you.

“You… are… not… his…”

Another nod.

“So, tell me… WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THAT?”

“I-IM S-SORRY-Y”

“Look at me.”

Trembling and in your reduced form, you raised your head reluctantly, staring at those terrifying red orbs. Suddenly, all you wanted to do was take off that dressing gown once and for all, show Madara that it was a foolish mistake.

“Who is your owner?”

“Madara-Sama.”

You said it without hesitation, quickly after his question, which generated a slight smile of satisfaction on the Uchiha’s face. Crossing his arms over his chest and looking at you over his nose, he continued.

“Are you mine, or are you his [Y/N]?

"I am all yours Madara-Sama.”

“Kneel before me.”

“Look what a pathetic bitch you are, dressed in that shit, taking my orders without a problem… Tell me [Y/N] Why should I fuck you right now?”

Knowing your man’s habits, you answered.

“Because I’m a stupid little whore who needs your cock right here, right now. Please Madara-Sama, don’t deny it to me, I need you inside my tight pussy.

"Oh well, really? If my slut is so desperate for my dick, you leave me no choice but to give you what you ask for.”

“Please sir.”

“Come here.”

On all fours, knowing what turns him on, you crawled to his feet, where you sat back on your knees and looked at him from below.

“Use your filthy little mouth.”

Obeying his orders, you rose to the height of his hips. Biting the waist of his trousers, you captured the cloth between your teeth, and with experience you lowered it strongly to his ankles.

“What a talented little pup, an expert in doing everything without hands… Go on”

Smiling slightly at his compliment, you repeated the action, but in his underwear, revealing a semi-erect limb, which promised to harden with little effort.

“No hands, or I’ll have to take them off.”

Faced with Madara’s threat, you understood that it was better to stick to his rule than to challenge him, and you introduced his penis into your mouth, maneuvering your head at a strange angle.

Working at a steady pace, his member became rigid in a matter of a couple humid strokes and your task became easier. Moaning at the situation generated by a foolish prank, you devoured your man’s cock with hunger.

After a few minutes in the same rhythm, Madara needed a speed boost, and he grabbed your hair. Combing it into his grip while breathing heavily thanks to your supplies, he held it with one of his big hands, forming a ponytail. With the new security of the hairstyle, he was able to use your hair as a handle to press your head harder against his length. As your nose hit his pelvis and your throat begged for a break, you placed both hands on his thighs, trying to free yourself from his hold.

At that moment, he stopped all activity dead on, but did not allow you to free your mouth. Even with his limb inside your moist cavity, he moved away from you a little to stop the pressure at the bottom of your throat, and spoke.

“I said without hands [Y/N]… Did your hunger for my dick cloud your mind? No problem, I told you that I would take care of it if necessary.”

Without further ado, he took your wrists and held them above your head, fully stretching your arms. Releasing your hair, he gave you the freedom to move as you wished, but now your upper limbs were minutes away from losing circulation and falling asleep, which was a big pain in the ass.

Because that’s what Madara is really like, a big, big pain in the ass.

Taking up your task, you put your best effort to make him cum just with your mouth. Moaning over his member, your pussy was dripping from him to hear him talk, on the verge of his orgasm.

“Oh [Y/N] don’t you dare stop, keep it up, you beautiful obedient whore. Eat my whole cock like it’s all you need, I want to fill that naughty little slut’s mouth with all my cum”.

“Agh… -gasp- [Y/N] -gasp- I’m… I’m…”

A shot of hot liquid hit the bottom of your throat, while you felt his limb throbbing inside your cavity. Swallowing everything he had to offer, you dutifully waited for his release to end.

“What a good puppy… I think you’ve earned the benefit of being rewarded. Take it all off.”

With a broad smile coming from his compliments, you did what he asked, standing completely naked in front of him.

“Put Hashirama’s coat back on.”

Without wanting to contradict him and make him angry again, you took the garment from the floor and dressed it on your naked body, looking at him with curious and expectant eyes.

“In bed, lying on your stomach.”

Putting yourself in the right position, you waited.

“Show me that beautiful ass of mine, rise it up.”

Following his demand, and with your stomach still leaning on the bed, you positioned your legs over your knees, providing an easy entrance for Madara. What you did not expect, is that the Uchiha would continue with his jealousy whim.

Taking Hashirama’s gown in both hands, he tore a hole where your cunt was, accessing it through the fabric instead of removing it from your body.

“MADARA! WE ARE SUPPOSED TO TAKE THIS TO HASHIR- ”

Two fingers were inserted mercilessly inside you without warning, moving towards a specific point that made you moan suddenly.

“You will not say another man’s name when you are giving yourself to me you naughty whore.”

An overpowering spanking hit your skin covered by cloth, making your whole being vibrate.

“Tell me [Y/N], tell me whose pussy is this.”

“…M-Mad-dara’s!”

A third finger entered you, moving at an overwhelming frequency. A second spanking hit your buttock before he spoke again.

“You don’t sound very convinced… I’m going to ask you again. Who is the owner of this pathetic little cunt?”

“MADARA-SAMA!”

His tongue attacked your slit for a few long seconds, before inserting his fingers back into you accompanied by more spanking.

“PLEASE MADARA I BEG YOU.”

“What is it [Y/N]? What does my slut want?”

“I NEED YOUR COCK INSIDE ME, DON’T TEASE ME ANYMORE, PLEAHHHG… -gasp-”

He got into you firmly, using your fluids as sufficient lubrication to slide in. Hashirama’s coat soon found itself soaked in the body liquids flowing from the union between the two bodies, with the hole in the fabric being the main factor in allowing penetration.

Lost in the pleasure of both, drowning in moaning and heat, neither of you noticed when the front door opened and closed, when footsteps sounded down the hall, or when two pairs of curious and surprised eyes stopped to look at the scene unfolding before them.

“M-Madara?”

The Uchiha slammed on the brakes, being able to recognize that voice anywhere. Not coming out of you, he faced the gaze of Hashirama and Tobirama.

Understanding the situation, you refused to face those men, and hid your face in your arms and the leftover cloth, holding your eyes and hoping that the shame would soon be over.

“This… well…"

Without noticing it, his pelvis moved involuntarily towards you, hitting a spot with his member just inside you and making you moan in front of the two brothers.

Tobirama blushed completely, coughing uncomfortably and looking away, while Hashirama seemed not to care at all.

"Is that my dressing gown?

"Yes… we found it…”

“Oh well… oh well… I’ll send you the ticket later… Shall we go Tobi?”

“But brother! They are using your bed, they broke your clothes, they desecrate your room! You should say something to that damn Uchiha instead of…”

A growl of fury escaped from inside Madara, who was still inside you, when Hashirama interrupted before a fight broke out.

“Now, now, Tobi, you’ll understand when you stop being a virgin… come on, there’s a new tea shop I’m really dying to try!”

“HASHIRAMA!”

The front door soon opened and closed again, and at the same time, Madara took his overwhelming step over you, thanking his beautiful friendship with Hashi from the heart.

[noocturnalchild]

A Ruined Movie Night

pairing : Modern!Ben Solo X Modern!Rey

Rated : Teens and up

Word count : 1K

No warnings. Just small silly writing...

This is the first piece I write for this fandom...

Hi I'm back... dunno XD

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

“Can I sit by your side, Ben?”

Rey tried to make it sound as casual as she could manage, and she regretted even asking. She could just take her seat casually by his side, like friends do, after all, didn’t she?

“I charge by the hour”

He seemed unbothered, face focused on the action scene that broke out suddenly and she took advantage of his moment of inattention to move carefully on his side of the sofa.

“Prick, move your ass.”

Ben swallowed as she sat beside him. She was wearing that sweater he liked so much. With the three buttons on the back, starting from the collar down her neck. They were so tempting, these little three buttons, like round little candies wrapped in mauve, begging to be popped.

Ben aggressively dumped a handful of kettle corn in his mouth.

“Easy, angry bear! We haven’t even made It to the first half of the movie. Think about your smaller forest raccoon friend.” She leaned to grab some popcorn from the box on his lap and he ducked, swiftly lifting the box out of her reach, hiding it behind the sofa arm.

“Raccoons are cocky thieves, they say.”

“Bullshit !” She shouted, “They are the most ado-“

“Hey! Look, you made me miss how they blow up that ship!” Ben’s scream was tainted with laugher. “Can’t you keep still for a moment? Jesus!”

“And they are cute! AND you are definitely the one ALWAYS fidgeting in your seat! If my sofa could talk, I’m sure it would fill salty complaints against your flat ass!”

“My flat what?!” Ben mumbled curses under his breath.

“I can HEAR you.”

“I know.” he smiled.

They fell into a comfortable silence again, before Ben put the popcorn box in her lap, casually not moving his hand off.

“Just a precaution, forest thief.”

She gave him a faux dirty side look, followed by a lopsided smile as they refocused on the space opera playing on the screen.

Warmth flooded Rey’s space and she relaxed, limbs limp and head empty, lids heavy with sleepy comfort. His hand and technically, half of his arm were still on her lap. Damn, the man was warmer than her central heating. She wondered if he was conscious, or if people noticed. If his other friends teased him about it, if his exes…she chastised the latter thought, and corrected her stance. She was leaning a bit too much into his shoulder, she noticed as a dull pain started to numb the nape of her neck.

Rey tried to crack her neck a number of times, wincing at the pain that didn’t seem to lessen, but to increase. She sighed in discomfort, touching the painful place to find it ice cold. Fuck her premature cervical arthrosis.

“You alright?” Ben seemed to watch her for a while now.

“Yeah, just a light neck pain, 8 hours at Plutt’s do that to you.”

“Doesn’t seem to be light, to me.”

“I told you it’s ok.”

“No, it’s not, look at your face, your wince looks like a that of middle age martyr on a burning stick!”

“History nerd. I don’t look like that.”

“A constipated raccoon then.”

“Ok, I have arthrosis.”

“What?”

“As I told you, dumbass.”

“Are you 80 or something?”

“You idiot, it has nothing to do-“

“I know, I know that wasn’t funny. Where does it hurt?” Ben paused the movie.

“The nape of my neck, mostly…”

“It worsens when it’s cold huh?”

“Yes, exactly, and today was just…”

“Yeah, let me check if we forgot one of the windows open or something.”

“Yeah fine.” She winced again at the loss of heat when he moved to check the windows.

When Ben came back, he found her literally crumpled on herself, arms wrapping around her and shivering.

“What? I leave you one second and you transform into a snail?”

“Fuck you Solo.”

“Closed the kitchen window. You’re welcome.” Ben flopped down back into the sofa beside her, making her bounce in her place.

“Slow, I’m sick.”

“It’s your neck that’s hurtin’ not your ass- You fucking finished the popcorn!” He exclaimed at the empty box lying neglectfully now at her feet and she shrugged, not sorry the slightest.

“I’d crack you neck good if it wasn’t already fucked.”

“You’re rude!”

“Let me finish the movie, you should too.”

A few minutes later …

“Feelin’ any better?” Ben paused the movie again.

What a ruined movie night, Rey thought as she shook her head, eyeing the empty second popcorn box. In the end, none of them was really focused on the events anymore.

“Nah, to be honest. I’m so done.” She sighed.

“You should try heat patches.” Ben talked seriously now, concern visible in his chocolate eyes.

“Too tired to go and try this now, just wanna zone out on that couch when the movie is over, eugh.”

She slumped further onto the cushions. her cheeks were so red, and her hair all tousled and messy and he found himself staring and starring, a bubble of tenderness swelling in his chest at the sight before him.

“Ok, we can try something else…” words fled his mouth before he could catch them.

“Liiiike?” She pinched her brows, confused.

Ben showed her his hand.

“I… don’t… understand” she said slowly. Ben sighed, a pretty blush raised to his cheeks. In the faint light coming from the Tv, he hoped it wasn’t that obvious.

“Can …can I put my hand on the nape of your neck?”

Rey was dumbstruck for a second or two, looking at him with round eyes and Ben felt so stupid, the stupidest he felt for a while, to say the truth.

“Please?”

No, now he felt like the dumbest creature in the galaxy.

What kind of earthly idiot would ask their roommate to use their hand as a heat patch? Ben wished they’ve already created that damn time machine so he could hide his shameless face in the past and disappear from history, once and for all.

But here she was, surprise flipping to impish amusement. In her eyes was a flame twinkling in the feeble light of their small living space.

“Ok” her response came against all odds, and he had to metaphorically reboot to register it.

“Ok” Rey said again, no hesitation in her voice whatsoever, eyes wide open. Was he mistaken somehow, or was that a smirk she was giving him now?

No, she must be as stupid as him, that’s the only explanation.

“Hey, Venus to Mars? Ben?”

“Oh, hello”

Idiot.

“You offered. I’m waiting” she said firmly, an exaggerated grimace as she turned slightly, offering the base of her neck to him, pointing at it impatiently.

“Of-of course”

Hesitantly, Ben reached out, but before he could take his time playing his stupid self, Rey took his hand and pressed his palm resolutely on her soring spot, instantly groaning in relief.

“Fuck Ben, that’s definitely one of your rarest good ideas” She flexed her neck again, hand always grasping his, keeping it firm against her skin, like to absorb the maximum heat.

He should have thanked heavens she kept her eyes closed; his face resembled more that of a clown now, he knew. He had to return to cool Ben, have a grip on his running thoughts. He coughed a little.

“Oh, It’s uncomfortable?” Rey opened her eyes finally, seeming to realize he was struggling with their current position. She released his hand.

“No, just…just turn around... we could just sit like we were and you can use my hand as a neck pillow as much as you want”

“ So generous when you feel like it” Rey teased and the sparkle in her eyes returned. Ben really struggled to pull himself off the searing feeling he was lost in all of a sudden as his chest expanded with unfamiliar bubbles.

“Huh, guess so” he replied vaguely, still pretty much distracted by the placement of his hand on her skin. Damn, he had to find conversation, and soon. Silence wasn’t an option now.

Fuck. Make it awkward Ben, that’s it.

Ah right, the movie. Ben reached for the remote and pressed resume.

The sound of spaceships explosions echoed in the tiny living room walls. Rey and Ben both jolted in their place. They didn’t even remember putting the movie on pause in the midst of that action, mind on other matters. They both burst into laughter when the first shock subsided and Rey leaned a little bit onto him. She was visibly feeling better now. Her muscles seemed relaxed and warm and she looked…genuinely happy. Ben wished the smile he saw then on her face to never fade away. He promised himself that it wouldn’t, as long as they were together.

“So…Ben…” Rey sweetly sang-song after some moments of silence. “Since today is the day I apparently entered in your good graces … remember that little favor I asked you about …the history exam?”

Fucks sake. Not that. Now. That was too good to be true.

“No, Rey. Happens that I don’t remember that.” Ben refrained from rolling his eyes. He actually remembered well her very specific request to get help from him, and no, not to study...but to cheat.

Rey sighed, dramatic.

“At least I tried.”

“You should rather try and study, for a change.” Ben said firmly, trying and successfully hiding his amusement behind a frown, one of his stern ones.

It was almost comical now; the number of times she tried to get him to help her cheat on an exam, begging, bribing, without results, but never backing down. Typically Rey, he thought with fondness.

“So how long are we staying like this, anyway?”

“Just a lil bit mooore. next time think twice before you offer” Rey whined.

“You little scrounger” Ben mumbled between his teeth.

“I heard you!”

“I know” and he smiled.

[sokkisky]

~brightest bird~

Want to make a request?: https://forms.gle/NyZgUcqkCPzHRvVn6

Want a short quick post?: https://sokkisky.tumblr.com/ask 

Rating: SFW (Angst, Fluff) 

Pairings: Keigo Takami (Hawks) x Winged Y/N 

Contains: Mentions of injury/loss

A/N: I honestly don’t think I’ve written much action scene, so this might be a first lol. The request reads as such. 

Jesus I’m blowing you up ok LAST ONE I PROMISE THIS IS THE LAST ONE so can I request a hawks x reader with the same wing quirk as him but a villian attack broke out they both had to respond and hawks wings were about to get burnt out but instead she sacrifices herself and loses her wings instead angst to fluff with a fluff ending please :>

So thank you so much @waffleareniceandfluffy​ for the request, it’s adorable and thanks for the continued love and support. Guys please always remember to take care of yourselves and be kind to yourselves, treat yourself today! And without further ado, enjoy!

“He’s gonna blow again!” 

“Watch out!” 

“Move!” 

~~~

Keigo loved your wings. Your wings were big, like his but they shone a beautiful yellow. They seemed brighter than the sun at times, the light shining from your feathers. Your quirk was like Keigo’s in that you could control your feathers, but they couldn’t leave the wing like Keigos. 

They’d shine. 

They could shine brightly or dimly, depending on what you made them do, and each individual feather was like this. Your quirk was beautiful, but able to blind anyone if need be. No wonder you were a rescue hero. You were perfect for the job. You easily guarded the ones in trouble flashing away any enemies. 

You were the number 11 hero afterall, the greatest rescue hero of all time. The people loved you, always coming up to you in the streets and talking about you. Next to Hawks you seemed to be the most beloved with the people, and there was endless talk about you two being the best duo in the city.

When you’d come home from a long day he’d sit next to you, watching your wings as you made them glow in beautiful patterns. “You are always gonna be the brightest bird, songbird” he’d say as he straightened your feathers, or flew alongside you to work everyday. He was allured by your wings, his eyes never leaving them sometimes as he just stared at your beauty. Not to mention when they’d glow and they’d illuminate your face. He adored it, your skin blended perfectly in your magical quirk. 

Which is why you knew he’d hate the decision you made. 

~~~

The villains were running mad and you, working alongside Hawks and other pro heroes, worked to get everyone to safety and arrest the Villains. You rushed people to safety as the villains and heroes fought before the heroes started squaring off with each villain. 

Hawks ended up with a darkened mist quirked villain. One who could make shredding dark winds with his quirk and despite being in broad daylight, they were strong. He was one of the worst villains nowadays having planned this whole attack. There was no way Hawks’ wings could stand up to his mist if he used it. 

And that’s what he did. 

“Hawks! Watch out!” 

You turned, someone having called out to your husband. You looked in horror as a dark cloud of heavy winds enveloping him. “It’s a dark barrier, we’d need an intense light to disperse it!” someone shouted.  The winds were strong Hawks’ feathers being forced away from the wing from the speeds. You couldn’t faintly see his form get pushed to the ground as he was caught off guard. He looked around, his crimson wings pulsating from the shredding winds. You watched him struggling on the concrete to find a way out. 

Dispelled by light? 

Without thinking you rushed in standing in front of him your wings spread out wide and shining brightly, a spectacle for anyone to see. The wind burned against your back as the swirling widened but weakened around the two of you. 

You wanted to scream but you held up as best you could. 

“Baby bird?” you heard a confused shout from behind you, but you stood forward, all your energy pressing towards the darkened winds. You worked hard, trying to make your wings glow as bright as they could. Your back began to feel lighter before the light glowed so bright it looked from a distance as if the sun had engulfed you all. Villains, heroes, bystanders, everyone alike. 

After a moment the light went away and the darkened wind villain laid defeated on the ground, but the light was gone. It was complete silence and you felt something was wrong. You tried to fly up, check the area, 

But you couldn’t. 

You flapped your wings but nothing moved. You reached your hand back before you felt, nothing. Nothing there. Panic set in as you turned around yourself but realization hit you.

They were gone. Your wings were gone. 

It took you a minute before you turned back to Hawks who looked up at you, a mix of sadness, worry, and pain in his eyes. “They’re gone..” he murmured quietly. You felt your eyes well up with tears. You watched as the heroes gathered everyone up to safety and arrested the villain but Hawks moved to his feet in front of you. “Baby…” he said softly, and you couldn’t help but move to his chest, sobbing in his arms over it. He held you close, his head buried in the crook of your neck as you sobbed. You almost thought you could feel small tears escape his eyes but you were so wrapped up in despair you couldn’t tell for sure. Your legs felt weak and your body felt not only emotionally exhausted but physically as well. 

But you were a rescue hero, and you did your job. 

~~~

The next few weeks were torture from the extensive media coverage to your departure from your agency. You left, although they said you could stay, because you feared not only the press but you didn’t feel like a hero anymore. 

You’d given up on your title and didn’t go out, curling beside your old hero costume that you refused to wear. You just cried, a darkness forming around you as your life seemed to crumble and fall apart piece by piece. Breaking off into terrible endless tears. 

Every night Keigo would do his best to comfort you, hold you and give you kisses, however you felt a slight tinge of envy whenever you saw his wings. You missed yours, they were big and beautiful and had always been a part of you. 

Not to menton a lot of the times you felt empty. Going through your day as a shell of your once self, losing bits of your once happy and outgoing personality bit by bit. You forgot what it felt like to smile, how to laugh, and it seemed that no joke or happy story could brighten your day. 

Sometimes you’d stare into the mirror, looking at your back and at the discolored skin where your wings had once been. You couldn’t believe they were gone. It all felt like a bad nightmare as you watched your reflection cry back at you. 

~~~

You watched your old hero videos all day, eating a tub of ice cream while past you happily fended off attackers from the citizens, protecting men women and children alike. You missed your job, and you felt alone. All alone and in the dark. 

 You heard the front door opening, Keigo stepping inside. He looked at you and sighed, walking over to you and shrugging the blanket off your shoulders. You turned to look at him, the ice cream spoon halfway tucked between your lips. 

“Come on songbird, I have a surprise for you.” he said softly, lifting you off of the couch. 

You turned to him, confused as the night time darkness outside settled in. You followed him out of the penthouse apartment and onto the roof, overlooking a city. 

But it was dark. 

You looked around, “What’s going on?” you asked him, staring out into the darkness. He smiled and held you close. “I know you’ve been feeling really down, and being the number 11 hero, I pulled some strings and we wanted to show you how amazing you are.” he said softly, his arms wrapping around your waist. “Ive been working on it for a few weeks with a million times more help. You looked at him confused. 

“What time is it songbird?” he asked you, and you pulled out your phone. 

“10:59,” you responded.

You were more than confused, why were all the building lights off, the only lights in the city were the few illuminating the city streets, yet no cars drove by. They were the only lights that were, until the city illuminated itself. 

You gasped. 

A large display of bright wings laid out across the landscape, the darkness fleeting when a brightly filled shape of wings spread across the cityscape. People cheered, clapping and shouting your name, some took to the streets and music began to play as drones from above caught pictures of the whole outlook. You could feel yourself begin to tear up as the people praised you and cheered and celebrated. 

You turned to Keigo who was supporting a large happy grin. 

“You are still our hero songbird, still number 11, still the greatest rescue hero of all time, and you forever be the brightest bird.”

[free-boundsoul]

Yeah. Exactly. I wonder if shifters know how connected they seem to people on the outside looking in. Well, when you put it like that, I guess we’re in the same boat, but also poised to help each other!

Well, maybe I have more important things to do than be your own private human dictionary. Have you ever thought of that, Freelancer? Oh, good good good. So I’m not the only one who was skeptical that they died? I’m kinda relieved. I thought I was just grasping at straws.

When you put it like that, maybe it might be more likely than I thought that a cat would come up to me. I do run hot. Plus, maybe I could borrow a few of those treats you offered earlier? Just as, y’know, insurance. And hey, if you go, perhaps another cat will choose you. Does Eren play nice with others?

Hmm. That’s an interesting offer, Freelancer. I guess we could arrange that. Purely for gathering data, of course. Not because it might be fun. You probably snore. Aww, that must’ve seemed magical for you as a kid. Even though it means that you didn’t get a picture to capture the moment, maybe you’re better off not having a smartphone at the time. You got to be in the moment and capture it in your mind’s eye without distractions or pressure or thinking about how you’re going to show it to other people. You were there fully, completely, and now you get to always have that. Barefoot in the snow? Oh hell, Freelancer. The thought is enough to make my toes fall off! You need some self-preservation.

Should we do a matinee or an evening showing? Oh, enemies to lovers can be interesting, but it depends how it’s handled. I like to see some sort of complexity or something right from the get go. If they just both scream and yell and insult each other, then I never want them to end up together. Like, there’s a point of being too mean. Lots of movies use that trope. I always think of /Much Ado About Nothing/ as the OG enemies to lovers.

You do that thing with your eyebrow, raise it up and crinkle it, when you lie. A little competition never hurt anyone, in my opinion at least. Crispiness can be an asset sometimes. Like with sweet potato fries. Those are my favorite! I’ll make sure not to serve any popcorn. Good to know. What’s your take on caramel corn? I know you’ve got quite the sweet tooth.

Maybe if it’s that cold, I could actually hold the snow in my hands without instantly melting it. I remember one winter, just after my powers manifested, I wanted to make a snowman and couldn’t. I almost, almost cried! But, then my mom showed me how to control my fire so that I melted the snow a little bit into ice and we made an ice sculpture that looked like a snowman. She’s so creative. But when it’s a dry heat, it’s not that bad! I promise!

-Damien

I was just kidding, Damien. It was a pretty poor joke, I'll admit, I'm sorry. I really don't think of you as a dictionary, even though you usually teach me new words. But you're definitely not grasping at straws. I mean, they're an earth elemental, and there was earth beneath them. Hux is always digging holes just for fun, imagine how fast he could be if he had to do it in a situation like that.

I have plenty of treats, for insurance reasons of course, though I doubt that you'll need them. Haha, Eren loves other cats, though he's a bit...persistent, so most other cats can't stand him. He just wants to be friends.

Oh, I definitely snore.... funny story, when I was a kid I used to deny that I snored. I had a dream where every so often whenever I tried to speak, I'd let out a snore... and well, I was convinced that I snored after that. So, if I get too loud, just wake me up or put a pillow over my face or something. That's a really sweet way of thinking, Damien, and you're right! Haha, I still go outside barefoot in the snow to take out the trash or get the mail or stuff. I haven't lost any toes yet.

Maybe evening if that's okay? I have to agree, if they're just yelling and hating each other, it makes no sense. I haven't seen that before, maybe that's another movie we should watch together?

I do? I had no idea. I don't usually lie so I guess I don't really think about the kinds of tells I have. Oh, I love sweet potato fries! They're so much better than regular ones. I love caramel corn when it's fresh, when the caramel is softer and not so hard. My grandma used to make caramel puffcorn balls around Christmas. They were such a mess. Have you ever had white chocolate covered puffcorn? It's pretty addictive.

That sounds like so much fun! And pretty, have you ever tried to use food coloring to make the ice different colors? We should make a snowman together! Have you ever built a fort out of the snow, the big piles that are made by the plows? When I was a kid we used to dig out tunnels if we got a lot of snow. And oh sure, I'll believe you if I ever see that. The summers I've dealt with are always so muggy.

[detectiveidiotboy]

His Time In The Commonwealth I: Preston’s Story

so as my beloved fanfiction, The Black Widow’s Waltz, comes to an end, i’ve decided that i am going to re-release the backstory chapters as their own stand-alone fic, since they read well as their own story. before that, i thought i might do a fun little thing where i release each of the companions backstories as their own post here on tumblr under the tag #his time in the commonwealth. 

now then, without further ado, please enjoy the first backstory chapter in this new-old little series - Preston. 

