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kob131 · 3 years ago

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Morgan Le Fay (Alter Ego) My Room Lines

Morgause

“Master~ Can we stay here please? A moment’s rest may bring you far after all!”

“Ah, you really like to work don’t you? No no, I’m not accusing you of anything. I know your drive after all...”

“No matter what, it doesn’t seem I’ll get use to fighting. I wonder if either of those two would-ah. nevermind!”

Bond 1 “...Oh, sorry Master! I was spacing out there for a moment. I’m...not really use to being...heh, nevermind me!”

Bond 2 “Your magecraft seems a little shaky lately. Are you sure you’re feeling well? You eating well? Maybe a nice plate of meat and potatoes will make you feel better? ...Wh-what do you mean that’s too heavy?!”

Bond 3 “How strange. I’m still here. Usually I can’t remember where I’ve been or how I got where I am because...because...

...Well anyway, I can’t say it’s bad after all. I’d certainly be worried if one moment I was here with you and the next you left my sight. That-that can get rather scary...”

Bond 4 “... ... ... I can still feel them inside me, you know? ‘The Lady of The Lake’ and ‘The Fairy Witch’. My...other selves.

... Why? Why? WHY? Why do they have to exist? Why are they inside me? It’s not fair! I lost so much to them! So much of my life- Take, STOLEN from me by them! And even worst, they took my home away! I’m Morgause Pendragon, the daughter of Uther Pendragon! I am human! Not a fae! Not a witch! I. Am. HUMAN, ME!

So why can’t they just leave me alone?!”

Bond 5 “... I won’t be here for long. Even if this body were to see the end of your journey, I-I might not be the one in it. I was the first to fade away after all. It’s simply my fate...to be used and discarded by everything I love.

...Even so, I won’t run. As weak as I maybe in comparison to them...I won’t surrender a second of my time with you. With anyone. I’m here now. I am me.”

To Gawain “My son...my darling son. P-please don’t turn away! Please. I-I lost so much time with you. I can’t-I have to. Please, come embrace your mother. Before I’m gone.”

To Gareth “Gareth...my little pup. Look at you, you’ve grown up so much. I bet you had the lords at your beck and call. ... I wish I could have been there for you.”

To Agravain “Oh Agravain. It hurts to see you look at me so. And yet, it’s all my fault. If only I were stronger, if only I could overcome them. My little knight...I’m sorry.”

To Arturia “Arthur-no, Arturia isn’t it? To think I felt so bitter about what our father wanted...when there was so much to lose to that envy. I...I shall take my leave.”

To Mordred “Master, that knight over there?? That...wouldn’t happen to be Sir Mordred correct? ... Yes I assumed so, given her glares at me. Le Fay’s child with my own brother...There’s nothing I can do to help her, is there?”

To Morgan (Lostbelt) “You there, the witch. You have quite the nerve to show your face here. You, who abandoned her humanity for the sake of a kingdom. Your kingdom was a shame and deserved it’s fate. Glare at me all you wish, without the three of us you would be nothing.”

Likes “What do I like? Well, I always liked cooking. It was always such a treat to see my children’s faces light up when I cooked with all my heart!”

Dislikes “...Lake fae and evil witches.”

Holy Grail “Even if it is a heresy, I would like to wish upon it. Then maybe, I can finally be free.”

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Vivian

“Master, come. We have much to do still. ...I know you must be tired, I understand your weariness. But still, we must persist.”

“There’s no need to worry about me. An adventure like this-it is a simple matter. Compared to guiding those troublesome fae...”

“Quiet, quiet, quiet. ...Sorry Master, I was...having some difficulties with...the others. Le Fay especially...”

Bond 1 “So, you have stayed by my side? How strange, most humans simply leave the lakeside after so long.”

Bond 2 “Your heart is weary. There is no point in lying. I know that feeling well myself. Perhaps I have been pushing you too hard. Come, rest. All need reprieve after all.”

Bond 3 “It seems my time has not come yet. Good. I cannot-I will not fade like before. I refuse to let things end like before.”

Bond 4 “It is so tiring. To have their thoughts, their minds inside me. Always, always a reminder. That I am more than the fae ‘Vivian’. The human princess and the raging witch-

...No. No. NO! I am here now! I will be the one to fight! I will be the one to guard the Human Order! I will be the one protect the Age of Man that Father wished for! Not the human Morgause! Not the witch Le Fay!

I am Me, Vivian, The Lady of the Lake!”

Bond 5 “Even though I am the fae Vivian, an existence incompatible with mankind. It was always the humans I loved most of all. The fae, so fickle and cruel. I guided and guarded them out of duty alone.

Why you may ask? Because it was mankind that my father Uther loved. He protected them to his last breath. And so shall I. Even if I may never see the Age of Man, I will protect and guide it. Especially you, my Master. I shall ensure your safety to death and beyond.”

To Lancelot (Berserker) “Master! Th-that figure cloaked in black! I-it can’t be! My son! This is what became of you? ... Who did this?”

To Lancelot (Saber) “I knew it. Of course my son would be here. There was no chance he wouldn’t answer the call to protect mankind. He grew into a splendid knight after all.”

To Mash “This feeling... You there, young lady with the shield. Come forward, let me take a good look. ...It really is, isn’t it? Don’t be scared young lady. I shall never hurt you. Now, come with me. I have much to discuss with you.”

To Fae Servants “*Sigh* It seems there are some troublemakers in this place isn’t there? Worry not Master, I know how to keep them on a tight leash.”

To Morgan (Lostbelt) “Ruler of the fae, huh? How pathetic. To have resorted to such evil. I do not care what your excuses are. I lead and guarded the fae myself. I sacrificed my place in the world. I expect no less of you.”

To Arturia (Archer) “How cute, thinking that little spruit is alike to my magic. Here, let me show you what a true Excalibur Vivian can accomplish.”

Likes “Besides mankind? ...I do enjoy watching the forest creatures prance about. The little bugs especially.”

Dislike “Lazy princesses and malevolent witches. That is all I’ll say.”

Holy Grail “It is a false wish granting device isn’t it? Still, if supplied with enough mana, it might just be enough to grant my wish To gain my freedom.”

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Morgan Le Fay

“Careful now, Master. One wrong step and things will certainly go wrong. I know how much fun it is to lose yourself in the throes of battle. Hehehe...But your goal must come first.”

“That fire...that determination. Very well, I’ll join you in the fray. After all, I haven’t nearly indulged enough myself.”

“Your magecraft is rather lackluster isn’t it? Hm, whatever you call your ‘talents’, that doesn’t matter. Practice, practice, practice. Experience breeds excellence. I didn’t match Merlin with pure talent after all.”

Bond 1 “I must say, staying this way at will without being subject to the fickle whims fate...it’s rather nice. Thanks Master.”

Bond 2 “Fate is cruel. I know your pain better than most. Forced into the impossible by the will of others. But don’t let your heart waver. Through will and guile, you will gain your freedom.”

Bond 3 “Don’t hesitate to give me tasks. I find myself with more time than i know what to do with. Preferably with you around...”

Bond 4 “I’m sure you’ve heard about this before but...My other selves are still here. Deep inside, I can still here them. Their woes, their uncertainty, their hatred. All mine...

...Bwahaha! What a joke! As if I would let them trend upon me. It was my loathing that struck fear into Camelot. It was my malice that twisted the Green Knight. It was my love for Britian that allowed me to stomach sharing a bed with that liar. I am no feeble princess or passive fae. I am me, Morgan, the witch that loved Britian!”

Bond 5 “So here we stand still. I’m sure you caught on but I hate the Age of Man. Tearing away all the work I put out, fading everything I’ve done into legend. Acting as though I was never here. For it’s sins, I will always spur it.

So why am I here? Because I would rather have an Age of Man with Britian than not. Be it the destruction of history or man, I will not stand for it. I will rage and hate and burn until all is done. So long as we stand on the same ground, I will be here. I can’t trust the other two to get the job done after all.”

To Mordred “Hm, that defect of a homonculus is here? Master, you are best off sending it away. It’s incapable of following orders or performing tasks sufficiently. I would love to fix it but that’s beyond my reach.”

To Arturia (Alter) “Tch, that liar dares to attach my name to something so weak. She preaches that the strong rule over the weak, shall I teach her who is truly strong then? Gwahaha!”

To Merlin “Ah, Teacher is here too. How unusual, that fickle asshole couldn’t be asked to cut a blade of grass, let alone save humanity. He’s not even really here is he?”

To Fairy Knight Tristan “Master, this annoying brat won’t leave me alone. Acting all familiar and friendly with me... Maybe I’ll teach her what it means to truly be sadistic. Perhaps by rending her limbs asunder...”

To Arturia “So the King of Liars has come as well. Maybe a trip into Hell will teach her the place where she belongs...but that will have to wait, won’t it? She still has her uses after all...”

To Oberon-Vortigern “That mana. Another embodiment of Britian is here?! It feels like that failure Vortigern...yet...it’s so different. I must dissect him, to know!”

To Morgan (Lostbelt) “Ah yes, that other me. Heh, what a fool she turned out to be, no? She rages against man, fae and knights, wasting all her efforts in the process. Focus, my dear. Focus is the key to victory. I did not waste my time with man or fae, I put my all into the slaying of Arturia. And which of us succeeded, hm?”

Likes “A rough night with a man below me, of course.”

Dislikes “My other selves. Unlike them, I will not hide the truth.”

Holy Grail “Hm, I have no need for such a thing. Unlike them, I will not cling to a false hope. It will be my hand that cuts them out like the parasites they are.”

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Bond 10 CE: I Am...?

One minute *I’m* home with my children One minute ^I’m^ guarding those troublesome fae One minute -I’m- cackling as I tear into his flesh

The next I’m not.

It is my duty to *lead*/^guard^/-destroy- my kin No, That is *my*/^my^/-my- duty. No, it’s *mine*/^mine^/-mine-!

...Is it?

No, I am a *princess*/^guardian^/-witch-! That is not what *I*/^I^/-I- am! Stop it! This is who *I*/^I^/-I- am!

I am *me*/^me^/-me-! I am *Me*/^Me^/-Me-! I AM *ME*/^ME^/-ME-!

I am... I...am... I...

....Who am I?

#fate series #fate grand order

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rosaliepostsstuff · 4 years ago

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Little steps (George Weasley x reader) | pt 5 - Affirmation

Pairing: George Weasley x reader

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4

Word count: 1652

Summary: Y/N visits Grimmauld Place for the weekend and on her last evening she stays up late with George.

warnings: none, fluffy fluff

a/n: We’ve reached the finale, my loves. It’s been nice, I hope you liked it. As always, let me know what you thought I listened to Imagine Dragons - Only; or HUNGER - amused while writing the ending, if that interests anybody 😅

The second gif was made by yours truly

July, 1995

From the very start, you knew these summer holidays were going to be unlike any other. You were still going out with your friends in London – Merlin, you even got back on speaking terms with Matt, after he pulled his head out of his ass. But the night after Voldemort came back Dumbledore assembled the Order of the Phoenix, an organisation that was going to oppose him.

It didn’t mean much to you just yet – all the adults were keeping you and your friends in the dark. Your family, or rather its adult members, were a part of it. That meant they visited the Weasleys, who were now living at the headquarters in London, a few times since July started almost two weeks ago.

You went in and out of there quickly a couple of times – you even managed to convince Molly to let Ron go out with you and your friends. George saw you flash through the staircase opening, but you were gone before you could notice him.

He kept true to his word and wrote to you the day after you parted on King’s Cross. You exchanged owls often, sometimes they carried short and sweet letters, full of innocent pet names; sometimes long tirades – about how damp and dusty his room at Grimmauld Place was, how Ron annoyed him that day, how you were trying to redecorate your room and broke the wardrobe door; sometimes they contained discussions worthy of shower thoughts.

This weekend you were going to stay over, your older brother escorted you and Hermione, who planned to stay the whole summer. From the moment you stepped over the threshold you were a little tense with excitement, your subconscious expecting to see George around every corner.

You had dumped your bag in the room you were going to share with the girls and you were currently laying on the empty bed in Ron’s room, examining the ceiling.

“It’s a dump. A damp and dusty one. And not to mention the cobwebs – have you seen those? Bloody hell, I can’t imagine living in here until September. And mum’s gone crazy with the cleaning!” “Oh come on, Ronald, I’m sure it’s not that bad. The place’s not been lived in for long, it just needs a little work!” “And the house-elf, he’s horrid – he wanders around at night, mumbling about his masters…”

You got up to go use the bathroom. You went out of the room and stepped down the creaky stairs to the floor below. As you followed the narrow corridor, suddenly in front of you -CRACK!- “Bloody hell! Merlin’s beard, do you want to be responsible for my premature passing?!” you eyed the tall redhead standing in front of you as you clutched the bannister for dear life. His grin only widened, “Fancy seeing you here, princess, finally.” You straightened up and tried to fight back the smile at that nickname. He had his hair cut – he mentioned it in one of the first letters, but you didn’t expect it to look this good. He spread his arms and motioned for you to come closer, giving you puppy eyes and an innocent smile. You gave him a hug that lasted far too short. Pulling back, you said “the haircut” and reached for it with your hand. He helped you a little bit, bending down “I like it” you said with a smile, running your fingers through and ruffling it a bit. “Well in that case I might have to go to my mother and take back everything I may or may not have said about it previously.”

That little encounter left you hungry for more and all the small interactions with him you were already used to felt different than at Hogwarts. It wasn’t school anymore, it was a home – perhaps not the Burrow, but still.

You didn’t see him much the next day, busy with Molly, but in the evening you, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred and George attempted playing a muggle card game you and Hermione knew. The game was going really slow, but you were having fun. Fred accused you of helping George out, which you – of course – denied, even though it was Ginny who won in the end.

The Sunday evening was much slower, the whole house stayed in the kitchen long after dinner, chatting and exchanging stories over butterbeer. It was getting late now, you rested your cheek on your palm, elbow propped on the table. You got distracted from Arthur’s story by a light tap on your foot. You glanced at George, who was sitting opposite you and he looked up, then to both sides and avoided your gaze. A few seconds after you looked away, another tap. The same thing again, except a smirk was creeping up onto his face. This time you prodded his foot and he finally looked at you, feigning shock. You had to bite your lip to fight a grin.

He picked up his napkin and started folding it up. You watched and figured he was trying to make a shape out of it. He kept glancing at you every once in a while and the napkin still wouldn’t look like anything recognisable.

You picked up your own one and made the one origami shape you knew how – a butterfly. You looked at him in triumph, saw his eyebrows scrunched up looking at your butterfly, then he pretended he was unimpressed.

Molly decided it was time to wrap up and people started heading out, but she must’ve been in a good mood and left without ushering you all to beds.

“D’you wanna hang out a bit longer?” George caught up to you as you were getting up from your seat. “Uh, sure..” you said, looking at Hermione, who tried not to smile when she saw you and then left with everyone else, leaving you two alone.

You swallowed and couldn’t look up at him just yet, feeling your heart start to hammer. You walked to the huge fireplace and George followed you, then sat down in front of it. “So, how are you doing?” he asked and leaned back on his arms. You did the same and answered, “I’m alright.” Both of you watched how the firewood was slowly cracking in front of you. “You’re going home tomorrow, aren’t you?” “Yup. Before lunch.” You said and he nodded slowly.

George’s heart sank a bit, thinking about waiting Merlin knows how long again, writing letters before he would get to barely spend any time with you when you visit again.

“That blows.” You chuckled, looking at him. “Why don’t you just move here? I think that would be the best for everyone” he said very seriously. “Move here?” you laughed, “and help Molly’s cleaning crew every day? I don’t think so. I mean, what would I get out of it?” “My attention?” You blushed a bit, “I got plenty of that the last few months, Georgie, I don’t think I could handle it.” You were silent for a bit, your heartbeat going crazy as he studied your face carefully. “..And how would you feel about getting my full attention?” Your lips parted slightly in shock, you watched him carefully but you didn’t even notice when he moved closer. You were looking for something in his eyes, something that would tell you he wasn’t serious about it, that it didn’t mean what you thought it did. But they were just as sincere as they always have been when he looked at you. Those warm, brown eyes that made you feel so much, that made you feel so welcome that you could look into them forever. “…as my girlfriend..?” he whispered.

You didn’t say anything. Looking at him with all the love you had in you, pushing all the weight off your shoulders, very slowly you leaned in and stopped just as you were about to meet his lips. You felt his breath on yours for just a second, and he closed the distance. Your lips fit perfectly in a soft kiss that felt like nothing before and even better than you could’ve imagined before. A tide of euphoria washed over you. One of his hands rested on your waist and you moved one of yours to the side of his face to deepen the kiss.

“Is that a yes?” George asked after pulling away.

You smiled and kissed him again, with more passion this time, at first slow and tender. He was intoxicating, his smell felt like you’ve always known it and so, so comforting. The warmth from the fire hugged you from the side and mixed with his body warmth. George pulled your body even closer and your hands travelled along his shoulders, the back of his neck and his hair as the kiss became more demanding. The silence of the night broken only by the gentle crackling of firewood and your rapid breathing. When the need for oxygen became too much, you placed last few, slow pecks onto his swollen lips and pulled away.

“Was that affirmative enough?” you asked breathily. “I’ll take it.” he chuckled and he gently pulled you to the floor to lay on top of him. He held you tight against him and you nuzzled into the crook of his neck, cherishing the closeness. You breathed in his smell with a wide smile on your face. His was just the same as he stroked your back up and down and placed a soft, loving kiss on your temple. It was just you and him that mattered, you relished in the feeling of his chest rising and falling with each breath or his heartbeat next to yours.

You stayed up together until your eyes started closing on their own. You made your way upstairs and parted ways in front of the girls’ room, but not before one, last, goodnight kiss. Or a few.

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley fanfiction #harry potter imagine #x reader

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12timetraveler · 4 years ago

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I’m so sorry about your pupper, I really hope the pain she is in eases soon. To hopefully distract you from that though can I get some cuddle head cannons from the men and women in the camp. :)

I left these in my queue for later so these have been there since like... October? November?

Simbrah is doing better. Well... shes losing a lot of hair still. But she seems to be feeling a lot better so I’m hoping we’re on the upward trend

Anyway, cuddle HCs

Arthur

~ Arthur, sweet, touch starved man that he is, absolutely LOVES cuddles.

~ I mean LOVES them.

~ Any time you’re alone together, he’s pulling you close and cuddling with you.

~ Sometimes you think you’d need a crowbar to pry yourself from this man’s grasp.

~ Fortunately, since you love snuggles just as much, you aren’t that desperate to escape his embrace.

~ On the subject of cuddles in private, you and Arthur are in agreement.

~ Its when you get to PDA that things differ a little bit.

~ some of the gang tease Arthur when they see the two of you cuddling next to the camp fire.

~ Suddenly Arthur is bashful, and doesn’t seem to even want to hold your hand.

~ you slowly try to bring him around, get him to touch you when in public.

~ it’s only when Micah tells him how disgusting it is that the two of you cuddle in public that he seems to snap out of it.

~ now he won’t let you go in public either, if only to irritate the hell out of Micah.

~ sometimes when you’re having a rough go you just walk up to him and hold him, maybe even sit on his lap.

~ he immediately puts down what he was doing and just holds you

doesn’t matter what he’s doing. if you need cuddles badly, you’ll get them

Charles

~ I Hc that Charles’ love language is touch

~ So I think he’s just as cuddly as you are

~ Any time you’re near each other, hes grabbing your hand

~ resting his hand in your back pocket (If you wear trousers)

~ forehead kisses

~ random hugs

~ in the evening, when you’re both winding down for the night, his arms are around you

~ he’ll pull you into his lap and hold you close

~ Just hold you.

~ if he gets too cuddly and you need him to stop, he will of course respect your boundaries.

~ but honestly you’re just as cuddly, and so it doesn’t happen often.

~ Charles is a big, beefy guy.

~ he loves falling asleep with you fully on top of him, pinning him securely between you and the dirt.

~ he holds you close, makes sure the blanket is securely around you so you stay warm

~ but he will be out like a light the moment you settle in on top of him.

Javier

~ Javier is the king of random cuddles.

~ I’m not sure touch would be his love language, but when he finds out its yours, and that you need lots of cuddles

~ the man will not go a single day without holding you at least once.

~ you’ll be chopping vegetables for Pearson, and Javier’s arms will snake around your waist from behind.

~ he sees you drinking coffee in the morning, he comes and stands alongside you and rests his hand on your waist.

~ he’s always happy to hold you close

~ he’s not ashamed of pda, but he does try to keep it a little more minimal.

~ He’s not shy about embarrassing you though, and if he can see you’re feeling down, he’ll have you in his arms, nipping at your neck and blowing raspberries on your skin until you’re laughing and leaning into his embrace.

~ Sometimes, when you’ve had a bad day and need cuddles, but Javier is on guard duty, you’ll go stand with him.

~ You don’t have to say anything, just come up alongside him and rest your head on his shoulder.

~ His arm will be around you in an instant, holding you firmly against him while he keeps guard.

~ The two of you can stand like that for hours if need be. He’s still doing his job, still keeping an eye out for intruders, but keeping you close.

John

~ John is definitely more flustered by your need for cuddles.

~ he’s not really sure what to make of it at first.

~ he’ll always give you a hug, pat your back

~ but he’s a little too shy to really snuggle with you.

~ he just ain’t used to it.

~ give him some time though. He’ll figure it out

~ Definitely not comfortable with pda though.

~ he’ll hold you in his arms in his tent all day and night if you need

~ but he gets super shy if you ask for cuddles in camp.

~ He will sit next to you at the campfire.

~ put an arm around your shoulders

~ quick pecks on the cheek or forehead.

~ but he’ll never be the type to pull you into his lap and hold you tightly if others are around.

~ But the man is touch starved all the same

~ so he adores those private moments in your tent

~ loves pulling your body tight against his

~ nuzzles his head against your chest

~ nearly cries when you caress his cheek.

