#In the first one she is in her usual garb

[cece693]

PLEASE MORE ASGARDIAN M!READER!!!

May I suggest a fic where the reader wants to bond closely to Wanda and Natasha but, is afraid because their only concept of sister relationships was Hela (reader is a little scared of Hela 😔 due to her destructive nature). Can I also add that the reader has slightly long hair (shoulder length) to braid!

Thank you for your talent and dedication!

He's Cute (Pt. 1.5)

pairing: bucky barnes x male reader tags: wanda and natasha are the best, sibling duo, getting ready for the date, hints of WandaNat/ScarletWidow, bucky being adorably smitten, yes 1.5 cause pt. 2 is the actual date :)

You fiddled nervously with the ends of your hair, pacing the length of your borrowed bedroom in the Avengers Compound for what felt like the hundredth time. Today was the day: your very first official Earth date. With none other than Bucky Barnes. Just the thought of it sent a rush of excitement (and panic) through your veins.

The problem? You had no clue how to prepare for a Midgardian date. A tunic and breeches might scream ‘medieval faire,’ and your more formal Asgardian garb would be even more intimidating. What if Bucky took one look at you and decided you were too over-the-top or—in the worst scenario—ran for the hills? Then there was your hair. Should you leave it loose? Tie it back? Attempt some elaborate braid?

What if I make a total fool of myself? you thought, tugging on your hair with a frustrated groan. You considered consulting Thor—briefly—until your imagination conjured an image of him bellowing, “Wear your finest Asgardian leathers!” and slapping you on the back so hard you’d stumble. Not exactly helpful.

You also thought about Tony or Steve, but quickly dismissed those options. Tony might tease you relentlessly, and while Steve was sweet, he was probably as clueless as you when it came to modern dating intricacies.

That left two people you admired from a (sometimes intimidated) distance: Wanda Maximoff and Natasha Romanoff. You’d seen how confident and stylish they both were—able to slip into a gown or tactical gear with equal flair. If anyone can help me blend Asgardian flair with Midgard style, you reasoned, it’s them.

Trouble was, the concept of “sisterly” assistance made your stomach twist. Your only sisterly figure had been Hela—and she was the embodiment of destructive chaos. Whenever you thought of “sisterly bonds,” images of shadowy blades and a mocking sneer intruded on your mind. Still, you had no one else to turn to, and time was running out.

It didn’t take long to find them. Wanda lounged on a couch, sipping tea and reading a worn paperback. Natasha reclined in an armchair nearby, scrolling through her phone. They exuded a relaxed warmth that made your nerves surge all over again—how did you even start this conversation?

Wanda glanced up first, her warm eyes creasing in a small smile. “Oh! (Y/N), did you need something?”

Natasha flicked her gaze over to you, phone still in hand. “You look like you’re either about to faint or confess a murder. Everything okay?”

Embarrassed, you rubbed the back of your neck. “I—I’m sorry to interrupt. I know you’re both probably busy, but I…I have a date. With Bucky,” you added softly, feeling your cheeks heat at the admission. “And I have no idea what to wear or how to do my hair, or—anything, really.”

Wanda’s eyebrows rose, and a slow grin spread across her face. “A date with Bucky? That’s adorable.”

Natasha set aside her phone, crossing her arms. “So you want a bit of a makeover?”

You cleared your throat, nerves clashing with relief. “Yes. Please. I don’t know how Earth dates usually go. I’m used to, well…armor and father-gifts, and illusions if I want to ‘dress up.’ But that’s not exactly the vibe here.”

Both women chuckled at that. Natasha stood and motioned for Wanda to follow. “Come on, let’s get you set up. And don’t worry—you’re not bothering us. We’d love to help you not show up to your date in full Asgardian regalia.”

Natasha led you to what appeared to be a converted storage room. Racks of clothing lined the walls, and a couple of tall dressers stood at one end. You caught glimpses of everything from formal evening wear to casual street clothes—no doubt a stockpile from Tony’s various shopping sprees.

“Okay,” Natasha declared, scanning the racks. “We need something comfortable but sharp. You want to catch Bucky’s eye without screaming I’m a prince from another realm.”

Wanda’s eyes glinted with amusement. “Though, honestly, you could show up in a paper bag and he’d probably swoon.”

You felt your cheeks flame. “I—um, I just don’t want to look foolish.”

Natasha brushed aside a row of jackets. “We won’t let that happen. Trust us. Let’s see…” She paused, sizing you up. “You’ve got a good build—broad shoulders, trim waist. We should highlight that. Maybe a well-fitted shirt.”

Wanda’s gaze flicked between you and Natasha. “Oooh, yes. And if we can find a color that brings out his eyes…” She rummaged through a section of button-downs.

That left you standing there, feeling slightly awkward, as they pulled items from hangers and debated the merits of each. You shifted from foot to foot, your anxiety creeping in. This is far less terrifying than dealing with Hela, right? you told yourself. And yet, your heart hammered in your chest.

Eventually, Wanda triumphantly held up a simple, fitted gray button-down. “This might do,” she said, pressing it to your torso. “It’s not flashy, but it’ll look nice with your coloring.”

Natasha grabbed a pair of dark jeans from the next rack. “Try these on. We’ll see if they fit. If they’re too baggy, we’ve got more.”

Clutching the clothes, you ducked behind a folding screen in the corner. The chatter on the other side continued quietly:

“You think Bucky’s actually ready for a date?” Wanda whispered. “Oh, I’m sure he’s ready,” Natasha replied in the same hushed tone. “Steve says he's been looking at the clock constantly and somehow managed to trip over his own feet. He's more than ready."

Their amused banter made you smile—clearly, Bucky was as worked up about this as you were. That was comforting.

You slid into the jeans and button-down, surprised at how well everything fit. They weren’t Asgardian leathers, but the fabric was soft and flexible, hugging you just right. You stepped out self-consciously. “Well? How do I look?”

Wanda gasped softly, covering her mouth. “(Y/N), you look amazing!”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, arms folded. “Yeah, that’ll do. Sleeves up—roll them a bit. Show off those forearms. Trust me.”

Blushing, you obeyed, feeling a little self-conscious and a little flattered. “You really think Bucky will like it?”

“Absolutely,” Wanda replied, beaming. “He’d have to be blind not to notice how good you look.”

Natasha pretended to examine your outfit with a critical eye, but you noticed a small, knowing smile playing at her lips. Then her gaze flicked to Wanda, and they shared a subtle look—one that made your cheeks flush a second time. You weren’t sure, but it almost seemed like there was a soft warmth passing between the two women, a private understanding that neither was voicing.

Then came the matter of your hair. It fell around your shoulders, a bit unruly from the stress of pacing your room all day. You lifted a lock, hesitating. “Normally, if this were a formal Asgardian function, I’d wear a crown braid or decorative metal clasps that sparkle with runes. But that’s probably too fancy, right?”

Wanda stepped closer, gently running her fingers through your hair in a way that felt surprisingly soothing. “Yes. Maybe we could do a simple side-braid, just enough to keep it out of your face. Or tuck it behind your ears. You have a nice jawline, so let’s show it.”

Natasha approached with a comb and some small hair ties, exchanging that same subtle smile with Wanda as they both set to work. You couldn’t help but notice the soft brush of Wanda’s hand, the way Natasha’s posture angled toward her whenever they spoke. Something about their easy familiarity and gentleness felt domestic, like they’d done this a hundred times…maybe even for each other.

“Relax,” Natasha murmured, positioning you to face a mirror. “We won’t do anything too elaborate. Just enough to keep Bucky’s eyes on you, not on how complicated your hairstyle is.”

Wanda’s lips curved into a playful smirk. “Though he’ll definitely be looking either way.”

They worked in tandem, brushing, smoothing, and expertly twisting a small section of hair into a neat side-braid. With each gentle tug, your tension melted. It felt so normal, to be fussed over by these two formidable Avengers, whose reputations alone could strike fear into entire enemy organizations. Yet here they were, braiding your hair and chatting like older sisters might.

Every so often, you caught a flicker of something more than platonic in their glances—maybe the way Wanda’s hand lingered on Natasha’s wrist when passing a hair clip, or the private smiles they exchanged. It was fleeting, but definitely there. You wondered if you were witnessing the beginnings of something deeper between them—or perhaps it had been there all along, carefully kept behind the scenes.

Finally, Wanda tucked the last strand into place, and Natasha stepped back, admiring their work. “Alright, pretty boy. Check it out.”

You moved to the mirror, heart fluttering in anticipation. The reflection that stared back looked…well, incredible. The blazer fit perfectly, highlighting your form without overpowering your frame. The rolled sleeves revealed just enough forearm to be intriguing, and the subtle side-braid left most of your hair loose but framed your face nicely.

Your mouth fell open. “I—I look…”

“Really, really handsome,” Wanda finished, placing a gentle hand on your back.

Natasha’s smile softened. “You do. And trust me, Bucky will probably forget how to speak for a minute when he sees you.”

A mixture of pride and embarrassment bloomed in your chest. “Thank you. Honestly, I feel so confident. I’ve never had that before.”

Wanda wrapped an arm around your shoulders, giving you a reassuring squeeze. “Of course. You’re about to go on a date, not face a war. It should be fun.”

Natasha’s gaze turned momentarily serious. “But if he does anything to make you uncomfortable—pressures you, upsets you—” She paused, letting the threat linger, “—I will personally have words with him.”

“And by ‘words,’ she means possibly an entire display of violence,” Wanda teased, but her eyes held a protective glint.

You laughed nervously, appreciating the concern. “I—I don’t think that’ll be necessary. Bucky’s so gentle. But...thank you, just the same.”

Natasha nodded firmly. “We look out for our own. And that includes you.”

Your heart swelled at the sentiment—so this was what a supportive sisterly bond could be, untainted by destruction and usurpation. After some final adjustments (Natasha insisted on adjusting your collar just so, and Wanda fussed with a stray hair you couldn’t see), the two women gave you a double thumbs-up.

“Go knock him dead—figuratively,” Wanda teased. “This is Earth, after all.” Halfway to the front entrance, you glanced back and caught a glimpse of Wanda and Natasha standing side by side, exchanging soft smiles. Wanda murmured something, and Natasha’s cheeks tinted the faintest pink before she turned away.

Maybe I’m not the only one with a new romance on the horizon, you mused, feeling a rush of fondness for both of them.

When you finally reached the main entrance, there was Bucky—hands shoved in his pockets, shoulders tense. The moment his eyes landed on you, all that tension melted. A slow, disbelieving smile spread across his face, and you swore you saw a slight flush creep up his neck.

“Wow,” he breathed, stepping closer. “You look amazing.”

Your cheeks warmed, but this time it was with genuine confidence. “Thanks. Wanda and Nat helped.”

He nodded, seemingly at a loss for words. “Remind me to, uh…thank them later.”

You chuckled softly. “I’ll let them know.”

The two of you exchanged a few shy glances, the air charged with a thrilling sense of possibility. Bucky offered his arm in that old-fashioned way you found so endearing, and you slipped yours through it, feeling a jolt of warmth as your elbow linked with his. “You ready?” he asked, voice tinged with nervous excitement.

You smiled. “I am.”

[rmelster]

—Águeda de Altolaguirre.

Ft. her boyfriend

(Yes, it’s Bécquer)

[corkinavoid]

DPxDC "Pick Me Up"

The stream goes live on the first day of the school year. It's the usual song and dance - mad laughing, threats, poor jokes, terror, and about thirty kids huddled together in a classroom behind Joker's back. Tim recognizes it as one of the Gotham Academy classrooms. Dick can't imagine the horror those kids' parents must be feeling right now. Jason jokes about middle school traumatic experiences. Damian is feeling very justified for skipping classes today.

Bruce, all suited up in his Batman garb, is making his way to the Academy as fast as he possibly can. Those are kids.

Gotham is once again anxiously kept on the edge of their seats, watching as Joker decides to interview the kids on their learning experience so far. Something about leaving a good first impression on the new generation or some other bullshit. Most kids stutter over their words - it's true that Gothamites are way more composed when facing life-threatening events, but those kids are only fourteen or fifteen for the most part. They are not old enough to keep their cool in the face of a murder clown.

That is, until Joker points his camera at one of the girls. Black hair in a high ponytail, blue eyes without a trace of fear, a slightly displeased, even bored expression on her face. She looks straight into the camera, not even waiting for the laughing madman to finish his question, and deadpans:

"I don't think I like school. Pick me up, please."

Joker sputters.

"Not so scared, I see," he sneers, and, in the next moment, a comically large gun painted in purples and greens is pointed to the girl's forehead, "How about now?"

The girl scrunches her nose and makes a so-so gesture.

"It's kinda meh," she admits, "Like, yeah, points for style, but you know, size doesn't matter. It's all in the technique."

Dick snorts over the comms. It's a bad time for laughing, sure, but the phrase caught him off-guard. This is not what you'd expect to hear from a teen, and definitely not something you'd expect anyone to say to the Joker. Jason's comms are muted, but Barbara knows he also laughed a little.

"Technique, you say?" Joker hisses, pressing the gun closer to the girl's head, and she winces, leaning away from it, almost as if she is disgusted by the touch.

"Yeah, I mean, guns are not that scary anyway. What are you gonna do with them, blast my brains all over the floor? Been there, done that," the girl shrugs, "Kinda nasty, but overall, it's just like slime, only sticky." She pauses and looks to the side, seemingly lost in thought, "Huh, maybe we should have added Borax to it. Or was it baking soda?.."

"Listen here, you little brat," Joker's fingers catch the girl's chin, and his voice becomes sickeningly menacing. Bruce is almost there, just two more minutes. Tim is already grappling onto the wall.

But none of them get to finish.

"Put your dirty fingers away from my sister," a low, cold, and even in a way that speaks of barely contained fury, voice comes from out of the screen.

The camera spins, like whoever is holding it turned really fast, and everyone watching the stream sees a fairly normal guy standing by the window - a turtleneck and ripped jeans, same black hair as the girl, same blue eyes... Wait, they are not blue.

And that's not a guy.

The camera falls down to the floor, and there are a lot of panicked screams coming from the broadcast now, but none of them sound like children's voices. It's the screams of adults, of grown-ass men, and later, someone even claimed they heard Joker's scream among them, too. The picture on camera glitches a few times, and the angle is awkward, but everyone still gets to see how shadows in the room morph into eyes, wide open and green, and how the darkness grows sharp teeth, countless grinning mouths that don't belong to any faces.

Screams turn into gargling and then to quiet whispers, filling the ears of all those listening with countless words in languages they don't know.

Red Robin turns off the recording and looks to that same guy from the levestream, sitting across him on the couch. The guy - Daniel, or Danny, as he introduced himself - looks him in the eyes and raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, and?"

"How did you do it?" Tim asks for the third time this evening. Danny blinks.

"Did what?" He asks, completely incomprehending. Tim groans. He's been trying to get his answers, any answers at this point, from the guy for thirty fucking minutes already. So far, he's got nothing. Danny, whoever the fuck he is, proves to be the most annoying human being on Earth.

"Seven people in a coma, including Joker himself, with no physical injuries and none of the children remember a thing! How?!" He demands, and a girl's face peeks from around the corner:

"I remember!"

Tim snaps his head at her, "What do you remember?"

The girl pauses, blinks, and looks to Danny. Then shrugs, "My brother picked me up from school."

Tim drops his head down and breathes out in frustration. He can't force the information out of civilians, he is a vigilante, not a mafia.

"Would it make you feel better if I promise not to do it again?" Danny asks, and his voice is way too innocent for Tim to believe him. He raises his head to look the guy in his shameless, amused eyes.

"I hate you."

"Thanks," Danny grins.

[siderealcity]

So, one of the things I love about Dawntrail is the way the four competitors are introduced and framed.

Spoilers ahead.

We meet Wuk Lamat first. She's the reason we're here. But we'll come back to her.

So then, Zoraal Ja. He doesn't speak a single word throughout his first appearance. Even when approached, the first, and only, thing he does is tell his lackey to talk for him.

Look at what Erenville says about him when he exits the palace to the cheering of the crowd:

Erenville: Zoraal Ja. The First Promise and commander of the Landsguard. Sareel Ja, the palace seer. As he was so careful to remind the crowd, Zoraal Ja is indeed the natural child of Gulool Ja Ja. Alphinaud: And “Resilient Son”? Is that another title, like the First Promise? Erenville: After a fashion. Common knowledge has it that two-headed Mamool Ja cannot sire children… Yet Zoraal Ja was born all the same, with the Head of Resolve's features and the Head of Reason's scales─an extraordinary example of life's unyielding resilience. Alisaie: And a warrior's reticence. He says little, but the way he moves… I know a hardened soldier when I see one. Erenville: He's a natural swordsman─a gift he inherited from his father. Some even say that the son has already surpassed the sire. Should he come to power, the First Promise means to employ that martial prowess in the conquest of foreign lands. For this, he and his supporters have been labeled expansionists. This puts him in direct opposition to Wuk Lamat, who advocates for the preservation of peace. You may recall that she spoke of a claimant who “cannot be allowed to rule.” That is Zoraal Ja─the warmonger.

Zoraal Ja is clearly framed as the favorite by all of Tural to win the contest, but look at how Erenville describes him. Every compliment is instantly returned to his father. He's the Resilient Son, whose impossible birth was a miracle only Gulool Ja Ja could have managed. Look, see how much he resembles both his fathers. His sword skills are great--he inherited them from his father.

He resents his siblings because they, being adopted, are granted nothing by nature. Everything they get from their father is learned. Not innate. Koana's studies and Wuk Lamat's people skills are theirs. He doesn't see Bakool Ja Ja as a threat because they're too similar. All that makes both of them special came from their parents. But Koana, he sees as a threat or a useful tool. Koana has been recognized for what he's done on his own.

He's the perfect example of the pressures of the first-born child, even though we never get the impression that his father puts any pressure on him at all. It's the public who puts the full weight of their expectations on him, purely for a quirk of birth. Everything's expected of him, but if he succeeds it's not because of him, but because he's his father's son. Which is maybe why he refuses to engage with the people at all.

That's… going to come back to haunt us all later.

Then there's Koana. When Bakool Ja Ja insults his older brother, whom he desperately does not want to win this contest, he immediately jumps to Zoraal Ja's defense. The supporters who approach him don't have anything to say about him at all, they just want cool stuff. Bring us trains and airships and magitek doodads! He escapes from them as awkwardly as humanly possible. And note how differently Erenville describes him:

Erenville: Here we have Koana, the Second Promise, who spent time as a pupil at Sharlayan's own Studium. Alisaie: Now that you mention it, I think I did see him in the halls once or twice. There was nothing to suggest he was Turali, much less from a royal family. Erenville: That was by design. He forewent his usual garb and took an Eorzean name to avoid attention. Alphinaud: So it was Koana who introduced the dirigibles. And the railway, too, given what we just heard…? Erenville: In furtherance of his goal: to enrich Tuliyollal with every bright notion he learned of in Sharlayan. He is the hope of those who prize innovation. As aloof as he may seem, Koana and Wuk Lamat actually get along rather well. They bicker and banter as only close siblings do.

