#I miss silver thread tails. I miss it a lot.

[monards]

Maybe we’ll get a screenshot Saturday post tomorrow -> coping

[bp-zb1fics]

hello !! i just binge watched the bridgerton and i was wondering if you could write something with lee jeonghyeon ! like the reader (it would be a girl but you can change it as nonbinary if you prefer) is secretly dating jeonghyeon, they have a dance/bal and someone is flirting with the reader, you can add whatever you want for the following part like smut or fluff or wtv haha !! btw could the reader be really kind and a bit blunt

Fill your heart with me

pairing: leejeong x fem reader ft. twin brother ricky

genre: regency/bridgerton era au, fluff, suggestive themes

tw/tags: regency etiquette, gossiping aunties, ricky is lowkey unbothered i guess, except when you call his full christian name, gyuvin is a gorgeous mess as usual, dancing, unwanted attention from some unnamed man, leejeong ex machina, banter, many "improper" kisses, leejeong simp lives on

wc: 1825

summary: your favoured suitor and soon-to-be fiance comes to the ball unexpectedly.

a/n ty anon for this! this is really so late but I really do love this req and i wanted to do it justice so I hope you enjoy~ also! there's a lot of like etiquette at play so this is the source i based it off if anyone's interested! also also xiǎo mèi means little sister (reader is the younger twin lol)

check my pinned for more fics!

“Miss Shen is indeed one of the jewels of the season”

“Certainly, she is of fair face and has many virtues.”

“I’ve been told that she is quite skilled in the art of languages, she plays the pianoforte quite well and her deportment is incomparable.”

“And the Shen family is quite wealthy, any gentleman would consider himself lucky to have her as his bride.”

You pointedly ignore the aunties whispering among themselves as you make your way across the floor. Your mother has taken ill this evening, leaving your brother to escort you around. It wasn’t too bad. If an overeager suitor was not to your liking, all Ricky had to do was stand tall and look down his nose at them. Unfortunately, that also went for the suitors that weren’t too bad as well.

“I didn’t like him, Xiǎo Mèi” He says to you as you both watch the poor man make his way back into the crowd, proverbial tail between his legs.

“Richard,” You hiss, drawing yourself to your full height which doesn’t really do anything since your brother is disgustingly vertically gifted. “You need to stop calling me that.”

“I’ll stop calling you that when you stop calling me Richard.”

“It’s what’s proper.”

“And I care because?”

“Ugh, you are infuriating.”

“And you have feathers in your hair.”

If you weren’t wearing one of your best gowns, low cut, splendidly embroidered white satin, trimmed with hideously expensive silver thread, you would have lunged at him already. Instead you settle for squeezing the arm you’re holding a little too hard, glad that your gloves would conceal how your knuckles strain. To your chagrin, you get nothing more than a slight wince.

Fortunately, someone else decides to barrel into him and if your brother was any less steady, he would have been knocked clean off his feet. Meanwhile, you’re fighting the urge to laugh hysterically. Kim Gyuvin may have half the ladies in the room falling over themselves for him but he possessed the grace of a newborn foal and the personality of a rambunctious puppy.

“Ricky-ah!” He greets your brother effusively before turning to you and playfully dipping his head into a pseudo-bow. “Miss Shen.”

“Mr. Kim.” You reply with your own little curtsey. 

There’s nothing more enjoyable than the look on your brother’s face right now. All the eligible ladies on your side of the room are giggling and whispering among themselves, definitely charmed by two of the season’s most eligible bachelors. You would be too, except one of them’s your brother and the other one is just as good as that in everything but name. None of them know about the time Kim Gyuvin threw a fit after your brother called his beloved lapdog something he probably shouldn’t have. You do. It sort of ruined any semblance of his image for you.

“As much as I know your brother makes delightful company,” Gyuvin begins. 

You stifle a giggle beneath your gloved hand. If the whole of polite society wasn’t watching, Ricky would’ve definitely punched him by now. You resist the urge to make an unladylike snort as Gyuvin extends his unnervingly large hand towards you. 

“May I have this dance, Miss Shen?”

“You may.”

You let Gyuvin lead you across the floor. For all of his awkward deportment, you know he has proven time and time again that he is an excellent dancer.

“Is there any lucky gentleman that you have your eye on tonight, Miss Shen?” He asks as you make smooth circles around the room.

“Not particularly, Mr. Kim.” You spin once, the light fabric of your skirt almost floating. “And you? Is there any lucky lady that has caught your attention?”

If Gyuvin had not been a childhood playmate and old friend, then perhaps you would not be so improper. But alas, you’ve known each other from the moment you could toddle. He graces you with a secretive smile.

“Perhaps, we shall see.”

The dance comes to an end a moment later and you give each other a courtesy bow. Gyuvin means to escort you back to your brother but some nosey mother pulls him away, likely to try and introduce her daughter to him. Thus, you are left alone, searching for your brother’s blond head. Unfortunately for you, it seems that your lonesome state has caught the attention of some gentlemen on the hunt.

“Miss Shen, what a pleasure.” A particularly bold one comes up to you. You greet him in kind, although you are well aware that his eyes have fixated themselves on your chest, ogling the low cut of your dress. Still, you must make conversation although you curse the rules of propriety in your head.

“My mother has taken ill this evening unfortunately.” You say trying your best to angle yourself away from his uncomfortable stare and excuse yourself. “So it is my brother who is escorting me this evening. I need to get back to him actually.” 

“Oh well he seems to have stepped out, might I keep you company in his stead?”

You’re about to outrightly tell him to leave you be when a familiar voice speaks up first.

“My apologies but I will be accompanying Miss Shen in the meantime.”

Both you and the man turn. You can’t help the smile that blooms on your face when you see your soon-to-be betrothed.

“Mr. Lee, I didn’t know you were joining us tonight.”

“I’m glad that Miss Shen is delighted to see me.” You move forward and take the arm he offers as he turns to the other man who has quite a sour look on his face. “Excuse me, good sir.”

Both of you watch as he leaves with a huff. The ladies and their mamas whisper but you pay them no mind. Soon they would all know anyway. 

Lee Jeonghyeon has been courting you since the season started. He was 2 years your senior, good friends with Ricky and from a family that your parents approved of. Everything had been very private up until now as both your families finally began to talk about a public engagement and an even more public wedding. It was to be expected with both of you coming from aristocracy.

“May you do me a favour of having your next dance, Miss Shen?” He asks you as the quartet hints at the beginning of a waltz.

“You always have my favour, Mr. Lee.” 

You’re already facing him, one of his large hands wrapping around your waist and pulling you towards him, perhaps a bit closer than the dance called for but with enough space between you to keep it appropriate for the many discerning eyes on you. His other hand holds yours, almost hiding it completely in his grasp. And he looks nowhere but at your face and you would almost feel shy as if his eyes hadn’t traced over your features so many times before. Still, you can’t help but blush at how brazen he is in such a public space.

“In the upcoming events this season,” he murmurs quietly, almost intimate in such a crowded room. “I hope that you could give me the privilege of having your first dance.”

He can have all of them, you would have told him plainly but you need not scandalise the ladies even more. So instead, you say.

“Then that privilege is yours.” The way he looks at you definitely holds almost too much passion for others to look upon.

Later, when you’ve found your brother and Gyuvin again, sharing a drink by the refreshments table, he asks another favour that makes you go completely and unattractively red.

“I heard that the garden is lovely at night, would Miss Shen like to accompany me for a walk outside?”

It’s a bold request. And you’re glad he spoke quietly enough that only your brother and Gyuvin are within earshot. Nevermind that the latter very nearly chokes on his drink. It’s surprising that he’s this shocked considering both of them had the misfortune of walking in on you in the back parlour doing things that were at the height of impropriety (you were just kissing…rather passionately).

Still, you’re suddenly glad your mother is not here but perhaps that is exactly the reason why Jeonghyeon asked. Ricky exchanges glances with you before he speaks.

“If my sister desires it.”

You weigh out the consequences before producing a beatific smile.

“It’s a little stuffy in here, perhaps some air would do us all some good.”

So as the crowd falls into another dance, you slip out, your brother and Gyuvin trailing behind you as a semblance of a chaperone. The garden is indeed beautiful at night. Even better, the foliage is grown enough for both of you to slip behind it, creating a little corner of your own. Meanwhile, your supposed chaperones linger a respectable distance, conversing quietly and letting you have your privacy. Finally, Jeonghyeon’s hands slide to your waist, holding you as closer than earlier. You allow yourself a little impropriety, pouting at him, just a bit.

“You should have informed that you would be attending, Mr. Lee.”

“If it pleases my Lady, I shall give her prior notice on the next occasion.”

Boldly, you stand on your toes and give him the lightest peck, your lips barely brushing his. This time, he flushes, ducking his head like a bashful schoolboy.

“It would please me very much.” You beam up at him. He leans down and catches you in a longer kiss, leaving you breathless as you shove at him gently. “We shouldn’t be so hasty here with so many around.”

“Very well,” he says, looking at you so intimately as if you were the only star in the vast dark sky. “Grant me one last favour this evening then, Miss Shen.”

“And what is it that you desire, Mr. Lee?” His face is still so close to yours that you feel faint.

“My name,” he whispers. “If you could call me by my name this evening, just once, I would be most happy.”

You can’t help the way your breath catches in your throat. It feels almost illicit to utter something that you’ve only ever addressed him in writing, have murmured in the most quiet of moments. Here, in the garden, where your willingly oblivious chaperones chat among themselves, with the crowd but a doorway apart, with the stars hanging above you to witness. Still you grant him his favour.

“Jeonghyeon.”

It is but an almost silent breath. Yet the way his eyes slowly shut, as if relishing in the moment, makes it feel like so much more. And oh, your heart flutters as he looks at you again, breathes your name into the air between you because it is for you and you alone.

His hands grasp yours gently and everything fades into the background. It’s only him.

“My darling.”

And you let him kiss you again.

[verratensduo]

A drabble based on my rp with @the-silver-peahen-residence for Terry and Eren (I will try to reply to our threads soon I promise)

—-

Eren ran out onto the field with the rest of his little league team. One of Terry’s friends had to drop him off here, but Terry had promised to be there after his business meeting. He had promised to be sure that it did not run long or at least that it did not run overtime. Eren was excited to show his skills to Terry. The boy had been surprised how easy it was to get Terry to agree to little league soccer, but then again his anger management had been coming along great. So perhaps it had been to reward him.

Eren looked to the stands expectantly, but his heart sank. He couldn’t see Terry anywhere. He looked back to the field somewhat bitterly. He should have known, that stupid company took Terry’s time, even when Terry had promised it would be a day for them, they called him in. He didn’t know why he bothered getting his hopes up. He would just be playing soccer, and albeit with his friends, he had so badly wanted Terry to be there. For them to have something to share being proud of Eren over, yeah he did good in school, but that hardly made him proud. School was easy. He hardly struggled.

Sports on the other hand, those where hard. And Terry had missed his last two Karate tournaments. Two, and those were all day. He sighed and shook his head depressed. He better focus on the game. He could see the look on coach Hans’s face. The man knew how Eren had looked over there and for who. He gave him a thumbs up to let him know he could still play.

His friends Armin, Connie, Marco and well, his rival Jean were all counting on him. They where a few wins away from the play offs. Then they could very well be in the county finals. That would be exciting. But they had to win this first. A tie would not do. Nor would a loss, only a win for them qualified. Especially since their record would not justify a spot in the wild card tournament.

The instant the whistle sounded, Eren was game. He had learned to tone down his aggression a lot since he started playing, but he was neck and neck with the other team’s captain, the older Reiner Braun. The two where in some heated completion for the ball.

The two teams went back and forth, winding up tied at half time. Eren said nothing as he sipped his Gatorade and munched on his healthy snack.

“Eren get your head in this, we need to win, and you are our best goal kicker!” Jean hissed at him. “We only need one more goal to win!” Well that was easier said than done of course. But Jean was being Jean.

“Stick it horse face.” Eren said not looking up at him. He was still upset that Terry was not there. He definitely was not in the mood for Jean being Jean.

“Eren you should be nicer.” Marco chastised and then looked to Jean. “And you get off Eren. He is just having an off day. It happens to the best of us.”

That was when a new, yet familiar voice joined the fray.

“Come on Eren, a tie? I know you can play better than that.”

Eren’s eyes widened as he stood up and turned. Sure enough, there stood Terry, with their dog Ace on a leash. When had he gotten there?

“Terry!” Eren ran to him and hugged him after Terry picked him up and spun him around. “When did you get here?”

“Tail end of the half. Sorry kid, stopped at home to change and Ace just had to come, then the dang car broke down on the way here. So we had to run the rest of the way.” Okay that last part was a lie. He had to stop and become Batman and stop a crime real quick, but Eren was still important, so he made it there on time. “Now, I know the field sides have changed, going downfield gives you the advantage. Get back out there and show them who Eren is.”

Eren nodded. “Yes Terry, can we get Ice Cream in the way home?” The boy asked as he looked up at him.

“Of course. Wouldn’t be a sports day without it.” Terry nodded and ruffled Eren’s hair.

“With sprinkles?”

“Only if you win kiddo. Sprinkles are for winners.” Terry knew it would give Eren the extra motivation he needed to win.

“Then sit back and watch me get three goals!” Eren declared and hurried back onto the field.

Ace then looked up at Terry with a whine.

“I know Ace, but I believe in Eren. He is a good boy, and excellent soccer player.” Terry assured the dog and petted him as he watched Eren take the field and lead the charge. With any luck, he would owe the boy ice cream with sprinkles soon.

[parkerdoesparkour]

-Green Eyed Monsters (Diasomnia Ver.)-

The boys get jealous when someone else pays Titania a bit too much attention.

Malleus Draconia

If Titania were to mention to Malleus his eyes were looking a little ‘green’, he would simply respond with, “Beloved, my eyes are always green.” She began to wonder if jealousy was even an emotion he could feel, but all was answered one faithful lunch period. Titania stood with Grim in line as he picked which foods he wanted to pile their tray with. 

“Aw man, they’re out of cookies,” he sighs, seeing the cookie plate completely wiped clean. 

“Maybe next time,” she suggests, stepping back. Immediately, she’s approached by a second year in Savanaclaw. He has a sheepish smile on his face as he passes her a small plate with two cookies on it. 

“Um, I thought,” he begins, and Titania smiles patiently at him. “You did a lot for our Housewarden and our dorm, so if you want, you can have my cookies.” Grim wags his tail as Titania adds the plate to her tray. 

“Thank you, that’s so sweet,” she says. She can’t help but notice a small blush on his cheeks as he smiles down at his shoes. But, when he looks back up, his face falls. Titania doesn’t need to turn around to know who’s behind her. 

Malleus steps beside her (and the second year takes a step back) and wraps his arm loosely around her waist. He smiles at her, then smiles at the Savanaclaw student, in two very different ways. “I was wondering what was keeping you,” he says. “Come, our food is getting cold.”

Titania thanks the student again for the cookies, and follows Malleus to their usual table. He’s pouty, which makes her giggle. 

“What?”

“Your eyes are green, Mal.”

“They’re always green, Beloved.” 

Titania laughs again, Malleus looks even more confused, and Grim is too busy eating both cookies to notice.

Lilia Vanrouge

Titania is on her way to class when a freshman from Pomefiore cuts her off. She smiles at him, slightly unsure, though he looks more nervous than mean-spirited. She prays this won’t end in a fight as Grim gives him the stink-eye. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah!” he says, enthusiastically. Then he clears his throat, and looks nervous again. “Well, you know that rock band that’s touring on Sage Island?” 

Titania nods. “One of my favorites.” The freshman nods and withdraws two tickets from his bag. 

“I thought maybe–.”

“Oh, how kind of you!” a new voice interjects. The Pomefiore student jumps back and Titania sighs with a small smile. Lilia hangs upside down, suspended between her and the freshman, as he yanks the tickets forcefully from his hands. 

He flips right side up and stands beside Titania, throwing his arm casually through her’s. “Look love, we can go see the band I showed you.”

Titania chuckles. “Yeah, looking forward to it. Also, he ran off as soon as you took the tickets.”

“Oh?” Lilia looks up to the empty space where the first year had been and laughs. “I must have missed that.” 

“Mm-hm,” she says. Lilia keeps his arm in her’s as he walks her to her next class. “But you didn’t have to be so scary.”

“But! Darling!” Lilia protests with a pout. “If I don’t scare off all your other suitors, they’ll just keep coming back to try and steal you away.”

“No one could ever steal me away from you,” she responds and Lilia squeals, smothering her cheeks with kisses. “Lilia I need to–Lilia, wait! I have class!”

Silver

Silver spent much of his and Titania���s time together napping on her shoulder. It was those few rare moments when he had peace and quiet, plus the feeling of safety, he couldn’t help but doze off. Today was supposed to be like any other, but Silver wakes up to jostling and harsh voices. It takes him a minute to realize Titania is arguing with someone pretty heatedly. 

“I told you to buzz off,” she spits, threading her fingers through Grim’s fur. The cat is still asleep and she apparently hadn’t noticed Silver woke up because of the argument. “I’m not interested.”

“Aw, come on,” the student says. Silver takes in his appearance: a Scarabia third year trying to worm his way into Titania’s heart. That didn’t really bother Silver, since he knew Titania wasn’t interested. What bothered him was how clearly the other student was disrespecting Titania’s wishes. “All he ever does is sleep. Don’t you want someone more interesting?”

“Silver is interesting,” Titania responds, “I’m not going to repeat myself. Get lost.”

“Can’t you just give me a chance?” the Scarabia student says. 

“Didn’t you hear her the first time?” Silver interrupts, opening his eyes fully to give the third year a once over. “Or are you just an asshole?”

The student takes a step back, frightened. Usually students didn’t like to tussle with anyone from Diasomnia and this third year was no different. He speeds off without another word, and Silver grumbles meaningless curses under his breath. Titania laughs and presses her index finger against his forehead. “What?”

“You look funny like that,” she says. He frowns.

“Like what?”

“Like you’re plotting someone’s murder,” she explains. “Thanks.” Silver hums and nuzzles himself closer to Titania. “You’ll always be my knight in silver armor.”

“You’re hilarious,” he rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling all the same.

Sebek Zigvolt

Sebek is pouting. 

He sits on the couch in the Diasomnia common room, his knees tucked into his chest, pouting and sighing and picking at the leather. Across the room stands Silver, Lilia, and Malleus whispering to each other about his odd behavior. 

“What’s wrong with him?” Silver asks. 

“I believe he said he was heartbroken,” Lilia says. 

“Titania had a prior engagement and wasn’t able to come over right after classes,” Malleus adds. 

“Ah,” Silver says. 

“He gets lonely when Titania isn’t around,” Lilia says and Sebek shouts from the couch, 

“I DO NOT!” 

Silver sighs. “Someone needs to message Titania and tell her to hurry up. I can’t take any more of his moping.”

“Sorry I’m late, Crowley talked longer than I expected,” Titania interrupts, swinging the door open. She takes off her shoes as Grim leaps from her shoulder and curls up in front of the fire. “What’d I miss?”

“Sebek was having a depressive spiral because you two were separated for an hour.”

“He was jealous of Crowley, I think.”

“Also he was lonely.”

Sebek shrieks, and rushes to cover Titania’s ears. “Do NOT listen to them, Titania. They’re trying to ruin my image.”

“You do that just fine on your own,” Silver says. Titania laughs and kisses Sebek on the cheek. He buries his blushing face into the crook of her neck while the others tease him for being a, what was it Ace called him? Oh, yes, a simp!

[plainbrunettelbl]

ABO (A) Half Shark Kirishima Eijiro x (O) Reader Forever Love

Word count: 4921

Warnings: None. 

Title: ABO (A) Half Shark Kirishima Eijiro x (O) Reader Forever Love

Summary: You go to the beach and meet a strange shark tooth Alpha. 

(Gif not mine) 

🦈-Summer was here and you were ready to enjoy the sun. 

🦈-You wasted no time packing a beach bag and driving to see the gritty sand and blue water. You wore a pair of sunglasses, you were glad you did since the sun was high in the sky and it wasn’t planning on leaving anytime soon. 

🦈-You all but leaped out of your car and dashed across the sand. You adored summer and missed the feeling of sand under your feet. Before you could get fully sucked in by the sparkling waves you made sure to put on a thick layer of sunscreen. 

🦈-You didn’t want to mess with skin cancer. 

🦈-Once you were all lathered up you set your beach towel down and sat on it until the sunscreen had soaked in a bit. As soon as your phone beeped telling you it was time you were running into the blue water. 

🦈-The cool water was a shock to your body but you embraced it the feeling.

🦈-You were heating up a bit sitting on the beach so it was really refreshing having the cool water lapping against your skin. You should have brought a tube but you were in a hurry to get to the beach so you left it for another time. 

🦈-You pushed all your thoughts away and simply floated. 

🦈-It was twenty minutes later that you opened your eyes. You paused as you looked around and saw that you were farther from the shore than you thought. You weren't the greatest swimmer around so you started to panic a bit but your focus on the distance between you and the shore was pushed aside when something brushed against your foot. 

🦈-You looked down and gasped. A grey fin and shark teeth greeted you. You swiftly kicked at the figure and tried to swim away. You didn’t get very far before a red-headed man sputtered up in front of you. You paused your escape and gaped at him. 

🦈-“Why did you kick me?” He whined, rubbing the top of his head. 

🦈-“Why did you touch my feet?” You argued, if you weren’t using your arms to keep you upright you would have thrown them in air. 

🦈-“I was interested in your second hands.” He frowned, pushing his crimson hair out of his eyes. 

🦈-You spotted silver skin scattered around his tan hand. It almost reminded you of scales. If that didn’t alert you to the fact that he wasn’t human his gills did. Three neatly lined gills fluttered on his neck. The sight was intriguing. 

🦈-“My second hands? You mean my feet?” You asked, still gliding your arms around to keep you upright now that you weren’t floating on your back. 

🦈-“The second hands you have keeping you afloat. I have a tail and you have second hands.” He pointed out, lifting his tail higher to the surface to show you.  

🦈-His tail reminded you of a shark, grey on the sides but white in the middle. If his sharp teeth were any indicator you would say he was some type of shark male hybrid. If he were to turn around you would probably see a shark fin on his back. 

🦈-“Are you gonna eat me?” You almost slapped your self at the stupid question that escaped your mouth. 

🦈-“What?! Why would I eat you? I don’t eat humans.” He huffed, obviously offended you thought he would eat you. 

🦈-Not only have you met a half-human hybrid but you managed to kick him in the face and offend him in all of but five minutes. You wouldn’t be surprised if he decided he did want to eat you. 

🦈-“Then what do you eat?” You asked, tilting your head at him. 

🦈-He drew his head back, surprised that you asked him such a question. Weren’t humans supposed to be scared of someone like him? This is the most human contact he has gotten in decades. His Alpha was oddly quiet in your presence. 

🦈-Was he observing the strange human too? Nevertheless, this human wasn’t afraid of him, he found that admirable of her. He didn’t have many friends. His best friend was a tan puffer fish that was annoyed at him half the time. 

🦈-“Fish, like any other shark.” He said, grinning at the thought of feasting on the scaly creature, his razor-sharp teeth making an appearance again. 

🦈-“Oh.” You replied, your brain trying to catch up with everything. 

🦈-“What do you eat?” He asked, curious about what humans consume. He sometimes saw humans licking a cream-like treat or eating something round and long on a stick. He was interested in what this little human ate. 

🦈-“Ummm… food? Red meat? Vegetables?” You said, not sure what he wanted to hear. 

🦈-“Is red meat good? Better than fish?” He asked, excited by this new information. 

🦈-“I can get you some if you want. I know they sell kabobs on the pier.” You thought, remembering people walk by you with some in their hands while you waited for your sunscreen to soak in. 

🦈-“You would bring me some!” His eyes sparkled, excited at the thought of trying something other than fish. 

🦈-“I mean yeah, I could.” You answered, trying not to blush over his excited face. This male shark hybrid was a handsome one. It was the least you could do, you did kick him in the face and offend the poor guy. 

🦈-“Wait, but then you would have to leave. How do I know if you are coming back?” He narrowed his eyes, not eager for this sweet-smelling human to leave yet. His Alpha pushed forward and nearly growled at the thought. 

🦈-In truth, the poor male was attention-starved. He was a pretty intimidating guy, all the sea life tended to stay away from him. Now that he had someone’s attention he didn’t want them to go away. He didn’t have to dwell much on the thought of you leaving before a soft sound invaded his ears. 

🦈-It was a gentle ring that made his whole body warm. You were giggling at his brooding face. 

🦈-“Of course I am coming back. Now that I know you aren’t gonna eat me I can pester you with all sorts of questions.” You smiled, thinking of all the tales he would have about the deep blue sea. 

🦈-This would be an interesting friendship… or more. 

***

🦈-Your friendship has bloomed over the last two weeks. It was tradition to come down to the beach whenever you could and buy him a kabob before making your way down to the pier. The main pier was busy and bustling with people but the small one meant for the local fishermen was still pretty vacant and empty. 

🦈-You tried to stay in the water the first week but it just wasn’t practical. You had to wash and dry your swimsuit so many times it was tearing at the seams. Floating on a tube was better but it still had its drawbacks. 

🦈-Your fingers and toes would winkle like raisins. 

🦈-Eijiro was fascinated by your feet and wouldn’t stop trying to touch and nibble on them. You had noticed pretty quickly that although he wasn’t interested in eating you he had some sort of fascination with softly nibbling on you. 

🦈-When you asked him about it he said it was a shark thing. He has grown up with his parents doing it so he thought it was normal to do so to his new human friend. 

🦈-You had just sat down at the pier and dipped your feet into the cold water, not even a second later a sharp pair of teeth were nibbling on your toes. You let out an airy giggle, already used to his odd behavior.

🦈-“Save the chewing for your kabob, Eijiro.” You teased, lifting your toes out of the water and leaned down to show the steaming kabob to him. 

🦈-He was quick to burst out of the water and snatch it up with his sharp teeth. He reminded you of a human version of jaws when he did that. 

🦈-“Thank you, Y/N. You know you don’t have to keep buying me meat all the time.” He said while nearly chomping on the wooden stick. 

🦈-“I don’t mind. If I didn’t spend it on you I would spend it on something else. Like this bracelet. I saw it while walking down the pier to get your kabob. It caught my eye and I instantly purchased it.  It’s too big for me but I like the color.” You hummed, showing him the threaded black and red bracelet on your wrist. 

🦈-In the time it took you to respond he had already finished his kabob, he made sure to put the stick on the pier. You would take it later and throw it away properly. 

🦈-“Oh, that’s a nice bracelet.” He commented, not taking his eyes off it. 

🦈-He peered at it with an awed look in his eyes. Completely unrelated he lifted his hand to mess with his hair, showcasing his empty wrist. Silently hoping you would spot it and say something. 

🦈-“Oh! Would you like it? I don’t think I can wear it without worrying it would slide off. You have a bigger wrist than me so it should fit you better.” You offered, taking off the red bracelet and dangling it on your finger above him. 

🦈-You never saw him move that fast before. The bracelet was already snatched out of your hand and on his wrist in the blink of an eye. You were right, it fit more snug on his tanned wrist than yours. 

🦈-“Make sure not to lose it. I bet it is a whole other story losing something in the sea rather than on land.” You thought, swishing your legs in the water. 

🦈-“I won’t take it off.” He nearly growled, something primal lurked in his eyes.  

🦈-Your Omega was nearly purring at the look. You merely nodded and shifted your eyes to the blue sky. You noticed there were a lot more clouds in the sky than normal, you hoped it didn’t rain. 

🦈-“What happens when it rains? Do you go back to your cave and wait it out like a regular human?” You questioned, looking down into his ruby eyes. 

🦈-“Sometimes I stock up on fish when it is just a small shower. If it starts lightning and thundering I usually chill in my den until it passes. You don’t want to be out in the open when lightning strikes down.” He commented, holding back a wince. 

🦈-“Huh. I hadn’t thought about that.” You said, kicking your feet out and splashing his face with water. 

🦈-He retaliated by catching on of your feet and playfully chewing on it. His teeth were tickling you, you reach down and grab a handful of his red hair. You tried to yank him off but he wouldn’t budge. He was a stubborn shark when it came to his prey. 

🦈-Not that you were prey to him. He just considered you to be his. Especially after your little gift to him. To give shark-kind a gift it meant you had started the courting process. The next time he saw you he would give you one back, to solidify your courtship. 

🦈-“Quit it Eijiro! You’re tickling me.” You laughed, leaning down even further, your face inches from his. 

🦈-Once he felt your soft breath on his face he let go and tilted his head up at you. Now it was your turn to fell his breath on your face. The closeness was enough to make your Omega swoon. You felt your mind was playing tricks on you when you heard a gentle purr coming from him. 

🦈-It was like you were in a trance, your eyes caught his lips and it was all you could focus on. You slowly felt yourself leaning even further down to him. He was leaning forward as well. His breath coming out in big pants. 

🦈-His tail was swishing rapidly in the water. Almost like a puppies tail would when they get excited. 

🦈-“You trying to drown yourself, girl!” An older man’s voice called out from the distance. 

