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cherryheairt · 3 days ago

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Dragon Dreamer pt. XV

previous chapter- fourteen

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tags: @beebeechaos @r-3dlips @emery-aka-emmy @watermel0nsugarhigh @delaynew @moonymoo1 @purple-1995 @littleblackcatinwonderland @fall-winter-heart97 @mandeepandee1997 @pedro-pascal-love @thelastemzy @reyndaisy @saintkittykat @theadharablack @thatkindofgurl @alexandra-001 @itsaslaminak @iv7867

gosh this one took forever. I was scared I got into a rut for inspiration but I think I'm just burnt out from life, not from writing. On a positive note, since this took so long and I had so much time to think about the story, I have gained A LOT of ideas for future chaps.

In the early hours of the morning, while Franny dressed Daenys in her protective riding gear, the Princess was given time to think over the choice at hand. Bring Cregan along to Rook's Rest for him to lead the royal siblings through the keep as protection, or leave him here to sit and await her return.

They had decided to delay the flight to Duskendale and Rook's rest another day due to Morningstar sleeping heavily in her nest. Rhaenyra had allowed it, secretly relieved to have her children safe within the castle walls another night. Daenys slept a few hours in a dreamless sleep, discomforted by the thought of Cregan being in his guest chambers halls away.

Part of her was rational, weighing pros and cons of the situations.

Another part of her, nagging at the back of her mind, thought herself to be swayed by her wants. Had she grown too dependent on the Northern Lord over the past weeks? Perhaps she was. Whether it was a good or a bad thing was still to be decided.

Daenys glanced longingly at the notebooks left neatly on her desk. She had not used them since before she departed for Winterfell. Perhaps the need to write and draw out every dream she had dwindled down like a neglected hearth. Or, perhaps it was the positive outside influence that kept her from such maddening behaviors. Those notebooks consumed her day and night. There hadn't been a day where she missed an entry, whether it lasted one word or one thousand. Black tendrils of flame or a simple budding rose.

She felt an almost urging call to continue them, to build off from where she had left. It might be good for her to document such things, like the accuracies of Lucerys' and Jaehaerys' deaths.

There was no time now, anyway.

Daenys thanked Franny as the young girl left the chambers, allowing Cregan to enter now that she was decent.

At her belt, which had been black steel molded into two intertwining dragons, Daenys fiddled with the gifted knife fretfully. Cregan's entrance had not shifted her thoughts away from the dilemma at hand, though his warmth filled the room like a breath of dragonflame. He curiously scanned the room, taking in all the personality it had collected through the years. His eyes caught the brown pelts lying on her bed, turning a curious and playful look to the Princess.

Blushing, Daenys didn't meet his eye, still turning the dagger in her nimble hands. "It got cold."

He huffed a laugh, "I'm sure it did. Weeks spent in tents in the snow, and you are felled by your own familar quarters."

She quickly changed topics, feeling embarrassed, though Cregan was more prideful than judging. "This is for you." She shealthed her own dagger again, admiring the cold black handle against the white of her armor. Shuffling through a drawer, Daenys found exactly what she was searching for. Revealing her grand find like a dragon showing off its glinting hoard of treasure, she presented a dragonglass dagger to Cregan. "To replace the one you gave away." The dragonglass had originally been a nameday present from Daemon years ago, something that she appreciated greatly but never found a use for in her peaceful days on dragonstone. It would carry a greater purpose in Cregan's hands, anyway. The tip of the handle was formed like a dragon's head, as was Daenys' dagger, a silver direwolf. Switching sigils, the two were marked by each other in all ways but physical.

Cregan took it from her hands tentatively, turning and admiring it in his hold. With the faintest prick to his fingertip, an angry red dot shot up. "Damn," he whispered, unexpecting the precise sharpness of the blade. Daenys stifled a giggle, turning to grab a cloth to clot up the small wound.

"Silly Stark." She murmured between them, smiling when he lifted his other hand to tilt her chin up.

"I suppose I need my smart Velayron to make sure I don't do silly things like that, hm?" He pondered, looking between her light eyes in wonder.

She met his grey eyes with a similarly affectionate gaze. Lifting the cloth from his finger, she placed a lingering kiss on where the wound was now no more than a darkened prick. "I should be inclined to agree. I have no clue how you have lived so long without my wise council." She said seriously, then broke into laughter as he took her by the waist and slightly lifted her off the floor to move her in front of the vanity.

Thoughtlessly, Cregan began to tie her hair up into tight braids that would stay out of her face for the duration of the flight and fight that would be expected at Rook's Rest. "I can not say, either, Princess." He said lightly, a small smile brightening his stern features.

Daenys took a moment to clear her mind, a few deep breaths while she was able to sit idly in her cushioned seat. "I want you to come with me." She spoke.

Cregan met her eyes through the reflection. "You're sure?" He asked hopefully.

Daenys nodded firmly, confirming her final decision. Glancing at her own reflection a final time, she felt tension stiffen her body. Her armor was a pristine white, not yet touched by blood or scratched by weapons. Fire would not burn her armor, for it was made from Morningstar's own shedded dragonscales. She would not burn, either, though the thought of keeping her clothes untouched if she did encounter flames was comforting. Sword wouldn't easily breach the scales, nor would arrows, though she still had to be careful to protect her face and hands.

Daenys began fitting the white gloves on to her hands, grimacing at the reminder of Lucerys. Though the gloves were a quality white leather, the backs of them were protected by small groups of more dragonscales. Though, these ones belonged to Arrax. His first big shed had come when the boy and dragon were both nine namedays of age, and Luke's first thought had been to create fine gifts for his family.

Jacaerys received a white leather dagger sheathe with scales lining it. The same sheathe he always keeps at his belt opposite of his sword.

Rhaenyra received a charming satin choker with scales studding along it, though she only wears it on Luke's nameday celebrations in fear of ruining it.

Daenys received the gloves, which she wears mostly when out riding with her family. The palms were well-worn but still upkept regularly by her. Luke always seemed to gleam with pride whenever she dorned her hands with them, so she made a point to do that often even though she hated to see the gift get so worn. She supposed that was the price of love. It wouldn't be fair to not use them out of fear.

Cregan took her hand to guide her out of the chair and to her feet, which were covered by firm and quite uncomfortable boots.

"This suits you well, Princess." He murmured softly, admiring his bethrothed in the warm light shining through her windows. "Like Queen Visenya reborn."

"Visenya was a battle-worn diplomat, I'm afraid there's a lot to live up to in terms of my ancestors." She sighed, though not ill-naturedly. She saw more of herself in Queen Rhaenys, the gentle ruler who was seen as generous and kind by the people and had a love for the arts and spent more time with her dragon than even her siblings did.

He smiled knowingly, eyes slightly crinkling at the sides. "I haven't seen these before, either." He mentioned, running a finger over the protruding scales of her gloves.

"A gift, from Lucerys, a long time ago." She told him, squeezing her hand and hearing that satisfying 'crrk' of leather crushing together. A habit she often did to stimulate her mind and keep it on the texture and sound of the gloves rather than her quickly-moving thoughts.

"A fine gift."

They exited the room once deeming themselves ready, both armed and prepared to leave the castle though their stay had been so short.

She sighed, looking to the doors that now covered only empty rooms. Four, in a perfect line with plentiful space between. It was not long ago that all six children's rooms had been lived in and filled with ruckus. Daenys held her chamber rooms at the end, enjoying her space as the eldest who got to choose the rooms first. Luke had opted to stay in the chambers right next to hers, with Jace conceding to his brother's whims and taking the next in line. Little Joff, Viserys, and Aegon were now gone, leaving even more silence and stillness in the castle. She could hardly bear to look at the rooms, for they reminded her so much of what had been lost.

"I wish you could have met my youngest brothers before their departure. You would like them." Daenys smiled sadly, thinking of how Joffrey would immediately ask to see Ice up close and how Aegon and Viserys would hide behind her skirts until Cregan knelt to their level, showing them he was a friend, not foe.

"They will return soon," he comforted, placing a heavy hand on her shoulder. "This is but a temporary change. I'll meet them after we reclaim the Iron Throne for your mother." He promised.

Stiffly, she nodded. It was hard to believe that it was only herself and Jacaerys left. Even if it was only temporary, who knows how long this war would last? In the history books, some wars went years without any signs of peace. Would her brothers be grown before they came back? Would they even remember her? Remember Luke?

Turning away from the scene, Daenys and Cregan made their way to the dragonpit. There, Jacaerys and Baela were whispering together in hushed voices. They both donned similar armor to Daenys', though in the colors of their dragons and Houses alike. They looked a fine pair, already matching as if they'd been wed for years. Upon spotting the Princess and Lord approaching, Baela cleared her throat.

"Lord Stark, it is a pleasure to formally meet you. I'm glad to hear of your bethrothal to my cousin. I'm sure a fruitful partnership will be upon us soon." She smiled diplomatically, as if she had practiced the words in her head before saying them. Daenys stifled a laugh as her eyes met Baela's warm, dark purple eyes, the knowing look shared between them always making her cave into girlish whims.

The Lady was a stark contrast to her own bethrothed beside her, who scowled and pouted like a boy left out of a game to attend his studies. "Lord Cregan." He stiffly bowed his head in greeted and said no more.

"Lady Baela, it pleases me to meet any kin of Princess Daenys. I wish you a safe journey to you and a swift victory at Duskendale." Cregan said smoothly, dipping his head in respect to the woman.

Daenys reached Baela, pulling her in for a hug and whispering, "see you soon, sister. We will both bring back good news." Baela nodded her confident agreement, saying her 'goodbyes' to Jace before mounting her striped dragon and beginning her short flight.

Jacaerys seemed to flounder in the absence of his bethrothed, now able to speak more freely without any scolding looks from Baela (she and Daemon shared a fierce stern face that always shut Jace up swiftly, much to Daenys' amusement). "I was not expecting him to come along." He said, looking directly at Cregan but speaking past him.

"Of course he's coming, brother. I need a skilled swordsman at my side." She said lightly, approaching the perch just past him to scritch at Vermax's chin, who had climbed slightly up to meet the one who had not visited for quite some time. The yellow eyes of the dragon seemed to follow Cregan closely, a dangerous mirror of his rider.

"Am I not a skilled swordsman?" He asked, turning to face her with a hand resting on his sword's pommel.

You're a swordsman.

She refrained herself from quipping so meanly in front of Cregan, knowing Jacaerys would be embarrassing and offended rather than play along with her teasings as he usually did. "Of course you are." She soothed. "But who knows how many men will be stationed in the keep? I want to ensure there are no slip-ups or chances for a sneak attack."

Reluctantly, he backed down. With a brief touch to her arm, Jacaerys bid Daenys a safe flight. "Do not land until it is clear." He advised, earning an annoyed glare from his sister.

"I fear that I am now the more experienced fighter here, Jace." She said, raising a light brow. He rolled his dark eyes, stepping off the platform and situating himself on Vermax's dark red saddle. With a shout, the green dragon was out of sight past the mouth of the cave.

Cregan took a gloved hand in his, squeezing twice in a supporting reminder. "Best we don't let him get too far ahead. Or else the whole keep might just be burned down."

"Vermax and Jace have quite the fiery temperments." Daenys stated. "Morningstar, are you awake?" She called into the darkness.

Hearing a clicking response from the dragoness, Daenys felt her shoulders relax from the tension they had carried all night. The white dragon appeared from the depths, showing her bright violet gaze set straight on the two as she swaggered towards them. Glancing to her shoulders, Daenys gingerly reached out to glide a hand near the wound. It looked significantly better now that a balm had been applied and the wound properly cleaned. Instead of the angry red that it had been, the claw marks were now a dark pink color that mostly showed irritation rather than blood. The wounds were not as deep as she originally feared. "My brave girl. Are you ready to fly again?"

Morningstar trilled as if to wholeheartedly agree. Her wings fluttered as she met Daenys' hand with her large muzzle, a purr escaping her throat. "Let us go, then." She told Cregan, whose storm-grey eyes had never quite left her.

Together, they mounted the dragoness and left the cave with a joyful roar from Morningstar.

It was not long before they caught up with Vermax, who trilled when he saw his kin flying next to him. It had been many weeks since their last joint flight. Jace smiled warmly at his older sister, and they both almost forgot that their destination was to fight a battle in the war for their family's throne.

