#Mendes Army Fic

[theyjustv2callmynameillcumrunnin]

Indiana Shawn and the Taming of The Red Sea

Warnings:😬argument, swear words, fluff, smut (while she/you is/are on her/your period).

Request(ed):No.

Word count: 2.079, Sentence count: 139, Paragraph count: 42, Character count: 11.222 (Without space: 9.109), Syllable count: 2.650.

Theme: Established🥰relationship, Halloween🎃Party.

Feedback is always welcome(d) 👍😁😉!!!

When Halloween was just around the corner and Shawn was invited to a costume party, his girlfriend wasn't in the party mood, at all. She was on her period and spent the day in bed, not feeling well.

So she told him, "Shawn, i'm afraid I'm gonna have to decline your offer, to be your plus one to that party tonight." "Cramps gettin' the best of you, eh hun", he asked with a deep sigh, already knowing what her answer would be. "Yeah, I'm sorry, but I'm really not feelin' up to it.", "Oh hun, you don't have to feel guilty 'bout ditchin' me.", Which he got a pillow to the head, in turn for. "It's not like you invented not feelin' well, as an excuse, for not havin' to accompany me, or is it.", he inquired, hiding his face behind the pillow he managed to catch, in shame and defence.

He thought, maybe, she was going to throw something else at him, instead he heard sobs coming from the other side of the pillow. "How could you, even think of me in that way?!", she asked him, crying, face buried inbetween her knees, legs pulled up to her aching stomach, swaying to try to cope with both the physical and emotional pain.

When he lowered the pillow and took in the sight of his girl, now hurting even more, 'cause of him, he wanted to scrunch down by her side of the bed, but typical of his clumsy self, he stumbled, only to end up falling face down on the bed.

Although his antics, were able to draw a small chuckle from her, she still couldn't stop sobbing. When he pushed himself up, he carefully crawled up on the bed, scared she would reject him, feeling hurt by his words.

Relief washing over him, when she didn't try to push him away, 'cause holding her tight, comforting her, was the only thing on his mind right in this moment. "Hun, I was just jokin', I should 've known better, while you're so emotional, 'm so sorry.", he whispered in her ear, while stroking her back lovingly.

She lifted her head, due to the feeling of her boyfriend leaving kisses on the back and side of her neck, while swaying together, him holding her comfortingly to his chest. "Okay, okay, you're forgiven! Maybe you can invite a friend to join you to the party?", "That's my smart, fast thinkin' girl, Imma gonna make a few calls to see if anyone can and wants to go with me."

After a couple of minutes, it was arranged, that one of his colleagues and friends, Mike was going to pick him up. When the time came for Shawn to leave for the party, Mike pulled up, honking. Shawn responded by sending him a quick text message, saying "I'm comin' already, I'll be right there."

Putting his iPhone in the pocket of his pants, he turned to his girlfriend. "I'll be back before you know it, then we can cuddle 'till we fall asleep. How's that sound?", "That sounds like a perfect plan, to me", she said, offering him a lazy little smile, that turned to a winch, while holding her breath, from the stabbing pain to her stomach.

"Hold on, 'm gonna go fill up a hot water bottle, be right back", Shawn said, seeing her face contort painfully, nodding, as her okay and thank you, rolled into one. When he returned, he placed the bottle gently on her tummy, kissing her forehead.

"Hun, you still set on me going to that party with Mike?", "Why wouldn't I be? Now, go on, get outta here and go and have some fun!", nudging him to get off of the bed. "Alright, alright, I'm leaving already...under one condition!", "Which is?", "You try get some sleep, while I'm out, okay?!", "Okay, I'll try my best", blowing him a kiss, to which he could only smirk, shaking his head, blushing.

The whole time at the party, Shawn couldn't stop thinking about how that sweet girl of his, and how she managed to convince him, to go here, feeling so lonesome and lost, at this crowded party, without her by his side.

Now Mike was finally driving back, to drop him off home. Home, to her. His home was wherever she was, that was a fact, he was sure of.

When he and Mike had said their goodbyes and he was finally able to step inside, closing the door behind him. While normally calling out a "Hun, I'm home", now he found himself tiptoeing to their bedroom, careful not to disturb her, in case she managed to fall asleep, as they agreed on.

He was just about to take of his boots, when she switched on the lamp on her nightstand, proceeding to roll over, looking him straight in the eyes, head tilted to the side, with a look that could be the dead of him.

Only, not in the good kinda way, but in the "If looks could actually kill" kind.

"Had fun? Sure seems like you had fun, and lots of it, by the looks of you!", she exclaimed, glaring him over. "Whatta you mean by that?", he asked her, just standing there, frozen perplexed.

"You're not soundin' like that same sweet girl, I was miserably missin', the whole fuckin' night."

"Well, you're not lookin' like that same guy, that went off to that party, leavin' me here, all alone. While you knew, damn well, I wasn't feelin' good, I might add!"

"But hun, wasn't it you, who practically forced me, to go to the party, either way?!", "That's another thin', 'm not feelin' good 'bout, Shawn!", "I dunno what you're tryin' to get at, hun"

"Well, Shawn, if you don't understand me, or girls in general, by now...,she sighed, "I'm gonna teach you a valuable lesson."

"I'm all ears, hun, go 'head and teach me.", "You really haven't you figured it out yet, eh!?", "Guess I haven't then, but I'm sure, I'll get it, once you teach me that lesson!"

"Okay, here goes, are you listening?!", "Yeah, I'm listening!", "Well, Shawn, you see, here's the thing....The trick to girls is, they don't always mean what they're sayin', especially when they're emotional!", "You mean, like bein' on their period, for instance.", "Yeah, for instance"

"Oh, I get it now", "You do, you sure of that!?", "What I'm sure of now, is you wanted the same exact thin', I was longin' for all evenin'.", "Oh yeah, and what would that particular thing be then?", "Me, stayin' at home, in this bed, with you, all night, instead of goin' to that damn party! Tell me, I'm wrong, go on!?", "I can't...'Cause you're right, fuck, you're so damn right!"

While Shawn's stepping closer to the bed, she's throwing off the duvet, covering her, so she can crawl to him. She goes from standing on her knees, to sitting on them, soon as he crouches down, taking both her hands between his.

"God, I'm so stupid! Can you find it in your heart to forgive me, hun?", "Only if...", "Whatever hun, I'm even prepared to sacrifice my life for your forgiveness! Just please have some mercy on me?", "I will, on one condition", "Which is?", "If you can find it in your heart, to forgive my stupid ass!?", "Me, forgive you, for what...Bein' so whiny and bitchy?", he gritted his teeth, preparing for whatever her comeback would entail.

"Yeah, in a nut shell...For bein' so stupid, to not let you know, straight up, I really didn't want you to go with Mike to that party."

"Can you enlighten me, now, how the fuck, you ended up lookin' like a fuckin' crocodile swallowed and spit you back out? 'Cause I can remember clearly, you didn't leave lookin' like that!"

"Like what? Like I've been fumblin' nervously, with my outfit, 'cause I was feelin' so out of place, bein' at that party, without bein' able to have my arms wrapped around you, while the whole fuckin' night, my mind was only wrapped 'round you!"

"Oh hun, what am I gonna do 'bout you", "Isn' t the real question here, what are you gonna do with me?...Or better yet, to me!"

She was eyeing him for head to toe, and back up again, wetting her lips, ending with sticking her tongue out between the corner of them, giving him a naughty wink. Then she let herself fall on her back, spreading her legs, oh so tormentingly slow.

Maybe it was all getting a little to much for him, 'cause now he was giving her a certain kinda look - (see pic above) - , like she almost could see the wheels turning inside his head, while he had this smug smirk adorning his face.

After a few minutes of thinking in silence, which seemed to last an eternity to her, he spoke up, "Ya know what's a fittin' way to treat a whinin' bitch?", "No, I'm afraid, I don't...Guess you'll have to teach me.", "Oh, I'll teach ya hun, don't you worry!"

Just when she was about to say something, he silenced her by giving her a warning, "Well, when a whiny bitch, can't seem to keep her dirty mouth shut, she gets tied up to the bed!", "Is that supposed to be a threat?", she wondered out loud. "Oh no baby, that's a promise", resting his left hand on his hip, where his Indiana Jones costume provided him with a whip, his smirk only grown wider by now.

"Is that so?", that was all it took, for him to crawl up on the bed, between her legs, which where shaking in excitement, and make good on his promise.

Just as he was about to tie her to the bed with his whip, she wrapped her legs round his waist. "Well, looks like someone's impatient, eh!", she nodded her head frantically and let out a sigh from deep within her core.

Those actions made him decide, it'd be okay, if he were to take on a different approach. So instead, he brushed his wip starting from her throat, right down to where she was longing to have him the most, and back again, while he whispered "Just 'cause I'm a gentleman, I'm gonna give you a second warning."

She could only muster to swallow from all the anticipation, burning through every fiber of her body. When he added "I'm reminding you, of the fact, that I'm armed and dangerous.", she really thought, she was going to cum, right that instant.

"May I remind you, I'm on my period", "You really didn't think for a second, Indiana Shawn wasn't gonna take up the challenge of tryin' his best, to tame the Red Sea, now did ya?! Now, let's see what happens, when I put that monster of mine in it's rightful place, shall we.", "Uhm, Shawn Hunny, I think you're a little disoriented there.", "No, I'm sure, I'm right where I belong.", he retorted with a grunt. "You know damn well, that's not what I meant! I was referring to that monster, that's not the Red Sea, that's Loch Ness.", "I doubt Loch Ness, could ever treat my monster as good, as that Red Sea of yours always makes me feel."

After about an hour of loving on eachother and him being so generous, giving her two orgasms, Shawn was now lying on his back, with her draped all over him. She felt his chest make a motion like as if he was chuckling. When she lifted her head of his chest, to look up at him, sure enough he had a gigantic smirk on his face.

"Glad I was able to make you feel that good.", "It's not that...Well, it's that too.", "What's this here for, then?", she questioned, tapping his lips with her pointer finger. "Remember what you said, when you were nearin' your first orgasm?", "Hmmm...Not exactly, remind me.", "You said, well sounded more like a mixture of a whine and a moan, "I'm cummin' already, I'm right there."", "So, what about it?!". When he showed her the message he send Mike earlier, they were both full on laughing.

Until...she dared to ask him, "You weren't thinkin' of Mike, from the moment I said that, were you!?", so now the time had come, for Shawn to repay her, by starting a pillow fight.

[violetsandfluff]

Lucid Dreaming

a/n: I’m soooo sorry this has taken forever! I hope you’re still around

wc: 1.4k

The line between friends and acquaintances was always foggy. At what point did someone go from being a casual encounter to a bosom friend? Some people seem to radiate a type of energy immediately recognizable as “friend energy,” and Shawn was one of those people for you. His gorgeous smile and contagious laugh made him enjoyable to be around, you couldn’t help it. Even if you had only met him briefly here and there, you couldn’t help but refer to him as your friend behind closed doors.

Everyone around him loved him, understandably, and it wasn’t as if they could prevent it. He was unconditionally outgoing, always ready to listen or laugh. When he talked to you, he made eye contact like you were the only thing in the world. He never failed to make you feel special, but then again, he treated everyone like that. Occasionally, (more often than not), it made you jealous to see him with anyone else but he hardly knew you. What could you expect?

“Someone’s jealous,” your best friend would tease whenever she caught you staring at him forlornly, eyes green with envy.

“I’m not jealous,” you would protest. “I don’t even know him.”

It was true that you had only been on the receiving end of his undying attention a handful of times, but you felt like the entire world rested on those moments. He haunted your dreams with his gorgeous honey-brown eyes and adorable curls, his rosy cheeks, and his uplifting, luminous smile. His lush pink lips always accompanied these dreams, along with his pearly teeth, perfectly defined abs, and smooth, able hands, which had a habit of snaking up your thighs when you least expected them.

Occasionally, he managed to lose his illustrious demeanor in your dreams, appearing as either a frat boy or an affectionate boyfriend, but he was the same Shawn both ways, the one you barely knew, yet couldn’t live without.

Almost as a survival instinct, your dreams began coming true.

One day, you ran into him at a grocery store. Miraculously, you ended up behind him in line, close enough to smell the faint, masculine scent etched into the air. He was dressed in skinny black jeans and a simple white t-shirt, accentuating his broad back and muscular shoulders. His hair was arranged in a perfect mass of curls atop his head, and you couldn’t help but admire it… until he turned around to meet you.

His dark eyebrows raised in surprise as he recognized you, and you couldn’t pull your skittish eyes from his warm, welcoming ones. Just as he opened his mouth to speak to you, the woman in front of him in line finished checking out. He turned away without a word and, once you had finished checking out, he was gone.

He was such a curse. The mere thought of him plagued your mind, making it all but impossible to concentrate on anything. Any encounter with him had you fucked for weeks; dreaming about him at night, during the day, and every moment in between.

One night, you dreamed about seeing him at the beach.

The ocean spanned endlessly before you, wafting its warm, salty breeze toward you tantalizingly. You were alone, dressed in an emerald green swimsuit that accentuated your body perfectly. A layer of sunscreen on top of your newly-tanned skin made you glow in the sunlight. Your hair was tossed carelessly into a messy bun atop your head, along with a pair of sunglasses you didn’t plan on wearing.

You laid your towel down on the sand a few yards away from the beach access and assessed your surroundings. A large group of people was congregated about waist-deep in the water, but one man, in particular, caught your attention. He was tall and muscular, his back tanned by the sun, and his helmet of curls dripping wet with saltwater.

Part of you wanted to believe this someone was Shawn. As nonchalantly as you could, you began creeping slowly closer, pretending to snap pictures of the horizon as you waded into the crystal-clear waters.

A water fight broke out among the group, and the man ducked towards you, laughing, to escape a blow from a beer can now filled with water. Your breath caught in your throat as you caught a glimpse of his face, but you couldn’t tell whether or not it was him.

He visibly noticed you, his hazel eyes fixed on you, and your heart caught in your throat. As soon as it started, however, his attention returned to the water fight.

Another night, you dreamed that you met him, suddenly an attractive bartender, at a club. And yet another night, he brought you home with him from the same club. He laid you in his bed beside him for the night, lying down himself as far away from you as he could to give you respectful space.

Before he knew it, however, you were in his arms with your face buried in his bare chest as you breathed in his scent and traced the contour of his arms, which laid in stark tan contrast against the immaculate white sheets. Your fingers roamed his unclothed upper body, tracing his intricate tattoos meticulously while he fussed over your hair.

“You can’t go to sleep with it down,” he reasoned as you fought his arms in order to trace his guitar skyline tattoo. “It’ll get all tangled and knotty. If you’ll let me braid it, it’ll be smooth and wavy when you wake up. It won’t take forever, I promise.”

“Can you do it later?” you bargained as your hands ventured to his pecs once more to feel the hard muscles move beneath your palms as he rolled over to face you.

“It’s past midnight already, darling. Don’t you think sleep should be a priority?”

“No,” you stated blankly, mulling the situation over in your head before adding, “but I will let you braid my hair.”

Shawn’s fingers made quick work of weaving your hair into two broad French braids. He admired his work once he was done.

“It’s about bedtime now, don’t you think?” he asked sheepishly, to your dismay.

“Please, let me finish tracing your tattoos,” you pleaded, reaching for his hand and clutching it to your chest.

“Finish the swallow and we can go to sleep,” he compromised. “You can finish in the morning. You’re much drunker than I am, but we could both use the rest.”

It was true that you were exhausted at that moment, longing to curl up against your hookup’s chest and melt into him as your world dissolved into that of a dream. The temptation overcame you. You lost yourself in his comforting warmth as his hands caressed your back steadily. His chest rose and fell beside you, creating a rhythm that lulled you to sleep.

Your subconscious made you feel safe and secure encompassed in Shawn’s strong arms, and beside his broad, muscular chest. When you awoke in the morning, feeling rejuvenated and chipper, you reached for him as you had done every morning you’d woken up beside him. Something was different, though.

Shawn was nowhere to be found.

You opened your eyes to see your own familiar bed, in your own familiar bedroom, and the same familiar sunlight streaming through your sheer curtains.

A dissatisfied puff of air escaped your lips as you tried to recall the dream, now hazy in your mind. All you could think about was Shawn, and how the truth was that he could be anywhere with anyone right then, and you had no say in it. Your dream world could be some lucky person’s reality, and you would never know.

A tear of frustration slipped from your tear line down your cheek, but before you could wipe it away, a smooth, low voice cut through your silence.

“I didn’t know you were still here.”

“What?”

“Nothing. I just thought you’d gone home.” You felt the side of the bed dip as he sat down on it, rolling onto his side and perching his chin on your shoulder. He moved his large hands to your hips, holding them tightly as he kissed your cheek. His pink lips were smooth and consoling against your skin.

You allowed them to roam freely across your face and travel down your neck and shoulders, left exposed by a skimpy spaghetti-strap tank top. His fingers ran down your arms delicately, conditioned and calloused by his guitar strings. Goosebumps rose in the wake of his touch.

“Oh, look at you,” he hummed, pleasantly surprised by the slick, moist coating in your panties upon further inspection. “All it takes is for me to leave, hm? Tell me, dear. What were you up to while I was gone?”

taglist: @chocochipcookie305 @butlerbliss @fishingirl12 @monikamendes @sonder444

[mywrittingwonderland]

5. Everything means nothing if I don’t have you

Some more fluffiness of my favorite couple.

Is someone even reading this? LOL!

Have fun! And I apologize for the mistakes in advance.

- - - -

June

Sophia hadn’t really left Shawn’s house much since they became official. They were unofficially living together, after the first week she had her own key, her own drawer and even her own working spot close to him. The first time they were apart was when Shawn had to go on a day trip for press, and neither of them were able to sleep that well that night. He was so used to her using him as her own personal pillow that he missed the way her head would always be laying on his chest, right above his heart. No matter how they would go to sleep without fail that’s how they would wake up. He felt unease and regret for not catching the 1a.m. flight after the red carpet and getting back to her sooner, he thought about calling her but he also didn’t want to risk waking her up. Just when he was about to give up and go read a book instead of sleeping he felt his phone vibrating.

“Hi Baby, I thought you were in dreamland when we hanged up” He said, remembering how he stayed on the phone with her to make sure she would sleep.

“Shawn” Her voice sounded trembly and he did not like that for one second.

“What’s up, Honey?” he asked switching the call so he could see her and make sure she was okay.

“I miss you”

“I miss you too, I will be home later today”. He said bitting on his lip and wishing he could hug her out of whatever was bothering her. “Did something happen?” 

“I had a nightmare” 

“You had a nightmare? Oh, I am so sorry, Lovey. Do you wanna talk about it?”

“You were coming back from the red carpet and someone shot you right before you entered the house. And then- then…” 

“Hey, I am okay. No bullets, I promise.” He said trying to calm her down. He also looked up the next flight he could take, since he had no hopes of getting back to sleep. “Baby I am changing my flight, I will be home in 3hs”.

“Wait, no Shawn, you should get some sleep. I shouldn’t have called you.” She said instantly getting worried.

“No, Honey, I couldn’t get to sleep without you anyways, don’t worry. We can sleep the whole day together with no nightmares.” He said, texting Andrew to let him know he was going home sooner, and getting up to get dressed and leave. 

- - - - - -

July

“So, are you officially living together or what?” Brian asked after crashing the couple’s breakfast for the 2nd time that week. Sophia had just left to go to the toilet so he jumped the question.

“Hm, I mean, no, not really”. Shawn replied, sounding a bit unsure. They hadn’t really discussed much about their living situation, although Sophia was not going to her house that much. Brian looked at him silently asking if he was sure about that. “She has her place with Connor remember?” 

“Do you remember?” He asked.

“Oh shut up”.

“Shawn, seriously, are you sure you two are not going way too fast? Don’t get me wrong, I know you haven’t been this happy since I have known you, but tour stats in a few months and I am just worried you might lose your sense of personal space or something” 

“Brian what are you talking about?”. He asked, really not understanding what Brian was up to.

“All I am saying is, it might be harder for you when you go away. I just don’t want you to have one more thing to be anxious over, that’s all.” He said, but before Shawn could think of a reply on how crazy Brian was sounding Sophia got back to the table and they dropped the topic. 

Sophia half heard the conversation and got a little self conscious, she thought she might be imposing her presence too much in Shawn’s space and she got worried about what Brian was saying. If he got back to touring and he was more anxious because of her she wouldn’t be able to forgive herself, so she made a personal note to go sleep home that night. Once Shawn was gone for the studio she made him a fresh batch of cookies, because he happened to mention he was craving cookies that morning, and then she got her book in the nightstand and her working equipment before driving for her house. 