🦈-You quickly put both of your feet on Eijiro’s shoulders and pushed him down. You would have been worried if he was human but since he was half-shark you knew he would be safe. Safer than someone finding out his kind existed. 

🦈-Sure there were shifters on land but people held major prejudice against them. You could only imagine the type of hysteria if humans found out they were surrounded by shifters on land and in the water. 

🦈-Maybe it was because you knew a few shifters and that was why you didn’t freak out when you first discovered him. 

🦈-“I thought I saw a crab!” You yelled, turning to look over your shoulder. 

🦈-An old man with a long fishing pole made his way down the pier. He wore a yellow raincoat with boots to match. He was the definition of fisherman. 

🦈-“Well, that’s good to hear. I hope to catch a lot of them tonight. Supposed to start raining soon.” He drawled, tipping his yellow hat up at the sky. 

🦈-While he was talking you still felt the warmth of Eijiro’s shoulders on your feet. You tapped him on both shoulders, silently telling him to swim away. His response was to slide a hand up your ankle. He wasn’t leaving until you were. 

🦈-“Oh. I better get going then. I wouldn’t want to get caught in the rain.” You said, leaning one hand down to clasp his hand and squeeze it before pulling your feet out of the water and slipping back on your flip flops. 

🦈-You made sure to grab his kabob stick before leaving. You shot him one last look. He was still submerged under the water. His face reminded you of a wounded puppy. You were leaving so soon. Your Omega was whining at the ordeal but there wasn’t much you could do. 

🦈-You didn’t bring your swimsuit so you couldn’t swim with him. Plus the rain wouldn’t have helped matters either. He would have to go back to his cave anyways. 

🦈-“See you later, little crab.” You softly said, giving him a half-smile.

🦈-You turned around and began walking back to your car. You couldn’t believe you were about to kiss him! Your heart was pounding in your chest. He was your friend, not your boyfriend!

🦈-You had to get your emotions under control. You both were from two separate lands, it would never work. You pushed down your sadness and kept walking down the pier, leaving a sad shark behind. 

***

🦈-“Hey, Y/n, do you have the paperwork I told you have done ready?” One of your Alpha coworkers asked, peering over at you in your small cubical. 

🦈-“Yeah, I just finished typing it up.” You replied, leaning over your desk to get the file. 

🦈-Your scent must have wafted her way. 

🦈-“Are you seeing anyone? Your scent smells different. Kinda reminds me of the ocean.” She prodded, eager to hear some gossip.  

🦈-You instantly flushed, your little trips to the beach must be affecting your scent. It was usually a soft peppermint smell. Now it was intertwined with a hint of saltwater. 

🦈-“N-no, I’m not seeing anyone. I think it is just because I am spending so much time at the beach lately.” You answered, handing her the file over your cubical wall. 

🦈-“Oh, well you should go on a few courting dates. Nothing better than summer love.” She grinned, thinking of all the Omega’s she could court this summer. 

🦈-“I’ll let you know if I do.” You said, looking back over at your computer screen. 

🦈-Should you start looking for a potential Alpha? You had no reason not to look for one. At that moment a certain shark-toothed male popped up into your head. 

🦈-No! He was off-limits. You should focus on Alphas you could actual court. 

🦈-It was decided, you would start looking for a potential mate. 

***

🦈-“So, have you eaten here before?” You asked, looking up from your plate of spaghetti, you speared a big meatball and brought it to your mouth. 

🦈-You had met him on a dating app. You didn’t know that he was vegetarian until he was ordering at the start of the date. You had placed your order before him so it was a tiny bit embarrassing eating meat in front of him. 

🦈-“Yes. They have a really good vegetarian selection here.” He said, looking down at his meatless meal. 

🦈-You had to admit that this Alpha was very attractive. He had had shoulder-length brown hair, glowing golden eyes, and a strong jawline. He would have made your Omega melt if it wasn’t for someone else. 

🦈-During the meal you found yourself comparing this Alpha to the sliver skinned one that seemed to take up your thoughts. 

🦈-Your Omega couldn’t help but nick-pick at him. 

🦈-He didn’t love meat like a certain someone, his teeth are dull, and he doesn’t have spiky crimson hair. He was nothing like her Alpha. Yes, her Alpha. She had started calling him that after your last encounter. You tried to correct her but she wasn’t having it. 

🦈-You tried to listen to the Alpha sitting across from you but your heart wasn’t into it. Your heart seemed to feel heavy lately, it might have had something to do with your absence from the beach. You hadn’t been back to the pier for a whole week. 

🦈-Your heart was telling you it was time to reunite with the muscled male. You finally submitted to those thoughts. You would go to see him tomorrow. 

🦈-That had your Omega purring and bouncing around. She was finally gonna see her Alpha!

***

🦈-Your Omega was jumping around excitingly as soon as you pulled into the beach parking area. She was gonna see her Alpha! You had an image of her rolling around on her back happily. You, on the other hand, were a bit nervous stepping out of the car. 

🦈-You knew going to the pier wasn’t an option. 

🦈-Your Omega had cut off that train of thought as soon as it appeared and wouldn’t even let you consider it. She wanted you in the water and as close to her Alpha as you could get. You knew this absence was hard on her so you didn’t argue.

🦈-Since your other bathing suit was beyond repair you went out and bought a new one. 

🦈-A solid red one. It was a tiny bit more revealing than your other one but once you saw it you knew it was the one. Your Omega chirped in agreement, stating that it matched Eijiro’s eyes. You felt pretty confident in it. 

🦈-You had paired it with a white cover-up. You grabbed your beach bag and made your way down to the sand. The instant your feet touched the sand you felt a pair of eyes on you. You knew whose eyes they were. 

🦈-You knew if you looked out into the water you would catch a glimpse of him but you stopped yourself. You knew if you saw his red hair peeking through the waves you would skip putting on sunscreen and dive into the water. 

🦈-You didn’t need to deal with a sunburn along with your confusing feelings. 

🦈-So you lathered up and waited, much to your Omega’s disappointment. You made sure to put on a lot because you knew as soon as you stepped into the ocean Eijiro wasn’t gonna let you out of his grasp for one second. 

🦈-From the intensity of his gaze, you were half thinking he was gonna drag you under and take you to his cave. 

🦈-Once your sunscreen was dry you finally headed towards the water. The water was cold as usual but it wasn’t the reason why your skin was covered in goosebumps. Your heart was pounding each step. Once the water went up to your waist you started swimming further from the shoreline. 

🦈-You were barely halfway to where you usually meet up when you felt his touch on your ankle. Just by the grip alone, you knew he was just as touched starved as you. This week without him made you miss his gentle caresses on your legs and the oddly comforting way he nibbled on you. 

🦈-Once you swam far enough for the shore he yanked you down. Your eyes stung at the saltwater but that didn’t stop you from looking at him underwater. His smile was big and wide, his razor-sharp teeth on full display. 

🦈-He didn’t waste a second pulling you into his arms. The cold water was long forgotten when you were tucked safely in his warm embrace. If you weren’t already holding your breath it would have been taken away. 

🦈-He couldn’t hear your Omega’s purring but he felt the vibrations coming from your chest. 

🦈-He instantly let out his own warm purr. He was so happy you finally showed up! He was worried you had somehow forgotten about him. That maybe you didn’t enjoy his company as much as he enjoyed yours. 

🦈-He swore he wouldn’t even care if you never brought him another piece of red meat again. As long as he had you in his arms he was satisfied. He didn’t hold himself back from nibbling on your neck a little now that he had you wrapped up in his grasp. His Alpha telling him that this was the spot he planned to mark when he bonded to you. 

🦈-He tapped his shoulder, signaling that you needed air, with reluctance he led you to the surface. 

🦈-He wanted to be underwater with you forever. Everything faded away when you were under the blue currents together. 

🦈-You broke the surface with a tiny gasp. 

🦈-“I’m so happy you’re back! I missed you.” He breathed, still not believing you were here in his arms and not somewhere on land where he couldn’t see or hold you. 

🦈-“I’m sorry. Things came up.” You said, not quite meeting his eyes. You didn’t want to see the sadness lurking in his ruby orbs. 

🦈-“That’s fine. I am just glad you are back.” He said, acting like he wasn’t desperately searching for you the entire week.

🦈-“You know I will always come back for my little crab.” You joked, hoping to lift the mood a bit. 

🦈-He laughed, playfully pushing you away. You laughed along with him, the heaviness in your chest from the past week finally lifting. 

🦈-“I’ll show you a crab!” He chuckled, making his hands into claws and pinching you. 

🦈-You giggled, trying to pinch him back. Something caught his eye, his gaze was focused in the direction of the shore. You turned to look and saw a blond surfer dude riding a wave. His hair looked a little familiar so you said so. 

🦈-“Huh, his hair reminds me of the Alpha I went on a courting date with. His hair was brown though.” You hummed, looking at the guy fall off his board. 

🦈-“Courting date? You went on a courting date?” His voice dropped a few octaves, his eyes turning hard. 

🦈-“Yeah? Is there a problem?” You asked, your eyebrow lifting. 

🦈-“A problem! Yes! We are courting Y/N!” He exclaimed, pulling his arm out of the water and pointing at the bracelet you gave him.

🦈-You tilted your head, confused. Did he think it was a courting gift? He couldn’t have. For it to be a courting gift it would need to be made by you. You were sure you told him you bought it from a shop on the pier. 

🦈-“I didn’t make it. It isn’t a courting gift, Eijiro.” As much as it hurt your heart to say it, it was true. 

🦈-“Yes, it is! If you give me a gift it means you want to court me. I accepted it so we are courting. I even have a gift for you.” He said, lifting up his other gift. A pearl bracelet sat on his wrist. It was obviously made for you since it looked way too small for his thick wrist. 

🦈-He slid it off and put it on you. The white pearls glistened under the sunlight. 

🦈-You looked at it in awe, the bracelet was beautifully made. The warm mood was broken when someone called out to you from behind. 

🦈-“You okay out there?” A voice yelled. 

🦈-You turned to see the surfer you both were talking about holding onto his board and look at you. He was about 20 feet from you so he couldn’t see your little red friend. That didn’t mean you didn’t shove the poor boy underwater.

🦈-Eijiro didn’t mind, he was just enjoying the feel of your hands on his shoulders.

🦈-You looked around and supposed you were a bit too far from shore.

🦈-“I’m fine! I’m a great swimmer.” You yelled back, smiling at the nicely tanned boy. 

🦈-While your swimming did improve a little after you started hanging out with the shark boy you still weren’t expert level. You only felt safe so far out in the deep because you had Eijiro by your side. You knew he wouldn’t let anything happen to you. 

🦈-The surfer gave you a nod and smile before turning his attention back on the upcoming waves. 

🦈-It was apparent Eijiro didn’t like that your attention was off him. He wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you down under the water with him. Before you could blink the saltwater out of your eyes his lips were on yours. 

🦈-In an instant, all of your worries and fears washed away. You sank into the kiss with a delighted purr. You brought your hands up and weaved them through his hair. Your legs wrapped around his waist. You tried not to smile as you felt him slightly nibble on your lip. 

🦈-The only thought running through your mind was that you knew Eijiro wouldn’t be your summer love, he would be your forever love. 

Bonus: 

🦈-You sat on your pier and waited for your Alpha to come back. That’s right, your pier. After you bonded with Eijiro you both found out he would be able to shift between human and half-shark. With his new second hands, he was free to join you on land. 

🦈-The first thing he did was rent a boat and became a fisherman. The boat was just a cover while he shifted into his half-shark form and rounded up fish to sell. It wasn’t long before he was bringing in some money and together you both purchased a beach house with its own pier. 

🦈-Right now you sat on the pier with a huge metal pot by your side. Usually, you would eagerly hold it in your lap but your baby bump wouldn’t let you. 

🦈-Not too long after you moved into the house the both of you found out you were carrying a pup. Eijiro’s nearly passed out in happiness that day.   

🦈-The one thing about this pup was that it loved seafood. Now Eijirio was a fan of red meat but his pup couldn’t get enough of the sea. Poor Eijiro was devastated when your pup wouldn’t let him cook red meat in the house anymore since it made you want to throw up at the smell. 

🦈-Still, he happily gave it up for the time being, anything to make sure you and the pup were both comfortable. 

🦈-Tonight was seafood boil, that was where the big pot came in handy. Your lovely Alpha was out hunting the savorly little things. Your mouth was already watering at the thought of them. Like he heard your thoughts, Eijiro popped out of the water proudly holding up a big net filled with your latest craving. 

🦈-You could have sworn your eyes were sparkling. 

🦈- “I caught a lot just in case you are still craving them tomorrow.” He happily stated, pulling himself up on the pier. His tail was gone in seconds and in their place were his strong calves. Once he was situated on the deck he put his net into the pot sitting by your side. 

🦈-“Thank you, Alpha! I am so excited!” You beamed, looking down at the pot. 

🦈-It seems your pup was excited as well, they were dancing up a storm. You lovingly rubbed your stomach before standing up and reaching for the pot. Eijiro was quick to brush your hands away and picked up the pot. 

🦈-He wasn’t about to let his Omega carry ten pounds of shrimp while pregnant with his pup. His Alpha nearly growled at the thought. He might have been a little overprotective of you now that you were with pup. 

🦈-The sun was dipping in the sky, everything was orange and blue. You leaned against your Alpha’s side as you walked back to your home. You couldn’t have been any happier. 

🦈-“I love you, my shark boi.” You said, nuzzling into his side. 

🦈-“I love you too, Omega.” He grinned, leaning down to place a kiss on your head. 

This was my first time writing a sort of shark/merman AU. Please tell me what you think of it! I might write more for it when summer hits. 

That being said, please wash your hands and stay safe guys! 

Please reblog and leave a note. Both really help motivate me to write more. 

[itsautophile]

Poppy (Death, Remberance and Sleep)

AO3

Presentation day was important to all those who wanted to have entrance to the highest balls of the Roan Kingdom. Without the monarch’s approval even a high ranked noble would only be able to attend those events were all nobles regardless have access such as those celebrating the monarch’s birthday.

Cale Henituse was the last of the ladies to present and compared to all of them Alberu found her slightly lacking.

Let it not be misunderstood he didn’t talk about her beauty or her dress. Cale Henituse at sixteen years old deserved to be called the Flower of the North and maybe even the entire Kingdom. Her white dress which was without sleeves of a back reminded him of an upside down trumpet flower and decorated with silver thread embroidery and beautiful beading and delicate embroidery reminded she showed of the wealth of her family while staying within the dress code.

What he meant was that she looked as if presenting herself to the King was a last minute event she decided to do on a whim. There was no overly complicated or overly decorated hairstyle and no natural looking but multistep makeup. In their place were a high pony tail which was not adorned with ribbons and a pair of simply, if smudged, lined eyes which came as a set with smiling red lips. Her dress despite the expensive materials and embellishments didn’t consist of many layers and in fact looked like something she could put on by herself.

Alberu could hear the Queen huffing beside him.

Once the kissing of the King’s hand and her curtsying to each royal member individually was over it was time for her to kneel before the King.

If normal procedure was followed the King would order her to stand, welcome her with words and the dismiss her.

“Miss Henituse, you take a lot from your mother’s side of the family. Not only in appearance but in character as well.”

Apparently Cale Henituse was not the only one going off script.

“This lowly subject is honored how his Majesty, the light of our Kingdom, remembers my mother’s fallen family enough to notice the similarities. Few people remember the Thames nowadays.”

“Indeed.”

 Zed Crossman spend a few seconds just staring at the top of her red head and Alberu made a note to look into the Thames.

“Rise, Miss Henituse.”

Still smiling she changed her position.

“Before I welcome you, we must express our wish of there still being a kingdom for us to rule.”

Cale Henituse smile grew wider.

“Do not worry, your Majesty. I am aiming neither for Roan or the crown.”

“Then you may leave.”

“What was that about, my King?” inquired the Queen once the door closed.

“You will by the end of the week.”

Three days later rumor had it of how brave and smart Young Mistress Cale was and had set up a trap with the help of the Captain Knight using her Presentation Attire to lure a rich merchant named William Vit who was also the Moonlight Killer, a murderer who had killed many noble women. She refused a reward claiming she didn’t do much.

And while that was very interesting there was something else which bothered Alberu.

“Were did the man’s money go?”

[rikalovesrice]

Brother

A ficlet inspired by this thread on Twitter, some “Douxie During Trollhunters” stuff I was working on a while back, and my love for Douxie and Jim being best bros UwU

@aaronwaltke and @biancasiercke if you guys ever wanna give this a read (Absolutely zero pressure! Just sharing💙)

Also a big thank you to my good friend @nikibogwater for proofreading for me! ^_^

Please enjoy!

~ ~ ~

Douxie still remembered the day a seven-year-old Jim Lake Jr. came through the door to Benoit’s, tugging his mom in after him by her hand. His big toothy smile when he exclaimed that it was his mom’s birthday and that he was paying for all of it, even the drinks.

“Are you now?” Douxie asked, handing the pair of them menus. They’d chosen a two-top right next to the windows, the backdrop of Arcadia under a soft orange sunset in full view. 

“I helped mom clean,” Jim said. “Like a lot. So I have lots of money.” He crossed his arms, throwing his mom, Barbara Lake, a cheeky grin. His black hair was on the long side and messy, sticking up and flopping in various places including over one of his eyes, though it did virtually nothing to hide his pride and excitement.

“Can you believe he wanted to spend his whole allowance on me?” Barbara said.

“Uh yeah! You’re the best mom ever!” Jim leaned towards Douxie, feigning a whisper. “She’s the best mom ever.”

Douxie chuckled. “I’m sure. And it looks like she’s got a great son to match.” Jim beamed, though a hint of shyness bloomed on his face.

“I’m sorry, what’s your name?” Barbara asked.

“Oh, quite alright. You can call me Douxie. I’ll be your server tonight.”

“Well thank you, Douxie.”

“Mom, can I get a milkshake?”

“Why are you asking me, little man? You’re the one paying.”

“Oh yeah.”

One shared entree of well done steak, a milkshake, and two free slices of cake (accompanied by Douxie’s acoustic guitar and a birthday song) later, Jim caught Douxie by the hem of his jacket after he’d set their receipt down. 

“Wait, Mister Douxie I uh…” Jim dug deep into his pockets, rummaging with a look of determination.

Douxie smiled, kneeling down beside him. “What is it, little man?”

“Um, wait, wait I need to...Oh!” Jim smiled big as he pulled a single coin out of his pocket. He held it straight out to Douxie, his eyes seeming to sparkle. “This is for you! Mom said that you should always tip people.”

Jim placed the coin in the center of Douxie’s palm. It was a nickel, a small bit of rust darkening ol’ Tommy’s profile. Douxie glanced over at Barbara, who was gazing at her son with an expression nothing short of pure endearment, glowing with pride. Douxie closed his fingers over the nickel and held it to his chest.

“A fine tip, indeed,” he said with a soft smile. “Thank you very much, Jim.”

Jim beamed. Then he was springing out of his chair, giggling as he gave Douxie a hug. How long had it been since he’d been smothered by someone who wasn’t Archie? Maybe long enough, because Douxie’s brain stopped working at the gesture, as did his arms. It registered more with every second that passed, the feeling of Jim’s small arms wrapped around him and his head on Douxie’s shoulder. Even without seeing his face, Douxie somehow knew Jim was smiling into his jacket. Something welled up in his heart, warm and touched. Douxie hugged Jim back, one hand on his back and the other gently holding his head.

“You’re awesome Mister Douxie!” Jim said as he pulled back, his hands still on Douxie’s shoulders. “Mom was really happy.”

“Hey now, I’m not the one who bought her dinner tonight.” Douxie ruffled Jim’s hair.

“Alright, Jim, Mister Douxie has to go back to work,” Barbara said softly. Jim’s expression fell and he began to wring his hands.

“No worries.” Douxie gave Jim’s shoulder a squeeze, tilting his head to look Jim in the eyes. “Chin up, buddy.  Next time you come in, I’ll still be here.”

Jim beamed. “Cool!”

“Go on, then.”

Jim hopped to his mother’s side, taking her hand. When he was distracted by one of Douxie’s co-workers wrestling with a malfunctioning blender, Barbara reached into her purse and pulled out a bill. She slipped it into Douxie’s hand, silently mouthing a thank you. Then the pair were off, stepping back out onto the streets of Arcadia under a pleasant evening. 

Douxie unrolled the bill.

Twenty dollars.

His eyes shot to the window in disbelief, catching Jim giving him one last wave goodbye. A deep breath turned into soft chuckling. Douxie waved back.

See you, little buddy.

~ ~ ~

The morning Archie reported Kanjigar’s death, they’d booked it to the canal. The last thing they wanted was for the Amulet of Daylight to wind up in the museum or in some kid’s backpack. Douxie would pick it up and then head right back to Arcane Books. So a brisk ten minute walk later, they were peering down the deep slope of the canal and spotted what must have been the remains of the Trollhunter. A heap of broken stone, just out of reach of the shadow of the bridge. Douxie closed his eyes, taking a moment to honor the fallen Protector of Trolls and Man. Wondering if, somehow, Merlin was doing the same.

“Alright Arch, let’s go — “ Before they could take another step, what looked like a boy on a bicycle suddenly launched over the other side of the canal, suspended in the air before diving back down and landing on his wheels. The boy skid to a halt and turned to holler behind him, up from where he’d come.

“Jim?” Douxie whispered, recognizing that head of black hair and those skinny legs. “A bit late for school, isn’t he?” Then Douxie felt a pinch of panic seize him. He prayed the kid would stay away from that odd pile of rocks.

“Come on Tobes!” Jim hollered.

And not a second later…

James...Lake.

A deep, echoing voice rumbled out into the atmosphere, buzzing in Douxie’s ears. Shock and disbelief struck Douxie like a manticore’s tail. He and Archie shared a look. The panic spiked.

Douxie watched, his heart beginning to pound harder and harder, as Jim faced the stone rubble, slowly removing his helmet. Another familiar face, Toby Domzalski, came struggling down the canal, falling onto his face as Jim passed under the bridge and approached what was left of Kanjigar.

“Do you think he heard the voice?” Archie said.

“No...It can’t be…He’s not…” It couldn’t be. Jim wasn’t a troll. Jim wasn’t a troll. And yet —

James Lake.

The voice rang out again. Jim yelled and fell backwards in surprise. 

“That pile of rocks knows my name!” Jim exclaimed, scrambling closer on his hands and knees. Douxie stared, mind still suspended in shock but gut starting to sink with dread as Jim dug around the rubble, eventually unearthing the Amulet of Daylight, its distinct soft blue glow ever hard to miss. 

Everything in Douxie wanted him to somehow swipe it from Jim’s hands. 

Because not him. 

Not Jim.

But Douxie also knew better. 

“What should we do, Douxie?” Archie asked. They ducked behind a tree when Toby started shouting for someone to reveal themselves. Made sense he would think it was a trick. Only magical beings or the chosen could hear the Amulet.

Only magical beings.... Or so Douxie had thought. Jim slipping the Amulet into his bag was a nail in the coffin.

“Well...we can’t take it now,” he said, eyes still trained on the boys. “The Amulet... seems to have made its choice….”

In the distance, the school bell of Arcadia Oaks rang out. Jim and Toby hurried back to their bikes, quickly mounting and taking off. When they were long gone, Douxie stepped out from behind the tree without a word, sliding down the canal and standing over the pile of stones. He stared off in the direction the boys had left, his mind reeling like nothing else, trying to comprehend what he’d seen and what it meant. 

Why it had to be Jim.

Archie joined him, climbing up on and inspecting the rubble.

“I know...the Amulet doesn’t make mistakes,” Douxie said quietly. “But...a human Trollhunter? And he’s only a child…” His voice quivered, pangs of worry and dread striking his heart.

“It’s...certainly a first,” Archie said, leaning a paw on Douxie’s leg. “I’m not sure what to make of this myself.” There was a long beat of silence before Archie spoke again. “What do you want to do, Douxie?”

What could they do? Was there anything to be done now? That and there wasn’t anyone he could discuss this with, at least who would know more.

If only you were here, Master… Douxie thought, one hand balling into a fist. He stewed in his thoughts for a moment longer before scooping Archie up onto his shoulders and heading back up the slopes of the canal.

“Douxie?” Archie said.

“We’ll keep doing what we’ve always done,” Douxie said. “Watch...and protect.” He didn’t have any answers. But it was done. The new Trollhunter had been chosen. 

Something stirred in Douxie’s chest, growing stronger as he remembered the smiling face of a seven-year-old boy who’d tipped him a nickel. Stronger still because Douxie knew. He knew what it was like to be so young and have so much, far too much, thrust upon him. Having his hand and the growth of his strength forced. The secrets that had to be kept, even from the ones he loved most, for their own safety. Pain he hadn’t known was coming. 

The loss. 

The loneliness.

The weight of the world.

When Douxie retired to his cot that night, he approached the small shine of silver on his nightstand. No, he didn’t have a clue what any of this meant. But what Douxie did know was that he’d be Jim’s greatest ally.  

He picked up the nickel and held it tight, a promise burning deep within him.

I’ll protect you.

~ ~ ~

Author’s Notes :

So I imagine that Jim and his mother ended up not frequenting the diner as much since Barbara was always so swamped and Jim was learning how to cook more at home. So Jim eventually just forgot about his first meeting with Douxie. But Douxie of course still continued to look out for him as best as he could. And I believe this is why Douxie saw Jim as family, even though he seemed to have only known him for a short time. In reality, though, Douxie always loved the kid💙

God bless and thank you all so much for reading!💙

[junghelioseok]

rogue.

↳ a night out leads you to exactly where you want to be.

◇ yoongi x reader ◇ smut | bit of angst | strangers!au ◇ 3.9k [1/1]

⇢ for danica aka @dee-ehn, as part of ficswithluv’s changeswithluv project for black lives matter ♡

notes: i told danica this was going to be daechwita!yoongi and boy i was not kidding one bit! i took quite a few creative liberties, but i hope you enjoy nonetheless. thank you for your donation to such an important cause!

warnings: dom!yoongi, tatted and pierced!yoongi, like he has a tongue piercing whoOPS my hand slipped 🙈, semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), orgasm denial, unprotected sex (stay safe kids!!!), a very vague sense of the time period in which this is all happening bc it’s an au and i’m a dumbass idk!!! 🙈

It’s impossible to miss the man sitting in the corner of the bar.

He’s surrounded by a raucous group of people you can only assume are his friends, dressed in muted green with a silver chain at his throat. Dark eyes peer out from behind dark hair, ever vigilant as they flit around the room, scanning faces and assessing threats. Some would call it caution—others would call it paranoia—but you have to applaud him nonetheless. One can never be too careful, after all. While this bar does serve as an unofficial headquarters for the resistance, you’ve seen time and time again that the government has eyes and ears everywhere. You’ve watched friends and acquaintances alike get dragged off by uniformed guards, the emperor’s insignia on their chests shining bright as a flame and just as dangerous.

You’re seated at the counter on this particular evening. The bar is crowded, but even the other patrons’ chatter cannot drown out the conversation surrounding the man and his friends. It’s almost as if you’re attuned to them—like a radio set to a single station before the dial broke off. Every word comes through as clear as day, and you lean back in your seat to listen, sipping languidly on your drink.

“I’m telling you, we’re ready,” one of the men is saying. In the firelight, his brown hair glows orange, and the scruff of beard on his chin is rust. “One more week, and everything will be set. Taehyung’s already talked his way into the palace. We won’t have a better shot than this.”

“It’s hard to believe he’s already in,” the man across from him says, his wide doe eyes a stark contrast to the hard set of his jaw. “I thought it’d take him a lot longer, to be honest.”

“Tae’s a good liar,” a third man pipes up, shrugging. “Always has been.”

The second man snickers, his nose scrunching with mirth. “Really? You don’t say. You wouldn’t happen to be thinking about the dumpling incident again, would you, Jimin?”

Through all of this, the dark-haired man stays silent, sipping pensively on his drink. His gaze roves past where you’re seated, and though you can’t be certain, you swear it lingers for a split second before moving on.

“Let’s give credit where credit is due, though.” The first speaker is talking again, giving the dark-haired man a hearty clap on the back that nearly sends his tankard flying. “We wouldn’t have gotten half as far in our plan if it wasn’t for Yoongi here. How about a toast?”

“To Yoongi,” the one named Jimin intones immediately, raising his cup. “He’s always fighting the good fight.”

“To our very own Min Yoongi, finally taking out the asshole emperor for good,” the first man adds. “To one asshole killing another—and with the same last name, nonetheless. You sure there’s no relation between you two? We could be planning a patricide, for all we know.”

Yoongi stiffens. “Don’t even joke about that,” he says, his voice deep and lilting with a pleasant rasp that sends a shiver down the length of your spine. “That bastard isn’t my family. And even if he is—well, he won’t be for much longer.”

The threat lacing his words is unmistakable, and when you shiver again, it’s for a wholly different reason. People who want the cruel emperor dead aren’t difficult to come by, but few have the courage to speak of it so openly. But now, with the resistance’s plan finally coming to fruition, people are getting bolder. Tougher. Happier.