They crossed the sea within minutes, Daenys forcing herself to have a clear mind as they approached the stone walls. The once-green fields were now brown and charred, still filled with the hundreds of dead men who lost their lives, either fighting or to Meleys' and Morningstar's dragonfire. It was all too easy to be in the air and kill men by the multitudes, too easy to take lives. It didn't even quite feel like murder due to the disconnection provided by the catalyst that Morningstar was. That didn't make the swelling guilt disappear, however.

Morningstar swopped down from the cloudline quickly, taking the command Daenys shouted to her and not allowing the men in the fields to escape indoors. Her grip on the saddle's handlebars was tight and blistering, but she could not waver now. The men who were dragging their dead fellow soldiers had now joined them, black and unrecognizable. The unmistakable smell of burning human flesh had filled her senses, making her dizzy and unfocused once again. Cregan's deep voice filled her ears, placing a hand over hers on the handle to gather her attention. "You must stay focused, Daenys." He said as gently as he could over the raging roars and flames of the two dragons. She nodded quickly, forcing the bile down her throat. There was no room for weakness now.

It was over as quickly as it started, with Vermax and Morningstar circling the keep before landing in front of it.

Directly under the shade of the keep's entrance was Sunfyre. Worn and tired, the dragon still managed a ferocious and warning roar to scare his kin away.

It was not effective, though Daenys felt a pang of sympathy for the abandoned dragon. He was left behind while Aegon and Aemond went back to King's Landing, as if he were a mere guard dog posted to a station. Daenys dismounted, earning a concerned shout from Jacaerys atop of Vermax.

She slowly approached The Golden, allowing her hands to rest low and away from her body, the white scales glimmering in the sunlight the same way his did. He rose his neck high, though his wings were lifting up and down from the floor as if it hurt to put too much weight on them. She grimaced, knowing that was her own fault. The dragons suffered, too, in the battles they had fought, and they didn't even know why. Dragons didn't care for a throne or crown, but solely for their riders and kin.

"Daenys!" Jace shouted again, jumping from Vermax's saddle and following Cregan who had immediately trailed after Daenys. Cregan had stopped yards away, standing tensely and with calculating eyes but not trying to stop her. He had seen what she had done previously, and trusted her judgement. She would not approach a hostile dragon mindlessly.

"My Prince," he stopped Jacaerys with a firm hand to his chest, earning a furious glare from the Velayron.

She took a few steps closer, holding a hand out for Sunfyre for sniff. If she lost it, so be it. If he tried to burn her, no harm would be done. Daenys held back a flinch as he did just what she hoped, pressed his sharp snout into her palm.

A sudden vision filled her mind, painful like a sharp and drilling migraine. Aegon, unburnt or harmed, dressed in his finest drapes and wearing Aegon the Conquerer's grey crown. He held a goblet high in the air, surrounded by many peasent and knighted men and servant girls. "To my brother, who has slain the whore of Dragonstone's bastard son!"

Cheers erupted from all corners of the large and echoing hall. Goblets raised and wine and ale alike spilled all over men and tables. Aegon chugged down his bittersweet wine, presenting an empty goblet for the hall to see and a young maid to refill. "To Aemond! The true Blood of the Dragon!"

Next to 'The King' sat the very brother in question. Aemond Targaryen did not hold any glasses of wine or even a grin atop his sharp features. He simply leaned back into his chair, stiff as a flagpole and face blank and unreadable.

Daenys was drawn out as quickly as she was drawn in. What was that? A vision in broad daylight had never happened before. Could she see the past as well as the future? She could not dwell on it now, but upon her return home, such matters could be explored in the privacy and safety of her room.

Glancing up briefly, Daenys' sharp gaze caught sight of a man ducking behind the castle's wall on the tower's roof. Though they had not made their entrance discreet, Daenys had still hoped to catch a few more by surprise than she did. There was no way of knowing just how many soldiers lay in the safety of the keep.

Sunfyre almost whined at the touch, yearning for attention in the past few days. Daenys knew that Aegon rarely visited the dragonpit even when Sunfyre was readily available, too deep in his whores and cups. The poor thing was so deeply loyal, but so lonely despite his devotion. "There's a good boy, Sunfyre." She spoke softly in the same voice she used for her youngest brothers. He hung his head, allowing his exhaustion to finally show in the face of trust. Glancing back at the two men behind her, she sucked in a harsh breath to prepare herself for what was inside. "Go along, to Morningstar." She whispered to the dragon, watching him painfully carry himself towards the others. He submissively lowered his neck to Morningstar as the larger dragon sniffed cautiously at him, and after some time of reunion she allowed Sunfyre to lie at her side, curling up and finally letting himself rest. He'd been guarding Rook's Rest for days. Daenys would not consider herself too far off in assuming that he'd been given no food or water. What fool would approach a fire-breathing dragon, anyway?

Cregan smiled proudly, nodding to Daenys and striding towards her to meet her while Jace gaped at the sight and glanced between the dragons and his sister. "You made Sunfyre listen to you?" He asked, approaching them too.

"He's not an enemy." She vaguely said. "But, we could use him."

"Use Sunfyre? He would take no other rider? And...I doubt he'd fly again." Cregan said awkwardly, gesturing towards the torn wings.

"If we keep him on Dragonstone, Aegon cannot say he has three grown dragons any longer." Daenys said, lifting her chin. "The realm would not know how incompacitated he is—but they will know that Sunfyre turned sides against his own bonded rider. If that's not a sign from the 'Gods', what is?"

Jacaerys hummed thoughtfully, though he seemed to agree. "And what of Tessarion, the Blue Queen? And Jaehaera and Jaehaerys must have dragons—had dragons." He whispered after.

"The children's dragons are no older than seven, brother." Daenys said. Though, she was unclear on where Jaehaerys' dragon would be now that the boy was dead. Perhaps in the dragonpits still, forced to wait for a new Targaryen to bond with. Morghul and Glaeson, two black dragons with strong Valyrion names.

"And as for Daeron—" Daenys started, rolling her eyes at Jacaerys' sour look. "The boy is only ten years of age. What does that say about the Greens if they force him to war? Though, I would not be surprised given their desperation for dragons. I do hope the young ones do not have to grow up living in a time of war." She sighed, thinking of her youngest brothers, Jaehaera, and even Daeron, whom she had only known as the smallest of babes before he left to ward in Old Town.

Jace was stunned to silence for a few moments before laughing brightly. "When did you get so cunning?" He asked, looking to Cregan as if the man could answer his rhetorical question for her.

"It is a good plan, Princess." Cregan nodded, ignoring Jacaerys' look. "How do you plan on getting him across the sea?"

"Boat." She shrugged, "I will arrange for one to be sent from Dragonstone as soon as we reclaim the castle."

The Stark nodded his agreement with her idea, unsheathing Ice from his shoulder as Jace followed his actions, wielding Sea Tamer in his hands. "At your command, Princess." Cregan said. Jacaerys opened his mouth to make a remark at his sister's previous words about her experience, but shut it as he decided against any smart words.

"Sister," he nodded.

Daenys, only wielding her direwolf dagger in hand, slowly crept open the massive wooden doors. No one had stayed to guard the very front of the halls, knowing that a dragon could still reach its ire in the shallow depths. Instead of creeping through the halls like invaders attempting their luck at a sneak attack, the trio of three barged into the castle, rearing to fight. This was their claim, and they would not let it go again.

Jacaerys and Cregan led the way in front of Daenys with their swords in front of them, brows set and eyes sharp. A split in the hall came quickly, to the annoyance of them all. "It will take forever to flush them all out." Jacaerys commented.

"I need to find Kalla and Kallus. They will be held at knifepoint first to make us surrender." Daenys said seriously, glancing down each hall and mapping doors in her mind. One must lead to the kitchens and dining hall, and the other must lead to important chamber rooms and studies. Which would the Green men hold their hostages in?

Cregan looked down at her, seeing the wheels turning in her mind. "Which hall, Daenys?"

She stilled her heart and breath, closing her eyes to focus. Even as she focused, she could not summon the same visions as before. Trying not to let frustration well up in her, Daenys instead chose the most instinctive choice. "I should think the dining hall. Hard to be cornered with so many exits."

They toed down the hallway towards the open archway to the dining hall. It was a spacious room, good for balls or feasts or celebrations of the Lord's choosing. Instead of a grand feast being presented to them, the Velayrons and Stark were instead faced with the young Lord and Lady Saunton held by the necks. Three Green soliders held them still, long swords awkwardly at their throats and ready to move.

The young Kalla was nothing like her Lord Father, who was executed the day Daenys fought over his castle. In her early 20's, with bright red hair and deep blue eyes, the Lady clearly trembled in the hold of the older soldier's arms but held a steely and defiant look in her eyes.

Her younger brother, no older than six or seven, could not hold back his whimpers of fear. With black hair like his father, Kallus was next in line to be Lord, though that would not happen for many years. Or, if he died today. The siblings looked scruffed up and dirtied by the events that held them trapped in their own home. Hair messy and face smeared with blood from the soldier's hands and dirt from the floor, eyes red and puffy from their loss, and worried lines of stress on their foreheads. Daenys did not know if they would recover emotionally from this—even after years of peace.

"Surrender now and put down your weapons!" A scrawny young soldier yelled at them. "Or we'll kill them."

"If a single hair on their heads is out of place, we have two dragons standing outside on the ready to sear you to ash." Jacaerys bit sharply, unyielding.

"Three." Daenys added, glancing around the room between Cregan and Jacaerys. There was a single door behind the soldiers, possibly leading to the kitchens. Another much larger door stood parallel to all of them, the barricaded exit to the courtyard of Rook's Rest's castle. The sunlight poured in warmly from the windows in the room, leaving the room in a golden glow. If she moved the wooden panels holding the door, perhaps Vermax could fit through the opening and finish the job for them. Though, it would put the bystanders at too much of a risk.

"Yes, I saw that." The older soldier who held Kalla sniffed harshly. "The Witch of Dragonstone has enchanted the King's own dragon. Dragons can't help you in here." He sneered.

"And what will you do when we are all surrendered?" Cregan spoke up. "Take us out of the castle to the capitol? The dragons can wait for years. This Keep's food supply can not."

The two soldiers shared knowing glances. They were not stupid. They knew they had little options in Rook's Rest now that they were surrounded by dragons indoors and outside.

The younger man shouted something that Daenys did not quite catch in her surprise. Following his command, a few more soldiers flooded into the room from the archway that they entered from. Daenys shared a glance with Cregan, cursing herself for not deciding to clear the halls before going for Kalla and Kallus. She had figured to grab the hostages and rush outside to draw them out with promise of mercy, but now that idea was drifting further from the forefront of her mind. She shuffled closer to her bethrothed, clutching the dagger tight by her side.

Four behind, two in front. The numbers were not too far against them, she supposed, considering Cregan and Jacaerys' experience and skill most likely outdid that of these greener hedge knights. Jace may not have real battle experience like Cregan did against wildlings, but he did gain his knowledge of fighting during his time as a squire for Ser Steffon Darklyn. Daenys was quite unsure of her own capabilities in a fight against swords, seeing as she had none of her own and never cared to learn the art.

This had to be all of them. Daenys hoped that thought ran through her companion's minds, too. The rest were dead and burned out in the black fields.

"Would the dragons be so willing to burn us if we had their riders in hand?" The elder scowled again. The younger straightened up, nodding proudly like he had won.

"Want to find out?" Daenys asked, looking him straight in the eye unflinching.

This seemed to give them pause, hesitant glances between the men. One spoke up from behind, clearly itching to fight. "Just kill the little bastards and get it over with. There's no use in keeping them alive, Oskar."

This seemed to have been a recurring argument amongst the stationed soldiers. "What did Cole say, remind me of it, Bennard?" The eldest asked, exasperated at the eager soldier's impaitience.

"What does it matter what that Dornishman said? The king is dead, and we have this castle all to ourselves!"

"The King is not dead, you treasonous fool!" The younger yelled back to him, shifting and loosening his hold on Kallus.

Noting the loose grip, Daenys glanced briefly towards the boy before taking a chance to look over her shoulder. None of the soldiers had prepared for this raid, apparently. All still in regular tunics and breeches, no armor was dorned at all.

"The Usurper is not dead." Daenys said, though she was still unsure of that herself. "But he did abandon your little troupe here, did he not? To gain no glory in battle or seize any land. Old and sick dogs protecting a worn and empty home." She shared an amused glance with Jacaerys for show.

