#i am flattered and honored that you all wanted a piece from me before i closed them

[queers-gambit]

I wanted to start writing fics and I have an idea of one I’d want to write but I’m unsure of even where to start. Could you please tell me how your process helps you? Any advice would be greatly appreciate!

Thank you!

hey, cutie pie! what a special message you've sent me. i'm feeling incredibly honored - whether you sent this message or not as a compliment, i don't wanna know, this could-be delusion is very flattering. you think i'm a well enough writer to ask advice from? 10 points to Slytherin.

it was Ernest Hemingway who said, “there is nothing to writing. all you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”

unfortunately, i'm one of those people that says, "just start writing". i know this is like throwing you in the ocean without a life vest, but i hope i can teach you how to swim (or at the least, tread water) by breaking this down enough for yah.

please note i am NOT a professional - so everything below is to be taken with a grain of salt

first - welcome to the author community! where we all think we have to publish Pulitzer prize winning stories - every. single. time! and where we think our work is TRASH - every. single. time!

storytelling is a skill that you don't have to be "born with", but you do have to practice and experiment with. even seasoned writers need palette refreshers and to "return to the story drawing board." to me, writing is universally one of the greatest artistic mediums this world will ever know. stories transcend time; think folklore and mythology that date way way way back Before Christ (BC). stories can (mostly) only be built upon and altered - just look at the Bible! written text, yes, but it's diluted by X number of "translations" through the years, scholars, people, factions, economies.

anyways. i think it's REALLY cool you want to write and i honestly love that for you. i hope it's as beneficial to you as it is me.

best piece of advice i can give? be proud of yourself. confidence really shows through writing; it's not being arrogant or cocky, it's knowing you have a story to tell and being determined to tell it. trust me, that energy translates. when you're happy to write, audiences are happy to read; nobody is ever expecting you (or any fanfic writer) to be Chaucer or Shakespeare or Brontë or Poe or Fitzgerald or Tolstoy or Tolkien or Dickens or Eliot or Morrison, they want YOU to be YOU and to read YOUR story.

so have faith in yourself. have pride. find motivation and inspiration.

🍒 general rules of thumb

🍒 write everything down!

it doesn't matter where - just write! every! thing! down! write in a: -> Word document -> Tumblr draft -> good ol' fashioned pen and paper -> Sharpie and cafe napkin and for my Apple people: -> the notes app or Pages document

🍒 always write out the plot - doesn't matter if it's complete, just write it down! it's a tool, and trust me, when writing, think of it as your ankle being shattered and this written plot document is the crutch. it's extremely important to have a general idea of what your story's plot looks like so you can decide what details should be used to beef up the story's authenticity. this will help visualize the web you need to weave. it's a visual end goal. it's the reminder where your story is going. give yourself enough space to add to this idea, to expand it.

i prefer bullet points. experiment to find what works for you!

so, in a structure similar to educational notes, establish the general premise / main idea / main details. this is where you're going to answer (no, not literally), "why write this story? what's the point? what even IS the story? like, what's the plot?" -> if you ponder why you're writing a story and at any point, the answer is along the lines of being self indulgent, please understand, that is valid! write that shit!

🍒 notes are a safe space to write out ideas you might be interested in revisiting. so label everything because you'll revisit often - whether for the next story idea or not.

🍒 Google ― -> what you know to strengthen literary frame. allow this to include refreshment of writing devices. -> any and all words; keep a list of running adjectives, nouns, dramatic diction to give your story personality. -> definitions - even the words you already know! -> what you don't know! -> synonyms!

🍒 don't pay attention to word counts! 5k word fics are just as valid as 1.3k, even 896 word fics! fuck word counts, just tell the story.

🍒 write and rewrite. this is where writing becomes daunting, it's so fucking scary. but all you're doing is trying to find your voice, so write your drafts, then rewrite - rewrite - rewrite - and for good measure, rewrite, rewrite, aaaaand probably rewrite twice more. just allow yourself room to stretch and grow as an author when new and altered ideas come to mind - and when these new and altered ideas come to mind, write! them! down!

🍒 writing is supposed to be fun! 🍒 writing supports your emotional vulnerability! 🍒 be open to inspiration everywhere! 🍒 give yourself time and be kind! 🍒 encourage changes of thought and new directions! 🍒 don't minimize yourself to conform with what is "thought" to fit certain criteria - take authentic risks!

🍒 nonlinear and chaotic writing process

🍒 so... kinda first thing is done internally:

what's the plot? what was the idea formed in my head, inspiring me to write this story? what's the climax? is this idea able to turn into a story? -> i write it down.

which fandom? does my story idea fit into "canon timelines" or the fandom's setting? more or less, i determine if this is an AU or not. -> i write it down.

declare a muse i think BEST suits my story idea. -> i write it down (call that commitment).

now, i like to beef up the plot / climax details, either after the initial idea or establishment of muses. these are the nonnegotiable "dramatic factors" i think the story needs. -> i write it down.

🍒 then i just start writing the actual draft / structured story. i know, i know, i know! this is the worst advice and lots of authors say it. but it just means to start! it means you can start anywhere. it's your story, you're telling it - so you can literally just start because a story can grow in all directions.

🍒 personally, i use the fuck out of skeleton drafts (see below) because i like to revisit and build, restructure, and let seemingly random ideas take natural form almost every single time i sit down to write (which, for the sake of my mental health, is almost everyday).

🍒 i endeavor for mysterious, captivating, intriguing opening sentences or paragraphs and titles. so i'm constantly editing and Googling words, definitions, synonyms, phrases.

🍒 i draw inspiration from everywhere; sometimes from personal conversation and experiences, other books, quotes from movies and songs.

🍒 i strive for authenticity - i personally think it's what hooks an audience, when they can see even the SMALLEST fraction of themself in the story. so i challenge myself to get criminally vulnerable and open - so a lot of my trauma is processed through writing, too.

🍒 i like to employ common literary devices, such as metaphors, proverbs, iteration, personification. but that's a personal choice.

🍒 i often draft the story and then leave it for a bit to "marinate" because at the most random and often, inopportune, times, i'll have new ideas i want to add. so i leave myself time to revisit which can get frustrating, but it's necessary for my security to publish.

🍒 dialogue is "just conversation with a purpose". when writing dialogue, i often say the words in my head OR (as embarrassing as it might sound) out loud with the chracter's accents and TRY to convey that in my writing. so i use a lot of slang or incomplete sentences or predicates or accents - in the form of dropping the "g" from a lot of "-ing" ending words.

🍒 I DO NOT CONDONE THIS NOR ENCOURAGE THIS! but i'm a fiend and smoke a LOT. and i drink an unhealthy amount of coffee - so that def influences my writing whether i like it or not. this is 1000000% a personal choice and in no way, shape, or form am i encouraging anyone to smoke and / or give themselves kidney stones for the sake of writing.

🍒 i'm decently selective about my stories, in the sense of if i truly cannot connect or find influence to write, i won't. i can't. so i've been doing better about if a plot doesn't flow the way i want, i try not to force it and embrace the new direction. 🍒 HOWEVER - i still like to challenge myself, so, if i find writing has become like pulling teeth, i'll walk away and revisit at another time. i'll try to tackle from a different angle BEFORE giving up completely. yikes.

🍒 being said, walk away when writing feels frustrating and exasperated.

🍒 real life experience is your friend - "write what you know".

🍒 i'm criminally insecure and don't use beta readers nor editors so i rawdog every story and audience reaction. but i hear they're wildly helpful!!! do what feels right!!! it's your art!!!

🍒 skeleton drafts

when in school, teachers, professors, educators might have students structure essays as a "draft". maybe they asked for paragraphs to be organized in a certain way - intro., x3 body paragraphs, conclusion, bibliography - and more specifically, the paragraph structure: opening sentence stating summarized opinion / reason for thesis support, supporting specifics that explain the thesis, and then conclude on a summary of why the listed support supports the thesis.

whatever it is, i don't adhere to some parameters. i've always pissed off my educators because my "working drafts" never made sense, but whatever "final draft" turned in for a grade, did! make it make sense!

so i use "skeleton drafts".

it's where i try to outline the main ideas of my plot to ensure i tell the story i originally thought of. think of these as "plot points", almost like the ribcage of a skeleton. then i add certain supporting details between these ribs; the meat of the story.

i like getting the majority of the story outlined. i use bullet points, i try to use "dividers" or "headers" if i need a time jump, but i want the general idea down so that it's easier to add onto later if i so choose.

so, yeah, i don't "draft" as some American educators might approve of. the actual process is too tedious and i hate it. but that's just me. other authors MIGHT recommend traditional drafting, but i won't. i say do what feels natural to you, but still find a way to rewrite the story you want until it BECOMES the story you want.

"skeleton drafts" establish the plot and pose as major pillars to help propel the story's flow. "skeleton drafts" are like a check list: being the plot points framing the story's structure, as well as details (no matter how small) the story needs.

being said - using skeleton drafts results in a few different draft / note pages in different places so tread carefully. it can get very confusing and annoying, so, it's not for everyone. i'm just chaotic and all my writings are like a tornado.

i hope this helps in even the slightest of ways. thank you for sending your message - again, i'm deeply flattered. i apologize it took so long to respond but i was doubting myself and what to write.

listen, poppet. keep writing. try, try again. challenge yourself. and the VERY best of luck! i hope you fall in love with writing, and in turn, it falls in love with you!

come back anytime! if you so desire, please, send me whatever you write - i'd love to read it!

endless forehead kisses and all my love 🖤

[entorri]

BruceFest 2022 | Ted Raimi Photos & Signing Experience #1

Ted was the first person I got to meet at the festival! Seeing him in person on the stage at the opening ceremony was so surreal— it felt like a dream. Actually, throughout the entire weekend, I had to keep grounding myself and reminding myself that I was there. In the flesh. And they were, too.

Before taking my first picture with him, I was very fidgety and anxious and I was messing with my hair a lot, to the point where someone my dad and I had met at the fest, who was standing in line with us, started to pick on me about it. The man went right before me, and as he was leaving, I was standing next to Ted and he whispered something in his ear. I knew exactly what he was doing, and so I dejectedly whine, “Hey, come on! Don’t do that!”

Ted turns to me and goes, “oh, are you nervous about your hair?”

I say, “I am nervous about my hair, yeah. And they keep making fun of me for it!”

He immediately says “it looks great! It looks amazing! Are you kidding me?”

Ted helps me get in position for the picture. He’s super gentle and respectful! We take the picture, I say my goodbye, and then I get right back in line for another photo with Ted, but with my dad too!

When I walk through the curtain again, Ted smiles and says “Hey, I know you! We go way back! Glad to see you again!”

Ted then instructs my dad to get on his left side. He explains to him that he’s going to push my dad away and that my dad has to look super pissed about it as Ted and I get all cozy together. 💀 I’d seen Ted do this in photos before online, and I was honored he wanted to try it out with me.

Ted is incredibly personable, charming, and funny. He knows exactly what to say to make you feel at ease and treats you like an old friend. At the signings, he asked for my name, which you usually don’t get from celebrities at these events— and he remembered it throughout the weekend as well! But he also called me “dear” / “my dear” and “young lady,” which felt so nice.

Men can flatter women and make them feel beautiful and appreciated without being disrespectful and gross? Who woulda thought?

The first thing I asked him to sign was this print of an art piece I made of Travis. Here’s how our conversation went:

N: Hello!

T: Hey! How you doing again? Good to see ya!

N: I’m good, how are you? I just have this art print I’d love you to sign for me.

T: This is great!

N: Thank you!

T: Where do I—? How do I get these cool things? I always find them online.

N: Honestly? I will literally—

Then Bruce leans over to check out what Ted is signing. Ted shows him.

T: It’s me!

B: Where’s that from?

T: It’s from the game.

B: Really?

T: I’m a cop, yeah.

N: Rough night.

T: Yeah, rough night. It’s really weird, I guess I’m just learning this but I’m sure you’re quite used to it, but— there’s a whole bunch of fan art which is, like, an alternate reality of that world. So, this [my art piece] isn’t in the game, but it takes place during a long night where these—

B: Yeah, with Evil Dead there’s just a bunch of— just a bunch of art.

T: Yeah! Pretty much the same thing.

N: I will totally print it out and bring you another print tomorrow!

T: Would you?!

N: Yeah!

T: Is it expensive to do?

N: No, not at all!

T: Thank you! And who do I make it out to, first of all? Is it your— did you draw this?!

N: Yes!

T: This is your—?! Oh, I saw this online! I think it’s online?

N: I posted it a couple places, yeah.

T: Not on… not on Pinterest…

N: Instagram?

T: No, it was…

N: Tumblr?

T: Tumblr! I saw it on Tumblr! Yeah, you’re really talented!

And then he asks for my name. He notices my signature on my art and says he recognizes it. I pronounce it for him and told him that it’s a play on my name.

And then I quickly show him a picture of the gecko I got over the summer, who I named Joxer. Ted said he’s adorable. Bruce was leaning over and seemed to want a peek too, so I showed him, and then he started singing, “Joxer the mighty, smells like Aphrodite,” and Ted joined in. <3

I went through to get a couple more things signed. Here’s how they turned out! Ted always has something funny to write on the pictures.

Sadly, there were no places in Estes park where I could get another print of my artwork, so I wasn’t able to fulfill my promise of getting one to him. At least I know that the Ted Raimi wanted a print of my art, though.

Insane. Crazy. Unbelievable.

I’ll be posting more about my experience at the fest with not only Ted, but Bruce too, so stay tuned! Until then, here’s Joxer, my idiot reptilian son. <3

[abodyofcells]

July 11th 7:11am

Good morning diary, I am still jobless which I'm so confused on how. I've applied everywhere. I think they may be calling my old manager and since she is spiteful she probably didn't put in a good word since I left on the spot. (This is due to me working with my ex while we dated, got dumped at work in the wet closet 1hr before we both got off, he started talking to a member, then to the one co worker I had a feeling wasn't a girls girl and wanted to take what she saw, then they changed my schedule from 2pm-10pm to 6am-2pm. Oh without telling me or heaven forbid even ask me. Switching me and the one co worker out meaning she worked with him since he and I had worked shifts together. No one from management told me since they're all friends with him.) (p.s. when we had a rough spot he told me he joked with our manager, his bestie, that they should get me fired😜) SO, one morning I wake up for this god forsaken shift once again and I sit there and think about how I'm done. Mentally my sleep schedule is so fucked since the switch and ofc I'm healing through this break up and I have to work with both culprits. [Truly I don't wish any ill will on them. The universe is the judge not me, plus, a house built on another women's tears doesn't last long. ] I show up for my shift ofc because my other co workers didn't do anything to deserve being stuck working alone at a planet fitness for 8 hours at 6am. I text my manager asking her if we can chat when she gets in, I tell her how I feel about my schedule change and how I can feel favorites, I say I'm quitting and she says "oh.." and the pause felt like 5 good minutes, so I said "right now." She drops another "Oh!"

And that's the end of it, I just leave. I worked hard there when they didn't deserve it. Helped new folks. Even the pick me. Confused how she worked 3 months and needed help with the most simple shit? Hm her mind must've been elsewhere🤔

ANYWAYS, glad someone gets to be happy and in love. I don't really want that right now. After all that^ plus my ex from 2020-2023. Lord that's a story over time where you'd have to keep up with the little pieces of info. Crazy stuff. Mf up there^^ knew all about it and decided to double down.

Do men feel guilt after these things? No matter fact, do CHEATERS feel guilt? Or people who can't just be honest. I knew there was something between my ex and the pick me. And it's okay, my dad always said you can't help who you fall in love with. What's not okay is stringing me along for months and making me feel crazy then becoming hateful because you couldn't do the honorable thing and leave when you knew your heart and eyes were somewhere else. And she is no better, it's okay to like a boy, but to follow him around during his workout, do the puppy dog eyes at every make co worker, then come talk to me, be friendly, listen to what lead to the break up, then hop right in my place. Is it flattering? Concerning? I'm not sure.

It's been months since the break up, March 20something. I just haven't journaled a lot, or cried as much as other breakups. It was more acceptance.., but I've come to think I just shut some lights off. I've been slowing turning them back on but they look better in the dark. Far away from me and my heart. A distance memory.

Yet I can't help but yearn for someone to see me, For more than my shell.

[floral-force]

Code of Honor - Chapter 8

The Morning After

summary: the morning brings light to the village, and a hunter goes after a quarry of their own.

warnings: 18+/MDNI (I am not responsible for your media consumption, please be responsible and do not interact if you are a minor), canon-typical violence, mentions of blood and injury during a ptsd flashback, non-con innuendo/touching.

words: 3.9k+

read on ao3 | series masterlist

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PART 1: YOU

The breakfast in front of you was one of the most lavish spreads of food you’d ever seen. It all probably cost more than you were worth.

It took all your self-control to avoid devouring the golden rolls of bread and steaming waffles and held yourself back from taking more than two helpings of green pearberry toast. You smiled at the prince as you poured a glass of orange juice, trying to maintain the fake persona you crafted to draw him into your claws.

He sat across from you in a dark green velvet robe, cutting into his breakfast meat pie while keeping his gaze on you. A few times, you noticed his eyes trail down to your cleavage and you made sure to lean forward the next time you grabbed another piece of food—this time, a spherical red fruit that dripped with blood-red juices when you bit into it. You felt the liquid trailing down your chin, threatening to stain your nightgown, and you rushed to catch it with a napkin. You were quick enough to prevent it from dripping onto the silk gown, but unfortunately, a drop trailed down your neck and nestled right above your chest.

The prince chuckled at you, getting up from his seat and walking around to your left side, a white cloth napkin in his hand. You couldn’t even get a word out before he was dabbing your lips and chin with it, the red staining the pristine fabric. He was staring down at you with something devious in his eyes—something that made your muscles tense.

The fruit was forgotten on the white porcelain saucer plate to your right, your right hand clenching your napkin. You cleared your throat and forced an embarrassed giggle and smile.

“I’m so sorry for my mess, my prince.”

“Nonsense,” he said, gripping the edge of the table as he lowered himself to one knee. “You still have a little on you.”

“Oh, I can get it,” you protested, bringing the napkin to your neck.

The prince clicked his tongue and wrenched the cloth out of your tight grip. You looked down at him, and when he gestured for you to turn and face him, you did so slowly and reluctantly. 

As he slowly dabbed the fabric down your neck, following the sticky red trail, you felt your heart start to race. Suddenly, you felt like a caged fathier: anxious and restless, itching to escape. You stayed still, frozen under the prince’s calculating stare. 

He reached your cleavage and stole a glance before looking back up at you and chuckling, a smug smile painting his face. 

“I should ask for your permission first,” he surmised. “But something tells me I don’t need to.”

All you could do was bite your lip when his hot tongue met your skin, dipping only a little into your cleavage before licking up to your right clavicle. The cloth dropped to the floor as he went to grip your thigh, sharply squeezing your flesh. 

He sat back on his heels and simpered, looking up at you as he ran his hand up and down your thigh.

“I’m—I’m flattered,” you said, forcing another smile. “But I really should be going. I think I’ve overstayed my welcome, Your highness.”

You quickly swung your legs over to the right side of the chair, nearly jumping out of it. The prince rose to his feet and marched over to you as you took quick steps toward the dining hall door. As much as it unsettled you, you faced him, not wanting to take your eyes off him lest he pounce.

“My dear! How could I ever tire of a beauty like you?”

You nervously laughed and fumbled for the doorknob, grasping at the cold metal and trying to turn it before he got too close, pressing your body into the wood. 

You nearly tumbled into the hallway when the door swung open, barely staying on your feet. The prince’s brow furrowed, so you stood straight and began your cautious backward walk to the nearby staircase, the slippers on your feet tapping against the marble. You kept a smile plastered on your face, trying your best to remain calm and coy on the outside. 

“My family is probably wondering where I am. I don’t want to worry them any longer,” you stated, throwing your hands up in the air with a shrug. “I’m sure my grandmother is already starting to fret.”

The prince stopped his pursuit, pursing his lips and looking you up and down from where you stood, perched on the first step of the marble staircase that would carry you to your holding cell. He clenched his fists and sighed. You noticed a hint of anger slip across his sharp features before he flashed a toothy grin at you, finally closing the distance and taking your clammy hands in his.

“Well, who am I to make someone’s grandmother wait for their darling?”

“I hope you don’t think ill of me, my prince.”

He shook his head, his greasy black hair moving with him. “How could I be mad at such a divine creature?”

You gasped when he pressed your knuckles to his lips, forcing a coy smile on your face before thanking him and hurrying up the marble staircase to gather your things and flee.

He was a sickening creature, possibly the worst one you’d ever encountered—and you’ve had to seduce a Hutt. As you threw on the plain trousers and blouse one of the maids had left you, you couldn’t help but shiver. The prince’s touch lingered on you even though you shed the white garment and threw the slippers across the room. 

You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror and noticed there was still a very faint sticky residue trailing down your neck and under the fabric of the blouse, making your skin itch.

You shook your head, walking into the bathroom to try to scrub it off. There was a washcloth neatly folded on the edge of a large pearl sink, and you ran it under hot water, wringing out the excess before bringing it to your sticky neck.

You dropped the used washcloth in the sink, shuddering again when you saw a small area of the white fabric was stained pink.

Hopefully, that was the end of it.

You knew you had to return to the palace and hunt, but you needed to escape for at least one night to nail down a plan beyond seduction. Of course, you assured the prince that you’d return soon for him, maybe in a day or two if your family allowed, and you narrowly avoided his lips falling on yours, instead collecting the nauseating kiss on your cheek.

The hard part wasn’t seducing him, you decided as you finally exited the palace gates. No, the hard part was stomaching the slimeball.

PART 2: DIN

Din woke up frustrated and rock hard in his underwear—a combination that demanded his attention almost as much as she had in that dress she wore to the ball.

Fuck, that dress. He closed his eyes and remembered how good it looked on her as he took his cock in his hand, guiding it out of his underwear. It really wasn’t fair that she made him suffer like this; one day, he’d make her pay. Din bit his lip and groaned as he stroked his cock to the thought of taking her in that palace, fucking her in some empty hallway because he couldn’t wait any longer to feel her. He imagined what it’d be like to silence her with one of his hands covering her mouth, only feeling the vibrations of her moans against his gloved hand with each thrust of his cock. Din groaned and sped up his strokes, imagining how hard he’d fuck her just so he could hear her whimper and beg for more.

It was pathetic how hard and fast he came, ropes of white painting his stomach, all the way to his collarbones. He didn’t even need to think that hard when it came to her; her name was enough to incite frustration and arousal within him. She always left a mess wherever she went, too—whether it was a beheaded Trandoshan, or the cum painting his torso, she was the cause. She was the persistent thorn in his side, the itch he could never scratch, the rock in his boot. 

And, despite it all, he found himself…wanting her.