“Hellooo”. She said as soon as she got inside, expecting Connor to be there. But then she remembered he would definitely be with Shawn in the studio, so she just ended up in her kitchen making herself some tea and getting back to writing. 

Shawn on the other hand finally got to finish his talk with Brian, this time with Connor also present while they were on their lunch break with takeout pizza, since Shawn didn’t wanna leave the studio and find a restaurant without paps.

“Connor, do you also think Sophia and Shawn are just going too fast?”. Brian blunted out making Shawn drop his pizza slice and look at him as of saying: not this again.

“As long as he has no intentions of breaking by best friend’s heart I think they are doing okay, you tell us Shawn”.

“I think Brian is way too invested in my love life all of a sudden”. Shawn said, getting a bit annoyed.

“Bro, I am honestly just worried about you”. He said putting up his arms in surrender.

“I thought about what you said this morning, and perhaps it was my mistake to not ask her to move in already. I know it might seem like we are going too fast, but I just really love her so much, and I wanna spend every single minute I can with her before we actually have to be apart for tour.” He explained. “And Connor I have no intention of breaking my soulmate’s heart, ever.” 

The boys continued to talk for a little bit before Shawn had to get back to rehearsals. Shawn was relieved when his day was over, he missed Sophia, and she hadn’t texted him the entire day, which was making him worry something was up. When he entered the house he immediately felt the smell of cookies in the air, it looked like she had just pulled them out of the over some minutes ago. 

“Babyyy, where are you? These are so good.” He said grabbing a cookie and going searching for her around the condo. He quickly noticed she wasn’t in any of her spots and her book and computer were also not in the house, so he grabbed the phone and called her.

Sophia completely forgot about her phone, she used to do that a lot whenever she would get lost in a book.

“Wait Shawn, I literally just got home. Phi, are you home?” Connor asked giggling between his keys, phone and camera bag. She wasn’t in the kitchen anymore, Connor went to look at her tiny library and found her very deep into reading. “Yeah she is here. Okay sure, I will let her know” 

“Oh hey Con, I swear I didn’t see you there”

“Yeah I noticed. Shawn is coming over by the way.” Connor said making his way to sit beside his friend. “He was super worried when he got home and your cookies were there but you weren’t” 

“Oh, that wasn’t my intention, I mean he did want cookies this morning, but I didn’t want to make him worried, I just thought I might give him some space today. Just in case. I have been over his house way too much”. She said, sounding a bit insecure.

“I personally don’t think he minds, but you can talk once he gets here”. He said giving her a kiss on the forehead and leaving her to get back to reading. Shawn was there in less than 15 minutes, and Connor opened up for him.

“She is reading”

Shawn walked inside and went straight to her library, he leaned on the door for a bit observing how focused she was in her book. Until she notice his presence and smiled at him making him instantly smiling back and getting close to her for a kiss.

“You got me worried, Missy” He said waiting for her to mark up her book before engulfing her in a tight hug.

“I am sorry, I just thought I might be way too much in your space, I don’t want to suffocate you”. She said making him frown. “I head a bit of what Brian was saying this morning.” She explained making him understand where she was coming from. 

“I am totally killing Brian tomorrow” He said making her laugh. “Baby you don’t suffocate me”.

“Are you sure? I mean I have been over a lot, and I know it’s not my house, and I don’t-” He interrupted her rambling by kissing her gently.

“I am sure. You could never suffocate me. And about that, I wanted to ask you something”. He said and she waited for him to continue. “Do you wanna just stay over indefinitely? Because, it’s no longer home without you.” 

“Really?”

“Mhm, oh and you can change whatever you want, let’s make it ours?” He said with a big smile on.

“Okay I think I would love that” 

- - - - - - 

August 

“Sweetie, I am sure my parents will love you, in fact I am sure they already love you.” Shawn said trying to reassure his girlfriend.

“Still, Shawn we have to make sure to welcome them properly, so please help me out with what I should cook for them”. She said, half ignoring what he was saying and coming back into what Connor would call the wonder hostess mode.

“Phi, are you sure you don’t want to just order take out? I don’t want you to stress too much about this.” He said, worried that she was overdoing it.

“No, that would make me a very bad hostess. I am not having that. You know that.” She said looking up from the list she was making to make sure he understood what she was saying.

“Okay, fine. I think that your Ravioli al Pesto will make everyone happy”. He gave in, receiving a smile back from her. 

“How about Tiramisu for dessert?”

“That’s perfect, Love.” He kissed her forehead. “My only condition is that you let me help you cook, it will make me feel better”

“But Shawn, you don’t really know how to cook”

“Teach me, please?”

And teach him she would, over the months Shawn learned probable more about cooking than he had his entire life, and he really was up to making the extra effort because she was constantly making him small things, brownies because he seemed sad, blue cookies because she was re-reading Percy Jackson, and many other instances in which she would learn his favorite treats and home made them. He wanted to be able to do the same for her, so he took it very serious.

There was something he was right about though, his family loved her, in fact he thought they might love her even more than he loved her, if that was even possible.

“Phi, you have to come to my Hockey game on Friday, I wanna talk more to you before my brother’s birthday when we have to be with everyone.” Aaliyah said by end of dinner, while helping Sophia with getting dessert.

“Really? I would love to come!” She said getting excited while finishing to cut the tiramisu pieces.

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Yes, go for it” 

“Is my Brother treating you right? Because I swear if he isn’t I will beat him up for you”. Sophia have out a loud laugh at that which made Shawn join the girls in the kitchen.

“What’s up?” 

“I am just checking with her that you are being a gentlemen since she is just way too good, I won’t allow you to break her heart.” Sophia blushed at Aaliyah’s statement and all of a sudden she was a bit overwhelmed by the attention and love the new Mendes was giving her.

“Never, but I appreciate you also taking care of my Angel”. Shawn said grabbing Sophia’s hand for a kiss on her forehead. “Isn’t she cute?” He asked his sister while Sophia conveniently hid her red face in his chest for a second.

“Shawn she might just be my favorite sister, sorry”. Shawn smiled and hugged his girlfriend while still paying attention to Aaliyah.

“I am okay with that”. Shawn said looking at his girlfriend and noticing how her eyes were full of tears.

“You guys are making me cry”. Sophia said, not knowing how to handle the love she was getting. “Come here”. She said hugging Aaliyah. “Thank you, I also can’t wait to have a sister”.

- - - - - - 

September

“So what’s your plan for today”. Connor asked Shawn, and he gave him a clueless look.

“Well, rehearsals? And probably call mom and dad tonight, why?”He questioned the blonde’s sudden interest for his day.

“Shawn you do know what day is today right?” Connor asked, and Shawn quickly revised his brain for something he might have missed, but nothing did come to mind.

“I have no idea what you are talking about Connor, where we supposed to do some external shooting for the doc and I am forgetting it?” Connor eyes widened in surprise for his answer.

“Dude, you are so screwed” 

“What? What did I do?” 

“Phi didn’t happen to mention today is her birthday, right? Why am I not surprised? She  never loved her own birthdays.” He said tapping his friend’s back in comfort.

“Connor, are you serious? Please tell me this is a prank?”Shawn asked fully entering panic mode when he realised he actually never asked his girlfriend when was her birthday, and it happened to be conveniently exactly a month after his, September 8th.

“I would never, here I sent her happy birthday this morning”. He said showing Shawn the text and Sophia’s thank you response.

“Holy shit, I need to go”. Shawn said, quickly looking around and gathering his things and his keys. “Can you smooth things with Andrew for today? I will talk to him later, and thank you, you are the best friend ever” He quickly said running out of the studio and into his car. 

He felt very bad, he never actually asked her when it was, and this week was very crazy with all the final preparations for the Global Citizen’s festival, and also Niall’s birthday coming up. 

“Fuck me, all week talking to her about Niall’s birthday and the festival”. He said gripping on the wheel, he remembered what she did for him on his birthday, she actually organised all the tiny details and baked his cake, he didn’t want anything big, so they all went with his family and the crew to a small retreat in her family’s countryside in London. She also had an amazing gift for him.

“Well, I know that you are allergic to dogs, so I thought maybe I could get you some other kind of best friend, plus Pinky was a bit lonely.” He replayed her words in his head and this new horse that was currently being taken care by her grandparent’s in their farm, and of course he was Pinky’s best friend. He remembered that she also explained to him that she had done a lot of research on anxiety after she was diagnosed soem years ago, and that Pinky helped her a lot, and that she wanted Shawn to also have that new kind of support whenever he had a break and things got too much. 

He quickly stopped at Sophia’s favorite flower shop on the way home. It was this very tiny shop owned by an Italian old lady, and he dropped by every week to pick her something, every time the previous flower was dying he would give her a new one. It was a nice tradition he started after hearing one of Sophia’s grandma story on how she fell in love with her grandpa because he would always bring her a flower, no matter if it was sunny or raining, everyday since they met he would give her a flower. He ended up getting a mixture of her favorites, little delicate white and purple daisies, scorpion grasses and lavender, wrapped with a classic white lace.

When he opened the door of their home it was already 17:00, so he was relieved to see music playing and the lights on. “Hi Baby, I am home”.

“In the kitchen”. She sounded happy, which was a bit of a relief to Shawn. He caught her finishing up the cake she had started the day before, lemon and rose flavoured, he remembered her saying when she asked him to test the filling. It didn’t crossed his mind that she was baking herself a cake, she was constantly baking so he really didn’t think anything different. “What do you think?” She asked, referring to her little cake, decorated with light pink frosting and some rose petals on the top.

“It’s very cute”. He said making his way to her and giving her a kiss. 

“Are these for me?” She asked noticing the bouquet with her favorite flowers on his hand.

“Yes”. He smiled back at her still amazed by the fact that she didn’t seem even the slightest mad at him.

“They are so pretty, thank you.” She hugged him and went to her vase to change her flowers.

“Your welcome, Baby.” He replied observing her untangling the flowers from the lace, taking the old ones, choosing a dying flower and putting inside her book, and then throwing the rest of them out. Without failure she would do that every week.

“Why did you get so many today?” She asked, noticing he got her way more flowers than he usually does. And he looked at her thinking that it wouldn’t surprise him if she forgot her own birthday, she was so worried about everything around her sometimes every so often she would need reminders that she was also important.

“Connor might have let it slip that today is someone’s birthday”. He said getting close to her and pulling the string of hair that escaped her braid out of her face. 

“Oh”. She looked guilty back at him.

“Yeah”. He smiled and gave her a slow kiss followed by a peck on her nose.

“I promise I was gonna tell you.” He giggled and hugged her.

“Happy Birthday, Baby. I love you.” He said kissing her one more time. “What happened that you didn’t tell me?” He asked softly keeping his hands on her back and his forehead on hers.

“After we came back from London, things were just so crazy, there was the iHeartRadio MuchMusic Video Awards, and then and you were so anxious about having to fly to Ireland and doing the festival in New York in a very short span of time, and also the finishing things for tour that have to be settled this until next month. I just didn’t want to bring up one more thing to make it even crazier.” She said explaining the reasoning behind her actions. Shawn immediately felt like she had somehow made him fall even more in love with her. “Also I am not the biggest on my birthdays, I much prefer other’s birthdays”. She bit her lip, nervously looking at him. “I am sorry”. She said, making his heart melt.

“I love you, you know that?” He said, giving her a big smile. “You truly are the kindest person I know”. He kissed her one more time. “Baby, none of these things are even a tiny fraction more important than you… -”

“Shawn… -”

“Wait, let me finish please?” She nodded. “I know things sometimes do get crazy in my life, and I really do appreciate every single thing you have done to support me these past weeks, I don’t think I could have done it without you. In fact I am sure I wouldn’t have managed it, at least not sanely.” He chuckled. “But I really don’t want you to think that you don’t have space to also share your important things, because I want to hear all of them, and I want to also help you get through all of them. You are as much important as I am in this relationship. And honestly, all of this, everything, it means nothing if I don’t have you. All of you.”

- - - - - - 

Taglists: Shawn x Sophia Taglist: @shawn-youth  General Taglist: @arypesanchez @turtoix @ivegotparticulartaste @lanallaa   @pammyloumendkens

Message me if you wanna be added to the Taglists :)

[shawmilo]

There's Nothing Holdin' Her Back

Warnings:😬Fluff,Smut&A Tiny Bit Of A "Sneeze-Kink".

Request(ed):No.

Word-Count:879,Sentence-Count:57,Paragraph-Count:22,Character-Count:4.988(WithOut Space:4.068),Syllable-Count:1.192.

Theme:Established🥰Relationship,🤒Sick-Fic🤧.

❤️2Have/Get Feedback👍😁😉!!!

Shawn was always kind of a health-freak. He'd try his best to do absolutely any- and everything, to avoid getting sick and to have his vocal cords to the upmost maximum of their abilities. Whatever trick he picked up, here or there; that ensured to be a wonder-remedy for his voice-no matter how wild and crazy it seemed-he'd try out.

Still one fatal day, it happened. He woke up feeling like his head had just collided with a brick wall.

He let out a combination of an irritated grunt and a sigh, trying to get up. His body not being able to cooperate, deciding to let his head plop straight back upon his pillow.

Right at that very moment, his girlfriend appeared; from doing her morning routine in the bathroom.

"Hey Boo, thought you'd be up by now" When he answered with a defeated huff and a raspy, whiny "That's what I was thinkin' too", she lovingly put her hand on his cheek, feeling his temperature. "My god, Shawn; you're burnin' up!"

"I'm gonna call off my appointments, for today", No, Hun; you don't have to do that, on account of me", "I really think it's for the best, besides It's my decision to make", "Are you sure, tho; Hun?", "In all the time we've known each other, what is that thing again; you always say, attracted me to you the most?!", "The way you always seem so sure of yourself?", "That's the thing!...So I'm stayin' right here at home, to treat you; till you're all better"

"But, Hun...", he protests, till she interrupts him "No, Shawn; I said, I'm gonna stay with you and that's final...You know how I get, once I've made up my mind!". All he could do, was to let out a deep sigh; knowing her, she wasn't gonna let up. He wasn't feeling up to an argument right now, plus it wasn't like she didn't always get her way with him anyways.

That brought on a coughing fit, which send her racing off to the kitchen; retrieving the two of them, each a glass of orange juice. She placed them on the nightstand, sat down beside her boyfriend; rubbing his back. "Drink your juice, Boo; It'll help". So he takes a glass, to take a sip from it; thinking it's his and sneezes in it.

"Boo, that's my drink", while taking it from him and drinking from it herself; before placing it back on the nightstand. "Oh, No; Hun...Now you're gonna get sick too!", "Wouldn't mind, sharin' your cold...I wanna share everythin' with you"

She practically immediately starts sneezing herself. "See, told ya; it's startin' already!", "All of a sudden, I'm startin' to feel a little queasy", "Oh, comon over here; Hun"

While he lifts the blanket; inviting her to join him, underneath. They shift and squirm a bit, till they're both comfortable.

"Are you comfy, Hun?", "I can think of somethin' that's gonna make us both feel even more comfy", "If you're thinkin' what I'm thinkin', then yeah; we can give it a try"

So he's lining himself up with her, they're spooning and he's hugging her from behind. "Well, great minds; that's what I love 'bout you". He opens his mouth, to say something ;but she continues with: "You didn't think I picked you, just 'cause of your looks; now did you?!"

When she finally has him snugly buried within her, and he's leaving a trail of smooches; from her neck to her spine, she starts to wiggle a bit; pushing herself back on him, making him groan: "Tryin' to get even more comfy, Hun?". She answers with a "Humm"

But he's still not moving, like she expected him to. So she pulls and pushes back again, growing impatient; making him groan again, but now out of frustration.

Clearly annoyed, she speaks up: "Thought we were thinkin' of the same thing?, apparently not!". Planting a firm kiss on her shoulder blade, he replies: "Thought we would just do a little Cockwarmin', to you know; warm you up a little"

"But now, you got me all warmed up; in a whole other way...So, Whatta ya gonna do 'bout that; éh?!", "But hun, I'm really not feelin' up to it; if I'm bein' honest...I'm afraid I'm only gonna disappoint you", "Oh, Boo; I can't imagine ever bein' disappointed in you"

With that she turns and flips the both of them over, only to straddle him and start to ride him.

"Hold on, a little bit; Hun". He grabs the blanket, to wrap it around her. "I don't want you to get even more sick, then you already are; Hun" and kisses her forehead, continuing with: "Oh my, you're burnin' up", "Yeah, burnin' for you; to love on me"

"Okay...You win, we're gonna do it your way; but please have some mercy on me", "It'll be okay, Boo...Imma do all the work, you just lay back; relax and enjoy...I'm gonna teach you how to love me"

"God, I honestly couldn't say; which is more runnin' with wetness!", "Huh?", he continues with: "Your nose...Or that aching pussy of yours", "Uhm, maybe; you should clean it up, then", "Maybe, I should...Well, come sit that pretty drippin' pussy of yours; on my starvin' mouth then, so I can devour you; Hun"

Before she even has the chance to mount her stallion, he affectionately licks her nose; slowly and gently.

[nnon0]

JJH fic recs

other fic rec posts : 1.(active post) 2.

been getting a little hard trying to find long fics to read these days but here are some that i complied in the last month or so :)

(🫀) -personal faves

all these years @domjaehyun

WC: 34.1k

fluff, smut, angst; childhood friends-to-lovers!au, college!au, neighbors!au

Just friends @lonelyharmonies

WC: 22k

Strangers-to-friends- to-lovers!au , college au

what happens when you wake up in someone else’s bed after getting drunk in a party?

(🫀) Only @ppangjae

WC: 21.6k

almost!lovers au

You like to believe crossing paths with Jaehyun after graduation is just pure coincidence. He always comes and goes. But what if he decides to stay? To stick around? To give what was an ‘almost’ a chance?

Romeo roulette @wincore

WC:21.1k

soulmate au, office au, fake dating

if finding your soulmate is the same as a damn game of Russian roulette, you are determined to not pull the trigger at all. except, you know who your soulmate is and he doesn’t—and given a choice to pretend, you find that jaehyun is the lesser of the two burdens to bear.

he fell first and he fell harder @taurusdaylight

WC: 18.7k

Basketball captain!jaehyun, childhood-friends-to-lovers

jeong jaehyun really loves basketball. but also, he’s terribly in love with his childhood best friend of seventeen years, you.

(🫀) all i wanted @yutaholic

WC: 17k

heartbreakers, smut

A year has passed since you last saw your best friend, Jaehyun, but the man who returns is not the boy you once knew and loved. Jaehyun will barely speak to you and you don’t know why, but you both may be exactly what the other needs to mend your broken hearts.

(🫀)The Apple of My Eye @sehunniepotwrites

WC: 17k

school! au , teacher!au , Kindergarten teacher!jaehyun

As a young and handsome kindergarten teacher of two years, Jeong Jaehyun was used to receiving presents during Teacher’s Appreciation Week. This, however, was the first year Jaehyun wanted to give a present of appreciation to someone else—his new and ever-so-lovable teacher’s assistant.

(🫀)song for a little sparrow @ppangjae

WC:13.7k

poet!jaehyun x painter!reader , strangers-to-lovers

As a burnt out painter, you packed one suitcase and flew a one-way trip to Paris in hopes of finding your passion again. In the city of love, the last thing you expected was to bump into a man who doesn’t believe in love. But you do, and you find yourself showing him the wonders of love and falling in love. Just don’t fall in love with him.

I like me better (when i’m with you) @tyonfs

WC:11.8k

friends to enemies to lovers, sports au , smut

there was no one else on the planet that made your blood boil like jeong jaehyun did. you never thought your feelings toward him were anything past pure hatred, but when you were lost in the feeling of his lips on yours and his hands on your body, you couldn’t help but think that maybe a part of you didn’t completely hate his guts. 

Someone to Bring Home @rouiyan

WC: 10.2k

Med student!jaehyun, College au, Brothers best friend , home for thanksgiving

synopsis — “if you’ve been waiting for fallin’ in love, babe, you don’t have to wait on me.” (sanctuary - joji)

Boyfriend material @mochidoie

WC: 6.2k

fake dating au, strangers-to-lovers , slight angst

Although you and Jaehyun had never spoken a word to each other before this class project, he asks you to be in a fake relationship in order to prove to his longtime crush that he is boyfriend material.

