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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

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Hue and Cry X

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape; abuse of power, Lord Grumpy Pants Barnes.

This is dark!medieval!Bucky Barnes x reader and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: You deal with the fall out of Barnes’ loss.

Note: It’s Friday, y’all. I can’t wait to nap tonight.

Thanks to everyone and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 Let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

You did not see Lord Barnes before the banquet. Instead, you were escorted directly there by his hound, Rogers. You replaced your cap with a silk hood that matched your gown, gold and white ribbons braided around the trim. Rogers strode with his chin up and chest out, his blonde hair tidier than before and his blue eyes filled with their usual mischief.

The tables filled even as you entered but you did not see your master among the nobles along the dais. Lord Rogers stopped you as you peered around the hall and he glanced up at the king who spoke jovially to his queen and guffawed at another of his lords. The man beside you held his your as he leaned in to whisper in your ear.

“I hate to be the bearer of common sense, I never was adept at it, but you should stay away from your friends from earlier. If you care for yourself, or should I dare to suggest, that boy,” he shrugged nonchalantly, “oh, and this will be my last act of kindness. It makes me queasy.”

He released you and left you by the lower tables. You walked along a bench and sat with your head down. As much as you didn’t trust Rogers, he was right. You had to avoid May and Benjamin for their own sake as much as yours. It didn’t matter that they were friendly and warm, that they were the only light you’d known in the recent darkness, it only mattered that you did not draw them into the same snare which held you.

When the hall was full and raucous, you dared to look up at the high table. There was an odd stirring and you were stunned to see the last people you expected seated along the dais. The Parkers were not among their bearing at the lower tables but up at the king’s side, on his other shoulder, his queen, then his favoured lords, including Barnes who’s arrival had gone unnoticed.

Peter chuckled with King Sam as the older man clapped his shoulder and his uncle and aunt watched proudly. It only made sense, you figured, all alone amid the masses, that he should be given the place of honour for his victory. It made all the more sense that Lord Barnes glowered at the table in resent. Your heart skipped at his expression and you knew you would not go unscathed for his humiliation.

You ducked your head down again and picked at your plate of roasted potatoes and greasy carrots. You weren’t hungry but the wine went down easy and bubbled in your head. You were dizzier with each course and when at last the trestles were cleared and the benches taken away, you stood as the guests once more met on the boards while the band plucked up.

You wobbled to the wall and braced yourself against it as the figures blurred. You heard voices, familiar and strange, and suddenly there was someone before you. You blinked as you stood straight and gave an unsteady bow to the king. He tilted his head and smiled at you as he took your hand gently.

“You are in need of a partner,” he purred as he pulled you from the wall, “might I have the pleasure?”

“Your majesty,” you stared at the silver strands sewn into his overcoat, “it would be my pleasure, truly.”

“Hmm, much preferable to Barnes, of course,” he jibed, “it must be… peculiar. Once you would have poured the wine at these affairs and now… you have the delight of imbibing.” You lowered your lashes guiltily and he laughed, “I do not say that to shame or punish you, lady. Ah, yes, I know that title is not true but if Barnes would raise you to his bed, then I would oblige his indulgence. Besides, you are sweet, far too sweet for him.”

“I only do as he wishes,” you uttered, “nothing more or less.”

“And yet he seems entirely unhappy,” he remarked, “he does torture himself but I should hate to see him do it to another.”

“He did afford me this gown, a seat at this feast, and warm hearth,” you mustered your mask even though it drooped under the weight of the wine in your stomach, “I will not complain.”

“But you could, to me,” he said, “it would not bother me. You have been… maneuvered into a most unusual position. It intrigues me. You intrigue me… not in the same vein as Barnes, mind you, but you possess a grace unknown to many peasants. I admire it.”

“Thank you, your majesty,” you kept your head down as he led you around the floor, “my apologies for my clumsy feet.”

“I did not mean to upset you,” he said, “I hope to… give you strength.”

You looked up at him meekly and winced, “I am not strong. I only do as I am bid, as servants must.”

He thought and nodded to himself. For a moment, his cheer subsided and he sighed. “My wife does recall you from her younger days, vaguely. You must know her relation to your master. Well, she is a good woman, I love her deeply for it. She would allow you a place among her court… should you wish it. Should it keep you busy as Barnes is kept by his own business.”

“I… your majesty, why should she do that?”

“Not upon my suggestion if you suspect that, but she has ever held favour for strays,” he stopped as the tune slowed and flowed into the next, “and she worries for her brother. This is the first she’s seen him since he was… whole.”

You were quiet and smiled at him. You sniffed away the sudden wave of drowsiness as it settled on your shoulders.

“I should return you to him,” Sam said grimly, “I don’t think he should remain much longer at this celebration. He does not see second place as worth the frivolity.”

You let him guide you between the bodies as they parted around him and dancers stilled to bow at him. He said just as much as he left unspoken. The truth was there but none dared to declare it. Pity, that was what he offered; all he could offer.

“Bucky,” King Sam approached the lord who crept along the wall fertively, “you would need a partner before your head implodes from your pouting.”

“Pouting?” he spat back, “I do not… pout.”

The king laughed and held your hand out to the duke. Bucky eyed it and shook his head. Sam huffed and glanced around. “Your sister does await me. She cannot stand to dance with Rogers for very long and I promised her I would not be long. Do not punish the girl for your failings. Perhaps do not look at them as such, for many lost worse than you.”

The king raised your hand to his lips and left you with the courtesy. You stood by Barnes as he avoided looking at you. You didn’t know what to do, you were nervous and drunk. You looked at your skirts and swayed.

“Go, dance with him,” he hissed, “I don’t want you near.”

You raised your head and blanched. Lord Barnes picked at his cuff and grimaced. “I cannot dance as it is,” he lifted his fake arm and dropped it back against his side heavily, “I am… broken.”

“No, no, my lord, that is not--”

“You’ve seen it. You know.” He sneered, “besides, the boy did show how weak I am, truly.”

“My lord--”

“Oh, do not be such a simpering wench,” he pushed away from the wall and grabbed your arm, “can you not do anything for yourself?”

He dragged you through the crowd and you tripped over your slippers as you struggled to keep up. He marched around several couples and stopped to watch Peter as he danced with his aunt. His uncle stood along the wall with a wooden stein and watched. You staggered as Barnes released you sharply and watched the younger man until he noticed him.

“Oh, uh,” Peter stopped and both he and May bowed their heads to the duke, “Lord Barnes,” he held his head up high as his eyes sparkled at the veteran, “I hadn’t the chance to say how honoured I was to face you--”

“Yes, yes,” Barnes waved his words off, “you are a fine fighter. More skilled than most viscounts, they are usually more attune to their plows.”

Peter blinked as if he was trying to figure out the insult. His eyes wandered onto you and his brows drew together in confusion. You felt just as confounded as he let on.

“I was only aiding this… lady, she could not find you,” he lied smoothly, “I have a keen eye and I could not but help a damsel in need.”

“Oh, uh,” Peter smiled, “she is a friend. I was curious where you got to, lady.”

“It has been a long day,” you murmured, “my lord.”

“Well, you must celebrate, yes? She is a pretty girl, you are a young bachelor, it is only natural,” he commented, “the two of you… you should be dancing until the sun rises.”

“I should retire--”

“Nonsense, lady, you were so eager to find him,” Barnes intoned, “do go on. I for one am not much of a dancer anymore,” he gestured to his arm, “easier to face a sparring partner than a dancing partner, yes?”

Peter nodded and gulped. His forehead wrinkled as he considered the older man, “I thank you then, for reuniting us. Again, it was an honour, my lord.”

“An honour for me,” Barnes corrected, “to be bested by such a fine warrior.”

Barnes spun on his heel and left as swiftly as he’d brought you there. You watched after him and stared at the twirling sea of dancers.

“That was… odd,” Peter said quietly.

“I shall go bother your uncle,” May excused herself, “I was worried lady,” she took your hand for a moment as she drew your attention back, “I did not see you since the afternoon.”

“I am well, thank you, I was only swept up in the crowd,” you squeezed her hand and let her go. You turned to Peter as she went and he offered his arm with a crooked grin.

“So?” he asked anxiously.

You gulped and took his arm, unsure of what else to do. You were too afraid to find Barnes and stoke his anger further and just as afraid to disobey him. You knew well enough that even if he insisted upon it, that this dance was a trick on his part. It was as if he was fueling his rage so that he might unleash it upon you in full later.

“You fought well, my lord,” you began the steps, following his lead, “Congratulations.”

“I… am still in disbelief,” he chimed, “but you, I did not know you had such esteemed friends. My uncle said you were acquainted with Lord Rogers of Astrens.”

“We are not close.”

“And Barnes? He’s not very sociable, notably so.”

“Oh? And what concerns you of my acquaintance with him?” you challenged.

“Nothing concerns me but… I don’t know, you say you are the daughter of a baron and yet you associate with dukes? That is a high climb--”

“A reach I did not make upon my own want,” you frowned, “you said we were friends, me and you. I care not for your title, only that you let me stomp your feet. I prefer that to their dukedoms.”

He smiled and cringed, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound envious,” he laughed away his awkwardness, “I only-- I suppose I felt inferior to them.”

“You are better than them. Truly. You showed that today and I tell you, they are tainted by their gold and their lands. They cannot understand others for how much they think of themselves,” you stumbled as the wine stirred in your head.

Peter caught you and kept you from tumbling. You came to face him as his smile remained, “truly, you prefer me?”

“Truly,” you confessed, “I have never known any so--”

Peter was yanked away from you, a hand on his collar as you faltered with the force of it. You stepped back on your heel as he was turned to face Barnes who grasped him tightly by the front of his plain jacket. Peter was almost on his toes as he stared up in shock at the duke.

“Dance all you like, boy,” Barnes growled, “but she is mine…” he leaned in and you did not hear his whisper as Peter went pale and was shoved away.

Barnes released him and stormed out of the hall. Your eyes met Peter’s as he fixed the front of his jacket and he peeked over his shoulder at his aunt and uncle who hadn’t noticed the interruption. Your lip quivered and tears welled in your vision.

“I’m so sorry,” you sobbed, “I didn’t--”

You spun and raced away, blindly brushing by the other guest until you burst out into the cold corridor. You hit the stone wall and gripped it as the tears trickled down your cheeks and you blotted them away with your sleeves. You sniffed and peered down the hallway at the shadow stalking away.

That was only the beginning. Barnes would do all he could to make his will known and you always felt it completely.

#bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #series #bucky barnes x reader #hue and cry #dark fic #dark!fic #fic #mcu #marvel #captain america #winter soldier #falcon #spider-man #medieval au #medieval!au #au

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keichanz · 4 years ago

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Rest

saw this post and the idea wouldn’t leave my brain until i wrote it. so enjoy the random Inukag and moroha family fluff i guess.

yep i totally forgot to tag everyone sorry my bad

@lavendertwilight89 @born-for-eachother @mandirox89 @arcprz @bluejay785 @malditamigs @xfangheartx @bluehawaiicat @zelink-inukag @clearwillow @wenchster @anabananaxq @superpixie42 @midnightsilver16830 @heathersmusings @theinuyashareader @danycontreras90 @liz8080 @blairex @lordofthechips @itzatakahashi @sailorbabydoll92 @raisinraven @sticky-llama-perfection @dangerouspompadour @digital-art-monster @joaniemae @boostyourmind-blog @anxietyaardvark @simply-zerah @nsr0716 @caribmiko @witchygirl99 @mamabearcat @redflamesofpassion @tuxedochevaleresse @umacaking @hnn-wnchstr @juliatheanimelover7 @lemonlushff @eringobroke @youarenotmyhomelandanymore @hikaruwrites @horriblehowl @lady-dark-69 @sssuperbartola @eternalnight8806-3 @morganashimi83 @shnuggletea @pinkpigeonstudio @memusicmuse @cyncyn981 @yurawiththegoodhair @kagometaishostory @chickpow @ladyphoenix0711 @the-rebel-alchemist @nartista @soliska @cammysansstuff @karina-inuphantom

“C’mon, Moroha, I really don’t want to do this tonight...”

With a heavy sigh, Kagome swept aside the reed mat to her home and wasn’t at all surprised to find it empty aside from her lightly dozing husband. He sat against the wall in his usual fashion, legs crossed, arms tucked into his opposite sleeves, and he stared at her with curious, but tired eyes.

Kagome huffed and crossed her arms. “Where’d she go?”

“She?”

She gave him a look. “I know I saw her run in here. Did she climb out the window again?”

A slow blink. “My eyes were closed, wench. I didn’t see anything.”

Kagome wrinkled her nose and tried not to pout because as much as she wanted to believe otherwise, she knew her husband spoke the truth. He and Miroku had just gotten back an hour prior from a week long demon slaying trip and a single glance as he’d dragged himself inside their little hut had told her of his bone-deep exhaustion. He’d shaken his head at her inquisitive look and she hadn’t pried, figuring he’d explain all that had happened tomorrow morning after he’d gotten some well deserved rest and they had a little time to themselves while Moroha slept for another hour or so. So she’d merely smiled, kissed his cheek, and left him to rest while she wrangled up their hyper-active toddler to get ready for her bath.

But of course, true to form, Moroha was anything but compliant, the resulting happiness from her father’s return making her energized, hyper, and consequently turning everything into a game.

Ergo, why Kagome was now searching for her hyper-active daughter after the child had darted away with mischievous giggles, evidently deciding that a game of Hide and Seek sounded like a great idea.

Kagome disagreed.

Heaving a long-suffering sigh, Kagome jutted her hip to the side and pinned her half-demon with a look of weary tolerance. Inuyasha likened it to fond exasperation.

“You’re lucky I love you.” Dark eyes glinted impishly at him and the corners of her lips twitched.

He fought a grin. “And here I thought you only married me for my ears.”

The look she gave him that time was coy and her smile was even more so.

“Among other things,” she said leadingly and had the audacity to drop her gaze somewhere lower than his face.

Inuyasha’s lids lowered and he beckoned her over to him with a jerk of his head. “C’mere.”

Kagome bit her lip and took a single step forward before halting herself and narrowing her eyes at him.

“No.”

Black brows rose into silver bangs. “No?”

“Yeah. No, because I know that look, you need to rest, and I need to find your kid so I can give her the bath she’s avoiding.”

“My kid, huh?”

“Yes, your kid. Because no child of mine would ever be this stubborn and hyper-active and suddenly think bath time would be a great time for Hide and Seek.”

“Really.”

She suppressed another smile. “Aren’t you supposed to be sleeping?”

“Ain’t that what we’re gonna be doing in a couple hours, anyway? Sleep?” Inuyasha rejoined, quirking a brow.

Kagome rose both her eyebrows at him and tipped him a small smile that spoke volumes.

He couldn’t do it. He grinned at her. “Keh.”

Kagome snickered and tossed him a little wink. “Get some rest, dogboy. You’re gonna need it.”

“Cheeky.”

“Only for you.” She smiled, blew him a kiss, and ducked out the door, calling for their wayward daughter once again.

Chuckling, Inuyasha shook his head and released a yawn.

A few minutes passed and then suddenly a little nose poked out from behind the curtain of his suikan sleeves, sniffing once, twice, three times. Inuyasha watched, amused, as his daughter tentatively peeked out from behind the large draping sleeves that hid her from view and surveyed their home for her mother. Finding the room empty, Moroha giggled in triumph and slithered out from her father’s lap to land on the floor in a wriggling heap, relishing in her victory.

Inuyasha gave her a deadpan stare. “You’re gonna get me in trouble.”

Moroha grinned at him. “Nooo, Papa help me!”

“You used me, runt.”

“Noooo!” she giggled and got to her feet.

“You gonna let Mama give you a bath?”

“Nooooo.” Vehement head-shaking followed.

“Will you let Papa give you a bath?”

“Noo!” More giggling as she stomped around in circles.

“You ever gonna stop answering everything with ‘no’?”

The devil-child grinned at him. “Nooo.”

Inuyasha’s ear flicked and he nodded sagely. “I see. So then you don’t want the gift that Papa got for you while he was away.”

Moroha’s eyes widened. “N--” She stopped. Blinked. Furrowed her brow as she thought hard for a moment before her eyes brightened.

Nodding her head rather enthusiastically, she said, “No.”

Inuyasha balked. Blinked. Then narrowed his eyes. “You brat, that’s cheating.”

The toddler smashed her hands against her mouth to hide the obvious grin as she danced in place, bouncing up and down in her excitement.

“Noooo,” she denied amid her giggles, apparently having far too much fun with this particular “game.”

Cheeky. Just like her mother. Keh.

Inuyasha tried to keep the stern look on his face as he shifted his position, moving as if he was getting ready to get to his feet and being deliberately slow about it.

“Alright, runt, you have three seconds to make yourself scarce before you learn how to swim like your old man did and not how your mom wants you to.”

Even at such a young age, Moroha knew it was an empty threat but she acted like it wasn’t anyway, releasing a high-pitched squeal of laughter before turning around and darting through the doorway with more giggles.

Inuyasha sank back down with a grunt and released another yawn as his ears picked up the sound of a gasp, small feet scrambling in the dirt, and then a triumphant “Gotcha, you little sneak!”

Seconds later he heard the melodic sound of his little girl’s laughter as she was “punished” by way of The Tickle Monster, aka, her mother. Softer, throatier laughter joined in before the woman herself stepped through the doorway once more, their daughter tucked beneath her arm like a sack of rice with her little dirty feet kicking merrily in the air.

Placing her free hand on her hip, Kagome arched a brow at him and said dryly, “Didn’t see anything, huh?”

“I was an unwilling accomplice. I’m innocent.”

Kagome snorted her opinion of that. Moroha echoed the sentiment.

Inuyasha frowned at the little backside wiggling in the air at him. “Traitor.”

Said wee traitor giggled, clearly unrepentant.

Kagome couldn’t hold back a smile. “Where was she?”

He stared at her for a minute before resuming his earlier position. Crossing his legs, he stuffed his hands into his sleeves again and cocked a single brow at his wife.

Kagome gaped at him. Then at their daughter.

“You sneaky little demon!”

Moroha giggled and squirmed in her mother’s grasp. “Sneaky!”

Inuyasha chuckled.

Kagome pointed at him. “You’re in trouble.”

He grinned.

She narrowed her eyes. “Stop that.”

He stopped.

Rolling her eyes, though unable to keep her lips from twitching upward, Kagome flapped a hand at him as if in dismissal.

“Go to sleep. You’re annoying me.”

“Excuse you, you’re the one who barged in here and disturbed my beauty sleep.”

“Inuyasha, no amount of beauty sleep in the world will--”

“Finish that sentence, wench, and you’ll find the runt and yourself taking a nice little evening swim in the cold river.”