He huffed as he wiped the mess off himself, erasing the evidence that pointed to his secret desire. Satisfied, he tossed the used towel to the side with the slowly growing pile of dirty clothes near his rack. Ever since Grogu left, he’d cared less about keeping the Crest pristine. It was only when he tripped over something and cursed that he picked up a stray blaster or pair of cuffs, and he only washed things when the pile grew too large or started to smell. It was entirely unlike him, and he should be better by now, but he hadn’t been the same since his tiny companion left.

As he put on his flight suit, he felt a little pang of guilt for mentioning your past partner. Everyone in the Guild knew what happened—vaguely—and he was sure there was a fair amount of anger and grief left inside of you, even years later. 

“I’m no better,” he said with a grunt, sitting down on the cold metal floor to tug on his boots. He saw that he’d left the ammo belt that went on his calf was tossed haphazardly to his left, and he nodded and raised his eyebrows. “And there’s the proof.”

The only thing holding him together was the heavy beskar he was meticulously putting on. His armor was the only item on the Crest that was regularly cleaned and put away in its proper place, no matter how tired or worn out he felt. 

He remembered how sometimes, he’d catch Grogu looking at his warped and muted reflection in it, his big green ears grabbing his attention the most, reaching for them with a tiny, clawed hand. Din would chuckle, the sound muffled to a volume nobody would be able to hear by his helmet, but somehow, Grogu would turn his head and stare at him, startled by Din’s chuckle. He always figured the kid picked up on it with his powers, but he never really got the chance to figure out if his guess was right.

Din shook his head, strapping on his jetpack and pulling on his gloves, balling his hands into fists then stretching his fingers out. He repeated the motion a few more times as he walked over to his armory, opening it and scanning for what he needed—more ammo, more whistling birds, his blaster and vibroblade—and he nodded when he saw that everything was in its place. 

The only thing left after his reload was his helmet, which sat on a shelf in his rack, patiently waiting for him. The familiar hiss as it locked into place helped him shrug off his thoughts of her and the kid, leaving them behind so he could move on. 

He was going on a hunt today, and he needed every ounce of strength that he had.

PART 3: YOU

The woman in the hangar saw you hurrying to your ship and stopped the work she was doing on a droid. You nodded at her and she furrowed her brow.

“Y’know, I actually got a little worried when you didn’t come back from that ball.”

You stopped at your ship’s ramp, turning to face her instead of punching in the access code. Your red dress from the night before was balled up carelessly in your arms, and you were sure you looked odd wearing heels with the bland clothes the prince had given you. Luckily, you hadn’t been forced to wear the necklace home—you’d stuffed it in your pockets, along with some of the fancy toiletries from the bathroom in your room. Apparently, the prince was always ready for visitors.

“Well, I’m sure you weren’t too worried since I paid three days in advance,” you said with a smile, trying to escape a potential conversation before it began.

She crossed her arms and sat up straighter. “I just didn’t know the prince took kindly to strays.”

You scoffed at her remark, rolling your eyes and turning back to the entry pad. “Is everyone on this planet as hospitable as you?”

“I woulda done the same if I were you, let’s be clear.” You heard her stand up and take a couple steps over to you, making you pause again and notice your increasing impatience. “Women like us do what they can to get ahead.”

She crossed her arms and you took a moment to look at her and scan her appearance. Though she was old, her long hair gray in its ponytail, she had an intriguingly gorgeous face, and despite all the lines on her tan skin, it was obvious that she had been a beauty when she was younger. Her eyes were the color of peach stones, and her gaze made you feel both seen and judged all the same. 

“Just watch which beds you lie in. One day, you could end up makin’ it.” She chuckled to herself, walking back to the crate she was sitting on and picking up a tool. “I don’t know about you,” she said, a mischievous smile on her face, “but I hate makin’ mine, and kriff, I sleep in it by myself!”

You laughed, finally entering the code for your ship, the short ramp lowering so you could enter and get the reset time you needed. The “reset” was, of course, you dumping your ball gown on the floor, kicking off your heels, emptying your pockets—you couldn’t wait to use that fancy imported body wash from Coruscant—and flopping onto your rack, settling in for a much-needed nap.

I can get you out of here, you screamed above the blaster fire. 

Both of your hands were stained with fresh, red blood. As you shot at the pirates, you felt the hand you pressed right below their left rib cage get warm with each shallow breath they took. You could barely apply the pressure they needed—your bicep had been shot just minutes before they were. You glanced down at them for a moment, firing a few haphazard shots. Their eyes were closed, mouth agape.

Stay with me, you screamed. Stay the fuck with me!

Don’t you die on me, you yelled.

You grunted as you dragged them up to their feet, trying your best to support them while providing enough cover for you both to run out the way you’d entered.

You woke with a start, your entire body shaking you awake. You took a deep breath and swore, slamming your fist into your rack’s thin mattress.

Your blaster had smelled like iron for months, you recollected, jumping off your rack and rolling your shoulders a few times, rubbing the arm you’d injured that day as you walked to your fresher. Eventually, you pawned it off to some Toydarian on Tattoine. He’d given you a shit amount of credits for it, but it was one of the few times you wanted to be rid of something more than you wanted money for it. If it meant you would be haunted less during the day, it was worth the shit deal.

You stripped out of the palace-provided clothes, kicking them away with a yuck and a grimace. You were so anxious to be rid of the grime from the palace that you didn’t even wait for the water to heat up; besides, the cold water would distract you from your nightmares, and your insidious thoughts about the Mandalorian.

He was getting in your way far too much lately. The thoughts swirling around in your head were constantly invaded by him—after his departure from the palace balcony, you had to lay in bed and quell the arousal that pooled in your belly. 

It was sick the way you wanted him to grab your wrists like he did on Jakku and look you over like you were one of his bounties, his masked gaze only adding to the fantasy. It had been a test of self-control to not touch yourself to the image of him staring down at you as his cock filled your mouth and threatened to force itself down your throat. Denying yourself release to the idea of his voice coaxing—no, demanding—you to orgasm while he curled his fingers inside of your dripping cunt was one of the hardest acts of self-discipline that you’d ever executed.

You’d fallen asleep frustrated and aroused, and as you inhaled the sweet floral scent of the body wash from Naboo, you decided that it had been for your own good. 

You turned off the shower and started to dry yourself off, noticing that your thorough scrubbing allowed the floral scent to linger a little bit. Maybe there had been a perk to spending a night at that palace after all—aside from gaining access to the quarry, of course.

Tonight, you needed a few shots of spotchka and however many drinks you could handle. Looking out your ship’s viewport, you saw the sun was beginning to set, and you decided to see if this weird little moon had any cantinas worth going to. You tossed your towel on the fresher floor, enjoying the perk of walking around your ship completely naked; as much as you enjoyed having a quarry onboard and knowing the bounty you were going to get would be hefty, you also relished the solitary moments you got, too. You had a nice pair of tighter pants that made your ass look impeccable, and you grinned when you found the shirt shoved in the back of one of your drawers that always made people’s eyes drift away from yours. As you got dressed, you hummed a made-up melody, excited to explore a bit. You never minded the attention you got when you wore these clothes; you felt sexy and confident, and you also loved the free drinks that came with the outfit and the sultry smile you flashed at whoever fell for you.

You pulled on your boots, thanking your past self for not taking out the knives you had hidden in each. You stood up and walked over to your rack, jumping up and reaching in, your hand searching wildly for your holster.

“A-ha!” you exclaimed, grasping the leather and dropping to the floor, triumphantly holding it.

You wouldn’t bring your blaster with you tonight, thinking that these people might mind it a bit more than the people in Tatooine cantinas did. You were wearing it as your own silly form of a security blanket; you’d gone nearly an entire rotation without it and you had felt jittery the whole time with only your vibroblade holster strapped to your thigh. You click the belt on, then strapped the thigh band on, taking a few steps to make sure it wasn’t too loose or too tight.

Looking at yourself in the mirror, you took a deep breath. You needed and deserved this little outing. Even if it was a bust, you could at least get a few drinks and unwind before forcing yourself back to the palace to collect your quarry. You smiled at your reflection and then walked to your dresser, filling a small bag with enough credits to pay for drinks before lowering your ship’s ramp and walking into the cool night air.

You were a little surprised to see the old woman still tinkering away with the R2 unit, yellow light from a lamp the only thing illuminating her work area. She looked up at you, then smiled knowingly.

“Take a left outta here, then a right at the first intersection. Walk a little bit, and the cantina will be on your left.”

You nodded, silently thanking her. She shook her head, the smile still stretched across her aged face as you walked past her and onto the street.

PART 4: DIN

The uneven brick road Din walked down was dimly lit, the storefronts lining it closed and some of the apartment windows above them glowing with yellow light, showing that life existed on the moon even after dark.

He was taking a gamble by heading into the village: he risked missing his target and losing out on a bounty that would allow him to take a little time off from hunting. Something in his gut, though, told him to wander the village streets. 

He walked past a small arched entryway with a sign that read “Osha Hangar.” He tilted his head to the side. He doubted that it would be this easy, but if it was, he wouldn’t be mad. Anything that made his life a bit easier amid the almost constant anger and confusion was welcome.

Din walked down the alley and entered a small hangar, large enough for only one ship—and it was currently occupied. He smirked under his helmet, then turned on his thermal sensor, looking around, his hand hovering over his blaster. He picked up a life form behind a wall, and he stalked over to the closed door it was behind, blaster at the ready. Din was sure his arrival would be unexpected, and he relied on that when he gave the door a few quick raps with his gloved knuckles.

“Whaddya want?” 

Din was startled when the door slid open to reveal an old woman with wavy gray hair, looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

When he didn’t answer, she looked him up and down, her eyes settling on the blaster in his hand. She scoffed and stared into his visor. “I thought Mandalorians killed quickly. This is the longest anyone has ever taken to threaten my life.”

He took a step back and straightened, maintaining his grip on the blaster. “I’m not here for you.”

“Then what are ya here for? I was just about to get some kriffin’ sleep.” She leaned against her doorway, her stern expression unwavering.

“Who’s staying here?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Who’s asking?”

“A Mandalorian bounty hunter.”

She clicked her tongue and nodded, a sly smile slowly etching across her face. She looked at the ground and chuckled, then met Din’s visor again. “Alright, what are ya, a jealous lover? Someone who’s angry they missed the morning after sex and wants payback for the snub?”

Din huffed in frustration at her pointed questions, growing impatient with her. “I told you, I’m a Mandalorian bounty hunter, and I know my quarry isn’t here.”

“Whatever you say, Mandalorian.” The old woman stuck out her palm, waving her fingers. “But in my hangar, nothin’s free.”

He scoffed and tilted his head back, digging in his utility belt for the sack of credits he kept on him in case of shitty situations like this. He placed some credits in her palm, and she peered down at them, squinting. She straightened and took a step back, wrapping her fingers around the credits.

“Go to the cantina.”

“Where is it?”

She smiled. “You didn’t pay enough for that, Mandalorian.”

The door slid closed in front of Din, and he growled as he turned around and headed back to the street. Of course this hunt would be a frustrating one—he should have expected it when it came to her.

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@charlottetownwaffles @theamuz @jellybeanstacey0519 @elinedjarin @maddiedrmr @kaqua @tortor-mcgee @tizylish @spxctorsslxt @kalea-bane @hardlystrictlystarwars @fairy-tale-writer

[jiminrings]

binged the entirety of fail safe at once and all i have to say is that although yoongi was #publicenemynumberone to me (with namjoon coming at a remarkable position of #2) u might have ignited some miniscule feelings of compassion in me for him (THEY ARE BARELY THERE BUT THEY ARE STILL THERE IDK)

i would also like to kindly inform and congratulate you that you have succeeded in making me ugly cry with the epilogue and when i say ugly crying i mean UGLY crying like with hiccupping and the ever so attractive dripping nose, i'm not lying to you i was reading this when i was supposed to be studying and i cried so hard that my mom is now convinced that i have a cold that i am hiding from her due to all the sniffing i have been doing...

i am not very eloquent since english is not my first language and that becomes even more evident when i need to express my emotions so bear with my rambling because i'm trying so hard, i really am

i dived headfirst into reading this not knowing what to expect considering this is my first piece of writing by you but wow what an experience, this didn't have any grand showdowns or plot twists that i've grown accustomed to yet this evoked just as big of knee-jerk reaction from me

yoongi was infuriating, annoying and at times even unbearable but at the end of the day he was also just human, the same goes for oc she was pitiful, stubborn, struggling and just not in a good place but she got out of it and made the most of what she had and made a life for her, with or without yoongi and i admire her immensely for that

this was a bittersweet read for me, more sweet than bitter but it still had that bite to it and i'm pleased to tell you that ths is becoming food for my thoughts for the next couple of days, gonna wait a little bit for it to stop stinging before i re-read tho because the wounds cut deep lmao, made me feel almost melancholic i guess i can't really describe it, made me sad but the kind of sad that you end with a deep sigh and a wry smile

ps. this is the first time i've left a review(?) so i apologize if it's not up to the mark i don't really know what's considered acceptable or not yet...

{imagine a sack of potatoes (an apt representation of me) joyously bounding off to reading all your other works}

ok first of all i would like to kindly confirm u that even reading ur ask makes me want to cry in the ugliest manner that i ever have and ever will!!!!! i'm v sorry for making u cry AND making ur mom worry but TRUSTTTTT that i am so awed n flattered <3 also r u kidding me. english isn't my first language either but the way u make me this warm regardless???? the way YOU make me feel this loved in less than 200 words or so???? i'm so glad u are here w me n i can't wait for u to read more!!!! the both of them r painfully human n even without any grand showdowns, oc got the shortest end of the stick :-( thank u THANK YEWWWWW i'm very honored that u gave your first review ever to me of all writers!!! u don't have to apologize for anything at all bc this is truly one of the sweetest n warmest asks i've ever received!! THANK U BAE LOVE U 🫂🩷

[sammysorrowful]

Challenger Approaching - Hero x Villain Snippet

A new villain appears and they have heavily misinterpreted Hero and Villains relationship for something romantic. Because of this, they take Villain hostage to use as leverage against Hero.

It used to be very rare for new villains to appear. Two or three every year. And the number of villains being put in prison each year would always outnumber the amount of villains that had appeared. Except…not this year. It was simply just becoming more common.

Hero was one of the only Heroes who weren’t terribly injured that week. So they were off to face the new Villain alone.

Hero ran from rooftop to rooftop. “Hero,” Hero's Assistant began speaking through Hero’s headpiece, “They have a hostage. Seems to be a civilian, they’ve got a bag on their head so we can’t tell.” Hero's Assistant added. “It doesn’t matter if they’re a civilian, I promised Former Hero that I’d never let someone get hurt if I could help it.” Hero stated as they ran from rooftop to rooftop, nearly falling off every once or twice. Hero could hear their Assistant sigh over the other end of the line. “Alright, but be careful. I have to cut the line. The new villain seems like they’ve got tech that would allow them to track us. You’re on your own.” Hero's Assistant said. “I’ll do my–GAH-” Hero nearly missed the jump and just barely got onto the next roof. “Best.” Hero finished their previous statement. Hero's Assistant laughed slightly over the other end. “Good luck to you.” They said. “Over and out.” Hero's Assistant said finally before Hero heard the ‘click’ signaling that Hero's Assistant was no longer on the line of their head piece. 

Hero, after a few more jumps, arrived at the scene. “Well well well!” The new villain called out. Finally, they revealed themselves. The new villain was using some kind of levitation tech. They held a staff that seemed to be the source of that power. “Wow! You’re Hero! I’ve seen you all over the news. And here you are, just to fight me! It is an honor.” The new villain fawned. Hero would have been flattered, but they didn’t really care how some random villain felt about her. 

“Release the hostage.” Hero said. “Wait- you’re not even going to ask who I am?” The villain asked before removing their mask. They looked like they were just barely out of highschool. Their hair was short, plus they had bad acne. 

“What…” Hero muttered in confusion. “My name’s New Threat- I’m still figuring out the villain name stuff- so just call me New Threat for now.” New Threat said. “New Threat? That’s stupid!” The hostage, who still had a bag over their head, said. “Gah- shut it you! You’re my hostage! You’re supposed to be afraid of me.” They snapped. “I thought I gagged you?” They questioned and tapped their staff on the ground which caused for the circle trapping the hostage’s wrist to pull them towards New Threat. The hostage was being suspended in the air by their wrist, which must have hurt. There was a circle of some sort of magic suspending their wrist in the air, and by consequence, trapping the hostage. “You did. Just not good.” The hostage replied. “That’s not even the correct grammar!” New Threat shouted. 

“Okay New Threat, I don’t want to fight you. You’re a kid–”

“I am not a kid!” “I’m sorry. You must be very afraid right now, but I don’t want to physically fight someone who is- uhm- more likely to be taken advantage of?” Hero said, trying to find a nice way of saying they don't want to fight a kid who just barely looks out of highschool. “Are you saying I’m weak!?” New Threat questioned. “No no no,” Hero said, not exactly wanting to hurt the kids' self esteem. “You’re just…” They tried to find the words. “Young. Your mind is still growing. That’s no excuse for doing- uh- this. But still, I’d rather not hurt you. There’s still time to go back–” “So you are saying I’m a kid!” They shouted. Hero never was a fan of being interrupted. 

“I admit it, yes.” Hero replied. “WELL.” New Threat shouted loud enough that the whole city could hear. “Would a ‘weak and helpless kid’ kidnap your romantic, non-platonic, partner!?” New Threat shouted before dragging the hostage over and removing the bag over their head. “...Partner?” Hero muttered. They didn’t have a romantic partner in the slightest! Then they finally saw the hostage’s face and felt the most awkward they had in a while. “Yes! This is your romantic, non-platonic at all, partner, right?” He shouted and grabbed the hostage's face. “Hey- hands off the merchandise, bozo.” Villain replied. Yep. Villain was the hostage. “Listen- New Threat, that’s Villain. They’re my nemesis. Not my girlfriend.” Hero replied. “What?!” New Threat shouted in response. “B-But you two are always together!” They shouted.

“Yeah, fighting. Because we’re enemies.” Villain said and laughed. “I told you.” They added. “But I’ve been watching you, Hero, to see who would make the perfect hostage, and you two didn’t seem very hostile last night!” “OOOKAY anyways!” Hero called out. “Are you kidding?! I went through allll of the trouble of hunting down this random villain and lure them in just to find out it was for nothing?!” New Threat shouted. Hero sighed and grabbed the bridge of their nose. “Villain, they look like they’re barely out of highschool, how’d you get captured by them??” Hero questioned. They didn’t even want to bring up how the police had failed to get their hands on Villain one singunal time, but this random kid succeeded. “I don’t wanna talk about it.” Villain replied in a low mutter. (You can fill in the blanks for this one- use your imagination.) “Whatever! I still have your, I don’t know- nemesis? YES! And what is a hero without their nemesis?” New Threat shouted. “Hey- hey New Threat. I need to talk to you.” Villain said suddenly. “You’re supposed to be afraid!” New Threat replied. “Yeah whatever. It’s a secret though.” Villain added. “A secret? It better be about villainy,” New Threat said as he brought his hostage closer. “Or how scared you are to be my hostage.” They continued.

“Yeah, just a little closer.” Villain said. New Threat tapped the staff once more and now Villain was kind of just right there. “Alright now lean in so I can whisper it to you.” “Fine.” New Threat muttered and leaned forward. “Alright so-” Villain began to whisper. And then they blew a raspberry. Right into New Threat’s ear. They recoiled back. “DEAR DISCORD ALMIGHTY!” They shouted and covered their ear with both hands, desperately trying to clean it. “You are disgusting!” They shouted. They dropped their staff as they tried to use part of their cape to clean their ear. When the staff hit the ground with a ‘thudder’ all the levitation magic deactivated, including the ring around Villain’s wrist, letting them drop onto the roof. 

“Wow Villain…looks like you’re beginning to do my job for me.” Hero commented jokingly as they approached. “Don’t get used to it.” Villain replied and lightly cracked their knuckles. “But the job ain’t done yet.” They added. “What’d you say your name was? New Threat?” Villain questioned before approaching New Threat, stepping on their staff as they approached. They grabbed the kid by the shirt and lifted them off the ground. “Shut up!” New Threat hissed.

“You think you’re funny? That you’re just so clever?” Villain asked. “Villain, wait, that’s still a child.” Hero muttered. Once again, New Threat looked just barely eighteen if they were lucky. “Put me down!” They called. “Villain, calm down a little.” Hero said and put their hand onto Villain’s shoulder. Villain paused. They shook Hero’s hand off. “Listen–” Villain began,

BANG

A gunshot went off. It was directed at Villain, nearly hitting them dead on the face. They recoiled back, dropping New Threat. Hero quickly went on defensive, standing near Villain with a protective look in their eye. 

New Threat grabbed their staff back off the ground. “Don’t tell me you forgot about me.” Other Villain (okay I know this is confusing but Other Villain is like the henchman for ‘Supervillain’ in this AU.) said as they just suddenly appeared. They jumped on the top of the roof, between Villain and New Threat. “Other Villain…” Hero muttered, seeing them again. “Other Villain!” New Threat slightly whined. “I told you I could handle it!” They added. “Really? Because it looked like you were about to get your head broken open. You should be thanking me, actually.” Other Villain replied and put a hand on their hip, in their other hand holding a weapon. “Of course. The obnoxious child and the obnoxious adult are working together. Well, a two v one would be a little unfair, right Hero?” Villain began. Hero paused. But then nodded. 

“Listen, no matter what, we’re not letting you hurt anyone here.” Hero stated.

-

The fight had been pretty bad. But it was done. New Threat got hurt, badly. Other Villain insisted on New Threat trying to keep fighting. And New Threat did try and keep fighting. Then they collapsed. And that’s when Other Villain called it a day and took the kid back to where ever they had come from. Other Villain usually worked alone so this was quite new.

Hero took a heavy breath as the two villains were gone, and the City was at peace once more. 

Hero stood on the top of one of the tallest buildings of the city. They admired the peace. Villain was still with them, standing somewhere behind her. Hero turned around to face Villain. “Nice going–” Hero was cut off. Villain pointed a blaster at their chest. Villain didn’t want to hurt Hero and they didn’t know why. Heroes and Villains were supposed to hate each other- they were supposed to want to make the other hurt. But Villain didn’t want that. They just…sort of liked going about goofy shenanigans with Hero, spending time together, their attention in general. So they decided they’d just force themselves to want to. 

“I told you to not get used to me helping you. We’re still enemies.” Villain stated. Their voice had a certain tremble in it, and yet a whole new force. The emotion in the words were undecipherable. “Hmh….well you’d be wrong if you think I’m going to stand down to you.” Hero said and a smile. Villain paused. Their expression of force and seriousness faded. It faded back into something Hero was familiar with. That expression of comfort. “And that’s what I love about you.” They said.Villain put their blaster away. “I’ll save the fighting for when I’ve got a real show to put on, ‘kay?”  Villain stated as they left, going to the edge of the roof. “Yeah.” Hero replied. They watched as Villain jumped from the roof. Hero smiled, knowing they’d be fine. Even with the knowledge, they approached the edge of the roof. And they stared off to where they had disappeared too. “...Yeah…”

[thenovelartist]

Thank you.