"I'd imagine no one would bother to reclaim Rook's Rest a second time, given all the trouble it took to get it in the first place." Jace added. "Criston Cole wouldn't bother giving this place a second glance."

Oskar and the younger shared a look of grievance. They shared those thoughts before, too.

"They would not know if you died for this place or simply abandoned it." She concluded, gentler this time. "We will allow you to live the rest of your traitorous lives in peace, for the return of Lord Staunton's children. Or, you can share the fate of those men outside. I'm sure you heard what their end sounded like." A grim sentiment, but necessary.

Cregan eyed her from her side, though he did not speak. Wielding Ice at waist level, towering above all the men in the room, the Northerner almost made the Southern-blooded men seem dwarved. He was not here to negotiate, but carry out his Princess and Prince's command. Daenys proudly noted the glances they had all been warily giving Cregan since he walked into the hall.

Oskar, standing straight and boring dark eyes down at Daenys, spoke up first. "It would be treason." He said darkly.

"Treason to your pretender?" She snarked. "They are much too busy holing up in their Holdfast to chase after and execute every man who deserted their cause."

"I think we should take the chance while we've got it, Oskar." The younger whispered, not very quietly. His gaze grew worried as he shifted on his feet. "I want to go home. It's been moons. Me mum must be thinking I'm dead by now."

Daenys felt pity for the group. Especially the youngest, who had his whole life left to live. The elder, who might be around Daemon's age, must have a wife and children back at his home, wherever that might be.

With a sigh, Oskar nodded. Preparing to speak a truce, but was interrupted by a frustrated yell from behind. "I'm sick of this talk! The Witch will not cast any more spells on you soft lot!" A man from behind shouted, charging immediately for Daenys. She could only turn on her heel in time to catch his arm, bringing them both down to the floor in a tumble. Though she saw Cregan and Jace swiftly move to defend her, the other men that once flanked him moved in to attack them, too.

Wearing a distasteful yellow that could only be the house colors of the Baratheons, the older man grunted as he struggled to pin Daenys to the stone floor and grab the sword that fell from his grip at the same time. With her steel dagger in hand, she writhed to get the arm out from under his heavy form.

Gasping at the wind being taken from her chest at the sudden fall and weight, it was not an easy task. "Bastard witch..." he grunted out, finally grasping his sword by the sharp sides. Uncaring that it cut through the thin skin of his fingers, he pulled it closer and sat up, finally allowing her to breathe and clutch her dagger to her bossum. Both of them heaved with effort, but the wild look in his eyes frightened her to no end. The look reminded her of Seamus, who sought revenge through the wrong person. "You and your whore mother will never lead the realm, lest it be brought to ruin." He snarled out, spit wetting his thin lips. The sounds of steel clashing rung like bells around the room, impossible to keep track of as movement and shouts sounded from all sides.

As he raised the sword over his head, the yellow-dressed soldier was bumped to the ground, groaning at the impact. On his side, the companion soldier who brought him down in the first place lie died and unmoving, like he had been thrown. Daenys did not waste time to allow him to think, twisting to her front to sit on her knees as if in prayer. With a swift movement, Daenys jabbed the dagger downwards into the side of Bennard's neck. As she tore it out just as fast, hot blood shot out immediately in response to the wound, even while the man was gasping and grabbing at his neck, covering the empty slit. Blood pooled around him as he eventually gave in to the Stranger, life leaving his fury-filled eyes.

Daenys wildly sprung to her feet, taking ragged steps back from the two corpses. She tripped backward over a third, though was caught by the waist and forearm by Cregan. Panting, she clutched at his arms with bloody hands. "Cregan?" She asked, disbelieving the situation. Yes, she had entered Rook's Rest knowing she'd most likely have to kill a man, but physically doing it was a whole different feeling. Seamus burned on top of her for what felt like days, and hundreds were felled to her Dragon's blue fire weeks later. But she had never dug her steel into a breathing man's skin, never watched the light leave his eyes of the last breath leave his lungs.

"I'm here." He said steadily, showing no signs of panic or change like she did. Behind Cregan's broad shoulders, she could see Jacaerys push the final man from his sword's shaft by kicking him off of it. Turning to face the remaining two men, who had stayed with the fallen Lord's children, Daenys saw the hopelessness in both of their eyes. She righted herself quickly, nodding her thanks to Cregan before stepping over the other bodies. In front of the four remaining people, Daenys saw a comforted knowledge in both Kallus and Kalla, knowing that they were safe now as they were released from the holds.

Oskar and the younger held their hands up in surrender. "I did not wish for that to happen, Princess." He swore solemnly. "Please, spare us still. We swear to leave Rook's Rest and return home, we will never speak of this to anyone."

Daenys glanced at Jace, who had a hardened look in his eyes. He, too, had killed his first man by his own hands. Her younger brother, who she had wished to keep his innocence for as long as possible, was a boy no longer. She swallowed harshly. "Let this be a lesson of mercy from Queen Rhaenyra." Were her final words to the two, who gratefully bowed and scurried out from the room.

Free now, the two siblings released heavy sobs from deep in their chests and hugged each other tightly. Daenys smiled faintly at the sight, relieved to see both unharmed. Kalla looked up from her kneeling position, tearfully grinning. "Thank you, Princess." She said through her sobs. Kallus shook in her hold, the built-up tension from the past days finally showing itself. He could be a boy again, not a hostage doomed for death.

Daenys approached carefully, kneeling to each of their levels. "Are you two unharmed?" She asked, glancing over them.

Kalla took a moment to hold Kallus back at an arms' length while she inspected him. With a courageous sniffle, the boy nodded and mumbled something Daenys could not hear.

"We are fine." Kalla said, weakly smiling as she stood straight and brushed off her dirty skirts. "May we...freshen ourselves up? We have not been able to since our father was taken."

"Taken?" Daenys sniffed.

Kalla nodded discreetly towards Kallus, who busied himself in looking entranced by Daenys' dragonscale armor. Daenys made an 'o' shape with her mouth, forgetting the implication that the two had not personally seen the execution of their father. "Yes. Go on, we will wait for you." Daenys said. She was glad that at least they were not forced to witness the murder, but instead, Cole allowed the young boy to keep his innocence and believe his father was simply taken away.

Perhaps the one favor he did the realm.

Turning to Jace and Cregan, after the brother and sister left to their chamber rooms, she sighed. "Are you two okay?" She asked, quieter now. The room was filled with empty silence now that everyone else had either died or left. The bodies at their feet were still and growing cold, though would soon start to stink if they did not get removed. Daenys wanted no part in that process.

"Are you?" Cregan asked instead, stepping forward to hold her hand in his. His grey eyes held a slight apprehension from the way he had been unable to fully protect her—again. Daenys could not and would not fault him, for two men had attacked him. Behind, Jace shuffled uncomfortably. He had been deathly still, too, a pale look on his face.

"I'm fine, just got winded." She said shortly, nodding affirmingly. Looking to Jace, she asked again. "Do you want to step out?"

Nodding quickly and covering his mouth, Jacaerys quietly excused himself from the room to rush out the way that they had come. Daenys knew the feeling. Even now, it was hard not to spill her guts after the heavy guilt pressed on her conscience.

"I should go check on him." She offered, looking up through her lashes to Cregan, who had been staring at her the entire time. "If you can—"

"I will take care of them." He hummed, gesturing towards the door. "Go see if your brother is well."

"Thank you." She said gratefully, squeezing his hand before making her way after her brother.

Outside, barely having made it to the grass instead of the cobble, Jacaerys was hunched over and heaving. Daenys sympathized greatly, slowly rubbing her hand up and down his back in the same way their mother had often done for them. "Let it all out, Jace." She said.

"I'm not a child." He said, defensively as he stood to full height.

"I know that." She whispered, squinting against the sunlight. "But you just killed a man—no one is prepared for that."

"Lord Stark was." He scoffed, wiping at his mouth and groaning in disgust but not shoving away her comforting hand.

"Cregan has experienced battle more than we have. He fights against the Wildlings in the North—he's no stranger to death."

He groaned again, this time not so much in disgust as it was simply petulance. Daenys bit her cheek, keeping herself from smiling at the childish behavior. "He's just perfect at everything, isn't he?"

"He's three years your elder, Jace." She reminded him. "And had to be Warden of the entire North at only eight and ten. Of course he's more experienced."

"I am a Prince." Jacaerys said, defeated.

"You are." She responded, questioning his sudden statement.

"I should be like that—not throwing up my breakfast at the first sight of blood. What kind of Prince can't defend his people?" He asked, slumping down against the wall.

She sat with him. "You are young, Jace. No one expects you to be perfect right away. We've only just now been thrust into a war when there's been none since before our grandsire's time."

"They do expect it." He mumbled, looking to the three dragons in the field. "Mother has set our expectations quite high."

"She's not so perfect." Daenys said. Once, only a few weeks ago, she would have agreed. That Rhaenyra was a being of perfect grace and poise, not to be touched by the bad of the world. Now, she wasn't so inclined. Rhaenyra was her mother, and she loved her dearly, but she was still a liar. Daenys had once dreaded to leave Dragonstone, but these days, she felt more eager to move on to her martial home with Cregan and be free of the people who allowed her to feel insane. Being able to come and go as she pleased to visit seemed like a distant dream.

🗡

Jacaerys whipped his head to her, dark brows knitted together as he huffed a short laugh. "You always say that, Dae. That mother is near perfect." His words were confused, almost disbelieving.

Daenys pursed her lips, nodding. Should she tell him the truth? If she allowed him to believe Laenor was still dead, she was no better than the three of them. But the cluelessness brought him peace. He was able to mourn their father in a healthy way over time, in every way she could not. He did not blame himself like she did. "I don't think anyone is." She said finally. Now was not the correct time, anyway, when he was so lost in his conflicted mind too.

Laenor, Rhaenyra, Ser Harwin. Those who she idolized for years. She felt a deep betrayal when the two men who raised her left—a hole not able to be filled. Rhaenyra was not perfect, though her children all thought her to be. Their eyes were bright and hoping, and of course, their mother was the guiding beacon that brought the light. Adults don't share the same sentiments as their child selves did. It was inevitable to change. Daenys was at least grateful to be able to trust her mind again. Though, she was unsure if it was due to her own independent growth in the North or because of her mother sharing the truth.

She hoped it was because of herself. Just one thing, attributed to her.

Jacaerys eyed her a moment longer before giving in and nodding. Clearly, he could tell there was more to it but would not pry. Perhaps he suspected Daenys was resentful for Rhaenyra discreetly suggesting to offer herself for the Northmen. "Well..." He started, standing and offering her a hand.

"Let's check on the children." Daenys finished, standing too with his aid.

He snorted, leading the way inside. "The girl is older than you."

She narrowed her eyes playfully, shaking her head. "I am taller."

"Does that make me your elder?"

"Never."

They shared a warm and amused smile.

In the dining hall, the bodies were gone. The board covering the courtyard exit was removed, too, and the doors were wide open. The fresh air was pleasant to feel in the stuffy room. At the table, Cregan sat in front of an unmannered sibling duo. The two were working on their simple plates of food, scarfing it all down like rabid animals. She couldn't blame them, the poor things were likely starved.

They met eyes quickly, Cregan standing to guide her to a seat at the bench next to him. Jace rolled his eyes again at the effort, grossed out by the affection. He slumped down next to Daenys, folding his hands in front of them and sipping at a wine poured in front of him. The staff were floundering about, looking in good spirits. She guessed they were used as personal servents to the soldiers—none of the hedge knights having been used to such grand luxury. Daenys briefly thanked the young man pouring her wine, but gently refused an offer for bread or stew.

"Lady Kalla. Is the Maester still around?" She asked tentatively, politely sipping at her wine instead of staring at the young lady.

She nodded, swallowing a chunk of rabbit. "Yes, your highness. He is still here, only confined to his rooms."

"Still? Has he not been let out?" Jacaerys asked.

Kalla smiled girlishly, bashful at the handsome princes' attention on her. "No, he simply always stays in there. Bad knees." She giggled softly, to ease the slight tension.

They nodded in turn. "So there are still ravens in the tower then, yes?" She asked.

Kalla hesitated before slowly nodding. "There should be. I think the soldiers used them to communicate with the King."

Daenys raised a brow, nonverbally waiting for her to correct herself.

She blushed again, apologizing quickly. "My mistake, Princess. They said 'My King' so many times that the words have ingrained themselves. To the Pretender." She fixed. "If you wish, I could send a raven to wherever you wish."