Kagome promptly sealed her lips and smiled as she batted her eyes at him.

Inuyasha snorted and stuck his nose in the air, closing his eyes. “Beat it. I need my rest and you two are loud.”

Finally giving in with a soft laugh, Kagome shook her head then knelt down to set their daughter on the floor. She whispered something to the toddler and with a bright smile, Moroha obediently scampered on over to her father.

Inuyasha waited until she’d reached his side before dipping his head. He received a soft kiss to his cheek with a soft, “G’night, Papa,” and small arms wrapping around his neck. He hugged his little girl back, wrapping an arm around her tiny body and dropping a kiss to her head.

“Night, babygirl,” he murmured. He was rewarded with a bright smile - her mother’s smile - before his daughter turned and toddled back to his wife.

Kagome hoisted their toddler up into her arms, bestowed her husband with a soft, loving smile, then turned and left their home to finally give their daughter her long-overdue bath.

When Inuyasha woke, it was fully dark out and a small hand - a familiar hand - was lazily stroking his ear. Said ear flicked, there was a brief pause, then the gentle massage continued. One by one his sense came back online; the smoke and burning wood from the fire pit was the first thing to register. Next was the soothing sounds of two heartbeats, one slow and steady with the rhythm of slumber, and the other calm and nearby. Lastly was the feeling of something warm and soft leaning against his bare back, skin against skin, warm lips pressing a kiss to his shoulder.

He sighed, deciding he was content enough for the moment to relish in the warmth, the feeling of his wife’s body against his own, her forever intoxicating sent surrounding him as she stoked his ear. But then she started kissing his neck and he abruptly decided nope time to move.

A shift, a tug, and then he had her under him, bare and beautiful and smiling. Her hands pressed against his chest and he leaned down, kissed her nose, her jaw, her chin.

“Miss me?” he murmured and laid his forehead against hers, eyes twin pools of heated amber gold.

“Yes.” No hesitation, no pause; just open honesty, genuine love in those dark eyes. Hands curled around the back of his neck as she tilted her face up, a silent request.

“Show me,” he whispered against her mouth before claiming it in a slow, languid kiss that had he been aching to give her for days.

His wife, the mother of his child, his beloved Kagome happily returned it, her passion soft but urgent, heady but contained, hot but maddeningly slow. She whispered his name, kissed him one more time, then promptly rolled him onto his back so she could do as he bade and show him how much she’d missed him.

#rest #inukag #inukag fanfiction #inuyasha fanfiction #inuyasha #kagome #moroha #family fluff #keizfanfiction #oneshot #i got lazy with the title can you tell lol

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chazz-anova · 3 years ago

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A Little Bit Of Magic - Chapter 1

Fandom: Far Cry 5

Word Count: 1.8k

Summary: Lady Veronica Rook, a wizard turned rogue bounty hunter and part time thief, is approached by one of the King's men on a stormy night to acquire her services. Little does she know, she's setting off on a quest that will change her forever. (Fantasy!AU)

A/N: LITERALLY I saw one picture and that spawned this entire AU lmao, this has been a fun start and I'm excited for the rest of this little mini-series! I hope you all like as well <3

Dancing candlelight casted amorphous shadows on a bare stone wall. In the center of the room, a firepit blazed; warming the bones of weary travelers who sought refuge from a tempest storm brewing outside the walls of the inn.

Barmaids bustled from table to table, bringing stout ale to rowdy patrons. One such patron sat at the short oak bar, nursing a tankard of beer. In front of the customer stood a barkeep who looked rather piqued. “Veronica, every night you sit here and take up space that could be filled by paying customers. Pray tell, what must I do to squeeze some coin from you?” The woman asked, her sunny blonde hair bobbing as she swept a damp rag over the counter.

Across the bar, Veronica looked up from her stein with a smirk as she replied, “You’d just as likely squeeze coin from me as easily as you’d milk a dragon, Mary May. Is there not a special allowance for a friend who’s saved your life twice over?”

“If I’d known your aid would end up costing me damn near a barrel of ale in the long run, I would have gladly thrown myself into the jaws of death!” Mary professed dramatically, a small smile giving her away.

V rose her tankard high, proclaiming “And what you pay in ale, you make back doubly in entertainment!”

With a sigh- the barmaid stashed the rag she’d been holding under the counter. “Well allow me to take my leave, before your entertainment proves to be too much!” Mary May rolled her eyes as she departed to the back storeroom; Veronica always knew how to work her last nerve.

Now left to her own devices, the woman spun in her seat to analyze the other patrons. She hoped with any luck, she could swindle some coin from someone deep in their cups to secure a room for the night. Unfortunately- saving a friend’s life only afforded you free drinks, not free rooms. Having grown up in the streets of the Kingdom of Hope, Veronica trusted her pickpocketing skills; especially in a tavern such as this.

The Splayed Eagle Inn was run by V’s friend, Mary May, and had been her home for the past few months. All types found themselves in this bar, whether they be well-to-do, working class, or a simple ne’er-do-well. Of course- Veronica liked to think she didn’t fit into any of those categories.

Sitting around the main floor of the inn were a few possible targets, and our girl set to sizing up the first; an older man seated in the corner. He wore the garb of the royal guard. His complexion was that of worn leather, and his eyes scanned the room suspiciously. ‘Not a great mark..’ Veronica thought, shifting her gaze to her next person.

The person in question was not a person at all, but rather a dwarf. The short man guzzled beer from his stein greedily, egged on by two more of his kind. Finishing the drink he slammed down his cup and roared in revelry. ‘Though dwarves love gold and these ones would certainly have some coin, perhaps they are a hair too unmanageable for a robbery.’ Considering this, the woman moved down the list.

Just as Veronica was about to size up her next mark, she felt a hand on her shoulder. The blonde turned, expecting to see Mary May had returned to give her more grief. V was surprised to see an unfamiliar face and she immediately went on the defense, shrugging the stranger’s hand off her shoulder. “Can I help you?” Her words dripped with distrust.

The stranger met her eyes with a look of contempt, and V considered grabbing her dagger in case things became dicey. The woman who’d grabbed her shoulder stepped back now, regarding Veronica coldly with dark eyes. She wore a black fur cape with the hood up, obscuring her features, though her greasy black hair hung in matted locks on her shoulders. She lifted her hood to reveal a ghastly scar across her face. “Yes, mage, I do believe you can help me.” The stranger chuckled.

Hearing her true title, Veronica started visibly, but quickly recovered. ‘How does she know? Certainly this wench is no mage, I sense no magic in her! Is she an assassin from the Guild? Gods, Mary May will kill me if I’ve brought such darkness to her doorstep!’ V’s inner monologue was harried, in contrast to her cool voice as she rebuffed, “Mage? Surely you jest! I am but a humble adventurer.”

Spitting at her feet, the woman scoffed. “Save your lies! I already know of you, Lady Veronica, and of your discharge from the Royal Mages Guild. I come seeking your help in regards to your… new vocation.”

“And what would that be?” V continued to be difficult, her tone hostile. She didn’t like how much this woman knew of her.

“Bounty hunting, of course. Or was it not you that the Royal Guard granted a bounty to just a week ago for bringing in one of the Banshee Queen’s sprites?” At this, Veronica’s mouth drew into a thin line. She knew she’d been got. The ravenette shrugged, “I dare not judge, how else is a rogue witch to make any coin these days?” Though she put on a facade of good cheer, something dangerous lurked in her gaze.

A humorless laugh escaped Ronnie and she lifted her chin defiantly, “Even if you speak the truth, why should I help you, hag?”

Smiling cruelly, she retorted “It is not I who requests your service, but your King and country.”

“Well, his Kingly-ness will simply have to bring is ass down here if he truly wants me help!” V laughed, chalking up the woman’s words to a childish prank.

Suddenly- the stranger closed the short distance between them and the mage felt the tip of a blade threatening to pierce her gut. “I would recommend a modicum of respect for King Dutch. As his bodyguard, I may feel inclined to defend his honor.”

Under her breath, Veronica murmured ancient arcane words and a ball of flames appeared in her spread palm near the woman’s head. “And I may feel inclined to worsen your scar if you do not back away.” She growled the threat, feeling a rush of relief when the King’s bodyguard moved away. She would rather not release a fan of fire in her friend’s bar.

Sheathing her dagger, the woman took a breath. “Let us start over. I am Jess Black, bodyguard and right hand to King Dutch Roosevelt.” She gave a stately bow along with her title.

“Well Lady Black, what would you have of me?” V asked, voice laden with suspicion. Though she preferred to seek her own bounties, a requisition from the King was sure to bring decent coin.

As they began to discuss business, Jess took a seat next to Veronica and spoke vaguely. “Our ruler would have you retrieve a package for him, for a hefty reward.” When the mage said nothing, she continued, “I cannot divulge the details- but you will find what you need in the hamlet of Fall’s End with a cleric named Jerome.”

“Am I expected to go forward with such little information?” She shook her head in disbelief, finally finishing her drink.

“You are expected to do as our ruler bids! I have told you all I know.”

Veronica’s brow furrowed as she probed, “Surely his majesty has sent some sort of incentive, if it is truly he who sent you!”

Jess sighed heavily, producing a leather pouch from the folds of her cape. She set it on the bar with a clink, and V grabbed it immediately. “Gods, there must be nearly forty gold here!” She exclaimed, counting it out quickly.

“Our benefactor has put this forward as a downpayment of sorts, with the promise of more once he’s gotten his package. On the condition that you leave immediately.” Jess asserted with a nod.

The blonde eyed the gold hungrily- knowing she was on hard times. “Well if my kingdom needs me, who am I to resist the call? Though surely ‘immediately’ could mean ‘first thing in the morn’, with his Highness’s mercy?”

Putting a hand on the pouch of gold, the ravenette shook her head. “I must insist on your departure this night, King Roosevelt wishes for no delay in your meeting with Jerome.”

For a moment Veronica’s gaze shifted from Jess back to the pouch of gold, but she relented with a sigh. “It will take me a moment to prepare myself, and I shall make haste.”

Jess gave a rare smile, acquiescing “Your speed is most appreciated.” She turned to the back wall of the bar then, wondering aloud, “Where is the damn barkeep?”

With their conversation over and coin now heavy in her pocket, V slipped behind the bar to the back office where she’d stashed her travel pack.

Mary May’s office was small but tidy, featuring a large desk and business ledger. Sitting there was Mary herself, counting out coin into the safe next to the desk. Next to the safe was Veronica’s beige backpack, which May let her stash in the office during business hours. Hearing her footsteps, the blonde turned away from her safe to face V. “Ah, come to retrieve your loot without buying a room to store it in first? You must have gotten yourself a job.”

A smile crossed Veronica’s features, showing pearly white teeth. “You know me well friend, I must be off immediately unfortunately, so it would appear you’ll save some ale tonight yet!” She crossed the threshold into the room, leaning over the other to grab her sack.

“My, it must be an illustrious one to cause you to abandon a perfectly good night of drinking!” She chuckled.

This made the blonde stop a moment as she considered telling her friend the details. Thinking better of it, she instead said, “Nothing so fancy! I should be back in a week at the latest, try not to miss me too much!” Giving Mary May a chuckle., Before Veronica was fully out the door, she leaned back to say quickly “And be sure to give your worst service to the raven-haired patron sitting at the bar!”

V slung her sack across her back, weaving through Mary May’s drunken customers towards the front door. Once she cleared the room, she turned back one last time and saw Jess staring at her as she departed. The look on her face gave her chills.

The heavy door to the Splayed Eagle Inn opened with a prolonged creak, and gave way to a gust of wind that caused the mage to pull her cloak closer around her. She stepped foot into the deluge outside and hustled into the treeline, taking her first steps towards facing an evil she couldn’t begin to imagine.

#fc5 #far cry 5 #veronica rook #jess black #mary may fairgrave #my writing #fantasy!au #a little bit of magic

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delisianna · 4 years ago

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The Dragon Prince and The Wolf Maiden

The many braziers burned yellow and gold hues where their flames danced together as one inside of Melisandre's home that was colored red, from its walls to the decor of her furniture, along with the sheer curtains that blew across the opened windows letting fresh air inside as Shaena tapped away with her fingers against the long stretched out red table, bored out of her mind, wishing to get this over with, so they would be on their way, wanting nothing more than to get far away from her younger brother who was being unpleasantly annoying just being around her. It was as if for all eternity Daeron would be the thorn in her side, almost like Rhaegar pretended her to be in his.

As she tapped away wondering why their mother wasn't saying anything at all in warning to her son, instead of being too caught up in the distress over Rhaegar who had been missing nearly a moon now leaving no trace or clues on his whereabouts.

It was as if Rhaegar was there one minute being surrounded by pretty maidens dressed in their finest wear, and gone the next. Their father quickly realizing he may have made a run for it, ordering the Red Keep, and the docks to be closed and no ship allowed to leave the ports of King's Landing until all ships were fully searched along with their cargos.

Bloody fool, Shaena thought trying to get comfortable in the cushioned chair, thinking back to her father demanding every ship that had set sail before Rhaegar had gone missing, be searched out in the Narrow Sea, knowing full well he had no jurisdiction out there in open waters. Regardless of her father being pretty friendly with all the neighboring Essosi cities, knowing whichever one Rhaegar landed in, he would swiftly be returned once word spread he had gone missing, where her brother would have to face their father, who'd surely pick a wife for him and demand he marry right away, no need for anything spectacular inside of the Sept of Baelor, when they already had a small sept inside of the Red keep, that neither Targaryen bothered pretending to go inside and pray to gods they didn't believe in.

Suddenly hearing her brother gasp out a curse, as she turned to face him gripping a flask he almost dropped to the floor. "Could you stop touching everything inside of here, least you break some potion or release some curse to fall upon us stupid?" Shaena snapped unable to concentrate any longer on the task at hand, wanting to punch Daeron in the arm, still wondering why their mother decided to have him wait inside the witch Melisandre's home instead of outside with Aegon and the other kingsguards who accompanied them to Dragonstone.

"Why should I?" He asked as if she was some fly that was getting into his face that needed to be swatted away..... "And if you wouldn't mind, I'd appreciate it if you quit snapping at me like I'm still some child." He all but barked back, causing Shaena to clench and unclench her fists wanting to pull rank over him, or at least point out that for a young man of seventeen, he still behaved like a child until their mother shushed them both with her feathered fan.

"It's like I can not take you two anywhere without each of you snapping at each other like children instead of young adults." Rhaella all but yelled at the two who didn't seem to take any of this seriously.

She already knew Shaena wanted Rhaegar to come back just so she wouldn't have to be named the crown princess of the Seven Kingdoms, already dreading the thought she would never escape from both her and Aerys clutches. Their daughter was always one who wanted more freedom, but she was second in line and the only girl in the family so of course Aerys always wanted Shaena close.

And now with Rhaegar off in search of the gods only knew what, seeking some semblance of having no duty for a time. Rhaella dared not think what the lords of Westeros would do now if Aerys let his temper get the best of him by stripping Rhaegar of his titles.

Her sweet daughter would never get the freedom she so craved for. Instead, her little dragon who wasn't little anymore, but a young lady of nineteen would be sought after by the lords who were pushing their daughters on Rhaegar for years to notice them, to now send their sons in Shaena’s direction, if they haven't already.

Already lord Tywin who was said to be in talks to marry Jaime to Lysa Tully but a few moons ago, was now pushing for a betrothal between Jaime and Shaena, saying the two all but grew up together in the Red Keep, as if his son was paying attention to her daughter who once entertained the idea of marrying Jaime until she realized it was the kingsguards who guarded over her the boy was interested in knowing, especially a specific kingsguard ser Arthur Dayne.

"He started it first."

"She started it first."

The two yelled out together at once, before turning to face the other with a sneer that was like their father. "I honestly do not care which of you started what first, Daeron please take a seat." Rhaella did not miss the look of triumph on her daughter's face that almost looked like she wanted to stick out her tongue at her brother as she used to when they were younger fighting at the table during mealtime. "And I would appreciate if you would stop tapping your fingers as you have been for the past few minutes Shaena." Quirking her brows before speaking to her daughter once more, "and if you wouldn't mind dear, please sit up straight like a princess, and not like one who is not refined, you're not some bed wench who sits idly by inside of a brothel waiting for customers to come inside."

Clenching her jaws shut, not wanting to ask her mother what she knew of whores who sat idly by waiting for patrons to partake in the sheets for a quick romp.....Instead, Shaena did as she was told, sat up straight, and once her mother's indigo eyes went back to face the door fanning herself.

Shaena did the one thing she knew would give her joy, kicking her brother's chair just as Daeron was about to sit as he all but crashed to the floor on his ass. Their mother not able to say anything else as two acolytes garbed in red lace from head to toe opened the doors, letting Melisandre walk inside, bowing gracefully towards them while Daeron rose to his feet quickly causing Shaena to stifle a laugh. Round one for me.

#Rhaelya #rhaegar x lyanna #rhaegar #lyanna

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for-a-muse-of-fire · 5 years ago

Text

in the woods somewhere

the wench and the witcher

“in the woods somewhere”

Fandom: The Witcher (2019)

Paring: Geralt of Rivia x Fem!POC Reader.

Summary: Reader is foolhardy, and finds herself hunted. Geralt comes to the rescue and reader gets to see why they call him the White Wolf.

Warnings: NSFW/18+ ONLY. Rough sex, mention of blood and violence.

A/N: I wrote this while listening to that damned song on repeat with some eerie-ass haunted forest ambience going on YouTube. It was RAD. Title and lyrics below are very obviously borrowed from Hozier’s “In The Woods Somewhere” and honestly, it’s the creepiest, sexiest thing in the world. Easily in the top 10 of fave Hozier songs.

@coconutxraikage; @onyour-right; @kingniazx; @c-s-stars; @pantrashtic; @gczanetti1; @alwaysnatz; @kianya-loves; @ly--canthrope

I clutched my life And wished it kept My dearest love I'm not done yet

Honestly, you don’t think you’ve ever done anything so stupid.

And you’ve done a lot of stupid things.

You swear under your breath as you stumble over a rough patch in the road. The full moon offers enough light to keep you from breaking your damned neck, but so far the slog from the Aedirn border back to your small town has been arduous and fucking irritating. You’d meant to leave before sundown, safely partied with the train of journeyfolk as they made the way home, but that sure as fuck hadn’t happened. It was your own fault, and now here you were, tripping on rocks and roots and praying that you don’t end up getting eaten.

As if on cue, something howls deep within the tree line. You swear again, pick up your skirts and your pace.

Geralt will actively kill you if you get eaten.

The noises get closer – the sound of breaking twigs, rustling foliage and low, ominous snarling. Irritation gives way to actual fear, thick and bitter in the back of your throat. Your brisk walk turns to a jog, and then a full-tilt run.

