#getting up was difficult and i almost fell off the saddle a few times. because i could not move with the horse's movements at all

[robinsnest2111]

I remember the time I tried to fit in with the girls in primary school by forcing myself to be a horse girl like them. I liked horses well enough (tho I was and still am a bit scared of them. big animals who's cues and movements I'm bad at interpreting) and loved the novels and other horse themed trinkets I'd get in the Pony Club subscription box I begged my mother to get for me, collecting Schleich horse figurines was fun as well, even had the stables and all

my parents never allowed me to go to actual horseback riding classes tho, the usual reasoning being I'd not stick to it anyway and it'd be a huge waste of what little money we had. and turns out just liking the same things as the girls didn't cut it. I didn't have the necessary social skills to get along with them anyway.

I kinda miss that phase of my life sometimes, mostly the reading tbh. I'm 100% viewing it through heavily rose-coloured glasses, but there were some good moments for sure.

[kohanayaki]

.:Time and Time Again:. (Marauders Era x Reader) Ch 2

As you reconcile with Sirius, he reminisces on how you came to be friends despite a rather rocky start (mostly told through flashbacks taking place in the Marauders era).

LINKS:   CH 1   CH 2   CH 3   CH 4   CH 5   CH 6   CH 7   CH 8

________________________________________________________

Ch 2 .:Pranks and Past Prejudices:.

~Previously~

“I was about to see if you were awake,” Sirius admitted with a small grin, “Seems we both had the same idea.”

He shifted his weight from foot to foot, stepping aside slightly so you could come in. If the Sirius Black from your school days had offered you into his room in the dead of night, you would have slapped him upside the head; but things were different now, and so were the two of you. 

However, as you glanced around the room you almost laughed at how remarkably unchanged it was, and why wouldn't it be? He hadn't lived here since he was sixteen, and he was only living here now because he preferred this house to an Azkaban cell by a small fraction. While the rest of the house was set in deep tones of obsidian and gray, save for the green Slytherin theme of his younger brother's room, Sirius' room was all warm shades of red and gold, Gryffindor paraphernalia covering every inch of it from Quidditch trophies and old banners to a tapestry he had stolen from the Great Hall when they'd won the house cup that year.

The room was littered with memories of your school life— a set of charred robes from when he and James had drunkenly lit the Quidditch field hoops on fire, an old Beater's bat that he had broken in half during the Cup finals, an old Gobstones set you used to play with in the courtyard, and stacks of classic rock records that you and Remus had gifted him for the holidays. A muggle toolbox sat in the corner of the room from when he'd made improvements to his enchanted motorbike that couldn't be done with magic, which you were certain his parents were mortified by.

Posters of bikini-clad women were plastered across the wallpaper, and you recalled the day he told you his mother had a fit when she realized he'd used a permanent sticking charm on them so she couldn't take them down. Said posters were still present, but mostly covered up by all the photos of him and his friends from their school and early Order days— the only noticeable sign of change you could see from his moving back in. It was truly like some sort of time capsule.

As soon as you tore your eyes away from the room and turned to focus on its owner, a tense silence fell between you two. This was the first time you had seen Sirius in over a decade. The last time you two spoke, he was in chains being led away to Azkaban. What was there to say? How could you possibly think things could go back to the way they were? 

“Sirius,” your voice cracked with emotion as you said his name, and when you saw the look in his eyes, so similar to the look he'd given you when he was in that horrible barbed cage during his trial, the dam just broke.

You practically threw yourself at him, sobbing quietly into his shoulder as the fabric of his shirt bunched up in your trembling hands

“I'm sorry,” you said, “I am so, so sorry I didn't believe you, Sirius. I didn't know, I didn't—”

“(Y/n), it's okay,” Sirius said softly.

You almost jumped at his gentle touch, his arm wrapping around your waist and one hand coming up to pet your hair. It hurt him to see you like this, that you went through this much because of him.

“There was no way you could have known,” he said, resting his chin on top of your head as tears continued to stream down your face, “There was no proof that I wasn't the Secret Keeper. We'd decided to make it that rat at the last second. Only James and Lily knew and, well, they couldn't exactly attest to my innocence.”

Hatred bubbled up in his chest at his own mention of Pettigrew, but he forced it down for you, his expression softening as soon as he looked at you. “That was bad judgment on my part, I suppose,” he said in an attempt to lighten the mood, although twelve years in prison was a difficult matter to joke about.

“I should have just believed you,” you muttered into his collar. Sirius' other hand reached out to cup your face, wiping the last few tears from your cheeks.

“Come now, even Moony thought I'd done it,” he said, a small smirk finding its way to his face, “I know what it looked like. . . I don't blame any of you for not believing me. So please, don't blame yourself for this, (Y/n). You're still my best friend.”

“Oh, now you've done it,” you sniffled, laughing despite yourself as fresh tears spilled over. Sirius laughed along with you and yo u could feel the sound reverberate through his chest, rich and melodic. Warm.

He wrapped both his arms around you, holding you tight as you two chuckled like a couple of idiots, standing there glassy-eyed in the middle of his room. If anyone else had bore witness to the scene they'd have thought you'd gone mad, but in that moment you couldn't care less. Your body had been buckling under the weight of your guilt and how much you had missed him. Hearing him say that he still considered you his best friend. . . that was more than you could have ever asked for.

Sirius swelled with pride as he saw he was able to make you smile, something he'd long considered a small victory. He couldn't believe how much your relationship had changed. If someone had told him all those years ago that you would turn out to be someone he couldn't imagine his life without, he wouldn't have believed them. But he supposed life was unexpected like that. . .

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~   1973  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ever since the day you'd stood up to him, James Potter found himself increasingly curious about you. Of course he and his friends continued to pick on Snape, but when you were around to fend them off it became more and more difficult to do so, something that the leader of the self-proclaimed Marauders decided was cumbersome.

James insisted that to get to Snape they would have to take you down too, since you were so keen on protecting him.

“We need to cut the head off the snake,” he had said.

And so, slowly but surely, James shifted the cross hairs of his mischief-making from Severus Snape to you. It started out small; a Bat-bogey hex here, some heat sensitive combustion power under your cauldron there. What he didn't expect in the slightest was for you to actually retaliate with pranks of your own.

Quidditch season had just ended as the year came to a close, and James, who was supposed to be helping clean out the Gryffindor tent, was lying on his back and fiddling about with a golden snitch he'd found wedged in the wooden scaffolding. His head perked up as he saw the Lily across the pitch, walking next to you and chatting. He clearly couldn't care less about what, as he had no problem interrupting your conversation.

“Hey, Evans!” he hollered, heading towards you two.

As soon as Lily spotted him she rolled her eyes.

“And now we're walking faster,” she muttered, grabbing you by the arm and tugging you along.

“Aw come on, I just wanna talk,” he said, quickly catching up with you. Before long he had jogged a few paces ahead, turning around to block your path. “Hey,” he said with a smirk. He was wearing his Quidditch practice uniform, broom in hand.

“Merlin, you are nothing if not persistent,” Lily huffed.

“What can I say? I'm a Chaser~”

“Goodbye, James,” Lily deadpanned at the pun, and he quickly moved in front of her again.

“Wait, wait! Just watch this, okay?” he insisted.

You bit back a smirk, grateful he hadn't paid you any mind until now.

“Trust me, you've never seen anything like this before,” James said cockily, willing his broomstick to hover a few feet off the ground and hauling one leg over to mount it. However, as soon as his arse hit the wood, his entire body phased right through it. He groaned as his tailbone made unceremonious contact with the ground, his broomstick now hovering above him. As soon as he looked up the stick dropped and plonked him on the head, solid again.

You burst out laughing, revealing your wand that had been obstructed from his view by your sleeve.

“(Y/n)!” Lily looked at you in shock, hitting you in the arm playfully but unable to fight the laughter that rose in her chest. It was nice to see him get a harmless taste of his own medicine.

“Well, you were right, Potter,” the redhead said, “I've never seen anything like that before.”

James' face flushed with embarrassment while you two walked away, gathering his broom and whatever remained of his pride. You wouldn't get the better of him again.

Or, at least that's what he told himself until the beginning of your fourth year.

________________________________________________________

James strode down the corridors leading to the Great Hall with a pep in his step. It had been an unusually peaceful morning; despite having slept in, he wasn't in much of a rush to join his friends who had already made their way to breakfast.

The real reason for his quick pace was because he couldn't wait to see your reaction to his latest prank. It was a classic, amped up a bit thanks to a tube of ink from one of the “magic” markers at Zonkos. He hoped you liked your new look, because you were going to be saddled with it for a while.

As he walked through the courtyard he shot a wink to a fourth year Hufflepuff girl he recognized from his Divination class and she covered her hand with her mouth, turning away from him slightly as she tried to hold back the giggles that spilled from her lips. He gave himself a pat on the back, oblivious to the fact that the laughter was directed at him, an unawareness that stayed with him up until the moment he threw the doors to the Great Hall open. The gasps and laughter that followed him only grew as he sat down at his usual spot. Even his friends were staring at him, wide-eyed and unblinking.

“What?” James ran a hand through his hair in confusion, “What are you guys—!!”

As his hair flopped in front of his face his peripheral vision was curtained with the brightest shade of neon turquoise he'd ever seen.

“No,” he said, “no, no, no way!”

He grabbed one of the food trays, dumping the pastries that were on top onto the table. Peter squeaked as he caught a few that were about to fall, setting them down quietly on his own plate.

James stared at his reflection in the shiny metal, and sure enough his once pristine brunette hair was colored the bright blue of the magic marker whose contents he'd dumped into your shower bottle the night before.

“Did you like the shampoo?” a voice behind him asked innocently.

He nearly jumped out of his skin as he turned around to see you, your hair colored the same bright blue shade. Now he was thoroughly confused.

“It smells nice, right?”

“How did you. . . if I. . . why is your hair—”

“A simple connection charm on the shampoo bottle,” you said, “anyone who touches it receives the same benefits and results of the next person who uses it within three hours. In this case, you landed yourself a dye job and a hell of a keratin treatment, so you're welcome. The spell was already on the bottle to begin with; pretty convenient when you have dorm mates that can all save on buying product, and besides it can be kind of nice to skip a hair wash day every once in a while. I suppose I should thank you, I didn't have to do any shopping or sneaking around for this one. You did all the work for me.”

You put your hand to your chin, pretending to study him for a moment.

“You should take care of that fast, though” you said nonchalantly, gesturing to his hair, “you don't look nearly as cute as I do in this color, Potter.”

To further prove your point, you waved your wand around the crown of your head, and with a quick utter of 'aufero hue' the blue in your hair seemed to melt right off the strands, leaving behind your natural (h/c) locks. The color swirled around the tip of your wand in an aqueous state for a moment before you flung it aside. It landed with a splat! against the Gryffindor table, staining a section of the wood that same shade of bright blue as if it had grown that way.

“I'd do it for you myself, but I don't want to,” you smirked, “ Perhaps you could take a few remedial classes to learn the color-leeching charm. Have fun figuring something out!”

And with that you flounced away, leaving behind a very embarrassed, very blue, and very reluctantly impressed James Potter.

He may just have found himself a proper rival.

Sirius scoffed from where he sat.

“Oh please, the stupid charm can't be that hard to do,” he said, taking out his wand.

“Not that I don't have faith in you, mate, but I'm probably better off seeing if Slughorn has anything for this,” James said.

“Why don't you just soak your head in some Valerian water? That's what takes the color out of potions, right?”

“Peter, he might go bald if he does that.”

“Oh.”

_______________________________________________________

James would go on to land a few good jokes on you too. There was one night where you had snuck into the Prefect's bathroom and emerged with a mermaid tail, which was pretty awesome until you realized you had no way of getting out of the tub. From then on, you and James would continue to try and get the jump on one another, marking the start of your now-infamous fourth year prank war. It entertained the students and infuriated the faculty. Gradually, your pranks on one another became more light-hearted, meant to amuse the other person and make them laugh rather than actually hurt or humiliate them.

“Very funny, (L/n),” James said as he walked up to you, his body turned around 180 degrees from the waist up so he had to shuffle backwards to face you. You laughed, nearly choking on your pumpkin juice as you saw your handy work.

“What are you, five?”

“Right, because you're so much more mature stalking and bullying my friends,” you quipped back.

“I really don't understand how Snivelus is your friend.”

“Severus,” you said crossly, “and for the record, I really don't understand how Remus is yours either. He seems like a nice guy.”

“Har har,” James rolled his eyes, “Now would you turn me the right way 'round already? I've got Quidditch practice.”

“Nah, I think you're fine to play like this.”

“Honestly? Not a bad tactic. I can cover my blind spot and stare at my own ass while I fly.”

“Who's five now?” you grinned.

As the months went on, instead of storming over to each other and slinging insults, your interactions with James became more akin to playful banter. And frankly, Sirius didn't get it. You were a Slytherin, and a pureblood at that. Hell, you were a descendant of one of the 28 pureblood families. Everything about you went against everything he believed in and relished in getting away from each year when he would leave home to go to school. You were in the same house as those stupid blood purists, you probably were one yourself—

“You're glaring.”

Sirius blinked, snapping out of his stupor as Remus nudged him in the shoulder. He said nothing, slowly returning to eating his dinner as he tore his eyes away from you, sitting at the Slytherin table with Snivelus, Evan Rosier, and his younger brother of all people. He stabbed at his roast potatoes a little too harshly and his friends traded looks among themselves.

“You alright there, mate?” James asked cautiously.

“Fantastic,” Sirius said, shoving another forkful of potatoes into his mouth to avoid saying anything unsavory as he spotted you heading towards their table.

“Coming to the library today, Remus?” you asked the boy to his right who looked up at you in surprise.

“Oh, sure thing,” he said, “I'm off for the night.”

“Great, we can study for Arithmancy then,” you said. Remus nodded at your suggestion and you gave him a dazzling smile, walking off with your books.

“Since when did you two get so chummy?” Sirius bristled.

Remus rolled his eyes.

“We're just studying for the upcoming mid marks,” he said, “They’re proficient in Ancient Runes and History of Magic. As a study partner it's. . . refreshing.”

“Oi, are you calling us stupid?” James rose a brow.

“Your words, not mine,” Lupin grinned. He saw Sirius' bothered expression and sighed, collecting his things.

“You might get on if you bothered to get to know them,” he told Sirius out of the others' earshot, slinging his book bag over his shoulder before heading off in your direction.

You only continued to grow inadvertently closer to James throughout your fourth year, your prank battle coming to its epic conclusion with the two of you joining forces against some particularly nasty upperclassmen. Your practical jokes subsided, your quips and passing insults were traded for real conversations and walking each other to class. You hated to admit it, but he'd grown on you— especially with him letting up considerably on bullying Severus and annoying Lily lately.

All the while, the closer you got to James the more irritated his best friend became. In Sirius' mind, the more time you were spending with James the less time James was spending with him. They hardly hung out alone anymore. And since James started hanging out with you he started mellowing out, which made Lily start hanging out with him, which made him even more tame. Sirius just wanted his best friend back.

“You do realize that issue would largely be resolved if you weren't so bothered by hanging out with both of them together, right?” Lupin had brought up one night as Sirius was airing out his frustrations.

“I'm not going to bother making friends with someone whose family is so wrapped up in blood politics they forget to be human beings first. Trust me, I've met their mother enough times to know.”

“Have you ever asked them about it?” Remus pressed.

“I don't really need to, do I? They're a (L/n). Open your eyes, Moony!”

Remus' brow furrowed, a shine in his eyes akin to sympathy as he regarded Sirius.

“Perhaps it's you that needs to clear your vision, friend.”

A/N: Thank you all so much for the unexpected early support on this story! I have a lot planned for it~ If you’d like to be added to the taglist just let me know ! 

Read chapter 3 here!

Taglist: @blackpinkdolan @sleep-i-ness @parker-natasha​

[e-m-christina]

❄Day 5 of Christmas Writing Challenge ❄

Riding Lessons: Thranduil x Reader

Requested by @otakumultimuse-hiddlewhore I hope you enjoy, sorry it is a bit rushed, I was busy as hell today (but what's new) haha.

MASTERLIST

“Are you sure you are alright to ride? You took a nasty fall yesterday.” Legolas said, watching Y/n as she lead Nahar, a huge black stallion from the stable and out into the field.

“Your father ordered me to teach you how to ride, so you don’t get a day off that easily.” Y/n smiled at the little blonde prince. She had to admit that ever since her fall, she felt nauseous and dizzy, but she wasn’t about to cancel the little boy’s riding lessons over that. Thranduil had asked her to take the day off but Y/n refused. “Besides, I am one of the best riders in the land. I have fallen off many horses before, so don’t you be worrying your little head.”

“Alright,”

“Now, do you remember how to tie a halter as I taught you?” Y/n asked, handing the halter to Legolas.

“I think so..” Legolas shuffled closer to the horse, which seemed to loom over him like a black shadow.

“Don’t worry, he won’t hurt you.” Y/n placed a hand on Legolas’s shoulder. “My father, Arathorn, always told me that horses can sense your emotions. If you feel nervous, they will feel it too and become scared themselves. Try and relax and the horse will too. Does that advice help?”

“No,” Legolas shook his blond head. “It makes me feel even more nervous.”

---

A few hours had passed and Y/n had managed to get Legolas on the back of pony because he was just too frightened of Nahar, Y/n’s horse. She had been teaching him the basics of horse riding, and she had to say, the little prince was getting better.

She first taught him how to trot, which proved not to be terribly difficult for Legolas, but Y/n had to tell remind him not to grip the pony’s mane so hard. Then she moved him onto a canter. Legolas wobbled, stumbled and fell off his horse three times before he got the hang of it.

“Very good,” Y/n squinted in the sunlight which seemed to be burning her eyes. Despite not doing much apart from sitting on Nahar, Y/n felt breathless. “Next you are going to move into a gallop.”

“Alright,” Legolas said with an almost green face. “Are you sure you are alright though? You seem sick.”

“Yes, I am alright. I think my head is beginning to feel the side effects from the fall.” Y/n said, trying to focus her blurry eyes on the prince. “But it is nothing to worry about. A good meal after this will sort me out!”

“So…” Legolas trailed off. “How do I gallop?”

“Gently lean forward, and start at a trot,” Y/n said, trying her best to keep a steady gaze on Legolas. “Alright, good. Now gently squeeze your legs and the horse will begin to gallop.”

“Like this-” Legolas was cut off by the pony rearing and breaking out into gallop and Legolas yelled as the horse hurtled across the field.

“Oh no,” Y/n muttered, breaking into a gallop herself. Each and every thud of the horse’s hooves sent a sharp pain through Y/n’s head and her vision began to blur even more. The Nahar was much bigger and stronger than Legolas’s pony, so Y/n caught up in no time. With a shaky hand, she leaned over and grabbed the reigns from Legolas, and tugged hard, bringing the pony to a halt. Legolas shot forward but managed to right himself before he fell off.

“Are you alright, little prince?” Y/n panted, trying to blink away the black spots in her vision.

“Yes, but I don’t really like galloping tha- are you alright?” Legolas’s blue eyes widened in alarm when Y/n began to lose balance on her saddle.

“Y-yes, just a little dizzy is-is all.” Y/n said, but the blackness in her vision began to swallow her sight.

“I think we should take you to the healer-” Legolas was cut off when Y/n fell from her saddle and hit the ground with a hard crack.

----

First, she heard the voices, muffled and far away. Then she felt the pain: dull and throbbing in her skull. Slowly, Y/n began to surface to consciousness, groaning at the growing pain in her head and now her back.

“Ada, I think she is waking up.” Said a familiar voice...but who? Y/n stirred with her eyes still shut. The same voice said something else; clearer and easier to understand. It was Legolas.

“I know, now leave us for a few minutes. I am sure lady Y/n would not want to be too crowded.” An older voice said.

“But ada-”

“What did I just say? Leave us for a few minutes, Legolas.”

Y/n eyes fluttered open when the sound of the door being angrily slammed shut rang through the room.

“I see you are awake,” Someone said to the left of Y/n’s bed. She painfully turned her head and squinted against the bright light that streamed through the window - why did everything have to be so painfully bright?

“King Thranduil?” Y/n shot up into a sitting position which caused a surge of nausea to race through her stomach.

“How many times have I told you? Just call me Thranduil.” Thranduil said, taking a seat next to Y/n’s bed. “We are friends, there is no need for such formalities.”

“Alright, Thranduil,” Y/n rubbed her eyes in an attempt to rid herself of the dizziness.

“Did I not tell you to take a day off?” He asked, staring long and hard at Y/n.

“Yes, you did,” Y/n said, feeling small under the King’s intense gaze.

“And why did you not heed my advice?”

“Because...I thought I would be alright today.”

“Because you didn’t listen to me, you hit your head again and bruised your spine,” Thranduil said. Y/n rolled her eyes at his smug tone - he always had to be right, didn’t he?

“Yeah, yeah, I have had worse injuries,” Y/n said, reaching for the glass of water beside her bed. Thranduil picked the glass up and handed it to her when he saw a flash of pain cross her face.

“You’re lucky I was watching the lesson because I was about to send Arar, the healer, on

a journey to Rivendale,” Thranduil said when Y/n handed him the glass of water back.

“How is Legolas? He got such a fright when the pony broke into a gallop.” Y/n asked, feeling a bit guilty about Legolas getting such a fright - maybe if she wasn’t as dizzy, she might have been able to explain things a little better.

“My son is alright. He’s been telling everyone in Mirkwood that he did his first gallop.” Thranduil said with a soft smile gracing his lips. “How are you feeling?”

“A bit dizzy and painful, but it is bearable.”

“Let me have a look at your head,” Thranduil said, pushing back a few locks of Y/n’s hair to get a better look at her forehead. Y/n felt heat rise to her cheeks at the king’s touch. His blue eyes were concentrated as he traced his fingers over the bruised skin.

“How bad is it?” Y/n asked with a smirk. “Will I survive?”

“I doubt it. I believe your hours are numbered.” Thranduil said with a chuckle. “Jokes aside, I think you should stay in bed for the next few days.”

“But who is going to look after the horses?” Y/n asked, not liking the sound of laying in bed all day whilst someone else tended to her horses.

“I’ll have someone make sure they are tended to until you well enough to go back.”

“Fine,” Y/n groaned in defeat.

---

An hour had passed and Thranduil made sure Y/n had everything she needed and he had a servant bring up a hot meal. He had just finished reading a passage of her favourite book when his eyes trailed to the setting sun outside.

“I think I should take my leave, so you can rest,” Thranduil whispered, blowing out the candle.

“G’night and thanks for making sure I am alright,” Y/n said as Thranduil made his way to the door.

“My pleasure, even if you are as stubborn as a dwarf.” And with that, Thranduil shut the door, leaving Y/n in the darkroom. She had to make sure the horses were alright, otherwise, she would not get any rest. Y/n waited a few minutes until she was sure Thranduil was gone, before staggering out of bed. Y/n bent down and pulled on her muddy boots, despite feeling like the room was spinning.

“Lady Y/n?” A voice whispered in the darkness, making Y/n jump. She peered into the darkness, and to her relief, it was only little prince Legolas at her door with a candle clutched in his hand.

“Yes, Legolas? Why are you still up?” Y/n whispered back, pulling on her coat.

“I wanted to make sure you were alright, lady Y/n,” Legolas said, frowning at her. “Why are you putting your coat on?”

“I need to make sure the horses are alright.” She whispered back.

“Can I come?” Legolas asked, with what looked like mischief glinting in his eyes, though it was probably just the flame he was holding.

“I don’t think that is a good idea. Your father would be very angry if he found either of us out of bed.”

“Please! I’ll be so good!” Legolas pleaded.

“Alright, but do not tell your father about this, got it?” Y/n sighed, staring at the kid in front of her. What was the worst that could happen?

“Not a word.”

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Files

Pairings: Sam Winchester x Reader

Trope: Enemies to lovers  @serenityhayato​ ( WRITTEN FOR @negans-lucille-tblr​‘s SPN FIC EXCHANGE )

Warnings: Death of a friend, Canonical Gore (werewolf attack), Cursing, Smut (rough Sam, light choking, hand job, oral if you squint- male receiving, unprotected sex), Probably sex at inappropriate times if I’m being honest

Word Count: 7500 (I am so sorry I didn’t realize until I went to post this that it had a 3k word limit… this was definitely my bad but I’ve spent a week writing this and really didn’t want to scrap the whole thing to fit the word limit. I didn’t realize how carried away I got in the set up)

A/N: I have never written anything for Sam before, much less smut, but I wanted to give it a shot. I’m sorry if it’s totally OOC. I was trying to go off the knowledge that he’s canonically pretty rough in bed. I also couldn’t imagine him being super talkative and vocal. I don’t know, I’m just kinda stressed about this one. Also, this was probably definitely an inappropriate time for them to get down and dirty but my brain was glitching on any other idea so I hope you don’t hate it! Happy holidays!

________________

Sam Winchester.

The name alone made your blood boil.

You’d met the man for the first time, just before your hunting career began and quite frankly, you weren’t sure if you could ever truly forgive him for what he’d done.

–

It was the first semester of your senior year of college, a proud graduate-to-be of your dream university. Life had been great since you got to college. Old toxic relationships with people back home had practically disappeared, you’d formed a group of the best people you’d ever met, and your academics had been going strong.