It hadn’t felt real, at first. The initial whispers were hesitant and disbelieving, but gained momentum with each passing day. Have you heard? The resistance is finally making a move. They’re going to kill Emperor Min. But despite the growing excitement amongst the townspeople, your heart remains heavy.

Ever since Emperor Min came into power a decade ago, his cruelty and ruthlessness have been unparalleled. His guards patrol the streets at night under the guise of keeping the peace, but you know as well as anyone that they’re searching for dissenters. Every night, you huddle away in your home with the windows shuttered, listening as the guards loot the bars and beat the helpless, all the while trying to root out rumored members of the resistance.

So far, their efforts have seen mixed success. Last you heard, some lower ranking members had been imprisoned. Several were executed two months back, their severed heads hung from the palace walls as an example to those who dared defy the regime. But the topmost members of the resistance, as well as the leader, have all managed to evade capture. They began a series of weekly raids, sneaking into the palace’s kitchens and coming away with stocks of food to feed the hungry. Next they looted the money vaults, filling their bags with bars of gold for distribution. And then they visited the armory.

Needless to say, the rumors swelled—as did the emperor’s desperation to quash the dissenters. You kept a careful ear close to the ground for any news, and listened in disbelief as each subsequent story grew more outlandish.

The leader of the resistance is the old emperor, who faked his death all those years ago.

The leader is Emperor Min’s bastard son, and he’s avenging his mother’s death.

The leader is—

A fresh wave of laughter draws you out of your thoughts, and your attention immediately goes to the source. The group of men surrounding Yoongi has dissolved into mirth, but the dark-haired man isn’t grinning with the rest of them. His dark eyes are trained on you, sharp and steady, and you wonder at what he could possibly be thinking. Is he even staring at you? You turn to check behind you, just to be sure.

And when you turn around again, he’s standing right in front of you.

“Oh!” you squeak, startled by his sudden proximity.

Yoongi blinks lazily at you, unfazed. He catches the bartender’s attention and buys another drink, and you belatedly notice that the tankard in his hand is empty and instantly feel foolish for assuming that he came over for anything else. Still, you can’t help but zero in on the way he leans against the counter as he waits, his body a hair’s breadth from yours, his elbows propped up on the polished wooden surface. This close to him, you can see the beginnings of an intricate serpentine dragon coiled around his right forearm, the inky black tail looping around his wrist before coming to a stop near the silver ring on his thumb. The rest of the tattoo disappears into the rolled up sleeves of his worn green jacket, and you wonder exactly where it begins.

Then you wonder what it would be like to trace those lines of ink with your fingers—and your tongue, if he permits it. Your throat bobs at the thought, your thighs squeezing together unconsciously, and it’s almost as if he can read your mind because he’s suddenly leaning closer, a crooked smirk playing on his lips.

“You seem tense,” he murmurs. “Why’s that, doll?”

A spark ignites the base of your spine at the term of endearment, flaring up through your veins. He’s so close you can count each individual eyelash, fluttering against his pale cheekbones with every blink. Silver earrings dangle from his ears—a combination of thin chains and hoops that glitter in the dim light. You think you spot another flash of silver between his lips, embedded in his tongue.

“Long week,” you manage at last, thanking your lucky stars that your voice comes out steady. “Trouble at work. But you don’t want to hear about that.”

“You’re right,” Yoongi replies, accepting the fresh drink that the bartender hands him with a nod of thanks. He takes a long sip, and you can’t help the way your gaze lingers on the soft curve of his lips around the rim of the glass. Then he nods at your own glass, which is half-full and mostly ice at this point. “Can I get you another? I hear alcohol makes your troubles go away.”

You raise a brow. “Really? I hear it just causes new, different troubles.”

An amused grin pulls at the corner of Yoongi’s mouth. “You may be right about that,” he concedes, setting his drink down with a thunk and leaning in close again. “So how exactly do you propose we make your troubles go away?”

Your other brow rises to join the first. “I don’t recall asking for your help.”

That earns you another grin. “And yet, here I am, offering my services nonetheless.”

A beat of silence stretches between you, taut as a tightrope and thick with tension. Yoongi raises his glass to his lips again, but his dark eyes remain fixed on yours over the rim, unblinking and never once wavering. The clamor of the bar fades into the background, slowing until it feels like you’re swimming in molasses. Your heart thuds in your chest, arrhythmic and fluttery as the wings of the butterflies that have made a home in your belly.

You blink first. Your gaze drops to the soft pout of his mouth, and that’s all it takes for the thread to snap—for Yoongi to ditch his drink and grab your hand instead. “You wanna get out of here?” he asks.

And maybe it’s the alcohol swimming in your system, but you nod. Yoongi stands up, tugging you with him, and you relish the way his fingers fit perfectly into the spaces between your own. He leads you through the crowded bar, weaving amongst the scattered tables and their occupants, and you gasp when he suddenly veers to the side and tugs you into a dim corridor. Several closed doors line it, and he doesn’t hesitate to cage you against the nearest one. His mouth descends on yours, slanting fervently across yours in a kiss, and your eyes flutter shut.

Yoongi kisses you with intoxicating ferocity. His palms are hot against the sliver of skin that your shirt has ridden up to reveal, and devious fingers slide beneath the hem to push it up further. You moan into his open mouth, your breaths intermingling, and it turns into a gasp when the doorknob suddenly digs into your back, cool and unyielding.

Your companion pulls back, frowning at the way the knob refuses to give beneath his fingertips. “Fuck,” he breathes. “Locked.”

“What a shame,” you breathe back.

He hums and takes your face in his hands, kissing you until you go weak in the knees. “I’ve got a car out back,” he rasps when he pulls away.

“Then what are we waiting for?”

Not two minutes later, you’re stumbling out into the back alleyway, the low drone of traffic and passersby a welcome change from the din inside the bar. As promised, a beat-up black sedan is parked against the brick wall, and Yoongi wastes no time in pressing you down onto the hood, slotting himself between your spread legs and mouthing insistently at your neck until you’re scrabbling at his back, your breathing labored and shaky.

“Come on, doll.” Yoongi straightens up, raking his dark hair out of his eyes and offering you a crooked smirk. “You can do better than that. Be a good girl for me and let me hear you.”

A pulse of heat spikes through you. His hands come down on either side of your body, twin metallic thunks as the rings on his fingers meet steel. One side of his mouth quirks as he looms above you, but he doesn’t touch you just yet. The silvery chains around his neck glint in the dim glow of the streetlamp at the end of the alley, and Yoongi huffs out an amused chuckle when he notices your diverted attention.

“Eyes on me, doll,” he chides, tapping the side of his nose. “Unless you’re looking for an audience?” Thoughtfully, he glances over his shoulder, where the alley opens up into the main street. Despite the late hour, there are still cars and pedestrians ambling past, completely unaware of the obscene way you’re sprawled atop the hood of Yoongi’s car with the man himself between your legs.

Completely unaware of the way your skirt is now slowly riding up, aided by Yoongi’s warm hand sliding along the soft, delicate skin of your inner thigh.

“I think you might like the idea of an audience too much,” Yoongi breathes, leaning down until his breath is fanning against your cheeks. There’s a tinge of alcohol that lingers on him, the barest hint of sweetness, but it’s neither overbearing nor unpleasant. You’ve been with men like that before—men whose drunkenness made them bold and stupid and immune to your desires. Those men were nothing like Yoongi, who’s staring down at you, ravenous, as if you’re a feast just begging for him to partake. Nothing like Yoongi, whose carnal gaze promises that he knows exactly what you need.

“I think,” he continues, so casually he may as well have been talking about the weather, “it turns you on, knowing that anyone might look this way and see you like this.” His voice is casual but his smile is wicked, and the combination is enough to have your core seizing, untouched.

And then he’s grabbing at the material of your skirt, bunching it up and leaving your bottom half fully exposed. Teasing fingertips skim the lacy edge of your panties, and your eyes widen when he snaps the elastic against your skin. “Yoongi!”

“Much better,” he hums approvingly. Your cheeks flush with warmth.

When he touches you again, it’s with much more fervor, the pad of his index finger tracing your clothed slit and molding the dampened fabric to your folds. Distantly, you think that you should be more embarrassed, being this wet from just some kissing and a few calculated touches, but the rest of your brain is too lost in Yoongi to care. Your gaze traces the dark ink blossoming across the skin of his forearms, following the serpentine coils of the dragon around his wrist. And then it drops to the very noticeable bulge in his jeans, straining against the faded denim.

Yoongi spots your new fixation almost instantaneously, his smirk morphing into something mocking. “What is it, doll? Do you want something?”

“I—” you try, but your voice sticks in your throat. Yoongi clicks his tongue.

“That won’t do,” he says. He cups your mound in one warm hand, his middle finger dipping inside you through the lace of your underwear, and you keen at the foreign texture of the sodden material. “Would you like to try again?”

“Yoongi, please,” you breathe shakily. Your thighs clench together unconsciously, and your companion merely chuckles as he pushes them back apart and settles between them, nosing forward until he’s inches from your dripping core.

“Good girls tell me what they want,” he proclaims softly. “Good girls get rewarded. But bad girls, they get punished. Do you want to guess which one you are, doll?”

He leaves you little room to answer—not that you could’ve mustered up anything coherent even if you tried. In the span of a single breath, Yoongi pulls aside your drenched underwear and sinks his tongue inside your pussy, and you belatedly realize that you’d been correct when you thought you saw a silver piercing embedded in his tongue. The metal ball glides smoothly along your walls, hard and unyielding. Each time he pulls back, or darts up to flick at your clit, or laves at your folds with the enthusiasm of a man starved, you feel it rubbing up against your sensitive flesh, the stimulation unlike any other.

If this is his idea of punishment, you would happily take it any day, night, or afternoon.

There’s something beginning to brew in your belly—something coiling tighter and tighter with each movement of Yoongi’s questing tongue. He’s mouthing languidly at your clit now, winding lazy circles around the little nub while two of his fingers stretch you open, and you’re beyond thankful that he’s chosen to wear smooth rings tonight. The pressure grows as he digs deeper, and he must sense your rapidly approaching high because he doubles his efforts to get you there, sliding in a third finger and sucking harder on your clit. You’re so, so close.

And then it all stops.

Yoongi straightens up and withdraws his fingers, licking his lips. His chin is shiny with your juices and his fingers are likewise coated in your sheen, but he seems otherwise unruffled as he adjusts his sleeves and takes in your gaping visage.

“You—!” you splutter, distraught. “How could… I was so close!”

He pins you in place with a look, the corner of his mouth lifting into a wry smirk. “I told you that bad girls get punished, doll. Don’t say I didn’t warn you. Now, do I need to repeat myself again, or do you want to tell me what you w—”

“I want your cock,” you blurt. “Please, Yoongi.”

At your shameless declaration, his expression shifts—turning into something dark and positively predatory. “Then turn around for me,” he commands, his voice soft but no less authoritative. “Hands on the hood of the car. I’m not planning on being gentle.”

A shiver dances down your spine as you comply, bracing yourself against the car. It’s a warm night, but the steel is still cool to the touch, smooth and hard beneath your palms. Behind you, you can hear Yoongi shedding his jacket and unbuckling his belt, a muffled grunt of relief escaping him as he frees himself from the confines of his jeans. You want so badly to turn around and look at him—to take in the way his hand grips his cock and memorize every ridge and protruding vein—but you resist the urge. Instead, you wait, your head bowed, for him to make his next move.

Much to your relief, you don’t have to wait long. He’s palming at your hips before you can even draw your next breath, inked arms winding around your body so he can squeeze at your clothed breasts. He takes his time fondling each swell, pinching your nipples until they ache, and you sense the satisfaction radiating off of him when he finally decides to rid you of your shirt entirely.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he rasps, tracing along your spine before splaying a hand at the base so that you’re forced to arch for him. Immediately, you bend to his will, wiggling your hips slightly as you move into position. His sharp intake of breath doesn’t go unnoticed by you, and neither does the low hum of appreciation that bubbles up from his throat as he smooths a hand along the curve of your ass. You can’t help but preen a bit under his approval, and when Yoongi notices, he chortles and lands a teasing smack on your rear that has you moaning.

“Dirty girl,” he accuses, amusement lacing his tone. “You really want my cock that badly, doll?”

You can only nod, but Yoongi doesn’t seem to mind. He makes quick work of your soiled panties, hooking two thumbs into the waistband and tugging them down to pool around your ankles. Now completely bare, you can feel every inch of Yoongi’s lean torso as he pulls you close and positions himself at your entrance, parting your walls with near-tortuous deliberation.

“Faster,” you gasp, clenching around him in an effort to goad him into picking up his pace. “Yoongi, I want your cock so bad, please—”

The rest of your sentence ends in a garbled, choked moan. Yoongi thrusts forward with no preamble, filling you up to the very brim, and when he simultaneously finds your clit with his thumb, the jolt of pleasure is enough to steal all the oxygen from your lungs. He circles the sensitive nub between his fingertips with expert precision, and you can only whimper out his name as he starts up a steady rhythm, his mouth finding its way to the junction of your neck and shoulder and lingering there.

The tight coil of pressure is growing in your belly once more, and this time you know that Yoongi has no intention of stopping it. He’s so deep you can practically feel him in the back of your throat, and you hear rather than see the strain in his jaw as he grits out your name and commands you to come, his thumb rubbing against your clit in just the right way to send you hurtling off the precipice and into white-hot bliss.

By the time you come back down, he’s getting close too. You can tell from the way his pace gets more and more erratic, and you pretend you don’t hear the I love you intermingled with the filth and praise he whispers into your skin. Instead, you let him palm your hips and tug you closer, sighing out his name and encouraging him to yes, come inside me and I love you too.

It isn’t until your combined juices are beginning to drip down your thigh and his cock is slowly softening inside you, that he huffs out a hoarse laugh. “You ruined the immersion,” he murmurs, pulling out and turning you around so he can kiss you properly. “I don’t think you’d tell a complete stranger that you love them, no matter how good the sex may have been.”

You smack his arm weakly, giggling. “Oh, shut up. You told me you loved me first, you know.”

Yoongi hums and presses another kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Whatever you say, doll.”

Still smiling, you nestle closer to him, burying your face into his bare shoulder. Idly, you trace the scars littered across his chest—each one its own individual constellation, telling the story of just how long he’s fought against the tyrannical regime you live under. At the thought, your smile fades.

“I hope you’re not wrong about the plan,” you murmur, stroking the scar that’s just above his heart before moving to the ones that decorate his ribcage, the puckered flesh intermingling with the inky gladiolus blossoms he’s gotten tattooed there. One flower for each member of the resistance who’s lost their life—a permanent in memoriam. You follow the delicate outlines with a fingertip, committing each and every one to memory, and think back to all the rumors that say the leader of the resistance is the zombified old emperor, or Emperor Min’s bastard son.

Yet none of the rumors are as powerful as the one that you know to be the truth—that the leader of the resistance is just a man. A man with a good heart and a kind soul, who grew tired of living under the emperor’s relentless tyranny and decided to take matters into his own hands. A man who remembered his fallen comrades, and always kept his word, no matter how small or trivial a thing it might be.

“Come back to me when it’s all over,” you whisper.

Yoongi tilts your chin up gently, cradling your face in his hands as if you’re made of glass. “I will,” he whispers back. “I promise.”

[diary-of-an-onliner]

feet on the ground [f.w.]

word count: 3381

warnings: none

a/n: this is based on, and a counterpart/continuation of @ickle-ronniekins 's head in the clouds — thanks for the inspo babe, this one is for you

Fred Weasley was not happy. Sure, he had made a lot of questionable, or as other people like to say 'bad', decisions in his life, but taking Care of Magical Creatures was one of the worst. Yes, it made Hagrid ecstatic, and that's always a good thing to see; yes, it's useful for his future business. However a hellfire-cracken the size of a shoebox was making him rethink his choices.

For the lack of a better distraction, he focused on digging a hole in the grass with his trainer as Hagrid’s rumbled instructiones flew over his head, missing both ears and zooming away into an indifferent oblivion. George is taking this already, he looked to George, who was quite enchanted with his partner, and thoroughly enjoying it, couldn't we have split up? He kicked the dirt lightly, startling the girl next to him.

Neither Fred nor his Slytherin partner were thrilled with each other,but misery loves company, so it might be for the best.

"How's the weather up there?" said his partner, who was crouching eye — er, shell-level, with the creature, but keeping her distance nonetheless. Her hair waved and flickered on her shoulder as she bounced on her heels.

"Immaculate, thanks for asking." he said, not wanting to get closer to the scorpion-lobster lovechild from the asshole of hell. "Y'know Hagrid said those things burn, bite, and sting, right?"

"So do I.” she said sarcastically, still keeping her gaze tied to the monster. “I'm not going to touch it, I'm just looking. You're aware we need to sketch it, label its parts and write an essay about it later?" Fred shifted his weight from foot to foot restlessly.

"Yes." his nostrils flared.

She pursed her lips and, after a moment of silence, said: "I dare you to touch it."

He crossed his arms. "I am not taking dares from you. We met three minutes ago and I haven't enjoyed a second of it."

"What's up your ass?" she turned to him, still crouching. "Actually, I don't care. Just don't take it out on me." The creature clicked their — tail? — pincers? — their something.

"I wasn't—" she raised an eyebrow and he fell silent, and looked away.

"'m not very thrilled to be here." he mumbled. "And that ugly death trap isn't making it better. Can we start over?" he asked, sighing and tiredly sweeping his left hand through his hair, and offering his right to her.

She took it and pulled herself up, then promptly smoothed out her skirt, shook his still proffered hand, and introduced herself.

Unlike his messy untucked shirt, her uniform was pressed down to the socks and her shoes held no traces of mud. It gave her a calculating, and slightly cold aura, as if she was drawn with a set of rulers and a compass. She was probably more geometrical than anyone who had ever taken Care of Magical Creatures.

"Fred." he said, even though she knew.

"Well Fred, we will be working together on this Blast-Ended Skrewt for the next few weeks, so that 'ugly death trap’ is our son you're talking about." she chided with a smile that better belonged on a sly fox rather than a girl.

"You sound very attached to it." he shot back. An idea, a thought, a silver of a notion that this might be fun slithered along the floor of his skull.

"Him.” She corrected with her pointer finger in the air. “And it's called being a good parent." she lightly jabbed him in the chest.

"Okay then. Go pet your son." Fred smirked.

They turned toward the beast which was playing in the grass like a puppy. It seemed to be wiggling its tails.

Her eyes narrowed: "Which part is the head?"

"I don't know. We should probably figure it out, since the other side shoots flames." he said in an amused tone.

"It's supposed to be a sucker, so it might be the penis-looking side." he chuckled, but when she turned to stare at him expectantly, his red eyebrow jumped in question. A breeze ruffled their hair.

"Go on then, don't be shy, we need to compare." she said flatly.

He burst out laughing so hard, a few people around them turned to stare - quite a dangerous thing to do at the moment seeing as some of the beasts started snipping. A yelp sounded from afar, and Fred laughed even harder.

At least his partner is funny.

"Seriously though, this thing is going to fire-fart on us soon and we need to figure it out."

“You don’t feel better in nature?” her tone piqued as she turned the pages of a book. Their desk was covered with them, during the first of their many study meetings.

“No.” Fred played with his quill, spinning it through his fingers. “You do?”

“I feel clearer, especially near water.”, thump, she shut her book and discarded it.

“How come?” he balanced on the back legs of his chair, eyes darting around.

“I don’t know. It’s not a thing I question.”, flip, flip, flip, “It just lures me out of my head, and makes me feel a little more real, like I’m aware of my own existence. Sharper, yknow?”

Fred shook his head.

“I don’t have a need to get out of my head, it’s great in there.” he joked. She snorted and passed him a book with a piece of paper sticking out.

“Don’t you? You seem to be in there a lot though. I think you think too much.” Fred chukled, “That’s something I've never been told.”

“Then it’s about time.” she threw his way, but she had yet to look at him, Fred noted. The idea of her as geometrical played around in his head. “Try it next time. People exist a little sharper sometimes. It stops you from feeling like you’re going to float away.” her eyes finally flickered to him like two needles of her compasses, and shot him down. His chair hit the ground.

Before Fred had a chance to say something else or roll her idea around in his brain, she passed him a piece of parchment with a soft order to, “Write.”

His diagram of their unnamed child was much neater than hers, but his illegible handwriting distracted from it perfectly.

"That is not a t."she said, her hair almost electrified from stress-combing it with her hands.

"It's obviously a g." he chirped, but his tone sounded worn down all the same. She squinted at the paper with her mouth open for a moment, then gave up.

"How are you still this peppy?" she asked as her gaze lazily rolled itself away from the books. His tie was completely undone and being used as a bookmark, his shirt unbuttoned and ruffled like his hair, ha, carrot head!, but he took no note of it as he balanced on the back legs of his chair again. Every so often, a clank would sound amid their conversation when the chair struck against the stone floor and his feet hit the ground, before he leaned back again.

"What are you talking about? I'm knackered." he yawned.

She looked up, and her thoughts leaked out of her head. The scenery through the window behind him was gorgeous, lit on fire by the dusk— oversaturated reds and pinks which lined the dark purple clouds.

With a loud tap on the library floor, the front legs of Fred's chair touched the ground and his head covered the sun perfectly, giving him a golden lining and making his orange hair melt into the background. The clear lines of his face looked almost chiseled in contrast to the haziness behind him.

A weight settled in the center of her torso, an iron bowling ball rolling between her stomach and her heart. He was handsome. She knew this. But she used to know it the way one knows they should drink water when they’re thirsty. Knowing you needed it after you drink him in, swallow, and sign, is another story.

She felt a warm metal line grow out of her chest, like a vine towards the sunlight, enter his chest and settle.

For a few moments she imagined it. She tried to note the dragging sensation of warm iron and let herself be pulled to him. She imagined the ball rolling in his center, and all his squirming being in an attempt to adjust it instead of just staying awake.

Then she blinked. Took in the real scene. Despite being exhausted, she felt tranquil in their little corner filled with books and a few very ugly sketches. She picked one up.

“Are we allowed to call his head a dick?” She questioned, but Fred just yawned and shrugged. His chair tipped back again.

“You’ll hurt yourself.” She said flatly, words moving from line to line like trains with the shittiest track designs ever.

“The thrill keeps me awake.” he closed his eyes, hair still a burning red. She didn’t dare look at the Sun for too long. Her eyes tried to follow the words. The ball rolled.

He slid another sketch towards her. “I think we should use this one.”

She put the first one aside, their hands brushing as she took the new parchment. She heard the scraping of his chair on the floor as he moved closer until his collarbone pressed against her shoulder as he leaned over to point. The body heat he was emitting only reminded her of the weariness her body carried. It also refashioned her bowling ball into an anchor slowly sinking through her stomach, tickling her insides on the way down.

The sketch was neater and much simpler than others, no more than a handful of black lines on a yellowing parchment.

“This part is the head.” Fred pointed out. “I think. It looks weird and there isn’t exactly a good reference for a randomly cross-bred demon.” He seemed so focused on his drawing that she got the feeling he was avoiding her eyes intentionally. Stupid, really. They’re both just tired and have a lot of work.

Look at me.

He didn’t.

She banished all her stupid silly thoughts, and tried to turn to the books for the next few hours.

Fred stayed circling warmly on the edge of her orbit, moving around her but never looking, never acknowledging her as anything other than a voice and a pair of friendly working hands. The silly stupid thread she felt earlier vibrated. She didn't bring it up for fear they wouldn't finish all their work if she were to derail the conversation, so she waited until the end of their study session.

However, when the anticipated end neared, his chair hit the stone the last time and when she turned to him, Fred was lying on his arms on the table, asleep. His outline was as bright and as sharp as ever, but his face was soft and smooth from relaxation, like a marble statue melting. The anchor in her stomach lurch up at the sight, but she swallowed it down, smiled, and laid her head on the table too.

Another sunny afternoon had George almost skipping to his quirky partner. And Fred was glad, he liked to see his brother happy and loved teasing him for being in love even more — but he still hated the bloody beasts. He was thankful for George's efforts to cheer him up, but Fred refused to move out from under his personal gloomy cloud, choosing to carry it alone instead, the way one would an umbrella.

As soon as George mentions his partner, he knows it's time to leave him to his beloved, as he does, with minimal mocking involved (—but come on!).

As Fred approached her, he saw her roll her eyes. Funny. Something about knowing she's as un-excited as he is made his chest swell up with what can only be described as the sudden understanding of the real depth of companionship between you and a stranger, an acquaintance, a friend. I might not like this, but I am not alone.

"They're four feet long already. Your future sister-in-law," said his partner, gesturing to George's love with her head, at which Fred smiled warmly, "said we only get to work with them for another class. I think she might cry." His clouds stopped thundering.

"Don't be rude." he replied but did not sound angry in the least.

"I'm not. She's a nice girl and God bless her for being passionate about this. We need people like her, otherwise the rest of us would have to care as well." she reasoned.

"There's that warm and welcoming Slytherin care I've heard all about." he said sarcastically.

"Rude. Gingers truly are soulless." Fred got nudged in the ribs.

"Oi!"

"Oi yourself!" she flipped her hair and flashed her foxy smile. No, it's fox-like. "Don't start things you can't finish."

"Well, I'm ready to be done with this thing." he looked pointedly at the snapping creature reaching out to them like a baby in a cot.

They received their instructions from Hagrid to feed, entertain, and check the health of the creature and set off to work. After a few minutes of silence, Fred spoke.

"I think there's something wrong with this thing." he squinted.

"Him." She corrected, "He's our son."

"Well I think our son is pregnant." Fred’s face soured.

“No way." she replied, kneeling closer to the beast than she'd ever dared before. "How do you know?"

"A hunch?" Fred shrugged his very nicely shaped shoulders. No! "I'm not sure. It did eat three times as much as the others. It should be a lot fatter."

"He." She absent-mindedly corrected, trying to get a good enough look.

"He doesn't look sick but he's being weird." he squatted next to her, bouncing on his heels.

"Maybe he's lonely. We both ditched a few times." She bumped her knee into his. "I dare you to touch him."

Fred laughed as he turned to her. "I'm not that commited of a father. You do it."

"Why me? You need to do something too!" she whined as their son approached in a rather puppy-like gait, as if he was going to rub against their legs, and Fred's gaze slipped off her, like that day in the library.

"I'll do whatever you want.” he paused "Within reason, of course."

"Touch him."

"Within reason."

"Fine." their dark-shelled son stood before them now, but they were not as hesitant this time. The beast looked at Fred with either his head or his stinger (how is it still not clear?).

Slowly and shakily, her hand reached out. She almost withdrew it, but it already made contact with their son's back and he made a sound similar to purring, which was both surprising and unsettling. Her face bent in disgust as her entire palm pressed against his black shell, gleaming maroon in the sunlight.

"Ew. He's slimy." she detached her hand to see a catran-like substance coating it. "How is he slimy?"

Fred's nose was scrunched as well but an amused gleam flickered on his face nonetheless. “Disgusting.”

"Well, I did it." she complained, trying to wipe her hand on his arm, but he rose to his feet quickly, laughing.

“Keep that to yourself.” Fred warned, trying to avoid her swift attempts to use him as a rag.

“Come on!” She whined. “We’re in this together. If I have to be gross then so do you.” she jumped up after Fred.

He felt weightless as he maneuvered around her and the clawing beast that still purred by their feet, and he realized how warm the sunlight was. His little cloud was gone. In that distracted second of their impromptu three-creature quickstep, she wrapped her clean hand around his hand and pulled herself closer to him.

She grinned from ear to ear, and Fred felt her wet, cold hand sliding down his shoulder. She wiped a few times down his arm and chest with a wickedly satisfied look in her face as he wondered why he didn’t mind it so much. His eyes danced over her face the way his trainers had over the grass mere seconds ago.

“What?” she asked. Wait, she was speaking.

“Um, nothing.” his face rearranged itself from a goofy smile (What?) and he looked at his stained shirt. Before he even had time to comment, her voice made the center of his stomach tighten.

“Do you think he'd lick one if she asked?” Fred followed her gaze to George, looking as dreamy as his partner who was purring back at their Blast-Ended Skrewt. Sunlight covered them too.

Her hand still held onto him.

Fred sighed, both amused and lightheaded from a new discovery threatening to unveil its face in his mind. George laughed so loudly it reached Fred’s ears, and he responded, “Yes.”

“Would you lick one for me?” she batted her eyelashes.

“Absolutely not.” he said without missing a beat.

“What kind of a father won't even lick his own son?” she put a hand on her chest, faux-horrified.

“I still think our son is pregnant.” he said, grinning at her.

“What kind of a father won't lick his own pregnant son?” she humored.

“You're making this worse than it has to be.”

Her eyebrow rose as she offered: “You can always do this alone?”

“No.” something ugly and covered in spikes spun in Fred's stomach.

“Well then,” she said smugly, as if she knew, “you need to start cooperating.” She tugged on his arm with her hand that was there the whole time. Her arm slid around his as she pulled him along, and Fred adjusted his collar with his fingers. When did they get so far away from the group?

“You don’t pet him, you don’t groom him with your tongue like a cat, what do you do? I haven’t seen you change a single diaper!” she over-exaggerated. “I’m basically a single mother!”