~ you could not pry that boy off of you if you tried.

~ only the threat of Mrs. Grimshaw barging into your tent looking for you forces him to let you go each morning.

~ John swears he’s never slept better than he does in your arms.

Hosea

~ Hosea certainly appreciates the need for a good cuddle.

~ he’s maybe not as clingy as you are

~ and his love language is probably words of affirmation

~ but he’s more than happy to wrap an arm around you while he reads his paper.

~ Let you sit on his lap while he’s grinding herbs

~ rest your head on his shoulder while he’s writing in his journal.

~ After he and Dutch get into an argument is when he needs a cuddle back.

~ something about holding you is so soothing

~ so when he’s ready to toss Dutch into the lake, he’ll find you and pull you close.

~ he’s not going to waste his time being embarrassed by your cuddly affections.

~ Life is too damn short to spend time worry about what others will think

~ especially when it comes to your loved ones

~ he’ll spend every moment he can with you.

~ Definitely loves holding you in his sleep

~ He’s more of a back sleeper, and his lungs are too weak to let you spend the whole night with his chest as a pillow

~ but he’s more than happy to let you nuzzle into his side and rest your head on his arm.

~ or sometimes he’ll spoon you, burying his face in your neck as you sleep.

~ Hosea doesn’t have a private tent, so pda is really his only option.

~ but any time anyone tries giving him any shit about being cuddly.

~ he’ll just bluntly ask which of them is in a relationship, and actually has a woman to hold and love.

~ shuts them up pretty good.

Dutch

~ Dutch is not the cuddliest man in the world.

~ he’s too stressed out, too busy.

~ begging for his attention isn’t going to get you anywhere.

~ what will work is listening to him.

~ the man has the weight of 20 lives on his shoulders. Of course he needs to talk things out now and then.

~ it’s not even about getting your advice or opinions. He just needs to talk outloud.

~ If you can sit and listen to him, let him talk things over outloud without feeling foolish, then he’ll be more prepared to give you all the cuddles you need.

~ not in public of course.

~ Aside from an arm around your waist, the occasional quick kiss, he can’t be seen participating in pda

~ he has to keep up an appearance.

~ but at night, behind closed curtains, he’s all yours.

~ he does love feeling needed like this, something easy he can do for you that doesn’t involve energy or planning or grand words.

~ he finds it very relaxing to cuddle up with you in the evenings

~ It helps his mind unwind and he falls asleep faster when you’re holding him and he’s holding you.

~ he especially enjoys when your arms drape around his neck and your fingers idly play with the curls on his neck as you cuddle.

~ or when he subtly slips down to rest his head against your chest as he drifts off to sleep.

Kieran

~ Listen the boy is so touch starved and so in need of snuggles that he wont even know what to do with himself.

~ The first time you even hug him he freezes.

~ Kieran.exe is broken.

~ the first time you fall asleep snuggled against him he actually cries

~ like oh my god you are so cute and soft and warm and what are you doing with him?

~ honestly, you’re going to have to initiate most of the cuddling.

~ he’s too damn scared.

~ worried he’s being clingy.

~ but if you start coming up behind him while hes working and giving him hugs, he wil melt.

~ he’s not afraid of pda when you initiate.

~ “They already mock me. May as well be over something good,”

~ If you’re having a bad day and really need some cuddles, he’ll drop everything.

~ walk over to the scout fire where he’s cleaning tack and gently push the tack.

~ he’ll set it aside, looking up at you questioningly.

~ if you straddle his lap and bury your face in his neck, just needing to be held

~ Kieran will hold you close and never let go.

~ seriously, he will sleep in the dirt with you on top of him that night. He’s not letting you go.

Bill

~ Okay but Bill might actually be needier than you are when it comes to cuddles.

~ he’s prickly on the outside, but once you’ve broken through that outer shell

~ the man is a cuddle bug.

~ touch starved as hell.

~ Now he will never be okay with pda.

~ he gets way too flustered.

~ and he’s too scared of the others teasing him

~ he’s okay with a soft kiss and a quick hug when he’s about to leave for a job. But that’s it.

~ but once you’re curling up to go to sleep, oh the man will not be letting you go any time soon.

~ now the two of you don’t really have a tent.

~ so maybe this technically counts as pda

~ but if anyone says anything, he’ll just say you got cold during the night, or some other bs like that.

~ but he’s the one who pulled you close.

~ if you’re having a bad day and need some cuddles, he’ll step out of camp with you and hold you close

~ sneak up behind him and hug him while he’s busy on guard duty. He will become putty in your arms.

Micah

~ Micah definitely isn’t one for pda

~ and he always has a comment when you randomly come up to him and cuddle up against him.

~ But in the end, if thats what you need, he’ll be there.

~ he’s surprisingly warm

~ and his shoulder is actually quite soft.

~ while he’s not the king of cuddling, there’s nothing that’ll calm his temper faster.

~ if he and Arthur just got into a big thing

~ or if a job went wrong

~ or he just woke up on the wrong side of the bed

~ feeling your arms slide around his middle and your face press against his back is a surefire way to make him smile

~ it’s the only time he won’t have anything to say

~ no sarcastic remarks.

~ he’ll just lean back against you and let you hold him.

~ everyone knows you like cuddles, so Micah can save face if anyone says anything by saying you just wanted some cuddles.

~ But you both know you were really doing it for him that time to calm him down.

Sadie

~ will only initiate the cuddles if you’re having a bad day.

~ if she catches you outside of camp crying

~ or sees you sitting by yourself

~ you’re going to be cuddled to death.

~ but the rest of the time, she’s not the one to initiate

~ you have to nuzzle up to her

~ rest your head in her lap

~ hug her arm while she’s on guard duty.

~ but any time you do she’ll just smile at you

~ kiss your forehead

~ and hold you back.

Karen

~ Very soft

~ She’s not overly affectionate

~ if you get too clingy she’s likely gonna shake you off.

~ but she doesn’t hate cuddles

~ and if you need some cuddles, Karens are Q U A L I T Y

~ big boobs = comfy pillow

~ she’ll pull you close and let you rest your head on her chest

~ stroke your hair

~ maybe hum you a song.

Albert Mason

~ Okay Albert

~ fucking

~ LOVES CUDDLES

~ He’s not nearly as touch starved as our outlaw boys

~ I mean, he’s still touch starved, but not quite so severely.

~ he does get flustered easily, so use your pda sparingly

~ you don’t want to set off his anxiety.

~ but once you get into bed with him, the man will NOT let you go

~ he’s gonna hold you forever

~ seriously I hope you don’t need to pee in the night or anything

~ you ain't getting out of his grip any time soon

~ surprisingly strong

~ loves sitting out on top of a cliff with you and just holding you while you watch nature

~ take him out to see a sunrise or a sunset

~ Find a valley with lots of deer

~ take him there and just sit with him and watch nature

~ if you’re having a bad day

~ be prepared for A BILLION kisses

~ like all over

~ he’s going to hold you close and smother your in affection

~ make sure you know just how much you’re loved

~ The cuddliest man in the world ngl

Flaco

~ very touch starved

~ just contact starved in general

~ just know, if you let him hold you

~ he ain’t ever letting you go

~ he’ll make some excuse about needing to keep you warm

~ it’s bullshit.

~ come back from a job and immediately sit down on his lap and wrap your arms around him if you want to see his brain malfunction.

~ he’s practically squeeing at your adorableness.

~ honestly Flaco is the perfect match for a cuddler.

~ he ain’t afraid of pda either

~ you’re practically always on his arm, pressed up against him.

~ honestly it just feeds his ego

~ makes him feel powerful

~ he’s seen too much to let pride overshadow love

~ he just wants you close

~ spends a lot less time sharpening wood into a spike

~ a lot more time just holding you

#rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 hcs #arthur morgan #charles smith #javier escuella #hosea matthews #dutch van der linde #kieran duffy #karen jones #sadie adler #bill williamson #micah bell #albert mason #flaco hernandez #John marston

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itstheendofthegoddamnworld · 4 years ago

Text

The She-Wolf and the Young Dragon (Lyanna Stark x Daeron Targaryen OC)

I wrote this during my fanfiction module in my final year at university.

Brief: An AU of GRRM’s novels ‘A Song of Ice and Fire’, taking place before the events of the first book. A ‘what if’ scenario where one of the children of King Aerys II and Rhaella Targaryen, Daeron survives infancy into his adulthood, where he is the one to supposedly ��kidnap’ Lyanna Stark instead of eldest brother, Rhaegar.

BRANDON

His father warned him many times before, that the Starks never did well down south. Yet no matter how stubborn he was, he would never listen.

It lingered in the warmer climate how out of place Brandon Stark was in comparison to what he experienced in the North. No matter how big the lands were, it would remain outdated in contrast to the rest of Westeros.

The Capital held a different atmosphere to Winterfell when he landed ashore from the mouth of the Blackwater Bay. The smell of the streets and manure was strong even when mixed with the strong current of the salt in the air.

Even from here, he could see the Red Keep in all its glory, as beautiful and imposing as he had predicted it to be. The dragons who had ruled for centuries made everything very impressive, even when no winged beast flew any longer in the air. The Targaryens had made King’s Landing their home and he knew for certain of the risk of walking into the dragon’s den.

“Where is she?” His voice was thunderous when it bounced from pillar to pillar, booming across the hall with steps following, the five men he journeyed with were persistent in tailing behind. The Great Hall was quiet when the Young Wolf of Winterfell stormed through the double doors, noting of the fact that neither the King nor his Hand was around to witness, excluding the few Kingsguard and those of Prince Rhaegar’s own sworn swords that lingered; a deadly chill that passed. Good, Brandon thought, the Gods know how this would go if he were here.

“Brandon Stark, your travels to King’s Landing were swift?” At the base of the steps to the Iron Throne, the Silver Prince was dressed as if ready for long periods of mourning: his deep indigo eyes were just as drab and dark as his attire, his long silver-gold hair tied in a careful knot.

“Don’t you play me for a fool, where is she?” He barked. “I know you have her!” Hovering below the steps himself, glaring up at the Prince. Brandon Stark was all wolf and no man it seemed, yet he still felt inadequate beneath the Dragon.

“Why would you accuse me of kidnapping your sister?”

Brandon’s face grew ever-so-hot, “You gave her the roses at the tourney! My brother had been the one to hold me back before I had the chance to smack you off your horse. Or had you forgotten just as much when you were getting cosy with her that same evening?”

Ser Arthur Dayne was just an inch away from cutting the Stark heir in half if he dared lay a finger on his Prince - Brandon knew that himself. It would be all Seven Hells unleashed if the King had heard of such a crime. The Prince of Dragonstone didn’t seem alarmed nor angered by the accusations, albeit puzzled, before telling his close friend to lower his weapon.

“I think you have been left in disarray by this, Brandon.”

“How? You were taking part in the tourney, my sister had eyes for you even with a future betrothed waiting for her.” He glowered, holding his sword carefully. Prince Rhaegar’s jaw clenched noticeably before he gave a polite, strained smile.

“There has been a misinterpretation of information spread between who you believe was me and the one you seek. You see, I was not the only Targaryen Prince there.” Rhaegar explained calmly, observing how Brandon’s face scrunched up. “If you are looking for a man with my features, perhaps it is my brother you may be wanting to pursue.”

Brandon seemed reluctant to admit that, grudgingly removing his hand from his sword. Of course, it would make sense now, and now the only fool standing here is I.

“Daeron,” Brandon groaned, “he was the one to give the roses to my sister?”

“It would seem so. Those two did seem to grow close in a short amount of time. After all, who would’ve imagined the skilled mystery knight to win the tourney and my brother’s heart?” Said Rhaegar. “She had tended to his wounds after his defeat, I saw it myself... What took place in Harrenhal was what I had to explain to my wife.”

Poor Elia Martell was sweet and innocent: someone who should’ve been told everything in the end. At the end of the day, Rhaegar’s so-called infidelity was untrue and Elia could rest easy knowing her husband remained nonetheless faithful. “What would we do with them then? For all we know, they could be all the way to Essos by now.”

The Silver Prince moved before he stood at a level ground with Brandon. “If I know one thing about my brother, he wouldn’t be keen to travel east. Don’t take my brother for a fool. My father’s spies have eyes not just in Westeros but across the Narrow Sea, thanks to his growing paranoia. He’s still here, I know that for a fact - lurking in a shadow that keeps him and your sister concealed from wandering eyes.”

But for how long will that veil stay up? Brandon thought. You cannot hide anything when you lurk within these walls. “Help me find my brother before the wind catches our words and my father or Robert Baratheon do. Stay here in the Keep and I will grant you and your men housing, your stay here unscathed, and we will go find them together.”

Brandon wavered, but the consequences seemed far too grave; with too much at stake. “And of your father? What if he hears of this squabble between me and his heir?”

Rhaegar grimaced. “Then I pray to both the Seven and your Old Gods that his wrath is merciful.” No mercy would come from those haunted by madness. Brandon knew of no such thing. The Mad King was more an old dog than a sane ruler, one that needed to be put down soon enough.

LYANNA

“Oh, my love.”

The laugh had tumbled from her throat by the time she had landed softly on the pillows beneath her, her long dark hair fanning around her with the following melodic chuckle shortly joining hers. Their bodies were tangled and laid naked as the day they had been born, beneath the cherry wood ceiling with the low candlelight surrounding them.

In the past, Lyanna would’ve held her admiration for the eldest born son of the Mad King at bay around her brothers, but she had never imagined the second-born to have captured her heart. In the dim light, he could’ve been the spitting image of Rhaegar, but the shadows cut false definitions of sharp edges to his face, giving him a more mature look like his brother momentarily. But his eyes were not like the Silver Prince: the second-born was more spirited and his eyes were the lovely colour of lavender, just like the ones Lyanna saw when travelling down on her travels to Harrenhal. She had gotten her brother Eddard to pick some for her and she smelt them whilst riding horseback, as sweet as the summertime and what the singers proclaimed. Had she been able to keep them before Benjen stole them from her tauntingly, she would’ve braided them into her hair, a freshness to keep her content for the rest of the journey down south.

The Young Dragon had eyes that brought her memories of Winterfell with her brothers: where Old Nan would talk about the ice giants beyond the wall and of the wilderness that followed. The cold bite was ever so bitter but the She-Wolf survived throughout. There was more to the North in his eyes that she wasn’t used to, a rigidness that was not found in him. Daeron had more Northerner in him than dragon, it seemed.

She remembered the night when Rhaegar sang with his silver harp at the feast and how the tears came quickly to her eyes, the same as most of the other ladies in the hall. His song was full of solemnity, yet Lyanna had to ignore the snickering from Benjen and when she and Daeron stole timid glances, sheepish but frequent. Rhaegar was a man a decade her senior and tied in matrimony. She would never compete with a married woman for a man everyone admired. What he’s not like of Rhaegar, I prefer. He will be everything his brother is not and so much more.

“You still have much energy, even at this time of the night.” She smoothed at the fair hairs on his chest, kissing at his shoulder fondly. She could imagine living here for the rest of her life with just Daeron and away from the eyes of those, the duties and responsibilities, living and making their own family. “You have tired me out, Daeron.”

“Few people get to ride a dragon; it can be rather draining.” Her husband winked, chuckling softly when her face warmed in reaction. Their laughter died down when his attention was drawn to her kisses resuming on his skin, quickly kissing her back with such feverish intent.

“The last of the dragons died a century before you were born, Your Grace. Lost in tragedy if we dare choose to forget, hmm?” Her eyes were blue as the winter roses she loved in the North, alive and full of mirth.

“You needn’t address me like that, my lady,” Daeron smiled, stroking away the hair from her face, “after all, we are equals.” In the eyes of the north and the Old Gods, they wouldn’t be, but Lyanna did not need to follow those customs. In the eyes of the Gods and men, we are one and together. A Targaryen, whose flame burns bright like his, just like those of greatness who came before him.

“In the eyes of the Faith, perhaps, but not to my father.” Lyanna sighed. “I believe he would find me more wild than dutiful.”

His hair was slicked from sweat when he pulled it from his face, tenderly kissing at her with such ardour. “The North I was told of was all cold and bitterness, but there was a flame within you that was only seen in those who carried the blood of the dragon. I never thought I would see it so brightly in you.” Daeron said. “When we return to the cities, we may wed in your custom, and revisit our fathers when the time comes.”

“And of your father, Aerys? Has there been no word of His Grace or his spies?”

“My father… grows more delirious the longer the days grow, his position falters whilst my brother is alive, his mistrust festers. Rhaegar is every right a King, but getting rid of my father will be troublesome without the right aid.” Daeron admitted bitterly. “That will be his problem, for now. He’ll be ready to find us when he has dealt accordingly with my father.”

“Rhaegar will not be able to conceal everything if he is not in on our secret already, not from my brothers alone. We will not be able to hide any longer.” Brandon will have to halt his wedding for a month if he hasn’t already. He would hunt to the ends of Essos to find me. She dreaded.

Daeron hesitated when he rose from their small bed, his bareness not a problem for either of them. “I fear my father may do something that will not only break him and our families, but tear the entire realm apart.”

Lyanna too rose from the bed and came to embrace him from behind. “If you have me, you have the North by your side, I swear it. We knelt to the Conqueror three centuries ago, we have stood with you since then.” Lyanna promised proudly. “Brandon shall marry one of Hoster Tully’s daughters, and therefore, he will have the Riverlands too. The Arryns from Ned, thanks to Jon. They would aid you if it is needed for their allegiance.”

Daeron’s lavender eyes widened in surprise when he turned to her. “And of your betrothed? Surely Robert Baratheon will not have our side when he accuses me of kidnapping his lady.”

“I am not his lady. I never was. Robert is all boar than man, and his appetite for other ladies would continue no matter his age.” Lyanna objected. “He will hear of my wrath before he dares lay a hand on you.”

The Young Dragon held her tightly in his arms, “I would hope no day would have to arrive, for any of us.” He drawled. “No stress should come to a mother and her potential newborn.”

Lyanna could imagine how her stomach would look when swelled with a child—their child—and the very image of her one day holding her babe in her arms. It made the She-Wolf eager for it to be a so-called reality. A son, she hoped for, a son who would share the blood of the North and Old Valyria. Two powerful houses, coming together as one.

“We still have not thought of names, if the time comes for it.” Lyanna changed the subject quickly, settling her husband to sit once more, his hand to her back and stroking the back of her long hair. “Were there any you had in mind?”

“My grand-uncle Aemon is at the wall, but he is everything a King should be had he not turned it away for my grandfather,” Daeron said with a sad smile, “I want to honour his name, for the man who was too generous and gave the crown to his brother.”

Lyanna smiled, “He sounds like a good man.” Daeron agreed, and for a moment, the wistfulness hung over his head as much as it did over his older brother, giving him a similar look to the Silver Prince. No matter how far he goes, he will always have some part of Rhaegar’s despondency.

“No matter what happens, we will endure this together, against everyone else. We deal with your father and my own when we return. For now, I want to enjoy your company as much as possible.” The She-Wolf softly spoke, enveloping her husband gently. Even in the coolness of their room, he was warm to the touch. But she would get used to it.

The Young Dragon had encircled her to his chest and pulled her back to the bed, caressing and kissing her with such glee. “My little wife, as brave as those of winter who came before her and strong as ice itself. The dragon and the wolf have a fitting name.”

#asoiaf au #asoiaf #daeron targaryen x lyanna stark #Lyanna Stark #preasoiaf #what if asoiaf #what if #game of thrones #A Song of Ice and Fire #rhaella targaryen #aerys ii targaryen #Rhaegar Targaryen #brandon stark #targaryen OC #daeron targaryen (son of aerys ii targaryen)

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blinder-secrets · 4 years ago

Text

Lion Tamer - part 10

4,211 words

warnings: nsfw, language, canon violence + blood

ao3 link

If Arthur was anyone else, anyone else in the bloody world, he’d have thought he was dead. But he wasn’t, he knew that, because men like him didn’t go to heaven, and women like her would never be in hell. Cause there she was, lying at his side, all golden, like the sun shone out of her fucking chest, as close to an angel as he’d ever be, and so he mustn’t have died yet. He was alive, more than ever, while she was next to him. He’d done some good then, somewhere along the way. Something had led him to this waking paradise. Banked his deeds in exchange for the wealth.

‘Mornin, love,’ he drawled, stretching up to push life back into his limbs. He moved like an old man now, sometimes, just in the mornings. Cracked like splintered doorframes.

She peeled her eyes open to look at him, smiling once they’d focused. He’d never touch whiskey again, he thought, not while he had that in front of him. She put more fire in his heart with half the effort, none of the cost. ‘It’s the afternoon,’ she whispered, ‘we slept all morning.’

And thank fuck we did. His fingers went to her hair without planning to. ‘Good,’ he said. Bloody good, enough mornings, enough work. Time didn’t exist in that room, not to them. They needed the laziness, deserved the peace, they’d spent years waiting for it. ‘Bout time we had some fuckin’ rest.’

He swore too much. Maybe that’s what she thought, why she was staring. He tried not to fidget under her gaze because, well, really, deep down, he knew she’d never think anything malicious, he hoped, not about him. He was just worrying ideas into her head, yeah, putting reason to the gaze that she slung across his shoulders, his chest. She still was shining and it wasn’t just the window behind her, wasn’t the cream silk of her slip. The one that had melted through his fingers like ice, like water, brushed his nose when he went down her body. If he tried hard enough, he could find the taste of her on his tongue still.

Say something, then, Arthur, fill the quiet. ‘Feels like heaven,’ he confessed, thinking of her, thinking of the night before, thinking of everything at fucking once.

Then they’d talked, and talked, and she’d put their schedule together. Decided what they should do, which was good because he hadn’t considered it at all. Had thought they would just stay in bed, go somewhere to eat, then be back in the hotel again. Making a home in the over-priced room he’d booked. Then he could finally have her, properly, see her take him in, beg for him, ask for more. He’d wanted that forever, really, thought about it enough times that it almost felt like they had already. Like he had fucked her before and they’d just never spoken about it. But that was all in his head, all just a fantasy, and now it was real, an actual possibility, he was living it. He’d pinch himself but the heat of her lay against him was enough.