Life was going great until people started disappearing only to turn up days later, slaughtered and nearly drained of blood. Anxiety was running high all across the board. The university even turned all night classes to online courses to prevent the likelihood of someone being abducted at night. Your best friend had started acting weird. She constantly shook as if she’d drank a pot of coffee for breakfast and was always looking over her shoulder. “It’s okay, Beth,” You tried to reassure her, “I know everyone is on edge but we’re doing everything we can to stay safe. Just make sure to bring your wooden stake in case the vampire attacks.” You chuckled weakly, knowing your nerve-fueled joke was definitely inappropriate considering that four people had actually died from whoever was out there but humor was a good coping mechanism.

Beth didn’t appreciate the joke at all and had run out of your apartment, disappearing. When she hadn’t returned by seven that night, you got worried enough to go look for her. Grabbing every self defense weapon you had, which was pepper spray, a pocket knife, and a key chain that looked cute but was actually a form of brass knuckles with sharp extrusions on it, you left your apartment to look for Beth, surprisingly well strapped.  

You started with her favorite spots: a hipster coffee shop on Main Street, Taco Bell, that one bench in the botanical gardens that overlooked the pond, and the fourth floor of the library. She was nowhere to be seen. You were on the verge of calling the police or those FBI agents that had been questioning people on campus, asking some weird questions from what people had told you. You’d never spoken with them but they did say to come to them with information if anyone had any. You didn’t but they’d be a good start to finding Beth. Where to find them though? Figuring it would be best to just start with campus police, you walked across campus, looking over your shoulder every few seconds. The hair on your neck stood on end and it was impossible to feel safe. Campus police was located on the opposite end of campus and the busses stopped running early on weekdays so walking was your only choice.

“No, please!” You heard a man whimper from somewhere in the trees to your side. You stopped in your tracks and your heart dropped to your stomach. Should you help? Should you run? Should you stay here and call 911?

But then you heard Beth’s voice, “I’m sorry! I’m so sorry! I can’t control it anymore!” And then screams. There were deafening screams of pain and you decided to say screw it. You ran down to try and protect your friend, even though you knew it was probably the last thing you’d ever do. This was stupid. What could you even do? Who knew what was down there attacking them?

When you saw them though, you stopped, skidding to a halt on the leaf covered hill. Beth was knelt over a man’s body, his backpack thrown to the side and ripped open. Though you were quiet, she must have heard you because her attention was whipped to you in an instant. Her face and shirt were covered in blood. It was obvious she’d been eating him or something along those lines.

You felt like a deer in headlights, utterly frozen in terror, denial, and confusion. “I can’t control myself anymore…” she admitted, a regretful sob hiccuping from her lips.

“Why?” You breathed out the question, silent tears falling. Whether they were for fear for your life or just the knowledge that someone you cared about could do something so horrible, you didn’t know.

Before she could answer, there was a loud bang and she fell dead. You flinched and covered your head, crouching instinctively from the gunshot. Your best friend slumped over dead and, despite the fact that you’d just watched her brutally murder some poor stranger, you couldn’t help but call out in shock and horror, “Beth!"

Two men came running down the hill, one of them to Beth’s body and the other to you. "She’s dead. Werewolf, just like we thought.” The man with short hair announced in a deep gruff voice.

“Are you alright?” The one who had come up to asked. He looked a little younger than the other, with longer hair too.

You were shaking, “What the hell just happened?"

"I know this is hard to understand but your friend over there… wasn’t human.” When he said it, you almost scoffed. Of course she was human. What the hell else would she be? Monsters weren’t real.

“You’re kidding me…” You said almost angrily. Then something hit you, “Wait, you’re those FBI detectives.”

The one with short hair walked up to you and the man talking to you. The taller one spoke again, “I’m Sam and this is my brother Dean. We aren’t really FBI. We hunt monsters. Monsters like your friend over there."

"She wasn’t a monster.” You said, a single tear finally falling down your cheek. Glancing over, you saw her lying dead on the ground, “Not the Beth I knew."

"Well then you didn’t know the real Beth because one look at that thing will tell you she ain’t human.” Dean told you bluntly.

Sam noticed the confusion, fear, and anger in your eyes. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen this. It was never easy to tell people they were close to the truth and he preferred to just stay out of it completely but that wasn’t an option this time. “Look, I know this is difficult to understand. But Beth was a werewolf. And yes, they are real. Most monsters are. We’ve been tracking her for weeks."

"W-was she always like this?” Your mind whirled as you struggled to comprehend, truly comprehend, what was happening.

Sam shook his head, “She was turned by a werewolf back in her hometown a few weeks ago. We tracked her from a pack we hunted down over there.” You remembered when she came back, she had a big bandage on her arm. When you asked about it, she brushed it off, saying she ate it racing her brother on longboards. It was probably the bite.

“The fact that she made it as long as she did without killing is honestly impressive. I’ve seen some turn and right away they’re slaughtering people.” Dean chimed in. You hoped their words would console you but they only served to make you angrier.

“So you’re telling me that she was attacked by a werewolf and then turned into one? She was probably terrified! She kept saying how sorry she was! You could have helped her! But you just killed her!” You screamed at them angrily.

“Your friend murdered a bunch of people. Once they turn, there’s no saving them. They’re killers.” Dean said with such conviction that it almost scared you.

Sam put a hand out to Dean, signaling for him to shut up, “There’s only one known way to stop the transformation but it has a really low success rate, is extremely painful, and needs to be administered almost right after the bite. I’m sorry.” He reached a hand out to comfort you but you dodged it, shrugging off his gesture and beginning to walk away.

“I need to go."

"Wait!” Sam called out behind you and you stopped.

“What?!” You snapped, spinning around to stare at him. It was rare that anyone dwarfed Sam Winchester but since you’d been walking up the small hill, you towered over him. The way you glared down at him made him jump.

His words faltered before he finally spoke, “You can’t tell anyone about this. If people knew monsters existed-"

"I’ll decide how I deal with the fact that my apparently werewolf best friend was just murdered by some dudes who think they’re Ghostbusters."

—

Sam saddled up to the bar next to you and promptly ordered two beers. You kept your eyes straight ahead, not sure of what you’d say to him if you made eye contact. You could feel him side eyeing you curiously. Finally, he looked over, "I’m sorry if this is strange but you look so familiar. Have we met?"

You swiveled in the chair to face him, "It’s been a while but yeah. We’ve met. Remember that werewolf at (your college)  about a year ago."

Realization dawned on his face, "Oh… I knew you looked familiar.” He didn’t sound excited like people usually did when they saw old friends because he knew you weren’t old friends. In fact, he assumed you felt quite the opposite and he understood why. “I never did catch your name."

"Y/N.” You informed shortly, taking a sip of your preferred poison.

Sam rocked back on his heels, “Well, uh, what are you doing out here?” It was Middletown, Arkansas, not exactly a happening place, so seeing you of all people here seemed almost too good to be a coincidence.

“I get the feeling the same reason you are.” You answered, eyebrows rising to infer a hunt.

It didn’t take long for Sam to figure what you meant, “Wait, you’re hunting now? Why?"

"After you guys left, I was devastated. You’d murdered my best friend,” you watched him sink into himself a little when you said that but continued seamlessly, “I was left alone with the sudden knowledge that monsters existed. I decided one day that I wanted to protect people like Beth. You know, the ones that innocently stumble into dangerous situations and have their lives ruined by a bite or scratch."

The tall Winchester brother was about to say something but Dean called from a few tables over, "Sammy!” He called out, pointing to a booth on the side wall. The bar was fairly busy for it being such a small town, with people playing pool or eating fries with their gin and tonics. Music played in the background and, though it wasn’t a song you knew off the top of your head, it sounded like every other dive bar in towns like this.

Sam held up a finger to his brother, begging pardon for just a second, before looking back over to you, “Look, I’m really sorry about everything. I really am. I know it doesn’t help but I’ve lost friends who were turned as well so I know how you feel.”

“Yeah, well, shit happens, right?” Your voice sounded anything but forgiving but it also wasn’t hostile either. It was more matter-of-fact. As much as you had hated Sam Winchester for what he had taken from you, if there was one thing you had learned over these last few months it was that shit really does happen. As hard as you tried, you really couldn’t save them all.

Sam glanced back over his shoulder to see Dean wiggling his eyebrows suggestively at him, clearly thinking you were someone Sam was trying to pick up for the night. Sam rolled his eyes and turned back to you, “If we’re both here for the vamp nest, then do you maybe want to come work with us?"

You thought for a moment. In all honesty, you had been under the impression that it was just one vampire wreaking havoc on the small town. Call it a novice mistake, because in all actuality, you really were still a relatively new hunter. One vampire you could take, a whole nest would be trickier. "Fine. But just so we don’t die."

You hopped off the barstool, glass of liquid fire in your hand, as you followed Sam back to the booth Dean was sitting at. At first, the older brother looked confused as to why his brother would bring his company for the night to meet him but didn’t say anything about it when you sat down beside Sam across the table from Dean.

"This is Y/N. She’s gonna help us work the case.” Sam announced, not leaving much room for objection.

Dean’s eyes studied you, “You look familiar. You’re a hunter?” He asked, trying to piece together why he recognized you.

You shrugged, “Am now but you know me from ‘bout a year ago when you guys killed my best friend. She was bit by a werewolf. Remember, that college girl?"

Realization dawned on his face, "Oh… yeah. Sorry about that but she was, y'know, a werewolf. So-” he shrugged insensitively, earning him a hard kick in the shin from Sam under the table. Dean looked back with that expression of 'what?’ That little kids had when they got in trouble.

“Well, anyways, she’s hunting now and is in town for the nest. I figured working together would be our best option.” Sam tried to be a peaceful moderator but it was hard when he knew how much you loathed him. It was frustrating, really, that you wouldn’t just see that Beth had become a monster. He understood that losing friends was hard but she had been killing innocent people.

“What’s the plan, then? We want to pick them off one by one so there’s less to fight at once or-” you began before Dean interrupted.

He shook his head, chewing some fries he’d shoved in his mouth while he spoke, “Nuh-uh. Gank the whole nest at once. Get 'em all in one place and torch it."

"Okay, well where’s the nest then?” You questioned.

Sam shrugged, “We don’t know yet. That’s what we gotta figure out."

"I have a file of police reports and eye witnesses on my laptop back at my hotel. I was just gonna grab a map of the town while I was out tonight to try and see if I could draw a location from the attacks.” You hadn’t planned on actually bringing work to do at the bar. You’d mostly come to see if you could overhear any drunken tales of vampires around town but it had been pretty dead as far as crazy stories so far.

Something behind you caught Dean’s attention and he leaned in close to you and Sam, “Hey, I’ll be back. Don’t wait up.” He said with a smirk and a wink.

As his brother stood, Sam threw his hand up in exasperation, “Where are you going?"

"Hopefully for a homerun.” Dean winked with a cocky smirk before walking away. You turned around to follow Dean with your gaze and immediately saw his target sitting at the bar, a beautiful African American woman with bouncing curls and a sultry smile on her berry stained lips. Honestly, you couldn’t’ say you blamed the older Winchester one bit.

Sam let out a huff of disappointment and rolled his eyes at his brother’s priorities. “Guess it’s just you and me then…” He groaned, not at the prospect of having to spend time with you but just at his brother’s laziness. Dean always managed to find an excuse out of the research part.

“Great.” You responded, unamused. Of the two brothers, Sam was the one you had an issue with- the trigger man on the night that changed your life. “Well, we should get a start on all this so we can get out of here sooner. If you didn’t get any food, you wanna head back to my room?”

The second the words left your mouth, you realized how it sounded and you became a bumbling mess, “Wait- I didn’t mean it like that! I just meant-”

Sam bit back a chuckle and raised his hand up off the table, motioning for you to stop, “It’s okay. It’s okay.” He laughed, long hair shining in the dim light as he moved to turn away from you with closed eyes while he chuckled. It really was a shame that he had done what he’d done to you. An opportunity with such a handsome man just had to be killed by his lack of compassion all those months ago.

You slid out of the booth, “Alright, well, I guess I’ll drive. Looks like Dean will be needing your car.” You smirked knowingly as you glanced over at Dean who had the woman he’d had eyes on in stitches over something he’d said.

Sam followed your lead, “Sounds good. I don’t think I want to be in the car after whatever they do anyways.”

Your black 2007 Honda Pilot was clean enough to not be totally embarrassed about but then you saw Sam’s little snort, “A Honda Pilot?”

“We can’t all have cool muscle cars or old trucks, jackass. I can go all terrain with decent gas mileage. Besides, I’d rather sleep in the back of this than your gas guzzler. She’s surprisingly spacious.” You defended your vehicle rather seriously, running your hand across the dash soothingly. The funny thing was that you’d really never been all too attached to the car until Sam insinuated insulting remarks about it.

“She?” He quipped with a raised brow, climbing into the passenger seat.

You slammed the door shut and started the engine, “Yes, she. Dahlia.”

Sam put his hands up, resigning his teasing assault on your car. The drive to the motel was short. You never really liked travelling too far from where you were staying when you didn’t have to. Hunting on your own, especially as a newbie, made you anxious. When you pulled into the parking lot, Sam looked out the window, “You’re staying here too?”

You looked over at him, “You guys are staying here?”

He nodded and patted his pockets, looking for the room key but quickly finding the gesture useless, “Room 24. You?”

“34. You must be right under me.” You said, again visibly cringing at your poor word choice, “You know what I mean.”

Sam tried his hardest not to smile, “Wasn’t gonna say anything.” He assured. You pulled into a space right in front of room 24 and parked. Sam followed you up to your room, which was relatively untouched still. You’d only arrived that morning so, aside from your bag of belongings that was thrown onto the single queen bed, the motel room was still as you had found it.

Sam closed the door behind the two of you and you grabbed your laptop from the bag. So many rooms you’d stayed in had little tables or desks but you quickly noticed that this one was lacking. As Sam awkwardly shuffled up to the bed where you sat casually, you noticed that there wasn’t really enough room for the two of you to work on the ground either.

With a huff, you scooted over, “You can sit on the bed. Just no shoes on the covers.” You had toed your own shoes off on the floor before tucking your legs underneath you. Sam sat beside you, careful to keep a respectful distance between your bodies, while you opened the lid of your laptop and began typing away.

“Alright, this is what I have so far.” You began.

Time became lost on you and Sam as midnight rolled around and you were still discussing the facts of the case. “I’m still confused as to why the hell you think Lenora’s body turning up on Seventh St and Jason’s body turning up on Hargrove Ave means the nest is on Willow Dr.” You were getting annoyed at Sam. In all honesty, you were annoyed at yourself for not seeing what he saw because as much as you hated to admit it, he was probably right. He and his brother hadn’t earned their reputations for being wrong. But, geez, why did it have to be Sam Winchester?

“Because it’s not so much Jason’s body. The old lady, Meredith, made a phone call to her nephew, saying she was at Willow Dr, just before she attacked.” Sam pointed at the map of the town with one finger while leaning his weight back on the bed. His other hand reached back to prop himself up but you quickly flinched away when you felt his rough fingers blindly land on your own.

Sam’s eyes shot wide when you felt your sudden movement, “‘M sorry.” He said, moving his hand closer to his body.

The contact made your heart race in a way that made you simultaneously crave his touch again and be angry at yourself for feeling that way.  You cursed yourself, scooting an inch or so away from Sam’s body. Clearly, your body was just blindly reacting after being touch starved for so long. You hadn’t so much as kissed anyone since before you became a hunter. It had to just be a primal reaction, nothing more.

“I’ll just take your word for it.” You grumbled, returning to the original matter at hand. You hated feeling like you were just letting him think he was right about everything but you were getting tired. “So what’s the plan? Gank ‘em all tomorrow night?”

Sam shrugged, “We’d have to talk to Dean. Most of them will probably be hiding in the nest in the morning to avoid the sun so at least they’d be in one place. But night gives us more time to plan. Who knows when he’ll be back.”

“Why don’t we just lure them all out into the sun and watch them burn?” You suggested, thinking it was a brilliant idea. You actually had yet to deal with vamps. This would be your first case hunting them and you were actually a little excited to learn something new.

The Winchester shook his head, “The sun doesn’t kill them. Think less Interview With a Vampire and more… bad sunburn.” He explained, “Have you never hunted one before?”

Again, you got defensive, “I’m still new at this. I mostly stick to werewolves and ghosts.” Admitting to yourself you needed to learn more was one thing. Admitting it to Sam was another.

He looked over at the gun on your nightstand, “Is that what you were gonna use?” He questioned, brows furrowed.

“No, I’m not dumb. I have some wooden stakes in the car.”

It took everything in Sam’s power to not laugh at you. At you felt like the wrong way to put it. He wasn’t laughing at you. He just found your determination to be a good hunter cute in an endearing way, even if you got your information from cheesy TV shows.

“What?” You asked, almost angrily, seeing the look of amusement on his face.

Sam shook his head, “Decapitation is the main way to kill vampires. Unless you have special bullets or weapons, cutting off the heads is the easiest way to go.”

Your jaw clenched and you turned away from him, upset that he of all people had to explain something that was apparently Hunter 101. You didn’t mind learning. Not knowing things typically was just an opportunity to pick something new up but this incident just felt like nails on a chalkboard.

“You know what? It looks like you and Dean have things handled here. I’m gonna go. Divide and conquer. I’ll just go find somewhere with monsters that I know about so you don’t have to babysit me.” You stood up aggressively, voice surprisingly calm and just almost convincing enough to make him think you weren’t being petty, which of course you were. You didn’t mean to be acting childish. It was just that running into Sam and Dean had been enough to handle. Having what was still left for you to learn shoved in your face was just the cherry on top.

Sam stood up after you, exasperated, “I didn’t mean it like that. You’re still new to this and everyone has to start somewhere. Hell, Dean and I are still learning new stuff all the time.”

“It’s not that. This was just a bad idea. I thought I could handle working with you but I can’t.” You shook your head, turning around just to reach around Sam’s body and grab the jacket that you’d discarded before shrugging it back over your shoulders. You started shoving the few things you’d unpacked- a gun, your laptop, and some files- back into your blue duffel bag.

Sam had always considered himself fairly level-headed and capable of dealing with difficult people but something in him snapped when he saw you packing up to leave over something so stupid, “Fine, go ahead and leave. We’ll deal with the nest without you. But you know what? Nobody asked you to get involved in hunting. You can’t just go run off every time someone dies.”

You scoffed, “I got into hunting to prevent people from dying. I got into hunting to try and save them from being killed by people like you!”

“You’re acting like we just kill everyone we come across. We kill monsters, Y/N. We save people by killing them. We prevent more people from getting turned into monsters by killing them. And you know what? Beth became a monster.” Sam’s voice raised to almost a yell as he gestured widely and aggressively.

“Beth was scared and you murdered her!” You shouted angrily, tears welling in your eyes.

“Beth was killing people!” Sam yelled at you before taking a moment to breathe, continuing more calmly, “Can’t you see that? Most of these monsters we hunt were just poor bastards in the wrong place at the wrong time. There’s not a lot we can do for people like that. But we can keep them from hurting others. If we had known there was a werewolf back in Beth’s hometown, we could have killed them before they could turn her and she would still be here. Would you be angry if we’d have killed the werewolf that turned her? Would you still be calling me a murderer?”

You chewed your tongue in your mouth hard, trying to use the physical pain to distract you from the urge to cry out of frustration. Why did he have to make sense? Why did he have to confirm every rational thought you’d ever had concerning the situation? You wanted to hate Sam Winchester for what he’d done but you knew deep down that it was never that simple. You knew he had a point but you didn’t want to admit it.

Sam saw the way your jaw clenched angrily, the way your throat moved as you swallowed hard, and the way your eyes glistened with unshed tears. He took a step closer to you and reached a gentle hand out towards your arm, “I am sorry that you lost your best friend.”

For some reason, the gentle sincerity of his voice is what broke you. Tears fell down your face in hot streams as you cried. They weren’t tears for Beth’s death. Those had long been drained from you, many nights spent mourning what you’d lost. These tears were for the final snap of your animosity for the Winchester. You had spent so long hating him. You wanted to hate him, needed to hate him, but how the hell were you supposed to do that when he looked you in the eye and truly meant it when he said he was sorry.

There was a twinge of pain in his own green eyes that made you realize that he truly had experienced the same sort of heartache that you did and that he was sincerely apologetic for being the cause of it. But it was also clear that, while he was sorry for hurting you, he was not sorry for what he had done. Part of the cause for your tears was that you were angry with yourself for not being able to hate him, despite knowing that he didn’t regret killing Beth. You were crying because he was right. She had become a monster and, in his shoes, you probably would have done the same thing. You would have shot your best friend.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered, voice shaky as you did.

Sam used his light grip on your arm to pull you in slowly for a hug, his large arms enveloping you in a surprisingly comforting embrace. You buried your face into his flannel, tears staining the fabric. One of his large hands gently cradled the base of your head while his other rubbed up and down your shaking back.

He didn’t know what to say anymore. Your response had honestly surprised him. The girl that he was used to receiving nothing but animosity from was now shaking in his arms and apologizing. “It’s okay,” was all Sam could think to mutter out.

He held you like that for a while, though you weren’t sure exactly how long it was. It could have been thirty seconds or thirty minutes and you would be none the wiser but all you knew was that you didn’t want Sam to let you go and, for once, you didn’t hate yourself for it. The tears had dried, leaving only slightly stiff feeling skin in their place. Your breath had long since stopped leaving your lungs in wracked hiccups. Your arms had moved from resting on his broad chest to being loosely wrapped around his waist at some point.

You pulled back first, lifting your head from his chest but keeping your hands on his body still. Sam lifted his cheek off your head, where it had been residing in a surprisingly soft show of affection, and he gazed down at you. You were amazed by how completely you had let your rage blind you. Before tonight, Sam was nothing more than scum to you but now, looking into his eyes after forgiving him, you realized that he was easily one of the most beautiful men you’d ever laid your eyes on.

Even with the tears now gone, Sam still saw the dim light of the cheap motel lamp sparkled against the color of your irises and damn if it wasn’t beautiful. He slid his hand up from your shoulder to gently brush away a few thin strands of hair that had stuck to your cheek while it was pressed against his chest- a feeling he found himself missing. His breath caught in his throat when you reached up to cover his hand with your smaller one, pressing it gently to stay on your cheek.

Your eyes slid closed and you gently nuzzled against his hand before opening your eyes again, reaching around his neck, and oh so slowly pulling him down while you perched on your tiptoes. There was more than enough time for Sam to pull away but he didn’t. In fact, much to your surprise, he closed the gap between you faster. His lips pressed to yours, rougher than you anticipated, but enjoyably nonetheless.

The breath was knocked out of your lungs and you struggled to breathe against his lips but refused to pull away. You bit his lip gently while you kissed, slipping your tongue against his when he gave in to what you were craving.

Sam reached down under your ass and lifted you without you even needing to jump. A squeal of surprise was swallowed by his lips as he walked you both to the bed. Once his legs bumped the old mattress, he sat down, lowering you to land on his lap. Your knees fell to either side of his hips where you gave an experimental rotation of your hips against his clothed erection. He let out a strangle exhalation at the friction, his fingers digging into your ass and pulling you harder onto him. The fabric of his rough jeans rubbed delicious against your clothed core, a wetness beginning to form in your panties.

Slowly, you pressed your weight forward and Sam allowed you to push him onto his back. You laid on top of him, lips moving from his lips down his neck but he didn’t let you get far. Sam placed a supportive hand on the small of your back and managed to flip you both over so he was on top and before you knew it, he was devouring you. Lips kissed hot trails across your face and down your neck, across the tops of your breasts that were ever so slightly revealed by your v-neck t-shirt.

Your fingers tangled in his long hair and he let out a breathy groan when you tugged on the brunette locks, pulling him closer to you. Sam crawled down your body, his hands sliding up underneath your shirt to run across your burning skin beneath. He felt like heaven and hell all in one, burning with fiery lust and yet so sweet and comforting despite the fervor with which he moved.

You pushed yourself up, pushing Sam to sit back on his knees while you did, all without breaking the kiss, to shrug off your jacket. Your shirt was next, falling onto the floor with your jacket before Sam pushed you backwards again, your back hitting the mattress. His large hand started low your belly, running straight up between the valley of your breasts and then raking downwards, pulling the cups of your bra down and grazing your nipples deliciously with his calloused fingers.

It had been so long since you’d been touched like this that even the small act had your back arching into his body. “Sam…” You breathed out, eyes sliding closed at the sensation. Every flick against your sensitive buds sent a shock straight to your core that had you hooking your leg around his hip, pulling him closer into you. Your hands ran up and down his large biceps before moving to pull the sleeves of his flannel down his arms. He only pulled away from you long enough to throw the restricting clothing on the ground, his shirt joining short after.

Your mouth started physically salivating at the sight of the man before you, sculpted by the gods. Defined pectorals and rippling abs covered his torso, adorned with a symbol that looked like a pentagram inside of a sun- a symbol you were unfamiliar with. Sam didn’t give you much time to marvel though because he was back to kissing a line down your body, the light stubble of his beard tickling the sensitive skin of your neck and chest. He stopped to revel in your breasts, wiggling his hands under your body to expertly unclasp your bra and shimmy it off you. The second they were revealed to him, his tongue was dragging across the supple sick and his teeth were lightly nibbling at the sensitive buds.