He laughed and apologized, feeling lighter and sharper than he had all day.

His future sister-in-law was wrong. They worked on their loving, puppy-like hell scorpions for three more classes, and had another one in a classroom, correcting their essays. During that class, they found out that their son really was pregnant, at which they laughed all the way to the Great Hall.

Fred felt something heavy rolling over his intestines when he thought of the end. It wound itself around his organs until his lips dropped. Nevertheless, he grinned at George (who definitely saw through him), and, with his chin up like a proud lion, departed from him to sit next to his partner, one last time.

He thought about her more often than he expected to, and he feared he might have to stop soon.

As he slid next to her, his metaphorical tail curled closer to him. She beamed brightly at him, and offered her closed fist.

“You ready, partner?”

No, he curled his fingers with a smile, I don’t think I am, and bumped their hands together.

“Doesn’t have to end? Didn't you listen?” she asked him incredulously as he caught up with her. He couldn’t say he has, as his ears buzzed deafeningly loudly since they received their O.

Maybe she had a point when she said there were moments when people felt more defined as he was more sure than ever that he existed in the corridor leading to the Care of Magical Creatures classroom, as his limbs filled with lead at the way she spoke.

“I just thought if you—” his mouth shit on its own. “You know—”

“Holy shit, you really didn’t listen?” but this time she laughed. “Hagrid said we can pick our own partners for the next project.” Her arm curled around his own, “So unless you want to dump me, we march on.”

Whatever heavy thing has been making his stomach a winter home the past week flew off to their summer residence.

She definitely had a point about grounded moments, because when her hand squeezed his arm, the lead leaked out and the awareness of every part of his body slammed into focus.

And Fred smiled back.

She smiled promisingly at him, his heart stuttered, and his sneakers sunk into the stone beneath him.

[johaerys-writes]

Words Are Futile Devices

Fandom: Dragon Age

Pairing: Dorian Pavus/David Trevelyan

Summary: 

The last thing Dorian expected when he came to the South was to find love. In fact, he had entirely given up on the notion. Yet, when the gentle, shy and enigmatic Inquisitor Trevelyan came into his life, things started to change.

A (very belated) birthday gift fic for my dear friend @tessa1972 featuring Dorian and her OC David Trevelyan! 

Read here or on AO3!

A full, silver moon hung over the Frostback’s snowy peaks. Skyhold, for once, was quiet.

Dorian leaned back in his desk chair, rubbing the inner corners of his eyes between forefinger and thumb. It had been a long day; and an even longer evening, though he had hardly realised where the time had gone. He had spent most of it studying in the library, indexing books and codexes, helping the new apprentices find their way around. They kept streaming into Skyhold from all corners of Ferelden, and sooner or later they all came to him, asking him this and that, about the library and the hold and where everything could be found.

It was troublesome, certainly —Dorian had never sought to become the Skyhold library’s archivist— yet he found himself oddly drawn to the role. It wasn’t too different from what he used to do in the Minrathous library, where throngs of students from the university would follow him around to ask for his help on their research, or his opinion on various manuscripts. He had never admitted it outright, but he’d missed that sort of life; besides, being asked for help was much preferable to being overlooked and sneered at, which had, sadly, been the case for most of his stay in the South.

He tsked softly, letting the book he’d been reading fall closed. That Southerners could hardly appreciate genius even when it hit them straight in the face was no secret to anyone, yet it gave him a tiny bit of satisfaction to see that the tide was shifting, even a little.

The library was thoroughly empty at that hour, and the wick of the oil lamp above his desk was sputtering softly, close to dying out. It was the only sound in the Tower that could be heard, other than the soft cooing of Leliana’s crows overhead. Dorian stood up slowly and lifted his arms over his head, stretched his sore spine. Skyhold’s desk chairs were far less than comfortable, and his back was certainly not thanking him for it.

He was just about to leave when he noticed the bundle of books that he had gathered earlier that day, and left on the plush purple armchair close to the window. His stomach dropped somewhat.

It was Helisma that had informed him that the Inquisitor had been to the library the day before, searching for books on wyverns and dracolisks. He had left before Dorian had even arrived to his desk empty handed and hadn’t said another word to anyone.

When Dorian had teasingly suggested to Helisma that perhaps the poor man had been so confused by her archiving system that he decided never to step foot in a library ever again in his life, the Tranquil had given him one of her blank looks that somehow managed to speak volumes about what she thought of him and his observations.

Dorian sighed. The books were definitely on the heavy side when he picked them up, but he didn’t train every morning for an hour for nothing. He secured them under his arm, and, after putting the oil lamp out, silently walked out of the library.

Every step that took him through the largely quiet throne room, and closer to the Inquisitor’s quarters, made his heart sink deeper, ad deeper into his stomach. By the time he was standing outside his door —a rather plain, wooden one, considering that behind it lay the largest of all rooms in the hold— Dorian thought his heart would slink out of his ribcage and slither into his boots.

He took a deep breath, and knocked.

“Come in,” the Inquisitor’s smooth voice sounded from behind the polished wood.

“Good evening, my dear Inquisitor,” Dorian said with a wide smile that little belied his nervousness. If anyone was good at hiding his feelings, then that someone was none other than Dorian Pavus of Minrathous. “Or shall I say good night? It is rather late.”

“That it is.” Inquisitor Trevelyan was sitting behind his large mahogany desk, half hidden behind a high stack of papers and scrolls. A merry fire was going in the hearth, filling the space with warmth and shifting amber light. It caught in the highlights of Trevelyan’s chestnut hair, his soft violet eyes. He seemed more than a little tired, the corners of his eyes tinged with red, but there was a gentle smile on his lips. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Dorian stood at the threshold for a moment, admiring the space. Though he had never found himself in the Inquisitor’s quarters before, he had heard lots about it. The rumours did it no justice. It was wide and spacious, if on the colder side, with plush rugs lining the floor and expensive furniture lining its corners. It was rather obvious that Ambassador Josephine had spared no coin when it came to their leader’s accommodations.

Said leader was certainly a more than impressive man. He was tall and broad of shoulder, with impeccable manners and a gentle disposition. He had stood up from his chair at Dorian’s arrival and was gazing at him calmly. He seemed perfectly at ease, if a little uptight, yet Dorian couldn’t help the feeling that the grandeur of his quarters made him seem a little… out of place.

He wasn’t quite sure why the thought made a wave of sympathy rush through him. Perhaps because he deeply understood the sentiment.

“A little birdie told me that you visited the library yesterday in search of books, yet you walked out mysteriously empty handed.” He confidently strolled into the room, setting the heavy bundle of leather bound tomes on the low coffee table before the hearth. “Naturally, I had to make sure that our humble library did not disappoint you. I would take that as a personal affront, you know.”

Trevelyan blinked at him, a lovely blush creeping up his cheeks. It was bright and rosy and warmed up his features, and when a soft, nervous smile graced his lips, Dorian felt the ghost touch of them against his own.

Maker, it felt like a lifetime ago, when Dorian had last touched those lips. In reality, it couldn’t have been longer than a fortnight.

“I am setting out for the Exalted Plains in a week, and one of Leliana’s scouts reported sightings of dracolisks in the Ferns. I wanted to be prepared, should our party come into contact with them. I searched for an hour but I couldn’t find—” He shifted uncomfortably on his feet, his blush getting a deeper, more vibrant red. “I didn’t mean to inconvenience you. If I did, I apologise.”

“Oh, it’s nothing, never you mind all that,” Dorian said with laugh and waved his concerns away, though he wouldn’t have minded letting the man go on for a little while longer, just to watch that flush make its way down to his graceful neck, his pretty ears that were hiding underneath lustrous locks of warm brown. “It only took me a few minutes. I couldn’t well leave our precious Inquisitor walk into the wilderness without detailed knowledge of wyvern mating cycles. You know what they say: a thorough education is the best weapon for any situation.”

The Inquisitor laughed, shaking his head softly. “I believe you are quite right. My father used to tell me something of the sort; though I believe he was referring to an education of a different kind.” He threaded his fingers through his hair, pushing it behind his ear. “I… thank you, Dorian.”

Dorian was momentarily distracted by the sight of those long, slender fingers, the grace of their movements. He suddenly wanted to walk up to him, thread his own fingers through those locks. He could almost remember their smell— lavender and soap, the sweet musk of his skin. He swallowed thickly.

“Whatever for, Inquisitor?” he said with an easy, practiced smile. “It was no bother, I assure you; the whole search was done and over with in a minute.”

“I believe you. Still… you have my thanks. Just for thinking of me.” Trevelyan’s lips widened in that soft, infuriatingly warm smile again, and it was Dorian’s turn to feel a blush creeping up his cheeks. “It is much appreciated.”

The fire crackling in the hearth and the wind sweeping over the Frostbacks' peaks beyond the wide windows were the only sound for a long moment as they both gazed at each other. It seemed as if they were looking at each other across a great gulf; so near, and yet so far.

It was Dorian that tore his eyes away, as always. He wasn’t quite sure what he would be compelled to do, if he continued to stare into the face he had spent days thinking about, dreaming of, longing for.

“I see you are quite busy,” Dorian said, gesturing towards the high stack of documents on the mahogany desk. “I should probably leave you to it.”

He smiled and bowed his head respectfully, turning to leave. The tail of his silk coat fluttered with the motion, the light of the fire catching amidst the folds of the fabric. If there was something that Dorian was good at, then that was a dramatic entrance, and an even more dramatic departure.

His hand was almost on the door handle, when Trevelyan’s smooth voice stopped him.

“Wait.”

Dorian glanced at him over his shoulder. Trevelyan had left his chair and his desk and was standing before the coffee table. He made a small motion when their eyes met, as if wanting to take another step, get closer to him, yet he didn’t.

“Stay, please.” He smiled at him, just a little awkward, never taking his eyes away from Dorian’s. “My work is far from done, and yet… I would appreciate the company.” He shifted just a bit on his feet, then nodded towards the liquor cabinet at the corner of the room. “I was recently sent some Fereldan whiskey. It is said to be very good. I thought, perhaps… you might like to try it.”

The edges of Trevelyan’s lips quirked ever so slightly upwards, and there was something so earnest and childlike about his smile, about the look in his violet eyes, that Dorian’s heart did a painful little thump.

“Whiskey, you say?” He let his hand drop from the handle and took a step closer. He crossed his arms before his chest, cocking his hips slightly to the side in a confident stance— far more confident than he felt. But what was it that people said? ‘Fake it ‘til you make it’? “However can I refuse, when you ask so nicely and bribe me with fancy drinks? You certainly know the way to a man’s heart, Inquisitor.”

Trevelyan let out a quiet laugh, a deep and mellow sound that warmed Dorian inside out. “I’ll pour you a glass then, shall I? Oh, and please. Just call me David.” He tilted his head to the side, his gaze growing even softer, if that was possible. “All of my friends do.”

Friends. Dorian couldn’t help but wonder whether they were simply friends, or if there would ever be hope for something… more.

“Very well,” he said with a smile and graceful incline of his head. “David.” He watched the man’s straight and broad back as he turned around and moved towards the cabinet. The smell of the whiskey was strong and aromatic when he pulled the cork out of the bottle and prepared to pour it into glasses. Dorian’s voice stopped him. “Actually, I think I may have a better idea.”

David’s eyes were curious when he looked at him over his shoulder, and Dorian had to bite back a grin.

~

“I never pegged you for someone who appreciates the great outdoors,” David said with a curious smile, gazing at the vast expanse of glittering snow, jagged peaks and lakes covered in ice. “Quite the opposite in fact, judging from the last time we were outdoors.”

Dorian chuckled softly, leaning against the stone wall of the battlements. A cold wind was blowing, ruffling the fabric of his robes and combing through David’s hair, but the magical bubble that always surrounded Skyhold did not let much of the chill from the mountains pass through. It was tolerable, even for Dorian, and Maker knew his tolerance for the blasted Southern cold was exceptionally low.

He wasn’t sure what had possessed him to bring the Inquisitor -David, he reminded himself- to that quiet corner of the keep. It wasn’t too long ago that he had taken to visiting this place when the walls of his room became stifling, bringing with him a cup of wine or brandy, and simply gazing at the stars. He didn’t know why, but it brought him a strange sense of peace.

The fact that it reminded him of the night that David and he had spent together not too long before was an added, if somewhat confusing, benefit. It was an evening not too different from this one, with a crisp wind blowing and the night sky clear above them, the stars reflecting on the glassy surface of Lake Calenhad. David had accompanied him to the dreaded meeting with his father, and on the way back they had camped there, talking and drinking the night away.

Dorian wasn’t going to fool himself by saying that he hadn’t been attracted to the man the very first moment he laid eyes on him. Still, being attracted to a pretty face, and suddenly finding out that the pretty man not only had a heart and a brain, but enough empathy and understanding to sink a small barge, were two entirely different things. David had surprised him in more ways than one— with his kindness and his honesty, with his wry sense of humour and his sweet, childlike smile, with his steadfastness and his quiet, profound care.

Never before had Dorian bared himself like this to anyone. He had expected judgement and scorn, yet had received none. At first, he couldn’t quite believe it. He had kept searching for the catch, the knife hidden amidst the roses, but more time passed and he could find none. Until…

Dorian swallowed thickly as the memory of the kiss they had shared flashed in his memory. David was watching him patiently now, waiting for his answer that had taken a tad too long.

“I’m full of surprises, as you well know,” Dorian said with a teasing smile. He poured some whiskey into the glasses they had taken with them, and offered one to David. “It’s simply a quiet spot I like to visit sometimes. There are few lovely things the South has to offer, and I believe this view is one of them. It’s quite spectacular, is it not?”

“It is,” David replied, accepting the glass. He was standing in a square of crenelated moonlight, half obscured by the shadows, and his eyes seemed bright like lit up stars when they focused on him. “What are the others?”

“What others?” Dorian sipped distractedly on his whiskey.

“The other lovely things that the South has to offer.”

You, Dorian thought instinctively, and he hated how the thought made his heart flip and jump, his insides tie themselves into impossible loops. “Well, this whiskey, for one,” he replied quickly. “And I’m partial to Fereldan cheese. Much preferable to those smelly Orlesian ones. Tevinter doesn’t have much of a tradition in cheese-making. A pity, if you ask me, but my people tend to avoid consuming anything fermented, unless it can get them blind-drunk.”

David laughed, shaking his head, and the sound warmed Dorian inside out. “You don’t know cheese until you’ve tried the Marcher varieties,” he said. His smile was bright and earnest, and lit up his entire face. “Fereldan cheese is great, don’t get me wrong, but it has nothing on Ostwick’s soft blue goat's cheese, trust me.”

“Blue cheese? My goodness, you Southern barbarians have none of the Maker’s fear in you, do you?” Dorian hid his grin behind the rim of his glass as he watched David laugh even more. “I suppose you made it with your own bare hands back in Ostwick? How terribly bucolic of you.”

“As a matter of fact, I did. It’s a yearly tradition in Ostwick, for the children and women of the household to help in the cheese making on Summer’s day, when the cows’ milk is at its richest. My siblings and I used to have the fun of our lives on that day; we could play with the animals in the farm and get our hands and clothes dirty while milking the cows and hauling the buckets of milk to the dairy workshop, and neither our mother or our father were allowed to tell us off. We would eagerly await that day all year.” He took a sip of his whiskey, looking out over the vast expanse of snow below. “There are moments when I miss those simpler times.”

“I can imagine. Your childhood sounds idyllic indeed,” Dorian said softly, his voice mellowed out even more by the nostalgic smile on the other man’s lips. “You’ve never told me about any of your siblings.”

The smile of David’s lips lost some of its nostalgia, but only a little bit. There was fondness and a shadow of sadness in his eyes when he said, “There used to be more of us than there are now.” He took another sip of whiskey, leaning against the battlements. The wind combed through his hair, bringing a lock of chestnut hair before his brow. “Virgil was the eldest. He died quite young from illness. There was nothing we could do. And Sieden...” He stopped and took a slow breath. “I was born a twin. But my brother, Sieden, did not make it through the labor. He was stillborn. My family still celebrates his birthday every year, along with my own, but it’s different from other celebrations in the family. It is a day for silence and contemplation, and for remembering the brief time he was in the world.”

“I’m… very sorry to hear that,” Dorian said quietly, a lump lodging in his throat. “It must have been very hard for you, not to celebrate your birthday like other children did.”

“It wasn’t so bad,” David replied. His gaze still managed to be warm and friendly when he regarded Dorian, despite the mellow sadness in his voice. “We lit candles, and I got lots of gifts, from my parents, my other siblings and my beloved friends. I also got a kiss from my mother, and a hug from my father. But that stopped after—” He tensed just a little, looking away. His brows gathered in an almost imperceptible frown. “It doesn’t really matter now, I suppose.”

Dorian stayed silent for a moment, wondering whether he should urge David to talk or let the silence linger between them. Yet it wasn’t long after that David turned to him again, and a warm light was flickering in his gaze once more. “My family and I have lost much, but not everything. I still have two sisters who I love dearly, Fae and Leah. The first married when she was quite young and moved out of the house, and the other became a lay-sister. I still write to them both, especially Fae. You could say she is the closest to me, despite our age difference. She is quite lovely. I’m sure the two of you will get along perfectly when you meet. She’s rather eager to see you, actually.”

Dorian’s curiosity was piqued. He tilted his head to the side in question. “Your sister knows about me?”

David gave him a wide- eyed stare. “No! Well, yes. I mean—” He paused abruptly, then let out a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. It could have been a play of the light, but Dorian thought he could see a blush creeping up his cheeks once more. “We write to each other quite often. She always asks me all sorts of questions, about my daily life and the people I’ve met here and… I suppose… I may have told her a few things about you. Just a few, mind you,” he added quickly, seeing the surprised expression on Dorian’s face.

“You… told your sister about me?” Dorian was sure his heart skipped a beat right at that moment. Something bright and warm, something like hope rose to his throat, and then something like dread twisted his stomach. Had he told his sister about him… about them? About their late night talks, their slightly awkward and nervous banter, their… kiss?

That moment flashed in Dorian’s memory once more, and this time it was much harder to brush away than others. He still remembered it, crystal clear: the moment when David had come to find him in the library, the evening after they had returned from Redcliffe. Dorian remembered how the flickering light the candles had caught in the depths of his violet eyes, how his deep and soothing voice had carried in the empty library. He remembered the concern and the warmth in them, the care. And, most of all, he remembered his clean and warm scent in his nostrils as David had drawn closer, the softness of his lips against his own, the strength of his arms around him.

Maker, it had felt like heaven. Tender and gentle and… so brief, that it sent Dorian’s guts twisting again. They had peeled apart soon after, and each had gone their own way. The tension between them had been sizzling ever since, thick enough to cut with a knife every time they so much as looked at each other. Hundreds of times Dorian had thought to pull him close again, to feel his body against his own, but something always held him back.

What if it was just a one-time thing, never to be repeated? What if David didn’t want anything more, what if he’d simply changed his mind?

Dorian leisurely crossed his arms before his chest, hiding his unease behind a wide smile. “So? What have you told your sister about me, pray tell? I hope you’ve mentioned how dashingly gorgeous, impeccably dressed and impressively smart I am, for starters.”

Dorian had only been half-joking when he said that. He hadn’t exactly expected a serious answer, but David’s reply startled him.

“That goes without saying, Dorian,” he said earnestly, his voice firm and unwavering despite his blush that brightened, distinctly visible even in the moonlight now. “Of course I told her all of those things, it’s only the truth. I also told her… that you’re brave and generous and kind. Actually, you’re one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.” He smiled awkwardly. “I hope it wasn’t terribly forward of me.”

Dorian stared at him for a long moment, his breath catching in his throat. He wracked his brain for something to say, anything at all, but for the first time, perhaps ever, he was totally speechless.

He took in a shaky breath. “Do you truly believe them?” he asked quietly, holding David’s gaze. He couldn’t take his eyes away, even if he’d wanted to. “All those things you told your sister… do you believe them?”

“I do.” The other man’s reply was quick and sure, and his eyes met Dorian’s levelly. “There isn’t a moment that I thought otherwise, Dorian. I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while. You are… special. Special to me.”

If Dorian could stop time right there, he probably would have. If the stars and the planets had ceased their constant motion right at that moment, if the wind had stopped blowing and the moon had continued shining above them, silver and iridescent, Dorian would gladly stay in that moment forever and a day. Just so he could hear the fondness in David’s voice, watch that smile tugging at the edges of his lips when he spoke to him, the affection in his eyes when he looked at him.

Those eyes had always told Dorian so much more than David’s words had. And this time, Dorian understood.

He took a step forward, leaning towards him. The moments before their lips met felt like the leap from an impossible height. David’s breath skimmed Dorian’s skin, warm and spicy with the scent of the whiskey. Soft lips parted beneath his own, and Dorian was falling.

His fingers threaded through silky, chestnut hair, and David’s scent filled his lungs: lavender and herbs, that delicate soap he liked to use. Strong arms came around him, pulling him closer, and Dorian sighed softly, deepening the kiss as he let himself be drawn. He was helpless, utterly helpless when it came to David, melting against him, every one of his thoughts and defences melting away. Their kiss was tender and passionate, soft and just a little bit desperate, and everything he’d ever wanted, everything he'd dreamed.

David pulled slightly back, cupping Dorian’s cheek as he did so. He gazed at Dorian’s face through heavy-lidded eyes, his lips glistening. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do that?” he asked quietly, his thumb brushing over Dorian’s skin in a tender caress.

His words washed over Dorian like a wave. He leaned against the other man’s chest, linking his wrists behind his neck. His heart was beating giddy and excited, making his head swim, and he could almost feel David’s heart through his clothes, beating in the same rhythm.

“Thank goodness one of us has a little initiative,” Dorian said teasingly, brushing his nose over David’s. "Let's not wait so long next time, yes?"

David laughed gently, the sound reverberating through Dorian where they touched. He leaned in for another kiss, slow and gentle, and this time Dorian really had no more words left.

"I'll make sure not to," David whispered against his lips, hugging him tightly.

[ninjapancake314]

How to Make a Togruta Headpiece

This is my second time making Togruta lekku/montrals and my first experience with EVA foam. I learned a lot and thought I’d share my process with anyone else interested in cosplay and Star Wars!

Supplies:

EVA foam (I used 5mm thickness, which is flexible but sturdy)

Contact cement to glue the foam

A bucket of foam clay

Plastidip spray

Roughly 1.5 yard white sport knit fabric for long lekku/head tails (stretchy and not super see-through)

Lightweight stuffing

.5 yard accent fabric (or in my case, leather strips)

White acrylic paint for base (do yourself a favor and get a big bottle)

Accent color acrylic paint for stripes (I used navy blue)

Gold or silver metallic acrylic paint

Optional - Gold or silver beads, matching chain or string, and jewelry findings

Equipment:

Glue gun

Needle and thread or sewing machine

Paintbrushes

Sharp knife/box opener to cut foam

Craft/fabric scissors

Sharpie markers

Optional - Airbrush (I WISH I had one at the time...lol)

Optional - Heatgun

Part 1: The montrals

Making a pattern for the montrals/horns was the most difficult step in this whole project! I ended up creating a 3D model of the shape I wanted and printing out paper pattern pieces.

I traced the paper pieces onto the foam like this, flipping the pieces to create mirrored halves. It would have been better if I added register marks to line up the pieces later, but this was my first ever time using foam, so live and learn 😅

Here’s everything cut out and arranged before gluing. I assembled the left and right sides separately with contact cement and joined the halves together at the end.

Here is the result of the contract cement! Starting to look like something, but still missing the base for the third big lekku/tail on the back.

I cut out and glued two pieces of foam to create the teardrop shape of the back lekku base (and got a nice dirt streak because I was gluing outside for ventilation)

Now would have been a great time to use a heat gun to smooth out the rougher foam edges! But I didn’t know about the heatgun trick yet, so instead I opted for caulk. Which sort of worked...but not as nicely as it could have. Again, first time with foam, live and learn!

After this, I sprayed the montral base with Plastidip. This seals the foam and makes it much easier to paint later.

That’s it for Part 1! Next is constructing the lekku - which I’ll cover soon in Part 2.

[specsforwoo]

Son of Notus | Demigod!Ten

Parent Deity: Notus ( God of the Southern Winds)

Allegiance: Aether

asldkfjaslkj Airhead much

Okay he is actually really smart

But he hates showing it because he doesn’t want to be stuck up

Like top of his meteorology class

But also top of of his modern dance class

He really likes dancing

It makes him feel like he is flying

Which is the best feeling in the world if you ask him

Kinda found out he was a demigod on accident, but he doesn’t even know he is a demigod asldfkgj

LIKE IT WAS A MAJOR ACCIDENT

So maybe he got a little too heated in an argument and a desk was flown into a wall

And he didn’t touch the desk

Notus is known for being the most temperamental of the Wind Gods

And it definitely passed on to his son

Oops

But he is also probably one of the most laid back of his friends beside Johnny

His personality really changes depending on who he is around

He likes to act silly around Taeyong and Yuta because seriously those two need to take a chill pill and down it with a Piña Colada

But when he is around his half-siblings and younger demigods he turns really protective really fast

And when he is around say Johnny or Chenle or Haechan he becomes the somber one because someone needs to stay calm when those three are together

So he actually got brought to camp rather forcefully

Because apparently when a monster is hot on your tail it tries to directs you to other demigods

Which is exactly what happened

Remember that desk that flew into a wall, well the person he was arguing with was actually a cyclops shrouded by the Veil

Good job, Ten

And the monster chased him all the way to the camp

But like he wasn’t claimed yet and had only known about his powers for a few mere hours, the poor boy

So he crossed the borders to camp and suddenly the cyclops stopped chasing after him? But he was open in the middle of the woods?

Until he turned around and he saw this huge green field with a pavilion and a lake and what looked like 50+ cabins in the distance and an amphitheater

And he was even more terrified because what in hell is this place and how could I not see it before

And suddenly this young girl who was probably around 5 years old with green skin came up and latched onto his leg

And now he’s even more scared bEcAUSEe GreEEN SkiN

But then a normal human walks up to him and sees the cyclops outside the border and kinda just goes oh, new demigod? Have you been claimed?

And honestly he is ready to pass out

Which he does

So apparently after he passed out (the little girl started crying because the cute man is hurt) that random demigod called for help and helped carry him to the pavilion before calling the Apollo/Achelios Camp Leader to check him out

After he woke up it took him a realllllly long time to process everything

And that night when he went to sleep in the Hermes cabin he was still super confused and kinda scared. Because did his mom know where he was? His cellphone dropped into a river while he was being chased. Did he even know where he was? Was he a freak? A million thoughts were running through his head at once

After barely sleeping a wink he woke up to an blow horn and 3 campers cackling around his bunk

Which got him mad and when he clenched his fist the blown horn popped

Oops

So basically he was in the Hermes cabin for around 3 months because no one had claimed him but he had also shown powers limited to demigods so he definitely wasn’t an outsider

And he actually got into the swing of things

Archery was cool, he was okay at it

He didn’t like swords that much but he could survive

But wow, flying on a pegasus? That was the best feeling in the world

He loved the go to the track and fly around after dinner until midnight

And suddenly one day while he was training with his pegasus, Tadd, he got bucked off the saddle while everyone was watching

It was at least 30 feet high

And he landed on his damn feet

And the next thing he knew he had a shining silver cloud erupting in flames over his head

And a voice in the back of his middle, deep, gruff and spiky was talking to him about how he was ready to face the challenges as the son of a god, a specific god: Notus

And Ten was really happy, so was everyone else because 1) they had never had a son of Notus here before and 2) Everyone could tell Ten couldn’t wait until the day he found out who his father was

So Ten has probably been at this camp the longest except for Jaemin but that’s a long story

And the one thing he does do during the summer is go out into society to look for other demigods

Which was how he met you. He had tracked you to a small town outside of Seoul and you were just like any other person

Music blasting in your ears as you walked down the street, humming along, eyes glued to your phone

And he almost thought that he had tracked the wrong person

Until he noticed your little obsession with gold.

Not like you were robbing banks and jewelry stores but as he got closer to you in order to bring you to the camp he realized you like to sew clothes with gold colored thread, Your jacket had gold embroidering. Your phone case was gold

When he brought it up you just laughed and said that your mom had told you all your life that gold was your dad’s favorite color and for a while you used to use it to give a connection to him but soon it became your favorite color as well.