Dammit, this was not how you want to die. It’s undignified, and messy, and about seventy years too soon.

There’s a great and terrible crash as the creature leaps from the trees and onto the road in front of you – you skid to a stop, falling back on your ass with a shout. It’s fucking huge. Taller than anything you’ve ever seen with broad, fur-covered shoulders and a long, canine snout. It stands on two lanky legs, and its arms are disproportionate, dragging the ground with claws that glint in the moonlight.

Its teeth and muzzle are already wet with blood.

You backpedal, rocks scraping your palms as the beast advances. It lifts its great head to release a bone-chilling howl to the night sky, and in the split second it’s coal-bright eyes are torn from you, you bolt.

Branches rip at your skirts, try to catch your loosed curls. Something whips across your face, slicing your cheek and you yelp in pain, but keep running. You can hear the monster behind you crashing through the underbrush and a terrified whimper cracks its way up from your chest. You’re not even sure where you’re running to – all you know is that you had to get away, and get away quickly. The ground is more treacherous here, rocks and roots ready and waiting to throw your balance.

The toe of your boot finds one such root. You give a shriek as you fall, palms smarting with the impact as you try to keep moving, keep crawling before claws slice through the air to cut you to ribbons. There’s a crash as the great canine-like beast bounds through the trees; you spin onto your back, gasping for air with your heart trying to thunder its way up out of your throat. Even as you scramble back, you can’t take your eyes from it. The beast lumbers forward, stepping into a shaft of brilliant moonlight. Its bloodied maw glistens and drops open; its teeth are almost as long as your forearm.

Those terrible glowing eyes pin you in place.

It lunges. You cover your head, screaming, but the impact never comes.

Instead you hear a low, basso roar – almost human – and the dull thud of bodies colliding. Panting like a wounded deer, you muster the courage to uncover your head. What you witness that night, under that brilliant full moon is both disturbing and incredible.

Geralt of Rivia. The White Wolf.

You understand now why they call him that.

His already pale skin fairly glows in the moonlight, a stark contrast to the full black armor he’s clad in. By the way the creature is scrambling to stand, you can only surmise that the witcher physically threw himself in the beast’s path, using his own body to propel it away from yours. Wide-eyed, you scrabble away until your back thumps against the gnarled root of the nearest tree. The creature crouches, one clawed hand scraping the dirt before it lets out an ear-splitting howl. Geralt simply bares his teeth – the shining silver sword at his back sings when he pulls it free.

He moves with a grace that you never would have expected in a person his size. Not a single step is superfluous. The whirling, bladed dance is like nothing you’ve ever seen– each movement able to serve as either attack or defense. Geralt takes a blow to the chest, the beast’s claws glancing off his leather armor, but you watch him lunge forward with renewed vigor. He deflects an arching swipe of bloodied claws, ducking and pivoting to counter as the creature lunges at him. Geralt’s face is illuminated by the moon in that moment and your mouth goes bone dry.

You’d heard tell of what a witcher can do with his potions. Never thought you’d see it in your lifetime. Those black, fathomless eyes make something liquid and shivery spark its way down your spine. Adrenaline and fear mingle with the unexpected heat in your belly and gods, you can hardly breathe as you watch the black-eyed mutant swing his blade once over his wrist.

The monster snarls and lunges. Geralt pivots, pirouettes, and strikes home – the monster’s head is removed from its shoulders in one clean swing. Blood shines black over the grass.

Somehow, you manage to wobble to your feet, but your gaze stays trained on the monster-hunter, mesmerized by the heavy rise and fall of his shoulders as he catches his breath. He turns those black eyes to you and you’ve never seen anything so fearsome – you hear your breath catch on a short gasp, feeling your knees quake under your skirts. Geralt gives a dangerous kind of rumble and wipes the blade of his sword clean with a gloved hand. He stalks towards you as he sheaths the weapon, full mouth curled into a snarl; you stumble back against the trunk of the tree behind you and then he has you trapped there.

“Are you hurt?” he growls.

You whimper. He smells of leather, and blood, and his eyes are black, black, black. “No,” you breathe.

“Good.”

It’s more of a bite than a kiss. He crushes his mouth to yours, forcing his tongue past your lips as he grips your jaw with gloved fingers. You whine, finding purchase on the leather strap that crosses his chest. In spite of the chill in the night air, you are on fire – heat sings over your skin before settling between your legs. You can feel your pulse throbbing at the apex of your thighs, so strong that it’s almost painful.

Geralt pushes forward, forcing his leather-clad thigh between yours and you sob at the contact. He keeps his possessive grip on your jaw, pulling back just enough to pin you with those fathomless eyes of his.

“I can fucking smell you,” he snarls. “Smell how fucking wet you are.”

He rips his other glove off with his teeth, spitting the blood-stained leather onto the forest floor. You feel him grope at your skirts, yanking the fabric up and out of his way until he can force his free hand between your legs – two fingers push into the quivering heat there and you mewl as your eyes slam shut. Geralt rattles out a hot, desperate noise against your neck. He works his fingers inside of you, heel of his hand crushed tight against your clit until your legs start to shake.

“Geralt,” you whine. “Please.”

He gives a breathless moan into your skin. When his fingers leave the clutch of your cunt you nearly cry at the loss, but then he’s tearing at the buttons on his trousers and you try to help with your own trembling hands. He shoves the thick leather down his hips just enough to free his cock, and then your knee is hooked over his elbow to spread you open. Geralt slides himself through your slick to ease his passage, lines up, and slams forward.

You shout, blinding pleasure bowing your spine up and away from the rough bark at your back. Your hands grip at Geralt’s hair, clenching into greedy fists. The witcher gives a low, broken groan.

He starts to move. It is not gentle.

Each short, vicious thrust stokes the raging fire in your belly. You cry, and gasp, and swear as you spiral up, up, up – you feel as though you are gripped with fever, delirious as you ride the thin line between pain and pleasure. All you can do is grind down in a desperate attempt to meet the driving push of his hips into yours. Geralt lays biting kisses up your neck, panting in short, hot bursts into your skin. You can feel bruises starting to bloom on your thighs. The witcher’s free hand, still covered in black leather, grips your jaw again; he forces you into another kiss that borders on violent.

The smell of blood floods your senses – coppery and sharp.

When he wrenches his lips from yours, he uses the grip on your chin to keep your gaze locked on him. You can see the whites of his eyes now, the inky color brought on by his potion having receded, only just. He snarls down at you, gloved fingers pushing back to grip hard at your curls. You feel the rasp of stubble against your neck - it makes you shudder. Makes you keen.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he growls. “Come on. Want to feel you come all over my cock.’

His teeth lock on the juncture of your neck and shoulder. The sudden jolt of pain sends you soaring, body alight, before your orgasm tears you to pieces – the scream that rips up from your chest is more animal than human. Your whole body rocks with it and you hear Geralt roar his way through his own release. You suck down ravenous lungfuls of air, heart thundering so hard against the confines of your rib cage that you’re sure it’s going to burst its way free. Your whimper brokenly and let your forehead rest on the studded leather that covers his shoulder.

The witcher’s careful touch on your cheek brings you back down to earth. Your dark gaze finds his, and once again you’re staring into lovely, honey-colored eyes. His breathing is labored. It takes a few moments for the both of you to disentangle yourselves from each other and rearrange your clothing, but Geralt isn’t willing to release you just yet. He keeps you trapped against the tree and the hard set of his jaw makes your already shaky knees turn to water.

“You don’t go walking these woods alone at night,” he rumbles. His tone leaves no room for argument. “You understand me?”

It takes a moment for you to find your voice, but you nod in the meantime. “Yes,” you whisper at last. “I understand.”

He kisses you again. It’s gentle, almost reverent – such a shock from his violent coupling that you feel lightheaded. You’re still trembling when he scoops you up into his arms, keeping you cradled against his chest. Exhaustion sets in, keeps you from arguing when it’s clear he intends to carry you back into town.

You press your face into his neck. The scent of blood lingers in your nostrils.

#geralt x reader #geralt of rivia #geralt x woc reader #geralt x poc!reader #the witcher netflix #the wench and the witcher #tutu scribbles #fanfic #fanfiction

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virareve · 4 years ago

Link

Summary:

“Didn’t you hear? Kit Tarth’s a Lannister!”

Twenty-five years after Brienne and Jaime went their separate ways, they reunite for their daughter Catelyn’s wedding.

Chapter posted at link and below (for those who prefer reading on Tumblr):

When was the last time Brienne had allowed herself to dream about love?

When she was a girl, still blessed with naivete and optimism of the young, she dreamed of marrying her fairytale prince on the shores of Morne. She would join herself to her husband in the shadows of the castle that Ser Galladon had once resided. Her parents would stand in witness, eyes filled with tears. Alysanne and Arianne would be grown women with loves of their own by then, excited for the day they too would marry. Galladon, her beloved brother, would be the one to walk her before the septon. The sun would shine its familiar, gentle warmth, and the sea would shine its brilliant blue that her father claimed was matched by no other blue but her eyes. The wind would make her hair flutter around her like a halo, and as she promised herself to the man she would stand by forever, he’d see her at that moment, sunlit and wild. He would think her the sun and moon made flesh.

For reasons tragic and practical, that dream would never be. The cliffs in Morne had become unstable from years of tourist use. Her mother and siblings had all died before her tenth year, and her father had passed just the last year. She had no prince.

But The Seven had given her a different gift. Her daughter, Catelyn, Kit as she was called early on, was Brienne’s greatest accomplishment. Brienne had once wanted to be the fairytale princess, but raising one, gave a different sort of pleasure from what that fantasy prince would have.

Fortunately, Kit would never know the same heartbreak Brienne had when it came to love. Love came to Kit early on in life in the form of Sansa’s oldest boy Ned. It took over two decades for the best friends to articulate the deep-seated feelings, but they were past that now. And had reached the stage few made where fantasy turned reality. Oftentimes as she contemplated Kit and Ned over the last few years, Brienne wondered if she had ever worn the same look of love.

“Champagne?”

Brienne startled as someone slid into the chair beside her and held out a glass of chilled bubbly.

“Jaime,” she greeted, surprised to see him. They had not spoken in two days. She glanced speculatively at the glasses in his hand, raising a brow. “A bit past the point for champagne isn’t it?” Speeches and toasts had all well been hours ago and if what she remembered about Jaime still rang true, bubbly was not his preferred choice of drink.

“Tyrion is going around trying to convince people to drink more of that godsawful Northern shit he gifted Kit and Ned,“ Kit’s father smirked. “Arm yourself before he tries to convince you to take a horn.” He passed a glass over to her. His fingers were dry and warm.

If she were a lesser person, Brienne thought her breath might have hitched, shocked to press even the slightest skin against his. “I can’t believe he bought 800 horns of fermented goat's milk. We’ll be lucky if the Giantsbanes can finish one.”

Jamie snorted. “He just found out I was once with someone who wasn’t Cersei. And had a kid at that. To him, it’s like Sevenmas came early.”

Brienne nodded, giving him a stiff smile and looked at the dance floor...only to end up cringing with motherly embarrassment. A horn toting Kit looked like she was about to perform a very public lap dance for a delighted and equally sloshed (and horn holding) Ned to the tune of the wedding party hit “The Bear and the Maiden Fair” by the Brave Companions. Several guests had their phones out, hooting the bride and groom on, and Brienen resigned herself to a 4K replay on Ravenbook tomorrow.

Her eyes slid over to Jaime, curious to see what he would think. He looked amused and directed her to check out Tommen on the opposite side of the dance floor.

“Ree’s going to eat him alive,” she commented as Tommen looked equally terrified and aroused as Sansa’s oldest girl plastered herself all over him.

“If she wasn’t the spitting image of her mother, I’d be certain she was Margaery’s,” Jaime laughed.

Brienne missed that sound. It was genuine, light, and carefree. It tugged and plucked at her wound up heartstrings. She’d worked so hard to prepare herself for seeing him again, but their twenty-four years of separation had done little. Maybe if he’d been angry at how long he’d had to go before Kit would reach out to him to meet on Tarth for her wedding week, it might have been easier to brush off any residual feelings. Jaime was not. He’d been genial from the beginning. The only friction, if it could be called that, was his continued insistence that he help pay for the wedding but even that was a pleasant insistence to help out.

From his first interaction with Kit at the Sunday family clambake to the ceremony and reception, he’d been nothing but pleasant and civil with her. And he was absolutely enamored with his youngest child. He hadn’t tried to bring up either time in Winterfell and only brought up Kit, his children, and his work when they were near each other for placid small talk. It was all going along extremely well and yet Brienne could not relax, she couldn’t stop waiting for something to go wrong now that he was here.

“I was hoping we could talk,” Jaime said, breaking the quiet spell between the two. There was a rhythmic thud starting on the ground near their feet. Brienne looked down instead of looking at him and noticed the heel of his shoe sole was tapping against the ground in a discordant beat.

“What’s it now?” she sighed, “The DJ? The videographer? Sansa and I already settled it.”

Jaime gave her a measured look.

“Wench, you know I’m not here to talk about the bill.”

She shook her head. “Don’t call me that,” she said, severely. She got up from her chair. “Thanks for the drink. That reminds me that I should check in with the bartender.”

Jaime jumped up. “Brienne,” he huffed, “I’ve been treating you with kid gloves all week. I gave you space at the rehearsal last night and then today because I understood how important Kit’s wedding is, but you can’t seriously expect us not to talk about this.”

Brienne pursed her lips. “It would be easier for us if you didn’t.”

“Easier for who?” he asked, waving a hand between them. “It doesn’t make it easy if we don’t talk.”

Brienne stepped past him. “I’m not doing this with you again.”

Jaime released a deep exhale.

“It’s a little late for that,” he called after her. “I was hoping we’d get to talk yesterday morning but we never got to have a proper conversation because someone decided to leave before I woke up.”

Brienne was thankful everyone had vacated this area of tables for the dance floor so that there were no witnesses when she blushed. But not too far off some of Kit’s friends watched them curiously. Everyone was clearly interested in whatever her shared history with Jaime was. After it became known among the guests that small town, island rose Kit Tarth was actually the child of one of the wealthiest men in the Six Kingdoms, friends and distant family were eager for further details. But no one outside Sansa, not Kit, not Margaery, not the rest of the Starks, knew. And Sansa and Brienne were not willing to divulge details.

Brienne released an annoyed exhale and looked back at him. “Fine, follow me.” She hurried them out of the view of the celebrating couple, out of the sight of nosy guests, and past the observing eye of the knowing few who looked at them with some sort of expectation. She brought him to the unlit, cordoned off gardens of Evenfall, and he followed her, hovering like an impatient puppy at her heels. She stopped abruptly when they reached her mother’s old hibiscus garden. She whipped around to face him. Jaime stumbled back. A nighttime breeze caught in his shirt, rippling under his shirt and exaggerating his step back.

“Why won’t you leave this alone?” she hissed, trying to make herself look looming and menacing.

Jamie made a grumbled complaint under his breath. “I love you,” he declared, deadpan and apropos of nothing.

Brienne’s jaw dropped. “ Excuse me? ”

“I love you,” Jaime repeated, briefly looking as if he might enjoy seeing how much he’d shocked her. “I never stopped.”

“You can’t mean that! You don’t know me,” Brienne countered, feeling half dizzy and half breathless from the whiplash of Jaime’s declaration. “It’s been too long. I’ve changed! You’ve changed!”

“I’ve had a week to see you’re still everything I fell in love with,” he argued, “I know I’ll fall in love with all the new things about you that I haven’t learned yet.”

“You’re insane,” she declared, backing away.

“Wait.” He stepped toward her, holding a hand up like he was approaching a skittish animal. “Please listen to me.”

“Jaime,” she warned. She warily watched him. The breeze continued to dance around them, picking strands of her hair up and causing them to glint as they refracted moonlight.

He stopped, mesmerized by the vision of her cast in luminescence. “Did you know I dream of you?” he confessed in earnest. “Even after all these years, you still visit me from time to time when I sleep. And when I wake, I hate myself for breaking your heart.”

Brienne pressed her lips together. She didn’t want to revisit Winterfell and revisit those experiences in the frozen North. But her mind disregarded her and she flashed into those dark memories. And despite the warm summer air, Brienne turned cold as if she was back in Winterfell, and the chill was seeping into her bones.

“I let you disappear from my life to make up for how I wronged you,” Jaime continued. “And I know it was the right thing to do, but every time I think about it, it feels like I made a mistake.” She watched his hand ball into a fist at his side. “Brienne, there’s never been anyone else for me.”

Once upon a time, Brienne had hoped to hear such ardent words from Jaime but he’d firmly shown her she wasn’t enough. “Why are you talking to me like a Hallmark card?” she asked, “Is this about Kit?”

“Kit?” Jaime looked at her, incredulously. “Why the Seven would it be about Kit?” he grumbled. “This is about you..”

“Why?” Brienne pressed him.

Jaime rubbed a hand down his face, “Because you’re worth going head-to-head with your willful bullheadedness until you hear what I’m literally spelling out for you.”

“What about Cersei?” she reminded him, invoking the specter.

“There is no Cersei. There hasn’t been for years.”

Brienne’s mouth dropped open into a wide “O” of surprise. “Why? When?”

“I was different after the second time in Winterfell,” Jaime admitted. “Realizing what I lost with you and Kit...it forced me to confront everything that led me to that point and I couldn’t be what Cersei wanted anymore once I was back. Eventually, she ran off with Osmund Kettleback and I got custody of the kids. I’ve tried to reach out to her, but she’s virtually gone. I’ve heard of her appearing on the arm of some billionaire or another at society events but she’s never contacted us and the children gave up on her years ago.

“I’m sorry,” Brienne said, relieved to know she might never see Cersei again. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Good riddance works.”

“Oh.” Brienne was surprised by his vehemence.

Jaime looked at her, and stepped closer, pulling one of her hands into his. “I know I have no right to ask it of you, but I can’t have you not understand. I didn’t bring you back to my room for a drunk romp, I brought you back because I’ve wanted you for so long. And I thought you understood my intentions until I woke up and you were gone. I’ve missed you all this time. I just need you to understand and I want to know what it will take. If I have to climb the Eyrie barehand, backpack the furthest edge of the True North, walk the Wall coast-to-coast, I will. Let me prove to you how serious I am.”

Brienne swallowed. She rarely thought of it these days, but every time she turned to those days in Winterfell, she felt herself sink under it’s emotional weight. But this man before he wasn’t him and that had to be worth exploring at the very least. So very softly, she whispered, “Okay.” She squeezed the hand that held hers right back.

Jaime grinned and tugged her closer to him, asking her a question that went in one ear and out the other.

She searched his face, dazed to be this close. “What did you say?”