She kissed him and his chest tightened, the blood ran from his head straight into his underwear; how she hadn’t felt him, he didn’t know. He forced a gulp and put his palm to the dip above her arse. I want to listen, he thought, I want so badly to pay attention, to be gentle for you. He tilted his head to breathe in the scent of her neck, because that’s where it was strongest, that’s where she smelt most like herself. And his lips went to her skin like she had a fucking magnet beneath.

‘Don’t know how long I can be a gentleman for,’ he told her. It was the least he could do. He was an animal, right, a bloody chauvinist pig like the rest of them, but he wanted her, wanted her so bad, the least he could do was confess it. Honest. He was always honest with her and he was trying, he was. He’d been as good as he could.

She said something back, but all he took from her words was a ‘yes’, a please, so he put his teeth to the edge of her ear, and her breath hitched so sweetly that he thought he might cum on the spot. It was now then, fuck, it was happening at last.

But the fucking phone rang and he knew in an instant who it would be. Who in the world had the bloody seventh sense to always be there at the exact, wrong, moment, to always kick his shins right before the winning penalty. ‘Fuck’s sake,’ he swore. ‘I should take this.’ If he didn’t, he’d just ring again, and again, and he would never be able to enjoy himself, or her. The ringing wouldn’t stop and it wouldn’t help his rhythm, wouldn’t let him find ecstasy, as he knew he would, in her beautiful, sweet, wet—

‘Yeah,’ he said into the receiver, sharper than he intended.

‘Arthur?’ Tommy clarified, as if he could sound like anyone but himself.

‘Yeah.’

‘I need you to do something for me, brother.’

‘Alright,’ he said, agreeing because it was inevitable, it saved time. ‘When?’

She stood from the bed, shutting herself into the bathroom instead of lingering to listen. He looked at the woodgrain while Tommy explained.

‘Alfie Solomons,’ he started, sighing between the words, ‘has asked to hold a meeting, a dinner, of sorts. Tonight. He wants to meet you.’

‘Me?’

He hummed a confirmation; he was probably setting a cigarette into his mouth.

Arthur scoffed, shaking his head a fraction. ‘He’s fucking mad, Tom.’ He’d seen the man only from afar, but heard enough from the boys they had working with him to know that he wasn’t normal, wasn’t right in the head.

‘We’re all mad, Arthur. It’s just how he does business.’

‘Yeah, well, it’s not how we do business,’ he grumbled. They were a collective, a trio. He never went into meetings on his own, never without the support, without at least one brother on his flanks.

‘Go with Billy, alright, our man from the bakery. He’ll meet you outside at six.’

‘Billy? Bloody Billy?’

‘I’d go meself, but there’s something I have to do.’ He exhaled. The smoke may as well have poured through the phone and into Arthur’s ear. ‘Just a couple hours, Arthur, then you can get back to your holiday.’

He was seeing a woman too, of course, it wasn’t something, but someone. He thought they didn’t know he was slipping away, to her house in the country. Dossing about with the maids and the toffs like he was one of them. He put a fuck over his brother, threw the bad jobs to the foot soldiers so he could play between her tits.

‘You should be there,’ Arthur said, tutting. ‘Makes no sense, it being just me.’

He sighed. ‘You wanted more control, brother. Now’s your chance.’

Prove yourself, he meant, prove your worth. Pull your weight. ‘I know,’ he agreed. He had asked for more opportunities with the expansion, but he would never have asked to be dealing with Solomons alone. He rubbed at his brows like he could work will-power into the skin. ‘Right,’ he said, ‘I’ll handle it.’ Because he could. He would.

Tommy coughed into his end, chipping the noise against the side of Arthur’s head. ‘He’s one for theatre,’ he said dryly. ‘Probably just wants to make an impression, alright, and have you running back to me with the gossip. That’s all. Just a fucking show, for sport.’

‘Yeah,’ Arthur laughed, ‘well, you better be fuckin’ right, Tommy. Sending me in blind.’

She was back from the bathroom, bumping against the mattress as she waited. He looked at her once and then pulled away again because she looked like snow, for one dizzying moment, she looked like fucking snow. Not literally, but in feeling. One glance at her had the same effect as a line, as a fresh-filled bottled in his palm; his brain fuzzed in anticipation, excited before he’d even done anything, before he’d even rubbed it on his bloody gums.

‘And don’t fucking fight anyone, eh?’ Tommy nagged in his ear. ‘Keep it civil.’

‘Yeah, alright.’ He was nodding, rattling words out to get it over with, to end the call. ‘Best behaviour,’ he agreed. Then the line cut and he put it back on the stand so he could focus on her again, so he could get the reassurances out of the way, and make her gasp in his ear like she had before. If he didn’t hear that again, his head might blow off, he thought, his teeth might chew themselves to gravel.

‘Fuckin’ showgirl, you are,’ he told her, once she was on his lap and around him like wildfire.

It was a novelty still, thinking things about her and then getting to just say them, to bark them carelessly, knowing it wouldn’t cross any line because the line had gone. Gone up in the smoke, away from them at last. He’s always thought she was a blinder of a woman; he’s always looked at her and felt curses pool in his skull, hot-phrases of compliments dying to go out and all over her. Now he said them freely, now she said intoxicating things in return.

‘Will you have me then?’ she asked and he felt like he’d put his head through the fucking mirror.

Like she didn’t know the answer already, like he wasn’t hard against the back of her thigh. Panting, yanking on the bit, he felt like he did when he lost his calm, but this time it was welcome. This time, she was the stoke beneath the flames. Her hand was in his hair, running through it and back again, rough enough to send goosebumps down his spine. He dragged her over him before he went mad with need.

‘You want it?’ he asked, not bothering to sound polite. He was done with being polite. She melted between his hands, went limp and let him do as he pleased. Let him grind her over, and over, and over on his cock, and there it was, that noise again. That chirp in his ear, the sound of her composure splitting, snapping in a soft ping like thin glass. Like fucking crystal vases. ‘Yeah? You like that?’

He wasn’t a genius, but it didn’t take one to know the answer was yes. Yes, yes, fucking yes.

She liked it, and she kept on liking it until he felt like he was the king of the free world, and she was the country. She was the gold beneath the dirt, the water in the rivers, the stars, the fucking stars, that were spinning behind his eyelids as he lay over her, as he panted into her collarbone. Spent. He was bloody spent. He wouldn’t be able to fuck again, he thought, not after that. Not after what she’d taken from him. He pulled his hips back and they both shook slightly, both worn out and delirious, sensitive like they were having withdrawals.

‘I think,’ she said, taking a breath big enough to lift him, ‘that you have something to say to me.’

‘Eh?’ His brows pinched. He was still a ghost behind the pleasure, sunken in euphoria, slowly coming back to reality. ‘What?’

‘You said—‘

‘Oh, right.’ He knew now; it had shot out of him like a fucking bullet before, in his head one minute, into her chest the next. ‘That.’

‘Yes, that, Arthur.’ She was smiling. Her cheeks were still hot, her mouth still swollen from all the kissing. He’d never kissed a woman as often, and as hungrily, as he kissed her.

‘I do love you,’ he said. ‘A lot. Like, a fucking lot.’ He laughed with it but only because it seemed stupid, silly, to feel the way he did about her, and so strongly, and so freely already. But it wasn’t that new, not really. It wasn’t a feeling that either of them hadn’t felt before. It was as overdue as what they’d just done. Just as sweet, even with the delay.

She put a palm to his face and he wondered for a moment if she cared that it was damp, that he was sweating like he’d run a marathon.

‘I love you too,’ she said lightly.

And he said, ‘say it again,’ because no one had ever told him that and meant it. But she looked like she meant it, he knew that she meant it. ‘Say it again,’ he insisted.

‘I love you.’

‘Again.’

‘I love you.’

He kissed her, lips to her jaw, her cheek, her temple. ‘Again,’ he said once more, addicted to the sound of it already. He wanted it over and over, until he was drunk on the feeling. Until it was the only noise in his head.

Later, outside the gallery, Arthur waited until the cab had taken her round the corner, and out of his sight entirely. She was safe, and she would stay safe at the hotel. He could do his job in absolute certainty that nothing would happen to her. Not that it would, anyway. She was too smart for that, too tuned in to her surroundings. Always seeing the smoke before he’d even smelt it. That was enough of a comfort to be able to portion her off, just for a bit, tuck her away in his head so he could think clearly. So he could focus. So he could be Arthur-fucking-Shelby, the one man military, the self-contained arms of the Blinders.

He hailed another cab for himself and gave the driver the address, or the almost address, to Solomans’ bakery. He wouldn’t drive right up to the door, sitting like ducks in a tin can, he’d be dropped on the street once over from it. Find Billy and walk in like he owned place.

He could do with some snow, he thought. Just to smooth the cogs, polish the senses. If Billy had any on him —and if he had any mind, he would— he’d take some of that. One boost of the powder couldn’t hurt. They put it in the horses to get them out of the gate and, well, this was one hell of a bloody gate. If Tommy was right, he had nothing to worry about, if he was wrong, he would need all the cocaine he could get his hands on. Tommy had intuition where he had blind rage but, for once, he wasn’t ready for a fight. He wanted it to be easy. Wanted to be back in the hotel like he was a man on holiday, like he’d stepped out for a paper and now he was back again. Ready to make peace with the soft between her thighs.

Billy was where he was supposed to be, ginger and lumbering, towering above Arthur’s head. He looked nervous; whether it was for the meeting, or for himself, he didn’t know. Didn’t bother to find out. If he was worried about working with Arthur, he should’ve never come in the first place.

‘You got snow, lad?’ Arthur asked, before saying hello or anything else.

‘Snow, Mr. Shelby?’

‘Cocaine.’ He fidgeted with his coat, straightened his tie, waited for his partner to find some fucking common sense. ‘Do I look like a copper, Billy?’

He shook his head. ‘No, sir.’

They didn’t have time for pratting about, he needed the fix, the spark, the ignition. ‘Then stop playing fuckin’ dumb,’ he said, ‘and give me the bloody stuff.’

The bottle was pulled out of a pocket and put into Arthur’s waiting hand without further hesitation. Right, then, they were off. The evening was well on its way. Turning on heel, the pair walked the remaining distance, only stopping when faced with the large double doors to the most elaborate booze-front in London.

They were greeted by a lad taller, but younger, than Billy, who led them through the barrels without saying a word. Arthur tipped a pile of snow onto the edge of his fist as they went and then brought it up, sniffed it in, shot it right into his fucking brain. Felt the zing, the relief. The flash of white behind his eyeballs. He had missed it, he had. He wished he didn’t, but he did and, God, it ran round his skull like a hare on the dog track. He was the winner, now, he’d take the prize. The curly-haired jewish boy looked at him, watched him wipe the excess from under his nose, but said nothing. Good, good, not for him to judge. He knew that well enough. Anyone who worked for the type of people he worked for, just like the Shelbys, knew not to say a damn thing about anything. You had to be trained well to survive in the underworld.

‘Gentleman! Welcome, welcome!’

There he was, the man he’d come to meet, the eccentric that had asked for him specifically. Alfie boomed into the room, arms wide, like he was a friend and they were much awaited. ‘Mr. Solomon,’ Arthur acknowledged, dipping his chin as the group came to a stop.

‘You must be Arthur.’

‘That is right.’ Alfie took his hands into the both of his; they were cold by comparison. Arthur was running hot already, full with the fire, burnt from the snow. ‘Pleasure to meet you, sir,’ he said, though the baker was still trilling his name over and over. Like Arthur was the fucking royal guest, and maybe he was. Maybe his presence in the club scene hadn’t gone unnoticed. His name preceded him at last, his work put notches in their fucking bedposts.

Alfie pulled forward, tucking their joint hands into his chest. Preening like an eager mother-in-law. ‘I’ve heard so much about you,’ he said, in that unusual voice of his.

It was a warm welcome, in truth, a polite one, and to his luck, to his bloody luck, Arthur was very good at being polite. Fucking wonderful, in fact. He’d already asked Billy what to say in the hallway before. The word bounced around in his head, rattling in excitement. It was ready to come free, to impress, he just had to say it.

‘Shalom,’ he told him, leaning forward too, rounding the syllables, plopping it from his mouth into the small gap between them. ‘Let me just say…’

Alfie looked to his partner, wide-eyed, in surprise, he thought, but the good surprise. Probably impressed, really. Probably didn’t think a Shelby would have the fucking good manners to say it.

He shook their hands and said again, ‘Shalom.’

It was a strange gathering. Just a handful of them, sitting round a table that was really just four smaller ones, pushed together in a line, under low-hanging lights. He hadn’t seen a crumb of food, but they had rum by the barrel and that was enough. That filled his stomach plenty.

He hadn’t been listening much, not really, just repeating the odd word and agreeing like a good little boy. Like a nice humble gangster. He laughed to himself between sips. If she saw him now, what would she say? What would she think? Bet you never expected this love, grace like a fucking politician. A diplomat. He sat, pleased with himself, and watched it all happen, followed Solomon’s strange, choreographed show behind the cocaine-curtains in his head.

He didn’t come through the noise until they walked a bloody goat into the room.

It was white like snow, like clouds in the blue, like the sheets of their hotel bed, with her hand all knotted up in them. He blinked once to put his thoughts straight. Looked at Alfie like he had been paying attention, very close attention to the droning. Pretended his head wasn’t thumping, fizzing, wasted. ‘You’ve named it?’ he asked, catching only the last half of the sentence.

‘We fucking did, yeah.’

He looked to Billy. Billyboy, Billy with his hair like fire. Billy who was still fucking bricking it. ‘They named the fucking goat,’ he lowed. Pay attention, son, act like you care. This was important to them, to Solomons, this was the chain between the anchor and the hull.

Alfie continued, ‘The evil fucking Egyptian pharaoh—‘

‘The fucking enemy,’ Arthur added.

‘That’s right,’ he agreed.

They were singing, going hand in hand, running in sync like clockwork. This is how you do business, Billyboy, this is why Tommy sent him. Arthur, with all his roughness, still had the fucking mouth, the right good brain on him to partake, to converse intellectually, like. To sit amongst kings as an equal. He had Alfie with him now, on his shoulder. Parroted words off each other like chums, like longtime friends. Relations, you see, Billy, they’re a craft. An art. He had sculpted this exactly as he should have. Sit there and watch.

‘You know what we called it?’ Alfie asked, eyebrows lifting.

Arthur leant back, puffed his chest, sang like the crow at dawn. ‘Yeah, what did ya call him?’

‘Tommy Shelby.’

It happened at once. So quick, Arthur was acting on instinct and nothing else. He burst forward and the bullet came across the table, shot out from Alfie’s hip, right into Billy’s chin, the soft underneath, the money shot, the dead fucking ringer, and rope went around Arthur’s neck; held him back, pulled him tight. Choking, choked. The spit balled on his lip. He tried to swear, but it cut through as a gasp, a wheeze. He stuttered like a pig in the slaughterhouse, thrashing before they hung him up to bleed. The bastard had been lying, tricking, planning it from the start. It wasn’t business, it was a trap. A fucking trap. He’d walked right into it, sole after bloody sole, led by his hand into the belly of the beast. He went to curse him again but the words broke apart, shredded into a roar.

If he had to go, it wouldn’t be in the basement of a bakery. Not at the hands of men without respect.

He was reaching for Alfie, clawing at him, knees pushing the table and rattling the silverware. They had to use two men to get him back, to drag him to the nearest support pole. They wrangled him, rope cutting, twisting and burning at the base of his throat, until he was rod-straight against it. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t fucking breathe. His fingertips were trapped between the threads and his neck, helpless, unable to pull a gap big enough to let air through. He’d felt it before, he didn’t want it again.

Fuck you. Fuck you, Solomons, fuck you, Tommy. Fuck the rope. Fuck the goat spilling blood over the floor. Fuck the lot of it, and then some. He would kick his way through the dirt before they put him down like this.

‘Yeah?’ Alfie taunted, only approaching now Arthur was contained, strung up like meat. He dipped his head. ‘What was that?’

‘Fuck you,’ he snarled back.

Alfie’s knee went into his gut, hard into the tissue, the pool of rum; Arthur would’ve collapsed if he could’ve. The pain was bad enough. He groaned, whined, dripped spit and blood down his chin. His hands went forward, grasping at Alfie’s coat for some relief, some purchase.

‘That’s right, let’s take a load off,’ he said, lifting Arthur by his ears. Up as if he was nothing.

And then the air came back, pouring down his throat like liquor, blood going up and into his head in the same rush of feeling. He could think again, he could, his brain was pounding, pulsing against the skull. It was there. Kicking still. Angry noise replaced with a word, with one image, one light beneath the dark. Her. Her, he would live for her. His feet would touch the fucking ground again and take him back.

‘So,’ Alfie drawled by his ear, talking though he wasn’t listening, didn’t care, ‘the evil, Egyptian scum, was finally cleansed.’ He brought a rag to Arthur’s forehead, stained red, and dabbed it onto the skin between his brows. ‘With the blood of the Passover goat, mate.’

It was put to his mouth, wiped through his lips. He tasted the sourness, the copper, but he still didn’t care. He was thinking of her, clutching to the idea of it. The golden sun on her arms, the lift of her cheeks, the pull of her smile, the sound, the words she said, the soft, oh, the soft. Keep that, Arthur, hold that. One breath forced after the other. They couldn’t hurt you if you weren’t there, not in your head. He put himself into her hold and stayed close to her heart. Heard the drum of it between the chaos.

Alfie was kissing each of his cheeks like it was a greeting, and not a seal of death. Not an X on the line.

‘That’s from Sabini,’ he said and, after that, there was nothing.

Read part eleven >>

____

taglist: @theshelbyclan @woeisbutwoe @random-stupid-stuffs @sanktaalinaa @peaky-arthur @murderousginger @isaiahdurag @inceptenet @fanngirl19 @queenoftheworldisdead @bellamybellamyblake @caelys @ourlordandsaviourmrstark @meltingicequeen @hufflepeople

#arthur shelby #arthur shelby x reader #arthur x reader #peaky blinders fanfic #arthur shelby x you #ROIGGHTTTTTTT very different chapter for us lion tamers ! but i hope you enjoy #and dont mind kind of rereading some of the same scenes #also sorry for the language but arthur is a brash baby #ALSO i couldnt find a gif to put in form actual s2 so please pretend? anyway #love u enjoy #tell me ur thoughts as always #this was very fun to write #minus the misery #oh also there was a few people i couldnt tag so plspls let me know if youve changed your url or something!! xx

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anon911andbuddie · 4 years ago

Note

Hello!!! I'm the anon that asked for a CM crossover a while back, and I had a request. Do you think you could write a part two the focuses more on Buck's smarts and his relationship with Reid? Like, this time Reid (and whoever else from the BAU team you want) just comes to LA for a visit instead of a case and ends up either spending a few days at the firehouse or even being invited to a BBQ at Bobby and Athena's??? Thanks!!!

Claimed by Red💋

So this is pretty much crack...I tried my best but this kind of all just came out. I did some research for the questions asked later on in the fic. Hope you like it?

Warnings: cursing, crack fic

PART 1 - technically

The BBQ Test

“Hey, yo, Pretty Boy,” a familiar voice yelled through the firehouse. Buck looked up quickly. There was no way they were back in just a few months since they’d left.

Buck walked over to the railing and looked down, seeing Reid rolling his eyes and swatting at Morgan. “I thought Reid’s nickname was Pretty Boy and mine was something else?”

“I could call you Sexy SEAL,” Morgan suggested.

Buck felt his face heat up as he shook his head. “Absolutely not. What the hell are you two doing here? There’s not another serial killer loose this way, right?”

“We’re on vacation, according to Derek.” Reid smiled fondly at the man but also rolled his eyes. “He decided that he didn’t get to spend enough time with you and he wants to know more of my ‘non work friends’.”

“Aren’t we technically work friends now? I worked with you last time you were here.”

“Now don’t get all technical, Firenova, that’s Reid’s job,” Morgan smirked. “I like that, Firenova stays.”

“How much do you regret your having a vacation buddy now, Spence,” Buck chuckled as he walked backwards and back towards the kitchen. He could hear Morgan grumble as they ascended the stairs.

“It's good to see you’re doing much better after the last time we saw you, Man,” Morgan stated as he took a seat at the island.

“Yeah I, uh, I went to therapy. I’ve talked about some shit that I thought I was over but wasn’t. Eddie and Chris are the real MVPs, I don’t think I could get through half the shit I do without them.”

“Speaking of Eddie, where is he and the rest of your team,” Spencer asked as he took a seat next to Morgan.

Buck continued with lunch preparations as he responded. “We got a call out. Bobby had just started lunch, so I offered to stay behind since the Captain needed to be out with the team. They should be back soon.” As the words left his lips, the ambulance pulled into the fire station.

“So do you have a PhD in cooking now too,” Morgan teased.

“Hardy har har, you’re hilarious,” Buck deadpanned.

“Oh, Buckaroo, that smells so good,” Hen called as she raced up the steps, Chimney not far behind her.

“Thank Bobby,” Buck replied as he spotted the Captain exiting the rig with the rest of the crew.

The Captain smiled at the two FBI agents as he took over cooking, “nice to see you boys again. I hope it’s for a more social reason this time,” he rose an eyebrow at the two.

“Completely social. We’re on vacation.”

“How long?”

“Morgan took us off for a whole week. We’ll leave LA in five days and spend the last two visiting family,” Reid responded.

“Did you invite them to the BBQ,” Bobby looked to Buck.

“We didn’t get that far yet,” Buck rolled his eyes. He turned to the two men, “would you like to join us at the 118 BBQ on Thursday? It’ll be friends and family from the team. Athena will be there along with my sister, Maddie. It’s a lot of fun.”