He was a student at the Studium, but we don't hear of any other achievements there. No graduating with honors. No inventions of his own. His accomplishments are mostly… being a royal, and therefore in a position to get other people's ideas implemented in Tural. And he seems to feel that. He doesn't want to be noticed, doesn't want to be lauded, won't take the encouragement of his followers, and doesn't promise them anything because he doesn't feel like he can.

He is very much caught in the middle all the time.

Between his love for his brother, who doesn't love him back, and whom he knows can't be allowed to rule, and his sense of duty to his nation. Between his feelings of inadequacy and his fear of failure. Between Tural and Sharlayan. Between his beloved baby sister and the contest that makes them rivals. Between his ideals and reality.

Perfect middle child.

Then we get Bakool Ja Ja. The outsider.

We know from the Dawnservant's introduction of the rite that historically only two-headed mamool ja were allowed to rule. He is set up, then, as the symbol of the old order.

And the moment he steps outside, the crowd goes wild.

He isn't the Dawnservant's son, but he is, as far as most of those onlookers are concerned, the next Gulool Ja Ja. The person who reacts most negatively to his appearance and bravado, tellingly, is a boonewa. A member of one of the clans that actually makes blessed siblings. That's… that's going to be meaningful later. Unlike the two claimants who preceded him, nobody asks him for anything. His supporters don't support him because they think he can help them. They support him because of what he is.

Erenville's description of him is notably brief:

Erenville: The chosen of Mamook, Bakool Ja Ja. Winner of the recent martial tournament, and the only claimant not of the Dawn's Promise. His strength is undeniable, but…you see how he is. A few devoted Mamool Ja are his only supporters. Krile: What would he do with the throne should he win it? Erenville: His policies and so forth? I doubt he's thought much beyond winning the contest itself. But one thing seems certain: if he does become Dawnservant, he will see the Mamool Ja exalted as the ruling class, and all others forced into subservience.

And yet… he's not the one Wuk Lamat was afraid of winning. Which is somewhat prophetic foreshadowing, really. Bakool Ja Ja is the only claimant who has no thoughts of the future. He has to win this contest because he exists. That's it. That's all there is.

He has to win because blessed siblings always win. If they don't… then why should they even exist?

That's… yeah.

And finally, Wuk Lamat emerges from the palace. With her mom.

If it wasn't clear before that she's the baby of the family, the fact that she makes her grand public appearance as a contender for the throne with her nursemaid should be a clue.

We have, at the moment that Erenville asks if we're sure we really want to be part of this, so far seen her wander off distracted in Sharlayan, get panicked by a talking bird, eat her weight in barbequed monster, and get extremely seasick. The one thing we know she wants out of this contest is to stop Zoraal Ja from starting a war the second he takes the throne. She is doing this, not because she wants power or has a vision for Tural, but because she opposes a bad vision.

She is so much the underdog in this contest that most of the crowd left before she appeared, assuming the show was over, and what's remaining is standing within earshot gossipping about how pathetic she is compared to the others.

Wuk Lamat is constantly in someone else's shadow. Her father. Her elder brothers. That random guy who got in here somehow. Sphene, when we get to Alexandria. She's invisible, and she seems to feel like that's just how things work. Even the soldiers who meet us at the docks need to take a minute before they realize who she is.

Erenville doesn't say anything about her, though he has a few words about how her supporters are mostly the elderly who remember the war. (I would imagine that includes a lot of non-elderly shetona, too.) But he doesn't really have to talk her up. The Reigning King of Dry Understatement may have insisted back in Sharlayan that they are not friends, merely long-standing acquaintances, but when she asked him for advice about finding allies for the contest, he recommended a god-slayer. Talk about fixing the fight. Not just recommended, he dropped what he was doing and went back across the ocean to recruit them. He could have pointed her at the Students of Baldesion. He was working with them already. Instead, he came back to Sharlayan and asked the Students to go get WoL. A person he knows is capable of crossing the entire universe to avert the apocalypse and also, for some reason, stopping to catch stray marmots along the way. He really wants her win. He just won't quite say that out loud.

"As you just witnessed, Wuk Lamat has no great army of supporters. Not yet, at least." Oh, Erenville.

[caffeinewitchcraft]

The Hero and Hope (Part 2/5)

(part 1) (part 3)

The next time you go hunting, the Bahrs go with you.

“It’s really fine,” you protest. It’s early enough in the morning that the air carries a bite. With any luck, they’ll think the redness in your cheeks comes from the chill rather than embarrassment. “I’m not even going far in. It’s Hera’s birthday coming up and she likes squirrel…”

“You’re going to catch a squirrel without a blade?” Mr. Bahr – Ivan – asks. He tightens the strap on Mrs. Bahr’s back, making sure the quiver of arrows is snug along her spine. He pats her shoulder when he finishes and beams at you. “Are you very fast?”

Yes, you are. You’ve noticed that you’re even faster lately as your 15th birthday marches closer and closer. You purse your lips. “I set traps.”

“Don’t mind him, Isla,” Mrs. Bahr -Marie -  says. She fondly shoves Ivan off the porch of the orphanage so she can get down. “He’s always joking.”

“What sort of traps?” Ivan asks. He runs a critical eye over your coat and pack. “Will that be warm enough?”

You’re not sure if your coat is warm enough for the weather or not. Another rising power: you’re nearly impervious to the cold. You shrug. “I’ll be fine. And just simple snares and stuff.”

“We can’t wait to see,” Ivan declares. He gestures towards the road. “Lead the way.”

You bite your lip. It’s clear that they knew you were going hunting today by their garb. Both are in sturdy, worn leather with swords on their hips and bows along their backs. They probably heard from Director Sarah and came specifically to make sure you kept your promise not to hunt alone. But… “The other kids will be sorry they missed you.”

“We’ll see them when we return victorious with birthday squirrels,” Ivan says.

“What a sentence,” Marie says dryly.

You aren’t going to convince them to let you go alone. You silently lead the way towards the orchard. Or, rather, as silently as you can. Ivan talks the whole time, asking questions about the apple trees and pointing to ducks flying overhead. You answer the questions you know the answer to and hum whenever you don’t. You wish you knew more about the vegetation, but the most you can tell Ivan is whether or not something is poisonous.

“Those ones,” you say, nodding to the low, circular leaves Mr. Bahr is pointing to, “are tricky. The real ones taste kind of sweet. The other kind that looks like that makes your stomach cramp for three days straight.”

“How can you tell the difference?” Ivan asks.

You shrug. “You can’t. I just tell the younger kids to bring it to me before eating it. Usually, I trade it for something actually edible.”

Marie, trailing behind you both, makes a noise of interest. “Usually?”

You feel your ears go hot. “Sometimes I’ll try it for them just to see if they can eat it. I’ve had enough of the bad one that it doesn’t affect me so much.”

“You try it?” Marie’s voice is sharp. “Isla, there has to be a better way.”

“Not really,” you say. You scratch the back of your head and quicken your step. You’re almost to the tree line of the woods. “The kids like sweet things. If I didn’t give in occasionally, they’d try it themselves. At least this way they check in with me first.”

“I still don’t think—”

“Sounds like Marie and I’ll be bringing some sweets along with us next time,” Ivan interrupts cheerfully. He points past the last apple tree about a dozen feet ahead. “Looks like the path ends there?”

“There’s an animal track about ten feet into the woods,” you say. You’re uncomfortable with Marie’s reaction. You know it’s not smart to eat poisonous plants, but what else were you supposed to do? Your worst fear is that the kids will one day get hungry enough to eat them without caring about the pain. Your shoulders round. “We’ll need to be quiet once we’re there.”

“I’m the best at being quiet,” Ivan says. He elbows Marie. “Right, Marie?”

“Right,” Marie says. Her voice is still a little strained, but you can tell she’s trying to hide it. “That’s why I married you.”

“That’s a lie,” Ivan says. He stage-whispers to you, “She married me for my amazingly dashing good looks.”

Marie huffs a laugh but doesn’t say anything else. You’ve entered the forest.

You were worried on the way that you’d need to tell Ivan that he needs to be quiet in the forest. You needn’t have been concerned. Both adults are silent and walk with quiet steps, their dark eyes alert on their surroundings. They move through the undergrowth gracefully, their years of experience showing in every step. You try to copy Marie’s soft footfalls as best you can and are pleased when your steps get a little quieter.

The Bahrs watch as you pick places for your traps. Ivan silently points to one of your knots, eyebrow raised. Guessing what he’s asking, you undo the knot and then redo it slowly. He nods in satisfaction and then gestures for you to give him the rope. Curiously, you do. Ivan completes the same knot, fingers steady through each step. When he’s done, he presents it to you proudly as if to say, See? I did it!

It makes you do something you very rarely do in the woods. You smile.

After setting the traps you take the Bahrs to your favorite resting spot. The clearing lies just by the edge of the shallow part of the river. About a mile downstream the banks widen and the North River joins this one, making it a dangerous place of rapids. Here, however, the water moves slowly and is shallow enough to be warmed by the sun.

Finally, you speak. “Shouldn’t be too long. Maybe an hour or two and then we can go check on them.”

“Is this where you found the horned rabbit?” Marie asks. You sit on a large, flat rock by the river, but she stays standing. Her eyes carefully scan the perimeter of the clearing.

“Not quite. That was near the hills.” You point. “Fifteen minutes that way.”

“That’s close,” Ivan says. He frowns, concerned. “Was that the first demon you’ve seen here?”

“No.” When the Bahrs turn to you in alarm, you shrug. “Not all the time, but demons come here. They’re usually not interested in me though.”

“But the horned rabbit was?” Marie asks.

Interested is an understatement. You’re not an idiot. You know that demons are dangerous. That’s why you usually avoid them when you spot them. Normally they’re content to let you pass by, but not the horned rabbit. It followed you nearly all the way back to the orchard before you realized you needed to do something before it attacked you. “Yeah.”

“What other types of demons do you see here?” Ivan asks. His voice is light, but he’s looking at you with a very serious expression. “Maybe howling bats?”

“I hear them sometimes,” you say, “but I don’t stick around after dark.” Ivan and Marie exchange dark looks. You fidget on the rock. “What?”

“This is protected land, Isla,” Marie says. She purses her lips. “No demons should be south of those hills.”

“What other types have you seen?” Ivan asks again. He comes to squat by you so he can look you in the eyes. “And when?”

“Just horned rabbits.”

“Are you sure?” Marie asks. She runs a hand over her hair, slicking back the fly aways. “Horned rabbits aren’t usually sighted alone.”

You hesitate. It’s true that the horned rabbits are the only demons you’ve seen, but… “There have been some signs lately, but I don’t know if they’re demons.”

Ivan’s eyes sharpen. “What?”

“Wolves,” you say. Both Bahrs stiffen, hands going to their swords. You speak quickly. “But I’ve never seen them! They might be regular wolves. I found the tracks at the base of the hill, and some bones, but they were a week old probably.”

“We’ll need to ask the Lord to investigate,” Marie tells Ivan. She looks deeply unhappy. “The patrol doesn’t cover this far south.”

“An oversight,” Ivan says grimly. He reaches out absently and ruffles your hair. It startles you, but it feels nice. Ivan makes an effort to smile at you. “Good eyes, Isla. Is there anything else you’ve noticed changing in the forest lately? Even something not demon related?”

Something funny is happening in your chest. Good eyes, Isla. You wrack your brain for anything else. “I haven’t seen any other tracks or anything and there’s only been four or five horned rabbits this season.”

Marie makes a small noise in her throat. When you turn to look at her, she hides whatever expression she’d been making. “That’s a lot. Did you need to use your sharp stick on all of them?”

Ivan startles. “Sharp stick?”

You rub the back of you neck. “Just two.” You look up at the sky. You only had a sharp stick that day, but there are times when you’ve come out here with a knife. Knife days are for when you’re looking for bigger game.  “I’ve been pretty lucky hunting lately, now that I think about it. There’s been more deer and regular rabbits south of the river.”

“What do you mean ‘lately?’”

“The past month.”

Ivan and Marie exchange another long look. Before you can ask them what’s wrong, Ivan turns to you with another smile.

“Say,” he says, “what do you think about trying to bag something bigger than a squirrel today? You ever fire a bow before?”

Your eyes widen. “No.”

“You can use mine,” Marie says, pulling it from her shoulder. She holds it out to you. “We’re nearly the same height. The draw may be a bit heavy for you—or not.”

Embarrassed by the shock in her voice, you release the string. “I’m, uh, stronger than I look.”

“Good,” Ivan says. “That’ll make it easier to actually catch something today.”

The next few hours are the most fun you’ve ever had in the woods. Marie and Ivan go over every part of the bow with you, explaining the weight of it, the flexibility, the length. Marie and Ivan carry several different types of arrows with different tips, all good for different types of shooting. They let you practice on a tree across the river and each time you’re closer to hitting the center of it, they compliment how fast you’re learning, how accurate your eye, how steady and consistent your draw.

By the time they let you hunt with it, you feel like you’re walking on clouds.

The feeling lasts even after you return to the orphanage, a deer slung over Marie’s shoulders and your hands full of squirrel. There’s a pleasant ache in your back and arms from practicing with the bow. You can’t stop smiling. Everything Ivan says is out of the blue and Marie’s tired responses make it all funny.

At one point you’re walking behind them, watching their shoulders brush when the path gets a little too narrow. They’re smiling at each other and talking softly and for a wild, wonderful, awful moment, you imagine that you can keep this. You aren’t sure what this is. Their attention and their companionship, their gentle guidance and the way they speak to you like you’re an adult?

After Hera’s birthday dinner, the Bahrs stay extra late to help clean up and to spend time with the younger kids. You are still feeling a sort of bone deep happiness you’ve never felt before. Everyone is full and sleepy-eyed from the amount of food you were able to put on the table. The kids gather around their slates in the common area, learning a new type of drawing game from Ivan and Marie.

Hera comes up to where you’re leaning on the doorway. Quietly, she slips her hand into yours. You squeeze it.

“Thanks for the squirrel,” she says quietly.

You lean down and press a kiss to the top of her head. “Happy Birthday.”

She hums and watches the fun in the living room for a long moment. She’s eleven now, three years older than you were that Winter. She’s the second oldest in the orphanage and, for the first time, you wonder if she feels the same sort of responsibility as you.

“I’m happy for you, you know,” Hera says.

You make a low questioning noise in your throat.

“The Bahrs will be good to you,” Hera says. She looks up at you evenly, a small smile tucked into the corner of her mouth. “You deserve that, Isla.”

Every muscle in your chest locks, chasing away the pleasant languidness you’d been feeling. “That’s not—they’re not—”

“Maybe, maybe not,” Hera says. She stands on tiptoe so she can throw her arms around your shoulders, hugging you like she did when she was five. She whispers in your ear, “But I would be happy if they did.”

She lets go of you before you can tell her she’s being ridiculous, skipping into the room to join the drawing game.

You feel out of sorts for the rest of the night.

-----------------------.

(part 1) (part 3)

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This month will be seeing two main things update on Patreon first: Dandelion (x) and my Cinderella story (masterpost coming soon!) updates for both coming later this week!

[envy-of-the-apple]

The Loneliest

Dark!Geto Suguru x reader

Word count: 3.3k

Synopsis: For the longest time, you always thought you could only see them. And then you met that priest

(Warnings: dark content, manipulation, implied non-con, geto commits elder abuse)

You're not sure what they're called, but you know they aren't good. 

Demons, you settled on calling them. They were ugly, disfigured, often garbed in dark, dull colors. Nothing about them was benevolent. You'd often see them sitting on people's shoulders, practically sucking their souls dry. The small ones were easy to ward off. Usually, they'd go away on their own after a few days. A weekend of relaxation was usually all people needed to get rid of them.

From what you knew, no one else could see them. In your younger days, it'd been isolating, terrifying. Now, you are a bit grateful none of your peers could see what you could. How they'd react, you couldn't tell. 

You barely even blink when your neighbor asks if you could give her a ride to the temple, ignoring the thing that rests on her shoulders. It's bigger than what you've normally seen, with wings and human teeth. She's an older woman, with kind smiles, rambling about how she heard that the nearby temple was offering body exorcisms, how much her back hurt. You don't mention that the monks and priests or any religious figures are all fakes who lie for money. You've never met a single priest who could see what you see. 

You say nothing because it wouldn't sway her either way. Besides, it was free. 

The temple was swathed in money, just as you expected it to be. Grand pillars, clean tile floors. Money wasted on gold staircases and shiny vases. On a whim, you followed your neighbor in anyway, passing by the temples' followers. The one thing that you did note, was the significant lack of demons in the area. 

You expected the Buddhist priest to be old, an ancient being that pretended to be wise. To your surprise, you were led to a man who might have been the same age as you, if not a bit younger. He was dressed in a monk's robe, he sat on the floor, resting his chin on his arm. A closed-lipped smile was spread across his face, dripping in faux-sweetness. 

You obediently stayed silent while your neighbor prattled on about her incident. He nodded along, but it was clear he didn't really care about what she was saying. You knew what he would do. He'd coo at her misery, give her beads that would do nothing, and send her on her way. A harmless waste of time, really. The demon won't stay forever. 

There's a twitch of his fingers. The demon leering over her body is suddenly sucked away from her, into his outstretched hand. The only evidence it leaves behind is a single marble. 

"Better?" he asks, with no change of tone. That same emotionless lilt. 

Your neighbor gushes, rolling her shoulders, saying that she's never felt this way in years. You can only watch the priest with widened eyes as your neighbor is led away by a woman with a tablet in her hand. The ball rolls along his fingers, like he too admires it. 

"How-how did you do that?" You finally ask. 

For the first time since you entered that room, his eyes meet yours. Brown, almost black. He tilts his head, wordlessly asking you to repeat yourself. 

"The demon," you press, "how did you get rid of the demon?" 

The smile slips, and he sits up ever so slowly. For a moment, you think you've done something incredibly wrong as he stands to his full height. The priest easily towers over you, you're dwarfed by his unfathomable height. He stops when he's a few feet away, assessing you. 

"You can see them," it's a statement, not a question, "the curses."

"Is that what they're called?" You eagerly ask, "Curses?" 

The smile is more real now, less manufactured. 

"You have a rare gift," he says, "truly one of a kind." 

Back then, you don't digest the supremacy of his words. You don't decipher the hidden meaning, the code, the disgust for the others. You were so happy to have finally met someone who can see them, like you could. Something like relief fills your heart, another justification that you weren't crazy. You weren't just seeing things. 

His smile grows. 