Thank you. For everything. You have no idea how much joy you bring into my life. It’s time you knew that.

The first story I read from you was Give and Take, a VynRosa fanfiction that seriously didn’t feel like 16k words because, despite such length, I kept craving for more. I loved your writing—it was smooth, endearing, magical. I fell in love with the story. I wondered how you could come up and write a beautiful piece. It seemed like love at first read to me, honestly. Right after I finished Give and Take, I devoured every Tears of Themis fic you had. 

But you only had five Tears of Themis fics posted on Ao3. I tried to look for more, to no avail. I was disheartened because your writing—and your ideas—were so one of a kind that, somehow, your writing was the only one I wanted to read. And when I saw your other works, I was curious why you had so many stories about Miraculous Ladybug. I didn’t read them because I haven’t watched even a clip of the show yet. 

Fast forward to 2023—two years later. I saw Miraculous Ladybug The Movie on Netflix and remembered you. I watched it. I fell in love.

In 3 weeks or less, I binged all five seasons of the show, including the movies, and Miraculous Secrets. I became so obsessed that I think of Cat Noir before I fall asleep. Of Marinette’s genuine love for Adrien. And even though they did end up together in the last season, I couldn’t help but fantasize about the many things that could’ve been. Then I remembered I had you. I remembered my favorite author, who filled my heart with bliss by writing the best VynRosa ever—and wrote the best Miraculous Ladybug stories, too. 

I haven’t finished reading all your works yet because of university, but thank you. Thank you for writing these stories. You make me very happy. Miraculous Ladybug is a series that touched my soul and I am glad to have an author who does the same.

Please write more. 

This took forever to respond to because I was just so freaking touched. Thank you so much for taking the time to send me such a nice message. I'm really flattered that you like my work so much, and I'm honored to be held in such high regard.

There wasn't much to how I came up with the idea for "Give and Take." I really enjoyed Vyn's character, but "childhood friends to lovers" is my favorite trope (which is why Luke ultimately became my fave), so I wanted to put these two together when they were young, doing my best to balance enough build-up to make it seem realistic the way they fell while also keeping it short... er, I guess I should say "not write an entire novel for them" XD . I probably should have written more, but after working on it for a couple weeks, I got tired at the end and decided I needed to wrap it up quickly, hence the couple year time skip for the ending bit.

I hope you enjoy my ML fics as much or more as my Tears of Themis ones. With as many as I have (and as many long ones), they should keep you busy for a while. XD

I hope school is going smoothly for you. :) Thank you again!!!

[biteghost]

commissions: complete

TIME TO DRAW NOTHING BUT MY HOT OCS FOR THE REST OF MY LIFE

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Ah man, I didn’t see that your requests were open until now! Could I request something with Roxy and the reader hyping eachother up before a show? Really hoping tumblr doesn’t eat my request this time, hope you have a great day! - Glitch Phone

"You are the best."

"I know."

"You. Are. The best. Can you repeat that for me?"

"I..am the best. I am the best." Roxanne’s tail swished with excitement as she sat in front of her mirror, checking her makeup and nails. 

Meanwhile you sat on the nearby couch, dusting off one of her plushies and being her "life coach", helping her ease some nerves before today’s show.

Lately she’s felt more stressed and anxious. Management called her sudden bouts of insecurity “glitches” in the system. But you didn’t see it as that at all. No amount of repairs were going to ever fix her confidence, only words of encouragement will.

She was on a busy schedule all throughout the week, and after much complaining she was allowed to have some downtime between performances. Of course nobody wanted to deal with a bad-tempered wolf like her and stayed out of the way, but you saw what was really going on:

She was simply cracking under pressure. With the rest of the gang having their own gigs to attend to, she didn’t have the support she needed.

That’s where you came in, becoming her “hype-person”.

After checking her lipstick, Roxanne set down the makeup and stood up. She gazed at herself in the large mirror, grinning.

“You are the best...you. Are. The best! Thank you.” She pretended to be flattered by the imaginary fan, putting a hand to her chest.

Her ears perked as the intercom requested her at the atrium. With a quiet huff, she looked at you. “Guess it’s showtime. Wanna be my escort, officer?”

“Huh? Me?” You blinked with surprise, not expecting that sort of request from her. “Oh no I couldn’t..I mean..i-it would be an honor but we have-”

“I don’t wanna talk to a stupid piece of plastic on wheels that can’t talk back. I want you. And I want you supervising the party, too.”

“I..guess I could but I don’t wanna take the attention away from-”

“I don’t care. Yes or no?”

"Roxy-”

“Yes. Or. No?”

“Yes-!!” Sensing her impatience, you squeaked out an answer. She just snickered at your slight panic and approached you, snatching the security cap from your head and placing it on top of hers.

“Heh, guess I gotta hype you up to be my lovely escort now.” She mused.

“Yeah.” You awkwardly smiled, rubbing your neck as you stood up, grabbing her keytar. “Trade ya?”

“Deal.” 

After swapping the items, Roxanne adjusted the strap of her signature instrument before you both departed from the green room, ready to put another perfect performance in the books.

[elysiadjarin]

Day 2: Breeding Kink

Day 2 of Kinktober and… I got carried away with this one. The others are not going to be nearly as long as this one, so you guys are gonna be spoiled with this. I hope you enjoy it! Find my Kinktober Masterlist here.

Warnings: Minors DNI, this is 18+ only content. Some warnings for violence and blood mentioned, though nothing too graphic. PinV sex, unprotected, consensual, nonhuman character, exophilia, slight hint of biting kink

Tags: Dilf!werewolf x reader, exophilia, kinktober

Moonlight Through Colored Leaves

When you’d first moved to the tiny Irish town in the middle of nowhere, you’d originally hoped to escape the family drama that haunted you back in America. Thanks to your grandfather’s Irish immigration, you’d been able to get an Irish citizenship and move relatively easily. So, you’d packed your bags, only told your grandfather where you were going, and boarded the first flight to Ireland you could catch.

You’d quietly made your way to your grandfather’s tiny hometown far out in the countryside, and moved into the long-since abandoned house that had belonged to your ancestors before. Though it had been run down and you’d had to do some major repairs and cleaning, you’d finally made a cozy cottage on the outskirts of the small village-like town.

The town had been quite welcoming and friendly, and you’d quickly found a job working at the local town pub as a waitress. Your boss had been very welcoming, and you’d earned favor from your coworkers and boss for your hard work and quiet, unassuming diligence. The pay was good, and you found yourself growing comfortable in the sleepy town life, meeting your neighbors and getting familiar with the town dynamics.

You’d just gone in for your shift of the day when conversation caught your ear. You put on your waitress apron, pulling your hair up into a ponytail and walking out to the bar to grab your tray.

“Did you hear about the news?” Jaina asked, arms propped on the countertop. “I mean, about that Romanian vamp that landed on Scotland the other day. Word is that he’s headed this way.”

“Well why would it want teh come here?” Sean snorted. “We’re out in teh middle o’ nowhere, Janie, t’ere ain’t not’in’ here t’at it would want.”

“Well didn’t you hear that apparently they’re expecting Agent Blue to be chasing it down with the Dullahan?” Jaina hissed. “Why wouldn’t they come over here?”

You hid your discreet grimace, instead walking out in front of the bar. To your delight and surprise, you found yourself facing a familiar little figure sitting at the bar in a corner. The little girl caught sight of you and squealed, waving.

You went over to her giving her a hug. “Well hello there, Miss Morrigan,” you greeted cheerfully. “How are you this fine evening? Having a drink?” you teased, noticing the glass of juice near her notebook.

She giggled, nodding. “Yeah! I’m with Daddy today,” she answered, feet kicking against the bar. She turned her head to see the bartender approaching. “Daddy!” she said excitedly. “Look, it’s the nice neighbor lady I told you about!”

You looked up to see Lysander Sullivan standing there, polishing a glass with a cloth. He gazed down at his daughter with a fond look deep in his eyes, then turned to look at you, his ice blue eyes meeting yours.

“Is that so?” he asked, his deep voice a low rumble in the relatively quiet bar. It hadn’t gotten to heavy traffic times, so there weren’t many people around yet. His grey-flecked hair had been swept back into an elastic band, and his beard had been neatly trimmed.

You gave him a small, shy smile, a little embarrassed. Though you knew that the man lived next to your property, you’d been a bit timid about approaching him. He was a kind enough gentleman from everything you’d seen and heard, and he’d watched out for you as you worked, but you didn’t see any reason why he’d be interested in any further contact with you. After all, you were a younger woman in your mid-twenties that lived alone.

“Yeah! She helps me with homework sometimes,” Morrigan prattled on, “and she lets me water her flowers!”

You laughed a little, feeling the color splash across your cheeks. “Well, I certainly enjoy the little Queen’s company,” you admitted. You’d heard some of the other workers gossip about Lysander, saying that he was a single father to nine-year-old Morrigan and that her mother had died in a tragic accident. You didn’t really know, and you’d tried not to pry or overhear too much. The man had a right to privacy, just like you had things you were running from as well.

“Thank you for looking out for the little cub,” Lysander said, a small smile crossing his face. He mellowed out around his daughter, his love clear in how he interacted with her.

“Of course. It’s a delight,” you said, smiling at Morrigan. “She’s a smart little cookie, aren’t you, Queenie?” you asked, tugging at her pigtail teasingly.

She giggled. “Yeah!” Then she tilted her head at you. “Are you working with Daddy tonight?” she asked curiously.

“O-oh, well, sort of,” you stammered, taken aback a little. “He works behind the counter, but I serve people out there,” you said, motioning to the tables. “So I guess we do, in a way.”

Morrigan nodded sagely. “Ohhh, so you do the food and Daddy does the drinks.” She nodded, satisfied at her conclusion. “Oh, I’m making a drawing! I want you to see it later, when I’m finished,” she said, tugging at your sleeve.

You smiled. “Of course, Queenie. You just let me know and I’ll pop by when I have a moment, alright?” you promised.

She nodded, turning back to her notebook and picking up her crayons again. Tongue poked out, she diligently returned to her masterpiece. You gave her a fond smile, noting the way the soft lights made a halo in her blonde hair.

“She’s such an angel,” you murmured, grabbing some straws from the bar to stick into your pocket.

“Aye, that she is.” Lysander’s comment almost startled you. He glanced at you across the bar, the sleeves of his crisp maroon button-up rolled halfway up his arms. “I apologize for not bein’ a better neighbor,” he remarked.

You blinked, then reached up to brush a piece of hair behind your ear. “Oh, no— not at all,” you blurted, then gave him a chagrined smile. “I’m the one who should be apologizing. I’d met Morrigan when she was coming back from school, since I was in the front yard. She just… hopped on over, so I said hi. Honestly I should have introduced myself better, but…” You bit your lip. “I just kept putting it off because I didn’t want to bother you…”

He blinked, then chuckled slightly, as though surprised. “An’ here I thought it was ‘cause you didn’t really like me for some reason,” he said, amusement laced in his tone.

You gave him a horrified look. “Oh! Not at all!” You shook your head with a sigh, tugging mournfully at your ponytail. “I’m… notoriously bad at meeting people for the first time,” you groaned. “I just get nervous and tongue tied and I don’t know how to interact and… ugh.” You winced. “I am sorry, Mr. Sullivan. I should be a better neighbor, especially since I somehow got to know your daughter.” You half-laughed at yourself.

He waved you off. “I’m just glad you get along with Mor,” he chuckled. “She speaks endlessly about you. Seems like you’ve impressed her.”

You looked up at him, genuinely surprised. “Really?” you wondered, glancing at the girl. Then you smiled. “Well, I’m flattered. She’s such a smart, curious girl. I’m rather honored that she’d find me interesting.” You breathed a laugh, then glanced up at him. “I should get to my station, but… if you don’t mind, would it be alright if I swung by tomorrow to say hi and properly introduce myself?”

He nodded calmly. “Of course. She gets back home from school at three, if you wanted to catch her as well.”

You nodded, propping the tray on your hip. “Thank you! I’ll do that. If you’ll excuse me, I’ll stop procrastinating and actually start working,” you laughed, and walked off with a wave.

The night progressed relatively smoothly, customers rotating in and out with regulars stopping by. The crowds ebbed and flowed, sometimes more rowdy and sometimes more calm. Still, you enjoyed the atmosphere and the liveliness of it all. Despite it being a pub, and an Irish one at that, the town was small and most people knew everyone else. Plus, Lysander was the bartender for more than one reason. Everyone knew that making trouble of any sort was not tolerated and had force to back it up.

You occasionally popped by Morrigan’s place at the bar, either to have a chat or to admire the progress she’d made on her drawing. And throughout the night, your worries started to mount the more gossip you heard around the pub. Some of them had heard confirmation that the Romanian vampire gone mad was making a beeline for Ireland, though no one seemed to know why. There were even more rumors that Agent Blue, the famous Will-o-the-Wisp, was after the rampaging Pricoli. And still others said that the Scott Pack would be making a reappearance.

Once you’d finished your shift and helped close up shop, you started the trudge back to your cottage down the road. It wasn’t a far walk, really, and it gave you some time to think and clear your head from the smells of the pub. Reaching up, you pulled your hair free from the ponytail and sighed, shoulders slumping.

You’d come to Ireland to escape your problems, but it felt like they were all closing in on you as the days went by. As you got home and got ready for bed, you wondered if it was asking too much to hope for some peace.

Instead, you distracted yourself by trying to think of something to make for the Sullivans the next day. You didn’t want to go empty handed, after all. Maybe some bread-?

You fell asleep thinking about it.

~

You’d just lifted your hand to knock when the door flung open. Morrigan practically tackled you, wrapping her arms around your waist with a shriek of greeting.

Laughing, you balanced yourself and wrapped an arm around her. “Well hello, Queenie,” you greeted. “It’s wonderful to see you.”

She grabbed your hand and dragged you in, chattering happily about her day at school. “Oh, and you should have heard how everyone laughed!” She interrupted herself as she led you into the kitchen. “Daddy, she’s here!” she called.

Trying to balance the homemade sourdough in one hand while still holding Morrigan’s with the other, you looked up to give Lysander a helpless smile. “Hello, Mr. Sullivan,” you greeted, a little breathlessly.

He raised an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth twitching up in amusement. “Well hallo, Miss,” he greeted back, wiping his hands with a towel. “Mor, why don’t you let her set the plate down before anything drops,” he said, shaking his head.

Morrigan let go of your hand, bouncing up and down. “Ooh, what is it?”

You offered it to Lysander, a little flustered. “I… well, I didn’t really want to come without an offering, so… I made some homemade sourdough,” you offered, a little awkwardly. “I hope you like it, it’s a fresh batch, still warm.”

He took it from you with a nod. “Thank you. We love sourdough, don’t we, Mor?” He seemed far more comfortable in his own home, less stoic and stern than in the pub.

Morrigan nodded, throwing up her hands with a cheer. “Yeah!” She danced around. “I love bread!” Then she grabbed your hand again. “Oh, oh, you gotta come see my room! Daddy just made me a new desk, and it’s really nice and shiny!”

Lysander waved you off as you turned to him. “Go ahead. Oh, I was going to invite you to dinner,” he added. “If you’d like. The food is almost done, actually. Your bread will be a perfect addition.”

You smiled. “I’d be honored. Thank you.” Then you let Morrigan drag you away.

By the time Lysander called for you both, you’d been given the official tour of her room and had happily listened to her tell stories of what she’d done at school and the projects she planned to do in the coming days. The little girl always cheered you up with her bright and cheerful presence. If anything, it eased your heart to see the little girl clearly so healthy and happy with her Father. She openly adored him, quite the Daddy’s girl.

As the three of you sat down at the table, you realized with a slight start that you’d never felt so comfortable in Ireland as you did in this moment. It felt… right, like you’d finally come home.

“Thank you for the food,” you said, giving Lysander a grateful smile. “It looks amazing.” The soup simmered in the bowls, while the sourdough bread had been cut into slices and set by the butter.

He nodded. “Thank you for the bread.” He passed the steamed potatoes, and everyone dug into the meal.

You let out a soft hum of contentment as you ate, enjoying the rich flavors and the homey comfort food. Clearly Lysander was a good cook, and you almost envied Morrigan for being able to come home to this every night. Not that you weren’t a good cook yourself, but you supposed company really did make a difference.

“The bread is so good!” Morrigan chirped, taking a giant bite of the bread slathered in butter.

You laughed softly. “I’m glad, Queenie. Take it slow,” you warned, worried she’d choke. “The bread isn’t going anywhere.”

She nodded, scarfing down her food. “Oh, oh, Daddy, cartoons are on soon! Can I please go watch? I did all my homework!”

Lysander nodded. “Alright. Go take your dishes to the sink.”

“Thank you! Morrigan cheered, sliding down from her chair and carefully taking the dishes. She trotted to the kitchen, then got herself a glass of juice and went to go to the living room.

You realized with a slight start that this was the first time you’d been alone with Lysander. Looking down at your spoonful, you wondered if you should maybe ask him the questions that pressed on your mind. Perhaps he would know. Then again… it’s not as though he were related to your grandfather’s clan… and not to mention, most of the people in the town didn’t even know that you were aware of the nonhuman community. In fact, you were rather positive that your coworkers thought you didn’t.

“If I may ask, what brought you to this small town?” Lysander asked, his voice calm and mellow. His blue eyes glanced up at you, and the question died on your tongue.

“Oh… family history, actually,” you admitted with a smile. “And, well…” You shrugged lightly. “I needed to get away for a while. I wanted a fresh start, somewhere where people didn’t really know me.”

“Understandable.” He nodded. “I essentially did the same with Morrigan when we moved here a few years ago.”

You hummed, reaching for a piece of bread. He handed you the butter, and you gently grasped the sleeve of his flannel for a moment. “You’ve got a bit on your clothes,” you said, wiping the smeared butter off with a napkin. You’d just let go when your fingers brushed across his briefly as you took the butter. You didn’t notice the way he froze, his movements jerky as he pulled his hand back.

“Thank you.” He cleared his throat. “Do you— I mean, does any of your family still live here?”

You shook your head. “Not exactly. But technically, my extended family is here. My grandfather immigrated from Ireland to America, where I was born, but through marriage there are still people here I’m technically connected to.” You shrugged. “I haven’t really gotten in contact with them, though. They probably don’t know me that well,” you laughed with a rueful shrug. You glanced at him for a moment. “I bet it’s even harder when you have children.”

He glanced toward the living room, where the faint sound of the cartoons floated through the house. “Well, I suppose,” he admitted thoughtfully. “Still, I wouldn’t trade it for anything. She’s my life, really.”

You lowered your eyes to your plate, unable to deny how your chest tightened at the way his voice softened when he spoke of his daughter. You’d always tried to forget how much you’d been attracted to the older man. You’d only ever dated once, and while he’d been nice enough and it had ended cordially, you still hadn’t been able to forget the lingering feeling of disappointment you’d had from the experience. You’d known, after that, that it would either be a long time before you ever tried dating again or it would have to be to someone whose maturity at least matched yours. And, unfortunately for you, that tended to mostly apply to men past their forties.

You really did try to forget how Lysander ticked all the boxes.

“I can see why.” You smiled. “She’s really precious.” Your eyes slid toward the living room. “Does she… inherit from you?”

Lysander looked up, his gaze suddenly piercing as he stared at you openly.

You gave him a faint smile. “I don’t talk much about it, but my grandfather comes from the local O’Connor Faoladh Tribe,” you said calmly, taking another sip of the soup.

His shoulders relaxed, the hard edge in his expression melting away. “Ah. Yes, she does. But she hasn’t fully shifted yet. It will be another year, we think. Are you-?”

You shook your head. “Oh, no. It’s funny, really,” you said thoughtfully, motioning with your spoon. “My grandfather is Faoladh, and my mother’s side of the family is a lycanthrope pack.” Your lips twitched. “And somehow, I got the recessive genes and ended up a simple Seer.”

His eyebrow raised. “Not so simple, I’d think,” he remarked. “Aren’t Seers rather uncommon now?”

You shrugged. “For a reason. There’s plenty of potential but not many who actively practice anymore. The price is heavy for knowledge like that.”

He gave you a discerning look. “Is that what you’re running from?”

Your silver spoon clinked softly as you set it down on the edge of the plate. “I suppose you could say that,” you murmured. Your eyes closed as you shoved away the memories of distant screaming, the crackle of fire, crimson splashed across stone floors— “Or maybe toward something.” After all, you mused, there had been a reason you’d felt drawn to your grandfather’s homeland, and town in particular. And of course, you’d never been one to fight Fate too hard.

“Perhaps so,” he conceded. Then he stood. “May I take your plate?”

“Oh— please, let me help.” You stood, taking your dishes and starting towards the kitchen. “At least let me wash or dry.”

When you finally got back home, you sat down on the couch and buried your face into your hands. Seeing Morrigan and Lysander together had stirred up old memories you’d long since tried to forget. Old desires that you’d thought you’d given up on: hopes and dreams of a family to call your own.

You crawled into bed, everything inside you aching. After all, what could a Seer with a cursed fate possibly offer anyone?

~

The night the Dullahan rode into town, you’d just started closing up the pub on night shift duty.

They’d ridden in, followed by the famous Agent Blue clad in his dark robes and carrying his lantern over his shoulder. He strode in the door, followed by the Dullahan. At first, you hadn’t even noticed the other figure trailing behind them.

Your Boss, Dorian, had walked out of the back room to greet them. He, of everyone in the town, was the only one to know of your heritage, as the elected leader of the supernatural community in the town. He nodded to the group as they entered.

“Welcome, Dullahan, Agent Blue.” He nodded at them, shaking the Will-o-the-Wisp’s hand.

“Greetings in return, Chief Dorian,” Agent Blue replied, his face still covered by the hood. “Apologies for the intrusion. I’m sure you’ve heard of the Pricoli that’s been running amok all over the Isles.”

Dorian nodded. “We certainly have. I assume you’ve come on a hunt.”

“We have. And I’ve brought someone with me.” Agent Blue turned, motioning towards the back of the group.

You’d been distracted, still working on trying to finish clearing up and getting out of the way. If your boss had asked, you were ready to offer to serve the new guests as well, giving Lysander a glance that he returned with a small nod.

It wasn’t until you straightened and turned around, finished, that you heard a familiar, startled voice call your name. Turning, you looked up and saw, to your shock, a very familiar face staring at you. You froze as the figure lunged forward, wrapping you in a tight hug. After a moment, you awkwardly hugged him back, mind whirling.

“What are you doing here?” Your younger brother stared at you incredulously, holding your arms. “I didn’t even know you left home! Last I heard you were still there.”