“We would be glad to have you,” Bobby tacked on.

“Definitely,” Morgan responded.

“Sounds fun,” added Reid.

______________

118 BBQ - Athena’s House

Buck made himself at home with the kids of the 118, playing whatever games came to mind. Currently they were in the middle of a fantasy game where Buck was pretending to be the villain, various gods, and the narrator. The kids had nominated May as King Arthur and the others were the knights of the round table. Buck, narrating at the time, had no idea the kids were conspiring to attack. Caught by surprise, Buck let out an unanticipated scream and fell to the knights of the round table.

The kids used Buck as a chair as they all laughed. “No fair, I wasn’t prepared,” Buck stated breathless.

“All is fair in war,” Denny replied.

“I think you’re missing something in that quote, Bud.”

“All is fair in love and war,” May tacked on from her spot beside Buck’s head. “And we love you very much, Buck, so it was a fair takedown.”

Buck gaped at the girl, “you’re supposed to be on my side!”

“You stood no chance, Evan,” Spencer called from his spot on the patio with the other adults.

“You’re also supposed to be on my side,” Buck called.

“It’s more fun to watch you fall to the kids,” Morgan replied.

Buck pushed himself up, looking directly at the two FBI agents. “Ten bucks says I can take you down in less time than it took the kids to take me down.”

“I know you can take me down, you have way more muscle on your body than I do...Morgan though, he might stand a chance.”

“I might stand a chance? Pretty Boy, you’re supposed to have more faith in me than that.”

“There will be no adult wrestling in my backyard,” Athena glared at Morgan and Buck who both put their hands up to placate the woman. “Kids, get washed up, food’s almost ready.”

______________

The food was amazing and laughs surrounded the tables as jokes and old stories were told. “So, Buck told us that you two went to the same college, Spencer...so what was he like,” Chimney asked, a shit eating grin on his face.

Buck rolled his eyes as Spencer laughed. “Well, to start off, he wasn’t as buff as he is now. Really smart. He always had a witty comment up his sleeve, though. He didn’t want to be known as ‘the kid with four PhDs’ so he downplayed everything. He was the class clown, but I honestly think he probably could have graduated without ever stepping foot into his core classes. That’s more impressive because he doesn’t have an eidetic memory like I do, but I promise he still remembers it all.”

“Prove it, what do you remember,” Chim turned to Buck.

Buck felt his skin flushing under the attention. “There’s a lot of material for all of them...you’d have to be more specific.”

“Alfred Adler developed his theory of individual psychology as a result of his disagreement with,” Spencer trailed off.

“Disagreement with Sigmund Freud’s emphasis on universal biological forces in the personality. Dude, that was easy.”

“How is delirium different from dementia?”

“Delirium is temporary while dementia is permanent. Again, easy. Throw me a curveball.”

“A psychologist who studies aggression from a social-cognitive theoretical perspective would be most interested in…”

Buck squinted his eyes at Spencer. “Uh...the social-cognitive perspective on personality is a theory that emphasizes cognitive processes in the development of personality. This would be cognitive processes such as judging or willing or thinking. That means that if a social-cognitive psychologist studied aggression they would be most interested in the differences in aggressive and non aggressive children’s attributions of hostile motivations of others behaviors.”

“Is he right,” Bobby asked Spencer.

“100%. I’d ask physics questions, but those get complicated quickly.”

“Oh yeah, I remember my graduate final for that. It was three questions and each question took about two pages each to answer. God that was so stressful,” Buck shook his head.

“Do you remember Chemistry,” Maddie asked.

“What do you think,” Buck laughed.

Spencer typed a few things on his phone before looking up to Buck with challenging eyebrows. “Why is infrared spectroscopy useful for determining certain aspects of the structure of organic molecules?”

“Because most organic functional groups absorb in a characteristic region of the IR spectrum.”

“What is Planck’s Quantum Theory?”

“Planck suggested that the energy of light is proportional to the frequency. Planck's constant (h) is what relates the two. In fact, his work led to Albert Einstein determining that light exists in discrete quanta of energy or, in simpler terms, photons.”

“Wha-”

“Okay, we’ve proven Buck still knows his stuff...I don’t need to hear more, my head might explode,” Chim groaned.

Buck shook his head. “I mean, the physics, chemistry and fire science actually went really well together. There were trends that could be seen in all three and, I guess, my mind is wired for science. It just...makes sense,” he shrugged.

“So why join the fire department? You have four PhDs, you could have done something in those fields, researched, but you chose to fight fires,” May asked.

“Now you sound like my parents. I guess I learned what I wanted to learn in college. I did what made me happy and then realized that I didn’t want to sit in a lab all day. I wanted to be out in the world, make it a better place that way. So, I decided to be a smoke jumper...still think it’s one of the best choices I made. May, just because you get a PhD in something doesn’t mean you have to follow that PhD...I mean, if that’s what you want to do, go for it...but don’t do it to please someone else. You want to find a place you fit in.”

“I agree. I could be teaching any course I wanted within my PhDs but I joined the FBI. I enjoy my job and I like being able to help save lives. Do I use my degrees? Sometimes. You just have to find what you want to do in life after college...sometimes it changes between graduating high school and graduating college. Sometimes your interests change after college and that’s fine. As long as you’re happy, it shouldn’t matter,” Spencer added.

“Look at us,” Buck laughed, “best motivational speakers there are.”

“You should have seen me the first time I presented to a college for the FBI. I used these jokes that I thought were pretty funny…”

“But only you understood them? You used those on me. Just do the magic stuff. Everyone loves magic.”

“Buck, I can’t just use magic as a segway into talking about the FBI.”

“Did your jokes segway into the FBI,” Buck raised an eyebrow.

Spencer glared at him and Buck smirked triumphantly, “they could have.”

“Ooo, are we imitating a petulant child now because I was right and you were wrong?”

“Are we now childishly mocking our friends because we’re an asshole?”

“Are we now calling each other bad names in front of impressionable children because we’re frustrated we’re losing?”

“Are we-”

“OKAY,” Bobby called over the bickering. “Are you two children done? Do you need a timeout?”

“No,” they both answered quickly.

“Good, maybe we can enjoy the nice food that I cooked now?”

It was quiet except for the giggles coming from some of the adults at the table. “You have to admit I was right,” Buck finally spoke.

“Don’t even think of answering,” Athena glanced at Spencer.

“I was serious about timeout, Buckley.”

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egelantier · 4 years ago

Text

Yuletide Recs

Having had two days of more or less nothing but reading fics, I come bearing recs!

First of all, my amazing gifts:

The Goblin Emperor

For Thy Principles

The nohecharei of Edrehasivar VII were unparalleled in their defense of his person, but there were limits to even their prowess. When Maia first developed the fever, Cala quickly determined that it was not the end result of a magically-based assassination attempt – and from there it had to be left to the court physicians.

Maia falls ill, and Csethiro protects him as best she can.

Beautifully gentle Maia sickfic, with Csethiro holding him together. For me all for meeee.

Benjamin January Mysteries

Dry as a Bone

“Oh. Well, I’ve been better, maestro, been a hell of a lot better to tell truth.” Shaw stared at him for a long moment, and he was stunned to see honest to God grief in his eyes. Even when Shaw had just lost his brother he had been so much more himself than this lost man currently standing before him. “Not that I mean to put anything extra on your shoulders, I’m sure you’ve got enough of your own shit going on at present moment, but it seems like I’ve just lost my job.”

Shaw loses his job, and finally confronts Ben about trust (and lack thereof) between them. It’s GREAT.

The Tarot Sequence - K.D. Edwards

A Distraction Worth Losing

They may never be together, but the gods would have to move heaven and earth to split Rune and Brand apart.

Brand, Rune and The Kiss incident. (Poor messed up babies, somebody save them.)

And fics of the collection:

17776, Astreiant, Raksura, Frederica, The Gentlemen, The Goblin Emperor, Hades, Innkeeper Chronicles, Jeeves, Kate Daniels, King Arthur the movie, My Next Life as a Villainess, Nirvana in Fire, No. 6, Psmith, The Secret Garden, The Sleuth of Ming Dynasty, Swordspoint, The Tarot Sequence, Teixcalaan Series, The Temple of the White Rat verse

17776: What Football Will Look Like in the Future

so far, so fast

When Manny gets a craving for some fancy meal he had once, over ten thousand years ago, Nick decides he’s gonna fulfill that craving, no matter how hard it is. Because real romance is about making the impossible happen for his husband.

Goddamn transcendental.

Go Get It

Sometimes you start out just planning to get some groceries with your husband, and next thing you know, you’re committing to join the most hopeless team in college football.

Nick and Manny decide to play. It’s perfect.

Afterlife

A young man dies six months before the end of human death; his loss saves five lives, which end up much longer than anyone expects. (A series of worldbuilding vignettes about original characters in the 17776 setting.)

Made me cry, in a very cathartic way.

Astreiant Series - Melissa Scott & Lisa A. Barnett

April dressed in all his trim

A quiet evening in spring.

Sweet little slice-of-life with lovely sensory details.

Books of the Raksura

The Second Consort

“When Glow arrives, be friendly and welcoming,” Ember said. “Not scary.”

“Why does everyone think I’m going to scare him?”

Chime said, “They can see your face when you look at him.” He paused, glancing over at Moon. “That face, that’s the one.”

Ember sighed. “I remember being in his position. It’s pretty nerve-wracking coming to a new court and not knowing what’s going to happen to you there - whether they’re going to welcome you or shun you, whether you’ll make new friends, whether a queen is going to claim you…” He came and put a sympathetic hand on Moon’s shoulder. “Glow is probably worried about all of those things, and missing his home and clutchmates, and it’s our job to try and help him relax.” For a moment Moon thought he was just being soft-hearted, until Ember added, “He won’t open up and tell us what’s really going on unless he’s relaxed.”

Jade takes in a new consort, on Moon’s permission, and everybody is delightfully adult about it.

Frederica

Lady Alverstoke

Frederica commences her first Season as a married woman by planning a ball, promising most straitly that her husband will have nothing whatsoever to do …

Sweet and funny slice-of-life post-happy-ending for canon.

**The Gentlemen (2019) **

Even

The week after he intercepts Fletcher, that squirrelly little cunt, outside the London Miramax office, Raymond reluctantly ventures down to Brixton.

Under normal circumstances, Raymond tends to give this part of Brixton a wide berth, but he has unfinished business that needs attending to. Of course, that doesn’t mean he has to like being accosted by the overwhelming smell of greasy fish and chips when he pushes the car door open, doesn’t mean he has to be pleased about stepping into a piece of chewed-up gum the moment he sets a foot on the kerb.

But then, he can always take a shower after an errand in Brixton. The deep-seated discomfort of unfinished business doesn’t wash off that easily.

Raymond tries to pay Coach back for saving his life, and it doesn’t quite go as planned :D

The Goblin Emperor

The Archduke’s Discovery

Prince Nemolis goes on a journey, and learns a bit more than he wanted to know.

Really great point of canon divergence, and true and precise character voices.

Hades

all the spaces between us

For a place full of the dead, crammed with ghostly shades and nothing but the endless lull of eternity unchanging, gossip sure travelled fast in the Underworld.

Or, Zagreus mulls over his relationship with Thanatos while the rest of the Underworld get overly invested.

Slow, slow, slowest of burns.

Innkeeper Chronicles - Ilona Andrews

A Quick Trip

“It’ll be a quick trip,” Maud said, more to herself than to Arland. “No one will even notice we’re gone.”

Pirates are plaguing an ally, just outside of vampire space. Maud and Arland don some aesthetically beat-up armor and try to get more information from the pirates themselves. Of course, plans only last until you meet your enemy. Or your enemy’s giant alien attack boar.

Excellent canon voice, action/adventure sprinkled with badassery and hilarity.

Jeeves & Wooster

August Thirteenth

Discovering that this is not the first August thirteenth that he’s lived through, that certainly was a head scratcher. Luckily Bertie has the stalwart presence of his man’s man, Jeeves.

Very, very great and satisfying use of the time loop.

Kate Daniels - Ilona Andrews

lookin’ like a snack (cake)

It took Barabas a while to figure it out, because he wasn’t used to not being taken seriously.

Barabas considered several ways to phrase it, and finally settled upon, “Do you have a thing for twinks?” Christopher knocked his head back against the headrest: once, then again. “Is that a yes?”

King Arthur: Legend of the Sword (2017)

When Goosefat Bill finds himself in a difficult situation, the last thing he wants is the King to show up and “help”, in his own unique and unexpected way.

Goosefat Bill does not need to be rescued by his King. But he might just enjoy it a little.

My Next Life as a Villainess (Anime)

All I Have To Bring Today

Catarina and Sophia had been discussing the latest in the Devilish Count series, and Sophia had mentioned how romantic the surprise picnic the count had planned for his lover was and how she wished for someone to surprise her like that.

“What about you, Catarina? Have you ever wished for someone to sweep you off your feet?” Sophia had asked.

Catarina makes a choice! As sweet and as hilarious as the canon.

Nirvana in Fire

Adverse Event

What a pitiful man must he have become, if the only thing he could provoke in bed was a monologue on his character flaws.

: or, the famous strategist mei changsu plays xanatos speed chess against truth serum: the fic.

Mei Changsu gets hit with an accidental truth serum; it doesn’t stop him from lying to himself, but it does buy Jingyan a clue.

Records of the Land of Xiang

There was something of Xiao Jingyan there, in the firmness of his jaw, the unforgiving slash of his brows, and most clearly in the eyes that neither saw nor conveyed deception. But Long Zhan was not Jingyan, could never be, no matter how much Changsu might wish otherwise, because Jingyan was dead.

In service to a very-much-alive Prince Qi, Jingyan dons a Jianghu-typical disguise and infiltrates the Jiangzuo Alliance to suss out this Mei Changsu fellow and see if he might be useful in helping them re-open the Chiyan conspiracy case. Basically, a slightly ridiculous premise where everyone is running around the Jianghu with masks, multiple identities, and secret agendas.

Fascinating and fun AU scenario that delves, among other things, into Mei Changsu the jianghu chef, not Sir Su the court schemer.

suffering as I suffer you

The first time Jingyan stays the night at Su Manor, he discovers an uncomfortable truth about Mei Changsu.

Excellent extrapolation of Mei Changsu’s illness into his nightly routine - with Jingyan watching…

Here, In Our Arms

With the world put to rights, however briefly, Xiao Jingyan and Mu Nihuang take the opportunity to make a fuss over their beloved Lin Shu, and will not take no for an answer.

Sweet moment of comfort.

Find the Coals Amid the Ashes

Despite Changsu’s assertions, Lin Chen is a well brought up person. He would never violate his host’s privacy during a social call. It would be inexcusable, for example, to break into a marquis’s private alchemy lab in the middle of said marquis’s birthday party, in order to search said alchemy lab for certain hard to find medicinal herbs, which one has reason to believe can be found therein. These would be the actions of a man without honour, of a man who has only desperation to his name.

Lin Chen crashes a party and makes a new friend.

The best team up ever :D

Dead Letters

Mei Changsu isn’t the only schemer in Da Liang.

Fei Liu fixes things, in the most Fei Liu way imaginable, and it’s great.

No. 6

All Good Things

In the midst of a crisis for No. 6, Nezumi returns to Shion’s side.

A reunion! And cuddling.

Psmith

The Psky Is The Limit

“As this ship’s Orator, my mission is still as it was in the beginning and shall ever be, world without end. It is to hail any message sent by comrades from outer space and pass it on to you verbatim. Well! The hour, I say, has come. The Word has come into being. Here comes Psmith, bearing news of great mirth: the intercom has spoken.”

(A Mike and Psmith Space AU)

Psmith in space! Hysterically funny Psmith in Pspace, at that.

Psmith Pops In

Psmith reached over and solicitously loosened Mike’s scarf, his fingers brushing the skin of Mike’s neck, and that young man, to his horror, felt heat creeping up from where gloved fingers brushed his bare skin. Really, this blushing nonsense was getting out of hand. Ever since Psmith had tried to take the blame in the case of the painted dog, Mike had developed an inexplicable habit of turning hot and cold around him, and these odd responses had become more and more frequent.

Very funny! And then very tragique! And then jussssst right.

The Secret Garden

The Space Garden

When Meri La Nix was sent from the Mars colony to live with her aunt at Missiles Wait Manor, nobody said she was the most disagreeable-looking child ever seen. But some of them thought it.

Beautifully inventive space retelling - with gardens, still.

The Sleuth of Ming Dynasty

The sky spinning above him

In which there’s a jewellery thief on the loose, Tang Fan plays dress up, gets a mild concussion and also a boyfriend.

Frothy, sweet, well-grounded and hot. Also hilarious (check the end note!)

truth in fiction

Three days after Wang Zhi leaves the capital, bits and pieces of his extensive library begin arriving at Sui Zhou’s house.

Sui Zhou is really committed to research and accuracy in Tang Fan’s porn. It’s delightful.

Time don’t fool me no more

“The electrician is a Tang dynasty spy,” he says, dumping some of his eggs in Tang Fan’s bowl.

Tang Fan nods, shovels more food in his mouth, and starts talking again.

Past or future, Tang Fan has Priorities. And Sui Zhou is weak.

Meeting at the End

Sui Zhou knew he never should have let Tang Fan go alone. He knew he should have gone with him.

Really, really great and desperate whump. Super satisfying.

clever boy

Tang Fan never spares a smile for any of the girls at Wang Zhi’s establishment, he’s noticed. That’s alright, though. It means Wang Zhi gets his attention for himself.

Wang Zhi falling, falling hard; it’s delightful.

a bold and brilliant sun

“You’re sure you didn’t do something to it? They don’t usually stall out,” Sui Zhou says. He looks away from Tang Fan, out the windshield at the endless rust-red of the planet.

Tang Fan pouts at this, and slumps down on the edge of the console, feet propped up at an absurd angle against the pilot’s seat. “You think I’d fake a mechanical issue just so that they’d send a sexy Fleet crewman out here to rescue me?” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, he giggles. “Okay, I would do that, but I promise that this time the problem is real.”

Space AU! Most excellent space AU condensing all there is to love about the canon in one perfect package.

Blind Taste Test

Wang Zhi invites Tang Fan to evaluate Joyous Brothel’s chefs — but it’s Tang Fan and Sui Zhou who are really being tested.

Wang Zhi, ever helpful :)

Authorial Intent

Sui Zhou and Tang Fan end up in hot water yet again. Kinky sex ensues.

Hilarious, kinky, heartfelt, and in character.

Swordspoint Series - Ellen Kushner

Chrysopoeia

It struck Alec that this would have been much easier if their positions were reversed. Richard would have known what to do if he’d been dragged back here with a hole in his gut. He was quite simply not supposed to be the one on this end of the equation. In fact, it was possible he had done something very bad to deserve this.

Richard is wounded, and Alex is coping. Excellent h/c and excellent bloodplay and sharp, painful slice of Alex’ POV, excellently rendered.

At first — this was just like him — he thought he was hearing god. But it was only the man in the bed, whose face had turned toward him on the ragged pillow.

The Tarot Sequence - K.D. Edwards

Third’s a Charm

Addam asks a favor of Brand.

Addam asks Brand for help, which ends up being exactly what Brand and Rune need.

Pretty good

Five times Brand crawls into Rune’s bed and one time Rune crawls into Brand’s.

Brand and Rune, through the years.

Teixcalaan Series - Arkady Martine

Also in the Act of Reaching

When Three Seagrass arrived at Lsel Station, she was, officially at least, traveling as a private personage. She had missed Mahit and the possibilities they’d both chosen to turn away from. She also had– would always have– a gaping hole in her life where Petal had once stood.

It was simply that, left on her own, Three Seagrass wouldn’t have let either absence drag her to the ass-end of beyond.

Reunion, metaphors and realigment. Subtle and clever and just right.

The (concept of the) World Was Wide Enough

Yskandr Aghavn comes to the world like a drowning man comes to shore, but he is living on borrowed time. Teixcalaan has so many wonderful things to choke on.

Teixcalaan has had his heart for all of his life, has elevated him, corrupted him, and discarded him.

It is Lsel that he thinks of as he dies.

Temple of the White Rat Universe - T. Kingfisher

If Grace Is Too Much

Zale is given a case by Bishop Beartongue which turns out to be more complicated and personal than a holy advocate-priest would prefer.

Clever and sweet and carefully shocking, but in a very right way.

Outreach

“We don’t generally assess the… cursédness… of objects, trees or otherwise,” Beartongue said.

Utterly delightful.

#17776 #astreiant #books of the raksura #sleuth of the ming dynasty #nirvana in fire #white rat universe #telxcalaan series #the tarot sequence #swordspoint #the goblin emperor #psmith #the secret garden #benjamin january mysteries #yuletide recs

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verai-marcel · 4 years ago

Text

Possession & Punishment (RDR2 Fanfic, Morgan Twins x F!Reader, 18+)

Summary: The twins told you not to go on a job without one of them to protect you. But you're an independent woman, you do as you please! Or so you thought. When two possessive men find out you've disobeyed them, will you be ready to face the consequences?

Author’s Notes: Had an idea and went with it. This hearkens back to my older work, where Arthur was angrier, more possessive, more rough. If you’re not into some hardcore rough sex, you best be leavin’ now.

Tags: angst, smut, double penetration, spanking, anal sex, rough sex, punishment, light bondage, aftercare, D/s tones

AO3 Link is here, darlin’.

Word Count: 4848

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

"It'll be real easy. We'll be in and out before t'ey know it. And Karen will keep watch, won'tcha, darlin'?" Sean caressed her elbow lovingly.

Karen smiled at him and nodded before looking back at you. "So will you do it?"

You weighed your options. Since the Morgan twins had claimed you, they very rarely let you out of their sight. One was usually around camp, and if they were both out on a job, Grimshaw made sure you were helping out with something that kept you busy until they returned. It was starting to get a little bit stifling.