"I hope you continue to come back. I have many answers for you."

 

Over the coming weeks, you learn about jujutsu. You learn about cursed energy. You learned about sorcerers. You learn about a world you've never heard of before. A world you've always dreamed of. For the longest time, you always assumed you were the only one, that you were cursed. 

Now, you know you aren't. Not anymore. 

You aren't a jujutsu sorcerer, but you didn't mind. Master Geto (Suguru, he insisted you call him) was patient with you. Understanding. He'd sit with you for hours, even when he didn't have to, answering every question you could have for him. 

Out of guilt, you volunteered to find people who have been cursed to help with his cause. Sometimes, you'd have to spruce up Suguru's power, add a bit more science and structure to what he really does. It never backfired on you, so far. Just as he advertised, Suguru was able to collect every single curse you bestowed on him. Each person you brought in would leave refreshed and satisfied. 

As you came to spend time with the priest, you learned how wrong you were about him. When you first met, you thought he was a liar, a sham. Now, you know he's everything but. He's patient and caring towards everyone who follows him. He's so young, college-age, and yet he had even adopted two twins from a horrible house situation, taking them in as his own flesh and blood. 

On top of all his responsibilities, he still managed to make time for you. You can't imagine it's easy for him. Despite his clear passion, there's a glimmer of exhaustion in his eyes. Why does he spend so much time with you? 

You ask him that one day as the two of you walk through the gardens. He doesn't reply for a while, stopping to stare at a blooming bush of roses. 

"You remind me of someone," he says suddenly. 

You look up at him then, watching his face. A tinge of nostalgia rests across his eyes. You wonder what he's thinking of. School, homework and classes? The endless lectures, the smiles of friends. Maybe he's thinking of even older. Playgrounds and swing sets that squeak. Simpler times where he wasn't something that he is now. 

"I do?" you prod, tilting your head. He reaches out, brushing his hands against the petals, careful to avoid the thorns. 

He hums, "He is the strongest. More powerful than I could ever hope to be. He stood alone at the summit." 

He plucks the rose. The bush gives with a snap. It's a pretty color. A deep red. Almost as dark as blood =.

"It's why I always felt he was lonely," he continues, "No one else could ever understand him. It's lonely to be the only one, yes?" 

It was, you realize. It felt so lonely to see things no one else could see. No one else could relate to it, not even your parents. Your friends. You were alone for nearly decades. And then, you weren't anymore. 

"Your friend," you murmur, "where is he now?" 

Suguru peels off the last of the thorns, leaving the flower glossy and bare. 

"We didn't believe in the same things, towards the end. People change. I did, so did he," he pauses, "Sometimes, I wonder what I could have done differently that day. Perhaps we could have stayed together, if I had just changed his mind." 

You think about his friend. What their relationship was like. What it would be like to lose the only one who could ever understand you. Now that you had it, you could never imagine to lose it. 

"Either way, I don't regret my decision." 

He turns to you with a sigh, reaching out to your hair. You stay still as he tucks the flower behind your ear. The petals tickle your skin. 

"A change had to be made for humanity. Sacrifices must be made. I don't care if the people I cherish think differently." 

The petals tickle your skin. 

"I'm glad you don't regret your decision," you tell him softly, "because I'm really glad I met you, Suguru." 

He gazes down at you, his face the softest you've ever seen him be. His hand lingers by your neck a lot longer than it should. Still awed by him, you choose not to say anything about it. 

"And I, you." 

Everything was going perfectly. Until you ruined it. 

It was your fault. Your error. There's a set time that Suguru allows you to visit. You always arrive a few minutes later, because you only volunteer at the temple. You still have a job. You too have responsibilities. 

But today you arrived early. A fluke. You didn't intend on it, but you didn't think anything of it, Suguru always made time for you. And you didn't mind waiting a few minutes if he couldn't. 

The box of sweets jostled in your hold as you tucked it under your arm. By now, you recognize most of Suguru's followers, as well as the fellow monks. They greet you with too-wide smiles on their faces, the same as always. You've grown to not mind them. You pass them by with very little trouble, already knowing where you were headed. Suguru's client room was just around the corner. And you always enjoyed watching him work. 

In hindsight, you wish his followers would have stopped you, distracted you from your determination, it isn't like they didn't already know. You would have listened. Meeting Suguru was not a necessity. They could have lied for him. You could have kept the tentative friendship for just a bit longer. 

He was already with someone. Eager, and careful not to disturb, you stood just behind a pillar. You don't notice how wrong the scene looks, until you see her. He was with a woman, a bit older. There's a tiny curse on her lower back, latched onto her clothing. It won't matter, Suguru will easily get rid of it. She reminds you of your neighbor in so many ways. They were the same age too. It's why you are confused as to why she's practically kneeling on the ground, her head pressed against the floor, like she's begging. For a woman her age, that position could be a hindrance to her body. 

Still, she doesn't get up. You suddenly get this strange feeling that Suguru forced her to do this. 

It's ridiculous because Suguru is kind. He's kind and patient and-

"How many donations have you made to the temple these past few months?" 

You wouldn't have even thought it was his voice, had it not come from his mouth. He sounded so cold, mocking, cruel. 

The woman seemed to tremble even more. She pressed herself harder against the ground, as if pleading to God himself. Maybe to her, Suguru was God. 

"Please," her frail voice begs, "have mercy-" 

"Manami?" Suguru turns to his trusted assistant. You yourself have spoken few words to Manami, but whenever you caught her looking there was the slightest hint of pity in her eyes. 

Maybe this was why. 

She sighs, just as clinical as her boss, as if the poor woman's begging meant nothing to her, as did he. 

"It's been a 70 percent decrease, compared to the beginning of the year." 

Suguru turned back to the woman. She was going to injure herself-why isn't Suguru telling her to get up, why isn't he doing anything?

"You haven't made much of a contribution to the temple," he sighs like this is more of an inconvenience than anything else, "I have no use for an insignificant cursed spirit. I'm afraid I can't help you." 

She all but burst into tears, her sobs soaking the floor. You feel the numb sense of horror, misery and pain as her cries bleed into your ears. 

"Please-please Master Geto. I-I don't know how much of this I can take." 

Suguru regards her for a moment. 

"I think I might have a way to solve your problem, then." 

Slowly, she lifts her head up. You swallow at her face. Tired eyes, an exhausted look. 

"You-you do, Master?" 

His answer comes in the form of a snap of his fingers. 

It's the biggest curse you've ever seen, larger than a car. She doesn't even put up a fight, screaming and screaming and screaming. When her pitch changes, turning into something more out of horror than pain, you realize that she can see it too. 

It's a quick progression. It barely lasts a minute. The sounds of sucking and eating are so loud that it covers the sounds of the sweets dropping on the floor. They were supposed to be a gift for Suguru. You wanted to thank him again. You wanted to reward him for his kindness and patience. 

Master Geto only looks in mild disgust at the bloodbath. 

"They always die so messily," he sighs, looking at his blood-stained hands as Manami obediently hands him a towel, "Insects, that's all they are." 

For the first time, since you've met him, Suguru gives a genuine smile. 

It looks wrong. Too wide. Too many teeth. His lips curved into something thin and horrific. 

Something evil. 

It takes a week of your disappearance for Suguru to inquire why you haven't visited the temple. 

You leave the messages unopened. When he tries calling, you turn your phone off. For seven days, you stay away from the temple, away from sorcerers, and away from Suguru. 

A part of you still can't believe it. A part of you is convinced that what you saw has to be fake. Because, if it was real. If he had truly killed that woman, if he could control curses to do his bidding, then that meant for weeks-for weeks he was manipulating you. Lying to you. 

There was no if. That's exactly what he was doing. 

You sat on the couch, watching the TV in mild interest. Usually, at this time, you'd be at the temple, learning about the jujutsu world. Earlier, the lessons would fill you with a sense of awe. 

Now, you can't even think about jujutsu without thinking of Suguru next. 

Suguru mentioned he had a friend. A friend that was stronger than him, right? Could-could you find him? Could you tell him what Suguru has been doing-

"It's not very polite to ignore a person." 

You jump, wide eyes catching his figure right at the doorway. You get up to your feet, watching as Suguru casually steps into your home. Your safety. 

"How-how did you...?" You can barely get the words out. 

He understands you anyway, and out of your peripheral vision, you see a cursed spirit waddle up behind him. It coughs something out of it's throat. The remains of your door knob land by your feet. 

In any other situation, you would have been angry at Suguru's disregard for your property. Now, damage to your personal property was the last thing on your mind. 

He wasn't wearing his monk garb (A mere costume, you now realize). He had dressed in a shirt and casual pants. Out of his usual garments, he almost looks normal. Human. The exact type of person he'd spit on. 

"You haven't visited me lately," he starts, always one to get to the point. 

You shift on your feet, "I've been busy....with work. I haven't had time." 

"Really?" He tilts his head, assessing you, a hint of a smirk crosses his face like he knows you're lying. No, he does know you're lying. 

When you don't reply, when you fix your gaze on the floor, willing to God or demon or curse that he would just go away, Suguru sighs. His smile dips into a frown. The curse disappears. You feel like the room is a bit less suffocating. 

"I...apologize for what you saw," he finally says, "You shouldn't have seen it so early. I should have been more careful." 

You blink. For the first time in this conversation, you find your words. 

"Do...do you think that's what this is about?" He gives a blank look. "Suguru...you��killed her." 

You expected some type of reaction. Aggressiveness, anger, defenses, excuses. You got none of that. Instead, Suguru merely hummed in acknowledgment of casual admittance. 

"I said it before, haven't I? Sacrifices must be made to change humanity." 

"That's-that's not sacrifice," it was like you were talking to a wall, repeating your point over and over again until you bashed your skull in, "that's-that's slaughter." 

"You said you were glad with my-" 

"You're killing innocent fucking people!-" 

"They're not people." 

You froze at his tone. Throughout your friendship with Suguru, you've seen him express a variety of emotions. Joy, exasperation, irritation. Never have you seen Suguru angry before. 

Never, until now. 

He stands up straighter, his hands twitch by his sides as if they're barely keeping themselves in check. His face has gone blank, like he's lost all motivation to fake his emotions now. There's no point to it, not when you know who he truly is. 

"They aren't even the same species as us," his words are quiet but you can hear the hatred and that scares you the most, "They are at the bottom of the food chain. Mere insects, parasites, that only create problems. They're not like you or me."

His smile comes back. Just as horrible as when you last saw it. 

"They're worthless." 

He's no priest, you steadily realize. He's no saint, no hero. 

"Get out."

You wish you could have made your words sound harsher, but it was barely a whisper. You couldn't even hear yourself, much less hear the venom. 

He sighs, his anger fades, the disappointment stays. 

"I understand." He nods, his voice too condescending to not be noticed. "To be perfectly honest, I expected this. You've spent your entire life with those insects, obsessing over their needs when you didn't have to. It's only natural to have an affinity for them. I did too. It's why I know, you'll feel differently in the future." 

"Fuck you," you hiss, "fuck you and your fucked up cult. You're a monster, you're a-"

He doesn't let you finish. One minute, he's across the room. The next, you feel his hand slap across your mouth as you fall back into the sofa. Your panic is immediate as he fully covers you with his body, pressing you into the cushions. 

Suguru's touched you before. You never noticed. Never cared enough to notice. They were sparse brushes of fingers against your waist, arms, shoulders. Harmless. 

Looking back, you wonder if you should have protested more against them. Maybe he'd have less courage to bury his face into your hair, breathing in your scent as he closed his eyes. Or maybe it would have just made it worse. 

"You're scared," he tells you, but it sounds like he's talking to himself, "It's okay to be upset." 

You scream, but it comes out as a muffled sob. Suguru's mouth trails down your cheek. He kisses the underside of your jaw. 

"You don't have to be. I promise I'll never hurt you. I cherish you too much."

He's lying. He's a liar. That's all he ever did. Lie to you. Cheat you.

When he pulls back to look at you, he almost smiles. 

"I think I'm starting to understand why he left: I let him go."

His grin gets wider.

"I don't plan on doing that with you." 

[k4marina]

— vi. Secrets and the Moon || Heart of the Dragon

synopsis: While things settle down secrets are unveiled and you and Daenerys have a conversation about the moon.

warnings: slight mentions of violence/death, grammar most likely, ngl it's a pretty tame chapter.

a/n: all dialouge in italics is Valyrian

series masterlist

5.2k wrd count

game of thrones x fem!modern!reader

[gif is mine]

The walls of scrolls and ancient texts nearly reached the top of the ceiling. The smell of wax and parchment lingered in the room. Sunlight poured down from the skylight window. I’d never seen the room before, not on any website or during the tour of the castle. We were practically underground, in a more older portion of Dragonstone that was most likely withered away in the future. Diamond-patterned shelves filled with scrolls lined the walls on each side with a set of ladders and landings for easy access. A row of tables sat in the middle of the room, a large candle lit chandelier hanging down at the center.

I found the room whilst exploring the lower portions of the castle. It seemed that this was where all the old Valyrian texts were stored after the Targaryen’s arrival and before the Doom. When I’d first entered my head started to spin just off of the sheer size of the place. When I opened the first few scrolls and saw the ancient writing I couldn’t help but thank my parents for teaching me Valyrian Glyphs as well as the modern written form. Suddenly all those hours sitting at the dinner table studying with my father after dinner wasn’t so bad. 

So far my search had been fruitless, every lead coming to a dead end. There was practically nothing about either magic being used to bring people back in time or any mythologies relating to my predicament. There were plenty of other scrolls that taught the reader how they can cast various different spells and pyrokinesis. There were even a few that explained how to hatch stone dragon eggs, without human sacrifices. 

I scoffed, pushing that one scroll in particular to the side. I’m sure Dany could have used this while she was in the Dothraki Sea. 

Hours went by while I poured over all sorts of scrolls, but I found nothing that could explain my sudden appearance or a way to go back. The candles were nearly melted by the time I’d stored away the last scroll and shut the door to the reference room. I would be lying if I said that I wasn’t disappointed. I really thought that if I could find any leads about my situation then it would be on Dragonstone. 

I thought that in all of the texts the Targaryens brought over from Valyria at least one would have the answers I was looking for. But I was wrong. 

The Valyrians were the first to bound themselves with dragons using blood magic. During the Valyrian empire’s height magic was an integral part of their culture and history. There’s no telling what they couldn’t do. If only they were good at spreading their knowledge, just far enough to Volantis at least, then maybe the ancient empire wouldn’t be such a mystery. 

Daenerys sat in a closed off patio, staring off into the distance when I arrived for dinner. She was no longer in her signature dark Targaryen garb, but rather in a more simple and modest gown. Her hair was in her signature braids, but not as dramatic as usual. 

“What’s on your mind?” My question pulled her out of her thoughts, only now realizing that I was here.

“Nothing,” she half-smiles. “Just another long day. Come– sit. The food’s still warm.” She motions for me to sit, which I do. “I heard you were busy in the reference library again.” 

I sat, laying the cloth napkin on my lap. “Another bust,” a servant places a plate of food in front of the two of us before leaving. “Don’t get me wrong, there was plenty of information, but none that I needed.” 

“Have you looked into other sources?” 

I sighed, reaching for the wine. “I already have. The Seven don’t really believe in whatever my situation is, and the Old Gods are mostly about nature; forest, rivers, stone.” The knife in my hands easily cut through the piece of meat on my plate. 

“What of the Old Gods of Valyria?” 

“They're just deities.” I placed my elbows on the table. “We still worship them beyond the Black Wall, but they also don’t provide any information. They’re just God’s you pray to, to keep traditions for some.” 

“So that’s it?” 

“I still have one person to ask, but she’s already gone to Volantis.” 

“Melisandre?” Daenerys frowns, “but she’s not coming back.” 

I shake my head. “She is. It’s her fate to die in Westeros. When she returns I’ll have to ask her before she takes the plunge.” 

Daenerys nods, slowly, understanding. There’s a moment of silence, the two of us busy eating before Daenerys asks me the important question that’d been lingering in the air since my arrival. 

“What will you do if you can’t go back?” 

I sit still, but then shrug. “Stay here, I guess. Don’t have any other option, do I?” I look away from her, staring off into the distance, the night sky glimmering. No matter how many times I see the stars, I’m always mesmerized. You can’t get a view like this in the modern world, the light pollution clouding the beautiful night sky. 

“I’ll probably explore around a bit.” 

“You won’t get married?” 

I paused, caught off guard. “I.. I don’t know.” I turned back to her. “I never thought of anything like that.” 

“Did you fancy anyone from your time?” 

“No,” I thought back. “Sure, I had a few crushes here and there, a boyfriend once, but nothing when I entered University, I was too focused on my studies than the opposite sex.” 

“Why? Are you trying to marry me off to some Lord to help your claim?” I teased. 

She playfully rolled her eyes. “I’m only asking. If you do end up staying here then I don’t want you to be alone.” 

“But I’m not alone.” I said. “I have you.” 

She smiled. “I know that. What I mean is that I want you to have someone close to you. Someone to grow old with and perhaps a few children with.” 

I mulled over her words. “We’ll see. But my main goal is to get you on that throne first.” 

“Would that be before or after we join the Army of the Dead?” She jests. 

“Boo, bad joke.” I smiled. 

The rest of our night went smoothly, the two of us opting to not talk about war plans or the futures but rather of our childhoods. She told me stories about growing up in Essos, one that wasn't in any textbook and I told her about the modern world. I still remember telling her about modern transportation and technology, her jaw smacking the ground. 

We dined till the late hours of the night, only calling a night after we’d drank all the wine in the room. My body slightly buzzed, the alcohol flowing through me. Something that I learned when I arrived here was that alcohol was less potent compared to the future. So while everyone else could get drunk with a few glasses, I was just lightly buzzed. 

But that buzz didn’t last long. I was immediately sobered when I saw that the door to my chambers was left open. I stared at the door, silently listening for any movements. I vividly remembered closing my door in the morning. Maybe it was an assassin? But that wouldn’t make any sense. If an assassin was hired he’d go straight for Daenerys, not me.

Carefully, I stepped closer to the door, trying to not make a sound and catch the intruder's attention. I peeked through the gap between the wall and door, but saw nothing. No man dressed in robes waiting for me with a knife in my hand. I slowly pushed the door open, thankful that it didn’t creek. 

The receiving room was empty, nothing out of its place. The bedroom was also, oddly, empty. I scanned the room for anything missing or changed, but the room was just as I had left it this morning. The only room that was left was the study. The door was slightly ajar and a faith wrestling could be heard. I took in a deep breath and pushed it open, expecting to see some man, but instead being met with a child. 

The kid, possibly around ten years old, rummaged through my drawers. She wore a simple, yet tethered, dress, her long hair tied back. Her hands stopped moving and her body stiffened as she’d been caught. I stared in disbelief, what the hell is this kid doing?