“Oh my gosh-” You let out in a breathy giggle. Sam switched breasts, giving the other equal attention. Your fingernails raked lightly over his shoulders and across his chest and you felt Sam shiver at the touch. His lips trailed lower and lower until they found the waistline of your jeans. With a quick flick of his fingers, the button was popped and the denim material was dragged down your legs, taking your socks with them as they were pulled over your ankles. He kissed his way back up your legs, from ankle until he slowly inched closer and closer to where you wanted him most.

His scruff scraped along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs and you bit your lip at the sensation, unsure if you were trying to hold back a giggle from the ticklish feeling or a moan from the shocks it sent to your core. Sam chuckled to himself when he saw the wet patch of cloth over your clothed heat. He’d barely touched you and you were already dripping for him.

He had a wicked idea though. He got closer and closer to your sex, the smell intoxicating, and gripped your thighs tightly, possibly leaving bruises. Just when his lips were about to land on your core, he moved to the left, kissing your hip bones instead and back up your belly.

Annoyed by the teasing, you sat up, pulling Sam up gently by the hair to be face to face with you. Your ass was a few inches from the edge of the bed, toes just touching the ground, when you pushed Sam back just enough to be able to reach his pants. You hooked your fingers into the belt loops on either side of his pelvis and pulled him close to you. His forehead pressed flush against yours, “Are you gonna keep being a tease or are you gonna fuck me already, Winchester?”

Sam didn’t need to be told twice. He made quick work of his remaining clothing and hovered over you like a predator about to move in for the kill. “You want me to just fuck you already?” He mimicked, voice low and testing. His green eyes bore into your own orbs with a challenge that you refused to back down from.

“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” You challenged, standing up and sliding your underwear down your legs, all while keeping unyielding eye contact with Sam. Once they left your form with a small flick of your toes, a dark smirk krept up on his face.

“Turn around.” He demanded and, while you were inwardly more than happy to comply, you didn’t want him to think he had you quite that easy.

You rolled your eyes as you did, an sinful smirk playing on your lips, “Yes, sir.” You chimed sarcastically.

Before you knew it, you were bent over at the waist, face and chest pressed into the mattress by Sam’s nearly crushing body. His hand snaked around your front, picking up some of your slickness on his fingers before circling your clit while he growled in your ear, “Don’t know what the attitude’s about. You’re the one who asked to get fucked.”

Your knees quivered at his filthy words while his fingers worked your clit slowly and painfully. His rock hard erection rubbed along your ass, teasing your entrance every now and again as he rocked his hips against your body. He stood up and removed his hand from your clit. Your hips moved back, trying desperately to chase his fleeting touch. Sam groaned when your body slid over his cock, skin burning against his own. After a few experimental tugs at his own member, he positioned himself at your entrance, giving you a few moments to back out if that was what you’d wanted. Backing out was so far from what you wanted though. You wanted - nay, needed - him inside of you and you needed him now. You were convinced you’d combust if he made you wait any longer.

His hands landed on your hips to help guide a slow thrust forward. His length gradually entered you, the searing stretch to accommodate him making your muscles contract around him. Sam hisses out a sound of pleasure, “You’re so tight.”

His first few thrusts were slow, each time managing to grind impossibly deeper into you. “Fuck, Sam.” Your fingers wound tightly in the sheets with each thrust of his hips and your eyes screwed shut as your breaths came out almost as hisses through grit teeth.

Sam used his leverage on your hips to move your body in time with his thrusts. Each motion sent your body into the mattress, the bed shaking as he pounded into you. You let out little squeaks of pleasure every now and again but Sam wanted to hear more out of the girl who’d had nothing to say to him but spiteful things for so long.

A large hand came to clasp around your throat, not tight enough to choke you but enough to guide you up. You pressed your body up to your feet sloppily on your hands but standing proved to be a difficult task with Sam still moving relentlessly into you. Your thighs were shaking, barely able to support your weight, as this new angle allowed for Sam to hit that spot inside you that made your toes curl. His hand stayed around your throat, tightening along the sides of your neck when he lost himself in the way you felt around him- warm and soft. You were grateful that he was letting your head lull back against his shoulder otherwise you weren’t sure if you’d be able to stay upright.

Sam’s free hand first sloppily groped around the front of your chest until it found one of your breasts, kneading it roughly. The rough skin of his fingers grazed your nipples yet again, only adding to the pleasure you felt below. The knot was tightening and it was tightening fast.

“Please-” You managed to gasp out, not because of the choking (his grip wasn’t that tight) but because the electricity in the room seemed to have stolen your voice. Sam’s hand moved from your nipples down to your clit where he rubbed fast tight circles. “Oh my gosh, yes!” You whined, reaching up overhead to tangle your fingers in his hair. You forced his mouth down to meet yours and the pressure in your core snapped. Your moans and cries of pleasure were swallowed by Sam’s lips and he could have swallowed a thousand more.

He worked you through your orgasm until your body went limp in his arms. Slowly, he came to a stop before pulling out and quickly working himself in his hands. After catching your breath though, you turned back to Sam, placed your hands on his shoulders, and used them to spin the two of you around and push him back onto the bed. His long legs hung over the edge and you settled yourself between his knees, gently grasping his member, still slick with your wetness, and worked him with your hand.

Sam lied back on the white duvet, head thrown back in bliss at your touch. Your hand felt so much better than his own as it worked up and down his shaft before coming up to circle around the tip. He was rock hard and ready to burst at any given moment. When you leaned forward to like a long stripe along the underside of his cock, he was done for. A few more pumps and Sam fell apart in your hand, painting your hand and his stomach with his seed. “Shit!” The muscles of his abs contracted mesmerizingly as the waves of his high rolled over him.

Your hand slowed as his climax came to an end, his member softening in your hand. You wiped the mess he’d made on your hand on your breasts and stomach, knowing it would be easier to keep those parts of you off the covers than your hand. With a heavy sigh of crashing relief, your body fell onto the mattress beside Sam and you both stared at the ceiling in a fucked out post-coital haze.

“So, does this mean you don’t hate me anymore?” Sam asked after a few moments, surprising you with the genuine tone behind the semi-joking question.

You stared up at the chipping popcorn ceiling, “I didn’t for like two seconds but now I do again just because those were the first words out of your mouth.” Your voice was steady, unwavering, and Sam cringed inwardly, avoiding eye contact entirely. That is, until you sighed and continued, “But, I guess, if you wanted to take me out for a drink sometime there’s a slim chance I wouldn’t object.” This time, there was a teasing smile on your face when you turned your head to look at Sam.

[hiccstrxd]

Revelations

This idea ocurred to me last year, i started it on august and i’m only now finishing it lol. This one shot takes place during the battle in htty3 and then it time skips to a little bit after the dragons had left. This wasn’t proofread so there might be a few mistakes. 

This is obviously a self-indulgent hiccstrid fic because i just love them way too much. 

It has been crossposted on AO3 as well!

xx

“I think that’s the last one, let’s head back now!” She yelled over all the commotion, dodging a flying axe going her way that dangerously missed her by mere inches. She sprinted for a run then, trying her best to evade any threats and deeply hoping her legs wouldn’t give up beneath her. 

The more she ran, the more the tightness in her chest increased— the lack of air in her lungs suddenly became a restraint. She mustered what was left of her strength and put two fingers in between her mouth, blowing out some air. Almost immediately, she heard Stormfly’s familiar squawk from above, the Nadder landing gracefully on the decaying ship’s deck in the midst of chaos. 

She grasped the saddle tightly and in one swift motion pulled herself atop of the leather seat. Stormfly took off right after, the already cauterized wooden surface in which they were standing promptly shattered after her dragon’s strong impulse. 

She faintly saw the other riders mounting on their dragons, trailing not too far behind her, but her main concern was to get back to the cliff on time. 

“Come on, girl!” Astrid pressed herself forward trying to gain more speed, the high steep getting closer with each flutter of wings. She could hear distant cheering, the often roaring of some dragons that were nearby, blasts that soundly went off in the distance, and lastly, collective muffled screams. 

And then silence. 

The hasty change of atmosphere left her perplexed, with a strange feeling of dread, almost stopping her midair. At once, she became alert, looked around for any threats and squinted her eyes for better focus. 

And for a few seconds, her heart stopped. A loud gasp deliberately escaped from her lips. 

No. 

He was falling. Gravity pulling him downwards with such velocity that seemed inconceivable. 

She saw him plummeting down to certain death with Grimmel clinging to his flying suit. She saw Grimmel relentlessly tearing apart every bit of the handmade wings that were until that point unharmed. She saw Grimmel clutching his prosthetic as a last attempt to survive when he lost his grip on his shoulders. She saw Grimmel bring down Berk’s Chief and her entire heart with him. 

Suddenly a new sense of strength overcome her and she urged Stormfly to fly even faster. The Nadder, sensing her rider’s distress, complied with little coaxing, letting out a soft squawk as a way of comfort. 

Her eyes began to sting, a few tears threatening to fall down, prickling her lashes but she wouldn’t let them, not now. Her hands started to ache from gripping the saddle tightly, her legs feeling numb from squeezing her knees firmly against Stormfly’s sides as to not fall off and also as the only other thing keeping her from doing anything drastic.

She kept her gaze forward — even if it hurt seeing such scene display before her — it served as a motivation to keep on going. But despite her dragon’s effort, they were still too far away. He was too far away. 

Her mind wandered to all those things that could have been, if circumstances were to be different, if their day-to-day life weren’t an occupational hazard of some sort. Visions of a future that just seconds ago seemed so plausible we’re being snatched out of her grasp with such cruelty, leaving a bitter aftermath in its wake. 

Thoughts of warm embraces, tingly touches, blinding smiles, tinted cheeks, tiny fingers—

Her breath hitched. 

Her heart constricted. 

Her vision blurred and breathing became even more difficult than when she was running away from the turmoil in the ships. 

But dwelling on it wasn’t an option, time was at stake — no, time was only an appendage of the bigger picture and she wasn’t about to push her luck on that one.

An instruction fell from her lips, voice coming out more strangled than she cared to admit. Astrid was about to encourage Stormfly to keep flying forward when suddenly a white blob came at high speed towards the free-falling pair, its front paws taking ahold of one very stubborn, selfless Viking. 

And she couldn’t remember another time when she felt as relieved as in that particular moment. 

She never brought it up and nobody actually knew, aside from the gang, that she was well aware of what had transpired that fateful afternoon. There were some hushed whispers whenever she entered a stall and odd hand motions meant to silence whatever was going to be said about the matter and the sorrowful looks —oh, the looks— that were sent her way when they thought she wasn’t looking. 

She had to suppress the urge to roll her eyes at all of it because it was silly, so utterly silly. There was absolutely nothing to feel gloom for, everything was alright (well, that wasn’t entirely true, the dragon’s depart to the hidden world was still a very painful memory) but they better drop the subject before she shows them herself just how well she’s managing. 

Hiccup was fine, he was safe, she wasn’t going to lose him just yet, they were going to get married after all, he couldn’t—

But he almost did.

And it was in that moment, during one of her throwing practices in New Berk’s uncharted woods, that she finally let everything sink in. And this time, she didn’t even try to choke back the sob that escaped her lips nor withhold the tears from freely cascading down her cheeks. 

She faintly heard the calming rustling of leaves from the trees above her and the distinguished uneven sound of a metal prosthesis and a boot stepping on branches and fallen leaves.

“There you are, I’ve been looking for you nonstop—“his sentence was cut short the moment his very vivid, expressive green eyes landed on her and she couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at the corners of her mouth because he wore his heart on his sleeve and he was caring, selfless Hiccup and she loved him, accident prone or not. 

His eyebrows furrowed, his eyes held now a softer gaze and from where she was standing she could already see the wheels on his mind turning, “Hey, what’s wrong?” 

She faintly registered his movements, steady footsteps approaching her slowly. In a matter of seconds he was enveloping in a tight hug, one of his hands cradling the back of her head while the other was wrapped around her waist and there was nothing she could do but hug him back just as tightly, burying her face in the crook of his neck. 

She always took pride in her ability to conceal her stronger emotions. She dealt with them as the strong shieldmaiden she was raised to be, always facing them head-first. But, she thought, there’s nothing wrong with letting your walls down once in a while. Preferably not too often though. 

“I thought I had lost you.” she managed to say in between sobs, muffled by the fabric of his shirt and so low that she almost thought he didn’t hear her. But somehow he did because his grip around her tightened as did hers around his torso. 

Astrid decided against of adding the for sure at the end since, she believes, it’s heavily implied. There were many times in which she was very close to losing him through the years, but this one seemed so much real, so much dreadful.

Neither of them were sure of how long they stayed embraced in the deep ends of New Berk’s forest, but they certainly didn’t care either when the sun started to set on the horizon, a chilly breeze rustling the leaves up on the trees, signaling that the night was upon them. 

She took one last deep breath and slowly untangled herself from the hug. He took a small step back and raised his hand to gently wipe the remaining tears gracing her face. She leaned into his touch, bringing her hand upwards to lace their fingers together and smiling softly when he brought her hand to his lips and kissed each knuckle lovingly.

Gods, she loves him.

[sokkasangel]

i don’t know you anymore

»»——— sokka x firebender!reader

summary: after being a part of the gaang for a few weeks, you’ve kept your secret hidden the best you could. but during one especially difficult fight, you couldn’t help but let it out. how does sokka — the boy who’s absolutely smitten over you — react?

warnings: angst

word count: 1k

a/n: requests are open!

»»——— masterlist

you had been walking through a small earth village with sokka & aang when you heard katara scream. you three were headed back to appa, with handfuls of food & supplies. katara had stayed back because she had been talking to an old woman about the horrible state of the village.

as soon as he heard the scream, aang dropped the things in his hands. a small box cracked open as it hit the dirt. you had never seen him run so fast.

sokka & you shared a look before you followed aang’s trail. as you ran you reminded yourself not to slip up.

“watch out!” sokka pulled you by the arm. while thinking, you almost ran straight into a tree stump. “you gotta be careful, y/n.”

you watched as he reached behind him, grabbing his trusty boomerang. the determination in his eyes inspired you. whenever you watched sokka fight, you felt a sense of pride. it made you want to get up & do something. that’s one thing you really appreciated about sokka, along with a million others.

“look!” sokka pointed to two firebenders who had surrounded aang & katara. katara’s attacks against the soldiers were pointless, & aang’s bursts of air only pushed them back a couple inches.

“hey!” you yelled, trying to grab their attention.

when they turned around, you realized how big they really were. they stood about a foot taller than you & sokka, & their muscles practically burst out of their armor.

the soldier on the left released a steam of fire directed at sokka’s feet. luckily, sokka noticed the man’s hand raise. he jumped just in time & proceeded to throw his boomerang. it spun past the man’s head, making him chuckle.

sokka stood taller & crossed his arms. a whipping sound grew louder & the soldier was knocked forward. his head fell low. his feet tripped over themselves & the man fell flat on his face.

“sokka never misses!” he yelled, pointing toward the fallen soldier.

you cut off sokka’s victory dance, “umm, we still have one more guy.” you pointed to the soldier on the right who had — midway through sokka’s boomerang throw — turned back to aang & katara.

“o-oh right. of course. i knew that.”

you got katara’s attention with a small whistle. you nodded to the man laying on the ground, motioning for her to switch.

katara twisted the water she currently held around the soldier, binding him from attacking. aang, however, blew him off his feet with a small gust of wind. with one subdued, you & sokka only had to take care one more.

“well, are you gonna attack or what?” sokka poked at the man, which made you shake your head. he’s way to confident in battles...

with that, the soldier lifted his hands & let a stream of fire out. you & sokka had to jump out of the way. while you two were still on the ground, the man lifted his leg, ready to kick flames toward sokka. sokka was to stunned to react, so you had to do something quick.

you can’t let it out, you told yourself. but as many times as you said that, it didn’t stick. sokka could not get hurt.

you leaped in front of sokka as the soldier pushed the fire out. you felt the heat approaching you, & your hands became sweaty. it’s been a while. instinctively, your arms lifted to shoulder-level. you extended your hands, as if you were reaching for the fire.

you heard sokka yell something, but you didn’t register it. you were focused on the ball of fire in front of you. as it neared, you adjusted your feet. your left slid a little to the right, & your right pointed forward.

a strand of hair came out of its place. you ignored it, keeping it out of your focus. you felt the flames envelop your hands. it evapored any sweat that beaded on your palms.

taking a deep breath in, you twisted your hands. you created a small sphere with you hands, controlling the fire. you spun it two times & redirected it to the ground on your right.

then, you blasted fire from your fist. because you had the element of surprise, the soldier had no time to react. you struck his helmet, pushing him backward. you watched his figure, seeing if he’d get back up. but remained in the dirt.

you smiled at your little victory. it had been a while since you last firebended, & it felt good. but this was short lived.

you turned around, hoping to celebrate this with your team. but when you saw their faces, there was only expressions of fear & surprise.

katara stepped behind aang, who furrowed his brow. sokka, who had now scrambled to his feet, looked beyond shocked. his jaw hung open.

“y-you’re a firebender...” katara’s voice was quiet behind aang’s shoulder.

“well-“

“why didn’t you tell us?” her voice got louder with each sentence.

“erm, well-“

“where you planning something?” aang spoke up. “are you really on our side?”

while katara’s voice became hostile, aang’s was full of sadness. your friends now thought you were a traitor.

“let me explain...”

katara scoffed & walked off. aang took a moment & then followed her.

“sokka... let me explain, please?”

“why did you lie to me?” he said this without looking at you. & then he slowly walked in the direction of his sister.

tears pooled in your eyes. this is what you were trying to avoid. you knew how the fire nation had treated all three of your friends, so you didn’t want to break the trust that had blossomed. they welcomed you wholeheartedly when you first met. they let you travel with them, letting you leave that awful fire nation base.

how were you going to change this?

about an hour later, you went to go find your friends. if you could even call them that now. you felt as though you should give them some time to process before chasing after them.

when you arrived where appa had landed, he was still laying there. momo was nestled on top of his head, but he rose when you approached.

this grabbed the gaang’s attention. katara & aang sat up in the saddle. they shot you a nasty glare. meanwhile, sokka leaned against appa’s side, seemingly taking a nap.

“can i please explain?” you shuffled your feet. “even if you don’t take me back... can i please explain?”

“how could you possibly expla-“

“wait, katara,” aang interrupted. “maybe we should hear her out.”

she huffed but ultimately agreed.

you began to explain your situation, of how you were thinking of them. you didn’t want to create mistrust, but you wanted them to not be afraid of you.

“how are you any better than the fire nation?” katara shot.

it hurt, but she was right. you hated how the fire nation lied, while you did the exact same thing.

“i’m so sorry, you guys. i truly am.”

“it’s okay, y/n,” aang hopped off the saddle & stood in front of you. “you had the best intentions at heart. you were trying to protect us.”

he waved katara over, encouraging her to forgive you. she walked to you & pulled you into a hug.

“you’re still my friend, no matter what.”

“thank you, katara.” you squeezed her harder.

the three of you looked over to sokka, who didn’t move.

“sokka?” you asked, walking over to him.

he popped one eye open, looking up at you.

he slowly got to his feet, still not making eye contact. you sighed. maybe the one person’s respect you wanted the most, you wouldn’t be able to get back. you had grown so attached to sokka over the past few weeks, it was hard for you to see your life without him.

suddenly, he grabbed you by the arms & pulled you into a deep hug. his arms wrapped around your neck & shoulders, your face was now pushed into his chest. startled, it took you a second to hug him back. it was so warm & comforting.

“this is our first hug,” you remarked, not knowing what to say.

“shush. i’m trying to hug you.”

“sokka... i’m sor-“

“i don’t care. just... next time you do something stupid like that, don’t wait so long to come back. i thought you had left.”

[ibijau]

Arranged marriage viking AU edition but make it Xisang I know you want it 👀

b i t c h. You know me too well. I basically kinda ignored the prompt and went for my own thing (prompt:  Person A is traded to the Vikings for safe passage and is subsequently married to the jarl’s oldest child, Person B). They’re not viking (sadly I checked, and that would have been unlikely)

Also on AO3

"I think he said brother," Lan Xichen pointed out, trying to help. 

This, of course, earned him a nasty glare from Su Minshan, who never liked to have his competence challenged, and from Lan Qiren, for aggravating their translator when they were in such a dire situation already. 

"Those languages don't always differentiate well between genders," Su Minshan explained. "But of course he meant sister, since he's asking for a husband to marry into his tribe." 

Unconvinced by that explanation, Lan Xichen glanced toward the king of the Nie people, who seemed mildly annoyed at their reaction to his offer… Or perhaps amused? He was a hard man to read. King Nie Mingjue was an impressive man, all the more so because he had ambushed their little group quite easily with his horse-riding warriors. He could have easily killed them all in their sleep, and would have been in his right to do so since they had entered his territory in secret. He had looked ready to do just that, in fact, but Su Minshan had hurriedly explained why they were there, and managed to placate the terrifying barbarian. 

"It wouldn't be a bad deal," one cousin of Lan Xichen's father noted. "Right of passage in the future, and if we give them someone clever, he might give us inside information in the future. I pity whoever will marry one of those shrews and give her half breeds, but even those will have their use in the future." 

A few eyed darted toward Su Minshan, who pretended not to notice. Although he claimed to be of full Han origin and professed great disdain for foreigners, he had still spent most of his childhood among barbarians, and spoke a few languages of the area. He apparently made a decent living as a guide, but it was said he was saving money to move away from the border and open a shop in the capital, where his past might not follow him. 

While the older men argued for and against the deal offered to them, Lan Xichen looked again toward the barbarians. This time, more than the intimidating Nie Mingjue, he observed the young man at his side, a frail boy hardly younger than himself. He did not look like a warrior, but a few times already he had whispered things to Nie Mingjue’s ear that the king seemed to have taken in consideration. In fact, Lan Xichen was almost certain that he'd come up with that idea of demanding a groom for the king's sibling (the king's brother, Lan Xichen knew he'd heard right). 

Right then, the young man was listening intently as the merchants discussed the offer, his smile growing more and more entertained, almost as if… 

"I think we shouldn't speak so loud," Lan Xichen remarked. "That one, next to the king… I think he understands us."

The older men glanced at the boy, and immediately scolded Lan Xichen for bothering them with nonsense. Certainly the young man didn't look nearly as impressive as the other warriors, so it was easy to think him unimportant. 

Still, Lan Xichen shivered when the young man suddenly winked at him before turning to king Mingjue who leaned toward him, and nodded to whatever the boy told him. Then, confirming all of Lan Xichen's suspicions, the king spoke again. 

He spoke, and pointed right at Lan Xichen. 

"We want that one," Nie Mingjue announced, which Su Minshan promptly translated. 

This sparked a new debate within their group, more heated than before. Lan Qiren had been in favour of accepting the demand, but only until his own nephew was requested as a sacrifice. At the same time, most of the others were suddenly more open to the idea now that they didn't have to fear losing their freedom to go live with some backward barbarians. 

As for Lan Xichen himself, he wasn't sure how to feel about this. What he knew, though, was that their family would make a fortune if they could cut through the Nie kingdom to trade with the west. He knew also that he had no previous engagement to tie him down at home, and that he had a younger brother who could continue their line and take over their father's business. No matter what he may or may not have wanted, Lan Xichen knew there was only one possible answer when his uncle asked him his thoughts. 

"I'll do it," he said, keeping his voice as devoid of emotion as possible. "If it can help our family, I don't mind taking on this hardship." 

As he said this, Lan Xichen couldn’t help looking at the boy next to the barbarian king, who smiled without waiting for Su Minshan’s translation.

Lan Xichen shivered again.

Nobody noticed though. His uncle, helped by Su Minshan, had started negotiating the finer details of this possible agreement, demanding guarantees. Lan Xichen felt rather touched when his uncle insisted that there would have to be proof of his good treatment. The barbarian king, in turn, had demands of his own to make, notably to demand taxes and determine how many people he would allow to traverse his territory. The talks went on and one for hours, from sunrise to mid-afternoon, until at last both parties were satisfied with what they would be getting.

Lan Xichen was hugged by his uncle, and by some of his other relatives as well. What few belongings he’d brought on this journey were handed to him, with the promise they would try to send him his books and other things once they made it home. Then, with very little ceremony, Lan Xichen was offered a horse by the Nie and rode off with them. It all happened so fast that he didn’t even have time to feel scared or sad, and his horse turned out to be so unruly that he didn’t have time for self-pity, lest he be thrown off in front of those barbarians.

He only had a shaky grasp of their language, having learned from the employee of another trader, but he was half sure he’d heard them bet he would fall. He wouldn’t give them that pleasure.

The sun was starting to set when at last their group reached what appeared to be a city of tents. If he hadn’t been so exhausted, Lan Xichen might have allowed himself a moment to be impressed. He had never imagined the Nie people could be so numerous. Although they were known to be fierce warriors, and even raiders on occasions, they were rarely seen in groups of more than twenty of thirty, so it was speculated there had to be few of them. This city, though, looked nearly as big as the one where Lan Xichen’s family lived. He would have to let his father know when he’d write home.