You grasped his sleeves, disoriented. “O-Oh. Ray,” you gasped, processing. “I—“ You suppressed a flinch. “I just… moved into grandfather’s old cottage,” you stammered, then looked down. “I had to get away,” you said quietly. “It was too much.”

Of all your family, you knew that Ray would best understand. He’d been the only one to really stand up for you back home, try to support you as best as he could, being a younger sibling. When everyone else constantly reminded you of your Fate, your Destiny, Ray had been the only one who had encouraged your personal hopes and dreams, had listened to your fears and worries.

He sighed. “I mean, I can’t blame you,” he said, shaking his head. “Still… does anyone know?”

You scoffed slightly, turning your head away. “Only Grandfather ever cared about me besides you, Ray. There’s no one else who probably even asked.” You shrugged. “How is school?” You’d been the one to support him when he decided to move to Scotland to attend University. He, too, had wanted to escape home.

He grinned. “Pretty great, actually!” Then he glanced behind him. “Turns out my best mate is actually one of Agent Blue’s sons, so when the whole Pricoli thing went down, I offered to be his in to the Faoladh Tribe here. For formality, y’know.” He shrugged. “I remembered what Grandfather had always taught us about how picky Faoladh are about tradition.”

You nodded. “Yeah…” You huffed slightly. “Technically only the people in here right now even know that I’m a part of the supernatural community,” you said dryly.

He raised an eyebrow. “That’s some dedication to keep it quiet. How has the local gossip train not found you out yet?”

You snorted. “Maybe because I’ve always been quiet and kept my mouth shut.” You rolled your eyes at him, though a smile twitched on your lips. “And we both know who never can.”

He playfully cuffed your shoulder. Then he grinned. “Oh, but guess what?” His eyes sparkled. “I found my Mate!”

Your eyes widened. “Really?” Your heart lightened for him, happy that your younger brother had finally found his Mate. “Does she know yet?”

He shook his head, face falling a little. Well, not yet. I mean, I’ve kinda only just met her and all, so… and it’s kinda awkward, cause…” He winced. “Well, she’s my best mate’s younger sister.”

You gave him an incredulous look, then sighed, shaking your head. “Well, good luck with that one, Ray,” you snorted. “You’ve gotten yourself into quite the situation with that one.”

He shrugged. “I know, but…” His grin turned goofy. “She’s so pretty. You should see her. She’s even pretty sassy, kinda like you are with me.”

You laughed softly, patting his arm. “Well, I’m glad I was able to catch up with you. If you need a place to stay, you know my house is always open to you.”

He nodded. “Thanks, sis. I should probably head back. I don’t know what else they might want me for.” He paused, then gave you an odd look. “Have you… found anyone?”

You blinked at him, startled. “What? Ray, you know what my Fate says.” You frowned.

An odd expression crossed his face, then he shook his head. “Yeah, I know. Just… don’t forget the promise you made me.”

You sighed. “I won’t, Ray.” As if you ever could, you thought with a hint of bitterness. He wouldn’t let you.

He squeezed your hand, slipping a piece of paper into your grasp. “Text me. I wanna keep in touch.”

You nodded, pocketing the note. “Thanks. Good luck, Ray. Stay safe.”

He nodded, then jogged back to Agent Blue with a wave. You were left to stand there, your heart sinking with every step he took away from you. Everything was lining up far too well. Though you’d vainly hoped to escape from the Fate that had hung over your head for so long, it seemed as though you’d just walked right into it instead.

Turning back to the bar, you quietly packed up your things. Bidding Lysander goodnight, you checked to make sure Dorian didn’t need you and headed back for home.

It was only a matter of time.

~

Rain splattered against the ground, heavy and thick like a curtain. Shielding your eyes from the drops, you pushed yourself to run, faster, as fast as you could. There was no time left to think.

The vision you’d had kneeling under the large Fae Maypole tree you’d found in the forest nearby kept flashing through your mind, insistent and horrific. Your Fate loomed, past and future meshing into the present in ways you could hardly stand. You’d thought you’d been running, cowardly but maybe safe from the Sword of Damocles—but now here you were, fallen headlong into the trap of the Fate you’d known since childhood would claim your life.

And yet your feet would not stop running, pushing you forward without hesitation. Was this not worth it? Was this Fate—this Fate that you’d feared for so long, hated and loathed and tried in futility to escape—was it truly so horrendous? Now that you were here? In this moment of truth?

You barreled up the steps, slamming your shoulder against the door without a pause. It broke, sending you headlong across the threshold to skid across the carpet. Ignoring the burn on your arm, you looked up as you heard a scream. Morrigan’s face stared at you, sheet white as she curled up in fear by the foot of the couch.

Jacking yourself up, you didn’t take time to glance behind you. “Mor, into the safe room,” you gasped, “your Daddy sent me, okay? I need you to get in the safe room, now.”

She nodded shakily, bravely scrambling to her feet and running towards the safe room that Lysander had made for her. Nothing would get through the doors, you knew, once they locked. You waited until you heard the lock click, then turned and scrambled back out the busted door.

In the empty area between your houses, out on the outskirts of the town, everything seemed oddly distant yet crystal clear. Your memories nudged at you, whispering about the deja vu that filled your every pore at the sight of the green, rolling grass and the relentless rain that poured over everything. In the distance, the red glare of a fire fueled by gas and undaunted by rain began to dominate the color of the sky.

It didn’t surprise you when cold fingers wrapped around your throat, leaving mottled bruises to bloom against your skin. You stood still, knowing that any movement might crush your throat. You may have been Fated to die, but not until you’d finished your task.

The enraged Pricoli snarled, hissing in your ear. “I know he sent you to hide her,” he sneered. “You helpless, pitiful Seer. For all your preeminence, did you not find a way to best me?” he barked a laugh, maniacal and loud. “You useless Seers and your cursed fates—and for what? A single moment of ruined glory?”

Your breath shallowed, airflow restricted. Agent Blue, several Dullahan, your brother, Dorian, and Lysander all emerged from the tree line, pausing as they saw you being held hostage. You closed your eyes for a moment as the icy hands constricted around your throat even further.

“Tell me where she is, and you get to live, Seer,” he snarled, his face nearing your ear. “She is my perfect match, my BloodSong. She is fated to be mine, my apprentice!” he howled. “Give her to me, my right!” His nails started to lengthen, turning into claws, digging against your skin. “Or I’ll drink you dry first and use you as fuel to take these maggots down.”

You brother’s face had gone ashen in horror, staring at you as though trying to deny his own eyes. His face twisted in despair.

“I’ll never give her up to you,” you answered, aware that everyone could hear you despite the rain. You tilted your head up, letting the rain wash over your face. “I am a Seer,” you declared, loudly, proud of it for the first time in your life. “And I embrace the Curse of my Fate. I pay the price gladly, if it means the power to make sure you never lay a finger on her.”

The Pricoli snarled, the rage almost audibly warping his voice into something demonic. “Then meet your Fate, Seer.”

Your knees gave out the moment his fangs ripped into your jugular. Strangely enough, the pain wasn’t even that bad, you mused hazily. Your eyes—were they blurred by tears or the rain?—rolled up to see your brother, mouth open as he reached for you. Even Lysander, white fur matted and soaked, had his maw open as his snout pointed to the sky.

Distantly, you could hear screaming. A roar, loud, tumbling through your chest, rattling into the ground. The crackling of fire. Everything started to get.. so… cold. Vaguely, as the hand shoved you forward and you landed against the ground, you could see out of the corner of your eye the Pricoli hunch forward. Despite the pain, the numbness… your lips curled in a vindictive smile.

The crimson eyes turned to you, a horrified anger sweeping through them as they landed on your twisted grin. A cold hand went up to his throat, and the Pricoli started to choke. His body lurched, tongue lolling as he gagged on your blood, his veins starting to light from the inside out with a toxic green. Slowly, agonizingly, he fell to his knees, his face contorted in a paroxysm of agony as he choked on your blood, your concentrated inherent magic tearing him apart from the inside out.

Your limbs felt sluggish as you forced yourself up, your ears ringing. Reaching up, you pressed your hand to your ruined neck and staggered to your feet, starting to lurch away from the destroyed corpse of the Pricoli. Warmth smeared across your skin, and every breath sent needles raking down your throat and into your lungs. Your feet stumbled, and before you realized it, you were leaning against something broad and firm.

Two icy blue eyes stared down at you, claws wrapping around your arms. Strangely enough, though, you didn’t fear that grasp. Lysander’s maw moved, you noticed faintly, but all you could hear was the persistent ringing in your ears. Vaguely, you reached up, your fingers clumsily landing on the side of his snout. Red smeared his fur, and your arm dropped down numbly to your side.

With the last of your strength, you forced your mouth to form the words that your shattered throat couldn’t say. Tell her goodbye.

The world spun into crimson.

~

Shivering, you shook your head as you curled into the corner that you’d pressed yourself into. Tears burned behind your eyes, and you heard your breath start to rasp and wheeze, rattling your throat.

Your brother’s face crumpled as he stared at you. “Please,” he begged, his voice wavering. “You need to drink.”

Agent Blue rested his hand on Ray’s shoulder. “Take it easy, son,” he said, voice firm but compassionate. “She’s understandably frightened. Even though she’s successfully gone through the change to being a damphyr, she’s had quite the scare and probably doesn’t want to feed.”

“But she needs to!” Ray exclaimed, frustration lacing his voice. “She’s already hurting.”

It was driving you insane. The pure power of the Will-o-the-Wisp’s blood was calling to you like a tempting beacon, and your brother’s hot blood practically screamed at you. The thirst flared in your throat, an ache so powerful you wanted to gag. It was like sandpaper. But you didn’t want to feed from them. You didn’t want to risk losing control, didn’t want to didn’t want to didn’t want to—

“I’ll take care of her.” Lysander stepped into the room. He turned to Ray. “She gave her life to save my daughter. This is the least I can do. I promise she’ll be in good hands.”

Your brother paused, then sighed, shoulders slumping. “I know you will, Sir,” he said, defeated. “I just…” He glanced over at you, eyes reflecting his misery.

Lysander reached out, squeezing Ray’s shoulder. “I understand,” he said quietly.

Ray nodded, then approached you again carefully. “Hey.” His voice softened. “I know you probably don’t want me around. But you have my number. Please, just… contact me when you’re ready, ok? You know I’ll be here for you, like I always have been. I’m gonna go back to Scotland, but you know how to reach me if you need anything. I won’t tell any of the family that you’re here.”

Swallowing back the drool, you tentatively reached out and barely ghosted your fingers against his cheek, hoping your eyes would convey your thanks. You just… needed space. Away from him, to control yourself, get yourself together.

But his expression turned a little more hopeful, and he nodded. “Love you, sis,” he said quietly. “Please… live.” With a small smile, he stood and followed Agent Blue out of the room.

With a quiet whine, you squeezed your eyes shut and tried to push past the unbearable, insistent pain scratching down your throat. Your throat roared for a drink. Your eyes snapped open when you heard Lysander approach. Though you didn’t know why, his presence always sent you into an absolute panic, though not of fear. Your thirst around him seemed to impossibly skyrocket. Like something about him drove you crazy.

He knelt, his blue eyes fixed on yours. He reached out slowly, giving you a chance to move away. Instead, your body froze, entirely fixating on the way his plaid shirtsleeve pulled tight around his arm, rolled up to his elbow. You swallowed thickly, his blood an absolute siren call. You could smell it, practically taste it. Dripping down your throat, into your veins, ambrosia sweet and thick— Drool slipped down the corner of your mouth, past the pressure of fangs against your lips.

Lysander’s eyes strained. “I know what it does to you,” he said quietly. “Just the fact that you’re not lunging for me right now is…” He sighed, his other hand raking through his hair. “I don’t know if I’m impressed or-“ His lips twisted as he cut himself off, as though conflicted. “There’s a reason why my blood calls to you.” He settled himself in front of you, making you want to scream as both relief and a frenzy of want roared through you.

“Of course, Mor is my daughter,” Lysander said, his voice low as he looked down at the floor between you. “But her Mother was… not my true Mate.” He sighed. “I didn’t really care, because I loved her. But she… well, she left me. Didn’t want Mor, didn’t want… me.” A self-depreciating smile passed across his face. “But it was okay, I had Mor and I only wanted the best for her. But still… somewhere inside me, I knew that my true Mate was out there somewhere.”

You almost couldn’t focus, his proximity almost painful because he was too far, and yet not close enough—

“And then you appeared, and Mor started to love you, and I—“ He sighed, hand reaching up to cover his face. “And I didn’t know if I wanted to run or stay.” His shoulders slumped. “Seeing you with Mor, working with you, talking with you… every moment I spend with you near is like agony, but when you leave it’s like you take a part of me with you and I can’t breathe.”

Abruptly, your mouth went dry, shocked almost clear out of bloodlust. Wait, was he saying-?

“I told myself that you’d be better off without me,” Lysander admitted, voice thick. “I’m… not young any more. You’re beautiful and— and you have so much more promise, a whole life ahead of you… I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. I’d gone for so long without my true Mate, I thought I’d be fine. But when I saw you lying on the ground…” He turned his face away, jaw ticking, a wild, feral light in his eyes. A low snarl rumbled through his chest, dissolving into a whine he quickly cut off.

He looked back up at you. “I’m not telling you this to make you feel… obligated to do anything. But you deserve to know the reason why my blood calls to you so strongly, and why— why I want you to drink from me. Why I don’t mind.”

Your mind whirled. The permission. The heady scent of his blood. The warmth he promised. The realization that he was calling you his true Mate. The way he looked at you, like you were the only thing he’d ever wanted.

Reaching up, you clapped your hand over your mouth with a half-sob of desperation. You wanted it. You practically ached for it, the kindness and love he offered. The promise of a family, a home, someone who had seen you at your worst and still somehow wanted you.

“Please,” Lysander rasped, his eyes laced with that same desperation roiling in his gut. “You don’t even have to accept me as a Mate. But you need to feed, and I—“

You were at your limit. You’d already taxed yourself as a newborn damphyr somehow trying to resist the frenzy of the first feed, and now that your Mate was in front of you, offering freely, practically begging you to feed from him, you could only take so much.

You lunged, a snarl dying on your lips as you lunged forward, the strength of your desperation actually knocking the seasoned werewolf down onto the floor. And still, even as you straddled his waist, your fingers curled around his shoulder, eyes fixed on the tempting expanse of his neck… you still tried to fight. Still tried to fight it, to control yourself.

But Lysander’s broad, warm hands gently wrapped around your waist, not fighting or pushing you off. The scar slashing across the left side of his face seemed to glow in the light streaming through the curtained window, and he gave you a smile.

“It’s okay,” he said, voice low and soothing. “I can handle it. I know you won’t hurt me.”

You shuddered, drool dripping down your fangs. Leaning forward slowly, you tried to keep yourself paced, tried to force yourself to some modicum of control. Mouth opening, you lowered your head until your fangs just barely grazed the crook of his neck and shoulder, not too close to his jugular but just enough.

The moment your fangs sank into his throat, Lysander’s fingers went weak around your waist. A deep groan pooled into the air, and a tremor ran through his body underneath you.

Heat pooled in your stomach, even as his blood slid down your throat with a satisfaction unparalleled. He tasted sweet and dusky, like fresh bread and sunshine, and freshly-cut grass after the rain. The pure heat and warmth he radiated soaked into you, and you felt the bloodlust slowly slake as you drank. Finally, you forced yourself to let go, vaguely aware with your instincts that you’d taken enough to not hurt him but probably still leave him a bit lightheaded for a moment.

The bite wound almost instantly healed over, and his grasp on your waist tightened again, fingers flexing as he regained his bearings.

You leaned your head against his chest, the gratitude and shame warring inside you. Grateful that he’d been so kind, so understanding and gentle. Ashamed of your own arousal, the way your entire being reacted to him.

Your name slipped from his lips, and a moment later his face pressed into your hair. His voice ached with the same torn desire that roiled through you. “I shouldn’t—“ He sucked in a sharp breath as you pressed your body flush against his. You could feel how tight his pants were, could feel the lines of his bulge pressed up against your thigh. A choked groan accompanied the way his hands spasmed around your waist.

“Mate.” The whisper slid from your mouth, the first thing you’d said aloud since your change. Your fingers clenched in his flannel shirt. “Mate… wants me?” Your voice cracked with your fear. Fear that he wouldn’t want to deal with you after all, that you weren’t worth it—

He pulled you closer to him, hand sliding to your hair. “So damn much, sweetheart,” he rasped, cradling your head to his shoulder. “You’re so goddamn beautiful and fierce— I don’t care if you’re human, Seer, damphyr. You’re my true Mate, my love.”

And you buried your face into his shoulder and let yourself shed a few tears of relief. He wanted you. Accepted you, in spite of everything.

“I know it’s not fair to ask you to stay,” his voice strained. “You gave your life for Morrigan, and I’m so much older—“

You reached up, your hands sliding up to cup his jaw as you slanted your lips over his, tears slipping down your cheeks. His mouth opened, kissing you back with a fervor as he splayed his hand over your lower back, pressing you into him. He let out a low growl, the sound rumbling through his chest and straight into your body. Your entire body flushed, and you let out a quiet whimper.

Almost before you could register it, he flipped you over onto the floor, hovering over you. His teeth bared, and he stared down at you with a heat in his eyes that scorched through you. His hands clenched around your waist, pulling your hips flush against his.

You whimpered, tilting your head to the side and exposing your throat to him, sprawled against the floor. Your chest heaved with breath, and a moment later his teeth closed gently on the arch of your neck. A soft breathy moan escaped your lips, eyes fluttering closed as his scent washed over you, his mouth marking your neck, replacing the memory of the Pricoli’s fingerprints mottled against your skin.

With an effort, Lysander wrenched himself away, though he half rutted against you. “Darling, I’m going to need you to tell me if you don’t want this,” he rasped, voice thick and half a snarl already.

“Lysander,” you whispered, lips caressing his name.

His hips stuttered, and he pulled you up against him before heaving himself up and staggering to the bed. He lowered you onto the bed, wasting no time before he practically yanked you to him, his hands hot and greedy. He kissed you, somehow still gentle and yet needy enough to take your breath away.

“May I?” He tapped your shirt.

You nodded shyly, letting him slide it off of you. You lifted your hips in an invitation, and he lowered his mouth to your neck as he slipped your shorts off. He groaned, hands sliding across your bared skin. His skin felt so hot to the touch against your chilled body, wholly satisfying. You practically melted into his hands like putty, malleable to however he touched you, moved you. He made you feel safe. Loved. Cherished. Wanted.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, voice hoarse. “So beautiful, leannen.” The Gaelic spilled naturally from his mouth as he slid his hands under your back, unhooking your bra. You let him slide it off, too desperate for the warmth of his hands to process embarrassment. His hands cupped your breasts, callouses rasping across your nipples in a way that left your breathless and aching.

You whimpered, a little encouraged by the way you felt his bulge throb against you at the sound. Fingers tangling in his shirt, you tilted your head for air, arching into his hands.

“Fuck,” Lysander hissed against your jaw, his hips rolling into you. His hands slid lower, and his thumbs hooked in your underwear. “Can I?”

You nodded, fingers clenching against his shoulders as he slid them off. His shirt was already straining at the seams, threatening to rip. At your tug, he took a moment to reach down and practically rip his shirt off, tossing it uncaringly to the side as he opened his mouth against your neck.

You were already dripping, just his touch and scent enough to arouse you. Breath hissed through his teeth as his fingers dragged through your slick, just barely brushing past your clit. A whine escaped your lips as you shivered, fingers slipping against his chest.

“You smell so good,” Lysander groaned, one finger slipping into you as his thumb rubbed circles around your clit. “Fuck, sweetheart, you’re wet. Can I take care of you?” he rumbled, teeth nipping at your ear. “You already gorged yourself on my blood. How about I fill you up with something else?”

You flushed, fangs sinking into your lower lip. “Please?” you whispered.

His ice blue eyes flashed, and his chest heaved under your hands. “Oh, are we a little desperate?” He smirked, sliding another finger into you, stretching you. “Want me to pull your legs up on my shoulders and keep you here all night?” He chuckled, feeling you pulse around his fingers. “Mmmm, I think your gorgeous body is being pretty honest, sweetheart. Well. I aim to please my Mate.”

You only had a moment to wonder when he’d managed to get his pants off. His fingers slid out of you, only for you to feel his cock rest heavily against your entrance. He slid against you, and you could feel a dribble of precum smear across your skin. One hand went to your waist, holding you, while his other found your clit again.

“Is this alright, sweetheart?” he asked, voice low and suddenly soft. “I’m a bit of a stretch. I’ll try to go slow.”

With how wet you were, you sincerely doubted that he would find much of a problem. Still, you swallowed and nodded, grateful for his care and the way he tried, every step of the way, to make sure you were comfortable. Then again, you could already tell he wasn’t lying about how big he was. You could feel him resting against you, throbbing against your thigh. Slowly, he pressed just the tip into you, his breath shuddering.

Your lips parted in a gasp as he stretched you open, sliding into you. Compared to the chill of your body, his cock practically radiated heat. By the time he completely bottomed out, pelvis flush against yours, you’d already come so close to the edge, drool slipping from the corners of your lips. He seemed to completely fill you, pressing up against every spot inside of you until you swore he’d stretched you into his shape.

Lysander slumped over you, his head tucking into the crook of your neck. His entire body shuddered, and his hands clenched around your waist. His chest heaved against yours, muscles flexing as though he were physically holding himself back.

“Thank you.” The shaky whisper pooled against your skin. “For saving her. Giving your life for her. Thank you. For choosing me.”

Your fingers slid into his salt and pepper hair, relishing the stubble against your neck and shoulder. “I love you.” The confession spilled from your lips, quiet in the room.

He shuddered, letting out a low moan. His fingers clenched, just as he pulled you down further onto his cock, pressing up into you. “Fuck, sweetheart,” he rasped. “Say it again.”

“I love you, Lysander,” you repeated obediently, wholly truthful. Your core clenched around him, and he hissed, pulling out to thrust back into you.

“I love you,” he groaned, starting to thrust in a slow but steady rhythm. He reached down, then pulled your legs up around his hips. The new angle made you pulse as he seemed to reach impossibly deeper into you, angling up justenough to hit that one spot inside you that had you gasping and arching.

“You’re so tight,” he growled, picking up the pace. “Feels so good, sweetheart. So good.”

He suddenly reached behind you and grabbed a pillow, then lifted your hips up to prop it under you. Setting you back down, he shifted himself up and pulled your legs up to his shoulders.

A cry left your lips, utterly wrecked and broken. His cock completely filled you, fucking any semblance of coherence out of you, going so deep you swore you could feel it in your stomach. He seemed to know exactly how to read your body, adjusting to every whimper you let out, not giving you a break as he kept pounding into you with devastating precision.