And one day while he was meeting you up for coffee at a local donut shop, he noticed a shadow out of the corner of his eye but decided to ignore it

2 hours later he was gripping your hand running down an alleyway trying to pull drachma out of his pocket so he could hitch a ride back to camp and away from the Griffin currently chasing you down

Apparently waiters don’t like it when you try to send cold coffee back

He finally got you in a Hermes Cab and spent the entire time to the camp explaining what had happened

Let’s just say you took it a lot better than he did and didn’t have to be carried inside the camp borders

He was about to take you to the Hermes cabin when a Sun and Lyre appeared simultaneously above your head

You had been claimed by Apollo in the mere 5 hours you had been aware that you were a demigod

And Ten had to admit, he was jealous, why did he have to wait 3 months when you had to wait 5 hours

But he was also happy because he knows the feeling of finding a missing part about the puzzle that was a demigod’s life

So he goes and introduces you to your half-siblings and you immediately fit in

And he usually leaves new campers here, their cabins will take care of them now, but he doesn’t want to leave you

But has to because Johnny keeps Iris messaging him from the Aether Cabin about some party he needs help setting up

And to his dismay it seems like you don’t even notice him leaving

Or even his presence for the next 3 weeks because you have been getting along with your siblings really well

But one day Johnny is throwing another party and it spread across the entire camp, but he just wasn’t feeling it

He seemed even more bitter about the party than Taeyong

And you were there of course, talking with Sicheng (your Camp Leader) and Taeyong but kept noticing Ten just sitting in the corner reading a book? It was about modern dance okay

So you excuse yourself from Tae and Sicheng to go and plop down next to Ten

They were both totally giving you wiggly brows and side eyes

But he looked up from the book, startled to see you sitting across from him

You were the first one to speak

You're usually the life of the party, what’s going on?

Just not feeling it

It was easy to tell he didn’t want to talk about it, at least to you

So right as he went to pick up the book again you cut it

ThankYouForFindingMeAndBringingMeHereAndIReallyOweYouBecauseYouSavedMyLifeAndIDon’tKnowHowToRepayYou

*Breathe*

AndI’mEvenMoreSorryAboutAvoidingYouBecauseIDidn’tKnowWhatToSayAndYouKindaMakeMeNervousBecauseIThinkYouAreCute

And you realized what you said right after you said it causing you to jump out of your seat, racing pasting a chuckling Sicheng and Haechan while blushing

Did I mention Ten is also Track Captain at camp because Wind Gods are super fast and that passes on to him and Johnny just hates running

So he caught up to you right in front of the lake holding your arm

I think you are cute too

And he leans down, kissing your cheek

And he walks you to the Apollo Cabin, kissing your cheek again before going back to his own cabin

It’s the first night since his first day at camp that he can’t sleep

But he doesn’t mind it this time

They think I’m cute too. *cue unmanly giggling at 4 am followed by a pillow thrown from Johnny’s side of the room*

And the next day it’s back to when you didn’t know you were a demigod

You and Ten are practically joined at the hip

While he helps you with agility and reflex you help him with archery

And you both are great flyers

And while he practices dance, you play the harp to create simple melody for him to follow

You guys really just compliment each other in every way

Making you the perfect team

Especially when chariot racing is on the table

You are a much better marksman than he is and he is a much better driver than you lol

So basically every time you 2 team up for racing

No one else wants to join because they know you will win

So the Camp Director forces you two to be on separate teams with in your own cabins

Which means you are paired with Sicheng, who is a great driver and an even better shot

And Ten is stuck with Johnny, dear god

Actually Johnny is really good with a Javelin and Sword so you know you are going to have to watch out for him

And you two get competitive

Remember how I said you make a perfect team?

You might make better enemies lmao

Ten tried to drive your chariot off the track so you Stuck a javelin in his back piston

Sicheng fired a flaming arrow into their hold so Johnny sawed through half of your reins

In the end you won

Shhhh, Ten wants a recount

Okay but he is really excited, jumping out of the chariot and racing over to you while Sicheng is trying to pull at your arm to go to the pavilion to be crowned with a golden laurel

And Johnny is silently sulking on the second place pedestal

But once you and Sicheng are hoisted onto the first place platform and you are crowned he is screaming and hollering and just overall being a really supportive boyfriend

But when you guys go onto the track competition he whoops your ass and doesn’t think twice about it

But you are there in the crowd screaming and hollering and being an overall supportive girlfriend

And later that night the camp decides to hold a sorta dance to commemorate the competitions and their winners

And everyone takes it seriously

Like after a straight week of pushing each other into mud and water and falling of pegasi in the sky and pushing your way through monster infested forests

Everyone wants to dress up and be slightly classy

So the Aphrodite and Eros houses have had boys and girls alike weaving in and out of their common areas because they offered to help everyone look their best for this event

And you and Ten agreed to not reveal your outfits to each other until you met up at the pavilion

And you were in a light blue dress that you got an Aphrodite kid to enchant so it would look like clouds moving around the ripples in the dress

And Ten was in a flowy gold top, half tucked into slacks and a couple buttons undone. An Eros kid temporarily threaded his hair with gold

BEST DRESSED COUPLE ANYONE

So basically he forces you into the middle of the dance floor and does that cheesy slow dance in the middle of everyone else jumping around and headbanging

But DJ!Mark totally notices so he switches the song to a self composed one that has a nice melody to it and soft vocals so he can create the mood for you two

And you are both slightly swaying to the music, nothing too fancy, definitely not what everyone was expecting from Ten

But you have you head on his shoulder, his hand encaptured in yours with his other on your waist as you both whisper a small conversation

And he mentions he’s met Apollo once

Which totally shocks and scares you… because he’s met your dad? The god?

But he just chuckles under his breath, and whispers in your ear about how he made Ten promise to never hurt you or he would face the full wrath of a god

Which got you even more scared because Ten… pls dont get hurt

But he laughs under his breath again and lets go of your hand to pull something out of his back pocket

And it’s a charm bracelet with a lyre and a cloud on it with a cursive T too

And as he slips it onto your wrist

He whispers about how he told your dad that he would quicker marry you than hurt you

a n y w a y s

Ten is a really soft bf and demigod and person in general

Unless it comes to hurting someone he loves

Then he can and will seriously injure someone

But other than that

Everyone looks up to him

Not just because he has been there forever

But because he has shown he has what it takes to protect the camp and how much everyone in it means to him

Especially you

[aqua-the-smiter]

Wind Guide You

Chapter 1 - Carry me Fast and Far The night’s breeze brushed Starscream with gentle fingers as he looked over the edge of the Nemesis, his spark in his throat. This was it. Now or never. Either he flew away from Megtron  tonight,  or he stayed and remained his whipping bot forever.

It was such a small, normal thing that had pushed him to this point, his breaking point. A small scuffle with the Autobots and a few lost Energon cubes had landed him a one way ticket to the medbay courtesy of Megatron’s fist. He recalled staring at his broken, battered chassis in the semi-reflective wall, wondering what he’d done to deserve it. He had pledged his true loyalty in that damn mine, broke his back to bring Shockwave to them, hadn’t tried a scheme since, and yet…

He couldn’t take it any longer. Lying on that berth, he vowed right then and there to leave as soon as he was at full strength again. Things couldn’t continue like this, he couldn’t  take it anymore. He didn’t know where he’d go, but anywhere was better than this.

So here he was, standing on the uppermost deck of the Nemesis, battling himself. In the deepest recesses of his wounded spark, he knew he wanted to leave, but he still agonized over the decision. Was he making the right choice? What if leaving caused more problems than it solved? Where would he get Energon? How would he survive?  Would he even survive? Was he better off dying alone on his own terms than at Megatron’s clenched servos?

He didn’t know.

Starscream looked up at the abyssal blue sky, scattered with the millions, maybe billions of tiny, silvery-white glints of stars cast over the night like a glittering net. The breeze had strengthened into real wind, and it called to him, beckoning him to just transform and fly already, fly away, far far away. He reached out a servo to let the wind brush against the tips of his claws. If nothing else, he could follow it, let it take him wherever. He readied himself to spring...

“Starscream? What are you doing up at this time of night? I thought you’d be recharging.” came a voice from behind him. He whipped around, nearly slipping on his heel struts.

In front of him stood Shockwave’s pet project, a hybrid of normal Cybertronian (an Autobot named Coldburn to be precise) and Predacon CNA named Razorfang. His scorpion-esq tail slithered on the metal deck behind him, the neon blue point curled neatly away from it, and his talons clicked against it as he walked.

“Oh, Razorfang, it’s just you.” Starscream said, internally letting out a sigh of relief.  He’d formed something of a parental bond with the young hybrid after helping (AKA being roped into) assisting Shockwave with him, and if there was anyone who trusted him enough to not question him being out here, it was Razor.

The Predahybrid fluttered his large wings. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you. I was just coming up here to look at the sky before I turned in for the night with Predaking and the others. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” he asked, turning to Starscream with wide neon blue optics and a nearly spark-wrenchingly innocent smile.

Starscream returned it. Razor didn’t deserve his ire. “It is. One of the only good things on this miserable shell Unicorn accidentally built around himself.”

“Ah, it’s not  that bad. And you’re dodging my question.” Razorfang said, nudging him with his tail.

“Am I? Apologies. I couldn’t settle into recharge. Processor too full and all that, you know how it is.” he replied.

“I know how that feels, yeah. I hope you’ve been holding up alright. This is the first time we’ve talked since the...incident.” the hybrid said sheepishly, servos behind his back.

“Indeed.” the seeker hissed. “I’ve seen better solar cycles, and I’ve seen worse ones.”

Would they improve if I left or not?  

Razorfang stretched. “I should probably turn in for the night so I’m not dead on my peds tomorrow. Uh...good luck, Starscream.”

“You have no idea how badly I need it.” he replied.

The Predahybrid nodded before jumping forward and wrapping his wings around the older seeker in a tight embrace.

“W-what’s all this Razor?!” Starscream sputtered out.

“L-look, just...you mean a lot to me, and I hate sitting by while Megatron breaks you over his knee. I-I just want you to know I’d stop it if I could.” Razor said earnestly, letting him go. “A-and I’ll still try and help you now, if I can.”

Starscream was slightly floored, guilt prickling his insides. “It’s nothing I haven’t dealt with before, don’t worry. I’ll live.”

“T-that’s good. I’m sorry, that was really weird. G’night.” he said with a nervous wave of his wing, before disappearing below deck.

He felt another pinch in his spark. He genuinely liked the hybrid, strange as he was, and if there was anyone he was willing to waste the time missing, it would be him. Maybe Knockout too. But things couldn’t stay this way. He couldn’t stay here. At the very least, it was a hazard to his health, and at worst? A hazard to his very sanity. He waited until the talon clicks could no longer be heard.

Walking back to the edge of the deck, he looked down at the glimmering, mirror-like lake surface underneath the warship. It really was time for him to go, and talking to Razorfang had confirmed that. It had been the universe letting him say goodbye. Calm as the water was, the wind had picked up even more now up here, blowing in the direction he planned to fly. Good. He’d have it at his back, helping him forward.

Carry me fast and far away from this accursed place. Thundercracker, Skywarp. If you’re still watching me...please, guide me if you can.  He beseeched his dead trinemates, his  brothers, if their sparks were even still out there.

Taking a deep intake, he turned around, crossed his servos over his chest, and let himself fall overboard, keeping his optics wide open.

The wind howled past his audials as he fell, the glass sheet of the lake drew nearer with every moment. He emerged under the cloud cover, dull silver chassis streaked with water droplets, and looking up he could still see the stars through the ragged holes in the dove-grey blanket of wispy cirrus. The farther away the Nemesis grew, the lighter the weight on his shoulders began to feel.

Primus, but this was  fun . Hurtling through the open sky at who-knows-how-many miles an hour, being granted more and more freedom with every inch he got away from Megatron, the wind screaming like his namesake...he hadn’t felt like this in longer than he could remember, and it felt like something deep in his spark was waking up after being dormant for lightyears. All this galloped through his processor unreigned as he counted the ticks until he’d have to transform…

I’m flying away and I’m  never  coming back, Megatron! Starscream thought with venomous glee, imaging the bucket headed warlord's fury the next dawn.

He began his shift, hanging suspended as it by some invisible thread about a meter above the reflective water before his T-cog finished it’s work, and a second later he was soaring back up the way he’d fallen, towards the starlight and broken shackles.

Wherever the wind took him, it didn’t matter. He was free.

[abarbaricyalp]

prompt idea for sam/steve/bucky

sharing clothes :)

All Caps, my love (this was so fun to work on because it really highlighted how differently I write them when Steve is involved)

Set in the same universe as You Don't Have to Read My Mind (to know what I have in mind) which means Nico and Hattie make a return and silver fox Commander Rogers is around

Read on AO3!

The Other Be Other

It was Nico who noticed it first, so he didn’t say jack to anyone. Well, not right away. It took him three days to break and scoot his desk chair into Hattie’s cubicle. “Hey, did you see Barnes the other day?” he asked.

Hattie’s eyelids actually fluttered. “Fuck, he looked so good,” she said. “And smelt good too.”

Nico scrunched up his nose. “He smelled like fried fish. Anyway, did you see that shirt he was wearing?”

He let Hattie think. Let her mentally redress him. “It was that blue fishing shirt, wasn’t it? Over a white t-shit. He had it open.”

“Yeah. It was a blue shirt with darker blue sharks on it,” Nico said.

“You pay a lot of attention to him. Hey, if you’re into Barnes, I’m not backing down. You’ll have to fight me for him,” she teased.

Nico blushed furiously and then willed it away because he didn’t want to explain why he was blushing or let Hattie think he was blushing because he had a crush on Barnes. “No, that’s not what I meant. Wilson was wearing the same shirt two weeks ago when he came in to file the newest report on Walker.”

Now Hattie scrunched up her nose. “Fuck that guy,” she said and Nico almost laughed.

“I would’ve thought he was your type.”

“As if,” she said. “So what? Barnes and Wilson have the same shirt.” Nico cut her an unimpressed look. “You think Barnes and Wilson are wearing the same shirt,” she clarified.

“Listen, everyone already knows Barnes wears Wilson’s Air Force hoodie,” Nico said.

“Someone said it was the new Falcon’s.”

“It’s not Joaquin’s,” Nico said quickly. Too quickly. Horrifyingly quickly.

“Oh my God, do you like the new Falcon?” Hattie asked.

“We’re not talking about the new Falcon,” Nico said. “We’re talking about Wilson and Barnes.”

“Barnes and Wilson,” Hattie corrected.

“Wilson is Captain America. He comes first.”

“You think so?” she asked with a wicked grin.

Nico blushed so hard he thought he might actually spring a fever.

* * *

“Why are you wearing that, Barnes?” Sam asked from the driver’s side of the car.

“What, you don’t like it?” Bucky asked, tossing his duffel bag into the backseat and climbing into the passenger side. “You left it in the dryer. It was the first thing I grabbed.”

“Grab your own clothes,” Sam said.

“Damn, you’re about to have Steve go down on you, can you lighten up?” Bucky snorted. “You’re high strung.” He leaned over to kiss Sam sweetly and then tried not to laugh when Sam turned it all sorts of filthy. “Save it for Steve, tiger,” he teased. “He whined all night last night about missing you and you not bein’ around to get on the phone with him.”

“He’s been up there for a week,” Sam said as he rolled his eyes. Sam had also kind of been kicking himself for managing to miss the call last night, though. It was probably why he was so grouchy this morning. “Four more hours,” he added.

“I have to swing by HQ and drop off our reports for this mission,” Bucky reminded him.

“Right, you have to do that. I’ll drop your ass off and go get my man.”

“Hey, he was mine first,” Bucky said.

“So I’ve got time to make up for.”

Bucky shoved Sam’s shoulder and got a reaming about car safety even though they were barely on the road yet.

* * *

It happened again a week later. Wilson and Barnes had been in and out of the office, always so, so, so loud. There was always an argument to be had, always a fight to pick with Fury, always something embarrassing to say about Commander Rogers. Nico couldn’t figure out why they spent so much time around the office. Rogers worked in a whole different building and Fury wanted nothing to do with either of them, as far as he could tell.

But there they were at 11 AM, complaining that it wasn’t lunch yet. At 3 in the afternoon, tempting people to leave early. At 9, right after official-opening, with coffee for everyone but Fury, who wasn’t around to see their joke anyway.

There was Sam at two in the afternoon, wearing a leather jacket that was so out of place in the middle of DC in the dead of summer in the heat of the afternoon. Nico could sweat just looking out the window. But, Sam looked really, really good in the jacket, so Nico couldn’t fault him for suffering through the heat to wear it.

Damn, maybe it was a Falcon thing with him.

And maybe Nico did watch Sam a little closely. Maybe he kept his eyes on Sam’s back while he leaned on a cubicle wall that was not strong enough to support him and all that muscle. Maybe he stared at his smooth skin and the way the jacket pulled over his shoulders and--

There was stitching around the arm of the jacket. Nico blinked a few times to make sure it wasn’t a trick of the light, but there was definitely blue thread holding the arm of the jacket to the rest of it.

And actually now that he was looking at the jacket and not Sam Wilson, he recognized the pattern on it, the weird ribbing down the sides, the golden buckles on the back to adjust the waist. He’d seen that jacket before. On the news. Several months ago, he’d had to pour over news footage of a Serpent Society...attack? fight? because Barnes had been part of it and his dumb report had said, I know there’s video footage of this. That’s my statement. So Nico had needed to put together a fucking highlights reel of Barnes’ action to file the report.

He’d gotten in trouble for it too.

He pulled the file up on his computer and watched the footage for a second to make sure it was the same jacket. And it was, except Barnes had ripped the sleeve off of his to show his metal arm. The left arm. The arm resewn onto this jacket.

The video suddenly cut into sound, making Nico jump. Sam Wilson looked over at him, at the footage on the computer and Barnes flipping over cars to avoid gunfire in that jacket. He reached over to shut the player off on Nico’s computer. “You work too hard, kid,” he said. “Barnes is never gonna give you a day off if you don’t take it.”

“Ha, how’d you know he’s always stuck...I mean, assigned Sergeant Barnes’ reports?” Hattie asked.

Sam shot Nico a knowing look and Nico panicked, thinking Sam knew that Nico knew about more than the $100 on his desk and a missing file. But that was impossible. It was just because of the note and bribery.

Bribery from Captain America and the Winter Soldier. Jesus, what was his life?

* * *

“This was a eight hundred dollar jacket,” Steve scolded. The irritation on his face, coupled with his silver hair and those damn broad shoulders, was doing all sorts of things to Sam that Sam didn’t want to analyze too deeply. He mostly wanted to sit back and snicker at Bucky getting in trouble.

“I’m just gonna rip that arm off again,” Bucky said boredly, one leg tucked under him on the couch where he was lounging, the other thrown over Steve’s back. “Why blue thread?” he asked eventually.

“To shame you into not doing this shit again,” Sam said.

“Color theory,” Steve answered.

“There’s no color theory to using royal blue thread in a black jacket. It’s not even navy,” Bucky said.

“You wanna do it?” Steve asked.

“Obviously not. Can name a lot of other things I do want to do though.”

Steve threw the jacket at Bucky’s face instead of answering. Sam jumped up to snag it before Bucky could toss it across the room.

“What’re you doin’?” Bucky lilted up at him, turning bright blue eyes towards him from the arm of the couch. Sam reached out to stroke his thumb over Bucky’s jaw and then down his arched neck.

“Gonna wear it ‘til it stops smelling like the two of you,” he said. And then gasped and dropped the jacket as Steve was suddenly right on top of him, pressing him to the wall and kissing down his neck.

“Damn, I’ve gotta tear more shit up more often if this is what it gets me,” Bucky hummed and did something with a zipper and his metal hand that Sam could guess at but did not want to tear his eyes away from Steve to confirm.

* * *

“Holy shit,” Hattie breathed, a hand coming up to cover her mouth.

To read the reports from the heroes was one thing. Nico had read about so many bones sticking through skin that the image had started to lose its gruesomeness. He’d never been in a firefight and he’d only been a baby during the Battle of New York and during the Triskelion event in DC a few years after. Sure, he’d been around for the Blip, had struggled through five years without half the population, and then struggled through the next years after everyone reappeared, but that wasn’t the same kind of trauma as this. And he’d still only been a kid. He didn’t know what was going on then.

Now, watching from every screen in the room and occasionally out the window, he knew he was watching something terrible. He didn’t personally know any of the heroes, but it felt like watching friends being beaten and knocked down.

“Was that Hawkeye?” someone asked.

“No, that was a girl.”

“Who’s wearing Captain Marvel’s star?”

“Oh God, Spiderman just fell.”

“Wait, the new Falcon caught him.”

“Is the Hulk still fighting that thing in the ground?”

“Yeah, Thor’s still knocked out too.”

“Where’s Captain America?”

Nico pinched his arm until Hattie reached for his hand to stop him. Suddenly, a flash of red, white, and blue crashed onto a roof, drawing the attention of whatever mystic hell demon was leading the fire and brimstone charge on downtown DC.

“Oh, shit, hell yeah, Sam Wilson!” someone cheered and then everyone groaned when some lizard-like-thing knocked Sam flying with a spiked tail to the midsection.

“Wait,” Hattie said, mostly to Nico. “That’s not Sam.”

And, yeah, that was an understatement. It wasn’t his outfit and even the cowl couldn’t hide that it was a white guy under all those stars and stripes.

“Fuck, is Walker really gonna try it?” Hattie asked.

“It’s not Walker,” Nico said. “Walker doesn’t have access to the Falcon wings. Or the original Cap suit.”

Not-Wilson, Not-Walker, Not-Captain-America struggled to his feet, holding his arm around his ribs, to face the demon thing. A news drone flew closer so the coverage could pick up on the creature rasping and snarling out words.

“Captain America, you’re the one we’re looking for,” it growled.

“Yeah,” Not-Cap said, nodding his head tiredly. “That’s what I heard.”

“Oh my God,” Hattie breathed again.

“It’s Barnes,” Nico confirmed. Wearing a sleeve and glove, clean shaven, in the red, white, and blue. In the wings.

“Is he...is he acting like...bait or something? If that thing wants Cap…”

Nico shook his head. “No, not bait. He’s a red herring. He’s distracting it for Sam.”

“We want a pure soul. A fine example to be made.” The creature’s voice suddenly changed, along with its face, talons growing from its hands, a tail curling against the roof they were on. “The righteous ones make the best sounds when we flay them.”

Barnes grimaced. “You’re gonna be really disappointed in the sounds mine makes then,” he said. In a blink, he had a gun drawn from an invisible holster and shot the creature. It howled and writhed and smoke rose from boiling lesions on its body. Something splashed back on the drone and almost immediately, the drone went out of service.

On another screen, another news source, another camera, the lizard that had attacked Barnes earlier scrambled across the roof towards him again and Bucky went flying back, literally. The wings lifted him into the air, but not quickly enough. The lizard leapt up too, caught claws in Bucky’s leg and scored gashes down his thigh and calf as it fell away and then tried to climb back up. Bucky shot at it with the same gun he’d shot the demon with but it had less effect. He kicked at the lizard’s head with his good leg and urged the wings to take him higher. Again, the lizard scored down his leg and Bucky was obviously in pain as he tried to kick it free again. Eventually he must have hit a soft spot and the thing fell off, taking chunks of uniform and God knows what else with it.

This camera was too far away to pick up any words, but Nico saw Bucky’s hand go to his ear, to a comm. Then he was flying back down to the same roof. Another drone swooped in and everyone moved to the screen broadcasting that channel.

“Humans are messy creatures,” Barnes said to the struggling figure on the roof. It shifted again, acid and fluids and skin staying behind on the roof as it turned into something with feathers. “I don’t think you’ll be impressed with many of our souls. They’re all fucked up in one way or another.” He blinked tears and sweat out of his eyes and Nico wondered how badly he wanted to take the cowl off. He hated having his face covered. It was one thing he did manage to write in his reports.

“You’re a liar,” the creature said.

“You’re not the first to call me that,” Barnes agreed. “Definitely the ugliest though.”

“You’re a child playing dress up. You’re not Captain America.”

“Nah, they gave the job to the more good looking guy,” Bucky agreed and took the gun out again.

Nico wasn’t sure if he took a step to get closer or if his messed up leg finally gave out, but in the split second that he had to readjust, another animal demon, something catlike and long, lunged at him, at his arm, and sent him sprawling onto the roof.

“Bucky!” someone in the room cried as the demon towered over him, lifted itself on oily wings, talons like swords pointed to Bucky’s body as he tried to crawl away on a bad leg and bad arm.

And then something even darker crashed into the demon mid-air. The Winter Soldier? That wasn’t possible. Bucky was on the ground. But there was that silver arm, the heavy black tactical gear, holsters in every size and shape. That fucking mask that Nico wanted to burn himself the longer he read Bucky’s reports.

“That’s Sam!” Hattie shouted and then clapped a hand over her mouth. Her other hand tightened in Nico’s and they both stepped closer to each other. Sam grappled with the demon in flight. He was far nimbler on the wings, more dexterous and faster. He had something silver in his hand, a blade of some kind. Occasionally it glowed and it was the only way Nico could tell the demon and Sam apart, to find an end to the black wings and find Sam’s stealth wings, to make sure Sam was still in one piece.

The blade glowed as it made contact with the demon’s midsection and Sam wrenched it all the way up its body. Ichor and acid spilled onto the roof and now Nico’s hand tightened in Hattie’s as the news drone panned down quickly to watch the blood fall. To watch Joaquin pull Bucky out of the way, using the Falcon wings as covering as he did so.

The drone refocused on Sam, who had the stealth wings driven into either side of the demon’s neck, another weapon in his hand, something beaming and sharp. Redwing appeared directly in front of the drone before Sam made contact with the demon. The body fell out of frame in a split second and then Redwing was gone too.

Sam just about crashed down to the roof. There was blood running the length of his face and a swollen eye, scratches down his weapons arm. The kevlar was torn apart, but he seemed to be in one piece. He ripped the mask off of his face, jaw and mouth protected, no broken bones or loose hinges, yanked away the silver cast he’d had on his left arm, and there were no injuries on that side either.

Demonic creatures squealed and writhed where they’d been, decaying into blood and ash and stone. One was too close to Joaquin and Bucky, but it stopped too, claws just short of Joaquin’s jetpack.

Sam was running over to them before the wings could even retract fully. He skidded to his knees by Bucky’s body, lifted him up, held him close with an arm around his back, the other hand going to the back of Bucky’s head. Bucky reached for Sam’s arm with his human hand, covered in blood, bones sticking out of his forearm, elbow smashed visibly. Still, he put his hand on Sam’s arm, tried to squeeze it.

Sam brought their foreheads together.

* * *

“Stop moving,” Steve said. Normally, he would have snapped it. Reminiscent of a thousand bad nights in their apartment in the thirties. Stop moving, Stevie, you’ll upset your lungs. Stop moving, Stevie, those knuckles are never gonna heal. Stop moving, Stevie, you’ll press your cold toes against my leg again.

He reached over for the water cup Bucky wanted and helped him drink it slowly. When Bucky started to cough, Sam jolted awake on his other side. “What’s happening?” he asked, blinking blearily and scratching at the gauze over his eye.

“Bucky never learned how to swallow,” Steve said.

All three of them took in a breath to make a joke but none of them actually said it outloud. It felt too wrong. The air was still too raw. Everything about them was still raw.

Raw. Flayed.

Steve turned and retched into the sink on the other side of the room. A moment later, Sam’s hand found his back and gently rubbed between his shoulder blades. He was using the left hand, Steve figured. There were no bandages rubbing on Steve’s shirt.

“I’m so sorry,” Steve said for the millionth time in the twenty hours since the fight. “I should have never sent you out.”

“Shut the fuck up, Steve,” Bucky sighed. “There were a dozen other heroes out there. Most of them kids. We weren’t gonna sit around and do nothing.”

“I told you to make the sacrifice play. I told you to fight through it.” When Sam dropped something over his shoulders, something warm and smelling of disinfectant but also Sam’s cologne, he curled his fingers in it and hide his face against it.

“Yeah, ‘cause we’ve never been hurt before,” Bucky agreed. “Get over here, you dope,” he said and patted the bed with his metal arm.

Steve and Sam went back to the bed. There was enough room for Steve to sit with one leg kicked down the bed and the other resting over the edge, on the floor. Sam carefully sat on his lap like Steve had been the one in the fight. Like Steve might be hurt. Steve hugged his arms around Sam’s midsection and rested his cheek on the back of Sam’s shoulder, wrapped Sam’s blanket around him too.

“You know,” Sam said and then had to reach for the water himself. Sulfur was hell on the throat as it turned out. “You looked damn good in that outfit, Barnes,” he tried again. “But don’t go getting any ideas about changing your name.”

Bucky laughed, soft and a little pained, metal arm going around his ribs again. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said. “I’m banging fifty percent of all Captains America. If I took on the mantle, I’d skew my own numbers.”

Steve tsked on his other side and ran a hand through Bucky’s hair gently. “Behave, Barnes.”

“I’m sure there’s some sort of toy out there that’s supposed to emulate the Winter Soldier,” Sam said. “You could probably technicality your way out of it. Plus your own fingers,” he pointed out. “Then you’d be up to sixty percent.”

“Jesus,” Steve breathed and turned his eyes Heavenward. “Neither one of you would’ve done the job for what that thing wanted,” he said.

“Wow, Rogers, was that a joke about our near-death experience?” Bucky asked. But he couldn’t keep the faux outrage up. He grinned and reached for Steve’s hand against Sam’s thigh.

Steve kissed Sam’s shoulder and then brought Bucky’s knuckles to his mouth. “I’m so fucking happy you’re both okay,” he whispered softly. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if anything had happened.”

“Nothing did, Steve,” Sam said, turning to catch Steve’s lips on his. “You had a solid plan and we executed it like you said we would. We’re a good team.” He kissed him again and then reached over to rub his thumb along Bucky’s wrist so he didn’t feel too left out.