After riding so intensely, and for this long, Lan Xichen’s back was starting to hurt and when he hopped down from his horse, he nearly fell, his legs too tired to carry him anymore. He was only saved from that humiliation because someone caught him in time.

That might have been worse than just falling, because the person who caught him and helped him stand was that boy he had noticed at Nie Mingjue’s side. The young man, who turned out to be even shorter than he had appeared to be while on a horse, was also much slimmer than expected, most of his bulk coming from his clothing rather than from his body. And yet, even like that, he was holding Lan Xichen upright with great ease, as if he weighed nothing at all.

“You no fall,” the young man said with a smirk. “If hurt, how wedding?”

Hearing this, Lan Xichen was startled enough that he pushed himself away from the young man, stumbling against his horse and clinging to its saddle to keep standing. Around them, this display got them a few curious looks, as well as some laughter, but Lan Xichen ignored it all. Although his vocabulary seemed lacking and his accent was atrocious, there was no doubt possible: that young man spoke his language.

Seeing him so shocked, the young man’s grin widened. He opened his mouth to say something, but was interrupted by the approach of king Nie Mingjue who threw Lan Xichen an unimpressed look. If the young man was shorter than expected, then Nie Mingjue turned out to be a giant of a man, towering over Lan Xichen who wasn’t used to ever seeing people taller than him. He did not much care for the sensation of being small. He also did not like the disdain in Nie Mingjue’s voice as he started saying something which the small young man clumsily translated.

“King says, be good. No take thing. No hurt horse. Need thing, ask. No leave. Important, you…”

The young man stopped translating for a moment as he and all the others burst out laughing over something their king had said. With appalling familiarity, the boy slapped king Nie Mingjue’s arm, which only made the terrifying man roll his eyes.

“King say, be good husband for sister,” the young man explained. “Funny. King has not sister. King has brother,” he announced, proudly patting his own chest. “Good husband. Tonight, you rest, you prepare. Tomorrow, wedding. Good?”

Stunned by that revelation, Lan Xichen’s eyes jumped a few times between king Nie Mingjue and the young man who claimed to be related to him. He failed to see any resemblance between the two, save for what a similar hairdo and style of clothing might cause. The low light didn’t help of course, but Lan Xichen still suspected that a prank was being played on him.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Huaisang. You Ziqen?” Huaisang inquired.

At least, Lan Xichen thought his name was Huaisang. Considering how his own name was being butchered, it was difficult to be sure.

“Xichen,” he confirmed. “Lan Xichen. Is… Is the wedding really going to be tomorrow?”

Huaisang enthusiastically nodded, while Lan Xichen could only feel apprehensive. Aside from the fact that he didn’t know what to expect, hurrying like this meant that they couldn’t check if the day would be auspicious for it or not. Not that it would have helped to have time, he realised with growing anxiety. There was no way this future husband of his would know his own eight character, so it would be impossible to do things properly. But anyway, an union like this, wasn’t it inauspicious by nature?

“Tomorrow wedding, Ziqen,” Huaisang repeated. “Today, you prepare. Happy day! Huaisang, good husband. Many horse. Good to Ziqen.”

Clearly delighted at the prospect of their marriage, Huaisang turned to his king and started cheerfully chatting with him, while Nie Mingjue nodded here and there, sometimes barking orders at some of the men around them who diligently ran off to obey. Maybe they really were brothers, even if they didn��t look anything alike. At the very least, it was clear that Huaisang had to be someone close to king Nie Mingjue, since he treated the giant with such playful familiarity.

It made Lan Xichen suddenly miss his own brother, whom he would most likely never see again. His father, though the man was rarely around. It made him miss his uncle too, though that sentiment was quickly drowned out by resentment toward Lan Qiren for having sold him off so easily, just for a chance at profit. Of course Lan Xichen himself had agreed to it, and they’d had little choice when surrounded by heavily armed barbarians, but it still would have been nice if his uncle had at least pretended to be a little more concerned over his safety.

Of course, it was too late for regrets now.

At least his soon-to-be husband wasn’t too ugly, for a barbarian.

[lynnsfics]

No Time For Regret

Pairing: Sokka x Reader

Request: Can you do prompts 18 and 33 with Sokka, from list #1

Prompts: “You’re freezing, Jesus!” and "Sometimes I just want to cuddle, okay? Is that so bad?”

Word Count: Approx. 1.6k

~~~

Sitting on the bank of the river, you sighed wearily. It was your turn to keep an eye out for the Fire Nation Navy and there had been no activity so far. You knew your job was important in keeping the others safe, but it became so tedious after a while. 

Absentmindedly, you began playing with some pebbles that were laying on the shore. Using your earthbending, you tossed them up and watched them careen back to the ground. It wasn’t much, but it helped to pass the time. As you sat there, you began to think back on the last few months. 

When you started travelling with the group, you never expected to become this close with all of them. Least of all a certain water tribe boy who you couldn’t seem to keep out of your thoughts. You knew you couldn’t say anything about it, all that would do is create needless drama. Besides, even if he felt the same way, starting a relationship during a war wasn’t exactly the best idea. Losing a friend would be hard enough, losing a partner was enough to break someone.

Shaking the thoughts away, you returned to your task. Standing up, you walked along the embankment, looking for the tell-tale signs of smoke. When you were satisfied there was no threat, you turned and walked back towards camp. 

The others were still busy with their tasks when you arrived. Sokka was helping Katara prepare dinner while Toph went over training routines with Aang. Walking over to the fire, you warmed your hands. Night was setting quickly and it was growing chilly. 

Sokka joined you, smiling as he sat down. “Any news from your watch?”

“Well there were two intruders,” you replied seriously.

He leaned forward, waiting to hear about the threat. “What did you do? Were they Fire Nation?”

“No,” you said shaking your head, “I don’t believe they were with them. And all I did was give them some bread.”

“Why would you give intruders bread,” he exclaimed.

You finally cracked a grin, “They were just turtleducks,” you said with a laugh. 

“Oh very funny,” Sokka replied, rolling his eyes.

“I mean, it is kind of funny,” Katara said, joining you next to the fire. She turned towards Aang, who was now reaching the fire with Toph following close behind. “So, how was training?”

“It’s going well,” Aang answered. “I’m still learning, but I’m doing a lot better than before.”

“That’s great,” you replied encouragingly. “I patrolled the river today, no sign of Fire Nation troops.”

“We still need to be on the lookout for land patrol,” Sokka reminded you. “They could always launch a sneak attack against us.”

“Right,” Katara answered sarcastically, “I’m sure the Fire Nation is going to hike through the dense forest to track us down.”

“Well, you’ve seen the lengths Zuko has gone to,” you pointed out, “so I don’t think it’s that unlikely.” 

“See, I’m not paranoid. I just want to be cautious,” Sokka said with a smug smirk.

Katara shook her head, “Alright, well let’s hope these determined soldiers don’t interrupt us during dinner.” Using her waterbending, she poured soup into each of your bowls. 

Toph took a slurp from her dish. “Are we planning to stay here? Or are we moving on in the morning?”

“I think we could stay one more night,” Aang shrugged. “It would be difficult to travel tomorrow anyways.” He looked up at the clouds gathering overhead. “We could always waterbend the rain, but if there’s lightning it would be too dangerous.” 

“Although I hate to stay in one place for too long, Aang has a point.” Sokka glanced around at the group, his gaze lingering on you for a second before looking back at the fire. “Flying during a storm is risky, and nobody is getting hurt on my watch.”  

Once dinner was finished you helped set up the tents. The plan had been to sleep under the stars, but the impending storm ruled that option out. As you put the tarp over your tent, you sensed someone walk up behind you. 

Turning, you saw Sokka leaning against a tree waiting to talk to you. “What’s up?”

“Well,” he began, “I have this bad feeling. I can’t explain it, but I feel like something bad is about to happen. I know you patrolled the river earlier, but it’s been a while since then. The navy could have shown up since then.”

“Do you want me to go check it out with you? That way we’ll know for sure.”

He looked relieved, “You don’t mind?”

“Not at all. Besides, it isn’t safe to go alone at night. Let’s head out.” 

Walking along the muddy shore, you shivered. The night kept growing colder, and standing near the river did nothing to help. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you answered with a shaky smile. “Just a bit cold is all.” 

He reached out to touch your exposed arm and immediately recoiled his hand. “You’re freezing, Jesus!” Shrugging off his jacket, he handed it to you. “Here, put this on, it’ll warm you up.”

“No,” you shook your head, “you keep it. You need it more.”

“I grew up in the South Pole,” he said with a smile. “Trust me, I’m used to the cold.”

Finally accepting the jacket, you smiled. “Thank you.” A strong gust of wind almost knocked you over, and you began to lose your footing, sliding towards the river. Sokka reached out, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards him. You fell into his arms and blushed as his arms wrapped around your waist to steady you. 

“Sorry,” you blushed, “I’m such a mess.” you said with a laugh.” Making an effort to smooth out your hair, you glanced over at him. “Does my hair look okay? It always gets so unruly.”

“It looks fine. Besides, you always look beautiful.” He paused, having a moment of realization. “I mean, you know, you’re um, very cute and,” he stuttered, trying to gloss over what he just said. “You’re very pretty.”

“Oh,” you replied. You weren’t sure if it was possible to die from blushing too much, but you were sure you were about to find out. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he said, not looking in your direction. Instead he pretended to be very interested in the nearby trees.

Before you had a chance to say anything, Toph ran up behind you. “There’s heavy vibrations coming from the forest,” she explained breathlessly. “It’s the army.” 

You ran back towards camp, lungs burning, Katara greeted you, “We already have everything packed up, all we have to do now is leave.”

Aang was saddling up Appa, and you all stood nervously, ready for takeoff. A loud crash came from the forest and you glanced over, seeing a group of Fire Nation soldiers burst through the treeline. 

Stomping your foot, you sent a wave of rocks hurling towards the enemy. It gave you just enough time to climb on Appa’s back. With a quick “Yip Yip,” you were off. 

As you climbed in altitude rain began to fall. A boom of thunder shook the skies and you stiffened. “Oh no,” you whispered. “This is bad. Very bad.” Something bright caught your eye and you glanced over to see a fireball fly past. “They’re firing at us,” you called to Aang.

“I noticed,” he responded. “Everyone hold on, we’re going to have to do a zig zag to dodge them.” As he turned, a loud cracking sound startled you. Turning to look, a bolt of lightning struck right next to Appa’s head. The sky bison turned abruptly to avoid it, causing you to lose your gripping. 

You cried out as you plummeted towards the ground. Someone called your name and you could barely make out Sokka leaning over the edge of the saddle, hand outreached as if to catch you. But it seemed he was too late this time. 

It seemed as if time slowed. The ground was growing ever closer. Fifty feet away. You took a deep breath, letting a tear slip out of the corner of your eye. Forty feet. You braced for impact, knowing it wouldn’t matter anyways. Thirty feet. You tried to bend the ground so it would be softer, but to no avail. Instead, you whispered a silent prayer to the spirits. Twenty feet. You whispered a farewell to the others and closed your eyes. But instead of falling, you felt someone grab your wrist. 

Your eyes shot open, and you saw Sokka latched onto your wrist. He yanked you up over the saddle and pulled you into a hug. “I thought I lost you,” he whispered. You could tell he was crying, and you curled into him, your own tears falling. 

“It’s alright, I’m here. I’m here.” You looked into his eyes, now rimmed red from the tears, and knew it was now or never. Not being in a relationship didn’t stop any of the pain, it just caused more. You leaned in and pressed your lips to his.

He was shocked for only a second before kissing you back. When you finally broke apart he smiled. “I never knew you felt the same way.”

“I have for a while now, but I never wanted to say anything. I always thought that being in a relationship would make fighting this war harder. But when I almost died just now, I realized that regret is what causes the most pain.”

With that, he pulled you closer for another kiss. You wiped the tears from his cheek and smiled. Fear had held you back, but you were done being controlled by it. Life had no time for regret, and as you kissed Sokka you knew, regret was the furthest thing from your mind. 

Toph cleared her throat, “Look guys, I know you’re having a moment, but it’s a bit awkward for the rest of us.”

You chuckled and Sokka shook his head, “Sometimes I just want to cuddle, okay? Is that so bad?”

Laughing, Toph answered, “When the rest of us have to be present for it, yes.Yes it is.”

~~~

Requested By: anon

A:TLA Taglist:

@coldlilheart

@samsmultifandomblogs

Do I have a headache? Yes. Is it because I wanted to relive my childhood and stayed up until 3 AM watching Barbie movies? Maybe. Let me know if you want to be added to my taglist and as always, likes and reblogs are appreciated! Love you all! <3

[valiantly-onward]

The Serpentine War Ch. 13

I’m not sure why this chapter took me so long, but enjoy.

Chapter 13: The Breaking of the Truce

Two days after Garmadon’s spy mission, Ray yelled at the Master of Ice.

The guy was so infuriatingly calm all the time. Ray said I don’t like this. Haru said Circumspection in the face of peril, young Ray. Ray said I don’t know what that means. Haru said Vigilance amongst conciliatory adversaries. Then Ray lost it.

It was Master Wu who calmed him down. Hands raised, wisely addressing the Maya who nearly always stood nearby, Wu suggested, “Maya, why don’t you go fill our water reserves?”

This was unfair, because if Maya went, Ray would mostly likely go too. And usually, the tactic worked. Today, though, Ray was stubborn. Even after Maya stepped out from the tent, Ray stayed put.

Wu frowned. “Ray -”

“I have sentry duty,” Ray said, before Wu could assign him anything distasteful. He wasn’t actually sure if he had sentry duty. Probably. It had been several hours already.

Wu nodded, and gestured to the tent door.

Maya was waiting for him outside. Now in the sunlight, her frustration was apparent in all its glory. The two of them thought about a lot of things in the same way, but where Ray was loud - the yelling kind - Maya was quiet.

“That went well.” Sarcasm was a crisp, cool thing coming from Maya.

“Garmadon said there are Serpentine in the hills, but we don’t know where. It’s floating around that the treaty’s close to breaking, but we don’t know when. And Haru -” Ray snorted out his frustration with the Master of Ice. “You all right?”

She didn’t reply. Ah. So she was in one of her really black moods. Usually he could get at least a “Fine” out of her.

The tent door rustled behind Ray, and he turned to find Garmadon stepping into the sunlight. Oh, Spinjitzu Master. Wu - yes, Master Wu - was steadily growing on Ray. But this guy popped up out of nowhere and just expected them to trust him? No way.

Maya wrinkled her nose at the sight of Garmadon, if for nothing than to make Ray smirk. Then she bowed respectfully. “Master Garmadon.”

Garmadon’s gaze fell over them - fell, because he always seemed so very high up. Wu’s distance was at least horizontal, and strangely encompassing. Garmadon was linear and mountainous.

“You speak very little,” Garmadon told Maya. “But you seem to understand what many here cannot.”

Many sounded like it meant Ray. He bristled, and felt Maya do the same - she always bristled a little under compliments, as if she’d had too many and was tired of it.

“You all take too long to make decisions,” Maya replied.

“Then step in and make them yourself.”

Maya’s eyebrows shot up. After a long staring contest without a winner, she turned and started the trek down to the stream.

“You know,” Ray began slowly. “Wu taught us to work as a team and not make decisions alone.”

Garmadon looked at Ray straight-on for the first time. The man’s dark eyes scanned him up and down. Something in Ray’s chest went cold as a dead forge.

“Master Wu,” Garmadon said finally.

Coming from anyone else, this correction no longer bothered Ray. But what had Garmadon done to earn Ray’s respect? “Whatever.”

The man watched him for a long moment. Ray glared back.

At last, Garmadon decided, “I don’t like you.”

He strode off.

“A prick, that one,” Ray muttered, as soon as the guy was out of earshot. He glanced over his shoulder at Maya, who was coming back up the hill - she’d forgotten her buckets. “Hey, where’s Dojin?”

“Why don’t you go find him?” Maya loaded the buckets over her shoulder and turned back the way she’d come.

Ray gave such a good sigh, he was disappointed only the trees were there to hear it. With nothing better to do, he went to find Dojin.

The old Master of Gravity was difficult to locate. Ray walked up to the hill post overlooking the village and found no one there. He did a full circle, surveying the brown landscape. Where had the old man gone?

There were so many old men in this Alliance. Krux and Acronix were closer to Ray’s age, but as outlandish as they were with each other, they liked to keep to themselves. This annoyed Ray, because it left him with old men and middle-aged parents or almost-parents who all seemed to have collectively decided Ray needed a better father figure.

Ray spent most of his time with Maya.

“Fire, is that you?”

It took Ray a moment to locate the speaker, not charging up the hill but floating in the air above him. Dojin’s golden helmet was pulled low over worried eyebrows.

“Me,” Ray replied. “It’s my shift.”

Dojin shook his head. “I’m afraid we’re past that, Master of Fire. Come with me, now.”

Dojin flew down toward camp. Unnerved, Ray followed. They came back to the command tent, which Wu and Garmadon were standing beside, talking. Wu saw them first and apprehension immediately glazed his expression.

“Dojin?” Wu asked.

Dojin touched down, hard; the ground yanked him back like a magnet. “Master Wu, it’s General Kandoras. He’s dead.”

“What?”

“Lei was on duty. She found his body at the base of the hill, stabbed with a human katana. He’s dead.”

Ray’s brain needed a moment to figure out what this meant, but he knew it was bad. “Did she get out of there?”

“Yes. She’s patrolling the hills closer to camp now - she didn’t want to leave. But Master Wu, when the Serpentine find him -”

Wu and Garmadon shared a look of alarm. Now, Ray knew what they were thinking - the Serpentine would surely accuse humans of Kandoras’ death. This was an act of war. The treaty was officially broken.

“Prepare for battle,” Wu told them.

~~~

They’d just started evacuating the town when battle cries began to thunder over the hills.

Ray immediately found Maya with his eyes. She was already looking at him over the heads of two village kids, her expression dark.

Each of the Masters looked to Master Wu and Garmadon. In a low voice, Garmadon said grimly, “This is not a battle we can win.”

“I concur.” Wu lifted his staff from the ground. “Garmadon, you and I will hold them back. The rest of you, get as many villagers out as you can, then take off! Haru knows where to go.”

With that, Wu and Garmadon raced to meet the rising tide of Serpentine. That was an image Ray wouldn’t soon forget; two brothers standing squarely in the face of the reddened sky and the army of Anacondrai shadowed by it.

“Let’s get moving!” Ray ordered. He directed the next line of families toward Vivian, who had already made several short trips via dragon to shuffle people over the ridge to safety. There were still so many more to go.

A few kids stumbled behind their mother, and Lorin was there, lifting both into his arms like they weighed nothing. The mother nodded gratefully as she scooped up the third small one. Lorin passed by Ray, eyes slightly wild. “Where’s Hanna?”

“I haven’t seen her,” Ray replied. “Maybe she’s up front.”

“We don’t have time to look.”

At that moment, down in the village, golden wings and scales erupted in full draconic splendor. The beast roared. Ray could see the distant, small figure of Master Wu saddled on its neck.

“We’ve still got some time,” Ray decided.

Lorin moved to join the other Masters at the head. One by one, more dragons appeared in the sky, carrying swaths of villagers. Despite the danger just yards behind them, the surprised laughter of children pealed out every time a dragon took off.

Finally, the last of the villagers rushed past Ray. He cast a furtive glance over his shoulder to see how the dynamic duo of Spinjitzu was doing. Despite the brothers’ efforts, it didn’t escape Ray’s notice that the army was much closer than it had been a few minutes ago. They were in the village common now. Houses were burning.

Ray started back down the hill.

“Wait!” Maya caught his arm. She didn’t need to; her intense gaze stopped him effectively enough. “Watch the flank.”

He flashed her a quizzical look. “Why?”

“I have a feeling. Trust me.”

She didn’t need to pull that card. Ray already trusted her with everything he had.

Reluctantly, he turned away from the army and placed himself along the villagers’ flank, watching the rocks.

The Serpentine came from both sides.

It was a strange sensation, watching them emerge from the hills. One minute sandy stone, the next minute reds and greens and blues. There were no Anacondrai among them, but that didn’t mean much. All they had to do was slow the villagers down.

Ray let his hand burst into flame.

Down the line, Lorin released a shout and slammed meaty fists into the ground. And the earth shot upward. Once flat, now a clime higher than Ray’s head. Serpentine pounded the stone on the other side.

Lorin shot a grin at some unseen Master ahead of him and swung a hand to Ray and Maya. “Let’s go!”

So Ray cast fire at the Serpentine coming at their other flank, while Maya hurried shouting villagers along. To Ray’s far left, a small storm of lightning signaled Vivian’s handiwork; a few Hypnobrai went flying.

“Maya!” This was Lorin again. “Where’s Hanna?”

Maya shouted back something intelligible but it seemed to make sense to the Master of Earth. His face went slack.

Ray saw every intention in Lorin’s face. He threw one last fireball at the Serpentine and raced to intercept Lorin’s path.

“Out of my way, kid,” the man said in a low voice.

“You gotta stay here, man, they need your dragon.” Ray pushed him back. “I’ll go get her. I promise, Lorin. I’ll get her.”

There wasn’t time to argue, and Lorin knew it. Wu’s dragon roared behind them and Serpentine and Masters cried on all sides. Lorin locked eyes with Ray for just a moment, a promise passed between them, and then he raced back up the hill.

Maya was suddenly there, like she always was. Venomari acid dripped from her Nin-Jo. “You can’t fight the entire Anacondrai army single-handed.”

“I’m not.” Ray unsheathed his katana. “I have you.”

He leapt down the rocks without waiting for her response.

~~~

Lorin’s beautiful town was a mess. Ray felt some of the anger from that morning return.

His red robes and armor made him a target amongst other colorful targets. Thankfully, most of the Anacondrai were occupied with the giant golden dragon and a whirlwind of purple that kept upending their ranks. The violet tornado paused for just a moment and Ray saw Garmadon crouched before the Anacondrai, looking dark and dangerous.

Ray avoided the warriors; he wanted to fight, but he wasn’t stupid. It wouldn’t take any special Anacondrai to take him out of this world. But as he slid past the burning houses, he found what he was looking for.

A group of villagers were being herded slowly, shuffled along, right past a stately, cruel-looking Anacondrai. A purple-scaled arm reached out to snatch someone from the line.

It was Lorin’s wife, Hanna.

“Let her go!” Ray roared; Lorin’s unsaid plea flashed in his vision. Embers curled around his feet as he swung the katana at the Anacondrai’s head.

And then it was gone.

Ray’s momentum made him stumble, sword point to the ground. He spun and found the Anacondrai behind him. The creature was unbelievably fast. 

“Do not challenge me, boy,” it - he - said. “Your blood will water these hills for all time.”

Something moved behind the Anacondrai. Ray’s realized it was another Serpentine, the Venomari he remembered from Jamanakai Village, bearing a large golden staff. They regarded each other for a moment as enemies who knew vaguely of each other. With a scowl, Ray turned his attention back to the Anacondrai warrior.

He wasted no time with words. He struck.

The Anacondrai swiped its mighty tail, and Ray’s legs vanished beneath him. On his front on the ground, he just enough time to consider how humiliating this was before someone yelled, “Hey, sand-head!”

There was a swishing, then a splintering, and Ray scrambled up. There was Maya, the two halves of a sliced Nin-Jo in her hands. She looked at them, then threw one at the Anacondrai’s head. It bounded off his snout, stunning him for a moment.

“You pick the worst fights,” Maya said, yanking Ray back. “This is Traask, one of the Anacondrai generals.”

Ray exchanged his katana for fire. “Is that bad?”

“Ray.”

Rather than responding, Ray rolled underneath the large arc of the Anacondrai’s sword; Maya rolled the other way. It became a dance of barely-holding-on. Ray had never felt this way facing an opponent - vulnerable and raw. Fire was not a weapon of defense, yet he used it to deflect strike after strike.

Maya tried to get at Traask’s flank, but the snake seemed to always know exactly where she was. She’d traded her Nin-Jo half for Ray’s fallen katana, which was a sure sign of her desperation. She would lunge at Traask and he would vanish, only to reappear behind Ray, his sword high.

After Ray swung out of the way for a third time, he called, “Switch!” to Maya. She understood. She leapt forward, put her back against Ray’s, her face to Traask, and lunged; Traask blocked. Before he could restrike, they spun back-to-back, Ray now facing the Anacondrai and blasting him with fire.

He blasted for a long time. When the flames cleared, Ray straightened. But Traask was gone again.

Oh no. “Where -”

Maya yelled. Only the corner of Ray’s eye caught it: a flash of violet from his right, the stab of a jagged blade.

By the time Ray had turned fully, Maya had caught the blade with the katana. But Traask’s strength won out; the serrated tip of his blade dipped into the flat part of Maya’s shoulder.

Ray’s mind went on autopilot. He was kicking the swords apart, throwing himself in front of Maya, and a barrier of fire erupted between them and the Anacondrai general. When he glanced over his shoulder, he saw Maya stumble back, hand clasped against her shoulder. “You okay?”

Maya shot him a look that was both annoyed and relieving - relieving because she was okay enough to be annoyed with him.

Then she said, her voice strained, “Ray.”