Preston had known there was something off about his new friend. He liked to believe the best in everyone despite his many, many lessons to the contrary. His infallible minutemen had been whittled down to the last man, betrayed at every turn by the harsh, unforgiving wasteland. He had thought he had reached the end of his story, back against the wall, raiders ready to break down the door - and then along came Nate.

“Nate, what the hell was that?” Preston snapped, marching up to stand beside his friend. Nate stood over a pair of bleeding settlers whose lives had long since been ended by the pistol loosely clutched in Nate's hands. Nate was staring down a third man, whose fingers were wrapped around his mouth, reeling in shock at the sight of his dead comrades. The rain pattered down around them, soaking them all and leaving Nate’s long hair slicked against his back.

Nate looked at Preston, a warm smile on his face as he waved to greet him. The gun in his hand was still warm from the shots that had ended the couple at his feet. “Hey, Preston! I didn’t know you were out here.”

At the time, Preston had been too relieved to question the look of elation on Nate’s face as he slaughtered his way through a platoon of raiders. Preston found death in all its forms distasteful, but it wasn’t as though his hands were clean. As much as he tried to avoid it, there were people who just would not let others go without a fight to the death, and part of being a Minuteman meant shooting down those who were only looking for more violence and bloodshed. Nate had just saved their lives, so far be it from Preston to judge him if he was a little too enthusiastic about killing a couple of raiders here and there.

“You killed them…” The man on the ground murmured, eyes still glued to the corpses of his former friends as the rain splattered mud on their still open eyes. “Oh my god… you- you killed them.”

Nate frowned, looking back down at the man. “If I hadn’t killed them they would have shot you, you know that right?” He chastised the man in a far too callous tone. Preston grit his teeth. “You should be thanking me.”

The man on the ground seemed to falter with his words, looking at Nate as if he might just shoot him out of sheer annoyance. In his defense, Preston wondered the same thing.

It was really unlike him to be this wrong about a person. There were times when Preston would mistake a group of thieves for well-meaning settlers, or sometimes he would talk down a group of raiders only to end up being shot at the moment his back was turned. But lately, it seemed like everyone he trusted ended up being some sort of monster. First, there was Clint, who turned his back on the minutemen only to end up a part of the very gang they were fighting against - now it was Nate, a man Preston thought was his friend.

Preston stepped between Nate and the other man after a moment, unable to predict what his supposed-friend would do next. The man - Jules, he had said his name was - relaxed just a fraction now that he was being guarded. Nate rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Garvey, he’s a synth,” Nate said. “He got outed to his buddies and they were trying to put a bullet in him. I decided to step in and help.” Preston narrowed his eyes.

“I know, I saw the whole thing,” Preston said.

Despite everything, Nate had managed to charm Preston. He was a bit like a kid - having just woken up from 200 years on ice with barely any memories intact. It made him the perfect blank slate to imprint the values of the minutemen onto. Perhaps it was a bit manipulative, but Preston knew it was the right choice. Even though amnesia had stolen most of his life, Nate still held on to incredible talents with guns and knives and endurance like he'd never seen before. Preston brought Nate on several of his missions, helping settlements and clearing out raiders who were threatening innocent people. Nate was ruthless in combat, yet managed to have a softer spoken side to himself that made people want to trust him. He was the perfect candidate to become the next general and lead the minutemen back from the brink of obscurity.

Except…

“Then why are you so upset, I don’t get it?” Nate said. His tone was like a toddler after being scolded and hearing the sound from a grown man unsettled Preston greatly.

“It didn’t have to end that way,” Preston said. “I’ve seen the way you talk to people - you could have easily convinced them to walk away, Nate. Why did you kill them?”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Nate asked, crossing his arms. Preston’s jaw dropped at the audacity of the statement.

While Nate was good with words, it seemed he rarely wanted to actually talk his way out of a fight. In fact, when given the choice, Nate almost always chose violence rather than peace. It was helpful when fighting raiders and gunners, but his thirst for violence became far more problematic when the infamous gray line appeared. Preston had watched as Nate put a bullet between the eyes of a young man who had made the mistake of joining up with raiders in hopes of providing for his family. Nate hadn’t even tried to talk the kid down before reaching for his gun. Even at the time, Preston couldn’t shake the feeling that something about the whole exchange was wrong .

“Nate, goddamnit, you are a Minuteman!” Preston snapped. He stepped forward harshly, splashing through puddles so that he stood mere inches away from the other man. Nate, still seeming confused, cocked his head to the side. “Do you even remember what that means? We are servants of the people - all people. You can’t just go around solving all your problems by shooting them .”

“And again I ask - why. not?” Nate said slowly, as if Preston was the one acting irrational. “Killing two assholes threatening an innocent synth doesn’t seem that far out of line from the Minutemen code.”

“They didn’t have to die,” Preston said, voice wavering. Droplets of water pooled at the brim of his hat, falling down out of time with the rest of the rain. He was desperate to make this man understand, desperate to see in Nate what he’d seen when they first met. But there was nothing in those eyes that stared back at him. No kindness, no mercy, no soul behind the blue irises that looked him over, as if calculating the best placement for a bullet in his skull.

And yet, even as doubts began to overcome all other thoughts, Preston found himself alone with Nate at the end of the day, laughing with him, drinking with him. Nate never seemed to be able to get drunk, which made him fun to have around at bars. Preston’s heart would flutter every time the man’s hand would brush his, or when he saw Nate dive in front of him to take a bullet so Preston could keep firing. Preston had gone most of his life without falling in love - he had dedicated himself so fully to his cause, the thought of romance just never appeared for him like it did for others. Was this what it was like to have a crush? When he had drunkenly pecked Nate on the lips after their first successful recruitment, had that meant something? When Nate took his hand while they were alone and walking through the Commonwealth, did that mean he liked him?

Was this what it was like to be in love?

Was this what it was like to have your heart broken?

The silence stretched between them, the only sound was that of the rain splattering against accumulating puddles. Finally, Preston couldn’t bear to look at Nate anymore. He turned around, offering a hand to the traumatized synth who was still shivering under his soaked jacket.

“I- I swear- I’m not with the Institute,” He said as he took Preston’s hand. “Please, please believe me. I just want to get to Bunker Hill.”

“It’s alright, I believe you,” Preston said, forcing himself to smile. “The name’s Preston Garvey, Commonwealth Minutemen. We help people in trouble.”

“Jules,” The synth said with a nod. “I… I could use some directions, actually.”

“Sure thing,” Preston said. “There’s a settlement not too far from here. Let’s get out of the rain and we’ll see about getting you where you need to go.”

“Thanks,” He said. Jules threw one last look at his fallen comrades, a myriad of complex emotions crossing his face. Preston felt his heart clench. He knew what it felt like to be betrayed.

“I’ll get someone to come by later and bury them,” He promised. “Do you have everything you need?”

Jules nodded, shrugging the pack he’d been carrying on his shoulder. Preston gave him a reassuring nod and turned to lead the way. “Follow me.”

Preston walked past Nate, managing to keep from meeting his eyes. He didn’t think he could stomach seeing him right then. Jules kept his head down, muttering a soft, hesitant ‘thanks’ to Nate as they passed.

“We’ll talk about this later,” Preston said, walking off towards Sunshine Tidings. He could imagine the irate look on the face of his fellow minuteman, he didn’t need to turn around to see it.

It wasn’t until he heard the resounding click of a 10mm gun being cocked that Preston turned around to face his murderer.

[janeofcakes]

It Could Be Us

I'M BACK! Jane is back again!!

Christ, when I said I 'd have my one shot up in no time at all I had no fucking clue what I was talking about. Seriously, none whatsoever. I feel like this has taken longer than posting all of KYFC. Hopefully I got all the formatting right in the end and nothing is confusing.

In any case, here it is at last! It's my Christmas present to you. I hope you all like it. Without further ado or sass, let's get right into it.

-----

The dance floor was already packed as John walked into the club. He had expected nothing less for a Friday night, and a late one at that. It was just after eleven o’clock and the club was in full swing. The lights were low and the bass thumped a steady rhythm he could feel in the floor beneath his feet. It had been a long day at St. Bartholomew’s Hospital, packed with patients and an emergency surgery right at the end that kept him late again. He had dashed out of the hospital as soon as he was finished and grabbed a cab to a chip shop around the corner from the club for a quick bite. He came straight to the club after that one detour. He had meant to arrive earlier, like nine o’clock earlier. He could only hope the man he was to meet was still here, or had been here at all. Now the pounding music and vibrating floor rippled electric sparks through his body, making him want nothing more than to join the pulsing throng of people on the floor. He had the burning desire to be free and forget everything, but he had to find someone first. The man of the hour.

John had come at his request because they had not had much time to themselves lately. Both of their jobs had ramped up and meeting together had become difficult. John bit the inside of his cheek in irritation as he scanned the floor. A night in the club, much as he enjoyed their usual haunt, did not mesh with his vision of ‘quality time’.

John puffed out a breath of annoyance as his eyes ran the length of the floor like laser beams tracking prey. Though his focus was razor sharp, it was still a challenge to find any one person amid the countless bodies crammed together in the space, but the man he was looking for was very hard to miss. He was very distinctive in his look and manner. He always put on a show for John’s benefit or was getting into a fight that he never started, as he often declared in a, frankly, obnoxious tone to everyone within five feet. John huffed again. The man he was looking for was decidedly not there and never had been, in spite of his promise.

John grumbled darkly to himself, heading for the bar and the club’s sole proprietor, Greg Lestrade. He and Greg had met some ten years ago and the club was a hotspot even then. Now it was one of the most well-known on this side of London, but still retained its own rustic-city style with brick walls and an antique, solid oak bar. So many others had strayed toward trendy and pretentious, which only made John love this place more.

“Evening,” John said as he approached the end of the bar.

“John,” Greg’s face brightened as he placed a glass in front of a woman who winked at him as she picked it up. He gave her a sort of lop-sided smile he had perfected over the years and then turned his attention to John. “Rather late for you, isn’t it? No work tomorrow?”

“My day off,” John replied with a slight laugh, leaning against the bar and resting his arm on its surface. “I need it. Ten days on and just as many late nights. I feel like the Duracell bunny, but on half full batteries from a Poundland Christmas sale.”

“And many more lives saved,” Greg reached over the bar to pat John’s shoulder. “You’re a credit to the profession.”

“Ta,” John mumbled, feeling his cheeks flush and ducking his head at the unexpected praise. He recovered quickly and gestured haphazardly behind his back. “You’re doing well yourself. Another busy night I see.”

“With me on the floor, no less,” Greg remarked looking out over the dance floor. “I forgot how hot it gets in here. Usual?”

“Ta,” John watched as Greg stepped away to grab a short glass and a bottle of Talisker.

“Sally called in sick,” Greg handed him the drink as John’s brows shot up and his jaw dropped. “Can you believe it?”

“No,” John shook his head, still holding the amber and ice-filled glass out over the bar where Greg had handed it to him. “Not Sally. No way. You’re having me on.”

“Apparently, even The Machine gets the flu,” Greg said by way of explanation. He continued with a shrug. “Who knew? To be honest, I hope it doesn’t spread around. She sounded terrible.”

Greg leaned in and rested his own elbow on the bar’s top as John took a quick sip from his drink. The burn as it slipped down his throat punctuated his mood. He had been in this situation many times before, waiting at the bar with Greg while his boyfriend remained absent, but John would damned if he let it ruin his evening this time. When Greg continued speaking, John made a concerted effort to improve his own disposition.

“Anyway, no one on the short list could make it, so here I am,” Greg grinned and gave a slight bow, “at your service, m’lud.”

“Good for you,” John laughed, placing his drink on the bar. “Keeps you humble.”

“It does at that,” Greg chortled. He watched as John’s eyes scanned the dance floor and the club’s entrance again. The smile slowly faded from Greg’s face as he headed down the bar to sort out some drinks for a few people before returning to his friend.

“You looking for him?” he finally asked, passing John a bowl of bite-sized pretzels. John nodded his thanks and tossed one back, grateful that Greg always remembered he was not a fan of crisps, at all. Greg still jibed John about it. How can you possibly like pretzels and not crisps, John? They are, more or less, the same. Just a munchie to take your mind off things. John’s rebuttal always outlined every last way in which they were, in fact, not at all the same.

“Yeah,” he replied in an even tone, not wanting to fully broadcast his irritation. Greg was perceptive though and John knew it. Damn that man learned too much about people’s tells in all his years of bar tending. “He called me at work and wanted to meet here. We’ve not seen much of each other lately.”

“Right,” Greg drew out the word just enough to convey his disbelief without being an ass about it.

“You seen him?” John asked, already knowing the answer.

“I have not,” Greg said flatly. John pursued his lips and looked away, giving a slight nod as his only confirmation.

“Have you seen…”

“No,” Greg cut him off. The two men looked at each other, brows furrowed in mutual understanding. The muscles in John’s jaw flexed as he gnashed his teeth. Greg sighed next to him and John broke eye contact only to look over the floor again in another unsuccessful attempt to find the man he sought while trying with all his might to ignore everything unsaid between them.

“Far be it for me to…” Greg began, but John raised a hand to stop him. There was no need for him to hear it all again. It made no difference. John would wait. Always.

“Then don’t,” he said sharply, meeting Greg’s eyes again. “All right. Just leave it.”

John knew it was defensive and unnecessary. Greg would never in a million years judge him, but to have this happen time and time again hurt. Greg’s words always stung, even though he meant them in the most supportive way possible. John knew he should take them to heart and he did, just not enough to do anything about it. It was true his relationship was far from perfect, but in all honesty, he really did not give a toss. It was what it was and it was easy to ignore what he did not like.

“Sure,” Greg answered after a pause with a look that told John he wanted to say more. He knew John and the whole situation far too well.

“Hey, Bossman,” a man named Roland called from down the bar. Greg and John looked his way immediately to see a bottle in each of his hands and people crowding the opposite side of the bar. “Give us a hand, mate.”

“‘Course, Rol, of course,” Greg straightened and gave John another look before walking away. You deserve better than that piece of shit. We both know and yet, look at yourself. “Be back in a few,” was what he said instead.

John waved him off and took another drink. He watched Greg and Roland mix drinks for a bit, chuckling whenever his friend fended off the flirtations of both men and women alike. The man was an enigma, never showing interest in any gender or persuasion, the ideal businessman. It was really no different from him at Bart’s, John supposed. Still, it suddenly seemed odd that in all the years he had known Greg he never mentioned a partner and John had never asked.

John frowned into his empty glass as if it held all the answers of the universe. Forty-two, as they say. He let out a short chuckle with a slight shake of his head and then a sigh as he turned his stool to look back out at the sea of dancers. Deep in thought, he was not really looking at anything at all until his eyes came into focus on a pair of ethereal blue ones staring back at him. John blinked in surprise and jerked his head back as if burnt. The stare belonged to a tall, impossibly sexy brunette who demanded space in the massive throng of heaving, shifting bodies. He danced like his body was possessed by the music itself. His limbs and movements appeared graceful, elegant and effortless in spite of the speed and vulgarity of the hip hop track that filled the air. His white shirt glowed in the blacklight above him, drawing more attention to the V of his neckline that was nothing less than a delicious, scandalous temptation where two buttons left undone exposed his pale throat. His black jeans hugged every sharp edge as well as the curve of an ass that had no right to be as plush as it was for a thin frame such as his.

John snapped his mouth closed quickly, unsure of how long his lips had been parted in wonder and awe. Too long judging by the smirk the man gave him with that sidelong glance as he continued to sway his hips. God, he did it with such skill it was obscene and John could not stop himself staring. He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry, and took a sip of scotch. John had seen this man here before quite a few times and he had seen him go into the back offices with Greg almost every time. He had even seen them leave together and yet, John had never asked Greg about it and Greg had not volunteered. John had simply not thought it any of his business. Now John wondered why he had never stopped to consider this one exception to Greg’s rule.

When John’s eyes came to rest on him again, he blinked and blinked again in shock. That man, that gorgeous man with legs a mile long and cheekbones sharp enough to cut yourself with was absolutely not dancing his way toward John. He was decidedly not staring at John with his mesmerizing and other worldly eyes. John’s mouth went dry again and he blinked once more for good measure, his brain seizing utterly. He watched, unable to look at anyone else as the man left the floor and swept up to the bar next to him. The man gave John a knowing smile and studied him with a sultry, but intensely intelligent gaze. Dumbfounded, John could only look back at him with wide eyes and will his own brain to work again before he truly proved himself a complete idiot.

“Hello, John,” a deep baritone, all dark chocolate and velvet rumbled from the man’s chest. John’s lips parted and he nearly gasped, but swallowed it down along with his surprise. How the hell did this man, with perfect cupid’s bow lips, know his name? “I’ve seen you here before. We have a friend in common.”

John stared at him, eyes shining with unanswered questions. The smirk he got and the tilt of the man’s head, curls bouncing in the direction down the bar. Greg. Of course, Greg. He must have told this mysterious man John’s name. The doctor tilted his head as well, unable to look away from that angular face now framed by soft, dark curls as their owner tilted his head upright again. Suddenly John’s heart skipped a beat as his mind caught up with the conversation. Did that mean this dazzling beauty had asked Greg about him?

“My name is Sherlock,” that voice continued and John fought with himself not to melt on the spot.

“Hi,” John forced his voice to croak out. “John.”

“Yes, I know,” Sherlock’s lips curled upward as his eyes studied, no read John’s face. John felt like this clever man could read his entire life with a simple glance, much less the current scrutiny. John stared like a moron as his mind caught up with the situation at hand and he closed his eyes in regret. He had just spluttered the most idiotic introduction to a man who already knew his name. God, he was so stupid.

“Sorry, sorry,” John blurted, opening his eyes to see that Sherlock had perched himself on the bar stool next to him. He seemed to have finished sizing John up and also appeared to have no intention of leaving. “I was… It’s nice to meet you.”

“You come here often,” Sherlock stated, his eyes sharp. Goddamn if he did not have the longest lashes John had ever seen.

“Greg’s a good friend,” John answered. Finally his brain seemed to be back online and able to communicate. “And I like the club.”

“And you like to dance,” the corners of Sherlock’s mouth crooked up slyly.

“You’ve seen me dance?” John asked, a little startled. This lithe specter of the dance floor had noticed him? Sherlock just replied with a satisfied and very amused expression.

“I’ve seen you too,” John continued, finding his usual confidence again. “You’re very good.”

“As are you,” Sherlock stated. He rested both elbows on the bar and laced his fingers in between, a calculating edge to his gaze. “You’re here alone.”

John’s body grew tense in an instant. His mouth pressed into a thin and serious line.

“You’re usually here with that detestable little man who drinks too much and yells at the other dancers,” Sherlock ignored the sudden change in John’s demeanor.

Instead of being angry at the slight, John eased up and huffed a laugh in spite of himself. He could feel the muscles in his body relaxing just as quickly as they had tightened and marveled for a moment at his reaction. He began to study Sherlock more intentionally.

“Yeah, that’s Jim all right,” John laughed again. “My other half.”

“Oh, yes,” Sherlock nearly choked on his words. He clearly had not deduced the full extent of their relationship. Maybe Sherlock had not asked Greg about him after all. John’s heart sank a little. Then he saw Sherlock’s eyes fall to his left hand, looking for a ring then. John’s heartbeat sped up just a bit for that gesture alone.

“Sorry,” Sherlock mumbled awkwardly.

“Think nothing of it. Jim can be a real dick when he wants to be,” John reassured him with a friendly smile. “Takes a while to warm up to him.”

The skin beneath Sherlock’s eyes contracted slightly as he looked at John thoughtfully. The doctor could tell there were a myriad of questions turning circles in his mind and he was trying to pick one to start with. Rather than wait for it, John decided to counter with one of his own. One that was much on his mind at the moment.

“You usually leave with Greg,” it was not a question, but John’s voice rose with it as though it was. His Machiavellian expression made sure Sherlock understood his meaning, the underlying question in John’s uttered statement. The man was completely unphased by John’s directness, smiling and huffing a quiet laugh as he threw a handful of pretzels in his mouth.

“We’re flatmates,” he clarified with an easy shrug and then added after taking in the change in John’s features: “Yes, just flatmates. We keep each other honest.”

“Oh?” John tilted his head, interest peaked by that casual statement. “What does that mean?”

“I make sure he leaves this place once in a while and he makes sure I sleep on occasion,” Sherlock smirked, holding a pretzel between his index and middle fingers.

“Alone?” John asked mischievously and Sherlock snorted, obviously quite amused.

“Yes, alone,” he confirmed with a good-natured nod. “I don’t do romantic liaisons or spend meaningful moments with people.”

Sherlock’s face pulled itself together as if John had told him to bathe in the Thames for the foreseeable future. A smile instantly appeared on John’s face and he huffed a quick laugh as he watched the man before him.

“My time is far too valuable to spend it with such frivolities and imbeciles,” the brunette continued with his nose wrinkled as though the steak and kidney pie had gone decidedly off.

“And why is that?” John leaned further onto the bar, extremely interested now. He was not sure if it was because this man was a friend of Greg’s or just that he was so damn interesting, but John thoroughly enjoyed teasing him and was not about to stop. Maybe being in the club on his own tonight was not so bad after all. “What is it that keeps the great Sherlock…”

“Holmes,” the man supplied when John paused, the dramatic effect it created not lost on either of them.

“...Holmes so busy?” John extended his hand to wave with a flourish between the two of them. Sherlock watched him with smiling eyes and a dazzling grin on his face.

“I assist the police when they are out of their depth, which is always,” Sherlock answered, growing quite serious. “I am a Consulting Detective.”

John could see the cautious pride shining through the haughty answer.

“Yeah? And they pay you for sticking your nose in?” was the first thing that popped out of John’s mouth. God only knows why. He was not usually such a tease, nor such an idiot. He watched the flicker of hurt slither over the brunette’s expressive face and bit the inside of his cheek to keep himself from repeatedly hitting his head against the bar counter. Nothing like opening his mouth and inserting his foot all the way down his own throat, he mused of his actions, especially considering he was in a somewhat relationship with Jim and all, but there was something about this man. It was something so powerful and too complicated for John to understand just yet.

“Yes, as well as private clients,” Sherlock remarked sharply. His brow wrinkled in confusion, creating a ridge across the bridge of his nose that had John holding back a smile. “Why wouldn’t they pay me?”

“Uh, no reason. I just.. I’ve never heard of it before,” John replied slowly, trying to gather his thoughts.

“I should think not. I invented it,” Sherlock said haughtily, the pleasure obvious in his whole body. A sudden laugh burst from John’s lips, taking both men by surprise. Sherlock’s features were just beginning to harden when John caught his breath to speak.

“That’s brilliant!” he exclaimed, clapping the taller man on the shoulder and beaming at him with bright eyes, their depths growing even more blue with his merriment. “It sounds amazing.”

He pulled a now stunned Sherlock in so their heads were close together. Their faces only inches apart, John eyed the man with an almost childlike excitement.

“How do you do it?” John asked in a tone that bubbled with enthusiasm. “Are you a psychologist or a profiler or some mad genius who uses his power for the greater good? You know, all tall, dark, handsome and broody, but really on the side of the angels?”

John chuckled at his own quirkiness and somehow knew Sherlock would understand his sense of humor perfectly. Sure enough, the man’s mouth curled into a knowing smile and he cocked a brow. The expression made John think of Loki, God of Mischief himself. His chest gave into a tingling squeeze and he delighted in the pleasurable shivers rushing over his head and back.

“All of the above,” Sherlock said simply and John laughed heartily, his head ducking in even closer to Sherlock’s.

“I don’t doubt it,” John chuckled. He met Sherlock’s eyes. “I’d love to hear about it. Somewhere else,” he took a steadying breath. What the hell was he doing? “Quieter so we don’t have to yell.”

John’s eyes bounced to Sherlock’s lips for a brief moment and his gut clenched. Before he could beat himself up for blatantly flirting, their eyes locked and he saw the answer in Sherlock’s before he heard the confirmation in his words.

“I know a restaurant not far from here,” Sherlock replied quickly and decisively. “It’s open late and I know the owner.”

“Did you help him with a case?” John blurted with ardor.

“I got him off a murder charge,” Sherlock answered in amusement, his rumbling baritone honeyed with satisfaction. John gulped, so caught up in the sheer brilliance of this man. There were a thousand questions in John’s mind and he wanted to ask every single one as soon as they could get out of the club with its loud beat, blaring music and tons of people.

“Absolutely! I’d love to...oh,” he stopped himself mid-sentence and his face fell, coming to his senses before getting far in his reply. Releasing Sherlock’s shoulder and straightening up, John remembered why he was here tonight. Jim was the whole reason for even being in the club. He could not just leave.

“I’m sorry. I can’t,” John muttered, barely loud enough to hear over the din. Disappointment shown thick on his face and in his tone. “I’m meeting someone.”

Sherlock made no reply and simply watched as John lowered his eyes to the floor. Damn it, John wanted to go with this man. He needs to go with this man, but it would not be right. Oh, fuck it all. Fuck Jim and whatever he may think. He was always sneaking around with Moran anyway. Let him think John was sneaking around for a change.

No. John dismissed that as soon as he thought it. That was not why he wanted to leave the club with Sherlock. John had no interest in making Jim jealous. He just wanted to spend more time with the fascinating consulting detective. My god, John wanted to learn all he could: his work, how he had conceived of it, how he met Greg, everything. John had never been so drawn to a person in his life and was more than a little pissed off to have met him tonight when he was here waiting for fucking Jim Moriarty to show up.

“Dance with me,” Sherlock said suddenly when the tempo of the music changed and echoed around them. John blinked at him, the words bringing him back from his thoughts. Sherlock was serious. He knew why John was at the club, who he was waiting for, and he was serious.

“I can’t,” John’s voice was dull, but his face was full of surprise. “I have a boyfriend.”

“I know,” Sherlock replied steadily, not backing down.

“But I’m waiting for him,” John told him dumbly with an exasperated sigh. Nothing like abandoning any attempt at being articulate.

“No one should ever keep you waiting, John,” Sherlock said with conviction. John tucked his chin, turning his head slightly, but kept his eyes on Sherlock. A crease formed on his forehead and his brow furrowed as he tried to wrap his head around this man. He clearly knew far more about John than John did of him, either from Greg or his own deductions. It was also clear that he was very keen on spending more time with John. The doctor was both dumbfounded and thrilled by this knowledge.

John opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. There were so many things John wanted to say and could give voice to none. The words just hung there in his mind and refused to become the sentences he needed.

“I could be your boyfriend,” Sherlock’s deep voice halted John’s mind completely.

“What?” John struggled to understand. “But I have…”

“He isn’t here,” Sherlock cut him off in a soft but firm tone. John looked at him with unabashed confusion and disbelief. Sherlock swallowed and placed a hand on John’s. The doctor stared at it with wide eyes that shifted back to Sherlock’s. “Just for this song… I could be your boyfriend.”