Jaime chuckled, “Don’t play coy with me, wench. How about it? One dance. I’ll go easy on you tonight but tomorrow I’m turning up the Lannister charm.”

Brienne sputtered. Her mouth opening and closing in a pantomime of a beached fish.

Jaime waved a hand, “Okay, got it. So no Lannister charm tomorrow. Monday then. So how about it. One ‘no-stakes’ dance?”

“I suppose there’s no harm in that,” she agreed.

“Of course there isn’t,” Jaime beamed, but his face wavered, seeming to jump back and forth with the earnest and passionate soft underbelly he had exposed to her and the charismatic front he was choosing to fall back on in the hopes it would make her more comfortable, “but there’s no harm in dancing all night with me if you feel so inclined. With the exception of our daughter, Myrcella, and Tommen, if Ree Stark ever lets him go, my dance card is reserved exclusively for you.”

Brienne blushed. “One dance,” she reiterated, “and then we’ll see where we go from there.”

Jaime’s face lit up and she remembered how good it had actually felt to fall in love with him in the ruins of the Stark’s ancient castle. Perhaps it could be easier now. He held up their hands, fixing their hold so that her hand was being held delicately in it like a princess’. He leaned forward and kissed it. “I can work with that.”

#braime #jaime x brienne #brienne and jaime #brienne x jaime #jaime and brienne

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idealistsinc · 4 years ago

Text

02 // sway

wc: 1,279 content warning: some spice and bad nautical innuendos

“What will we do with a drunken sailor early in the mornin’? Stick ‘im in a scupper wi’a ‘osepipe bo’om — ”

“You went heavy on the ale, didn’t you?” said Rin. “You’re out of tune.”

Vhox stopped singing to grin wolfishly at him. Though Rin had watched him down two pints of The Drowning Wench’s finest barleywine, he was clear-eyed and altogether sharper than Rin would have been if Rin had dared partake more than a sip. The only sign of his impending inebriation was his accent, drink bringing to the fore all the slurs and dropped consonants of a salt-sprayed sailor who hadn’t got his landlegs. “I’ll have y’know I was a regular shan’yman, four-eyes.”

“Right. Is scupper even a word?”

“What, it’s not in your books, so it's not a word?” He feigned offense, sighing the sigh of a put-upon schoolmaster. “A scupper’s a drain for th’ deck. Y’stick the head in like it’s a stocks, then beat ‘im with a hose.” That grin, all teeth, took on a lascivious quality that sent a not-unpleasant shiver down Rin’s spine. “Interested?”

“I’ll...pass, thank you.” Rin looked desperately about the hall for something else to hold his attention. It was the wee bells of the morning, and the members of Baderon’s guild had long given way to the late-night pirates, determined to make the most of their time ashore by drinking themselves insensible before they were called once again aboard come the dawn. A Roegadyn bard stood on the dias, playing an upbeat ditty on a fiddle and singing something filthy about the conquest of women in foreign lands while a few hopelessly plastered seamen made humiliatingly inept attempts to dance in the circular basin of the tavern.

Refusing to be ignored, Vhox propped his elbows on the table and leaned over, close enough for Rin to smell the malt on his breath and, beyond it, the faintest trace of sea salt. “Per’aps the problem’s y’haven’t had enough ale.” Before Rin could muster a word of protest, Vhox called, “I’tolwann, a pint o’ the blonde!”

“Hells, I’ll take a blonde!” a miscellaneous voice shouted in response. The whole of The Drowning Wench descended into a riot of laughter, such that for several thundering moments conversation was blotted out by a roiling sea of snickering sailors.

“By the Twelve, Vhox, you don’t have to yell,” said I’tolwann, manifesting suddenly behind Vhox’s chair. Her tail swished irritably as she raised her voice over the general clamor to be heard. “Rowdy lot. Look at what you’ve started.”

Vhox simply shrugged, looking unaccountably pleased with the chaos he had caused. That was his way — easy and sure as a ship sailing windward. Rin often wished for a quarter of his confidence. Even in his new, Vhox-approved tunic, he felt out of place among the sharp smiles and still-sharper blades of the average Lominsan company, a Sharlayan sheep in wolf’s clothing.

His blonde, such that it was, arrived before Rin could lose himself completely in anxious rumination. He sniffed delicately and, surprisingly, was not keeled over by the searing reek of alcohol. “Light?”

“Very,” said Vhox. “For your delicate cons’itution. Unless you would like to end up under th’ table again.”

Rin was never going to live that down. No, he had not held his first true introduction to Lominsan ale well at all — small mercies he didn’t actually recall the experience. Dubiously, he tried the ale. It had a smooth, honeyed flavor much unlike the resiny taste of barleywine, subtle and...yes, light. Vhox looked ever more smug. “You like it,” he said.

“It’s all right,” Rin replied noncommittally, but he took another swig regardless.

Up the stairs, the bard paused. She coaxed a few trumpeting notes out of the fiddle like a king’s herald; then, the bow flew over the strings in a lively race, the tune leaping and bounding over itself in its haste to reach some distant finish. Rin’s ears perked. It reminded him of…

The effect of the music on the crowd was swift and startling. “A jig!” a Hyuran man in a rat-tattered coat hollered to the hall at large. “Git yer legs movin’, fellas!” Almost as one entity, in a motion that struck Rin as oddly surreal, the crowd of scar-riddled sailors stood up, women and men, Miqo’te and Roegadyn and Hyur alike, and swallowed the room at once in a tumult of wild dancing, the pent-up energy of a typhoon suddenly and violently released.

Vhox didn’t have to say a word. He just smiled that jackal’s smile. Rin sank into his chair, holding out his pint as though to defend himself with it. “No.”

“Why not? It’s traditional. Anyroad, y’danced at that fancy Sharlayan shindig.”

“That was the quadrille,” said Rin, forgetting to be embarrassed that he knew how to dance the quadrille. “I don’t know the steps to a — a Lominsan jig — ”

The grin sharpened. “What steps?”

Before Rin could say another word, Vhox had dragged him out of his chair and near swept him into the center of the hall, Rin clutching the handle of his pint for dear life as the blonde ale sloshed over the rim onto the floor. “Wait — wait!”

Well, if he was going to do this…

Rin took a stout gulp of the ale. It burned a trail of fire going down that time, a feeling that had absolutely nothing, nothing to do with Vhox’s hand at his waist. Then, he slammed the pint down on a nearby table and, before he could think better of it, took him awkwardly by the shoulder and whirled Vhox in a wide circle.

Vhox’s answering smile could have lit every oil lamp in Limsa.

Later, Rin would remember very little of the dance. It was a blur of turbulence, like a galley lurching in a storm, the hall vibrating with a nearly electric energy as Rin and Vhox made a hectic turn about the outskirts of the room. Twice his hair flew in his face as though tossed about by a gale — and once, Vhox reached to push it off his forehead, a laughing grin in his eyes, so that Rin didn’t even notice when a nearby Roegadyn sailor was felled by his drink and his sealegs and had to be carried out the door by the combined effort of three unfortunate men. Vhox had him under sway by then. Completely.

“Sway up!” Vhox hollered in a fit of the theatrical, and before Rin altogether knew what was happening, he was being hauled full off his feet and to the top of the stairs. Together, they pivoted into the relative seclusion of the shadowed stone archway where the night crept in, cool on the heat of Rin’s face; inside, the song had ended to the scattered, hooting applause of the pirates for that immensely skilled Sea Wolf fiddler.

But Rin had long since stopped paying attention. Vhox was still holding him in a facsimile of the jig, his hand pressed hard in the small of Rin’s back and his breath coming heavy. Rin’s heart thrummed.

“What does ‘sway up’ mean?” he asked, breathlessly.

“Nau’ical term,” said Vhox, and added, in a tone ripe with entendre, “Means to ‘oist a mast.”

And the ale must have truly hit Rin, then, because he kissed him, right there under the archway, where any passersby might conceivably see them. Then — in a bubbling outburst that surprised even Rin — he laughed.

“Perhaps — ” he said. “Perhaps we ought to...beat to quarters.”

In the half-light of the tavern, Vhox’s smile seemed all canines and carnal promises.

“Per’aps we ought.”

vhox’s sea shanty stolen borrowed from here: [ link ] vhox belongs to @mimiorzea

#ffxivwrite2020 #ffxiv #ffxiv rin weise #and now for something completely different #i can't believe this is a thing i am letting people read with their precious eyes #mimi owns vhox but i wrote him first so there #my writing #no vhox didn't pay for their drinks and baderon just sighed and put it on vhox's tab #he's real tired of vhox using his establishment as a place to flirt #ffxiv vhox tia

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vivalaezra · 4 years ago

Text

Bar Room Blitz

He hit the floor, hard, bouncing off the stone like a child’s rubber ball minus the happiness and fun associated with playing with one. Instead he blinked away tears of pain as he watched his blade skid across the floor and outside the opened doors to the balcony beyond. It was out of reach... So far out of reach.

Frantically rising upon hands and knees he scrambled for his rapier but the roaring Elezen snatched his attention. Turning to face the charging drunkard, Ezra was frozen in place while he watched with wide eyes the man launch forward with a booted foot aimed right at his side. That. Was. Going. To. Hurt. ***Moments earlier** Ezra had wandered into the Sands, an establishment he had come to know quite well through out the years. Though it had been sometime since his last visited, he was happy to see that not much had changed. Drunkards guzzled their ale with reckless abandonment, while the froth of their brew collected around their mouths. Bards strummed stringed instruments, plucking away and filling the round stone establishment with the sweet melody of adventure. Merchants huddled around small tables, hammering out deals that would increase their wealth or leave them as poor as the refugees. Heroes alike looked to the posting board for open jobs to make quick gil or crowded around the bar, swarming poor Momodi with drink orders and additions quests she may have been privy to hear of. The “working” class was present as well, male and female chancing chaste glances towards the unexpecting... Or expecting, hoping to hook them in with the promise of a fun time. He missed it oddly. The strange and lively ecosystem of the Sands. But as much as he missed it, he wasn’t there to simply admire. He was there for work.

Ezra set his gaze upon a tall Elezen (weren’t they all tall?), who’s bronzed skin tone was complimented with a tuff of white hair. From age or simply dyed Ezra couldn’t tell. His nose was flat, and sat wide on his face and when coupled with his one blue left eye and eye patch which covered the right, there was no mistaking that the man Ezra looked at was the mage pictured in the parchment he held in his hand.

With a wiry grin playing across his thin lips, Ezra ambled over, his gaze shifting from the Elezen, a Duskwight, to the trio who sat with him. The three were a mixed bunch, one lalafell, a bard, and two midlanders, merchants by the likes of it. They were all drawn in by the tale the Elezen was spinning for them.

“And there it was, frightening, powerful, and as massive as Titan himself... A mighty beast none the likes had even seen.” The Elezen said before taking up his tankard and sloshing it about. Despite the spillage that followed, he still had enough inside to manage a long throaty gulp. “And it’s teeth! Protruding from it’s skull, some as large as a mans arm!” He went on to say. “The Sahagin was known as the man eater... And...” He paused, the trio leaning forward eager to hear more. “Um... I appear to be empty... Might I trouble you lot for a refill... Perhaps a bite to eat as well?”

“Of course Master Lux!” One of the merchants was quick to say.

“Only if you finish your story of course.” Ezra said as he stepped up to the table. “It is your tale of course?”

“M... Master Lux do you know this man? Is this story not true?” The lalafell was next to speak, brow knitted in confusion. It was his duty to spread the tale of other heroes with song and dance... He had been invested in the elezens tale and the idea that it was faked was enough to show concern.

“How dare you make such a suggestion!” The drunken elezan blurted, tone heavy with a bubbling anger as he fixed his singular gaze upon Ezra. “Have you no clue who I am you half wit?”

Ezra feigned ignorance for a moment, reeling back and placing a hand over his chest as if he had been wounded by the words. And then he raised the wanted poster for all to see. “Aye... I think I do.” He prattled with the smugness his Sharlayan accent afforded him. “The supposed black mage who used the tales of another adventurers accomplishment to swindle money from a audience before he was found out and chose to cause a scene and utterly trash the Wench before escaping. You harmed two in the course of your escape and nearly killed a watchman as you pushed her aside and caused her to plunge over the railing to the waters below. Thankfully a fishing vessel was near enough to pluck her out from the waters... You’ve a bounty on your head and I intend to collect.” Ezra would look to the bard and fire a wink to the lalafell. “Now that’s a story is it not?” “You impudent fool! How dare you embarrass me in front of my friends!” Lux fired off. Ezra looked away from the Lalafell and back to Lux as he drew his rapier, the sound of the blade scraping along the scabbard rather audible despite the Sands being so rowdy that day. “You only embarrass yourself with your charades... Now come... We can do this the easy way or the-” Ezra never got to finish off his sentence. Instead he was blasted back by unfocused aether that stemmed from the tip of Lux’s staff which he had hidden from view beneath the table.

Though not truly elemental in origin, thus lacking the power of a fire spell, the unfocused aether was more then enough to blast the self proclaimed red mage back into the air. As if the heavens chose to look out for those standing around, the path before him parted and he luckily didn’t slam into anyone. He did bounce off the floor.

All eyes upon him, the patrons of the Sands watched as Ezra climbed to his hands and knees and attempted to reach the blade which had been knocked from his grasp only to witness the drunk Elezen rush forward. Lux intended on punting him like one would kick a ball and the blow would be shattering if Ezra didnn’t bring his arms to his side to cushion the blow. It worked... Sort of. It still hurt.

Ezra was lifted clear off the ground and sent flying through the doors of the Quicksand and would have landed in the fountain just outside if he had not taken control of the attack. He soften the blow, as much as he could any how, but his arms and side still ached and protested against how he twisted his body in air. Regaining a semblance of balance, Ezra landed upon the stone floor with booted heels and skidded to a stop right before falling into the fountain outside.

The grin he once wore was no longer present while stood in silence looking into the crowded establishment. Using the tip of his boot to hook under his rapiera light flick of his foot sent it up so he could pluck it from the air. His eyes twitched in anger and his lips thinned in rage as he readied himself for what came next.

Not a pretend mage then... The thought echoed in his mind as he stretched his limbs.

“Hard way it is...” Ezra finished his sentence and looked to the Elezen who went from having the upper hand to bearing a confused grin.

Ezra launched forward in a full sprint and all hell broke lose.

For someone who was willing to steal the stories of others and tell tall tales, Lux was surprising adept. Their dance around the Sands caused a ruckus, with tables being flipped over, drinks spilled, and entire dinner sets being knocked to the ground. Lux attempted short blasts of aether but Ezra was ready now, either dancing away or conjuring his own aetheric shields which easily stopped the force. It wasn’t before long someone bumped into another and other fights broke out.

Business partners wailed on each other, workings girls and boys scrambled out of the way of thrown tankards (some still filled with ale), and adventurers either joined in the melee or made feeble attempts to police those driven to a frenzy. A roe male ran around shirtless for some reason laughing like a mad man... The bards however, well they watched and recorded everything.

Dipping under a chair which was aimed for his head (thrown from parts unknown mind you) Ezra shot forward with the skill and grace born of years of practice and with needle like precision, used the tip of his sharpen rapier to slice as Lux’s hand.

The elezen cried out in pain and crimson stained the floor before him. Lux instinctively released his hold on his staff and brought his wounded hand to his chest, eye wide with terror. Ezra didn’t stop there however and instead cuffed the man on the side of his head, albeit he did have to job up slightly to meet the tall Elezen, before spinning about and calling forth his accelerator. Coupled with his sword, he conjured a bolt of lightning which crackled to life and seared a table in two, leaving it blacken and charred where the verthunder struck. It had the desired effect as the resulting clap of thunder boomed in a frightening staggering effect that reverberated off the stone walls and forced everyone inside to freeze.

Ezra stood there, looking confused as he sucked in breath after breath. “WHAT THE BLOODY HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU LOT!” He fired off as he glared at everyone. Most stood silent, a few chuckled however, but all didn’t seem to know what to do next. Kneeling beside Lux’s crumbled form, he took it about himself to heal the mans bloody hand though ensured he remained unconscious.

“Did everyone have to act a fool?” He further questioned but was cut off from speaking on as Momodi roared out at him.

“YOU ARE PAYING FOR THIS MESS!” She cried out from behind the bar, shaking with rage.

“Ah... Of course... Of course my lady... Let me just get this fool back to Limsa to claim his bounty... Many apologies...” He pleaded with Momodi before looking to the rest. “Oh you all should be ashamed of yourself... Now clean up...”

“Oi... And why should we?” A voice echoed out past the main floor somewhere around the side entrance.

Ezra couldn’t see who had spoken but it was setting the tone for others to argue so he decided to answer in kind.

His accelerator hovered at his side and for a moment his eyes flashed a brilliant blue, electricity dancing around them. “Because I am not in the business of asking twice.” Ezra growled.

A gasp sounded from behind him and Ezra, despite the serious moment, couldn’t help but look with curiosity to the lalafell bard who approached him with wide eyes.

“That’s it... I’ll call it the tale of the Lightning Count and the Bar Room Blitz!?”

#FFXIV #ffxiv rp #ffxiv balmung #FFXIV Screenshots #ff14 #ffxiv crystal rp #ezra elric #I'm ezra right?#lightning count #bar room blitz #ffxiv mateus #mateus rp #mateus roleplay #ffxiv mateus rp

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sick-raven · 5 years ago

Text

Ghosts of the Present - Chapter 9

Chapter 1 + warnings

AO3

Previous chapter

Chapter 9

The fire got his attention right away. Batman was on his usual patrol when he learnt the house is burning – normally he would leave this to firefighters, but the address was well known to him. That’s where Miranda Bradbury lived. She gave him few wrinkles these last two months. Since he helped her, she was like and uncontrollable force, killing people left and right either working with Crane or just being paid for it. It looked like someone got her back for it.

He arrived just in time to see a woman run away from flames. She stumbled, looked very wobbly and unstable. Batman jumped to the street – trail of mud was left behind her.

Clayface. Basil Karlo, sometimes Betty Karlo. What was she doing here?

“Betty, wait,” he called.

“Shit,” Betty replied and tried to fasten up. Her leg tore off and she fell face down with wet splat. “Shit,” she commented weakly.

“What happened here?”

***

“Witch, destroying everything! She will pay for it I tell you!” Edward Nygma angrily restarted his puzzles Banshee messed up with her entrance. He smashed codes into numeric pads and moved around giant chess pieces he prepared as a great war puzzle for Batman.

Sweating like a bull he pushed queen to her place. “Thinking she is better than me,” he huffed. The queen got stuck on something. He moaned in frustration and kicked the stupid thing.

Queen staggered and leaned on one side. “No!” If it falls, he will never pick it up again! Edward ran to the other side to catch the bloody thing.

“Nooo!”