Ray turned forward again. Traask’s form had appeared in the flames. Between the flames. Violet scales glittered wetly with a rainbow of colors, like oil in the sun. Traask slithered through the fire like it wasn’t even there.

If it were just him, Ray would’ve fought. He would’ve died. But Maya needed him. So, eating his pride, he linked his arm under Maya’s good shoulder and ran.

The village was overrun. Under a red sky slowly turning summer blue, Wu’s dragon swept droves of Serpentine off their feet. Garmadon seemed to have realized it was time to go, because he was no longer fighting. He was standing in the middle of the street, hands splayed before him in apparent expectation, expression darkening and darkening with frustration.

“Argh!” He threw his hands down and called over his shoulder, “Wu, I can’t conjure my dragon!”

Above, Wu responded by wheeling his golden beast around and letting it scour the heads of the snakes with its wings. As it approached, Garmadon flipped high and disappeared onto the golden dragon’s back.

“Ray.” Maya clasped his red shirt. “We have to go.”

But Ray’s eyes were on the circle of villagers now disappearing into the Serpentine ranks. Prisoners of war.

It was Jamanakai all over again. Ray couldn’t bear leaving Lorin’s wife and unborn child in the hands of snakes.

He had to bear it.

@greenygreenland

[not-from-the-absence-of-violence]

You’re falling now. You’re swimming. (This is not harmless. You are not breathing.)

In a different universe where Dref survives Tiberius' attack in Burza Nyth. Everyone is having a hard time processing, hopefully this time they have eachother. 

Travis was having a bad day. That wasn’t too weird, considering they had just gotten out of Burza Nyth, Dref had been in a critical condition for weeks and they had only just managed to stop the Mariner. They all were having odd days: processing, repressing or whatever.

Still. Gable had known Travis for a long time, too long, and his bad days generally consisted of getting angrier and more venomous than normal.

Gable usually didn’t even notice, just got hurt and bit back, generally they left him too it, not willing to deal with him. Until they thought back on it; a day or even months later, realising this was Travis’ only coping mechanism. They added all the times they had hurt him in retaliation to the enormous pile of guilt they already carried, and kept going.

Travis being hurtful on purpose was at the very least familiar by now, almost comforting. But today Travis was silent, distant, only doing motions on auto pilot. Which was acutely distressing, even to the crew who didn’t know him like they did.

Gable might have been able to deal with just Travis, but Jonnit had the look of someone who hadn’t slept in a while, and a quiet nervous energy. Dref was still recovering from Tiberius’ attack and pushing himself to get back to work.

Gable might have been able to deal with all of it if they didn’t dream of Hildred’s fear after she had found out what they had done, if they didn’t feel like they had inexplicably failed everyone around them. If it didn’t feel like everything was falling apart and they were going to lose everyone. Again.

They were all sitting in Dref’s office. Dref was writing something, but Gable got the impression he was only writing for the pretence of having something to do.

Jonnit was sitting on his desk next to him, talking about small traditions he had as a child. Clearly he was trying really hard to cheer everyone up. Gable’s heart ached, he shouldn’t be responsible for holding them all together, and yet they knew his familiar chatter about what cake his mom would make him for his birthday was probably the only thing keeping them going.

Travis was sitting on a cabinet and not interrupting Jonnit at all. In fact, he seemed to be staring at a fixed point on the wall. Of course, he might just be bored of the conversation, but if this was the case then he usually just left.

They were all hanging on a small thread, teetering on the edge of something.

“Your mom sounds like she is the best, Jonnit,” Gable commented, hoping to join in lightening the mood.

They felt the awful pang of guilt as Jonnit started tearing up.

“Yeah,” he said, “She was.”

There was a deafening silence. Dref looked at Jonnit like he wanted to help, but didn’t know how.

Gable felt anger flare up in them, anger at the way the world always seemed so unjust to the people they loved. They were so acutely aware of how young Jonnit was, how he deserved everything to be nice and safe. And how they couldn’t give any of that to him.

They gathered their boy up in their arms, hoisting him onto the chair they were sitting in. Jonnit clung back, he was clearly crying now. Not quite sobbing, just like the tears were falling despite himself.

“I’m sorry,” he said, attempting to wipe his tears, but they just wouldn’t stop. “I’ve just been thinking about her lately, her and my dad and Zana, but at least I’ll see them again and she is just‒”

He choked on his own sob and Gable held him tighter, desperate.

“You d‒ on’t need to ap‒ apologize,” Dref said, hovering over them, unsure. “It is only l‒ logical you would f‒ feel this way.”

Travis was holding the side of the cabinet so tightly his knuckles had turned white. Still turned away from them.

“Travis?” Gable tried, tentatively.

Travis turned around, his eyes red and puffy, visibly shaking. “I am fine,” he snapped.

Dref flinched at the tone in his voice. Jonnit pressed his face into their chest.

It was too much, just too much. It felt like falling, or even worse, like drowning.

-

Travis fucking hated dissociation.

If there was something he was familiar with, it was feeling like a stranger in his own body. Distantly, he remembers years ago, when dissociation had been a welcome relief to not feel like he existed when his father had still been around.

The newer fear he had acquired around not being in control, combined with the fact that it always brought him back to his brilliant childhood, meant that now it just sent him into a panic, which in turn made the unreality worse.

The worst goddamned cycle he was trapped in.

He was aware he was crying, in the sense that logically, he knew he was crying, but he couldn’t feel the tears roll down his face. He saw them fall into his lap like he was looking through the eyes of another man.

In that same way he could see Gable looking at him worriedly, Dref was now pressed into their side, not quite hugging but holding their hand, clearly upset. Of course he’d gotten hurt, he should know by now that that’s the only thing Travis knows how to do. Get people hurt.

Travis couldn’t talk, or perhaps he could? Did he not want to? He only knew that trying more than simple sentences would make him cry more and he really didn’t want that. He wanted to leave so badly and he just couldn’t.

Gable was holding onto Dref and Jonnit, and they looked so lost, barely holding it together. Travis had to leave them. He would. But Jonnit had hit a nerve ‒ why did people always hit his nerves ‒ and all he could think of was his mother, weak and feeble in bed, and the sound of his father’s angry shouting.

Don’t leave me. William had said to her and then there was a river, and he was shouting louder and he couldn’t save her either.

He wanted his outbursts to be dramatic. It would make sense, screaming and ugly panic, but instead he stared into a corner and cried. He was trying so hard not to, but despite that he couldn’t stop it.

He felt like he was looking onto himself, like a spectator of his own life. How pathetic the picture was, with his friends he didn't deserve sitting across from him, not knowing what to do and him weeping, helpless, like it had always been.

It was brilliant really fucking brilliant

‒

Jonnit was known for being optimistic, but even he didn’t really know what to do with the current situation.

They had all been worried about Dref for weeks now. He’d finally woken up just a little after they took off from Burza Nyth, but the lack of sleep and constant stress had worn on all of them.

Partially because of that, probably, the anniversary of his mother’s death had hit him harder than it had in years. Usually he would have Zana and his dad, and they would cook her favorite food and share memories, like a bittersweet celebration. In hindsight, talking about it to someone, anyone, might have helped, but he’d known everyone was already feeling pretty bad. No need to saddle them with his feelings too.

It felt weird to even be upset about it, with everything that had happened, with the Mariner lurking and Dref being hunted by whatever the cutting stone was. But as much as he loved all his friends, he missed her, and he missed his family and his home.

Everyone had been quietly feeling awful, and it just so happened that they all had reached their breaking point now.

Gable was holding onto him like he might disappear, or run away. Dref still looked pale and sickly, now with added helplessness. Travis looked worse than Jonnit had even seen him, and he had seen Travis almost bleed to death. He was painfully aware of how small he was, how even with all his power, this is something he couldn’t solve. His friends had gone through so much pain he didn’t understand, and he so desperately wanted to help them.

But really, he was still just a child, and he too had been swallowed in the sea of problems, just like everyone else had. So he just clung to Gable, and then Dref took one of his hands, and they held each other, like a liferaft in a flood.

-

Dref was trying really hard to do breathing exercises. He was painfully aware of everyone's present distress, which is precisely why he had to calm himself down first. It was difficult, with two shaking hands in his hands and Travis’ awful sobbing in the background, with Tiberius' voice lingering, with the sharp pain still in his body.

Always thinking you can help everyone, Alisdair.

Another deep breath, hold it, exhale. Exercises like this helped, but it always felt like giving up when he needed them again.

Pathetic.

No. He was stronger than the ingrained memories and thoughts. His friends needed him.

He closed his eyes, felt the pressure of everything, adjusted his grip on the hands he was holding and took yet another deep breath. It was like fighting against a strong current, but a few more breaths and he felt more in control.

He let go of Gable and Jonnit, giving them a shaky but reassuring smile. They were both still wrecked, but it was okay, he needed to maintain his calm.

He went over to Travis.

“T‒  ravis,” he said, very carefully putting a hand on Travis’ hand, “C ‒ an you h ‒ h ear me?”

Travis’ eyes focused on him, he nodded.

“C ‒ can I help?”

He shrugged and shook his head. I don’t know.

Gently, Dref coaxed him to stop hurting himself by holding on so tightly, at least, and helped him off the cabinet. Then, he started to push his desk to one side. Jonnit and Gable quickly caught on and stood up silently to help him move it. He had a couple of blankets lying around in the office. They had been for if he fell asleep working late, and now they were to keep him warm as he recuperated.

Together they haphazardly laid them out, and in a few moments they had something that vaguely resembled a nest. Gable and Jonnit flopped onto it, Jonnit still safe in their lap, and Dref sat close next to Gable. He didn’t like tight embraces, so instead he held their hand.

Travis placed himself at the other side of them. Gable cautiously put one of their arms around him. He looked as limp as a rag doll, but he leaned into the touch a little, and didn’t seem quite so acutely distressed. Jonnit started humming softly, Dref rocked a little, and slowly they all calmed down together.

Gable was the first to break the precious silence.

“Thank you,” they said to Dref.

“Yeah,” Jonnit said. He looked tired but otherwise alright. “We really needed someone to pull us out of this one.”

“A‒ anytime,” Dref said, and he smiled, knowing they could get through anything, together.

Gable turned to Travis. “How are you holding up?”

Travis was still tucked into their side, looking mostly like an annoyed cat.

“I will say I have seen better days,” he said, “But overall this still doesn’t make the top ten worst days, so.” He shrugged.

The rest of them shared a look, but they all knew this was probably as close as Travis would ever get to admitting he was feeling something.

“We probably should talk about....well you know, stuff,” Jonnit said, gesturing vaguely. “That's what people always say, right?”

Gable actively winced, Travis groaned and Dref also felt a familiar twinge of apprehension.

Maybe they could all use some professional help. Dref filed that away as an idea for later.

-

They all went around and talked. Most of them were still clearly skirting around some topics, but that was okay. They were trying at least.

Travis barely said anything, but he still felt better hearing for everyone's voices, feeling the familiar weight of Gable around him. He looked around at them all. He could feel how much he cared about these people in his chest, and he decided not to pay attention to how afraid that made him. At least, not today. And he would never admit it, especially not to Gable.

-

Jonnit felt lighter after talking, even if he couldn’t fully verbalize his feelings about everything. He could only vaguely explain the feeling of duty, his desire to fix everything.

“T‒ that should n‒ not be your r‒ responsibility, Jonnit.”

Gable added quickly, “We are here to help you. We’re in this together.”

And at that he cried again, but this time it felt like the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders.

-

Gable knew there was nothing that could fix the guilt they had carried around for so many years in one single afternoon. They couldn’t even bear to talk about Hildred or what she had found out, not yet.

But it was alright, even then, because this time it felt like there was a way out of this downward spiral. Out of the darkness. There were at least these three people to help them, and this time, Gable was going to let them.

They laid down their head, and for the first time in ages they didn’t feel like they were running. They were home. They let themselves believe, hope, that maybe everything was going to be okay. Maybe they all deserved this peace, with each other.

Even if the universe didn’t let them have it, they were ready to fight tooth and nail for it, and in the determined faces of the others, Gable could see that they were too.

-

Dref had never really known what it was like to be part of a loving family. The lingering marks of his parents, Tiberius, and Olivia were still in his mind and his body both, and it often threatened to overwhelm him. But here was Gable's steady hand to anchor him, and Jonnit’s excited chatter to ground him, and even Travis’ annoying presence to distract him.

He looked at all of them, as they dissolved into a debate about something inconsequential, still tangled up onto each other, and he smiled to himself.

They were his family now, the one Alisdair Youngblood had always dreamed about on particularly lonely nights. He caught Travis’ similar wistful look, before he immediately looked away. But still, Dref could see the smile on his lips.

This family was small, broken and complicated.

But it was his, and that was all that mattered.

[jaskierswolf]

The Shape of Love (Pt.1/6)

Summary: first time Jaskier had shifted he’d been just a baby. He  didn’t remember it but his nurse had regaled him with the story many  times. It was one of his favourites. Viscount and Lady Lettenhove had  never discovered where little baby Julian’s magic had come from. All his  parents knew was that one morning they’d went to visit their darling  little baby and found a small russet wolf pup with startling cornflower  blue eyes where there should have been a human child.

Or a shifter!Jaskier Geraskier AU

The first time Jaskier had shifted he’d been just a baby. He didn’t remember it but his nurse, Lila, had regaled him with the story many times. It was one of his favourites. Viscount and Lady Lettenhove had never discovered where little baby Julian’s magic had come from, the rumours amongst the staff was that Lady Lettenhove had had an affair but the Viscount hanged anyone who dared mention those rumours in his presence. All his parents knew was that one morning they’d went to visit their darling little baby and found a small russet wolf pup with startling cornflower blue eyes where there should have been a human child.

At first they’d thought little Julian had been cursed with Lycanthropy but when Lila, had scooped up the tiny wolf cub in her arms he had shifted from a wolf cub to a small ginger kitten. It had taken days and a plethora of different animals before Julian to shifted back into a human, throwing Lettenhove Castle into pandemonium.

Jaskier had been poked and prodded by mages, healers and druids throughout his childhood but not one of them could explain his abilities. The nearest anyone had got was a sorceress from Aretuza, with long raven hair and violet eyes, eyes that still haunted Jaskier to this day. She’d suggested that his shifting magic must have been locked away in his genetic code, passed down through generations but never manifesting until he’d been born.

His parents’ obvious disdain in regards to his abilities and delight in treating him as a scientific experiment had been the driving factor in Jaskier’s escape at the age of sixteen. Lila had helped him escape the dimeritium prison that was his bedroom and he’d shifted into a hummingbird the moment his magic had regained enough strength, flying out of an open window and into the world before his parents could realise what had happened.

He’d never looked back. Sometimes he wondered what had happened to Lila but he just couldn’t risk returning to the castle. He couldn’t go back to that prison.

He felt an itch settle into his bones as he stared up at the ceiling of his room in the tavern. He rolled over with a sigh. It had been too long since he’d shifted, it was difficult to shift whilst he was on the road, especially now he actually had a handful of possessions to his name, most importantly his lute. Humans tended to freak out if they saw a wolf walking down the road carrying a lute and a satchel on his back. If he wanted to shift then he had to find a suitable hiding spot for his belongings, especially if he wanted to fly.

He stripped off his clothes and made sure his door was locked before he opened the window just wide enough for a bee to slip through. He took a deep breath before letting his magic loose. It was a strange feeling when he shifted, to him it almost felt no different to taking off a coat and sinking into a warm bath. Lila had always left the room when he’d shifted from his human form, apparently his skin almost melted away into fur or feathers or scales and there was a sickening crack of his bones adjusting but it never hurt. The magic made sure of that, but the sight was too much for the gentle-hearted nurse.

He blinked as his vision adjusted, the red tones of the brown wooden beams shifted away and he buzzed happily as he suddenly surrounded by a whole new spectrum of light. He flitted through the gap in the window and took a moment to appreciate the beauty of the flowers that were in bloom in the surrounding fields. He shifted to a raven before his instincts drew him to the sweet nectar of the flowers. The world shifted again, becoming sharper and he could see further into the distance.

He cawed loudly and danced around in the sky, enjoying the feel of the wind through his feathers. Oh the ballads he could write about this feeling. There was nothing else like it. He’d tried a few times to write about the different colours and feelings he had experienced through the animal kingdom but no human could truly appreciate the genius.

He flew around the town for hours until the vibrant hues of red and purple began to dust the horizon as dusk fell. That was when he saw the witcher riding into town on a beautiful bay mare, with a head of a cockatrice hung to the saddle leaving a trail of blood on the path. The witcher had hair brighter than the light of the full moon and eyes like liquid gold. 

Jaskier landed on a fence nearby the tavern and then shifted into a cat. His fur was long and ginger, it always was when he was a cat. His fur or feathers tended to stick to reddish, brown or coppery hues whenever the species of animal allowed but his eyes were always the same vibrant blue as when he was a human.

The witcher approached the tavern wearily, dismounting the bay and landing heavily on the ground. His swords were strapped to his back in a very menacing manner and there was blood coating his armour where it was torn on the left arm. Jaskier meowed at the witcher as he approached. The amber eyes, so cat-like, flashed to him.

“I know you don’t like me.” The witcher huffed. “No need to make a fuss about it.”

Jaskier hissed at he accusation and jumped off the wall. He landed easily at the witcher’s feet and rubbed up against his leg purring insistently.

“What the fuck?” The witcher stopped walking and squatted next to Jaskier.

Jaskier meowed and butted his head against the witcher’s thigh.  

“You aren’t scared of me?” The witcher asked breathlessly.

Jaskier jumped onto his hind legs and places his front paws in the witcher’s lap, he gazed up at the witcher with wide eyes. The man’s hand grasped the necklace around his neck. Jaskier sniffed and shook his head. His whiskers bristled and he felt the thrum of magic from the witcher’s medallion.

He tilted his head. He’d heard about the special properties of a witcher’s medallion. He jumped back to the ground and sat watching the witcher expectantly.

“Can you understand me?” The witcher asked and Jaskier chirped happily in reply.

“Are you cursed?”

Jaskier flicked his tail and hissed, baring his teeth at the witcher.

“Hmm. Not cursed but there’s magic.” The witcher nodded to himself. “I need to take Roach to the stables.”

Jaskier meowed and pounced at the mare. He scrambled up into the saddle. The mare whinnied and stamped her feet in protest but didn’t shake him off. He titled his head as he stared back at the witcher.

The witcher raised an eyebrow at him. His pupils grew wider and darker as the light faded from the sky. Jaskier wondered if the witcher could see as well as he could in the dark, their eyes were very similar when Jaskier was in this form.

“Hmm. If she tramples you then I’m not to blame.” The witcher huffed but led the horse, Roach, to the stables.

The witcher chattered away to his horse as he brushed her down in a low soothing voice. The stable girl had tried to help but Roach had almost bitten the poor girls hand off. Jaskier learnt more about an old contract that the witcher had taken when he was a younger witcher as he listened from a nearby bale of hay. Once Roach was taken care of the witcher, whose name he’d learnt was Geralt, sauntered back towards the tavern.

Jaskier jumped up onto the man’s shoulder. Geralt smiled faintly and scratched behind Jaskier’s ear.

“You’re a persistent one aren’t you?” Geralt muttered with fondness in his voice.

Jaskier chirped and flicked his tail to caress Geralt’s neck.

“So what are you?” Geralt asked. “Human?”

Jaskier considered the question. Was he human? Not entirely. He wasn’t really sure what he was officially.

He gave a small hiss.

“Not human then.” Geralt surmised.

Jaskier hissed again.

Geralt scoffed and reached up to scratch his ears again. “Not, not human?”

Jaskier meowed. Close enough.

“And not cursed?” Geralt asked again. Jaskier bit his ear and Geralt grunted. “Alright definitely not cursed. Do you have a name?”

Jaskier snorted. Of course he had a name, trying to explain to Geralt in this form would be difficult though, yet for some reason he felt reluctant to change back to human.

Geralt entered the tavern, with Jaskier still perched on his shoulder, and a hushed silence fell over the room. The witcher received some very peculiar looks although Jaskier wasn’t sure whether that was a witcher thing, or because he currently had a cat on his shoulder like a pirate would a parrot.

Oh maybe he should be a parrot.

He snarled slightly. No that would give his abilities away too soon, best to stay as he was for now.

“Can I get a room?” Geralt asked at the bar.

The man shook his head. “All gone I’m afraid.”

“I have the coin.” Geralt insisted. “I’ll pay double.”

Jaskier was shocked. Why would Geralt need to offer double? There were no rooms left, unless he didn’t believe the man behind the bar. Jaskier wondered if that was a common occurrence for witchers.

“We have no rooms.”

Geralt hummed. “Fine. A beer then.”

“Aye, that I can do, for the usual rate too. Milk for the cat?”

Geralt hummed again.

Jaskier hissed, as tempting as the offer was he knew it would unsettle his stomach. He wasn’t sure why humans were so insistent on giving cats dairy. It always made him feel sick as a cat.  He hopped down onto the floor and landed easily on his feet.

“No, my cat is fine.” Geralt replied.

Jaskier snuck into the shadows and shifted again, back into a bee and flew back into his room upstairs. Once inside he shook his wings and landed on two bare human feet. He ran a hand through his hair and cracked his neck. “Oh that’s much better.” He sang cheerfully. The itch under his skin had faded away and it no longer felt as if he would burst from his own skin.

But he wasn’t ready to remain human just yet. Geralt intrigued him. He wanted to know more. He unlocked his door and folded his clothes more neatly on the dresser. He hid his lute under the bed before opening the door just ajar. He shifted easily back into a cat and landed on the floor with all four paws. He nudged the door open wider with his nose and slipped out onto the hall. He jumped nimbly down the stairs and glanced around the room. He saw Geralt tucked away in the darkest corner. The witcher seemed disturbed by something. He was glowering at any of the humans that came near and he also seemed to be looking for something.

“Fuck.” He growled and then closed his eyes, inhaling deeply.

Jaskier sat by the bar watching the witcher intently with a flick of a tail as the man turned his head slowly around the room.

He sniffed and opened his eyes, pupils wide in the dark room and staring directly at Jaskier. Geralt smiled faintly and tilted his head. Jaskier chirped and bounded over to the man. He jumped straight onto the table from the floor and lapped at the froth on the witcher’s ale.

Geralt grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and pulled him away. “Leave that alone.”

Jaskier mewed but was helpless in the witcher’s grip. He couldn’t even shift like this, for some reason that spot just completely incapacitated him. He melted to a useless pile of fur.

“You didn’t want a drink, you can’t have mine.” Geralt muttered and let Jaskier back down on the table.

“Oi!” The barkeep called. “Get that thing off the table.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow at him and smirked. Jaskier hissed at the barkeep but jumped down into Geralt’s lap. Geralt hummed and tentatively began to pet him.

Jaskier purred unashamedly. He felt like putty under the witcher’s fingers. He could get used to this, it was just a shame he couldn’t sing or play the lute in this form.

“Where’d you go?” Geralt asked, his voice barely audible over the noise in the tavern.

Jaskier dug his claws into the witcher’s leather trousers. He could only answer yes or no questions and Geralt should have realised that by now.

Geralt cursed under his breath. “Did you go upstairs?”

He meowed and released his claws from Geralt’s thigh.

“Why? No fuck. Hmm. Let me think.” Geralt mumbled. They sat for a few moments, Geralt’s fingers stroking through his fur and Jaskier purring contently in his witcher’s lap. “Do you have a room upstairs?”

Jaskier chirped, half a meow half a purr.

“So you have a human form?” Geralt’s hands stopped and Jaskier flicked his tail impatiently but meowed nonetheless.

“It’s not weird that I’m petting you?” Geralt asked, there was an insecurity in his voice that was unexpected from a monster hunter.

Jaskier hissed and nudged Geralt’s hand with his head.

“Right.” Geralt hummed and then waved down one of the barmaids. “I need another drink.” He muttered. “Half a drink.” He added after a beat.

The barmaid, a pretty redhead with soft brown eyes, put her hand on her hips and glanced at Geralt’s nearly full mug of beer.

“Please.” He added.

Jaskier flicked his tail. He couldn’t laugh properly in this form but he was rather amused by Geralt’s obvious discomfort.

The barmaid sighed and took the witcher’s coin.

“Wait!” Geralt called after her. “Can I get some food? Whatever’s left in the kitchen is fine if you’ve stopped serving.”

“We’ve only got scraps and stale bread.” The barmaid warned.

“It’s fine.” Geralt nodded and passed over another handful of coin. “Better than starving.”

The girl hummed. “That’s a strange cat you’ve got. What’s its name?”

Jaskier glanced up lazily at the witcher. To his horror the man had a mischievous grin on his face that could only mean trouble. He dug his claws in but Geralt didn’t take any notice.

“Mister Fuzzball.” Geralt said in complete seriousness. “He came with the name, but he won’t answer to anything else. Believe me I tried.”

Jaskier bit Geralt’s hand hard, he scrunched up his nose at the taste of blood in his mouth but the witcher would live and he fucking deserved it.

Mister Fuzzball!

He was half tempted to shift back to human to give Geralt a piece of his mind. The thought of Geralt having to suddenly juggle a lapful of naked human did amuse him but would probably not help his reputation as an up and coming bard.