“What are you looking for?” My voice came out more rough than it should have, but I couldn’t care. Was this kid really going through my things? 

She didn’t reply, her eyes flickering back to the door behind me. I slammed the door shut, fully blocking any way out and asked again. “What are you doing?” 

She still didn’t reply, shaking in fear as if I’d kill her on the spot. She hid her hands behind her dress. I marched closer to her and she stepped back, her back almost hitting the wall. I reached out, grabbing her hands, surprising her. 

Scrolls that I’d written were clutched in her grasp, and in the small pockets of her dress. They ranged from menial things like day to day updates from either the Unsullied or Dothraki to sensitive subjects like Yara Greyjoy and her fleet's location or warplanes to take King’s Landing. 

I looked back at the child who seemed to be scared out of her mind, tears brimming her eyes. It was clear someone put her up to this. No child in their right mind would travel all the way up into the castle, know where my room and study were, and rummage through my stuff.

“Who set you up to this?” I lowered my tone, trying to seem less frightening. The child's eyes were a light gray with hints of lavender. Her hair was a light blonde and freckles danced around her face. By the looks of it she was either a Dragonseed or the descendant of one. 

“I’m not mad,” this time I tried in Valyrian. “I just want to know who told you to do this.” 

Her exterior flattered for a moment, but it wasn’t enough to calm her nerves. I sighed, crouching down so that I was eye level to her. “I won’t hurt you, I promise. And I won’t let anyone hurt you or your family. All you have to do is tell me who told you to do this.” 

She hesitates, and my grip on her hand loosen. I absentmindedly rubbed small circles around her wrists as a way to calm her. 

“The..” she stopped, scared that someone would hear, but I gave her hand a light squeeze, reassuring her. “The bald man. He said if I found him a special letter then he’ll bring me to my mother and father.” 

The bald man? Does she mean THE bald man?

“Do you mean the bald man that is with Queen Daenerys?” 

She nods. 

Fucking snake. 

She seems to notice that shift in my mood and quivers. I catch myself before I worsen my mood. 

“What’s your name?” 

“Alana.” 

I smiled, “what a beautiful name.” I stood up, reaching into the middle drawer that she didn’t go through and grabbed a tied handkerchief. I knelt down next to her and untied it revealing a few cookies and bit’s of chocolate. Her eyes lit up and she looked between the sweet treats and me.

“Here, you can have all of this, if you promise to not say a word, okay? You can’t tell anyone that I saw you tonight, especially the bald man.” 

She nods her head, eager to eat the cookies. 

“But, you have to do one teeny-tiny thing for me.” She looks up at me with her doe eyes. “You have to tell the Queen what you told me.” 

Panic, once again, sets in and she rapidly shakes her head. “No, she’ll-” 

“She won’t do anything,” I place my hand on her shoulder. “Her Grace doesn’t hurt children. She’ll protect you from the bald man. Both her and her dragons.” 

It took some convincing but she’d finally agreed. I placed her on my bed with the snacks and lit a few candles. I called for an Unsullied guard to go get Daenerys while I waited with her. 

“You said that the bald man would take you to your parents, where did they go?” 

She chews on a piece of chocolate and swallows. “They were taken by the man with the stag. He was bald too. He also had a daughter.” 

Stag, bald, and had a daughter. 

“Stannis.” I hummed. Knowing him, I’m sure that he’d executed them. Most of the villagers on the island are some form of Dragonseeds, bastards of the Targaryens and most definitely still loyal to them. It’s most likely that Alana’s parents had refused to bow to either Robert or to serve Stannis during his stint on Dragonstone and were killed as a result. 

The doors to my room opened and Daenerys, who was dressed in a robe and looked to have been pulled out of bed, walked in. “Did something happen?”  

I nod and stand up. Alana peeks at Daenerys from behind me, but quickly hides when they make eye contact. 

“I found her going through my things. Apparently, a friend of ours sent her to find something.” 

Daenerys looks between me and the little girl. “Who?” 

I turned back to Alana. “Sweetheart, why don’t you tell Her Grace what you told me, don’t worry, she won’t be mad at you.” 

The little girl holds her hands closer to her. “The bald man. He told me to look through the ladies' things.” 

“The bald man?” Daenerys repeats. She turns back to me. “Varys?” 

I nodded. “Seems like he’s interested in what I’ve been up to.”

Anger quickly takes over Daenerys and she turns to march down to his chambers. I grab her arm, “no wait.” 

“Wait?” She scoffed. “Varys is spying on my own people. He’s using children to do his dirty work and you want me to wait?” 

“Yes, I do. Dany, we can’t nail him yet.” 

She frowned. “Then what? We pretend that nothing’s happened?” 

“That’s exactly what we do. He doesn't know what we know now, we can use that to our advantage.” 

“What are you suggesting?” 

“Let him believe what he wants to. All we have to do is feed him the information that we want and take the information we need from him.” 

“And you are sure this will work?” 

I nodded. “Let the spider think that he’s spun his web, it’s only a matter of time before he gets too confident and makes a mistake.”

––

The next morning, after my morning sparring practice and breakfast with Daenerys, I was called down to the caves by Jon Snow. He and his men had made considerable progress mining the Dragonglass. Crates of the volcanic glass were placed around the path leading to the caves. The sound of pickaxes and chisels hammering against the cave walls echoed out from the cave entrance. 

Jon Snow stood by a few crates of what I assumed was freshly mined Dragonglass. He wore his usual attire; dark tunic underneath his black and brown leather armor, long black leather gloves and matching boots with dark trousers that had some wear and tear. He’d foregone his fur cloak and armored breastplate with House Stark sigil for the sake of practicality. 

Ser Davos, who stood in front of Jon, nodded my ways. He turned as I stepped closer, and their previous conversation came to a halt. 

“My Lady, thank you for coming.” 

I glanced around us. “You and your men seem to be making quite a bit of progress.” 

Jon nods, “we’re grateful that you and Queen Daenerys have allowed us to mine all of the Dragonglass.” 

“That’s not why you called for me is it?” 

“No.” He motions for me to follow him. We walk around a few crates, coming to a stop in front of a covered wagon, hidden from everyone. 

“We found these, deep in the caves. I’ve told my men who first found them to keep quiet about it.” 

Ser Davos opens the wagon’s doors and removes the cloth over the objects revealing a cluster of dulled dragon eggs. My eyes widened and I turned to Jon who also had the same shock written all over his face. 

“Is this all you’ve found?” 

“So far. We found these near the end of the cave before it split off into other directions.” 

I slowly nod, half focused on his words. My eyes ran over the eggs, five to be exact, all of them covered in dirt and stone. There were two lighter colored eggs, a white-gray and a pastel pink-purple. The other three were a dark navy blue, a dark green, and a pure black egg. I reached out and carefully grabbed the green egg, wiping away the dirt and debris the best I could. It left off a gold almost iridescent shimmer in the sun. The eggs themselves were hard, the outside covered in a scaled pattern. I gently turned the egg over in my hands, running my fingers over the surface.

I took in a deep breath, stunned. 

After Daenerys’ death, Dragonstone was handed off to The Crown. Over the decades, the castle had been turned into somewhat of a vacation home for the Royal Family. The Velaryon’s had contested the decision for many years, claiming that the castle was the last remnants of the Targaryen and of Valyria and that it should be preserved and handed to them as they were the closest to the extinct house. But in reality, they were more interested in exploring the castle than honoring it. 

They’d found Dragonegg’s littered all over the island, nestled away in the string of cave networks. Dragon bones and skulls dating back to the dragons the Targaryens first brought to the islands were also found in caves in the island's volcanic mountains. By the time the eggs were found they’d been completely fossilized and turned to stone. Taking inspiration from Daenerys, the Velaryons tried to hatch the dragons in secret, but lacked the (for a lack of better words) magic that the Targaryens held. 

But this, this was something else. 

I turned to Jon, who’d been watching me, “thank you.” He slightly bows his head, surprised by my sincerity. “Did you find anything else?”

“No, My Lady, that’s all we’ve run across.” 

I pressed my lips and nods, looking back down at the eggs. “Alright. Keep mining, but don’t go too deep.” I set the dragon egg back down, “now help me get these to Daenerys.” 

––

The five eggs, now properly cleaned of any dirt, sat in a chest between Daenerys and I. Her eyes stayed glued to the eggs as Jon recounted what he’d told me. But, like me, her focus was entirely on the eggs. She dismisses him, leaving the two of us. Silence hangs in the air for many moments, neither of us knowing what to say.

“Did you know that there were eggs on the island?” She finally asks. 

“I did,” I sat back, eyes flickering between the chest and her. “But I didn’t know where exactly they were. I just never knew that they were just.. right there.”

She hums. “They look like they’re turned to stone.” 

“We can still bring them back.” 

“Where would we keep them?” 

I shrugged. “I’m sure there's a few warming brazier’s laying around. We can chuck them in there while we deal with the Night King.” 

She looks up at me, “are you sure we can hatch them?” 

“Yeah, why not? Just need some good-old fashioned Valyrian blood magic.” 

Daenerys chuckles. “Alright, I’ll tell the servants to light a few warmers.” 

She stands from her seat, walking over and grabbing the dark blue dragon egg, turning it over in her hands. 

“How many of these are there?” She muttered. 

“Plenty,” I replied, standing up myself. “The entire island is littered with them.” 

“What?” 

I pour a glass of wine. “The caves under the island are almost littered with them. Some of them are in the caves up in the mountains.” 

I motioned her towards the window that faced mountains. “Jaehaerys’ dragon, Vermithor, used to dwell in a cave on that mountain. It’s said that he laid a clutch of eggs in there, but by the time we found them they were completely stone.” 

Daenerys steps forwards and peers out the window to the large mountain in the distance. “If the Dragonegg’s were here all along, then why did they die out?” 

I shrugged “Hell if I know.” I take a sip of the wine, leaning on the windowsill. “It’s rumored that after Rhaenyra’s death that the Targaryen's love and bond with the dragons was bruised, I guess you can say. People believe that the closer the dragons are to their riders, the stronger the magic. But after a civil war where the dragons pitted against each other and other riders, I guess the magic fizzled out.” 

“Well, that’s until you came around,” I motioned towards Dany with my glass. 

She stared off to where Vermithor’s cave was. “So many mistakes,” she muttered. “They made so many mistakes and it cost our house everything.”

“But you won’t do the same thing.” I said. 

She turned to me, determined. “No, I won’t.” 

––

The walls are jagged and raw, a clear contrast to the smooth walls of the castle. It’s dim, squinting my eyes to try and adjust to the lack of light. My footsteps echoed off of the walls. 

One, two, three, four… and five.

He lay on the cold ground on top of a sad looking chunk of hay that looked as if it was on its last legs. He’s wearing the same trousers and dirty tunic as he was when he was brought here. His chest has a slight rise and fall indicating he’s alive. His face caked in blood and dirt, making me grimace. 

“Wake up.” 

He doesn’t move, eyes still closed. Annoyed, I reach over to a bucket on the side of the entrance of his cell, grabbing a cup full of water. I splashed it on him through the cell doors. 

“I said, wake up.” 

He gasps, coughing and sits up straight, surprised. His head snaps over in my direction, eyes narrowing, but he doesn’t make any effort to move out of the shadows and into the dim light. 

“You bitch!” 

I drag a chair over in front of the cell bars, crossing my legs as I sit. “That’s no way to address a Lady.” 

He scoffs. “Y’er the furthest thing from a Lady,” he licks his chapped lips. “But you’ve got a pretty face like one. Maybe once your Dragon Queen agrees to my offer I’ll fuck you both” 

I narrow my eyes, but bite my tongue. “And you really think that she’ll take you as, what did you say? A King?”

“I am a King!” He growls. 

“Any man who must say ‘I am the King’ is no true King.” I quote Tywin Lannister. 

“I am the King of Salt and Rock.” He brings his face closer to me into the light. 

“Your niece and nephew would argue otherwise.” I glare down at Euron. 

“That bitch and her cock-less brother? They’re nothing. I’ll kill them just like I killed their father.” 

“That ‘bitch’ is on her way to reclaim the Iron Islands, and her ‘cock-less brother’ handed you your own ass, landing you here, in a dungeon.” 

“She won’t make it.” He double downs. “The Ironborn don't follow women.” 

“We’ll see.” I lean in closer, eyeing him through the bars. “It’s a new dawn. Two Queens are fighting for the Iron Throne, most of Westeros�� noble houses are led by women. I think the Iron Islands won’t mind a woman leading them.” 

Euron pushes himself against the wall. “Won’t last long. They’ll get tired of her and crave for their true king.” 

I leaned forwards. “That awfully confident of you considering your predicament. It’s almost like you have something under your sleeve.” His demeanor shifts, a wave of arrogance and cockiness falling over him. 

He smirks. “Y’wanna know? Hm?” He runs his beady eyes down my figure and I tried not to shiver out of disgust. “Why don’t you do me a favor and I’ll tell you.” 

“Really?” I played along. “And why would I do that? Not to be too mean, but you don’t seem to be the type to be strategic, just dumb luck.” 

His eye twitches at my comment. He leans forwards, a crazed look in his eyes, as if he’d just hit the jackpot. “Cause it’s the one thing that will make your dragons mine.” 

Gotcha. 

“Let me guess, a Dragonbinder?” 

His face falls, shocked that I already knew about his “trump card” that not even Cersei knew about. His mouth falls open, but no words come out. 

“What? Cat got your tongue? You were pretty chatty before, what happened?” 

He recovers well, becoming more hostile. “Knowing about it won’t change a thing. I’ll get out of here and when I do, I’ll kill you and everyone in this fucking castle and feed you to your own fucking dragons!” 

I stare at him momentarily before smiling. “I’ll count on it.” I stand, getting ready to leave. “You’ve lost, Euron. I look forward to your coming execution. Sleep well till then.” 

––

“Are you sure?” Daenerys asks, tethering between skepticism and fear.

I nodded. “I didn’t believe it either. From what I had heard it was purely a rumor, but he just confirmed for me.”

“A Dragonbinder?” Missandei raised a brow. “I don’t seem to be familiar with that item.” 

“You shouldn’t be.” I said. “It’s something like an ancient relic of Old Valyria. It’s a horn made of an enormous dragonbone and is six feet long. It’s said that whoever blows into it will have the power to control dragons, but I’ve never seen it before nor have I known anyone to have ever seen it, let alone have it in their possession.”

“And you believe Euron is hiding it somewhere?” Varys asks, hand folded in his lap.

“It’s alleged when he went to claim the Seastone Chair he presented the horn to impress his followers. How much of it is true is beyond me, but I think this is something we should keep a close eye on.”

“Has it ever been used?” Dany asks. 

“I don’t know. I’ve checked the reference library and found nothing.” 

“So the horn’s a sham?” Varys says. 

“We don’t know that,” I frowned. “A threat is a threat, regardless if it’s been documented or not.” I turned back to Dany. “Look, I’m telling you all I know. There’s possibly a Dragonbinder out there and it could turn your children against you.” 

Daenerys sighs, deep in thought. On one hand this could be a plausible threat. History has proven that anything that remains from Valyria could have the power to cause tremendous change while on the other hand, no one really knows if it exists and if it’s an actual threat to anyone. 

“If what you say is the truth then that means Euron and his men have a powerful weapon against me and my children. However, no one, but one man, knows where it is and we don’t know if it’s an actual threat or not. For now, we focus on the task at hand, Euron and the Dragonbinder can wait.” 

I nod, understanding. “Whatever you say, Your Grace.” 

––

The stars shone bright in the night sky, not a cloud in sight. The moon glimmered brightly, a perfect reflection in the deep ocean. It was one of those nights where everything was still, as if time had stopped. There was no sound, no wind, nothing, just pure silence. 

I took in a deep breath, relaxing my shoulders and leaned against the stone railing. My eyes trailed from the sky to the ocean, the beach, and then the cave entrance. Wagons and crates were left around along with what looked to be mining equipment. It wouldn’t be long until all of the Dragonglass would be mined away and then we’ll be marching North to face off against the Night King. 

“Hope I’m not interrupting you,” a voice called from behind. I turned around to see Daenerys walking closer to me. 

“No, you’re not.” I smiled. “It’s pretty late, shouldn’t you be asleep?” 

“I could ask you the same.” 

I turned back to stare off in front of me, “couldn’t sleep. Thought I would be able to after some fresh air, but the sleepiness hasn’t kicked in yet.” 

She comes to stand besides me, a comfortable silence falling over us. I looked back down at the cave entrance. 

“Since I’ve came here I've been debating whether the Gods are cruel or kind.” I let out a sigh. “On one hand, they’ve taken me from my friends, family, my home. The other, I’ve been given the opportunity to rewrite history, and right the wrongs of mankind.” I let out a humorless laugh and turned towards Dany. “But regardless of what’s happened, I’m glad I’m here to help you and make sure you don’t go through this alone.” 

She reached over to grasp my hand, reassuringly. I smiled, “whatever happens from here on out, I want you to know that. I love you, sister.”

Tears brimmed her eyes and she smiled. “I love you too. I pray that when this is over you can find a way back to your family.” 

“But you’d be all alone.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time.” She smiled bittersweet. “I’ve lost my family, I know the pain. I can’t have you going through that.” 

I swallowed thickly, looking up and blinked away my tears. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the moon, above. 

I cleared my throat, “when I was a child, I visited my Ñāma, um my Grandmother, in Volantis. One night, when the sky was like this she told me a story about two sisters. The younger one was very sick and couldn’t be out during the day so she and her elder sister would go out at night, making sure not to go too far off from home. And every night, under the shade of a large tree, the elder sister would sing a lullaby to her little sister about the moon. And every night, the younger sister would say ‘The sun is for everyone, but we have the moon,’ and she’d fall asleep with a smile. One night, just like any other, the two sisters go out and the eldest sings a lullaby, except this time, the younger one never opens her eyes and passes in her sleep. And for the rest of her life, the eldest sister, before going to bed, would sing a lullaby to the moon, hoping it would reach her sister, because they always had the moon.” 

At this point tears were streaming down both of our faces, and I tried my best not to start crying. “Daenerys, wherever we are, we’ll always have the moon.” 

We both burst into tears, pulling each other into a tight embrace, crying in each other's arms under the glimmering moon.

so i've recently composed a "soundtrack" for this series (i put soundtrack in "" bc it's more like a medley) i'm thinking abt working on it while i work on this series, but lmk if u all want to hear it when it's complete or when i've given up.

ALSO!! since we're approaching the height of series (and the end) what should my next game of thrones/asoiaf series be?