It was heavier than it looked.

Batman found him pinned to the floor by giant chess piece repeating swear words alphabetically in several languages he didn’t even speak properly.

“I’m looking for Banshee.”

“Witch! That damn wench, I’ll get her!”

“I guess that means she was here.”

***

Staff of Arkham gave him empty looks. As if they were drugged and didn’t even see him. The League of assassins hired several Gotham rogues to do their bidding. That sounded too complicated for Ra’s al Ghul. He always hired people he knew won’t mess up their job. That can’t be said about Clayface or Riddler. Not even mentioning Killer Croc. Ra’s was playing dangerous game and as it looked it already went out of hand when Miranda got involved.

What was the point?

Batman took the elevator down and entered chaos.

Assassins were running around in panic shouting at each other, pointing to different locations, arguing. None of them paid attention to the new visitor. Batman has never seen these top-level killers so unfocused.

Among the people he noticed top hat running to the elevator. Mad Hatter screamed in high-pitched voice when he collided with Batman. Jervis fell on his butt, looked shocked, his chest rose and fell under frantic breathing.

“Bat!” he shouted. Then he caught his head, looked behind himself, then forced his stare to the ground and rattled his teeth. “What to do, what to do?”

“What’s going on here, Tetch?” Batman awoke him to reality.

Jervis clumsily stood up and dusted his butt. “Bandersnatch…” he started and gulped loudly. “Bandersnatch…” he started again taking desperate look to the tunnel he just ran out of. “What to do?” he whispered again.

“Focus.”

“Bandersnatch said you need to meet the head of demons,” Jervis said so fast, Batman almost didn’t recognize the words.

“Ra’s al Ghul is here? Where?”

One last look to the tunnel and Jervis danced to different path. “This way, Bat. Scary swordsman is waiting for you, we mustn’t be late.”

The crowds of soldiers were still running amok, but Batman has decided to follow the Hatter. The further they got the more focused assassins were. Finally, a sound of hammers and wall crumbling invited them into hall where Ra’s al Ghul stood, angry look on his face. He turned to Batman and any sign of annoyance disappeared.

“Ah, detective, welcome. I planned to greet you more properly, but as you can see, we have little… disruption. Nothing we cannot deal with.”

Batman didn’t let any confusion show on his face but didn’t know what to think. Clayface told him she was working for the League and they were supposed to catch Banshee. At first, he thought Miranda will need help, but it seemed more like she stumbled into something bigger by accident. And now she gave the same wrinkles to Ra’s.

“What are you planning?” asked Batman. Sound of crumbling wall almost buried his words.

Ra’s smiled. Batman didn’t mean the wrinkle metaphor literally, but it seemed like the Demon’s head will become the Demon’s grandpa soon. “I’ve come to prepare a place for you. To be the judge, to be the leader you were meant to be. I came to offer you the League!”

If Batman didn’t want to keep his face, he would cuss Ra’s out of the Gotham. “We’ve been over this. I will not join your cult full of killers.”

“No, not join. Lead!”

“That neither.”

With last hit whole wall crumbled and showed dark tunnel hidden behind it. “Finally,” Ra’s commented. “That will be the first gift to you as the new Demon’s head. Lazarus pit! Hidden all that time under your own city!”

“I had enough of your games, Ra’s. Leave my city!”

Ra’s sighed dramatically and shook his head. “I expected this result.” With a snap of his fingers two dozen soldier entered the room with the same blank expressions Arkham employees had. Two of them carried TV showing a mall in Narrows, full of people going about their day.

“You have two choices,” Ra’s said. “You kill me and take my place, or I will release the toxin to all those innocent people and order them to kill themselves like this.” He snapped his fingers again and one of the soldiers stabbed himself in heart. Batman couldn’t even react, it happened in light speed.

“You are sick, Ra’s!”

“They were supposed to be ordered by Mr. Clayface with my looks, but I am sure most of them are desperate enough to want to die without his voice or Mr. Tetch’s hypnosis. Narrows are such depressing place, most suicides in Gotham are from there, did you know? They will follow my orders.”

Jervis nervously laughed and rubbed his hands. “Gas,” he whispered. “Gas.”

Batman clenched his teeth.

“What’s it going to be then, detective? Strike me down. Kill me, take my place!”

“Gas,” mumbled Jervis eyes set on Batman. “Gas.”

Batman had experience that taught him to never trust his enemies. They were ruthless and crazy. They went to terrible lengths to get what hey wanted. But many of them had honour and tried to get better. He adored them for that and hated he couldn’t help, and they always slipped him and went back to causing harm. But he has seen how it looked when they tried to help and, in those instances, he knew trust in them will not be misplaced.

“Gas,” whispered Hatter again.

“Do your worst,” Batman decided.

That answer shocked Ra’s. His eyes widen. “I am not joking around. Those people will die, and their blood will be on your hands! One way or the other you will become killer, you will be one of us.”

“I am not bluffing.”

Ra’s face turned in anger. “Do it!” he ordered.

The screen showed the mall filling with white gas. Batman felt a stab of uncertainty. Maybe he shouldn’t have trusted the Hatter. Did he make mistake? Did he just kill…

The people waved their hands around to get rid of the smoke and laughed. Then laughed some more. No hysterics not like when you let Joker in chemical lab, but they obviously got very high and very happy.

“What is this?” Ra’s grinded his teeth.

“Bandersnatch fixed the formula,” Hatter grinned. “You do not harm friends.”

“You little!”

Batman attacked. Ra’s never got to Hatter. He had to protect himself. Strong fighter like him never had problem with it. But as he grew old, he grew weaker. And Batman was at his peak.

Ra’s al Ghul lost very soon.

And Batman will have to clean all this mess.

***

“I had to clean all your mess.”

Batman stood on roof of a small apartment complex in cheap part of town.

“They started it,” Miranda answered. Even after two days she looked tired. Her hand was patched, she had trouble moving and what was the worst, she was heartbroken as hell. When she didn’t wiggle in pain, she cried over lost property, lost books and Jonathan. This is not what she wanted when she got her feelings back.

“You killed many people.”

“Are you going to jail me?”

“Unfortunately, there is no evidence against you.”

“Yeah, I won’t tell everyone I can cut people with my mind. Oops.”

“I already know.”

“I figured. Why are you here? Just to teach me a lesson?”

“If the League is ever back in the city, you need to tell me, Miranda. I have my disputes with them. I must know.”

“You never gave me your number.”

“Just start the bat-signal.”

“What’s up with that thing anyways? Are you seriously looking up in the sky all the time? That’s tiring.”

Batman smirked. “Get better soon. Stay out of trouble.”

“Don’t count on it.”

He grappled away. Miranda stayed alone on the roof looking at stupid blimps flying overhead. Using ghosts exhausted her. Constantine warned her – every time she uses them, more of her life energy will drain. Count on them too much, bam, you are dead before you turn forty. That wasn’t her goal. She just wanted to be the one in control and she showed those bastards she can. A prison, a prisoner and now a warden.

Yet she felt empty.

And she hated that feeling.

***

Jonathan needed long sleep. He didn’t leave his bed for days. Even if police would threaten to take his door down, he wouldn’t bother getting up. The work for the League has left him mentally drained and what happened with Miranda has left him angered at world and mostly himself, for he is an idiot.

So, he slept, ate and slept some more. Only Jervis tried to call him to figure whether he was cut to pieces under Arkham.

“No, I am alive,” he said tired to the phone and turned it off when Jervis started crying loudly.

All that sleeping and eating allowed him to settle his thoughts. He put on long gloves and dug through them one at the time, awake, in dreams, asking himself hundred questions and properly answering even the most stupid ones.

“What did I do wrong?”

“You are insecure prick.”

“Elaborate.”

“You think everyone hates you, you cannot be loved and therefore you expected to be betrayed and you just waited for that gotcha moment.”

“Ah. Fuck off.”

“Next question.”

“How do I fix myself?”

How does he indeed? He tried in the past and the path of good locked forever and he threw the key to acid and then cemented over it. That didn’t stop him from improving himself for himself though, right?

Right.

He slept and ate and slept some more and days turned into week and then two. So, after two weeks he finally managed to get himself together. He shaved, brushed his hair and he looked like a human again and not a wreck. He also had all the answers and he was ready to put them to good use.

And if it doesn’t work, he won’t act like a little child. He promised that to himself every night.

Bound in nervousness, yet confident, he knocked on the door. A person opened and looked at him like a murderer just entered the hall.

“The fuck you want?” asked Terry needlessly. They folded their arms blocking his view inside.

“I want to talk to Miranda.”

“Let me thin- no. You are not talking to Miranda, you jerk. She had enough of you,” Terry stood their ground. “You can be on your merry way, bye.”

“Let me talk to her.” Jonathan didn’t plan to give up either.

“Or what? You will scaaare me?” chuckled Terry in mocking way. That will definitely go on the list of complaints.

“No,” Jonathan scoffed. “I will come again and again. Every day until she is the one who opens the door. So, save me and you the time and get her.”

Terry rolled their eyes and closed the door. Jonathan waited. It almost felt useless, but the door finally opened again and there she stood. Miranda looked at him with the same mixed feelings he felt inside. He wouldn’t back off now.

“Miss Bradbury, good afternoon,” he said thankful he is a jerk and can control his voice as if nothing ever happened. “You left this at our last appointment.”

He handed her The Martian Chronicles. It must have burnt with her flat and he didn’t manage to get the same print, but he figured it’s a good excuse.

“Ah. Thank you,” she said little awkwardly. “Did you like it?”

“Yes, it was thought inducing book.”

“I appreciate you brought it back, professor. I missed… it… dearly.” She didn’t smile, but she tried her damnest to look him in the eyes. He had similar problem.

“To be honest, it’s not the only reason I’ve come.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No. Now, I know it’s not really appropriate for a doctor to do this, so feel free to say no. I wanted to ask whether you would consider going out on a date with me?”

Miranda smiled a bit. “You are right, that’s not really good patient-doctor relationship.”

“I know. But I would love to talk outside office hours. And to get to know you better.”

“See, professor, I was in a bit of pickle not that long ago. Cost me four fingers. My temporary landlord won’t let me come home after ten.”

“I will ensure you are home on time,” he smiled. “Lunch tomorrow?”

“Okay. I will wait for you.”

She shifted a bit as if she wanted something, but only said silent goodbye and closed the door behind herself. Jonathan breathed out all the nervousness. Yes! It worked.

“SERIOUSLY?” he heard Terry shout and smiled.

Yes. Seriously.

#batman #fanfiction #jonathan crane #clayface #writeblr #ghosts of the present #sick raven writing #and that's all folks #this story is done

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 years ago

Text

Long Live the King

Warnings: noncon/dubcon (rough sex).

This is dark!Thranduil and explicit. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: The king shows you who is in charge.

Note: It’s been over a year since I wrote Tolkien so I decided that to kinda take the pressure off I would try it again and return to my roots. This is my first (official) dark!Thranduil fic and it just flowed so I’m hoping you all enjoy it. As usual, pay attention to the warnings! Thank you. Love you guys!

Leave some feedback, like and reblog, especially as it’s a little different than my usual fare <3

You always enjoyed the banquets in Mirkwood. Not because of the dancing or the food; as a servant, you did not indulge in the like. You preferred them because they made the nights pass quicker. They weren’t so tedious as sweeping the corridors or making beds.

The music, the cheer, the sense of carelessness released you and your fellow servants from the bonds of propriety. Any slip in your manners or oversight in your work was barely noticed by the drunken and distracted lords and ladies. Little messes could be attended to later and so long as you kept the wine flowing, remonstrance was lost to the bottles.

You stood in the corner with Ilane as you watched the elves in their swaths of silk and satin. Their voices were abuzz throughout the hall as they stepped and spun in time with the music; or tried to. Many were clumsy from imbibing; others careless in their raucousness. You cradled an ewer against your stomach as you awaited a signal and watched the guests cavort.

“Oh, Eru, would you look at the prince?” Siena remarked as she neared with a pair of empty steins. She swept around to gaze out across the hall. “Isn’t he so… handsome?”

“Yes indeed,” Ilane agreed as she smiled at the pale prince. Legolas was himself entranced with a scarlet-haired partner. “Isn’t he?”

Ilane elbowed you and you shook yourself from your trance. You blinked and cleared your throat. You shrugged and glanced over to the younger royal once more.

“I suppose…” You said. “I would be amiss and dishonest to disagree. The prince is rather fetching.”

The girls giggled and you looked from one to the other. Your smile died on your lips and you never joined their mirth. You felt the shadow behind you and turned to step away from the mouth of the passageway that opened to the labyrinthine corridors. Ilane and Siena followed your gaze and mimicked you as you carefully curtsied with the ewer balanced against you.

“Your majesty,” You greeted the king. “Pardon us, we do stand in your way.”

“You do,” He agreed as you backed up against the wall to let him pass. “And you do tarry in your duties.”

Thranduil’s silver eyes flashed and the others bowed their heads and mumbled apologies. You echoed them more firmly as the king narrowed his sights on you. His eyes fell to the wine in your hands and he flicked to fingers towards the hall.

“My goblet is empty,” He declared. “You shall fill it.”

“Your majesty,” You ceded and lowered your head.

He finally stepped past you and the other girls sent you a look. The king was known for his temper and his ill-founded grudges in the slightest of offences, even in none at all. You followed him dutifully as he strode up the stairs of the platform to the high table. He reached across and turned back to you with his grand silver goblet. The sapphires shone in the lantern light as you poured.

You bent again and slowly backed away. He sipped as you neared the end of the table.

“Wait,” He called to you. “Stay. I shall require more as the night wears on me.”

“I shall be around, your majesty, I must attend to other guests.” You replied.

“You must attend to me,” He argued. “Your little friends can see to the rest of my guests.”

“As you wish,” You recited.

“Surely, as I wish,” He assured you and he swept away from you. He marched along to the end and around the other side of the table. “Up here,” He pointed behind his chair as he pulled it out from the table. “No use standing down there like a statue.”

You followed his path and stopped just behind him. You stood at his shoulder with the half-spent pitcher. His long fingers tapped along the side of his goblet between swigs and he looked out across the dance floor. He never joined in, not since his wife’s demise. That was long ago but the scars still marked the kingdom. And him.

He drained the last mouthful and held up his goblet for you to refill it. You did so diligently and he drank without pause. His thumb ran over a teardrop sapphire as he admired the cup.

“My son is rather… princely, isn’t he?” He mused. “The very essence of the elvish heir…”

“Surely, your majesty.” You agreed. “He does take after you.”

He scoffed and took another gulp. “Do not tell me as you think I want you to. Speak as you think…” He swirled the wine, “You think him handsome… fetching?”

“He is not unsightly,” You returned.

“I shall not ask for your honesty again,” He sneered. “As a king, I ask for nothing.”

“I do think he is handsome, your majesty, but I see not how the opinion of a maid should matter.” You said.

“Oh, it matters not,” He tilted his head and you saw the hint of a smirk. “You must have fancies that it could. You and your little pigeons titter so and dream of it, hmmm? That any lord could see a sliver of worth in you.”

You were silent. You’d heard of his malice but never were so unfortunate to be at the mercy of it. You stared ahead and he took another drink.

“More wine, your majesty?” You gestured with the ewer.

“Very well,” He said but withheld his cup. “I tire of the white. I wish for red.” He twirled the goblet, “Fetch it, will you?”

🍷

Your night was spent as such; filling Thranduil’s cup until he was yawning and so uncouth that you could barely withhold your own tongue. He stood and clapped his hands to signal the feast’s end. You noticed the waver in his stance. He’d finished more than an ewer on his own. Even he could not resist the vimor of Elvish wine.

He leaned on his chair as he watched his guests disperse in pairs and trios, chattering even as they yawned and longed for a pillow. You were silent as you backed into the shadows and he turned. His lashes flicked as he saw you, as if recalling your presence, and his lips curled slightly.

“Shall I fetch your footman, your majesty?” You asked.

“You…” He raised his finger at you, “Shall await my orders.” He declared. “You… can be my footman for the night.” His hand fell on your shoulder and he shoved you. “Come on.”

You swallowed and led him along the table. You were unsure what to say though you could not disobey his command. As you reached the end, he stopped you, his hand on your shoulder again. You turned slightly and he grabbed the handle of the ewer. He ripped it away and slammed it on the table.

“Go on,” He waved past you. “You should know where my chamber lies.”

As any servant, you did. You continued down the stairs as he traipsed behind you. He was like your shadow as he loomed closer and closer. His usual graceful stride was uneven as you wove along the bridges and twisted walkways.

When you came upon his doors, he reached over your shoulder and held out a single golden key on a blue ribbon. You took it without further prompting. You were swift to unlock the door and open it for him. He entered lithely and his fingers worked at unbuttoning his robe. You stayed by the door, clinging to the handle.

“Close it,” He demanded. “You will help me retire for the night.”

Your chest rattled but you closed the door. He faced you as you neared him and his hands took yours. He lifted them to the front of his robe. “You may hang it by the door,” He smirked. “My boots are to be placed beside the wardrobe.”

You finished loosing the rest of the buttons and he dropped the robe from his shoulders. You pulled it free from his arms and his silver eyes followed your every move. You hung it as he bid and returned to him as he sat heavily on the bed. He splayed his feet out and you knelt to unlace them. He leaned back on his hands, still focused upon your work.

You slipped the boots from his feet and tucked the laces in. You looked up but took pause at the bulge in his lap. You blinked and quickly stood. You went to the wardrobe and placed the boots on the rack beside it. You returned to him as he sat forward. He caught your hand again and tugged you close.

He led your hand to his crotch and pressed it to the hardness within his trousers. You blanched and tried to pull away. He held you there and snickered.

“You think that’s for you?” He spat. “Oh, dear, you think highly of yourself, don’t you?”

“No, your majesty,” You stilled and looked him in the eye. “I know not what you mean. Shall I continue in readying you for bed?”

His lip curled and he pushed away your hand.

“Go on,” His nostrils flared. “I can finish on my own. I needn’t a wench to help me.”

You bowed and gave a measured ‘your majesty’. He let out a dark breath and you backed away to the door. You reached behind you and let yourself out. His fingers gripped the waist of his trousers as you pulled the door closed behind you. You were quick to flit away the moment the wood met the frame.

🍷

You weren’t the first servant to be humiliated by the king. You’d heard tales of his rants and ravings so it was no surprise when he quickly forgot about you. It was truly a relief. You were just another in a line of those he felt to be ungrateful and impertinent. He had undoubtedly found another in the week since to turn his wrath upon.

Your life was as it was. There was no sudden ejection or demotion, as you feared. You swept, mopped, wiped the walls, polished the silver, tidied chambers. Your duties were as banal as before.

Well, Thranduil’s words had proven true. A maid mattered little to those above her.

