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wildsaltair · 3 months ago

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Tender Fires

Pairing: Maximus Decimus Meridius x reader

Rating: T (hurt/comfort, angst, fluff, with a few hints of spice)

Word Count: 6.4k

Tag List: @enjisbf, @nasatshirts, @empressenchanted, @streets-in-paradise, @xiscamoony, @aelondrias

Author’s Note: I'm back with another Maximus fic! This is actually part of a larger narrative in which Maximus escapes the execution attempt and ends up at reader's farm, where she tends his wounds and they fall in love but have to fight their feelings because he intends to leave to keep her safe. As always, this fic is written from the deepest longings of my lovestruck heart, and I hope that love is obvious :) Thank y'all so much for your kind words about the last fic, and I hope you enjoy this one!!

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“You’re up late.”

At your words, Maximus turns his head to look at you, and a soft smile crosses his lips. His features are etched in shadow, flickering with the dancing firelight.

He’s seated in front of your kitchen fire, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, gazing deep into the flames as if searching for some hidden meaning within. You would never have known he was in here if you had not been awakened by the loud cracks of thunder outside and come in search of the warmth of the fire.

An autumn storm, a midnight fire, and the most captivating man you have ever known, dressed only in his plain white sleeping tunic. It seems like a combination intended to lure you into trouble.

As you move to sit in the chair beside him, he looks back into the hearth, a smile still tugging at the corner of his lips. “I have stayed awake staring at many fires in my life,” he tells you quietly, his voice deep and thoughtful.

Out of the corner of your eye, you risk a glance at him, looking for the scar on his ribs. He has been with you for a little more than two weeks now, helping you with odd jobs around the farm as his strength returns. His wounds, though still vulnerable, have healed quickly, and you are relieved to see no signs of further injury on the parts of his skin that you can see.

“As have I,” you reply, eyes still lingering on him. “Though for me, it has always been the same fire. This one.”

He hums in response, nodding slightly. You have never sat by this fire together at night, and you are bewitched by the way the light dances over him, makes his golden skin shimmer. The lines of his arms and shoulders are limned in shadow, the firelight flickering on his handsome features.

You are overcome with a desire to put your hands on him, to feel the heat of his skin and the strength of his body, but you cast your gaze on the fireplace instead.

“I envy you that,” he answers softly, after a short reflection. He glances up at you, studying you intently. “A home fire, always burning in the same place.”

The meaning of his words is not lost on you.

Every day, the thought of him leaving you is more painful. At the moment, as you sit close enough to listen to him breathing, the thought is unbearable. Your home is his home now, and you long — more than you have ever longed for anything — for him to realize that he belongs here.

His shadowed eyes search yours a moment more, then return to gazing at the flames.

You take a deep, steadying breath to calm yourself. Your hands are trembling, and you smooth them over your skirt, hoping he does not notice how nervous you are from this simple interaction.

“Tea?” you ask quickly, pushing yourself to stand and get a bit of space between the two of you.

He glances up again, and your heart clenches at the gentleness in his expression. He nods. “Thank you.”

Have his eyes ever seemed so wide, so earnest? Are you imagining the way his gaze lingers on you, drinking in every detail of the way you move?

You can feel the tension in the room thickening, your own heart beating faster as you fill the kettle with water and set the tea leaves to brewing. Somehow, sharing space with this man is so much more intimate at night, with a storm raging outside and a warm fire bringing extra heat to the atmosphere.

Even more astonishing to you is the fact that you are not afraid of this powerful soldier. He is strong enough to do anything he wishes to you, to take whatever he obviously wants. But even now, standing here in your night shift, with your hair and your defenses down, you have no fear of him.

If anything, you wish he would initiate a touch, a kiss, anything that would lead to the passion that has been haunting your dreams every night.

Such as your dream last night. You can still feel the sensation of your body thoroughly tangled with his, your limbs entwined, his hands pulling your skirt up to your waist. Your cheeks burn when you remember all the places he kissed in your dream, all the places he touched and explored and pleasured. Such thoughts make you ache all over again, especially now that you are standing so close to him.

A blinding crack of lightning, followed by the roar of thunder, pulls you from the dream-memory of his mouth hot on your throat.

To distract yourself from such dangerous thoughts, you ramble on the first topic you can think of. “My father used to tell me stories beside this fire,” you announce as you hang the kettle over the fire and settle back into the chair beside him. You don’t dare meet his eyes, even as a smile crosses your lips at the memory. “I always begged him to tell me ghost stories even though they frightened me.”

He tilts his head to the side to look at you curiously, a smile of his own playing at his lips. “What kind of ghosts do you have in these parts?” he asks, leaning on one arm of the chair to look at you more squarely.

Somehow, having his full attention focused on you is unnerving, undoing, arousing. You can hardly find the words to speak.

His eyes are still on your face as you feel a deep blush burning in your cheeks. You hope he will attribute it to the warmth of the fire, not your intense reaction to the way he gazes at you. If he only knew how much more heated you are by his presence.

“My favorite is the Howling Woman,” you blurt out, glad that your voice is not as unsteady as you feared. “She wears all gray, with her head covered. She’s been seen in these mountains for decades.”

He does not interrupt you, but your breath catches as his gaze wanders across your face. An absent smile is still on his lips, and he seems to be content to simply watch you, to let his eyes trace the lines of your face, your neck, your hair where it tumbles over your shoulders. His gaze is searching, admiring.

How will you find the strength to hide your desire when one look from him could bring you to your knees?