Back up Valentine @tyonfs

WC: 2.9k

Spiderman!jaehyun

you don’t have any unrealistic expectations for valentine’s day considering your love life has never flourished, but the least your best friend could’ve done was not summon an intergalactic army of an alien species during your first blind date ever.

SERIES

S.C.S; ayakashi @starlightkun

WC:66.2k

heavily based off yet another otome game, ayakashi: romance reborn ; bc of this, all the lore used in here is inspired by/based on/taken from the lore of the game, not the actual lore of traditional ayakashi/yokai stories

[wilbursprincess]

October 17- Streamerbur’s Under Desk Support

Streamerbur x Female Reader

Warnings: Insane amounts of fan service, exhibitionism, oral (M receiving)

Have we all thought about this, or have we all thought about this?

Fic below cut!

I can hear my boyfriend talking to his chat through the closed door, where I’m pressed against, trying to be silent. I know from the amount of cameos I’ve made on his streams that I won’t be seen while I execute my plan.

Wilbur glances over when I open the door, smile turning confused when I proceed to army crawl from the door to under his desk.

“One sec, chat,” he says, muting his mic and turning off his camera. “Babe, what are you doing?”

I grin from between his legs. “Don’t you remember our conversation last night?”

He thinks for a moment, face lighting up when he remembers. “You want to suck me off on stream?”

“Hey, it was you who suggested it,” I tease. “Well?”

“I’d be dumb to turn down a blowjob,” Wilbur’s cock twitches from inside his jeans, seemingly just from the thought. “You’ll stay quiet, right?”

“Quiet as a mouse,” I promise, nuzzling my face into his bulge. “Ready to head back to the stream?”

Wilbur nods, turning his camera back on and unmuting his mic as I unzip his fly. “Sorry about that, chat, I thought I heard the doorbell,” he lies, exhaling through clenched teeth as I pull his cock out. “Now, where were we?”

He unpauses Minecraft, clearly thinking of some mindless task he can do on his world. “I’ve got to mend my tools, chat,” he says, heading towards his mob farm. “This’ll take awhile, so we can have a nice little catch-up while I do so.”

Disguising a groan as a cough when I take him into my mouth, Wilbur reads chat to distract himself. “How’s my girlfriend?” He reads, mouth curving into a smirk. “She’s doing well.”

My tongue curls on the underside of his shaft, hand fondling what’s not in my mouth. Wilbur’s breathing faster and faster, covering his mouth with his hand in an attempt to hide it.

“No, chat, I’m fine,” he lies. “It’s just… hot. It’s really hot in here.”

I can’t help but giggle at the bad lie.

“Haha, very funny, chat, my girlfriend isn’t under my desk,” Wilbur gulps, biting his lip to keep a straight face. “She’s, uh, out shopping.”

My hand twists down his shaft while I suck on his tip, blowing him like it’s my favorite thing I’ve ever done. Spit drips down, aiding my movements.

Wilbur lets out a harsh, long exhale, which sounds suspicious as hell. “I’m exhausted,” he laughs, trying to play it off. “It’s been a long day.”

He hides his moan with a yawn, hand over his mouth as I play with him, enjoying everything about being on my knees. The feel of his cock in my mouth, his tiny movements and sounds from above, knowing just how good I’m making him feel.

“Oop, my girlfriend’s calling me,” Wilbur lies. “Be right back.”

“You fucker,” I snort when he’s muted the mic and turned off the camera. “Someone couldn’t hide his orgasm-face.”

All he can do is whine, free to roughly grab my face and thrust into my throat, using me for his pleasure.

Wilbur’s cock slaps across my face a few times before he shoves it back down my throat, painting my skin with precum.

“In your mouth?” He asks, panting like he’s run a mile. “Please?”

I nod, closing my eyes and doing my best to stick out my tongue for a perfect cumshot. Warm, sticky cum paints my throat, Wilbur’s groans of pleasure raining down on me.

I swallow everything he gives me, sticking out my tongue to prove it with a wink.

“Back to your stream,” I chide, wiggling out from under the desk. “Have fun, babe.”

[allwaswell16]

A One Direction fic rec of fics where the main pairing is versatile in bed and both top/bottom (or as we say in this fandom they kind of share that really) as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

- Louis/Harry -

🔄 And Then a Bit by @infinitelymint

(E, 158k, canon) Harry and Louis fake a relationship for publicity. Eventually it becomes a lot less fake and a lot more real.

🔄 Like a Bullet in the Dark by Vurdoc

(E, 99k, Will & Kate au) Prince Harold Edward Styles Lancaster is second in line to the throne of Great Britain. He is also your average Uni student- or he tries to be, anyway.

🔄 Have Love, Will Travel by @kingsofeverything

(E, 97k, road trip) Rather than spend the summer working at their desks, Louis and Harry are given the opportunity to crisscross the country together in a tiny camper, filming their adventures for a YouTube series.

🔄 Been Together Since Way Back When by @alivingfire

(E, 95k, established relationship) the painfully realistic college au where everyone's poor, lovesick, tired of school, terrified of the future, and still having the greatest times of their lives.

🔄 taste on my tongue by bethaboo / @bethaboolou

(E, 77k, reality tv) Take Louis. Take Harry. Add in a heaping cup of sexual tension. Another cup of delicious (and not so delicious) food. A smidgen of competitive spirit. A dash of hopes and dreams. And you get Kitchen Wars, a TV show that promises to be the must-watch event of the fall.

🔄 Now you know me (for your eyes only) by nadinecestmoi

(E, 77k, famous/famous) harry clearly had someone in mind when he wrote the song so the last day of recording comes and louis’ like “thanks for having me on the song” and harry just shrugs and is like “well it just seemed fitting bc the song is about you”

🔄 After Dark, After Light by QuickedWeen / @becomeawendybird

(E, 71k, historical) In an attempt to garner extra protection for his clan, Harry sets out to mend his father's past wrongs and ally with their neighbors to the west, Clan Sutherland. Louis Tomlinson is the mysterious commander of the Sutherland army sent back with Harry on orders from his laird to help shore up Clan Edwards' defenses.

🔄 Teach me how to love by @perfectdagger

(E, 70k, fwb) The one in which Harry is bad at sex and Louis spreads it all over town and to make up for it, decides to help him with no agenda of getting anything from it, but in the end, he ends up getting more than he bargained for.

🔄 Suddenly Last Summer by @disgruntledkittenface

(E, 44k, mystery) Louis is bored, rich and lonely. He has no reason to expect that this summer in the Hamptons with his friends will be different from any other – until he meets Harry.

🔄 best kind of bad something by wildestdreams / @thelavendrhaze

(E, 40k, established relationship) Louis is the town troublemaker and everyone hates him except for Harry.

🔄 Every Snowflake Is Different (Just Like You) by @hellolovers13

(E, 20k, only one bed) Turns out, getting snowed in with your not quite One-Night Stand wasn’t actually that bad.But the snow wouldn’t last forever. Was there a chance for love even after the snow had melted?

🔄 Can I just be the same? by Star_Henderson / @tommosgun *

(M, 17k, vampire) Harry is a two hundred year old Vampire with no one in the whole world and Louis is the kind hearted stranger who comes into Harry's life bringing something that Harry had missed. Love. But Harry is forever running, can Louis be the one to change all that?

🔄 I Still Find You Lovely by @angelichl

(M, 16k, one night stand) In which Harry goes to a bar in search of a bloke with an air-conditioned flat.

🔄 Salt and the Appetite by @sadaveniren

(E, 14k, bdsm) Harry, a popular BDSM blogger, writes a negative review about Louis’ club. Louis wants to have a chance to make it up to him.

🔄 getting yourself wet for me by me_her_themoon / @dreamersdivin-headfirst

(E, 10k, secret relationship) frat boys take on watersports

🔄 Just For Me by iwillpaintasongforlou

(E, 9k, Posh/Becks au) Harry is a supermodel with a fake boyfriend. Louis is the captain and star forward of Manchester United with a fake girlfriend. They should have no problem having a completely platonic lunch between friends.

🔄 Going Green (so fucking green) by yeah_alright / @uhoh-but-yeah-alright *

(E, 5k, pwp) Harry just really loves being used, and Louis really loves Harry. Who is he to deny him? Or: Reduce, Reuse, Recycle but make it BDSM

🔄 Switching the positions for you by 28sunflowers / @vintageumbroshirt

(E, 4k, omega Louis) the omegaverse AU where they decide to try a completely new position in bed

🔄 From the Dining Table by @littleroverlouis *

(E, 3k, established relationship) Harry's thirtieth birthday hasn't gone as expected. Things start looking up from the dining table.

🔄 Eager To Please by @enchantedlandcoffee *

(E, 1k, pwp) "Ah, ah." Louis tsked disapprovingly, the younger boy's actions immediately halting. "You want to be a good boy for your Daddy, don't you?"

- Rare Pairs -

🔄 honey, we should run away by narryblossom

(M, 18k, Niall/Harry) It’s… kind of nice, actually. But being a nice house doesn’t take away the sting of what Harry’s done or what he’s asking Niall to give up by moving there.

[grimbanes]

Six Months (Kaz Brekker x GN!HEALER! Reader)

Summary: “Kaz Brekker, I have seen you run with a broken leg, heard you scaled a building with a bullet lodged in your shoulder that I had to fix and you’ve concussed yourself numerous times with every nose you break- and now you’re telling me you can’t stomach a papercut?” OR : Kaz Brekker is sometimes a quiet softie if it means coming to see the reader, even in life or death situations. It takes the reader six months of service to realize they may or may not love him with their whole heart, and confession ensues.

WC: 3.8k.

Genre: Mostly fluff, maybe slightly ooc kaz?

TW: mentions of blood, usual six of crows warnings, injuries.

A/N: maybe a second part to yesterdays fic which you can read here, or just read this one as a stand-alone. The POVs have changed, i fancied writing something a little different, more personal to the ~feelings~.

It had been three months since you had the unfortunate task of bringing the Bastard of the Barrel back from the brink of death, though you were sure the stubborn young man would have crawled away from the reaper’s grips with a smirk on his face and blood seeping from every crevice - he was certainly stubborn enough to do the impossible. ‘Improbable’, you could practically hear him correct, eyes expectant of better and eyebrows raised in that condescending way he often did when he was the smartest in the room. 

It had been three months, you realised silently, still scratching away at the parchment you were writing on, ink drying on its smooth surface. Months under the protection of the Dregs. You didn’t join them, that was not an option you ever considered accepting. A life of crime was no different from serving the Second Army, only your General would be well-dressed for the sheer sake of mocking the rich. In that time, you had countless trips to the Crow Club and the Slat, tending to the wounded whenever summoned.

It was a simple agreement - protection and space to live on Dreg territory in return for mending their wounded whenever jobs turned sour or confrontation reached a violent conclusion.

You knew that the small flat you were given to live in above a little dress shop was not just for your protection, even if on Dreg territory. No, it was to make calling on you easier. Kaz Brekker could keep his second pair of eyes on you at all times. You knew you did not really have any privacy anymore, doomed to only socialize with Dregs or Dregs associates so really, you chose to keep to yourself.

Even when a certain Dreg rolled his way into your life, grinning wide and fingers held in the shape of his favourite tool.

Jesper Fahey adopted you as a friend and you were almost certain he was told to do so. To keep an eye on you, or maybe keep you safe. Both options were viable but fortunately, you were not a mastermind and you didn’t care to be one.

So when you received a knock at your door, you fully expected one of their young runners to be on the other side, note in hand with a little Crow etched on it. You knew why it was a Crow, just didn’t care to invest your life into it fully. You set your pen aside and dusted your hands off on your apron, carefully stepping up from your makeshift table and taking steps towards the rickety door barely hanging onto its rusted hinges.

You opened the door, opening your mouth to greet the usual young boy who gave you your summons, only for no greeting to roll off of your tongue.

In front of you, Dirtyhands himself towered. His gloved hands remained gripped to his cane, jaw tight and eyes a calm ocean, staring at you without the usual expectancy. Instead, he seemed almost relaxed, confident arrogance that often dripped from his well dressed frame present as always. He donned his long black coat, the collar turned up at the nape and shape fitting his figure as perfectly as usual.

Assessing the situation, you accepted it but that nagging feeling of oh no sat in the pit of your stomach. You had to be cautious - Why was he on your doorstep?

“Your services are required,” Kaz’s voice spoke in his quiet, rasping yet commanding volume, business as usual. Impatient.

“Of course, Mister Brekker. Let me grab my things,” You stepped away from the door, leaving it open for the man to enter if he so wished. It wasn’t much, your humble abode. Just a small bed tucked into a corner, a sad excuse for a clothing dresser and a makeshift table against the window with an old, collapsing stool for a seat. But it was enough for you, and you knew Kaz was used to such things, preferring it to the luxuries of Merchers and nobles. 

You paid him little attention as you turned to close the ledger from your day job, pen set into ink but you did note that he took off his hat as he entered, closing the door behind him with a small click and stepped his way to the small chair you had in the other corner beside a kitchen counter, making himself comfortable with his bad leg stretched out a little more than the other. He held his cane between his legs on the ground, fingers clasped to it tightly.

“Who got hurt this time?” You asked absentmindedly, a wicker basket set on top of your desk as you glanced to his still frame, his eyes already trained on you. 

“Me,” Brekker answered, shifting in his seat and setting his hat aside on the counter beside him, hand falling to touch his leg and you sighed, but the small smile on your face betrayed the exasperation you felt. 

“I didn’t figure you so clumsy, sir,” You subtly teased, stepping from your table once you realised you did not need to pack anything due to the fact you would not be leaving your home. You stepped to him, shirt sleeve rolled to your forearm and fingers rubbing together, hoping to remove the cold from them that your small little home often left.

The Dregs leader eyed you, unable to keep perfectly still, setting his cane down to lean against the wall and slowly began to bring his fingers to unbutton his glove. You could only watch with well masked surprise, the young man pulling at each finger until it was loose and he pried it off, offering you his slightly shaking hand, a frown pulling at his lips.

“It's uncomfortable to work like this. Fix it,” He ordered, turning his hand palm up and you studied his hand for any injury, unable to see one. 

As your eyes traced his pale, near luminescent skin, you came to stop upon a little slit in the skin of his index finger, from one side to the other and you fully understood what Kaz Brekker was asking of you. Please heal my papercut, it's annoying me. You didn’t laugh, but by the Saints did you want to. You stifled it and slowly, brought your eyes up to meet his own, noting the calmness of the ones staring at you even with the unsteady tremble in his fingers, the light sheen of nervousness painting his skin and you couldn’t help but feel a little endeared. 

“You could have shot yourself in the foot if you wanted to come see me so badly,” You teased gently, just like you often found yourself doing with him. He never replied to them usually, and only once did he ever roll his eyes at you. He just stared, lips pressed into a line and sometimes he hummed with a quirk of his brow. This time was different, the threat of a smile daring to pull at his sharp features and it felt more dangerous than facing a Dime Lion, you were convinced. You didn’t know how to handle Kaz Brekker smiling at you. 

“I couldn’t risk not being able to use the other leg too,” Kaz steadily jested, wit rolling from his tongue in a way he never did, the humour in his voice often only present when he was with his Crows and mocking Jesper, eyes twinkling with mirth and you almost swore you could taste your heart on your tongue, between your teeth. 

He didn’t even deny wanting to come see you.

“Kaz Brekker, I have seen you run with a broken leg, heard that you scaled a building with a bullet lodged in your shoulder that I had to fix and you’ve concussed yourself numerous times with every nose you break- and now you’re telling me you can’t stomach a papercut?” You exasperated, shaking your head despite the unsteady rhythm in your chest, unable to see the usual murderous bastard in Kaz’s face, daring to see a young man with an unfair amount of weight on his shoulders and that was a scary thought. Horrifying, even. You needed your morals, even in Ketterdam.

Brekker didn’t answer you to start with, just pursed his lips and his finger twitched a little, the rest of his fingers curling to his palm and just leaving his little wound out to you, eyes locked on it himself. It took him a moment but then he opened his mouth, words leaving you with a revelation;

“I don’t like the feeling of it.”

You didn’t quite know how to feel about it and even though it would normally be just a casual statement, it felt a little heavier, like it was harder for him to admit that something unsettled him so much that he had to seek out someone with the Small Science. You decided not to pry, not to tease, only to touch your hands together and then reach your hand out, ghosting the tips of two fingers over the little knick on his finger. It took mere seconds and the cut was gone but Kaz still trembled beneath the ministrations, nostrils flared with an uncomfortable exhale and you didn’t even want to know why he was so quiet. 

“There we go, all better, as if it never happened,” You spoke carefully, drawing his eyes back to yours and you knew you would take this little moment to the grave with you, your little secret. You would never tell a soul that Kaz Brekker did not like paper cuts. 

Except, Kaz didn’t stand to leave. He didn’t pull his glove back on, didn’t grab his cane. Instead, he got more comfortable in the little seat and rested his bare hand against his bad leg, eyes on you and that dangerous smile once again threatening his lips, meeting his eyes so subtly and you couldn’t stop yourself from staring at him. 

“Become one of my Crows,” It wasn’t a question, it was an order. 

You shook your head, lowering yourself into a crouch in front of him and tapping your fingertips together, you did your best to help ease the pain of his leg, hands hovering over his knee but never touching. You never touched him, if you could help it. You weren’t a heartrender, you couldn’t soothe his heartbeat or ease his mind, but you could numb it enough that the walk home wasn’t so miserable. 

“I won’t,” You answered, knowing full well that becoming a Crow meant joining the Dregs, meant that you’d be a grunt, you’d do small jobs, risk your life, even take them. You didn’t want that. As much as you came to adore Brekker’s little quirks, the silent glances of communication, teasing the man and him letting you get away with it, the beginnings of a friendship forming, the way your heart lurched when you heard the uneven tapping of his cane against the floorboards, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You had loyalties to yourself, after all. 

“You will, eventually,” He mumbled, leaning back in the seat and never once taking his eyes off of your form, his head tilted ever so slightly. Even in this lighting, midday painting him in golden, he was as handsome as the night he had almost bled out under your care. You didn’t know how he managed it, knowing full well he didn’t eat full meals or hydrate as much as he should, and didn't sleep nearly enough. 

“Mister Brekker, you’d have to be on your deathbed for that to even be a consideration.”

You didn’t know how right you were. 

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“Y/N! Quickly!” Jesper’s voice rang out, cracking, bringing your attention away from the printing press in front of you and with confusion, you tossed away your the paper in your hand and heard your own boots clicking and clacking against the stone floor before you even realised you were rushing out of the shop, job forgotten and keeping pace behind the sharpshooter.

You didn’t know what was wrong, you just knew that you were needed. Four months under the Dregs protection, you felt more like their protector or caretaker, tending to the wounded and keeping them fed. It was the first time somebody had come to you on shift, in your shop, dragging you away from the thing that paid your rent and kept your own stomach full. You didn’t know when you became so loyal to them, to him, but you did and couldn’t change that. 

So you ran, you ran faster than you ever had. You felt your clothes carry the wind, your hair pushed back from your face and the bitter chill of the Barrel on your skin as your chest heaved, legs carrying you as fast as possible as you went through alleys, down streets, pushing past as many people as you needed. Dread kept your legs from getting tired, pure adrenaline keeping your lungs full of air and you knew, you just knew. Kaz. 

Saints, you couldn’t handle knowing you cared so much about one person. 

You didn’t notice when you had overtaken Jesper, throwing the side door to the Slat open and pulling off your apron and desperately scanning your surroundings. You didn’t care about anything else, you just met the eyes that stared back at you, filling the room with a bit more ease.

“Y/N-” Wylan.

“Where is he?”

“His room-” Inej.

You didn’t listen to anything else, taking off up the steps and you threw yourself into the attic room. With hardly a breath, you dropped to your knees where he lay on the bed, pale as death could be and you cussed to yourself. You weren’t going to let him die. You stopped it happening once and you would do it again and again and again if it meant you could see that stupid boyish smile on his lips and hear a mean jest rolling off his tongue again. You worked too hard for it all to go to waste. 

“You’re stuck with me I’m afraid, Brekker. You’re not going anywhere,” You told him, earning yourself a grunt and his head turned, dropping heavily to one side and his eyes stared at you. Even he looked relieved. You didn’t even think to ponder on what that meant. 

Setting to work quickly, you healed the artery that had been cut, apron pressed to him to keep as much blood in his system as possible as you worked at sealing it, stitching the wound with your grisha power. The short time you’d cared for the Dregs, you had gotten stronger, better with your power. Things like this didn’t take as long as it used to, didn’t take as much energy out of you. You knew Kaz would live but it didn’t make it any less stressful to see him like that. And you didn’t want to ever again, you never wanted to see death try to pull him out of your life just as you had gotten used to him in it. 