"Thank you, Lady Kalla." She smiled. "I can do that myself. Though, you should get to Lord Staunton's solar and begin familiarizing yourself."

She straightened, looking confused. "Familiarize?"

"You are the head of House Staunton, now. You will be expected to host any Black forces on your land as well as our naval forces. I hope this is not too overwhelming, but there really is not other choice."

"But—Kallus is the heir." She said in a hushed tone.

Glancing at Kallus, the young boy now done with his food and swishing the sauce in the bowl back and forth with his fork, and tensely sighed. "He may be the heir when Lord Staunton was here, but it will be over a decade before he is ready for the role. You must lead, as Lady." She said firmly. "The Queen will make the change in leadership official."

Lady Kalla froze, uneasily fiddling with her sleeve. "I have not been prepared for this."

Neither was the Queen herself. The men of the realm never seem to prepare their daughters for the world, even when they are grown and alone.

"I know." Daenys said, reaching for her hand. "But you must. For your father. And him." She nodded towards Kallus, who curiously met her eyes. Kalla looked down at her brother before turning back to Daenys, firmly nodded.

"I will try, Princess." She spoke.

"That is all I ask." Daenys said, standing from her seat. "I will begin my letter to The Queen. Jace?" She asked, gesturing for him to follow.

He did, hot on her heels as they went down a winding hall to an old hallway that led to the raven tower. In it, the birds squaked endlessly at the intrusion. "What is it?" Jacaerys asked, leaning on the table that Daenys sat herself at.

"Will you join me on the boat back to Dragonstone?" She asked.

He tensed, folding his arms over each other. "I was hoping to fly out to the Twins, while mother allows me to be out. I will not have another chance under her guard."

"I know." Daenys said, scribbling away. "I think you should—the Twins are vital for Cregan's men to travel to the Riverlands."

Jacaerys nodded severely. "What if they ask for a dragon?" He pondered. "Lady Jeyne already has, no doubt other houses bending their knees to us will get greedy."

"We cannot spare the adults." Daenys said flatly. "The babes were a means to placate Jeyne's worries. The Freys are too far North to need such protection, I think."

"Not too far for Vhagar." Jace reminded her.

"She will not be willing to fly so far. She's old, and injured. Her balance will be horrible, only good for short and predictable flights. Tell them that." She nodded to herself, mumbling the words she wrote out slightly to focus.

"Right." He trailed, taking the words in. Leaning over her shoulder, he read the words aloud to affirm.

"Dear Queen Rhaenyra, Rook's Rest has been reclaimed. Lady Kalla and young Kallus are alive and well, and I have named Kalla Lady of House Staunton. Please send a spacious barge to to docks here, with a small crew of trusted men. Perhaps Lord Corlys could make the journey personally, and I believe that Eveningstar would be well-suited for the trip. She has not seen open waters since father last sailed out.

Sunfyre will be making the journey on this ship. Do not send any men who are easily panicked. The dragon is injured, but I believe keeping him on Dragonstone's fields is a good defense and show of our strength. Well wishes, Daenys Velayron."

He sat back, humming in thought. "You really think Sunfyre will take a boat back to Dragonstone?"

"It is a short trip." She shrugged. "If I can make him obey out there, I can convince him to get on a boat."

Jacaerys smiled nostalgically. "I don't understand how you did that. Even Vermax wouldn't heed your command, and he adores you."

Daenys looked out the window, past the sleek black head of a raven. "I couldn't say, brother. But I do know that it is my fault that he will never fly again, so it's my responsibility to take care of him now."

Jacaerys nodded. Looking out at the three dragons cuddled up together (though Vermax was on Morningstar's flank opposite of Sunfyre, eyeing the golden one mistrustfully), he held his hand heavily on his pommel. "I will leave now. With luck, I think I'll make it back home before you do."

"Not luck, Jace." She chuckled. "Mother will tear open a new one for you—and I won't be there to mediate."

He paled, groaning in realization. "I'll take the boat back with you, then."

"Too late." She stood, rolling up the scroll and sending it off with no wax stamped onto it. "You should go before those old Freys take their afternoon nap."

Jacaerys scoffed, kissing his sister's temple 'goodbye' before leaving the room with a swish of his half-cape.

Daenys looked out of the empty windowsil, watching Jace mount the emerald dragon before leaving as fast as he came. They had been lucky today, perhaps too lucky for her ease of mind. Something was surelt brewing on the horizon. Shaking the thought from her mind, she found Cregan at the bottom of the steps.

"Daenys." He greeted with a soft smile. "Lady Kalla and her brother have retreated to their rooms."

"Good." She rolled her shoulder slightly, wishing to get out of this dusty place and stretch her legs. "Would you join me?"

"Anywhere, Princess."

"I wish to hunt for Sunfyre. He's probably starved after all these days out here."

Cregan nodded, taking her hand into the crook of his arms. "Like old times, then."

She laughed, "that was hardly in the past. I expect it will become tradition for us in Winterfell."

His eyes lit up at the thought. "You wish to continue camping around the wilderness, even after your residence in Winterfell?"

"A dragon gets restless easily."

It was his turn to laugh lightly. "Indeed, she does."

The Jacegon onesided beef continues (like Aegon and Daenys)

Thinking of dragon parentage again-how Morningstar is Silverwing's egg for sure but unsure about the father and if there even is one for dragons. But continuing off that—Sunfyre. He is theoried to be either Dreamfyre's or Silverwing's egg, with Vermithor as a possible sire. I for one think his show face shape is kind of similar to Silverwing's show face shape.

Morningstar and Sunfyre from the same clutch? Though hatching in different years as some eggs do. They both have tremendous and unique bonds with their riders, and are around the same age.

aging Daeron down because i dont know his full lore and have no interest in adding him to the Dance at all. Technically he does have Tessarion still but she's about the size of Tyraxes.

wanted to name a sword and Sea Tamer just sounded badass so

Aemond sending children and their dragons off to war core. Those memes always send me, he'd do it too if he could

#dragondreamer #cregan stark x reader #cregan x reader #hotd fanfic #cregan stark #cregan stark x oc #hotd #hotd season two #house of the dragon #stark #hotd fanfiction #cregan fanfiction #fanfiction

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dreamingofthedteam · 2 days ago

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just got reminded of this 'debate' that even dream spoke about because of the video, so heres my thoughts:

dream was right when he said that its completely possible to make a fun and entertaining sr video without using any of the stuff modern speedrunners use. speedrunners who beat the game random seed in like 9-10 minutes are skilled no doubt. theyre good at parkour (usually) and they have vast technical knowledge of the game up to and including bugs and glitches + they use calculators. and its correct that it doesnt make for very accessible videos. they dont make an average viewer with not much technical know how of the game itself feel welcomed. things happen so fast even a long time mc video watcher would get lost. but the opposite of that is exactly what the latest video was all about. they dont use any of the glitches, they never use calculators to find out the coords of the portal to the stronghold, they just do simple fucking maths to figure that out. hell they even fail to one cycle the fucking dragon (bro missed the head every time except one😭😭) and i think that is exactly why dteam videos do so much better than any of the famous sr videos. this video is literal proof of what dream said was true

some more things that i think make the video feel so well structured: sapnap bridging over to the fortress with dirt blocks. istg we see that exact same angle of him bridging like 4 times in the same exact way. and that creates a story 'beat' here imo. to signal that this is an important part of the run. same with george finally getting the way to loot the chest with the obi. same with dream running around the last bit of the red nether forest to get to the top of the bunched up gold blocks. same with the sand block with the snow layer that sapnap breaks for the stronghold. same with the soul sand the portal spawns them on entering the nether. also the block placement as sapnaps leaving the fortress. its like nearly the same shot every time. im not saying they did those things consciously, but that the editing choices were no coincidence

wait. that makes so much sense. a timeloop movie would be edited exactly like that. DID HE WATCH A MOVIE AND THEN EDIT THIS????? tbf ik only tenet and looper that are like this BUT THAT MAKES SO MUCH SENSE I SHOULDA REALISED EARLIER

#they filmed back before dream did his hours long stream in like november right?#so i wonder if dream had this video in mind when he was speaking about all that #also idk why i wrote this ignore me if im wrong or whatever #i dont usually write like long paragraphs like this idk this video is just that good it makes want to yap and yap and yap about it #druka rambles #yeah this one deserves that tag

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joonsmagicshop · 3 days ago

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Faking It- Chapter Two

Summary: When you first met Namjoon you never expected he would ghost you for a month due to his own clumsiness. You also never expected him to walk into your café and ask you to be his fill in girlfriend at his cousins wedding.

Pairing: Namjoon/Reader.

Word Count: 5k

Rating: E for everyone

Tags: Again just backstory and stuff to get the plot going

Author Note: protective taetae has my heart

*message me if you want to be added to the taglist*

Masterlist for this fic

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You stood in shock as chaos ensued around you. You couldn’t tear your eyes away from Namjoon as he smiled sheepishly at you, the words he just said reverberating in your brain as you scrambled to make sense of them

“Y/N I kind of well. Will you come to a wedding with me in December? Like in three weeks. I kind of volunteered you by accident. I’m sorry!”

You were just about to open your mouth to say something, maybe ask him to repeat it when you heard your name being called from across the cafe and you looked to see Taehyung struggling to assist a swarm of people.

His brown eyes were wide and panicked and that look alone made you spring into action.

“Namjoon I’m sorry can we… figure this out later I have to… I’m at work.” You finished weakly as you shot him an apologetic look and raced behind the counter immediately snapping into action to help Taehyung as more people came into the cafe.

You had no time to even admire how beautiful it was outside as you kept your head down and kept taking orders and making drinks.

It took almost an hour for the line to clear out and almost every table in the cafe was full. When you finally did look up Namjoon was long gone and his table was cleared.

“Holy crap I don’t think I’ve ever seen that many people at once.” Jimin comments wiping his brow with his apron and sighing, leaning on the counter for a quick break.

“That was insane. Like truly insane. I feel like everyone ducked in here to get out of the snow, our line almost went to the door.” Taehyung commented fixing his headband which had slipped so far back it was no longer holding his hair in place.

The music suddenly stopped as a couple more people walked into the cafe and their eyes widened at how full it was.

“Shit playlist is over,” Taehyung noted as you scooted behind him and squeezed his arm.

“I got it.”

You made your way to the tiny office at the far end of the cafe right next to the cleaning closet and took out your small key ring unlocking the door.

Taehyung kept the office simple with a small desk, a computer, and some minimal decor. You had decided to keep the office cell phone in here as it was still close enough to connect to the Bluetooth speaker but far enough away where it wouldn’t accidentally get spilled on by steaming hot coffee.

You pressed the password and scrolled down to find some festive jazz music, pressing the play button and letting music flood the cafe again.

Festive music felt right when a random snowstorm decided to show up a month before Christmas.

You paused in the office and slunk down in Tae’s big comfy chair letting out a sigh.

You pulled out your phone as a distraction from all the thoughts racing through your brain and you saw you had a text message from an unknown number.

Namjoon.

You never ended up putting him in as a contact.

Namjoon: I know things got busy and it was awful timing to bring that up. You probably have so many questions so text me and maybe we can meet up. Please just let me explain.

The office door opens and Tae slips inside you immediately sit up in the chair and he shoots you a weary smile.

“Crazy afternoon right?” He comments as you start to stand up to let him take his desk chair back but he shakes his head and instead takes the small chair in the corner, scooting it closer to his desk.

“I’ve never seen so many people in here at once.” You say feeling your phone vibrate again.

Namjoon: Please let me explain I feel like an idiot for even bringing it up.

“You okay?” Taehyung asked as you pocket your phone again and tuck your loose strands behind your ear.

“Yeah, I’m all good Tae.”

He stares at you and you know he can see through your lie. He has known you too long for you to get things past him.

“What happened with Namjoon? Do I need to beat him up? I will.” Taehyung says as you crack a smile.

“It was fine. Nothing happened. He- he dropped his phone in a sewer grate before leaving for a business trip for a month. That’s why he disappeared.” You explain shifting your weight in the chair under Taehyung’s heavy gaze.

“So what happened?” He asked leaning forward and waiting for your answer.

“You don’t have to hurt him if that’s what you want to know. I took his number this time and made sure to text him to be sure it was right. We are going to try again from the top.” You say with a small smile on your face.