“Besides, if anything did happen, you’d become the first American to have to go to hell to get his lovers out. It’s normally a Greek thing, I think,” Bucky said.

Steve rolled his eyes, exasperated and so, so, so lucky in love.

* * *

“Do you think...they’re in trouble?” Hattie ventured, staring at the locked office door that they’d all been barred from coming near when Wilson, Barnes, and Rogers had walked in two hours earlier.

It had been three weeks since the Spawning, as people around the office, and literally no one else, was calling it. In that time, Nico had seen neither hide nor hair of any of them, or even really Fury. All of their projects had been granted stays of deadline and Nico had even been invited into a committee to sort through the reports of the Spawning. Mostly because Wilson and Barnes were both involved and that was basically only his M.O. now.

He hadn’t seen Fury call Wilson, Barnes, and Rogers in. Granted, they weren’t in their normal office space. The committee had actually been moved to Commander Rogers’ building. He’d been the commanding officer of the mission to take down the Spawning, so it was just easier to stay at his beck-and-call.

“It’s not Rogers’ office, is it?” Hattie asked.

Nico flipped another pencil into the ceiling. “No. His is a big corner office with all the windows.”

Hattie stood on her chair and yanked three pencils down. “So whose office is that?” she asked.

“Hat, I moved over here at the same time you did,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but I know you’re cozy with Torres and he knows shit like that.”

“I am not!” Nico insisted like he always had to when the subject came up. “Besides, he’s Air Force, not Shield. Sam gave him the wings. He’s a freelancer.”

“Too bad. There’s no money in freelancing. You’ll have to be the bread-winner.”

Nico dragged his hands over his face. A pencil fell from the ceiling and hit him in the head. “Maybe it’s an empty office. A meeting room. Maybe they’re having a National Icons Meeting.”

“Maybe. I have to pee. Text me if anything happens?”

Nico gave her a half-hearted salute and slouched down in his chair. Of course, almost immediately the door opened and Steve Rogers stepped out.

Nico was so entirely fucked once again.

Because Steve Rogers was disheveled. Unkempt. Messy. Taken apart. Wrecked. In a very good way.

Nico brought his hand over his face but kept looking through his fingers.

Steve Rogers’ hair was sticking up every which way and there were at least three hickies on his neck. And one on his shoulder, which Nico could see because he was in that damn shark shirt, unbuttoned and half off his shoulder. There was a whole entire bite mark around his collarbone.

Steve Rogers looked around the hallway and glanced over the office and didn’t see Nico apparently. He tugged the shirt on straight and buttoned most of the buttons, except for two that Nico was pretty sure were missing at the top. And then, and then, he put on the jacket with the ribbing and the buckles and the dumb blue thread.

Steve Rogers ran a hand through his hair and took a deep breath. Just in time for the office door to open again and to have Bucky Barnes, with a lot of skin showing, appear and say loudly, “You took Sam’s underwear,” and haul him back into the room with the metal arm. Nico heard the door lock.

He slowly crawled out of the office, ran into Hattie in the next hall.

“Hey, did anything happen?” she asked, drying her hands on her pants.

“Nope,” Nico squeaked unconvincingly. “Just got sent home for the day.”

“Sweet,” she said. “Wanna go get some lunch?”

Nico nodded silently even though he wasn’t sure if he should try eating. He really needed to ask for that transfer.

[hecohansen31]

To Kill A King

Ivar+Saxon Princess! Reader

The Faithful Wife

I know that I can survive Outside this cage Maybe now I can fight through All this rage

“To Kill A King” by Hungry Lucy

First Chapter (1)

Second Chapter (2)

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

I wanted to first of all say that... THIS IS SHIT!

This is an extremely filler chapter, as in... it was supposed to be more long, reaching another point to the one I chose, but I lost my inspiration halfway through, plus I do think that if I had kept it longer I would have probably just annoyed you, hence I thought I would break apart the chapters!

Still I hope you won’t hate me for how I decided to end things and as always: my inspirations comes from receiving feedback, so if you want to share your thoughts/opinions just do it!

It’ll absolutely make me feel a lot better, plus they go straight up to my heart and never fails to brighten my day!

SUMMARY: Life in an arranged wedding isn’t easy, even more when your ‘beloved husband’ does everything he can to annoy and ignore you.

WORDS: 16, 8 K

WARNINGS:  Arranged Marriage, Mention of Domestical Abuse and Rape, Violence (Strong Themes), Sexual Harassment, Slavery, Historically inaccurate.

You were lightly woken up by two hands shaking you awake, as you slowly took in the coldness of your room, confused by it, usually handmaidens always made sure to have your room warm solely for you.

But as your eyes were awaken enough to focus on something, you realized this wasn’t your room.

And the hands that were shaking you to wake you up weren’t your handmaiden’s.

They were Ivar’s.

Surprise and shock must have shown on your face and he lightly backed off, although his glare was directly set onto you, waiting for you to simply open and close your eyes a few times before he spoke.

“… my brothers they’ll soon be there…” you mind still didn’t link it at all “… it would be more proper for our play if the found you in bed with me”.

You simply nodded, meanwhile you tried to calm yourself, getting your wedding dress clumsily away from your body as you moved towards the bed, more out of search of warmth than because you were following Ivar’s rules.

Certainly, your sense of pudor wasn’t working in that moment, hazed by sleep.

Ivar let you slid in first, a way to make you feel more comfortable as you were attentive to the blood stain in the middle of the mattress, shifting away from it, as you slipped under the warmth of the furs and Ivar did the same, at first pulling himself in a seated position, and then lifted off his legs, pushing one after the other onto the mattress.

You stared at him captured by the way he moved.

It was something that fascinated you: he was definitely stronger than he let in showing new abilities that brought you to admire him more.

And your eyes couldn’t certainly hide their interest for the way his muscles flexed lightly.

Ivar then brought the blanket onto both your heads, and you were glad that it allowed you two a bit of darkness, covering your blush for the acute exploration of his body you had delved into a few minutes before.

And it didn’t take long to hear a few screams from the outside, mostly males, and you couldn’t help but hide more as Ivar shouted back to them, something that you didn’t understand so you thought were curses.

But soon the tent flapped open, revealing various smirking males, as Ivar lowered the blanket from both your heads, showing him and you as you lightly shifted closer to him, uneasy at so many new faces, although you remembered a few from the feast.

“… brother come on don’t be shy!” muttered Hvitserk, as Ubbe had a similar wolfish look in his eyes, but you quickly noticed that Bjorn, the big bear was missing.

Heahmund was also there, looking out for your face as you calmed softly yourself to try to appear as a bride after her first night, although you soon remembered that you were also a fearing and beloved daughter of God.

The soft smile disappearing on your face for a chaste and constipated expression.

“We’ve all seen your naked ass” retorted beside him Ubbe, and you were thankful they were teasing Ivar and not you, although he was slowly growing stiff right next to you “… c’mon brother you know that it is only a formality”.

But as your mind became more awake, you soon realized that they were all looking at Ivar expectantly, ready to humor his failure, which they took as granted.

Flashbacks to the previous night brought you the knowledge that maybe… just maybe they knew that Ivar couldn’t…. complete the action.

And they would beam in his inability.

Which you couldn’t help but frown upon.

Katherine and Abigail would tease you all the time, but it was done in a gracious way that would always make you smirk, in the end.

Not tighten your jaw, as Ivar was doing, meanwhile Ubbe moved forward and after he waited for a slight nod from you, he raised the blankets away from you both.

The coldness of the room suddenly hit you, and you leaned lightly against Ivar, him even going a step further as he drew you closer with an arm, as if to shield you, for which you were grateful since you were suddenly aware of your naked legs, left uncovered by your tunic.

No man, not even your father had seen you in such an undressed state.

And now a load of them were.

Ubbe searched the mattress and then he found the stain.

Surprise shone onto his face as if he hadn’t expected the presence of blood and he shot you both a confused look to which Ivar replied to with a smug smirk, softly grabbing onto your lower waist, in a show of possession that brought you to shiver lightly.

“Brother did they…?” Hvitserk left it unsaid and Ubbe turned to nod, again moving to you and Ivar one last shocked look, as you tried to stand taller.

“We did it, brothers” Ivar replied, again that smug smirk of supremacy on his face as he adjusted better on the bed “… now will you leave us alone, won’t you?”

The brothers stood a bit clumsily in the room, their tall frames almost too big for it in a way that made you almost laugh.

“Let’s leave the happy couple to their rest, now that we have proved that the wedding is legal” replied softly Heahmund, probably sensing your distress, for which you thanked him with a small look on his way as Ivar turned his back to them, trying to move back to sleep, in an obvious fake attempt to ignore all the ‘witnesses’.

Soon they all left the room, following Heahmund’s suggestion and giving you a moment of privacy as servants brought in some of your trunks for which you were thankful, because the tunic you were wearing wasn’t as covering as your usual nightgown, and alongside the trunks, new clean water was brought.

The basin you had used to clean your hand stood unused at the top of the table but the blood in it made it definitely too dirty to be used.

You were thankful as the servants brought it away, without any questions.

Ivar got away from bed, awake like you, but left you the little private room to change as you chose a quick dress, something that you wouldn’t need to help of servants to put on, well aware that you couldn’t do much without them.

The dress you chose was simple, not proper for your princess’ status but you would wear it whenever you hoped to pass off as discreet and for something comfortable: it had a first gown of white fabric and one of heavier fabric onto it of a darker color, all linked through a series of hooks.

And the behind of it had threads that just needed to be nodded together in order to obtain a tighter silhouette in a way that, according to Abigail, brought out your waist… and breasts.

You mostly liked it because it didn’t have a corset and it wouldn’t crush your chest and lungs, allowing you fuller movements, not heaved down by the richness of the jewels that decorated your most lavish gowns.

As you slipped on the gown, you moved onto wearing some leather boots, again a comfortable attire unsure of what Ivar would have you doing, today and trying to minimize the time you spent undressed.

Although the knowledge that Ivar wouldn’t take advantage of you calmed you a bit, you still felt uneasy being undressed in a room with another man, aware that he might come out of the bath anytime and catch you naked.

Although he wasn’t a simple man.

He was your husband.

Your eyes caught a glimpse of the small ring you were wearing the band plainly attached to your skin, as it shone of light silver through the sun filtered by the tent.

It wasn’t simple, having a light decoration on it, a serpent eating its tail, in a circle.

You tried to remember where you had seen a similar drawing but again, sleep clouded it and soon Ivar appeared on the bathroom threshold, breaking you away from your thinking as you quickly closed your trunks, trying to shield Ivar from seeing the small knife your father had given you.

It hadn’t been there in your trunks when the servants had prepared them, and the shock of seeing it gave you a thrill.

You father had talked of you as a spy among the heathens, not a murder.

It went against your nature as a fearful Christian and your own nature as a timid and fragile woman.

As soon as you had caught the sight of the weapon, you had immediately hidden it under some rich fabric, hoping that Ivar’s guards wouldn’t go through them meanwhile you were away, locking them properly as Ivar approached you.

Once you were done you turned to him, waiting to know more, since he had been the one who had directed your threads since you had come there, and would forever do soon till death did you apart.

But Ivar promptly went past you as if you were a ghost, not even deigning you of a glance, as you obtained one solely as your hand shout out for one of his arms, making him turn to you.

He seemed almost bothered, not the smug boy who had cuddled you closer to his chest just a few minutes before.

He was certainly a good actor.

“… I… what am I to do?” you mumbled, immediately regretting your silly words, sounding too much as a plead as  irritation was written all over his face “… we are married, we should enjoy married life”.

You tried to sweeten your words as much as you could, your hands lightly caressing his arms, something that you had dreamed to do since you had first seen him, finding them as muscled as you had believe them to be, throbbing under the strength he used to keep himself upright.

“… you might as well, wife of mine” his tone had something sickly sweet that made you quickly understand he was teasing you “… I am the leader of an army, I don’t have time for such thing as ‘enjoying life’, we are going back to Kattegat in four weeks, enjoy the time in the camping”.

You couldn’t help but be lightly stung by his words as you lowered your head nodding, leaving your grip as he moved away, two guards appearing on the threshold, one following Ivar outside and another remained on the threshold an obvious show that he would be staying with you.

You sent him a smile, although in your heart burned the humiliation Ivar had put you through.

He talked about respect but treated you like that.

How could you trust him?

Thankfully you weren’t left to your own devices for long, because you heard a miscellaneous language of Saxon and Norse, and then your sister Kathleen peaked in the tent, sending you a worried look, and in that moment slow tears streamed down your face and she bolted to you, almost throwing you down onto the bed.

“… (Y/N)!” she cheered as Abigail joined you, with no less energy and effectively sending your body to smash onto the bed, covered again by furs to hide the blood for which you were grateful “… you are still alive and smiling, oh sweet sister!”.

“Was he gentle?” went straight to the point Abigail, her eyes curious as she set up on her heavy dress, coming closer to you “... his brothers told us, that you did… your marriage was consummated”.

Immediately Katherine searched your eyes as you clutched your hands tighter on your lap, as a blush creeped from your neck to your cheeks, and you sent a quickly look to the confused guard, probably not understanding the giggles of three women.

Katherine realized what you were thinking about and she lightly shook her head.

“He doesn’t know Saxon don’t worry”.

“We didn’t… consummate the marriage” you talked too fast to make it impossible for the man to even understand you had spoken “… he told me we would never…”.

“Then it is true that he can’t get it up!” replied immediately Abigail, making you and Katherine quickly shut her up as you both sent the guard a small look, checking on him whether he had understood but he just looked at you vaguely, wondering what you were talking about.

“… I don’t know… we didn’t talk… I didn’t ask” you couldn’t help but calm yourself lightly “… he asked me respect him as a husband and he would do the same with me, as his wife”.

“Then why isn’t he here?” Katherine’s tone was piercing, and she slowly took your hands, clutching them together as you send them a protesting look “… we could still run, live in the woods as we joked when we were children”.

“We wouldn’t last a day, Katherine” you had trouble simply dressing yourself up, and this would mean to ruin the peace your wedding had created “… I would, believe me I would love nothing more, but this is my life now, and I better start liking it”.

“I just… I just wished it wouldn’t have been you” you held an hand out to Abigail who had spoken softly.

Although she didn’t have the protectiveness that belonged to Katherine, she knew how to sweeten everything with her gentle personality, something which brightened softly your smile as you led them in a quick hug.

“I don’t know how I’ll be able to live without you” you had lived with them all your life, they had been the sole friends you had had, too awkward and shy to attempt a smile or a smirk at anyone that wasn’t your family.

You couldn’t believe in a life without them.

“… we don’t either” mumbled Katherine, tears seeped in the deep fabric of your dress, but you felt like it was some kind of badge of honor.

“Can’t think that I won’t have you waking me up, whenever I run late” replied instead Abigail, making you laugh through tears “… you aren’t gone for ever still, are you?”.

You hoped you wouldn’t, but with the knowledge that you would be going back to their original land you couldn’t see a reason for you to go back to your kingdom, another time.

But who knew? By then you might have charmed your husband.

And donkeys would have flown.

“… we are never ever leaving each other, although we may be apart, oceans away, we are never away in each other’s heart” as you said so your hands linked to their hearts, feeling them rush as they slowed down calmed by your words.

They both smiled softly, and before they could hug you again you heard a distinct cough and found bishop Heahmund and Hvitserk looking at you, expectantly in a clear way to tell you that your time had come to an end.

And you slowly let go of their hands, your eyes teary as well as those of your sisters as they collected themselves calmly, turning around to face with neutral faces Hvitserk and Heahmund, the bishop trying to smile to brighten the mood, although he himself was lightly moved by the scene.

Katherine sent you one last look, blowing you a soft kiss as Abigail, gripped her hand, understanding she had to be her rock, for the time being.

Hvitserk still stopped your sisters before they could completely exit the tent and you worried suddenly for a minute, scared that they might have discovered something, but then he moved something from behind him, revealing the sword your sisters had gifted Ivar, adding a quick whisper in Norse you caught, and with a small smile you translated.

“He says that prince Ivar saw the way you looked at the sword, and that he wouldn’t dare to steal it from you after he has already stolen a sister” the entire discourse was grim, but you couldn’t help but appreciate the gesture Ivar had done.

Katherine had loved the sword from the moment it had come out of the furnace, looking at the polished metal as it elegantly swished against the air when she handed it so so carefully, attentive to avoid hurting anybody around her.

Father had given Katherine a military and weaponry training but had never allowed her to own a sword, knowing perfectly well that this would have put Katherine in an upheld position, almost as his equal, and your father hated with all his heart to be overtaken.

That’s why he had tried to keep desperately his children beneath him, training and educating solely his heir, meanwhile he left his other daughters ignorant, having them treated as perfect ladies, left in the hands of unknown governesses, pushed in small corsets and tight dresses.

He had made you and Abigail grow up as perfect wives and mothers.

Nothing more and nothing less.

Not to be heard or feared till they were useful.

As in your case.

You sent one last look at Katherine, who nodded lightly and bowed to Hvitserk lightly, a dull excitement in her eyes as she exited alongside Abigail, casting you one last soft look, a wish of ‘happy wedding’.

Heahmund in the meanwhile walked around the room, taking in the stain of blood, rushing back to you as Hvitserk moved to accompany your sisters, leaving you privacy with the bishop although he shot him a direct glare to invite him not to try anything.

“… my princess, was the heathen…” he immediately rushed to ask, softly touching your body as you allowed him to do the same “… violent with you? I know the marriage was consummated, despite the rumors about your husband’s… inability”.

“He wasn’t” you lied, aware that you were lying to a man of faith “… it was… a quick matter and soon over”.

You didn’t know what to mumble, not being experienced on that matter and having to formulate some kind of rational discourse on it.

You ran through lady Claudia’s small talk of the previous day trying desperately to find something that might convince him of your relationship with Ivar.

“… he wasn’t too rough with me and it hurt just for a bit” you replied softly, keeping your voice in check to hide the lie better “… he was careful and attentive”.

“That doesn’t seem the Ivar I met on the battlefield” he commented tightly and you were worried it might have given out your lie “… but I am glad that he has a softer side for his rightful wife, my princess, you have quite charmed him”.

You nodded your head simply, as you tried to avoid saying too much that might give you out.

“… I now have to get your sisters back to security but I’ll be back before nightfall, please be attentive and safe, my princess” you almost wanted to protest there and then that you were in danger because of them, not because of any of your action.

If you could, you would be in a convent with your precious books and your sisters beside you.

But again, you nodded, adjusting yourself on the bed as Heahmund gave you a soft kiss onto the palm of your hand.

As Heahmund exited the tent, Hvitserk came back in it, and took a quick look at you, which you returned shyly but questioning, wondering whether you would be allowed outside the tent or Ivar would keep you as a mighty dragon, storing you as a treasure.

But at least that would mean he thought you were precious.

“Is everything alright, princess?” although Hvitserk had a teasing smile on his face, the way he talked seemed genuinely concerned “… feeling cold?”.

You weren’t properly cold but you had shrunk back into yourself, clutching your hands around your body in a tight hug more to comfort yourself as the feeling of loneliness set in your heart.

“A bit” you justified yourself as the man moved closer, something that made you back lightly on the bed, suddenly making you realize that you were in a cove of enemies, and although your brain wanted to do nothing more than to trust anyone, your common sense advised you against that.

“We should get you some better clothes” he mumbled looking at your flimsy dress, certainly not the highest example of style, but it was comfortable and easy to put on, not necessarily warm still, and you weren’t used to exiting the castle, at least without an heavy coat of woolen, which would stop the coldness “… in Kattegat is cold and we don’t need you to get sick at your first Winter there”.

And Hvitserk had guided you outside to the small market brewing in the camping, surprising you for the organization of the entire structure, making your eyes widen as you took in the sight of the exchange between cultures.

You had worn a light cloak that Hvitserk had lent you, which was a bit too long sometimes entwinning in your legs, and you were grateful you hadn’t worn a more complex gown.

Extremely grateful it would avoid you from falling face first in the mud.

Your eyes darted over the small stalls, as Hvitserk chatted cheerily with anyone who stopped him, all the people around you staring discreetly at you in a way that almost made you want to hide your face with the hood of the cloak.

You were well aware that half of them had witnessed your marriage to Ivar and your different traits wouldn’t certainly pass unobserved, but you had hoped to attract less attention this sudden.

You tried to shift your attention on the small trinkets that were sold, being extremely interested by the creation of the blacksmiths, beautiful jewels and small statues, relatively more modest than your jewels but they held a particular fascination for you.

As the man saw you staring at his creations, he puffed out his chest but kept his distance as Hvitserk graciously took your arm to guide you away, pushing you onto a stand that smelt… horridly.

Furs weren’t much in vogue in your court, since they were thought to be vulgar and popular, mostly if not properly treated, and you could understand since the smell wasn’t pleasant and you had to take a deep breath as Hvitserk calmly talked with the lady who was taking care of stalls.

She was a small old lady, her hands worked through years of treating furs, in a way that made them extremely wrinkly but beautiful for the stories they told, almost a thread of magic and skin.

She smiled at you, with no knowledge of your status, with a warmth that seemed damnably familiar and homely and you just smiled back as the woman moved to collect a few furs from behind his stalls as Hvitserk told you her name was Hilde and she had been working furs since she was as small as she was now.

‘She is the best! You’ll be warm don’t worry”.

You were thankful for Hvitserk’s cheery and mindless tone, since it helped you focus your mind away from Ivar’s rejection and your sisters’ departure.

As Hilde came back, she held two beautiful furs in her hands: one was smaller, having an orangey color tending lightly to red, a color which complimented your skin according to Abigail.

It was probably made out of fox fur and it had be linked into a cloak to protect the neck and the shoulders from coldness.

She pushed it onto your shoulder, having you bowed slightly for her in order to permit her to comfortably place it there, adjusting it with a few pins, in a provisory set up, before she pushed you next to the mirror in the stall, allowing you to set yourself.

You hadn’t seen yourself after the veil had been pushed on your face since Ivar’s room didn’t have any mirror, and you couldn’t help but follow for a minute your profile with your eyes.

You found it changed from the anonymity you always saw in the mirror, almost as if you were now looking at every stain or spots in your skin, almost wanting to dig your fingers in the skin to find out if it were you.

You were brought down from your inner thoughts by Hilde, asking if you liked the first piece, and as you nodded, she exchanged the first piece with a fuller fur, completely covering your frame, weighting heavily onto you, but its warmth was very much appreciated as it hugged tight keeping you calm and sated.

Hilde lightly pulled on the end of the dark furs, painted lightly with red reflexes something which shone even brighter in the light.

“They are both beautiful!” you exclaimed, honestly heard in your tones as the small woman smirked happily at you, twirling in her comfortable leather shoes, as she went back to show you more, eventually filling you with also leather corsets and a few cloaks, this time, of your height.

You couldn’t help but see the total pile up in front of you, almost worried about how you would pay it.

Your father had gifted you with a few coins to help you mostly in case anything happened to you, but you didn’t feel like letting Ivar pay for your dresses, because it made you uneasy to depend on him.

Although you saw no other solution.

As you asked Hilde to start choosing what you truly needed and you didn’t, she stopped you, baffled and almost offended, as she put her hand on her chest.

“… these are gifts for the future queen” she explained slowly, each word being spitted out with its pure meaning, making you open your eyes wide, not solely for the mention of the word ‘queen’.

“I can’t accept this, Hilde! It is too much!”.

As a princess you were used to gifts of any kind, but you felt like stealing from this people, taking away their precious goods without any retribution.

You didn’t have a high enough place there to do such a thing.

These people weren’t the cruel and calculating spies of the courtiers that populated your reign, they seemed genuine and gentle.

It felt like taking advantage of their gentleness.

“… take it, sweetheart” her voice was gentle, pushing the furs in your hand as you shook your hand and Hvitserk gently helped Hilde with the furs, murmuring something in Norse too fast for you, but the woman seemed to calm, taking the furs from you “… let me have the honor of gifting some of my masterpieces to the future queen”.

Again, you were confused and embarrassed by the mention of you as a ‘queen’, but nodded softly thanking her and letting Hvitserk handle everything else, since you felt like you were a complete stranger to these traditions.

He contracted swiftly with the old woman, who mumbled something about sending you the furs in your tent, so you didn’t have to carry them for the entire city.

“… thank you” you mumbled one last time, meeting her determined stare, as she moved towards you a bit too close for comfort and  gently pulled on your cloak to make you lower yourself.

“You are more special than you think, little one”.

You were almost thankful when Hvitserk dragged you away, feeling lightheaded by the way the woman had talked to you.

As you were again in the crowd, Hvitserk calmly spoke:

“I’ll Ivar drop some coins to her tonight or this afternoon, don’t worry” he promised, talking as if it was natural and you couldn’t help but feel a bit ashamed.

“I can… I have some spare money” and jewels, too many for your liking.

“You belong in our family” he spoke again, as if it was natural to him as breathing, turning to you with a soft smirk “… you are my family now, so what is our is yours”.

The truthfulness of his words broke your heart in a way that made you feel even more ashamed for the spying your father had meant to do here.

“… thank you” you mumbled simply, moving further in order to let the crowd around you distract yourself, as you tried to shift your attention towards anything else.

The rest of the morning passed softly and without any true conversation, other than Hvitserk talking about various things about the culture, as you took a stroll around the stalls.

Hvitserk bought sweets he shared with you, meanwhile you were attracted by the beautiful sculptures of the gods, but didn’t dare to speak out loudly your interest, worried that they might try to offer you them again.

You didn’t want to take advantage of them.

And then Hvitserk’s eyes were caught by a beautiful girl, a cheery blonde dressed as a man, an obvious sign that she was a shieldmaiden, a female warrior.

He exchanged with the girls a few stares, enough to make you feel invisible and bothering him to the point where you suggested he just went to talk with her.

‘I won’t lose myself in the stalls’ in fact the small market had a clear end and it had started losing a bit of its original crowd, the warriors moving to eat and the merchants slowly starting to count the coins they had made.

You had also seen a bench where you could sit more comfortably and maybe hide even better.

“… are you sure?” as much as Hvitserk seemed taken by the girl he had a bit of difficulty letting you go, worry washing over his face and with the way he seemed so careless and lighthearted you could only think that it was because he had received direct orders from Ivar to keep you under his watch.

“Never make a lady wait” you taunted him and he sent you a soft smile, one you wished Ivar also owned, before he strutted off smirking devilishly at the woman, exactly as you imagined a young demon to do.

You waited onto the bench, your figure hidden further by your cloak in a sat position as you tried to think about a way to get information through Ivar, when he clearly didn’t want you between his toes.

You could try to sweeten him, but the proposal of spending time together as newlyweds had clearly made him on edge and you had no idea of how you could have your husband trust you when he barely let you in.

You felt that although you might parade yourself in your best dress Ivar would have still ignored you, which frustrated you more than you were open to admit.

You found comfort in thinking that you might have talked about it with Heahmund so that he might have told you what to do in these cases, what men might be interested in.

He seemed to be quite experienced in that ambit.

You knew that the ‘righteous warrior’ wasn’t so righteous once a woman appeared in front of him and once you and Father Peter had almost caught him with a desperate widow, him consoling her ‘properly’.

You weren’t sure how much Ivar and him might have in common, but you felt more comfortable talking with him than with Hvitserk.

He was the only link to your family now that your sisters were gone.

You were left from thinking about your dark thoughts, till a shadow loomed over you and quickly sat near to you, immediately catching your attention since you thought it to be Hvitserk.

But you were surprised to find that he was Harald’s brother, the man who had looked at you with pity in his eyes, at the wedding.

But now his eyes held a curiousness that made you shrink in yourself, as he lightly bowed his head to you, obviously trying to catch your attention.

“… princess (Y/N), I am so glad to have caught you alone, on this lovely day” his tone was definitely overly chatty, evidently a bit out of his comfort zone, something between the lines of cherry and insulting “… are you enjoying the market?”.

“Very much” you tried to keep your words curt and short “… I am sorry but I didn’t quite catch your name, yesterday”.

You knew better than to be the one who knew less about the other.

“Halfdan, Halfdan the Black” he spoke up, a proud smile, on his face as he turned to you not hiding the quick look of disdain in his eyes as they ranked over your body, almost making you feel naked “… the brother of Harald, king of Norway”.

You remembered his brother: he had tried to anger desperately Ivar, making him ashamed in front of everyone.

“Why ‘the Black’?” his nickname made your attention perk up as you raised up your head to look at him in the eyes, showing him that although you were nervous and embarrassed, you weren’t scared.

“I don’t think that it would be proper to talk about it with a lady” he muttered back, aggressiveness clear in his tone.

“I am not a lady, I am a princess” you spoke back, trying to keep your back straight as you kept looking at him in the eyes.

He seemed taken aback by your words: although your tone had kept itself mild, the words were piercing, almost as the gaze you shot him back.

“… I might start seeing why Ivar has chosen you” he mumbled under his breath “… did he choose you for your frisky character? Or for your pretty legs?”.

You were confused and a bit offended, mostly for his accusing tone.