“My Crow,” He uttered, rasping and breathless, the hint of teasing a whisper on his breath and you resigned yourself, eyes scanning his relaxing features and you nodded, never touching him. You were finished. He was fine. He was alive, sitting up against the wall and staring at you with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Yes, Kaz. It seems to be that way. The deal is the deal, after all,” You pressed your lips into a small smile, submitting yourself to the reality that you had found yourself in. It seemed your morals could be set aside if it meant keeping this criminal’s unsavoury heart beating in his chest. 

And maybe, just maybe, Kaz was keeping yours beating irrevocably fast too.

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At six months, you were a Crow, but not a Dreg. You didn’t join the gang, only really spending your time with a close inner circle or drinking by yourself after a long shift at the printing press. At six months, you were seated at the bar of the Crow Club, sipping your drink and enjoying the busy ruckus as men gambled their life savings right away.

“Hello, gorgeous,” Jesper sang, leaning over the bar beside you and grinning ear to ear, whiskey in hand and pockets stuffed with kruge. You could practically smell it on him - the money and the victory. You laughed softly, tipping your glass to him and then taking a sip, you turned your barstool towards him and gave him your full, undivided attention.

“Good night?” You asked, even though you knew damn well he had a good night. He looked ready to shoot the moon.

“Fantastic,” He answered, head tilting and cheeks splitting as he grinned wider; Jesper’s ringed fingers tapped against his dimpled cheeks, eyes watching you as they did when he was about to say something that he absolutely shouldn’t say. “How’s the boss?”

You should have expected it, really. That was the reason you were there in the first place. Your face began to turn many shades of magenta, you were sure. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you cleared your throat and stabilised yourself, sitting up straighter and doing your best to return the young man’s cheeky smile.

“I’m sure he’s fine, you would know you’ve been here all day,” You answered, leaning into the palm of your hand. You could hear your own heartbeat in your ears with just the mere idea of him, his name not even having been spoken yet. Pathetic. 

 “And your eyes have been on him since the moment you practically ran through our front door,” Jesper shot back, chin jutting to where said young man had exited his office and was stepping down the small staircase that lead to the office, uneven gait leaned on his cane and he made his way to his usual perch near the bar, arm leaning against the railing with eyes locked on the floor - it was heartbreakingly charming to you, the fact he wore his usual attire of waistcoat and fancy tailored shirt, looking every part Kaz Brekker and it almost hurt to look at him. 

“Just making sure he’s alive. He’s been clumsy as of late,” You mumbled the excuse into the rim of your glass, sipping your drink but your eyes stayed on him. It wasn’t necessarily a lie but you knew it was foolish. Kaz Brekker was a criminal of the cruellest kind, had done unspeakable things to those deserving and undeserving and yet there you were, afraid to blink for fear he would disappear before your very eyes. The sole reason you choose to accept a life of crime and fix the worst kinds of people, those that didn’t always deserve to be fixed. Him included. But he deserved it. 

“He’s not going anywhere any time soon, doll. He might be as fragile, but he’s smarter than that,” Jesper nudged you with his shoulder, hands smoothing over your tensed fist on the surface of the bar and you turned to look at him, not even realising your own rigidness. You were grateful you had him to call a friend, always grounding you despite his antics. 

“I just don’t understand why I have all these… feelings,” You admitted aloud, turning your hand up in his to press your palms together. He tutted, shaking his head and tapping his fingers against your wrist, he offered the most eye opening fact you had ever heard in your many years of living;

“Love makes us into many things, sometimes better, many times worse. I know it makes him worse; a coward, a liar, sometimes a bit self absorbed, full of greed, selfish, but he could be so much worse,” Jesper offered, a kinder smile on his face as he leaned in to usher the words without prying ears.

You loved Kaz and you probably knew it. You probably thought about it every day when you woke up, when someone checked the time on their pocket watch, when someone handed you a kruge. You probably fell asleep thinking about it and yet it took a close friend to lay it out in front of you just what it was that kept you wanting to be near him, make sure he never cut his finger on a piece of parchment again, to heal his split lip and bruised knuckles. 

It was easily the most terrifying thing you had ever done: falling in love with a crime boss was not something fun, easy, or relaxing. It was that danger that you saw whenever the man smiled, the horror whenever he cast a joke or brushed his gloved fingers against your hand when he passed you, the glance he threw your way from across the busy room, the warnings that screamed at you when he leaned a little too close to you when you were mending flesh. It was the liability that caused you to keep your eyes on him at all times, making sure he was breathing. Attachment. Investment. Attraction. Commitment. All words that came to mind when you considered your relationship with Ketterdam’s, maybe even the world’s, most menacing, volatile, impatient and undoubtedly violent criminal. 

“Jesper, if I catch you flirting one more time…” The man’s voice carried weight, trailing with a silent threat and you realised that the very man tipping your world on its axis was towering over the pair of you, shoulders squared, jaw taut and eyes blazing with something unspoken.

“No, Kaz, it's okay. He wasn’t flirting he was just-” 

The man silenced you with a tilt of his head and the raising of a single dark brow. 

“Right boss, sorry boss. Should I just- Yeah let me just, yeah. Enjoy your night, I’m going to go do my job,” Jesper patted the bar, then the stool, awkwardly bowing and pointing, smile on his face and a wink thrown your way before he was spinning on his heel, arms wide as he cheered a greeting towards the door, sauntering his way to actually do what he was paid for.

Your attention was brought back to Kaz as the man slid into the very same seat he had just dismissed his friend from, cane set between the two of you and drink ordered, gloved hands folded on the surface of the bar. He didn’t turn his body towards you, but his eyes were on you, like always, a question swirling in his irises.

“You and Jesper…?” He seemed to trail off, finger tapping impatiently on his arm, gloved and tensed in his shoulders even as he swallowed thickly, mouth pulled down into a line.

“No,” You shook your head, turning your body away from him and towards the bar, sipping your drink with your heart pounding in your chest.

“You and… anyone?” He asked a little more quietly, eyes on his own drink as he swirled it in steady circles, the amber liquid sloshing at the bottom of the glass.

“No, Kaz. Just you,” You answered honestly.

Kaz Brekker remained silent, only nodding, bringing his drink to his lips and sipping it. No other words needed to be exchanged, and only you caught the ghost of a smile on the corners of his vile, cursed mouth.

[maul-of-shame]

"Beneath the King's Gaze", a Gil-galad x OC fic

Week(s) ago I opened my "middle-earth one-shots requests" and I already posted a few over AO3!! This one’s for @serenni on Tumblr!💕 I had so much fun writing this piece—thank you for the lovely prompt!😊✨ I hope you enjoy the soft moments and the warmth between these two!! It was such a joy to bring them to life! And it's been updated on AO3 now as gift!🌙💫

As always, thank you to everyone who reads, comments, and supports my work—it means the world!💖

You can find it on AO3 here!

Do NOT repost, reblogs are okay!

The Isle of Balar, though safe, was a sanctuary marked by loss.

Souls wandered like shadows, bearing wounds of battles left behind and sorrows gathered in their hearts, yet they clung together, drawn to this place by the shared weight of fate. Among them, Séredhiel had emerged as a light that offered both peace and hope. She had neither title nor the skills of a healer, but the people sought her presence. Her words, like a gentle song, reminded them of home. Her stories brought warmth, and her laugh seemed woven from the last threads of joy they'd known before sorrow claimed them.

From across the encampment, Gil-Galad watched her move among the gathered refugees. Her deep brown hair, though tousled from the island’s winds, caught a glimmer of sunlight, adding an ethereal warmth to her presence. She was barely tall enough to reach his shoulder, yet even from a distance, her presence was as profound as any figure of noble blood. And though he could command armies and fortify kingdoms, Gil-Galad felt strangely unarmored as he watched her laugh with a child, as if the troubles of the world had momentarily melted in her embrace.

She helped mend what could not be touched by a sword or a poultice.

Today, Séredhiel was with a group of weary families, tending not to their bodies but their hearts. A child—no more than a toddler—reached up to her, and she bent down, lifting the little one into her arms. She sang softly, her voice carrying across the camp with notes so gentle they felt like a caress to the ears. 

Without realizing he’d been drawn in, Gil-Galad found himself beside her, captivated by the serenity she shared. She turned, noticing him at last, and greeted him with a slight bow, but there was warmth in her gaze, an invitation to stand at ease.

“_ My king.”; She said softly. “ I did not know you walked among us.”

“_ I needed to see our people. To understand what I can do for them.”; He murmured. His eyes drifted to her, a tender reverence slipping into his voice. “ I see now that they already have someone caring for them in ways I could not.”

A soft blush colored her cheeks, and she looked down, shifting the child to her other arm as if needing a distraction.

“_ I only give what little I have.”; She replied. Her voice softened, shadowed with sadness.“ In truth, I am grateful to be of any help at all. It is a way to honor those who… were not so lucky.” 

He felt the depth of her heart, the selflessness that pulled her to each wounded soul, each tear-streaked face. And in that moment, something slipped past his guard.

“_ You give more than you know.”; He said, his tone unexpectedly gentle. “ You shine upon them, like Ithilwen, the moon maiden herself, with light in the night. You heal wounds unseen. There is no greater gift.”

She looked up, surprise mingling with the warmth in her hazel eyes, the green and golden flecks catching the light just so.

“_ Ithilwen?”; She repeated, an amused smile curving her lips.  He realized what he’d said, and a faint color rose in his cheeks.

“_ It… suits you. I only meant…”; He stumbled over his words, not a common occurrence for him.

She laughed softly, the sound bright as sunlight.

“_ Thank you, then. I shall hold the name close.”; She glanced away, setting the child down, her gaze growing distant as she looked out across the refuge, as if absorbing the weight of everyone’s silent grief. Then, almost to herself, she whispered. “ I only hope my brother finds his way back to me.”

He placed a hand on her shoulder, offering his silent strength.

“_ As do I, Ithilwen.”; He said softly. “ For his sake, and for yours.” 

There was silence between them, but it was comfortable, laced with an understanding that needed no words. As he looked at her, with her gaze far away and filled with the care she had for these people, something stirred in him—a yearning he had never allowed himself, a hope that perhaps one day, when his duties allowed, he might claim this solace for himself.

Gil-Galad watched as Séredhiel slipped back into the gentle bustle of the refugees, her presence a steady balm to the people gathered in their grief, settling down the small toddler. With a lingering look, he turned to leave her, his duties calling him back, yet he hadn’t gone but a few steps when she called after him, her voice light and hesitant.

“_ My lord…”; She paused, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, her gaze shy as she looked up at him. “ Would you… I mean… if you have a moment, would you be willing to… assist me?”

Her words came with a faint flush, her eyes bright as she half-smiled, as though unsure if she was overstepping in asking him to stay.

A king did not usually tarry long with the wounded, much less lend his hands among them. Yet Gil-Galad felt something warm spread through him at her request—a strange, unexpected joy in simply being close, to be of use to her.

“_ I would be honored.”; He replied, his voice softening. “ Show me what I can do.”

Together, they worked side by side among the scattered groups. Séredhiel spoke with gentle ease, each word a salve to weary souls. At her request, Gil-Galad gathered supplies and offered his hands, often little more than carrying linens or fresh water, but somehow, every task felt purposeful.

He noticed how the people clung to her words, and she spoke to each person with the same tenderness and care, as if nothing else in the world mattered in those moments.

She caught him watching her and let out a small, embarrassed laugh.

“_ You know, I didn’t mean to keep you here, my lord…”; She teased softly, her voice laced with a chuckling warmth. “ But I appreciate your help, all the same.”

He laughed softly, bending to offer a hand to an elder who struggled with their blanket.

“_ You don’t give orders easily, do you?”

Her smile was warm, a touch of color in her cheeks.

“_ Not to a king, no.”; She replied. “ Nor to anyone. I find it easier to ask than to demand.”

Yet he saw it, how naturally people were drawn to her, how they relied on her presence without question. Children gathered around her, their small hands reaching for hers, and those broken from battle seemed to find some sense of strength in her gaze. Even those too weary to smile managed to find comfort in her presence, soothed by the gentleness she offered.

He fell into a natural rhythm beside her, letting her lead.

She laughed often, and he couldn’t help but watch the way her eyes softened as she spoke to the people—how she met each gaze, letting them feel seen. To her, each person was a story she was eager to listen to, a soul worthy of patience and care.

He found himself in awe of her quiet strength.

Her joy felt like a revelation, even to him, for it softened the edges of his own heart. His thoughts drifted, and he wondered if there might be a place for such a light in his life. 

“How strange”, he thought, that she brought out a gentler side of him—a warmth he’d once thought he’d hidden away in his duties, his heart hardened by years of war and responsibility. He was a king, expected to stand alone in times of hardship, yet here he was, finding solace not in his own resolve but in the warmth of her smile, the sound of her laugh. The realization caught him off-guard, like a powerful wave, a sudden yearning he felt rise within him.

They settled together beside a family, where Séredhiel knelt to speak softly with a mother who clutched a newborn, her eyes red with worry. As Séredhiel whispered comforting words, Gil-Galad found himself captivated by her voice, and an image settled in his mind: of moonlight bathing her face, of that gentle light illuminating her features.

She was, indeed, Ithilwen—his Ithilwen.

But the thought felt almost too bold.

She was free and strong, a warmth that could never be contained. Yet he could not ignore the ache, the wish that for once, he might find a way to hold something purely for himself. 

She caught him looking, and her lips curved into a soft smile.

“_ Thank you, my lord.”; She whispered, her voice like a song that drifted around them. “ For everything.”

“_ Séredhiel…”; He began, then faltered, unsure of what to say. Her gaze lifted to meet his, and he knew then that his heart was no longer his own. He swallowed, hoping his gaze alone might speak what he could not say.

They turned back to their quiet work among the refugees, and as they moved side by side, Séredhiel found herself falling into the rhythm of their shared task. Gil-Galad took up each effort with surprising grace, following her lead with a quiet attentiveness that softened his kingly bearing. She couldn’t help but admire the way he brought comfort with gentle strength, meeting each soul with a warmth that felt both steady and personal.

Then, a small hand tugged at the hem of Gil-Galad’s tunic. A boy with a freckled nose and wide, tear-bright eyes looked up at him, clutching a scraped knee with a face twisted in pain and a hint of awe at the towering figure before him. Gil-Galad froze for a moment, taken off guard by the boy’s sudden need.

“_ Your knee, young one.”; He murmured, bending down awkwardly, his hands hovering as if unsure whether to touch. He glanced at Séredhiel with a faintly helpless look that brought a smile to her lips.

She knelt down beside him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“_ He’s looking for a bit of bravery.”; She murmured softly, reaching into her satchel for a cloth. “ You’ll do fine, my lord.”

With a small, hesitant chuckle, Gil-Galad softened, reaching out to steady the child. He lifted the boy into his arms with a tender care that surprised even him, holding him close to his chest as Séredhiel examined the boy’s scrapes. The king’s brows furrowed with an intensity that seemed almost comically misplaced, as if this scraped knee were a grave wound.

Séredhiel carefully dabbed at the boy’s knee, her touch feather-light as she worked, her voice soothing as she murmured to the child. And yet her gaze kept drifting to Gil-Galad, captivated by the way he held the boy, his face a mixture of kindness and determination.

The child whimpered as the cloth brushed his scraped knee, and Gil-Galad instinctively tightened his arms around him, rocking him gently.

“_ Brave lad, aren’t you?”; He said, his voice low and warm. “ Why, a scrape like this? You’ll be on your feet again by morning.”

The boy sniffled, peeking up at the king with wide eyes, and some of his fear faded. Gil-Galad grinned, his gaze softening.

“_ You know, I once scraped my knee too. Right before a battle. I hardly walked for a day.”; He added in a conspiratorial whisper, his expression serious, as though sharing a great secret.

Séredhiel’s heart softened, her hands stilling for a moment as she looked at him. Here was a king, one with the strength of his ancestors, yet willing to kneel in the dirt for a child, his voice a quiet balm that seemed to dissolve the boy’s fears.

“_ There.”; She whispered, her voice like a lullaby as she smoothed a strip of cloth over the boy’s knee. “ Almost done.”

Gil-Galad shifted the boy in his arms, his gaze never leaving her as she worked. He looked as though he might say something, but instead, his mouth curved into a faint smile as he watched her, his admiration deep and unguarded.

“_ You’re good at this.”; He murmured, his voice soft so as not to disturb the boy resting against his shoulder.

She glanced up, her cheeks warming.

“_ It comes naturally.”; She replied, looking at him, taking in the way he cradled the child with a tenderness she hadn’t expected. “ But it seems it does for you as well.”

His brows rose, his cheeks faintly flushed as he looked away, a faint chuckle escaping him.

“_ It… Well, I suppose it does.”; He said, his tone almost bashful, his voice barely above a whisper.

She finished tending to the boy’s scrapes, placing a final kiss to the makeshift bandage as she whispered a soft prayer for his strength.

“_ There you are, little one. You’ll be well in no time.”; She rose, watching as Gil-Galad carefully set the child down, his hand lingering on the boy’s head with a look of fatherly pride.

The boy looked up at them both, then broke into a bright grin before darting off, his small voice calling a cheerful thank-you as he disappeared into the crowd. Gil-Galad straightened, his gaze following the child’s retreat before he turned back to Séredhiel, something warm and vulnerable in his expression.

“_ Strange, isn’t it?”; He said softly, almost to himself. “ To care for one so small, to feel a… connection.”

He paused, his voice tender.

“_ One might think it would take more time, but somehow, the heart decides.”

A warmth bloomed in her chest as she looked at him, feeling a depth in his words she hadn’t expected. Her voice was soft as she replied.

“_ It does, doesn’t it? The heart, I think, often knows before we do.”

Their gazes met, and she saw in him the trace of a yearning, a quiet ache he hadn’t allowed himself to voice. She felt, knew, the weight of his burdens, the responsibility that rested on his shoulders. Yet here, in the simple act of caring for a wounded child, he had allowed himself to be simply Gil-Galad—a man, capable of love, of tenderness.

She gave him a soft smile, a quiet reassurance that she understood, even if he hadn’t spoken it.

And as he returned the smile, his eyes lingering on hers, she realized she felt something stir within her, something she hadn’t allowed herself to feel until now.

For a brief, unguarded moment, she imagined what it might be like to share a life with him, to see him like this each day—a man who could kneel in the dirt for a child, who could hold her heart as carefully as he’d held that boy. And she wondered if, perhaps, he might feel the same.

They stood in silence, surrounded by the sounds of the camp, yet wrapped in a quiet understanding that needed no words. And as they turned back to their work, her heart held a hope she hadn’t dared to feel before, a gentle wish that someday, the warmth she’d glimpsed in his gaze might become something more.

[aziraphales-library]

Hey! I love love love reading unrequited love, and although obvi their love is utterly mutual they don’t necessarily know that sooo

If you know any, could you recommend me some fics were Crowley is ‘pining’ for Azi?

They don’t need to have a happy ending where they get together (might even prefer without) but can do!

Anyways love ur blog tysm :)

These are hard to find! Most are not actually unrequited love. I found a few with hurt/no comfort, and a couple of longer ones where they do end up together in the end, but there is a lot of feeling unloved, pining, and angst before they get there.

i wanna fade away (with you) by Lilyofthevalley26 (G)

Armageddon had come, and Armageddon had passed. They didn’t have head offices to report to anymore. They were free agents. A new emotion joined the others in his chest. It felt like hope.

No Problem by LeotheLionathefootofOrion (M)

No problem, Crowley thinks. No problem at all. Anything for you. Even after two months of radio silence and not even a message on my birthday. No problem. - x - The whole friends with benefits thing really isn’t doing Crowley any favours.

Microcosms by oceantears (G)

“So, Alpha Centauri,” Crowley says, “you never did go there with me. Why? Jus’ not- Not wanting to stick it to Heaven? Still believing in the greater good and all? Not wanting only me for the rest of eternity, afraid you’d get bored of me?” It’s honesty and fear disguised as barely a jab, barely a joke, and they both know it. Crowley can call the stars into existence, but he cannot successfully hide 6,000 years of loneliness and longing and pain. Aziraphale only looks at him for a moment. If he tried, Crowley thinks helplessly, he could find constellations in the angel’s eyes. He could find another universe in them, one entirely untouched by God and Heaven and Hell. One that could be theirs, if only Aziraphale allowed it to be. “Neither,” Aziraphale finally says, “I just- I was afraid. And I… Well. I always found reaching for the stars a rather pointless endeavour when I already have everything I want right here.” Crowley takes a deep, shuddering breath and makes himself say it. Makes his tongue move and form those words they both know so well but have not had the courage to say out loud yet. “But you didn’t,” he forces out, “you didn’t want me. You still don’t.”