“Okay, but something else obviously happened because when I called you to help out you looked like a dear caught in the headlights. You never freeze up like that. What did he do?” Tae asks dropping his voice low

“He..well he wants to try again. We both do. Then he told me…well I mean he invited me to a wedding? Told me he volunteered me to go to a wedding with him. And then we got busy so I have no idea what that means.” You say fidgeting with your clothes.

“I’m sorry what? You aren’t going to a wedding with a stranger? And what do you mean volunteered?” He asks concern written all over his face.

“I have no idea. I haven’t had a chance to text him with the rush and all. I came in here to collect myself before figuring this out.” You explain.

“Y/N you can’t. He just got back in your good graces and he’s already asking you for a favor. A huge favor! I mean who does that?” Taehyung argues, brows furrowed as you stand up and take out your phone typing out a quick message to Namjoon before you send yourself into a spiral of overthinking.

You: I’m done work in four hours if you want to come back and explain. I have so many questions.

“I texted him and let him know if he wants to explain he can come after my shift we should probably get back out there or Jimin might burn the place down.” You tease as you walk around the desk and reach for the door however Taehyung stops you with a hand on your arm.

“Please don’t let this guy hurt you again Y/N.” He warns as you stop in your tracks and stare at him.

“He hurt you. I know you didn’t say anything but it was obvious, at least to me. How you kept obsessively checking your phone. How you kept staring at the door in hopes he would just appear. Please be careful that’s all I ask.” Taehyung tells you before releasing your arm.

“Thanks, Tae I will.” You promise as you hold out your pinkie.

Taehyung chuckles and loops his pinkie with yours.

Ritual as old as time, the sacred pinkie promise.

You giggle when you release pinkies and both leave the office hoping Jimin was okay to handle everything for a short while.

Namjoon showed up exactly at seven pm and when you saw him your breath caught in your throat. He looked the same as he did earlier in the day but this time his cheeks were tinged with pink from the cold air and snow stuck to his eyelashes.

While the snowstorm had died down, small flakes were still falling blanketing everything in a soft white and making the world look fresh and new from this morning’s dreary gray sky.

Taehyung was cleaning tables and he shot Namjoon a look when he walked by to meet you at the counter.

Jimin had left an hour ago and Jungkook offered to stay to help Taehyung close up but he was in the back researching new recipes.

“Hey,” Namjoon said as you gathered your things from behind the counter and hung your apron on your designated hook.

“Hi.” You said softly as Namjoon shot you a warm smile that despite your better judgment, had you grinning right back at him.

Taehyung’s warning was still playing in the back of your mind, it had been replaying over and over for the last couple of hours as you finished your work for the day.

Taehyung was just being protective and you promised yourself that you would keep your guard up around Namjoon until you knew him better but every time he smiled it seemed your guard would slip a little bit. He just had that effect on you.

“Ready to go? I thought I could take you somewhere and we could talk.” He asks as you walk around the counter and stand next to him, plopping your bag on a nearby table so you can zip up your coat.

“Where do you have in mind?” You ask as you fumble with your zipper trying not to zip up any of your hair as you took it down before Namjoon showed up.

“I was thinking of a cafe maybe a couple of blocks down from here.” He says shyly as you finally get your zipper working and you look up at him.

“Namjoon we are literally in a cafe right now.” You remind him gesturing around at the mostly empty tables.

“I know but I didn’t think it was right for me to have our first date at your workplace you know.” He answers smoothly causing you to blush.

“This is a date?” You quiz him as you shove your hat over your hair and loop your bag over your shoulders.

“I’m thinking this is a let’s talk and figure things out and we can decide if it is a date after.” He says with a smile as you wave to Taehyung and lead Namjoon out of the cafe and into the cold.

The air is crisp and it burns your lungs slightly as you follow Namjoon out onto the almost empty streets. Overhead fairy lights are twinkling and the snow is slowly dying down with occasional flakes falling. The sky is dark and littered with stars and everything feels so new and magical, or maybe it is the fact Namjoon reaches out to grab your gloved hand.

You smile up at him and after the short walk, you find yourself standing in front of a white building which is a very empty coffee house.

Namjoon politely holds the door open for you and shoots you a charming smile as you enter.

While Tae’s Teas goes for a clean aesthetic look this place takes on a more earthy look and you have to admit the place is beautiful. The walls are cream colored and fake and real plants are scattered everywhere. Everything is soft light wood, whites, browns, and greens and you can’t help but gasp as you notice the giant mural painted on the far wall.

It is a huge climbing ivy, starting at the bottom and expanding outwards to cover most of the wall. Tangled in its leaves are coffee cups and tea cups making the whole thing fit the vibe perfectly.

“Isn’t that piece cool? It’s a legend around here.” Namjoon explains as you continue to stare at it in awe. Whoever painted it seemed to know what they were doing as it looked to be perfect in every way.

“Jin, my friend that owns this place, said the kid came in one day and almost begged to paint that wall. Jin thought why the hell not? If it turns out to be crap he can paint over it. I was away but I heard the story.”

“The kid came in with a sketchbook and got Jin to approve of the idea, every day for two months he came in and worked on it. Hardly talked to anyone just put headphones in and did it. When it was over everyone was so impressed and the kid didn’t even want money. He just said every time he drove by the wall looked so bare and he wanted to make it into something beautiful. Jin of course paid him and then the kid disappeared. No one ever saw him again or even knew what happened to him. We only got a first name. Jungkook. I never met him, Jin met him a handful of times and Yoongi only met him once. Sometimes we wonder if we imagined him but if you look close near the blue teacup you can see his initials.” Namjoon explains pointing out the microscopic JK handwritten there.

“Jungkook?” You ask feeling completely thrown off, blinking up at Namjoon.

Like your Jungkook?

“Jin said that was his name? Wait? Do you know him?” Namjoon asks eyes wide and voice excited.

“Yeah, I work with him. I-I didn’t know he could paint like that holy crap.” You exclaim in awe as you continue to stare at the art truly captivated by it.

It did make sense though, Jungkook always worked on your signs inside and outside the shop as he had the best handwriting out of the four of you. He also liked to add little doodles to things because he said they made it look “more interesting.”

Something like this though, so big and grand it made you glow with pride as you could imagine Jungkook in his dark baggy clothes with his headphones in having the time of his life painting the wall.

“He is our head baker and truly amazing. He does all our signs because he is so good. I had no idea though he did something like that. It’s incredible.” You gush as a voice clears from the counter and you turn to see a man standing there with his arms folded.

You were sure he wasn’t here when you first arrived and you jumped when you saw him.

He was staring at you and Namjoon in annoyance and you knew why. You would hate to be standing there waiting to serve a customer only to have them gawk at the art and take up your time.

“Maybe we should order.” You whisper as Namjoon chuckles and leads you to the counter.

The counter is bigger than yours and you can see that the desert case is almost empty. Maybe they are closing soon and you both should go somewhere else. You didn’t want to make them stay open past close that was so unfair.

“Maybe we should go somewhere else, it looks like they are closing soon.” You whisper feeling small under the worker’s gaze.

“Nah it’s okay it’s just Yoongi. He is our resident grumpy grandpa but he’s as sweet as Suga. He helps out when he can. Jin hired all college and University kids but sometimes with exams, they can’t work as much so we step in and help.” He explains as Yoongi shoots Namjoon a glare.

“I’m not grumpy. Maybe if you didn’t stand and stare at the wall I could have already been home.” He grumbles which has you shrinking more under his gaze.

“This is Y/N Yoongi and she knows who painted that piece. She works with him.” Namjoon explains calmly letting Yoongi’s sass roll off his back as if it never happened.

“You do?” Yoongi asks eyebrows raised as he stares at you.

“Yeah, I work at Tae’s Teas and Jungkook is our head baker there. I had no idea he painted this though.” You admit.

“He is a very talented kid. I met him once. Very shy but talented.” Yoongi complements shooting you a small smile.

“Now what can I get you both.”

You both order Hot chocolate and muffins and Yoongi gets to work as Namjoon chats him up. You find out quickly that they both work together producing music but help out Jin at the cafe when they can. Turns out Jin owns a couple of restaurants and cafes in the city and is quite a popular name among food critics.

Yoongi slides you the food and drinks, swiftly takes his apron off, and gives Namjoon a hard stare.

“I’m trusting you to close the store Namjoon. I’m not covering for you with Jin if you lose the key. Y/N I hate to ask you this but can you make sure he doesn’t lose the key? If I had a dollar for every time he did, well I’d be a very rich man.” Yoongi grumbles.

“Yoongi it hasn’t been that many times,” Namjoon whines as you laugh.

“So he doesn’t just lose cell phones then?” You tease as Namjoon lets out a groan and Yoongi snickers.

“I like this one.” He says pointing to you before gathering his things and waving over his shoulder. He heads out the back door and soon enough you can hear an engine revving.

Namjoon rolls his eyes and leads you to a table near the window. Before he sits he takes his time making sure all doors are locked and the lights are dimmed. He also pulls all the blinds down explaining how he doesn’t want customers to think they are open.

“So wait are we allowed to be in here?” You ask as he finally shucks off his coat hangs it on the back of his chair and sits down.

You follow suit and Namjoon smiles at you.

“Technically I work here so yes. But if you are worried I did okay it with Jin just in case.” He explains as you wrap your hands around the mug and let it warm your bare hands.

The hot chocolate is creamy and rich and you giggle when the whipped cream sticks to your lips. It warms you from the inside out and you wonder if you begged enough Namjoon would tell you the secret to making it taste so good.

“So…” He starts as he slowly takes the top off the muffin and shoves some in his mouth.

“So.” You repeat as you run your hands down your thighs nervously.

“I picked a bad time to drop that whole wedding thing on you. I wanted to talk to you about it I just never expected you to get so many customers at once.” Namjoon admits shyly as you nod and bring your cup to your lips, taking a sip of your drink and giving him the space to talk.

“Okay so. While I was away for a month I did have a week off so I flew back here to visit my parents. They live an hour train ride from here and well… My mom wanted to remind me for the hundredth time that my cousin is getting married in three weeks. December 21st right before Christmas. Which I already knew because he asked to stand in the wedding ages ago” Namjoon starts.

He lets out a small sigh as his eyes roll up to the ceiling.

“Sungho and I grew up together. Because we are the same age we were more than just cousins, we were best friends. Sungho and I grew up almost the same until we got into high school. He was the popular kid, playing sports and dating the prettiest girls. Everything seemed to fall into his lap. Whereas I may be tall, but I sure as hell am not athletic. I was more of the nerdy smart kid. I spent my days completing homework and watching shows while he was out going to parties with girls.” Namjoon says.

“Anyway, this is when tension started to arise. We got compared… a lot. And I just could never compete with him you know. He was just…that guy. Was already riding a bike when I still had training wheels. Knew what it was like to kiss a girl when I still thought they had cooties.”

You chuckled imagining small Namjoon sticking out his tongue when his cousin talks about kissing.

“Then I started making music. I went to underground rap competitions when I was fourteen, that’s actually how I met Yoongi. He is a year older and took me under his wing. Eventually, I told my parents I didn’t want to go to business school I wanted to be a music producer, or maybe a musician myself. At first, they weren’t supportive at all but eventually, they came around. Only if I finished business school. My dad is a hardworking businessman who was hardly ever home because he was always working. I think my parent’s dream was for me to be like him. But I didn’t want that.” Namjoon explains pausing to take a sip of his drink.

“I finished business school for my parents then decided to go into the music thing full time. Yoongi and I were already scouted we were just waiting for….others. They wanted to make us into a band. The greatest band the world would see but after a year they couldn't find anyone that matched our vibe so Yoongi insisted we become music producers instead. This all happened in Korea because I studied abroad. Yoongi came with me and worked on producing music while I was in school. Anyway, they took us on and since everything is online we work from the office here so we both could be closer to our families.”

“No matter what I do I’ll never be Sungho and while I’ve accepted that I don’t think my parents have. When my mom brought up that I would be standing in the wedding she reminded me that my cousin is the same age as me and getting married, while I was always away in different countries making music and maybe I should settle down.” Namjoon chuckles shaking his head.

“She then brought up how I had been single for a while and I just couldn’t take it and told her I was seeing someone. I was so tired of the comparison of Sungho’s life to mine that I just…snapped. I know it is super embarrassing to make up a girlfriend at my age but I just couldn’t bear to see her disappointed face…again. I’m sorry this must seem so pathetic.” He mutters as you reach out to hold his hand.

His hands are large and soft and when you lace your fingers through his you can feel a spark down to your toes.