“You feeling good, sweetheart?” he chuckled, the sound raking down your spine. “Is this what you want?” He thumbed your clit, pressing a kiss to your lips. “You gonna give Mor a little sibling? Taking me so well like this, spread open for me?”

The thought of adding more kids to your life, together with Lysander, proved to be the last straw for your poor mind. You came, stars bursting behind your eyelids as you cried out his name and the wave of heat and pleasure washed through your body.

And Lysander just kept fucking you through it, going harder as he pinned you against the sheets under him, not caring that your fingers raked against his shoulders. He bent to kiss you, murmuring your name in a husky voice that just wrecked you even more. He gave you no mercy, his gaze predatory as he stared down at you, soaking in your ruined expression.

“That’s right, sweetheart. Cum for me,” he murmured, coaxing you through your high.

Even when you rode it out, he didn’t slow down or let up the pace. “You gonna make me cum, darling? Can I cum inside you?”

A plea staggered off of your lips, followed by his name. Your jumbled, blissed-out mind wouldn’t allow you to do anything else, barely recalling your own name.

“Fuck— gonna cum, sweetheart— gonna fill you up—“ He let out a moan before his hips slammed into you one last time. He ground against you as he came, his bruising grip not letting you move an inch away from him.

You melted back into the bed, eyes closing as you soaked in the feeling of his seed filling you, pouring into you. Your fingers slid up the back of his neck as you lay there, docile and welcoming to his every move. Even when he’d finally stopped spilling into you, your stomach full and hot, he slumped against you.

His lips slid across your throat, soft and almost reverent, and he pulled you into his body. He murmured soft endearments into your ear, his hands running over you with gentle, loving strokes, soothing you.

���I promise I’ll do my best to protect you, treat you the way you should be,” he promised. “I love you so much, sweetheart.” Then he chuckled, hand running over your stomach. “I wonder if Morrigan will want a brother or a sister. She’s already going to be so excited to call you Mommy.”

You gave him a shy smile, accepting his soft kiss. “Thank you, Lysander,” you whispered. “I love you.”

Perhaps the price of your Fate had been high, you thought, but it had been entirely worth it.

[cascowriteswords]

Ooof you’ve just opened the doors to hell with reblogging those prompts, hope you’re ready for several asks from me 😂

First one:

Combine these- 46. What happens if I do this? + 43. Are you drunk? + 50. People are staring

All at the same time 😏

Oh man 🤣 I honestly forgot I did that lol. But this was fun to throw together. It could have gone so many different ways.

Lexa and Clarke are attending a charity art gala at which Clarke, a prominent local artist, is donating several pieces. Clarke runs into one or two too many servers offering wine on her way back from the bathroom.

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

Lexa isn’t expecting the hand that claps her on the ass and gives a rough squeeze. She jumps a little in surprise, taking an undignified scooting step forward that lands her hips flush with the table in front of her. She’d been waiting for her wife to return from the bathroom, perusing exhibits from other artists at the gala while she did, and hadn’t anticipated such an enthusiastic reunion. “Hi, honey,” she laughs, flattered and amused. She slips an arm around Clarke’s waist, tugging her into her side. “This is a nice piece.”

“Mmm,” Clarke hums in agreement. “It is. Not as nice as your ass looks in those pants though.” Lexa isn’t sure how Clarke would be able to pass judgment, though, because she isn’t even looking. Her lips are pressed to Lexa’s shoulder, peppering the exposed skin there with kisses. Lexa feels the hand that had been resting on her stomach slip lower until Clarke’s fingers are tucking into her waistband. 

“Clarke,” Lexa warns, her stern tone contradicting the way her stomach swoops and fills with warmth. Lexa's never been able to control her reaction to Clarke's touch, still so intense even after so many years. But they are very much in public. Her wife is a guest of honor as a highly esteemed local artist meaning she isn't exactly flying under the radar here. This is really not appropriate. 

“What?” Clarke asks impishly. “I’m just…trying to enjoy the art.” Her hand slips lower, past the hem of Lexa’s tucked-in shirt to graze the strip of skin between it and her panties. Lexa sucks in a breath and quickly grabs Clarke’s wrist, halting her progress. 

“Are you drunk?” she hisses, but there’s no venom in her voice. The hitch in her breath gives her true reaction - thirst, want - away, and she can feel Clarke grin against her arm where her lips are still pressed. Fully in possession of her number. 

“A little,” Clarke admits, nipping the point of her shoulder. “What if I just take you right here against this table?” she asks. “Or on it,” she adds, sounding introspective at the prospect. “This event is boring. I want you.” Her fingers push lower, breaching the boundaries of black lace before Lexa gets her wits about her and tightens her grip on Clarke’s wrist. She can feel the tips of her ears burning, no doubt bright red at this point, a blush that threatens to creep across her face any second now. She shoots a glance around the room, certain there must be people watching them. People who are hopefully not cognizant of the fact that Clarke’s hand is literally in her pants right now. 

“People are staring, Clarke.”

“No they aren’t,” Clarke quickly dismisses. Lexa knows she didn’t even check to make sure. She can definitely feel eyes on them - just curious, or hoping to chat with Clarke about her work, or getting ready to call security on them, there’s no way to tell. Clarke tries to turn her hand around, wriggling in Lexa’s grasp as she aims for a better angle, but Lexa gathers her resolve and tugs her hand up and out of her pants altogether. She takes a step back, putting her hands on Clarke’s shoulders to keep her at arm’s distance. 

Clarke pouts, lower lip jutting out and everything as she huffs. “You’re no fun.”

“I am fun. You’re drunk,” Lexa tuts. Once she’s relatively confident Clarke won’t try to jump her bones again she lets go of her grip on her arms to cup her face with one of her hands, stroking her cheek affectionately. “And you have a speech to give in 30 minutes once they announce the silent auction winners. Let's go get some food in you.”

“I want you in me,” Clarke grumbles, but she allows Lexa to lead her towards the back of the room where tables of various finger foods await them. 

“Later,” Lexa promises, and she means it. She's resigned to finishing out their evening here with uncomfortably wet underwear and she'll make Clarke pay for the inconvenience later. Multiple times.

Clarke sighs defeatedly. “Later.”

[lordabovehelpme]

Tied to You - Bucky Barnes x Reader

For my lovely best friend. Happy birthday my dear, I hope you are having a wonderful morning and this puts a smile on your face. Trust me, it’s been hard to keep this a secret from you for so long, but I hope you enjoy. I love you, and I will see you later!!! 

Summary: You’re so happy to be standing before him, but something on his wrist brings you back to the very first time you met.

Warnings: f! reader, marriage

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Excitement sends thrills up and down your spine, tingling through your toes and pooling in your stomach. You clutch the simple bouquet between your hands tighter and take a deep breath, trying to calm your frantic nerves.

Finally, after what seems like both an eternity and a millisecond, the classic “here comes the bride” starts to echo. Taking one more quick breath, you let your shoulders relax and start to turn the corner.

There you emerge from behind the doors of the little church in Brooklyn. Family and friends stand as you start your descent down the aisle. You meant to smile at the crying relatives, to give them some sort of comfort, but you can’t take your eyes off of him.

He stands before the altar, adorned in a black suit with a black tie. His hands stay clasped before him, but his striking blue eyes meet your own. They soften at the sight of you and his shoulders slightly shift towards you.

However, once you offer him a small smile, his eyes rack down your form and back up before meeting your gaze again. Usually his gaze causes you to fluster and try to hide away, but today you stand tall as you approach him.

He offers you a hand as you climb the few steps and you gladly take it. Handing the beautiful bouquet to your maid of honor, you look down at your clasped hands.

No longer does he shy away from you touching the metal, and no longer do you hesitate.

But something catches your eye as you settle before him. Right there on his metal wrist is a bracelet of thread. The one you made him all those years ago; bright yellows and blues, with tan and green. They all compliment the vibranium perfectly.

The sentiment is overwhelming and a gasp gets caught in your throat. “You wore it.” Your voice is small and he doesn’t need clarification to know what has puzzled you.

“Of course I did, doll.”

***

He can’t take his eyes off you. There you sit with some older ladies, spools of brightly colored thread by your side as you try and explain how to make a bracelet.

“Yeah, you’re starting to get it, this just crosses over here… see?” You lean over and point at one ladys horrible excuse of a friendship bracelet. They all laugh at one another and point out each other's mistakes, but become very defensive when their own flaws are pointed out.

“You should go talk to her!” An elbow is pressed into his side and Yori smirks.

“No I should not.” His eyes snap to face the older man, but not even a second passes before they beg to find your form again.

“Why not? She’s not getting any younger, and neither are you.”

Bucky sighs, but a small smile breaks onto his lips. “Haha, very funny. But I don’t even know what to say.”

Yori shrugs his shoulders. “Flatter her, girls love that. Tell her you love her eyes, her lips, her hair. Anything.”

A scoff falls from his lips as his head shakes. “I’m not going to suck up to her in hopes of a date.”

Yori places his hands over his own and he offers a smile to the soldier. His long white eyebrows twitch in the classic sign that the next few words will be uncharacteristically wise. The older man's eyes meet blue eyes and he gestures for him to lean in. Bucky follows and leans his head down.

“You will.”

Before the words even process in his head, Yori has already walked off, laughing loud as he clutches a hand to his chest. Once again, Bucky shakes his head at his antics.

“No I won’t.” He utters under his breath, before walking over to your little circle of mischievous old ladies.

You look up at him and he swears he might legitimately melt. “Hi!” You offer him a smile and he is already making funeral plans in his head.

“Oh, uh, hi.” Subconsciously, his flesh hand finds itself on the back of his neck, trying to rub away his nerves.

“Can I help you?”

He swears in his head, what does he need? He needs you. But he can’t say that. Swearing again, he tries to think of anything that would make sense to a normal human being.

“Yeah, I…” His eyes flicker around and land on one ladies bracelet. “I wanted to make a bracelet.”

Well great. Now he’s done it. He must look like the biggest dork in history. What was he thinking? Why couldn’t he just admire you from afar?

“Oh.” You genuinely look surprised. “Of course!” A wide smile breaks onto your face and you pat the empty seat next to you. “Come sit down and we’ll get you some thread.”

He can hear Yori’s laugh from the opposing corner. But, he follows your command and takes a seat next to you. Blue eyes follow your movements as you reach for a plastic container holding an entire rainbow of thread.

“So, what color are you thinking?”

He gives the rainbow one good look before sighing. “I don’t know.” You look at him as he offers a small awkward smile.

“Oh, okay. Well… do you know what type of bracelet you want?”

His fingers anxiously pick at the hem of his jacket. Shaking his head he murmurs, “Sorry, I know nothing about thread.”

Things seem to click in your mind that he has literally no idea about this stuff because you smile and slightly laugh. “Ahh, I see. That’s alright! Do you want me to choose some colors for you?”

His stomach flutters and he smiles at your soft laugh. “Yeah, doll, that would be nice.” The pet name slipped before he could even dream of stopping it. Once again, a long, loud, strand of curse words flood his mind.

Your movements stop, but quickly resume. In fact, you were so fast he’s not even sure you caught his slip. He watches with quizzical eyes as you pull brightly colored threads and measure them with your arms. Your fingertips move with ease as they tie the strands together and then hold it out to him. He reaches out and purposefully slides his fingers over your own.

“H-” your voice breaks out suddenly and he just smiles as you slightly fluster, clearing your throat you continue, “Here you go.”

He throws you a smirk and takes them from you. But then his plan of seduction hastingly halts when he realizes he has no idea what to do with the strands. So he just lets his hands rest in his lap as he stares down at the colorful strands.

“Do you need help?” You ask.

His head slowly tilts to meet your gaze and soft smile. He swears his heart stopped. Taking a gulp he prays you don't notice, he offers you a smile back. “Umm yeah.”

You scootch your chair next to his and reach over to grab the thread. Now he knows his heart stopped. You start explaining how to start a simple design but he can’t focus.

He means to focus, he wants to focus, but the smell of your shampoo wafts to his nose and makes his breaths longer. The subtle heat flowing from your skin to his where your arms slightly touch makes him want to close his eyes and lean in further to your touch.

“Are you paying attention?”

His eyes shoot open and heat rises to his cheeks. “Yes!”

One of your eyebrows twitch and amusement twinkles behind your eyes, but you continue where you stopped. He forces himself to listen and not be distracted any longer.

After about an hour of small talk and you helping him, finally the bracelet is long enough to tie off. Everytime your hand brushed his heart would skip a beat.

Now you tie the bracelet onto his wrist and cut the long ends. “There!” You smile at him and he nearly melts into a puddle beneath your feet.

“Thanks doll.” This time he doesn’t miss the way your body slightly stiffens and your eyes widen a tad.

“Umm, yeah.” You clasp your hands before you and open your mouth, but before you can say anything the older ladies call for you that they need your immediate help. You give him an apologetic smile, “Sorry, I have to go, but it was nice to meet you…” trailing off when you realize you don’t know his name.

“Bucky.”

Nodding at him, your smile widens from remorseful to joy. “Bucky, it was nice to meet you.”

He watches as you walk away, laughing and giggling with the old ladies. “You too doll, you too.” Little did you know, but you walked off right with his heart. The once stone cold piece of meat, now fluttering and happily beating beneath your gaze and care. And for the last time that day another flood of curse words plagued his mind.

***

His hands squeeze your own and he takes a deep breath, blue eyes meeting your own. The bright bracelet proudly on display for anyone to see.

“Doll, there were many times I was lost and you found me. There were days which were heavy, and you picked me up and lightened my heart. Through it all, you were always there for me.”

His voice wavers a little and you can’t deny the water pooling at the corners of your eyes.

“And I know that will never change. I promise to love you as you are and to respect our differences while still supporting and encouraging you. Whatever the future holds, know that I will stand by you and love you. Through pain and passion, sorrow and hope. Through death and through life I will love you. Everyday and with whatever we face I promise to love you because I am tied to you.”

You have to drop one of his hands to wipe away your tears as you smile up at him. Then you say your own vows. And finally after the classic I do’s, the officiant says, “You may now kiss your bride.”

The two of you lock eyes before he swoops down and captures your lips within his own. One of his hands wraps around your waist and holds you steady. The crow erupts in shouts and glee for the two of you but neither of you care. He leans back and you both just smile at one another for a while, both holding the widest grins you have ever had in your entire life.

“I love you.” He says.

“I love you too.” You say back.

Later in the night, as the two of you sway, your arms wrapped around his shoulders and head on his chest, the final words in his vow finally make sense. You play with the string bracelet on his wrist.

“Tied to you huh? You were proud of that one, weren’t you?”

He chuckles and presses a kiss to your forehead. “Was it obvious?”

“Dork.”

He smiles. “But I’m your dork.”

“Oh my god!” You sigh, “James Buchanan Barnes,” landing a poke to his chest to emphasize your point, “you are the most cheesiest, handsomest, loveable dork out there.” You stand on your tiptoes to catch a kiss from him. “And you're all mine.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Yes yes, I know. “Lordy what the heck? Why are you writing for Bucky?” Well this is a birthday gift for my friend who loves Bucky, so yeah. 

Disclaimer!!! I will not write for Bucky normally!!! This was purely a gift!!!

But please, if you liked it, consider reblogging or leaving a comment, I love hearing what you all have to say! (And maybe y’all can convince me to write for him more. Idk, I’m not promising anything.) 

Love, Lordy :) 

Masterlist

Everything tags: @jedi-jesi​ @along-the-lines-of-space​ @madsvano4 @golfmarshal​

If you want to be added/removed from my taglist- please fill out the form below or just give me a holler! :) 

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[midearthwritings]

The Beauty behind the Beast

You think it is a shame to neglect such beautiful hair.

Words Count : 1,745

Pairing : Kíli & Reader

Warning : Nudity? Blink and you'll miss it really.

Author's Note : A little Kíli one shot because who wouldn't want to sit and care for his hair? Also I labelled this as platonic but there are a few romantic undertones. I don't know. Hope you like it.

What evil creatures were hiding in the dark, stalking and waiting to attack? You did not know. Perhaps none for the night was quiet, beautiful even. The sky was clear, filled with stars. And the moon looked stunning, even as only half of it was visible.

The snoring of your companions sounded like a lullaby. They could have made you fall asleep if you had been willing to surrender. Thankfully, you were in good company.

As he was quietly rambling to you about whatever subject, you studied him. The way he worked on that little piece of wood. The way his eyes would lit up when he got to an interesting part. And the disaster that was his hair.

Absentmindedly, you raised your hand to touch them. They were soft, but very thick due to their current state. You even tried to brush them a little with your hand, your fingertips getting stucked immediately.

"I thought hair were important to dwarves." You said, letting the strand slip from your fingers to fall back on his shoulder. Your eyes travelled up his mane, spotting every knot tangling them.

"Aye, they are." The agressive sound of his knife on the piece of wood he was carving was regular, almost soothing. His brows were furrowed, and all his focus was on his task. You smiled. It was a rare thing to see the prince this serious. It almost felt like an honor.

Scooting closer, you reached out again to tuck his hair behind his ear. "Why is it that you do not care for them, then?"

The words seemed to pique his interest as he turned his face to you. The object he was crafting now forgotten, dangling from his hand. And you were sure that it would fall to the ground at any given moment. Slightly, he tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. The gentle night wind blew, making his bangs wiggle a little. Perhaps the only part of his mane that was not a complete mess.

"I care for them." With that, he faced away from you so you were able to see the back of his head. He reached out and tapped on the clasp stuck in there, his blade too close to the area for your liking. "See, this is proof of what I say."

Shaking your head, you batted his hand away. "You can put a dress on an Orc if you desire so, but it will remain an Orc. This, is a bird's nest." You explained, gently grabbing a fistful of hair to prove your point. "And I am being very polite here because I have seen nests that looked way much better."

The shrug he gave you was very unusual, you thought. You had been expecting a comment, a snarl in the very least. But surely not silence as he went back to work, the dark locks freeing themselves from your grip.

The case was not lost. Really, all he needed was to comb his hair, and perhaps shorten it a little to get rid of the tougher knots. After that, they would look perfect, very flattering around his pretty face. Maybe he would even be able to wear braids too, like the others.

"I could help, you know." You offered with a smile. "Get them nice again."

"No, you cannot."

The words were sharp, almost as sharp as the knife he was holding. They could have upset you, had you been a few weeks back. Thankfully, you knew better than to get yourself worked up because of a simple no. Before you could question his negative response, he carried on. "Dwarves do not let anyone touch their hair besides their family, or their One. Anyone else is not allowed."

Dwarven customs. You had heard of those before. Not in details, and you would not be able to write a book on the matter. They were very different from those of humans and this was something new. For a moment, you thought to a few minutes back, of the offense you might have done to him. But you brushed the idea away. He would have told you if he had been offended in any way.

Biting your bottom lip, a grin curved your mouth upwards.

"But we are family. You are my brother in arms, aren't you? And a brother means family, doesn't it? Besides, if you keep neglecting them, you will have to chop all of it to get rid of the knots. You should accept my help."

Quiet, you watched as his brows furrowed again as he considered your words. You noticed how the gesture was slightly different from when he was focused.

When he looked back up at you, you were certain he was going to say no again. If he did so, you would drop the subject, for now. Yet, his nod surprised you.

"Aye, I accept. Only because if it is not you who does it, it will be Fíli. And he is not gentle with me when he combs my hair. Always hurts me and tells me to stop being a whiny dwarfling. This little piece of-"

With an exasperated sigh, you brought your palm to his mouth, silencing the curse that was to come.

Siblings.

It had been agreed that you would get to it when the company would stop to bathe and rest. It took you all a few days to find a nice place to allow yourselves such luxury. The camp was set in no time, as it was now a habit, and you watched as the dwarves, and your burglar friend, departed to get into the water.

Kíli, like the child he was, began to follow them nonchalantly, in an almost too innocent way. Quickly grabbing what you needed, for your own cleaning and his hair's, you caught up to him and hooked your arm with his.

"Now, do not run away from me. We are going to find a spot and get to work."

A long groan escaped his lips, making you chuckle. It reminded you of home, of your younger siblings, and for a short moment, you allowed yourself to miss it. To miss the comfort of your bed, and the play times with the children. You missed your mother greatly as well, and you wondered if, perhaps, you would be lucky enough to see her ever again.

You shook your head, chasing the pain away before it could reach your heart. Looking around, you noticed you had walked far enough from the others.

"Alright, this will do. Undress and get into the water. It will be easier." You commanded, getting rid of your own garments.

"Oy, you could at least offer me a nice meal first!" His laugh echoed around you, and despite the glare you shot him, you found yourself laughing as well.

The water felt nice against your skin. It was a bit cold at first but very pleasant once your body was used to it. You turned around and moved to get behind the prince.

"I am going to wash them first, all right?" You warned. When he nodded, you opened the small bottle that you were holding securely in your hand and poured some of the sweet scented oil into his hair. Now that they were wet, the knots felt rough under your fingers as you rubbed the entirety of his mane with the oil. You started from the top of his head, massaging a scalp with your fingers. The satisfied moan coming from him indicating that the experience was not that painful so far. You went to rub the hair behind his ears, and under them at the base of his neck. And finally, you spread the liquid on the rest of it.

"Get under the surface to rinse it." You ordered. While he did so, you swapped the tiny, and now half empty, bottle with a fancy looking comb.

"Why did you pack such things to travel?"

"I did not." You answered, getting back behind him. He was fairly tall for a dwarf, you thought, but it was not a bad thing. Not to you. You had heard the mockeries and teasing of others regarding his height and lack of beard. He was not fitting dwarves standards, that was a fact. But he was not unattractive. Fools were those who rejected the prince, in your opinion.

Stirring out of your reveries, you added "I took them before we left Rivendell. They had many of those. They will not miss the ones I kept." You brought the comb up, starting with the end of his hair. Carefully, not to hurt him, you worked on the knots.

"That is theft." He pointed out. While you were busy in his back, Kíli was rubbing his forearms with a bar of soap. You raised your eyebrow.

"And where do you think that thing you are using comes from?" You asked, working your way up with the comb. "Besides, Bilbo is a burglar and no one says a thing about it."

The dwarf reached behind him to tap your hip gently and you stepped back a little, allowing him to go under the water again to rinse the soap from his body. Soon enough, you were both back into place.

"It is not the same." He started again. "Bilbo is going to help us regain Erebor with his burglarities."

"Kíli, burglarities is not a word.". You had been right. With his hair being wet, it was easier to get them untangled. The comb was now sliding freely in his strands. Only the top remained and you would be done with the task.

"Aye, but it could be."

Shaking your head, you did not reply, focusing rather on not tugging too hard rather than his nonsense.

The last knot was a tough one and it took you a bit longer to win your fight against it. But you managed, and in the end, the finished result was stunning. His hair looked darker, glistening with water, and they looked even longer now.

"Here, I'm done."