Attempts At Healing by alcyme (T)

Imagination can only get you so far. And then there are things not powerful enough to make it to reality. Like feelings of love. Time mends all wounds and that includes a broken heart. After all, what is healing than just reversing time. It would be a shame if The First Healer can’t even heal himself.

Crowley and His Army of Grandmothers by burnt_oranges (NR)

Crowley had impulsively stopped by Artisan Du Chocolate, the next place on Aziraphale’s meticulously ordered list of chocolatiers to sample, and now Crowley wonders--is it too much? He had bought a hundred fucking pounds’ worth of chocolate, of course it’s too much, but would Aziraphale notice that it was too much? That is the question.

Warmth by indigo (E)

Friends with benefits really had to be the very best solution there was for any self-respecting immortal being on Earth. Handy. Convenient. The perfect way to de-stress with none of the hassle of trying to find a human willing to overlook the more demonic parts of appearance. It was reliable. Comforting even. Dependable, emotionless relief. Perfect, Crowley thought. Right up until the point when, well, it wasn’t.

- Mod D

[blazesartbloglmao]

"Tell me about it"

“Tell me about it,” Techno says later that night, when the fire is low but not quite out and Philza has gone to bed early.

Techno had been reading from one of his many books, hooves delicately turning yellowed pages. Tommy sat with a blanket thrown over his lap, furiously typing messages to Tubbo and Ranboo. They were snowed in at Snowchester, and Michael apparently thought it was some kind of miracle of sorts because Ranboo had been forced to stay in the house a lot with him.

“Tell you about what?” Tommy asks, looking up from his battered communicator. He frowns. “Exile?”

“No. Tell me about your home. L’manberg. Tell me about when it was good.”

Tommy scowls, then softens his face out and raises an eyebrow, casting an odd look in Techno’s direction. Two parts suspicion, one part confusion. “Why?”

“Because it was important to you,” Techno says simply. “I won’t get it, but I’d like to hear about it. All I heard about was a dictator who threw the founders out of the land and all I saw was a Butcher Army on my front lawn. So tell me about it. Tell me about before.”

A nervous sort of energy has entered Tommy’s chest now. He’s not sure why it’s there, only that it feels a bit like a worm has found it’s way from his stomach to his lungs and is now furiously doing the macarena as best as it’s wriggly little body can, even though it has no hands or feet.

It’s also that he’s never tried to explain L’manberg to anyone. Either you were there or you weren’t. Tubbo always got it. Eret certainly did, when they chatted over their fabric projects. Fundy didn’t like to talk about it, but he had brightened when he saw the friendship bracelet Tommy had hung onto. And Wilbur? Wilbur built the damn thing. Even if he refuses to talk about it. Ever.

He knows Tubbo had tried to tell Ranboo about it, the good bits so Ranboo could maybe understand a bit more. Like the time they’d climbed all the trees surrounding the van to try and find the one with grapes in them and then had subsequently pissed off a stray cat that was living in the area. Or when Tommy had sung to the plants in the rain, carefully tending his old carrot patch the way he now tends his small wheat farm and the flowers that dot his front lawn. He suspects Eret has done something similar with Foolish. The golden-skinned totem always has a habit these days of knowing about certain events that played out, though he speaks as if he read it somewhere, not that he’d experienced it.

But Tommy’s never had that practice. Perhaps if he had—like Tubbo, like Eret—he would’ve known exactly what to say to get Techno to understand better. To get him to at least like the idea it had been at first, before the bitter end it’d faced.

He summons all his memories he has of his home, days spent in sunlight; picking berries and petting wild cows. Looking for mischief with Tubbo. Helping Eret with chores. Playing with Fundy and teaching him how to scam. Learning all of Wilbur’s tricks—from the best ways to brew potions to how to confuse the people he was scamming—and soaking up his brother’s praise when he gave it, collecting each soft smile the older man had offered, each ruffle of his hair.

so im a day late but in my defense, i was busy feeling like i was close to death and it only occurred to me later at night yesterday that i could draw something from my own damn fic instead of scrambling to find something in my tired little brain. that's why we're here now lmao.

i wrote a fic back in 2021 about c!tommy and c!technoblade coming together to discuss their differences and try to mend their relationship. because, as i put it succinctly at the time in my partner in crime's dms "if the streamers arent up to the task, im certainly capable of writing a fucking fix-it fic in about a week or 2!"

idk what was in the water back then, i churned out fics like every 2 weeks it felt like and it was insane. now i struggle to finish a oneshot lmao

anyways, that fic does have artwork i drew for it but i wasn't really happy with it as i felt like it didn't capture any of the warmth the fic itself contains. enter this piece that i started impulsively last night and finished today before leaving to go to a plant sale. i did not watch cc!technoblade very long and i got into watching him when i was into dsmp (which i think ive mentioned before) but i am so so glad and grateful for the time he gave us.

if you'd like to read Notos, you can do so here. ive long since stopped lookin at the statistics because the numbers freak me out lmao. if you'd like to see the speedpaint that goes with this, you can click here!

i hope you all enjoy :)

[violetsandfluff]

Hiii

Can I have Shawn Mendes and Y/N with

🥣🥪☕🥂🍬🍡

Translation: fluff with fiancé!shawn with morning kisses on a date night/anniversary, “when you smile, the whole world stops and stares for a while…” and playing with each others’ hair.

A/n: if it’s okay with you I’m going to make the special occasion Shawn’s birthday 🥰 thanks for utilizing my concept café!

A/n 2.0: I forgot to post this last week :| so oops

⚡️⚡️⚡️⚡️

“Mmm, ten more minutes,” Shawn hummed with an adorably lopsided smile, his morning voice low and groggy, as he swatted your hand away from his head. With his eyes still closed against the early morning light, he pulled you close to his chest.

You felt his chest vibrate with the chuckle that escaped from his lips, causing you to giggle as you continued to pepper his face and neck with kisses. “I thought I told you to wake me up,” you reminded him, your eyebrows arched playfully.

“I thought you told me to sleep in as long as I wanted,” he retorted, adding, “Plus, it’s no fun if I don’t get to wake up to this pretty face.” He reached out and squished your face gently in his hands.

You squished his, too, not wanting him to get the final squish, and sank back into the pillows behind you as a contented blush flooded your cheeks.

Your fiancé shook his head playfully as he reached over your shoulder and tugged on your ponytail lightly. “If I could, I would drink that smile right off your mouth.”

Only one silent moment later your peace was disturbed by a persistent poking at your ribs. “Baby. Babe. Baby. YYYYY/NNNNN.”

“What?”

“Look over there,” Shawn pointed, and like putty in his hands, your head swiveled right into his hands. Before you could think, your lips were being smothered in sloppy, affectionate kisses.

“Shawn.” you feigned annoyance at his behavior, but he responded only with a smirk and a shrug. “Baby, you have to let me get up and ready now since you were too busy obeying me to obey me.”

“Fine,” he replied, pouting slightly as he lifted up the covers to let you get up. “I’ll be in the studio until you’re ready for me. Gimme one last kiss before you go.”

You leaned down and wrapped an arm around his shoulders as you blessed his lips with a warm, heartfelt kiss. “Happy birthday, Shawnie.”

“One more,” he called just as you’d turned around. “I don’t think the last one took.”

You shook your head wordlessly as you leaned down to kiss his lips once again.

As soon as you pulled away, his mouth opened to ask for one more, but he stopped when he saw the expression on your face; eyebrows arched, lips pursed, adoring glitter dancing in your eyes.

“You… are… exasperating,” you mumbled between pecks.

~~~

The soft strumming of Shawn’s guitar drew you into his home studio once you’d finished putting together his last-minute birthday surprise.

He looked up when you entered the room, but didn’t stop playing, although the chords he strummed out changed ever so slightly. He began singing softly and sweetly as you squeezed into the bucket chair beside him. You recognized the song as the first song you had slow danced to as a couple.

“When you smile,” he began, “the whole world stops and stares for a while because you’re amazing just the way you are.”

“Aww,” you cooed, letting your head rest in the warm, smooth area between your fiancé’s neck and head, blinking fast and acting chipper to distract your eyes from welling up. “Good job, baby.”

~~~

A/n 2.1 i sat on how to end this for way too long, so my apologies if it was abrupt 🙃 it’s not my finest work but I haven’t written fanfiction in forever, so excuse the quality

taglist: @chocochipcookie305 @fishingirl12 @monikamendes @sonder444 @yournameoneverypage

[padfootagain]

Running

Yet another character I’m writing for, I guess…

Answering an anonymous request even if I was planning on writing something like this anyway: ‘aaahhh i saw that you were opening request for the darkling but i dont have any original ideas for him i just want to comfort him and have a softer aleksander idk i JUST NEED COMFORT like having the darkling breaking down over something and the reader comforting him and just loads of fluff i need him so baaad’

Thank you so much for your request, anon! Changed it a little bit, but I hope you’ll like it anyway!

Going to use Ben as the physical description for him although I’m going to use some character traits that are a mix of book and show, because… you know me by now, do I really need to give you a reason for this artistic choice? I don’t think so.

I loved the idea in the book (that was not used enough in the show in my opinion) that Aleksander’s amplifying abilities were a threat for his life, because he was a target for Grisha too. So… I used it a bit here, I love that detail. Adds to the whole tragic of his character, I reckon.

Anyways! I hope you all like this fic! Tell me what you think about it!

****

Pairing: The Darkling x reader

Warnings: Blood, mentions of war and violence, angst, hurt/comfort, pretty sad…

Summary: After a particularly violent battle, only a handful of soldiers remain. The aftermath is difficult for everyone, while you travel across the country in search of a safe place. Even the most stoic ones can show weakness sometimes…

Word count: 3472

Masterlist

It was cold.

It was dark, but that was a good thing, it meant that you were hidden.

It was cold, strong wind coming from the Fjerdan border up North, blowing and howling through the tall pine trees.

It was night time, stars lighting up the sky, a shy moon only in its first quarter. So far up North, there could have been Northern Lights. But not tonight.

Tonight was for grieving, not admiring.

You were exhausted. You were in shock. You were still bleeding.

And yet, there was a man before you, a friend, Andrei was his name. Lying in the young snow, tainting the white ice with crimson blood. The liquid fumed, warmth against the cold. The irony sent of blood against the resin of the pine trees.

There was a friend lying before you, bleeding, on the verge of dying, and you were the only one who could save him. The wound that crossed his abdomen was deep though, and you were no Healer.

Heartrender. You were trained to fight, not to mend. This was only a secondary use of your power to you. But then again, you had no choice, there was no Healer left alive in your army.

An army? What a joke. There was but a handful left of you. Most of them wounded, just like you were. You were part of the lucky ones though, you had but a only a flesh wound. It was painful, and made you weaker than your usual self, but your life was not endangered by the cut across your thigh. You limped though, for travelling, it wasn’t the best…

Andrei seemed to choke on his own blood, the barrier you had created to keep the rushing blood out of his lungs breaking for a mere second, but it was enough. You focused, sweat glistening across your dirty forehead under the silvery starlight. You took a deep breath, trying to focus, but you were too tired, too unexperienced to treat such a serious wound…

He was the tenth man you were healing tonight. Your whole body was shaking from the strain of it all by now.

The gurgling noise drew worried glances and blank ones your way, and you tried to ignore them all, these soldiers of the Second Army, who had fought and survived out of pure luck, just like you had.

This idiot of a King had sent you right into a trap. You stood no chance…

You blinked your tears away as images of the battle flashed before your eyes. Bodies falling, hands moving in the air for summoning, the loud pangs of gunpowder detonating, the grunts, the shouts and the scent of blood and sweat and urine heavy in the air, and blank stares turned to the sky that would never see again…

You felt your power wavering, but you forced yourself to focus on Andrei again. Because he was not dead. And despite your exhaustion, you could still save him… maybe it was a fool’s hope, but no one could survive without hope…

“Will he make it?”

The deep voice behind you made you jump, and you turned to look up at the Darkling.

Tall figure standing before the moon. The silvery light coming through the branches made some kind of hallo around him.

He was covered with mud, blood and ashes too. Just like everyone else. He was dishevelled, his black kefta partially torn apart, with dark circles under his even-darker eyes. He looked exhausted. And yet, there was still something so powerful about him…

You struggled to swallow the lump in your throat. Somehow, speaking to someone else made it all more real…

“I’m doing my best, sir,” you answered, your voice shaking.

“Are you hurt?” he asked, narrowing his eyes to look more closely at your shape sitting in the snow.

“It’s only a flesh wound. I’m okay.”

You saw him clenching his jaw and fists. Always a bad sign. But his gaze was still stern and calm when it met yours again.

You couldn’t say that you knew him well, but then, you reckoned that no one truly did. He kept people at bay, it was safer that way.

Still, you thought that you knew him enough to recognize the anger in his set jaw, the frustration in his tight fists…

You were surprised, though, when he kneeled in the snow by your side.

“You are no Healer,” he said, it was more of a statement than a question, as if he was reminding you.

“No, I’m a Heartrender, sir. I’m trying my best, but the wound is very deep.”

You felt a little stupid for reminding him of your Corporalnik status. He knew who you were. Better than anyone, in a way. There had been long nights in his War Room spent talking about your childhood, about his longing for a safe haven for Grisha, about dreams unreachable even through the dark…

But then again, nothing more than that. Just talking, for long hours. And he hadn’t shown you any sign that anything more would happen, and neither had you. To you, it was ridiculous to think so, anyway. He was the Darkling, after all.

You didn’t know he enjoyed these moments as much as you did though; that despite his better judgement, he longed for them.

How could you know? He was good at keeping a mask on. He had had centuries to master this talent to perfection.

“Allow me,” he spoke, voice soft, barely audible above the howling of the wind in the branches and the cracking frost of snow. Still, it was delicate, velvety almost…

You nodded, although you weren’t sure what you were agreeing to. He was the Darkling, after all. You trusted him blindly.

You started when he gently pulled on your dirty red sleeve, pushing it up your forearm to reveal your wrist.

“Keep working,” he instructed, and you obeyed.

He found your pulse easily, without looking for it at all, as if it called for his fingertips. He simply rested the pads of his fingers against your wrist, and they naturally landed on the pulsing blood. As if his fingers were meant to rest there…

You felt a surge of power cursing your entire body; and if you were still shaking, this time it was because of power instead of fatigue.

You stared at him, gaze intense and unwavering, for several seconds, and he held your gaze too. There were no feelings to be read in the two inky orbs that stared back at your soul, but you couldn’t escape from them anyway.

You had heard many rumours about the Darkling’s amplifying abilities, you guessed they were all true.

“Will you be able to save him now?” he asked, voice calm and emotionless, asking a mere question, as if there wasn’t a life depending on it.

You nodded and focused on Andrei without another word, the Darkling following the movements of your hands to keep the contact between your skins. Your heart was beating faster than ever, and you weren’t certain if it came from the sudden surge of power running through you now, or by the Darkling’s nearness…

It took you a while before Andrei was stable enough for him to be transported safely in the morning. Or maybe you would start moving again before dawn, you weren’t sure, you didn’t even know where you were going…

You lowered your hands at long last, feeling exhaustion rush over you once more despite the Darkling’s amplification, but you were surprised when he didn’t let go. You expected the lack of contact to happen as soon as you would be done, for his fingers to run away, to flee your skin and leave in their trail only a cold gush of wind. Instead, his fingers remained there, pressed to your pulse, and when you looked up at him, he looked like he was the one holding an amplifier in his hand, instead of the other way around.

You got caught in his eyes again, trapped in two dark orbs that captured everyone who dared to look at them, and you knew it. He had something dangerous, magnetic about him. You had seen him at court enough to know that he played with his charisma to manipulate people to do his bidding as much as possible. But what could he manipulate you to do now? You had almost died today. You had killed under his command, you had watched your friends die, you had run away wrapped in his protective shadows…

What else could he get from you? There was nothing more to extract anyway. Maybe that was why you didn’t doubt his sincerity when he spoke again.

“Please, follow me, Y/N. I need your help.”

You didn’t question where you were heading, how you could help. Instead, you stood up despite your exhaustion, and followed him through the trees. You didn’t walk far, it was too dangerous to venture away from the group, but he guided you where you wouldn’t be disturbed, where you couldn’t be seen by the remnants of the Second Army.

And his fingers were still there, burning against the skin of your wrist… unwavering, unfaltering, eternal…

When he stopped, turned towards you again, the Darkling was shaking slightly. You wondered if it was because of you, because of how he had helped you. After all, he was a living amplifier. Did he tire out if he helped someone else use their powers?

He gave you a smile that you found shier than his usual ones. You were used to see them filled with nothing but confidence, or threat sometimes. Now, the gesture was almost tender.

“I know you are tired,” he breathed, eyes capturing your gaze once more. “But my shoulder is very painful.”

“I can help,” you assured him, moving your hands into position, and his smile widened.

“Always so brave…” he muttered, but there was fondness in his deep voice. “Still, we should sit, for your leg.”

You nodded, and the two of you sat down side by side, not caring about the cold of the snow under you. He had a pretty nasty cut running across his shoulder, but it wasn’t very deep. It was much easier to heal than Andrei’s wounds.

“If you are too tired, it can wait till morning,” he offered, but you shook your head, and gave him a reassuring smile.

“If you help me, I can heal you now.”

He nodded, a silent order for you to get to work. Or rather… it looked perhaps more like a question, like he asked for a favour. You were happy to comply either way.

He felt better now, his shoulder almost completely healed in a matter of minutes, the throbbing pain fading away a little more with each movement of your fingers over his shoulder, despite the itchy sensation that came with the mending of his flesh. And the reassuring warmth of your skin against his…

Earlier that day, he looked for you through the battlefield. He shouldn’t have. You were but a passing thing, like one of his shadows. You wouldn’t linger the way he would. Like his darkness, you would be gone with the first signs of dawn.

Still, at the most violent part of the battle, his eyes looked for you, without him noticing. Like they were meant to search for your frame through the chaos.

He shouldn’t have. You were but a passing thing, like one of his shadows…

“How is your leg?” he asked once the pain across his arm and back had almost vanished, knowing you were almost done.

“It’s just a flesh wound. It’s nothing. And to be honest, I’m too tired to think about it.”

“I’ll bandage it for you.”

He wasn’t asking for permission this time, he was stating a fact, almost giving an order. You nodded in a silent agreement.

You wondered how he did it. Once you were done, there was still a long, reddened line crossing his shoulder blade. It must have been extremely painful, and yet, he had remained stern for hours, not a single wince forming on his features throughout your crazy run through the battlefield, through the forest…

Was he so used to being hurt after so many battles that he had mastered hiding his pain to perfection?

You could never have guessed how true that was…

“I’m done,” you spoke at last. “It might remain painful for a few days, I’m sorry.”

But he smiled at you, his head tilted a little to the side, something amused on his features now.

“There is no need to be sorry, you’ve done a good job.”

He moved his shoulder a little, as if to prove a point.

His fingers didn’t move away from your pulse though… burning…. Burning through your skin…

“Do you need anything else, sir?” you asked, thinking that was the reason behind his lingering touch.

It wasn’t. It simply… it simply felt good. To touch somebody, no matter how innocent that touch might be. Skin against skin. Feeling your pulse, the rhythm of your heartbeat, directly under his fingertips…

It was a luxury to him. Had always been. When you were to be a prey, you needed to choose the moments to reveal your weaknesses carefully, or you would be devoured.

He was more of a predator himself now. He had grown into one, had taken a hold of these shadows that scared him as a child, had become ruthless with time. For the most part, at least.

Still, he craved for it. The simple contact of another human’s skin against his, even if it were to last for a mere moment, for just a second…

And you had been allowing him to touch you for what felt like hours now. He could barely breathe at the thought.

He trusted you enough to let you feel it. The power that ran through his bones. The curse that made him undying. That made him linger even after all was gone. That made him run away again, and again, without any place to fall down to…

He let you feel it, running through your veins, and he trusted you enough to believe that you would not crave for more after he would pull away. He hoped that if you touched him again, it would be to touch him, not his power.