Clenching your jaw and willing the kettle to boil faster, you continue your story determinedly. “They say she was the wife of a farmer who was killed after being thrown from his horse. She found him with his neck broken.” You pause, still breathless from the effects of his undivided attention. “She went mad and drowned her own children. When she came to her senses and realized what she had done, she walked into the wilderness to die.”

You wait for him to interject, to ask some clarifying question or comment, but he does not. He is still leaning on the arm of his chair, his dark eyes captivated by the sight of you in the firelight. You can almost sense the way he is actively preventing himself from letting his gaze wander further down — where your shift does little to hide the shape of your figure.

But somehow, his watchfulness is not an act of seduction. He seems genuinely swept up in your story, spellbound by the sound of your voice. He listens to you intently, curiously, and waits for you to continue.

“But to punish her for her crime,” you continue, blushing even harder, “the gods cursed her to wander these mountains and valleys for eternity, never able to die and meet her family in the afterlife.”

It is the sound of your voice, you realize now. His gaze wanders over your features slowly, as if measuring them, but his silence persists the longer you speak. It is as if he cannot bring himself to interrupt you, so captivated as he is by your voice.

“She still walks at night,” you finish, finally allowing yourself to look deep into his eyes. There seems to be no end to them, no way to pull yourself out of the gaze that holds you captive. “She wanders, calling and wailing and howling.”

He swallows hard, licks his lips, though you guess he does so unconsciously. A shiver runs up your spine, and not from your ghost story.

You lean forward, just an inch or so, to finish the story. “They say you can hear her best on a night like this,” you whisper, and the silence between you is so concentrated that you feel you might choke on it.

His gaze flits down to your lips for a moment, and in this flickering firelight, surrounded by warmth and desire, you think he may kiss you.

The silence is broken by a loud crack of thunder outside, one that makes you jump at its suddenness. You both look away, realizing how intently you have been gazing at one another for an inexcusably long amount of time.

The tea in the kettle is boiling at last, and, glad for the distraction, you lean forward to take it off the fire. Your two cups are sitting on the table beside you, and you fill both before handing one to him. He nods his thanks, and the two of you sit quietly for a few moments, looking deep into the firelight.

He is the one who finally breaks the silence. “Do you believe in ghosts?” he asks softly, with that pleasant raspy quality you have come to recognize in him at night.

You smile and lean back in your chair to sip at your tea. “Of course,” you confirm lightly. “Don’t you?”

His expression grows quizzical, and he doesn’t lift his eyes away from the fire. He takes a sip of his tea, thinks for a long time before answering. You are more than content to sit in silence with him, but he finally comes to an answer.

“No,” he tells you quietly, still mesmerized by the dancing flames. Eerie shadows prance over his fine features. “Spirits do not wander the earth after death. They go to the afterlife.”

His voice is calm and even, but resolute, assured. You have talked so little with him about such things, and you cannot deny your curiosity at learning more about what he believes.

“How do you know?” you press, unconsciously leaning toward him.

He does not move for a moment, just grips his cup tighter and sharpens his gaze at the fire. “I have seen enough death to feel certain of it,” he declares, then turns his head to look into your eyes again. “If ghosts could exist,” he tells you softly, gently, “then I would be haunted by them every moment.”

Your heart aches for him now, for the pain and grief he carries with him always. His life has been difficult, laden with the weight of many lives and much responsibility. Even in a peaceful haven like your home, he is ever followed by the burdens of his past, no matter how much comfort and peace you have offered him.

“Perhaps they do not wish to speak to you,” you suggest, tilting your head to show that you are teasing him. “Perhaps you do not know all there is to know in the world.”

His haunted expression softens as he looks at you, taking in the meaning of your words. As before, his soft smile smoothes the lines in his face, lifts a bit of the weariness etched into his features. You can’t help wondering if he realizes your effect on him, if he craves these moments of tranquility and comfort as much as you do.

“I am sure of that,” he tells you in a low voice, and your heart turns over at the simple passion in his eyes.

You lapse into silence once again, each of you drinking your tea and losing yourself in thought. Your own ponderings are of him, wondering what he is thinking. He has seemed burdened ever since you found him sitting by the fire, and you long to know what worries him.

If he only knew how your heart leaps at the sight of him, how you long to cradle his face in your hands, to kiss him until all his burdens are lifted, until all he knows is this deep, all-consuming love that has swept over your heart like an autumn storm.

The thunder continues to roll outside, the rain pelting your roof relentlessly, but the warmth of the fire and the pleasant constancy of his presence is comforting.

You do not press him for several long minutes, letting him mull over his worries in silence until both of you have finished your tea. When you set your two empty cups on the table beside you, you finally decide to inquire, pushing your chair a few inches nearer to him and leaning on one arm of the chair so you can look into his eyes more closely.

“What troubles you?” you ask softly, and he finally lifts his head, dark eyes burning into yours with all the intensity of the hearth fire.

His voice is hardly more than a whisper when he replies, “Ghosts.”

“Memories?” you ask, entranced by the way he slowly leans forward, closing the distance between the two of you one inch at a time. Your skin suddenly burns, aching for a touch, one simple touch, that will answer your constant longing for his hands on you.

After a moment of hesitation, in which he seems to ponder the consequences of what he wants, he finally lifts one hand and trails his fingertips down the side of your face.

“Shadows of things I do not understand,” he murmurs absently, and he traces the line of your jaw with fingers so gentle you cannot imagine them ever wielding a sword.