Nobody would have talked to you like that straight up in your face, back home.

Maybe behind your shoulders, but you didn’t know how to react properly at such a facial invective choosing to just shoot him an incredulous look.

“You have no right to talk to me like that” you shot indignantly back, looking through the crowd for Hvitserk.

You had been aware that there might be some protests against you, but so direct and frontal…?

You weren’t expecting it.

“… they said that you consumed your marriage” he discarded your indignant reply, and his tone was even more teasing “…but we all know that your prince couldn’t…”.

“… my prince couldn’t what?” now embarrassment was written all over your face and your tone was raised lightly, your reply more emotional than you would have liked “… I suggest that you don’t finish that phrase”.

“I’ll teach you something, little girl: you can’t threaten an alley” but his tone seemed amused at your reply “… your husband knows of your fierce character, or is it only reserved for men who don’t call you, princess?”.

You couldn’t help but feel like that all these spiteful talk wasn’t exactly meant to be rightful or meaningful, but they were meant to distract you from the real argument.

So, you stopped taking in Halfdan’s words, and looked at him in the face, his secure behavior seemed out of place in a body that did all it could to shrink himself away from you, something you had done too many times, back in the day.

And you realized that he was also a second child, living in the shadow of his brother and everything that he did or said should have been linked to him.

You got up from the bench, effectively wanting to distance yourself from the huge man, who seemed taken aback from the sudden action, but he soon gave you a teasing smirk, expecting you to run.

But you stood your ground and spoke:

“Whatever your and your brother’s business is with my husband, I suggest you to quit these provocations, before they get too much for you to handle. You are a man not a child”.

And you were almost ready to be slapped, remembering perfectly how much a slap would sting your cheek, every time your father struck Katherine for speaking back.

You had never dared to, too scared to be able to raise your voice.

But you were in a different land, far away from your father, with a new master, but his leash at least was looser.

You were already cowering a bit away, your gaze set away from him to search for Hvitserk till a sincere laugh left Halfadan’s mouth.

“… that crippled bastard is luckier than he thinks” he replied softly, shooting you a sincere look.

“Halfdan!” Hivsterk’s voice surprised you, startling you but you were thankful to see him “… thank you for keeping company to my sister”:

The way he mumbled ‘sister’ was an obvious proof of his possessiveness and you were more than happy to hide behind him lightly, although Halfdan now had a sincere grin on his face, shadowed lightly by his hair.

“I had quite a nice time talking with her, don’t worry” he raised up quickly, moving away, through the crowd.

You let out a huff of breath as the man disappeared finally making you feel like you were allowed to relax, before you suggested, whispering it softly in Hvitserk’s ears:

“… may we go back to my tent, I am… tired”.

Although you had barely walked one meter, you felt emotionally exhausted and Hvitserk nodded, offering you gentlemanly a hand as he brought you back inside your tent.

That was enough outside world for the day.

---

You had spent the time in the tent improving your Norse, alongside Hvitserk, who would help you with the pronunciation and the writing, although he seemed much less versed than you had thought.

‘It was Ivar’s idea’ he had justified it, as he checked your writing of runes ‘… I am not exactly the smart brother, here’.

‘At least you are making me company’ you had grumped down in Saxon, before sending him a seraphic smile.

You had processed this way till lunch time, when Hvitserk’s stomach had started grumbling and you had smirked remembering Abigail: they would have probably stormed into a kitchen and stolen any food there.

And probably got stomachache with all the food.

‘Do you think that Ivar has eaten?’ you had asked softly, as you moved into the dining hall, the same one they had organized for your first meeting with Ivar, seeming less crowded than by night.

A few servants ran around taking care of what looked like the royalty of Vikings, and there you found Bjorn, the big bear, who sent you a roaring salute to which you bowed, again unable to wash away the sensation that everyone was looking at you.

‘I don’t think he has’ replied Hvitserk as you both sat down, and a brunette servant a few years younger than you brought you two plates with what looked like stew and smelt delightfully.

The small thrall looked at you, surprised but then moved away.

“Then maybe I should bring him lunch…” you were aware by the look that Hvitserk had sent you that it wasn’t a good idea, but you had just to go through every possible way to spend time with Ivar, and as he had denied you that morning, you hoped he wouldn’t do the same, now.

“… that is a rather nice idea…” Hvitserk spoke, his face already dripping in the stew “… but I don’t think that my brother would take kindly being interrupted”.

“I just want to try” you modelled your voice to be pleading.

You had learned through your courtiers that a pleading woman was always either an annoyance or a true attraction for men.

Either way they would surrender quickly.

And Hvitserk, probably warned to comply all your wishes and keep you safe and happy nodded his head, although his eyes shone dull, clearly not liking the job he had been given.

You let him finish his stew, not daring to stop him from his beloved food and then he accompanied you with a small tray of wood: your lunch and Ivar’s on it.

Hvitserk convinced Ivar’s guards to let you in, as you smiled prettily at the huge men, who simply looked at you almost as if you were nothing more than a flower they could crush under their shoes.

And as you sneaked past them, you again left a huff of breath.

It would have been a truly difficult thing to adapt your life to all those tall people.

Hvitserk still was stopped by the guards who pushed him with their chest back, effectively separating you from him.

He tried to fight back, more for his own virility than for you, but you shot him a comforting look.

You just hoped it would work also on you.

A guard gave you indication to find Ivar, he had recently finished an inking session and was elaborating some strategical plans.

Which meant that you could have also gotten some information.

And you did.

More than you expected.

You were frozen on your spot as you heard shouts in Norse, but instead of cowering away from the bullpen you moved closer, trying to be discreet, as you balanced the tray on one hand to raise your dress to secure you faster movements.

And then slowly you recognized the voice, Ivar’s unmistakable one and Ubbe’s, which surprised you because you weren’t honestly expecting a man like that to shout so furiously, but you kept your mouth closed.

“… you are overthrowing the natural order of things!” shouted the blonde prince.

“I am doing what father would have wanted to do! What you and Hvitserk don’t have the balls to do!”.

Ivar’s rage resembled the way he had spoken to you when the ring had been dropped.

You couldn’t help but be nervous with that side of him, but you tried to calm yourself with the thought that it wasn’t used against you.

“You are destroying our family! That’s the shit that you are doing!” replied promptly Ubbe, and you felt him move a heavy step forward “… just like you did with Sigurd!”.

The name caught your interest, but also the way Ivar replied, something being thrown against the door, definitely told you, it wasn’t something you should think about bringing up with him.

“… you always have to fucking tell me all this shit, don’t you?!” shouted back Ivar “… he was insulting my virility! Believe me I am…”.

“You aren’t” Ubbe’s tone was serious, damnably serious, having grown quieter suddenly, enough to make you hear Ivar’s deep intake of breath “… you never were, you are simply damnably prideful and ambitious and can’t see that it’ll break us apart, that it is already breaking us apart”.

A silence fulfilled the space between you two and you felt Ubbe shifting closer.

“… you are married brother, enjoy it” he continued on speaking “… I am sure that you haven’t even consumed your marriage, although the blo…”.

Another sudden hit of something against the wall made you uneasy.

Ubbe stormed away from the room and in his hurry almost crashed onto you, who were slowly turning to hide away yourself from them, and were secretly thankful when the man was more attentive to his sudden outburst, gently grabbing your trail, to let you adjust your dress.

“… didn’t see you there, sorry my princess” he commented, sending you a look to apologize “… what are you doing here?”.

“… bringing the lunch to Ivar!” you replied quickly, trying to hide any threatening intention.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea”.

“I don’t also think that it was a good idea to shout against him” you didn’t know where all this disobedience came from: you used to be the small little mouse who hid itself behind her sisters’ shadows.

But it seemed that you would need to use your teeth and nails for this.

“… you know nothing of this” he replied directly, and you knew you should have backed up, but you had dared more.

“I know that the marriage was consummated” you pushed back “… you know nothing about what happens in our bedroom and I suggest you don’t put your nose there anymore”.

Ubbe seemed shocked, exactly like Halfdan had been of your previous outburst, and then moved away muttering something darkly, as he moved away, almost bumping in the guards.

You collected yourself a minute, your own outburst leaving a light blush on your cheeks, but you hadn’t much time, and gently pushed your hair away from your face, the few strands that had come off from your lazy updo.

And then you knocked.

A gruff voice advised you that Ivar ‘wasn’t in the mood to talk with Ubbe, anymore’.

“It isn’t Ubbe, it is (Y/N)!” you thrilled happily, trying to make the atmosphere more relaxed.

And Ivar came quickly to you, opening the door with a tight expression, making you uneasy, but you kept your smile.

Your smile would have never been the summer typhon Katherine’s was, but you had to be satisfied with a small spring breeze.

“… wife” he muttered simply, but something in his had calmed down “… what are you doing here?”.

“I brought you lunch” you commented gently, holding up the tray and honest surprise shone on his face as you smirked softly at him.

He quickly took it from your legs, balancing it onto one of his crutches and almost closed the door in your face, before you added:

“I did think that we could have eaten together… maybe” or maybe not, from the startled look on your face.

And then your stomach grumbled loudly, and Ivar smirked, letting out a small laugh.

“Did they even feed you in your castle or are you simply a hungry beastie as Hvitserk?”.

Although the insult he opened the door further for you to slip inside.

“I’ll gladly pass over the fact that you just called me ‘beastie’ “ Ivar tried to complain that he meant it with affection, but you shushed him further, putting the trail onto the small table in the room, no paper or map anywhere on it, but you tried to seem at your ease “… and about the fact that you compared me to Hvitserk”.

“You are right” he replied pushing out a chair for you “… you are smarter”.

“Let me give you some matrimonial advice: don’t insult your wife” you replied, sitting down with a huge huff, making him smile cunningly at you as he sat on the other side of the table.

“… everybody seems so keen to give me marital suggestions” he mumbled, a cloud of annoyance appearing on his face “… but yours is good”.

Again, the intensity of his gaze made you divert your attention, all too happy to focus it on the food.

Ivar quickly did the same, and you couldn’t help but notice the ruthless way he proceeded to eat, in a voracious way you weren’t used to, and made you almost laugh at him, definitely feeling more at ease with your ‘messy eating’, one of the many reasons why you had been always kept away during the ceremonial dinners.

“… did you like it?” he asked, once your plate was finished.

“It was extremely delicious” you smiled at him “… I have never eaten something like that”.

Or so much.

Usually you were expected to leave at least half of the food in your plate, but this wasn’t the case.

“How did you find your staying in here?” Ivar’s words were careful and attentive, as if he was choosing the best ones “… did Hvitsersk show you around properly?”.

“He was a perfect company…” and immediately your hand shot out to his, making him raise his eyes at him, confused and startled, almost like a caged animal “… but I still wished it would have been you”.

“You don’t have to pretend” his voice was harsh enough to make you retreat your hand, almost burned “There is no need to fake feelings that you don’t have”.

“That isn’t true…” you spoke back “… I would just like for us…”.

But before you could utter more, another knock came from the door, pushing Ivar to raise up without sparing you glance.

And you tried to push down any kind of bad feeling for his rejection to look around the room, trying to see something out of its place, but as your room, it was in perfect order and Ivar soon came back, a wicked smile on his lips.

“Well well! My gift for you my lady has come!” he smiled brightly, gently pushing you onto your feet, and although his mood was strange, you followed the cheeriness of it “… would you like to see it?”.

And you had immediately nodded.

But as soon as you had seen the gift you had realized that maybe you should have been less cheerful.

Ten women were in your tents, their hands all bound together through a thick rope and their faces bearing some kind of bruises.

Only two of them were Vikings, meanwhile the others were Saxons, wealthy ones mostly by the clothes they were wearing: tattered and broken in some parts, but still expensive enough to make them daughters of local lords.

The one the Vikings had conquered.

“What is the meaning of this” you shouted turning to Ivar.

Was he playing some kind of joke on you?

He had told you he would respect you, but this all seemed as a damnable tease for you and your people.

“You didn’t think I wouldn’t give you thralls, did you?” he replied, his tone truly ecstatic “… they are your people, so you’ll feel more comfortable”.

“This is not a gift for me” you spoke back, maybe more ardently than you should have, a dare in your tone “… this is an insult”.

Ivar’s smirk on his face completely lost itself and he turned to the guard holding the end of the robe bounding the prisoners, shouting something that seemed ‘get out’.

And then he turned to you.

He came a step closer to you than you would have liked, and you were well aware nobody was in the tent except you and him,

And you were well aware of what a scorned man could do to a lonely woman.

“… it is a gift and you should be thankful” he simply spat out.

“There are children in there!” you shot back, high on adrenaline.

A few of the slaves were barely older than Abigail and a few younger, two seemed only children and although you were aware that that wasn’t a problem for many people, it was for you.

“You are barely a child and were sold off so easily” the insult cut you deeper than you would have liked and you couldn’t help but take a small breath, shifting away from Ivar “… (Y/N), you know what I…”.

“Release the children” you spoke softly, your voice wavering a bit for the sadness you weren’t able to drown “… at least the children: you know they won’t be useful, and this is just cruel”.

“Maybe you don’t know it, but…” he replied quickly, shooting out to you, but you stopped him, gaining all your strength.

“…I know that you keep them as hostages, for their families, I am not that stupid, I might have been a child, but I am not an idiot” you retorted quickly and this time he was the one taken aback from your words, backing up and stumbling with his legs “… but this is not something that you can simply push off and onto me. That is my people, I won’t see them reduced to chains”.

“You all already are reduced in chains” he mumbled and although his words were vicious his tone was lighter, as if he was doubting his ideas “… they are just not that evident”.

“… I am already in chains, you don’t have to put anyone int hem for a father’s mistake” you spoke back “… just the children that’s all I ask”.

“This will show that I am weak” although his words were spiteful, their meaning meant he was considering it.

“It won’t” you spoke back, your hands reaching out for his “… gentleness is the greatest virtue we can show to humanity”.

“Maybe for your Christian god! Not for me” but his body language spoke of being tired of that small fight, as if he hadn’t expected you to confront him.

“I don’t need ten slaves, free six” you started negotiating.

You might not have been the rebel daughter, but you had been the stubborn one.

“… not going to happen” he turned to straighten his admission.

“Five” you breathed out and he turned, a bright smile in his eyes, your stubbornness making this funny for him.

“Two”.

“Four”.

“Two”.

“Three”.

“Three”.

You let out a breath of relief, at his admission but as you turned to thank him, he was already gone and you couldn’t help but feel your chest damnably heavy.

All the words crashing through you.

And you felt on the bed, already tired.

Desperately wanting to go home.

---

You woke with gentle but stern touches on your arm, and as you shifted your eyes to finally accommodate your sight to the light absence of the sun, since the sunset had already passed.

And when your face turned to the source of the tenderness being bestowed upon you, you recognized the eyes of the old woman, in the thralls group: her eyes were a lighter shade of blue as if they had been discolored like her hair by the passing of time.

“My lady” she spoke in a heavily accented Saxon and you nodded lightly a bit numbed by the hours spent sleeping “ … we prepared you a bath, would you like any help for it?”.

With the way you stank you couldn’t help but agree for the bath, putting yourself in an upright position, rubbing your fists on your sore eyes, as a tired pup, and as your eyes finally focused you realized that the old servant wasn’t the only one.

The ten thralls that had been Ivar’s gift were all staring at you: a few seemed too shy to actually meet your eyes, others stared at you confusedly, as if they hadn’t expected you to act like that…

… which was strange also so you.

And finally only two other people looked at you differently from the rest: the other Viking thrall, a few years younger than you but with a striking maturity in her eyes, that followed your movements shyly but attentively, as if she was used to follow any order she was given.

And the other person was a Saxon girl, beautiful in every way you wouldn’t be: light fluent black hair cornering perfectly an angelic face, complete with beautiful green eyes, set up in a feline and languid form.

She wore a bloodied golden dress, with an heavy cleavage and a long trail, tattered by dirt and mud, but she didn’t seem to even care about any of those things, sat upon one of your trunks as if it was a throne and she was hosting her own court.

She looked at you coldly: an obvious challenge in her eyes.

And you were caught in that pitiful state that made you lower your eyes immediately, and you quickly realized you had lost the first battle.

But honestly you hadn’t even the strength to feel bad for it.

You let the older thrall guide you to the bath, giving you the privacy of undressing and slipping in the bathtub, helping you in it as the younger one, filled the water with an oil that smelled deliciously.

The tender water, warm enough to comfort you, dripped you further down the uneasiness of your sleepy body, but you fought it needing to be as lucid as you could, after the small fighting with the girl outside.

Clearly the Saxons girls were looking up at her and she had no gentleness towards you, which might be dangerous.

Although you hated the thought of owning servants, you knew better than to let them command you like that, even more after what you had done and talked about with Ivar.

Now it wasn’t no secret that he thought that you were ‘weak’ in his eyes, and you needed to prove him that it wasn’t like that, in any way.

You had gained his sympathy as easily as you had lost it.

Although the entire thought of it hurt you in a way that made you uneasy to approach him again, it made your mind colder and more lucid about you true task in the camping.

So far the only thing that you had discovered was that Halfdan and Harald were desperately trying to get on both yours and your husband’s nerves, although you couldn’t help but feel like Halfdan’s taunting had had a proper purpose although it was simply messing around with you.

He wanted to test you.

He had wanted to see who you truly were.

And you knew exactly why.

You exited the bath with a new knowledge and new strength, the younger thrall immediately rushing to you with a towel to wrap you up in it comfortably and although you didn’t meet her gaze embarrassed, you thanked her softly, blushing.

She simply squeaked away, embarrassment also upon her cheeks, as the older thrall fastened the towel on your chest, as she moved another towel on your hair to dry them, before she started braiding them loosely and comfortably.

She let you dress on your own and as you were in your undergarments, she reappeared with one of your dresses, a light blue one with silver decorations on the upper part and long open sleeves.

“Turid is mute my child” she explained, as she fastened the laces on the back of your dress “… she saw her mother drowning and never came back from that”.

You couldn’t help but feel an immediate pity for her, but tried to focus onto the older woman: she might be an interesting alley, she had a motherly behavior which you couldn’t help but appreciate, but she still made sure to show you the obstacle between you and her.

The different social level.

Still you leaned in her gentleness as she dusted off your dress, before she proceeded to adjust your neckline, as she took a lighter cloak to add to the entire complex, one of those that Hvitserk had graciously dropped off for you.

As you returned a few of the children had sat down on your bed, meanwhile the black-haired beauty continued on hosting her court completely unbothered by your presence as you appeared on the threshold of the main room, showing yourself.

Thankfully her ‘courtiers’ weren’t so shameless and turned to you.

A child, most of all, seemed surprised enough to move over to you, her childish naivety disrupting any etiquette or protocol as another girl who looked like her older sister, barely twelve, tried to stop her, but you raised your hand letting the child come at you.

She touched your dress curiously, probably surprised by the intricate details on it shining brightly as they caught the light.

“… you look so pretty” she spoke slowly as you let her sat beside you on the huge bed, helping her up, as you sent a smile to everyone else in the room “… like a princess in the stories Mary tells me before going to sleep!”.

You couldn’t help but be startled by the child’s soft words.

“Mary is your sister, right?” you asked, looking at the older girl who smiled shyly at you “… you must be a wonderful sister to tell her these amazing stories!”.

“Thank you, my princess” she spoke, a soft tone as she smirked lightly, still embarrassed but she couldn’t hide the pride “… they help me ease my mind away from… everything”.

“You’ll go home tomorrow” you announced softly, pushing a few strands of blonde hair away from the small child’s face and she looked at you confused before you spoke again “… you’ll meet your mom and dad again”.

This got an ecstatic smile from the child who went straight to hug you something which surprised you and made even the black-haired beauty stop talking to send you a look to see how you reacted to the hug.

And you couldn’t help but gently hug the child back, careful of her miniscule body, as you held her close, before you turned to your fellow Saxon people gently smiling at them.

“I am sorry, but I wasn’t able to negotiate for nothing more than for three of you to be released, but it is my intention to speak with my husband again and…”.

“… and maybe by the next year we’ll all be free” completed under her breath the brunette girl, standing up straighter as her golden dress highlighted itself as it caught the light: she looked more beautiful now, without a bath and in a dirtied dress than you looked in a proper dress and after a shower “… I was a lady back home! I am not going to serve you”.

You were struck, but you didn’t lose your breath as you slowly tried to calm yourself down.

You were being undermined, which was something that could matter highly on the perception of these people.

So far, they could also be allies, hence you needed to calm yourself and collect yourself.

Both your father and Ivar wouldn’t have wasted a single second to punish such insolence, but you weren’t simply able to do such a thing.

“It is true” you spoke with a steadiness that you didn’t know you owned as you pushed yourself up onto your feet, standing a few feet taller than her, sat down on the trunks.

She was surprised by you speaking back to her but hide it well.

“… I don’t expect any of you to serve me but remember that we are all in a stranger’s house, that we have only each other for protection”.

Your word sounded twisted in your own mouth, but you held them together with a serious glare as you moved your eyes on each of the girls, trying to test out their loyalty.

“… you think that simply because you have screwed him, you have some power over him” she spoke back to you and you couldn’t help but blush to her words, but stood your ground “… he’ll kill you as easily as he did with any Saxon soldiers that has crossed his path”.

“But still I got him to release three of you” you spoke back, letting a smirk appear on your face “… he might be ruthless, but I know how to make him act civil”.

“Those are just empty words” she spoke back, but as she turned around she seemed to understand she had lost the favor of anyone, there and she sent you a direct look, before she turned around avoiding your gaze “… he will never ever be civil, he is a Viking for God’s sake”.

“He is a human like you and me” you shouted back, letting more emotion than you had thought in the phrase and a light blush covered your cheeks.

“… to be human you need a heart and be warned princess, he doesn’t have any”.

The last words were a clear slap and you were almost glad when Hvitserk appeared with a few guards from the tent, putting you out of the misery to reply to the girl, suddenly feeling guilty of not having even known the name of such a worthy opponent.

Hadn’t she been already so set on hating you, you would have found her a welcome alley.

“Princess (Y/N), dinner is ready” he said, sending a weirded look at the strange atmosphere as the older woman moved to collect your cloak adjusting it onto your back as she brushed the braid out of it.

“Just leave me a minute” you asked him as he retreated, before shooting the girls a look “I’ll be back after dinner and we’ll talk further, for every necessity you can come to me”.

And as you were trespassing the tent’s threshold you turned one last time and mumbled.

“… sometimes owning a soul is not enough to be human”.

---

Dinner was spent again with simply you and Hvitserk, but you were almost grateful for the chance since you were able to clear your head from the discourse and to plan a way to get the Saxons women to collaborate with you.

“… are you upset?” asked Hvitserk, seeing you toying with your food “… and are you going to finish that?”.

You just moved the enormous piece of meat in his plate, glad that you hadn’t the complex etiquette you had back in court and glad that everyone was too busy chatting to notice you.

The atmosphere was so warm that you couldn’t help but be a bit cheered on by the atmosphere.

“Hvitserk?” you asked, turning to him so suddenly you caught him with meat in his mouth “… may I ask you a suggestion about Ivar?”.

“My favorite subject” he mumbled, spiting out partially the meat in his mouth.

“… do I displease him in some way?” you asked, blushing lightly “… he seems so cold with me”.

“Don’t take it personal, princess, he is Ivar” he replied sending you a soft look “… he is cold with everyone”.

You had decided to ask such a thing to Hvitserk because although he was a Viking he had seemed pretty nice with you, whether he was doing it on his brother’s orders or because he felt pity for you.

“… I just wish…” you smiled at him sadly “… it would be easier”.

“We all do” he replied, before he chugged a good gulp of mead “… but it wouldn’t be half funny if it was”.

You nodded, although you didn’t agree with him wholeheartedly.

“… he’ll warm up to you, soon, still…” and he then moved to come closer to you, gently pushing an arm around you “… he would be a stupid man to lose such a beauty”.

You couldn’t help but blush both for Hivtserk’s compliment and touch: no man had ever come that close to you and you couldn’t help but be a bit taken aback as you took in Hvitserk’s distinctive smell, mainly and tough, his rough beard lightly rubbing at your soft neck.

You immediately pushed yourself away, coughing, at the closeness Hvitserk had assumed: no woman should have been so close to a man who wasn’t her husband, back home, but the women in the camp seemed so liberal.

They were discussing with them as if they were their exact equals something that fascinated you, even more when a woman dared a man for a knife-throwing competition, remembering you about the bow you had been gifted.

You were sure you could find someone who would teach you that.

But would they be willing?

The brunette Saxon had remembered you again that you sadly weren’t exactly well-loved although Hilde’s reaction at the market would say otherwise.

“… when you are finished, tell me, I’ll bring you back to your tent” you were almost thankful for Hvitserk’s suggestion and nodded your head as you moved, raising yourself up and regaining your cloak as Hvitserk did the same, saluting the beautiful girl you had seen at market.

Who shot him a languid look, in an obvious show that Hvitserk wasn’t simply worried about your tiredness.

Still you couldn’t blame the boy: he had basically had to be your handmaiden for the entire day so you could deal with staying in your tent, almost desiring the privacy of it, hadn’t you realized that the girls would be there.

You almost missed the peace before their arrival.

You wished Hvitserk ‘good luck’ as he left you on the threshold and he looked extremely smug, bowing lightly as you came back in the tent, all the girls sat around the room, in what looked like a whispered discourse.

About you, since they all quit talking to each other as you entered.

Turid came to quickly collect your cloak as Solveig asked whether you had felt cold the previous night and needed other furs.

You said you didn’t, but made sure to tell her to take a few for herself, Turid and the others, who seemed to beam at that gracious offer, the brunette beauty now held a much smaller court, but she still regarded you with hateful eyes.

“… again, if you need anything, just come to me” you spoke in Saxon and repeated the same things to the older woman and Turid, who bowed their head, the former smirking a bit “Now I’d like to know all your names”.

They all looked around like shy bird, daring each other to speak, and then the small child who had called you ‘the princess of her stories’ moved to you and bowed lightly, with a childish deference that made you smirk.

“… I am Delilah”.

You nodded gracefully as her sister Mary stepped up beside her, and then another girl, blondish and with light eyes came forward, bowing and uttering her name, Sophie.

Then came forward the older Viking woman no bowing to you but her face held a genuine smile and her eyes devotion.

‘Solveig’ and then all the other girls stepped forward, one after the other, and you tried to test their loyalty: some seemed more convinced than others, but you didn’t get too much resistance, which was a step forward.

And you finally were in possession of the brunette beauty’s name, Angelika.

Pretty proper.

You chatted a bit more with them, informing yourself about from where they had been taken and who was waiting back home.

You would have sent back both Delilah and Mary home, alongside Christine, an eight-year-old, minimizing the children among them, to simply two, two ten years old that you had put in Solveig’s care.

‘It’s been a long time since I was a wet nurse’ she had complained, but had still taken the two children willingly, to get them ready for bed.

The thralls didn’t sleep with you, having their own tent which you could only guess could be crowded for seven women, even more if half of them had an ego as big as Angelika.

You were still happy to have company, people who were like you, who at least shared a few of your traits, such as missing home.

Your small talk was interrupted by a quick cough and as you turned to the flap of the tent, you caught a glimpse of your husband, waiting on his crutch with a wondering smirk, suddenly turning into a teasing one as all the girls showed their fear for him.

“… you better go and sleep, it is late” you chose to spare them from that show as you bowed lightly at Turid, the mute girl immediately moving towards the tent, forming a bee line with the other girls as they hurried outside, all bowing at a smirking Ivar.

He enjoyed extremely the submission he had broken in those girls’ heart and you couldn’t help but, again, realize how different you were.

Would you ever match together, truly?

You got off your bed, as you talked with the girls you had changed in your nightgown, a long flowy one that covered completely your body, almost as much as the dress you had worn that day.

You had let your hair down from the small braid and they fell on your back in small curls, covering even further anything which was revealed by Ivar’s hidden gazes.

Although he quickly moved himself to hide his face, you felt his light eyes on your body as they followed the hidden curves of your body, in a way that made you tremble.

“Welcome back, husband” you uttered softly, as you bowed and sat onto a chair beside the bed, not daring to enter it as Ivar approached it pushing himself onto the bed as a guard followed him inside.

And once he was sat down, after you had spared an embarrassed look at the guard, the guard helped him out of his braces, the metal that grasped his lower legs in an attempt to keep them straight.

You looked at the gestures, trying to understand how to unlace them so that you could do it yourself, quickly realizing that smaller hands would have worked better, since the man seemed to be pretty clumsy, making Ivar growl in pain.

He barely got one left before Ivar shouted at him to make him go away, moving to pull onto the metallic cast and you crouched down to do the same, Ivar reserving you the same treatment of the previous day when you had bended to take the ring.

But you weren’t scared this time, focused on the mechanism of the braces, fascinated by the creations etched on them, a you swiftly moved your finger through their hooks, unhooking them as you then helped him out of it, with a quickness that the previous guard hadn’t owned.

As you raised your head to meet Ivar’s eyes. they found yours and you smirked lightly, seeing them looking at you surprisedly, definitely not expecting your actions, but you just shot him a quick smirk.