But today, both Morgans were gone and Susan was busy yelling at the other girls. Perhaps you could sneak away for just one little job. You felt like you weren't contributing to the gang as much as you once did, although Dutch did casually mention that the twins seemed a lot calmer these days, especially Thorne.

You looked at Sean and Karen, their eyes brimming with hope.

"Alright, I'll come with. Just don't let Arthur or Thorne know. And we have to get back before they do."

They grinned.

***

"You really rushed back there."

"We got out of there just fine, didn't we?"

"Don't mean we can take chances like that!"

"Fuckin' hell, Arthur, get off my back already."

"You just want to get back to camp."

"So do you."

"I do. And I want to get back alive."

Thorne rolled his eyes and hitched his horse.

And immediately he knew something was wrong.

"Where is she?" Arthur asked, hitching his horse and coming to stand next to Thorne.

Thorne looked around the camp, spotted Dutch, and stormed away.

Arthur quickly followed him.

"DUTCH!" Thorne roared; everyone in camp knew that tone and steered clear.

Dutch looked up from his book. "Now there is no need for all that hollerin'. What is it, son?"

Thorne could barely keep himself from growling as he asked where his woman was.

Arthur, meanwhile, had stopped following Thorne and had gone to Susan. After asking her where his lady was, she quickly realized she had lost track of her a few hours ago. She also mentioned that she hadn't seen Karen and Sean in a while.

Arthur and Thorne came back to their horses at the same time.

"She's with Karen and Sean," Arthur said.

Thorne nodded. "Dutch told me where they went. I'm going after them. You stay here in case she comes back."

Arthur opened his mouth to argue, but seeing the meaningful look on Thorne's face, he nodded in understanding.

Don't let her run away.

Thorne took off down the path out of camp at a gallop, leaving Arthur to wait for their beloved to return.

***

The job should’ve been easy. It should’ve been a quick in and out.

Instead, a deputy patrol had come by and seen Karen drinking outside with a gun, and though she tried her best to be charming and shoo them away, Sean had picked the worst time to trip and fall on his face as the two of you were sneaking out the back of the house.

Which, of course, led to a mad dash to the horses and a crazy chase through the forest as the three of you raced away from your pursuers.

“Split up!” Karen yelled as she veered right and took off, firing her gun into the air to confuse the lawmen behind them.

You took a hard left and rode fast into the night, until the moon had traveled halfway across the sky and you heard nothing but the wind and panting of your horse. As you left the forest, looking for a path, you checked your compass and started traveling back to camp, hoping that Arthur and Thorne weren’t back at camp yet.

You had a sinking feeling that you may have tested your luck too much today.

***

Arthur looked up at the sound of galloping hoofbeats coming up to camp. He dropped the horse brush and started stalking towards the rider coming to the hitching posts. Squinting in the predawn darkness, he noticed that it was Ennis coming back to camp, with a tired Sean riding him.

“Sean!” Arthur barked.

Sean saw Arthur and immediately paled. “Hey, King Arthur,” he greeted nervously as he got off his horse, keeping his back to him.

“Where are the ladies?” Arthur growled.

Sean turned to face him. “They haven’t come back yet?” he asked, surprised.

Arthur was about to let him have a verbal beat down, but was interrupted by the sound of another horse charging into camp.

Karen nearly fell off her horse trying to get down, but Sean quickly came over to help her.

Arthur’s ire was not contained at seeing her disheveled state, however. He growled out his question again, only mentioning his lover’s name this time.

“She took off in the opposite direction,” Karen said, glancing at Sean. “I thought she’d be back by now.”

Arthur gave the two of them one final glare before storming off. Making his way to John, he grabbed the gun from him and told him to get some rest before taking his place, pacing ferociously at the lookout campfire.

An hour passed, and Arthur’s agitation only grew worse.

Then a third horse came cantering back to camp.

“Who’s there?”

“Thorne, you idiot.”

Arthur walked up to Thorne as he slowed his horse. “You find her?

Thorne shook his head. “She didn’t come back neither, huh.”

Arthur shook his head in confirmation.

The two of them looked at each other, the worry reflected in both their eyes.

“Should we both go look for her?” Arthur finally asked.

Thorne nodded, just as they heard another horse come into camp, a familiar name being announced by a familiar voice. Distracted, they let the rider fly past them. Once they had gathered their wits, Arthur quickly hopped on the back of Thorne’s horse and they followed.

***

You were ecstatic. You had made out like the luckiest bandit at the last minute, coming across a little cabin tucked away on top of a hill. Taking a little-used horse trail back to camp, you had spotted it and decided that checking it out for the future was a good idea.

Turned out that the cabin was ripe for the picking, looking abandoned, but seeing where there were clean spots on the dusty floor, you found a hidden lock box filled with goodies. You stuffed the money and jewelry in your satchel and took off, hoping that whoever had hidden it would not find out until much later. But just in case, you rode off the trail, into a river, went in a few circles to hide your tracks before coming back to camp.

You were so excited that you blasted past the guards at camp, who were clearly talking and not paying attention to you. They didn’t even call out to you as you announced yourself, but you did hear them gallop after you, so they’d find out soon enough about your good fortune.

Hopping off your horse and hitching it quick, you ran towards Karen and Sean, who were drinking at the campfire. When they saw you coming, they both lit up in relief.

“Oh thank the lord, we were worried about you!” Karen exclaimed.

“Look, look!” you chirped as you pulled out the money and jewelry from your satchel. “Came across an abandoned cabin on the way back, found these under the floorboards!”

They both looked happily at you, then paled and took a step back away from you.

“What..?” You asked before you noticed that they were not looking at you, but behind you.

You turned.

Thorne and Arthur towered over you, both of them looking pissed off. You swallowed and took a step back. “Hi fellas... welcome back,” you said, your voice cracking.

Thorne said nothing. He only glared at you for a moment longer, his eyes roving over you for a few moments before he turned and stormed off.

You started to follow after him, but Arthur put his arm out in front of you, stopping you in your tracks. Turning to him, you saw the same anger in Arthur’s eyes for a brief moment before he blinked and looked at you with a little more kindness.

But not much.

“Let him be, darlin’,” he murmured before guiding you to their tent. “He just needs to cool down.”

You followed Arthur meekly, glancing towards where Thorne had stalked away. Arthur led you into your shared tent, closed the flaps, and without a word, started to get you ready for bed. Like a rag doll, you let Arthur take off your outer clothes and tuck you into the blankets. He took off his outer clothes, his boots, and his hat, and crawled in after you, pulling you into his arms, holding you tightly. He was tense as he held you, and you knew that he wasn’t happy with you right now. But he still held you, and eventually, you fell asleep, exhaustion overcoming everything else, even the unsteadiness of your heart.

***

A full day passed. You hadn’t seen Thorne at all, but Arthur told you it would be fine, that Thorne could take care of himself.

All the while, Arthur was a little standoffish, speaking curtly with you, giving you orders to stay within his sight. Usually you would argue, you would pout, you would flippantly tell him that you were a grown woman who could take care of herself.

But today, you were obedient. You wanted him to stop being so cold. The aloofness in his eyes when he looked at you was more painful than the anger. It hurt, being shut out like this, as if he had just left you outside during a blizzard.

And you were worried about Thorne. Why hadn’t he come back yet?

You hadn’t realized you were crying until you saw the water in your wash basin ripple. You had stopped moving, just stared into the water as if it would grant you the answers to everything if you only looked long enough.

“Sweetheart.”

You looked up, startled. You hadn’t heard anyone walk up to you.

“Thorne…” you whispered.

His eyes didn’t show their usual teasing twinkle, nor did his lips curve in their usual seductive smile. He looked serious. Seriously angry.

“Pack your things.”

Your heart clenched. Was he kicking you out?

“We’re goin’ on a trip.”

You blinked in confusion. “We… we are?”

“Go. Don’t question me.”

You swallowed and nodded, rushing off to gather a few things. As you entered your tent, you noticed Arthur was already putting some of your items into a bag.

“Here,” he said, handing you the bag. His eyes were still distant.

“Th-thank you,” you mumbled, taking the bag before quickly turning and running out of the tent.

It hurt to look at him. It hurt so much, like a knife piercing your heart over and over, mercilessly, without end, without hope. You took a shuddering breath. You weren’t sure what was about to happen now. You didn’t know why Arthur was still so cold, why Thorne was still so angry. You had brought back so much loot, and you had been safe. Sure, you had disobeyed them, but you had apologized to Arthur after you had woken up, and all he did was sigh and walk away from you.

What more could you do?

***

Thorne led the way out of camp, with you following quietly on your horse. You didn’t even attempt to make conversation; you could feel the silent waves of anger radiating off of him, and a single word from you might spark a blow up that you didn’t want to hear.

A few hours later, you had reached your destination; a small cave in the mountains, tucked away in the middle of nowhere, off the beaten path by miles. You wondered at how Thorne had found such a place.

You also worried about why Thorne had brought you here. The twins would never hurt you. But they had both been angry with you, and you feared they might leave you here for a few days as punishment for defying their orders.

You watched quietly as Thorne hitched his horse and yours before walking towards you and holding his hands out to you.

“C’mon,” he said.

You gripped his shoulders and slid off your horse into his arms, his hands gripping your waist harder than usual. He paused for a moment when he brought you down to the ground, looking down at you, the emotion in his eyes flickering into something more, something unknown, before the anger returned. After you grabbed your bag from your horse, he took you by your wrist and all but dragged you into the cave.

Lighting up a torch at the entrance, he led you inside, down a side pathway and up a ladder to a wide, flat area with torches set around the perimeter. There was a small camp set up here, perfect for a little getaway.

Or in your case, probably temporary imprisonment.

You stepped forward into the space, looking around the little camp to see a coil of rope, a satchel filled with herbs and a few jars wrapped in bandanas to protect them from clinking together.

“Strip.”

You turned to see Thorne walking towards you, and you froze like a startled deer. Taking your bag and dropping it to the ground, he gripped your chin firmly. “Did you hear me?”

Lost in his steely gaze, you could only open and close your mouth like a fish gasping for air. You were frozen in place, your mind so clouded with uncertainty that you didn’t know what to think.

Thorne let go of your jaw, caressing your cheek gently. "Sweetheart," he said, his tone softening. He started to unbutton your shirt, his movements slow, deliberate, as he kept glancing up to make sure your eyes were still focused on him. As your shirt fell from your shoulders and down your arms, he took a step back.

"You can take off the rest," he said.

You slowly nodded, your mind still trapped in a haze. You removed the rest of your clothing, one by one. Focusing on this one simple task made it easier to clear the fog in your head.

Once you were nude, he gestured at the bedroll. “Kneel here,” he commanded.

You knelt down on the bedroll. You watched him walk around to the coil of rope and pick it up, coming back to you with a determined stride.

“Hold yer hands up.”

You held your hands above your head. He tied them securely, just tight enough so you could not escape. He let go of your hands, letting you bring them down into your lap.

“Bend over.”

You rested your weight on your forearms. He walked around, knelt down behind you, and tied your ankles together.

Then you felt his hands trailing up your calves, up your thighs, until he gripped your ass and squeezed your flesh. You moaned softly.

“I’m goin’ to punish you. But we ain’t leavin’ you alone, if that’s what yer worried about.”

“Alright,” you said quietly, relieved that they weren’t going to abandon you here.

Thorne ran his hands up and down your back, soothing you. “Count fer me, baby.”

You counted each spank. Each slap on your backside landed on a slightly different spot, the sting slowly melting into an overall feeling of heat.

“Twenty.”

“That’s enough,” Thorne said softly as he smoothed his hand over your warm rear. His fingers grazed your slit, wet from his punishment. “You need my cock, sweetheart?”

“Y-yes, please,” you begged.

“You have to earn it first.”

Thorne got up and walked around to stand in front of you. He gestured with his fingers for you to get onto your knees, and as you did so, he unbuckled his belt and set it aside.

Then he looked towards the cavern entrance, which made you look as well. In the distance, you could hear footsteps.

Thorne stared into the darkness for a little bit before letting out a breath. “Took you long enough.”

As the figure rounded the corner, you could see that it was Arthur carrying a torch, a grim look on his face.

“Arthur,” you said, reaching out for him as he climbed up the ladder to the camp. Thorne quickly grabbed you by the neck and held you in place.

“Don’t move,” he growled.

You looked back at Thorne, confused. Why was he keeping you from going to Arthur?

It wasn’t until Arthur had set his pack down and come up to stand next to Thorne that you noticed something was different. The coldness in his eyes was gone, replaced with a burning passion, as if suppressing his emotions for the past two days had only stoked his inner fire to a breaking point.

Arthur leaned down and caressed your face, his hand shaking with barely restrained control. "Do you understand why we brought you here?" His sonorous voice sounded even more imposing as it echoed lightly in the cavern.

"Because I didn't listen?"

Thorne shook his head. "That ain't it."

You tilted your head in confusion.

Arthur sighed, the same sigh he had made when you had apologized for the same reason. He got down on one knee so he could look at you, eye to eye. “How do you feel when we don’t come back when we say we will?”

You bit your bottom lip. “Worried. Afraid that something might have happened to you.”

“So how do you think we felt when we came back to camp and you weren’t there?” he asked, taking you by the shoulders and pulling you closer.

“Oh,” you slowly said in comprehension.

He tightened his grip on you, making you squeak.

"You have any idea how scared we was of losin' you?" he snarled, his voice rising as he shook you slightly with each word.

“I’m sorry!” you sobbed. “I… I didn’t realize...”

Thorne clapped a hand on Arthur’s shoulder. His grasp on you loosened, and he slowly stood up and stepped back, his fingers trailing off your skin as Thorne pulled him away from you. Arthur’s eyes on you were still just as heated, a wild, uncontrolled look.

You had never seen Arthur so out of sorts before. He was usually the calm and collected one, the voice of reason compared to his hot-headed brother. But now you watched as Thorne held Arthur back.

“You’re goin’ to scare her,” Thorne said quietly.

Arthur looked at you, really looked at you, with clearer eyes. You were trembling, distraught that you had caused them so much worry. It wasn’t that you had disobeyed. It was that you had put yourself in danger and they were afraid that you were hurt, or worse, dead.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered again, truly understanding what you were apologizing for.

Arthur moved towards you once more, Thorne letting go of him so he could kneel down in front of you. He pulled you into his arms, embracing you tightly, burrowing his face in your neck, his hand going to the back of your head as he quietly held you.

“Darlin’, promise me you’ll never put yerself in danger again. If you want to go out, just ask us. We’ll protect you. We’ll keep you safe. Just please. Don’t go without us.”

You nodded against Arthur’s shoulder. Hearing the pleading tone in his voice, a new wave of emotion gripped your soul, and you reached up and grabbed his shirt, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. When he finally let you go and looked at you, he finally gave you a smile. You smiled back at him, reaching up, your bound wrists keeping your hands together as you cupped his face.

His eyes heated immediately at your touch, and he laid you back down onto the bedroll before undoing his belt and his pants. Impatient, he stroked his cock, looking down at you, all tied up and at his mercy.

“Arthur—”

“Shut up, Thorne. I need her now.”

Thorne raised his hands in surrender. He knew better than to get in Arthur’s way when he was like this. He casually stepped back and sat on a rock, watching as Arthur crawled over you like a beast in heat, his cock in one hand as he took your bound ankles and slung them over his shoulder.

“Mine,” he growled as he pushed into you, harder than he normally would. He invaded you ruthlessly as you mewled, helpless under him until he was completely sheathed inside of you. You swear from this angle he felt bigger. When he pulled out and slammed back into you, you screamed.

“Did that hurt, darlin’?” he asked, breathless.

“No,” you assured him. “Just… surprised.”

“Goin’ to be rough tonight. Need you too much,” he grunted before he pounded into you, holding you by your legs, his hands gripping your thighs as he bucked his hips, losing control inside of your delectable heat. “My sweet darlin’, can’t ever get enough of ya.”

Thorne chuckled in the background. “Don’t wear yerself out too soon. She needs to be punished. Thoroughly.”

Arthur slowed his thrusts, looking down at you, the intensity in his stare almost too much for you. He made your heart stutter, your core clench hard around his shaft inside of you.

Thorne got up and made his way over to you. Kneeling on the bedroll above your head, he gestured at Arthur, who pulled out of you and flipped you over, and together they got you on your forearms and knees.

Arthur slipped back inside of you as Thorne pulled his cock out of his pants and gave you a smug grin. “Give me yer mouth, sweet girl.”

You gladly opened up for him, letting his cock glide in. You wrapped your lips around him and sucked noisily, letting your tongue slide around his length, listening for his hitched breaths and lustful moans.

“Yer the best, truly,” Thorne murmured as he gripped your head and started to roll his hips, taking your mouth to his liking, making you his. While Arthur gripped your hips, fucking you from behind, you could only stay still and make lewd noises, drowning in pleasure from being used by your favorite men.

Then Arthur and Thorne both pulled away from you, leaving you bereft. You whimpered, but Arthur quickly wrapped his arms around you and lay you down on your back before untying your ankles.

“There, there,” he crooned. “Spread yer legs for me.”

You obeyed, letting Arthur stare at you, feeling more embarrassed with each passing moment.

You heard the sound of a jar clinking, and you glanced over where Thorne was. He had shed all of his clothes, and was spreading some ointment on his fingers. He looked over at you and grinned. “Hands and knees, sweetheart.”

You rolled back over and stuck your ass up in the air. You felt Arthur pull away and heard the sounds of clothes coming off while Thorne knelt behind you and softly caressed your backside. He spread the ointment around your tight ring, stroking you to relax your muscles before slipping a digit into you.

“Ahhh!” you cried out as he worked you open slowly, fitting in another finger, then another. Then he removed his fingers and began to push the head of his cock into your ass.

“Shhh,” he hushed as you made desperate little cries, wanting him to be deeper, wanting him to fill you. “Hafta be slow, sweetie. Don’tchu worry, you’ll have me soon enough.”

It was slow torture, feeling him inch his way inside of you, his panting turning you on, knowing that he loved feeling your tight rear entrance around his shaft, squeezing him. When he was all the way inside of you, he leaned forward and covered you, his arms caging you in as he began to move his hips.

“Feelin' good, baby girl?” Thorne murmured in your ear.

“Yes, yes,” you babbled.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

He continued to fuck your ass, covering your body with his and peppering your ear and cheek and neck with sloppy kisses.

“I think she needs a good fillin'.”

Thorne laughed darkly as he thrust into you one more time before he pulled out of you. He stood up and stepped away as Arthur, gloriously naked, moved to stand before you. He helped you stand, then he took your bound wrists and looped them around his neck. Wrapping his arms around you, he easily lifted you up, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. With your arms around his neck, he could switch his grasp to your ass, squeezing your cheeks as he lifted you just enough for him to aim his cock at your wet pussy.

Arthur moaned as he slid back inside of you, holding you tightly to him once he was completely inside. "Perfect. Just perfect."

You felt Thorne's hands slide up your thighs as he stepped closer, his cock nudging your ass once more. Arthur's hands on your ass spread you open for him, and soon you could feel Thorne's thick member filling you up.

Thorne's hand wrapped around your neck and pulled you backwards until you could feel his chest against your back, his beard tickling your face as he nuzzled you. "Just the sweetest little fuck toy, ain'tcha?"

You didn't even have a chance to answer before they began to take you, both of them pulling, pushing, fucking you, using your holes for their pleasure. It was pure hedonism, the way you leaned into their every touch, the way you cried out without shame with every thrust.

The way Arthur looked as he embedded himself so deeply inside of you, his face flushed, his eyes darkened with need, his moans laced with desire, and the way Thorne held you, his hands a steady support, his dirty words in your ear driving you higher and higher, it all drove you to your peak.

"Come for us, sweetheart. Goin' to fill you up so much…"

You cried out, your body electrified as you came undone between them, helpless in their arms while you writhed and leaned into their embrace. Thorne grunted and tightened his hold on you before spilling inside of you, gasping curses with his last few thrusts.

As he stepped back, he nudged you back into Arthur's arms, who took your whole weight in his muscled grip, still thrusting, never wanting to stop.

"Darlin'," he murmured. You looked at him, and the raw emotion you saw gripped your heart like a vice. "I love you," he whispered before he held you tight and lost himself inside of you. He pressed his forehead against yours, taking deep shuddering breaths, all the while holding you up steadily with his immense strength.

After a blissful few moments of just being one, the two of you started to feel the strain of being in your current position. As you unwrapped your legs from Arthur, Thorne helped you down to the bedroll, your muscles trembling with aftershocks.

Arthur plopped down next to you, laying on his back, his arms resting on his stomach. "Damn," he muttered. "Needed that."

You were currently sitting in Thorne's lap as he untied your wrists. The rope was soft, but you still had red marks on your skin. He kissed your wrists and rubbed your muscles, soothing you with murmurs of affection.

Arthur finally sat up, reaching for his satchel that he had dropped earlier. He pulled out a can of apricots and cut it open. Taking one of the delectable juicy halves, he turned to you and smiled.

"Open up, darlin'," he said softly. You opened your mouth and accepted the fruit, licking the juice from his fingers.

"Arthur," you said after a while. "You really hurt me, being so distant."

"I'm sorry I was cold to you before," he said contritely as he fed you another half of an apricot. "I didn't want to scare you with how mad I was. Turns out I went too far the opposite way."

You nodded. "I understand now, though. I won't put myself in danger, but you have to trust me. Let me go on jobs sometimes. You can't keep me cooped up at camp all the time."

Arthur leaned in and kissed your cheek. “I know, I know.”

Thorne kissed your other cheek. “We just don’t want nothin’ to happen to ya.”

“Yer our treasure,” Arthur continued. “If anythin’ happened to ya…” He stopped and looked away, swallowing hard at the thought.

“We’d feel like dyin’,” Thorne finished Arthur’s sentence.