He moved his fingers to hold your wrist more firmly, and his thumb grazed the inside of your wrist, brushing your pulse, making your heart stumble. You were used to it now, to the power of the amplifier. You weren’t used to his touch, though. You weren’t sure you would ever be…

You weren’t certain why you started crying. Why now. You had not shed a tear during the battle, afterwards, as you fled, as you healed your friends, as you saw their dead bodies… You hadn’t cried at all despite everything that had happened. And yet… yet now you were letting a tear roll down your cheek, looking down at the snow to flee the Darkling’s gaze, to run from everything…

You shuddered, leaned into his touch, when he brushed your tear away from your cheek, touch gentle, delicate, barely there at all… almost like a dream… like a passing thing, one of his shadows…

“I’m sorry for today,” he whispered, and you looked up at the sound of his voice, frowning a little.

It was shaking, fragile. Deep still, laced with something that came from darkness but he looked so human now…

“None of this was your fault,” you replied, letting him brush another of your tears away.

“It was though. I was the one in charge. It was my fault.”

“It was the King’s fault. Even you have to obey sometimes.”

He clenched his jaw for a second, because you were right. Even he had to obey. Had to let Grisha die over nothing but a piece of land.

One day though, he wouldn’t have to. He would be the one to take decisions, and then the Grisha would be safe, at long last. It was an old promise he had made to himself, he intended to keep it…

But the worry quickly disappeared from his gaze, he relaxed again, the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips now.

“Only sometimes, though.”

You exchanged a smile, and you felt safer now. Safer than you had felt ever since you had left the protection of the Little Palace. But was it surprising? He was the reason why the Little Palace was safe to begin with…

You didn’t know why, but you were certain nothing would happen to you under his watch. Maybe it was a fool’s hope, some heavy denial after being so close to Death all day… you weren’t sure. But then again, no one could survive without hope…

And he should never have touched you like this. He shouldn’t have let you feel the power you could earn from him. He shouldn’t have let himself grow fond of you in the first place, because maybe now it was something a little more than that… He was too old, he had lived too many lives to fall into this kind of traps.

Or was he?

It was better not to tread on this. You were but a passing thing, like one of his shadows. You would disappear with the first signs of dawn, and he would linger on. The curse of this power running through his bones…

Slowly, he pulled his fingers away from your face, released your wrist, left your pulse, ran from the steady beat of it. And all that was left against his skin was a cold, howling gush of wind.

There was nothing he could hold onto anyway. He would outlast them all. He would outlast you, by a hundred years, maybe even more, maybe even a thousand.

He would remember those eyes though, he knew he would. And it would hurt to remember them, in the deepest darkness he summoned. Two eyes staring right into his souls. Two eyes he could have fallen for, in another life, one that could end with yours…

He saw your lower lip trembling a little as you looked up at him, the way your eyes dropped to look at your wrist, where his fingers had been. And then he was afraid of his own shadows all over again, the same he was as a child.

Were you rubbing that spot on your wrist because of his touch, or because of the power it had given you for a moment?

You didn’t look up at him as you reached for his arm, hand clinging to his torn, dirty, stained kefta. You were pretty sure you weren’t allowed to do this, to lean against him, to hold onto his arm, to rest your forehead against his shoulder. It didn’t matter. You missed the effect he had on you too much for that.

Calm. Safe. Beating heart pounding with life despite the sorrow.

He was grateful that you weren’t looking at him. He could let tears form in his dark eyes then, although he couldn’t let them run down his cheeks, couldn’t let them free. Appearing, that was already a lot…

You couldn’t feel his amplifying powers through his kefta. It required skin-on-skin contact. And yet, you were still there, pressing yourself against him, holding tight, as if to a lifeline.

When he wrapped his arm around your frame, pulling you closer, holding you tight, he was shaking a little. It was okay, he didn’t mind, and neither did you. It felt too good to mind.

Calm. Safe. Beating heart pounding with life despite the sorrow.

When he reached for your hand, when he pressed his lips to your head, he didn’t mind that you would feel what he was. The power hidden in his bones, that promised him an eternity, but only spent alone.

And you didn’t mind it either. You weren’t scared of it. You didn’t crave for it. It felt more like a burden than anything else.

You were right about that.

And he shouldn’t have done any of this, shouldn’t have let himself slip so far. He should have run, the way he always did, the way his mother had taught him to, the way he had learnt by himself. You were but a passing thing, like one of his shadows. You would be gone with the first signs of dawn…

Still, he remained, for once.

Just for the night, while the world still lingered in darkness, maybe he could have that. Maybe he could have you, for just a few hours, before letting you run away, like he always did.

Maybe, for just a few dark hours, it could be enough.

****************

Taglist : @wolfmoonmusic @reg-arcturus-black

[pianokantzart]

As Long as We’re Together

I was thinking about Mario and Luigi swapping hats if they had to separate due to extraneous circumstances, and it the idea expanded into a (slightly rushed) one-shot angst fic. Content warning for injury, because of course one of them has to get hurt.

Takes place some time after the events of the Super Mario Bros Movie, after Bowser escapes captivity and begins to regain some of his old power.

______________________________________

The sabotage mission, though technically a success, had been sloppy. Mario and Luigi destroyed the primary airship, taking down half of Bowser’s aerial artillery with it, but attempting to slip away landed them squarely between the gathering troops and The King of The Koopas himself. Mario had no battle plan, and what little stratagem he attempted fell apart as the overwhelming numbers separated him from his brother, and Bowser went after Luigi amidst the fight.

Mario wondered if the move was calculated… if Luigi was simply the nearest target, or Bowser knew exactly what would hurt the most. The way he glanced over whenever he landed a blow on his little brother, sadistic glee in his eyes whenever they spotted each other from across the battlefield, scared Mario in a way he could never admit out loud.

Luckily the spreading damage of the exploded airship provided the distraction needed to slip away, even when Mario was forced to carry his wounded, half-conscious sibling from the spreading madness. Escaping into the barren wilderness of The Badlands he searched for what felt like hours before he found what may have been the safest place in all of the Koopa Kingdom– a dilapidated castle upon an ashen plane, far from the lava pits, cold and abandoned. Uncovering a dark, isolated corner of a great hall he gently set his brother upon the ground, leaning him up against a far wall. Luigi let out a hiss of pain as his leg made contact with the floor. Battered and bruised as he was, his left leg had taken the worst damage – stomped on with full force by Bowser in their frenzied battle.

Even now, Mario and Luigi could hear the light rumble of his remaining fleet as it took to the air. They had slowed the invasion of The Mushroom Kingdom… leveled the playing field to an extent… but their mission wasn’t over. Bowser’s army would soon arrive at their destination to reattempt the takeover. Mario did his best to push this thought to the back of his head as he carefully rolled up his brother’s pant leg to better examine the wound.

“Is it bad?” Luigi asked, eyes shut tightly, teeth grit. “It’s… fine,” Mario assured, failing to mask the anxiety in his voice. In the human world such an injury would need a year to heal under the best circumstances– but they were not in the human world, and the mushrooms available across the land outmatched the greatest doctors in Brooklyn. But digging through his pockets, Mario came up short. Every mushroom they had gathered had been used up in their recent battle, save for a pathetic few dried healing mushrooms which Mario immediately– and a little too eagerly– shoved in his brother’s mouth. After a gag and a cough Luigi felt his body mend, the blinding agony of his shattered leg dulling into a sharp pain. The wound was no longer debilitating, though he was still in no shape to walk anywhere unassisted.

“What you need is a power up,” Mario said, “there’s got to be a question block somewhere around here.”

He started to his feet, but Luigi took him by the sleeve and held him in place. “I don’t think there is.”

“You don’t know that. We just arrived!” Mario said, reassuring in tone as patted his brother’s shoulder, “don’t worry, I’ll fix you up in no time.”

Again he stood up. He walked around, but dared not wander so far that he and Luigi couldn’t see each other. Mario glanced around at the dark hallways and vaulted ceilings, cloaked in shadow and dust. No sign of life, and nothing at all that even hinted at the possibility of a hidden power up.

“What about The Mushroom Kingdom?” Luigi asked. He paused for a moment, hesitating before he continued, “It needs defending, and I don’t think you’ll get there in time to help unless you–”

“I said I’ll fix you up in no time,” Mario interrupted, knowing what his brother was about to suggest and wanting to hear none of it. He returned to Luigi’s side, kneeling down beside him. “No problem.”

“But Peach needs you.”

“You need me. I am not leaving you here!” he exclaimed, and took Luigi’s face in his hands. He leaned in and looked sternly into his eyes. “Remember? ‘Everything’s going to be okay…’” He trailed off to allow his little brother to finish the sentence, oft repeated between them since they first fell into that warp pipe. ...As long as we’re together.

Luigi didn’t finish the sentence. His eyes darted back and forth between Mario's face and the ground as he struggled with the temptation to give in and let him stay. It was what they both wanted, after all. Luigi was terrified of being alone in a place like this, and more than that he was terrified of letting Mario fight a monster like Bowser without someone to watch his back. Gathering his strength, Luigi tried to get back up on his feet, hoping the little bit of healing he received would be enough for him to finish his journey the way he started… the way he intended… at his brother’s side. His leg immediately gave way beneath him in a flash of pain. Mario was quick to catch him. “Ah! Careful Lou!” Mario guided him back down to the ground while Luigi let out a deep sigh, rubbed the back of his neck, and reached over to pluck Mario’s hat from atop his head. Mario looked puzzled as Luigi removed his own hat as well, swapping their caps so that the bright green “L” sat upon Mario’s head, and the shiny red “M” sat upon his own.

“There. A little bit of me with you, a little bit of you with me.” Luigi said, playfully tugging the brim of his green hat over Mario’s eyes.

Mario readjusted the hat, maintaining his confused expression up until Luigi pulled him into a hug, and held him tight.

“Oh, I can’t tell you what to do.” He said, voice slightly muffled as he pressed his face into his brother’s shoulder, “Nobody in the world can tell you what to do, and that’s the best part. You’re always doing the right thing, no matter how hard it is!”

“Is this supposed to help convince me to leave?” Mario chuckled, pressing his head against his brother’s shoulder in turn, “because you’re doing a terrible job.”

“No way. If you decide staying with me is the right thing, I am not going to argue with that.”

The two pulled back from the hug, looked at each other, and smiled; an awkward, uncomfortable, knowing smile. They both knew what was the right thing to do, though it went against their every instinct. There was an entire kingdom at stake. A world that needed saving. Mario brushed off his overalls as he rose to standing. He once more glanced around for any sign of danger, gave the bright green cap on his head a tug for good luck, and started toward the exit.

“You won’t have to wait long! I’ll tell The Toad Brigade where you are.” He called over his shoulder, “If I get too busy ripping Bowser to pieces, they’ll make sure you’re back home before breakfast!”

“Don’t have too much fun without me!” Luigi called back, giving a small salute.

“Stay hidden!” Mario added, walking backwards to keep his brother in his line of sight for as long as possible.

“What kind of advice is that?” Luigi laughed, gesturing at his surroundings, “where do you think I’m going to go!?”

“Just… be safe!”

And with that he was gone, his footsteps echoing down the hallway and bounding down the castle steps, the slowness of the goodbye suddenly turning into a manic sprint the moment they lost sight of each other.

Lost in a newfound silence, Luigi’s smile immediately dimmed into a look of fear. He took the hat off his head, taking some solace in its bright red color as he clutched it tightly to his chest. He shifted his injured body a further into the corner where he was hidden away, trembling a little as he counted his breaths, and waited patiently for help to arrive.

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

From the Ashes Pt. 34

Pairing(s): Pairing(s): Rhaegar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader, one-sided!Jaime Lannister x Lannister!Reader, Jaime Lannister x Cersei Lannister

Warnings: slow burn fic, changing povs, injuries, amputation of leg, Rhaegar POV

Words: 5480

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3  Part 3.5  Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25 Part 26 Part 27 Part 28 Part 29 Part 30 Part 31 Part 32 Part 33 Part 35 Part 36 Part 37 Part 38 Part 39 Part 40 Part 41 Part 42

Book Two of Dārilaros hen ōrbar se perzys (Heir of Ash and Fire)

“Open the gate!!!” Shouted the men atop of the fortress. Rain pelted their helmets and the wild wind threatened to knock them off the battlements.

Nearly painfully slow, the portcullis that groaned in reply was pulled up so the men waiting on the ground could hurry in. Tired, battered, and many suffering from illness brought on by the cold, the men huddled inside.

Tattered banners featuring stags and other sigils of the houses that made up Rhaegar’s army are dropped to the floor in relief.

Rhaegar gazed up at the dark gray sky above his head that washed them with it’s despotic rain. He welcomed it and closed his eyes in a sense of relief. Not considering themselves safe by any means, at least they had respite from their most recent failure. Spirits dampened, everyone needed time to mend and breathe.

Storm’s End lived up to its name, as did the Stormlands. When escaping from near the Kingswoods, they were met by scouts lurking in the trees in an attempt to pick off any survivors. The Silver Prince’s army, though lowered in number, were still plenty to eliminate the rest of Aerys’ men that were there. It was a disheartening battle though, and it was clear to Rhaegar they needed to hoof it to Storm’s End. His men couldn’t afford another attack. If another were to arise, it would most likely end him; something Rhaegar did not want to see come true.

Having been waiting for their lord’s arrival, the occupants of Storm’s End great house of Baratheon, leapt into action; taking the wounded to be cared for, feeding the hungry and directing men to where they can sleep.

Rhaegar was helped off of his horse and he watched the stable hands take his mare away to the stalls where the other horses were being tended to.

Even behind the fortress, the tall trees of the Stormlands towered over the walls and pierced the sky. Branches thick with plush pine needles sway and creak but do not bend to the will of the storm. They are of this land and are made of sturdier material. As far as the eye could see, a field of rich trees that offered protection.

In the distance, Rhaegar could hear Lord Robert Baratheon handing out orders to those who were just standing around.

When Rhaegar turns to look at his comrade instead he comes face to face with eyes like the storm above and the glossiest black hair he had ever seen.

Lyanna Stark.

Well, she was Lady Lyanna Baratheon now. Had been for quite some time.

The sight of her was still unnerving and nearly threw Rhaegar off of his weary feet.

She stood in front of him at a distance, her hands folded neatly in front of her as she acted the part of Lady of Storm’s End. Her northern cloak of warm furs enveloped her as they were suitable for this weather as well. Face pale with cheeks pink from the whipping winds, it’s like time hadn’t touched her. His Winter Rose. Yet the immediate love he had felt for her when they had first met did not flicker back to life. That wick was already spent and extinguished.

Her proud face is tilted up. “Your Grace. Welcome to Storm’s End.”

An uncanny feeling arose in him, unable to recall how he used to be around her. Parting his lips and unsure of what to say, Rhaegar is saved by Robert who sprints to his wife the moment he spots her.

“There’s my wife!” Face that had once been lined with exhaustion blooms and brightens when he scoops her up in his arms. Alarmed, Lyanna remains stiff in his arms; glancing at Rhaegar. Robert sets down Lyanna and cups her face, forcing her to return his loving gaze. “How I have missed you, dear Lyanna.”

“I’m glad you’re home safely.” A forced smile urges her mouth to turn up. It didn’t reach those gray pools of her eyes though, that was clear to Rhaegar. When Lyanna was truly happy, her eyes would scrunch up as she smiled until they were the shape of half moons. He had dreamed of her smiling moon eyes, branded into his mind. Hadn’t it been so long ago that he had been in love with this woman? Now he could hardly bring back the memory of that warm feeling she gave him.

“Your Grace. . .” A young man apprehensively approaches Rhaegar, his brown eyes quickly glancing at the scar on his face before moving to the dirt covered ground. He pursed his lips before starting again “You must be awfully tired. Please, allow me to show you to your chambers. There is a hot bath being prepared for you.”

Robert gently moves Lyanna to his side. “Yes, go and rest now. We’ll have time to strategize later. For now, catch your breath.”

He didn’t wish to rest. That was the last thing on his mind. He wanted to keep fighting. Aerys had dealt him a hard blow that he had to recover from quickly. Wars may not be won in a day, but there was still much he could do.

The closeness of Storm’s End to the Kingswood was another concerning factor in which Rhaegar couldn’t ignore. Even though he had been admiring the tall trees that surrounded them, a voice in his head also whispered how there could be enemies hiding and waiting like they had been on their journey.

Half tempted to burn it all down, Rhaegar knew that that was something Aerys would think of. He hated the moments when he found himself thinking the exact same way his father did.

Following his gaze, Robert walks over to him. Rain had made his mane of black hair smooth down close to his scalp with his dark beard catching beads of raindrops. Atop of the battlements, figures of men could be made out with bows at the ready and waiting.

“What are the defense protocols you have for invaders?” Rhaegar asks him. He couldn’t rest without being assured that there were proper defenses set in place.

Robert chuckles a little. “You forget that Storm’s End was able to destroy the Vulture King’s army not once, but twice.”

There was little Robert’s words could do to soothe Rhaegar. The young boy who had been waiting on the prince seemed unsure of what to do as Rhaegar sighed. “I will rest. Once I see Oberyn and Arthur.”

Seeing Arthur lifted a weight from Rhaegar’s chest. There next to Arthur’s bed was a dozing Oberyn, his shirt off to reveal the massive wrap stuck to his left side from where the wildfire had eaten away his skin and nearly making it to his core. His complexion was pale, black hair tied back into a low ponytail and out of his face. The castle’s maester was checking on Arthur’s stump of a leg for any signs of infection.

A squire announces Rhaegar’s presence quietly but it was enough to stir Oberyn, eyes fluttering open lazily. Grunting when repositioning himself, the maester scolds him for disturbing his wound. Oberyn waves off the graying man to sit up. “Your Grace.”

“How are you feeling?” Rhaegar pulls his eyes away from the maester wrapping Arthur’s stump. His prodding made Arthur grumble in his sleep. A feverish sleep that caused a light sheen of sweat that made his dark hair look limp.

“Better off than Ser Arthur.” Oberyn’s personal squire immediately rushes to his side with a flagon of what Rhaegar presumed was filled to the brim with rich wine that the Dornishman loved so much. “I was worried he wouldn’t survive the journey.”

He took the container from his squire and tossed his head back. It made Rhaegar’s own dry mouth parched but he didn’t care to remedy it. Instead guilt swelled in him at the sight of Arthur’s sick body.

The maester informed him quietly that while there was no infection, Arthur had developed a fever from traveling in such torrential weather. It weakened his body and the maester warned if his stump was not cleaned regularly, he would succumb to even more disease.

Outside the rain pelted the glass of the sickroom, offering a soothing sound that accompanied Arthur’s labored breathing.

“He will live though?”

Nodding, the maester moved aside for Rhaegar to inspect his comrade. “He will live. Although he may never be able to fight again. Not with his misshapen leg.”

Oberyn glared at the older man. “We’ll see about that. If I know Arthur, then he won’t let one missing leg slow him down. What do you maesters know. I will send a letter to my brother to request our own physician.”

Taking offense, the maester appeared to want to say something in retaliation until Rhaegar shot him a look. Oberyn was only saying such things out of frustration and weariness although Rhaegar didn’t doubt that come the morning he would send out his missive to Dorne. More than likely, the physician of Sunspear wouldn’t arrive before the week’s end. The journey from Dorne to the Stormlands had always proved to be a troublesome one.

Backing down with a grimace, the maester bows and leaves the room; having done all he could for the Sword of the Morning. Oberyn tells his squire to leave him be for the time being so that now only Oberyn and the Silver Prince were left.

“I’m surprised Ser Connington isn’t lingering behind you.” Oberyn scoffs and takes another sip from his flagon. He winces, slightly holding onto his side. “He’s like your red shadow.”

“Even Griff needs rest.” Rhaegar pulls over a chair and sits down. Even though he had been riding his horse day and night, this type of comfort was enough to send him to sleep. The most simple of comforts that Rhaegar didn’t know he missed. There was pressure building behind his eyes and unconsciously he grabs at his belt where his vial of milk of the poppy used to reside. He had forgotten that he had given the last of it to Arthur. A bit frustrated, he sighs and closes his eyes. “More than half of our men were decimated by the wildfire. I don’t know how we’re going to regroup.”

“Damn those spineless lords for betraying you. They deserved to have their heads severed.” grumbles Oberyn who glances again at Arthur. His face softens a bit. “He will fight again. I’ve known him since he was a young man. Arthur won’t let this stop him.”

“That is if the Mad King doesn’t blast Storm’s End with wildfire.”