TAGLIST:

@wotcherpeak @music-luver25 @your-favorite-god @radiantdanvers @cluelessteam @daenerys713 @ministark @laanswife @idohknow @jromanoff @bdudette @bitchyfestivalbouquet @glitteryobjecttaco @cantbecreative @lovelyteenagebeard @the0twst0shrimp0mc @sucker4seresin @marytargaryen @naneko31 @9tailedfoxfire @iilsenewman @ivyrose9194 @coffee-is-my-oxygen @mysterypotatoink @bitchycolletorvoid @nattysplatty @wifiatthetrainstation @nymeriiiia @llynx7 @pookynknowntranger @riley-625-bell @myathegoat

[belleshub]

prompt 4

yanking them by their..

satoru g. — ear.

it may sound weird at first. satoru never lets anyone touch him. the strongest. he can’t be touched by his usual means of infinity.

so why did he let you do so? it’s a conundrum to him as well. why does he touch you, put on his flawed personality for display and be so vulnerable? because as much as he’d want to deny, he loves you.

he loves you so much, to the point where he in fact invited you to go shopping with him! sure, he probably would’ve done it with himself or someone else if you were to decline, but you didn’t.

that’s what matters.

youre glossing through the crowded mall, turning a head at anything that catches your eye - and that’s when you see it.

the perfect outfit, clad on the stores front mannequin. you’re just hoping and..

“that kid there has a digimon card—“

“you are such a nerd.” you throw your head back with a exasperated groan, fingers pitching the lobe of warm hearing vessels.

“cmonn, you’re not even buying anything.”

he whined. he knew very well that he was giving you an inch.

and you knew too.

immature, much?

“I was literally just looking at somethin’, what are you on about?” you bark back.

“okay, but like, I didn’t..”

“do you even know what you’re trying to argue about?” you furrow a brow.

“can’t you mentally bookmark it?”

“…” you two shortly find your way over to a gamestop. an embarrassing scene.

suguru g. — hair

more often than not, suguru doesn’t like when other people touch his hair. he meticulously grooms it, and takes care of it to the fullest. and if someone were to touch it - they’d have to be on the list of people he can tolerate. like his parents, or maybe shoko and gojo.. and without a doubt, you.

how could he not? suguru any touch of yours to be a grounding anchor to the reality he sometimes can’t even process himself. you’re his safe space. and he means it in every definition his brain could fathom.

and with you, it’s the same. you two were simply hanging out after school, and with how sassy he was - you two were prone to indulge in some banter.

sitting on some bench next to some convenience store, you chow down on some chips - him, observe the general public. it was one of those moments where, there isn’t exactly a set plan for the day - but rather more of a reprieve from your usual treacherous schedule.

so in short, you were just.. chilling.

while you were relaxing, you rant to him about your latest fixation, and then.. he gets a text message! from.. who?

“are you listening?” you lean forward, squinting as you tried to look at his screen.

“no, yeah..” he replies monotonously. you didn’t like that.

“I dare you to recount what I just said within three sentences—“

“I think satoru set me up, that snarky bastard.” his eye twitched as he tightened his grip on the flip phone. was he gonna break it?

“dude, relax, maybe he’s like.. I dunno..”

then you pause when you read the message.

“who the hell is misaki sato? and why does she have your number?”

“I told you, satoru set me up, I don’t know that girl!” he frowned, and you gently grab a tuff of hair, tugging just enough so you don’t place tension on his oh so tender scalp.

“oh shit! I think I know her!” your eyes widen, an accomplished smile gracing your features.

“was pulling my hair necessary?”

“shut up.”

yuji i. — arm.

you two were relaxing after just exiting from the movie theater. yuji just convinced you to watch a boring, dramatic and theatrical slasher. given that you genuinely had no other pastime, you took him up on his offer.

rookie mistake on his end, because for you, your knack for unconventional garbs was going to be the death of him.

“oh my god, oh my— yuji!” you exclaim. “it’s a flash sale, you know how much I love this stores stuff.”

“are you gonna even use half of the things in there?” he said sheepishly - until he saw merchandise. merchandise of his favorite movie!

“oh..it’s..its!”

you give him a side glance.

“oh, human centipede…”

“that’s like an entirely different thing!” he complains, and you simply push his back and your hand lands on his arm. circling around it, you pull him forth.

“my bad, that weird murder shit you like..” you correct yourself. awkwardly.

“it’s not weird!”

megumi f. — collar.

to be frank, megumi wasn’t to chatty type. he was more for the tiny things, the things that made it matter.

acts of service. that his niche. so.. why was he here.. crafting all these.. origami gifts.. why? because he wanted to surprise you. particularly because you just passed exams. he’s been routing for you, studying.. buying your energizers..

yuji brought up the idea, and megumi decided to entertain it. for once.

he presses the youtube video back, navy eyes narrowing further as he scrutinized the screen just one more time.

pink hair blurs his vision, and immediately, he’s over it again.

“maybe we should ask nobara. she’s a girl, she probably knows a lot about—“ yuji fell short of his exclaimation as megumi pressed him off to the side. he may or may not subtly have elbowed him in his side as well.

“I think I know my girlfriend, yuji..” he rolled his eyes, maybe at this point, he should give up. but if it’s one of your favorite..

clink.

the noise of a door unlocking throughout the dorm room sounds, and megumi feels like his soul has been snatched. hastily, he slams it close.

yuji, on the other hand, turned to the side, front obscuring the accumulated supplies in the front of them.

“ohh, heyy! we didn’t know you were..coming so soon?”

with your arrival, you don’t exhaust haste to trot your way over to megumi.

“the air in here doesn’t feel right.” you say.

“what the hell is that even supposed to mean?” yuji barked, hurriedly pushing the papers under the bed.

“I meant what I said! you guys are doing somethin’, and it’s suspicious! why else would yuji be in here?”

“I mean, he’s not always an unwanted presence..” megumi looks off to the side, a snicker escaping his lips.

“are you insinuating there has been times where I was a unwanted presence?” his friend yells, jaw hung low in appall.

you tsk, and pull his collar, trying to see what was behind him.

he didn’t seem.. particularly bothered by your proximity.

“now, what exactly are you guys try’na do?”

[drunk-on-dk]

Tight Laced | Kim Mingyu (m)

Pairing: shop clerk!mingyu x afab!reader Genre: fluff, smut, roller-rink!au, 70s!au Rating: 18+ (minors do NOT interact) w/c: ~4.7k

warnings under the cut!

warnings: reader is on a budget and a bit clumsy; reader is called a square; explicit smut scenes; protected sex!; oral (fem receiving); sensitivity from multiple orgasms (fem); marking; public sex(?); mingyu hooking up on the job (?); desperate, whiny Mingyu; pls lmk if I’m missing anything; apologies as there may be some errors

a/n: I’m so excited to be back with a new post, especially as part of the 70s;teen collab with @svthub. I’m so thankful to be a part of another collab, it was so fun to really get into writing again and take some time to really enjoy writing a fluffier piece. Please be sure to go give love to each of the creators in the collab, they are all amazing, please go to this link to give their works a read!

Roller skates and Saturday night disco lights.

You wanted nothing to do with it, especially when most of your days were spent in your college’s library, trying to rack up as much spare change that you could with such a low paying part-time job.

Nevertheless, the job was arguably worth it. The library was peaceful, and the downtime allowed for studying. Other than classes, you really didn’t stray far from organizing shelves and spending nights at the cozy cavern of books that funded your education.

Which is exactly why it was shocking to your roommate, the outgoing and spunky Julie, when you strolled home at your usual time on Saturday afternoon and showed a bit more curiosity as she prepped for the night’s events. As per usual, her free-spirited attitude helped loosen you up after your morning shift, plopping down on your leather couch with a huff of relief.

“What’s so fun about going to the disco rink every weekend?” You pondered aloud, observing as she packed away her roller skates into her mini duffle, an anxious hand of yours reaching out to the pet rock sat on the end table.   

“Oh, c’mon, Y/N,” Julie exhaled with a smile, spinning around to show her typical skating garb, pin straight hair whipping around her shoulder like a movie star. As per usual, she sported nylon disco shorts and a fun colorful top. “It is so fun to get dressed up, skate around, socialize, and groove to some great music. You’ve got to try it one day! It’s freeing, and God knows you need some of that.”

You chuckle, unable to deny that maybe, just maybe, it would be nice for you to get out and let loose for once. It does seem like a good time, especially since Julie never misses a single weekend since the rink became the hot spot, but you know all too well that she is the most positive person you’ve ever met.

As if Julie can sense your consideration, she gasps, clearly excited to make her next suggestion. “Why don’t you join me tonight, Y/N?”

“I don’t even have skates,” you counter, but it’s a feeble argument, knowing that it won’t suffice as an excuse for Julie. “You also know I’m a klutz,” you add, whining, as if that makes it any better.

“Well, we can get you a pair. They are sold cheap at the shop in the rink, or you can rent them. Plus, if you end up falling, just hang around and enjoy the music. Don’t be such a square.”  

It’s a solid argument, Julie can practically see your walls crumbling down as you finally accept her invite to join her for the first time in the past year. It’s all a blur as Julie squeals, immediately dragging you towards her closet and holding up options for tonight.

As if you were Julie’s own personal Barbie doll, she quickly dresses you in what she finds suitable for your first night out. A pair of cut-off shorts and a colorful halter top to match hers. She doesn’t forget the finishing touches, pulling out a pair of thick socks for the both of you.

“Believe me, don’t forget to wear these,” she states, hinting at the risk of blisters, but they suit the final outfit regardless.

Before you have the chance to change your mind, you find yourself alone at the skate shop, considering if you should just purchase a pair of skates or rent them.

However, you were already enjoying yourself, the car ride to the rink with Julie’s friends was fun, and the appeal of the night was already becoming clear. Maybe it would be worth it to just suck it up and buy a pair. Julie had offered to stick around and help you with the skates, but you shooed her off to ensure she made the most of her night, promising that you’d join her sooner than later if all goes well.

You’re lost in your thoughts, the sound of ABBA reverberating in the background as you compute and make mental calculations on how much money you can spare to spend on a new pair of skates. That is up until a larger figure situates himself on the counter across from you.

“Aren’t they slick?” Dark, almost puppy-like eyes meet yours, the sudden presence of the shop clerk in your personal bubble snapping you back into reality.

It’s almost hard to speak, the clerk is a handsome man with fluffy raven locks, and, to be quite honest, you’re not so sure what he’s calling ‘slick.’ “Pardon me, but which ones are you referring to?”

“Oh,” he laughs shyly, his head flipping between you and the skates behind him almost nervously. “I’m not quite sure myself actually, I thought you may have been looking at the skates on the top right shelf, usually people just need some words of encouragement after they’ve been looking for so long.”

Goodness gracious, he is endearing, you think. There is something so boyish about his presence that makes you feel a bit more comfortable around him, even if he has looks of a Casanova actor.  Even if his arms are rippling as he shifts his weight on the counter in front of you.

“Well,” you pause, taking a second to read the name on his name tag, “Mingyu, is it?”

He nods, a little too eagerly and you’re almost worried he’s going to shake up all the blood in his head.

“I have been looking at all the pairs, Mingyu. Just not sure on the price, and I’m not so sure it’s worth buying a pair if I don’t even know how to skate. Any recommendations?”

Mingyu considers your situation for a minute before turning around to face the shelving behind him. You can’t help but blush slightly, finally noticing his tight corduroy pants that accentuated the length of his legs. He seems to settle on a pair quickly, dropping them on the counter in front of you with a satisfied look on his face. The slam of the skates on the counter pulls you out of another bout of spacing out.

“Alright, space cadet, I’d recommend these. They are great for someone on a budget, but the wheels won’t lock up on you and they look nice too,” he’s a good salesman, they do look nice, but you still find yourself worrying more than one should for a leisurely activity like this.

Mingyu senses your reluctance and decides to throw in one last sales pitch, “plus, if you purchase these now, I will throw in a free skating lesson with the one and only professional roller-skater.”

“Hmmm,” you hum, hesitant fingers running over your purse zipper as you wait for the punch line. “And who would that be?”

“Me! Who else would it be?” Mingyu exclaims, his bright smile immediately reflecting one onto your face. He seems so pure and kind; how could you even say no to the offer?

“You’ve sold me,” you laugh, finally diving into your purse and gathering up the right amount of bills to make the transaction.

Mingyu is swift with accepting the money, wasting no time to hand you the change before promptly starting on the laces, blabbering mindlessly about how you won’t regret your purchase. Honestly, he’s talking too quickly for you to even process what he is saying.

It was quite astounding how he so easily sold you on the skates. He could be twisting your arm for all you know, but his smile seems so earnest, so you’ll give it a shot.

Worst case, you’ll come back on another day when he isn’t working and attempt to return the skates.

“Are you ready? Let me help put these on you,” Mingyu asks, dropping a ‘Be Right Back in 15 minutes’ break stand on the counter and skating around through the back gate with your new skates in hand.

He guides you to a nearby seat and starts explaining the best way to lace up your skates. Mingyu asks for your name at some point, and all you can do is stutter out your name nervously in response. It’s all garbled after that, your mind going blank as it becomes increasingly difficult to focus as his fingers help lace up your new skates, large hand wrapping around your ankle and sending goosebumps up your spine when he deems they are laced tightly enough.

“Laces too tight?” He asks, the question innocent, but the way his eyes flicker up towards yours sends heat right to your lower stomach.

“Nope, all good. At least I think.”

Mingyu chuckles, sensing your nerves and patting your knee in support, “alright, well get up then. Let’s try them out.” He slaps his thighs before standing upright, holding a large hand out for you to take, and pulling you up with him.

Feeling like you were just born with new legs, you’re hesitant to start moving, and you quickly realize how precarious the skates are. Instinctually, you grasp onto Mingyu polo, and he is quick to give you tips on how to keep you balance.

Mingyu assists in guiding you towards the rink, reminding you of techniques on keeping balance, and letting you know you two will take a lap slowly around the rink first.

It doesn’t take long for Julie to notice you two, her jaw dropping when she sees you latched onto the stranger for dear life as he holds your hand, pulling you along the side walls of the rink.

She sends you a look from across the rink, hair flowing in the wind before she slows down her speed. You shrug, a blush coloring your cheeks as Mingyu attempts to regain your attention by tugging gently on your fingers.

“Sorry about that,” you apologize, almost stumbling and falling backwards as you redirect your attention, but Mingyu is quick-thinking to steady you. “I’ll focus better, I know your time is precious as a professional roller skater.”

It’s an attempted joke, and warmth fills your chest when he laughs, his eyes lighting up with joy as he does a little wiggle move in an attempt to prove his skills to you.  

“No worries let’s keep on truckin,” he winks, continuing the lesson without another beat passing. His hands stay linked with yours, skating backwards easily as he corrects your feet from a pigeon-toed position to pointing outwards.

Time goes by too quickly with Mingyu, he’s all too charming for you, and the wind that flows through his and your hair as you skate together makes it feel like a weight has been lifted off your shoulders. You can understand why Julie loves Saturday night skates so much, the atmosphere is phenomenal, Julie occasionally slapping your behind when she passes by and thanking Mingyu for his help.

Skating also sounds especially appealing if Mingyu is here on these nights.

It’s disappointing when the night comes to an end. Julie has to practically tear you away from Mingyu’s skate shop, especially since he had to return back to the counter after a couple of laps, but he continued to spend the night and share tips with you. He even agreed to give you another free lesson.

Of course, you ended up joining Julie the next weekend for another skate, absolutely satisfying her as well. As exhilarating as it was knowing that you got to see Mingyu again, it was also exciting having more time with Julie, and being able to enjoy the hobby she loved so much with her. You’d even claim that some of Julie’s free-spiritedness was rubbing off on you finally.

Shockingly, you had denied picking up another shift at the library. Your boss wasn’t quite happy with your response, but Julie had encouraged you with a thrilled “stick it to the man” before dragging you out for another night.

Ultimately, Julie was right, skating was absolutely freeing, and you now had something to look forward to on the weekend other than spending hours of your life working.  

However, inevitably, weeks passed rapidly, and you surprisingly became quite good at skating after how frequently you’ve visited the rink.

It’s been about a month since first joining Julie at the rink. Now you’ve become addicted to the weekend, absolutely looking forward to the loud music of the disco rink, colorful lights, and especially having the chance to see Mingyu’s dazzling smile.

Now you find yourself gliding across the floor much easier now, Mingyu signaling a thumbs up each time you pass by the skate shop, looking proud of how well you’re able to keep up with Julie as she drags you beside her and sings along with the Bee Gees, ABBA, and Donna Summer songs.

Sometimes you even do a little spin on the skates to show your new and improved skills. It makes both Mingyu and Julie laugh, Mingyu shouting “groovy moves” towards you both as you begin to coordinate your spins.

Yet, there’s a twinge of disappointment inside of you, knowing you no longer have the excuse that you’re poor at skating, and will no longer require the assistance of Mingyu. Thus, no longer feeling the burn of his fleeting touches as he helped encourage you to skate faster. No longer feeling the flames erupt inside your belly as he held your waist to balance you. No longer feeling his hot breath on your neck as he spoke instructions near your ear, even if it was just so you could hear him over the blaring music.

The only thing that kept you fed was that he only seemed to smile at you each time you passed by, even when most rink attendees had their eyes on him as well.

Julie seems to catch onto your fleeting looks, nudging you as a slower song came on to cool the rink, the lights dimming low and the disco ball being the only light radiating the rink. Mingyu’s tied up helping another girl around your age at the counter, her flirtatious nature clear as she covers his hand with hers.

Mingyu seems unsure about this advance, withdrawing his hand, but politely helping the girl with her rental skates.

“You two are ridiculous,” Julie sighs, “he’s clearly into you, you’re clearly into him, and both of you are too well-mannered to say anything. Hold on.”

Before you can say anything, Julie kicks your ankle, it’s a light kick, but it’s hard enough that it makes you bend over in slight pain. Like the speed of light, Julie is stomping off and skating over towards Mingyu’s shop. You can’t tell what she says to him, clearly pointing towards you, and you’re already preparing for the worst by the way Mingyu’s eyebrows raise almost up to his scalp.

Julie looks smug as Mingyu rushes towards you, the look of concern on his face making your heart beat a little too abnormally as you grip onto the sidewalls of the rink for support.

“Are you okay, Y/N? Why aren’t you sitting down? Julie should have taken you off the rink,” he seems stressed, quickly making his way into the rink and examining your bent over state.  

“Oh,” you gasp when Mingyu’s arm wraps around your waist, encouraging you to lean all your weight into his broad body. “What do you mean? Julie just – “

“Your ankle,” he mutters, looking down at your feet worriedly as he finally sits you on a bench off the rink. “We need to get these skates off, come back to the shop with me really quickly, I have a med kit in the backroom, and I can wrap your ankle up.”

You don’t know what to say, unsure of the turn of events, shooting Julie daggers with your eyes as Mingyu carries you past her, but she looks all too smug for your liking.