You shifted off Thorne’s lap and wrapped one arm around him, the other around Arthur, hugging them tightly. “Thank you for caring so much, my dears.” You gave them each a sweet kiss. “I love you both. I can’t believe I’m so lucky to have you two.”

“We’re all yours, darlin’.”

“‘Till the end of time, sweetheart.”

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

End Notes: Did I go overboard with the angst? They were pretty angry, not gonna lie. Hope you enjoyed another Morgan Twins story! Will there be more? Maybe, if there is enough interest. Show your support through comments & reblogs!

#morgan twins au #arthur morgan #thorne morgan #rdr2 fanfic #rdr2 #arthur x fem!reader #fanfic #writing #lemon fanfic #nsft

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fictionallyinparadise · 3 years ago

Text

Bastard my beloved

Darryl: You know you've made it when you see your picture everywhere you go.

Arthur: Those are wanted posters!

***

Arthur: Are you sure Darryl's even gay? They barely even looked at me.

***

Arthur: I think I need a hug...

Darryl: Good thing I'm hug shaped!

*45 minutes later*

Arthur: You... you can let go now.

Darryl: No, I absolutely cannot.

***

Darryl, hungover: Please tell me I'm imagining that I claimed I was king of the ducks.

Arthur: I would, but then I would be lying to the King of All Ducks.

***

Arthur: Are you drinking enough water?

Darryl: Sometimes my tears get in my mouth.

***

Darryl: Why are you on fire?

Arthur: This is just how my day is going.

***

Darryl: The risk I took was calculated but, man, am I bad at math.

***

Darryl: The next time I open up to someone, it'll be my autopsy.

***

Darryl: Am I right, Arthur?

Arthur: I’m almost certain you’re not, but to be fair, I wasn’t listening.

***

Arthur: Name a more iconic duo than my crippling fear of abandonment and my anxiety. I’ll wait.

Darryl: You and me!

Arthur: *tearing up* Ok.

***

Darryl: What is the one thing I told you not to do?

Arthur: Burn the house down.

Darryl: And what did you do?

Arthur: I made dinner.

Darryl:

Arthur:

Darryl:

Arthur: And burnt the house down.

***

Darryl: Standing next to sunflowers always makes me feel weak like ‘look at this fucking flower. This flower is taller than I am. This flower is winning and I’m losing.’

Arthur: Wow, you are not ready to hear about trees.

***

Darryl: What is wrong with you?

Arthur: Loaded question. Elaborate.

***

Arthur: If you don't stop talking, I'm going to jump out of that window.

Darryl: ...We're on the ground floor.

Arthur: I know but I want a dramatic exit.

***

Darryl: I think I should be allowed on ghost hunter tv shows.

Arthur: I think that would be dangerous for the ghosts.

***

Darryl: Arthur, you risked your life to save me!

Arthur: And I’d do it again! And perhaps a third time! But that would be it.

***

Arthur: I’m going to hell.

Darryl: Probably.

Arthur: I'll pick you up?

Darryl, nodding: Carpool.

***

Darryl: What are you drinking?

Arthur: Vodka.

Darryl: Straight?

Arthur: No, gay. Why?

***

Darryl: How would you like your coffee?

Arthur: As dark as my soul.

Darryl: Got it, one cup of milk coming right up!

***

Kidnapper: We have your child

Darryl: I don’t have a child?

Kidnapper: Then who just asked for warm milk and made us cut the crusts off their sandwich?

Darryl: Oh god, you have Arthur

***

Darryl: Ugh, crushes are so dumb.

Arthur: I know. Whenever I’m near the person I like I just start acting stupid.

Darryl: But you’re always acting stupid?

Arthur: ...

Arthur: Yeah, don’t think about that too hard.

***

Arthur: What's this?

Darryl, hugging Arthur: Affection!

Arthur: Disgusting.

Arthur: ...Do it again.

***

Arthur: I am in charge of this disaster!

Darryl: I have a name, you know.

***

Arthur: Are you a cuddler?

Darryl: I'm a machine of death and destruction.

Arthur:

Darryl: ...Yeah, I'm a cuddler.

***

Darryl: GET BACK HERE YOU DUMB FUCK!

Arthur: LET ME RUN FROM THE CONSEQUENCES OF MY ACTIONS!

***

Teacher: Your child got in a fight.

Arthur: Did they win?

***

Darryl: Damn, the power went out.

Arthur: Don’t worry, I got this.

Arthur: *shakes rapidly and starts to light up*

Darryl: What-?

Arthur: I swallowed a glow stick!

Darryl, on the verge of tears: WHY WOULD YOU-

***

Darryl: Life could be worse, Arthur.

Arthur: Life could be a lot better too!

***

Darryl: Oh, fiddlesticks.

Arthur: Look, I understand this is a tense situation, but let's watch the fucking language.

***

Darryl: How do tall people people possibly sleep at night when the blanket can't possibly cover you?

Arthur: Darryl, it's four o'clock in the morning.

Darryl: So, you can't sleep, huh? Is it because of the blanket?

***

Darryl: Arthur taught me to think before I act.

Darryl: ...So if I smack the shit out of you, rest assured that I thought about it and am confident in my decision.

***

Arthur: Are you mad?

Darryl: No.

Arthur: So sharpening your knives at 3 in the morning is just a hobby?

***

Arthur, holding a kettle: Coffee or tea?

Darryl: Tea.

Arthur: Wrong. It's coffee.

***

Darryl: Why do you think I don’t like you? I do. I would kill for you.

Darryl: Ask me to kill for you.

Arthur: ...First of all, calm down-

***

Arthur: You disgust me.

Darryl: *eating a kitkat sideways* I realize this and don’t care.

***

Darryl: Arthur likes to say ‘you can be part of the problem or part of the solution,’ but I happen to believe you can be both.

***

Arthur: We either die free, or die trying!

Darryl: Are those the only choices?

***

Darryl: Tell me a little about yourself.

Arthur: I'd rather not, I really like this group.

***

Arthur: Astrology is fun because i can pretend that all of my behaviors are just a result of being a Gemini and not symptoms of mental illness.

Darryl: Being a Gemini is a mental illness. That’s not hate it’s just a fact.

***

Darryl: I personally don't think it's possible to come up with a crazier plan.

Arthur: We could attack them with hummus.

Darryl: I stand corrected.

Arthur: Just keeping things in perspective.

***

Arthur: Someone care to explain why we have 6 dogs in our apartment?

Darryl: They're golden retrievers, dude. They retrieve gold. I did this for us.

***

Darryl: What’s the dumbest thing you believed as a child?

Arthur: That naptime was a punishment.

***

Arthur: Darryl, I screwed up, big time.

Darryl: Arthur, given your daily life experiences, you’re gonna have to be more specific.

***

Arthur: If I may interject...

Darryl: Oh, awesome, Arthur was eavesdropping.

#💊; just two downers #incorrect quotes #correct quotes #i forget that Darryl is written as a baker so he knows how to cook #tw swearing #tw all caps #i have like three (atm) queued!#i am literally so in love with Arthur it isn't funny

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littlewritingrabbit · 4 years ago

Note

Hello! I don't know if you take fanfic requests, but in case you do, may I rewuest Edward Stevens' reaction to Hamilton's death? I love your writing and Ned needs more love.

Yell heah I can write requested things, thank you so much for this anon! You’re very right, Ned Stevens needs more attention, so here’s some angst...

A Helpful Instinct

Academics, Edward Stevens knew, frequently had lively debates about the nature of instinct. Where it came from, what purpose it served, to what extent things people did could be considered instincts. He’d heard the debates himself during his time as a professor at Kings College, ringing out from those high-ceilinged lecture halls like church-bells that called one to question, not to pray. That had been long ago though. In the interim, he had served as a doctor, then a diplomat, and now he was… not engaged in much. Oh sure, he reasoned, there was the upkeep of the house to see to, and the correspondence to engage with, the brief matters of political or medical importance that his expertise was wanted in, the teas, the dinners, the walks along the shores of St. Croix that lacked nostalgia almost entirely now that all the hurricane-induced wreckage had been cleaned up and built over with bright new buildings. There were things to do, but, he had to admit, they weren’t much after the busy life he had once led.

That was where the instinct came in. Perhaps it was because he was an eldest sibling, or perhaps he just needed something to explain it, but ever since his return from his diplomatic endeavors in Haiti, Stevens had felt incredibly restless. None of his occupations had felt purposeful. He had spent so long in the sole dedication of helping people that it seemed as if there was some imperative he wasn’t fulfilling now.

Stevens dropped a sugar cube into his tea and stirred it around. Someone knocked on his office door.

“Good morning,” he called without looking up, “Come on in!”

“Morning sir,” said the visitor, with a conspicuous lack of the usual ‘good,’ “I’ve a letter for you. The postman seemed rather anxious that you should have it as soon as possible.” It was one of the clerks that sometimes came to ask his advice. What was the lad’s name, Carlisle?

“Thank you Carlisle,” said Stevens, hoping desperately that that was, in fact, his name. The clerk gave no sign to the contrary. “If you have a question, I can certainly answer that before I get to the letter if you’d like,” he took the letter, looking over the clerk. Yes, this was Arthur Carlisle. He was the same rather mousey-looking one with the dark hair and upturned nose who had come to ask about the international impacts of American currency standardization last week. As far as Stevens could remember, the lad was quite clever.

A worried expression crossed Carlisle’s face like a shadow. “Perhaps you’d better read it sir, it’s from Mrs. Hamilton.”

Stevens looked down at the letter only then. It was indeed Eliza Hamilton’s writing. His mind went from she never writes me, to why, to God help you Alex are you well faster than the crease of a frown could form between his eyebrows. “Yes, er, thank you Carlisle, I will be with you in just a moment then.”

He reached for the letter-opener with hands as steady as only a physician trained with needles and scalpels could make them. He sliced through the envelope and unfolded the letter inside. His eyes read faster than his mind could make sense of what he was reading. He read it over again. Duel… ribs… internal bleeding… condolences… it couldn’t be true. Knowing his education as a physician, Eliza had done her best to describe the medical aspect of the tragedy. Perhaps she knew, Stevens thought bleakly, that he would be analyzing the description for days, trying to figure out if he could have done a better job of treating the gunshot wound than the doctors that were present. Unfortunately, this also meant that he understood right away exactly how much Alexander had been pained in the last hours of his life, such terrible, excruciating pain, he was given to understand, that men had compared it to hell-fire. He felt sick.

“Carlisle,” he managed to say, eyes still fixed on the letter, “Is there any chance you could come back another day?”

“Of… of course, sir,” said the clerk.

“My apologies,” said Stevens, “It’s simply… a friend of mine has had… has been… well, there’s been a tragedy. Thank you for seeing to it that I received this.” He managed to look up. Carlisle was, understandably, genuinely concerned-looking, so he attempted to nod reassuringly. Make sure nobody was in a panic. Send them away, if not contented, then at least calm. That was the sort of bedside manner they expected from you in his profession, and he’d be damned if he let that slip now.

“My condolences, sir,” said the clerk with a nod. Stevens stood and accompanied him to the door, gave his shoulder a friendly pat, and closed the door behind him. The second he was gone, Ned Stevens pressed his back to the door, and let his knees give out in a measured sort of way that let him slide into a sitting position.

Alexander was dead, and he’d never even had the chance to say goodbye. He hadn’t been there to help, hadn’t even been close enough to know that it had happened until this letter travelled all the way across the ocean and…

He should’ve been there. He had a responsibility, he thought, to help his family, and no matter if neither of them had ever really known if they had been related, Alexander was family in all the ways that counted. I should’ve been there, he wanted to cry, I should’ve helped! It’s my job, as a physician, and a friend, and hell, maybe even a brother, to be there for those I love, and I wasn’t! He rested his head on his hands, his hands against his knees, his entire lanky frame curled in on itself with those characteristic auburn curls falling in a mess over his shoulder.

He had been there, he remembered, to help the angry red-headed newcomer to his household bandage his knees after tree-climbing accidents, sitting on the table in the kitchen with his trousers rolled up. He had been there to tend to mysterious black-eyes and bruised knuckles while Alexander swore he hadn’t been trading anything with the pirate crews that somehow managed to find places to sell their goods on St. Croix. He had even been there as Alexander and Eliza sweated and coughed their way through a nasty bout of yellow fever in Philadelphia.

And then, when Alex had needed him most, he had been oceans away.

Ned Stevens knew, on some level, that he could hardly blame himself for Alexander Hamilton’s death. But wasn’t it easier than facing the fact that it might well have been inevitable? He hated the thought that anyone had to suffer and die, least of all someone as close to him as the man who was, at best, his dear childhood friend, and at worst, his bastard half-brother. If God had simply decided to take Alexander from the world without another chance, how could that possibly be fair, or just, or good?

He was going to have to get up, he reasoned. He was going to have to tell Hester, and then the clerks, and eventually, probably the papers. He could hardly hold all this hurt inside himself, even if he wanted to protect everyone else from it.

Ned Stevens stood, gathered up the letter with hands forced steady, and wiped his tears with a gaudily lacy handkerchief. Alex, wherever you are, he thought, I hope you are no longer in pain. I shall miss you terribly, little brother. He crossed the room, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

#History and Writing #Time For a Ficlet #Ned Stevens #Alexander Hamilton #Eliza Hamilton #Uhhh so it's been a while #I may have taken a little hiatus #I'm so very sorry for that and the lack of communication and all #I hope you're all doing well!

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wildest-dreams-at-midnight · 4 years ago

Text

SDS High School AU Chapter 1

Meliodas yawned and Zeldris snickered in response. “School hasn’t even started yet,” Zeldris reminded. “How are you already tired?”

“This year’s going to fucking suck,” Meliodas complained. “Dad’s more insane than usual and I’m a junior.”

“You have the Sins, I’m sure you’ll get into plenty of trouble,” Zeldris said. “And besides, it’s not like you can really get punished.”

“You’re surprisingly optimistic this morning Zel,” Meliodas pointed out. “You’re usually a nightmare this early.” He was slightly annoyed his younger brother was in such a good mood at eight AM. It should be illegal.

“I’m excited,” Zeldris defended.

“About seeing your girlfriend again?” The two brothers laughed as they walked through the wrought iron gates of the school grounds.

“You too, you haven’t seen Elizabeth all summer, you must miss her like hell.” Meliodas huffed and bumping into his brother so he stumbled slightly to the side. Zeldris simply smiled.

A plaza paved in red bricks was dominated by a copper fountain, the water catching the light of the rising sun. Manicured green lawns sloped up to red brick and marble buildings. Students were milling around and stretching out on steps, avoiding the grass so as to not stain their uniforms. Flowers hugged the diameter of the trees scattered across the grounds. Meliodas noticed the rest of the Sins were sitting on the lip of the fountain.

“Do you know where the rest of the cousins are?” Meliodas asked Zeldris.

“Yeah they’re sitting on the steps of the science building,” Zel pointed to the building that was farthest away where a small group of other students were all lounging around, looking completely unenergized. Nobody was going near them either.

“Are you going to look for Gelda?” Meliodas stretched out the syllables of the name, taking enjoyment in how Zeldris’s face lit up red.

“Shut up! You’re just jealous you haven’t worked up the nerve to make a move with Elizabeth,” Zeldris argued.

“Gelda was the one who asked you out,” Meliodas reminded as he turned towards the fountain. It amused him to no end that the rest of the student body was keeping as far away from the Sins as possible. “I’ll see you later.”

“Meliodas!” a tall girl with brown pigtails and purple eyes yelled and waved furiously.

“Yo Diane!” He waved at his brother again before heading to his friends.

“Were the last two weeks good for you Captain?” Before Meliodas could answer a very loud “captain!” was yelled out.

“Ban!” They ran up to each other and gave rapid high-fives before slamming their arms down on the fountain edge. “King, referee.” He rolled his eyes but complied.

“Go,” he said unenthusiastically. The arm-wrestling match was over quickly, with Meliodas forcing Ban’s arm down.

“I win for the tenth time in a row,” Meliodas boasted with a grin. “Better luck next time, bastard.” Ban snorted in response.

“Will you two ever grow up?” King asked.

“Why would they do that?” a soft, sweet voice asked.

“Hey Elaine,” Meliodas waved at King’s younger sister and Ban’s girlfriend. Elaine gave Meliodas a hug before she sat next to Ban.

“Besides, you’re all juniors,” she said. “What else are you supposed to do this year?”

“Exactly, this is the year for having fun,” Ban argued. “Besides, Cap’n can get us out of any trouble, right?” Meliodas huffed but didn’t disagree.

“Did you have a good summer Captain?” Diane repeated, not at all pleased that her question was ignored.

“It was ok. Zel and I had to go to some conference for private schools in the area because of Dad and it was boring as fuck.”

“Did you meet Arthur while you were there?” Merlin asked.

“He didn’t want to get into any trouble with the two of us, but he was nice enough,” Meliodas answered. “He talked about you a lot actually, Merlin.”

“What did he say?” Gowther asked. Merlin simply raised an eyebrow and smiled a secret smile. It didn’t escape Meliodas’s notice that Escanor looked slightly hurt at that. The group of seven continued reminiscing about their summer escapades but fell silent as the group they referred to as ‘the Archangels’ walked by. Meliodas grinned and waved at them, smirking when he was given a twisted expression full of disdain. Meliodas’s face fell when he noticed Elizabeth was sandwiched between them.

“Elizabeth!” Diane cried and barreled through two of them to wrap her friend in a giant hug.

“Hi Diane,” she choked out. Diane heard the strain in her voice and pulled back. “Did you all have a good summer?”

“We did, why weren’t you able to come with us this year?”

“Elizabeth.” Ludociel’s voice was severe. “You’re not allowed to talk to them.”

“What the fuck?” Ban demanded. “She’s been with us for ten goddamn years, why the sudden change, Goddess?”

“That’s none of your concern,” Mael snapped.

“It actually is.” Meliodas broke his silence and walked forward to stand next to Diane. “You’ve acted like she didn’t exist for years. Why the sudden possessiveness?”

“It’s not being possessive!”

“I didn’t know you were so desperate for attention Mael,” Meliodas sneered. “You’re holding people hostage now?” Meliodas could feel all the blood rushing to his head. His temples were throbbing with anger and breaking Mael’s neck was sounding like a better idea each second.

“I’m not going to waste my time responding to you.” Apparently Mael was trying to take the high road but Meliodas wasn’t willing to let that happen.

“You just did.” Mael spluttered and Tarmiel cleared his throat.

“Come along Elizabeth,” Ludociel ordered.

“You can’t tell her—” Elizabeth interrupted King.

“It’s ok. Really. I don’t want a fight breaking out.” She gave Meliodas a glance and he could see the pain in her eyes. If she had been in tears, he would have gone on a rampage. When the Archangels were out of earshot Meliodas snickered.

“What’s so funny Captain?” Escanor asked.

“Elizabeth and I may or may not have all the same classes,” Meliodas explained.

“Your Dad wants the two of you to get together almost more than you do,” Merlin commented.

“it does seem that way,” Gowther agreed.

“But the archangels are also in your year,” Elaine said. “Couldn’t you have classes with them?”

“Dad made sure to keep them separated from Elizabeth. They’re all in the same classes, and I’m sure some of you can’t avoid them, but there’s only one class we have with them and it’s with a teacher who does seating charts religiously.”

“Denzel?” they all asked in unison, which Meliodas nodded at.

“Your Dad’s keeping us separated?” Diane pouted, changing the subject.

“Not without good reason,” Merlin pointed out. “I’m sure he doesn’t want any more teachers complaining. Especially after freshman year.” The group laughed at that. Meliodas kept an eye out in case they approached the science building, which was likely since Elizabeth’s first class was physics, like his. Thankfully, they hadn’t reached the Commandments, a group of people who answered to his father which consisted of Zeldris and their nine cousins, either by blood or in name. On cue, bells rang through the air and the groans from all the students were audible.

“I have Dreyfus first,” Diane said. “What about all of you?”

“I do too,” Meliodas added. “I think Ban and King do also.”

“How do you know that?” King demanded.

“Also Elaine, you’ll probably have some classes with Zel, keep an eye on him?”

“Of course Meliodas,” she agreed.

“Hey answer me,” King demanded.

“I looked up what your schedules were before school started,” he replied as the group started to walk to the cluster of structures.

“Seriously?”

“No. You were holding your schedule and I saw it when I went to arm-wrestle Ban.” King groaned and went to follow the other three. “See you all later!” Everyone parted to make way for them, not wanting to be on their bad side. Rumors had swept through the school about what happened to people who had been bullying those that weren’t defendable and Meliodas’s wrath was legendary. Everyone knew what had happened to the people who had dared to make fun of Zeldris. Naturally Meliodas had gotten away with it. His father could be a pain in the ass, but at least he turned a blind eye to the trouble they got into. Being the son of the school’s headmaster had its perks, he supposed.

He slowed his gait as they approached the science building where Elizabeth was shooing her new bodyguards away. When they had left Meliodas approached with a wave.

“Elizabeth!” Her face lit up, the happiest he had seen from her so far and they all hurried inside. After making sure the hallway was empty, Elizabeth flung herself at the blond with a tight hug. Meliodas heard her heartbeat and the rhythm soothed his fire from earlier.

“What’s your schedule?” she asked after pulling away and hugging Ban and King.

“We have all the same classes,” Meliodas said with a wide grin. “And better yet, we only have math with the Archangels.”

“Really? That’s amazing!”

“You can thank Dad, I had nothing to do with it.” As they made their way through the building, it was easy to see that classes had already started. Through windows of some doors, teachers were lecturing, in others students were working at lab stations. Meliodas noted with some amusement that one of the flasks already looked like it was smoking.

“Wonder how long it’ll be before the first fire alarm goes off this year,” Diane said as they passed by a lab room. “I think it’ll be two weeks.”

“I give it a week at most,” Ban said.

“I’m saying a week and a half,” King countered.

“I’ll bet three days,” Meliodas called behind him.