“I shouldn’t. I…” John looked into his eyes and everything stopped. John did not even hear the music anymore. Sherlock’s eyes were... mysterious. John had thought they were blue, but now they appeared silver, green, blue. They seemed to shift with every thought that passed through that brilliant mind. How had John never noticed before? Simple, really. He had never been this close to Sherlock before and certainly never thought he would be. John was always here with Jim, and Moran and the whole entourage. Naturally, he danced with Jim, but his eyes had always found Sherlock.

Sherlock on the dance floor with his long, elegant limbs and swaying hips. Such amazing hips. He could move like no one John had seen in real life and it was captivating. Lithe and smooth, every step and swoop and shift in perfect alignment with the music. Sherlock effortlessly danced to any song or genre and Greg’s DJs liked to mix it up too. From hip hop to techno via pop or the 80s. They were even known to throw in slow songs so patrons could relive their high school prom nights. Jim always wrapped his arms around John and snuffled into his neck during those songs. John had tried to do the same, but his heart was never in it, especially during the last few months.

John and Jim had started growing apart a long time ago. They were happy once and for quite a while, in fact. They met when John was still in med school during the A&E rotation. Jim was working in construction and had sliced a substantial gash in his forearm. They hit it off while John stitched him up and Jim asked him out before he left for home that night. The rest, as they say, was history.

A few months in, they began staying the night in one another’s flats, but did not even think about moving in together. John could not explain why, and Jim had asked regularly, but he was not ready for such a big step. It was something that would truly bind them together and John was not certain he wanted that. Two years later, John was out of school and already a skilled surgeon. Jim had climbed the ranks quickly and now owned his own construction company. Then Sebastian Moran came into the picture. Jim had hired him as an assistant. It was a typical occurrence for John to put in late nights or be called in for emergencies, but then Jim started working late too. John thought nothing of it at first, but it did not take long to figure it out. In spite of his somewhat jealous nature, John said nothing. It was easier to let it go and just make excuses to Jim about why he could not stay nights at John’s flat.

John first noticed Sherlock at Greg’s club a year ago. John was there with Jim and a slow song had just started as Jim began to pick a fight with a rather large and nasty-looking man. John pulled him onto the dance floor and tucked his chin to his own shoulder to calm him down. A few bars into the song and John’s eyes had found Sherlock. He was wrapped around another tall man, both equal in height, all the parts of their bodies lined up perfectly for the dirtiest dancing John had witnessed in a long time. He had tried not to watch them, but could not stop himself. Sherlock, still nameless to him at that time, was simply captivating.

John noticed him on the dance floor a few more times after that night and Sherlock was always dancing with a different man. This new knowledge had befuddled John. He had assumed Sherlock and the tall man were together, but that was clearly not the case. He started paying more attention and his hunch was confirmed every time he saw Sherlock at the club. That was when John started to keep track of who Sherlock left the club with and it was Greg. Only ever Greg. He had wanted to ask Greg about it so badly, but never did. He respected his friend’s privacy and part of him did not want to know whether or not Sherlock was attached to anyone in general, or to Greg in particular.

Whatever their relationship, John could not stop noticing Sherlock when he was on the dance floor and he carried the guilt of it wherever he went. He should not, should never lust after a friend’s boyfriend the way he did after Sherlock, but there were Sherlock’s arms lifting and swaying, lowering slowly and gracefully. Then his undulating hips and his ass, that gorgeous, plush ass in perfectly fitted jeans, swishing and thrusting to the beat. God, it was like watching pornography and now Sherlock was here, right in front of John and not at all with Greg and asking John to dance with him. It was unbelievable, and John was about to say no. Why the fuck would he say no? Why when part of him had secretly hoped for this exact scenario to occur one day?

“Okay,” John said suddenly in a voice that did not sound like his own.

Sherlock’s eyes lit up, making them sparkle a decidedly silver sheen and a brilliant smile spread across his full lips. He offered a hand and John took it, allowing himself to be led onto the floor. As they found a place within the other bodies around them, piano chords rang out through the club and a pure tone began to sing lyrics so ironic that John could not help but smile.

         In the faded light you touch my body

         I can feel your hands on my skin

         Think you got me right where you want me

         But you’re just in my way.

John and Sherlock both swayed skillfully, waiting for the tempo to pick up and for the playful chorus to kick in. Sherlock rolled his shoulders to the music, snapping his head back with the flare of a flamenco dancer at just the right moment. His curls floated through the air for just a moment as though defying gravity’s bonds and then fell artfully around his face as he gave John a cheeky smirk. John could not help and laughed as the song broke open and they both began moving to the faster beat. The music and lyrics wrapped around them as they pulsed their way through the two men’s bodies and minds.

         I came to party on my oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-wn

         Don’t need nobody in my so-oh-oh-oh-ng

         I get down to the beat, I lose contro-oh-oh-oh-l

         Hey, oh, I go so-oh-oh so-oh-oh-lo

Both men reached their stride as the chorus and the fun continued. John popped his chest to the beat, moving his bent arms in counterpoint and shifting his weight with what the rhythm provided. Sherlock’s hips swayed with his dancing feet and he lifted his hands above his head.

         Boy, you can cool it dow-ow-ow-ow-ow-own

         Not here to fool arou-ow-ow-ow-ound

         Just wanna dance, dance, dance

         Dance, dance, dance

They started the song a respectable, casual distance apart, as any two new acquaintances would. Clearly still dancing together and that space was maintained throughout the duration. Honestly, John could not care less because dancing like this, to have fun and be free was exactly what he needed. It felt so liberating to just move without feeling the urge to prove something to himself or to Jim, and dancing Sherlock just felt right. Really, really right. Even though they had only just met, John had already begun to feel as though their actual introduction had taken place a long time ago.

Another song began that was one of John’s favorites and he let out a hoot as the faster beat took hold of his body. He switched his weight from one foot to the other, turning his body to match, sometimes twice in the same direction before changing.

        Got a figure like a pin-up, got a figure like a doll

        Don’t care if you think I’m dumb, I don’t care at all

        Candy bear, sweetie pie, wanna be adored

         I’m the girl you’d die for

John’s moves intensified as the verse came to an end and he began to mouth the words in anticipation of the chorus, giving Sherlock a cheeky grin as he did it. The man matched his expression and movements beat for beat.

         I’m Miss Sugar Pink, liquor, liquor lips

         Hit me with your sweet love, steal me with a kiss

         I’m Miss Sugar Pink, liquor, liquor lips

         I’m gonna be your bubblegum bitch

         I’m gonna be your bubblegum bitch

John was enjoying himself so thoroughly, he almost did not notice Sherlock slowly closing the gap between them. It was not a huge shift of the space between them. Sherlock was not suddenly up in his business, grinding against his leg, but he was closer nonetheless. The tips of John’s ears prickled with heat and not just from the dancing. His whole body was hot with it. A burning deep inside of him, just like the feeling low in his stomach was not so much from nervousness as it was from anticipation of what was yet to come. Would Sherlock inch even closer? Did John want him to? Goddamn right he did.

There was no fade out. One song moved seamless and fluidly into the next. This one took them into a heavier beat and a more forceful step. The drums and velveteen rough voice brought the floor into a darker place and the lights went down to match it. As if reading John’s mind, Sherlock stepped closer to him almost as soon as the song began. He lip-synced the words and drifted around John where he danced. The mysterious and sultry look on Sherlock’s face pulled John’s eyes in as he moved. As the first verse neared its end, Sherlock’s fingers scraped across John’s chest and lingered as they slid around to his back. The doctor’s skin tingled along the trail of Sherlock’s hands, the touch powerful in spite of the fabric between them. John’s mind jumped in his skull to thoughts he never would have anticipated when he walked into the club: God, to feel Sherlock’s skin on his. Nothing between them, no clothes, no air, no space. It would be electric. John swallowed back a groan as he continued to watch those silver-green eyes take in his every movement. Shit, the man could probably read his mind.

          Since I thought you and me

          Well, I am imagining a dark lit place

          Or your place or my place

          Well, I’m not paralyzed, but I seem to be struck by you

          I wanna make you move because you’re standing still

When the chorus began, both John and Sherlock leaned forward toward each other. John’s lips parted and new droplets of sweat bloomed at his hairline. Not just from the dancing, but from the desire pooling in his belly and the thoughts taking root in his mind. John quickly lifted a hand and wiped his forehead in an almost unconscious gesture. He had never eye-fucked someone so hard in his life and every bit of the effort was reciprocated.

         If your body matches what your eyes can do

         You’ll probably move right through me on my way to you

Their faces were dangerously close again. John could feel Sherlock’s breath ghosting over his face and he found himself wishing, hoping for the other man to do something. They pulled away to stand side by side, staring into one another’s eyes before moving in different directions to curl their bodies in identical fluid motions. They met again a moment later, back to back and angled in the same direction, their cheeks pressed together. John pushed against the taller man and he leaned into John as they slowly dropped low and raised up again, snapped their heads back and broke apart to dance in their own idioms again.

Sherlock rolled his hips and head, fingers sinking in his hair. John was dancing just as enthusiastically, but also completely mesmerized. He had not felt anything like it in some time and he did not even try to stop it. It was the feeling of attraction and one so strong he gravitated toward it like a moth to a flame. His life was suddenly full of possibility and so intoxicating John could never turn away. He and Sherlock fit together like the pieces of a puzzle. There was no denying it, but did Sherlock feel it too or was John just another person on the dance floor?

Suddenly the lights went up and a new song filled the club. Sherlock turned his head toward John and he felt the puff of Sherlock’s hot breath on his neck. A shiver traveled down the length of his spine and he hoped Sherlock had not noticed, but was quite certain he had. To John’s great delight, Sherlock seemed genuinely pleased with what he saw.

“I believe I misjudged you, John,” Sherlock called over the noise around them, his face every bit the smug bureaucrat who is too posh for his own good. John raised his brows in response, an unspoken question on his lips. He wanted to take whatever Sherlock was about to say seriously, but how could he possibly do it when he had that look on his face? Sherlock continued in a very superior tone, barely keeping the corners of his mouth from quirking upwards. “You’re a much better dancer than I expected.”

A wide grin spread across John’s face as Sherlock began to chuckle. He shook his head a little and laughed with the snarky detective. Without a thought, he reached up and cupped the back of Sherlock’s neck, tugging his face down until it was close to his own. John looked into his eyes, wide with surprise, and moved in closer. Their cheeks brushed as John pressed his lips to the taller man’s ear and the sensation weakened his knees.

“You’re amazing,” John uttered with nothing less than awe. That was not quite what he had meant to say. Then again, what had he intended upon saying? John pulled back, biting his bottom lip in embarrassment, unsure of how to explain that one away. Sherlock’s cool eyes looked back at him without a hint of reproach as a deep, melodic voice boomed over the floor.

         Wise men say only fools rush in

         But I can’t help falling in love with you

Sherlock’s hands found John’s waist and they began to dance in a slow shift. They moved their bodies so one shoulder was forward and then the other. By the third line, they had separated so they could better move to the solid beat and bright trumpet sound, but remained connected by holding one hand or even both.

         Shall I stay?

         Would it be a sin?

         I can’t help falling in love with you

         As the river flows gently to the sea

         Darling, so it goes

Sherlock lifted John’s hand high to draw him in and used his other hand to guide John into a quick turn so his back ended up flush against the front of Sherlock’s body. John pulled Sherlock’s hand down and caught hold of the other one too. As the music swelled, John rested their hands on his hips and they ground together, bending their knees a bit and inching down lower. John tilted his head back to rest on Sherlock’s shoulder, closed his eyes and nearly moaned.

         Some things were meant to be

         Take my hand

         Take my whole life too

         ‘Cause I can’t help falling in love with you

As the song continued, the other dancers and the club with its lights and noise fell away. Suddenly, John and Sherlock were the only two people for miles around. It was just them and the music. They danced and danced and the song seemed to go on forever. John turned to face Sherlock, their bodies still close together and hips moving as one. John looked into those grey eyes, sparkling and bright, and completely lost himself in them. They were not the eyes of a stranger he had just met or someone he had seen from across the club, but those of a friend. A friend he had known for years and who knew John as well as he knew himself. Those eyes filled John with comfort and a longing to go to that restaurant Sherlock had suggested, leaving Jim behind for good. Of all the time John had spent with Jim, he could not think of a single one when he saw this much in his eyes.

John blinked when he felt Sherlock’s hands rest heavily on his shoulders. The man was still swaying in perfect time with John, who must have been on auto-pilot, but wore a look of mild concern on his face. Sherlock tilted his head as if to ask “You okay?”. John grinned sheepishly and nodded as the music swelled one last time. Both men, as well as everyone on the floor, threw their hands up and sang.

        I can’t help falling in love with you

        No, I can’t help falling in love with you

The close of the song bled right into the next one. Without missing a beat or pausing for awkwardness, Sherlock held one of John’s hands to his chest and slid the other around the shorter man’s waist, taking the lead. John put his hand on Sherlock’s hip, flashing a sly smile and effectively stealing the lead. Sherlock laughed and followed John as he set the pace for their steps. Around them, the whole dance floor began to relax after the long stint of nothing but fast and furious. Many headed for the bar to make Greg’s night incredibly harried once again.

John’s throat was dry and his body covered with a sheen of sweat, but he was not about to move an inch from where they stood together. He was truly glad and even excited for the time to touch and study this man. The music swells and ebbs away with them swaying to it. A soft fade set the stage for the signature voice of Spandau Ballet to begin.

        So true, funny how it seems always in time, but never in line for dreams

        Head over heels and toe to toe

John’s chest opened and it felt like all the force of Sherlock’s feelings rushed in, like when an anime character is enveloped with light and energy.

        This is the sound of my soul

        This is the sound

There was no question in John’s mind that what was happening to him was the same for Sherlock.

“So what do you do for the police?” John asked. It was a question of many, not all pertaining to what “consulting detective” meant, but it was as good a place as any to start. “What does a ‘consulting detective’ do?”

“I see the evidence no one else can,” Sherlock answered after a pause. “I make the connections immediately and tell the police what to do next, where to go. I read people.”

“Read people?” John’s brow rose to his hairline. “What? You mean you can tell what a person is thinking?”

“More like who they are,” Sherlock replied. “What they do and where they live. What their motivations are. That sort of thing.”

“You can tell all that by just looking at someone?” John’s lips parted in a smile of disbelief.

“Yes. Let me show you,” Sherlock turned his chin and looked out at the people around them. “Look at that woman at the bar.”

“Can you be more specific?” John laughed, but looked anyway in the direction Sherlock pointed with his head. “There are quite a few.”

“The one in pink with the dark hair and flashy belt,” Sherlock directed John’s eyes until his gaze settled on a middle-aged woman holding a martini. She was laughing at something the man with her, clad in a trendy-cut white suit, had said. He tapped his G & T against her glass in a toast.

“The one with the husband in the tacky suit?” John inquired and cringed. “He must glow in the dark when the blacklights are on.”

“Not her husband,” Sherlock corrected, his tone flat. John’s brows shot up again as he met the detective’s sharp eyes.

“I’m listening,” John said cooly, but with extreme interest.

“She lives outside of London and travels in more often than necessary for business, which she does actually do while here so she doesn’t feel as guilty, but she mostly comes to see him,” Sherlock explained in a confident tone. He sounded as if he was reading a book. It could not possibly be something he just made up on the fly and John was captivated. He watched Sherlock’s face as it flowed from one expression to another. “They favor this club because no one who knows them typically patronizes dance clubs. Not to mention the atmosphere lends itself well to a certain anonymity for all its patrons.”

Sherlock stopped a moment to insert a turn in their dance, in spite of the fact that he was not leading. John followed along with a quiet chuckle. Sherlock added a series of steps that ended with them closer to the edge of the dance floor, but still far enough away from the bar and the couple they were watching. Dozens of people talking and laughing at tables separated them. Even if the woman or her lover looked out to the dance floor and saw Sherlock and John, neither would think anything of it.

“Her daughter died recently,” Sherlock said. “In the last four years and she has taken up with this man to start a new life, but can’t let go of the old one. She doesn’t love her husband anymore, but feels she would lose what little of her daughter she has left. She clearly shared physical characteristics with her father, likely the eyes and nose. Seeing them in her husband’s face brings the woman comfort.”

John’s forehead crinkled with doubt, his lips curling into a skeptical smirk.

“How could you possibly know all that?” he cocked a brow and tucked his chin, pulling away from Sherlock slightly for a better look at him. “You’re having me on. You just made that up.”

“On the contrary, John,” Sherlock leaned his head in and gazed directly into John’s eyes with his pair of intense, calculating ones. “I not only see, but observe. I use this place not only for the pleasure of dancing and the delight of Greg’s company, but also to hone my skills. I observe the patterns, the evidence, and draw conclusions. I am never wrong.”

“Okay,” John stumbled over his own thoughts, trying to comprehend, “but how can you know all that from just…”

“Tonight?” Sherlock interrupted. A sly grin spread across his features and he shook his head slowly. “You forget that I’m here nearly every time you are and more. This place is a hotbed of experiments for me, an opportunity to sharpen my skills and occasionally solve a case.”

John’s eyes widened slightly, intrigued with both the mystery and the man himself. John’s tongue darted over his bottom lip and he noticed Sherlock’s eyes flick to them momentarily before explaining his deductions.

“They never arrive together and one waits for the other in a different, inconspicuous place each time,” Sherlock continued. “She gives him a hotel key card each time so she doesn’t have to bring a handbag. They leave together and always in the same direction, presumably to said hotel. There is a pale ring around the third finger of her left hand where the rest of her skin is tanned. She never takes off the bracelet she wears and it has a single charm that is actually the heart-shaped pendant from a child’s necklace.”

John glanced at the woman laughing again with her partner as he considered Sherlock’s words.

“Their pattern of frequency and the days on which their meetings occur suggest visits to the city for business and he is clearly not a colleague,” Sherlock added.

They watched as the man leaned in for a gentle kiss that she reciprocated. The couple appeared to be very taken with one another, very much in love, not desperate to get out of the club and into bed like new lovers. As if reading his mind, Sherlock leaned in to whisper in John’s ear.

“They have been involved for quite some time. You can see it,” he muttered. The soft wisp of his breath made John shiver and he turned to face him, their faces dangerously close.

“I could explain further, but do you really need me to?” Sherlock asked, his eyes flicking to John’s lips again.

“No,” John breathed. He shook his head slightly, staring at Sherlock agog. His mouth hung open a moment longer before stretching into a smile. “That was...amazing.”

Sherlock’s breath hitched and he pulled back to steady his gaze on John. The doctor’s grip tightened slightly in response as if determined to keep the man right where he stood.

        This much is true.

        This much is true-oo-oo

“You really think so?” Sherlock’s brow creased with confusion as John studied his reaction. It was positively endearing, perhaps because it was so unexpected. Sherlock had obviously made his deductions to impress, but still seemed genuinely surprised by John’s response. He was not used to being praised for his abilities, which told John all he needed to know about some of the assholes at New Scotland Yard.

“Yes,” John grinned up at him, pulling back a bit as the song came to an end, “of course. That was extraordinary.”

“That’s not what people usually say,” Sherlock mumbled after watching John for a moment. The next song increased in volume as the last one faded away. The prom-themed dance continued as John’s cheeks tinted at the thought that he and Sherlock were a couple. He hoped the detective had not noticed as he asked the next question curiously.

“What do people usually say?” John wondered, trying to divert attention from his pink cheeks. Too quickly, but Sherlock made no sign that he had noticed.

“Piss off,” he replied and John could not help but burst into laughter. Fortunately, a smile bloomed on Sherlock’s face as well, a glint of mischief and genuine amusement flickering through his eyes.

“Well, believe me, it isn’t. It’s bloody brilliant, that’s what it is,” John remarked as he changed their step slightly to fit with the new song. John took both of Sherlock’s hands in his and stepped back, putting more space between the two of them. Their arms outstretched, fingers laced together, they mirrored one another’s movements and smiles as a cheerful voice filled the club.

         When people keep repeating that you’ll never fall in love

         When everybody keeps retreating, but you can’t seem to get enough

         Let my love open the door

         Let my love open the door

         Let my love open the door to your heart

“Do someone else,” John urged, his voice full of excitement. He looked around quickly to find someone with a tale to tell. His eyes fell on a tall, thin man with disheveled brown hair that fell to his shoulders in layers. His chin and cheeks were covered by a full beard and mustache that betrayed his age with shades of grey, as did the lines around his eyes. He was dancing in a group with four other people, but more or less on his own. There was something about his appearance, his jumper and corduroy pants that made him look like someone who wore an aluminum foil hat at home.

“Do him!” John exclaimed, jerking his head to his left. Sherlock’s amused gaze followed and picked out the man instantly. He looked back at John with narrowed eyes and a knowing smirk.

“Accountant. Recently subscribed to a conspiracy theory that the company he works for is secretly financing an investigation into the death of John Lennon, who he believes is still alive and hiding somewhere in Yorkshire,” Sherlock stated as his feet took a step forward and back to the rhythm. He pulled John in a bit so they were closer when John gave him a stunned look. “There is no investigation, of course, and Lennon is most certainly dead. Not so in the mind of our friend with the beard, which he grew for his lover.”

John’s eyes widened.

“Affair with a colleague,” Sherlock said by way of explanation. “Her husband won’t grow facial hair and she likes the way it feels on her nether regions.”

A burst of laughter popped from John’s mouth before he could stop himself. It was so loud that he quickly pressed his lips together again and glanced toward the man for fear of drawing too much attention and giving them away. He need not have worried. The club was far too noisy for anyone to notice. Sherlock smirked, his eyes bright with amusement.

“He is concerned she will discover his suspicions about the company and Lennon and dump him,” he finished triumphantly. “There’s more, of course, but those are the highlights.”

“That’s…” John began as every part of his face brightened with delight, “unbelievable.”

He jerked their hands down to their sides, pulling Sherlock into his personal space and fixed him with a smoldering gaze.

“You have to explain how you know all that,” John nearly growled, “but later. Do someone else now.”

Sherlock’s criminally full lips quirked and his eyes warmed at the challenge, revealing shining flecks of green. For the next few minutes, Sherlock selected the most interesting subjects from the people around them and revealed the various secrets of their lives. Most were fairly normal with a few stranger outliers. It was all fantastic as far as John was concerned. From the boring Tesco clerk who snuck crisps and biscuits while stocking the shelves to the florist who taught her parrot to say ‘fuck you’ to troublesome costumers, John soaked in every word like a sponge.

By the time Sherlock finished, they were well into another song. It was the third in a string of songs that couples could use to their advantage, which meant there would be one more and then faster songs would rule again. John and Sherlock would have to part and dance further apart again. It was the last thing John wanted.

They had moved in closer again, seemingly unable to be apart for any length of time. They were not pressed together like the other people around them, but John’s hands rested comfortably around Sherlock’s waist and Sherlock’s fingers were wrapped around John’s biceps in a tender embrace. Their steps had turned into something more like a mere shuffling of feet as the great detective spoke quietly and John laughed or did double-takes. Everything about it was delicious and there was not a thought in John’s head that was not about this man.

John leaned forward to rest his forehead against Sherlock’s chest. He felt Sherlock’s breath falter and straightened again in a shot. He stared at Sherlock while internally berating himself for spoiling the moment. He swallowed hard, his mind searching for words and coming up empty. To his relief, their stilted movements grew more easy and relaxed as they listened to the lyrics drifting around them.

I never thought I’d lay me heart on the line, but everything about you is tellin’ me this time

It’s forever, this time I know and there’s no doubt in my mind

Forever, until my life is through

“You really are brilliant,” John said sincerely. He bit his lip as he watched Sherlock’s face slip from one expression to another. It was not the best thing to say and John had meant to say Sherlock’s deductions were brilliant, but he could not take it back and part of him did not want to.

A very big part.

“Do someone else,” John suggested lightly. Sherlock looked relieved and he let his eyes wander all around, looking for the next subject. John pressed his lips together and licked them with trepidation, never taking his own eyes off the taller man. “Do me?”

Sherlock’s expression changed in a heartbeat and his relaxed posture tightened into stiff muscles. His smile vanished, becoming a clenched jaw with muscles working beneath the skin. John felt the open door between them slam shut. Sherlock released his hold on John’s arms and began to step away. Shit, John was not entirely sure what he did wrong, but he had to make it right.

“John…”

“Hey, no, no,” John grabbed Sherlock’s wrists so he could not disappear in the mass of people on the floor. John knew that Sherlock would make sure John never saw him again unless he wanted him to. Panic creeped into his voice as he continued. “It’s okay. I didn’t mean to… I just… Don’t go. Please.”

He studied John with more than a little hesitation, but did not try to pull away again.

“I can’t,” Sherlock said in a shaky voice. He pressed his lips together, curling them in on one another. “People don’t like hearing my deductions. They don’t like that I know their secrets.”

“But they’re blindsided, Sherlock,” John ventured. “I’m asking and I think it’s fantastic. I do. It’s amazing.”

“John, I…” Sherlock ducked his head and then met John’s eyes. “I don’t want to drive you away.”

“You won’t,” John answered, face open but decisive. He gave Sherlock’s wrists a squeeze. “Please.”

They looked at one another in silence for a long moment, both gauging the other. Standing still in a sea of moving bodies.

           I see my future when I look in your eyes

           It took your love to make my heart come alive

           ‘Cause I lived my life believin’ all love is blind

           But everything about you is tellin’ me this time

           It’s forever

“You’re a doctor,” Sherlock began to say. His words were slow and careful. John gave him a warm smile and started swaying again. He let go of Sherlock’s wrist to slide a light hand to his waist and Sherlock obliged by moving closer and resting his own hand on John’s shoulder. John nodded in encouragement for him to continue. Sherlock eyed him with apprehension as he opened his mouth to speak.

“A surgeon, in fact and a skilled one at that. You consult with patients, who appreciate your bedside manner, but are also the first they call for emergencies,” Sherlock paused, looking more comfortable and resolute. He pressed on. “As a result, you spend a great deal of time at the hospital. St. Bart’s.”

John’s eyes widened and he wondered how Sherlock could know which hospital. He did not ask, unwilling to interrupt the brilliant man before him.

“You keep a rather modest flat, despite being able to afford more because you don’t see the point in having something extravagant. You spend little wakeful time at home,” Sherlock was on a roll now. The impressive line of his shoulders was relaxed and his jaw loosened. “You could change your hours, of course. You haven’t been at Bart’s long, but have the clout to do it already.”

Sherlock hesitated, studying John carefully. John knew immediately that Sherlock was not looking for more information. He had all of that already. Sherlock was assessing the damage his words might do to their budding friendship, or romance?

“Go on,” John prompted casually, trying only a little to hide his excitement at what Sherlock might say next. His words seemed to settle something inside of Sherlock and he continued.

“You don’t want to change anything about it though,” he stopped and studied John with great interest, the skin beneath his eyes contracting in thought and recognition. “You have a boyfriend and for some time, in fact, but you don’t live together by design. You were close once. Now you can count the number of times he’s been to your flat in the last six months on both hands. You have been to his more, though still not often and you never to stay the night. You have not been intimate for at least a year, but still enjoy spending time together as friends and you’ve wondered if that might not be the better route,” Sherlock sounded as though he could not stop himself if he tried now and John felt a little hot under the collar. The mad genius was definitely going to explain how he knew all of this.