Geralt hissed in pain and pulled his hand away fast, sucking on the bleeding wound. “You little fuck.” He muttered through gritted teeth.

Jaskier snarled up at him and bared his teeth.

“I don’t think Mister Fuzzball liked that very much.” The barmaid noted dryly.

“He’s a bastard.” Geralt agreed but tentatively started to stroke Jaskier’s fur again.

Jaskier meowed a weak protest but it did feel oh so good when Geralt scratched behind his ears like that. His meow morphed into a purr before he could stop it and he melted back into Geralt’s lap.

“Seems to like you alright.” The barmaid laughed. “Never seen anything like it.”

“Hmm.” Geralt agreed and she finally left them in peace to get the extra food and drink.

“You bit me.” Geralt growled.

Jaskier rolled onto his back and gripped the witcher’s hands between his paws but kept his claws tucked away. He mouthed at Geralt’s fingers and butted the palm of his hand.

“Affectionate little shit.” Geralt rolled his eyes but rubbed Jaskier’s belly.

It had been far too long since he’d let anyone pet him like this.

In the space of an hour Jaskier found he was quite taken with his witcher. The man didn’t seemed to be great with people. Luckily Jaskier was quite the expert in not being people.

He purred deeply and settled down for a nap. He’d wake up once the food arrived but for now he was quite content to enjoy the warmth of the witcher’s lap and the fingers running rhythmically through his fur.

______

Next

[jaceyneedsabetterusername]

Can’t Get Rid Of Me (Part 2 to Can’t Lose You)

Pairings: Zuko x Reader

Summary: Part 2 to Can’t Lose You. Y/N has finally found her long lost love but now it’s their responsibility to ensure the end of the Hundred Years War and to bring a new era of peace. 

Warnings: Violence

Word Count: 5600

A/N: There are definitely parts of this that are word-for-word from the show and I do not take any creative credit for those. I strictly take credit for what is my writing. But like... I’m actually kind of proud of this particular two-part series thing I happened to write. It was an idea I had for a while and, while I never planned on writing a second part, I’m glad you guys encouraged me to because I actually like how it turned out (and if you’re a writer, you understand how hard it can be to feel like your work is any good). Thank you all for the support <3 

___________________________________

Joining the avatar’s group was easier than you’d expected but from seeing the hodge-podge group of people, you figured that they had a habit of picking people up as they went along. For the few days you were at Zuko’s old vacation home on Ember Island before leaving, you’d trained with Zuko and Aang, working with the two boys to develop your firebending as much as possible before the battle. That was before Aang disappeared at least and you all went off searching for him, stumbling upon the Order of the White Lotus instead. 

“Are you alright?” You asked Zuko, coming to kneel beside him as he sat outside of Iroh’s tent. 

He shook his head, “My uncle hates me. I know it. He loved and supported me in every way he could, and I still turned against him. How can I even face him?” Though you didn’t see much of who he’d become first hand, Zuko had embarrassingly confessed his mistakes over the years to you, especially those concerning the incident with his uncle. 

“If there is anyone who understands what you’ve gone through and why you would do what you did, it’s your uncle. I don’t think he could ever hate you Zuko.” You remembered the way Iroh used to treat Zuko, especially after Lu Ten was killed, and you knew in your soul that there was nothing Zuko could do to make Iroh truly hate him. 

Zuko glanced over at you with wide eyes, like he was on the brink of tears from just remembering the disappointment in his uncle’s eyes, “But you didn’t see the way he looked at me when I made my decision to rejoin my father.” 

“People are allowed to make mistakes, Zuko. You made your choice then but look at the choices you’re making now. Even if he was disappointed months ago, I think he would be so proud to see what you’re doing now. He loves you more than anything.” Your hand reached out to stroke down his bicep comfortingly. 

He took a deep breath before pressing himself up to stand, “I sure hope you’re right.” 

You spent the night in a tent with Suki, allowing Zuko to have his time to fix things with his uncle. If he needed to talk to you, he knew where to find you. But he didn’t come until morning so you knew it must have gone really well or really poorly. 

The next morning, you found yourself sitting alongside the rest of the group, a bowl of porridge in your hands, the only food you’d eaten in two days and it tasted delicious. Iroh was sitting amongst you all, listening to Zuko as he tried to convince his uncle to come with you all to defeat Ozai, “You can beat him and we’ll be there to help!” Zuko explained passionately. 

“Even if I did defeat Ozai, and I don’t know that I could, it would be the wrong way to end a war. History will see it as just more senseless violence, a brother killing a brother to grab power. The only way for this to end peacefully is for the Avatar to defeat the Firelord.” Iroh countered and it was clear from the way he spoke that his decision on the matter was final. He would not kill his brother. 

This conversation felt wrong to you. Even though Ozai was a terrible man, and you’d seen years of his horrors first hand, it still felt wrong for some reason to be sitting with his son and brother while they conversed about who should get to kill him. But if it was difficult for you to hear, you couldn’t imagine how difficult of a decision it was for them, but mostly for Zuko, which made you so proud of him. He had come so far from that scared little boy, desperate for his father’s love and approval. Zuko had traveled to the ends of the Earth for his father, literally, but was now finding the strength to put everything behind him for the greater good of humanity and, for once, himself. 

Iroh had a very valid point in wanting to avoid direct conflict with his brother. From an outsider’s perspective, the battle would have looked simply like a murder for political gain. You could tell from the look on Zuko’s face that he knew as well. “And then… then would you come and take your rightful place on the throne?” He asked, nearly begged. 

His uncle looked away, “No, someone new must take the throne- an idealist with a pure heart and unquestionable honor. It has to be you, Prince Zuko.” 

Everyone inaudibly gasped at the suggestion. Everyone had a feeling that Zuko would have a large role to play in rebuilding the Fire Nation but nobody had guessed that it would be as Firelord. Zuko looked the most shaken of all, “Unquestionable honor?” He questioned his uncles decision, every regret he had plastered in his eyes, “But I’ve made so many mistakes.” 

“Yes, you have,” Iroh began bluntly, “You have suffered and struggled but you have always followed your own path. You restored your own honor and only you can restore the honor of the Fire Nation.” 

Zuko’s wide eyes flicked from Iroh to you, trying to accept the reality of what this delegation meant. “I agree with your uncle, Zuko. I don’t think the Fire Nation could be rebuilt better by anyone else.” You encouraged, nodding your head sincerely. What you wanted to do was hold his hand and try to give him whatever power, courage, and confidence you had to offer but you resisted, only offering the small but very heartfelt gesture. 

“I’ll try, Uncle.” 

A plan was soon devised as to how you would all plan an attack. Iroh and the rest of the White Lotus would reclaim Ba Sing Se. You, Zuko, and Katara would return to the palace to fight Azula and reclaim the throne as soon as Ozai fell. Suki, Toph, and Sokka would all take down the air ships. 

Before long, you were about to climb up onto Appa’s saddle beside Katara and Zuko, where he already sat with the reins grasped firmly in his hands. Just as you reached to begin your ascent up the large creature you’d quickly fallen in love with, Iroh’s hand gripped your shoulder, “Y/N.”

You stopped and turned back towards the man you’d come to see as family yourself, “Yes?” 

“Azula is strong. Please, keep my nephew safe. Don’t let him get himself killed.” It pained you to hear Iroh say those words, knowing that they held so much more fear than they sounded. The truth was, Iroh didn’t think he could take losing Zuko like he lost Lu Ten. 

You swallowed hard, honestly scared to make such a big promise because you knew that truthfully, anything could happen, and the possibility of any of you not returning was very large. But looking into Iroh’s desperate amber eyes, you couldn’t say anything other than, “I will. You stay safe out there, Uncle.” He smiled a little at the endearing term, something that he hadn’t heard you call him in many years, but loved nonetheless because it made him feel like he had children to love. 

“May we meet again, Y/N.” He pulled you into a tight hug, bringing your body close to his. An overwhelming surge of emotion coursed through you as you told yourself that this could very well be the last time you ever saw anyone. 

“May we meet again.” Your jaw clenched in a desperate attempt to keep your composure and not dwell on the what-if’s, no matter how valid they were. 

The ride over wasn’t too unbearably long but it was spent mostly in silence, everyone too lost in contemplation about the upcoming events to find the energy to say much. You’d never done anything this large in your life. You’d been a servant for the first fifteen years of your life and then a runaway turned bead maker for the last few. The closest thing to combat you’d experienced was training with Zuko and the one time you almost lost control with Azula. None of that could prepare you for the agonizing silence before the storm. 

“Hey, are you okay?” Katara asked you. 

“Hm?” You perked up, shaking yourself out of your thoughts, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just nervous, I s’pose.” 

Your chin rested on your knees as you stared down at the ground hundreds of feet below. The distance down didn’t bother you as much as the feeling of impending doom. “I have to believe that we’ll win,” Katara began softly, “And I know I haven’t known you long but, from what I’ve seen, you’re a very strong bender.” 

There it was, you realized. The reason you were so anxious. “I’ve never actually used it against anyone but Zuko, and even that was only for training purposes. I have never actually had to fight anyone, let alone Azula. I just… I don’t want to let everyone down.” 

“That’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself. We’re all in this together, win or lose.” She reassured. Your eyes flickered up to look at Zuko, whose back was turned to you and Katara while he flew Appa. Katara noticed the movement and was about to move to take over flying Appa so Zuko could talk with you but just as she went to go, a bright light streaked overhead. 

All three of you craned your necks to watch the infamous comet streak across the sky, casting an orange glow over everything. “Sozin’s comet…” You breathed out, the celestial object actually much more beautiful than you’d ever imagine but so much more daunting as well. 

Zuko looked back to see your eyes trained on the comet and he felt like he was falling in love with you all over again. Your eyes sparkled with determination and courage in the light of the comet, your hair blew wildly around your face in the wind. You looked like the strongest most beautiful woman he’d ever laid eyes on and he couldn’t wait to kick his sister’s ass and restore the Fire Nation with you. 

When the palace was in sight, Azula’s coronation was already underway. You smirked a little at the twinge of satisfaction that nobody had actually attended the coronation aside from the few people that were required to be there. Clearly, Azula was far from the preferred Fire Lord. 

“We have to stop this now!” Zuko called back to you and Katara just before he landed Appa right in the middle of the courtyard. 

You weren’t sure what exactly was being said when you landed but judging by the scowl on Azula’s face, she was unhappy about it. Before Appa could even touch the ground, Zuko was jumping down onto the ground, “Sorry, but you’re not going to become Firelord today. I am.” 

He stood there solidly, unyielding. You and Katara too jumped down to stand beside him. Azula began to laugh hysterically, “You’re hilarious!” 

“And you’re going down.” Katara threatened. 

You stood to the other side of Zuko, staring down the girl who had been the cause of your torment for over a decade. When you locked eyes with her, she scoffed, “And what? You’re going to beat me with some Water Tribe peasant and a servant? You really are pathetic, Zuzu.” 

Gosh, how you were so ready to just destroy her. But none of you moved, waiting for Zuko’s call. In the end, this really was his fight. 

When Azula noticed that there was no reaction to her insult, an evil smirk spread across her face, “Wait. You want to be Firelord? Fine, let’s settle this,” She suggested, appearing more composed than she had since you’d arrived, which was almost scarier than seeing her look psychotic, “Just you and me, brother - the fight that was always meant to be. Agni Kai!” 

No, this was bad. 

“You’re on.” Zuko accepted the challenge, much to your chagrin. 

You shot a look at Zuko, wondering why on Earth he’d be falling into her trap like this, “She’s trying to separate us!” You hissed at him, “She knows she can’t take us all so she’s testing you.” 

He didn’t look at you, though. He just stared straight ahead, locking eyes with his sister who stared hard and sadistically at him. “I know, but I can take her this time.” His eyes narrowed and Azula’s lip turned upwards in a sick smile. 

“Even you admitted to your uncle that you’d need help defeating her!” Katara insisted, desperately trying to talk him out of the Agni Kai. Even though she wasn’t Fire Nation, she knew how serious an Agni Kai was to your culture and that it wasn’t something to be taken lightly. 

Zuko looked as if he was analyzing his younger sister, “There’s something off about her. I can’t explain it, but she’s slipping. And this way, no one else has to get hurt.” He turned to you and you could almost see the fear in his eyes. Not fear for his own life but for yours and Katara’s. 

You wanted to stop him, wanted to talk some sense into your boyfriend. All you could think about was that promise you made to Iroh. Please, keep my nephew safe. Don’t let him get himself killed. Allowing him to fight alone felt like a direct breach of that promise that you’d had every intention of keeping but something in you told you to let him fight her. “Don’t get hurt.” You gave into his plan, hoping, praying, wishing on everything that you were making the right decision. 

Within a few minutes, you and Katara were standing off to the side of the large outdoor space, watching as Zuko breathed deep, centering himself before the duel. You found yourself almost shaking, the memories of what happened at the last Agni Kai you’d attended flooding your memory. It was as if your vision was flashing from thirteen year old Zuko, begging his father for forgiveness, to now, where he was kneeling away from his sister. Only this time, you knew he wouldn’t be granted the same mercy his father had given him. At least then he got away with his life. With Azula, you knew he wouldn’t be so lucky if he fell short.

Katara was tense herself but could practically feel the air stiffen around you. She glanced over to see your eyes almost glazed over, stuck in a memory she’d never see. The rise and fall of your chest had also stopped with your breathing. “He’s going to be alright.” Katara reassured you, gently grabbing your hand, “He has to be.” 

You looked down at where your hands were joined and squeezed, eyes returning to hers with a small half-hearted smile, just enough to show that you at least partially believed her. With a deep, calming breath, you swallowed the lump in your throat and raised your head high. 

Both siblings came to stand up, shedding the cloaks that were slung over their shoulders. “I’m sorry it has to end this way, brother.” Azula apologized insincerely. 

“No, you’re not.” Zuko’s eyes narrowed, already in a starting stance. 

And just like that, waves of red and blue painted the sky. Roaring flames shot from both Zuko and Azula’s hands, almost deafeningly so. Zuko’s bending was more passionate and stronger than you’d ever seen it before. Azula, on the other hand, seemed less refined and sloppier than her highness had ever allowed herself to be in the past but that did not mean that her bending was any less effective. There was so much rage and power behind both of their strikes. 

You watched Zuko’s moves intensely, mentally trying to tell him what to do, what move might be best, even though you knew that he was a far more well-trained bender than you were. But that was when you noticed that his forms were different than what he’d taught you all those years ago. His stance was wider and he looked more locked in place, like he was a boulder that refused to be moved, when he literally split a powerful flame that Azula sent his way in half. It was something you’d never seen any fire bender do before. In fact, he sort of looked like Toph… 

In a small gap between Azula’s onslaught of attack, Zuko took the offense, his arms moving smoothly and gracefully, expelling a stream of fire that almost could have resembled the way water benders shoot water. Your eyes widened. These were not traditional fire bending moves. Could he be using earth and water bending techniques to fire bend? 

As the flames settled in a small pause, you and Katara noticed that the buildings of the palace were all aflame, slowly burning to the ground in an orange glow. It was a short lived breath of silence though because Zuko interrupted it with a sudden blast of flames at Azula that nearly knocked her off her feet. She managed to catch herself with a jet of blue flames that projected her off the ground and towards her brother. It went on like this, shot after shot in the most heated, equally matched Agni Kai you’d ever seen. 

Suddenly, Zuko dropped to his hands and swung his legs around his body, sending whips of flames at his sister. “Isn’t that airbending?” You asked Katara, though your eyes never left the scene before you. The flame landed and sent Azula flying into the ground with a thud, rolling at least fifteen feet before she came to a stop. 

“I didn’t know you could use other bending techniques for a different element.” Katara too was entranced by Zuko’s conglomerated, unpredictable moves. It would have been beautiful to see fire used in such a way if it weren’t for the fact that you were all in the midst of a life-or-death situation. 

Azula slowly stood up, her eyes crazed beneath her choppy bangs. 

“No lightning?” Zuko taunted, “What? Afraid I’ll redirect it?” 

Dammit, Zuko, you cursed mentally, This is not the time to show off. 

Azula stood, pressing her weight off her knees, “Oh, I’ll show you lightning!” With that, she began her windup. With two fingers, she directed lightning in electric blue streams around her body. Zuko prepared for the strike, stance strong, hands ready to catch it. 

What nobody expected though, was the bright blue bolt being sent at you. It was almost too late by the time you noticed it happening. In a split second, Zuko watched in horror as the lightning blew right past him towards you, your E/C eyes wide with shock. “No!” He screamed, running to jump in front but it was too late. 

The lightning bolt streaked past before it could hit him, coming right for you. 

The world almost seemed to stop for a moment while at the same time, your entire life flashed by in a second. Your parents playing with you as a child, you and Zuko feeding the turtle ducks just over those gates, Azula burning you, moving in with the kind old lady on Ember Island, and finding Zuko again. But then memories that you didn’t yet make began to reel through your mind in a flash. You and Zuko were together, hand in hand, before an altar. Was that a wedding? Things flashed so quickly you couldn’t see the details. Then came one of the two of you in a room with a bald man with an arrow on his head. He could only be Aang but he was too old and beside him sat Zuko with longer hair; he looked at least ten years older. You seemed to be part of a serious conversation with them. Then, finally, one of you with a swaddled baby sleeping in your arms and Zuko beside you. 

Something told you that this was not your time. 

Just before the bolt could hit you, you clenched your eyes shut and looked away, sticking out two fingers directly at the lethal electricity coming right at you. With a crack, it came into contact with your digits and coursed through your arm. You brought your arm down to your stomach, or as close to it as you could manage in the heat of the moment, and just held the power there. You had no idea what you were doing. You’d never redirected lightning in your life. Hell, you’d never even seen it done. But in that series of flashbacks, a memory of Iroh telling you and Zuko a story as children about a time he had to redirect lightning during a raid of a city. Zuko had excitedly begged him to show the two of you how he did it and, while he didn’t actually redirect lightning before your eyes, he showed you both the movement for it. 

In the few seconds you held the lightning within you, you felt powerful and exhilarated. Your hair blew in the storm in and around your body. You had no idea what it was like to feel so strong but you also had never felt so volatile, like the smallest mistake, the slighted breath, could cause a catastrophe. 

Just as Iroh had shown you all those years ago, you brought the fingers of your opposite hand to your stomach and shot out the energy at the ground, tiles shattering where it finally struck. 

“Y/N!” Zuko cried out, running over to your body as it crumbled to the ground. You panted hard, trying to catch yourself on your hands and knees but your elbows buckled when you did and you fell face first onto the stone tiles. “Y/N?! Y/N, are you okay?!” He yelled, trying to roll your body over to cradle it in his lap but before he could, Azula sent another blast right next to her brother, purposefully not hitting him. Zuko flinched, shielding your body with his from the shrapnel. 

She laughed maniacally, body swinging wildly, “Oh, Zuzu! Looks like your precious little girlfriend picked up a few tricks! Color me impressed.” 

Azula assaulted the two of you with another barrage of attacks. Zuko again went to use his body to shield yours but Katara jumped in the way, shooting a powerful stream of water into Azula’s arm to move the lightning. Katara took over the battle for the time being while Zuko held you tight. 

“Y/N?” He asked again, eyes wide with worry, almost tearing up, “Please, say something. I can’t lose you!” Those same desperate words that seemed to have haunted your relationship came back around. 

He held your face, stroking your hair out of the way. Your eyes rolled back in your head as you struggled to open your eyes. “I’m-I’m alright. You can’t get rid of me that easily.” You insisted with a weak laugh before flinching, pushing your arms behind you to push yourself back up. 

“When did you learn to do that?” He asked in shock, helping you sit up. 

A loud yell came from Katara as she sent attack after attack of water at Azula. You finally managed to open your eyes enough to see Katara successfully holding off Azula. “Go, help her. I’m fine.” You told Zuko, flinching as you allowed yourself to be helped to an upright position. He looked at you with hesitation in his eyes. You grabbed his collar and pulled him close to you, “Zuko, I’m serious. There are bigger problems.” 

With a reluctant nod, he stood up and shot fire at her even more intensely than before, now fueled by rage at her dishonorable attack on you. You were aware of what was going on but for a few seconds you felt disconnected from it. You were still shocked that you managed to redirect the lightning, though not perfectly, of course, otherwise you wouldn’t have collapsed. Your body felt like it was buzzing but no longer with power, more so an emptiness where power once was. And beyond that, a dull burning ache ran through your arms and through your stomach, along the path the lightning ran through. 

But, beyond that, you felt relatively okay and, for right now, that had to be enough. With some effort, you managed to push yourself to your feet, strength quickly coming back to your muscles as the temporary that shock rendered them useless for a few minutes faded away. 

When you stood, you saw how destroyed everything was. Buildings burned, stone tiles were blown up all over, leaving holes in the ground, and now there were waves of ice. Azula appeared to be struggling against both Katara and Zuko but she also seemed not to mind, still plastering that insane smile on her face. 

The three of them had made their way under the canopy off to the side of the main open area. Azula was on the roof, stalking Zuko and Katara who stood underneath. Everyone was silent and you could see Katara and Zuko silently devising a plan but little did they know, Azula jumped down, gripping the canopy to launch herself into a flip. Before she could land or fire, though, you shot a stream of flames at her back, knocking her forward and rolling onto her face. 

Her eyes were aflame with rage when she stood up, “It’s about time you learned your place, little servant girl. I spared your life several times but you won’t get that kindness again.” 

“I’m not afraid of you anymore, Azula.” You moved to take a strong stance, arms out and ready to deflect any attack she sent your way. 

Her amber eyes narrowed beneath her dark jagged hair, “You should be.” With a loud scream, she sent another strike of lightning at you, sure that you couldn’t handle another one since you barely managed to survive the first. 

But how wrong she was. 

Already predicting an attack of some kind, it was easy to change your hand position and you caught the lightning with your fingertips, brought it down through your stomach, and breathed in for a second - a second that seemed to last forever. It was all coursing through your body again: the power, the volatility, the anger, the fear. 

Nobody else could see exactly what was happening. A storm of blue currents blew your hair around your face, covering it from view, and the lightning itself distorted the view of what was happening. Zuko and Katara watched in terror, worried that maybe you weren’t able to catch it and it hit you. 

Little did they all know, you had caught it and avoided your heart successfully and now, all there was to do was redirect it. Taking a deep breath, you honed all of your attention on the lightning in your control, forcing as much energy into it as you could, before shooting your fingertips directly at Azula, the lightning coming at her with more force than she’d shot at you. 

She tried to move to dodge it but before she could, Katara sent a slick of ice onto the ground just below her feet, sending her slipping instead of jumping like she’d intended. The lightning struck the princess with a loud crack and she fell onto the ground, lying on the cold white ice she’d slipped on. 

This time, you felt… alright. You didn’t hurt anywhere or collapse. Instead, you ran towards Zuko and Katara who knelt over Azula’s motionless body. “Is she… D-did I kill her?” You asked, honestly unsure what exactly you wanted the answer to be. For years, you’d told yourself that you’d kill her one day if you ever got the chance but now that took that chance, you weren’t sure if you wanted somebody’s life on your conscience, even if it really might have been for the betterment of the world that she was gone. 

Zuko reached down to feel for a pulse and shook his head, “No, she’s alive, but just barely.” 

Another wave of confliction coursed through you but, surprisingly, a big portion of it was relief. “What should we do with her then?” You knelt down beside Katara and finally inspected Azula. She was barely conscious, her eyes kept rolling back in her head, but that maniacal smile was finally blasted off her face. Her hair was a mess, just barely held back in the tie anymore. A large portion of her pants were missing, burned away just at the thigh to reveal a massive welting red branch-like wound on her pale skin. That must have been why she was able to survive the hit. 

“She needs help,” Zuko sighed, almost sounding like he was at war with himself in this decision, “Something’s telling me this is more than her just being a terrible person. She’ll be moved to the asylum offshore to get the help she needs. And to keep her from hurting anyone else.” His voice got tense at those last words. 

Katara moved water from the ground and used it to heal Azula’s leg as much as she could. “Just for now, I was thinking we could keep her in ice? I don’t know what else to do.” She rubbed her legs awkwardly. 

Glancing to your right, you saw chains hanging on a pillar and moved to grab them. “Here,” You said, beginning to chain her hands and feet together, her limp limbs moving easily, “Just so when we melt the ice, we still have some leverage.” 

“Good idea.” Zuko stood up, watching as you looped the last bit of chain securely in a knot. When it was all good and secure, Zuko gave Katara a small nod and she gracefully created an encasing of ice around Azula. 

This whole situation felt strange. The accumulation of a hundred years of war was climaxing right at this moment and you, Zuko, and Katara had all just successfully completed your part of that victory. What felt odd though was standing over Azula, the girl who had tortured you for years, and discussing her fate, which literally was in your hands. 

“We did it.” Zuko finally sighed out, breaking the silence, “We actually did it.” 

“Now we just have to hope Aang beats Ozai.” Katara rubbed her arms, nervous that the ultimate outcome of all of this wasn’t entirely in just your hands. 

** 

* Two days later *

Zuko stood in the hallway of the palace, the walls open and overlooking the surrounding city. He leaned against the half-wall, breathing in the fresh air deeply. His clothes that he’d been wearing for much longer than he’d like to admit while on exile had now been exchanged for the robes of a Firelord. “You clean up nice.” You giggled, coming into the wide hallway. 