“I get it Namjoon. I get why you did it. It must have been frustrating to constantly be compared.” You sympathize as he nods.

“Well my mom started to ask me a billion questions so I told her…a little about you. The lies just kept coming and well my mom told me I better be bringing you to the wedding.” He finishes looking ashamed of himself.

“I tried every excuse in the book to get you out of it but my mom doesn’t tolerate liars and I know this so I don’t know why I lied in the first place. You don’t have to come honestly I don’t expect you to I just figured I should shoot my shot you know.” He says running his thumb along yours.

“So you lied to your mom and want me to go as a fake girlfriend to your cousin’s wedding?” You summarize hoping you got it right.

“I mean that makes it sound awful but you're right. Sungho and his soon-to-be wife are loaded. The wedding is up north in the mountains and they rented everyone cabins to stay in. My sister was supposed to come but she is six months pregnant and thought it better not to so it would be us and my parents sharing a cabin.” Namjoon explains taking another bite of his muffin.

“Is this a ploy to get rid of my body in the snow?” You ask honestly which has Namjoon bursting out in laughter.

“No! Definitely not! Though that does sound worse than using you as a fake girlfriend to keep my dignity intact.” He says in between laughter as you finish off your muffin and wrap your hands around your cup again.

“So this is real then?” You ask teasingly as Namjoon smiles and pulls out the invite from his coat pocket sliding it towards you.

The invite is simple enough, a beautiful black and white photo of the couple on the front, and on the back all the details are written in swooping calligraphy.

“How much time do I have to prepare?” You ask as Namjoon’s eyes widen.

“Three weeks…Wait? You are coming with me? For real?” He asks giddy as he begins to wiggle in his seat in excitement.

“I mean. As long as you promise to not be using this to dispose of my body in the snow I don’t see why not.” You say as Namjoon leaps from his chair and pulls you in for a hug.

Your laughter bounces off the walls of the empty cafe as Namjoon whoops and cheers pressing you in for a very tight hug.

“Wow okay so. I will pay for everything. The dress the shoes whatever you need. I’ll also pay for the gift for the couple and your train ticket. You just have to show up.” he babbles releasing you and sitting back down.

“Namjoon you don’t have to…” You start, sitting down again but he stops you.

“First you forgive me for being clumsy, next you agree to help me out. Honestly at this point I owe you my life.” He gushes.

“So I told my mom we have been dating for six months so we have to act like things are pretty serious with us. And I will fill you in on everything about my family so you don’t go in blind. Oh Y/N I’m so grateful for you this just saved me like you wouldn’t believe.” He says eyes wide in excitement and mouth drawn into a grin.

“So I have three weeks to learn all this?” You ask feeling suddenly nervous but Namjoon soothes you by using his pointer finger to trace the palm of your hand. He is so soft and gentle with you that it makes your heart leap into your throat and you feel giddiness spread throughout.

“Yes, but we are going to do it together. You may be my fake girlfriend but I’m also going to be your fake boyfriend. I’m going to be alongside you the entire time.” He says sincerely as his finger continues to trace and is now making its way up your wrist causing goosebumps to rise on your skin.

“Okay, but there is something we have to discuss.” You say as his finger stops moving and he looks up at you with widened eyes.

“What about….this?” You ask motioning between the both of you.

“I mean. We never went on a date or anything and now I’m expected to be your fake girlfriend. What about…whatever we started here.” You ask honestly as Namjoon’s eyebrows furrow as he thinks.

“Here’s what I think. We never got to figure out what this is between us and that is my fault. I say we put it on hold, at least until this whole mess is over then revisit it. I don’t want the lines to become blurred because we don’t know what is real and what is acting. I say we get to know each other up until the wedding as friends. Then we put on our best performance in front of my family and after we can see how we feel.” He confirms and you frown.

“I know.” He says taking in your reaction “This isn’t how I wanted to do this either but I think it’s our best shot so no one gets hurt.” He says taking both your hands in his.

“Yeah, I agree with you I just hate that the first time something romantic happens to me it has to be faked.” You sigh.

Namjoon’s eyes widen in surprise.

“Wait what?” He asks.

You blush.

“I mean I’ve had crushes on people but it never seemed to work out. I’ve kissed guys of course, I even dated a guy in University for five months but as far as romance goes, I haven’t had much.” You admit feeling awkward and not meeting his gaze.

“You coming up to me. I mean that’s not something that ever happens to me. The guy I dated in University… we were from the same friend group and it just kind of happened. That’s why when you ghosted me it hurt so much.” You say still not making eye contact with him and feeling embarrassed.

“Y/N Look at me please.” He whispers and you raise your head to meet his piercing gaze.

“I don’t think less of you because you haven’t experienced a lot of romance or you feel like you don’t have a lot of experience. I promise when this is over I will take you on a real date that won’t end up with us plotting a scheme to have you be my fake girlfriend.” He jokes as you crack a small smile.

“I was serious when I said I wanted to get to know you. And when this is all over we will do this properly.”

And you gasped when he held out his pinkie.

You looped your pinkie around his sealing the deal and smiled up at him. You could put your feelings on hold for a month. Sure you didn’t have experience being someone’s fake girlfriend but you were confident you could figure it out because there was just something about Namjoon. Maybe it was his kind smile, or the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed but something inside you wanted to get to know him, wanted to help him, and just like he said you didn’t want to ignore those signs.

“Okay so let’s get started let me tell you about my crazy family.” He teases with a smirk as you settle in for a long night

Taglist

@caught-in-the-afterglow

@hearteyes4hobi

@m00njinnie

@stayonmars

@marihoneywk

@mustbeaweasleyginger

@xmspurple7x

@taekritimin123

@lerasi

@dejaariana

@coffeedepressionsoup

@rpwprpwprpwprw

@callmenoona25

@borahaetelevision

#kim namjoon #namjoon #namjoon fic #bts #bagntan #bts fic #namjoon/reader #namjoonxreader

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unicyclehippo · 14 hours ago

Note

Bishova: alcohol

just a little shorty im writing instead of sleeping bc i don’t! like! storms! i don’t think I’ve quite got yelena’s vibe but it was fun to write. set in the same stories as the others

(21:48) jpg. attachment

(21:49) jpg. attachment

when her phone buzzed fourteen times in one minute, that was when yelena knew she had made a mistake.

‘kate bishop, you are pushing my patience,’ she said to no one and the empty safe house.

snatching up the phone, she considered crushing it—they could part ways like that, easy, and she would not ever have to think about clint barton or kate bishop again—but it was the only burner phone she had and kate bishop was not the only message she was waiting for. plus, she liked the dog.

the first eight messages were all photos of said dog. it had snowed since they arrived at the barton farm and lucky wore booties on his paws. from the photos of his bizarre walk and tail tucked between his legs, yelena guessed the pizza dog didn’t like them.

the other six messages were not photos and they were not short. yelena groaned at the first wall of text but she had four hours until extraction and nothing else to provide diversion.

‘you are the lucky one, kate bishop,’ yelena told her, which would have sounded menacing if the girl were here but, since she was not, was just kind of sad.

(21:50) hey sorry about sending a dozen photos, i didnt really think about it first because lucky was just so cute but you feel like the kind of person who would get irritated by that sort of thing so i’ll keep it to a totally normal & very chill number of messages from now on! promise!!!! anyway i just wanted to say merry christmas, i don’t know if you celebrate because you said an awful lot about american christmas like it wasn’t super familiar and idk if russian (?) christmas is different but either way, i hope you have a rly nice day

(21:50) this is kate

(21:50) bishop

(21:50) fyi

(21:50) in case you didnt realise or save my number

(21:50) ok im done now i promise good night

yelena had to laugh. she swiped her thumb up the tiny dim screen of the flip phone, pressed it to the many exclamation points.

kate bishop.

what a surprise she had been.

what a surprise she remained.

yelena was not surprised at herself, for being intrigued by the girl. she was not much younger but she was so different and it was the itch, wasn’t it? the need to scratch at the persistent question. what would she have been like if the red room had not been?

yelena did not think she would be much like kate bishop. even as a little girl, she did not talk as much, share as much. kate bishop walked through the world without any shields, all soft eyes and soft skin. it made yelena’s skin crawl to be around it, still not sure the softness would not infect.

and yet. she went back. she had her answer but she went back to her. with alcohol, for the proper drowning of sorrows.

yelena cut her eyes across the horizon. the hills were silver under the moonlight and she would be able to see any vehicles or bodies long before they reached the house. she was sat on the empty table in the centre of the living room; it was the only piece of furniture and from her place she had a sightline out in every direction.

she had not expected such a night they spent drinking together. when the fourth shot hit kate’s system, she was very chatty. yelena learned much that she asked and more that she had not.

kate bishop was hiding something.

she learned that very quickly, and enjoyed trying to pluck it from the girl. to no avail. if she had more time, maybe, but kate did not handle alcohol well.

she would not have handled the red room well.

it hurt to think it, which was foolish. yelena was not there and she would never go back. it was gone, the men who ran it were dead.

it hurt to think it because the red room still sat in her head, still was tangled in everything she was, still soaked her hands, her history, her name. when she walked, she thought of it. when she talked, she thought of it. when she sat beside this girl, listing from griefs weight on her shoulders and drunkenness, yelena thought first that killing her would take no effort at all. kate bishop had a long, pretty neck and she could put a blade, a piece of glass, against her carotid and—red. she had done it before. to girls less soft.

taking her money was easy and more practical.

leaving her number was…not.

and now this.

yelena tapped a button to light up the screen. it did not get good quality photos, this phone, but the pizza dog was funny anyway.

(21:54) i will dispose of this phone tomorrow.

(22:00) yelena! hi! okay?? because i sent too many messages or??

(22:00) you are funny, kate bishop. and you talk so much.

(22:01) i know. sorry

(22:01) i am glad you were never assassin. it would be a shame to kill you. return safely to nyc.

(22:02) thanks. you too

(22:03) or wherever you’re headed

(22:03) which is……..?

yelena huffed a laugh. a brick of a car shouldered over the hillside and rattled down the long long road toward the house. she dropped the burner to the floor and hopped down from the table, crushing it beneath her boot.

#tagging my stories #prompt fill #bishova #hawkeye fic

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wolvietxt · 5 hours ago

Text

𝓦INTER’S 𝓔DGE !

pairing : daryl dixon x reader warnings : enemies to lovers, mean!daryl, hurt / comfort, crying, flashbacks, shouting, injury, fluff wc : 3k a/n : sorry if this storyline is weird and incoherent i wrote this super quick and it’s completely unedited 😭

the cold wind cut through your clothes, gnawing at the edges of your body like a thousand little knives. snow swirled, thick and heavy, clouding your vision as you trudged through the freezing wilderness. each breath you took stung your lungs, but the feeling of the storm engulfing you almost made you forget how cold your body had become.

you hadn’t spoken much to daryl. not that you ever did, but today felt different. there was a heaviness between you that made the silence uncomfortable. his posture was stiff, tense, and there was an air about him that made it feel like every word he spoke was wrapped in ice. the usually stoic man was colder than the storm itself, and it left an ache in your chest. but you didn’t let it show, only occasionally, when you thought too hard about it and your eyes pricked and filled with unshed tears. sometimes he did let his guard down, but only after breaking yours into a million pieces.

🌀 one week ago…

daryl stormed into the cabin, slamming the door behind him with a force that rattled the walls. he was out of breath, his clothes soaked from the harsh winter winds, his face set in a scowl. you weren’t sure whether it was from the cold or something else, but you had a feeling it was the latter.

he turned to you, eyes hard and narrowed, and you immediately knew something was wrong. his voice came out low, tight with anger. "what the hell were you thinkin'?"

you froze, the warmth from the fire doing nothing to ease the chill that had crept into your bones. "i was fine," you said, trying to keep your voice steady. "just a quick run, i didn’t think - "

"didn’t think?" he cut you off, his hands balling into fists at his sides. "you could’ve gotten yourself killed, what if they - what if you hadn’t made it back?" his breath was coming in quick bursts now, his face red with frustration.

you swallowed hard, the words stinging more than you expected. "i didn’t - i didn’t mean to - "

"you always do this shit," daryl spat, his voice thick with bitterness. "put yourself at risk like it’s nothin’. you think i don’t care? you think i don’t worry about you every damn time you go off on your own? damn it, why do you gotta be so reckless?"

the tears you’d been holding back started to spill over, your face flushed with a mix of frustration and hurt. "i didn’t mean to - "

"well, you did," daryl shot back, voice sharp as a whip. "you always do." his chest heaved with the intensity of his anger, but there was a flicker of regret crossing his features, just for a moment. you barely had time to register it before his next words hit like a punch. "you think i’m just supposed to sit back and watch you make these stupid decisions? i’m not gonna let you get yourself killed, damn it."

you took a step back, the sting of his words sinking in deep. you wanted to argue, to tell him you could take care of yourself, but the tears kept coming. the anger, the frustration, it all mixed up with the sharp ache in your chest. you couldn’t stop them.