“You even suspect he is seeing someone else. He has increased the time he spends with a certain friend, especially in the last four months, but you have done nothing to alter your relationship,” Sherlock gazed at John for a long moment, obviously seeing his growing irritation. His lips parted in what might have been an apology, but instead Sherlock spoke firmly. “He is not cheating.”

John’s body jerked back a touch at that, his eyes wide with surprise.

“Not physically anyway,” Sherlock clarified and actually looked a bit sad, “but an emotional connection really is more of a betrayal.”

With that, both men were silent. John’s eyes were still wide with shock, his lips parted. He searched for something to say, but did not think he could speak if he tried. There was no way Sherlock could know all that, especially about Jim. He could not possibly...and yet, John believed him. He let it wash over him as he and Sherlock continued to shuffle their feet. They moved slowly, nothing like their energetic dancing earlier in the night. John considered Jim, thinking about things he had avoided for months. Staying in the relationship, such as it was, made no sense and was not fair to either of them. It was not what John wanted and yet, whenever John thought about the time Jim spent with Moran it angered him, but why? Jim deserved to be happy as much as John did and if that was with Moran, then so be it.

“But now…” Sherlock’s voice pulled John back to himself and the dance floor where he had been moving by rote. His eyes focused back into the here and now, and he blinked at Sherlock’s thoughtful gaze. “You may have found someone else who’s worthwhile. A reason to change.”

Sherlock’s words stopped abruptly, as did their movements. Couples holding each other close swayed around them, but did not bump into them somehow. Sherlock’s body was rigid to match John’s, his face startled and filled with dread. He knew he had said too much. All of it was true, of course, right down to the notion that John was toying with the idea of asking Sherlock out on a proper date, but to say it aloud with so much presumption, because there could be no doubt as to who “someone else” referred to. Sherlock had inserted himself right into John’s life with the ease of that one comment and was clearly petrified John would be angry, insulted even. They had only just met, after all.

“It could be us,” Sherlock blurted suddenly. John half wondered if the man knew he had said it out loud, but his wide eyes and scarlet cheeks told John he did. “I could be yours, if you would be mine.”

Sherlock fell silent again, his lips clamping shut as though they had acted of their own accord and he had finally managed to regain control of them. John stared into his horrified face and blinked. The initial surge of anger John had felt began to drain from his body, not even replaced with shock like Sherlock. To his surprise, John felt completely at ease and something he had not experienced in months sparked at the back of his mind: the warm glow of happiness. It bloomed through his mind and filled his body with light energy that John readily embraced.

He looked at the man in front of him with wonder. He felt as though he had known Sherlock all his life, despite knowing virtually nothing about him. It was a feeling, a touch. John’s hand found Sherlock’s where it hung at his side and opened his mouth to speak.

            Yeah!

The voice rang out sharply over the mass of people eliciting a loud cheer from the crowd. Prom time was over and everyone sprang into action, including Sherlock. Wanting to erase his words and the awkwardness from John’s mind, he raised his arms straight up and moved his lithe body in an obscene wave timed perfectly with the rhythm. He threw his head back at the next “Yeah” and when his gaze fell on John again, it was searing. John stood watching in shock. He could not comprehend the sudden change in Sherlock’s demeanor. As John struggled through the confusion and lingering awkwardness, he opened his mouth to speak, but was rendered speechless when Sherlock took a step closer. He lowered his arms, fingers skimming along his body as they went and resting on his own undulating hips. He turned his back to John, looking over his shoulder with those smoldering eyes, swinging and rocking his lush ass. He was just close enough to barely bump into John’s groin, filling him with a teasing pleasure.

His mouth watering and cock twitching with interest, John leapt into the perfect accompaniment to Sherlock’s sultry moves as another voice began to sound.

           Up in the club with my homies, trying to get a lil’ V-I

           Keep it down on the low key

           You should know how it feels

Sherlock popped his body to the beat, looking every bit the king of the dance floor. He was like a six foot tall snake slithering both elegantly and suggestively into John’s space and out again. It was the hottest goddamn thing John had seen in all his life.

            She’s saying, come get me

            So I got up and followed her to the floor

            She said, baby let’s go

            When I told her (let’s go) I said

            Yeah!

The cry set John’s body alight with an unexpected energy. He stepped right into Sherlock’s personal space and they popped together, their bodies skirting the line of what was appropriate in public. They turned and leaned and undulated in unison, turning up the heat as they did so. Sherlock dropped in front of John with his back to the doctor and rose again thrusting his perfect ass against John’s groin. John moaned out loud. The sound disappeared into the noise of the club and the music, but Sherlock heard. His head was cocked to the side so he could watch John with a saucy smirk as he continued to grind against him. John placed his hands on Sherlock’s hips and pulled him tight. They swayed in tandem as they worked their way across the floor. Sherlock’s back was hot against John’s chest, his hands aflame where they rested on John’s.

God, it was amazing. Caught up in the excitement, John’s mind flew forward to more nights with this man dancing and talking about his cases. So distracted by his own thoughts and simultaneously focused on their movements was John that he did not notice how close they had come to the edge of the dance floor until the crowd surged and pushed them against the wall.

Sherlock had just turned to face John when two rather rambunctious couples collided with the doctor’s back, shoving him into Sherlock. The detective hit the brick wall with a thud and it knocked the breath from his lungs. John was pressed tightly against him, the other couples still right behind his back. Sherlock gasped when John’s hand cupped his face.

“God, that was hard,” John said breathlessly. “Are you okay?”

Sherlock’s eyes widened and he blew out a quiet breath that drifted over John’s lips. He was so close. His face was almost touching Sherlock’s. His lips were so close. John could tip his head forward mere millimeters and his mouth would be on Sherlock’s soft cupid’s bow. God, it would be life-altering. Lips so soft, so perfect, and they would move with John’s. He knew they would.

John swallowed hard and bit his bottom lip. He slowly moved his hand from Sherlock’s cheek to his shoulder to ease the clenching of his own heart. As if on cue, the couple behind him pushed at his back once again and John lurched into Sherlock. His lips brushed over the detective’s and his eyes fluttered closed, seeing stars. He felt Sherlock’s fingers tighten around his biceps and  a soft answering pressure on his lips. A surge of lust and joy rolled over him for just a moment before reality set in again. John’s eyes snapped open in an instant as a touch of panic filled his body from head to toe. Sensing his distress, Sherlock leaned back and allowed John to pull away as far as the space would allow. They locked eyes and stopped. Just stopped.

John felt Sherlock’s hands slide off his arms to his waist and then fall away. He stared in shocked disbelief into Sherlock’s face. He may have shared John’s surprise, but the heat in his eyes had sparked to life again. He panted onto John’s lips. John ventured a quick glance at them and a surge of adrenaline shot through his chest to his stomach and limbs. It was a combination of lust and honest affection. John was almost lightheaded with it. He looked back at Sherlock and his brow furrowed at what he saw. Disappointment shadowed Sherlock’s eyes and creased his forehead. The corners of his mouth angled downward.

“Your boyfriend,” Sherlock rasped, nodding his head toward the bar. His mouth was still so close to John that the sigh he let out drifted over John’s lips and the doctor was loath to look away. What he saw drained that wonderful, tingling, incredible adrenaline rush from his body.

Jim Moriarty was standing at the bar with Moran and talking to Greg. John stepped away from Sherlock as though he had been caught at something and turned to face the bar fully. He watched for a moment as Jim laughed at something Greg said and then once more when Moran added a word or two. It clicked in John’s mind: a decision. His life would be forever changed.

With his focus on what he needed to do, John made his way across the dance floor. His stride was steady and determined as he went and people seemed to just move out of his way like he was parting the Red Sea. John was at Jim’s side in seconds. Moran noticed him first and stepped closer in challenge, but backed up again in a swift movement. There was a look of being caught out passing over Moran’s features for just a second before his expression turned cool and indifferent, but John saw and it heated his temper. John also saw Greg’s smile fading and his eyes flicking out to the dance floor.

“John, you’re here,” Jim said in a pleased tone that would have fooled anyone else, but not John. Jim leaned in for a kiss, but John turned his head and angled away. Jim frowned and then shook it off, resuming his typical swagger. “Greg wasn’t sure he’d seen you.”

John glanced at Greg, who gave him a pointed look. The corner of John’s mouth turned up. He would never reveal his friend’s lie. His eyes slid smoothly back to Jim and his smile tightened.

“Got here when you said we’d meet,” John said sharply. His tone was more harsh than he had planned, but he had truly grown tired of repeating the same scenario over and over.

“Yeah,” Jim put on an apologetic face, “I’m sorry I was late.”

“Are you?” John replied with barely concealed annoyance.

“Steady,” Moran warned, taking a step closer and puffing up his chest.

“Piss off, Moran,” John barked, standing to his full height and entering the man’s personal space. Moran had a good six inches on him, but John did not give a shit. He never liked Moran. Part of John had always wanted to punch the sneer of a smile off his face, but he had avoided the temptation. John might just make an exception tonight.

“John, no,” Jim’s hand was on John’s chest and he pressed in as close to in between them as he could. “It’s fine.”

“It really isn’t,” John scowled, directing his glare to his boyfriend. No, not boyfriend. That was not what he wanted.

John moved away from them and turned to look across the dance floor. Sherlock was gone. John turned his body to face the mass of people fully, a pang of alarm shuddering through his body. His eyes darted around the club, but found nothing. Finally, his focus settled on the door just in time to see a long, swooshing coat topped with a head of gorgeous curls swoop out into the night air. Sherlock must have stashed the coat somewhere before introducing himself to John. John’s heart clenched painful in his chest like a piece of it had been wrenched out. Sherlock had left and John would never see him again if he did not hunt the man down right now.

“You’re right,” John said suddenly, his mouth curving up. He looked back at Jim and clapped a hand on his shoulder. “It is fine.”

Jim stared at him inquisitively. He tilted his head curiously and cocked a brow, seemingly about to speak. John cracked a mirthless smile and squeezed Jim’s shoulder.

“It’s been over a long time, yeah,” John said definitively. Jim’s expression changed instantly. He pressed his thin lips together and inhaled deeply, a long centering breath. He glanced down for a moment and gave a slight nod of resignation.

“Yes,” Jim met John’s eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” John answered, removing his hand from the man’s shoulder. “We’ve already moved on and it’s better this way.”

Jim glanced at Moran as he nodded in agreement. John stared straight ahead, not even seeing them anymore. His own words ringing in his ears. ‘Already moved on’. John had to keep a certain consulting detective from moving on and that meant he needed to get the fuck out of here now.

“Great. See you around,” John muttered, turning his back on them. He set off in an instant, a spring in his step and a grin on his face.

                Well, I will call you darlin' and everything will be okay

                'Cause I know that I am yours and you are mine

                Doesn't matter anyway

                In the night, we'll take a walk, it's nothing funny

                Just to talk

The words rang out in the air around John and he increased his pace until he was running for the door. He burst through it and stopped in the middle of the pavement, looking right and left almost frantically. He was not there. Sherlock was nowhere to be found. It was dark even with the streetlamps, but the tall man should have been visible. John looked both ways again. There was not a single figure on the abandoned streets. There were plenty of cars passing by though. John’s shoulders began to sag as it became clear that Sherlock must have caught a cab. John chewed on his lip in disappointment and stared out into the street. It was too late. He had missed his chance.

John did not have much time to feel sorry for himself. As he stood there staring at a sizable puddle at the edge of the street, a fast-moving cab splashed through it and sent a wave of dirty water over the front of his body. His eyes flew shut in the onslaught and he gasped out an “Oi” that the buildings around him swallowed whole.

“Fucking hell!” John shouted, looking after the cab. He lifted his arms and shook them slowly as he looked down his own body. He was soaked and filthy. A cab would never take him in this condition. He sighed and muttered angry curses as he touched his dripping shirt. His trousers were just as wet, and cold. Jesus, it was cold. It was going to be a long walk home.

“John?” a silky baritone called from somewhere close.

John’s head snapped up, his wide eyes immediately finding a lone figure standing across the street. The corners of John’s mouth quirked up, his foul mood instantly lifted. The tall man in the swooshy coat was unmistakable. John felt light and his heart soared, even as his throat closed. He could not seem to get a word out, so he just stood there grinning like an idiot. He watched as Sherlock made a few quick deductions and scowled.

“Don’t be an idiot, John,” he shouted, feet set and shoulders squared. “Get over here.”

John glanced up and down the street, letting a car pass and then jogging across the traffic lanes. He splashed through a puddle or two on the way. Droplets sprayed through the air and caught the light of the streetlamps like sparkling diamonds in the night sky. In mere seconds, he stood in front of Sherlock with a grin still on his face as the detective scanned his soaked form with an air of disapproval. John knew he would not ask how it happened, knowing he had deduced it all already.

“You left,” John remarked pleasantly, the joke plain in his voice. Sherlock had none of it, remaining stone faced and cocking a brow.

“You left to be with your boyfriend,” he said petulantly. Sherlock managed to mostly conceal his sneer as he said the last word. John could not stop his quiet chuckle at the man’s jealousy.

“I don’t have a boyfriend,” John shrugged as he casually took a step closer. Sherlock’s eyes widened and his brows furrowed in confusion.

“But you…” Sherlock stopped himself, rapid deductions visible on his face. His whole expression changed: eyebrows shooting up with hope, silver eyes gleaming, and his lips beginning to curve upward. “Oh.”

“Oh,” John repeated playfully with a quick raise of his brows. “Is that restaurant still open? I’d love to hear about your cases.”

“Not a chance,” Sherlock gave a single shake of his head and huffed a laugh. “Angelo’s well on his way home by now.”

“Oh,” John’s shoulders sank and his face fell as disappointment filled him. He scolded himself silently for just abandoning Sherlock on the dance floor without a word. My god, he was so stupid. John was certain by now that it looked like he was stalking off in a jealous rage. No doubt watching from afar only confirmed it when John got angry and snapped at Jim. Honestly, what the fuck had John been thinking? He had every intention of kicking Jim to the curb when he started across the dance floor and then with Moran there being all possessive and Jim doing his typical song and dance, John’s anger had gotten the better of him until he finally snapped out of it. ‘Be right back’. That was all he would have needed to clue in Sherlock, but John had just stomped off. Jesus Christ, he was an idiot.

“Angelo would have been hesitant to let you in in that condition anyway,” Sherlock’s words pulled John back from his own thoughts. The detective still had a hint of a smile on his face as his beautiful eyes ran the length of John’s body. “You’ll never get a cab and will catch your death walking for an hour.”

“How do you know it’d take me an hour?” John asked, feeling his mood lighten.

Sherlock just cocked a brow, his expression screaming ‘Come now, John, don’t be dull’. A smile broke over John’s lips and he tucked his chin down with a quiet self-deprecating laugh. When he looked up again, Sherlock’s amusement was easily apparent and he had taken a step closer.

“We’ll go to my flat,” the detective announced with equal measure authority and cheek. “We can wash your things over tea. My clothes won’t fit you, but I have something that will work. Provided I can sneak you past Mrs. Hudson, which I can.”

“What is she? Your school marm?” John snorted.

“My landlady,” Sherlock corrected. “She fancies herself an adoptive mother, but not my housekeeper.”

John laughed again at that and rested his hands on his hips. He looked at Sherlock with fond eyes, dancing inside that he had not bollocksed up the whole thing, and trying not to let his imagination run wild at where this might go.

“And what about Greg?” John teased. “Think he’ll mind having a guest in the flat?”

“Not if it’s you,” Sherlock replied with a glance towards the club. “He might not even know without me to pull him away from this place.”

John laughed and gave a nod at that.

“So,” John began slowly, a thoughtful expression on his face as if he was giving Sherlock’s proposal serious consideration and not bouncing off the walls with excitement, “tea and cases at yours then?”

“That is what I’m suggesting, yes,” Sherlock confirmed, all seriousness and formality as though it was a business transaction. John felt a sudden tingling wave of anticipation envelope his body and he nearly shivered from the unexpected pleasure of it. He tried to keep the smile from being so wide as to give away his every thought, but knew he failed completely. To his delight, Sherlock mirrored his emotions as soon as he saw them on John’s face.

“Oh god, yes. I’d love to,” John blurted, lifting his hands from his hips and holding them out slightly, not sure how to contain the ecstatic energy within his body. John watched as Sherlock did the impossible: His smile grew and warmed into true fondness. John’s heart gave a squeeze as they began to walk down the pavement together, the sound of music fading away as they went.

           Put your hand in mine

           You know that I want to be with you all the time

           You know that I won't stop until I make you mine

“So, what was your latest case?” John asked eagerly, ignoring the chill creeping under his skin.

“I hope you know, John, that this is not going to be one-sided,” Sherlock told him sternly, ignoring the question. “I want to know everything about your cases as well.”

“My cases?” John questioned. He had not expected that. His profession did not seem nearly as interesting as the detective’s.

“Yes, of course,” Sherlock confirmed quickly. “Naturally nothing that would compromise patient confidentiality, but the work and advice of a skilled surgeon would come in very handy. Maybe even at crime scenes, if you’re willing.”

“You can do that?” John stopped walking in shock. Sherlock stopped a pace ahead and turned to look at the doctor.

“Whatever I need to solve a case,” he answered simply.

“They really give you a wide berth, don’t they?” John’s smile snuck back over his lips.

“They do, yes,” the corners of Sherlock’s mouth quirked up.

“So, like a consultant,” John stated experimentally.

“A partner,” Sherlock replied just as tentatively and brushed his fingers delicately over John’s in an unmistakable gesture.

“Yeah,” the word was out of John’s mouth before he could even think. “Yes, please. I’d love it.”

John nearly face palmed. So much for not slamming all of his cards down on the table without even bluffing. Fortunately, Sherlock was not bothered by his enthusiasm in the slightest. He flashed a brilliant smile and gestured ahead. The two men began walking and talking, occasionally brushing hands as they went. By the time Sherlock opened the door to 221B on Baker Street, John knew this would be the relationship to end them all and he would forever be at the side of Sherlock Holmes.

-----

And there you have it. MERRY CHRISTMAS!!

I want to thank my wonderful beta, MyBreadAndButter, and wish her well. Hang in there. The year's almost over and I can only believe 2021 will be a damn site better. I also want to thank my fabulous friend, superwholocklmt, for stepping in when I needed to pick yet another brain on this one. You are the Sherlock to my John, without a doubt. Last but not least, I want to thank my my ever so knowledgeable friend, underestimatemethatwillbefun, for two of The Best song ideas. I'd never heard either of them before, but knew they HAD to be in this story once I listened to them. You are awesome.

Dang, I'm not sure what to say because there can't be any questions for the next chapter. Ha! I'm totally out of my element. I'll just throw a little update your way then, shall I? I'm just starting work on another story that I'm hoping to post early next year. It is another 'What comes after season 4' piece. Like in 'Finding John Watson', I'll be changing some of what happened in S4. Just a little something to whet your appetite: Mary is still alive. She and John moved away, possibly to Sussex, before she gave birth to Rosie. They cut off all contact with Sherlock and haven't bee in touch with anyone else either, but now John is moving back to London. Will he run into Sherlock or seek him out? What's that meeting going to be like? Rushing into each other's arms or a fistfight similar to when Sherlock returned from the dead? We shall see....

I hope you all enjoyed your present and can enjoy zooming with relatives for the holidays. I know it's not the same, but it's still one of the most joyous times of the year. I'll be thinking of all of you and sending all the love I can. Thank you for being such great readers and fans. It's always so heartwarming and humbling to read your comments and share your joys. I don't know what I'd do without sometimes.

Happy Holidays from Cakey Jane and, as I sit looking at where Deadpool hangs next to my daughter's unicorn on the Christmas tree, let me say again: Keep your pants dry and your dreams wet, and remember, hugs not drugs.

Love, Jane

[hateswifi]

Making Do (With What Life Give Us): Part 4

So last part, don’t be afraid to talk to me, I love interacting with you all. I hope you enjoyed this short (15k word) fic. Without further ado, I give you Part 4.

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

As her friendship with Adrien grew she realized that he and Chat Noir are the same person. They had kissed during Dark Cupid, turns out they both remember it and found it awkward and decided on being friends. They would have won the gaming competition if Marinette hadn't given her spot up to Max. She had won his father's hat competition without prior knowledge of their friendship, in fact, Gabriel had offered a scholarship which she would have taken if not had it been for her need to disappear to be Ladybug. But she did take commissions from her new uncle, Jagged Stone. Chloe and she had become co-class presidents together again and everyone was quite happy. She also joined them in battle as Queen Bee with the promise of secrecy. Adrien and Chloe had officially unofficially adopted the two blondes into their family. Her parents are super protective over them especially after hearing about their nightly escapades as heroes. As a group, they were close, with the help of her family, to figuring out who Hawkmoth is. 

After an awkward conversation that Marinette did not in fact like Nino more than a friend, he joined the friend group with the later addition of Alya, his new girlfriend. Throughout it all, Damian and her family had started to come to Paris more, thankfully no one from her friends besides Chloe and Adrien had met them. She didn't want to tell Nino and Alya because of the Ladyblog, Alya had a tendency to stretch the truth and to do practically anything to get a good story. She didn't fully trust them and with good reason and it all started at the beginning of her third year in Paris.

A new student joined the class, which would have been fine besides the lies she was constantly telling. "I'll meet you in the park in ten minutes," she had said to Adrien.

"You wouldn't believe what she just said," Adrien snickers to Marinette as she comes out of hiding.

"How'd you know I was there?" Marinette asks, sitting beside him.

"Chloe texted me saying you felt something suspicious about her," Adrien said.

"And with good intention, she's clearly lying," Marinette pouted.

"Obviously, she's best friends with Ladybug even though she just moved here? How does that even make sense?" Adrien asks. "So I'm not saying that you should, but I'm going to meet up with 'Ladybug's best friend' I feel like she would LOVE to catch up with her, don't you think?"

"I'll let you know what my dear friend says," Marinette smirks. Adrien and the rest of her brothers had started to rub off on her.

"I don't recommend it, I would wait to see what she says first," Tikki whispers from Mari's purse. "Or you could interrupt as you depending on what she says."

"We'll see," Marinette said, standing up. As she entered the park she heard the liar talking. 

She coos. "Ladybug isn't even the most powerful hero, it's Volpina, the holder of the fox miraculous." She pauses while she pulls out her necklace. "This is the fox miraculous, it used to be my grandmother's, but she passed it down to me. I let Ladybug have her time to make a name for herself because we're best friends."

"You've been here for like two days," Adrien started.

"And," Marinette says, walking up. "That was a necklace released in Gabriel's last line. Also why would you tell a total stranger about something, 'so important' something that is supposed to be a secret," Marinette said, sitting down beside Adrien.

"Sabine, Tom, and Chloe are waiting at home for lunch, want to come?" Marinette asks Adrien.

"I would love to!" the liar interrupted, standing up.

"And you are?" Marinette asks.

"Sorry Mari, my dad wants me to come home today," Adrien said, standing.

"It's fine, just remember mama and papa would be heartbroken if they don't see you soon," Marinette said walking towards the entrance.

"Hey I've been busy, could you imagine how much more busy I would be if we hadn't threatened to dye my hair?" Adrien laughs, remembering that wonderful weekend.

"What do you mean?" Lila asked, racing up behind them.

"A couple of weeks ago, Adrien wanted to have a sleepover with our friend group, but his dad was being himself and decided that he couldn't," Marinette started, prompting Adrien to finish. "They snuck in through the window with some semi-permanent dye and the dyed my hair lime green. I threatened to shave my head if he kept forcing me to stay in the house."

"You're a bad influence on him!" Lila shouts, grabbing her arm.

"All I'm showing him is that he doesn't have to live his life as a prisoner in his own house," Marinette responds, pulling her arm from Lila's clutch.

"And I couldn't be happier," Adrien says as his car pulls up. "Bye Mari, we still on for after school?"

"Yes, Mama said if you don't learn how to back soon she'll disown me," Marinette laughs, hugging him.

"She can't disown you and even if she did Bruce would be more than happy to take you back," Adrien snickers.

"So are we never going to talk about this again?" Lila asked, the two friends stopping in their tracks.

"As long as you don't lie, we could start a friendship," Marinette smiles. "See you in class, Lila. Welcome to our class." They wave and walk there separate ways.

Stuff started to go downhill from there, Alya and Nino believed Lila lies over Marinette and their friend group them. It was a dark time in Marinette's life, everyone besides Chloe and Adrien. The retaliation that the class set against them was beyond tolerable. Gabriel still made Adrien deal with Lila because apparently 'she is all the rage right now.' Marinette had been more unhappy than usual so Marinette's parents decided that she needed a break from the drama, but on her last day before her vacation when everything went to hell. 

"I can't believe she was even let into this school!" Alya loudly exclaimed during lunch. 

Lila's sniffled, she had been distressed because Marinette 'supposedly' made fun of her for her past, "What do you mean?"

"Well before she became a jealous wench we were best friends, I just so happen to know almost everything about her," Alya snickers.

"What do you mean? She has secrets?" Lila asks, rubbing her eyes to wipe her tears away.

"She used to live in America, where her dad left her before she was born. Her mother was a stripper and died because she couldn't pay for her drugs and was shot," Alya laughs. "She lived on the streets until Sabine and Tom adopted her. Then she became friends with Chloe and Adrien for their money and connection, obviously. She then manipulated Adrien, Lila's soulmate, to hate her."

"I recommend you silence yourself before I break your elbows and give them to Titus," A voice comes from the entry of the cafeteria. "You're saying only the bad, most of them exaggerated and false.

"And you are... someone she paid to pretend to like her?" Lila asked.

"No, she doesn't need to pay me, even if she could she wouldn't be able to. She is my best friend," he said.

"Ummmm... No! I'm her best friend and she's never spoken of you," Alya said, crossing her arms.

"A real friend would check her statements before announcing these lies. Speaking of the Angel, where is she?" he asked.

"You must not be talking about her because she's an actual demon," Lila sniffles. "Have you heard the things she's done to me?"

"And I don't believe you," He said.

"Thanks, Demon. I never needed any of them all I needed was my closest and most trustworthy friends," Marinette said after she had run and hugged him.

"Hey, Angel, it's good to see you again," he said into her hair.

"And who are you, 'Demon', you never answered," Alya asked, putting air quotes around 'Demon'.

"I'm Damian, Marinette's best friend," Damian said, an arm wrapped around her shoulder.

"That's debatable, we both know I'm her better friend," Adrien snickers.

"Nope. I was her first friend," Damian answers.

"But first is the worst, and as being her second friend, I'm the best," Chloe says, smiling.

"Come on guys, you get to spend all the time with me, let me spend some time with Damian. I haven't seen him since Thanksgiving," Marinette says, snuggling into his embrace.

"Good job making the conversation all about you," Lila remarks.

"Whatever... come on let's go to class, the sooner this ends, the sooner I can leave," Marinette says and they turn to walk to class. 

"Who the hell does she think she is?" Lila said, crossing her arms.

"A jealous, psychotic, gold-digging, wench," Alya answers.

"With good tastes though, did you see that hot piece of man that defended her," Lila said.