He gazes at you more openly now, his eyes traveling down to your lips as his thumb brushes over them. You suppress a shudder at the contact, and he strokes your lips a few times, transfixed by the sight, before sliding the backs of his knuckles down the column of your throat.

Stars in the heavens, if he only knew how your body is aching for him, how you respond to the slightest touch he gives you.

You finally find your voice to speak. “Is it your men?” you ask softly, as if the room has suddenly been overtaken by a spell.

He sighs, brow furrowed deeply in thought. “They were not my men,” he replies at last, still stroking his fingers down your neck. “Not the ones who betrayed me. My men were loyal, courageous.” His voice is thick with sorrow, and you sense that recalling this memory is painful for him. “They were my brothers,” he half-whispers. “They would have risen up in rebellion if they had known.”

Your heart aches again at the sadness in his voice, the sadness he works so hard to disguise throughout the day. Somehow, in the darkness, in the stillness of nighttime, he seems more vulnerable.

“Why does the Emperor want you dead so badly?” you finally venture to ask.

His hand stills on your neck, eyes not quite focused on your face. He seems to be traveling back in time in his mind, and he draws a deep breath as he thinks. Almost as if he does not realize what he is doing, his hand wanders to the base of your neck, absently stroking the sensitive skin there.

It’s all you can do to hold still, to keep from betraying how perfectly wonderful his touch is to you.

His voice is low and measured when he answers your question. “I once received favor that he believed should have been his.” He pauses, then raises his eyes to meet yours meaningfully. “By his own father.”

His words take you aback, and you know he must notice your wide-eyed stare. “Marcus Aurelius?” you squawk in disbelief. “You knew the great Emperor?”

“Yes,” he replies, his face softening into a smile at the memory. You are shocked by the revelation, but his fond smile warms your heart after seeing his heavily burdened expression a moment ago.

He presses on, though his hand is now running softly over your shoulder, skimming over the top of your thin shift. “I was young when he took me under his wing,” he explains, eyes tracing the path his hand is making on your shoulder. “I had won some small battles, and he saw in me potential for greater things. He made me what I am today.”

He strokes your shoulder once, gently, then removes his hand, as though he cannot trust himself to keep touching you there. Again lifting his deep blue eyes to meet your gaze, he looks at you so tenderly, so affectionately, as he raises the same hand to tuck your hair behind your ear.

You want to melt, to close your eyes and sigh in pleasure at his simple touch, but you fight for your composure. “He must have been a great man,” you manage instead, meaning every word.

“He was the greatest man I have ever known,” he murmurs, stroking his fingers through your hair at your temple now. “He is the closest thing to a father that I ever knew.”

You have noticed how the man is drawn to your hair whenever you leave it down. He seems fascinated with it, with the way it cascades through his fingers when he cards them through it. His attentions are so gentle, so unobtrusive, as if he is unable to keep himself from simply admiring your beauty in this soft firelight.

“And that is why the Emperor envies you,” you observe to keep from losing your breath.

“Yes,” he answers quietly, his voice hardly above a whisper. “He believed that his father wanted to pass on his power to me.”

You nearly startle in surprise at his words. Not only the commander of the northern armies, not only a confidante of Marcus Aurelius, but the rightful future emperor himself?

You almost feel dizzy, though you’re not sure if it is from the shocking news or the way his fingers keep brushing your temple as he plays with your hair. “Did he?” you prompt him breathlessly, genuinely curious.

He ponders for several long moments, letting your hair stream between his fingers. You are entranced simply by looking at his features — his dark eyelashes, his sharp nose, the gentle creases by his mouth. He is so exquisitely lovely to you, so unaware of how deeply he affects you.

“I do not know,” he finally admits, tracing the side of your face before letting his hand fall back into his lap again. “He never told me.”

His words silence some of the shock you were feeling at wondering if you were in the presence of a man who was supposed to have ruled Rome. The thought of this man, this humble, honest, unpretentious warrior, ruling such a corrupt and conniving empire is almost unthinkable.

You are struck by the absence of his touch, and he seems hesitant to initiate any more contact now that he realizes how close he has drawn to you. He’s still watching you carefully, as if gauging your reaction to his touches, but you cannot resist reaching out to him now.

Your fingers seek out the necklace that hangs down to his chest, a simple cord bearing two wolf’s teeth on the end. You have never asked him about its origin. You handle it carefully, and the man barely breathes as your hand hovers over his chest.

“What would you have done if all this had never happened?” you ask softly, caught in the intimacy of this quiet moment. “Would you have been a soldier all your life?”

Your question is a heavy one, full of unspoken desire and curiosity. You can tell he senses that desire by the way his dark eyes burn into yours, by the way his chest rises and falls more quickly, as if you are taking his breath away just by touching his necklace.

He thinks for a few moments, still gazing deep into your eyes. “I always imagined I would die in battle,” he tells you, a hint of sorrow in his voice. “There seemed no other fate in store for me.”

Your heart tightens, and you let go of your loose grip on his necklace. Suddenly, all you want to do is touch him, to make contact with his body somehow. His words have struck a chord in your heart, reminding you how grateful you are that this world-weary soldier has come to your home, to your hearth, instead of falling on a battlefield hundreds of miles away.

With your pulse racing, you press your hand flat against his chest, splaying your fingers over his heart. Even through the fabric of his nightshirt, you can feel his heart pounding like a war drum, perfectly in rhythm with your own.