With a soft smile, you watched your friend as he ran he fingers into his now really soft locks. He turned to face you, a smile similar to yours painted on his lips. When he held his hand out, you tilted your head, questioningly. The request that followed was soft, and innocent, yet, you felt your heart swelling.

"Now, may I take care of yours?"

[thepaperpanda]

♥ Dangerously Perfect Match ♥ || Part II

♥Part I♥

Summary: You’re the Earl of little settlement deep inside the forests of Norway. After Ragnar Lothbrok’s death you and your warriors travel to England to support Ragnar’s sons in the battle against Christians. Shortly after a victory, you and Ivar turned out to be a dangerously perfect match?

Warnings: explicit content - smut

Words: 8846

Authors: Cass & Rouge

It's not that you all expected plain sailing, or for winds to be kind, the waves to be gentle; it's that you trusted your ships to carry yourselves to shore no matter the weather. It was a confidence born of faith, of feeling to your bones that with such tenacity you could achieve anything at all. They said it's only impossible until it's done, that was your motto under all skies, upon all seas.

Thankfully, Gods fostered your attempts of getting back to Norway - despite the storms and heavy rain, all the longships made it back to the homeland.

A smile spread across your lips, it was good to be back home.

Dressed in your usual attire with addition of a new warm cloak gifted by Ivar, you stood at the front of your ship. Holding the ropes tightly you turned to your troops. "We made it, friends! Gods blessed us and allowed us to return home so we can fight yet another day!,” You yelled and your people's voices reared loudly.

Ivar kept his eyes fixed on you since the moment you left England. He wasn't truly happy with you sailing among your warriors but it's your decision, with which he couldn't argue. They needed their Earl after all. He rolled head back to rest it against the wooden edge of the boat.

"Land sighted, master!," One of his men shouted.

"Drop the canvas," Ivar ordered as he propped head on the edge of the boat to admire the beautifulness of the shoreline.

Of course, his glance also moved to look at you. Oh, how he missed your body next to his.

Hvitserk's tone pulled him out of thoughtfulness. "Are you sure it's a good idea? Harald Finehair isn't a person you can fully trust."

"I trust no one," Ivar snapped back. "I have the last say."

You walked among your people, gently touching the shoulders of your warriors. It was a simple gesture, a little bit of a comfort and small thanks for their loyalty.

For now this was all you could do, to show your gratitude toward them all.

The ship moored in Harald's docks. You heard a lot about him and his ambitions, and honestly you expected much more from his settlement.

After jumping off of your ship you let out a sigh of relief. Solid ground under your feet. "I hope you didn't miss me too much, Ivar?," You asked him with a cocky smile which was partially hidden by your mask. Since it was damaged in the battle you didn't bother to fix it or make a new you. It was enough your scars weren't fully visible.

Ivar's blue eyes glistened in the rays of the setting sun, and his long lashes casted a little shadow on his clearly defined cheeks. "You need to answer this question to yourself, dear Earl."

After these words he passed you, offering you a mischievous grin as he did.

Hvitserk, who jumped out of the boat on the pier, gave you a long glance, his brows cocked. "Why are you questioning such an obvious thing?"

The red line on his nose reminded you about your last true interaction back in York. "It's called teasing, Hvitserk. Men love it. It's time to learn it."

Humming, you quickly boarded the ship that brothers traveled in. You crouched in front of the bishop and gently caressed his cheek to see if he even survived the long trip.

Man instantly reacted to your touch; he winced and spat right into your face. "Get off me, heathen whore."

You flinched and growled, wiping the spit of your face. Getting up to your feet, you pointed at one of your men. "Bring me one of my furs." Once the fur was in your hands, you wrapped it around the man that just insulted you. "Since Ivar has big predictions when it comes to you. The last thing we want is you getting ill."

Bishop was glaring up at you, not being sure whether you were mocking him or not. Your behavior was completely out of anything he could have expected. Deep inside Heahmund appreciated the fur being wrapped around his shoulders as he was cold.

"Now. You should be all warm," you muttered, tucking the fur in all the right places to shield him completely from the bitter cold. "Now, you can say that a heathen whore helped you." After those words you simply walked away to join Ivar and Hvitserk.

Two men tugged on the ropes wrapped tightly around his neck and wrists, pulling bishop behind them. He hated his position, but it was still better than death from pagans hands.

Harald groaned annoyed, getting comfortable in his throne. Last thing he expected or really needed was Ragnarssons visiting him. He already knew that young Ivar meant troubles. King watched them walk inside the great hall.

Hvitserk was the first one in, taking a comfortable for him spot on one of the tables, while Ivar shuffled behind with his crutch.

To his surprise there was one more visitor; a young woman in a mask. Suddenly the visit became much more interesting. "Ivar and Hvitserk Lothbrok. Why did you not return to Kattegat? I can also see you brought an interesting guest," Harald said with his deep, hoarse voice, pointing his finger at you.

Ivar stopped at the podium and leaned his weight on his crutches. "She's my guest," he said, pointing his chin on you. "You know we couldn't return to Kattegat. That witch, Lagherta, is still a Queen. Me and my brother are looking for alliances that could let us overtake the throne. The throne that belongs to us."

Harald raised from his throne and walked closer to the guests, nodding his head. "Ah, yes. As I can see your need for revenge on Lagertha is burning with a flame that will never go out." King smiled and took your hands into his much bigger and warmer palms. "I know the sons of Ragnar but I have never seen you with any of them. Who are you?"

"My people call me Earl Wolf but my name is Y/N. It's an honor to meet the future king of whole Norway," you said with your voice sweet as honey.

"The pleasure is all mine, Y/N," Harald said before placing a kiss to your palm.

Ivar kept his face straight but the fact you let Harald touch you pierced his heart like a cold needle. "Can we get to the planning? I am not going to spend another hour waiting for you two to exchange pleasantries," young man growled.

Hvitserk, who observed the entire situation while standing in the back of the chamber, snorted quietly. He would never think his brother fell in love so easily.

"Ivar. You brought a beautiful woman in and don't even let me take all of her beauty in," king rolled his eyes.

"As a lady, you flatter me but as the Earl I need to agree. We came here in important matters," you said. "social talks can wait until much calmer times. I can promise you we will have a moment for ourselves."

Listening to you, Harald smiled softly and nodded. "Beautiful and smart. Let's get to planning then. Ivar, I am listening. What do you expect?"

Ivar turned head to throw you a cold glance; did you just plan to spend some time with Harald? Did you really say it aloud in his presence?

"Let's get somewhere where not many curious eyes are on us."

Hvitserk, seeing how his brother and rest are moving to another chamber, followed them.

Oh, Ivar was mad. This is exactly what you wanted, your plan was to rile him up and to see if something interesting will happen. You followed them to be present during the planning.

Talks were long and boring.

Ivar and Harald were arguing for a long time and it wasn't about troops anymore.

The youngest Ragnarson wanted to be the king of the Kattegat after chasing Lagertha, Bjørn and Ubbe away.

At the same time Harald wanted to carry on his great dream of ruling whole Norway.

Thankfully, in the end, they somehow found a way to agree on something.

"You will be a king but when you die the title is passed on me," Harald said, rubbing his forehead.

You let out a little yawn and rubbed your eyes tired. Travel and long boring planning took a toll on you.

Hvitserk didn't say anything during talks; instead, he ate at least four apples and was playing with his little dagger which he used to cut the fruits. It wasn't his thing, all the great planning. All he wanted to do was to return back to Kattegat which was his true home. He didn't really want to stand against Bjørn or Ubbe, but did he have other choice? The decision was made the day he got out of the ship to join his youngest brother.

Ivar put his chalice on the table, nodding briefly at Harald's words. "Sounds like we have it. Just don't be surprised if I'll rule for many long years." The Boneless got up from the chair he sat at and using his crutches, he slowly walked off.

"My men will take care of that Christian prisoner of yours, Ivar," Harald said. "Whatever his point is. If I were you I would just kill him."

You let a soft sigh and decided to join Hvitserk, silently asking him for a piece of an apple.

"But you're not me," Ivar smirked widely at Harald and left.

Hvitserk was highly surprised by your request, but of course, as he had a good soul, he shared one huge apple with you, cutting it in half so it would be easier for you to eat. "You're welcome," he muttered slightly.

"Thank you, Hvitserk. You are a kind soul," you gave him a sweet smile and looked at Harald. "My king? May I know where I can find our prisoner?”

When you received the seeked answer, you bowed your head and walked off.

Bishop was held in a barn, tied to a metal pole in the middle which provided the stability to the roof and construction itself.

His hands were weak as he was forced to hold them above his head for the entire time. The blood circulation faltered and he barely could feel his fingers anymore. Yet, bishop Heahmund was praying quietly. Man was saturated with the intelligent energy of countless prayers - as such being able to carry out supernatural acts. "Credo in Deum Patrem omnipotentem, Creatorem caeli et terrae; et in Iesum Christum, Filium eius unicum, Dominum nostrum...," He was whispering all the time.

You stopped in the door and watched him, praying, it was quite an interesting sight.

"Those have to be a made up babble. No one speaks like this," saying this, you stepped inside and smiled seeing your fur on him, so you dared to point it out. "They let you keep it."

"What do you want, heathen?," He asked weakly. "If you came to kill me, I'll gladly accept my faith. I'm ready, in my God.

As if nothing ever happened, you simply placed yourself on his laps. "You know... I am just a heathen to you but I do have a real name. Maybe I should call you Christian from now on? What do you say, Heahmund?” You presented him the piece of an apple you got from Hvitserk and smiled innocently. "I also brought you this."

"Get off me, woman," he tried to kick you off, but your hips pressed to his side's strongly, holding him motionless. "I don't need your mercy!"

"It's not a mercy. It's called help, you Christian don't know what it is?," You asked with a smile, purposely pressing your hand into him. "Come on, I am sure you are hungry."

He indeed was hungry. Heahmund parted his lips, waiting for you to slip a slice of apple into his mouth.

"Good boy. See? I am not so bad," you chuckled and slipped the slice into his mouth. "I'll get you more if you will want."

He chewed viciously, gagging himself with a not fully chewed piece of the fruit. Truth was he was starving for the last few days and he would give everything for a piece of bread.

"Slow down, we are not going to starve you. I'll make sure of this," you said quietly, touching his shoulder.

He almost gasped as the skin under his clothes were bruised and swollen.

"Right, they got you bad during that battle. Maybe I should undress you and take care of these injuries?," You asked in a hushed voice. "I am sure you would feel much better. You need to be in good shape since Ivar has great plans for you."

Bishop's eyes fixed on your face. He hated your touch on his body but you didn't try to kill him.

Looking him in the eyes your hand started to unbutton the upper part of his armor, not breaking the eye contact for even one second.

Little did you know a pair of incredibly blue eyes were watching your every move. Ivar leant his forehead against the wooden wall of the barn, clenching teeth and rolling palm in a fist. He offered you everything, yet you were still chasing the fucking, useless priest. What man had that he didn't? He felt a strange thing, a twinge of envy.

Slowly you pulled away the armor and hissed, seeing his injury. "Oh, you poor thing, just look at what they did to you." You hand gently touched his skin, making sure to not press the blue and purple spots.

You could hear noises outside the building.

Bishop's eyes widened as he looked past you.

Three warriors, every of them armed in axes walked out of the darkness of the room. "Earl Wolf, you're going with us. Now."

You glared over your shoulder with bored and annoyed look

"What do you want, huh? I am busy, who is even summoning me in such a terrible moment?," You almost growled.

"Now," one of the men repeated and showed the exit with his ax.

Rolling your eyes you let out a loud sigh. "Maybe we will return to that. Only Gods know."

You adjusted Bishop's clothes as much as you could before getting up from his knees. Turning to the warrior you shrugged. "Lead the way," you said and followed them.

They walked in a silence through empty paths of settlement, eventually stopping in front of a little hut almost at the edge of it.

One of them pointed at the door and they turned with their backs to the building.

There was not much you could do but follow this game but honestly you were also really excited to see what is hidden behind the door. After taking a deep breath, you stepped inside.

The hut seemed empty and the only source of light inside were candles standing on the shelves around the chamber and hanging in the metal candle holders attached to the ceiling.

The sweet scent of mead filled the room, and you could spot a chalice full of alcohol placed at the table.

On the right side of the hut there stood a bed with many furs on top of it; it looked inviting. In the end the place was cozy and warm. Next to the chalice you found a piece of paper with one word written on it: UNDRESS.

You walked around the place. It was interesting, who set it up? There were two possible options. Harald who looked really interested in you or Ivar wanted to return the favor from York. That could be fun. Taking the chalice you sat down on the bed.

After drinking a few little sips of the really tasty mead you started to undress.

This actually felt good, as much as you loved your clothes the thick leather was annoying after too many hours in it. Naked, you laid down on the bed and waited.

Suddenly, the candles standing closest to the bed faded away. Then, the candles at the table, and the last to fade were the ones in candle holders.

You sat up and frowned. "Great," muttering, you lied back down, you weren't going to light those candles again.

And then, out of sudden, you could feel a soft touch on your ankle, followed by a hum. Your body's first idea was to react and protect yourself by kicking whoever tried to sneak on you but somehow you stopped yourself. The muscles only twitched a little. Giggling you shook your head. "Ivar, love. Don't do this, I do not want to hurt you."

"Prescient, aren't you?," His voice husky as he crawled fully out of the shadows. His hand placed against your leg and moved up , to rest on your knee as he brushed his full lips against your calf.

You let out a short laugh and hummed. "No other man would do such a thing for me. I am more than sure it was you. Besides, I recognized your hand, love."

Oh, if you could only see the grimace on his face. He continued to brush his lips against your soft, delicate skin until he reached your thighs. Only then he let go of your body and focused on getting on the bed, which was easy for him after all those years of crawling and supporting his upper body part on hands.

"But to send armed guards for me. That was... Interesting idea and the whole preparation for this? I feel like a real princess, you surprised me," you hummed and removed the mask that was still placed on your face. It won't be needed anyway.

He didn't reply, just slipped one of his hands between your thighs, forcing you gently to parted legs. His skilled fingers pressed to your pussy, where he rubbed little circles. "Was it wise to tease me with King Harald?"

"For this all? Of course it was," you said with a humor in your voice and opened your legs to give him as much access as he only needed. "I loved your face, this was my goal, sweetie."

"Was it?," He whispered as his fingers slipped lower to be gently shifted inside of your pussy. "Mmm, nice and wet."

"Yes it was. Everyone can fuck but build it up? It makes stuff more fun and pleasurable," you answered his question and let out a quiet sound. "Wet for my king."

He rolled to his side and to his belly in the end, diving right between your legs. He trailed the tip of his tongue up and down your clit, offering you a few long licks, then Ivar wrapped his mouth fully around your pussy, sucking on it lightly.

You gasped and let out a quiet moan. He was learning fast, he was making you proud.

He let you put your legs on his strong shoulders as he continued to eat your pussy out, humming in appreciation of the taste you left on his tongue. Soon, his mouth was accompanied by two of his slender fingers, slipping rhythmically in and out of your slick cunt.

"You like it? Don't you? You love it after our first night," you said playfully. Your hand moved into his hair to keep him close the whole other hand traveled up your breasts to tease your nipples.

Ivar growled which sent a little vibrations to your slick pussy. He placed a kiss to it and spat on it to make you even wetter than before. His fingers in you were joined by his long, skilled tongue as he tried his best to lick your inner walls and suck in your sweet juices.

His action made you shiver and moan for him even louder. Biting your lips hard,  you nuzzled to the furs beneath your body, focusing on the pleasure he was giving you.

He fingered you until you cum hardly around his fingers. Ivar gave one last lick and sucked his fingers clean, murmuring. "Oh, sweet Y/N, you taste so fucking sweetly I could eat you all day and night long."

Ivar placed kisses to your tummy and licked his way up your body, catching one of your nipples between his teeth, as gently as possible.

The climax washed over you and you tried your best in calming down your breath.

You muttered at the feeling of his mouth and teeth around your sensitive flesh. "I would like to taste myself... Can I?”

Ivar continued with licking his way up your body and finally his lips crushed on yours, and he slipped his tongue past your lips so you could taste yourself.

You returned the kiss and moaned loudly at the sweet taste of your own juices. Dominating his kiss was no use, he was too much into it, both of your hands moved into his hair which to your own surprise were completely loose.

Suddenly, a cold, sharp blade was put to your neck. "I distinctly remember saying I don't like to be mocked," he whispered into your ear.

You gasped loudly and your lips parted. "Ivar... You could warn me that you want to add a knife to bed," swallowing heavily, you could feel the blade against your skin.

"If I would there would be no fun, sweetheart," Ivar kissed your cheek. "Did you enjoy yourself with him? Huh? Did you?," He asked and the blade was pressed more to your skin.

It hit you then. He probably saw you with the Bishop or someone told him. You laughed loudly. "Oh, so this got you going? It made you so angry you planned all of this? Just to pin me down with a knife to my neck?"

"Maybe," he whispered. "I just want to remind you that you're mine, I marked you as mine back in York, and nothing is going to change it."

Ivar hid the knife in his pocket and got off the bed.

You giggled and looked at him while biting your lips. Even if you already knew that Boneless was crazy enough to kill, it didn't frighten you at all. To be completely honest, this action brought a different reaction for you. "I know I am yours. I have never claimed the opposite. You are my lover, my future king," you voice was a soft pur that you knew he loved. Your inner thighs rubbed together in the seek of any friction.

He used his crutches to get to the table and sat on the chair. He refilled the chalice you drank from and downed it quickly.

His eyes glistened in the darkness in a dim moonlight falling onto the chamber through a little window. He was watching you. "Yet you still seemed to seek some adventures. Who is going to be next to be blessed with your body on top of them? Harald? Or maybe my sweet, crazy brother? Or maybe you'll fall for Bjørn?"

You hummed, pretending to think. Your teasing game continued. "King Harald would be a fine adventure, I can already imagine what he sounds like in bed; thanks to that voice of his. Ironside... I heard he is big as a bear, it could be a lot of fun to ride him. Hvitserk... Not really the type of a man I enjoy."

Ivar smirked to himself in the darkness. Oh, he was jealous already, that if you continue, he would simply bathe his dagger in your blood watching how the last ounces of life escape your flesh.

Suddenly, the door opened and a young thrall stepped in. Ivar didn't look at her yet gestured for her to come closer.

You sat up on the bed and watched them with your eyebrow raised.

As the girl brought another jug filled with taste mead, she put it carefully on the table and circled the chair Ivar sat on to gently place her palms on his shoulders. She started massaging him, earning a long moan from him.

"What's your name, sweetie?," Ivar asked, his tone low.

"Katia, my lord," she replied.

"How many springs have you lived?"

"17, my lord."

"The younger the better," Ivar turned his head to the young thrall and pulled her into a short kiss.

You watched them, completely taken aback by his action. Honestly, you felt proud of him in some way. Just a few weeks ago back at York he was all shy and unsure of himself, only to do this. Of course Ivar knew what he was doing because it worked. It worked too well.

The jealousy burned deep inside of you, he gave you a taste of your own action.

Ivar grabbed the woman by hand and pulled her into his lap.

Young thrall pulled her shirts up and straddled his lap. Her arms wrapped around his neck. "I never knew I'll be so close to Ivar the Boneless himself, my master."

"Because you won't be for much longer," you growled as you got up from the bed to move closer to them. Your hand moved into her hair and grabbed a handful, pulling her head away. "Listen to me now, child. If you won't get off him right now and leave, I will make sure to cut you in all of the right places to make sure now man will ever touch you."

That's what Ivar hoped for. "You heard the lady," he looked at the thrall but let himself cup one of her boobs briefly. "Leave now, but stay tuned for maybe you'll be needed to warm my alcove one day."

Young girl hissed but obeyed your words. She got off him and smoothened her dress, quickly leaving.

You chuckled watching her run off.

Humming softly you placed yourself on his lap, and immediately moved into his long, dark hair. "Look at that. Ivar the Boneless, a man who a few weeks ago was afraid to lie with a woman for the very first time. Now is making her envy. Don't you know such a woman can be unpredictable, boy?"

"Is that so sweet Y/N?," Your name rolled from his lips as he moved his head closer to your naked body, inhaling your scent as he brushed his lips against your collarbone, his hands in gloves stroked the curves of your waist.

You giggled and continued to play with his hair, scratching his scalp with your long nails. "Oh yes, just as unpredictable as men can be. I think we saw both today."

Your hands moved to his throat and your small palms wrapped around it, squeezing it a little. "I could strangle you now," you whispered as your grip got a bit stronger. "And I should do this, for a knife you pressed to my throat and that thrall but you are lucky enough that I love you."

He kept face straight, chucking darkly at your sudden outburst. "Oh, I think I need to play with thralls some more as it's keeping you going," he whispered and parted his lips, tracing the tip of his tongue along his perfectly shaped teeth.

"I need to visit our prisoner often too," you nodded with a smile. "I still wish to have him in my bed at least for once... As long as he is loyal to my man and his orders."

Ivar's hand moved to grab your hips strongly. "You're such a tease," he mumbled deeply.

You laughed and rolled your hips against him as your hands slipped to his shoulders. "But it gets you going. You love the idea of misbehaving. It makes you jealous and it leads you to anger," you leaned over to whisper against his lips. "And this, my love, leads you to your desire."

He couldn't pretend any longer; you kept him going. A short moan left his parted lips, and his eyes widened a little.

"Ah! There you go. You couldn't keep it up for too long, huh, Ivar?"

With a soft giggle you slipped off of his laps and placed yourself on the floor right between his legs. It was time to return the favor.

He looked down at you while letting a sad gasp out. His palm was placed to your cheek. "You're like no other woman I met in my short life. You make me lose my head, all for you."

You smiled at him sweetly, nuzzling to his palm. "Maybe because you didn't meet the right ones." Your hands moved down his chest and started to work on his pants so you could move them enough to free his member. "You are like no other men I met in my life. You are brave, ruthless and strong despite your flaws. Wonderful leader, lover and warrior."

He smiled. "Come to me, little one," he demanded in a husky voice.

You didn't like this exact order. All you wanted was to make him feel good but still you followed his order, placing yourself back on his laps. "Your wish is my command, my king."

He reached his hand down his body to guide his cock into your cunt. As he did, he let a loud moan and rolled head back, his hands slipped into your hips to hold you strongly.

A soft moan passed your own lips. Even when he worked you hard back in York, you still felt so fucking tight around him. "Fuck... Ivar," you gasped, grabbing the chair back.

He rested his forehead against your chest, letting out some deep gasps when you were slowly going up and down his shaft.

Your hands moved into his hair, scratching his scalp and keeping him as close to you as possible. Soon you started to move faster, moaning and pulling on his hair.

Ivar let out a long, deep grunt as you tugged on his hair. His hands moved down to rest on your ass as he squeezed the flesh hardly, moaning and brushing his lips against your chest.

When you realized he enjoys the hair pulling you let out a soft laugh and used it to pull his head back so you could kiss him deeply.