He turned around to see you walking towards him looking more radiant than ever. Your clothes that you had been wearing when you battled Azula had been quite badly destroyed, ripped and stained with soot and debris. Now, you wore a long dark deep red tunic dress that tied with a slightly lighter band around your waist. It had gold along the inner seams and leading up to the high, traditional collar that was around your neck. The bottom had an ornate design sewn in with amber threads at the bottom. 

“Wow…” Zuko breathed out, “Y-You too.” He managed to stammer. 

Heat rose in your face, “Thank you.” You finished closing the gap between the two of you, coming wrap your arms around his waist, “Are you okay?” 

Zuko bit his lip before half-nodding, half-shaking his head, “I just can’t believe this is happening. Ever since I was little, I was sure my father would find a way to pass along the throne to Azula. I never thought I’d actually be Firelord. But now that I’m about to become Firelord, I guess I’m just scared of making mistakes.” 

Your hand came up to his bicep as you pulled him in closer, “Hey, you are going to be the best Firelord in at least a hundred years. You just managed to end a century-long war and I know you have amazing dreams for rebuilding the world.” 

“I didn’t end the war alone.” He tried to refute but you just smiled warmly. 

“And you won’t have to do all the work to rebuild the nation alone either. We are all here to help you - me, Aang, Sokka, Katara, and Toph.” You reached up to touch his cheek gently and he leaned into your soft palm, savoring the touch. It was the first time he’d ever allowed anyone to touch his scar but with you, he felt safe and secure. 

Zuko’s eyes slid closed for just a moment and he brought his hand up to cover yours, holding your hand against his face before pulling it away, intertwining his fingers with yours, “Have I ever told you how much I love you? How much I’ve always loved you?” 

A sweet chuckle left your lips like music, “I think you’ve mentioned it a few times. Have I ever told you how much I love you? And how amazing you are? How amazing you will be?” 

The two of you stood like that for a while, just holding each other and staring at each other, beyond grateful that the universe allowed you to find each other again. Words could not express the pride and love you felt for this man, despite all of his flaws and mistakes. Zuko only wished he could put into words how grateful he was for your love and support, how much he loved you and wanted to protect you (not that you needed it). 

“Nephew, it is time for your coronation.” Iroh chimed in gently, peeking at the two of you from around the corner. 

You looked back and gave him an acknowledging smile. “Thank you, Uncle.” Zuko smiled politely at Iroh, who was waiting at the door to escort you to the front of the crowd.

You knew you had to watch the coronation from the ground with the rest of the Gaang but you didn’t mind. You only hoped that Zuko could feel the support from you and the rest of the group radiating from the crowd. 

“You are going to be amazing, Firelord.” You touched his face one last time, pulling him down for a gentle kiss. 

He smiled against your lips. “I can’t wait to build the new world with you.” 

__________________________

Taglist: 

(Sorry if this is messed up, I suck at taglists) 

@oddlypointlessescapes

@eridanuswave

@egm09

[histoireettralala]

Epic anecdotes from the battle of Eylau: Captain Marbot, Lisette, and the Farewell of the 14th Ligne.

Eylau, February 8, 1807 - Captain Marbot, aide-de-camp to Marshal Augereau, recounts the end of the 14th line infantry regiment of which he was an eyewitness. The general's mount, a mare with an extremely difficult character to control, called Lisette, will paradoxically save her life during the perilous mission that will be entrusted to him ...

[...] she was the mare that I was riding at Eylau, at the moment when the remains of Marshal Augereau's army corps, crushed by a hail of grape-shot and cannon balls, were trying to meet near the large cemetery. You must remember that the 14th Ligne was alone on a mound that it was only to leave by order of the Emperor. The snow having ceased momentarily, we saw this intrepid regiment which, surrounded by the enemy, waved its eagle in the air to prove that it still held out and called for help. The Emperor, touched by the magnanimous devotion of these brave people, resolved to try to save them by ordering Marshal Augereau to send an officer to them in charge of telling them to leave the mound, to form a small square and to proceed towards us, while a brigade of cavalry marched to meet them to assist their efforts.

It was before the great charge made by Murat; it was almost impossible to carry out the Emperor's will, because a swarm of Cossacks separating us from the 14th Ligne, it became obvious that the officer we were going to send to this unfortunate regiment would be killed or taken before he could get to it.

It was customary in the Imperial Army for the aides-de-camp to line up a few paces from their general, and for the one in front to walk first, then come to the tail when he had fulfilled his mission, so that, each carrying an order in turn, the dangers were equally shared. A brave captain of the engineers, named Froissard, who, although not being an aide-de-camp, was attached to the marshal, was responsible for carrying the order to the 14th. M. Froissard set off at a gallop; we lost sight of him among the Cossacks, and we never saw him again or knew what had become of him. The Marshal seeing that the 14th Ligne did not move, sent an officer named David; he had the same fate as Froissard. It is probable that both of them, having been killed and despoiled, could not be recognized in the midst of the many corpses with which the ground was covered. For the third time, the marshal calls: "The officer to march!" It was my turn!

On seeing the son of his old friend approach, and I dare say it, his favorite aide-de-camp, the good marshal's face was moved, his eyes filled with tears, for he could not hide from himself that he was sending me to almost certain death; but it was necessary to obey the Emperor, I was a soldier, one of my comrades could not be made to march in my place, and I would not have suffered it: that would have been to dishonor me. So I rushed forward! But, while making the sacrifice of my life, I felt I had to take the necessary precautions to save it. I had noticed that the two officers who left before me had put the saber in their hands, which led me to believe that they had plans to defend themselves against the Cossacks who would attack them during the journey, a rash defense in my opinion, since it had forced them to stop to fight a multitude of enemies that had ended up overwhelming them. So I went about it differently, and leaving my saber in the scabbard, I considered myself a rider who, wanting to win a race prize, headed as quickly as possible and by the shortest line towards the indicated goal, without worry about what there is, neither to the right nor to the left, in its path. Now, my goal being the mound occupied by the 14th Ligne, I resolved to go there without paying attention to the Cossacks, whom I canceled by thought.

This system perfectly worked for me. Lisette, lighter than a swallow, and flying more than she ran, devoured space, crossing heaps of corpses of men and horses, ditches, broken carriages, as well as the poorly extinguished fires of the bivouacs.

Thousands of scattered Cossacks covered the plain. The first to see me acted like hunters on a hunt, when, seeing a hare, they announced its presence to each other by shouting: "To you! To you!" But none of these Cossacks tried to stop me, first of all because of the extreme speed of my race, and probably also because, being in very large numbers, each of them thought that I could not avoid his comrades placed further away. So that I escaped everyone and got to the 14th, without me or my excellent mare having received the slightest scratch.

I found the 14th formed in a square on the top of the hillock but as the slopes of the ground were very gentle, the enemy cavalry had been able to carry out several charges against the French regiment, which, having vigorously repulsed them, was surrounded by a circle of corpses of Russian horses and dragoons, forming a sort of rampart, which henceforth made the position almost inaccessible to the cavalry, for, despite the help of our infantry, I had great difficulty in passing over this bloody and dreadful entrenchment. I was finally in the square! Since the death of Colonel Savary, killed crossing the Ukra, the 14th was commanded by a battalion commander. When, in the middle of a hail of cannonballs, I transmitted to this soldier the order to leave his position to try to rejoin the army corps, he pointed out to me that the enemy artillery, firing for an hour on the 14th had caused him such losses that the handful of soldiers who remained to him would inevitably be exterminated if they went down to the plain, that he would not have time to prepare the execution of this movement, since a column of Russian infantry, marching on him, was only a hundred paces from us.

"I see no way to save the regiment" said the battalion commander, "Return to the Emperor, bid him the farewell of the 14th Ligne who faithfully carried out his orders, and carry him the eagle he had given us and which we can no longer defend, it would be too painful while dying to see it fall into the hands of the enemies ". The commander then gave me his eagle, which the soldiers, glorious remnants of this intrepid regiment, greeted for the last time with cries of "Long live the Emperor", they who were going to die for him. It was Tacitus' "Caesar, morituri te salutant" but this cry was here uttered by heroes.

The infantry eagles were very heavy, and their weight was increased by a large and strong shaft of oak wood, to the top of which it was fixed. The length of this pole embarrassed me a lot, and as this stick, devoid of its eagle, could not constitute a trophy for the enemies, I resolved, with the approval of the commander, to break it to take only the eagle, but when, from the top of my saddle, I was leaning my body forward to have more strength to manage to separate the eagle from the shaft, one of the many cannonballs the Russians threw at us went through the back horn of my hat hat a few inches from my head. The concussion was all the more terrible as my hat, being held in place by a strong leather strap fixed under the chin, offered more resistance to the blow. I was almost wrecked, but did not fall from my horse. Blood flowed through my nose, ears and even my eyes, however I still heard, I saw, I understood and retained all my intellectual faculties, although my limbs were paralyzed to the point that it was impossible for me to move just one finger.

However, the column of Russian infantry that we had just seen was approaching the mound; they were grenadiers, whose metal-trimmed caps looked like miters. These men, gorged with brandy, and in infinitely greater number, threw themselves with fury on the weak debris of the unfortunate 14th, whose soldiers had lived, for a few days, only on potatoes and melted snow; and that day, they had not had time to prepare this miserable meal. Nevertheless our brave French fought valiantly with their bayonets, and when the square had been broken, they grouped themselves into several platoons and supported this disproportionate fight for a long time.

During this dreadful melee, several of our people, so as not to be struck from behind, leaned against the sides of my mare, who, contrary to her habits, remained very impassive. If I could have stirred, I would have carried her forward to keep her away from this field of carnage; but it was absolutely impossible for me to squeeze my legs to make my mount understand my will. My position was all the more dreadful because, as I have said, I had retained the faculty of seeing and thinking ... Not only were there fights around me, which exposed me to bayonet blows, but a Russian officer, with a terrible face, made constant efforts to pierce me with his sword, and as the crowd of combatants prevented him from joining me, he gestured to the soldiers who surrounded him and who, taking me for the leader of the French, because I was alone on horseback, fired at me over the heads of their comrades, so that very many bullets whistled constantly in my ears. One of them would certainly have robbed me of what little life I had left, when a terrible incident took me away from this terrible melee.

Among the French who had leaned against the left flank of my mare, was a quartermaster whom I knew from having often seen him at the Marshal's, whose reports he copied. This man, attacked and wounded by several enemy grenadiers, fell under Lisette's belly and seized my leg to try to get up, when a Russian grenadier, whose drunkenness made his steps very uncertain, having wanted to finish him by piercing his chest, lost his balance, and the point of his misdirected bayonet strayed into my windblown coat. The Russian, seeing that I did not fall, left the quartermaster to strike me with endless blows at first useless, but one of which, finally reaching me, crossed my left arm, from which I felt with horrible pleasure hot blood flowing... The Russian grenadier, redoubling his fury, struck me again, when the force he put into it causing him to stumble, his bayonet sank into the thigh of my mare, which, returned by pain to her fierce instincts, rushed at the Russian and with a single mouthful tore his nose, lips, eyelids, and all the skin of his face with his teeth, and made him a "living skull" and all red ... It was horrible to see. Then throwing herself furiously into the midst of the fighters, Lisette, kicking and biting, knocks down anything she meets in her path. The enemy officer who had so often tried to strike me, having wanted to stop her by the bridle, she seized him by the stomach, and removing him with ease, she carried him out of the melee, at the bottom of the mound, where, after tearing out his entrails with teeth and crushing the body under her feet, she left him dying on the snow. Then resuming the path by which she had come, she headed at a triple gallop towards the cemetery of Eylau. Thanks to the hussar saddle in which I was sitting, I remained on my horse, but a new danger awaited me.

The snow had just started to fall again, and large flakes were obscuring the day when, arriving near Eylau, I found myself in front of a battalion of the old guard, who could not distinguish in the distance, took me for an enemy officer. leading a cavalry charge.

Immediately the whole battalion fired on me ... My coat and my saddle were riddled with bullets, but I was not wounded, nor was my mare, who, continuing her rapid course, crossed the three ranks of the battalion with the same ease for a snake to cross a hedge ...

But this last impulse having exhausted the forces of Lisette, who was losing a lot of blood because one of the large veins in her thigh had been cut, this poor animal suddenly sagged and fell to one side making me roll other.

Stretched out on the snow among heaps of dead and dying, unable to move in any way, I gradually and painlessly lost the feeling of myself. It seemed to me that I was gently rocked ... Finally, I fainted completely without being revived by the great thunder that Murat's ninety squadrons on a charge made as they passed near me and perhaps on me.

I think that my unconsciousness lasted four hours, and when I regained my senses, this is the horrible position I was in: I was completely naked, with only my hat and my right boot left. A train soldier, believing me to be dead, had stripped me as usual, and wishing to tear off the only boot I had left, was pulling me by one leg, leaning one of his feet on my stomach. The strong jolts that this man gave me having undoubtedly revived me, I managed to raise my upper body and to spit out blood clots which blocked my throat. The concussion produced by the wind from the cannonball had caused a bruise so extensive that my face, shoulders and chest were black, while the blood from my wound on my arm reddened the other parts of my body ... My hat and my hair was covered with bloody snow, I was rolling haggard eyes and must have been horrible to see. So the soldier of the train turned his head and walked away with my gear, without it being possible for me to say a single word to him, so great was my state of prostration. But I had recovered my mental faculties, and my thoughts turned to God and to my mother.

The sun, as it went down, threw a few faint rays through the clouds, I bade it farewell which I thought were the last ... If at least, I said to myself, someone had not stripped me, someone one of the many individuals who pass near me, noticing the golden braids with which my pelisse is covered, would recognize that I am a marshal's aide-de-camp and would perhaps have me transported to the ambulance but seeing me naked, I am confused with the many corpses with which I am surrounded; soon, indeed, there will no longer be any difference between them and me. I cannot call for help, and the approaching night will take away all hope of being rescued. The cold is increasing, will I be able to endure it until tomorrow, when already I can feel my bare limbs stiffening? So I expected to die, because if a miracle had saved me in the midst of the awful melee of the Russians and the 14th, could I hope that another miracle would pull me out of the horrible position I found myself in? ? This second miracle took place, and here's how ...

Marshal Augereau had a valet named Pierre Dannel, a very intelligent boy, very devoted, but a little argumentative. However, it had happened, during our stay at La Houssaye, that Dannel having answered badly to his master, the latter dismissed him. Dannel, sorry, begged me to intercede for him. I did so with so much zeal that I succeeded in making him return to favor with the Marshal. From that moment on, the valet de chambre had devoted a great deal of affection to me. This man, who had left all the crews in Landsberg, had left on his own on the day of the battle to bring his master provisions which he had placed in a very light van, passing everywhere and containing the objects the marshal used most often. This little van was driven by a soldier who had served in the company of the train to which the soldier who had just robbed me belonged. This one, with my gear, passed by the van parked next to the cemetery when, having recognized the postilion, his former comrade, he accosted him to show him the brilliant booty he had just collected from a dead man.

Now, you must know that during our stay in the cantonments of the Vistula, the marshal having sent Dannel to seek provisions in Warsaw, I had instructed him to remove from my pelisse the black astrakhan fur with which it was trimmed, to have it replaced by gray astrakhan, newly adopted by Prince Berthier's aides-de-camp, who set the trend in the army.

I was still the only officer of Marshal Augereau who had gray astrakhan. Dannel, present at the display that the soldier on the train was making, easily recognized my pelisse, which prompted him to look more closely at the other effects of the alleged dead man, among which he found my watch, marked with my father's number, who it had belonged to. The valet no longer doubted that I was killed, and while deploring my loss, he wanted to see me for the last time, and being led by the soldier on the train, he found me alive.

The joy of this brave man, to whom I certainly owed my life, was extreme.He hastened to send for my servant, some ordinances, and to have me transported to a barn, where he rubbed my body with rum, while they were looking for Doctor Raymond, who finally arrived, bandaged my wound in the arm, and declared that the expansion of the blood which it had produced would save me.

Soon I was surrounded by my brother and my comrades. Something was given to the soldier on the train who had taken my clothes, which he returned with great grace, but as they were soaked in water and blood, Marshal Augereau had me wrapped in his own gear.

The Emperor had authorized the marshal to go to Landsberg, but his wound preventing him from riding his horse, his aides-de-camp had obtained a sled on which was placed a cabriolet case. The Marshal, who could not bring himself to abandon me, had me tied secure alongside him, for I was too weak to sit still.

Before I was relieved from the battlefield, I had seen my poor Lisette near me. The cold, by coagulating the blood of her wound, had stopped its too great emission. The beast had recovered on its legs and was eating the straw which the soldiers had used for their bivouacs the night before. My servant, who was very fond of Lisette, having seen her when he was helping to transport me, returned to fetch her, and cutting into strips the shirt and the hood of a dead soldier, he used them to wrap the thigh of the poor mare, which he thus put in a condition to walk as far as Landsberg. The commander of the small garrison in this place having taken care to have lodgings prepared for the wounded, the staff was placed in a large and good inn, so that instead of spending the night without help, stretched out naked on the snow, I was lying on a good bed and surrounded by the care of my brother, my comrades and the good Doctor Raymond.

[..]

In our days, where one is so lavish on advancement and decorations, one would certainly grant a reward to an officer who would brave the dangers I ran by going to the 14th of the line but, under the Empire, we considered this trait of devotion as so natural that I was not given the cross, and that it did not even occur to me to ask for it.

Found here.

[from Mémoires du Général Marbot]

[mimiswitchywrites]

Not A Burden

Totally self indulgent Merlin Fic.

TW: SH references, attempted s****de and references, child/s***al a**se references (not graphic but enough that could be triggering)

"It was on yet another hunting trip that he found her, face pale and crimson pooling under each arm. Percival would later find a small knife under some moss next to her. Sweat covered her face and chest, leaving dark patches on her cotton dress. Her eyes were shut and breathing shallow."

or

A very angsty fic where the Knights find an injured girl in the forest and take her home to heal. Queer fluff with Gwen ensues.

2.5k words.

Masterlist or Read it on AO3

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Chapter 1:

It was on yet another hunting trip that he found her, face pale and crimson pooling under each arm. Percival would later find a small knife under some moss next to her. Sweat covered her face and chest, leaving dark patches on her cotton dress. Her eyes were shut and breathing shallow.

Merlin set to work immediately: pulling fabric bandages from his satchel along with honey and other such ointments to stop the bleeding and prevent infection growing in her shredded forearms. The King and his knights could do nothing but watch, shock drawn on their faces. They had seen blood and death before, but so rarely had they seen someone that had attempted to take their own life.

It was Lancelot that discovered the reason for her considerable sweating and pale face. Wolfsbane. Merlin opened her mouth and found her tongue swollen, further confirming the theory. He leant her forward and, after warning the party to turn around, made her empty the contents of her stomach.

Finally content that he had done all he could, Merlin approached panic mode. He left Lancelot and Elayn with the girl (Percival had left to refill the waterskins and Gwaine had had a ghostly look in his eyes since the discovery and so was left alone) and began pacing.

“We need to get back to Gaius. I can’t look after her on my own.”

“I’m no physician but she doesn’t seem fit to ride, not yet.” His King replied, doing his best to assure him.

“But what if I’ve missed something? I hardly noticed she had been—she had poisoned herself, that was all Lancelot’s doing!”.

“Consider yourself lucky that there are so many of us to help you then.”

“But—”

“You have been training with Gaius for almost a half-decade now, I trust your skills totally. It’s okay Merlin, she will be okay no matter what happens.” Arthur carelessly tacked on the last part, hoping Merlin wouldn’t notice how dark it sounded. He had seen a few of his knights return from their first battle and end up in a similar state and knew too well that most were content with dying if no one could do anything to save them.

“Now, how about you get your mind off this and make us some dinner, eh?”

Merlin rolled his eyes, nudging past. As much as he refused to admit it, he was glad Arthur had given him a distraction, even if it were preparing a stew that he wouldn’t be allowed to eat until everyone else had been served first.

--

As night fell and the fire grew smaller, Gwaine’s mind ran a thousand leagues a minute. It had been years since he had last thought of what that girl had done – around the time he had met Merlin, actually – and yet, after seeing her in that state for only a few seconds, it was all he could think about. All he could see as he closed his eyes. He longed to help her as he needed help all those years ago, but he couldn’t move, couldn’t talk (the others had made comments about how marvellous that was and he wonders, if only for a moment, if they would say the same had they known what was going on in his head.) He could barely breath, only able to let out fast, short breaths. He felt helpless.

As a Knight of the Round Table, Sir Gwaine did not like feeling ‘helpless’. He was strongly opposed to it, in fact.

It was only after Arthur awoke to take next watch that his brain began to slow (or had it sped up so fast that it felt like it had stopped?) and he began to feel tired. After some prompting by Princess, he lay on his roll mat and let sleep take over.

--

As the morning fog lifted, Merlin checked over his work once again. He removed her bandages, careful not to let it pull on her skin, and cleaned the last of the blood off. He envied Gaius’ ability to treat a patient without being upset for them – working with tears in his eyes was making the task far more difficult than it should have.

After wrapping her up once again, he declared them free to take her back to Camelot. He state hadn’t worsened overnight which was reassuring, but she hadn’t much improved either, so he thought it best for his mentor to give her a look over too. He had only dealt with poisoning a few times (and at least one of those times he had been the one poisoned) and so was not as confident in his abilities as his friends seemed to be. It was nice that they had faith in him, but he worried it was misplaced this time.

With Percy’s help, they manoeuvred the girl onto Lancelot’s horse. He had volunteered to take her so Merlin could attend to Arthur, who Lancelot had noticed was missing the young man. He had watched their relationship grow for a few years now and, despite not knowing really knowing what was going on between them, he was glad his friend had someone to be with.

Upon Arthurs command, the troop began moving. Gwaine rode at the back and Arthur and Merlin took the lead. Percival and Elyan rode next to each other, leaving Lancelot to his thoughts of the girl leaning against his chest. She was a young woman really, looking to have maybe 23 summers, but she looked so youthful that he couldn’t be sure. Her hair was braided with red fabric woven in and a few strands framed her face. She had striking black eyebrows and he was curious of her eye colour. He hoped that she would open her eyes again – the idea of someone so young trying to take their own life left him feeling cold.

He, like the rest of them, he was sure, had occasionally thought of doing as she had. Maybe not thoughts they would take forward, but ideations none the less. They had seen such horrible things throughout their travels, things that kept them up at night, things that made them want to stop thinking forever. It often led to a week at The Rising Sun, but sometimes that didn’t work.

He shivered, trying to banish those thoughts.

A part of him wondered what led her to sitting at the bottom of that tree. What could drive a young woman to consume Wolfsbane and mark her skin in such a way. He had noticed scars on her arms as Merlin wrapped her: either she had been in many, many fights before, or she had done something like this before. He wasn’t sure which option was worse.

--

Elyan and Percival were concerned. They tended to worry most days, caught up in making sure everyone was okay, but this hunting trip had not been a normal one. It had begun as usual: Merlin sneezing, coughing and stumbling each time anyone went to take a shot at some poor animal, and Arthur having a go at him for it (though everyone knew he wasn’t really angry), and then, after Gwaine finally got a lucky hit on a doe, Merlin found the woman. The light mood soured immediately, doe left on the muddy floor. Everyone went into Knight-Mode, as Elyan liked to think of it. Knight-Mode was when all casual personality faded, and they became formal protectors. Swords were usually drawn but there was no need this time – the woman didn’t look like she would be going for her blade anytime soon. Regardless, Percival kept the blade in his possession just in case.

And now, as they rode slowly towards Camelot, the pair were worrying about the silence. They loved Gwaine – he was great, really – but he had amassed a reputation of not shutting the hell up, particularly on long rides. And yet now, on a trip that would likely take two days, he was silent. Now that he thinks about it, Elyan doesn’t recall Gwaine saying more than a sentence since they had stumbled upon the woman.

On the one hand, it was refreshing being able to listen to the birds and the creek of the trees. On the other, it concerned him. Percival wasn’t much better, turning his head back every few feet to see if there was any change on Gwaine’s blank face. It looked like a part of him was missing, the light behind his eyes seemed to have disappeared. Hopefully, Percival thought briefly, he would be back to his usual blabbering self once they had returned home. Maybe some mead would do the trick. Although he would never say it aloud, the gentle giant quite enjoyed his small friends’ stories. He found they made long trips feel a lot shorter – especially when they were returning from a grave event such as this one.

“Do you have a drink we could give him?” Percival whispered to Elyan, hoping to at least cheer Gwaine up a little before they got back.

“I have water, but I fear that won’t suffice.”

“No, something much stronger seems needed. You don’t know what’s wrong, do you?

The smaller man shook his head, looking grim. The subject of their concern didn’t seem to notice their concerned glances despite their distinct lack of subtlety.

No closer to finding a solution, the pair looked ahead, and continued riding.

--

Arthur had been riding horses since he was 3. He was good at it, great, even, but right now, all he could think about was how much his arse hurt. Turning to his left, he could tell Merlin was on the same train of thought (about his own arse, Arthur doubted his friend thought about his Kings arse unless it was about the trousers that they agreed never to talk about again). After mulling it over for longer than was needed, he raised his hand to warn the others they would be resting for a while. He knew there was a good stream nearby and intended to lead them there first.