That day, the king had held a dinner for his son and his favoured nobles. A close affair in a dining room close to the feast hall. These meals weren’t unusual. Some offhand celebration of a council declaration or diplomatic victory. You were among several who were to tidy up after them.

Ilane and Siena gathered the empty dishes and Tonia took the dirtied tablecloth to the laundries. You were left to wipe the table and sweep the floor. Simple enough. You took a cloth and set to cleaning the long trestle. You neared the door as you came around the end and bent over the wood to reach as far as you could. The hinges whispered behind you unexpectedly but you assumed one of the girls had returned for something they’d overlooked.

“Forgive me,” The prince’s voice had you straight as a stalk and you turned to greet him with a bow. You realized how vulgar you must’ve looked with your rear in the air. “I believe I did leave my ring behind.”

“Your highness,” You bent your knee and balled the cloth in your hand. “I haven’t seen it but I might help you look to see if it has fallen.”

“Very well,” He smiled kindly. He was much nicer than his father and you had to agree with Siena; he was very handsome.

He neared the table and you mirrored him on the other side. You pushed between the chair and the table and got down to search the floor. He did the same and you saw the pale amethyst upon the band of white gold. You reached for it as he did too and his hand closed around yours. You flinched and tried to pull away.

“Apologies, your highness,” You gasped.

His grip lingered but he let your hand slip from his. He took the ring and held it up between you. He was awfully close as he looked over at you.

“Quick eye,” He praised. “No need to apologize.” He turned the ring in his fingers as you began to back out. “Wait,” He beamed at you as you paused. “Do you like it?”

“What?” You blinked.

“The ring? Do you like it?” He asked again.

“I think it is very fine, your highness.” You said.

“Well, I should agree but I think it would look finer…” He held it out. “On you.”

Your eyes rounded and you kept from laughing aloud. “Your highness, with all respect, you should keep it. It is yours.”

“I have many. I should want such a… fetching lady as yourself to have it.” He looked at the ring and stretched his arm towards you. “Won’t you honour me by wearing it?”

“I… cannot,” You felt your cheeks burn. “Really, it’s… rather foolish, your highness. I’m a maid and…”

“A pretty maid,” He said. “A pretty maid I would have wear my ring…” He came forward on his knees, his neck bent beneath the table, and took your hand. He turned it palm up and pressed the ring to it. “And nothing else.” He winked.

You pulled away in shock. The ring bobbled from your hand and fell back to the wood. “Your highness, I…”

He began to laugh. You gaped at him and he picked up the ring. He looked up at you with a grin as his guffaws died.

“You really think I would have any interest in you?” He chided. “Oh, you maids are so easy.”

Your brow wrinkled in disgust. You hung your head as you sat back on your heels and folded your hands over your skirt. You wanted to cry at his tone; his repulsion, his mockery. He tucked the ring in his pocket and sighed.

“To think…” His voice was deeper and you slowly looked up. His hair paled just a little as his brows grew thicker and his features sharpened. Thranduil smirked back at you. “A prince and a maid.”

“Your highness.” You reeled and balled your skirts in your fists. “I--”

“A prince…” He scoffed. “Let me show you what makes a king.”

You yelped as he grabbed your wrist and wrenched you forward. “Ow, let go!”

“Are you telling your king what to do?” He asked as he released you and his hand flew up to your throat. He drew you closer so your noses were almost touching. “You and your trite little tongue.”

“St-o-op,” You gulped out as you grabbed his wrist. “Why--”

“A king cannot stand for such insolence,” He squeezed and forced you down onto your back. You kicked as you clawed at him. “Do you think I forgot, my pigeon?”

“I did not-- You’re-- I can’t breathe,” You gasped as you tried to pry his fingers away.

“All the better for I tire of your words,” He climbed over you and pressed his body to yours, pinning you to the floor. “I tire of your arrogance. You must…” He leaned in, his breath hot on your cheek, “Recall your place. Recall mine.” His grip tightened. “Recall who is king.”

“Please,” You rasped as you pushed against his chest. “Pl--”

He silenced you with his lips. It was as if he meant to devour you. His kiss was rough, hungry, and sour with wine. He rolled his hips and you felt the same hardness in his trousers. His fingers loosened and slipped down between you. He spread his hand over your bodice and cupped your tit. He pulled back and the tip of his nose tickled yours.

“I can be the prince,” He taunted. “But you’ll be begging for me by the time we’re done.”

You shook your head as his appearance flickered. It was Legolas over you for a split second before the king appeared once more. He leaned in again, this time his lips were on your throat as you writhed beneath him. He sank his teeth into your neck and you cried out. He only bit harder as he delighted in your pain.

His other hand snaked between you and he lifted his pelvis as he tugged up your skirts. You continued to kick as he forced his knee between your legs and inched the fabric above it. Your heart pounded loudly in your ears as you pushed on his shoulders desperately. His fingers hooked under your bodice and a loud tear added to the tempo.

You whined as you felt his fingers along your knee and shuddered as he tickled your thigh.

“Your majesty, what are you-- I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please don’t--”

His hand shot up from your chest and he covered your mouth. “Shhhh,” He pulled back again. “You must learn to obey.” He growled. “It is what got you into this mess, my pigeon.”

You trembled as he rescinded his hand and lifted himself on his knees, your left leg between his as he held you in place. He parted your torn bodice and his pupils grew as he groped you. He held your tits and flicked your nipples with his thumb. You were ashamed as you body twitched in response and your nipples hardened.

He bent over you again, this time he buried his face in your chest as he held himself up on an elbow. He nibbled along your tits and stopped to take a nipple in his mouth and suck. You let out a long breath as he pushed both his legs between yours and forced them apart. He pushed your skirts up to your waist and the cool air sent a shiver through you.

His fingers brushed along your thigh and traced your vee. You closed your eyes and turned your head away. You bit your lip as the flutter within sickened you. Why did you feel this way? You grabbed his shoulders and tried to move him; he easily ignored you. Your nails sank into the brocade as he dragged his finger between your folds. You squeaked.

“That’s it,” He lifted his head from your chest. “You see what a king can do…”

He pressed another finger to your clit and rubbed slowly. You kept your eyes on the table above as you squirmed. You didn’t want to like it. He began to circle your bud and your thighs tensed against his. He pushed your legs even wider and slowly drew his hand away. You swallowed through your dry throat as you felt him fumbling around.

You felt another pressure along your clit. You inhaled through clenched teeth as he rubbed his tip along your folds. He spread your arousal over your clit and you tried to wiggle away from him. He slid his arm beneath yours and his fingers clung to your shoulder as he held you still.

“Look at me,” He ordered as he guided his cock along your entrance. “Look at your king!”

Your eyes snapped to his and your lips formed an o as he pushed inside of you. You dug your nails into his shoulders and sobbed as he impaled you entirely. You slapped at his chest and tried to shove him off of you. He began to thrust as he lowered his weight onto you and trapped your arms beneath him.

“Your majesty,” You quavered, “Please…”

“Say it again.” He said as he continued to rock his hips. “Say it.”

“Your majesty,” You gritted.

“Again.” He commanded.

You repeated yourself and he sped up. His pelvis rubbed against your clit with each thrust. He pushed his other arm beneath your shoulder and grasped your head between his large hands. He gaze down at you as he fucked you harder and harder, delighting in the pain as it contorted your face.

“I am still the king,” He growled as he jerked into you. “Still your king.”

You nodded and your eyes rolled back as the sparks began to swirl around your core. You bent your legs and arched your feet as you felt the sudden rise. Your orgasm erupted from you in a series of agonized moans. You shook beneath him as you came and your tortured ecstasy only seemed to encourage him.

He pushed himself up and grabbed onto your hips as he hunched beneath the shelter of the table. He rammed into you over and over as he jerked your body over the floor. His grunts mingled with your pathetic whimpers. You were sore and throbbing as he pounded into you without relent, his fervour building with each thrust.

He sank into you with a spasm and came. He swore as his grip tightened on your hips and he bucked as he emptied himself in you. You covered your face as you felt his pleasure seeping into you and his shaky breaths enshrined you beneath the table.

He was slow, reluctant even, to pull out of you. His cum dripped out of you and onto the wood as your hands fell from your face. You looked down weakly as he tucked his cock away and laced up his trousers. He chest rose and fell as he smooth out the front of his robe.

“You should clean up this mess,” He dragged his finger along your slick thigh before he slowly back out from under the table. “I shall call on you when I require your duties, ” His boots strode to the door and he paused, “And you will fly to me, won’t you, my pigeon?”

#thranduil #dark!thranduil #read the warnings #tolkien #the hobbit #dark thranduil #thranduil fic #dark!fic #fic #one shot #dark fic #au #thranduil x reader #dark!thranduil x reader #dark thranduil x reader

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descendantofthesparrow · 6 years ago

Text

Part of your World- Harry Hook x Reader – Part 6 – savior part 1

a rewrite of @blackplaidcalum x reader that they wrote for me

summary: a who doesn’t love the Disney World, well, (y/n) especially loves descendants, and one day, as she dances in her kitchen getting ready to head out. 17-year-old (y/n) becomes part of that world, now a certain blue-eyed pirate meets the girl from a world where he is a fictional character and he has an actor named Thomas Doherty.

warning: mention and the act of rape included in this part

Key:

h/c- hair color

e/c- eye color

h/l- hair length

s/c- skin color

y/n- your name

your stuff

—

Its been about a month since your arrival to the isle of the lost, and you have gotten closer to the Scottish pirate, he had made it a habit of taking you on his pay routes and had asked you to teach him parkour, when he did you asked why, he said he knew some parkour, but he wanted to learn more.

When you told Uma about his request, she said Harry just wanted to spend time with you, you brushed her off, not letting her see you blush. She had also caught you sleeping on each other’s shoulders, and catching you both staring at each other, but thankfully she kept it to herself.

Now it was 7:30 pm and Mr. Smee had come into the shop and told him his father requested him, Harry went pale and shakily followed Smee, Umas mood had gone sour and she stormed into the kitchen, Gil even being less ball of sunshine he usually was.

Something was up, you asked bonny what was wrong, but she simply shook her head, having a frown on her face, the crew having the same expression. Having enough you followed them on the rooftops, watching Smee comfort Harry over something, Harry closing in on himself and hugging his arms, Smee rubbing his back, as you followed them, you felt a heavy pit grow in your stomach, something was wrong, really really wrong.

Soon the two came to a stop, and there he was Captain Hook. and…a woman? She was smirking lustfully and Hook just had a stone face. The woman walked forward and grabbed the lapels of Harry’s jacket and said something that made your blood boil.

“well I will be taking my payment~ till next time captain~” and with that, she dragged of a terrified-looking Harry, and you gritted your teeth, but stayed behind. Hearing another thing making you thirst for Hooks blood.

“Captain, why do you keep doing this to the boy”

“HA! You act as if I care for ‘im! He is nothing but a form of payment, whether it be a sexual payment or muscular payment, let the wench do what she wants to the boy, I couldn’t care less for what she does, as long as she doesn’t keep him, I have both men and woman lining up for his ass HA HA!” Hook wobbled back into the house, leaving Smee to stand there, wiping tears from his eyes. Only a moment later he looks up at you, you gasped in surprise, he only smiled sadly and begged

“please save him, my dear, you might be the only one to be able to”

You nodded and raced off, following the sounds of whimpering,

‘oh god no’ you thought, you arrived above an ally where you could see Harrys shivering form, without his jacket and shirt, the woman kissing his neck and unbuttoning his pants.

“shh my pet, you know you love this, after all, we have done this before~”

“p-please stop” Harry whimpered, you saw tears trailing down his face, his eyes scrunched closed. Dear god, you were gonna kill this woman…and Hook.

The woman ignored him and trailed her kisses down his chest, but before she could reach his v-line, a sword stopped her.

The woman squealed and scampered back, looking up she saw you, death in your eyes, standing in front of Harry, sword pointed at her throat, teeth bared, and one arm flourish away from killing her

“(y-y/n)?” Harry sniffed sinking to the floor, looking up at you in awe, hed never seen you like this, pissed off and ready to kill.

“who” the woman screeched standing to her feet and scowling “who the fuck are you!” you growled and rushed her, slamming her into the wall, sword at her throat, she whimpered and sunk back into the alleyway.

“let me make this clear” you spoke in a deadly voice, making Harry and the woman shiver from the malice in it, though Harry’s shivering was from a vastly different reason than the women.

“you are never to touch Harry ever again, you are never to even glance in his direction or if you ever even think about him, I will find you and I will fucking slice you open, rip out all your intestines and then feed them to you, and then! I will decapitate you, understood?” the woman shakily nodded, but stupidly opened her mouth to speak.

“but-but James gave him to me as pay-“ you snarled and dug the sword into her throat, “Harry is not a payment, he is a fucking human being, and I want you to spread that if anyone ever touches Harry in the way that you have again, let them know I will fucking skin them and turn them into a pair of shoes and feed them to tick-tock, understood?” the woman squeaked and nodded, you snarled at her and released her, she took the opportunity and ran.

You huffed and turned to Harry, who was staring up at you in awe, your face softened and looked around for his jacket and shirt, you soon found the jacket and grabbed it, walking over to Harry and handed it to him, he mumbled out thanks and shrugged it on. You sat next to him and he leaned his head on your shoulder and grasped your hand, you squeezed it and you both sat in silence for a minute before you spoke: “how long has this been going on Harry?” Harry was silent for a few moments, before answering.

“it started when I was 9” your eyes widened, 9 years!?! Harry has been sold to people for 9 years!?!

“what!” Harry jumped at the malice in your voice “this has been going on for 9 years?!? Why hasn’t somebody tried to stop it?!”

Harry shakily answered and said “ me sister and Uma tried, but…me dad refused to budge, and” his voice cracked “ and to show that what he said goes, he let the crew have a go at me.” you covered your mouth in horror, holy shit the entire crew! “uncle Smee tried to stop ‘em but…he was just pushed aside, and” he broke down, sobbing his hands, you quickly wrapped your arms around him and brought him to your chest, running your hands through his hair.

“ it hurt so bad (y/n), I tried to get them to stop, but they just kept goin’, it- it hurt (y/n) and it hasn’t stopped hurting.” Harry’s tears soaked your top, but you didn’t care, you needed to care for Harry. Holy shit, his past was so much more broken then you’d thought it be, you’d never though Hook would sell his soon, you were wrong.

You and Harry sat there for an hour before you helped harry up and slowly made your way to the ship, once you arrived you saw Uma pacing on the deck, when she saw you arrive with harry her eyes widened and rushed to Harry’s other side, helping you into the shared room and set him down on the bed, Uma turned to you

“what the hell happened?!”

You didn’t bother to look up at her, sitting down next to Harry’s head and ran your fingers through his hair, he curled up and laid his head in your lap, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“(y/n)”

You looked at her, she had a face of ‘wtf’ and stood there with her arms crossed, tapping her foot

“what did you do?”

You sighed and kept your voice quiet as not to disturbed the now asleep harry. “I stopped Harry from getting raped”

Umas jaw dropped and her arms fell to her side

“you-you what?!”

Your furrowed your brows and said “you acting like that’s a bad thing”

“i-its not that saving him a bad thing! It’s that whoever you saved him from is going to come back for him! Believe me, I know!”

You glared at her and lifted Harry off your lap and stood to your full height, glaring (up/down) at Uma, and for the first time in a long time, Uma was intimidated.

“well then I’ll just have to deal with the source of the problem won’t I?” you pushed past Uma and grabbed Harry’s sword and attached it to your self, opening the room door and making your way to your destination

“wait! (y/n)! where are you going?”

You’re turned back and glared at her, she stopped in her tracks, seeing the pure hatred in your eyes.

“to kill James Hook”

–end of part 6–

Comment or message me for part 7

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#Descendents #descendants #disney descendants #harry hook #harry hook descendants #harryhook #harry hook imagine #harry hook x reader #x reader #reader is badass #harriet cares about her brother #hook is a terrible person

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loquaciousquark · 6 years ago

Text

6th Guardian. Chilly, but with a bite just sharp enough to make it unpleasant as well as uncomfortable

There’s a twitchy new elf in town. Showed up last night to ambush an ambush, as Varric’s friend we were supposed to meet is apparently become an ex-friend, or an ex-anything, really. That was unkind of me, but I do find myself intolerably snippy when someone I don’t know a) saves my life so that I owe them a favor, and b) looks better than me doing it.

They were Crows, too, which I rather thought had been dealt with ever since Isabela’s friend Zevran came through and charmed the pants off all of us. Well, off Isabela, certainly. Well, except she doesn’t wear--never mind. I suppose when one is famous enough to have made enemies of both effective heads of state in one’s town one ought not to be surprised when someone else comes a-killing down the lane.

You know, I said I wanted to vacation in Orlais, but this isn’t quite the way I’d meant it. The Heart of the Many is what she’s after, this Tallis, some fantastic jewel (pah!), and the villainous Duke Prosper (really!) keeps it clutched in his Orlesian...clutches. Leave me be, journal, I’m tired and Fenris slept at his own place tonight, so I’m woeful lonely even with the dog curled on the side of the bed where he belongs.

Now Toby looks betrayed. He can’t even read! How should he know what I’m writing, aside from the fact he’s the oldest friend I’ve got & he knows everything I’m thinking in one glance? Hardly fair, is it?

Anyway, Tallis thinks we ought to come a-crashing to this gala he’s hosting at Chateau Haine in Orlais. A hunt, I think. I used to hunt in Lothering, but if I had to wager I’d suspect they’ll be using slightly different methods than my rope snares and broken traps. And different game than my hare & pheasant. Or perhaps they won’t! Who knows?

I wasn’t going to do it except that Anders is planning a particular midnight event that same week and he wants me publicly away of the city for an alibi. He thinks I don’t know what he’s planning, but I’m the one who got Aveline to turn a blind eye to any ships fleeing the harbor in dead of night with too many passengers than should be aboard. He’d realize it, too, if he weren’t so determined to only see what Justice lets him. Sebastian & Varric have said they’ll keep an eye on him, though, if I do end up going on this fool’s errand, which I suppose is as much as I could hope for. They won’t help him with the escape, but they’ll keep him alive. As alive as he’ll ever be, lately.

Tallis says I should pack something fancy for the evening assemblies at the chateau. Something that’ll make me fit in like the nobility I am. I told her I had a set of old leathers that only had a few pints of blood still caked in the creases, but I don’t think she thought it was funny. Her loss!