Oh, how you long to press your heart against his, to be wrapped up in his arms, so thoroughly tangled with his body that you cannot tell where you begin and he ends.

His breath comes more quickly now, his lips parted and his eyes scorching yours with a hunger that stirs your blood.

“But,” he begins in a hoarse whisper, his gaze flickering down to your lips and then back up, “I did imagine, sometimes…” He pauses, licks his lips again, takes a slow breath, “that if I did have a chance to grow old… I might…”

He halts again, his voice dying in his throat. You press your palm more firmly against his chest, and his heart skips a beat beneath your hand. You can feel his skin burning hot under his shirt.

“Tell me,” you whisper, and a look of unadulterated desire flashes across his face.

He leans close to you, close enough that his breath skims over your lips. “That I might one day have a home,” he breathes. “A family.” He sighs softly, the longing in his voice especially evident. “A life of peace always seemed… unlikely.”

The hesitation in his words is palpable, and suddenly his own larger hand is covering yours, pressing it tight against his chest. You realize that he is relishing your touch the way you relished his a moment ago.

After holding your hand against his heart a moment longer, he grasps your hand in his, lifts it to his lips. Your own heart skips a beat now, when he presses a slow, languid kiss to the back of your hand.

“And now?” you whisper, breathless and tingling with need.

He breathes against your hand, slowly and calmly. “Now,” he echoes, his voice rumbling in your bones. “Now a life of peace seems impossible.”

No. No, he cannot mean that. He cannot still mean to leave you when his gentle eyes speak of the passion he holds for you.

“It does not have to be,” you insist, lifting your free hand to touch the side of his face. He actually sighs at your touch, his eyes fluttering closed. His lips are slightly parted, and it takes all your willpower not to lean forward and kiss him until he can breathe nothing but your name.

His eyes remain closed when he responds, your hand still cradled in his. “To believe otherwise would be foolish,” he tells you, though his voice is anything but resolute. “Dangerous.”

You stroke the side of his face tenderly, enraptured by the way he reacts to your touch. He seems so relaxed, so overwhelmed when you caress him gently. The thought suddenly strikes you that this man has probably never been touched this way — not as light as a feather, with such love and affection that he can feel it beating in rhythm with his heart.

When you brush your fingertips down his neck, over the sensitive skin of his throat, he makes a sound so soft, so unguarded, that you nearly come undone for him right there.

“Are you not well acquainted with danger?” you whisper, leaning in closer to him. He opens his eyes when he feels you drawing nearer, and his fathomless eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that sends a shiver down your spine.

You want him to stay. You want him to love you as you so desperately love him. You want him to never stop looking at you the way he is now.

And when you press your hand flat against the side of his neck, your gaze fluttering over every perfect feature of his face, his soul opens to you, and you see all the love you bear for him reflected deep in his own eyes.

“Yes,” he breathes, and he leans forward to close the few inches that separate your lips from his.

The first sensation that strikes you is his blood pulsing in his neck, hammering against your hand as you caress him. His own hand tangles in your hair, holding you in place while he presses his lips against yours.

There is no hesitation in this kiss, no second-guessing or reluctance. His lips move against yours in a rhythm so natural that you wonder if he has imagined this as many times as you have.

He tilts his head slightly to the side, drowning in your kiss like a dying man seeking air. You can feel the breath knocked out of your lungs, so unaccustomed to any attention as passionate as this. The man lifts his other hand to cradle your jaw, still kissing your lips, gently but insistently, over and over and over.

This is what heaven must be like, you realize distantly when his tongue slides against yours, every inch of your skin tingling in response. His undivided attention, his unashamed desire for you is so arousing, so delightful in every way.

You can feel your cheeks burning, your skin heating up, the longer his hands linger on your face and neck. His fingers stroke your jaw, and his other hand grips your hair just hard enough to hold you in place. He is still reveling in your kiss, still using his lips and tongue to draw out the softest moan you have ever made in your life.

As soon as he hears it, he moves his lips to press against the corner of your mouth, much as he did the first time he kissed you in the barn. He trails his lips down your jaw, peppering kisses on every inch of skin he passes.

Thoroughly excited by his kisses and touches, your mind is all too eager to provide any number of tempting images. When he dips his head to one side, lips touching the place where your jaw meets your neck, all you can imagine is the careful way he would undress you, lay you down, and make love to you, slowly and gently but passionately.

He drags his lips down your neck, his curious tongue coaxing another soft sound from you. Again, your mind flashes to all the ways he might use his tongue on you, all the places he could seek out and tease until you are so dizzy with pleasure that all you can say is his name, over and over.

Another press of his tongue, and it takes all your strength not to beg him to take you right here. You can imagine it so easily, the way he would grip your waist, your hips, the way you would wrap yourself around him and touch every inch of his bare skin if he would only give you the chance.

What would you not give to see him shudder in pleasure, to throw his head back and hold you tight as you cling to him and make him feel the same thing he ignites in you?

It’s at that moment that he whispers your name, tenderly, reverently, like a prayer, against the soft column of your throat. Your whole body shudders in response, your hands tightening where they have landed on his broad shoulders, and he finally fulfills what you have been aching for.

One strong arm wraps around your waist, the other around your upper back, and in the space of a breath the man has pulled you against him, leaning you to the side so that you are cradled in his arms across his lap.

You are suddenly very aware of how thin your shift is, of the way he must be able to feel every curve of your body pressed against him. His fingers are gentle where they wrap around your waist, and you feel with heightened awareness all the strength of his own body, all his powerful muscles and vigorous energy.