Ivar stole a kiss from your lips and parted his, gasping harder and harder as he chased his climax. Soon, he milked your pussy, grunting and groaning as he did.

You moaned his name out at the delightful feeling of his seed flooding your cunt. This triggered your own high and your walls tightened around him.

Ivar's arms wrapped tightly around your waist, his forehead rested against your collarbone, he gasped, a few drops of sweat rolled down his neck and forehead.

You smiled and wrapped your arms around him, just to keep him as close as only possible. Humming quietly, you started to play with his hair. "I love your hair, you should be called finehair," you whispered and giggled at your own joke.

He didn't reply as he was buried deep in his thoughts and he was only about to get off his peak. "Yeah," he managed to mumble softly, nuzzling to you.

You chuckled and massaged his scalp, letting him relax and calm down right in your arms after such a strong climax. "You okay there, Ivar?"

He raised his chin and looked you up right in the eyes. "Yes. Go to bed, I'll join you soon but I have one more thing to deal with."

You frowned softly, cupping his cheek. "Like what?"

"I need to speak to my brother. Nothing much. You stay here and warm bed for me."

You kissed his cheek and nodded. Slowly, you remove yourself from him, growling at the feeling of emptiness. "As you wish, love."

The bed was soft and warm thanks to all the furs. You got comfortable and nuzzled to the pillow. "Don't leave me alone for too long or I will have to go and pay our prisoner another visit."

Ivar shifted his floppy cock back into his pants, and growled playfully at your words. "Don't you be worried about that, I won't be long."

He took his crutches and slowly got up from the chair, throwing you a cocky smirk before leaving. Ivar headed to another hut, located almost at the docs. We stepped in without knocking, just like he had it in the habit of his.

Girl that was currently kissing Hvitser jumped in her place and gasped before looking right at Ivar.

It was one of your shield maidens, the one that took most interest in older Ragnarsson back at York.

Hvitserk sighed deeply, seeing his brother. "Brother, as much as I love your company. This is not the best moment," he said and the girl nuzzled to him, hiding from Ivar's eyes.

Ivar offered the girl a brief nod. "Mmm, you're fast like a lightning, brother," Ivar claimed and shifted a chair for himself, placing it right next to the bed. His blue eyes shifted to the girl. "Be a good, little thrall and leave us for a moment."

"I... I am not a thrall. I am Earl Wolf's shield maiden," girl said.

"Go, Asta. Wait outside, we won't talk for long," Hvitser said, patting her shoulder.

Soon the girl was gone and Hvitserk looked at his brother annoyed. "So! What was so important that you decided to interrupt me right now?"

"Hold your horses, brother, you'll have her pussy soon," Ivar frowned as he moved his glance to make sure the girl closed the door. "Remember our last talk? The talk about relationships and things?"

"Yes, I do but I am still not sure if we really did have this time. You are asking for advice when it comes to relationships and bed... Could be just my drunk dream," Hvitserk muttered, crossing arms over his chest. "What about it, Ivar?"

Younger brother used his crutch to poke his brother's thigh. "Can you not be a dick for once in your lifetime?," Ivar asked, frowning hardly, he ran his other hand through his messy hair. "It worked. And I need to know more of those."

"Ivar. I am glad that it worked but I really don't know what else to tell you," Hvitserk said with a shrug. "Tell me about her."

"Like, listen to this, brother," Ivar was excited at the single thought about things he performed with you. "The things you advised me in your drunken state worked, what I mean is that after eating her out she was more eager for other things. Let's not pretend, you're not only older but many women came and went through your bed, so I hate to admit it, but you're more experienced than I am."

Hvitserk laughed and nodded, rubbing his chin with pride. "Well, of course I am. Just... I can tell she likes it rough. So just go with that, Ivar. Listen to her."

Ivar tilted his head like a puppy while listening to the owner. "How can you say such a thing when you haven't seen her?"

"Then why do you ask me what to do when I haven't seen her in action?," Hvitserk asked with a roll of his eyes. "Listen. Every woman is different, you just need to observe and follow your intent or heart if you are really in love... And have heart."

Ivar didn't comment on his brother's words, he only nodded and got up from his spot. He patted Hvitserk's cheek. "Thanks. You can be useful from time to time."

Asta watched Ivar left the hut and immediately went back inside to join Hvitserk.

Ivar took some time to enjoy himself in the cold air. He walked slowly back to the hut Harald had let him stay in. Door was open so he walked in.

You were already asleep, covered with furs.

Ivar took the sight in, smiling to himself, feeling like his heart was melting for the sweetness overload. He put the crutches on the floor quietly, he got undressed and crawled to the bed. As carefully as it was possible he got on and spooned you from behind.

The following week was filled with preparations for a great battle. Everything had to be just right.

The days were filled with planning and training with your people, making sure they all are ready for the upcoming battle.

Of course whenever you found time you liked to bother the Bishop who actually was free now and somehow agreed to fight on your sides of the conflict.

You screamed out Ivar's name as you both reached your climaxes. The remarkable feeling of his seed filling you because some kind of fixation for yours. You seeked it every night and he was happy and eager to satisfy your common needs.

Humming quietly you lay down on his chest and started to trace random patterns on his chest. "It's tomorrow. I can't wait to leave this place and set a camp... And get ready for the battle," You growled playfully.

Ivar's arm was wrapped loosely around your waist, his fingertips rubbing little circles on your belly as he held you close. "Don't be scared, Y/N, the seer predicted we'll win the battle easily," Ivar assured you and kissed the top of your head. "There's no need to be worried, dear. It's just a formality."

You laughed and looked at him with a cocky smile. "Me? Scared? You're joking! I am more than ready to fight, our last battle in York was so much fun! I craved more since that day."

He looked down at you and pecked your lips briefly. "I would never say you're more bloodthirsty than I am."

You giggled against his lips before kissing that one sensitive spot on his neck. "Is that bad? Is some... Boring, dress wearing, royal lady would be better for you? You dont like me the way I am?”

He moaned at the touch of your lips on the most sensitive spot on his neck; his grasp on your waist tightened. "You're perfect just the way you are."

"Let's get some sleep, love. We need to be rested for tomorrow." You kissed his cheek and then nuzzled to his chest, closing your eyes. Soon, you drifted into slumber.

Travel was exciting.

Everyone was ready for that great fight so were you.

To be honest you couldn't wait, fighting and then ruling by Ivar's was your dream ever since you two clicked just perfectly back in York.

In the camp as well as during negotiation with Lagherta and his brothers you stood there proudly, being by his side and supporting his action.

You fought for him just like you did in York, doing your best to tip the scales of victory on your side.

The battle was long and of course there was a lot of death and suffering.

Just like Ivar assured you that one night, you won. Kattegat was yours and you couldn't be more happy.

The Great Hall opened its door for the new king.

Ivar entered the familiar chambers for the first time since months. He felt like the very important part of his childhood was restored to normality.

People weren't truly keen on the change on the throne, but they could do nothing about it.

Ivar's royal warriors took care of those who didn't want to hail the king. Ivar took a place at the throne that once belonged to his father.

You laughed loudly walking in with Hvitserk and King Harald close behind you, all of you bathed in blood of your enemies.

"You did it Ivar, you won your home back. I need to say I am jealous now!” Harald joked.

You walked around, inspecting the inside of the Great Hall. You already loved the place.

"Of course he did. How could you doubt him."

Saying this you walked closer to your lover and sat on the throne right beside him.

Ivar offered you a smirk, yet tilted his head. "Y/N, what do you think you're doing?"

"Well, I am getting comfortable in my throne, love?," You answered, returning the smirk. "Just as we talked in York. We will be the most powerful couple in the world."

He rolled a little in his place, so he leaned his forearms against armrest. "We? A couple? We were never a couple, sweetheart. I just needed your troops."

You frowned deeply, looking into those beautiful blue eyes you so loved. "Excuse me... But. Your promises, the nights we spend together. Our plans for the future."

He laughed loudly, he didn't really pay attention to the fact there were people in the chamber. "Darling, I would never say you're so silly. You wanted to be fucked so I provided that to you. I just had to make sure you won't change your mind in the day before the battle. Now, get off the throne, it's not yours. You can go back to your sweet, lovely settlement. You're my vassal from now on, I expect you to pay 500 gold pieces every year. If you won't follow, I'll have to flatten your little place to the ground."

You got up from the throne, your eyes never leaving him. How could he do this to you? You shared so much from the past to the future. Did he really lie to you... Why it hurt more than the wounds you suffered during the battle. "Is this some kind of a cruel joke? Because if it is, then better stop, Ivar."

"Do I look like I am joking?," He asked, the smile vanishing from his face, leaving a cold grimace and raised eyebrow as he glanced at you. "Get out of my face."

You couldn't believe it. All the nights you shared, sweet words, the love and dreams... It all was his way of taming you. His way of making sure you will follow him until he achieves his goals. Your heart broke like a thin ice under a pressure. "You are a terrible man, Ivar the Boneless. Ragnar is ashamed of such a son. One that can't keep a promise and can't even avenge his mother fully. I will dance the day you die!” You didn't mean any of those words, it was the pain speaking through your lips. Just like he wanted, you turned around and left the Great Hall.

Hvitserk threw his brother had a cold glance and followed you. "Stop, Y/N! Earl, stop!"

Meantime Harald stormed to the freshly announced king. "What the hell are you doing, Ivar? She is a great warrior, she brought a lot of people, you can't simply send her away and push her off our common matter."

"Our? Mine. Nothing is ours, everything is mine now," Ivar chuckled darkly. "Go on, you can take her. She's nothing but a puppet."

You stopped and pulled out your sword, pointing it right at older Ragnarsson. Your face looked serious but the tears rising in your eyes were visible. "What do you want, Ragnarsson? Came to tell me how stupid I am for trusting your brother?” You growled loudly.

"I had no idea what he was planning for all that time," Hvitserk instinctively raised hand up in the air, showing you he was unarmed. "Don't leave, I bet it can't be discussed and explained."

"Discussed? Explained?! What can be, Hvitserk?! He used my love, my feelings for him to get the troops for his plans," You said, desperately trying to hold your tears. "I wanted to stay here for him but I won't be a rug he can use and throw away as soon as he is done."

"Stop it, you can't leave! You're the only person who still keeps him on the straight and narrow!"

"HOW I DO THAT?!," You yelled as loud as your lungs let you, slowly lowering your sword as your body became too weak suddenly. All the emotions you felt and the post battle injury mixed together now.

"He threw me away as soon as my help became useless for him. I was never needed, coming to York was the biggest mistake of my life."

"Come," not being sure whether it was proper to do, Hvitserk wrapped arms around your figure, offering you his shoulder to lean on. "Take me with you then," Hvitserk asked openly. "I don't want to stay by his side, he's not a sane person. Please. I'll do whatever you order."

You nuzzled to his shoulder, wrapping your arms around him. All you needed now was some kind of closeness, of course you wished it was Ivar but he didn't care any longer. You started to cry into his shoulder, pawing at his back in an attempt to grab something in your hand.

"Now, move," he reminded you. "Let's not wait for him to change his mind and order his hellhounds to burn us alive."

Oldest Ragnarsson led you to the stable where your horse ate hay. He helped you hop on the animal. You sighed deeply, getting comfortable in the saddle. Rubbing your eyes you looked at him. "Thankfully my men are ready to go too," You said, grabbing the reins. "Let's leave him with his wonderful kingdom. Harald can deal with him."

"I don't think he is going to stay either," Hvitserk pulled his horse out of the box and got on his stallion's back.

"I have no idea who would want to stay with him now. Kattegat will burn under his lead," You muttered as your horse moved.

You quickly collected your remaining troops and then you all were on the way home. "Hvitserk?"

Hvitserk, whose horse galloped right behind yours, lined up with you. "Yes?"

"Don't you regret it? Leaving your own youngest and well... Creppled brother? For a woman who broke your nose?," You asked, looking at him.

"No," he replied hardly, being sure of his words. "I was afraid of my dear life. It was the most reasonable decision I've made in my lifetime."

"Let's hope you will feel much better in my home," you told him with a soft smile.

The trip took three day but it was worth it.

Your settlement made you feel better just because you were back home but there was still this void, somewhere inside of you. It felt even worse when you how your warriors greeted their families. Their smiles made you wish you could feel something like this.

Of course, people were happy to see their Earl and you returned to happiness but it wasn't the same.

You led Hvitserk into the Great Hall and as soon as you entered a big wolf's fur was placed on your shoulders, the hood that was made out of the wolf's head was pulled on your head. You laughed and looked at Hvitserk.

Hvitserk didn't think he could be greeted so warmly anywhere. Your people offered him not only furs and good words but also a roof over his head.

You sat on your throne and smiled, looking at your people. Tears will have to wait until you close the door to your room, now it was time to be Earl. "My friends, my warriors, my people. I can't describe how happy I am that God blessed me and our warriors with the chance of returning home," You said loudly and got up. "We lost many but many returned. Tomorrow there will be a feast to welcome the one that returned and honor the one that did not. I also want to introduce my special guest."

Hvitserk, as much as he was against the idea, walked closer to you, offering you a nod.

"This is Hvitserk. Son of Ragnar. Welcome him and be treated as your own because as long as he wants to stay with us. He is a part of our pack," You informed and your people cheered.

Hvitserk cleared his throat. "Thank you, dear Earl. Thank you, dear people. I assure you that I'll protect this settlement until the very last blood drop."

You gave him a sad smile. "You will stay here. There is one more room in Great Hall that wasn't used for years. I will order my thralls to prepare it."

Hvitserk bowed his head. "This is too much, my lady. I'll be fine just by staying among your people. I will stay at the edge of the city."

"I don't ask you as a Earl. I ask you as a friend, I want you to stay here. You will have days to get along with my people," You explained.

Hvitserk didn't complain anymore. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me."

Evening finally came and this one felt weird.

Most nights you shared with Ivar and you missed him and his body.

Letting out a deep sigh you get out of the bath and continue with getting ready for the bed. You put on a soft nightdress and brushed your hair. It felt different.

Since you joined Ivar back at York you didn't really have a chance to clean yourself properly. Suddenly you decided to visit Hvitserk so you got up from your bed and went to his room.

You knocked on the door, waiting for a permission to enter. Maybe he already had some girl over.

"Come in."

Hvitserk was sitting on the floor, his legs crossed and elbows propped on knees as he was meditating. He offered you a nod. "Earl Y/N. What have I done that you honor me with a visit? Do you need my help?"

You sat on the floor next to him and chuckled. "Don't start with all that Earl thing, Hvitserk. I am the same Y/N that broke your nose. No need to use my title."

"Don't need to remind me about the nose all the time," he offered you a little too cocky smirk.

"Just trying to remind you that I am no one special. Sorry" You sighed. "And well... I am here because. I felt lonely."

"Being lonely doesn't mean being sad, yet I hear sadness in your tone and see it in your manner."

You raised your eyebrow. "How being lonely doesn't mean being sad?," Shaking your head you shrugged.

"I just used to spend the night with your brother. It felt good, I felt happy... Loved," You already could feel tears in your eyes.

"Don't cry. You can't change him. He's a spoiled brat who doesn't care about people's feelings. You'll find yourself a man anytime soon, just look at you. Young, beautiful, in charge. All men are losing head for you already."

You sighed and wiped your eyes with a short laugh.

"You are losing head for me as well? Who would want a woman with a face like mine. I should cry for how stupid I was to trust Ivar's love."

"It was not stupidity, what you experienced is used to be called love," he smiled softly.

"Was... Was it too much to ask for? To be loved for once in my life?," You asked, looking at him. "Father, left me to die. Mother didn't care enough to protect you. Brother tried to kill me... Man I loved..." You couldn't finish your sentence.

"You're young, you have your entire life lying ahead. You'll fall in love not once, not twice. The pain is temporary, it will pass as soon as you'll sign a truce with yourself."

"I am young with a face eaten by a wolf," you muttered. "I... I have a stupid question."

"No question is stupid if you think about it."

"Can I stay here tonight? With you?,” you asked. "I don't think I can sleep alone... Not today at least."

"Of course. You provided me with a room with a bed for two. But you can take it full."

"I don't want to take it all. I want to share it with you... I don't want to be alone tonight, Hvitserk."

"Your wish is my command," he replied with a little smile.

You smiled and then climbed to bed. Letting out a sigh you nuzzled to the pillow and wrapped fur around yourself.

Hvitserk spent a few more moments meditating. After that he went to wash his face and neck with cold water. The he slipped into bed with you

"Thank you for that. I need to look pathetic... I am the Earl and I act like a child," you said cringing at your own action.

"Don't judge yourself. I don't mind it. I offered you that I can be a shoulder you can lean in."

"Yes, you did," you nodded and moved closer to nuzzle him. "And I am going to use it tonight."

He straightened his arm to make a room for you. As you put your head to his chest, he lightly wrapped arm around your waist.

You got comfortable and hummed quietly, closing your eyes. He was arm and soft, you just wished it was Ivar who would really hug you.

Hvitserk used his other hand to stroke your cheek. "Shhhh, you're going to get through this for you're the strongest woman I saw."

[whatifxwereyou]

The Oncoming Storm Part 17: Blackout

Liu Kang x Reader and Kung Lao x Reader (gonna do both, two paths!)

Oh no, you made things complicated. Lol. I'm having more fun writing Kung Lao than should be allowed. Hopefully you guys enjoy! And yes, I know this is tropey but I also don't care LOL, it's a fun trope.

Part 16 Part 18 Chapter Index

The hotel was surprisingly crowded. You weren’t sure what you’d expected but you hadn’t expected it to be bustling with tourists. There was a festival happening, you should have expected this. A bit outdated, the hotel was still clean and inviting. A welcome reprieve from the stone walls of Raiden’s Temple. You’d arrived early and still had to wait in line. Raiden had ‘transported’ you there which had been a wild experience in and of itself. You’d walked into a bolt of lightning and had come out in a quiet alley unseen.

It had been so long since you’d walked amongst the average civilian that it felt straight up bizarre to be walking along the streets of the modest city, especially in your hanfu. It was all you’d had, after all. No one looked at you twice other than to greet you politely. Most of the other folks staying at the hotel for the festival were couples on a romantic getaway which had made it instantly weird to be waiting in line with Kung Lao to check into your respective rooms.

Thankfully, the line moved quickly and once you’d checked in, you dropped off the few belongings you’d brought with you. The room was tiny with a single bed, a desk taking up nearly the rest of the room. Atop the desk was a television and beneath that was an old, ancient mini fridge. It would do well enough. This was the most technology you’d seen in weeks. Afterwards, you’d found Kung Lao and told him that you would meet him in an hour. You’d made note of a clothing store down the road and wanted to see if there was anything worth buying.

He, of course, decided to join you. No one trusted you alone anymore. He didn’t say it like that, but you knew that Raiden had told both him and Liu to keep an eye on you. You felt like a ticking time bomb.

Once at the shop you were disappointed to find that it sold mostly yukatas and kimonos. You supposed it was better than the flowy hanfu. At least you could pick out something that would be your own rather than something that had been handed to you.

Boy, you missed the internet.

You picked out a few pieces that you could work with a bit easier. Most of the hanfu were dresses or long flowy robes. Here you’d been able to find a few women’s kimonos that had hakama pants as an option. You had never been so excited to see pants in your life. You didn’t need the whole kimono, just the pants. Some constricted around the ankles while others were left open. You grabbed both and were extremely pleased.

“Sometimes, you’re a very simple woman.” Kung Lao had patted you on the back when you’d showed him the pants in excitement. You had to agree. In that moment you were very simple. Pants had brought you joy. You’d wandered away from him after that to find a few tops, belts, and jackets. Thankfully, you’d had your wallet on you when this had all begun so you had some money on you. In Raiden’s Temple, money hadn’t been necessary, so you were happy to spend it on the few things you did need.

They weren’t jeans and a t-shirt or even cute dresses, but it felt like a step in the right direction toward feeling like yourself again. You hadn’t realized how much it had bothered you until then.

Kung Lao had purchased just enough for the day in flattering red and black. That seemed to be his aesthetic though you could picture him in blues too for some reason. Then you made your way back to the hotel and to your rooms on the top floor. You had gotten rooms next to each other. You went to get changed and were happy with what you saw even in the half mirror on the desk. You stood on the bed to get a better look. Black hakama pants and a grayish-lavender and black top with a white sash tied around your middle. You then pulled your hair back in a ponytail and admired yourself in the mirror. Even though your hair was a mess you looked much more like yourself.

Your white roots had grown out a couple of inches now. It didn’t look bad, but it definitely didn’t look like it was on purpose either.

Oh well! You jumped off the bed and then left the room to find Kung Lao waiting for you, leaned against the wall next to your door. He had one foot propped against the wall, arms folded across his chest, hat obscuring his face as it often did. The clothing he’d bought wasn’t too terribly different from what he usually wore with the notable exception that he had sleeves which was truly a shame. He tilted his head up just enough to greet you before stepping away from the wall. You hadn’t left him waiting that long and yet he acted as though he’d been there for ages.

You noticed the jade ring from his usual outfit was woven into his outfit with the sash around his waist laced through it. It was kind of sweet that he always seemed to have it on him.

“Is that significant in some way? Special?” You asked, gesturing to the ring. He looked down at the ring in surprise and then nodded down the hall. You walked slowly through the hotel toward the stairwell.

“It’s a relic from my ancestor, the Great Kung Lao.”

“Oh, wow. About that, though… I’ve heard people mention him, but I had never heard the name before you. I know that he’s of some importance which has made you important…”

“I am incredibly important, thank you.”

“Yes, very. Keep talking.”

“He was the first champion of Mortal Kombat who had come from the Shaolin Order of Light. He defeated Shang Tsung and won the tournament.” Kung Lao seemed as though he had told this story a hundred times but was still proud to tell it. It was oddly sweet. “He was champion of Earthrealm for fifty years before the tournament was corrupted and he was killed. Even so, he is held in great reverence. He was a remarkable warrior.”

“Is that why you have a dragon mark?”

“Yes, that is why I have the mark. It’s also why I was sent away so young. I’d already been training long before I’d met you. When I left it was because it was time for me to go live at the temple.”

You stopped walking before the stairs and he stopped just in front of you and turned to face you. “Then why were you so bad when we would pretend to fight?”

“I held back. I wanted you to have fun too. Besides, it felt nice to be normal back then.” He laughed and you caught up to him and started down the stairs. “I was thinking that we should come up with a story as to why we’re here.”

“Should we?”

“Obviously. We need a reason to be here.”

“Other than the reason we actually have?”

“And when a bunch of strangers ask you why we’re here, are you going to tell them the real reason we’re here?”

“Point taken.”

“We need a cover.”

“Do we really though? I don’t remember ever having to justify my actions that intensely to strangers before. We can just be visiting.” You jumped down the last two stairs to the landing between flights. Pants felt great. Kung Lao seemed to either be overthinking your trip or grasping at straws to get to some end point. Or he was going to cause trouble. You would never forget the look that both Raiden and Liu had given him on their way out.