‘Intended’ because, before he could lean his horse towards where he was reasonably sure the stream was, Lancelot called out for Merlin. It seemed their guest was waking up.

Merlin quickly hopped off his saddle, barely keeping his legs from buckling after being sat still for so long, and made his way to Lancelot and Percival, the latter of which had also dismounted. They carefully lifted the girl from Lancelot’s horse and sat her against a tree (It looked far too much like the way they found her for Arthurs liking).

Merlin took a waterskin from the nearest horse and gently poured some down her throat. This clearly woke her up more as she began coughing and spluttering, pushing Merlin’s hand away in the process. When her wheezing calmed down, she looked around in surprise.

“Wh—” another scratchy cough, “Where am I? My throat, it’s burn—” more painful coughs. Arthur almost looked away, somehow feeling guilty that she was in such pain.

“You are on your way to Camelot. My name is Merlin, I’m the Royal Physicians apprentice. This,” he gestures to Arthur who decides he should look more Kingly and not cower and the pained sounds she is making “is King Arthur Pendragon and the others are Knights of the Round Table.”

“Oh.”

Merlin rummages in his bag, pulling the phial of honey out again. He pours a little onto a wooden spoon he had in his coat pocket, and hands it to the girl. How Merlin remembers where he keeps all these small objects is beyond Arthur, but he is glad he does.

“Here, drink this. It should soothe your throat a little. It’s just honey but it will do until we get back to Camelot.”

She eyes it, sceptical, but drinks it regardless.

“I am sorry for the burning. I had to make you, you know, get rid of the wolfsbane you ingested.” She grimaced at the thought.

Arthur waited for a short while until he was certain Merlin was done tending to their guest. “There is a stream around the corner. We should stop there to have lunch before we set off again. I am sure we would all appreciate the chance to stretch our legs.”

The knights all grunt in response before they set off again. Merlin and the girl walk side by side – the girl leaning on him a little – while Lancelot takes the reins of Merlin’s horse along with his own. It doesn’t take them long to reach the stream Arthur had mentioned and the relief that they could stop properly was evident on everyone’s faces. Except Gwaine, he hardly seemed to register they have even moved. Arthur furrowed his brows at this but choose to ignore it for now.

The knights sat on a large log, Merlin and Arthur sitting opposite them, as they ate the bread and salted meat that the manservant retrieved upon reaching the stream. The girl sat beside Lancelot looking dazed. The kind knight offers her small smiles and sips of water occasionally but it doesn’t make much difference.

“I’m going to get more water.” Declared Gwaine, picking up his full waterskin, which looks like it hasn’t been touched since yesterday. He left with a nod to his King, not giving anyone time to object. Merlin shot his back a concerned look but stayed, his patient having his focus. No one else made a move to leave, too into eating or watching the girl as she nibbles on her bread and sips of Lancelot’s drink.

--

Gwaine was not a crier. He was not going to cry. He was a Knight of the Round Table, protector to the King of Camelot and, if Merlin’s drunk ramblings had any truth to them, protector to the Once and Future King of the united Albion, whatever that meant.

And yet, as he stumbled to away from the camp, aware that no one was coming after him, he felt a lump in his throat that he couldn’t shove down. He finally didn’t feel numb, but he wasn’t sure this was better. Thinking of how his friends would react to him coming back with red eyes didn’t help the situation, instead making his eyes glossy. He sighed a long sigh, and heavily slid down an oak tree, hugging his arms against his chest and leaning his head on his knees.

A part of his wanted to pull his sleeves back and trace the white stripes that lines his arms. Another part wanted to make them red again. But a more rational part (likely influenced by Merlin, curse that beautiful boy) made sure he kept them where they were, wrapped around his torso. He could feel where each line lay, his mind playing tricks on him as he pictured his little blade drawing against his skin.

Sometimes, often, Gwaine hated his brain. It wasn’t a very nice to him. Though, he thought, he wasn’t very nice to his body so maybe this was fair.

He took a sip of his water, making a face as he regretted not bringing the skin of mead that he had thought about before they set off a few dawns ago. Mead would be very nice right now.

Pouring some water on his hands and splashing his face with it, he stood up, shook his head as if to dislodge the thoughts, and made his way back to the temporary camp. A few paces from his previous seat, he realised that he hadn’t actually filled his waterskin, but it was too late and so all he could do was hope no one noticed.

They had, but they didn’t comment so he considered that a win.

Arthur hopped up again as he noticed Gwaine return (he tried not to stare at the clearly-not-refilled waterskin) and gestured for everyone else to rise too. Time to set off. If they continued at the speed they were at before, they should get back before luncheon the next day and he could have a nice long bath, the girl could be treated fully, Gwaine would go to the Tavern and would return just as talkative as before (though he wouldn’t object if he talked just a little less, the King thought) and everything would be okay.

Just one more night in the woods.

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I hope you liked this! I have a few chapters already written and am expecting it to be about 6 chapters long? It was meant to be a one shot but I got carried away...

If you happen to want to be on a tag list for this then comment/message me!

This is the first fic I've properly written and it's based on a dream I've been having over the last few days. It's not really planned so I hope that doesn't show.

[theladyofdeath]

Rags & Riches {14}

Summary: An A Court of Thorns and Roses Fanfiction. 19th century AU. Based on the prompt sent in by @cat5313 All characters belong to SJM, I am just a fan with a plot.

Warning: Mature content strung throughout.

A/N: A short, “farewell” chapter. 

Leave a comment to be tagged & tell me what you think! :)

Feyre was dressed in white.

In town, Helion had already been working on a few wedding gowns. Feyre had gone first thing in the morning and chose one. By late afternoon, he showed up at the house with the alterations finished and invited himself to the wedding. 

It was a simple gown, but it had a long train with lace and beading. The sleeves went just past her shoulders, and she had long, white gloves and a long, lace veil. 

“You look lovely, dear,” Alis said, smiling in the mirror’s reflection behind the bride.

Feyre nodded. “Thank you, Alis.”

“Are you nervous?” she asked.

“Why?” Feyre scoffed. “Because I’m marrying a man I’ve known a month and he’s about to be shipped off to war? Hardly.”

Alis rolled her eyes, affectionately. “Well, let us not keep them waiting.”

There were hardly any people, Feyre knew, just a few from the village and Nesta, of course. There was no time to invite anyone else.

The sun was beginning to sink behind the trees that surrounded their land as Feyre walked with Alis to the front door.

“Okay, dear, I’ll be outside,” Alis said, then wrapped Feyre in a hug. “Your mother would think you look so beautiful.” She smiled. “Whenever you’re ready.”

She hurried outside, leaving Feyre alone. 

Everyone was waiting, sitting around an arch in folding chairs they used for gatherings. Rhysand stood beneath it, alongside Mor. 

He was smiling, gloriously.

After a deep breath, she opened the door and made her way into the fading sunlight. She carried a bouquet of flowers made from Elain’s garden, her own little way of having Elain there with her.

The little crowd stood as she approached, watching her as she walked through the middle of them to where Rhysand stood.

He held out his hand to her, which she gladly accepted. 

“You look beautiful,” he whispered.

Feyre smiled, then they both turned to Mor. They had made Feyre promise not to ask what Mor had done to be ordained on such short notice. 

So she didn’t ask.

Instead, she let her give a short, traditional speech before she asked them to repeat their vows, which they both did without hesitation. 

And when Mor said that Rhysand could now kiss his bride, he grabbed her by the waist and kissed her harder than any gentleman should do a lady in public.

 Their reception, although small, was elaborate. Alis and her men had done a magnificent job transforming the ballroom into something magical. Flowers were everywhere, silk streamers were tossed around, and a small band played in the corner. Everyone danced, and laughed, and it was perfect, in every way. To Feyre’s delight, because it was so small, those employed at the manor were able to enjoy themselves, as well. At one point, Cassian was twirling Alis around the dance floor as if they were the only ones there. 

As they sat at a table at the head of the room, Rhysand could not stop watching her. “Do you know how badly I want to say to hell with all this and take you upstairs?”

Feyre rolled her eyes. “Control yourself, husband.”

Husband. Rhysand grinned. “I am not officially your husband until we consummate this marriage, Feyre, darling.”

Feyre laughed, and shook her head.

His fingers swept over the ring on her finger. “She would be pleased to know that you actually married me.”

Feyre’s smile softened. “Did she have doubts?”

Rhysand huffed a laugh. “She was very fond of you, that’s all.”

“And I of her,” Feyre promised, before kissing him on the cheek. 

“Do you wish your sister were here?” he asked.

Feyre nodded. “Although, I’m certain Azriel must leave for Hybern, too, so it is better that they are together.” 

Rhysand took her hand. “I agree, but as I will also be leaving, I must request to dance with my wife.”

Feyre lifted a brow. “I thought I was not your wife until we consummate it.”

Rhysand grinned. “Well, until then, I shall twirl you around this ballroom and show you off.”

She took his hand, and he did just that.

~~~~~

Elain read Feyre’s letter a second time and laughed.

“She married Rhysand today,” she said, shaking her head. “Feyre. Married. I almost cannot believe it.”

“Why?” Azriel laughed, tearing off a piece of bread and popping it into his mouth. 

“She’s always been very independent,” Elain explained. “And a little rebellious.” 

“Seems to run in the family.”

Elain snorted. “I am not rebellious, whatsoever.”

“Says the one that ran off with the butler and got pregnant with his child,” Azriel grinned.

Elain ripped off a piece of her bread and threw it at his head from where she sat by the fireplace.

Azriel laughed. “It was not a complaint. Just an observation.” 

“Yes, well, this child of the butler inside of me made me vomit for the entire first half of the day, so…” Elain sighed. “This butler better be worth it.”

Azriel finished off his bread and leaned back against their makeshift bed. “I assure you he will be. I hear he loves you very much.”

Elain smiled, heart throbbing as she looked at Azriel, his chest bare, hands behind his head. “Good thing, because he’s stuck with me now.” 

He watched her with such adoration that Elain set down the rest of her bread and laid down next to him. “Are you ready for tomorrow?”

Azriel shook his head. “I don’t think anyone can be ready for war.”

“I know,” Elain whispered, laying her cheek against his chest. “I am not ready for you to go, either.” 

“Promise me that if it becomes too difficult, Elain, that you will go back to be with your sisters until I come back.”

Elain shook her head. “Azri-”

“Promise me,” he begged. “Please. You’ve never been alone before, Elain, and we’re in a new city, and you’re pregnant…”

She looked up at his face. His eyes were lined with tears.

“Okay,” Elain breathed, pressing her mouth to his chest. “I promise.”

“I am worried about you, to leave you,” he said. “And the baby.” 

“We’ll be fine,” Elain assured him. “I know it.”

“I know it, too.” Azriel sighed, rubbing his forehead with his thumb and the tips of his fingers. “But, that does not mean that it will not kill me to be so far away from you both.” 

Elain nodded. “Me too.” 

“Just think how lovely it will be when you come back home,” Elain continued, brushing her thumb along his bottom lip. “And you will come back to me. To us.”

“Us,” Azriel repeated, and smiled. “Yes, I will.”

~~~~~

He was going to come to her room at midnight, but Nesta could not wait that long. Once the wedding guests left and Rhysand and Feyre disappeared, Nesta walked down to the stables, where Cassian had just finished picking up for the day. 

He looked at her, surprised, when she entered. “A pleasure it is to see you, my Lady.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “I prefer you use my name.”

Cassian laughed. “Is that so?”

Nesta shrugged. “Depends on the day. Today, I say it is okay.”

Cassian shook his head, smiling all the while. “Well, I’m happy to see you, anyway.” 

“I thought we could go for one last ride,” she said. “If Marigold wishes to get out.” 

“Marigold always wishes to get out,” Cassian assured her. He opened her gate and led her out before preparing her to be rid. “And where will we be riding to?”

“Wherever you take me,” she whispered.

Cassian smiled while placing a blanket on Marigold’s back, then the saddle. “Very well.” 

A moment later, he was helping her onto the horse, then following her lead. He sat behind her, closer than ever before. His arms wrapped around her body, and he took the reins. 

They rode through the pastures, down the line of trees until they reached the lake, where Cassian slowly took Marigold around it. 

It did not seem long ago when Nesta and Cassian were together for the first time, right by the water. Then again, it seemed like an entirely different lifetime. 

So much had changed since then, within the course of just a few weeks. And now, it was ending too soon.

Nesta fell back into Cassian’s chest as they rode. He kissed the side of her forehead, but remained quiet.

Neither of them said a word. There was no need to. 

They took the time to breathe one another in, to be in each other’s presence before they would no longer have the opportunity. 

And when they made it back to the stables, Cassian prepared Marigold to rest, then he walked with her to her rooms, where they wasted no time.

They made love and talked, all through the night.

Cassian told her of his family, of his childhood, of his hopes and his dreams.

Nesta told him of her mother, of her love for dancing, and for literature.

It was nearly sunrise when Cassian shook his head, his hazel eyes bright with something Nesta could not quite place.

“What?” Nesta whispered, pressing her mouth to the spot of his neck, just above his collarbone.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” he said, his words slow, but confident.

Nesta knew she was blushing when she said, “Do not say words you do not mean.”

“I mean every word,” he said, intertwining his fingers with hers. “I love you. I have no idea why, you are a massive pain in the ass, but I love you.”

Nesta laughed, quietly. After a moment, she cleared her throat, before kissing him softly, slowly. “Promise me that you’ll come back to me. Whenever you do, perhaps I will tell you how it is I feel about you.”

Cassian’s brows rose. “I must wait?”

“Yes,” Nesta smiled. “You must.”

Cassian’s eyes narrowed. “Fine. Very well.”

“Promise me,” Nesta repeated. “That you will come back to me.”

“I promise,” Cassian said, holding onto her as if they were running out of time. “I promise.”

Nesta stood next to her sister mere hours later on the front steps.

Rhysand kissed his wife, and told that he loved her. Feyre said the same, and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Cassian approached Nesta, wearing his old, loose trousers and button down shirt. His boots were worn, torn, but he approached Nesta in front of Feyre and Rhysand, anyway.

“I will see you soon, my Lady,” he said, bowing his head.

Nesta convinced herself not to cry as she took a step forward and pressed her lips, softly, against his. “Promise me, stableboy.”

Cassian’s eyes were so soft, so vulnerable, that Nesta nearly lost herself and wept. 

“I promise, Nesta. I promise.”

~~~~~

@throne-of-ashes-and-beauty @mariamuses @a-happybird @amusicalbookworm @manoncrochanblackbeak @alifletcher2012 @candid-confetti @fandoms-everywhere-united @mis-lil-red@littlehoneyybee @abillionlittlepieces @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @awesomelena555 @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @tswaney17 @jemma-nessian-and-elriel @rhysandsrightknee @gendryaforthemasses @dayanna-hatter @thebluemartini @welcometothespeaknowworldtour @julemmaes @christiashadows @sleeping-and-books @itsme-malin @agnez312 @cat5313 @amren-courtofdreams @chemica @empress-ofbloodshed @islamonna @illyrianbeauty  @sleeping-and-books @queenofxhearts @sleeping-and-books @aedionashryver-wolfofthenorth @queenofillea1 @mynewdreamwasyou @levivlio @hellolenas @burritowithfeels @that-other-pineapple @girl-who-reads-the-books @raghad-50725@musicmaam @rowaelinforeverworld @negativenesta  @welcometothespeaknowworldtour @gloriouspaintercreatorbandit@sannelovesreading @nerdperson524 @ireallyshouldsleeprn @nerdperson524 @mariamuses @gorl-power @booklover242 @rowaelinforeverworld @regular-nessian-trash @izou1204 @aelin-rowan-whitehorn @opheliatheemerald @eversincebeirut @musicmaam @ladybookwrm​ @santas-dwynwen​ @starryandbooks​ 

[thewarriorandtheking]

Mistletoe

Imagine what would you do if you saw the King walking under mistletoe...

 A bit of Warrior and The King holiday fluff I wrote last year...revised to flow better (because I will never stop editing). 

Enjoy!

The Warrior and The King Masterlist

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

Balin stowed the last parcels in the wagon and climbed onto the seat, moving to the middle to make room for Thorin who stepped up behind him. Fili picked up the reins and whistled to the ponies, guiding them toward the city gates. The wagon creaked as the wheels rolled through the ice on the puddles in the road, clouds of steam from the pony’s breath swirled around their heads, forming ice crystals in their furry ears.  

It was a crisp midwinter day; they had started out from Erebor in a flurry of snowflakes but over the day the skies had cleared. Now the sun was just setting, bathing the Lonely Mountain in a soft lavender glow, the land sleeping under its white blanket. Balin looked over at Thorin, his beard buried in his fur coat, his face grim. The King had been in a murderously dark mood for months now, Balin had convinced him to come to Dale today hoping a change of scenery might lift his spirits. Thorin had brightened up negotiating with the traders, but now it looked like his black mood was reasserting itself. Balin worried at the grip this dark humor seemed to have on his King. He had always felt Thorin’s recovery from dragon sickness had been too quick, his worst fear was it would one day reassert itself.  

They made their way slowly through the streets of Dale. It was the day before the midwinter holiday of Men and the streets were crowded. As they passed through a neighborhood with many inns and public houses, they were stopped by a herd of cattle being driven up a cross street. Balin was talking to Fili about trade deals when he felt a breath of wind and looked over to see Thorin was no longer sitting next to him. Surprised, he looked around and saw him hastening down the side street toward a large public house at the end.

“We seem to have lost the King,” he said. Where is he going? “Your young eyes are better than mine, what is the name of that pub?”

“I do not think it is the pub that caught his eye,” Fili said, smiling crookedly. “There is a tall black horse tied up at the rail.”

Balin could just make out a black horse in the fading light. “Are you sure?”

Fili shrugged. “Looks like her saddle, and there are not any horses like that north of Rohan.”

Balin shook his head. “This is not good, there are many things that need the King’s attention in Erebor!”

Fili laughed, punching the older Dwarf in the arm. “Cheer up! At least my uncle will be in a good mood!”

 Thorin had been idly wondering if he could make up an excuse to stay in Dale. The weight of his kingdom had been sitting very heavily on him lately, sometimes he felt as if it was crushing him. The demands on his time were endless and Shurri seemed to be going out of her way to make his life difficult. Even forging offered him little relief. He had enjoyed getting out of his city, now he felt like staying for a few days. When the wagon stopped, Thorin was idly looking around when to he spotted what looked like Kaylea Wolf’s horse. He was off the wagon before he even thought about what he was doing. When he drew closer he could see it was definitely her horse, there was no mistaking her saddle. He strode up to the inn and pushed the door open.

The place was pleasantly warm after walking in the chill air. The crowd inside seemed to be mostly tradesmen; armorers, masons, leatherworkers, a few who looked like woodsmen. As Thorin’s eyes swept the room he spotted Kaylea Wolf at a table in the corner near the hearth, the hood of her coat covering her golden hair. She was studying a piece of parchment in her hand. As Thorin started to walk across the crowded inn he became aware the place had fallen silent. It was not every day that the King Under the Mountain showed up at the local pub. Thorin knew he should probably be more cautious, but right now he only had eyes for the woman he loved. As the hush fell over the room Kaylea looked up, her face surprised at first, then melted into a wide smile. She held her hand up and Thorin paused. He heard some whispering from the Men at the nearby tables, pointing at something over his head. He looked up to see a sprig of some plant with small green leaves tied to the beam above him with a bright red ribbon. Then Kaylea was in his arms, her hood thrown back, silver beads in her hair glittering in the lamplight. Thorin drew her mouth down to his, feeling all the worries and frustrations of the last months fading away, he knew only the taste of her mouth, the feel of her body against his, the desert smell of her skin. It was a very long moment before he drew back, closing his eyes and pressing his forehead to hers.

“My love…I cannot believe you are here,” he whispered. “It is all I have wished for these many months.”  

“Congratulations, your majesty,” said a tall man in weathered clothing sitting at a nearby table. He raised his mug in a toast and drank.

Thorin eyed the greenery over his head. “I do not know this tradition of Men,” he said. “Perhaps you can enlighten me.”

“If you kiss a lady under the mistletoe it is said she will be your wife,” the man replied. “And your love will long endure.”

Thorin glanced up, then smiled widely at Kaylea. “If that is the case, I will kiss you again! Just to be sure.” He pulled her close, aware of the whispers around them, but not really caring. Suddenly the bell rang at the bar and the pub came to life, Men jumping up from their tables to shout drink orders to the barkeep, the Dwarf King and his warrior woman quite forgotten. Thorin looked over to see Balin sliding a stack of coins to the innkeeper. The old Dwarf crossed the room, setting three mugs of ale on Kaylea’s table.  

“Master Balin, it is good to see you again,” Kaylea told him. Thorin slid onto the bench next to her, running an arm around her shoulders, she snuggled against him, her hand caressing the inside of his thigh.  

Balin smiled at her. “It is always good to see you, lass.” He liked Kaylea Wolf almost from the moment he met her, and he never tired of looking at her. Many years had passed since their first meeting on the road to Rivendell yet she was completely unchanged, her face smooth, her hair untouched by grey. It seemed his notion that she was of Elven blood was true after all. This was not the best time for her to make an appearance, but if anyone could draw Thorin out of his black mood it was her. Sometimes Balin chided himself for not encouraging her to marry Thorin all those years ago. It would not have been the right choice politically, but it would have been the right choice for the King.

Fili had parked the wagon and joined them, glad to see a smile on his uncle’s face again. They spent a merry evening catching up, Kaylea wanted to know all that had happened in Erebor and the Dwarves were curious to hear her news from the South. Finally, as the evening crowd began to thin, Balin stood up buttoning his coat.  

“We should get back,” he told the King.  

Thorin dismissed him with a wave. “You go ahead, I will catch up in a day or two,” he said. “I think I will stay here for the winter holiday.”

Balin gave him a reproachful look. “You have a formal feast for the princes of the Blue Mountains tomorrow. And your cousins from the Iron Hills should have arrived today.”

Thorin scowled at the old Dwarf. “So, make up an excuse! Shurri will be more than happy to preside over any formal occasion.”  

Balin looked to Kaylea for help, but she only smiled at him and shrugged. “Perhaps you could delay the feast for a few days,” she said, looking at Thorin. “If it is what the King wishes.”

Balin sighed. “Well, I suppose I do have the ride back to Erebor to think of something.” He gave the King a reproachful look. “You owe me one, laddie. Or I should say, another one.”  

Thorin chuckled. “Put it on my tab.” He watched Balin and Fili leave, then turned to Kaylea. “My love, do you happen to know if there is a room nearby where we could have some…supper?” His fingers traced the skin of her stomach under her tunic.  

“Upstairs,” Kaylea answered. “This place has excellent rooms, one has a view of Erebor.”

 Hours later, Kaylea rolled over to watch Thorin as he walked across the room to stoke the fire. As she had promised the room was large and well-appointed, the bed soft as a cloud; it was one of only two rooms at the top of the inn. From the windows the gates of Erebor could be clearly seen, the braziers along the top brightly lit. Kaylea noticed Thorin had gained some weight since he had been king, no longer the thin warrior she had met on the road to Rivendell. She decided to tease him about it, but not tonight. Her eyes traveled down his body, lingering on his mane of dark hair, his wide shoulders, strong arms scarred from battles and years of working hot metal, the curve of his back, the thick muscles in his legs.

Feeling her eyes on him, Thorin looked over at her. “Are you watching me?”

“Just enjoying the view.”

Thorin chuckled. He went to the window, studying the gates of his city in the moonlit vale. For the first time in months he felt a little distance between himself and all his responsibilities. After a moment he turned back toward the bed, looking down at his feet. “I am afraid I do not cut quite as dashing a figure as I once did.”

Kaylea smiled at him. “You need to start training again. I decided to tease you about that tomorrow.”

Thorin slipped back into bed beside her, pulling her close. “Is that so? Then tomorrow I will tease you about your clothes.” The fact that Kaylea always wore her black fighting clothes had always been a sore spot for him. She had a few dresses in her wardrobe in Erebor, he wished she would bring some new ones. “Do you not have tailors in your land that can make you something different?”

“Is it decreed in Erebor that the King should have three helpings at every meal?”

“Actually, it is four. But I will resolve to only have two if you let me order you some new dresses.” Smiling, he brushed her hair away from her face. “Tell me about this winter holiday of Men.”

“This is the holiday that marks the new year for Men,” Kaylea said. “The shortest day of the year has passed and the days are starting to grow longer. It is a time to gather with your family, exchange presents. People decorate their homes and enjoy a feast. There are many little traditions this time of year, it is the only time you will find mistletoe indoors.”

The King laughed. “You stopped me when I was standing under it,” he said. “Does that mean you do want to marry me?”

“I told you before it is not my destiny to be married, but I hope our love will always remain strong.”

“And I told you I will not take no for an answer. One day you will be my wife,” Thorin replied. He stroked her back with his fingers. “You said it is a time for gift-giving, did you bring me a present?”

Kaylea smiled mischievously, taking his hand and guiding it between her legs. “You already opened it.”

“Mmmm…exactly what I wanted! How did you ever guess?”