All you can do is sigh in pleasure as he keeps his head buried in your neck, still kissing your sensitive skin as though he cannot get enough of you.

You can barely take a breath, so overcome with the multitude of sensations he ignites in you. His hand flexes against your waist, and you respond in kind with your fingers digging into his back.

You have the distinct impression that the man is having to physically restrain himself from going further, that all he wants to do right now is yank open your shift and kiss his way down your bare body. As irresistible as that thought is, you let him take the lead, and he chooses to simply kiss you rather than ravish you.

He is a noble man, a man of honor, and though your body is aching for him to truly make you his, you take pleasure in his self-control, his respect for you.

His fervent kisses to your neck finally slow, and he breathes against your skin as though trying to memorize you. When he nuzzles his face against your neck, all you can do is close your eyes in absolute ecstasy. One of your hands finds its way into his hair, and it’s his turn to shiver with pleasure, pulling you even closer against his body and resting his lips against the curve of your neck.

He goes still in your arms when you stroke his hair, slowly and tenderly with your fingertips. Again, you are struck by his reactions to your gentle touches, by the way he melts into your arms as though overpowered.

Several long moments are spent in that position, with you cradled against his chest, his face against your neck. You would be content to stay like this all night, just listening to him breathe, feeling his heart beating against your side.

But the moment passes, as all moments do. Another crack of thunder shakes the house, and you can’t help but jump a little in his arms.

As if pulled out of his daze, the man smiles softly against your neck, strokes your back soothingly in a way that only serves to make you arch your body against his. A moment later, he lifts his head from the crook of your shoulder, letting his face brush against yours as you disentangle yourselves.

Though you have just spent the last few moments passionately embracing and kissing, and though both of you are still flushed and breathless with exhilaration, the following moment is not awkward. You do not look at each other as you part, but you can sense your own relief and contentment in him.

You do not know what will come of this. You do not know if he will stay much longer. But in a moment like this, with your lips still swollen from his kiss and your skin still burning from his touch, you feel as though no heartbreak can be as vast as this perfect fulfillment you feel with him.

You stand slowly, glad that you are not as unsteady as you feel, and you lift the kettle off the fire just to have something to do. You can feel the man’s eyes on you, though he does not speak.

“It is a fierce storm tonight,” you comment, almost without realizing that you are speaking. The silence between you was comfortable, but you long to say something, to know that he is still at ease with you.

He takes his time in responding, especially since you have your back to him. “Yes,” he says simply, his voice deep and husky.

Stars, how you want to hear that voice in your ear, in your bed, murmuring to you while you both reach the height of your shared pleasure.

You swallow hard to banish your intrusive thoughts. You move to set the kettle down in your cabinet and scramble to think of something else to say. Rain continues to pound against your roof, sending a slight chill through the air despite the warmth of the fire.

“Will you be warm enough tonight?” you ask over your shoulder, still conscious of his eyes burning into your back.

Again, he takes his time answering. “Yes,” he finally replies. “Will you?”

You let the question hang, still standing with your back to him. You hope he can understand your wordless answer, especially after sharing such an intimate moment.

The only warmth I crave now is the heat of your body against mine.

Still trying to avoid meeting his eyes, you half-turn to pick up your two empty cups from the table. Doing so makes you lean against the side of the little square table, and you notice with great surprise that it does not tilt dangerously to the side as it has for the last several months.

The table legs are perfectly even now, and you suddenly raise your eyes to look at the man squarely. He is gazing at you with the oddest combination of expressions — desire, contentment, admiration, sorrow, longing, affection, and several others you cannot name.

“You fixed my table,” you observe, genuinely struck by the kindness of his simple gesture. You don’t know when he did it, but sometime in the last few days he must have noticed the unsteadiness and taken the time to fix it somehow.

He holds your gaze for a long moment, and a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. “It needed fixing,” he replies simply.

Your heart leaps into your throat, though you can’t say quite why. Despite the fact that just a moment ago you were wrapped up in his arms, sighing while he covered your neck with kisses, you are much more affected by his modest demonstration of kindness — fixing something of yours that was broken.

“Thank you,” you tell him softly, returning his small smile with all the warmth blossoming in your heart.

You finish your task, setting the two cups in the cabinet to be washed tomorrow. The storm outside has quieted somewhat, but you can still hear the constant pounding of raindrops on the roof and walls.

Quiet thunder rolls in the distance as you turn to look at the man again. He is still seated, leaning forward with his knees on his elbows, gazing at you curiously.

This is what you want: this man in your home, always, sharing your fire, sharing your space, looking at you as if you hold his heart in your hands.

The words spill from your lips before you can consider them. “My father always told me that a storm can make a person change their mind about anything.” You hear the significance in your own words, and you press on anyway. “He said it’s in their nature to bring about transformation.”

The man’s darkened eyes do not leave yours for a moment, and you hold his gaze steadily, wanting him to hear your unspoken plea.

Stay with me. Let me love you as I do in my dreams.

His face does not betray any decision, but his gaze is tender, filled with a weary longing. His eyes explore each feature of your face as gently as his fingers did a few moments ago.

“Perhaps I will listen to it for awhile, then,” he murmurs, and your heart sighs.

All is not lost. You must simply wait.

As you start towards the doorway that leads to your bedroom, you pause beside his chair. The man is looking up at you with eyes that melt you to your very soul. Overcome with your affection for him, you lift one hand and stroke the side of his face, smiling down at him fondly.