“… thank you” he huffed out, pushing his legs onto the bed as you raised up, helped by a hand of his, which clutched yours tight.

“I can do it for you, each night, from now on” you told him as you overlooked him seeing if he might need something, but by the hazy look in his eyes, he seemed too tired for anything else “… I am a quick learner”.

“That you are” he mumbled, his tone held something between sweetness and annoyance.

“Who did them?” you asked gently, taking one brace in your hand as you twirled it around your hands, looking at it with curiousness, trying to understand the techniques, not having ever been so exposed to a demonstration of practical science, but fascinated nonetheless.

“Me” he replied, as he slithered away from you on the vast bed.

You shot him a surprised look, dropping the braces as you pushed them away from the side of the bed.

“That is… those are amazing creations” you complimented softly but he just nodded as if your words weren’t true “… I mean it”.

“You are too gentle” his tone was almost emotionless, and you retorted back, daring a step further.

“Is that supposed to be an insult?” again you dared more than you had the ability to, but he didn’t seem to mind it too much, turning to you and again the intensity of his questioning gaze made you flinch away your eyes from him.

“I don’t know, yet” he mumbled, before turning away “… I am tired, so I’ll probably fall asleep soon, have a goodnight wife”.

And soon his lids shifted closer, giving you no chance to talk to him, able simply to move yourself into the bed, the farthest corner from him and then slipped a in very not peaceful slumber.

Your only reassurance was that another day had passed.

---

You were woken up by movements beside you, your head no longer projecting the illusion of being home as you moved the blankets and furs away from you and you sat in an upright position, opening your eyes to the tender light in the room, the sun being too low to be truly morning.

You turned to the other side, realizing Ivar had sat there and was trying to lower himself to the ground and as you turned to him, he realized that you were staring at him.

He seemed calmer, almost less guarded as he turned to you softly smiling.

“Sorry to have woken you up”.

You were frozen and surprised, after his continual outbursts of the previous night you almost feel like you were being tricked by his actions.

“Don’t worry, I have always been a restless sleeper” you promised softly at him “… what about you? Why are you awake so early, husband?”.

“Work” his mutter was an huff of annoyance and you couldn’t help but frown, almost wanting to push yourself further and hug him, bringing him back in bed, but didn’t dare to, both scared of what Ivar might do, since although he respected you, he didn’t fully trust you, and of the impure actions you had in mind.

And you couldn’t help but feel like any of those actions would have been greatly disapproved by your father.

It was already… embarrassing to have slept together, although at the extreme corners of the bed.

“We could have lunch together, again” you proposed as you sat in a more comfortable position, trying to get him to talk with you more, and to set up a proper appointment, hoping that the his mood might make it easier for him to talk with you.

And that it might be going on for the entire day.

“… we shall see” it was better than a no and the smirk he sent you left you flushed and worried as you lowered your head nodding “… go back to bed, wife, I’ll tell the thralls to wake you up in a few hours”.

“Don’t scare them” you told him softly and suddenly his good mood disappeared, but he nodded turning himself away from you as he slithered in the room to collect his braces before disappearing behind a secluded area to dress up.

You rolled yourself around bed trying to appear asleep when he returned back, but your body seemed at unease and restless.

You had always been the type to find it difficult to fall asleep, you would either fall asleep completely tired or you would roll around in bed, unable to completely relax as you tried to tire yourself out to get some sleep.

That’s why you had taken the habit of sneaking around by night, something which father Peter encouraged, remaining with you till late at night if you ever needed someone to talk to.

You had also always been an easy sleeper, so it wasn’t hard for you to feel Ivar’s eyes lingering onto your shielded body for a minute more before he stumbled away out of the tent, and you were alone.

As you always did in these cases you moved towards your trunk, checking the knife hidden in silks: the girls had been in your room alone and although all your trunks were locked you wouldn’t have put it past some to try to find something on you, mostly Turid and Solveig.

As much as you liked both, you couldn’t deny the fact that they were very different from you and them belonging to the Vikings ranks would have mattered greatly, hadn’t you done something to make them loyal solely to you.

After you were reassured the knife hadn’t been touched, you dug deeper and found a carpet of books you had laid out beneath all your dresses and picked up the first one you found, a small one with an elegant cover and golden inserts on it, denoting a writing in Latin.

You had taught yourself Latin with the help of father Peter and the use of the Bible till you had managed to read something else and then became more accustomed to the strange language, eventually being able to read all your favorite Latin authors, like Cicero.

Its sarcasm and strong personality definitely came as a reassurance for you, but you soon discarded the book for another, finding “Ars Amatoria” by Ovid, the book that might help you discover what went through men’s head.

You couldn’t help but blush through the erotic side of Ovid’s narration, but tried to sign up a few of the things that were told, before Solveig appeared on the threshold of the tent and you swiftly hid the book beneath your pillow, welcoming the older woman with a soft smile.

“Good morning, my princess” she wished you as slowly all the thralls appeared behind her, changed in cleaner dresses, although they weren’t as rich as the previous ones, but they all seemed much more relaxed, for which you were thankful.

“Good morning Solveig” you smiled, a you raised form the bed, Turid coming behind you immediately, almost as if she was used to helping you as she might have done with Ivar “… I hope you slept well and weren’t too cold”.

“… the… guards and prince Ivar were nicer with us” spoke softly a small girl, a bit older than she seemed, brown hair and deep amber eyes, Lia, if you weren’t wrong “… we had a nice night”.

“I am glad you did” you spoke, trying to look through all the girls who bowed their heads, bigger smiles through their grim appearances except Angelika, but you guessed that you would need more than simple furs to get her to like you “… does anybody like braiding hair?”.

Lia stepped forward:

“I have a smaller sister back home, she is barely five, I always braid her hair” she explained, making your heart swell with sadness “… she is… ruthless. She is always constantly unlacing her hair and making it a mess”.

“My sister Katherine is the exact same!” you giggled, making the girl relax as you gently pushed her to sit next to you “… she would need me to braid again her hair before any important meeting because she would go and run away through the castle”.

Although Lia still seemed at unease, she smiled genuinely.

“… Clelia is always trying to imitate our older brothers, she says that one day she’ll be a knight”.

“Well, she’ll be an amazing knight I am sure” you joked back, softly “… my sister Katherine dreamed of being like Lancelot from the legends about king Arthur, she would make me play Merlin and my sister would be Morgaine”.

Something of recognition shone in Lia’s eyes who relaxed.

“… we would play the same! My brothers even got us a round table!” she spoke, before a veil of nostalgy brought onto her face and you felt like it was better to change your opinion.

“… the reason why I asked who could braid is because… although I have a lot of practice in that matter, I do have to say that I don’t have much on myself, so if you could braid my hair, I would be extremely thankful”.

It was mostly a test, to see if these people would be loyal to you, offering yourself in such an intimate and feminine suggestion.

Lia blushed lightly, but scooted closer asking you to turn around softly and she started braiding as you invited another girl to come further, as your braided her golden hair, and soon you were all immersed in the soft atmosphere of feminine attentions, even Turid, who had big voluminous curly hair were being braided by small Christine.

It was a nice atmosphere definitely making you feel more at ease, almost as if you were again in your castle with your handmaidens, definitely not in a tent in an enemy camp, but you still kept your eyes sharp and attentive on everyone.

Angelika didn’t join the ‘braiding group’, but she still held her court with a few of the youngest thralls for which you were low key grateful, allowing them to try various braiding techniques on her long hair.

Both Solveig and Turid were determinate in their movements, almost mechanical, whereas the Saxons soon replenished the tent with low chatting and you quickly tried to catch onto it.

Something that caught your attention was said by Eleanor, a beauty in her own right, long dirty blonde hair and green eyes, a voluptuous body that her modest clothing didn’t hide, but her eyes held a purity and a shyness that you recognized all too well.

She had been talking with Arabella, a sixteen-year-old with a slim body and a tightness to her limbs that came from nervousness, almost as if she was constantly anxious.

‘… the guards and all these men… they have been looking at me weirdly’ muttered trembling lightly the blonde-haired beauty ‘… prince Hvitserk even went as far as to…’.

But her small confession stopped as the mentioned subject appeared in front of you, an obvious show that your presence was requested, and that he was in charge of you again.

The small chatting had immediately ceased and Solveig moved away with your nightgown, busy adjusting it back in the trunks, as she had dressed you up in a green gown, a bit tight on your stomach, and the skirt fell heavily on your hips, but you smiled through the pain.

Jewels had also been added, a small circlet of golden to crown your beautiful braided hairstyle, for which you had thanked multiple times Lia, the small girl smiling brightly at you, as you reached out for one of her hands.

You took a look of your body in the small mirror at the entrance of the tent and couldn’t help but feel more like your royal self than anything else, keeping your head high, as you bid the girls ‘good morning’.

The three that would be coming back coming with you followed you: the small Delilah cradled in her sister’s arms, meanwhile Christine clutched onto your gown as a child, comforted as you passed a hand through her braid

You led them to the chariot with a few guards on it, that would be taking them home and you slowly encouraged them to move further, but both the children gripped your arms tighter, scared by the men’s behavior.

“… you are going back to your families, sweeties” you softly spoke as you crouched down beside the small children “… your mom and your dad will be so happy to see you”.

“We won’t forget it, princess (Y/N)” spoke softly Mary at your shoulders, a few tears coming down her face as she fidgeted with her hands “… our father might be a small lord, but he’ll know that you freed his daughters and when you’ll need help my princess, just come to us and ask a favor”.

“Do me a favor, Mary” your voice wavered a bit, moved by the child’s offer “… protect your sister and Christine”.

“I will, my princess” she mumbled softly, as the two children loosened their grip on you, but kissed both your cheeks, hugging you tight “… you are a true saint, my princess”.

“Have a safe travel, Mary”.

The girls moved onto the chariot helped by the guards to whom you sent a small thankful smile, before turning to a surprised Hvitserk.

You made sure the chariot exited the camp before you turned to him.

“… Hvitserk I am going to ask something of you” you mumbled, shyly and nervous.

“Just ask and you shall receive” he joked back, but as he turned to face you, finding that your glare was pure steel.

“Don’t ever touch or talk with my handmaidens, again, or I’ll get your eyes out of their sockets”.

And you turned, your gown swishing soundly against the ground as you did so.

Missing Hvitserk’s shocked expression.

---

This time your daily stroll was taken at boat building sites, since you had insisted about a less crowded place and more open, wanting to see the reason why Vikings were so famous and undefeated: their boats.

You had been fascinated by the entire process and you had been looking through everywhere almost as a child with a new toy, Hvitserk barely following you and soon he had lost you, as you threaded through the setting where they covered boats with pitch and where they set up wood.

You had always been a bit excluded by such a practical knowledge and were now taking anything in with interest, as you run around, everybody surprised by your presence but nobody gave you any trouble, even answering your questions as you asked them.

Fear and respect in their eyes.

As you were stopping onto a cliff in front of the vast sea, you felt a presence reaching your side, and turned thinking it must have been Hvitserk, but to your surprise and dreading it was Halfdan.

He hadn’t the cocky expression of the other day, he instead seemed nervous almost uneasy, showing his true colors, for which you were thankful since he wasn’t the only one.

“Princess (Y/N)” he called out to you, bowing slowly his head, more out of circumstance than anything else “… may we talk?”.

“If you are going to insult me, I’d prefer not to” you shot back, the dress having given you a confidence you hadn’t known, a façade different from the one you owned.

“I actually came to excuse my poor behavior, my brother always tells me that my behavior with women… is not… something I should be proud of”.

You were definitely able to feel like Halfdan was sincere in his talk and lowered your steely glance, setting onto the small rock propped up by the cliff, as Halfdan did the same.

“… your apologies are accepted, my lord” you spoke “… but I’d like you and your brother not to use me as a way to get back to my husband”.

He seemed shocked with the way you spoke, having caught the bullseye, something you had thought about in the morning as you read, thinking about the way both the brothers had tried to get a raise out of Ivar.

But what they did with you was testing the waters to see if you’d betray your husband.

“… you see, Halfdan The Black, I might seem naïve and young, but I am not stupid or blind” you talk about it slowly, pushing every word out almost as spitted against him.

“Why then, if you aren’t stupid or blind, do you stay with Ivar?” he spoke, genuinely curious “… he isn’t properly husband material, the way he got so angry at your wedding… it isn’t…”.

This explained the pity glance.

“My God wants a wife to be faithful by her husband’s side, whether in sickness or health, till Death do us apart, I might have rejected my God, but I stand by my beliefs” you spoke slowly “… and I don’t think that you and your brother might offer me something more than my husband”.

And you were already someone else’s spy.

Halfdan didn’t look too shocked by your confession, before he adjusted on the rock, looking around at the sea, the way the grey waves crashed to the shore in a continuous cycle that hypnotized you, your gaze stuck there.

“… you are seriously smarter than I thought” he spoke, making you blush lightly, reverting on your timid personality “… ND you are more interesting than I thought, princess”.

“Then you might want to let me know why you are named Halfdan The Black” you retorted, shifting the argument of your conversation, definitely uneasy with the attention set on you.

“… that princess is a long story” he retorted, a small smile on his face, a bit more at ease with you.

But your conversation was quickly set off by a sudden scream and as you both turned you found a girl the origin of the desperate scream as a man moved to grab onto her hair, pushing her down and pulling onto her hair to bring her back in his tent, as the girl dug her hands onto the ground, to avoid moving further.

You immediately moved forward as Halfdan was immediately behind you and before you even knew it you had pushed onto the man, making him release his hold onto the woman who immediately crawled away, setting herself behind you.

She was different from any woman you had ever seen, her skin darker than yours, a beautiful shade of ebony that completely matched the blackness of her ink-like eyes, as they stared with fierceness the man.

He was  older than you, but in a way that was more due to his weight and evil expression on his face than to his actual age, as he moved forward to you with an animalistic growl, getting right on your face.

“… want a fucking lesson too, little whore?” he spoke in Saxon, his tone dripping with venom and alcohol “… I am more than willing to show you…”.

And as his hand was coming down your face, a sheathed sword pulled it back, making the man fall onto his ass as Halfdan came into your view, something savage in his look as he came in front of you.

But the man didn’t desist.

“… don’t you teach your whores to stay out of the fucking way” the entire phrase was too slurred for you to completely understand it, but you understood the dreadful meaning of it.

Again, Halfdan came to rescue, pushing himself in front of you as he pointed the sword at the man, stopping him from getting up.

“Do you know who you just called ‘whore’?” the man shook his head softly “… she is Ivar’s bride, shithead”.

And like that the man’s face grew restless and white, almost as if he had suddenly realized the terrible mistake he had done, backing up slowly from Halfdan and you, who instead overstepped Halfdan and moved to the man.

The fear of God shone in his eyes and you slowly crouched down to him.

“… you better ask forgiveness” you whispered, and the man immediately raised his hands almost to protect himself blabbering forgiveness, but you stopped him immediately “… not to me, but to the lady”.

The beautiful woman who now was looking at the scene from behind Halfdan’s strong legs perked up, her voluminous hair dirty of mud and her dress simply rags patched up together which made you understand why she had tried to run away.

Although the man grimaced at your small order, he did mumble a slow ‘sorry’, and you exchanged a small look with Halfdan who pushed feet onto the man’s protruding stomach, effectively stealing his breath.

“… do it better” and when he stood there without doing anything your anger got the best of you “… beg for forgiveness and don’t make me ask again”.

And the man did, almost starting to cry, something that brought you back from your small moment, as Halfdan released the man kicking him away as you moved towards the woman, who had looked at all the scene, tears slowly slithering onto her dark cheeks.

You approached her carefully, crouching down, uncaring of the mud that got in your dress as you did so, gently helping her up her fragile feet and softly asked her if she was alright.

She seemed shocked by the fact you had spoken with her but quickly nodded, her weigh being suddenly pushed onto you as she slumped in your arms, her feet having given out under her.

Halfdan quickly took her from you, carrying her in his arms easily, as you were suddenly met by Hvitserk, who seemed confused by the entire scene but didn’t dare to question it as you told him to go back to your tent and to advert Solveig of preparing a bath.

Halfdan carried the girl as you tried to check on the her, worried almost as if she was one of your own.

But what caught you and made you raise your eyes from the girl was Halfdan sudden stare fixed on you, a slightly dark smirk on his face.

“I always thought that Ivar would be your undoing…” he mumbled softly “… maybe you’ll be his, only time will tell”.

---

Solveig had almost threatened to push you out of your own tent as you fretted around her worried for the poor woman: she had blood on the hem of her dress, between her legs, which had made the poor Turid almost faint.

All the Saxons ladies had been pushed out and as much as you hated separating Solveig and Turid from the rest of them, using them for manual actions, you thought it would have only scared the girls, even further the younger ones, who were playing with Lia and Arabella, outside, under the watchful eyes of Halfdan and Hvitserk.

‘Do you think that she’ll… she’ll feel better soon?’ you asked continuously at the older woman as you had slowly dropped the girl in your bathtub, after you had discarded her clothes.

You had tried not to look at her body, the Christian modesty you owned closing your eyes, but you hadn’t been able to avoid witnessing the scars that decorated the woman’s body, all recent and you could only guess what that horrid man had done to her.

You couldn’t help but have memories of what had happened a lot of years ago to another woman, who had her body branded by scars, under her rich clothes.

That’s why you had moved in and that’s why you felt so so damnably tense at the thought of that woman never opening her eyes again.

She did it, finally, waking up as one would from a cruel nightmare, moving her body without a true order as she splashed the water, enough that both you and Solveig rushed to bind her arms, making her only pronounce other words you didn’t know, unknown also to Turid, who had rushed in with a towel for the woman.

“You are alright” you spoke softly in her ear, slowly releasing your grip onto her arm as you told Solveig to do the same “… that man won’t hurt you anymore”.

She seemed taken aback, needing a moment to process your words and then she dipped in the water, her hand raising high and her words seemed prayers, thankful for being free, as her voice broke pitifully and she was overcome by a cry.

You dismissed Solveig and Turid, knowing all too well that whenever such bare emotions were uttered one didn’t need a crowd and she softly turned to you, her face being again stained by tears as you softly hushed her, holding her close.

“… thank you, my lady, thank you” she cried and you softly smirked.

“Don’t worry, no woman should ever be treated like that” you spoke, gently handing out a hand for her as you grabbed the towel Turid had brought, turning around to give her some privacy.

“You are… you are the… younger prince’s bride, aren’t you?” she asked as her voice wavered a bit, evidently wanting to shift the conversation away from herself, and you didn’t blame her since you were a stranger to her.

“… yes, I am, I am princess (Y/N)” you told her, bowing lightly “… and you are?”.

“My name is not... understandable in this tongue… but since I came here my father… he called me Caryn” she told you, slowly lowering her voice, something delicate and intimate in her talk, but you didn’t push her further.

“… that’s a beautiful name” you mumbled as you helped her out of the bathtub “… can I leave you with Solveig and Turid, now? I’ll check on the other girls”.

“Of course, my princess, I am sorry if I said you were a lady…” she started rambling and you just smiled at her, grabbing softly her coarse hands.

“… no need Caryn, I am just happy if I can make you feel a bit better”.

And you exited to control on the girls and more importantly the men, but Hvitserk was careful to look at anywhere else that wasn’t the girl, whereas Halfdan’s eyes were set onto you.

“How is the girl?” he asked, softness shining in his eyes.

“Bruised but holding on” you told him and released a soft breath, before he asked you and Hvitserk to join him for lunch.

“I don’t know if I…” you shot a small look worried for Caryn “… can you bring me lunch here?”.

“First she threatens me and then orders me around…” mumbled Hvitserk annoyedly “… she is becoming too spoiled”.

“I do think that she’ll be funnier than we think” retorted Halfdan.

And you smirked at him, before turning, the light circlet on your head catching light, almost as a lightning as you drove back in the tent.

You had saved a life today.

And maybe God would have seen it and decided to help you.

Or maybe you had helped yourself out of this shit.

---

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[artificialqueens]

The Kind Of Cold (Jankie) - Juno

Just a quick one shot again based off a tumblr prompt. This one has a CW for references to homophobia, but there are no slurs. I hope you enjoy.

Summary: Jan and Jackie look for an escape from each of their office parties.

The only reason Jackie noticed her, the woman propping up the bar, was the cocktail dress she wore. Not the magnetic stare, not the coy smile, not even the song in Jackie’s ear that seemed to make her dancing slow down. It was the cocktail dress, in a sea of club wear, like what Jackie wore too. It was something they both had in common, something strange and otherworldly, something that told one another that they didn’t quite belong here.

They’d locked eyes like they were reenacting a bad romcom and as they came nearer, drawn by some strange force, the sound of the music faded away, and a path seemed to form in front of them both. Truthfully though, when Jackie had felt her chest flutter at the steady gaze, she didn’t care about anything else but finding out more about this woman.

“I’m Jan,” Jackie heard her say.

“Hi Jan. I’m. Jackie.”

“Jackie.” Jan rolled the name on her tongue as if testing it, the sound of it sending a shiver down the back of Jackie’s head, down her spine, down to her toes. “Jackie. Want to dance?”

“Sure.”

But Jackie could barely hear the music she was meant to dance to. Jan was intriguing, and Jackie wanted to know more. She followed her, vodka soda in hand, to a clearer spot away from the bar, away from the crowd of people, a tiny pocket of privacy.

“You look gorgeous.” The sincerity and slight awe in Jan’s voice was coupled with a faint edge of rum and maybe a little bit of rapture. The air was saccharine sweet, the scent of coconut and cinnamon and a heady perfume entwining them together.

Jackie knew she looked good. Her own office party dress flattered her slender figure. The royal blue was her colour; she refused to conform to wearing a black or red or silver dress just because it was a Christmas party and everyone else from the office would be. She smiled, hoping that most of her lipstick still remained intact too.

“Thank you. You look stunning.”

Everything about Jan was glorious. The purple shimmery dress fit her like a glove, and Jackie took in her figure now that they were close enough. Her lips were painted deep red, topped with glitter, that caught every illumination that the club passed over them. Her eyes were hazel, flecked with amber, and she searched Jackie with her gaze.

“Have you run away from your work party too?”

“Yes.”

“Too suffocating?”

Jackie couldn’t help the inhale, sniffing in a futile attempt to disguise it. Jan’s comment stung a little with its insight. She’d reached too far in now, extracted something that Jackie thought was better hidden, far better hidden than for a stranger to pluck it clean from her.

“How did you know?”

Jan answered with a bitter giggle. “Why do you think I’m here?”

They were both swaying gently, some semblance of a dance to at least blend in with the rest of the people in the club, not touching but united in their solitude.

“Let me take a wild guess. Lots of grown frat boys from Sales, trying to buy you a drink and thinking that ‘no thanks’ means that you definitely want one?” Jan muttered bitterly.

“Lots of the women in Finance telling you that you’re so pretty and asking why you don’t have a boyfriend even when you told them you don’t like men?” Jackie’s tone matched Jan’s, but they were both smiling sadly, recognising each other in their workplaces.

They were edging closer. Maybe it was subconscious, maybe it wasn’t; but Jackie felt her breathing speed up just a little, and if she listened hard enough she thought Jan’s did the same. As if Jan was enraptured in this moment too.

Inches apart, eyes still locked on each other, Jan tentatively raised her hand to Jackie’s forehead. Her touch was like electricity. Surprisingly cold, thin fingers against Jackie’s hairline, a tender touch to clear the stray hairs away from her face. It was so gentle and intimate that Jackie momentarily couldn’t speak. She opened her mouth to, but found her thoughts weren’t quite in a straight line.

“Are you nervous?”

Jan broke the silence, the static between them, with three words.

Pondering, thinking about things too much was Jackie’s forte. She could overthink every tiny thing that went wrong in her life. So much so that she couldn’t stop to take in the moments that made her life so right.

Like this one. Jan before her, stunning, calm, poised; in contrast to the gentle ghost of her fingers in Jackie’s hair, her touch feeling like too much but not enough already.

No, she wasn’t nervous. She was just overthinking.

“I … this is just not something I do very often.”

Jan said nothing, running a hand achingly slowly through Jackie’s hair. Her touch was tender, but all Jackie could think was that she wished to God she’d remembered to wash her hair more than two days ago, and that it wasn’t full of dry shampoo and hairspray to keep this elaborate shape.

She just couldn’t let herself go, let herself stop analysing it all.

“Escape isn’t always the answer.”

“No,” Jackie shook her head sadly.

“But it can be, this time, if you want.”

The words whispered hung in the sticky sweet air between them, mingling in the scent of rum and coconut, the heady perfume, the glittering lips. There was probably still music playing, but Jackie was hanging off Jan’s every syllable and didn’t hear a thing.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Jan came nearer and nearer as Jackie’s heart beat faster, until the distance between them was almost nothing. Jackie rested her forehead atop Jan’s, and it was as close as they got, until Jan’s warm body came flush with hers, her hands delicately resting on Jackie’s shoulders, Jackie taking hold of her waist in turn.

Where had this trust come from? Jan’s lips twitched into the smallest smile, their breathing falling into rhythm, a calm, content connection. Her eyes were wide, her pupils expanding, but they stayed as they were, swaying like trees in a breeze, not daring to break this hazy spell the alcohol and lights and music had wound them into.

Then someone nudged Jackie, in her back, and she turned to see who.

The sound of laughter, some guys running away from them, high-fiving as if they had achieved something. A few derogatory words burst their bubble.

The world flooding back in, the world both of them were just trying to momentarily forget.

Jackie felt her hands ball into fists in rage, but Jan had blanched, her hands shaking a little.

“Jan?”

“Let’s just get out of here,” Jan muttered, her face suddenly glassy, flat. She turned tail and marched for the door, and Jackie put down her half-empty glass and tore after her, grabbing her coat from the cloakroom.

Jan threaded a hand into Jackie’s, leading her into the New York night. It was almost midnight, the sky clear and twinkling with stars, but the bitter December air turning both their air to steam the moment it left their lungs. The dark sky was cold and unforgiving, but Jan’s hand in hers was warm and inviting.

“Assholes,” Jackie spat, as soon as they were far enough away.

“Why did I think that was a good place to go?” Jan muttered.

“What made you choose that club, anyway? Did you want to escape?” Jackie asked her.

“No,” Jan shook her head. “I wanted to connect.”

“To connect?” Jackie frowned.

“Yeah.” Jan cocked her head, surveying Jackie through her eyelashes, the hint of a smile on her face. “And I don’t think I’m the only one.”

They stopped in their tracks, Jackie a little perturbed by Jan’s words, and how familiar they felt. She searched her eyes again, the space between them narrowing, now alone with just the winter wind as their witness, the cold biting at their skin.

“I think you may be right,” Jackie murmured.

Jan sighed. “I like my workmates, but I spend forty hours a week with them, and I have almost nothing in common with most of them. And it feels so …”

“Constricting?” Jackie said quietly.

Jan nodded. “Sometimes. The Christmas party with them … I just wanted something different.”

Her soft voice was questioning, something unasked hanging in the air. Hoping she wasn’t alone in this feeling, needing validation that she wasn’t on her own. Jackie heard it, understood it in her very soul.

“It’s like being trapped,” Jackie nodded. “I mean, it isn’t, but sometimes you feel like you’re missing out.”

It was normality, security, but a quiet longing for adventure. It was life in a routine; but needing something different, something exhilarating. When Jackie had left the party tonight, maybe it was because she was tired of the same people, the same conversations, and the same assumptions about her life.

“I love finding other wanderers.” Jan winked at Jackie, before drawing her back to her body again. Jackie found herself in Jan’s embrace once more, putting a hand to Jan’s chin, to tilt it up towards her.

“I take it that means me?” Jackie whispered, a little amused at the sentiment. “I never really thought of myself as one. I’m not, like, lost or anything.”

“You don’t have to be lost to want to escape!”

And she pressed her lips to Jackie’s, a shadow of a kiss, nothing more - the gentlest touch that made her hairline tingle. Jackie felt her eyes flutter closed, her lips part in anticipation, but the next moment was slow to materialise.

She opened her eyes to see that Jan‘s questioning gaze on her again, this time a little more timid than she had been earlier, a thousand questions passing behind her eyes.

Well, Jackie could answer at least one of them. She closed the distance between them again, returning the kiss. Jan’s lips tasted vaguely of spiced rum and coconut, and her perfume was such a heavenly scent that Jackie wanted to pull her even closer and lose herself in it.

When Jan broke contact, her smile was so pure and sincere that Jackie felt herself unexpectedly fill with warmth. The chill in the air was not the kind of cold you fall in love to, but the company definitely was.

It was Jan who broke the silence. “You’re wearing all my glitter now.”

“Oh.” Jackie couldn’t help but giggle. She put a finger to her lips and it came away glittery, while Jan’s lips were almost matte. Jackie shrugged. “I guess it’s the season for glitter, right?”

“I booked a room at the hotel my work party is at,” Jan shrugged. “If you want to, you can come back with me. No pressure,” she continued, shaking her head, “but maybe we can continue this out of the cold.”

Jackie’s smile was effortless. “I’d like that.”

Tags: jackie cox, jan sport, lesbian au, fluff, mild h/c, one shot, tw homophobia references, office au, jankie, juno