“It was the closest fortress. We couldn’t afford to run back to Dorne. I don’t think our wounded men would have survived. Besides, Aerys couldn’t possibly have more wildfire ready.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not an easy task making wildfire. Procuring it can take weeks, if not months. Not to mention it’s incredibly dangerous too. Even making it proves to be volatile. The spells used for making wildfire are presently not as effectual as they once were, due to the extinction of the dragons and the effect this has on the strength of magic” He muses, eyes glazed and far off. “And there’s only so much you can store safely.”

Arthur’s groan distracts the men from their conversation. His brows furrow like he was in pain.

Rhaegar stands to grab a cool cloth and places it on Arthur’s burning forehead. It offered him relief and he relaxes back into his dreams. “The both of you are lucky that you’re alive.”

Oberyn chuckled, wincing once again due to the motion upsetting his side. Rhaegar noticed a small circle of blood blossoming against the white bandage. The color grew deeper as more blood spread. “It would take a lot more than wildfire to kill a Dornishman.”

A tired smile is slow on Rhaegar’s face. “How silly of me to think otherwise.”

Stretching out his arm, Oberyn hands him his flagon of wine; it felt like it was half empty. “Take this and get some rest. I will watch over Ser Arthur. Besides, I have much to write. I need to inform Doran of what has happened and our needs for ships. Even though wildfire can spread across water, like I said, it will take the Alchemist Guild some time to acquire more. We need to strike in that waiting period.”

“You’re already thinking ahead.”

“Of course. Dorne promised you the Iron Throne. Our word is better than any Lannister’s.” His dark eyes burn intensely. “Do not owe that man anymore than you need to.”

The domineering face of his former father-in-law surfaced in Rhaegar’s mind. Cold Tywin Lannister who didn’t shed a tear at the demise of his daughter. While he needed all the funds he could get, Oberyn was right. He would be no better than Aerys who nearly drained Casterly Rock’s funds when the two were on speaking terms. The crown was still in debt to Tywin Lannister. Rhaegar didn’t want to be in the same position when he became king. He didn’t want to rely on Casterly Rock like Aerys did. That was part of the downfall between Aerys and Tywin.

His fingers held the metal handle of the flagon, it was warm from Oberyn’s own fingers. He should sleep. The haunting sounds of war just kept replaying.

Instead of asking for the squire to lead him to his own chambers, Rhaegar asks the young man to show him where the rest of his wounded men were.

Lyanna’s gloved hand ghosts over the area of her abdomen. Covered heavily in her layers of clothes and her fur coat, she could still sense the life that was growing inside her. Her lips press tightly together recalling seeing Rhaegar after more than a year of no contact. His last letter to her had been right before the war had started. Right before her life had turned upside down. A small part of her had hoped that Rhaegar would save her from her fate. That above all odds that they would live the rest of their lives together. Hopes and dreams were fickle things. His last letter to her had broken her heart. He loved his wife, the late (y/n) Lannister and lamented on hurting her. She had found out about the affections he once held for Lyanna which were no more. Rhaegar officially broke ties with her the moment she opened the letter.

She never resented (y/n), a girl she had never met. By law, Rhaegar was her husband, even before they met Rhaegar had promised his hand to (y/n) at such a young age. He was never meant to be her’s. He had always been (y/n)’s. When the news of the girl’s passing reached Lyanna, she felt no triumph, only regret and sadness for Rhaegar. There was no way she could possibly imagine what he was going through; the grief and pain that plagued him was still evident even now. The glow that had once been around him was gone. Also gone was his long silver hair, chopped short due to when he saved Robert from an attack. Since then Robert had only praise to sing about Rhaegar. It was odd seeing the two get along so well. Not too long ago, Rhaegar had claimed his affection for her and a resentment toward Robert Baratheon. Situations certainly have changed. Especially for her family.

Poor Ned. Alone in Winterfell considering that their younger brother Benjen had volunteered to go to the Wall to join the Black Brothers. A noble venture, but that meant Ned didn’t have any of his original family there to mourn with him. Barely a month had passed since the cruel murder of Lord Rickard Stark and Brandon Stark. Their bodies had yet to be returned; or what was left of their remains.

Lyanna felt another wave of nausea hit her. Placing her back against the stone wall of the corridor she had been passing through, she takes a deep breath in an attempt to push down the sick feeling that was quickly rising up. Robert’s child had caused her to throw up several times already.

No one knew yet of the heir of Storm’s End that had now hijacked her body. There was so much going on already, a baby was the last thing she wanted. Lyanna was physically and emotionally tired. Seeing Rhaegar being chummy with her philandering husband had made everything worse.

The swirling sensation in her stomach subsided enough to where she could hold herself up once more.

She wandered over to a narrow window that viewed the courtyard below. Men were still scattered across the yard, milling about and preparing for upcoming battles. There was never any rest during a war. Even if they were here for respite, they had to prepare and gather more forces.

Ned had found time to write her a few weeks ago. He wanted more than anything to return to battle to support Rhaegar. The northern army could possibly save the campaign. Odds seemed bleak for Rhaegar at the moment unless he did manage to gather a sizable fleet. With Tywin Lannister as a benefactor it wouldn’t be too hard. The only issue was time. No one ever had enough time and putting together a naval power to siege Blackwater Bay would take a while. Ships had to be built and due to the wild storms that often destroyed nearby vessels, they couldn’t be built in the Stormlands. Ned didn’t have time for battle. He had to work on inserting himself as the new Lord of Winterfell. Plans had been made for Ned to wed Catelyn Tully, Brandon’s former betrothed. Before he even dared to go out and fight, he had to have an heir in case anything were to happen.

A familiar red head bobbed into view, stopping every so often to give orders. Jon Connington. The man never seemed to rest. He was considered Rhaegar’s right hand man and Jon took the role very seriously. Dedicating every waking hour to the Silver Prince.

Even feeling alone herself, she was happy that Rhaegar had good men around him who he could trust.

Scuffing of boots alerted Lyanna to someone approaching. She turns and there’s Rhaegar. The scar that ran like a river across his face darkened his already fraught expression.

“I thought you would be resting after your journey.” Lyanna says, hoping to at least get a few words out of him. Though his love for her was gone, she at least wanted to maintain some kind of relationship.

He looked exhausted, on the verge of falling over. “I’ll rest when I make sure my men are taken care of.” The angles of his cheeks were even more pronounced due to a drop in his weight. His black scaled armor nearly made him blend into the shadows of the hall.

His demeanor made her heart ache. So broken down with soot and blood caked to him.

Lyanna was prepared to insist that their maesters were working hard to ensure the health of those who had come in need of it, but her nausea seized her. One hand on the windowsill kept her stable as she leaned over and vomited. Clanking of armor followed as Rhaegar moved to hold back her long hair.

“Perhaps it is you who should be resting, my lady. Are you alright?”

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she shakes her head. “No. I’m not alright. I’m pregnant.”

She felt his hand halt in it’s soothing ministrations on her back. “That’s wonderful news, Lyanna. Congratulations. Have you told Robert yet?”

“I haven’t told anyone. You’re the first and I don’t want you sharing this.” Fixing her gaze on him, she holds down his lilac eyes with sternness.

Obviously confused, Rhaegar releases her cascading hair. “Why haven’t you told anyone? You're pregnant with Robert’s heir.”

Quite unladylike, Lyanna lets out a derisive snort. “Probably not his first. Oh don’t look so surprised. Even you know of Robert’s predilections. I knew marrying him would not prevent Robert from taking on lovers. No matter how much he claims he loves me, he loves women more. I can’t be happy about this. Not with my father and brother dead and Ned struggling in his new role. If anyone else finds out about my pregnancy, they will refuse to let me go to the north to be with Ned.”

Tears were in her eyes and blinding her, bottom lip shivering as Lyanna suppressed a sob. Her life was in ruin.

Compassion had not died in Rhaegar as he gently held one of her hands. “I’m so sorry, Lyanna. About your father and brother. About everything that has transpired. Keeping this child a secret is not the answer though.”

“I know.” Her voice wavered. “I know but I just can’t bring myself to tell anyone. There was so much I wanted to do. I wanted to support Ned and fight in your army. Now there will be even more reason to keep me cooped up here.”

Even in her ears, her woes sounded pathetic but Lyanna couldn’t help the way she felt. Rhaegar had lost both his wife and child and was in the middle of fighting his father for the Iron Throne. He had a lot more on his plate than she.

Still, Rhaegar soothed her by running his finger along her knuckles. For a moment there is a lull of silence before Rhaegar sighs. “If you inform Robert of your pregnancy, I promise to try and convince him to let you go to the north. It’ll be safer for you there anyway. The Stormlands are too close to King’s Landing, I’m sure he’ll let you go.”

She clung to Rhaegar’s promise and with a small nod, she dropped his hand. “Alright. Alright.”

Making sure she was truly okay to continue her walk, Rhaegar begins on his path once more before Lyanna calls out to him.

“I’m really sorry. . . About (y/n). . . a-and her baby. . .”

Such a sad smile Rhaegar had. “We were going to name him Jaehaerys. (y/n) loved that name.”

It was hard for Varys to rid his mind of the image of Brandon’s wide, fearful eyes. Neck veins bulged as he was being strangled while watching his father’s own demise. The reddening of his face as he lost air, clawing of his fingers around the rope that gripped his neck so tightly. Gods, he couldn’t get the smell of burning flesh out of his system either. The day of Brandon and Rickard’s murder stuck with Varys as a reminder of the danger he was in when playing the game of thrones. One wrong move and that could easily be him. With Aerys’ patience and sanity running thin, he walked on a razor’s edge. He was unpredictable and an unpredictable king was a terrifying thing. Through his birds, Varys knew that the people of King’s Landing were talking in hushed tones; worried about the extreme use of wildfire against Rhaegar’s army. Such a reckless and fickle element, the wildfire could have easily spread to the capital and killed everyone. It was thanks to Rhaegar’s actions that the spread of the green flames had stopped in it’s tracks. That wouldn’t do for Aerys. If he found out about the positive talk on his turncloak son, no doubt the king would gather those individuals and kill them. Well, his people were already dying by the dozens. Many were starving, he had been witness to it whenever he dared to go outside. The gates to the Red Keep were now lined with the poor and starving, screaming at anyone who got near them. The use of wildfire had damaged the roads and lands that led to King’s Landing. Supplies could not be delivered to them nor any goods that the capital depended on. Food from the bountiful Reach dwindled in a blink of an eye. Even those of a higher pedigree were experiencing difficulties and often went to the king’s small council to plead for more food.

Aerys turned a deaf ear to the cries of his people, instead becoming obsessed with striking down his first born son; the son which Rhaella had struggled to conceive after so many miscarriages and stillborns.

The wildfire assault had not been approved by the small council. Actually, Aerys worked behind their backs to make sure that his plans would be successful. An outraged Grand Maester Pycelle had accosted Aerys on such a terrible act and it nearly cost him his head. He considered wildfire a damning element concocted by those who were close to the Stranger as arts such as those could only be obtained in a dark manner.

There was nothing that could be said to the king that would make him think otherwise. He believed the wildfire would help cleanse the land. An even more morbid plot that Aerys had told them about was the plan to set all of King’s Landing aflame if Rhaegar ever got to the gates. All of the members of the small council were growing more concerned by the second. There was no reasoning with King Aerys. Even looking into his eyes one would learn that his mind wasn’t all there. Many days, Aerys refused to come down from the Iron Throne, even if he was receiving many cuts from the old blades it was composed of. He would not surrender the throne to anyone. Not even for a second.

He was employing Varys’ skill more and more these days. Especially in regards to the missing knight Ser Barristan Selmy who had up and vanished. Whispers around the castle laid claim that it was Selmy who may have kidnapped the king’s youngest children.

Of course Varys knew better. In fact it was he who had orchestrated the kidnapping of the Targaryen siblings. Varys knew that many people thought him cold and conniving, but it was far from the truth. For a long time, he had worried about the young Viserys and infant Daenerys. Even before Rhaella’s passing, Varys worried about what Aerys had planned for his family on Dragonstone. Not wanting to underestimate the king’s madness, Varys thought it best to send the children away. He took it upon himself to go to Dragonstone and enlist the help of Ser Willem Darry who was all too ready to take the task. The older knight had voiced his own worries as well and had made a promise to the dying Rhaella that he would protect her children even if it meant going against Aerys. That task had been an easy one.

However, he hadn’t heard anything of Ser Selmy. The last news he received from his many little birds around the world was that Selmy had indeed left Volantis and was on a ship back to Westeros. That had been two weeks ago and no one had any clue where he was now. No mice or birds had seen Selmy in a while.

And how would he get into contact with Rhaegar now that their go-between had been murdered. Brandon Stark had been overly brave in making himself the messenger between the Spider and the Silver Prince. He didn’t know the status of Rhaegar’s army and if it still held numbers. Scouts that had been placed in the Kingswoods had reported that his men were seen fleeing in the direction of the Stormlands. Other than that, the information was mum.

He had been speaking with one of his little birds when a knight approached him, causing the young child to flee immediately.

“The king wants to see you.”

Varys never liked hearing that. It meant having to sit through the king’s ramblings and attempt to make sense of it. Continuing to pretend to serve him was wearing down on him. He must see his plans through, to the very end. Much like another foreigner he had encountered.

Young Thalina had known what her duty was to the realm and even knowing her fate was death, she did what she had to do with a gentle smile on her face. Varys never knew how much he would look up to the girl.

She had more courage than Varys could ever have. For he still feared his own death. Every time he came face to face with Aerys, he worried that that would be the last breath he took.

Even making his way to the Great Hall, beads of sweat began to collect on the back of his neck, staining the satin collar around his neck. Aerys had already killed a handful of his most loyal vassals. His fears weren’t irrational. The other members of the small council also worried when their time would come.

Despite the Great Hall having large windows that allowed the sun’s rays to illuminate the hall, the vicinity around the Iron Throne was suspended in a dark gloom that threatened to reach out to the rest of the hall. Atop of the mountain of melded swords was Aerys. His body leaned forward in an attempt to keep the sharp tips of the swords from biting into his skin. From where he stood, Varys could see the slight twitching of the king’s bony hands. His golden crown was loose on his head, the dragons sculpted into it were like a sad reminder of the glory that the Targaryens once possessed.

What alarmed Varys was the absence of the Kingsguard. All who stood sentry was Gerold Hightower.

Currently one of the pyromancers held an audience with the king. The situation was already fraught when Varys arrived. “Y-Your Grace. . . Please, we can make the amount of wildfire you ask for but it will take us time.”

“We don’t have time!” Aerys spat nearly rising from his seat. “I want it done by the week’s end!”

Trembling slightly, the pyromancer shook his head knowing that if he did not please the king’s temper that his head could be on the chopping block. “Y-Yes Your Grace. . .”

“Get him out of here. He’s got work to do along with the other mages in the Alchemist Guild.” With stern, milky eyes, Aerys instructs Ser Gerold to escort the poor pyromancer out of the Great Hall while Varys takes his place in front of the Iron Throne. Not wasting time on pleasantries, Aerys asks “What news do you have on Barristan Selmy?”

Varys wished he had that knowledge just for himself. Alas, there was nothing to report on; not something Aerys wanted to hear. His tempers were already short. Varys had to make sure to spend as little time as he could there. “I regret to inform Your Grace that there has been no sign of Barristan Selmy. We can only hope that he shows up soon or we hear news of his death.”

The Mad King snarls. “It seems even my Spider is incompetent. A knight of the Kingsguard does not just up and vanish overnight! Especially not one like Selmy. And my children?”

Luckily Varys had come up with a lie that would be good enough to satisfy Aerys at least for the time being. “One of my informants in Pentos has sighted two young children with silver hair. They match the description of Prince Viserys and Princess Daenerys.”

“Anything on who took them? Don’t think I haven’t heard what people are saying. Some speculate that Selmy took them. Is there any merit to the rumor?”

Varys doubted if Selmy did return to King’s Landing that he would receive a warm welcome. True that he lied to Aerys about the reason for him being gone, nothing mattered now. Not with the king’s sanity spiraling at a dangerous level.

“It could not be determined, Your Grace. But we have a location and I have my mice keeping tabs until they have a culprit.”

“I want to send someone out to Pentos to have a look themselves.” seethes Aerys, drilling his glare at the eunuch. “And I want you to find a competent assassin to get rid of Rhaegar.”

Chancing eye contact with the Mad King, Varys pressed his lips together. “I will talk it over with the small council-”

“No. I don’t want you telling any of those fools. I want a finish to this damn war. That brat. . . I don’t want to waste anymore effort on him. I want this ended. Do you hear me, Varys?”

“Yes, Your Grace.”

He leans forward a few more inches. "Don't fail me Varys. Otherwise you will meet the same fate as Rickard Stark and his boy."

“Yes, Your Grace.” He felt like a damn parrot but what else could he do if he wanted to keep his head for a little bit longer?

Taglist:

@boywivlove

@esposadomd

@domoron

@yentroucnagol

@enchantingcupcakecollectionfan

@bregarc

[rose-sophia-isabella-rogers]

A Tide That Turned Everything: Chapter I - Separated, Hurting, Broken

Summary: Aleksander is alive but he paid a price for surviving. Because of his actions Grisha are hunted and executed. They find a place where they can be safe. There you meet with Alina, Mal and Prince Nikolai. They plan to bring the country back together and destroy the Fold. In the meantime Aleksander gathers his own army. The question is, on which side will you be?

A/N: Here is another fic about General Kirigan and Reader! It's the third part in series about Reader being a Tidemaker. It concentrates of the events in season two of the show. I hope you will like it! As usual, I don't own anything from "Shadow and Bone". But I've almost finished reading the books! The only one that remains is the "Rule of Wolves". But this story still only focuses on the TV show. Also, English still isn't my first language, so if you see some mistakes, let me know. Enjoy!

Chapter Summary: Kirigan is searching for you and nothing will stop him from finding you. Nikolai tries to save his country. Alina tries to gather Morozova's amplifiers. And you? You try to mend your broken heart. Which may be difficult with everyone not trusting you and news you hear from David.

Pairing: Aleksander Kirigan/Reader, Ivan/Fedyor Kaminsky, Alina Starkov/Mal Oretsev

Characters: Aleksander Kirigan, Reader, David Kostyk, Genya Safin, Fruzsi, Fedyor Kaminsky, Alina Starkov, Nadia Zhabin, Mal Oretsev, Nikolai Lantsov, Zoya Nazyalensky, Tamar Kir-Bataar, Adrik Zhabin

Word Count: 4428

merzost – magic, abomination, unnatural creation, something from nothing moi tsarevich – my prince, son of tsar milaya – sweet girl There is a slight plot from third episode of the second season and also a bit more from the fourth episode. Inspired by prompts: https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089683705/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089584620/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089683695/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089684424/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089559821/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089683637/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089559895/

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed):

@budugu

@intothesoul

@mizelophsun11

@pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy

@zeeader

Aleksander and his followers have set up a base in a house of an aristocrat family. Yes, he has survived. But paid a price for it. He created creatures of shadows with merzost, but because of that his health is falling. He's coughing, often with black substance, has headaches and has scars on his face that can't be healed. His condition deeply worries him. But something troubles him even more.

One day another group of recruits arrives. Aleksander immediately goes to greet them and looks at their faces. He's happy to see David and tells him that. Then, he returns to looking around. However, he doesn't see what he wants.

'Was [Y/N] with you?' he asks David, who's retreating with Genya. They stop. The Durast shakes his head with sorrow.

'I haven't seen her since the day we left the Little Palace after…' he doesn't finish. But Aleksander knows what he wanted to say. He nods. He walks to Fruzsi, another Tidemaker.

'Ask everyone who has arrived whether they have seen [Y/N] [L/N] during the last weeks,' he orders her. Fruzsi is surprised by this, but nods. She comes to his room an hour later.

'And?' he asks, expectant, hoping.

'No one has seen her,' Fruzsi answers. Aleksander's shoulders slump. He sighs, and runs a hand through his face.

'Tell the search parties to look specifically for her,' he orders. 'I want her found. As soon as possible.'

'I know she's close to you,' Fruzsi says, frowning. 'But shouldn't we focus on-'

'She's not close to me,' Aleksander interrupts her. 'She's everything to me.'

Fruzsi is surprised, guessing what he means. He turns away from her.

'With all due respect, sir…' she says slowly, '… why her?'

Aleksander turns to her. There's something in his eyes Fruzsi has never seen.

'Why anyone else when she exists?' he asks. The Tidemaker lingers only for a moment longer. But her place is quickly taken by someone else…

'Fedyor!' Aleksander says, happy and relieved. The Heartrender smiles and bows his head to his general. Kirigan walks to him and the two shake hands. The Darkling notices the tiredness and sadness in his friend's eyes.