“Goodnight, general,” you whisper, and your heart whispers, Beloved.

Before you can drop your hand, the man wraps his fingers around it and brings it to his lips. An unhurried kiss to the back of your hand, one that sends another shiver down your spine, and he releases you. His eyes burn into yours, intense, ardent, yearning.

“Goodnight,” he whispers, and your heart hears his whisper, Beloved, long after you have slipped into the next room.

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More of my fanfiction if you're so inclined :)

#this may or may not be the best standalone fic i've ever written #i forgot about it but it seemed appropriate for halloween hehe #in case anyone is wondering this is what is happening in my brain constantly #this is just the words version of it #maximus is ALWAYS on my mind #i am eternally longing for sweet moments like this #i swoon i yearn i melt i die #the thought of sharing a moment like this with him???#i go into cardiac arrest #i wrote this and it still makes me melt every time i reread it #because it's from the heart!!#this was written with all the love i bear for him!!!#welcome to this tiny glimpse into my heart and soul friends #enjoy the drama #and the love #and the spicy hints here and there hehehehe #oh maximus how i love you #how i would love you if given the chance #gladiator #maximus #maximus decimus meridius #gladiator 2000 #russell crowe #fanfiction #gladiator fanfiction #maximus x reader #maximus decimus meridius x reader #my fanfiction

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ancientgoddessofegypt · 9 months ago

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ASTROLOGY TIPS - ASPECTS

Sun/Venus - A person with a sun/venus aspect has a charming ability that can masks itself into getting others to do what you want. The original sirens. Learning how to express this more often can garner them more fame, respect and power. They are naturally popular, but if they dont know how to awaken it, they usually have to embrace their sensuality much more often and get more into the spotlight.

Jupiter/Moon - Knowing what works is a natural ability they have. This takes a little arrogance on their end (jupiter) and trusting the power of intuition (moon) to make it more favorable. It seems as if that placement just knows things without knowing. And they should be more honest with themselves instead of guarding this gift. You never know when someone is going to need your intellect in somethning.

Mars/Moon - Hidden geniuses when it comes to working hard for something. That inner passion they feel sparks up real big energy, so a small tip for them is to work on that thing each day no matter what. It could be 30 minutes a day or whatever, but to keep the drive and focus churning more they have to keep the momentum.. because once they stop its harder to get back in with that same momentum.

Pluto/Sun - Transformative by nature, they need to spend more time in nature imo.. Nature is the inner reflection of us all, so these people have to learn to transform themselves like the way of the water, the trees, butterflies etc. Like how the seasons change, so do y'all. Very similar in nature to sun/neptune but more on the darker end. You guys need to be at peace with your transcendence and not reject it. The more you open yourself up to others the more powerful you become. <3

Mars/Jupiter - Being able to focus on a path that makes your heart sing, that is transcendence. You guys have a big appetite for learning, so putting all your effort in making a stronger impact on your mind is necessary. The choices you make in bettering yourself is a form of self-mastery and at some point might take up space. We're dealing with jupiter, after all.

Sun/Moon - Whew. I love yall. such a whimsical energy present. Your love for yourself and the world is a reflection of the inner child that is always constantly moving. Keep doing you, is my main tip. Focus on having a more balanced presence, and doors will open up for you much more easily. Got it?

Mercury/Jupiter - Talk. Talk. Talk. But talk about the things you love, what excites you, what makes your world much bigger. Your infinite mind is the key to enrichment in your journey, so why not share that with others who might be interested in the same. It could be as simple as a good book you just finished reading. Inviting others to how you see the world will attract more followers to you that you ever knew.

Neptune/Moon - Learning to accept your boundaries with others helps you heal a lot more than you realize. You're not for everyone, your cool, calm collected nature is what attracts people to you like flies... but its not for everyone to receive. You get me? Just be open to more out there, because the world is your oyster no matter who tells you otherwise. K <3

If you're interested in learning more, check out my tags! Also, if you want to know anything about your own chart, feel free to go into my asks! Thanks for reading, chow :)

#deja's astro observations #astro observations #astrology thoughts #astrology theories #astrology observations #tropical astrology #spirituality #astrology #astro #astro notes

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driftwood-draws · 7 months ago

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reconnecting to therianthropy ideas

hello y'all! first post! so recently i had a friend ask me how they can get reconnected to therianthropy, so i made a list and i thought i'd post it here!