“I’ve been asked three times what brings me to Mount Osore during the festival. I came up with a lie on the spot but I’m no terribly proud of it or anything.”

“And what is this lie you came up with?”

“I said I was here on a date. Everyone else seems to be here on a date, so it was the first thing that jumped to mind.”

You rolled your eyes at him and he laughed in surprise, waiting for you at the bottom of the stairs. You caught up to him. “Really, Kung Lao?”

“What? It’s the first thing I could think of! The people asking me were on a date and so I stuttered that I was too.”

“Kung Lao, no.”

“Come on, Y/N.”

“Can’t we just say we’re visiting and that it’s no one’s business?” You walked into the lobby and he hurried in front of you and took your hands, clasping them between his. You sighed. “Would you…” The lobby was very crowded.

“I hate you so much right now.”

“Would you,” he continued, talking over you, “do me the honor of going on a cute little pretend date with me so that we can sneak into an ancient Buddhist Temple built within the caldera of a volcano so that we can uncover an ancient and possibly cursed artifact together?” You stared at him in disbelief, but it was taking every ounce of your energy not to burst into laughter. He was such a dork. “I will get down on my knees and ask you again if you don’t answer me.” He got down on his knees and you broke. Laughing, you pulled your hands free, grabbed his arms and tugged.

“Oh my god, get up, Kung Lao.”

“It’s a great cover, Y/N.”

“It is an exactly okay cover. But fine. I haven’t done something terribly embarrassing in a while, so I guess I’m overdue for this.” You agreed at least. He was right. It was a good cover considering this whole place was filled with couples. Besides, if it got Kung Lao to drop the subject then you would be happy to agree. The whole display had made your cheeks burn.

“Embarrassing, huh? Come on, Y/N. It’s not such a bad thing, is it? Could be worse looking guys to end up with, right?” He walked at your side again, making a teasing kissy face and leaning close to you. You leaned away with an awkward and nervous laugh.

“If you keep doing things like that then you are going to get smacked.”

“Worth it.” He held the door open for you and together you left the hotel. Outside a bus waited to take tourists to the shrine for the festival. People were already loading onto it. Kung Lao offered you his hand and you looked to him skeptically. He grabbed your hand anyway and then you walked onto the bus. “You’re going to have to get better at pretending.” You found seats near the back of the bus and even as you sat, he didn’t let go of your hand. You felt incredibly silly. Yet, it also made your heart flutter. As much as you had given him a hard time, you also happened to think it was an incredibly sweet and kind of wholesome idea.

Funny enough, you had thought of this moment before but in a much different context. Maybe in a life where your childhood together hadn’t ended so traumatically. Where you’d stayed close friends and he’d have asked you out when you were old enough. In a way, you felt like a silly schoolgirl, something you hadn’t felt in years.

If he hadn’t died then this was exactly where you would have wound up. Somehow that made you feel much less silly and you finally relaxed. Kung Lao pointed out several interesting things on the side of the road through the window and you listened to him chatter on until the bus was pulling up to the shrine. You waited for the others to get off the bus and then you walked ahead of Kung Lao and stepped off it.

The shrine was huge and it took your breath away.

So much so that it made you dizzy.

A river flowed before you then beneath a red bridge. To the left of the bridge there was a white beach lining the bluest and most artificial-looking water that you had ever seen in your life. Rocks were piled alongside the shore in strange formations. Beyond the bridge there was a stone path that led to the shrine in the distance, and it was lined with old lanterns. You walked to the edge of the stone path where the bus had dropped you off to try and get a better look at the water.

That was a teal color you had never seen before in nature. In your mind’s eye, you recalled your vision and it made your stomach drop. You took a step further and were suddenly grasped around the waist and pulled away from the edge of the stone. Then Kung Lao looped his arm in yours. “You looking to take a dip?”

You hadn’t realized that you had almost walked right into the river. You hadn’t been thinking. The water had bewitched you, it seemed. You needed to get a closer look at it but now that you’d been turned away from it, the feeling had gone. From there you could smell the acidity in the humid air. That was likely why it was so blue. “Pay more attention, okay?”

You weren’t sure what to say to him. It was surreal being there. This place was exactly the same as it had been in your vision but also years, possibly centuries had passed since then. The shrine buildings themselves were much larger than they had been then. They were even a different color. Your head was spinning as you tried to take in everything at once. It was an overload. You grabbed Kung Lao’s arm to try and ground yourself. You felt as though you were floating and the wind would take you away.

Kung Lao led you onto the bridge and at its apex you sat and watched the water trickle beneath it. He helped you lean your elbows against the railing and then placed a supportive hand on your back.

“It’s okay. Take a second.” He seemed to realize that you were having a difficult time. How could you explain that you were struggling to wrap your mind around being in a place where you’d had such a vivid and violent vision? You were grateful for him. Your heart was racing and you watched the water flowing beneath the bridge, over the rocks. Your stomach had dropped. It felt as though you were intimately familiar with this place, as though you had spent years there, but you had never once seen it before. At the same time, everything felt completely new. Your brain was waging war with itself. “You okay?”

“Yeah, this is just… surreal.” You were finally able to collect your thoughts enough to talk.

“You went a bit gray. Figured you needed a minute.”

“I appreciate it.”

“So, where do we go?”

“There’s a well inside one of those buildings.” You nodded to your right where the shrine was at the end of the stone path.

“Vague, but okay.” He peered to the right and then pointed. “It’s off limits.” From there you could see a series of ropes that blocked off the building from visitors. “Great.”

“It’s crowded enough here. I’m sure we can sneak in just fine.”

“Of course.” He leaned next to you on his forearms, hands clasped together. “This place is a little spooky.”

“It is. I read a brochure from the hotel lobby. The monks here believe that it’s the gateway to hell. The river beneath us is supposed to represent the Sanzu.” You pointed below you. It was a little spooky, you supposed, but it was also incredibly beautiful.

“I read about that. I also read that there are holy water bathhouses and volcanic cauldrons with crazy colored water.”

“Yeah, and a lake of blood.”

“I hate that, Y/N.” He stuck his tongue out at the idea. You laughed. He was too funny. He had this way of making you feel at least even about the big and often uncomfortable things sometimes. Other times he drove your anxiety through the roof. Thankfully, this wasn’t one of those moments. “What do you say that we get to sneaking in and find this thing so that we can have a bit of fun for the rest of the day, huh?”

“That sounds nice.”

He took your hand once again and you walked over the bridge and along the stone path. The lanterns were decorated for the festival along with the rest of the shrine. Monks walked about, greeting visitors and answering questions while explaining various attractions. Most visitors, and there were many, were straying from the temple in favor of the white sands or the volcanic cauldrons. You and Kung Lao walked until you reached the ropes before the shrine. You stood there for a time in the shade, waiting for your moment to sneak in unseen.

“Coast is clear,” you whispered and turned to keep watch while Kung Lao snuck into the shrine. Once inside, you waited for your opportunity and followed him. Inside, the building was ancient but to you it seemed oddly brand new. It wasn’t the same shrine that you remembered from your vision. Much had changed since that wicked man had been there.

No one was waiting for you inside the small entryway or in the room beyond. That seemed like the central room, with space for prayer and a dip in the center for dining. The floor was lined with tatami mats and the ceiling was high, windows on the second floor spattering sunlight throughout the room. Halls branched off in each direction and you suddenly felt overwhelmed with choice. It had seemed so much simpler in your vision.

“Lead the way but be cautious. We’re not alone.” Kung Lao spoke in a hushed tone, staying close to you but alert.

“Yeah.” You started through the room and down the closest hallway, checking to see if it was empty first. Kung Lao took your hand and you urged him along with you. Your stomach was in knots and his hand there continued to keep you grounded. Several times you encountered monks going about their business and you had to duck into other rooms or sneak back around corners. You somehow managed to remain unseen, having to huddle together in strange spaces and hide in enclosed areas. It would have been fun had it not been so damn frustrating.

None of it made sense! As you turned down another hall, you sighed in frustration. You’d wound up there twice already. Your gut kept sending you there and back to the central room but there was no indication that it was the same place that the vision had taken place in. Kung Lao suddenly pulled you back into the side room and held you against the wall near the door. There were footsteps in the hall, and you held your breath until they had passed. You made to go back into the hall, but Kung Lao pinned you in place.

“You’re leading us in circles.”

“I know. It’s hard to explain. It’s like someone’s moving everything around while we’re walking. It doesn’t make any sense. I think I’m going one way and then we’re back to where we started.” It was making you sick to your stomach, as a matter of fact.

“You can do this. Just focus.”

“Kung Lao, you have no idea what’s going on in my head right now. I am focusing.”

“You’re right I don’t. So, tell me.”

“I’m not sure that I have the words to explain that the room we’re looking for should be right around the corner but then it isn’t.” It really was disorienting to expect to be in one place and end up in another. “It shouldn’t have been this far back but also this place is ten times bigger than it had been in my vision.”

“I need you to try still.”

You were mixed up. It was like someone was moving rooms in your head and before you knew it, you had once again led him back into the central room which made both you and Kung Lao groan in annoyance.

“Oh good. We’re back. I was worried.”

“It should be right here, but everything looks so different!”

“It’s okay, Y/N. We’ll figure it out.”

“It’s not okay, Kung Lao. It should be right here. I wish I could just show you.” The frustration was radiating off you, you were sure. “I can’t-”

“Is someone there?” A voice from somewhere down the hall called and footsteps approached from a distance.

“Fu…” Kung Lao whispered and then grabbed you and searched for somewhere to hide. The closest hall was too far. You were caught. “Don’t panic.” He urged you to the wall with surprising care and you made a sound of surprise. What did he mean don’t panic? You were instantly panicking. Don’t panic? What was wrong with him? He leaned against you and tilted your chin up and his head toward you like he was going to kiss you, obscuring you both with his hat. “Act natural, Y/N.” His lips brushed against your cheek, just next to your lips. “I swear, you’re terrible at this.” You were stiff as a board, so he had every right to scold you, but also he was pretending to kiss you so what the hell were you supposed to do with that? What was natural in this case?

You gave him a swift but soft punch in the gut and he laughed against your cheek in return. That made you feel a bit better. He lifted his head just enough and you peered toward the door nearby, waiting for the monk that would inevitably kick you out. You could have had time to hide at this rate. Kung Lao’s lips were pressed against your cheek and they were soft even if it was just in a mock kiss close enough to your lips to look like you were sneaking a private moment.

You peered around the corner, thinking maybe you were in the clear. Kung Lao did the same and when you turned back to tell him that maybe the monk had decided to turn away, you found him extremely close to you. Intimately so. His dark eyes were serious and that always scared you for whatever reason. He tilted your chin toward him and all other thoughts slipped out of your brain.

What were you doing there? Where were you anyway? And why? Did it matter?

Not right now it didn’t.

His hand was on your chin, thumb brushing just below your lip, urging your lips to part just enough. You dared not breathe to break the tension of the moment. The sneaking and searching were gone completely from your thoughts. All that was left was the boy that you’d so admired in your youth grown into a handsome man with his hand against the wall at your side, the other inextricably lost below your lower lip.

His eyes were searching you, but you dared not look back into them for fear of what you might find, for fear of what it might reveal to you. His breath warmed your lips before they were on yours, parting them like a blossom in a soft and singular tender movement. A far superior kiss than the one he’d pretended to give you for the sake of saving your skin.

His lips were sweet. Not like sugar or candy, but sweet like the lingering taste of honey at the bottom of a cup of tea. It was a feeling of sweetness rather than a flavor. The moment was still and soft, his lips treasuring yours as though they were something sacred and special. They pulled back just enough from yours that you could feel your lips resisting to part as if they had minds of their own. His eyes were searching you still for answers and in wonder, but you didn’t dare meet them. Yet, you could feel his gaze and beneath your fingertips, that had betrayed you and now rested on his chest, you could feel his heart beating almost as hard as yours.

His breath graced your lips again, but you dared not breathe. You wanted to say something, even just a whisper of his name, but no words would come and you sat there, lips parted in waiting, avoiding his eyes, hand clutching the cloth at his chest, unsure of where you even were or why. This was Kung Lao.

Your Kung Lao.

A soft sigh escaped his lips as they were on yours again, but the softness was gone, though there was something about them that was still sweet even so. The force of his kiss pressed you against the wall, leaving you no escape- not that you wanted to escape. This was a moment that the ten-year-old inside your head had both longed for and not understood. You would have been a fool not to return his kiss, to taste and experience his lips the way that he was with yours and so you did. You kissed him and it was like a storm inside you beyond your control, building with electricity with every moment that passed.

There was a tender moment of acceptance where it felt as though time stood still. The soft moment faded quickly to frenzied desperation. There was no space left between you. Kung Lao was pressed against you, body warm and strong, hat nearly pushed back off of his head as he favored kisses over his possessions. Your hands moved up his chest, to the sides of his neck, fingertips then tangling in the short, messy tendrils of his hair at the base of his hairline. Your heart was doing flips, brain completely turned off to anything that had happened before this, even if somewhere in the distant reaches of your mind you could hear your instincts telling you that you had to stop. Whatever muting effect had been triggered in your brain had seemed to impact Kung Lao as well.

In one swift motion, fluid and strong, his hands were at your thighs and he had lifted you and pressed you against the wall, urging your legs to wrap around him. Your arms slipped naturally around his shoulders, pulling him closer between hot and increasingly sloppy kisses.

“Excuse me?”

Ah, yes. The monk. That was right.

You stopped kissing him.

Kung Lao’s lips finally pulled from yours and you could feel that your own were left slightly swollen from the desperation and passion of those precious few moments. When had you gotten so tangled up in each other? His chest was rising and falling against yours quickly and even though he’d pulled back his lips lingered close to yours as if to consider defying the monk further.

“My apologies.” The monk sounded embarrassed and bowed multiple times. “This area is closed to the public for the festival.”

You finally managed to regain your thoughts and untangled yourself from Kung Lao. You placed your feet on the ground and cleared your throat though your face was likely as red as his robes. He released you from his grip though he made no effort to step away. You swallowed the lump in the back of your throat and forced your brain to work.

“Is it?” You sounded surprised and were grateful that you had. You hadn’t expected to be a very good actor after all that, but you had been surprised to be interrupted and also confused as to where your mind had gone. It was more feigning innocence than lying. The monk nodded and looked as though he sincerely felt bad for interrupting you. “I’m sorry. We had no idea.”

“It’s no worries. I will happily escort you back to the festivities. Follow me.”

“Sorry about that.” Kung Lao, who you had never seen at a loss for words, seemed to finally regain himself. Just like that, he was back to the goof he’d been when you’d first arrived. “We were just sneaking off to have a private moment. Didn’t realize it was off limits.”

“It happens all the time. You’d be surprised.” The monk led you back through the central room and into the entryway. You elbowed Kung Lao as you followed the monk and he laughed beneath his breath. Once outside the monk bowed to you and then left you alone. You leaned your head back and stared into the sunny blue sky with a sigh. You needed a new plan. That one had gone off the rails in a way you hadn’t expected.

[inkandpen22]

All I Want (1/4)

Request: I would honestly be happy with anything you write! Maybe a slow burn with Sirius x Reader where their relationship is kind of like lily x James and Hermione x Ron idk 😂 I’m not really sure aaaaaah

Pairing: Sirius Black x Female!Reader 

Warnings: none 

Word Count: 1.4k

Part Summary: Y/N and Sirius are in a FWB situation but they’ve also been best friends since First Year. When the Spring Ball rolls around, things get interesting, but they always are with these two. 

A/N: sorry this took ages to get out! Hope you like it! X

Masterlist

Sirius

While James and I walk to potions, he continues to nag me about the upcoming dance. He acts as if I can’t ask a girl out. I have it all planned: don’t worry about it until the day before.

“You need a date,” James warns.

“Well that’s easy,” I dismiss

“That’s true, he could ask a Slytherin and even she would consider it,” Remus remarks, appearing on my other side.

“No, I already have someone in mind,” I correct with a smug expression.

“Who?” James presses.

Right on cue, my favorite girl appears down the hall with Evans. Merlin, she is utterly perfect. Her perfect hair, skin, walk, smile.

“Y/N! Morning,” I greet as the boys and I approach the duo.

“Good afternoon,” she smiles, already giving me her full attention.

“Ooh, makes sense,” James notes, finally piecing together who I plan on asking.

“Y/N/N, I have a proposition for you.” I place my palm to the small of her back to guide her away from the group. 

“Oh no,” she expresses a tad worriedly. 

“It’s nothing bad!” I defend with a chuckle, though her reaction is fair considering the amount of trouble I've gotten her into over the years. 

“You said that last time and last time I got covered in poison ivy!" She reminds. 

“The Spring Ball,” I state. 

“Yes?” She inquires with a raised brow. 

I can feel the eyes of James and my other friends from a few feet away. Their frequent murmuring is hard to ignore. 

“Go with me,” I request to Y/N plainly. 

“Mmm," she thinks it over a moment. "Nope." 

Wait, what? 

“And why not?” I frown. 

“Because,” she shrugs and starts back toward our friends. 

I grab her wrist, bringing her to a halt. “Is this because of the dragon joke? I told you I was kidding!”

“Nope,” she replies purposefully vague. 

I release her wrist and she strolls back to our friends. I look to Evans for answers and she shrugs. 

“I know nothing,” she tells me as Y/N locks arms with her before walking off. 

I'm left surrounded by my fellow Marauders, watching in awe as my girl, my girl walks away from me. 

"What the bloody hell just happened?" I ask to answer who can answer. 

James places his arm over my shoulders. "Dunno mate, guess she's not so much "your's" as you thought," he laughs. 

"Oh really, huh?" I playfully shove my best friend in the chest to get off of me. "Well I think otherwise! I'll prove it too. By this weekend, Y/N will say yes." 

_________________________

Y/N

For most of the afternoon, I hide away in the library to study for a potions exam. Lily is supposed to meet hereafter her class. If I didn't have Lily as my friend/free tutor, I don't know what I'd do. 

"Hello, Love." 

The sound of Sirius's voice interrupts my studying. Then, a pair of lips meet mine. The kiss feels almost taboo with its intensity in such a public setting. Nevertheless, I embrace the affection. Sirius is like a drug that I can't get enough of, that I can never satisfy. 

He parts from me but lingers mere inches from my face. 

"Hello to you too," I greet with a pleased grin. 

"You look phenomenal," he compliments as he moves to sit beside me in Lily's seat. 

"Sirius, that's-" 

"Go with me!" He doesn't hesitate to ask me again. 

"Nope," I answer, unfazed, as I return to my studies. 

"Why not?!" Sirius whines, fussing like a young child. 

"Because!" I laugh, isn't it obvious? 

"Oh yes, that's a fair argument! Go on!" He mocks. 

"This is an argument, I just don't feel like going!" I giggle, trying my best to focus on my school work. 

When Sirius is around I never fail to get distracted. 

"But everyone's going!" He drags out. 

I close my book and face the jet black haired boy with similarly dark eyes. He's so pretty it's annoying. 

"So if everyone jumped off a cliff you would too?" I raise a brow. 

"If James did it, yeah," he shrugs nonchalantly. 

"Oh, dear Merlin," I mutter under my breath as I face the table again. 

Sirius shifts closer to me. I abruptly feel his warm hand glide up my thigh from the knee and I inhale sharply. 

"So you'll shag me, but you won't go with me to a ball?" He purrs in my ear. 

Sirius dangerously slips his fingers under the fabric of my skirt. I swallow hard, glancing over at Madame Pince as she sits behind her desk reading a book. 

"You know, we're really breaking gender stereotypes right now," I laugh nervously as he continues his pursuit. "Usually, in a friends-with-benefits scenario, it's the girl who begs for more from the guy. Look at you being revolutionary!" 

"Spring Ball, you and me, a bottle of firewhiskey, trip to the Astronomy Tower after," he smirks, rubbing his hand up and down my inner thigh. 

"Sounds real romantic," I sass breathlessly, as I try to remain relaxed. 

"Oh, you want romantic?" He raises a brow with a smirk. "I can make the Room of Requirement look real nice." 

"Knowing the students of this school, I feel like you're not the only one with that idea," I insinuate jokingly. 

He leans forward, planting a kiss on my cheek. "Y/N, sweet, kind, charming, beautiful...” He lowers his lips to my neck where he knows it'll make me squirm. 

"Sirius," I mutter his name warningly as I keep a sharp eye on the librarian. 

I bite down my lip and melt into the sensation of his soft lips on the base of my neck. He lifts his head to meet my gaze proudly.

 "Y/N, will you please do me the honor of escorting you to the ball?" He grins. 

"Ye-no," I nod slowly, pursing my lips. 

"You're lucky you're so damn hot," he pecks my lips. "Otherwise I'd kill you." 

"I'm so flattered," I tease the boy with a giggle. 

"As you should be, Darling," he leans in again and kisses me. "I will convince you to go with me," he assures against my lips. 

"Looking forward to it," I mumble. 

"Okay, I have to go before I distract you further," he reluctantly pulls away. "I'll see you tonight!" He rises from his chair to head out. 

"But I have-" 

"Nope," he holds up his hands before I can decline. "You and me, us, Room of Requirement at seven sharp." 

"Yeah, yeah, I know the drill," I wave my hand dismissively as I prepare to return to my studies. 

"Oh yes you do," he purrs and leans down to peck my lips with a smirk. "Bye, bye, Baby." 

"Later," I wave goodbye to my friend. 

As the boy strolls out of the library, he salutes Madame Pince. "Madame, always a pleasure." 

I snicker quietly to myself, and as though he could hear me, Sirius turns around and sends me a wink. 

It's almost ironic that he's named after a star considering that's exactly what he is, he's a bright, unique, light. I look at him and music plays in my head. Is there something wrong with me? Sirius and I have been best friends since First Year. Five years later and we're a little more than friends, but not dating. It all started during our Fourth Year, Halloween night. We both got drunk at the Gryffindor party and well... one can guess. Ever since then, we've acted as though we're dating, but neither of us has said it out loud. Sirius and I have hooked up with random people since then to keep it casual as we agreed. Yet, in the last year, we've both stopped. Neither he nor I have mentioned that fact. I'm just assuming he has hooked up with other girls and hasn't told me or he has his eyes on someone but is waiting. I've tried to conjure up the emotion to show interest in another boy, but I haven't felt anything toward anyone except Sirius in the last two years. Drunken hookups have happened, but they don't mean anything. With Sirius, it's not supposed to mean anything either, yet it feels different. It feels right if that makes sense. It's comfortable yet never boring, nothing about us is boring. I'm not sure what I want or what to make of it. All I know is I'm more comfortable where I am than where I would be if this were to end. I rather be his 'something' than nothing. 

____________________________________

Masterlist

Tags: @hyperactiveravenclaw