'Ivan…' he says, his smile falling.

'Is alive,' Fedyor says. 'That's why it took me so long to get here. He's wounded and scarred. Healers are putting him back together at the moment.'

'I'm glad to hear it,' Aleksander says. 'He… he did well in the Fold.'

Fedyor nods. He bites his lip, hesitating.

'Any news of [Y/N]?' he asks. Sorrow fills Kirigan's eyes. He shakes his head.

'Not yet,' he answers and sighs heavily. He walks to his armchair and falls on it. He runs a hand through his face.

'I need her, Fedyor,' he says. 'Every time I turn my face, I expect to find her there. And I find nothing. It physically hurts. I've never known I'd meet a girl like her.'

'[Y/N] is one of a kind,' Fedyor agrees. Aleksander shakes his head.

'It's more than that,' he says and smiles softly. 'When I told her about my past, what I did, what I fear… she looked my demons in the eye and… smiled. She fell for the very thing I thought she'd fear.'

'I haven't met a kinder heart,' Fedyor says with a smile.

'Kind,' Aleksander says. 'Compassionate. Understanding. Gentle. That's who she is. That's why I fell for her. And I failed her. When she needed me the most, when they were throwing Grisha out of the Little Palace, I wasn't there. I even insisted she stayed there. She should have gone with you, like she wanted. But now she may be dead. And it's my fault.'

'She's not dead,' Fedyor says strongly. Kirigan looks at him with doubt.

'How can you be so sure?' he asks.

'Everyone knows she's important to you,' Fedyor answers. 'I think that if they had managed to kill her, they would have made every Grisha aware of it.'

He has a point, Aleksander must admit it. Hope reignites with him once more. Fedyor smiles.

'Fear not, General,' he says. 'She might look like a fragile flower, but her stem is made of steel.'

Aleksander can't help but smile. He nods. Fedyor's eyes suddenly light up.

'What about the gift you gave her for her last birthday?' he asks. Aleksander instinctively touches a ring on his finger. He sighs deeply.

'The problem is, I gave it to her so she would call on me if she needed help,' he says. 'Until she says my name while touching the necklace, I can't use my matching ring to track her. Believe me I… tried.'

'Well, we have David now,' Fedyor says. 'Maybe he could think of something.'

'He'd need something that belongs to her,' Aleksander explains, remembering how the Durast made the ring and necklace.

'And we don't have anything,' Fedyor sighs. Kirigan shakes his head.

'We will get her back, General,' the Heartrender assures him.

'I know,' Aleksander says and a look in his eyes darkens. 'I promised her. That the world can't keep us apart. And that there's nothing I wouldn't do to keep her by my side. I fully intent to keep that promise, Fedyor. No matter what.'

*

In the meantime, Alina and Mal have teamed up with a privateer, who's just turned out to be Prince Nikolai Lantsov. Together, they hunted the Sea Whip for Alina. She now has two amplifiers. She tried to destroy the Fold, but failed. After that, they head for the Spinning Wheel, a place where apparently Grisha have found a safe heaven – the Spinning Wheel. There, Alina reunites with Nadia… and Zoya. But the conversation with Zoya goes well, to Alina's surprise. They are now allies. After they walk their ways, Nadia joins Alina's side, uncertain.

'Someone else is in here you might be interested in,' she says.

'Who?' Alina asks, frowning. Nadia simply grabs her arm and drags her somewhere. A few corridors later the Sun Summoner sees a familiar back.

'[Y/N]!' she exclaims happily and runs forward, freeing herself of Nadia's hold. You turn around, surprised. You huff, when Alina falls into your arms. You hug her back slowly.

'Saints, I'm so glad you're okay!' she says, pulling away. You force a smile.

'Thank you,' you say. 'I'm happy you're alive as well. After I heard what had happened in the Fold…'

'I made it,' Alina says, smiling, and looks over your shoulder. 'Thanks to Mal.'

You turn your head and see a young man, looking both familiar and unfamiliar. He notices you and his frown tells you he has the same situation with you.

'Mal, look who's here!' Alina calls him, waving at him with enthusiasm. The man joins you, looking at you with interest.

'I hope you remember our dear friend from Keremzin, [Y/N] [L/N],' Alina says, looking between you two. Mal's eyes spark with recognition. He smiles broadly.

'How could I not?' he says and chuckles. 'You almost cracked my skull open once!'

'You definitely deserved it!' you laugh and go in for a hug. You hold each other tightly, then pull away. In a moment Mal's brows cease with worry.

'No offense, but you look awful,' he says. You smile wryly. You're well aware of the dark circles under your eyes, puffy eyes, pale face and so on.

'Well, I sleep with my one eye open,' you say. 'I'm not exactly welcome here.'

'Why?' Alina asks, frowning. You give her a look.

'I was one of Kirigan's most loyal Grisha,' you explain. 'No one here trusts me.'

'But you didn't know what he's planning,' Alina says vehemently. The corners of your lips lift slightly.

'How can you be so sure?' you ask.

'Yes, how can we?' a voice asks. You turn your head and see a young man in a uniform. You bow your head.

'Moi tsarevich,' you greet Nikolai. He stops by Alina and Mal's side.

'So?' he asks, eyeing you. 'How can we be sure we can trust you?'

'Nikolai!' Alina scolds him. You look tsarevich in the eyes.

'I didn't know Kirigan had planned to expand the Fold,' you declare. 'In fact, we haven't been close for a long time.'

'Why?' Nikolai asks, frowning. You smile wryly at him.

'I've been asking myself this question for months,' you answer. Nikolai eyes you again.

'I trust [Y/N],' Alina says strongly. Nikolai looks at her and they exchange a look. Finally, he nods and smiles at you.

'Alina's friends are mine friends,' he says and takes your hand in his, then kisses it. 'Pleasure to meet you, Miss [L/N]. And I'm sorry for the suspicion.'

'Charmed,' you say, smiling slightly. 'And it's perfectly alright. I understand.'

'Come, we have a lot to catch up,' Alina says, taking your arm and you start walking. Soon enough she tells you what happened to her. She tells you how Baghra warned her about Aleksander. How she escaped. How she met with Mal. How they found the Stag. But then Kirigan found them. He killed the Stag and joined Alina with its bones. He tried to harness her powers for himself. He used them to expand the Fold. But there Mal and three rouges from Ketterdam saved her. She and Mal escaped to Novyi Zem. There they met Nikolai.

'And that's about it,' Alina finishes her story a moment later.

'You've certainly been busy,' you comment. Your friend sighs. There's sadness in her eyes.

'I still can't believe I let him fooled me,' she says. 'I… I honestly thought we share some sort of connection, you know?'

'Yeah,' you answer quietly, now sad as well. But Alina quickly becomes angry.

'I still can't believe how cruel he really was,' she says with venom. 'All those people he murdered… because he wanted more power. How could someone be so cold-hearted?'

'Behind every cold-hearted person there is a kind heart which has been treated with coldness for a while,' you say quietly. Alina looks at you with surprise. But you don't say anything more.

'What about you?' your friend asks. 'How did you escape from the Little Palace?'

'I didn't,' you answer after a moment. Alina frowns at you. She looks you up and down, no doubt wondering how you can be here if you hadn't escaped from the Little Palace. You avoid her eyes.

'When the First Army raided the Little Palace, I focused on getting everyone else out,' you start. 'Especially the children. So, when I was about to evacuate myself… it was too late. I was caught.'

'[Y/N]…' Alina says, horrified. You force a smile and shake your head.

'It wasn't really for a long time,' you say. 'I escaped.'

'How?' Alina asks. You're silent for a moment. You try not to think about the time you were a captive. About what they did to you…

Darkling's whore… Filthy witch… Stupid serving girl…

'They were careless,' you answer. 'Thought they broke me. I used it against them. Then I found out about this place. Others weren't exactly thrilled to see me but they took me in. I guess my sorry state made them pity me.'

'[Y/N]… what had they done to you so they thought they broke you?' Alina asks with worry.

'Hurt me,' you answer after a moment and force a smile at her. 'You should rest. You've had a tiring journey.'

'But-' Alina starts, frowning.

'I'll see you later,' you say, hug her briefly, then walk away. Your heart is hammering in your chest. You don't look back. You don't think about what you told Alina. You don't think about it so much, you bump into someone.

'Sorry!' you apologise. The person turns out to be Zoya. She looks you over.

'How are you looking worse and worse every day?' she asks. You smile wryly.

'It's my hidden talent,' you answer and attempt to walk past her. But she grabs your arm. You look up at her. There's seriousness in her eyes.

'You're not alone,' she says, confusing you. 'Kirigan had us all fooled. I know it's hard for you, you were his personal servant and then his trusted Grisha. I know you must have certain attachment to him but… you have to let it go. He murdered innocents. And would do it again.'

'You… "Attachment"?' you repeat with disbelief. 'Zoya, I… He was the first person who saw I'm more than just a plain serving girl. Every time I struggled, he was there to help me. He saved me every time I was in danger. Do you remember Tsybeia? Even before it turned out I'm a Grisha he was always kind to me and protected me. And now… everyone tells me what he did, who he is. But I can't just forget about all the good stuff he did.'

Zoya looks at you. Suddenly, her eyes go wide. You stiffen. You know she realised your secret.

'And you love him,' she guesses and crosses her arms. 'Tell me, if he handed you a bloodied hand, would you take it, only because it was his?'

You stare at her. Tears well up in your eyes. You smile sadly, a bit brokenly.

'I honestly have no idea, Zoya,' you whisper and turn. You walk away, trying to blink away the tears. And you definitely don't think how much you miss Aleksander. Nor how much you wish he was alive.

*

The night falls. It is a relief to you, because you finally are away from the judging eyes, hurtful whispers. But the sleep never comes easily. Your thoughts are always a mess. Today as well.

You lay down in bed and try very hard to fall asleep. Your thoughts drift to everything that happened that day. You sigh and hesitantly grab the necklace on your neck. Pain clenches your heart.

Aleksander…

Suddenly you find yourself in Kirigan's chambers in the Little Palace. Everything is just like you remember. You look down at yourself and see the clothes you were wearing as Aleksander's personal servant.

'I did miss the sight of that band on your arm,' you hear. Your heart stops. Oh, how you longed to hear that voice. You turn around and see Aleksander leaning on his table. He looks just like he did when you last saw him.

'Yet I still preferred to see you in your kefta,' he says, slowly walking towards you. 'It suited you. It was meant to be yours.'

'Sometimes I wish I've never discovered my powers,' you admit. 'Then I would just admire you from afar. I wouldn't feel this pain now.'

'Do you really?" Aleksander asks. You think for a moment. You smile sadly and shake your head.

'Not really, no,' you answer. 'Because it was worth it. Being with you was the happiest time of my life. Even though you insisted on hiding it from everyone.'

Aleksander stops in front of you. He hands his head.

'Will you ever find it in your heart to forgive me?' he asks. You're quiet for a moment.

'I don't know,' you answer honestly. Aleksander nods, understanding. He looks up and reaches toward your face, but hesitates. His hand hangs in the air.

'I hate seeing you sad,' he says.

'Then come back to me,' you say, tears filling your eyes. 'I just want to see you. Hold you. Hug you. Touch you. Kiss you. Cuddle with you. Love you. Then I'll stop being sad.'

Aleksander looks at you with pain. He hates to see you like this.

'I want this too, milaya,' he says. 'So much.'

'I waited for you,' you say. 'Like I promised I would. Part of me still does. Even though it's impossible for you to return to me.'

'[Y/N]…' Aleksander whispers. He slowly reaches out to you again. When you don't flinch away, he cups your cheek. The moment he does, your clothes change into your kefta from the winter fete. He smiles softly.

'I didn't even tell you that you looked magnificent that night,' he says quietly. 'Beautiful. And your performance… You were extraordinary.'

You smile. You waited so long to hear those words. You lean into his touch.

'It's hard without you,' you say.

'I know the feeling,' Aleksander says quietly. You touch his hand that is on your cheek. You turn your head and kiss it.

'Everyone is sad to be gone from the Little Palace,' you say. 'They say their lost their home. But I lost mine before the First Army attacked us.'

'Because I was your home,' Aleksander says quietly. You nod. Kirigan presses his forehead to yours. He closes his eyes.

'I wish I was kissing you instead of missing you,' he whispers, his voice shaking from pain. You close your eyes, fighting with tears. You fail, obviously. You can feel them falling down your cheeks.

'Did you think of me?' you dare to ask. 'When you were in the Fold?'

'Yes,' Aleksander answers, clenching his jaw. 'I wanted you to be by my side. And then I wanted to come back to you.'

'Why didn't you tell me?' you ask. 'About your plans about Alina and the Fold? The real ones.'

'Because you have a compassionate heart,' Aleksander answers after a moment. 'You'd disagree with my plan. Maybe leave me.'

'You don't know that,' you say, shaking your head.

'Wouldn't you?' Aleksander challenges you. You're silent.

'I don't know what would I do,' you say and look him in the eyes. 'You robbed me of that choice.'

Kirigan looks down. Maybe he's actually ashamed a bit.

'But I know I wouldn't leave you,' you add. Aleksander's head shoots up. You cup his face.

'I promised you to be with you for better and for worse,' you say. 'No matter what would happen, I would be with you.'

'And then maybe you would die in the Fold,' Aleksander says flatly. 'This one time I wouldn't have been able to save you.'

'Maybe I would have saved myself,' you suggest with a small smile. Kirigan sighs and shakes his head.

'Sometimes I really can't with you,' he says. You grin at him. But then your smile falls.

'Kiss me?' you plead. You don't have to ask twice. Aleksander cups your face and kisses you.

'We shall be together again, my darling, I promise,' he whispers.

'I want this more than anything,' you whisper back. 'So much.'

'Be patient, [Y/N],' Aleksander pleads. 'For me. Please.'

'I'm waiting,' you whisper. 'I'll be always waiting for you.'

Kirigan opens his eyes. He's met with the wall of his room in the residence. He sighs heavily and sits up. His finger caresses the ring on his finger. Then, he lifts it to his lips.

'Please, [Y/N],' he whispers. 'Call for me. Call for me and I'll come for you. I swear. I will always come for you.'

*

You, Tamar (a Heartrender) and Nadia watch Alina training her new abilities. She thrusts light at her target… but even though it's impressive, it doesn't even reach it.

'Absolute rubbish,' she grunts. Nadia scoffs and gives Tamar a look.

'It's the second amplifier,' the Heartrender explains. She walks to pick up a mannequin. You three follow her.

'With the Stag, summoning came like breath,' Alina says. 'This is like… reining chaos. Crossing the Fold was a disaster.'

'Hey, we'll get you there,' Nadia comforts her. 'If it helps, I could hit you with a switch and call you "stupid girl".'

'It may come to that,' Alina sighs. 'How is it I'm overwhelmed by the second amplifier and at the same time feeling the lack of a third?'

'Well, for now, let's focus on what we can fix,' Nadia says.

'Your aim, for starters,' you suggest. Alina gives you a look and scoffs. You all go back.

'As leader of the Second Army, I need more,' she says. Ah, yes. You had a dinner with the Lantsov family (you were so not happy they've arrived). During that Nikolai announced he and Alina are engaged (yeah, because you didn't see how she and Mal look at each other) and that from now on she's the leader of the Second Army. Not everyone was happy about it (ekhm, Zoya).

'I need to learn the Cut,' Alina says, turning to you. You stiffen.

'That was Kirigan's way, to lead with fear,' Nadia protests. 'You can lead with your heart. The Second Army will be better for it.'

'You make a good point,' Tamar agrees. 'But I wouldn't completely reject fear. Can't tell you how many have taken one look at my girls and… reconsidered. I don't know how the Cut works, that's a top-shelf Etherialki move, but I do know how to direct power. It's all about intention. I like to picture the face of the person I want to crush. Try it.'

Alina positions herself and exhales. She closes her eyes. Soon light surrounds her. A moment later she grunts angrily, waves her hands and light shots forward. You all look at the effect with wide eyes.

'Well, it's not the Cut, but… it's effective,' Tamar laughs. Nadia suddenly straightens up.

'Wait a moment,' she says. 'We do have here someone who's managed the Cut.'

She and Alina look at you. Tamar looks at you, impressed. You gulp.

'Once,' you say. 'I did it once. And I have no idea how. I… didn't exactly plan it.'

'Well, what did you think about then?' Tamar asks and you stiffen. 'What did you feel?'

You see in your mind Aleksander and Alina talking together, laughing. You remember the pain and hurt you felt. You were so overwhelmed you just had to let it go. And slashed the dummy.

'Anger,' you finally answer. 'I felt anger. The kind that was killing me.'

Before anyone can ask you more, you hear footsteps. You turn and see Adrik, Nadia's brother.

'I know, not to be disturbed, but they need you in the war room,' he says to Alina. She nods and looks at others. Tamar and Nadia turn and start walking. Alina grabs her jacket and follows them. But then she notices you're not following.

'[Y/N]?' she asks. You shake your head.

'My presence will not be welcomed there,' you say and smile. 'Go without me.'

Alina hesitates, but eventually nods and leaves. Adrik is behind her. You turn to look at the dummy the Sun Summoner hit. It has a hole coming from the arm to the stomach. Almost like the Cut.

You leave a few minutes later. You take a few turns, heading toward your room, when…

'David,' you say, surprised. David with his hands spread is being led by Tolya (a Heartrender and Tamar's twin) somewhere. They stop, hearing your voice. The Durast's eyes go wide.

'[Y/N],' he says and goes pale. 'Oh, Saints, you're here…'

'Why are you…?' you start but then remember. David was the one who made the collar for Alina. They don't trust him here.

'Come,' Tolya says and continues to take David away. You're left there, stunned and shocked. You can't believe your dear friend is here. And that he is a prisoner, while you walk free…

Later you come across Alina on the corridor. She smiles at you. You look at her, troubled.

'I need to ask you a favour,' you say.

'Anything,' Alina says at once. You gulp.

'I need to see David,' you say. Alina blinks.

'And you need me for…?' she asks. You sigh.

'For getting through the door,' you say. 'Alina, just because you trust me, doesn't mean others do. Please. I need to know if he's okay.'

Alina nods and walks with you to Nikolai. The prince isn't happy but he grants you your request. A moment later you enter David's cell. Alone.

'[Y/N],' he says, straightening up at the sight of you. You smile.

'How are you, David?' you ask.

'I'm… fine, thank you,' he answers. You frown. He's terribly stiff.

'And not exactly thrilled to see me,' you point out. David sighs.

'Forgive me,' he asks. 'Of course, I'm happy to see you. But if he finds out you're here…'

'Who?' you ask, blinking. David stares at you. He stares at you with disbelief, when he sees you're not fooling around.

'You… you don't know?' he asks.

'About?' you ask, confused. David shifts, uncomfortable. He doesn't know if he should say it. But you won't let it go, he just knows it.

'Kirigan is alive,' he finally says quietly. You stumble back and hit a table with your back. You stare at David, shocked.

'No,' you say, your lip trembling. 'You're lying. He can't be.'

'I would never lie to you about this,' David says softly. You stare at him. And see no deception in his eyes. He's telling the truth.

You bring hands to your mouth and let out a sob. You close your eyes and cry. You cry for the first time since the raid. These are tears of anger, sadness, pain, sorrow… and joy.

'How?' you whisper, looking at David again. 'How did he survive?'

'He created something in the Fold,' he answers, wincing. 'Creatures made of shadow. I guess they helped him. But he… he paid a big price for it.'

'What price?' you demand.

'He's troubled by coughs, headaches, pain,' David answers. 'I… I fear only merzost could cure him.'

Your heart aches. You don't know how you feel about all that.

'[Y/N]… that necklace I gave you… where is it?' David asks. Your heart speeds up.

'I don't know,' you lie. 'I lost it when the Little Palace was attacked.'

'Are you sure?' David asks. 'Because if even by accident you call him… he will come here at once for you.'

'Me?' you ask, raising your eyebrows. The Durast looks at you. He hesitates again.

'The priority for him and his Grisha is finding you,' he finally says. 'He… Every day with no news about you is making him more agitated. He insists that he needs you by his side. He more or less admitted that there was something going on between you two.'

You're quiet. You shake your head.

'I'm not the one he needs,' you deny and leave. You stop a few turns later. Your hand reaches to the hidden necklace under your kefta. You stop your hand mid-air. You shake your head and resume walking. You must let go of Aleksander. For your sake. And for others'.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Let me know your thoughts! Reblog, like and comment if you could.

This can also be found on Archive of Our Own: https://archiveofourown.org/works/49965037/chapters/126151432