-take walks in the woods or wild space -listen to a stream running while sleeping -sometimes when i sleep, i curl up into a ball on top of my covers -watch documentaries about your theriotype -go swimming in a lake and play on the shore if you have an aquatic theriotype -listen to your theriotype’s vocals -eat meat, if you’re a carnivore, or eat a salad if you’re a herbivore -take a cold shower and pretend it’s a waterfall -i’m dragonkin and being on the prow of a boat feels an awful lot like flying, but other options are standing facing the wind with arms outstretched, watching flying POVs with a fan pointed at you, and daydreaming, i guess -make a mask out of cardboard or buy a base (it’s okay if you can’t!) -lay in the sun outside -play with a pet, if you have one -if you have a lupine theriotype, play Wolfquest 3 Anniversary Edition on Steam. i’ve heard it has amazing graphics and hunting! -chew on something rubbery. i have an inflated rubber egg that i love to chew on -make a tail out if yarn. it takes a LOT of time and effort, but it feels good once completed -put glow-in-the-dark stars on your ceiling to simulate the night sky -watch Wolfwalkers, Brother Bear, Nimona (all relate to shapeshifting into a creature) -read Warriors if you have a feline theriotype -read Nat. Geo. magazines and articles -i like wearing sunglasses on my head because it feels like i have ears, but you could also wear a hat or a headband -draw your theriotype -if you have a nocturnal theriotype, try pulling an all nighter (if your parents will let you) -try hunting one of your stuffed animals (close the door in case you shift -climb a tree! -look up videos on how to get a shift by meditating (i personally don’t meditate but i’ve heard it works) -if you’re home alone, put a bowl of water or soup on the floor and eat/drink it like your theriotype would -if you can, try to get a tag to hunt something for real! when i hunt, it really connects me to nature (if you can’t, don’t sweat it) -go on a hike and try to act like your theriotype -make a den in your room or backyard -paint rocks or shells -decorate your room to match your theriotype -do quads, if your body allows. don’t worry about having the perfect form or jumping high, just have fun! you feel more natural the more you do it (i find going up stairs or uphill to be easiest) -find alterhumans in your area and make a pack -look at therian boards and concept art on pinterest -make a paw imprint in clay then hang it up -make a hidden therian/otherkin symbol in your room

thanks for reading my ramble! if you have more ideas, please feel free to comment!

stay wild 🐾 -drifty

#therian #otherkin #nonhuman #therianthropy #otherhearted #alterhuman

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justwhisperingfantasies · 3 months ago

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You Belong With Me - One Shot

Characters: Reader (y/n) - Beau Arlen- Cassie Dewell - Jenny Hoyt - Denise Brisbane - Mo Poppernak - Tiffany (o.c)-Knox (o.c)-Pete (o.c) Mention of Cody Hoyt.

Warnings: Drinking, Language, Jealousy, Angst, Fluff, lmk if I missed any.

Summary: You're in love with your best friend, but he is with someone else. You try to move on when the new cute guy in town asks you on a date.

Word count: 4,042

Hope y'all enjoy it. 💜

Please don't copy my work

Like, comments and reblogs are highly appreciated 💜

If you would like to be added to my tag list click here

Reader's Pov

“I need a favor.” Cassie grimaced walking over to your desk.

“What now?” you playfully whined.

“I need you to go sweet talk your bestie about the getting a copy of the report.

“Cass, I don’t think he’ll be ok with that.” You took a drink of your coffee. “They sealed it.”

“Oh, come on it’s you. He’ll at least let you see it. I just need a couple dates.” You gave him an unamused look “Please.” You sighed and picked up your phone. “Thank you (y/n) I owe you one”

“Yea, yea, yea” you teased as you opened your contacts, you scrolled until you found his picture and tapped the call icon next to it. You put the phone up to your ear as it begins to ring.

“Hello Darlin’.” His gruffy voice stirred up the butterflies in your stomach.

“Hello, Sheriff Arlen.” You said in your best flirty voice. He chuckled. You returned to your normal voice. “How’s your day going?”

“It’s been alright. Checking up on paperwork. How’s yours?”

“Eh ok, I guess. I was just sitting here thinking and ya know what I realized?”

“What’s that?” You could hear the smile in his voice.

“I haven’t told my best friend was a handsome son of a bitch he is today."

He laughed. “What do you want?”

“Beau Arlen, I had offended you would accuse me of kissing ass to get something!”

He stayed silent for a second. “Are you done?”

“Yes.”

“Are you gonna tell me what you want.”

“Have you eaten lunch yet?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“I’ll be there in 15.”

“Oh lord. What are you getting me into now sweetheart?”

“See ya soon.”

As you walk up to the front doors of the sheriff’s station armored with a paper sack containing one of Beau’s favorite sandwiches from a local dinner, you pass Mo. He tipped his hat. “Mornin', little lady.” He said with a smile.

“Deputy.” You returned the smile with a nod.

“He’s in his office.” He told you as you grabbed the door handle.

“Thanks Pop!” you walked in and made your way back to his office, but he wasn’t there. You grin as an idea pops into your hand. You sit in his chair and clear a space. Careful not to mess up his organized chaos. Leaning back, you plop your boots on his desk and cross your ankles. When he opens the door ⁴ you lean back further and cross your arms behind your head.

He laughed. “Please make yourself at home.”

“Just trying to see how the other half lives.” You smiled at him. He laughed again. “Now I hope you don’t mind, but I did some paperwork organizing while I waited.”

He pressed his lips together and flared his nostrils. “Please tell me your kidding.”

Your grimaced “I thought I was helping.” You said as you sat up.

He rushed over to his paperwork and started looking through the piles. You inhaled through your nose as he leaned in front of you, taking in his intoxicating scent of blue vetiver, sandalwood and citrusy notes. He always smelled so good.

You started laughing. “Beau, I’m just messing with you. I know better than to mess with your system.” You put air quotes on the word system.

“Hey, my desk, my process.” He finally noticed the paper sack sitting on the empty side of his desk. “Is that?” he looked at you and pointed to the bag. You nodded. “Oh, you can have whatever you want.” He said as he unwrapped his sandwich.

You smiled. “Now remember you said that.”

“Yeah, yeah. Get to it.” He said in between bites.

“I need a copy of the Goodwin report.” You gave him a big smile. He swallowed and his face went hard. “Or just the dates. Cassie has a theory, and she needs dates to confirm it.” you puckered your lips and stuck out your bottom one.” He stared at you, his face still hard as stone. “Please B.” You pleaded.

“Ya know you are putting me in a very difficult position sweetheart.”