“You’re not planning on starting another fire are you Captain?” King asked. Meliodas rolled his eyes but a grin present on his face.

“That was Ban’s fault.” Ban spluttered in protest but Meliodas just laughed and ignored him. The bell rang as soon as they slipped into their classroom. All the light in the room came from the floor-to-ceiling windows that made up the right wall of the room. Nobody was outside, everyone already in their first class of the year. Meliodas was pleased to see that the seats in the back of the room were empty and the other students had given them a wide berth. Melascula and Galand were already there, looking as bored as ever. Meliodas waved to his cousins. Melascula jumped up and gave Elizabeth a hug.

“We missed you this summer, Lizzie,” Melascula said. “Without you, there were only six girls. And no one could keep this one,” she jabbed her thumb at Meliodas, “in line.”

“I’m sorry,” Elizabeth apologized. “I really wanted to, but I moved in with my mother and she, well, to say she dislikes everyone is putting it lightly.”

“You mean you live in that stuffy old mansion now?” Galand asked, perking up now that there was some form of drama. Elizabeth nodded and Galand let out a harsh bark of laughter. “Remember when we were younger, and we got into that huge pillow fight there?” In a rare display of mischievousness, King high-fived Ban enthusiastically.

“And then we slashed the rest of the pillows open,” Meliodas finished.

“Everyone, settle down,” Dreyfus said as he came into the room. “I hope all of you had a good summer.” He took attendance and had everyone go around the room and introduce themselves and say what they did over the summer. Ban was called first from their group. He didn’t bother standing up instead raised a hand in greeting. “Name’s Ban. This summer we,” he gestured to the people around him, “spent a month at the Captain’s beach house.”

“Where you almost set the palm trees on fire,” King reminded.

“It’s not like we didn’t have the water to put it out with,” Ban argued.

“We also went snorkeling,” Diane added.

“And ziplining,” King continued.

“Lots of bonfires,” was all Meliodas said.

“Galand tried to surf and ended up wiping out for a solid half hour,” Melascula said with a dry smile.

“You got stung by a jellyfish,” Galand retorted. Then it was Elizabeth’s turn.

“I’m Elizabeth, and I moved in with my mother this summer since I grew up at my uncle’s house.”

Then Dreyfus started talking about what physics for the year was going to be like. “We will be doing physics experiments with things that can’t be blown up,” he informed with a pointed look at Meliodas and Ban. The two boys grinned and high-fived each other “Challenge accepted,” they said in unison. Dreyfus just sighed and continued through the rest of class. When the bell rang the group of five wandered outside and Elizabeth looked down at her schedule.

“It says we have math next.” A chorus of groans immediately followed.

“Denzel is the worst,” King complained. “Remember that time he docked points on an exam because I forgot to turn the study guide for it in?” Meliodas bumped Elizabeth’s shoulder in reassurance.

“Elizabeth, you should walk ahead of us,” Merlin called with Escanor and Gowther in tow. “So the four righteous do-gooders will give you a break and not bother you.”

“Do the seven of us all have math together?” Escanor asked.

“I believe so,” Gowther replied. Ban and Meliodas gave wicked grins.

“You going to get us out of trouble Captain?” Ban teased.

“We’re probably going to be seated away with each other,” Diane mentioned.

“So we’ll just use our phones,” Merlin answered smoothly.

“Sounds like a plan,” Meliodas agreed.

“Did you stay away from them?” Ludociel demanded of Elizabeth as the group of four stopped her in the middle of the path.

“It was difficult since we had the same class,” Elizabeth responded. “And the only seats were in the back. Where they sat.”

Sariel exhaled through clenched teeth. “Try to stay away from them in the next class please.”

“But we all have math together,” King said. “With Denzel who, if you’ve forgotten, religiously follows his seating charts. So it’s not really up to her.”

“Did your father plan this?” Mael pressed.

“You’ll have to ask him,” Meliodas deadpanned. “He doesn’t tell me this shit.” Meliodas and the rest of the Sins swept by the four of them before Gowther stopped and turned around.

“There is also a good chance that some of the Commandments are in the class as well. Ta-ta.” Ludociel’s face was burning red as they moved to the math building.

“Captain, can we bring her on the camping trip this weekend?” Diane whispered. After the first week of school, all of the Commandments, the Sins, and Meliodas’s father would go camping on private ground the Blade family owned. It was something they did every semester. Not to mention the copious amounts of alcohol they all drank over the course of two nights. Elizabeth would only have a few small sips but she enjoyed it nonetheless.

“I think we can sneak her out with Gil’s help,” Meliodas replied. Gilthunder was one of the people who was over at Elizabeth’s mother’s mansion a lot and was a year younger than them. He had idolized Meliodas when he was younger, and he still respected him. He also cared deeply for Elizabeth since his girlfriend was her cousin. Meliodas knew he could count on him for help.

“Oh, good thinking,” Diane said. They stopped in front of a building that had a brick path leading up to another brick building. Honeybees were lazing above the blue and purple morning glories that grew along the white metal archway at the beginning of the path.

“If I remember correctly Tarmiel and Sariel, your next class is history,” Meliodas pointed out when they were still hovering around Elizabeth. “I wouldn’t want you to be late on the first day of class.” Of course, everyone saw through that in a second.

“Just because you’re the Headmaster’s son doesn’t mean you’re above everyone else,” Ludociel snapped. Meliodas raised his hands in response.

“I just stated a fact, you’re the one who read into it.” Meliodas heard grumbling but ignored it as he pushed open the front door to the building. The windows of the classroom were thrown open, allowing fresh air to make the room feel more relaxing. The seating chart was up on the whiteboard. Meliodas resisted the urge to cheer when he saw he and Elizabeth were sitting next to each other. The rest of the Sins were spread out around the room, so texting, as Merlin suggested, would have to be used. Meliodas’s mouth twisted when he saw Mael was sitting behind Elizabeth. Ludociel was sitting next to Meliodas, which he could deal with. Melascula and Galand were seated next to each other, close to Diane and Escanor. Gloxinia and Drole were seated at opposite sides of the room, not close to any of their friends.

Once again, they had to go around the room and say what they did over the summer. The Sins happily repeated what they had said in physics, with Merlin adding “shooting off fireworks.”

“And then watching Monspeet trying to keep the house from setting on fire,” Escanor continued.

“Derieri helped,” Gowther piped up.

“Of course she did,” King muttered. The Sins all snickered at that knowing the two were inseparable. Gloxinia had said that he had almost gotten a concussion diving into their pool while Drole talked about jumping off of rocks into the ocean. When it was Mael’s turn, Meliodas tuned out, not at all caring about what they had to say. The others would be making fun of it anyway. A quick glance at his phone screen showed that the two of them only took classes and “got to know Elizabeth better” since she was living with them now. Despite the jealousy, he fought past it and when Ludociel cast a triumphant look at him, Meliodas remained blank-faced.

The class passed agonizingly slow. Math was difficult to make fun and Denzel had the most monotone voice Meliodas had ever heard. He only used black whiteboard markers and the few times he asked questions only a handful of people ever answered. Meliodas could see Ban crumpling small balls of paper and threw them at Mael’s head, while King was drifting in and out of sleep. Elizabeth was taking notes but her eyes seemed slightly glazed. Meliodas ripped off a piece of notebook paper asking if she was ok and passed it to her when Mael was looking at his notebook. Elizabeth slipped the note back and he saw that she had written she was ok, just bored and zoning out. Mael hissed but the two ignored him, happily passing notes throughout the rest of the class.

When it was time for lunch, Meliodas lead the Sins and Elizabeth to one of his favorite spots on campus: the roof of the social studies building. They went up a staircase that was designated as ‘Roof Access: Employees Only’ but Meliodas picked the lock with ease. The staircase ended in a cramped concrete room full with maintenance and janitorial equipment. He shoved the door open and reflexively blinked in the bright sunlight. Stone railing lined the perimeter of the roof with stone planters overflowing with pink and purple flowers. They all sat down on sun-warmed, smooth stone.

“So Elizabeth,” Diane began as she sat down and pulled some food from her backpack. “What did happen this summer?”

“Do we have to talk about this now?” she pleaded. “I haven’t seen my best friends all summer and I just want to spend time with you now.”

“Sure thing,” Meliodas agreed before anyone could say anything. “You can tell us, all of us, about it this weekend.”

“How are you going to get her out of that prison?” Ban asked.

“Gilthunder and Griamore. Right Captain?” Merlin answered.

“Exactly. We’ve all been over there often enough to know the place like the back of our hand, breaking her out will be easy. Especially if we have the Commandments there too.”

“Will they want to help though?” Escanor asked.

“Estarossa definitely will to get back at his brother,” Gowther replied. “He seems to enjoy antagonizing him.”

“Melascula will too,” Diane added. “She kept going on and on about how she missed having you around.”

“Zel will too. We can pull it off,” Meliodas stated and pulled out his phone. He set up a group chat with the Commandments, the Sins, Elizabeth, and the two sophomores. By the time lunch was over a pretty good plan was in place for this weekend. It was much less elaborate than what Meliodas had originally thought of, but it was just as effective if not more due to its simplicity.

“I think this will work,” Diane cheered and Elizabeth threw herself at Meliodas.

“Thank you so much Meliodas!” Meliodas held her just as tightly.

“Anything for you, Princess.”

@zorria @gsunny6

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theloveandthedead · 3 years ago

Text

A Wonderful Li(f)e

Pairing: Oliver Emese Song/Walter C. Dornez (one sided love)

Summary: 50 theme challenge revolving around Hellsing’s Dolos and Aphrodite

[Note: Like Olivia, Oliver is likened to Aphrodite. That is not changing lol. Olivia/Oliver are the same character except different names and appearances. However, if you want to imagine Olivia here, you can. Characterization remains the same.]

[Note 2: These themes will contain references to chapters in “L’amour et La Mort” so this one shot will not make sense if you aren’t familiar with the fic.]

-----

#01 – Ring

Walter prided himself on his well-honed ability to mask his emotions, an improvement from his youthful spitfire self. Yet, every time the ruby on Oliver’s finger caught the light, Walter felt a familiar scowl chisel across his face.

The triumphant smirk Alucard constantly shot his way didn’t help matters either.

#02 – Hero

At the tender age of eight, Oliver sold his soul to Hellsing to become a hero against creatures of the night.

How ironic that in the span of ten years, Oliver found a family in the darkness itself—even going as far as to marry its king.

#03 – Memory

“Even when we are old and no one remembers us, I will always be at your side, Walter.” Oliver had vowed on top London Bridge, ruffling the younger boy’s hair with a smile. “We are brothers for life. That’s all the matters, right?”

And perhaps that was enough for Oliver, but not for Walter.

Never for Walter.

#04 – Box

Walter leaned against the doorway of the attic, watching Oliver pull Martha’s wedding gown from the chest and bury his face against the lace. If he announced his presence, Oliver would’ve lashed out, so Walter remained stagnant as Oliver’s muffled sobs filled the room.

#05 – Run

In the beginning, Walter was miles ahead of Oliver, laughing as the bleeding hearted older boy struggled to keep up with him as soldier.

Then, with the passing years, Oliver caught up and was able to keep pace with him before suddenly bypassing him entirely.

Now it was Walter chasing after him, struggling to maintain his place as a solider and his place in Oliver’s heart.

#06 – Hurricane

The juxtaposition of Oliver’s angelic face and Adonis physique was a constant source of whiplash for Walter.

Destiny may be cruel to Oliver but puberty sure as hell was not.

#07 – Wings

When enemies and allies heard the name “Angel of Death”, they envisioned Walter’s cunning smirk as he sliced through his foes.

When Oliver heard the name “Angel of Death”, he envisioned six year old Walter with his chubby cheeks and missing front teeth.

#08 – Cold

As the bitter Oxford chill gnawed at his skin, Walter pulled his blue, handmade muffler closer, the faint scent of home lingering on each thread.

“Only you of all people could make such a shoddy gift, Oliver.” He scoffed with a smile.

#09 – Red

The blood glimmered in the moonlight, sticking to their bodies like a second skin.

Oliver stood a few feet away from him, his profile illuminated in the moonlight. The blood stained his face and neck, slowly dripping down his torso and seeping through his white button-up. His wavy, black hair clung to his forehead, his cheeks flushed with extrusion, and his plump lips were damp with saliva.

Walter had never seen a more beautiful sight, and as Alucard emerged and pulled his husband in for a heated kiss, he begrudgingly acknowledged that he and the mutt were of one mind.

#10 – Drink

Arthur’s habits kept them from over indulging, yet Oliver and Walter had fallen into a tradition of drinking together once a week.

They would sit in one of the reading rooms, share a bottle of wine, and chat about everything and anything until the early hours of the morning.

For Oliver, it was a get together with his brother and lifelong friend.

For Walter, it was an opportunity to have Oliver to himself.

#11 – Midnight

“You’ve downed more than half of the bottle already, and it’s barely midnight.” Oliver teased, holding up the translucent bottle to the candle light. “Stressful week?”

“You try to keep this manor running while training incompetent cadets day in and day out!” Walter huffed, downing the rest of his glass. “I don’t get paid enough for this.”

“You must really be drunk if your tongue is this loose.” Oliver leaned over and brushed Walter’s bangs out of his eyes. “Perhaps we should call it a night. After all, a hungover ‘Angel of Death’ is a fussy ‘Angel of Death’.”

“Piss off.” Walter hissed, latching onto Oliver’s hand and pressing his palm to his neck. “For fuck’s sake, why are your hands so cold?”

#12 – Temptation

“My hands are probably cold because your body is a furnace from all that wine.” Oliver tugged against his grip. “C’mon, let me go and let’s get you to bed.”

“Shut u—p.” Walter huffed, unbuttoning his shirt and placing Oliver’s palm over his clavicle. “Let me cool down first.”

Oliver gave an exasperated shake of his head before slouching back in his seat and allowing his head to fall back against the cushion.

“Who knew Walter C. Dornez was a light weight?” He chuckled while Walter continued using his hand as a cool pack. “You’re lucky I’m too decent to tease you about this when you’re sober.”

Walter didn’t bother responding, maintaining his inebriated illusion as he gave into foolish temptation.

In this candle-lit room with the scent of wine permeating the air, Walter casted aside his cocky façade and willingly fell prey to a songbird’s gentle touch.

Because, within the walls of this reading room, Oliver was his.

#13 – View

As the grandfather clock struck three, Oliver heaved another sigh before gazing upon the slumbering body across from him.

Even in deep sleep, Walter had a death grip on his hand and Oliver wondered if he’d made a mistake in playing along with his antics.

“You will always be my dearest friend and brother,” Oliver finally wiggled his hand away and rested it on top of Walter’s head. “And you deserve better than me.”

Walter’s eyes fluttered open for a moment, staring at their shadows against the beige wallpaper, before allowing them to fall shut again.

#14 – Music

Oliver was a talented singer; Walter would be a fool to deny that. Years of practice had tuned his once pitchy, strangled shrieks into a smooth, molasses-like melody. And Oliver wasn’t afraid to show it, constantly belting out arias day in and out to the jaw dropping awe of their soldiers.

But not Walter.

He would give credit where it was due, but Oliver’s tastes in music were rather dull to his ears.

That was until Oliver suddenly belted out a Chuck Berry number, his operatic tone taking on a raspy, soulful flair that had Walter’s jaw dropping like the rest of them.

#15 – Silk

Calling someone ‘angelic’ was not in Walter’s vocabulary, leaving such words to devotees or overly saccharine poets.

Yet, as a weeping Oliver adorned in Martha’s silk veil stood at the altar of St. Paul’s cathedral, ‘angelic’ was the only word he describe him.

#16 – Cover

“Alright, I’m going in. You got my back, Walter?”

“Do I have to?”

“I mean, you can just let me die I guess.”

“Very tempting, isn’t it?”

“…….I hope your socks rolls down in your shoes.”

#17 – Food

Walter pretended not to notice Oliver sneaking pieces of brownies from the dish behind him.

No, he just removed the fresh batch from the oven, sprinkled a generous amount of salt on the top, placed it on the counter, and waited.

#18 – Dream

In Walter’s dreams, he was a true Angel of Death—imperious, unbeatable, and feared by all.

In Oliver’s dreams, he had his family back and was able to grow up normally.

#19 – Candle

Oliver raced back up the aisle, leaving Walter on the ground with lips tingling and a flame igniting in his core.

#20 – Talent

“Chugging six bottles of Fanta at once is not a talent, Oliver, it’s an atrocity.”

#21 – Silence

During those four years at Oxford, Walter loathed to admit he missed Oliver’s show tunes and occasional rock numbers.

#22 – Journey

Walter knew the moment he took The Major’s deal, his path and Oliver’s had split in different directions. Yet, sometimes after a bottle of wine, he hoped their paths would intersect again.

#23 – Fire

Millennium’s Warsaw base burned around them like a sea of fire, and Oliver stood above it all with his mangled arm outstretched as he unwillingly commanded the No Life King to slaughter all their enemies.

For the first of many times, Walter felt a twinge of awe and fear.

#24 – Strength

It took everything for Walter’s knees not to buckle when Oliver picked him up by the waist and moved him aside.

“Sorry,” Oliver bit into his apple, the juices dripping down his chin. “You were standing in front of the fruit bowl.”

#25 – Mask

Although Walter was brash and had a sharp tongue, Oliver knew his friend had a heart deep down.

#26 – Ice

Walter knew the moment his treason was brought to light, Oliver’s eyes—warm and green like the spring—would become frosted and bitter as a blizzard.

#27 – Fall

In their youth, Oliver and Walter used to hide in the leave piles and scare Arthur during his morning walks.

#28 – Forgotten

The root of his treason, and the eventual cause of Oliver’s heartbreak—all of this stemmed from Walter’s one and only fear.

#29 – Dance

As Oliver twirled him around the palace ballroom, Walter understood why children were obsessed with fairytales.

#30 – Body

Walter considered it horribly unfair that, upon his return from Oxford, Oliver was a head taller than him and twice his muscle mass.

#31 – Sacred

Alucard may have Oliver, but Walter was his first kiss and he would carry that victory to his grave.

#32 – Farewells

Upon their return from Warsaw, Walter held Oliver as they stood in the foyer.

To Oliver, it was a gesture of brotherhood and comfort.

To Walter, it was a farewell to the future they could’ve had together.

#33 – World

In their younger years, the two of them marked an old map in the library with where they wanted to travel together, with crayon lines zig-zagging everywhere from Montreal to Antarctica.

#34 – Formal

“For the love of all that is holy, Oliver, button your shirt up! We are attending Her Majesty’s banquet, not a cocktail party in Vegas!”

#35 – Fever

Walter had a fever once when he was 10, and Oliver had made some homemade chicken noodle soup for him.

Never again.

His taste buds can only handle so much salt.

#36 – Laugh

The way he hunched over with a crinkled nose and a toothy grin, Walter could see why Oliver’s nickname was Rabbit.

#37 – Lies

“You can trust me, Oliver.”

#38 – Forever

Despite his sins, Walter hoped to meet Oliver again in the next life.

#39 – Overwhelmed

When Oliver leaned over his shoulder, his chest pressed to his back, and whispered in his ear, Walter swore his heart beat could be heard from space.

#40 – Whisper

“Move your ass, Walter, you’re blocking the bathroom door.”

#41 – Wait

4 years.

1,460 days.

2,102,400 minutes.

And, in the end, Oliver still chose Alucard.

#42 – Talk

It took Walter by surprise when Oliver said he didn’t believe people are inherently good.

“It is easy to be cruel and selfish, but to be kind and loving—that takes effort.” Oliver elaborated, swirling his wine glass with a far-off expression. “And it’s hard to make that effort sometimes, especially when the world is hellbent on breaking you down.”

#43 – Search

Walter never thought he would miss the days when Oliver would reach for his hand during mission briefings.

#44 – Hope

The words Oliver stitched into his muffler.

#45 – Eclipse

Oliver stands above him, rays of moonlight filtering through his raven locks, and offers him a hand and a smile.

“Another successful mission by the dynamic duo, hmm?”

#46 – Gravity

It seemed the more Walter tried to pull away from Oliver, the harder he fell for him.

#47 – Highway

The officer was tempted to turn on his sirens as a black Cadillac Sixty-Two Convertible and a Silver Triumph motorcycle zipped by him, but upon recalling the drivers’ identities, he just closed his eyes and prayed none of his colleagues would be foolish enough to pursue them.

#48 – Unknown

The future was a mystery but, as long as he had his ‘family’, Oliver wasn’t afraid.

Too bad Walter didn’t share the same sentiment.

#49 – Lock

The memories Oliver had given him would be guarded in his heart forevermore, even as his wires sliced through Oliver’s skin.

#50 – Breathe

As his final breath passed through his lips, Walter clutched the rabbit keychain in his hand and bid farewell to his first and only love.

#oliver song #m!olivia #walter dornez #hellsing fanfiction #hellsing oc #Walter is a punk ass binch but his relationship with olivia/oliver is always dear to me #and I want to pursue the oliver agenda because i can #oliver emese song

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heartsywritesthethings · 4 years ago

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Fire Force 5 (End)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

(No tickles in this one. Just soft found family fluff)

Shinra awoke with a start. After such a long day, he was happy to actually wake up in his own bed. The other station 8 crew members had been very touchy with him, even after his little…talk…with the captain. It was a nice change and honestly, he hoped that the others would keep it up. Something about the gentle touches of those he cared about the most…it helped more than he had originally thought it would.

Shinra pulled himself out of bed, carefully climbing off of his bunk and landing softly on the floor. The soft snores from his partner made him chuckle softly. While he would never admit it, the sounds of this annoying self proclaimed knight king sleeping help lull him to sleep as well. Arthur was curled up in a ball on his side, back to the rest of the room. Only a small tuft of blonde hair could be seen from the bundle of blankets. Looking at him like that, it made him think about his lost little brother. Shon and Arthur would definitely get along, especially with their shared sense of fashion.