"Dark and brooding," Alya adds before they head to class. The lesson was normal, glares and disappointing glances sent her way, as she designed. With fifteen minutes before dismissal for the day, a knock came at the door. 

"I'm here for Marinette," Damian said, entering the room.

"Oh thank God, I don't know how much more of this crap I can take," She responds in English. "Bye Chloe, Adrien, love you both, see you next week." She hears her friends respond with a bye as the door closes.

The trip went well and the time was well spent. Marinette released her first line while in Gotham under, the alias she used to be known as, Sunshine. They had a party held in her honor where for the first time ever, she showed her face to the public and the Ice Prince and Princess Sunshine became an official couple. She melted his heart, as said by a majority of the news outlets. 

She had also made a speech at the closing of the ball. "So honestly, I just want to thank Bruce, who was kind enough to foster for me, Damian, who was a supportive food friend turned boyfriend, my brother, Jason, Tim and Drake, who taught me to live my life. Along with my two best friends, who I met in Paris, Chloe Bourgeois and Adrien Agreste. My adopted parents, Tom and Sabine, who only have my best interest at heart. Last but not least I would love to thank my antagonists all my classmates, who I'm too mature to call out by name, especially the liar, you know who you are."

The girls watch in disbelief. Lila was crying actual tears as she saw her lie-kingdom begin to fall. Alya cries as she sees her career end. 

When Marinette returned a couple of days later, Marinette walked into class early, smiling. Alya stood there, arms crossed and glared ready. "You are a petty waste of--"

"I could have been petty and released all your names," Marinette says, trying to walk past the red-head.

"No, that is just common courtesy, it was just petty to bring us up in your lies," Lila said.

"You want to see petty, fine," Marinette said, dropping her bag on Bustier's desk. She pulls out her notebook and rips it.

"So... why should we care," Lila asked.

"That. That right there ripped up and at the bottom of the waste bin is our end of the year trip," Marinette said, pointing to the waste bin.

"You! You petty bitch!" Lila screams.

"Yep, and proud of it," Marinette smiles and takes a seat, but not before placing a stack of papers on their desk.

"Also this is for you," Adrien says, walking into class. He places a stack of papers on Alya and Lila's desk.

"And what are those," Lila says, significantly paler than normal.

"Well from me, those are lawsuits from my parents, Jagged Stone, and the Waynes," Marinette said, smiling as she took a seat.

"Mine is a court-mandated cease and desist order for your Ladyblog, for spreading rumors about the Agreste Brand. For you, Lila, your papers are termination papers, for spreading false rumors," Adrien said.

"W... What, you can't do this the Ladyblog is my life work!" Alya screamed.

"Who cares about you!? My mum is going to send me back to military school if she finds out I got in trouble for lying, please don't do this," Lila exclaimed, falling on the ground.

"I gave you a way out last year, you didn't take it," Adrien said, sitting beside Chloe and Marinette.

"It's all your fault! If you hadn't been such a bad influence on him I could have had it all," Lila screamed, attempting to jump at him.

"Nope! you couldn't have," Damian said entering the room.

"Lila Rossi, you're under arrest for working the terrorist, Hawkmoth and using celebrities' names to get free things," the officer said.

"Damian, what are you doing here?" Marinette asks, standing up to greet her boyfriend.

"Father and I are here on business," he responds hugging her,

"And does any of that business have to do with you helping me?" Marinette asks, smiling into his embrace.

"Some of it the other half was actual, WE work. I'm going to be working in this wing of WE when I graduate," Damian smiles.

"Sounds great, Demon," Marinette says, breaking the embrace to look him in the eyes.

"I can't wait to start this next chapter of my life with you by my side, Angel," Damian said, kissing the crown of her head.

Extra (how Damian realized Marinette was definitely not just a friend):

Marinette had come to the ball (not really party just really big party) wearing a light blue off the shoulder cocktail dress, looking as beautiful as normal. He had been enjoying himself until he saw it. Normally he’s not one to be jealous, but the way she was smiling at this guy was bothering him. Damian found Jason and told him. “I have a suspicious feeling about that guy.”

“Are you it’s not because how he’s making her smile?” Jason asks, nudging him with his elbow. 

“And why would that bother me!” Damian asks. 

“Well remember that time in the gym, right after Marinette became Ladybug and you found out she had a partner,” Jason asks, Damian gave a nod, yes. “Well today could be that day. The longer you wait the less chance you have with her.” He finishes before walking away. 

Extra (how they became a couple):

He was utterly and completely hecked --gotta keep it family friendly ( ; -- he was in love with his best friend and it looks like someone had already beaten him to it. At the thought he walked away to the balcony, failing to notice the bluenette, who had seen him sad and decided to check up on him.

When she found him he was leaning on the guardrail he was holding a glass of grape juice, not being the legal drinking his brothers found it funny to give him it. “What’s the matter Dami?” Marinette asks, putting a hold on his shoulder. 

“It nothing, I just realized that I’ve been missing who's been in front of me this whole time and now its too late,” he sighs, taking a swig from his glass.

“Missing who?” Marinette asks, placing her head on his shoulder.

“You, you’re the best thing that’s happened to me and it’s too late now,”  Damian explained.

“What do you mean it’s too late?” Marinette said, lifting her head. 

“Didn’t that guy ask you out?” Damian asks, standing up straighter. 

“What? No Dami. He’s a client,” Marinette explained, pulling him into a hug. 

“Wait seriously?” Damian says. “God, I’m so stupid.”

“Yes Damian, if you hadn’t noticed I’m head over hill for you,” Marinette says, kissing his cheek. 

“Seriously!?” Damian asks, picking her up in a spin. 

“If I didn’t know Adrien I would say you’re the most oblivious person I know,” Marinette giggles into his embrace.

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

Tag list:

@northernbluetongue @chocolatecatstheron @throneoffirebreathingbitchqueen @gwennex @abrx2002 @sonif50 @silvergold-swirl @sturchling @rosep16 @toodaloo-kangaroo @captainmac6 @crazylittlemunchkin @tired-butterfly @emo-elaine13 @book-lover-2006 @weird-pale-blonde-person @rebecarojas07 @dahjokester @jessigurl-design @vixen-uchiha @daminett4life @cici-schnee @clumsy-owl-4178 @lavenderchaitea @grimmhallow31

[green-eyed-whumpster]

My OC Universe: Rowan 111

Chapter 111 Summary: Rowan and Peter make their way into the village to celebrate a winter festival, and plan to meet with someone familiar. (Tags: @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi, @much-ado-about-whumping, @abitefullofeverything, @whump-me-all-night-long, @sky-or-something-idfk and @tears-and-lilies)

Trigger Warnings: PTSD whumpee, reference to previous abuse

“Don’t go too fast, Rowan!” The boy turned his head over his shoulder as he tripped through the snow.

“I’m fine, Peter! Hurry up!” His grin was visible from the thirty metres away and Peter smiled back.

“The celebration doesn’t begin for another four hours, we have time!” He panted as he stumbled through the barrier to try and catch up to the light creature that bounded easily through the ice. “I planned this intentionally so we didn’t have to rush!”

The village held a Christmas eve festival every year, and when Rowan found out about it he was so excited that Peter couldn’t even consider denying him. Even though the man was far more inclined to stay at home and relax.

“Well, we have to see my father first, remember,” Rowan replied, stopping to turn around completely and face Peter as he came closer. “I don’t want to have to hurry through anything,”

“Of course,” Peter replied, grunting as the toe of his boot caught a hidden rock and he tripped. “But don’t forget that your tracking skills are lacking, getting lost would mean you missed out on seeing your father as well as the celebration, and maybe dying of frostbite isn’t the best way to spend midwinter.” Rowan smiled sheepishly as he registered the joke and huffed.

“Fine.”

Peter chuckled as he came close enough to reach out to Rowan and sighed heavily. “How are you feeling? You aren’t cold?” Rowan shook his head and wrapped his arms around his waist. Peter had made sure he rugged up for their trek, Rowan was layered up with two pairs of trousers and three coats, as well as Cordelia’s cloak that she had left for him. His shoes had been tightly covered with leather by Peter before they left, and he was grateful that his toes were still dry – if a tad cool.

“Just be careful,” He warned, taking a long step forward. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” Rowan blushed softly and nodded, following Peter as Olivia bounced beside him, walking unflinchingly through the snow, only jumping every so often to regain her balance.

~

The village was decorated with green holly leaves and mistletoe, decorated baubles hung from the lamp posts and bunting laced the streets. Rowan’s eyes moved constantly, taking in everything he could, every golden decoration, every street-vendor selling roasted nuts and warm spiced wine. He almost forgot about the knot in his stomach that tightened as he noticed they had approached the butcher’s.

“Remember, if you ever get overwhelmed, just say dandelion and we can leave,” Peter promised and Rowan nodded weakly.

“He-he looks closed, what should we do?” He asked and Peter shook his head.

“The entrance to his house is around the back, we’ll go and knock on that door.” Rowan felt both relief and dread as Peter moved forward, heading down the alleyway where Rowan had first seen his father again.

“Ah, can I…would you mind if I held your hand?” He asked as he raced closer, gloved fingers gently grabbing Peter’s arm.

“Of course not,” Peter replied, reaching over to adjust Rowan’s grip, curling his fingers around the boy’s palm. “Just take a deep breath, I won’t leave your side.” Rowan smiled slightly and bit his lip, tightening his hand.

“I’m so grateful to be your friend,” He murmured as they turned the corner.

“And I yours,” Peter smiled at him before stopping at the front step and knocking on the door. “You’re all right?” Rowan nodded as his free hand fondled his mother’s necklace through his shirt and sighed gently.

“I’m nervous, but I kind of want what happened with you,” Peter raised an eyebrow curiously and Rowan shrugged slightly. “I mean, I was terrified to see you again, but now we’re best friends, I want to have a good relationship with my father, even if it’s a bit scary at –“ He paused as the door opened and he was faced with a middle-aged woman. She had dark hair tied messily behind her, and honey-coloured eyes that crinkled as she smiled at them.

“Good afternoon, can I help you?” Her eyes narrowed as she studied Peter and her smile lifted slightly. “You’re the trapper, aren’t you? My husband loves your meat, it’s always so clean and fresh,” Peter smiled easily and nodded.

“I’m flattered,” He said and glanced to Rowan. “We’re actually here to see John, is he available?” The woman nodded and stepped aside, freeing the doorway for them to enter.

“Of course, come in,” She said invitingly, indicating for them to enter. Rowan tightened his hand in Peter’s as they stepped over the threshold.

“Oh, what about Olivia?” He asked Peter softly, who glanced over his shoulder to the dog.

“Ah, my friend has a dog he likes to keep with him for emotional support, would you mind if she came inside, too?” He asked, meeting the woman’s eye. “She’s very clean, and shouldn’t be any trouble.”

“Of course!” She grinned. “As long as she doesn’t mind the children fussing over her.”

“She shouldn’t, thank you,” Peter smiled in reply.

“Thank you,” Rowan muttered, his fingers lingered over Olivia’s scruff as they entered the house, eyes roving the kitchen, taking in everything he could of his father’s new home.

It was clean. But it still looked like a family home. His kitchen had been piled with empty bottles and half-eaten food, sometimes vomit would decorate the surfaces, and Rowan knew to remain scarce until his father was well-and-truly unconscious.

I wonder how much she knows about me. If anything.

She’s so nice.

“My name is Amelia,” The woman said, drawing him from his comparisons. “John’s upstairs with the children, but come, I’ll make some tea.” Rowan cringed at the mention of his half-siblings, every aspect of this life being so perfect to what he had desired so desperately when he was a child.

“Thank you, Amelia,” Peter said, glancing politely around. “I’m Peter, my friend is Rowan,” The woman’s eyes widened slightly and she turned her gaze to the boy.

“Oh, well it’s wonderful to meet you! Please, come sit down, he shouldn’t be too long,” Her face was still kind, but Rowan saw the recognition in her deep eyes.

Does she think I’ve come to make trouble?

Peter pulled out a chair for Rowan at the dining table, they could hear Amelia in the kitchen putting on a kettle and preparing a tea tray as he gently pushed Rowan into the chair.

“Are you all right?” He asked as Rowan fell into the chair, hand still locked with Peter’s. “Just take a breath, remember we’ll leave as soon as you want to.” The boy nodded, face blank as he stared at the centre of the table.

“It’s just, a bit confronting,” He murmured as Peter sat beside him.

“I understand,” He nodded. “Here, let me take off a couple of jackets, you’ll get hot and start panicking,” Rowan swallowed and his fingers pushed the buttons out of their button holes and finally released Peter’s hand. “You’re being really brave,” Peter added, sliding down the woollen and cotton layers from his shoulders. “I’m so proud of you.” Rowan blushed and smiled weakly, watching as Peter hung the coats from the back of his chair.

“I haven’t done anything, really,” He murmured as Peter sat down again and the man sighed gently as a smile tilted his lips up. Amelia walked in with a wooden tray in her hands, she was a stout woman, her arms strong from years of menial housework.

“I’m sorry about the wait,” She smiled, putting down a teacup in front of them both. “The kids don’t like baths, he’s probably still trying to dry them off.” Rowan curled his fingers into his palms and swallowed heavily.

“It’s all right, we’re patient,” Peter smiled, watching as she poured the amber tea into his cup. “Thank you very much for this,” She smiled at him and picked up the tray again.

“Of course, he should only be another minute,” Rowan watched as she left and tilted his head down sadly.

“I wonder if he usually helps with the children,” He whispered and Peter looked over.

“Hey, hey now, don’t be sad,” He cooed, reaching over to take one of Rowan’s hands. “We already know he wasn’t a good father to you, but that doesn’t mean he’s still a bad person,”

“I know,” Rowan sighed quietly. “But I’m still jealous.”

The pair sat in silence as they considered the words that came from his lips, waiting for the heavy footsteps that would interrupt their sombre thoughts. The heavy steps that would spike Rowan’s heartbeat and release a burst of adrenaline through his veins.

[artificialqueens]

The Wisdom Tooth One (Biadore) - Whiskey Neat

A/N: Saw a request for this a while back and finally decided to write it. This probably isn’t medically accurate at all but I hope y'all enjoy it anyways!

TW for mentions of blood

Summary: Adore gets her wisdom teeth pulled and Bianca has to deal with her dramatic ass. 

Bianca could not believe she had gotten convinced to come pick Adore up from her wisdom tooth surgery. “Absolutely the fuck not” had been her first answer, knowing that her lack of patience would not stand well in a situation where Adore’s whining and bitching would be at an all time high. But after much pouting and pleading from Adore, she finally agreed, hoping it would shut the younger queen up.

It worked for the time leading up to this moment, but now here she was, sitting in the waiting room, regretting her decision as she waited for the nurse to call her back to collect Adore’s drugged up self.

Eventually, the nurse came and told her that Adore was almost ready to go home and that she could see her now. Setting down the magazine she had been reading, Bianca followed the woman down the hallway to a small room.

In the room sat a very loopy Adore, with a mouthful of bloody gauze, and drool running down her chin.

“Hey queen” Bianca said, approaching Adore.

“Yanx!” She tried to enunciate, but it came out sounding more like a muffled blur. “Woah what the fuck” she spoke again, still muffled but more understandable.

The nurse quickly removed the gauze from her mouth and began preparing clean gauze to replace it with.

Bianca took this short time to grasp Adore’s hand and ask “how did it go?”

“Wha?” Adore’s brows furrowed as she blinked slowly and looked around the room, confused. “I don’t think I know where I am” she slurred, squinting at Bianca.

“You’re at the dentist, remember? You just got your wisdom teeth removed” Bianca explained.

“They…they took my…teeth?!” Adore asked, hands flying up to her mouth and looking even more confused, mixed with a bit of panic.

“Not all-“

“You fucking liar! I still have teeth!” Adore interrupted, crossing her arms and giving Bianca as much of a sly smile as her numb face would allow.

Before Bianca could even roll her eyes, the nurse returned and began sticking more gauze into Adore’s mouth while she squirmed and whined. “These are going to bleed for a while, so make sure you’re replacing the gauze before it gets too soaked” she explained, more to Bianca than Adore.

“I-I’m….bleeding?” Adore questioned, poking one finger into her mouth and pulling it back out, eyes widening when she saw that the tip of her finger was covered in red liquid. “What the FUCK!?” She exclaimed so loudly that the people across the hall probably heard it.

“Shhh it’s normal, okay? Try not to talk or touch your mouth too much” Bianca told her, stroking the back of her other hand with her thumb.

Adore made a displeased whimpering noise but kept her hands in her lap nonetheless.

The nurse then explained to Bianca what she needed to do to care for Adore over the next few days and finally they were free to go.

They wheeled Adore out to the car, (getting her into the car was a whole different ordeal but we won’t get into that), and the ride home was pretty uneventful considering that Adore had fallen asleep about 2 minutes into the drive.

45 minutes later they arrived back at the apartment. The younger queen was still dead asleep when Bianca put the car in park and shut off the engine. Bianca considered just leaving her in the car so she wouldn’t have to deal with her, but her conscience told her that wasn’t the right thing to do.

Bianca walked around to the passenger door, opened it, and gently began shaking Adore’s shoulder.

“Mmmm” Adore groaned, not wanting to be awoken from her slumber.

“We’re home, Pussyface” Bianca told her, unbuckling her seat belt.

“Oh…why’s my face fat?” Adore questioned, cupping her own cheeks.

“It’s swollen from your surgery. We can ice it when we get inside.”

“I don’t wanna…B, it hurts” Adore whined. The nap had cleared her head a bit so now the pain was beginning to register.

“The ice will help, and you can take some pain killers too. Then we need to change your gauze.” Bianca explained. “Now can you please let me help you get out of the car?”

Surprisingly, Adore complied. She lazily slid her body around so her legs were out the door and allowed Bianca to wrap an arm around her waist to keep her steady. Together they walked into the apartment.

Bianca got the younger queen settled on the couch with a pillow and a blanket and handed her the remote so she could choose something to watch on Netflix. She hoped that keeping her busy would keep the whining at a minimum. After promising she’d be right back with some ice and some fresh gauze, Bianca kissed the top of Adore’s head and walked into the kitchen.

She returned minutes later with said items in hand. Adore was leaning heavily against the side of the couch, eyelids drooping.

“Hey, don’t fall asleep yet. We have to change your gauze and get some ice on that face.”

“Uh-uh.” Adore mumbled, shying away when Bianca reached out to touch her.

“You wanna bleed everywhere? Fine. Not my problem.” Bianca said, quickly growing irritated. She knew the stubbornness was about to come out in full force. Adore was never very cooperative when it came to doing what was good for her.

The two just stared at one another for a minute or so, until Adore finally sat up a bit, deciding that she didn’t like the gross feeling of wet gauze in her mouth.

She allowed Bianca to remove it from her mouth, staring up at the ceiling to try to calm her anxiety after seeing how red it was. She had never been a big fan of blood. Seeing how much had come from her own mouth was enough to make her heart race and her eyes get teary.

When replacing the gauze, Bianca hit a particularly painful spot and Adore reflexively clamped her mouth shut, earning a yelp from the older queen.

“Did you just fucking bite me?!” Bianca exclaimed, pulling her hand back.

“Uhhh…”

“I can’t believe you, queen” Bianca said, rolling her eyes.

“You hurt me!” Adore argued past the fresh gauze that filled her cheeks.

“Oh you’re fine…now ice your face bitch. I’ll go get your meds” Bianca told her, handing her the ice packs that she had wrapped in a towel.

“No, ‘m gonna sleep now.” Adore insisted, pushing the ice packs onto the floor and curling up under the blanket.

“Adore, you have to ice your face so the swelling can go down.”

“But I don’t wanna.”

“But you need to.”

“I don’t care” Adore said, rolling over to face away from Bianca.

“Ado- Danny, all you have to do is hold ice against your face for 20 fucking minutes. It’s not that hard.”

Adore stayed silent.

“Okay, well if you’re gonna act like a child then you can take care of yourself. I’m leaving.” Bianca told her, standing up and walking towards the door.

Before exiting, she paused and gave one last glare at the back of Adore’s head. She stood there for a few moments, giving the younger queen one more chance to change her mind. When Adore didn’t move, Bianca muttered a quiet “wow” before walking out the door.

—

Adore awoke a few hours later confused and disoriented, not even remembering falling asleep. Her jaw hurt unbelievably bad now and her cheeks felt huge. She whimpered and teared up a little, rolling over to face an empty room.

“Wasn’t Bianca supposed to be here?” She wondered. Spotting the ice packs on the floor brought back the memories from before her nap.

“Fuck, I really made her leave…” Adore thought sadly, tears blurring her vision. All she wanted right now was her Willow to hold her and take care of her…and to bring her those pain meds she was supposed to take earlier cause goddamnit she needed them.

Grabbing her phone off the coffee table, she sent a quick text to Bianca simply reading, “I’m sorry. Please come back :(“

After getting no response, she trudged to the bathroom in search of pain killers. She found them on the counter, alongside another bottle of antibiotics she was supposed to take.

After pulling out the nasty gauze that was still in her mouth, Adore downed the pills with as much water as she could manage to swallow, although most of it ended up dribbling down her chin since her face was still half numb.

“Fuck my life” she thought, finally looking at herself in the mirror. Her face had never been so swollen. She closely resembled a chipmunk after it had stuffed its cheeks with food. Maybe Bianca had been right about needing that ice…

Sighing, she shut off the light and headed back to the living room and settled back on the couch, but not before picking up the ice packs (which were surprisingly still frozen) off the floor.

She gingerly pressed them against each side of her face, shuttering when they made contact with the sore skin. “Bianca better be fucking proud of me” she grumbled.

The 20 minutes past surprisingly quickly while watching her favorite episode of South Park. She then discarded the ice onto the coffee table and closed her eyes yet again, hoping to sleep off the sudden nausea that seemed to have formed out of nowhere.

Not long after, she awoke feeling even worse. But this time she sensed a presence in the room. Opening her eyes halfway, she found Bianca looking at her.

“How are you holding up?” Bianca asked, the anger from earlier seemingly forgotten.

“I feel sick” Adore told her miserably. “Dunno what happened…”

Bianca thought for a moment. “Did you take your meds?”

“Yeah, like an hour ago.“

“What did you eat with them?”

“Nothing?“

“Pussyface, you’re supposed take them with food…otherwise they can make you sick.”

“How was I supposed to know?”

“It says it right on the bottle, you asshole.”

“Well! My face fucking hurt and I could barely even drink water without dying and I just-“ Adore ranted, quickly growing frustrated with the whole situation.

“Hey, I was just giving you a hard time. I’m not blaming you.”

“I know…I just feel like shit and you’re not helping…”

“I’ll go find you something to eat, okay?”

Adore silently nodded, turning her attention back to the TV to distract herself from the awful feeling in her stomach.

Bianca returned moments later with a small bowl of blue jello. “Here, eat this before you vomit.”

Adore sat up slowly, taking the bowl from Bianca’s hands. It took her a good minute of just staring at the jello and trying to figure out how the fuck she was going to chew it before she attempted to actually eat some. (Do you even chew jello? Idfk)

First, she tried putting a spoonful in her mouth but it ended up falling right back down into her lap. Bianca stifled a laugh, earning a glare from Adore and a drawn out “this is haaaard.”

After the first failed attempt, she tried again with less on the spoon. Tilting her head all the way back, she dropped the jiggly blue substance into her mouth. Her head quickly returned to normal level after almost choking, which earned yet another laugh from Bianca.

Adore gave her the middle finger as she carefully moved the jello around her in mouth with her tongue before gulping it down and repeating the action until the bowl was empty.

“That was the most entertaining thing I’ve seen all week!” Bianca exclaimed, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes.

“I fucking hate you” Adore replied, handing the empty bowl to Bianca and laying back down.

“Most people do!” Bianca shouted over her shoulder as she went to put the bowl away.

When she returned, she found Adore resting against the arm of the couch. “Sit up for a second” she urged.

Adore did as she was told and Bianca sat down in the place she had been laying so the younger queen could lean against her.

“Do you feel any better?” Bianca asked after Adore had cuddled into her side, head resting on the older queens chest.

“Mhmmm” Adore confirmed, pulling the blanket up around herself. They sat in silence for a few moments before Adore spoke up again.

“Fuck”

“What?”

“Gotta ice” she whined, weakly reaching for the ice packs she’d left on the coffee table earlier.

Bianca reached past her and grabbed said objects, handing them to her.

Adore pressed them gently against her swollen cheeks and leaned back against Bianca. They sat like that for a short while, turning their full attention to the TV where South Park was still playing.

Soon, Bianca noticed Adore’s breathing getting heavier and the ice packs slowly slipping from her grasp. As if on cue, the one in her right hand fell down into her lap, startling the younger queen awake.

She looked down and let out a tired sigh, realizing what had happened. Bianca picked up the ice pack and gently placed it back against Adore’s cheek, also replacing Adore’s hand with her own on the opposite side of her face.

“It’s okay, you can sleep. I can hold them” Bianca told her.

“M’kay…thanks B” Adore muttered, before closing her eyes again and drifting off to sleep for the evening.

[aboveallarescuer]

How prophecies, dreams and magical intuition drive Dany’s story

As I was rereading ASOIAF, I made it my goal to compile all* the book passages demonstrating either certain key attributes of Daenerys Targaryen (e.g. that she's compassionate and smart) or aspects of hers that are usually overstated (e.g. that she's ambitious and prophecy-driven).  Doing such a task may seem exaggerated, but I'd argue it's not, for many, many misconceptions about Dany have become widespread in light of the show's final season's events (and even before).

It must be acknowledged that it can be tricky to reference, say, ADWD passages to counter-argument how she was depicted in season eight (which allegedly follows ADOS events). Dany will have had plenty of character development in the span of two books. However, whatever happens to Dany in the next two books, I would argue that there is more than enough material to conclude that her show counterpart was made to fall for flaws that she (for the most part) never had and actions that she (for the most part) would never take. (and that's not even considering the double standards and the contradictions with what had been shown from show!Dany up until then, but that's obviously out of the scope of these lists)

Another objection to the purpose of these lists is that Game of Thrones is different from A Song of Ice and Fire and should be analyzed on its own, which is a fair point. However, the show is also an adaptation of these books, which begs the questions: why did they change Dany's character? Why did they overfocus on negative traits of hers or depicted them as negative when they weren't supposed to be or gave her negative traits that were never hers to begin with? Another fact that undermines the show=/=books argument is that most people think that the show's ending will be the books', albeit only in broad strokes and in different circumstances. As a result, people's perception of Dany is inevitably influenced by the show, which is a shame.

I hope these lists can be useful for whoever wants to find book passages to defend (or even simply explore different facets of) Dany's character in metas or conversations.

*Well, at least all the passages that I could find in her chapters, which is no guarantee that the effort was perfectly executed, but I did my best.

Also, people could interpret certain passages differently and then come up with a different collection of passages if they ever attempted to make one, so I'm not saying that this list is completely objective (nor that there could ever be one).