Mingyu is prompt, carrying you into the backroom of the shop and propping you up on a small counter next to a sink. It’s a small room and it’s a tight fit for the two of you. The proximity is enough to make you feel dizzy as he searches for the med kit.

Mingyu’s deft fingers work expertly to unlace your skates, he sighs as his warm hands run over the lace marks left on your ankles where your socks didn’t cover. There’s also a clear red mark from where Julie had kicked your ankle.

“Does it hurt a lot? It doesn’t look like it’s bruising just yet,” He looks over your ankles worriedly, but quickly notices nothing is wrong.

“Um,” you quiver awkwardly, your cheeks becoming as bright as red roses as his soft eyes meet yours. “No, it doesn’t really hurt, but I didn’t injure myself. Blame Julie.”   

He chuckles, shaking his head in exasperation with a small smile as he begins to realize the set up done by Julie. “I knew Julie might have been bullshitting. I told her you looked like a pro out there, but I know how clumsy you can be, space cadet, so I thought you may have actually hurt yourself.”

You hadn’t noticed Mingyu’s hands running up and down your thighs in a comforting motion until silence fell between you two.

“Well,” you breathe out, the air escaping your chest shakily as you become increasingly aware of how close you really were to Mingyu now. The goosebumps that paint your skin didn’t help hide the effect Mingyu had on you as well. “I’m OK now, so can you just put my roller skates back on?”

Mingyu nods, warm hands now leaving your skin and leaving a burning spot behind as he picks up your skates on the ground. The slight whimper you let out didn’t go unnoticed by Mingyu as his shoulder brushed your knees on the way back up.

Subconsciously, your legs begin to move without second thought, opening a bit wider and allowing for Mingyu to slot himself between your thighs. The air around you two begins to feel suffocating as his fingers softly grab your ankle once again, just like the first time, and sending heat right down to your lower stomach.

“Are you sure you’re OK, Y/N?” Mingyu breathes out, his fingers wrapping around your right ankle and lifting your leg up a bit teasingly. “You seem like you can’t catch your breath? Are you sure it doesn’t actually hurt?”

You know he’s teasing you now, his voice dropping an octave lower as he stares directly into your eyes between his dark lashes. The way he massages your ankle hints that he knows damn well that your ankle is perfectly OK.  

“Yes,” you gasp as his finger dips into your sock, slowly unraveling the material and blowing on the exposed skin of your leg.

“Does it tingle?” He whispers, voice so deep that it practically reverberates through your head.

“Yes,” you’re practically whimpering as his hands run up your calf, past your knee, and over your thighs until his fingers reach the cutoff of your shorts.

“Good or bad?” His fingers dig at your skin gently, pressing into the sensitive skin as his lips close in dangerously towards yours.

“Good,” you sigh, you could practically feel his lips against yours at this point, your entire body tingling with desire as he closes in on you. It’s practically electrifying.

“Is this OK with you, Y/N?”

“Of course,” and with your consent, Mingyu presses his lips against yours, the soft buds melding against yours without much effort.

He’s quick to devour you, tongue sliding across your lips begging for permission. Of course, you oblige, accepting the deepened kiss needily. Mingyu’s fingers slide even further under your cutoffs, making the kiss between you two even hungrier as you feel his nails dig into your plush skin.

Mingyu whimpers into your mouth when your hands find their way into his hair, the sound of him driving you closer to insanity as he lets you lead the kiss for a bit. You’re amazed by how pliable he is, loving the way he presses closer to you with each gentle pull of his thick locks.  

Breaking the kiss for a moment, Mingyu hums, “can I take these off of you, Y/N?” He’s pulling at the waistband of your shorts now, the desperation of his tone making your entire body buzz with anticipation.

“Of course,” you sound winded, but Mingyu sighs in content, hastily working to remove your shorts after swiftly unbuttoning the waistband. He’s quick to capture your lips with his again, the hunger clear in the way he pushes into you, easily pulling your shorts off and discarding them on the floor.

Mingyu’s eyes are wild when he leans back to observe you, his look darkening as he focuses in on your bare thighs. He practically loses his mind when he notices a wet spot on your panties, the cotton slightly darkened and he’s dropping to his knees before you can protest.

He’s at a perfect height, large hands grabbing onto your ass in order to pull you towards the edge of the counter, his eyeline leading right where you’re the most vulnerable.

“Can I please taste you?”

“Please,” you beg, head throwing back in pleasure when he slots his mouth over your panties, nose nudging your most sensitive spot as he sucks at the wettened fabric. His mouth his hot on your clothed cunt, sending a ping of delight through you as he licks at the cotton. “Not enough.”

Mingyu moans as if to acknowledge your plea, one finger hooking at the fabric before his tongue dives between your folds. He’s immediately messy with his actions, tongue lapping passionately, tasting as much of your sweet nectar as possible as he works you closer and closer towards your first burst of overwhelming heat within your core.

Your hands are weaved in his hair again, encouraging him to lap and suck on your clit as the pulses of pleasure become even more unbearable to hold. He coaxes you to your first orgasm with one sharp suck to your clit, your juices spill out all over his tongue as he gladly licks it all up.

Mingyu doesn’t give you much time to recoup, standing back up to kiss you hungrily, allowing you to taste yourself on his tongue as he begins to work at his belt buckle. With your help, he’s able to pull his corduroys off, reaching for a condom in his wallet before dropping the pants to the ground.

He’s unable to roll it on himself as you kiss and nibble at his neck, desperate whines escaping Mingyu’s mouth as you decide to take over. He feels a bit of relief when you work it onto his cock easily, the tight latex squeezing his aching length as you begin to slowly jerk him off.

Mingyu’s close to losing his mind when your hips buck in anticipation, your small hand still working at his length, and he stutter out a request. “C-Can I- please feel you completely?”

“Yes,” you moan, hips lining up with his as his tip glides between your folds, sensitivity sending a jolt through your body when he brushes your clit. “God, Mingyu, just do it.”

Mingyu’s length slowly enters you, your walls sucking him in without hesitation, waves of pleasure immediately warming you as his length and girth fills you all too perfectly.

Mingyu’s hands are gripping at your hips, his own muscles shaking as your walls take him in easily. You’re squeezing his cock in a way that has him moaning a bit too loud, your shushes reminding him that he is at work, and you are still in the rink. Even if the music drowns out your noises.

His thrusts are slow at first, ensuring that you can take every inch of him before he picks up his pace. Mingyu’s moans only get louder as your walls begin to pulse, squeezing with each unforgiving thrust of his hips, becoming groans as he dips his head into your neck, teeth sucking harshly at your skin as you breathe out in ecstasy.

He’s precise with each thrust, his tip nailing a spot so deep inside of you that you begin to see stars as your eyes roll back in pleasure. Your hands grip at Mingyu’s back, an attempt to ground yourself as Mingyu’s length fills you so deliciously, that you think you’ll be addicted for the rest of your life.

“Holy shit,” you cry out at one particularly hard thrust, the fiery heat building at your core, and you’re not sure how much longer you can keep quiet, nor how much longer you can keep your second orgasm at bay. “M-Mingyu.”

Something flips in Mingyu when you moan out his name, hand coming up to grab you chin as he forces your eyes to meet his. His pace quickens impossibly, his pubic bone brushing against your clit occasionally and bringing you closer to your breaking point.

He’s egged on by the wild look in your eyes, your swollen lips as his name falls from your mouth like a prayer, and he encourages you to come as obscene sounds come from the space where you and he connect.

“Make a mess of me, Y/N,” he pleads, even when he’s hammering into you there’s a hint of desperation in his tone, and all you can think about is making him fall apart himself. Your walls clench tighter around him, pulling yet another groan from him as the burning pleasure in your core explodes throughout your body, your thighs shaking as you feel the release spread like wildfire.

Mingyu is quick to follow, hot cum filling the condom inside of you, sending a second wave warmth throughout your core as his cock pulses. Mingyu’s canines dig deeply into your shoulder in attempt to hide his groans, only intensifying the sensitivity of your throbbing clit as he continues to thrust shallowly inside of you, riding out his high until the last second.

You’re like two naïve kids in love when he pulls his length out, tossing the soiled condom into the trash and making a note to really clean up the backroom before he leaves tonight. He giggles bashfully into your neck, observing the dark marks he left from his attempts to muffle his noises, but it only leaves him desiring this more and more. His nose comes up to nudge yours, pulling you in for one final sweet kiss.

“What about another lesson?” He whispers between kisses. “Looks like you’re a pro out there now.”

“I don’t think I’ll be needing those anymore,” you giggle, squirming as Mingyu fixes your panties back into place. He looks a bit disappointed, as if he’s unsure where to go from here. Slowly he helps you get dressed, buttoning up your shorts after he pulls his own pants back on.

“Y/N?” Mingyu tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, and you nod expectantly. “You know I don’t just give out free lessons to anyone, right?”

You almost laugh boisterously, but you simmer down quickly as Mingyu’s lips form a slight pout. “Oh really?”

“Yes, really,” he says very matter of fact, “I only offer them to the most special of people. I even tied your laces extra tightly to make sure you wouldn’t twist your ankle. Yet look where we are now.”

“Well, I did learn from the best,” you prod, “I guess you didn’t teach me to watch out for Julie’s though.”

Mingyu chuckles, the same endearing sound you’ve grown used to. “That’s true, I guess no professional could have been prepared for Julie’s antics.”

“So, what now?”

“What about a date? Or a couple’s skate? Think you can keep up with me?”

You laugh teasingly, “how about can you keep up with me?”

“I should have never sold you those skates,” Mingyu jokes, pinching your nose, but his eyes give away that he’s in way too deep, absolutely head over heels about you. “Why don’t we go test that out? How about we test out that theory every weekend?”

Roller skates and Saturday night disco lights. How could you have ever wanted nothing to do with these two things?

[genericpuff]

Since you made a post about lore Olympus’ fashion,could you tell us what kind of fashion characters in rekindled usually wear?

For the most part, considering it's a modernized retelling just like LO, I try to focus on the character's personality first and then refine from there.

Currently where Kore is in her character arc, she's very cottage-core in her outfit choices, favoring light springtime colors that compliment her skin tone. She also often wears dresses and skirts both because she thinks they're pretty, and also because it gives her a lot more range of motion, she doesn't like being constricted or too revealing. Even when she wears dresses and skirts that are on the shorter side, she'll still usually be wearing leggings and/or shorts underneath. That said, her fashion choices will change and develop as her character does throughout the story, she has a few different phases that she goes through that start to go outside of her comfort zone, so keep an eye out for that ;)

On the flipside, Hades is often wearing pressed suits and has grown used to wearing the same wardrobe often as, like the rest of his life, he's fallen into a very standardized routine. That said, he also wears his Mortal Realm garb when he's doing his job addressing the mortals, as it's standard protocol to keep all modern amenities away from them (including expensive suits lol) That said, when we see him in more casual settings such as the Olive Branch restaurant, he and his brothers are usually wearing more modern Mediterranean outfits, including colorful button-ups and sandals (though Hades often still sticks to his darker color schemes as it's, again, what he's accustomed to). Like Kore, Hades will also be going through some fashion developments as the story goes on and as he learns to step outside of his own comfort zone. I've got some future suit ideas planned for when the story moves on, I wanna give him some more flair than his default settings from LO 😆 (trust me, that moment when Persephone teased him for wearing nothing but black suits is gonna come back into play eventually LOL)

Artemis and Hermes are both really athletic so their clothing often reflects that, they both like tracksuits and sportswear, though Artemis is seen a few times throughout the series so far wearing Mortal Realm garb because she's someone who's often working in the Mortal Realm.

Hecate is a lot of fun because not only is she a lot more androgynous, but I also get to come up with fun outfits that reflect the witch side of her.

Apollo is a very "slap it on and get on with the day" kinda guy (especially considering he works long shifts with lots of early mornings) so a lot of what he wears are hoodies, t-shirts, cargo shorts, sandals, etc. He doesn't need much to get by and considering he works with Helios, he never really needs to bundle up too much LMAO

Demeter is one of the only gods who's always drawn in Mortal Realm attire as that's where she mainly resides. This largely includes Mycenaean-style garb, such as the chiton and peplos.

I've found this particular site very helpful for providing both inspiration and context to specific outfits where Ancient Greek standards come into play. As for the modern outfits, it's really just about having fun meshing the characters' personalities in with modern fashion styles of Greek fashion. It makes for a lot of outfits that are made up of flowing fabrics with lots of color and movement accessibility.

Just wait until we get to Aphrodite and Ares though. Whooo I have plans for them LOL

[sharpedgedfool]

Sonic's gang, lore under the cut!

Knux is the Captain, his normal crew consists of Tails, Amy and Sonic. Stick's is a bit feral, she's a castaway they rescue but she refuses to go on land again so she ends up part of the crew.

Knuckles has a link to the water, Echidna are linked to Chaos so he can steer a ship through rough storms better than anyone. He's not looking for riches, he's trying to steal back Echidna artefacts that have been pillaged by other pirates. He's one of the only Echidna above water, but still dawns a ton of his clan's garb to keep them close to him. Because their crew operates differently from most pirates, they've got a good reputation across the world, often seen as a sign of good luck when they dock at a harbour as they treat the locals nicely, they've helped defend fishing boats caught off guard by other pirates more than once (they're friends with Big because of this).

Tails is their cartographer, and handles most of the repairs (be it the ship or any of their gear) and he built Sonic's prosthetic. Tails' had been captured by other pirates and was rescued by Knuckles' crew, and by the time they brought him to shore he was asking to stay with them - he'd no family waiting for him at home so they took him in.

Amy's a powerhouse - she's good with talking to people and just as good swinging an axe that has most people running at the sight of, she's Knux's first mate. She's got a temper, but is a huge romantic, she says the only reason she's a pirate is so her love story has some drama in it, she used to travel on land a lot and knows a ton of stories. She picked up tarot cards at some point and often does a reading every night - she's managed to warn Knux of storms before even the seas tell him.

Sonic's mostly just on lookout, he's usually hanging around (napping) above the sails - as far away from the water as possible. Knux always threatens to toss him overboard for not doing enough around the ship but he has a suspicion that Sonic grants the ship a boon for strong winds that always seem to be in their favour. He used to have shaky legs, but he's gotten used to water over the years and can put up a fierce fight - though he swears he's better on land.

The Chaotix is Knux's old crew, they all used to work on the same ship. They've since split to do freelance detective work but they remain close allies to Knux's crew. Vector has his own ship (albeit a small one), Espio and Charmy help him out on the water whilst Ray and Mighty work on shore as an informant.

Vanilla and Cream run a market stall they often frequent, Amy's good friends with them so they have special packages ready for them to pick up in the middle of the night without fuss, they also have two Chao they're keeping safe with them - Chao aren't widely known as they typically stay underwater but Knux has told them how to care for them properly.

[feyascorner]

suggestion for a funny but fluff fic or miniseries: Modern day Baldurs gate /faerun, were Ascended Astarion and GN Consort reader have lived a couple of centuries together and are still acting like newlyweds / deeply in love and just obsessed with each other. (but also dress gothic/victorian or like they don't belong in the current timeline.)

Would be funny if its written from the perspective of a new servant or a party guest- Maybe they mess up using medieval words when trying to describe modern things and the POV person is not aware they are vampires.

idk Dracula investigator reporter style- Thoughts?

anon you're such a genius for this1!!! THIS WAS SO FUN TO WRITE UGH I TWEAKED IT A BIT THOUGH W THE PERSPECTIVE PART I HOPE YOU DON'T MIND <33 (also this is not proofread)

A ball in this day and age is uncommon.

At first, Alfira was skeptical. Especially considering the party's hosts were famous for being---a rather eccentric couple. Inviting but strange at times. Dressing in garbs similar to the pictures Alfira has of her great great great grandmother, it was natural that they'd stick out like sore thumbs in high society. But with the pay proposed to her, Alfira could dare not decline playing her instrument at the party. Even more so when she realized how exclusive the party really was.

She'd been invited to stay at their obnoxiously large mansion alongside the other servants for the week preceding the event, and while the sensible decision would be to practice her piece, her naturally curious nature got the better of her. And now, she hides an entire notebook under her pillow regarding all the peculiar things about the couple.

'No. 1: They rarely show their face during the daytime. Perhaps they simply don't want to expose their skin without a concerning amount of sunscreen? Everyone online raves about how bad the sun is for your skin nowadays.

No. 2: The kitchen is completely off-limits to everyone but the head chef. It reeks anytime I go near it, so I don't mind.

No. 3: He calls them their consort. Weird. Is that considered affectionate with rich people?

No. 4: We're not allowed to take our mirrors outside of our rooms. This one I really don't understand.'

The list goes on for ages.

Alfira's observations are ones done from across rows of other recruits or servants, given how rare of an occasion it is to see either of them. Though, she's noted that where one is, the other isn't far away. They're practically attached at the hip, and even if she's a complete outsider, it's easy to tell how smitten they are for one another.

And with how well she was being treated (the food and rooms alike) under their care, Alfira began to feel a sort of guilt for suspecting so much. They surely didn't deserve such obsessive note-taking when all she could see was the way Astarion pecked your forehead before lending you his arm, only gentle laughter ringing in the air.

Perhaps the two of you were truly just a happy couple. A strange one, sure, but happy.

The day of the event comes in no time. Despite the lack of preparation, Alfira manages to play her main musical piece with minimal slip-ups, and continues to leisurely play as she watches all the wealthy guests. The ballroom bustles with people, and because she knows that she isn't acquainted with anyone here, her eyes are naturally drawn to a crowd in the center of the room where you and Astarion are greeting the guests. As usual, your arm is locked tightly with his.

In a room full of dresses and suits, the two of you still somehow manage to stick out. The intricate designs on your attire aren't all to blame, because Alfira swears she sees a sort of aura around the two of you.

It must be a trick of the light, though, surely.

When Alfira and the other musical hires begin to play a slow dance song, you eagerly pull your partner to the dance floor. The dance comes to easily to the two of you, eyes so loving as they're set on one another that Alfira nearly feels jealous. The other single guests seem to feel the same way as Astarion leans into your ear and grins with a whisper.

Alfira squints.

'No. 32,' she notes in her head. 'He has sharp teeth.'

Once the dance is over, she thinks her hand may very nearly fall off. But when she sees you and your partner approaching in her direction, the pain is immediately forgotten as she straightens her back, eyes wide when you offer her a smile.

"Alfira, right?"

"Y-yes! That's me."

"I apologize I couldn't greet you sooner," you place your free hand on Astarion's arm. "We were so swept up in the preparations we didn't get to welcome the truly important guests."

Alfira blinks. A guest? She's not a guest.

You huff. "You really do look just as I remembered you to be! Right, Astarion?"

"I don't particularly remember the bard from then to be frank, my love," he responds, as if Alfira isn't standing right in front of them.