With that sad thought, Shinra left his room to go get something to eat. He couldn’t exactly save the world and his brother on an empty stomach. He padded through the halls of the station, wondering absently who else was awake. The sun was just beginning to rise and it was kind of a surprise that he was actually awake at this time. Usually, the captain had to wake both him and Arthur up once the others were ready for breakfast.

Speaking of, the delicious scent of eggs and bacon began wafting through the halls. The smell instantly made Shinra’s stomach growl. He peeked inside of the kitchen to see Hinawa standing in front of the stove. The soft crackle of eggs and bacon cooking filled the room like a song.

“You’re not getting any until everyone is awake,” Hinawa said, pointing the spatula at Shinra. The rookie jumped in surprise. What the hell? How did he even know that he was standing there? The Lieutenant hadn’t even looked over at him. Shinra pouted and moved further into the room. The smells were absolutely mesmerizing. He stood right next to the lieutenant and stared at the food while it cooked, just waiting for the perfect opportunity to snatch up a perfectly cooked piece of bacon.

There was a soft smack as the flat side of the spatula hit the back of Shinra’s head. It wasn’t hard, but it was still startling.

“Hey!” Shinra whined and rubbed the back of his head where the spatula had hit him.

“You’re drooling on the food, Shinra.” Hinawa said simply. He then used the spatula to poke and prod at Shinra’s side. “Move,”

“Ah! Aha! Okay! Fine!” Shinra giggled, jumping with each poke. He finally moved away from the food again, despite every fiber of his being just wanting to snatch up the food. Shinra grumbled something about waking up the others before he left again.

This was such a strange feeling. Being awake before everyone else was so strange, like being in a slightly different reality. As he walked through the hall, he noticed that Iris was kneeling by the fountain in their garden. It was obvious that she was praying, and Shinra didn’t want to disturb her. He would come back around and let her know that breakfast was ready after gathering up the others.

“Why are you staring at her like that? Perv.” Tamaki said, though it didn’t sound like she really meant it. Shinra turned and saw a very tired looking Tamaki standing next to him. She was still in her sleep clothes and her eyes were only half open.

“Wh-what? No! I-I was just–” Shinra said, his cheeks turning pink. Even though her usua malice wasn’t behind those words, she had still said it loud enough for Iris to actually hear her. Iris turned over to the commotion and smiled fondly.

“Shinra, you’re up early.” She hummed. Shinra’s feet set off little sparks with how intensely embarrassed he was.

“Careful, Iris, you may just make him blow up.” Tamaki snickered, taking a few steps back away from the falling sparks. As she did so, she tripped on her pajama pants and fell backwards. Somehow her shirt flew off of her body along with her pajama pants (physics be damned) and she fell on her butt, legs spread. Shinra didn’t even wait for her to hit the ground, just smacking a hand over his eyes.

“I-I’m not looking! Just, please put your clothes back on!” Shinra cried, stumbling back as well. Unfortunately, he managed to trip and fall as well. Even though he was falling backwards, he swung his arms around to stop himself from hitting the ground. In doing so, he ended up falling forward, face first into Tamaki’s…uh…well, in between her legs.

There was a moment where no one moved.

“Get out!” Tamaki shrieked , pushing at Shinra’s head to get him out between her legs. Shinra jumped up and used his adola burst to sprint away from the two girls.

“I’m sorry, sister! I was coming to prayer!” Tamaki whined as she scrambled to pick up her scattered clothes. Iris just sighed. Why did the almighty Sol have to curse Tamaki in this way?

Finally, Shinra skidded to a stop in front of Vulcan’s room. He bent over, placing his hands against his knees as he attempted to catch his breath. Talking to Tamaki was always a risk as her clothes seemed to just want to fly off of her body. Even though it was never Shinra’s intention to do that, Tamaki still held the belief that tearing off her clothes was what he wanted. Sure, she was attractive, but if getting in those positions made her uncomfortable, it wasn’t very heroic to enjoy it. Besides, his brave lion heart belonged to a different nun in their station.

When he finally got his blushing and his breathing under control, he knocked on Vulcan’s door. No response. Maybe he was just in the garage. Shinra knocked again, but there still wasn’t a response. He decided to push the door open a tad so he could be heard better. Sol only knows how heavy a sleeper Vulcan was with how many machines he used to sleep around in his workshop.

“Hey, Vulcan! Lisa! You should get up for–” Shinra said. As he looked in the room, he realized that the lack of door locks in the station was definitely a problem. Vulcan and Lisa were definitely awake and they were doing something that the nuns just down the hall would definitely not approve of.

“Not the time, Sparkles!” Lisa yelled. Shinra realized he had been staring at the both of them for an abnormal amount of time. He clamped his mouth shut and slammed the door shut.

Alright, two things.

Shinra was never ever waking up early ever again.

Doors to people’s rooms should not be opened unless the person inside says it’s OK.

Shinra could practically feel his soul leaving his body as the image of Vulcan’s freckled butt ingrained itself into his head.

“Breakfast is almost ready! Hurry up so that we can all eat!” Shinra yelled before jogging off to go wake the few remaining station 8 crew.

Licht was already up and typing away on his computer, but he exited a rather sketchy looking site as soon as Shinra opened the door.

Maki was also already awake, doing pushups on the roof. He told her it was time for breakfast and she asked if he always thought that she was some meathead gorilla who only needed to eat and work out. He hadn’t even said that, but had gotten a smack on the head anyways.

The captain opened the door right as Shinra reached to knock on it.

“Shinra! You’re up early.” He said, sounding genuinely surprised.

“I just wanna eat breakfast, but the universe is telling me that I should never wake up before noon again.” Shinra whined, dragging a hand over his face. The captain laughed and ruffled his hair.

“Were you trying to wake up the station, son?” Obi laughed. Shinra just nodded. “Yeah, my first time doing the rounds was pretty scarring. I appreciate it though. What’s the lieutenant making for breakfast? Smells like bacon.”

“It is bacon. He’s also making eggs and I think he was getting ready to make some pancakes too.” Shinra said, perking up at the thought of the food waiting for him in the dining room. Now that everyone was awake, he needed to hurry up and grab a plate before everyone grabbed all the good stuff.

“Did you get Arthur awake?” The captain asked.

“Oh…not yet. He’s such an ass in the mornings.” Shinra groaned. He didn’t even want to imagine what sort of nonsense he would have to go through to wake Arthur up. If this morning was any sort of indication, Arthur may attack him first thing.

“Alright, I’ll get him. You just head off to the dining room.” The captain said and brushed past the rookie. He paused. “But, If the lieutenant is still in that maid outfit from yesterday, I will absolutely let Vulcan send tickle bugs after you.”

“Wh-what? Why me?! I didn’t even buy that!” Shinra exclaimed. A shiver went down his spine at just the mention of tickle bugs. No doubt Vulcan had some of those already in the works.

“Strange. They all said that you specifically picked it out.” Obi said before heading down the hall. Shinra huffed. Of course they said that.

Shinra jogged over to the dining room. Thankfully, Hinawa was wearing his regular relaxed clothes. The only strange thing was the hat he was wearing on his head that read “Real men eat chocolate”. Whatever that meant. Some of the others were also gathered by the table. Shinra quickly took his seat, picking up the knife and fork beside the plate excitedly. He had been right. Bacon. Eggs. Pancakes. Fruit bowls. Everything looked and smelled absolutely amazing.

“Shinra,” Iris began, “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Huh? O-Oh! Fine, I guess.” Shinra said with a shrug, a little too distracted by the food to really pay attention.

“That’s good. I believe we are all glad that you are feeling better,” Iris hummed and clasped her hands together in prayer. “I had been asking the great Sol to relieve your sad feelings.”

“Yeah, having you all bummed out really tanked the team morale.” Maki added.

“Is that dumbass sulking again?” Arthur asked as he stepped into the room.

Shinra looked around as the others began to dig into their food. As Arthur sat down, he began sleepily putting food on Shinra’s plate instead of his own.

“Eat, stupid hero.” He grumbled. Shinra watched in amazement. Even half awake, Arthur was still looking out for him.

“I didn’t think that my mood was that important.” Shinra said, and he meant it.

“It’s like he wants me to tickle him again, I swear.” The captain grumbled through a mouthful of food.

“Of course we care, Shinra. You’re a part of the family.” Iris said softly. Shinra blushed. Station 8 really thought of him as his family. It was sweet and it made him feel warm inside. Sure, his life hadn’t exactly been a joy ride, but this made everything kind of seem worth it. They all just wanted him to feel better and it had worked.

“Thanks guys.”

(15/25)

-Ga!babe

#25 Days of Fics #Fire Force Family #15/25 #submission #GA!babe #fire force #shinra kusakabe #lieutenant hinawa #arthur boyle #tamaki kotatsu #iris fire force #captain obi #obi akitaru #found family #vulcan fire force #I fucking love fire force and my girl is keeping me FED

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jarienn972 · 4 years ago

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La Sirena - Chapter Two

Captain Swan Supernatural Summer 2020

Chapter Two of my @cssns is now here! I used Chapter One to set up each character’s POV of how they were brought together so this chapter will officially focus on their actual introduction as shipwreck survivor Lt. Killian Jones regains consciousness, discovering that he’s traded imprisonment on a pirate ship for a deserted paradise with a beautiful woman as his sole companion.

I have to thank all of the admins and creators of this fun event that allows all of us to stretch our creativity and I especially want to extend thanks for @kmomof4 for her wonderful beta and cheerleading assistance and to @courtorderedcake for the incredible artwork she created for this story!

This story can also be found on ff.net and AO3. Tumblr Chapter One

Chapter Two - Encountering an Angel

Killian woke with a jolt, body arching upright until his throbbing head protested. He sucked in a deep breath as he settled back to the ground, clutching at the sharp pains crisscrossing his rib cage. He felt as though he'd breathed in pure fire. Had he passed through purgatory straight to the flame and brimstone of hell?

No, no - he wasn't dead. Was he?

Bits and pieces of memory flashed within his mind. A map… That cursed island… Pirates… Escaping an abandoned, sinking ship… Clinging desperately to a makeshift raft of wooden planks until he'd slipped off into the depths. And then a cascade of pure gold beckoning him to paradise… or something like that.

But would the hereafter be this painful?

Pull yourself together, Jones. Use your wits.

He was still near the sea. The gentle lapping of waves against the shore and the squawk of seagulls sounded nearby. A wafting of crisp, salty air filled his nostrils as did the earthy scents of sand and rock. There was a solid surface beneath him. He'd made his way to land somehow, but where?

But when he dared open his eyes, even the diffused sunlight filtering through the canopy of palm fronds swaying overhead assaulted his vision. Squinting and shading his gaze with his outstretched hand, he allowed his pupils a few moments to adjust before rolling himself onto his right side and propping on an elbow to survey his surroundings. He spied the shoreline from where he lay yet he was a fair distance from the water's edge, sheltered amongst a grove of date palms, cycads and a few gnarled low trees that had branches laden with what appeared to be olives. A craggy outcrop of rocks was a short distance away and the stone barrier seemed to extend all the way out towards the sea.

He couldn't remember stumbling or even crawling this far from the shore. He barely recalled reaching the beach. He'd been so weak that he couldn't possibly have made it this far without assistance… All of his senses instantly went on full alert as he realized he must not be alone on this idyllic looking isle. Someone else was here but were they friend or foe? What a ridiculous question, Jones… Why spare your life if they intended to harm you?

His memory brought back hazy images of a woman's soft face framed by a halo of pale blonde hair just as his eyes drew skyward to gaze upon that same angelic visage looming above. Clad in a full length, flowing gown that was only a few shades paler than her porcelain skin, she had arrived as stealthily as a ghost. She eyed him quizzically, as though she were as surprised to see him alert as he was startled by her arrival.

He initially recoiled, not from fear, but rather from her abrupt appearance. Now that he was able to see her features clearly, he was transfixed by her ethereal beauty. Only a being sent from the heavens could ever be so lovely. Why this angel would ever want to aid such a broken man as him was beyond his comprehension.

Awake since dawn, she'd left the human's side for only a short while to catch some breakfast and to collect sweet water from the cavern spring. The man would likely be parched when he awakened but unlike her, he couldn't survive by drinking from the saline seas.

After he'd collapsed on the beach yesterday beside her tentacled form, she'd immediately transformed back to her humanoid self to drag his unconscious body away from the shore before the tide set in. He was heavier on land than he'd been in the water but she managed to pull him beneath the safety of the trees. She'd done her best to clean his wounds while he slept but with little knowledge of human physiology, she wasn't sure what else she could do.

She had remained close to him throughout the night, continuing to tend to his injuries as needed and to provide needed warmth. Never in her long life had she been in such intimate proximity to a human but every ounce of her being was insisting that this was where she was meant to be. Despite her species having been bred to lure humans to their demise, here she was seeking to save one of them.

The debris that she'd found him amongst was proof that he'd survived a shipwreck but she wasn't quite sure how. In the treacherous waters that surrounded these islands, no ship that sailed too close to the siren's cove could resist their call. For him to have been found alive, floating into her placid bay, he must have some special power. No man was immune to the siren song, yet here he was.

His sleep had been restless, which she had anticipated and attributed to his injury. The jagged laceration at his temple appeared to be the most serious but she assumed he could have wounds not visible on the surface. She was also concerned about the amount of seawater he may have swallowed. He'd spewed a fair portion when she'd rescued him but more could be lingering within his lungs as he was without the benefit of transformative gills. It would certainly bear watching once he awakened.

As she returned to the sheltered thicket carrying a ceramic jar of potable water, she was surprised to find him alert and staring directly at her face. In deference to her understanding of human modesty, she'd donned a simple, breezy, off-white linen column gown. It was horribly itchy but she feared overt nudity might offend her companion so she'd suffer for his sake.

She dipped her free hand into the water jug and withdrew an ancient, hammered copper cup that she extended towards him. "Drink," she instructed, firmly, yet politely, but the command wasn't spoken in English.

He quirked an eyebrow suspiciously until he could see that the cup contained water. He then softened his features and accepted the offering, gulping the contents a little too quickly in an attempt to quench his thirst. It was the first he'd ingested in at least a day and he was ever so thankful that it didn't smell or taste as though it had been drawn from the bilge tanks. But there was something strange to her statement - he'd understood her although his weary mind couldn't fathom why.

"Who are you?" she queried in that same familiar, yet foreign tongue.

His military training kicked in as he stammered out his rank and full, legal name. "Lieutenant… Lieutenant Killian Charles Arthur Jones…" He paused for a breath before adding the rest of his title. "Of His Majesty's Royal Navy. At your service, m'lady."

"Ah, English," the woman replied with a giggle as she switched to his language. "You didn't appear to be Greek."

"Greek?" he repeated, brow furrowed in confusion. "Was that what you just spoke?"

"It was, and I am surprised that you seemed to understand."

"I learned Ancient Greek in the Naval Academy, just not the conversational form. You speak both Ancient Greek and the King's English?"

"I speak many tongues, but Greek is native to me."

"So, is that where I've landed?"

"No, not exactly," she responded cryptically. "These isles owe their heritage to Greece, but they've no allegiance to that land any longer."

"What do you call this land then?" he pressed, trying to gather more information as to how far off-course his imprisonment by the pirates had taken him.

"No name you would recognize from any map or chart. Officially, these islands exist only within the world of myth and legend."

"I'm afraid I don't understand," he sighed, rubbing his aching head as he shifted his position onto his back. "How did I get here? Have I crossed over into the ever after with you as the angel welcoming me?"

"No, you are still amongst the living, Lieutenant Killian Charles Arthur Jones. You are still very weak from nearly drowning out there in the bay so you should rest to regain your strength."

"Aye…," he replied without argument. "But first, Killian will suffice. I've no need for formalities. It's just habit…" He broke off his sentence there, squeezing his eyes closed as he thought of the question he absolutely needed to ask but feared the answer. "Did anyone else reach these shores?"

"No, only yourself."

"Oh," was his dejected response as he turned his head away from her gaze. Neither dared elaborate as unspoken words weighed heavy but after a few moments of tense silence, he at last spoke up. "In my malaise, it would seem I've forgotten to ask for your name, lass."

The question elicited an odd response from her. She remained quiet far longer than he expected, as though she had to think about her reply. "No one has asked me that question in a very long time… My given name was Erimetha, but for simplicity's sake, you are welcome to call me Emma."

"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Emma," he said with a weak, pained smile crossing his lips.

"You should get more rest," she insisted. "I can see the exhaustion in your eyes but I promise, I will be here when you wake."

"You'll have no protest from me," he answered sluggishly as he allowed sleep to claim him once again.

**********

A few more hours of deep slumber had been much needed, allowing Killian's battered body and troubled mind to relax and try to heal. As he began to stir, the crackle of flames perked his ears right before he noted the acrid scent of wood smoke mixing with the marine air. His eyes looked skyward where beyond the canopy of palm fronds and olive branches, the heavens were awash with pastel tones while the twilight sun began its descent below the horizon.

Another day passed.

More than a week now passed since he'd debarked his ship for that ill-fated expedition.

More than a week passed since he'd last seen his brother.

Was Liam even searching for him? Did he believe his younger brother had perished? Did he know he'd been captured?

He didn't even have the slightest idea where he was so how could he expect Liam to locate him?

His audible, defeated sigh drew Emma's attention from the fire she was stoking.

"You seem quite distressed," she noted, to his chagrin.

"Yes, I suppose you could say that," he replied with clear irritation in his tone. "The events that have transpired over the course of this week have been rather overwhelming." He ignored the swell of nausea and the constant drumming within his skull to force himself into an upright, seated position. Muscles that hadn't been used since his escape from the pirate ship screamed in protest but he continued to push through all of the discomfort to look his alluring companion in the eye while she lowered herself to her knees.

She didn't wait for him to elaborate on whatever he'd endured, instead placing a woven reed basket onto the sand between them. "I thought you might be hungry," she said with an unassuming smile as she gave the basket a gentle push closer to him so he'd be able to inspect the contents. A quick glance downward revealed a bunch of bluish purple grapes, a few figs and a scattering of ripe green olives. "I have some freshly caught fish as well…"

"This is fine," he replied in a softened, more appreciative voice. "Best to take it easy so I don't lose my constitution, but thank you."

"I do believe you lost most of that constitution yesterday, but I absolutely understand," she chuckled, causing his cheeks to redden.

"Sorry about that… I really don't remember much after getting knocked off the ship's deck into the deep." He lowered his head with embarrassment. Vomiting in front of a beautiful woman was not generally the best first impression. He shyly reached for a handful of grapes, keeping his eyes averted as he popped one into his mouth, hopeful that the fruit would appease his growling stomach without further incident.

"My apologies. I didn't mean to further upset you," she replied as she slid further away from him. "It's been so long that I've clearly forgotten how to have a proper conversation…"

"You've no need to apologize," he retorted, extending his hand to grasp hers, staring into the melancholy of her emerald irises. "I am thankful for all you've done for this hapless sailor but is there no one else on this isle?"

"Not this far south. I chose this isolated isthmus long ago to escape others like me. It has been many years since I've had another creature to talk to who can actually talk back."

"You chose this isolation?" he repeated, incredulously.

"It was far preferable to what was expected of me…"

"Was it your family?" he pressed. "Were you unable to live up to what they required of you?" His curiosity was increasing with each inquiry, wondering if he might have more in common with this intriguing young woman. "Did you fall short of their expectations?"

"Not exactly," was her initial response, but she was caught unprepared by the introspective nature of his questioning. This human was proving he could be a kindred spirit in many ways but she wasn't ready to share. "Suffice it to say that I grew tired of their ideology and separated myself from their ways. It was best for all at the time."

He sensed there was so much more that she was holding back. His barrage of questions had opened a still-smarting wound and it was abundantly obvious that she wasn't ready to confide in him. Of course, if she had been alone on this shore for many years as she'd stated, it might be equally as long before he found rescue so there would be plenty of time to break down those walls. She'd saved his life. The least he could do in return was to help ease her troubles.

"You know, I'm a man who's spent a lifetime living in my brother's shadow, so if anyone understands what it is like to try to be something you're not, it would be me. Liam was always bigger, stronger, smarter… Graduated top of his class at the Naval Academy. Youngest ever Captain in His Majesty's Royal Navy. The bar was set pretty high and I was pushed to be just like him. I've never been good enough. I've worked hard to get where I am, but I'm not sure it's where I wanted to be… I took that stupid expedition into uncharted waters to prove that I was a leader and what happens? Pirates overtook us and most of my crew was slaughtered. The rest, myself included, were taken captive to be tortured and some were probably executed. Some leader I proved to be… I wish I'd never agreed to follow that cursed map!" He hung his head in shame, realizing that he shouldn't have unloaded so much baggage onto her. He didn't want her pity. "You must think I sound like a blabbering fool…"

"You sound like a man who's been trying to please his family rather than himself," she mused. "Perhaps fate brought you here to discover who you are?"

"You think this is the gods testing me?" he scoffed.

"If that is what you choose to believe."

"And you - were the gods testing you as well? Is that what caused our paths to cross here?"

"Perhaps more than you know," she replied cryptically as she pushed herself back up, brushing grains of loose sand from her gown as she stood. "It will be dark soon, but you will again be safe here for the evening. I shall leave the fruits here and you'll find the carafe of water there amongst the brush. Rest well, Killian."

"You as well, Emma."

He stared blankly at her departing silhouette as she strolled towards the flickering fire, the backlight of the flame giving her form an ethereal aura. Damn this woman! He might blame it on his concussion later but although he'd been coherent only a few scant hours, he was already entirely bewitched. He winced as his hand unconsciously rubbed the bruised and still raw skin adjacent to the gash at his forehead, momentarily speculating if this all might be some vivid hallucination or lucid dream.

Dream or not, he'd never experienced such a soulful connection with any person, yet alone any woman and it only solidified his desire to uncover her secrets. He'd gladly spend a lifetime trying.

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