11th Guardian. On the road! Still chilly, with the fields tipped with frost this morning and a cold mist floating over all the hedgerows before the sun burned it away

I should never have thought it, journal, but Fenris and Aveline both have agreed to come along with me! I was certain he’d be as thrilled at the idea as Aveline when Isabela pulls out the sixth Angel of Death in a hand, but he only lifted an eyebrow and said, “I enjoy following you,” as if he didn’t know how wibbly he makes me every time he suggests the thought. He brought the beautiful black leather set he wore the evening I became Champion. I packed a sleeveless lavender overtunic and a simple white blouse I can wear over trou & boots, because if experience has taught me nothing else I know I should anticipate running for my life at least once during this venture. Aveline won’t show me, but I’d bet ten sovs on the copper it’s that blue gown she wore the night of the Satinalia feast Mother hosted a few years back.

You must forgive me, journal, if the hand is shakier than usual. The road to Chateau Haine is paved not with gold but with boulders as uneven as Carver’s temper when he’s tired.

Also, Fenris is dozing on my shoulder (an accident, I know, because if he could see the knowing looks Tallis keeps throwing our way he’d ghost straight out of the carriage), and I’d rather cut the hand off than disturb his nap.

We’re due to arrive tomorrow, which is the first night of the duke’s week-long hunting party. I expect to be thrown out by dawn.

Later, just after dinner - grouse, capers, mashed potatoes, mediocre white wine. Pretty pattern on the flatware, though

Evening at the Auberge de Tuyé, an old inn unremarkable in every way save its magnificent brick chimney and the fact that it marks our first evening within Orlais’s borders.

The only interesting events so far are that I nearly fell into the pig trough from stiff knees getting out of the carriage (a fine testament to the skills for which I’ve been hired), the elf waitress was almost uncomfortably deferent at dinner over our travel finery, and when the innkeeper gave Fenris the key to our room without a second glance, I got the most peculiar feeling in my chest that still hasn’t abated.

Got stronger, even, as I watched him read the numbers plated on the doors and find ours easily, without hesitation; stronger again as I watched him direct the inn’s boys with our valises as they brought them to the rooms with every comfortable ease. By the time he sat on the side of the bed and tugged off his boots, then ran his fingers through his hair to shake out the travel dust, my heart might have burst from how dear he’s become to me.

He saw me looking and his face changed, and it wasn’t until he asked (with no small alarm) if I meant to cry that I realized how much must have shown on my own.

How easy it was to cross the room we share and kiss him directly on his mouth. How simple a thing, after every agony of Kirkwall & Tevinter put together, to cup his cheeks in my hands and feel his breath hitch as he smiled up at me.

Flames and pyre, but may I never take another moment for granted with him. Ever, ever, ever.

Very late or very early, not sure which

He’s exhausted & therefore snoring. I am rereading the last lines I wrote over and over again in this remarkably feeble moonlight to remind me why I don’t smother him with a pillow this very instant.

If he doesn’t stop soon I’m going to go kip on Av’s floor and not give two shits if Tallis thinks the less of me for it.

12th Guardian, near midnight. Cold

It was the blue gown, ha! We made it to Prosper’s estate just before dinner. More extravagant than anything in Kirkwall, even the Viscount’s festivals; fire dances and swans made of ice and servants proffering canapes at every turn. Fifi de Launcet & her entire hideous family are here. Dulci’s already sneered at me twice. I thought about asking after Emile, but I’ve fond-enough memories of his foolishness I didn’t want to poison them with his relations.

One of the guards thought Fenris was my manservant and tried to hustle him away from the glitterati, which lasted all of three seconds before the guard a) realized Fenris’s jacket cost more than his entire set of armor, and b) looked at Fenris’s face and read the death there if he didn’t release his arm that instant. More dangerous than that pet wyvern Prosper keeps to alarm his guests. Maker, I need to learn that trick.

Aveline mostly kept hawk’s eyes on Tallis all night. For the second day of a week-long hunt the festivities seemed over-grand to me, but Tallis hardly batted an eye as she danced in and out of the crowds, listening for any mention of the jewel and what I suppose are Prosper’s dubious motives for pilfering it. Nothing tonight, she said, though there’s plenty of time yet.

Haven’t met Prosper himself, as it happens. Apparently he’s still negotiating certain hunt-related errata or somesuch. I can’t bring myself to care at the moment, as I’m in a bed with white satin sheets, covers embroidered in gilt thread, and a shirtless elf insistently nibbling his way across my shoulder, please the Maker I’ll put down the pen, fine!

14th Guardian. Warmer today but not by much, clear skies to see doom from miles away

Short entry, as we’re to be guests of honor at the feast tonight--got the wyvern today! & an alpha, for that matter, and my left arm’s burned to the Void to prove it. Got wrist-deep in wyvern dung & Fenris laughed at me (prior to the burning), watched Tallis make a fool of herself (roughly contemporary to the burning), and nearly killed but didn’t an Orlesian baron who attempted to poach our rightly-earned victory from under our noses (post-burning, and some of his details are frankly lost by me attempting to beat my own arm off to get away from the spitting poison). Asked Aveline after if she missed being part of these fancy companies and she said as yet she hadn’t seen anything worth missing. Ha!

Regardless, Tallis wants to use the party Prosper’s throwing for us as cover to sneak inside the chateau & find the Heart. I feel as though the guests of honor vanishing mid-feast might be noticeable, but then again, I’ve snuck out more than once at these things and haven’t been caught yet. Perhaps tonight will be more of the same.

Tallis told us we ought to be prepared to do whatever it takes to get hold of the key we’ll need to reach the innards of the chateau. I told her I drew the line at my clothes coming off at any hands not tattooed in lyrium and Fenris coughed into his wine. Tallis only rolled her eyes and said she’d be happy to do the seducing if it came to that, and Aveline sighed and said she wished Isabela had come along as well. She’d have enjoyed every minute of this, the wench.

(Sidebar, before I forget--Bann Teagan is here as well. That’s who Aveline’s been spending most of her time with when absolutely forced to make small talk, & I must remember to ask him how Lothering is doing before we go. His outlook was not so sunny last time we spoke, but I have hopes.)

Agh, I’ve more to say and no time! Later, later!

Who knows what time it is

Tallis is a Qunari spy, Prosper knew we were coming, and it was all a trap. This prison cell is so old the stone has graffiti from over an age ago.

And yet, funnily enough, I’ve been to worse parties.

I’m annoyed with Tallis & writing here to ignore her. The guard outside the cell keeps rattling the bars with his pommel and asking if we’re hungry yet. I can’t say I care for his leer, though it’s better than the way Cyril de Montfort eyed me like a hock of (despairing) ham earlier. His hands are larger than Fenris’s and much colder, and when they came ‘round my waist I could feel him searching for a hem to slide under. Thank the Bride I can be fucking glib when I wish to be, & that Cyril’s fool enough to think midnight being more romantic was a good enough reason to let me go.

I think I could burn these bars to slag but I don’t know how many guards are down the hall, and I don’t know where my father’s staff is. I also don’t know where Aveline & Fenris are, which worries me more than anything.

Tallis looks miserable I’m so angry with her. Damn it. Damn me. If she’d been straightforward from the start I’d have been so much more inclined to help her with this piffle.

It must have been at least two hours by now. My left arm is killing me since Aveline has my salve. I’ve forgiven Tallis solely out of boredom

She says if we don’t stop Salit hundreds of innocent people will die. The guard suggests that if we don’t stop chit-chatting like a pair of magpies he’ll shut our mouths himself. I don’t care for this one’s attitude, honestly

Later, briefly

We’ve only stopped a moment to rest, so this must be extremely short. Fenris & Aveline found us in the prison--Tallis had made them stay behind as we crept through the chateau to avoid attention. Fenris tore out the guard’s heart as Tallis picked our lock & then he took hold of me so tight I could barely breathe, and it was the first time since the inn I felt quite myself again.

Prosper has these creatures fighting for him. Harlequins, he calls them. They fight like demons & wear masks to boot, and there’s something very skittish in the way they move. I don’t like it, though I will admit they die like anything else.

We’re deep in the caverns under the chateau. We did manage to loot the high holy fire out of Prosper’s vaults before we left, which has made me feel loads better, but we’re not out of the woods yet. Or caves, as it happens. Aveline’s shield broke in the last fight & she twisted her elbow badly; we’re giving her a moment to bind it before we continue on. I’ll heal what I can when she’s finished, but Fenris thinks I should save my strength for battle. Tallis agrees with him, which is even more irksome.

Aveline’s done with the splint. More later.

(I hope)

17th Guardian. Warmer still today, or is that just the wyvern spit

There is, it seems, a later, though it was a close thing. Prosper and his wyvern are both dead, as are Salit & the plans to steal the Qunari agents’ identities. Tallis has mucked off to who-knows-where, though not without hocking a great fat ruby at my head in thanks and exchanging a few flirts that had Fenris rolling his eyes so far back in his head he probably saw the Maker Himself. We’re in the carriage now, on the way back to the Auberge for our last stop before returning home to Kirkwall tomorrow. I’ve had to borrow clothes from Aveline’s bags, as the green slime Prosper used to guide his wyvern’s little nosie right to me has stunk my leathers to high heaven. They’re wrapped three layers deep in a trunk lashed to the roof of the carriage and I can still smell them.

Maker, I don’t even remember where I left off. We made it out of the caves eventually, though not before I found Fenris a necklace that used to belong to some Fog Warriors & he kissed me hard in one of the little rocky nooks right before the exit into daylight. Aveline was already outside, and Tallis didn’t seem to care much -- not that it would have mattered if she had, as there was enough lingering fear in his voice I shouldn’t have stopped if Andraste had come down herself to ask.

The next hours are a blur. We fought our way up the hills and down them again, mostly against Tal-Vashoth & these horrid little nesty creatures called ghasts, and then Baron Arlange must have been very determined to die as he came out at us, again, and this time there wasn’t a duke to intervene on his behalf.

Flames, I’m starving, and the dried jerky Aveline so thoughtfully brought for us on this last journey is not taking away the edge. We’ve still over an hour before we reach the inn; thank goodness this is distracting enough. I’d rather be napping, honestly, but Fenris has taken the seat across to lounge its full width, and since he was nearly gutted by the wyvern in the last fight I suppose I can’t begrudge it overmuch. Aveline’s solid enough, but her shoulder’s hard as a rock. A good thing--strong! Rock-strong. Mountain-strong. Don’t give me that look.

Anyway, we eventually fought our way back to the chateau, whereupon we discovered our intrepid Salit dispensing his little scroll directly into the duke’s grasping ...grasp. Tallis got the scroll back via a bit of trickery--good enough--but then Prosper saw the rest of us and it was all “you’ve seen too much” and “now you must die” and blah, blah, blah, here’s my raging seasick wyvern to spit up on you while I rain fiery exploding arrows from the sky, worst Tuesday ever.

In the end, though, both the wyvern and his rider went off the cliff backing the chateau’s courtyard, Tallis got her secrets returned, and Fenris got the munificent honor of lying flat on his back on the pavingstones for another quarter-hour until I could get his side closed up again. Aveline was marvelous this whole time--held all the remaining, goggling guests at bay while Tallis invented an excellent cover story (I assume, as I wasn’t there to hear it, but we also remained un-mauled by Prosper’s guards further, so it must have had some success). Leliana came out from the house too, that Nightingale from that evening at the Chantry a few months back, and as much as she obviously knew we were lying she backed up everything Tallis said and more. Tallis clearly didn’t thrill at her presence (is she truly a spy? She shows her emotions far too easily--said the tar-black pot to the kettle, I know, I know), but thanked her for the help, later, and didn’t make a single acerbic comment when Leliana and I began talking about the Lothering chantry over dinner.

(I’d forgotten she used to run the handbell choir there for a while. I was only a ringer for half a season, since there weren’t enough bells & Bethany wanted it more than I did, but I have so many fond memories of watching her on the little dais before the altar, dressed in Chantry rose & gold, her hair ruthlessly pinned back as she watched Leliana for their cues.

Leliana says she remembers her, is sorry for the loss of a sweet girl. She’s a far better liar than I’ll ever be, but I’d like to believe her.)

As it is, by the time Lord Cyril arrived to find his father dead & his house in utter disarray, most of the carcasses had been ceremonially tossed to the rocks below. Leliana and I managed to persuade him Leopold had eaten something poor and lost his mind, and in the fracas took the duke over the edge with him--true enough, given the circumstances, but as Cyril seemed both wholly unaware of his father’s attempt to ally with the Tal-Vashoth and wholly unsuspicious of our motives (aided, perhaps, by the fact that I still had blood up to my ears), he accepted our truth readily enough and turned all his attention to legal matters and the rest of his guests instead. I nearly got away without any more of his attentions, too, but at the last moment he caught me by the hand, kissed my cheek with very cold lips, and gravely told me as alluring as I might be, he thought it would be unseemly to pursue a summer romance given the circumstances. Of course, said I ad nauseum, until at last he let me go and I was able to get Fenris inside to our room where he might rest. Fenris, who is infinitely warmer even when complaining about the Kirkwall cold.

Hm. In retrospect, that may have been the fever. Ah, well.

We’ve pulled up to the picket gate before the Auberge, so I will end this here.

18th Guardian. Very cold dawn, clear pink skies

Writing this at breakfast. Fenris is still asleep and Aveline strongly discourages dialogue before she has had her second cup of coffee, so I speak to an ever-willing audience in you instead.

Fenris’s fever has broken and his side looks much better, thank goodness, though he’s disgustingly tired and prone to snippy complaints at the least discomfort. I’m of the opinion a few good nights’ sleeps & a few really good sleepless nights will get him back to his old self, but I doubt he’ll feel truly well until we’re in Kirkwall again. He’s also annoyed my arm is taking so long to heal, though I haven’t told him it’s because I’ve been using all my strength to get him whole, first. He wouldn’t thank me for the knowing, and I don’t need his high dudgeon prolonging his healing even more.

Damn all of this mess. Despite everything I do like Tallis, and despite everything I feel badly for Cyril. The only person I don’t regret killing there is Prosper, and that’s half because I got to be very clever as he died. Maker, bring me quickly back to Kirkwall, where at least I know I don’t know who’s right and who’s evil.

Ah, Fenris is up at last. His eyes are clearer than they’ve been since the weekend, so he must be feeling better. And here comes the starry-eyed waitress to bring him his breakfast, right on cue. I ought to marry him as soon as possible to ensure I’m forever included in this excellent service too.

Late evening, in the estate at last, home sweet home (or as much as it can be, anyway, though Toby’s done a wonderful job at trying to crawl through my whole self in welcome)

Asked Fenris tonight if he would have minded a summer romance with Lord Cyril. Said immediately Cyril wasn’t his taste--not nearly alluring enough, even covered in wyvern spit, and went right back to his quail. Cheeky, said I, though I know I was smiling.

Orana keeps walking out of the laundry room with scented kerchiefs pressed to her nose. The leathers may be a lost cause. Damn!

25th Guardian. Warm winds from the north today, though the morning broke cool

Varric is already drafting a series on the Chateau Haine escapades. Jewel Heart, he’s titling it (tentatively), in spite of my numerous and vociferous objections. I say it ought to be an adventure, not a romance; he says it can be both. Hmph.

Varric, when you read this (and don’t flatter your chest hair, we both know where you get your source material, and we both know Isabela’s helping), for Andraste’s sake, come up with a better title. Heart of the Many, maybe. Mark of the Assassin. Something!

14th Drakonis. Warm but very wet -- the puddles are steaming

He uses the word “alluring” forty-seven times in the rough copy. I’m going to burn his press to cinders.

16th Drakonis. Still raining

Fenris likes it.

I may never win again, but at least he makes me enjoy the losing. And Varric -- oh, who cares, you’ll do what you like regardless. Just make sure he’s in his black leathers at least once, and I’ll be satisfied.

And for the record, I demand the first print copy to be autographed for me. Consider it payment for services rendered, for my arm’s gone and scarred and if I haven’t you to tell me how wonderful I was in the scarring, how else will I know it was worth it?

(You know I love you. Don’t ever stop.)

#fenris #hawke #fenris/hawke #dragon age #quark writes #hawke's journal tag #mark of the assassin #ft. tallis and tired aveline #haHAA bet you thought i'd forgotten this eh #eh eh #well #haven't

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lala-loveli · 5 years ago

Text

sip to take the edge off

basically inuyasha and kagome had an argument about babies, inuyasha joins miroku for a drink, and then he goes to make it better. hope ya’ll enjoy! xoxo (also i couldn’t decide whether to write out the nsfw part or not soo dkgjlsg yeah)

---

“You bought what?” Inuyasha questioned, unamused. He simply stared with an incredulous expression as Miroku danced by him, arms swinging around, legs lifting repeatedly to his stomach.

“Sooooome sake!” Miroku shouted before stumbling, twisting his body at a horrible angle before unwillingly hitting the floor.

“You’re gonna wake the kids,” Inuyasha mumbled, stepping around Miroku’s body as though he were a germ before finding all the bottles of sake Miroku had purchased.

“What if I wake up Sangoooo,” Miroku released a childish giggle, rolling onto his back and grasping unsuccessfully toward Inuyasha’s ankle.

“I think you already have,” A soft chuckle emitted from the half demon before the clanking of bottles echoed throughout the room. Without looking up, he pointed at the doorway. Sango stood there, arms folded over her chest with a disbelieving guise.

“Miroku, what have you done?” She sighed and stepped forward, kneeling next to her fallen lover.

“Sangoooo, I’m-” He hiccuped, rolling towards her and bumping into her legs. “I’m sorryyyy.” He lifted his hands to touch her but she only shook her head, stood, and turned around.

“Do I need to make him go to be-”

“No! Inuyasha, no, tell her!”

“Shut up,” Inuyasha grunted before releasing a long, deep breath. “We’ll go outside, Sango.” With bottle still in hand, he turned to Miroku just in time to find him struggling to stand, stumbling around, and took hold of his arm with maybe a tad too much force. But how else would he keep him standing?

“Ahh, Inuyasha, you don’t have to jerk me around that way ya knooow.”

“Yes I do, come on.” With another tug, he pulled a shamelessly drunk Miroku from the hut out into the nighttime air. The gentle breeze was crisp, satisfying to the lungs to take a deep inhale of, and Inuyasha did so just before tipping his bottle for a drink.

“Let’s sit near the fire…” Miroku’s voice drifted as he walked, though his footing was off, to the fire pit with low embers still burning from earlier on. He made the best decision to sit then, as plummeting into the flames would not be principled. With a shake of his head, Inuyasha joined him.

“So you came to visit?” Miroku questioned, gaze set drunkenly on Inuyasha, the fire glow only serving to deepen the flush in his cheeks.

“Yeah, yeah,” Inuyasha qualmed, taking yet another swig of the ridiculously strong sake Miroku thought of as an exemplary idea to buy. It would be difficult for him to get drunk either way, the half demon blood usually filtering it through with such ease that he was hardly buzzed. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“Just drink more sake,” Miroku began, hastily digging in his clothing before pulling out another bottle. “Make it better.” He hiccuped, an unrestrained grin pulling at his lips.