Also, some passages have been cut short according to whether they were, IMO, relevant to the specific topic of the list they're in, so the context surrounding them may not always be clear (always read the books and use asearchoficeandfire). Many of them appear in different lists, sometimes fully referenced, sometimes not.

I listed the passages back to front because I felt doing so highlighted Dany's evolution better.

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

To justify the existence of this list, let's see examples of widespread opinions that I feel misrepresent Daenerys Targaryen:

The more absolute power she consolidated, the more she was lauded as a selfless hero. [...] Being hailed as a savior for so long has made her fall for that narrative more than anyone. She’s come to believe she is a goddess among men. So when she slides into doing the wrong thing, it becomes easy for her to justify why -- if she did it -- it must be right. [...] It’s almost impossible to imagine walking through fire and experiencing the intense worship she’s known without coming to think you have superhuman rights to decide the future of the world. (The Take)

~

The gods flipped a coin for Dany that can — and does — fall either way. But it tends to come up good when the people love her, and bad when the people don’t. She’s repeatedly saying I have a destiny. I will park my ass on the Iron Throne. Here’s how it’s going to work: You’re going to bend the knee, or you’re going to die. I’d prefer if you loved me. I’ll accept that you fear me. A bent knee or your death. (x)

~

She can and does dehumanize those who stand between her and her (perceived) destiny. (x)

I would argue these claims certainly cannot be made after reading the books (some can't even after watching the show's first 71 episodes, but the show can be all over the place and ... I digress), so take a look at these passages.

NOTE: I didn't include anything from ACOK Dany IV because she's receiving the prophecies rather than reacting to or acting based on them. I preferred to focus on how they influence her characterization and felt that that chapter wouldn't serve for that purpose. The dragon dreams on AGOT, however, are often interwoven with her reactions and the strength and confidence she usually derives from them, so I added them.

A Dance with Dragons

ADWD Daenerys X

“To go north, you must journey south. To reach the west, you must go east. To go forward, you must go back. To touch the light you must pass beneath the shadow.”

“Quaithe?” Dany called. “Where are you, Quaithe?”

Then she saw. Her mask is made of starlight. “Remember who you are, Daenerys,” the stars whispered in a woman’s voice. “The dragons know. Do you?”

~

Bells, Dany thought, smiling, remembering Khal Drogo, her sun-and-stars, and the bells he braided into his hair. When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east, when the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves, when my womb quickens again and I bear a living child, Khal Drogo will return to me.

~

She called until her voice was hoarse ... and Drogon came, snorting plumes of smoke. The grass bowed down before him. Dany leapt onto his back. She stank of blood and sweat and fear, but none of that mattered. “To go forward I must go back,” she said. Her bare legs tightened around the dragon’s neck. She kicked him, and Drogon threw himself into the sky. Her whip was gone, so she used her hands and feet and turned him north by east, the way the scout had gone.

ADWD Daenerys IX

“Khrazz believes the hearts of brave men make him stronger,” said Hizdahr. Jhiqui murmured her approval. Dany had once eaten a stallion’s heart to give strength to her unborn son … but that had not saved Rhaego when the maegi murdered him in her womb. Three treasons shall you know. She was the first, Jorah was the second, Brown Ben Plumm the third. Was she done with betrayals?

ADWD Daenerys VIII

“The Yunkai’i grow weaker as well. The bloody flux has taken hold amongst the Tolosi, it is said, and spread across the river to the third Ghiscari legion.”

The pale mare. Daenerys sighed. Quaithe warned me of the pale mare’s coming. She told me of the Dornish prince as well, the sun’s son. She told me much and more, but all in riddles. “I cannot rely on plague to save me from my enemies.[”]

~

Every child knows its mother, Dany thought. When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves … “They call to me. Come.”

~

Dany slid her arms around him and let him have his way. Drunk as he was, she knew he would not be inside her long.

Nor was he. Afterward he nuzzled at her ear and whispered, “Gods grant that we have made a son tonight.”

The words of Mirri Maz Duur rang in her head. When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east. When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves. When your womb quickens again, and you bear a living child. Then he will return, and not before. The meaning was plain enough; Khal Drogo was as like to return from the dead as she was to bear a living child. But there are some secrets she could not bring herself to share, even with a husband, so she let Hizdahr zo Loraq keep his hopes.

ADWD Daenerys VII

She found herself remembering her nightmare. Sometimes there is truth in dreams. Could Hizdahr zo Loraq be working for the warlocks, was that what the dream had meant? Could the dream have been a sending? Were the gods telling her to put Hizdahr aside and wed this Dornish prince instead? Something tickled at her memory. “Ser Barristan, what are the arms of House Martell?”

“A sun in splendor, transfixed by a spear.”

The sun’s son. A shiver went through her. “Shadows and whispers.” What else had Quaithe said? The pale mare and the sun’s son. There was a lion in it too, and a dragon. Or am I the dragon? “Beware the perfumed seneschal.” That she remembered. “Dreams and prophecies. Why must they always be in riddles? I hate this. Oh, leave me, ser. Tomorrow is my wedding day.”

ADWD Daenerys VI

“Captain, you made mention of four free companies. We know of only three. The Windblown, the Long Lances, and the Company of the Cat.”

“Ser Grandfather knows how to count. The Second Sons have gone over to the Yunkai’i.” Daario turned his head and spat. “That’s for Brown Ben Plumm. When next I see his ugly face I will open him from throat to groin and rip out his black heart.”

Dany tried to speak and found no words. She remembered Ben’s face the last time she had seen it. It was a warm face, a face I trusted. Dark skin and white hair, the broken nose, the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes. Even the dragons had been fond of old Brown Ben, who liked to boast that he had a drop of dragon blood himself. Three treasons will you know. Once for gold and once for blood and once for love. Was Plumm the third treason, or the second? And what did that make Ser Jorah, her gruff old bear? Would she never have a friend that she could trust? What good are prophecies if you cannot make sense of them? If I marry Hizdahr before the sun comes up, will all these armies melt away like morning dew and let me rule in peace?

~

“I thought you would be the one to betray me. Once for blood and once for gold and once for love, the warlocks said. I thought … I never thought Brown Ben. Even my dragons seemed to trust him.” She clutched her captain by the shoulders. “Promise me that you will never turn against me. I could not bear that. Promise me.”

ADWD Daenerys V

His bitterness dismayed her, so much so that Dany found herself wondering if the grizzled Pentoshi could be one of her three betrayers. No, he is only an old man, far from home and sick at heart.

~

“We must pray,” said the Green Grace. “The gods sent this man to us. He comes as a harbinger. He comes as a sign.”

“A sign of what?” asked Dany.

“A sign of wroth and ruin.”

She did not want to believe that. “He was one man. One sick man with an arrow in his leg. A horse brought him here, not a god.” A pale mare. Dany rose abruptly. “I thank you for your counsel and for all that you did for this poor man.”

~

“Your Worship, I beg you, take the noble Hizdahr for your king at once. He can speak with the Wise Masters, make a peace for us.”

“On what terms?” Beware the perfumed seneschal, Quaithe had said. The masked woman had foretold the coming of the pale mare, was she right about the noble Reznak too?

ADWD Daenerys IV

“...In him the prophecies shall be fulfilled, and your enemies will melt away like snow.”

He shall be the stallion that mounts the world. Dany knew how it went with prophecies. They were made of words, and words were wind. There would be no son for Loraq, no heir to unite dragon and harpy. When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east, when the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves. Only then would her womb quicken once again …

~

Dany folded her hands together. “Words are wind, even words like love and peace. I put more trust in deeds. In my Seven Kingdoms, knights go on quests to prove themselves worthy of the maiden that they love. They seek for magic swords, for chests of gold, for crowns stolen from a dragon’s hoard.”

~

Beware the perfumed seneschal. Has Reznak made common cause with Hizdahr and the Green Grace and set some trap to snare me?

ADWD Daenerys II

“...Hear me, Daenerys Targaryen. The glass candles are burning. Soon comes the pale mare, and after her the others. Kraken and dark flame, lion and griffin, the sun’s son and the mummer’s dragon. Trust none of them. Remember the Undying. Beware the perfumed seneschal.”

“Reznak? Why should I fear him?” Dany rose from the pool. Water trickled down her legs, and gooseflesh covered her arms in the cool night air. “If you have some warning for me, speak plainly. What do you want of me, Quaithe?”

[...] “To show you the way.”

“I remember the way. I go north to go south, east to go west, back to go forward. And to touch the light I have to pass beneath the shadow.” She squeezed the water from her silvery hair. “I am half-sick of riddling. In Qarth I was a beggar, but here I am a queen. I command you—”

“Daenerys. Remember the Undying. Remember who you are.”

“The blood of the dragon.” But my dragons are roaring in the darkness. “I remember the Undying. Child of three, they called me. Three mounts they promised me, three fires, and three treasons. One for blood and one for gold and one for …”

~

When Reznak and Skahaz appeared, she found herself looking at them askance, mindful of the three treasons. Beware the perfumed seneschal. She sniffed suspiciously at Reznak mo Reznak. I could command the Shavepate to arrest him and put him to the question. Would that forestall the prophecy? Or would some other betrayer take his place? Prophecies are treacherous, she reminded herself, and Reznak may be no more than he appears.

ADWD Daenerys I

There were times when Dany wondered if that razor might not be better saved for Reznak’s throat. He was a useful man, but she liked him little and trusted him less. The Undying of Qarth had told her she would be thrice betrayed. Mirri Maz Duur had been the first, Ser Jorah the second. Would Reznak be the third? The Shavepate? Daario? Or will it be someone I would never suspect, Ser Barristan or Grey Worm or Missandei?

A Storm of Swords

ASOS Daenerys VI

Across the room, Grey Worm wore the plain uniform of the Unsullied, his spiked bronze cap beneath one arm. These at least she could rely on, or so she hoped ... and Brown Ben Plumm as well, solid Ben with his grey-white hair and weathered face, so beloved of her dragons. And Daario beside him, glittering in gold. Daario and Ben Plumm, Grey Worm, Irri, Jhiqui, Missandei ... as she looked at them Dany found herself wondering which of them would betray her next.

The dragon has three heads. There are two men in the world who I can trust, if I can find them. I will not be alone then. We will be three against the world, like Aegon and his sisters.

~

“Daenerys,” he said, “I have loved you.”

And there it was. Three treasons will you know. Once for blood and once for gold and once for love.

~

She was Daenerys Stormborn, the Unburnt, khaleesi and queen, Mother of Dragons, slayer of warlocks, breaker of chains, and there was no one in the world that she could trust.

ASOS Daenerys V

“If you were grown,” she told Drogon, scratching him between the horns, “I’d fly you over the walls and melt that harpy down to slag.” But it would be years before her dragons were large enough to ride. And when they are, who shall ride them? The dragon has three heads, but I have only one.

~

Could I love Daario? What would it mean, if I took him into my bed? Would that make him one of the heads of the dragon? Ser Jorah would be angry, she knew, but he was the one who’d said she had to take two husbands. Perhaps I should marry them both and be done with it.

~

“Khaleesi, it was only at the start, before I came to know you ... before I came to love ...”

“Do not say that word!” She backed away from him. “How could you? What did the Usurper promise you? Gold, was it gold?” The Undying had said she would be betrayed twice more, once for gold and once for love. “Tell me what you were promised?”

“Varys said ... I might go home.” He bowed his head.

I was going to take you home! [...] Was there no one she could trust, no one to keep her safe?

ASOS Daenerys IV

Dany found herself wondering whether he was right about Daario. She felt very lonely all of a sudden. Mirri Maz Duur had promised that she would never bear a living child. House Targaryen will end with me. That made her sad. “You must be my children,” she told the dragons, “my three fierce children. Arstan says dragons live longer than men, so you will go on after I am dead.”

~

Ser Jorah urged her to go, but Dany remembered a dream she had dreamed in the House of the Undying. “They will not hurt me,” she told him. “They are my children, Jorah.” She laughed, put her heels into her horse, and rode to them, the bells in her hair ringing sweet victory. She trotted, then cantered, then broke into a gallop, her braid streaming behind. The freed slaves parted before her. “Mother,” they called from a hundred throats, a thousand, ten thousand. “Mother,” they sang, their fingers brushing her legs as she flew by. “Mother, Mother, Mother!”

ASOS Daenerys III

That night she dreamt that she was Rhaegar, riding to the Trident. But she was mounted on a dragon, not a horse. When she saw the Usurper’s rebel host across the river they were armored all in ice, but she bathed them in dragonfire and they melted away like dew and turned the Trident into a torrent. Some small part of her knew that she was dreaming, but another part exulted. This is how it was meant to be. The other was a nightmare, and I have only now awakened.

She woke suddenly in the darkness of her cabin, still flush with triumph. Balerion seemed to wake with her, and she heard the faint creak of wood, water lapping against the hull, a footfall on the deck above her head. And something else.

Someone was in the cabin with her.

“Irri? Jhiqui? Where are you?” Her handmaids did not respond. It was too black to see, but she could hear them breathing. “Jorah, is that you?”

“They sleep,” a woman said. “They all sleep.” The voice was very close. “Even dragons must sleep.”

She is standing over me. “Who’s there?” Dany peered into the darkness. She thought she could see a shadow, the faintest outline of a shape. “What do you want of me?”

“Remember. To go north, you must journey south. To reach the west, you must go east. To go forward you must go back, and to touch the light you must pass beneath the shadow.”

“Quaithe?” Dany sprung from the bed and threw open the door. Pale yellow lantern light flooded the cabin, and Irri and Jhiqui sat up sleepily. “Khaleesi?” murmured Jhiqui, rubbing her eyes. Viserion woke and opened his jaws, and a puff of flame brightened even the darkest corners. There was no sign of a woman in a red lacquer mask. “Khaleesi, are you unwell?” asked Jhiqui.

“A dream.” Dany shook her head. “I dreamed a dream, no more. Go back to sleep. All of us, go back to sleep.” Yet try as she might, sleep would not come again.

ASOS Daenerys I

They are my children, she told herself, and if the maegi spoke truly, they are the only children I am ever like to have.

~

“Sit, good ser, and tell me what is troubling you.”

“Three things.” Ser Jorah sat. “Strong Belwas. This Arstan Whitebeard. And Illyrio Mopatis, who sent them.”

Again? Dany pulled the coverlet higher and tugged one end over her shoulder. “And why is that?”

“The warlocks in Qarth told you that you would be betrayed three times,” the exile knight reminded her, as Viserion and Rhaegal began to snap and claw at each other.

“Once for blood and once for gold and once for love.” Dany was not like to forget. “Mirri Maz Duur was the first.”

“Which means two traitors yet remain ... and now these two appear. I find that troubling, yes. Never forget, Robert offered a lordship to the man who slays you.”

~

“My queen,” he said, “and the bravest, sweetest, and most beautiful woman I have ever seen. Daenerys—”

“Your Grace!”

“Your Grace,” he conceded, “the dragon has three heads, remember? You have wondered at that, ever since you heard it from the warlocks in the House of Dust. Well, here’s your meaning: Balerion, Meraxes, and Vhagar, ridden by Aegon, Rhaenys, and Visenya. The three-headed dragon of House Targaryen—three dragons, and three riders.”

“Yes,” said Dany, “but my brothers are dead.”

“Rhaenys and Visenya were Aegon’s wives as well as his sisters. You have no brothers, but you can take husbands. And I tell you truly, Daenerys, there is no man in all the world who will ever be half so true to you as me.”

A Clash of Kings

ACOK Daenerys V

Dany found her thoughts returning to the Palace of Dust once more, as the tongue returns to a space left by a missing tooth. Child of three, they had called her, daughter of death, slayer of lies, bride of fire. So many threes. Three fires, three mounts to ride, three treasons. “The dragon has three heads,” she sighed. “Do you know what that means, Jorah?”

“Your Grace? The sigil of House Targaryen is a three-headed dragon, red on black.”

“I know that. But there are no three-headed dragons.”

“The three heads were Aegon and his sisters.”

“Visenya and Rhaenys,” she recalled. “I am descended from Aegon and Rhaenys through their son Aenys and their grandson Jaehaerys.”

“Blue lips speak only lies, isn’t that what Xaro told you? Why do you care what the warlocks whispered? All they wanted was to suck the life from you, you know that now.”

“Perhaps,” she said reluctantly. “Yet the things I saw ...”
“A dead man in the prow of a ship, a blue rose, a banquet of blood ... what does any of it mean, Khaleesi? A mummer’s dragon, you said. What is a mummer’s dragon, pray?”
“A cloth dragon on poles,” Dany explained. “Mummers use them in their follies, to give the heroes something to fight.”

Ser Jorah frowned.

Dany could not let it go. “His is the song of ice and fire, my brother said. I’m certain it was my brother. Not Viserys, Rhaegar. He had a harp with silver strings.”

Ser Jorah’s frown deepened until his eyebrows came together. “Prince Rhaegar played such a harp,” he conceded. “You saw him?”

She nodded. “There was a woman in a bed with a babe at her breast. My brother said the babe was the prince that was promised and told her to name him Aegon.”

“Prince Aegon was Rhaegar’s heir by Elia of Dorne,” Ser Jorah said. “But if he was this prince that was promised, the promise was broken along with his skull when the Lannisters dashed his head against a wall.”

“I remember,” Dany said sadly. “They murdered Rhaegar’s daughter as well, the little princess. Rhaenys, she was named, like Aegon’s sister. There was no Visenya, but he said the dragon has three heads. What is the song of ice and fire?”

“It’s no song I’ve ever heard.”

“I went to the warlocks hoping for answers, but instead they’ve left me with a hundred new questions.”

~

“The great cog Saduleon is berthed at the end of the quay, and the galleys Summer Sun and Joso’s Prank are anchored beyond the breakwater.”

Three heads has the dragon, Dany thought, wondering. “I shall tell my people to make ready to depart at once. But the ships that bring me home must bear different names.”

“As you wish,” said Arstan. “What names would you prefer?”

“Vhagar,” Daenerys told him. “Meraxes. And Balerion. Paint the names on their hulls in golden letters three feet high, Arstan. I want every man who sees them to know the dragons are returned.”

ACOK Daenerys III

“No trick,” a woman said in the Common Tongue.

Dany had not noticed Quaithe in the crowd, yet there she stood, eyes wet and shiny behind the implacable red lacquer mask. “What mean you, my lady?”

“Half a year gone, that man could scarcely wake fire from dragonglass. He had some small skill with powders and wildfire, sufficient to entrance a crowd while his cutpurses did their work. He could walk across hot coals and make burning roses bloom in the air, but he could no more aspire to climb the fiery ladder than a common fisherman could hope to catch a kraken in his nets.”

[...] “And now?”

“And now his powers grow, Khaleesi. And you are the cause of it.”

“Me?” She laughed. “How could that be?”

The woman stepped closer and lay two fingers on Dany’s wrist. “You are the Mother of Dragons, are you not?”

~

“You must leave this city soon, Daenerys Targaryen, or you will never be permitted to leave it at all.”

Dany’s wrist still tingled where Quaithe had touched her. “Where would you have me go?” she asked.

“To go north, you must journey south. To reach the west, you must go east. To go forward you must go back, and to touch the light you must pass beneath the shadow.”

Asshai, Dany thought. She would have me go to Asshai. “Will the Asshai’i give me an army?” she demanded. “Will there be gold for me in Asshai? Will there be ships? What is there in Asshai that I will not find in Qarth?”

“Truth,” said the woman in the mask. And bowing, she faded back into the crowd.

~

The comet led me to Qarth for a reason. I had hoped to find my army here, but it seems that will not be. What else remains, I ask myself?” I am afraid, she realized, but I must be brave. “Come the morrow, you must go to Pyat Pree.”

ACOK Daenerys II

Last of the three seekers to depart was Quaithe the shadowbinder. From her Dany received only a warning. “Beware,” the woman in the red lacquer mask said.

“Of whom?”

“Of all. They shall come day and night to see the wonder that has been born again into the world, and when they see they shall lust. For dragons are fire made flesh, and fire is power.”

When Quaithe too was gone, Ser Jorah said, “She speaks truly, my queen ... though I like her no more than the others.”

“I do not understand her.” Pyat and Xaro had showered Dany with promises from the moment they first glimpsed her dragons, declaring themselves her loyal servants in all things, but from Quaithe she had gotten only the rare cryptic word. And it disturbed her that she had never seen the woman’s face. Remember Mirri Maz Duur, she told herself. Remember treachery.

~

As the handmaids toweled her dry and wrapped her in a sandsilk robe, Dany’s thoughts went to the three who had sought her out in the City of Bones. The Bleeding Star led me to Qarth for a purpose. Here I will find what I need, if I have the strength to take what is offered, and the wisdom to avoid the traps and snares. If the gods mean for me to conquer, they will provide, they will send me a sign, and if not ... if not ...

ACOK Daenerys I

The Dothraki named the comet shierak qiya, the Bleeding Star. The old men muttered that it omened ill, but Daenerys Targaryen had seen it first on the night she had burned Khal Drogo, the night her dragons had awakened. It is the herald of my coming, she told herself as she gazed up into the night sky with wonder in her heart. The gods have sent it to show me the way.

Yet when she put the thought into words, her handmaid Doreah quailed. “That way lies the red lands, Khaleesi. A grim place and terrible, the riders say.”

“The way the comet points is the way we must go,” Dany insisted ... though in truth, it was the only way open to her.

~

Dany looked at the horizon with despair. They had lost a third of their number, and still the waste stretched before them, bleak and red and endless. The comet mocks my hopes, she thought, lifting her eyes to where it scored the sky. Have I crossed half the world and seen the birth of dragons only to die with them in this hard hot desert? She would not believe it.

~

“Ghosts,” Irri muttered. “Terrible ghosts. We must not stay here, Khaleesi, this is their place.”

“I fear no ghosts. Dragons are more powerful than ghosts.” And figs are more important. “Go with Jhiqui and find me some clean sand for a bath, and trouble me no more with silly talk.”

~

Khal Drogo had been her sun-and-stars, her first, and perhaps he must be her last. The maegi Mirri Maz Duur had sworn she should never bear a living child, and what man would want a barren wife? And what man could hope to rival Drogo, who had died with his hair uncut and rode now through the night lands, the stars his khalasar?

A Game of Thrones

AGOT Daenerys X

Bound hand and foot, Mirri Maz Duur watched from the dust with disquiet in her black eyes. “It is not enough to kill a horse,” she told Dany. “By itself, the blood is nothing. You do not have the words to make a spell, nor the wisdom to find them. Do you think bloodmagic is a game for children? You call me maegi as if it were a curse, but all it means is wise. You are a child, with a child’s ignorance. Whatever you mean to do, it will not work. Loose me from these bonds and I will help you.”

“I am tired of the maegi’s braying,” Dany told Jhogo. He took his whip to her, and after that the godswife kept silent.

~

[“]Please, Khaleesi. I know what you intend. Do not. Do not.”

“I must,” Dany told him. She touched his face, fondly, sadly. “You do not understand.”

“I understand that you loved him,” Ser Jorah said in a voice thick with despair. “I loved my lady wife once, yet I did not die with her. You are my queen, my sword is yours, but do not ask me to stand aside as you climb on Drogo’s pyre. I will not watch you burn.”

“Is that what you fear?” Dany kissed him lightly on his broad forehead. “I am not such a child as that, sweet ser.”

“You do not mean to die with him? You swear it, my queen?”

“I swear it,” she said in the Common Tongue of the Seven Kingdoms that by rights were hers.

~

The Dothraki were muttering and giving her strange sideways looks from the corners of their dark almond eyes. They thought her mad, Dany realized. Perhaps she was. She would know soon enough. If I look back I am lost.

~

“Bring my eggs,” Dany commanded her handmaids. Something in her voice made them run.

Ser Jorah took her arm. “My queen, Drogo will have no use for dragon’s eggs in the night lands. Better to sell them in Asshai. Sell one and we can buy a ship to take us back to the Free Cities. Sell all three and you will be a wealthy woman all your days.”

“They were not given to me to sell,” Dany told him.

She climbed the pyre herself to place the eggs around her sun-and-stars. The black beside his heart, under his arm. The green beside his head, his braid coiled around it. The cream-and-gold down between his legs.

~

As she climbed down off the pyre, she noticed Mirri Maz Duur watching her. “You are mad,” the godswife said hoarsely.

“Is it so far from madness to wisdom?” Dany asked. “Ser Jorah, take this maegi and bind her to the pyre.”

~

“I thank you, Mirri Maz Duur,” she said, “for the lessons you have taught me.”

“You will not hear me scream,” Mirri responded as the oil dripped from her hair and soaked her clothing.

“I will,” Dany said, “but it is not your screams I want, only your life. I remember what you told me. Only death can pay for life.” Mirri Maz Duur opened her mouth, but made no reply. As she stepped away, Dany saw that the contempt was gone from the maegi’s flat black eyes; in its place was something that might have been fear.

~

Then there was nothing to be done but watch the sun and look for the first star.

When a horselord dies, his horse is slain with him, so he might ride proud into the night lands. The bodies are burned beneath the open sky, and the khal rises on his fiery steed to take his place among the stars. The more fiercely the man burned in life, the brighter his star will shine in the darkness.

Jhogo spied it first. “There,” he said in a hushed voice. Dany looked and saw it, low in the east. The first star was a comet, burning red. Bloodred; fire red; the dragon’s tail. She could not have asked for a stronger sign.

Dany took the torch from Aggo’s hand and thrust it between the logs. The oil took the fire at once, the brush and dried grass a heartbeat later. Tiny flames went darting up the wood like swift red mice, skating over the oil and leaping from bark to branch to leaf. A rising heat puffed at her face, soft and sudden as a lover’s breath, but in seconds it had grown too hot to bear. Dany stepped backward. The wood crackled, louder and louder.

[...] She could smell the odor of burning flesh, no different than horseflesh roasting in a firepit. The pyre roared in the deepening dusk like some great beast, drowning out the fainter sound of Mirri Maz Duur’s screaming and sending up long tongues of flame to lick at the belly of the night. As the smoke grew thicker, the Dothraki backed away, coughing. Huge orange gouts of fire unfurled their banners in that hellish wind, the logs hissing and cracking, glowing cinders rising on the smoke to float away into the dark like so many newborn fireflies. The heat beat at the air with great red wings, driving the Dothraki back, driving off even Mormont, but Dany stood her ground. She was the blood of the dragon, and the fire was in her.

She had sensed the truth of it long ago, Dany thought as she took a step closer to the conflagration, but the brazier had not been hot enough. The flames writhed before her like the women who had danced at her wedding, whirling and singing and spinning their yellow and orange and crimson veils, fearsome to behold, yet lovely, so lovely, alive with heat. Dany opened her arms to them, her skin flushed and glowing. This is a wedding, too, she thought. Mirri Maz Duur had fallen silent. The godswife thought her a child, but children grow, and children learn.