"don’t just stand there crying," daryl muttered, clearly uncomfortable but still angry. "you should know better by now."

you turned away, trying to hide your tears, but daryl’s words had hit harder than you expected. you wanted him to see how hurt you were, but there was no way to make him understand. not when his anger was so much louder than anything else.

the next day, rick had pulled daryl aside, and although you didn’t know exactly what had been said, you were sure that it had made daryl think twice. he came to you later that evening, standing in the doorway, awkwardly scratching the back of his neck. his voice was low, rough around the edges, but there was a softness there that hadn’t been in his words before.

"i didn’t mean it," he said, the words almost grudging, like they were a struggle to get out. "i was just... worried. you got no idea how much i fuckin’ hate when you put yourself in danger like that."

you stayed silent, unsure what to say, but his eyes were sincere. it wasn’t a perfect apology, but it was something. "okay, daryl," you whispered, trying to push past the ache in your chest.

daryl nodded, looking down for a second, and you could see the frustration still there, lingering beneath the surface. "i won’t… be like that. i’ll try," he muttered, more to himself than to you. "just... stay safe, alright?"

it wasn’t the grand gesture you had been expecting, but in that moment, you understood. he wasn’t good with words, and he was terrible at handling his emotions, but in his own way, he was trying. and that was enough for now.

🌀 present day…

since then, you had grown used to his silence. used to his gruff exterior. the way he kept most people at arm’s length, especially you. you’d never done anything to him, no reason that he had to treat you as coldly as he often did, but nevertheless it was your reality now. none of the group has understood it, you’d been with them as long as carol had, but daryl acted as if you were a newcomer, not to be trusted. rick often paired you two up to go on runs to fix whatever animosity he held when it came to you, but they did nothing but foster that animosity into sharp responses and drawn out glares. but still, there was something about today. his refusal to speak, to acknowledge you in any real way, made your chest tight and your skin crawl.

"keep up," daryl muttered, his voice low and sharp as he glanced over his shoulder. you hadn’t realised you were lagging behind. maybe it was the storm slowing your steps, or maybe it was just you, lost in your own head.

you nodded quickly, swallowing back the words that burned your tongue. "’m right here."

daryl didn’t reply. he just turned forward and kept walking. it wasn’t the first time he’d been distant, but something about it today cut deeper than usual. you hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that it had something to do with you. maybe you’d pushed him too far. maybe you had said something or done something that had irritated him.

but whatever it was, it left you feeling small and insignificant.

the storm grew worse. the winds picked up, the snow fell faster, and the trees around you groaned under the weight of the snow. your breath puffed in front of you in heavy clouds, but you kept moving forward, determined to make it through the blizzard, determined to get to the cabin daryl had promised.

it wasn’t long before the first growl of walkers hit your ears. daryl spun around, his hand already on his crossbow, aiming at the group of walkers. you froze, adrenaline rushing through your veins, but before you could really react, a walker lunged forward. its jagged fingernails sank into your arm, pulling you off balance.

your feet slipped on the icy ground, and you tumbled into the river that rushed nearby, the water shockingly cold as it enveloped you. your lungs screamed for air as you gasped and fought against the current, but it was useless. the ice-cold water dragged you further away from the bank.

daryl’s voice was sharp, filled with panic, though he tried to mask it with gritted teeth. "get the fuck outta there!"

you tried to claw your way to the shore, but your limbs were frozen, heavy, and uncooperative. every time you managed to get a grip on the icy rocks, another wave of the current would knock you back. it felt like the world was closing in on you, the freezing cold, the rushing water, and daryl’s yelling mixing together in a blur.

then, everything went black.

when you woke, the cold was still there, but you were no longer in the water. you were lying on the ground, drenched and shivering uncontrollably, your body numb from the cold. daryl was kneeling beside you, his rough hands pressing against your chest, trying to warm you up.

"you with me?" he growled, his voice harsh but not unkind.

you blinked up at him, feeling the warmth of his hand against your frozen skin. "yeah," you whispered, teeth chattering. "i'm... i'm fine."

"don’t lie," he muttered, his fingers gently brushing the water from your face. "you’re not fine."

you could see the concern flicker in his eyes for a brief moment, but then it was gone, replaced by that same guarded look he always wore around you. it stung, but you pushed the feeling away. you had known daryl for a while now, and you knew better than to expect anything more from him.

"i’ll get you warm," he said, his voice firm, like he was ordering himself more than you.

you tried to sit up, but the moment you shifted, your body went into shock, and you collapsed back to the ground with a quiet gasp.

"damn it," daryl muttered under his breath. he grabbed you by the shoulders, pulling you into his lap with surprising gentleness. it wasn’t like him to do something like this, and you felt your chest tighten at the way he cradled you, careful, almost tender.

he muttered something about getting you back to the cabin, but you were barely listening. the cold was overwhelming, and the exhaustion of the past few days - combined with the shock of nearly drowning - had you feeling like your body might give out at any moment.

"stay with me," daryl said quietly, his voice softer than it had been all day. his arms wrapped around you tighter, his rough fingers brushing the hair away from your face as his breath mingled with yours. "i’m not letting you go."

you felt the warmth of his body pressed against yours, the way his chest rose and fell with each breath, and you realised how desperately you needed this. you needed him. you needed someone to keep you safe.

you didn’t speak. you just let him hold you, let him warm you, let him be the one thing that kept you grounded in this frozen world.

after what felt like an eternity, daryl shifted beneath you, his hands moving to rub your arms, trying to bring feeling back into your numb limbs. "i don’t know why you do this," he muttered. "act like you’re invincible when you’re not. you’re not some damn hero."

you frowned, confusion and worry swirling in your gut. "what does that mean?" you asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

daryl hesitated. for a moment, he didn’t say anything, but you could feel the tension between you both, like he was fighting himself. finally, he sighed, a deep, heavy sound, and brushed his thumb across your cheek. "i don’t know how to do this," he admitted quietly. "how to be… with you. but damn it, i can’t stand the thought of losing you."

his words hit you like a wave, and your eyes filled with tears. "daryl..." you whispered, but the words caught in your throat as emotion swelled within you. you wanted to say something - anything - but your body trembled too much.

"i don’t need you cryin’ on me, okay?" he snapped, but there was no heat behind the words. instead, he gently wiped the tears from your face, his movements surprisingly soft.

"sorry," you whispered through sniffles, not sure why you were apologizing.

"don’t be, sweetheart" he said, his voice almost gentle. "i’m sorry... i never meant to make you feel like you had to do this alone."

you didn’t respond. the rawness of his admission hit you hard, and you could feel the weight of his words sinking deep into your chest. daryl gripped you tighter, and for the first time, you saw him as something other than the tough, cold man who kept his distance.

"i need you," he muttered against your hair. "i’ve always needed you."

the words were enough to make your heart race, your body flush with heat despite the cold. you wanted to say something back, but the pressure in your chest wouldn’t allow it. so, instead, you just nodded, your eyes fluttering shut.

he shifted under you again, moving just slightly to get more comfortable, and you could feel his lips hover over yours for a long moment. he hesitated, like he was unsure if he was crossing a line. then, with a soft, almost desperate groan, he kissed you.

it wasn’t rough, but it wasn’t soft either. it was full of pent-up longing, slow, and deep. his lips moved over yours like he was claiming you, like he couldn’t stand being this close to you without making sure you knew how much you meant to him. it was messy, heated, and completely overwhelming.

when he pulled away, his breath was shaky, and his hands held your face gently. "don’t ever do something like that again," he said softly, his voice low and ragged. "you scared the shit outta me."

you smiled through your tears, nodding against him. "i won’t," you promised, your hands gently tracing the rough outline of his jaw.

he pulled you closer again, his hand on the back of your head as he pressed his forehead against yours, both of you trying to breathe in the same air. in that moment, you knew you’d never be alone again.

🌀 one week later…

the night had been long, and the cabin was quiet except for the crackling fire. the warmth of the room, combined with the exhaustion from the day’s journey, made everything feel a little surreal. daryl was close beside you, his body heat a welcome comfort against the cold, as his hands cupped your face with that familiar gentleness that had slowly become more frequent.

you were both so absorbed in the moment, the world outside seeming distant, when you heard the unmistakable sound of footsteps approaching. but neither of you moved, too wrapped up in the stolen moments between you.

creak. the door to the cabin slowly opened, and in walked glenn and maggie, chatting amongst themselves. they froze, their conversation cutting off abruptly as they caught sight of the scene in front of them.

the two of you were so close now, lips meeting in a slow, heated kiss, unaware that the group was standing right there. daryl’s hand was on your back, his thumb gently stroking the skin above your waistband. your own hands were gripping his shoulders, pulling him closer, as if there was nothing in the world that mattered more than this.

glenn was the first to react, his eyes wide and his mouth falling open. he let out an almost inaudible, "whoa." maggie, standing next to him, blinked twice, then burst out laughing, her hand over her mouth as she tried to stifle the sound.

daryl didn’t move, didn’t break the kiss, but there was a faint groan of frustration when he realised what had happened. his hands remained where they were, but his eyes flicked to glenn and maggie, the awkward realisation dawning.

you, on the other hand, pulled back quickly, your face flaming with embarrassment as you scrambled to push yourself away from daryl. you couldn’t even look at them, much less speak. the warmth of the cabin felt suffocating now, your whole body burning with the intensity of being caught in such an intimate moment.

"oh my god," maggie said, laughing harder now, unable to control herself. "this is too much, you two." she giggled at glenn, her bright eyes twinkling, tears threatening to form with how hard she was shaking. "glenn, should we leave them alone?"

glenn, still in shock, let out a small, awkward chuckle, looking anywhere but at the two of you. "yeah, uh, we should... probably go... leave them to... uh... their business." he cleared his throat, visibly uncomfortable, but also clearly trying to suppress his grin.

you wanted to crawl under the floorboards. why was this happening? why did they have to walk in on this?

"you guys," daryl muttered, finally breaking his silence. his voice was rough, but there was no denying the awkwardness in it. "just... just get the hell out, alright?" he uttered, remnants of your cherry flavoured lip balm still on his lips, making it very hard for anybody in their right mind to take him seriously, especially with the little grin forming on his face.

maggie barely stifled another laugh as she gave daryl a teasing look. "don’t worry, big guy, we’ll give you two some privacy." she winked, and then, with glenn awkwardly tugging at her arm, the two of them backed out of the cabin.

as the door clicked shut behind them, you could hear their muffled laughter outside, and the heat in your face was unbearable. you slowly turned to daryl, who was trying to keep his composure, but you could see the corner of his lips twitching upward.

"don’t say it," you warned him quietly, looking down at the floor, too embarrassed to meet his eyes.

but daryl couldn’t help it. "damn," he said with a smirk. "they just had to barge in, huh?"

"you’re not helping," you muttered, your voice barely above a whisper.

daryl chuckled, his usual gruffness softened by the amusement in his voice. "ain’t my fault you’re so damn cute when you’re all flustered," he teased, pulling you back into his arms, cupping your face and tilting your chin up to fuse your mouth with his once again.

the group would never let either of you live this down. but, somehow, as daryl held you close, you couldn’t bring yourself to care.

🌀 daryl dixon : @v3lv3tf0x, @dugiioh, @whxtewolf, @lemoanaid, @sunnykittyzz

@california-boys-and-sun, @cable-kenobi

taglist form linked in pinned post :3

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lokilaufeysonslove · 2 days ago

Text

𝐌𝐚𝐲𝐛𝐞 𝐍𝐨𝐭 𝐄𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐟𝐨𝐲 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦𝐚𝐥𝐞!𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝!𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐞𝐝!𝐠𝐫𝐲𝐟𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐨𝐫!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

// Summary // your parents were never kind and sweet type of people, but in your sixth year things got out of hand. To put a cherry on top, a certain platinum blond haired Slytherin Prince decided to be Sherlock Holmes and found out your secrets, ones nobody is supposed to know.