Inuyasha was grateful for Miroku’s careless attitude though, mostly unwilling to speak of why he couldn't sleep. He and Kagome had gotten into an argument just before nightfall, and she’d went to bed with the slam of their bedroom door. His chest still ached, heart tugging at him to go back home to her. When they’d been shouting useless words at one another, his throat burned as if it were on fire and his hands, balled into tight fists, had trembled. It physically pained him to be angry with her.

“Eh,” Inuyasha looked at the drink being offered to him and with one last swig, finished off his first, tossing the bottle to the side. He took the next, placing it to his lips and nearly drinking half. “What kinda sake is this anyway, Miroku?” He eyed the bottle, twisting it around in his palm.

“Well actually,” Miroku started with another hiccup, “It isn’t the best but it was the strongest I could find. You’re gonna be druuunk.”

“Yeah,” Another swig. “Why’d you want it so strong?” His gaze found the thick half crescent of the moon in the sky, stars seeming to dance around it.

“I dunno, just thought it’d be fun.” Miroku looked up too, easily distracted at this point. Drunk or not, he’d been able to sense the tension in Inuyasha when they’d sat next to each other. He knew not to ask. “So, you put your hair up now?”

“Kagome said it would help, ya know, like when I play with your kids.” A frown tugged at his lips, but before he could allow the sadness to creep through, he finished his second drink. He had to admit the scenery was beginning to look a little different, feel a little different.

“Oh yeaaah, it is getting pretty long.” Miroku pointed his bottle at Inuyasha’s long, glossy hair in a high ponytail.

“You got another?” Inuyasha looked back to Miroku, a particular laziness glazing his golden eyes due to the alcohol.

“Of course, my friend,” Miroku laughed, whipping out another from some inconceivable compartment in his clothing before handing it to the half demon sitting next to him. Taking another sip of his own, his eyes caught the smoldering flames, growing smaller with time, just as his curiosity continued to grow of what was wrong with Inuyasha, as it was not a normal occurance for him to show up in the middle of the night.

As though Inuyasha could feel the inquisitiveness, he exhaled audibly, popped open his next bottle for a drink, and spoke. “Me and Kagome got in a fight,” Another drink. “It was stupid.”

“Stupid?” Miroku lifted an eyebrow, eyes following Inuyasha as the half demon looked away as if ashamed. “Inuyasha…” That was unlike him to lower his defenses, to actually appear as though it could have been his fault.

“She wants kids, so do I,” He breathed, shaking his head once, “I’m not against the damn idea, I just wanted her to understand the hell I got put through when I was kid because of what I am.”

“You’re welcome in this village, Inuyasha. The children would have nothing to worry over?” Miroku ended it questioningly, as not to force an opinion on the stubborn half demon.

“I know, I know,” Inuyasha lowered his bottle, placing it on the ground before allowing both hands to rest in his lap. “Damn.” He sighed and stood, turning and walking away from Miroku without another word. An honest smile crossed Miroku’s lips, knowing Inuyasha was going home to his Kagome, just as he always would.

The wooden door creaked as he slowly pushed it open, an immediate guilt clenching his heart as he was greeted with the darkness he’d left Kagome in. His ears slightly pinned back, he shut the door behind him and walked in silence to their bedroom. The door was now open, a sure sign that Kagome had come looking for him only to find that he had left.

“Kagome?” He whispered, feet guiding him to their bed.

“Inuyasha.” Her sweet voice returned, a warmth spreading throughout his chest almost immediately.

“I’m sorry,” Inuyasha walked to her side of the bed where she lay and sat next to her. A clawed hand lifted, gently placing itself on the side of her head. “I want kids, ya know I do. I guess I just,” He swallowed. “I just,” He grunted and looked away.

“Get scared?” She asked, a smile in her voice. “I’m sorry too. I shouldn’t have acted like that.” The sound of sheets rumpling as she sat up filled Inuyasha’s ears, his hand never leaving the side of her face, her wonderfully soft skin. “Remember when it used to be a miracle for you to apologize first?” A light hearted, beautiful giggle fell from her lips and Inuyasha smiled, honey hues meeting her own chocolate ones. He rubbed his thumb caringly back and forth just beside her eye.

“Yeh, I remember,” He leaned forward, pressing his lips to hers, kissing her once, then twice, before parting her lips with his tongue. She returned the kiss willingly, leaning into him, a hand lifting to press against his chest, feel his heartbeat.

Moment’s later, when the kiss broke, Kagome could not help but ask, “Have you been drinking?” Her eyes large and curious, and beautiful to Inuyasha. He chuckled.

“Yea, I went to Miroku’s. You should’ve seen him, actin’ like a damn idiot. Sango ‘bout got him.” His hand lowered a bit on her face, cupping her cheek, still refusing to let go. Kagome washed over him like the first wave of water on a scorchingly hot day, filling him with such love and affection and relief it would be impossible to describe with words. He was meant for Kagome, and she for him.

“Poor Sango,” Kagome laughed, “She’s having to deal with him now probably.”

“Eh, I doubt it. Fucker probably passed out outside.” He lifted, placing an adoring kiss on her forehead before sitting himself back on the mattress. “So,” A haughty smirk accompanied his face, “How about them kids you’re wantin’, wench?”

Kagome let out a giggle as he tackled her to the bed, lips attacking her neck with kisses and nips, her body arching into him as he adjusted himself between her legs. “Inuyasha,” She breathed, drawing out the final syllable. “Are you sure?” Both her hands were intertwined with his silver strands on either side of his head.

“I’m sure,” He answered, lifting his head to meet her gaze, an uncontrollable urge to kiss her overwhelming him. So he did.

#inukag fic #inukag #inuyasha #Kagome Higurashi #kagome #my fic

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hinezumi · 6 years ago

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Just do it: An Inukag Drabble

A/N: Hello friends! I hope you enjoy this drabble as much as I do. This story was actually inspired by @missmarquin‘s story of how her husband proposed to her. I hope you like it, dear!

Also, a huge thanks again to @keichanz for proofreading this for me. It means so much. And now to tag some of the ladies from the Discord server:

@morikothehalfangel @britonell @blackpearltotheright @cammysansstuff

Inuyasha woke up with a start. Sitting upright from the futon he’d been sleeping on, he frantically looked every which way in the dark hut. Something, or rather someone, was amiss.

‘She’s gone. Kagome’s gone. I lost her, I couldn’t protect her, I-’’

“Inuyasha?” a sleepy voice asked, releasing him from his panic. Head turning towards the source, Inuyasha felt his muscles relax and heart calm at the sight of her. There stood his miko, donned in a simple sleeping kosode and straw sandals. Holding the reed mat that acted as the door in front of her, moonlight spilled behind her and shone in a gentle off white-color on the floor of Kaede’s hut, giving her an almost ethereal glow.

“What are you doing up so late at night?” Inuyasha asked gruffly, propping himself up on his elbows. While his words held a slight edge to them, his tinted cheeks gave away the concern he was trying so desperately to hide. Whether the miko noticed in the dark of the night though was an entirely different story.

Rubbing tired hazel eyes, Kagome kicked off her sandals before making her way over to join Inuyasha on the futon they shared.

“Bathroom,” the young woman replied sleepily, not really awake. Crawling under the large kakebuton, Kagome laid down with a contented sigh and immediately closed her eyes. Inuyasha watched her, his gaze soft, and listened as her breathing evened out and reached a gentle lull. Once he was sure she was asleep, Inuyasha gently grabbed a lock of ebony-black hair and brought it to his lips. Breathing her scent in, he felt his resolve return. He could do this; tomorrow would be the day. Eyelids growing heavy, the hanyou laid back down and soon fell back asleep just as quickly as he’d woken up.

The next time Inuyasha woke it was to the sun’s early rays dancing across his face. Breathing deeply through the nose, Inuyasha let out a discontented growl at the lack of a certain woman next to him. Again. Her scent was there, lingering, indicating that she’d been there, but where she was currently was what eluded him. His ears twitched and turned in an effort to discern whether or not Kagome was even in the hut at all. Hearing nothing but the sound of leaves rustling, birds singing, and the village, Inuyasha sighed in defeat and pinned his ears to his head in disappointment.

‘Damn wench. Since when does she wake up before I do?’

Sleepily scratching the crown of his head, Inuyasha stretched before slowly rising from where he lay on the futon. Bare feet lightly tapping against the wooden floor of the hut, the hanyou made his way to the doorway and pushed the reed mat past him.

The village was quite lively despite it being just a little past dawn. Farmers were hunched over in the rice paddies either planting rice seedlings or picking rice plants, managing to talk, share jokes, and laugh as they did so. Women were either preparing the laundry or helping their husbands in the fields. Even the children were up; some helped their parents in the fields while others either stayed close to their family’s hut or played kemari in the tiny but quaint village square.

Squinting into the distance, Inuyasha examined the scene below him. This was his new normal; had been his new normal for the past 3 long years. Ever since Kagome had been permanently sent back to the present by the Sacred Jewel, Inuyasha had stayed in the village. No one ever asked why because they all knew: he was waiting, hoping, for the girl beyond the well to return. Didn’t his going to the well every three days prove that?

When she had returned though, he wanted nothing more than to share his new “normal” with her. He wanted to make it their new normal. But how could he ask the girl from the future, the girl whose world had so many amenities and benefits he couldn’t give her, to stay with him? How could he ask the woman to choose between her family who existed 500 years in the future and him? Just a lowly, pathetic, awful…

The hanyou clapped his hands against his cheeks, the sting from the self-afflicted strike stopping his thoughts from spiraling any further. There was no time for second guessing or self-deprecation. He’d told himself last night that today was the day, and he’d be damned if he waited any longer.

‘Damn it, where is that wench anyways?’

“Lady Kagome! Lady Kagome! Is this also a medicinal herb?” the young child next to her asked. Kagome looked at the small white flower that had been shoved into view and chuckled at the sight.

“Yes, Akiko, very good! Do you know what that flower’s name is?” Akiko brought the plant back to her gaze and stared at it thoughtfully. Kagome watched the young girl and couldn’t help but smile. She could almost imagine little gears turning in the young girl’s head and in all honesty, it was absolutely adorable. Just as she was about to offer a hint, however, Akiko suddenly started to cry. Kagome watched in horror as little tears streaked against Akiko’s cheeks and pooled at her chin.

“I-I-I’m sorry, Lady K-Kagome, I don’t know! I don’t remember!” Akiko sobbed before burying her face in her hands. Kagome could feel her heart breaking. How could she tell the young girl that it wasn’t a big deal without making it sound like she was completely dismissing the girl’s efforts? What words could she offer to console her? Just as Kagome was going to embrace and console the crying child beside her, she felt a tall shadow loom over her.

“Geez, Kagome. I never thought I’d see the day where you’d make a kid cry,” Inuyasha remarked, giving Kagome a smirk for extra measure.

“Inuyasha!” Kagome exclaimed, clearly embarrassed by the situation. She already felt horrible, she didn’t need someone reminding her. Especially not someone as snarky and pretentious as Inuyasha. Just as she was about to choose between ‘Osuwari-ing’ him and yelling at him, Akiko rose from her sobbing and ran over to Inuyasha. The young girl was soon plastered against one of Inuyasha’s legs, head buried in the red cloth of the fire rat that made up his hakama and haori. Inuyasha and Kagome just stared at each other in disbelief, mouths agape and eyes conveying confusion. What were they supposed to do now?

Looking at the crying girl below him, Inuyasha let out a sigh and crouched to her level, effectively dislodging the hold she had on him. Balled up fists went to Akiko’s eyes soon after, desperately trying to rub the tears that wouldn’t seem to stop falling away.

“Oi.” Inuyasha said simply before lightly tapping the girl’s nose, being careful with his claws as he did so. Akiko blinked in confusion at the amber orbs in front of her, her sobbing lessening as her attention was redirected. Kagome watched the scene unfold in front of her with avid interest. This was a side of Inuyasha Kagome had never seen.

“Did that mean priestess over there hurt you?” Inuyasha asked before giving a wink to Kagome. Torn between wanting to intervene so that her good name wasn’t tarnished any further and respecting Inuyasha’s silent plea to let him handle it, Kagome settled for resting her hands beneath her and fuming.

‘I’ll show him what “mean” means…’ Despite the teasing, though, Kagome couldn’t bring herself to actually be mad at Inuyasha. Her mind then began to drift to memories of tender moments together. Slowly losing focus, Kagome fell deeper into her thoughts before Akiko’s little voice brought her back. She then returned her gaze and focus to the scene unfolding in front of her.

“N-No, I just..” Akiko trailed off and sniffed, obviously trying to keep herself from crying.

“Just what?” Inuyasha asked immediately before tapping her nose again. Akiko wiggled and scrunched her nose in response.

“I didn’t know the name of the flower I’d picked for Lady Kagome. I messed up.” Akiko then began to fiddle her fingers, her hands moving in an anxious manner. Inuyasha simply sighed again and watched, resisting the urge to smirk at the little girl in front of him. Children had such simple problems.

“So what if you messed up? That’s how people learn, kid. Without mistakes we wouldn’t be able to grow as people.”

Both Kagome and Akiko blinked in surprise. Kagome was taken aback by Inuyasha’s… dare she say it, softness.

‘When did Inuyasha become so… understanding? Or maybe… thoughtful?’

“B-But I don’t like making mistakes,” Akiko replied, the corners of her mouth tugging into the form of a frown.

“No one does. But mistakes are going to happen anyways, so you might as well get used to it and learn from them.” Akiko shifted her gaze from the hanyou in front of her to the now crumpled medicinal herb in her hand. Sniffling from leftover tears, Akiko rubbed a hand against her face one last time before turning around and running over to Kagome.

“Lady Kagome, what’s the name of this herb?” Akiko asked, averting her gaze from Kagome’s chestnut eyes. Kagome simply put on her warmest smile so that whenever Akiko grew more comfortable, she’d be met with nothing but kindness.

“That’s chamomile. It’s good for easing upset stomachs and treating heartburn and nausea,” Kagome replied. The young miko felt her heart swell when Akiko returned her gaze. The smile on the young girl’s face was all Kagome needed to know that she was feeling better, that she was going to be okay.

“Oh! Do you think if I picked some more chamomile my mother would use it?”

“I think that would be extremely thoughtful of you, Akiko. I’m sure she’ll really appreciate it.” That encouragement was all Akiko needed to cheer up completely. Moving every which way, Akiko rambled off to whoever would listen while she picked more of the little white flowers that would help her mother. When she thought she’d picked enough, Akiko went to show Inuyasha and Kagome before making her way back to the village with her flowers and newfound knowledge. Inuyasha took the chance to sit next to Kagome as she continued to pick medicinal herbs.

“Keh, I still can’t believe you made the poor kid cry.”

“Oh would you quit with that? I didn’t even say anything to her before she started crying. Besides,” Kagome hesitated to look into Inuyasha’s golden orbs before continuing. “You know that I hate upsetting people.”

“Really now? That’s interesting considering the amount of times you’ve used those damn ‘Osuwari’ commands on me. Do you think I enjoy being slammed into the ground?”

“I only say ‘Osuwari’ when y-”

But Kagome realized her mistake too late. Without warning, Inuyasha was slammed into the ground by the force of the beads of subjugation. Kagome felt her sweat drop when Inuyasha sent a glare that sent shivers down her spine. Uh-oh.

“You’re gonna regret that wench,” Inuyasha growled before springing to life. Screaming more from delight than fear, Kagome dropped the herbs she’d been picking and made a run for it. Despite how angry she was able to make her hanyou companion, deep down Kagome knew that he would never intentionally do anything to put her in harm’s way. Their journey to find the Sacred Jewel shards more than proved that. How many times had he saved her, protected her? Kagome then began to feel melancholy and slowed down her run to a light jog. A moment later, she was swept off her feet bridal style and met with one of the smuggest expressions she’d seen in her life.

“You didn’t really put up much of a fight, wench. I thought you had more in you… Kagome, what’s wrong?” The girl, no, the young woman in his arms had started crying before he could even finish his sentence. Inuyasha didn’t know how much more he could handle the smell of salt. Inuyasha’s ears flattened against his head as he felt Kagome tremble in his arms. “Damn it, woman, what’s wrong?!” he exclaimed in frustration, more mad at himself for making Kagome cry than her actual crying.

“I just- I just- I missed you, I missed you so much!” Kagome sobbed before burying her face into Inuyasha’s haori-covered chest, gasping every so often in an attempt to calm down. Inuyasha just stood there holding her, not exactly sure of what he was supposed to do. Didn’t she know that he’d missed her more than he’d missed anything before? Had his actions not conveyed his feelings? Steeling himself, Inuyasha’s face grew determined as he mustered the courage to ask what he’d wanted to ask her the second she’d returned from the future.

‘Damn it, man, just do it!’

“Kagome, would you stay with me?” Inuyasha asked as if it were the most natural question in the world. Kagome’s sobbing then started to slow down. She blinked multiple times, partially from confusion and also to get rid of the remaining tears that stuck to the corner of her eyes. She was taken aback, confused by the abrupt question. How they’d gone from point A to point B was beyond her. She was just about to ask Inuyasha where that question had come from before getting a good look at his face.

The hanyou, her stubborn, proud, sometimes arrogant hanyou looked so nervous in that moment. Lower lip slightly tucked under his teeth, Inuyasha wasn’t even looking at her; he was looking to the side, as if her gaze would turn him to stone. Kagome didn’t miss the rosy hue his cheeks took on either. Kagome knew Inuyasha well enough to know what he was really hinting at, what he was really asking. She’d just assumed they would spend the rest of their lives together when she’d passed through the Bone-Eater’s well one final time.

Stifling the laugh that was beginning to rise in her chest, Kagome simply leaned her head against Inuyasha’s shoulder. She’d spare him the embarrassment; she knew how hard it was for Inuyasha to open up, let alone ask for things.

“Of course, Inuyasha,” Kagome replied before nestling her head in the crook of his neck, her tears having ceased. Inuyasha puffed his chest out slightly in victory. He’d done it, he’d finally done it. He’d finally asked Kagome to stay with him, to stand by his side. And best of all? He’d asked as if it were the easiest thing in the world… or so he thought.

Watching the sun begin to dip beneath the horizon, Inuyasha took that as his cue to head back to the village. The woman he loved still in his arms, Inuyasha walked at a leisurely pace so that he could enjoy every second of the moment. The two stayed like that, in companionable silence, until Inuyasha finally spoke.

“Hey Kagome?”

“Yes, Inuyasha?”

“... I missed you too.”

#inuyasha #kagome #inukag #inukag fanfiction #fluff #hinezumi fanfiction

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