Another step, and Dany could feel the heat of the sand on the soles of her feet, even through her sandals. Sweat ran down her thighs and between her breasts and in rivulets over her cheeks, where tears had once run. Ser Jorah was shouting behind her, but he did not matter anymore, only the fire mattered. The flames were so beautiful, the loveliest things she had ever seen, each one a sorcerer robed in yellow and orange and scarlet, swirling long smoky cloaks. She saw crimson firelions and great yellow serpents and unicorns made of pale blue flame; she saw fish and foxes and monsters, wolves and bright birds and flowering trees, each more beautiful than the last. She saw a horse, a great grey stallion limned in smoke, its flowing mane a nimbus of blue flame. Yes, my love, my sun-and-stars, yes, mount now, ride now.

Her vest had begun to smolder, so Dany shrugged it off and let it fall to the ground. The painted leather burst into sudden flame as she skipped closer to the fire, her breasts bare to the blaze, streams of milk flowing from her red and swollen nipples. Now, she thought, now, and for an instant she glimpsed Khal Drogo before her, mounted on his smoky stallion, a flaming lash in his hand. He smiled, and the whip snaked down at the pyre, hissing.

She heard a crack, the sound of shattering stone. The platform of wood and brush and grass began to shift and collapse in upon itself. Bits of burning wood slid down at her, and Dany was showered with ash and cinders. And something else came crashing down, bouncing and rolling, to land at her feet; a chunk of curved rock, pale and veined with gold, broken and smoking. The roaring filled the world, yet dimly through the firefall Dany heard women shriek and children cry out in wonder.

Only death can pay for life.

And there came a second crack, loud and sharp as thunder, and the smoke stirred and whirled around her and the pyre shifted, the logs exploding as the fire touched their secret hearts. She heard the screams of frightened horses, and the voices of the Dothraki raised in shouts of fear and terror, and Ser Jorah calling her name and cursing. No, she wanted to shout to him, no, my good knight, do not fear for me. The fire is mine. I am Daenerys Stormborn, daughter of dragons, bride of dragons, mother of dragons, don’t you see? Don’t you SEE? With a belch of flame and smoke that reached thirty feet into the sky, the pyre collapsed and came down around her. Unafraid, Dany stepped forward into the firestorm, calling to her children.

The third crack was as loud and sharp as the breaking of the world.

When the fire died at last and the ground became cool enough to walk upon, Ser Jorah Mormont found her amidst the ashes, surrounded by blackened logs and bits of glowing ember and the burnt bones of man and woman and stallion. She was naked, covered with soot, her clothes turned to ash, her beautiful hair all crisped away ... yet she was unhurt.

The cream-and-gold dragon was suckling at her left breast, the green-and-bronze at the right. Her arms cradled them close. The black-and-scarlet beast was draped across her shoulders, its long sinuous neck coiled under her chin. When it saw Jorah, it raised its head and looked at him with eyes as red as coals.

Wordless, the knight fell to his knees. The men of her khas came up behind him. Jhogo was the first to lay his arakh at her feet. “Blood of my blood,” he murmured, pushing his face to the smoking earth. “Blood of my blood,” she heard Aggo echo. “Blood of my blood,” Rakharo shouted.

And after them came her handmaids, and then the others, all the Dothraki, men and women and children, and Dany had only to look at their eyes to know that they were hers now, today and tomorrow and forever, hers as they had never been Drogo’s.

As Daenerys Targaryen rose to her feet, her black hissed, pale smoke venting from its mouth and nostrils. The other two pulled away from her breasts and added their voices to the call, translucent wings unfolding and stirring the air, and for the first time in hundreds of years, the night came alive with the music of dragons.

AGOT Daenerys IX

Wings shadowed her fever dreams.


“You don’t want to wake the dragon, do you?”

She was walking down a long hall beneath high stone arches. She could not look behind her, must not look behind her. There was a door ahead of her, tiny with distance, but even from afar, she saw that it was painted red. She walked faster, and her bare feet left bloody footprints on the stone.

“You don’t want to wake the dragon, do you?”

She saw sunlight on the Dothraki sea, the living plain, rich with the smells of earth and death. Wind stirred the grasses, and they rippled like water. Drogo held her in strong arms, and his hand stroked her sex and opened her and woke that sweet wetness that was his alone, and the stars smiled down on them, stars in a daylight sky. “Home,” she whispered as he entered her and filled her with his seed, but suddenly the stars were gone, and across the blue sky swept the great wings, and the world took flame.

“... don’t want to wake the dragon, do you?”

Ser Jorah’s face was drawn and sorrowful. “Rhaegar was the last dragon,” he told her. He warmed translucent hands over a glowing brazier where stone eggs smouldered red as coals. One moment he was there and the next he was fading, his flesh colorless, less substantial than the wind. “The last dragon,” he whispered, thin as a wisp, and was gone. She felt the dark behind her, and the red door seemed farther away than ever.

“... don’t want to wake the dragon, do you?”

Viserys stood before her, screaming. “The dragon does not beg, slut. You do not command the dragon. I am the dragon, and I will be crowned.” The molten gold trickled down his face like wax, burning deep channels in his flesh. “I am the dragon and I will be crowned!” he shrieked, and his fingers snapped like snakes, biting at her nipples, pinching, twisting, even as his eyes burst and ran like jelly down seared and blackened cheeks.

“... don’t want to wake the dragon ... ”

The red door was so far ahead of her, and she could feel the icy breath behind, sweeping up on her. If it caught her she would die a death that was more than death, howling forever alone in the darkness. She began to run.

“... don’t want to wake the dragon ...”

She could feel the heat inside her, a terrible burning in her womb. Her son was tall and proud, with Drogo’s copper skin and her own silver-gold hair, violet eyes shaped like almonds. And he smiled for her and began to lift his hand toward hers, but when he opened his mouth the fire poured out. She saw his heart burning through his chest, and in an instant he was gone, consumed like a moth by a candle, turned to ash. She wept for her child, the promise of a sweet mouth on her breast, but her tears turned to steam as they touched her skin.

“... want to wake the dragon ...”

Ghosts lined the hallway, dressed in the faded raiment of kings. In their hands were swords of pale fire. They had hair of silver and hair of gold and hair of platinum white, and their eyes were opal and amethyst, tourmaline and jade. “Faster,” they cried, “faster, faster.” She raced, her feet melting the stone wherever they touched. “Faster!” the ghosts cried as one, and she screamed and threw herself forward. A great knife of pain ripped down her back, and she felt her skin tear open and smelled the stench of burning blood and saw the shadow of wings. And Daenerys Targaryen flew.

“... wake the dragon ...”

The door loomed before her, the red door, so close, so close, the hall was a blur around her, the cold receding behind. And now the stone was gone and she flew across the Dothraki sea, high and higher, the green rippling beneath, and all that lived and breathed fled in terror from the shadow of her wings. She could smell home, she could see it, there, just beyond that door, green fields and great stone houses and arms to keep her warm, there. She threw open the door.

“... the dragon ...”

And saw her brother Rhaegar, mounted on a stallion as black as his armor. Fire glimmered red through the narrow eye slit of his helm. “The last dragon,” Ser Jorah’s voice whispered faintly. “The last, the last.” Dany lifted his polished black visor. The face within was her own.

~

Flakes of ash drifted upward from a brazier, and Dany followed them with her eyes through the smoke hole above. Flying, she thought. I had wings, I was flying. But it was only a dream. “Help me,” she whispered, struggling to rise. “Bring me ...” Her voice was raw as a wound, and she could not think what she wanted. Why did she hurt so much? It was as if her body had been torn to pieces and remade from the scraps. “I want ...”

“Yes, Khaleesi.” Quick as that Jhiqui was gone, bolting from the tent, shouting. Dany needed ... something ... someone ... what? It was important, she knew. It was the only thing in the world that mattered. She rolled onto her side and got an elbow under her, fighting the blanket tangled about her legs. It was so hard to move. The world swam dizzily. I have to ...

They found her on the carpet, crawling toward her dragon eggs. [...]

“I must,” she tried to tell them, “I have to ...”

“ ... sleep, Princess,” Ser Jorah said.

“No,” Dany said. “Please. Please.”

~

“Bring ... I want to hold ...”

“Yes?” the maegi asked. “What is it you wish, Khaleesi?”


“Bring me ... egg ... dragon’s egg ... please ... ” Her lashes turned to lead, and she was too weary to hold them up.

When she woke the third time, a shaft of golden sunlight was pouring through the smoke hole of the tent, and her arms were wrapped around a dragon’s egg. It was the pale one, its scales the color of butter cream, veined with whorls of gold and bronze, and Dany could feel the heat of it. Beneath her bedsilks, a fine sheen of perspiration covered her bare skin. Dragondew, she thought. Her fingers trailed lightly across the surface of the shell, tracing the wisps of gold, and deep in the stone she felt something twist and stretch in response. It did not frighten her. All her fear was gone, burned away.

~

My son is dead, she thought as Jhiqui left the tent. She had known somehow. She had known since she woke the first time to Jhiqui’s tears. No, she had known before she woke. Her dream came back to her, sudden and vivid, and she remembered the tall man with the copper skin and long silver-gold braid, bursting into flame.

She should weep, she knew, yet her eyes were dry as ash. She had wept in her dream, and the tears had turned to steam on her cheeks. All the grief has been burned out of me, she told herself. She felt sad, and yet ... she could feel Rhaego receding from her, as if he had never been.

~

Ser Jorah and Mirri Maz Duur entered a few moments later, and found Dany standing over the other dragon’s eggs, the two still in their chest. It seemed to her that they felt as hot as the one she had slept with, which was passing strange. “Ser Jorah, come here,” she said. She took his hand and placed it on the black egg with the scarlet swirls. “What do you feel?”

“Shell, hard as rock.” The knight was wary. “Scales.”

“Heat?”

“No. Cold stone.”

~

“When will he be as he was?” Dany demanded.

“When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east,” said Mirri Maz Duur. “When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves. When your womb quickens again, and you bear a living child. Then he will return, and not before.”

~

“When the sun rises in the west and sets in the east,” she said sadly. “When the seas go dry and mountains blow in the wind like leaves. When my womb quickens again, and I bear a living child. Then you will return, my sun-and-stars, and not before.”

Never, the darkness cried, never never never.

AGOT Daenerys VIII

The Dothraki were shouting, Mirri Maz Duur wailing inside the tent like nothing human, Quaro pleading for water as he died. Dany cried out for help, but no one heard. Rakharo was fighting Haggo, arakh dancing with arakh until Jhogo’s whip cracked, loud as thunder, the lash coiling around Haggo’s throat. A yank, and the bloodrider stumbled backward, losing his feet and his sword. Rakharo sprang forward, howling, swinging his arakh down with both hands through the top of Haggo’s head. The point caught between his eyes, red and quivering. Someone threw a stone, and when Dany looked, her shoulder was torn and bloody. “No,” she wept, “no, please, stop it, it’s too high, the price is too high.” More stones came flying. She tried to crawl toward the tent, but Cohollo caught her. Fingers in her hair, he pulled her head back and she felt the cold touch of his knife at her throat. “My baby,” she screamed, and perhaps the gods heard, for as quick as that, Cohollo was dead. Aggo’s arrow took him under the arm, to pierce his lungs and heart.

[...] The breath went out of her; it was all she could do to gasp. The sound of Mirri Maz Duur’s voice was like a funeral dirge. Inside the tent, the shadows whirled.

~

“Take her to the maegi.”

No, Dany wanted to say, no, not that, you mustn’t, but when she opened her mouth, a long wail of pain escaped, and the sweat broke over her skin. What was wrong with them, couldn’t they see? Inside the tent the shapes were dancing, circling the brazier and the bloody bath, dark against the sandsilk, and some did not look human. She glimpsed the shadow of a great wolf, and another like a man wreathed in flames.

[...] No, she shouted, or perhaps she only thought it, for no whisper of sound escaped her lips. She was being carried. Her eyes opened to gaze up at a flat dead sky, black and bleak and starless. Please, no. The sound of Mirri Maz Duur’s voice grew louder, until it filled the world. The shapes! she screamed. The dancers!

Ser Jorah carried her inside the tent.

AGOT Daenerys VI

She would not shiver with fear. The Usurper has woken the dragon now, she told herself ... and her eyes went to the dragon’s eggs resting in their nest of dark velvet. The shifting lamplight limned their stony scales, and shimmering motes of jade and scarlet and gold swam in the air around them, like courtiers around a king.

Was it madness that seized her then, born of fear? Or some strange wisdom buried in her blood? Dany could not have said. She heard her own voice saying, “Ser Jorah, light the brazier.” “Khaleesi?” The knight looked at her strangely. “It is so hot. Are you certain?” She had never been so certain. “Yes. I ... I have a chill. Light the brazier.”

He bowed. “As you command.”

When the coals were afire, Dany sent Ser Jorah from her. She had to be alone to do what she must do. This is madness, she told herself as she lifted the black-and-scarlet egg from the velvet. It will only crack and burn, and it’s so beautiful, Ser Jorah will call me a fool if I ruin it, and yet, and yet ...

Cradling the egg with both hands, she carried it to the fire and pushed it down amongst the burning coals. The black scales seemed to glow as they drank the heat. Flames licked against the stone with small red tongues. Dany placed the other two eggs beside the black one in the fire. As she stepped back from the brazier, the breath trembled in her throat.

She watched until the coals had turned to ashes. Drifting sparks floated up and out of the smokehole. Heat shimmered in waves around the dragon’s eggs. And that was all.

Your brother Rhaegar was the last dragon, Ser Jorah had said. Dany gazed at her eggs sadly. What had she expected? A thousand thousand years ago they had been alive, but now they were only pretty rocks. They could not make a dragon. A dragon was air and fire. Living flesh, not dead stone.

AGOT Daenerys V

“What does it mean?” she asked. “What is this stallion? Everyone was shouting it at me, but I don’t understand.”

“The stallion is the khal of khals promised in ancient prophecy, child. He will unite the Dothraki into a single khalasar and ride to the ends of the earth, or so it was promised. All the people of the world will be his herd.”

“Oh,” Dany said in a small voice.

AGOT Daenerys III

Yet when she slept that night, she dreamt the dragon dream again. Viserys was not in it this time. There was only her and the dragon. Its scales were black as night, wet and slick with blood. Her blood, Dany sensed. Its eyes were pools of molten magma, and when it opened its mouth, the flame came roaring out in a hot jet. She could hear it singing to her, She opened her arms to the fire, embraced it, let it swallow her whole, let it cleanse her and temper her and scour her clean. She could feel her flesh sear and blacken and slough away, could feel her blood boil and turn to steam, and yet there was no pain. She felt strong and new and fierce.

And the next day, strangely, she did not seem to hurt quite so much. It was as if the gods had heard her and taken pity. Even her handmaids noticed the change. “Khaleesi,” Jhiqui said, “what is wrong? Are you sick?”

“I was,” she answered, standing over the dragon’s eggs that Illyrio had given her when she wed. She touched one, the largest of the three, running her hand lightly over the shelf. Black-and-scarlet, she thought, like the dragon in my dream. The stone felt strangely warm beneath her fingers ... or was she still dreaming? She pulled her hand back nervously.

From that hour onward, each day was easier than the one before it. Her legs grew stronger; her blisters burst and her hands grew callused; her soft thighs toughened, supple as leather.

~

As she let the door flap close behind her, Dany saw a finger of dusty red light reach out to touch her dragon’s eggs across the tent. For an instant a thousand droplets of scarlet flame swam before her eyes. She blinked, and they were gone.

Stone, she told herself. They are only stone, even Illyrio said so, the dragons are all dead. She put her palm against the black egg, fingers spread gently across the curve of the shell. The stone was warm. Almost hot. “The sun,” Dany whispered. “The sun warmed them as they rode.” [...] “Have you ever seen a dragon?” she asked as Irri scrubbed her back and Jhiqui sluiced sand from her hair. She had heard that the first dragons had come from the east, from the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai and the islands of the Jade Sea. Perhaps some were still living there, in realms strange and wild.

AGOT Daenerys II

There are no more dragons, Dany thought, staring at her brother, though she did not dare say it aloud.

Yet that night she dreamt of one. Viserys was hitting her, hurting her. She was naked, clumsy with fear. She ran from him, but her body seemed thick and ungainly. He struck her again. She stumbled and fell. “You woke the dragon,” he screamed as he kicked her. “You woke the dragon, you woke the dragon.” Her thighs were slick with blood. She closed her eyes and whimpered. As if in answer, there was a hideous ripping sound and the crackling of some great fire. When she looked again, Viserys was gone, great columns of flame rose all around, and in the midst of them was the dragon. It turned its great head slowly. When its molten eyes found hers, she woke, shaking and covered with a fine sheen of sweat. She had never been so afraid ...

... until the day of her wedding came at last.

[eucanyon]

         ·ﾟ☀  i am so hype to be here nobody gets it and even MORE hype to be bringing my baby boy canyon ....... i already can feel that everyone is absolute chef’s kiss and i cant WAIT to plot w u all ! my name is 𝐭𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐲 , utilizing she / her pronouns and knowing nothing about percy jackson but trying my absolute best . i do prefer dis.cord for plotting so if you’d like to swap users that’d be grand , without further delay ( i googled if it was ado or adieu but apparently it’s all wrong throw the whole phrase away ) below the cut you can read a bit about canyon ! 

             ⟨ MASON GOODING. CIS MAN. HE / HIM. ⟩ though the mist might prevent some from seeing it, ���𝐀𝐍𝐘𝐎𝐍 𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐒 is actually a descendent of ZEUS. it’s still a question of whether or not the TWENTY - TWO year old PRE-LAW from CHICAGO, USA has taken after their godly parent completely, but the demigod is still known to be quite 𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐀𝐁𝐋𝐄 & 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐄 .

 — 𝐁𝐈𝐎 .

              ‘ you gotta work twice as hard to be half as good .                           you gotta be twice as good to get half the recognition . ’

it’s the earliest phrase he remembers hearing . his grandparents , a duo running the local church services just a block away from their chicago inner city apartment , fill the shoes left by a mother who left her wedlock-born son in the hands of people more capable than she and a father nobody had ever met . his clothes come from the church donation bin and his toys are hand-me-downs from neighborhood kids outgrowing their phases . he pays for football like most of the boys on his team , camped out in front of grocery stores and shopping malls with a bell and a collection bucket with a nervous spiel of “ please help us earn new pads for our football team ” spewing from each child the moment they make eye contact with anyone sympathetic enough to turn their way .

canyon’s held to a higher standard than the neighborhood kids . he comes home before it even starts to turn dark , he has a closet full of perfectly ironed shirts that he tucks neatly into his waistline every sunday morning , he calls anyone that even looks a few years older than him sir or ma’am . he spends afternoons in a rigid schedule : help grandma cook and clean , football practice , homework , and a half hour of television before bed . he gets a choice , if he wants to invite the neighbor’s kids over for that sliver of free time , or keep it to himself . it was a source of embarrassment for him at first , to have a bedtime matching that of his elderly caretakers , but after a certain point , it becomes a source of pride for canyon — he’s lauded by teachers and coaches alike as the best behaved and most respectful ( albeit , also the quietest ) boy of any group he inhabits .  

he struggles in school at first , and not simply in the social element . his teachers express concern by his absolute silence , but given that he answers questions and doesn’t cause any issues for them , concerns are brushed off . his handwriting leaves much to be desired and his literacy skills are behind his grade expectations , but he excels when offered oral options for responses and follows logic like a champ . though his grandparents can’t quiet afford a formal tutor , but his teachers offer a bit of informal help in the often time that his grandparents run late to pick him up . they note to his grandmother that canyon is a workhorse , putting in much more work than what is asked for and seeing a steady improvement in his grades due to this . she’ll smile , and canyon will repeat their mantra in his head on the way home .

his mom appears every few months over major holidays , bag of trinkets in tow . canyon quickly learns that ignoring the toys means she’ll talk more to him than about him to his grandparents as if he’s not there , curling up in her lap like a cat vying for her attention . he shoves straight - a report cards and mvp trophies into her hands as long as he can remember , one thanksgiving she comments on his hair getting too long and by christmas he’s gotten it shaved clean . every comment she makes he squeezes for some semblance of recognition , a baby bird screaming out to a blinded parent :    ‘ see me , i’m here . see me , if only this once . ’

his father is a forbidden topic in the house and his mother skirts around conversations of him , which bothers canyon , but his community is that of a village - raising mindset . older brothers become mentor figures , uncles become surrogate fathers , grandfathers pass down tokens of wisdom . it seems no household is truly ever without the nurture of a parent figure , and canyon grows up acutely aware of how lucky he has it in his little apartment complex telling the story to himself every night : a mother who loved him enough to give him the life he deserved , a father clearly not worthy of being in the picture . canyon , a boy with the bare minimum , sees it as more than enough .

a pudgy , quiet child following a robotic schedule doesn’t quite inspire the vision of a progeny to the king of the gods . canyon’s only friends are the ones he’s grown up with and the cousins subbing in as the siblings he was never given , his grandmother being perhaps the first person he tells anything to . but he can’t bring himself to open up when his mother begrudgingly confides a secret in him , taking him out for ice cream as an early birthday gift . he has half a mind to let his grandma know she showed up to her visit under the influence , high off whatever would make her deranged enough to tell canyon his father is a shapeshifting greek god who will be reaching out to him to hone his powers in a few days — but he quickly realizes that snitching would mean even less time spent with a mother who already only sees him in minimal increments . as with everything in life , he keeps it to himself , a move that would pay off when he’s approached by perhaps the most terrifyingly imposing man he’s seen in his life at a church service the day before his birthday .

his father is , despite all the obvious flaws , perhaps everything canyon has dreamed of becoming . they talk briefly during the service and make official introductions before he escapes into the day , promising to return and explain more in time . and he does . canyon’s sure to keep to himself who he’s quietly chatting with in the back pews every sunday , but he and his father talk at length in the relative secrecy of hushed voices in a boisterous sermon . the man doesn’t explain much about how he met canyon’s mother , nor what he does in general , but fills in all the gaps left by his mother’s erratic attempt at a conversation . the man buys canyon a new set of cleats for his birthday and notes to him that he can continue to fill in the gaps if he considers spending his summers away . he’ll make it happen , canyon simply has to agree .

and he does . his grandparents are less than thrilled to think that he’ll be away from them for three months and the fact that he’s making a lot of these details up as he goes nearly gets him caught , but his father helps him conceive a ruse so convincing , they’ll be able to leave his grandparents out of the whole demigod conversation .

and it seems almost as soon as he had found something resembling the parents he so longed for , they leave him perhaps more alone than before . his mother is jailed for a sequence of bad decisions and zeus makes himself a figure less and less , eventually becoming clear to canyon that he too will skirt along with the bare minimum , claiming him at 13 and tapering off the effort he exerts as canyon begins to make a name for himself throughout the american demigod scene . his camp friends ask if he’s planning to attend eonia and canyon makes it clear that he refuses , a full ride scholarship to howard university the only thing in his sights for the future . he wants to detach himself from the culture being force down his throat by these demigod hypocrites , he wants to be adamant in his pride over being a black american fighting for change .

a change of heart comes perhaps on a whim . his father makes an offhand comment about “ what a shame ” it is that canyon doesn’t see himself as cut out for demigod school . the boy , now every bit a young man after his growth spurts leave him at an imposing 6’3 and football shapes his body into a vessel of solid muscle , commands the energy of every group he’s thrust into , a pillar of his community and recognized as the one who will bring their neighborhood into greatness . driven , intelligent , and powerful , canyon grows into his role as the champion , and it becomes apparent that his father wants to push the vision of his own contribution forward where it counts , and canyon — the one born into nothing , wants to grow into something .

eonia welcomes him with open arms and before he even opens his mouth , it’s apparent that he carries himself like the son of a king : though he is quick to distance himself from his father who he had once so - idolized . in his head , he sets out to become something notable without the need to precede himself with his father’s name ; canyon is a force of nature all by his own creation , and he refuses to credit his own well - earned accomplishments to a father who was hardly that . he plans to use eonia to close the demigod chapter in his life , hoping he can hone his powers enough to then never use them , hoping to remain solely involved in the mortal world with no mind given to the demigods’ drama . he plans to attend law school directly upon graduating and become the next spearhead of a political movement with the goal of true justice for all disenfranchised people in mind .

 — 𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘 .

 canyon ellis has made a name for himself despite his relative silence , a reputation preceding him even without the influence of his godly father’s name behind him . if anything , canyon represents what the ancient greeks perhaps idolized zeus to be — minus the hedonism that brought upon so much of the chaos plaguing his tales . a boy brought into the bare minimum becomes a man making due with the bare minimum , and canyon is known for a rhetoric that can prove a point out of anything . he’s an introvert in extrovert’s shoes , often spotted around teammates or other members of his clubs though he’s oft the last to say a word , choosing instead to observe in silence with those intense stares he’s become so well - known for . intimidating is perhaps an understatement when you pair his stature with his energy , the strength in his reservation and the discipline in his blood , standing tall and unwavering in his beliefs . he speaks with intention and though he’s most known for his serious side , he carries himself with a humble confidence that allows him to speak his truth with ease and stand up for what he believes in most , unafraid to call out those on the other end of his remarks . though he’s stern and admittedly reserved , he’s not shy , and pushes himself to reach beyond his areas of comfort in order to truly live up to the expectations he places on himself : expectations that are perhaps too high for him to realistically achieve in this lifetime .

though intense , canyon has a soft spot for those closest to him and though he won’t be the one stirring up the entertainment , he’s often biting back a smile at the antics of his loved ones , one of his catch phrases being “ i get the joke , i’m just not laughing because it’s not funny , ” followed by a pat on the head . he’s stern but not entirely humorless , kind but no - nonsense , and tends to hold himself to a certain standard of seriousness in most circumstances . he’ll let loose on the occasional night out , but there’s a sense of tension to him that seems clearly prepared to leap back into his leader shoes and fix whatever disaster may present itself . a projection of strength , poise , and dignity , canyon’s aptitude for leadership is equally his greatest strength and his biggest weakness , imbuing him with a moral compass and a sense of empathy that sometimes makes the world too black and white for him , refusing to see any circumstances that may complicate or excuse something .

his views on loyalty are severe and have left him with a handful of people he’s all but erased from his life , burning bridges without second thought though many in his circle advise him to reconsider . there’s right , and there’s wrong in his world , with nothing in between despite the fact that sometimes , there isn’t as clear cut of an answer as he claims there to be .

pair this with the trauma of his abandonments during the upbringing he faced and it comes together to result in a boy walking in a man’s shoes , fingernails digging into palms with the fever of all the words he bites back , fueled by a crusade for justice to give him some sense of worth — perhaps the only thing holding him together at this point .

— 𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐂 .

AESTHETIC : uphill runs fueled by answer by tyler the creator blaring through your headphones , the perfectionism of a virgo and tenacity of a taurus , falling asleep to the swan by camille saint saens , vision obscured by hot tears , the flex of your jaw as you bite back a comment , the unsettling rumble in the air just before the strike of thunder , kendrick lamar blasting from your classic mustang , picking up the pieces of a shattered porcelain bust , the primal sense of connection in a team huddle , thunderous pounding of your pulse in your ears , being voted “ most likely to become president , ” a wide stance with arms crossed over your chest , power drawn from unity , never division .

my inspos for him were chiron / black from moonlight , erik killmonger from black panther , and batman lmao . i guess maybe some steve rogers ? 

he’s the captain of the rugby team !

grew up playing football but the moment he casually played a rugby match at camp and interlocked into a scrum was the moment he was forever converted and has loved the sport ever since . he plays as a lock .

as a pre - law student , he’s in mock trial , as well as in the social justice collective . he is vice president of the black student collective and is an active and passionate member who is outspoken about black identity on campus

[fleetingfigures]

|| 2020: A Retrospective ||

With the year coming to a close soon, thank god, I thought it’d be cool to take a look back and see what’s transpired in FFXIV as well as this blog! Anyone also reading this, I invite to do the same, if you have time of course. It’s always nice to close out the year thinking of the positives. Though, without further ado let’s goooo~

Blog-Related

- Actually, well, started using this thing! Met a lot of cool peeps and had the chance to actually break out into the world RP thanks to it.

- Almost hit 100 followers, just 5 shy! 

- Top 10 Posts of the Year!

1). Promise Me You’ll... 116 notes - Aug 19 2020 

First and only post I’ve had reach 100 notes! Mighty proud of the posing I pulled off for this, and who knows, I might make a sequel in due time. WoL!AU’s are still very much my weakness. And G’raha. He’s a weakness of mine too, if it wasn’t readily apparent already.

2). LFRP - Saerno Glista (Balmung/Crystal DC)�� 75 notes - Jan 28 2020. 

Ah... My old LFRP. I even updated it, but I feel the need to change it again, especially given the fact I’m Giving my Carrd a complete overhaul. Might do the same to this blog too lmao. New Year new me as they say, but in actuality a lot has occurred for a certain catboy and things must be adjusted.

3). I Was Busy Thinking ‘Bout Boys  70 notes - Dec 5 2020

I was surprised this even got the attention it did lol. Seems NPC-related content is my most popular stuff. Also I am highly disappointed no one could recognize Arnott from the HW anima weapon quests. Y-yea he’s a very minor NPC, but I think he’s a cutie.

4). Black Mage is a Fun Class 51 notes - May 6 2020

The first of my fun class series! Originally wasn’t supposed to be a series at all, but I decided that every class in the game deserved some love! Also can I just say how much I love staves? Oh and the pagos bandana. It fits oddly well Sae imo.

5). Eden’s Promise Eternity 46 notes - Dec 18 2020

One of my more recent posts, and one not all too involved in the posing. Though, like I said in the post, the MOMENT I saw that arena, I fell in love with its lighting. OST is also a banger. Glad that people enjoyed random glamour shots with Gshade improving the already good lighting.

6). A Guide to Arcanima 42 notes - Sep 28 2020

The post I put the most time into... Photoshopping became so tedious at some points, but it was well worth it! I’m proud of the result and the opportunity to share some of my views upon the RP-flexibility of Arcanima.

7). Random Shower Thought 32 notes - Feb 9 2020

...I genuinely do not remember making this post.

8). Astrologian is a Fun Class 31 notes - Nov 30 2020

My old healing main, but still without a doubt the most beautiful class in the game. I wish Tumblr didn’t restrict gif sizes, but I understand the need for people’s devices to not implode when loading resources. So much grain could be reduced and more detail could be added, but alas. The screenshot at the end is still my favorite screenshot of Sae I’ve taken, even if it’s not IC.

9). Crystarium Coat of Scouting 29 notes - Mar 20 2020

And I still stand by my statements today. Since last tier is a patch behind us now, I could spare some augments to finally dye the coat. And, like a basic bitch, I’ve made Saerno’s ninja Rogue glamour jet black as far as the eye can see; all leather, of course. What is a rogue really without their leather?

10). 26 notes - Nov 16 2020

One of my first gifsets next to my Ninja ones! It Showcases the wonderful land of La Noscea, Sae’s only true home, and highlights some of his personal favorite areas! Hence why Limsa is barely pictured. He likes the city, but growing up in the country makes one appreciate the more natural side of La Noscea.

(Created by TumblrTop10)

In-Game

- Levelled all classes to 80! Though it does feel a bit hollow not being able to get xp for doing stuff now...

- Started Raiding... Well, seriously. I used to be a scrub and only do e1,e5 and e6 savage in PF, but a friend’s static needed a healer and they all but convinced me I was good enough to join. It’s been a hell of a ride, I’ll finally be going into e12s soon, but my experiences thus far have been awesome to say the least. I feel like I’m actually getting the most out of this game now that I both savage raid and take the time to RP.

- FINALLY GOT A HOUSE ON BALMUNG. 

God was the release of the new wards hella stressful. Stayed up all night, logged on the second I could, booted up next to the ferryman. Didn’t get my ideal plot, but got the neighboring one. I finally got to house something with more than 100 slots, and for that, I am eternally thankful.

- Finished those goddamn Shared Fates. And all so I could get a piece of music and possibly make a few million gil selling other SHB area themes. Crystarium night theme is the GOAT and you cannot tell me otherwise.

Roleplay

- Actually RP’ed outside of my circle of friends! Now I haven’t had the time recently to seriously go back to it like I once did, but the things I’ve learned and the people I’ve met... I wouldn’t trade it for the world. With this upcoming new year, and me taking a small break from Uni, I think I’ll begin in earnest again! First I’ve gotta update all these damn sites first to better reflect where Saerno is now.

- New Plotlines realized, old ones closed up. It’s cathartic and oh so satisfying, in a way, to see your OC go through legitimate change and to have them put a cap upon a phase of their life, slowly moving on to the next. While Saerno is still as brash as ever, he’s begun to realize just how fragile his life is. To slow down, to sit back, rest, to think about the direction his life is headed, that is the essence of his new arc.

- Secrets to uncover. To keep things brief and without many spoiler, Saerno has made the transition from Arcanist to Summoner, but with it comes its own host of problems, ones that Saerno has to grapple lest things take a turn for the worse.

- Potential Alts. Well, now that I have money again... I may actually follow through on one of the many alt ideas I’ve had, some tangentially tied to Saerno’s own story, others completely unrelated. A tailor with an unrequited love that’s inspired him throughout his hardships? Perhaps the prodigal daughter of a family whose cunning nature only fuels her desire of pure freedom? Or maybe the son of Doman liberators, trying desperately to gain the approval and praise of others so that his parents’ name do not die out completely. So many choices... 

And, well, that’s all! So far while 2020 has been quite terrible, at least I have these moments to look back upon fondly. Thanks to any and all of your who have been here this year, and here’s to hoping for a wonderful 2021! 

[erismerald]

𝕥𝕣𝕒 𝕝𝕖 𝕣𝕠𝕧𝕚𝕟𝕖  (Sam drake x plus size reader) final

Hey, I hope you're enjoying this story, but it is with great sadness of mine that I bring you the last chapter.

I also warn you that this last chapter will have content nsfw. Thank you for all the love you've given me!!!

I repeat again that English is not my first language so I would be very grateful if you would correct me.

Now without further ado, GOOD READING!!!!

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I couldn't even believe I was in Italy, let alone believe that there might be a chance that Sam could have feelings for me.

The bus trip was calm and I took pictures of several rural places we passed by, I was talking a lot with evie about what had been sussed in the plane, but I think it made her too happy, she wouldn't shut up ahahaha.

Whenever I looked in front of the bus where the teachers were, I saw sam standing up, talking to teacher james and with crystal, I didn't like to remember at all that they had kissed, even though I hadn't seen the kiss it's painful for me to think about such a thing.

sometimes i felt sam looking at me and when i gave him back the look, he would bite his lip, which made me nervous, but excited. i had never felt anything romantic about anyone, and the first time someone took an interest in me, he's twice my age and he's super attractive.

In a few minutes we were already in front of the hotel. Some people had separated because it was a small hostel, and it didn't fit many people, and those who didn't stay in it would go to a hostel closer to the station.

"Do you think sam will stay at our hotel?" I asked him to hold his mobile phone looking for a place to have lunch.

"ahhh I don't know, but if he doesn't stay, I'm sure he'll find a way to come see you here" she says laughing maliciously but still I was anxious I really wanted him to stay here... it might not happen at all but I wanted you close by.

I was getting desperate and saw a lot of people getting off the bus but I couldn't see that I really wanted to. And without giving me time to continue watching crystal I called the students to check in, and distributed the rooms where we were going to stay 3 each.

"stop looking, you were already making me nervous!" evie talks almost killing me with the look "my hope died..." I said lowering my head when I felt someone approaching. I lifted my head quickly but mine changed when I realized it was crystal that was in front of me

"Good girls I'll stay with you two" she said looking at me a little arrogant, I didn't understand why, but her expression changed when she looked behind me.

she smiled and waved, and when I looked back I saw my prince enchanted

"so the trip was good Y/n?" he turned to me ignoring her, and as I was going to answer she left our side

"quite quiet, I took some pictures" I smiled in embarrassment "but you're missing one" he says by taking the phone out of his pocket. and opening the camera. he approached me and put his hand on my waist holding me tightly "evie join us" he said smiling, and so when she joined us she took our picture.

after we took some pictures, sam continued with his hand on my waist, but before he took it off he slid it all the way to my breasts and stopped before he got there.

"Thanks for the photo my love, now I'm going to my room if you don't mind" he says turning around and grabbing his little bag.

"Did you see that?" I said grabbing and he was smiling at me.

"I told you, he's flirting with you, it's only a matter of fighting back," she said, but I felt something was wrong, when I looked back I saw crystal with a little bit of anger.

"Fight back like when I have a competition" I say pointing in the direction of crystal coma head

"Don't worry about her, I'm sure he prefers you, but forgetting that we'll have lunch?" she asked me already dragging me to the door

"Wait, I've got to go to the bathroom to change my shirt, it's too hot outside, if I'm dressed like this I'll die of heat" I say by turning around "I won't be a minute, I promise"

"You better, or I'll get you, even if you're naked" she said laughing

I took my evil and ran to the elevator, got in and pressed my floor. As I was walking out towards the room I heard crystal talking to someone

"You can't hit on her like that, Sam, she's much younger than you are, besides look at her, do you think she has leather for you?" she says, those words made me dizzy, she wasn't lying... I was too ugly and unkempt, I don't have the body that men find attractive, on the contrary, they would only disgust me from seeing me.

"Can you mind your own business? fuck if I forgot how annoying you were when you were annoyed" he says laughing "you didn'rule my life, you understand?”besides she's more than you've ever been to me, she's not a one-night stand, she's a one-night stand and for God's sake, don't shout at me."

 He says already angry but his words were sweet... he really likes me... is this just a dream?Next thing I knew crystal was coming towards me, I ran into the elevator again to pretend I'd only gotten there at that moment.when she opened the elevator and saw me, I almost felt sorry, she looked crying and couldn't even look at me.I left slowly and walked towards the door of my room. 

When I was already at the well said door I felt someone behind me.

"hey again" I turned around and saw sam, he was looking mysterious and angry, that made the attractive

"hey" I smile without stopping looking into his eyes."Where are you going now?" he asked quietly, leaning against his bedroom door."Me and evie are going to a pizza place nearby for lunch, I just came to change for something cooler," I said, opening the bedroom door.

"Do you mind if I go with you?" he said but when I turned to answer him he was too close to me, and I could almost feel his body leaning against mine. "Y-yes of course, ahm can you wait just a little ?"

 I didn't know what else to say my heart was beating too fast and I didn't even know what to do.

"Of course I'll wait for you in the elevator" he walked away from me and went towards the elevator, I could feel that he was very angry. i walked into the room and the thought of him being angry no matter how bad it made me feel excited... try to ignore that thought and i ran to the suitcase and chose the shirt that best sat on my body, when i finished i ran out of the room and headed for the lift

"Let's go?" I spoke up, and as soon as I entered I felt the look of sam devouring my body.

"Of course, I'm starving" he leaned a little bit to press the boot that would take us to the entrance floor.As I stood next to him I felt tiny, he was really tall, and as I was only 1.50m tall I felt like a child. when we got there evie was already getting ready to complain to me, but when he saw sam coming out from behind me his mouth almost fell off

“ you two..." she whispered in my ear, and as soon as I heard it, I was all embarrassed. I'd never done anything like that before

."n-no, we didnt doo nothing, I swear!" I raised my hands in protest

"ahahaha you really get cute when you get nervous" she laughed and kept walking, I ran after her and hit her in the armThe afternoon passed quickly at lunch and we were talking a lot and I kept telling embarrassing stories of my own, and I laughed a lot, but also told things that made me almost fall out of the chair laughing so much. 

After all we went to have the rest of the class regroup and to see some museums and sam was always by my side, he really is very intelligent.When it got dark we went for a walk in the city, but evie told me she was going to stay with a colleague of ours (we both knew what that means). but that made me nervous because I would be alone again with sam and I was not prepared.

"So, where do you want to go?" he asked me as he left the restaurant "I don't know very well I don't know anything here, but I could use an ice cream ahahah" the truth is I really wanted an ice cream, so I could find an excuse not to talk to him 

"Of course, why don't we have an ice cream while we visit the city?" he smiled and took me by the hand slowly my heart was pounding at a thousand an hour I could already believe that it was coming, basically I'm going to have my first date with him alone.

On my way to the ice cream parlor, Sam told me some historical facts about the places we passed by, until when we arrived there, the ice cream parlor was closed.

"I really thought it was open, well let's go to another one" he grabbed my mother and pulled me with him "o-of course" said embarrassed

it was strange to be hand in hand with him, he seemed so protective but at the same time daring. When I came back to reality again, we were on our way to a small alley further from downtown, and in a few seconds we reach a small garden by the river

."We could stay here for a while, what do you think?" he said, pulling me to a bench covered with petals and flowers that fell from the tree.

"Of course this place is beautiful," I said, looking at the river. Sam sat down by my side and put some of my hair behind my ear.

"Y/n can I ask you something?" he said taking a cigarette and putting it in his mouth.

"Yes, why not" at that moment I was getting nervous, anxious, didn't know what would happen next.

"What do you feel when you're next to me?" That question was very direct... did he know I liked him?

"I feel pretty goo-" 

"That's not it, what you feel when I talk to you, I touch you..." good if the other question was direct then...

"I don't know... I feel nervous, anxious, like I want to be with you all the time..." I looked at him and his eyes were fixed on mine. I couldn't run away, I didn't want to, I wanted him to kiss me. "Oh yeah?" he put a hand on my neck caressing him, and calmly. little by little he lowered himself until he touched my neck with his lips... that was wonderful, my body was tense, my blood was boiling "keep talking love" he spoke in a husky voice, sucking the skin off my neck and biting gently.

."What do you want me to say?" I spoke breathlessly, I could no longer stand it, but my legs started to rub each other, that feeling again invaded my body

."How do I make you feel dear?" He climbs his kisses up to my ear, leaving me with chills and no breath.

"Hot..." I put my hands on his shoulders, and moaned softly. I couldn't believe what Sam was doing at that moment. 

"Why me? You had so many options... why me?" I asked him to look at me.

"You have something that fascinates me, that attracts me me...you're pure, intelligent, sweet, you have a fantastic body...and darling you drive me crazy, I'm controlling myself a lot these days" he pulled me over him and put his hands on my thighs caressing them.

"but what do you want with me? just to have pleasure and then abandon me like you did with crystal?" I spoke with a few tears in my eyes, I was afraid this moment would come

 "No, not my angel, I want you for me, I can't stand the thought of someone touching what's mine..." he approaches my ear "and you're mine"

After hearing that, my heart stopped, I didn't know what to say, I just hugged him and let myself be there for a while while while he massaged my back and left marks on my neck. And it was in that moment.... I felt brave and I started to do the same to him, I felt something hard under me, he was controlling himself not to do anything stupid right there. I got up and started to walk "we'd better go or we'll have to give satisfactions to the other teachers" he agreed and continued to hold my hand. When I got to the hotel he took me to my room. "thank you for tonight princess" he said putting a sweet kiss on my cheek

"I'm the one who thanks you sam..." I said and quickly entered the room.

when I entered the room, there was no one there... I lay in bed wondering what had happened... I couldn't believe what had happened...

I got up and went to take a bath to calm down, and that's when I saw, the marks Sam had left on my neck... I touched them lightly, a smile roared in me.

in a few minutes the bath came out and I opened the bedroom door and saw evie that in a short time it jumped on me

"So how did it go... THAT IN YOUR NECK IS.... AHHHHHHHH?" she asked almost pierced my tympanols "yes me and sam were a little more... coming today, I have a lot to tell you and come" I took his arm and we sat on the bed, enjoying that crystal wasn't there yet.

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𝕊𝕒𝕞 ℙ𝕠𝕧:

This night was fantastic... to feel her skin... to hear the moaning she let out was driving me crazy, I wanted you there only for me... I want to be the only one to hear, to feel the face she makes when I give her pleasure. I couldn't help but imagine what it would be like when I could dominate her, feel her lips on mine, feel her body glued to mine.

I went to take a shower and took the opportunity to think about several things but the image of her smile didn't leave my mind. I was never a dating man, always preferred one-night relationships but with her I took a risk.

I made up my mind tomorrow I'll ask her to date. away from my thoughts i heard someone slamming the door and a smile on my face, is she?

I opened the door and saw crystal, she looked angry.

"You can't get involved with her samuel..." she said in a joking tone I was already getting sick of her. "Oh yeah why?" i said already angry grabbing a cigarette and going towards the window

"because if you do I'll tell james... and he'll send you back to the States" that was a threat ? I couldn't believe what I heard

"What do you want from me crystal?, I'm not her teacher and we're adults," I said, pushing her against the wall and cornering her.

"Sleep with me, for as long as we're here, and I won't tell him anything," she said by putting her hand on my neck.

I took a deep breath, and agreed, I didn't want to hurt Y/n or hurt her career. But I have to find a way to talk to her. _______________________________________________________________

𝕐/𝕟 ℙ𝕠𝕧:

I spent the night thinking, I couldn't sleep, I could only think about him and how he made me feel. I got up early in the morning, put on a dress and quickly went for breakfast, I wanted to see sam again.

When I got there, he was already there, when he saw me his look froze, I looked behind him and saw crystal full of hickeys, and with a huge smile.

sam looked at me and ignored me while crystal looked at me and laughed preventively and....hugged sam and kissed him I didn't want to believe what I saw. I wanted to get out of there, but someone touched me on the shoulder and it was evie. When she saw what had happened, she tried to get me out of there, but it wasn't very difficult.

We got out of there and went to the bus that was going to take us to Venice to our next stop, I sinned in my bag and ran. I just wanted to be alone.

When we were already inside the bus I saw sam looking at me with sadness. I just looked away, I just looked away and leaned over evie's shoulder that stood there beside me, evie looked at sam in anger and hugged me. the trip was calm but i spent the whole time melancholic, i didn't say a word, i was feeling used... and i was feeling bad for not having eaten anything since last night, i was very weak and without patience for anything. but whenever i looked at sam, crystal was clinging to him with his head on his shoulder, and when my gaze crossed with sam's i felt useless. I didn't want to believe that everything that had happened was a lie.When we got to Venice it was raining so we ran to take shelter. But I didn't... I asked evie to take my bag, I wanted to be alone

"Y/n you're too tired, you hardly slept, you didn't eat, come" she tried to pull me but I refused, and I walked away “LET ME GO"I screamed with my eyes already wet with tears and rain, sam was seeing everything and as much as I didn't want to lose it I couldn't compete with crystal. "okay if you need anything call me okay?" "Yeah, I love you," and I walked away a little so I wouldn't have to take the sam look.The rest of the day was quiet I wandered around town until I had to join the rest of the class. I couldn't stand to be there anymore, I just wanted to forget about sam...the week went by quickly and we were already almost in the middle of the second week, sam and I didn't talk much, only when necessary... I was feeling better, still hurt but better, evie helped me a lot and at this moment we were on our way to pompeii, we were going to stay in a camp this time, funny that I had never camped before, but I was eager for that to happen.

when we got off the bus, I felt someone pulling me into a farther area... it was sam.

"Can we talk?" he asked looking right into my eyes

"What do you want?" I was cold and indifferent, but deep down talking to him left me relieved and happy

"it wasn't my fault to walk away..." he said by walking away from me a little bit "Are you gonna say it was mine?" I said looking at him in anger "I WAS CRYSTAL OKAY" he said in anger "I wasn't gonna walk away from who I love but she threatened to tell james about us and I didn't want to hurt you" he said leaning against the wall "I would never walk away from you love but I had no choice you understand"

"You won't hurt me shit, I don't want you to walk away from me, but you hurt me ... I don't know if I'll forgive you sam..."

"Please honey, there wasn't a day I didn't try to get close to you, I was afraid of losing you" he spoke grabbing me on the shoulders quietly

"if you really don't want to lose me try the-" I said and as soon as it came out of my mouth sam kissed me!

he grabbed my body and used his to hold me, his kiss was passionate, needy, fierce, I was hypnotized by him again.

When we separated, we were both panting, that was my first kiss.

"this was my first kiss." I said, hiding my face in his chest. "and so you liked it?" he spoke kissing the top of my head "I needed this, you, your body." he dragged my hair to the side to see my neck.

"s-sam" I moaned softly when I felt his lips on my neck again, he was leaving hickeys on my skin again. "for everyone to see that you're mine, including that crystal bitch, today I'm going to put an end to this" he said by sticking his lips back on mine.

when we finally broke up, we went back to the edge of our colleagues. evie was worried so I told her everything sam had told me, and it made her angry.

for the rest of the day sam flirted with me all the time and i was curious about her answer. When night fell I was seeing some ruins of a small temple, and I felt someone with me.

"I know you're there sam" I turned around and saw him a bunch of flowers "I talked to james about everything... he said it's okay that I'm not your teacher and you're not underage" he handed me the bouquet and kissed me.

I hugged him and put my hands in his hair pulling him towards me, I wanted to feel more. "be careful what you do, my dear, you may regret it" he said holding me in his lap and leaning against one of the pillars.

"what are you gonna do to me hum ?" I whispered and his ear "you're driving me crazy love, you don't really want to know what I can do to you" he speaks in a husky voice and kisses me again. in the middle of the kiss I felt his hand go up to my breasts, caressing them lightly "We're in public" I tried to call him out, but he couldn't even stand me and I moaned low in his ear~

"If you keep moaning like that, darling, I won't care if I'm in public or not, I'll have you right here." He says if you put me on the ground, and crouch in front of me and lift me up again.

"Let's go to my tent," he says, walking towards the camp. When we arrived at his tent he laid me down on the ground, and put himself on top of me. "Are you sure you want this, love? if you say yes I'll really make you feel like you've never felt before" he says kissing my neck

"Yes I do, please don't control yourself..." I said embarrassed to be about to lose my virginity to a man like Sam.

sam kissed me with passion and started to take my shirt off slowly, I was already getting nervous, I’d never done anything like this before and I was too anxious, Sam stopped when he saw me with my shirt off, it looked like he was seeing treasure right in front of him

."You’re beautiful..." he said kissing my belly going towards my chest.

 "I’m dying to hear you moan my name all night, baby," he lifted up his body a little to take off his shirt too, and when I saw his physique, I nearly died. For a man wiyh his age, he was pretty well preserved, he had some scarring on his body but it just was getting me more horny.

"get up a little angel" he asked by pulling my body up by putting me on his lap... he was already hard at this point, and already saw the pleasure in his eyes.

with a simple gesture removed my bra and caressed my breasts, slowly I began to feel his mouth near them. and when he finally touched them I groaned with intensity, he closed his eyes and sucked each nipple at a time, licking and biting gently. I put my hands on his back and on account of the pleasure,and start  left scratches and marks... that was the first time I heard him moan, he liked it, so I continued to do it. "Calm princess, I haven’t even started yet" he put his hand on my face and pushed his thumb into my mouth, I was outside of myself so I just licked and kept my eye on yours. "good girl, now lie down" With a few movements he removed all the fabric that surrounded my lower part and separated my legs, kissing the inside of my thighs. with his hand he touched my clit and stroked with a little force 

"now I just want you to close your eyes and be quiet okay?" I shook my head and obeyed, and without warning i start feeling his tongue licking me, it was the first time I felt it, and it was wonderful, in response to his action I moan loudly, and grabbed his shoulders. " ah nah, I said quiet" he talked grabbing my heels and continuing to lick and suck my clit, which was driving me crazy. little by little the movements of his tongue were becoming more aggressive and my moans more frequent and loud, I was already sweating, that was fantastic. "im gonna cum" I said panting and tried to loosen my wrists "so cum, baby, let you surrender, I want to feel you cum in my mouth" those words were driving me crazy, I couldn’t think of anything else.

then the sensation of climax hit me and just felt a warm liquid come out of me Sam in turn licked everything, and stood up. "you are delicious my love" he licked his fingers that were wet with my juice. I got up I tried to open his pants and soon I was stopped

"today no,my love, today it is you who will feel well" he said raising my head "but I want to make you feel good too please" he then did not resist and took off his pants and his boxer.

 He was huge and he was a little afraid that the member would not fit inside of me, but at that moment I just wanted to experience him, I wanted to give him pleasure.

"Do you know how to do it?" He said hoarse holding my hand "I know more or less, so don’t worry" with this I took his dick and started using my hand to make movements from top to bottom, slowly. And again I heard Sam groan, and he was panting, and put his hand upon my mouth. "If you prefer, you can use your mouth, dear," and so I did, slowly licking it from the bottom up and when I caught it unnoticed, I put it inside my mouth, and so I felt his body tremble and his moans come out more often. I licked and sucked,  until I felt his hand pressing on my head

"im gonna cum baby" he said moving his hip quickly in my mouth. I loved watching him do that. And in a few seconds sam came up in my mouth, and a white and hot liquid invaded me, as I did not know what to do swallowed and I looked at it.

"beautiful girl, now lie down and spread your legs my love"

he said by putting a presevative on his dick, and putting himself in my lobby "This may hurt a little, my love, if you don’t feel comfortable, let me know." I waved and closed my eyes waiting...then i start to feel a little pain invade my body and tears began to fall from my eyes.

"All right, you want me to stop?" he asked with a soft, soft voice caressing my face.

"I am well continued" he did so, slowly began to move inside me and moaning quietly near my ear,  at this point I no longer felt pain only pleasure "It’s tight baby, if it keeps going like this I’ll cum in a few minutes" he said kissing my neck and then my lips.

when he saw that I was already confident he start to goes faster and therefore i began to scratch his back again...

For a while we were united, our bodies were connected... our moans were music, our lips glued together, and I couldn’t stop smiling.

"I’ll come again sam" I said panting "me too" he increased the speed and we reached climax together, our voices united and when we calmed down sam fell on my chest tired.

That night was wonderful, we just stood there and talked and laughed about what we just did.

"Y/n?" he said by stroking my hair "Yes?" I rose from her lap and looked into her honey-colored eyes "if I asked you to date me...would you accept?" he said passing his hand to my face "YES OF COURSE YES SAM" I shouted with joy and kissed him "does it mean that we are now officially a couple?" he asked with a smile on his lips "yes, we are" I kissed him again and lay on his chest "I love you Y/N L/N!" "I love you too, Master Darrake!"

from that night my heart won a new owner and sam won the greatest gift of his life.... you! (yeah you reader)