// Warnings // mentions of violence, both physical and verbal violence, abusive parents, bullying, hate towards reader, ignorance, name calling (shame, disgrace, disappointment, waste of time), reader has a backstory.

// Author's Note // please pay attention to warnings! This is enemies to lovers. Also, I have mentioned once that reader is 16, but for the sake of this plot, since every sixth year is 16. Also, I added a last name for the reader, but not the name, since it would be an OC in that case. I needed a pureblood last name. This is a part three, please read part one and two first! / divider by the amazing @saradika-graphics / gif by @talesfromthecrypts

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 in progress

It was a rainy morning. Every drop of rain felt like salty tears that would roll down one’s face until it would fall to the ground; every roar of thunder sounded like screams of a person who was in pain; every crack of lightning looked like horrible scars that eventually fade away, but always stay in your head.

Sun was nowhere in sight. Instead of warm, comforting and welcoming giant lit ball, clouds covered the sky, clouds that once were fluffy and white like snow, now cold, grey, empty, putting everyone in a grumpy mood. It was as if nature knew about the nearing dark times.

As much as you would love to stay in bed, stare at the ceiling and think about nothing, you had class to attend, and skipping classes wasn’t very smart choice. You rolled out of bed and went to the bathroom. Your roommates were still asleep, so you tiptoed around, trying to keep as quiet as possible.

Walking into the bathroom, mirror was the first thing you saw, hanging above the sink. You looked at your reflection and sighed deeply. Memories of last night flooded your mind and suddenly you felt nauseous. You leaned on the sink for support, your hands gripping either side of it and your head hanging lowly. You wanted to forget everything, but you couldn’t. You couldn’t get them out of your head, as if someone put it on replay. You shut your eyes and just stood there for a few seconds. A single tear escaped your eye and rolled down your cheek. You didn’t bother wiping it away though. You watched in the mirror as it neared your chin and then fell on the floor. You sniffled quietly and turned on the cold water, splashing some on your face in order to clear your mind.

When you were finished there, you stepped out of the bathroom door and back inside your sleeping area. To your luck, your roommates were still asleep. You quickly changed into your robes and silently opened the door, praying it wouldn’t make a cracking noise. You sneaked down the stairs and headed out of Gryffindor common room.

It was pretty early in the morning, Great Hall was mostly empty, only very few students were sitting here and there.

Sighing, you walked towards your house table and sat down quietly. The breakfast was laying in front of you, its delicious smell making it impossible for you to not look at it, but you didn’t have an appetite. Your appetite depended on your mood and right now you were in a terrible mood. Not that it was unexpected, anyway. After all, what sane person would be in a good mood if what happened to you yesterday, happened to them?! You were scared. What if he would tell someone, let alone everyone?! No live being on Earth was supposed to know about your horrible secret.

Draco was not the best person. Not for you, at least. The guy decided to be your sworn enemy on the day you met and has successfully been one since then. He was always cold towards you, embarrassing you mercilessly in front of the whole school. He would always bring you down or make fun of you, insult you and even cast some unpleasant spells on you. He was always so loud and annoying, making his presence known every time he would enter the room. That’s why you were confused when you noticed major changes in the Slytherin Prince.

What confused you even more was that yesterday, when he was angry, you saw something else in his eyes, something you had never seen before. Was it fear? Did he fear that you would actually die? Not that he would lose you or anything. He couldn’t lose what he never had; or was it- no, it couldn’t be. He is Draco Lucius Malfoy, for Merlin’s sake! He hates you, silly! You scolded yourself and shook yourself out of your stupid thoughts. But you were still curious. You wanted to know how he felt. What did he think of you, of your parents. What was he doing now?

As if on cue, the said platinum blond haired boy appeared in the hallway. Entering the Great Hall, he immediately looked at you, but you were already looking at your plate of food, picking on your now-cold egg with the silver fork, pretending to be eating. He sighed quietly, the sound coming out almost inaudible. Even when he was already sitting at the Slytherin table, you could feel his intense stare burning your face. And the fact that your front was facing him didn’t help at all, quite the opposite actually; you couldn’t look up, because if you did, you wouldn’t be able to avoid making eye contact with him, and that was the last thing you wanted.

Draco, on the other hand, wanted you to look up, he wanted you to look at him. Why, he didn’t know either. Maybe he just wanted to see the look in your eyes, he wanted to know how you would look at him. Would it be disgust? Or hate? Maybe annoyance. Perhaps fatigue. But what if it was exhaustion, loneliness? What if you just needed help? He scoffed at himself; why would you ask help from him? Why would you even consider that he would help you?

He was so deep in thoughts, he didn’t even notice when did Zabini and Goyle walk in, followed by the Golden trio shortly after. All of them were equally confused. Scene was confusing, indeed; the Slytherin Prince was staring at his rival Gryffindor, his eyes begging for you to look up, but you were avoiding him on purpose. The two Slytherins didn’t understand why was he staring at you, but the trio didn’t understand why was he staring at you.

When he realized that he was caught, he quickly looked away from you and down his breakfast. Taking fork in his hand, he cleared his throat and started eating. Meanwhile, Harry, Ron and Hermione approached you. Hermione sat right next to you, Harry and Ron directly across from the two of you. Hermione smiled brightly at you, trying not to show how curious she was about you and Draco. “Good morning, Y/n! How are you?”

You also smiled at her, although with force, you hoped they wouldn’t notice, "I'm fine. What time is it?" You sneakily changed the subject, "I don’t want to be late for class."

Harry understood your intent but said nothing, “Don't worry, you won't be late. We have Potions too." Hermione tried to sneak in, “Well, Malfoy was looking at you a bit strangely. Did something happen?” Yes, something happened, very bad thing happened, you thought to yourself, but then you faked a scoff, “Not that I know of. I mean, he’s Malfoy.” His last name came out of your mouth sharply, as if it were a venomous thing, not someone’s last name.

Hermione nodded her head, seemingly buying it. One thing about you; you were an excellent actress. Standing up, you looked down at the three Gryffindors. As much as you didn’t want to be with anyone else right now, you couldn’t shrug them off now when you had the same class, “Well, what are we waiting for then? Let’s go to Potions.” They all nodded their heads and followed you.

On the way to the dungeons you were practically following behind the three like a lost puppy, but you didn’t seem to care, you didn’t even pay attention to their dialogues, you didn’t know what they were saying, maybe they were talking to you, maybe they weren’t, who knows.

You finally got to the classroom and sat down at one desk in the side of your house, Hermione sat next to you, as expected, with Harry and Ron sitting behind you. Snape was nowhere in sight. Of course, you scoffed to yourself, the bastard had to barge in for special effect and then start being a total bitch, not that he ever stopped anyway. And now he would start throwing random ass insults at every Gryffindor, which were not necessary at all. But, of course, he had to attack you first, because you were a filthy blood traitor. You rolled your eyes at the thought and looked down at your unopened book.

“Psst, Potter, Potter!” Malfoy. Of-fucking-course! Snape was not there, so he just had to seize the moment, “Saw you talking to that lunatic last night, like her or something?” Parkinson snorted at that, Zabini smirked and Goyle started laughing. Harry glared at him, rolled his eyes and mumbled a “Shut up Malfoy”.

Ron furrowed his brows and leaned towards him “Who did he mean by that?” Harry looked at his best friend and shook his head “Dumbledore sent me to Professor Trelawney yesterday evening, to tell her something”. Ron nodded his head and just as he was about to say something, the doors of Snape’s chambers bursted open and in walked the said man himself. You shook your head at his dramatic antics; barging in with his cloak floating, swinging his greasy hair back. You rolled your eyes, at this point, god knows how many times you have rolled your eyes that day.

“Students, we have a very important lesson today,” he started, with his monotonous voice, looked around the class, making the pause even more dramatic, and then “Dueling.”

There were groans from Gryffindors and excited noises from Slytherins. Pansy and Goyle had that sickening smiles across their faces, the kind of smile that makes you want to throw up.

Snape wasted no time and started naming people “Mister Weasley and Mister Zabini”.

Ron grunted silently, but stood up nonetheless. The two students climbed on the dueling podium, positioned and waited for professor to give them a sign to start. As soon as they got a nod of approval from Snape, Zabini shot a disarming spell towards Ron, which he blocked with 'Protego'. Then Ron threw a 'Locomotor Mortis' which glued Zabini’s legs together, but before he could fall, he shouted 'Rictusempra' which caused Ron to laugh uncontrollably.

“Enough.” Snape ended their duel and looked around the class. Ron and Zabini nodded at each other, by force of course, and sat back down at their desks.

“Miss Parkinson.” Snape announced next, “who wants to compete with Miss Parkinson?” But it was not a question for students to answer, “Miss Granger.”

Hermione stood up, a little nervous, and walked up to the girl. Snape nodded and they started dueling. Hermione shot 'Tarantalegra' towards Pansy, which made her start dancing. Pansy, shouted 'Expelliarmus' which successfully disarmed Hermione.

Suddenly, Snape raised his hand, stopping both of them in their tracks.

“Sit down.” He said with his cold voice. The two girls sat down and looked at Snape, "What you are doing is the bare minimum. You're not doing enough. I need the best you can do.” Snape made a little pause before speaking up again, "Now, do any of you want to come forward?”

Goyle’s hand immediately shot up. Snape glanced at him, "Okay,” he hummed to himself before announcing, "Mister Goyle."

Goyle stood up and walked in the middle of the classroom, climbing up the podium and facing the class.

"Who wants to compete with Mister Goyle?”

Silence.

Snape glanced at the Gryffindors sitting in front of him, and scoffed “Nobody?” he asked, rather amused than disappointed.

“Miss.. Armand.” You looked at him with a disgust stretched across your face. Pairing was very unfair.

Goyle was one of the very few dangerous, merciless students. He was very good at Dark Arts and dueling. He was large and muscular compared to you. It was even funny, seeing you and him fight against each other, since he was practically towering over you.

Snape gave the two of you a sign to start, but you didn't start immediately like others did. You observed each other for a few seconds.

Goyle shot non-verbal disarming spell towards you, but you blocked his spell with non-verbal shielding charm almost immediately. Goyle was always fighting sneaky fight, he would not say anything out loud. He would do anything and everything to appear more 'impressive'.

He shot 'Stupefy' towards you, but you easily blocked it with 'Ennervate'. You never attacked first. For the first few moments of dueling, you would only defend yourself and make it seem like you were not strong enough, and when your opponent would run out of spells or get even tiny bit tired, you would attack with your full force.

Goyle sent another 'Stupefy' towards you, but you did a backflip and successfully avoided the spell. You, then shot a non-verbal curse which momentarily blinded Goyle.

It was a curse that very few people knew of, almost a secret, that you found in one of the dark books your parents’ kept in their library. A curse that temporarily blinds the opponent and causes a white, blinding light to fill the victim's vision, rendering them sightless for a short period of time, causing confusion and disorientation in its targets.

You used his distraction for your advantage and moved behind him. When he was able to see again, you waited for him to turn around, and when he did, you shot a 'Flipendo' that knocked him backwards.

One more thing about you, you would never attack from behind.

When he gained his strength and stood back up, he shot a non-verbal 'Expelliarmus' which somehow disarmed you. The whole class gasped and Goyle smirked in victory, but little did he know that you let him disarm yourself on purpose. Gregory aimed his wand at you, but before he could even think of a spell, you sent a non-verbal, wandless 'Funnuculus' which made his skin boil. He dropped his wand in agony and you immediately summoned it by a simple 'Accio', holding it to his throat.

"Do you surrender?” You asked, digging his wand in his throat deeper.

Goyle gulped before squealing out a yes. You removed his wand from his throat and returned it to him.

The whole class was shocked. Even Snape. You looked at him, nodded to Goyle and went back to your seat.

“The lesson is over.” Snape announced suddenly. He looked as if lightning just struck him.

As soon as you heard his words, you stood up and marched to the exit.

Draco, on the other hand, was frozen, he couldn’t move. Never in the hundred years would he have imagined you were this strong. For some unknown reason, he wanted to run after you and ask if you were okay.

He didn’t know what was happening to him, but suddenly he cared for you. In reality, he actually liked you since the very beginning, but he didn’t know it himself. Not yet at least.

#tw: abuse #draco malfoy #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy x abused!reader #draco malfoy x gryffindor!reader #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy x reader #draco x reader #x reader #x female reader #harry potter #harry potter universe #potterverse

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