'No. 33,' she notes again. 'He's kind of a jerk to anyone else.'

But more importantly, a bard? She's a musician! Not merely a wandering bar entertainer with a bloody lute and a corset to go along with it. It's even stranger that you seem so familiar with her, even though she's only first talking to you right now. Is she finally losing it?

"Sorry, have we met before?" Alfira blurts.

"Ah," you laugh. "Apologies for my informality. We have, but I doubt you'd remember."

What does that mean?

"Although it pains me to tear you away from such a fascinating conversation, my love, we should greet the others," Astarion chips in, and Alfira inwardly sighs in relief. "Good day, bard."

That damn word again--

As Astarion leads you away back toward the crowd with you pressed close to his side, he smiles down at you while you whisper something he finds humorous up to him. Alfira realizes she's never been that close to either of you, and fears she may have missed her chance---as strange as the encounter was.

However, she does notice one thing about the couple as you walk away.

Both loving sets of eyes are the same piercing shade of bloody red.

[azu1as]

dumb rotmhs fanfic idea where chung myung doesn't reincarnate and instead turns into a lost ghost on mount hua.

that is, until his spirit stumbles into yu iseol chasing after their lost plum blossoms technique that he begins to slowly regain his memories.

Got inspired by @dew-in-the-morning's tweet here!! You can also read the original fic thread :DD

»—————————–✄

yu iseol doesn't know who the one-armed stranger was. she had opted to ignore him when she first noticed his presence in the far distance upon arrival at the clearing. but he'd been observing her for almost two hours now, and it seemed as if he had no intentions to leave at all.

"come out." she tells the one-armed man, but frustratingly receives no response at all.

she makes a move towards him but he disappears within a blink.

a part of yu iseol becomes unsettled, but she decides to brush it off as nothing more than a one-off encounter.

she's quickly proven wrong.

the following night, she once again finds him in the same spot, facing her direction. it continues that way the next night until the next week. the man is consistently there and always leaves whenever yu iseol outwardly acknowledges his presence.

after almost two weeks of this occurring, yu iseol decides to stare just as intently at the man as he did at her sword.

she doesn't often feel conscious about how others perceived her, but something about the way the man's eyes visibly narrows when she swings or stabs her sword makes her every move feel like they were being scrutinized and dissected.

and that her results were unsatisfactory if the random clucks and tsks she hears off to the side whenever she overextends her swings were any indication.

the man's robes were clearly from mount hua. but she quickly realizes that what she initially thought were shadows on his garbs were actually dark blood stains.

then a sense of uneasiness washes over her when she notices that she could see the edges of a tree through him.

it seems that her nightly companion was some sort of supernatural entity.

she doesn't feel any true fear though because no amount of malice or resentment was ever turned her direction since she began seeing the man.

"who are you?" yu iseol finally asks.

but, as expected, the man disappears and she's left alone in the clearing.

%%%

"are there ghosts on mount hua?" yu iseol asks the sect leader much to his bemusement.

"perhaps." he replies to her after a beat passes. "what brought this on?"

yu iseol silently huffs at the admittedly lackluster reply, but responds politely, "i just saw something."

before she could turn away, the sect leader hums pensively and gently adds,

"maybe what you saw was the ghost of an ancestor watching over you."

clearly, it was intended to be an acknowledgement of her nightly sword training and visible efforts towards attaining mount hua's swordsmanship.

yu iseol, however, took the message quite differently.

that night, yu iseol lets out a breath and lowers her sword as she once again catches sight of the semi-translucent man observing her from behind a tree.

her attention zooms in on the bloodied embroidery of a plum blossom on his chest and the sword sheath strapped to his waist.

she steels herself as her eyes locks onto sharp, pink ones. she was certain that whoever this man had been, he was a strong swordsman with the way he held himself even in death.

and if the way he attentively observed her sword training was a potential indication....

"excuse me," yu iseol begins, fists clenched, "do you know how to make plum blossoms bloom?"

there was a long pause between them. for a moment, yu iseol worried that she was mistaken and that the spirit of this ancestor would disappear as he usually did.

but then the one-armed man steps forward for the first time into the clearing and replies by unsheathing his sword.

it glints against the moonlight despite its translucency and yu iseol knows that she couldn't miss the next moments no matter what.

the ghost of her ancestor holds it aloft in the air for a brief moment. And then he swings his sword into an arc.

in yu iseol's chest, the uncertain flicker of hope ignites into an unstoppable wildfire.

[matchadobo]

hello! can i request ace reacting to his female plus size s/o wearing a beautiful dress and makeup (the whitebeard pirates has a party to attend) because usually she barely do things like that and this is the first time he has ever seen her like this :D

ACE; the way you look tonight

wc: 688 i made it clear in my rules that i wouldn't do any appearance-specific request bc i just don't roll like that homie. buuuut i'd love to write for ace in this set-up 🔥🥺 thanks for the requesttt! but next time, please stick to my rules. warning/s: afab reader, all fluff, just ace being so whipped for you 🥺

"i mean it now, i swear!" you reiterated as you give one more brush up of blush and a sprit of your perfume. after having one last look at yourself in the mirror, you gave yourself one last smile at your appearance. "i'm coming out now, ace."

"i don't believe you at this point, i'll let the crew go ahead, oka- oh fuck!" ace fell backwards when you opened the door, completely lying on the floor. once he gazed at you, he mumbled through his breath that you once again took away. "oh fuck..."

he mused at you as you donned a tight, red dress to match his three-piece, red tux, its glitters shone and almost blinded him. the v-cut by the chest enhanced your mounds, the dumbass gulp as his saliva got stuck on his throat. you were garbed with an long, white gloves that made you look even more regal. you clutched a white purse, sophisticatedly lined with gold; it's a gift from him. and my god, the rouge you colored your lips and cheeks with seemed to have made you even more radiant. your eyes are more striking with the sharp eyeliner and voluminous mascara, he found himself getting lost at your eyes despite lying flat on the floor at your feet.

he had his mouth agape, sitting down to get a better look at you from head to toe back to your face again. a vivid, red blush made its way from his neck to his ears to his entire face. he pressed his lips together before hanging his head down low.

"i-i'd like to apologize," he said through the violent rhythm of his heart. "i shouldn't have rushed you, you look like a fucking princess." he covered his face, trying to calm down.

you found yourself smiling ear to ear, you bent down to your knees and placed a hand on his shoulder. "don't be silly, ace. i really took a long time, sorry for making you wait like that."

"no, no, i mean- l-look at you! this is the first time i've seen you so... so..." he seems to forget whatever he was cooking with his statement when he gave you one more look, the kind smile on your lips made his chest even tighter. your freckled lover just whined again, hiding his face in his palms. "will you please, please, do this more often? i-i just... love the way you look tonight. you're so... pretty." he can't keep his eyes off you, gaze frantically trying to memorize and engrave the way you look tonight in his brain. "i'll even help you! i'll curl or brush your hair! i'd learn make up! i'd go with you to shop for dresses, i'd gift you stuff!"

tears almost pooled in your eyes, you fanned them so as to not smudge your make up. you held his face in your hands, squishing his cheeks together as his mouth made that of similar to a fish. his eyes got even more frantic at your actions and at how close you are.

god, he is so in love with you. you really have him wrapped around your finger, on a goddamn chokehold. you just never stop taking his breath away, nor do you ever look unattractive to him even in your normal look without the cosmetics and accesories. your eyes somehow always look brighter each time you two lock eyes, he says he needs a map outta it 🤣.

"you're so cute~" you pouted, pressing a quick kiss on the corner of his lips. "now, enough dilly-dallying! i don't wanna keep the crew long!"

he'd always show you off and give you a spin each time he had the chance. the entire evening, he compliments you so much you'll feel your ears ring! but you're no complainer! ace always loves to shower you with love. and when a moment to dance comes whether it'll be a party dance or a slow dance, he'll always invite you and have you be completely free and happy with the way you look. that's just the kind of lover he is.

[welcomingdisaster]

House of Finwë + Gender Presentation In Valinor HCs

Disclaimer: I have not been able to find any actual canon on what is considered masculine or feminine dress for the Noldor. It might exist, and I might be blatantly contradicting it. I think I have some grounding in seeing associations between gold/yellow/Laurelin colors and femininity and silver/grey/Telperion colors and masculinity, but it seems elves of any gender will wear/be associated with/named after/etc either color, so I assume this association is somewhat loose, a little as red and blue to us.

Finwë and Míriel, during their reign: They had set the fashion for all of the Noldor courts, and, unlike the Vanyar, there had been to be a contrast between the sorts of fashions they wear; Finwë in well-fitted, sometimes almost figure-hugging dress in bold, bright colors, decorated with gems and embroidery along the collar, sleeves, and hem, while Míriel leaned towards loose, many-layered outfits with quite a lot of visual noise, often covered in embroidery head-to-toe but eschewing quite as many jewels (in part because she found the weight exhausting). She would also wear one or two rings only, to keep her hands freer, while Finwë's hands were heavily ornamented. Finwë's hair was usually done in a half-up half-down style and ornamented, while Míriel's was bound in many twisting plaits, often with colorful strings (or sometimes light dye!) worked into it. These differences were so influential that the associations between masculinity and tight-fitting clothes + freer hair, and feminine styles and looser-cut dress + ornamented braids remained long after Míriel's death, following the Noldor into middle earth.

Finwë and Indis, during their reign: Gender differences in court dress notably decreased during Indis' reign, though some remained present. Indis, fond of sport and horseback riding, preferred tighter-fitting, simpler clothes than her predecessor, and notably wanted to avoid associations with embroidery. Indis was also similar in height to her husband; when, once or twice, she was seen wearing his robes (pinned and styled to better suit her figure) it caused quite a stir in the courts -- whether it was seen as improper conduct or a touching display of devotion varied heavily on who you asked. Indis was, however, very precise with her hair, which was never seen loose; she braided it closely to her head, bound with jewels and pearls. She introduced hair-wrapping to Noldor courts, binding her hair with thick bright silks. This was always considered a highly feminine style, with men at most using a ribbon or two in their braids.

Findis and Lalwen: Findis styled herself often after her mother, but subconsciously favored styles which would garner the least attention; she tended towards looser, more flowering dress, with sleeves so long she could comfortably fidget without drawing too much attention to herself, and tended to keep her hair bound. Lalwen, on the other hand, was at times scandalously masculine in her forms of dress. She was one of the first noble women to wear parts of her hair unbound, and wore bright, simple styles, tailored close to her with a few statement-piece ornaments, a little as early-reign Finwë. She preferred heavily silver jewelry and sought out an association with Telperion. Upon meeting her for the first time, especially in riding-garb that hid her figure and before hearing her speak, strangers sometimes mistook her for her brother Fingolfin, which secretly pleased her.

Feanor, Fingolfin, Finarfin: Feanor often found himself caught between his desire to harken back to his mother in his modes of dress and the fact that his mother had, more or less, set the standards for what was considered feminine in his society (and his desire to appear masculine as the crown prince). He embraced the same visual noise that Míriel did, wearing tightly-tailored vests and corsets covered in embroidery, but in cuts of cloth tended to imitate Finwë's style. He too kept his hands relatively unadorned, for practicality's sake. Fingolfin was one of the first elves to embrace simplicity in dress, wearing darker or subtler robes broken up by a single splash of color; usually in the form of brooches. His long dark hair was sometimes left entirely loose except for one thin braid holding his hair from his eyes, bound with a few silver beads or sapphires, very distinct and masculine styles. Finarfin leaned rather neutral in his dress in his youth, mostly imitating Finwë by default, though he favored bright sunset oranges and pinks, yellows. However, after spending much of his time with the Teleri, he found he enjoyed their modes of dress, often wearing simpler, looser garments, often off-one-shoulder, rarely worn in Noldor courts. This preference was seen by some as feminine, and by some as simply somewhat foreign.

House of Feanor: From his youth Maedhros tended to heavily imitate his father in dress, often wearing ornate and heavily-embroidered robes. He was also often the first model for some of his father's jewelry pieces, and gained something of a reputation for being garish and loud in his dress. The cuts of his robes, however, tended to be firmly masculine, as appropriate to the first-born son of a crown prince. His hair he often wore down, in the single-braid-in-the-back style popularized by Fingolfin (though he would not admit to that inspiration).

Maglor tended to wear tight-fitting riding-clothes, often in greys, blacks, and dark-blues, ornamented only by silver jewelry. His dark hair he cut unusually short (just below his shoulders) and wore in a top-knot, half-up half-down, a working man's style popular among Telerin sailors. All in all his style read as very masculine to the Noldor, with just a touch of androgyny provided by the the loose-fitting silver-and-black cloak he wore often to formal events.

Celegorm dressed most often in imitation of courtly trends for young men, favoring hunting-styles. His most infamous moment was coming to court with his hair entirely unbraided, scandalous for elves of any gender-- a little as coming to court shirtless. Caranthir dressed in looser robes, though largely out of comfort rather than style. His jewelry tended towards large and chunky, without much visual noise. Curufin heavily imitated Feanor in his manner of dress, albeit often wearing even more jewels; he popularized five ear-piercings rather than the previously fashionable three.

Amrod and Amras, not particularly invested in the fashions of the court, tended to dress similarly to Celegorm, usually falling a few seasons behind the trends currently in court.

House of Fingolfin: Anaire was fond of a matching her husband, sharp and purposeful in her dress. She had particularly beautiful dark hair, which she wore in many braids as a crown upon her head, and of long, simply-decorated cloaks. Very distinctly feminine, but in a sharp, unapproachable sort of way.

Fingon's tendency towards feminine modes of dress was noticeable enough to get him pulled aside and talked to several times during his youth; he preferred layered and loose, dress-like robes, wore bright gold-lip stain usually associated with young women (men favored red and orange lip stain) and did entirely too much with his hair, always wearing it in great plaits. After a specific incident in court during his adolescence he was forbidden from binding his hair with headscarves for court-wear, but wove gold into it. His one touch of masculine saving grace were his many rings. The androgyny suited him well; his appeal to women was offset only by his utter lack of interest in them.

Turgon tended to imitate Fingolfin's manner of dress, albeit with brighter base-colors, favoring deep browns, golds, and reds. Gondolin would eventually grow to have very different gender-norms for its residents, and then Turgon would begin to favor almost toga-like dress during his reign. That, however, is a matter for another post. He was known for many ornate rings, and collar-like necklaces.

Aredhel leaned sporty/practical feminine, often imitating Indis, whom she was particularly close to. She wore her dark hair plaits bound with white, often decorated with diamonds, and favored white riding-clothes and golden jewelry, matching sometimes with Turgon.

House of Finarfin: [the ones I have headcanons for] Earwen embraced hyper-feminine modes of dress, both to the Teleri and the Noldor. She wore intricate gowns and cloaks with many layers as feathers, most often in silver, white, or blue. Her hair was incredibly long, and always woven into several long braids.

Finrod favored greens and blues, usually in adventuring, hunting, riding sorts of styles -- distinctly sporty. His long hair matched his mother's, and he wore parts of is down, threaded with lily flowers and jewels. His hands were covered in many rings, and generally he made the appearance of being a well-ornamented young man. In Middle Earth he would experiment with androgyny, but that is a story for another post.

Orodreth: Dressed in soft, simple colors, notably pale greens and grays. Not wanting to draw attention, he would usually imitate whatever masculine style was popular in court, but he did not seem particularly confident in them.

Angrod: Embraced his Telerin side often, and dressed similarly to his father. His hair he kept strangely short, just around his shoulders, and wore a top-knot as often as a braid.

Aegnor: Simple in his dress, usually modeling himself after Fingolfin but with rather less splash. He did not much like the weight of jewelry, and wore the minimum he could get away with. Most people considered him quite unfashionable.

Galadriel: Mingled feminine styles of dress freely with masculine ones. Wore her long hair completely unbound on several occasions despite many talking-tos. Decorated her hands with many rings, pairing this with riding styles, but was just as likely to wear a long flowing cloak or gown; often styled her hair with rubies and sapphires. Quite controversial in her style of dress.

[theflashdriver]

Stumbling in Sync (A Silvaze Fanfic)

This was not in the spirit of what had been agreed. Blaze the cat, guardian of the Sol Emeralds and ruler of islands, was stood at the heart of a very empty great hall that should have been even emptier. Three months ago, when the feline had requested time be scheduled for dance practice in advance of the Winter Ball, she had thought of the day as one to look forward to. It would be an opportunity to spend some time with her partner, free from the shackles of duty that ensnared them both, away from prying eyes and potential interference. Instead, today seemed to embody restraint, eavesdropping, and hinderance.

Rather than a record player or a tape deck or even something more advanced, Gardon had elected to involve the most archaic and dramatic of sources for the effort's music... a live band. No fewer than twenty koalas, dressed in finery and wielding a variety of instruments, had been staring at the guardian ever since she'd arrived. They were positioned above her, looking down wordlessly from a stage as they tuned their instruments. The conductor had explained that Gardon's suggestion that their practice coincide with her own to make the most efficient use of the space; but Blaze knew that wasn't truly the reason. They were spies, plain and simple, and their incredulous stares were making the feline all the more conscious of her chosen garb.

Formal attire and Blaze had a tumultuous relationship. While her usual guardian outfit was professional enough for most engagements, there was a certain expectation to dress differently with regards to scheduled appearances. For the princess, donning a dress was an expectation she had chafed under but generally acquiesced to. With this being a rehearsal for the true outing, she'd thought it wise to get used to her outfit as well- a flowing red dress with a slit that marched much of the way up her right thigh.

While the choice had initially seemed wise, the slit allowing for freedom of movement, under the beady gaze of no fewer than twenty elderly koala, the princess was feeling rather exposed. She knew the opening wasn't truly revealing, she'd checked and rechecked enough in the mirror to confirm such, but now every shift and step would push a fresh needle of doubt into her mind regarding the outfit's construction. Even the skirt's length, perhaps being a size too large, should have been enough to put her mind at ease- but of course, it wasn't.

She'd already noticed her subconscious choice to keep her elbows folded and arms at her side; the dress's straps being off the shoulder meant a further level of exhibition she was not used to. Of course the dress wouldn't malfunction and fall away, she'd spun in her room and tested its practicality... but being perceived always spiked her temperature, and she was the sole point of observation. This orchestra would report the slightest hint of impropriety back to Gardon- any imagined whiff of scandal would reach his furry ears before the day's end. This all reflected poorly on Blaze to... it looked like she had set her partner up to fail, any graze of exposed shoulder or hands upon thighs would surely result in him being chastised. The psychic wasn't a subtle fellow, he'd surely make mistakes without even realising. Having him act as her escort for the ball was already treading on toes and now he was late to their rehearsal! That would surely be the first strike against him, what was that-

The doors to the hall burst open as a figure stumbled his way inside. His white fur was visible but not so thoroughly as usual- a blue waistcoat, sealed all the way up to his neck with golden bands, was seeing to that. Upon his head, struggling to stay put amongst his quills, a blue military cap had been positioned. As he took a step Blaze's attention darted down to the brown dress shoes he'd surely been force into, before her gaze was hoisted up by the sound of tearing. The hedgehog's face twisted the confusion, he reached back behind himself and turned to feel. One of his spines had cleanly burst through the back of his coat.

As their eyes met across the hall, a wry smile crept its way onto Blaze's face but she smothered it with a hand, "Please start us with something slow," She requested through her fingers.

Her heels did not click as she crossed the floor- she'd exchanged her usual heels for a set of black dance shoes which provided little additional height. With each step she felt a brief gust brush by her right calf, the exposure set her fur to prickle. She could hear the orchestra adjusting in their seats and the conductor tapping her baton to rouse attention. It was only as she arrived before him that the difference in their heights was made obvious- had they really given him shoes with lifts? He would have to lead...

"Sorry I'm late," Silver grumbled, "Gardon says they'll have a better version of this for the day."

"It's alright," Blaze sighed, "I'm just glad that you're here."

The opening bars sounded; Blaze instinctively extended her right arm and reached around his shoulder with her left, only to meet with torn fabric and his spine. As those initial notes shifted into that of a proper waltz no hand found the small of her back, nor did it grasp her own. The hedgehog was looking down at her, more than a little befuddled. It was was only as they exchanged glances, the hedgehog finally awkwardly grasping her hand and haphazardly matching her hold on his shoulder, that Blaze realised what should have been an obvious truth.

Silver surely hadn't spent much time dancing- he'd been spread thin across time and space, fighting all manner of threats! Despite this being their first time dancing together, they had an audience to impress. Those koalas, in various configurations, had been present at prior royal balls for decades- they knew what a professional waltz was supposed to look like. Failure here would lead to Gardon recommending she switch to a more appropriate suitor. Silver would be atomised beneath their critical gaze, it was a certainty and it was entirely her fault.

"Walk with me," The cat harshly hissed, hoping the band wouldn't hear.

With a single step the cat felt herself stubble, she'd moved too quickly and caught on her dress! She heard a tear as she reflexively clung to her partner, fingers buried deep in his waistcoat's gash. He'd caught her of course, Silver had reflex enough to do that, but his fingers must have been burning- her temperature had skyrocketed. She could feel his palm on her exposed shoulder; somehow the small of her back or the edge of her hip now felt like a less intimate position!

Gritting her teeth and lowering her gaze, the cat marched on with her stare locked on her feet. She'd been so focused on the slit and shoulders, the dress being one size too large had almost completely slipped her mind! She had to step far, that was the only way to counteract the length of the dress. She was already leading, that wasn't a massive change to make; she could do this, she just had to keep calm.

They weren't even spinning, just walking as they clung to each other's body, not daring to attempt a more dramatic move. A sigh slipped between Blaze's lips as she tried to cool off, daring to glance up to Silver as they stumbled around the hall. Immediately her eyes met with his, gleaming with a combination of confusion and concern. He was holding on much too tight, was he still worried about her falling? What was-

The centre of Blaze's sole met with something too lumpy to be the floor, and too dense to be excess dress fabric. She heard a breath sucked in much too quickly and felt a flinch rock through her partner as his eyes widened. The cat had only looked away from her feet for a moment, and she'd already stood on his foot. She hadn't stepped on a dance partner's foot since she was a child taking lessons...

"Sorry," The cat quickly stepped off of him.

"It's okay," He winced as they slowed to a halt, "Do you want me to try leading?"

Blaze blinked, she could immediately tell that the hedgehog was serious. Had he somehow found time to practice? She supposed he'd had three months to prepare for this date, but in that period he had prevented no fewer than six apocalypses. When would he have found the time to even consider today? Had he travelled outside of usual time periods specifically to practice?

"You can try," The cat grimaced at the surprise in her tone, "Move your right hand to my back and take over."

Her first realisation she'd made a mistake was the sheen of psychic light that coated both his body and hers. In the blink of an eye they went from barely stepping to spinning through the air, orbiting each other arm in arm. Blaze looked to the ground just in time for them to have risen to a high point and begin a descent! The cat bent her knees as they gently, but quickly, met with the ground only to rise over and over again- the orchestra hadn't stopped playing despite the sudden change in their dancing style!

That was a point, was he even listening to the music? Had he ever danced at all?! She would be laughing if they weren't beneath the mortifying gaze of processionally trained musicians- this was anything but a waltz. He wasn't remotely following the time signature!

Midair, Blaze felt his hands release her- the feline's frame drifted back from his before coming together once more. The movement was too sudden, she didn't manage to match his hold before his psychic power separated them again! This time he lowered to the ground while she stayed at the same height- all of a sudden she was lying flat in the air and his hand was at her midsection, all the while the two of them were spinning!

The cat felt herself released, like an arrow suddenly shot straight- only to perform most of a loop and land on her feet. Her head was spinning, the guardian felt herself step and slip only to then glide over the ground, flowing frictionlessly back into his hold. She tried to grab onto him only to fall short, crashing into his chest with arms half folded. To his credit, he rolled with it- unfortunately that meant more psychic puppeteering. Blaze's frame spun out of his, practically pirouetting. With a powerful stomp she brought herself to a halt, dispelling the psychic cloaking.

This wasn't like them, why couldn't they do this? They'd fought in sync for years, anticipating the other's movements wordlessly, but now they were stumbling over each other like drunks on their way back from a very productive evening at the tavern. It wasn't just his lack of experienced, she was failing too. With each mistimed grasp and step they were proving Gardon right.

"Are you okay?" She caught Silver's eye and saw his concern, "Was that wrong?"

Frustration reigned as her stare fell to her feet and her toes curled- despite them coming to a halt, the music hadn't stopped. Whether they'd danced for mere moments or minutes Blaze had no idea, the waltz was too repetitive! Was the orchestra expecting to play the same song until she commanded them to change?! Well, if they wanted an order she'd give them one.

"Leave us!" Blaze ordered, bringing the music to an abrupt halt, "I need some time to speak with Silver. We will recall you when we are good and ready."

The cat could sense the panic in the room, radiating from the musicians and her partner alike. Three dozen koalas hurried their way down from the stage, most leaving their instruments behind. It must have taken them about a minute to cross the hall, but it felt like hours- none of them looked back, but Blaze could still feel their judgement boring into her. It was only as the door finally closed that her eyes arrived on him again.

"I thought you were going easy on me," He quickly informed her, "I wanted to show you I could do something more complex..."

A sigh slipped through her lips, "I wasn't going easy on you Silver. That's just how the dance is done," It wasn't his fault, she'd thrust the time traveller into the world of the royal court- of course he'd reacted strangely.

"I was trying to impress you," He admitted, closing the distance between them, "I didn't have a lot of time to practice, but I tried to come up with a routine..."

Blaze blinked, "A routine?"

"Well, I know you've done ballet before," Silver explained, "I thought we'd be doing that kind of dancing? You know, more of a performance? Rather than whatever that slow wandering this is."

"What you did certainly wasn't ballet," That sounded too negative, "Well, it was closer to ballet than waltzing I suppose..." That wasn't much better.

The hedgehog's lips pursed for a moment, "What actually is waltzing?"

"It's a type of slow dancing, it's common at formal events," She answered, quickly turning the conversation back to her confusion, "Before you came up with," Blaze tried to sound positive, "Your routine," She failed, "Had you ever danced before?"

He seemed to seriously contemplate for a moment, "I don't think so? I didn't really hear any music before I arrived in the past, I barely knew what it was," He tugged at his chest fur, "I guess I would have seen people dance for the first time around then too? They always seemed to be doing it to impress a crowd... or at least another person? That or to make money."

His answer raised more questions, "Why do you think it is that I do ballet?"

"Oh, well, I thought that was more an exercise thing, right? To improve speed and balance?" He responded, "But when I considered it I understood that it's a type of dancing rather than just exercise, so I figured reading some books on it would be smart? I tried to copy some of the poses..."

Reflecting back on how he'd shifted her, his comparison to ballet dancing did make a little bit more sense. From raising her above his head to the spins and even separating only to reunite in sequence. The showmanship involved was perhaps closer to ice skating or even circus acrobatics- exciting and skilful, though not befitting the royal ballroom.

None of this was really Silver's fault- if they weren't being watched so heavily none of this would have happened. She'd have laughed as he'd taken their dance too far and gently brought him back to normalcy. This should have been something fun to laugh about, rather than worrying the cat about days to come.

"I practiced using a mannequin," He broke the silence and crashed her train of thought.

A wiry smile creased her lips, "What?"

"In a ruined future- I found one in a mall... well there were a few of them in a collapsed mall, I sort of created an audience," He said, plainly embarrassed, "When I saw there were others, it felt like leaving them out would be wrong... I practiced in a big stadium that was mostly still standing, I put them in the stands."

"That's horrifying," She felt her smile grow as her tail swished, "But I'd be lying if I said it didn't sound fun."

"I know we're going to have a lot of eyes on us at the ball," His hand tugged at his chest fur, "I thought it'd make sense to practice under the same sort of circumstance."

Blaze could so easily envision it, a faceless crowd watching as he practiced and practiced alone on a world that had undoubtedly lay lifeless for almost two hundred years. Despite there being no other lifeforms, he'd somehow found a way to gather the pressure of attention. Truth be told, his recreation was rather close to the reality Blaze had come to expect- she would encounter countless faceless financiers and bureaucrats, many of whom would look upon her appearance as if she were some kind of spectacle to behold rather than their nation's guardian. Those dummies were equally mindless.

Then again, who was she to think anyone mindless? Given their current situation, the two of them were worse than ignorant- they were too far gone, lost in their own minds and perspectives. They had to get back to basics.

"We're both trying to do very different things. You rehearsed a routine alone and without music, I'm relying on you understanding dance in a way that is impossible given where you were born... and I'm also greatly overthinking this dress I'm wearing," She summarised, "We need to work together, like we always do. Get on the same page."

Even without the crowd of onlookers, they were still out of sync. That pressure was still lingering, creating an undeniable barrier between them. They needed a reset, some kind of catalyst that would return them to normalcy.

"I think the dress is nice?" He offered as a first step.

"Thank you," She sighed, "But I don't think it properly fits me," A thought entered the cat's mind, a way to reset their mental imbalance, "Much like that uniform doesn't fit you."

With a single swipe of her claws, his garb was split down its front and rendered into an open vest. Immediately fur burst free as golden clasps rained to the ground. Despite the surprise on his face, the psychic's posture was immediately more comfortable.

She knocked the hat from his head to fly across the room, "Blaze, what are you-

"Gardon said they'll have a better version for the day, did he not?" Blaze questioned, "Besides, it's already ruined. I'm simply rendering material that might be used," She justified, "Shoes off. Now."

Rather than bend down, the hedgehog began to hover. Crossing his legs midair, he tugged until the left clog flew free and the right soon followed it. While he was busy with that, Blaze hiked the straps of her dress up her shoulders- they almost certainly wouldn't stay there, but their new position felt much more comfortable. With another cleave of her claws the fabric of her gown was torn- the lower quarter was removed, allowing the cat to take full advantage of the freedom the slit had hinted toward. As he returned to the ground she assessed him once more- finding that without his shoes they were closer to their regular height difference. He was unkempt and still just a little confused- exactly how she liked him.

"Much better," She nodded, raising her hands again, "Shall we resume?"

The hedgehog's arm rounded her waist as their hands clasped, "But we don't have any music?"

"Neither did you when you rehearsed," She reminded him aligning their bodies, "Hum with me."

Blaze took the lead in sound and body, replicating the music the orchestra had played in her own tone. She felt the weight of Silver's hand on the small of her back as he followed her steps, pulling her close enough that their legs were almost, but not quite, entangled. Soon, he was humming in time with her. As they walked the feline gently introduced a soft sway to the effort, taking one step backward toward the centre of the hall only to then walk him back out toward the edge.

"Keep humming," She instructed, "I'll walk you through some more steps."

His hands were warm, the tightness of his grip signalled to Blaze his intensity- he did not want to fail again, he plainly felt that he had was responsible for their missteps in someway when that burden was truly mutual. Even in these simple steps, the cat could already feel herself matching him more thoroughly. Yes, this already so much better.

"Raise our handhold and I'll spin under it," She instructed.

She swayed beneath his raised hand with ease, though had to somewhat twirl herself on his fingers. By the third attempt though he seemed to fully understand the motion, delicately spinning her to arrive exactly within his grasp without tripping or standing on his toes. Soon they were dancing as if it was second nature, despite her request she barely had to say a word to him.

"Now we shall turn as we waltz," She explained, feeling confident, "Follow my lead."

There was a moment of confusion, she pressed her shoulder against his chest and guided him into the motion. Soon that contact was not required but the cat chose to maintain it; feeling the recreation of the song vibrate through the hedgehog as they paced. She lost track of time, comfortable in the knowledge that this was far more like the afternoon she'd imagined spending with him than what'd come before.

Eventually, Blaze slipped out of his grasp, allowing her hands to drift down to her torn skirt, and gave a deep curtsy as their humming came to a close. The imagined sound of an ovation played in the cat's mind, the same polite sort that always followed a song's conclusion during the Winter Ball. Despite its normalcy, to hear such applause with Silver by her side would feel much more important- the guardian was certain of it.

"That is how you waltz," She informed him, looking up to meet his still overly contemplative gaze, "Thank you for the dance, Silver."

"Oh, um, thank you too, Blaze," He quickly matched her curtsy before asking, "Can we practice some more?" His brain seemed to be moving much too fast, "I mean, before we invite the band back in."

"Feel free to ask whatever you want, Silver," She instructed him, "I can tell something is on your mind."

"It's just..." He seemed to struggle do the right words, "This feels a bit simple, doesn't it? Sort of plain."

"I believe that waltzes are intentionally easy to learn but hard to master, there are certain intricacies beyond what I have taught you," Blaze explained, "How would you propose we change the dance?"

"Well, I practiced a lot with my powers," He reminded her, "I'm not saying we do the flips or flying tricks but we could make a couple of changes and do some things different, right?"

"I would try to limit it to small flourishes," She suggested, "I'd also recommend timing the efforts with a change in the music- like is done in more intricate dances."

Silver's eyes lit up, "Can we test some?"

"Of course," She smiled, taking his hand once more.

As they resumed their humming she allowed him to lead, feeling his tug at her waist. They managed to pick up from where they'd left off, slipping back into the dance without a single stutter or misstep. As the two of them got back into the swing of things Blaze watched as cyan light leached from the symbols in his palms to gently cloak their frames.

His eyes met hers and his brows furrowed as if to ask, "Is this okay?"

She responded with a smile, to tell him that, "Of course."

This time, as he pirouetted her beneath his arm, the two of them gently rose to hover above the ground- just as she had anticipated. The dance continued at that higher elevation, their steps against his psychic light rather than the floor. Gently, each time she twirled beneath his hand, they would rise and fall with suitable grace.

Soon that experimentation expanded to include other figures surrounding them, conjured from his will to fill the hall. It took the feline a moment to realise they weren't simply other dancers- but exact copies of them, a steps ahead in the sequence. It wasn't that they were dancing in time with the ghostly figures, rather they were becoming them. Each time they matched their pose and stepped into their space, they would burst into shining psychic glitter that drifted to the ground.

Blaze quickly realised this wasn't just a stylistic choice, not only was he marking their steps ahead but planning their poses ahead of time. With that intention plain the feline felt him truly take control of the dance, manoeuvring their poses to be slightly more dynamic as they went. Eventually, his eyes no longer lingered on those conjured figures but locked with her own as he finally returned to his bolder self.

Once again Blaze lost track of time, this wasn't just like the afternoon she'd imagined- it was exactly it. Here they were free to express their bond without the risk of generating rumours or being seen as uncouth. With this practice in her heart, regardless of what came next, she would be ready for the ball. When the final set of doppelgangers disintegrated their humming came to synchronised conclusion.

"Thank you for the dance," This time he curtsied first, "How did I do?"

"Thank you for the dance," She matched him, "That was excellent, Silver."

He beamed at her with a light in his eyes that Blaze could barely look upon- he looked upon her with a warmth she'd felt from no one else. Despite how things had started, their practice would now be considered a success. Their technical skill wouldn't win any awards, their efforts would likely still be reported back to Gardon as a failure- but it would be one that she could confidently argue for.

"Shall we get reacquainted with the orchestra?" The cat asked, as they slowed to a stop.

"I'm ready if you are," He quickly answered, "But are you sure you want them to see us like this?"

"Your coat was already torn," Blaze justified in an overly proper tone, "Besides, a princess should have the freedom to style her own dress."

Her eyes met his; she could not hold her seriousness. As a smile cracked across her lips, she leaned much too close into him. Her clavicle met with his, she tiptoed to rest her chin upon his shoulder. Temptation became overwhelming as she felt Silver's arms cross behind her to complete a hug.

"Thank you for doing this," Her lips feathered against his pulse, grazing only briefly before she stepped back.

In the aftermath his face was red, either the cat was far warmer than she anticipated or she hadn't been as subtle as she thought. His inability to meet her eye suggested that the latter was much more likely. Despite that truth, her smirk did not waver.

"Well, I think it's time to call them back in," She said, as nonchalantly as possible.

"You can come back in, we're ready now!" The hedgehog yelled, turning his beet red face toward the hall's doors and tugging them open with a wave.

Revealed on the other side were three members of the orchestra, plainly attempting to eavesdrop with their fluffy ears to the door. Rather than make any excuses, they quickly set about gathering their fellow musicians in a complete panic. Soon the colony had regathered.

As a cacophony of koala feet once again filled the hall, her eyes lingered on the hedgehog's still smiling face. If Silver had led a more charmed life he could have made for some incredible dancer, incorporating his powers to glide across the ground as if on ice and carry his partner with ease. In such a reality however, he would not be the same Silver that she'd sought out to accompany her. It was better to make fools of themselves and have fun than be stilted and professional with a stranger. If that wasn't why she'd asked him to accompany her, then what other possible reason was there?

Well, besides the obvious.

"Feel free to play whatever you like," Blaze recommended to the conductor as she passed, "We're ready for anything."

Though the koala looked befuddled, once her orchestra were back in position, she quickly turned to lead the music once more. A familiar song played, another waltz- though slightly faster than that which they had previously failed at. The feline had surely danced to it over a dozen times, holding the hand of a different person each time yet performing the same tiresome steps. That would not be the case this time- not as long as she stood in Silver's grasp and she held him.

They moved to the melody of their own music and didn't follow some standard time signature. The hedgehog may not have had rhythm, but the feline knew that he could match her every move. While Blaze was trained in dance, she knew her partner better than any simple series of steps. They could do this, they could do anything together!