“Nobody would know.” You turned on your puppy dog eyes.

He sighed “I can’t give you a hard copy, but I can give you dates...”

“That’s all I need.”

He leaned over you again onto his keyboard. “Look away.”

You rolled your eyes. “So paranoid.” You put your hands over your eyes. You can hear the lead on paper and he starts to hum. “Are you humming Elvis?”

“Yes. Ya know you never cease to amaze me. Not many people could recognize an Elvis song from a hum.” He stopped writing. “Alright.” He turned to face you and leaned against his desk. He held out the piece of paper but snatched it back as you reached for it. “Hold on there darlin’ he haven’t agreed on a price yet.”

Your jaw dropped. “Beaufort Arlen.” He rolled his eyes. That wasn’t his name and you knew it, but you could resist calling him that. His reaction was adorable. “You want me to offer you a bribe?”

“No, not a bribe. More like one hell of a good cook persuading her handsome sheriff friend with her famous chicken and dumplings” He winked at you.

“Fine, but I won’t have time tonight.” You bargained. “I’ll drop them off tomorrow night.”

“Oh yeah. You’re date.” You nodded. “Maybe if you keep this one around you guys could double with me and Tiffany.” You rolled your eyes when he said her name, “Don’t be mean (y/n). She regrets what she did, and Things have been good lately.”

“Yeah, ok.” You stood up and he handed you the piece of paper. “Thanks for your help sheriff.” You head towards the door

He sighed. “Any time.”

Reader's Pov

“How did he smell today?” Denise asked you as you walked into the office.

You smiled and took a deep breath remembering his cologne. “Dreamy.” You sink down in the chair in front of her desk.

She smiled. “And tell me why you never asked him out again?”

“Never got the chance. Tiffany just keeps weaseling her way back in, but” you pointed your finger at her. “I am over Beau Arlen.” She raised her eyebrows. “I am Denise. I have a date tonight.”

“Oh really?”

“Yes, He’s name is Knox.”

“Oh, the new guy! He so cute.”

“I know. Which is why I said yes when he asked me out.” You turned your head as you heard the bell that hung above the door. “Speaking of cute.”

Cassie smiled. “Did you get it?”

“I got the dates. He said he couldn’t make me a copy.” You held out the paper for her.

“That will work.” She took it. “Thank you.” she started walking to her desk.

“Welcome.” You called after her.

“Well, I should probably get back to work, got a big ol’ pile of nothing to get back to.

“Hon you’ve closed 3 cases in the last 2 weeks, I’d say it’s a good time for a break.” Denise advised.

“Or you could do some digging for me and give me something to do.” You said with a smile.

“I can try, maybe you should call Beau.” She smiled and you rolled your eyes.

You made your way back over to your desk. You turn your computer on as you sit down. Drumming your finger while you watch the loading screen you decide to text him. You take your phone out of your jacket pocket and open it to your existing conversation.

Y/N: Beaufort

You opened your email while you waited for a reply. Nothing, absolutely nothing.

Your phone buzzed.

Beau: I’m all out of favors today darlin’

Y/N: Rude of you to assume I’m only texting you for a favor. I was actually gonna ask you if you needed help with anything.

Beau: Calm down. It was a joke. Not today. I’m still stuck at the office I have to get this paperwork done TODAY.

Y/N: Damnit. I need something to do.

Beau: Why don’t you go home early and get ready for this big date you have tonight.

Y/N: My big date isn’t until 7. Are you saying I need 5 hours to pretty myself up. 🤔

Beau: You roll out of bed beautiful, and you know it. Just think you deserve to pamper yourself every once in awhile

Y/N: Nice save.

You hit the send button and turn off your screen. “Cassie!” You yelled.

“Yea?” she yelled back.

“Please tell me you need help with something!”

“Actually yes.” You jumped out of your seat and rushed to her desk. “Are you that bored?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m freaking dying here.” She handed you the papers in her hand and started giving you the run down of the case she was working on.

“I’m right.” Cassie whispered as you finish reading the dates that were in Beau’s handwriting to her.

“You’re right.” You reassured her.

“Holy shit. I have to go talk to Jenny.” She pulled her coat on. “See you at the bar tonight.”

“Um probably not. ”

“I’m sorry I forgot, I hope I don’t see you tonight,” she winked at you. “Can we give this one a fighting chance though?”

“Hardy har, har.”

Beau’s Pov

He sat down at the bar and looked up at the clock. 8:55. She’d probably be getting rid of the loser and walking through the door any minute now. “Hey Pete.” He said as the bartender approached him on the other side of the bar.

“How’s it going sheriff?” Pete said as he sat on a beer and a shot glass in front of Beau.

“We may need a bigger glass.” He told Pete as he poured the whiskey.

“That bad huh?” Pete asked. Beau just shook his head. He downed the shot of whiskey.

“I don’t know Jenny. She seemed different about this one.” Cassie said as her and Jenny walked up to the bar. “Hey Beau.”

“Ladies” Beau said tipping his hat.

“You want some company?” Jenny said as she sat on the barstool beside him.

“Sure, why not?”

“Well, geez don’t get too excited.” Cassie teased sitting on the other side of him

“What’s gotcha down?” Jenny asked as she got Pete’s attention. He brought over 2 more beers and 2 shot glasses for the girls. “

“Paperwork day, Jenny”

“Oh, that’s right.” Pete began pouring their shots and a second one for Beau. “Cheers” Jenny said holding the full shot glass up. Beau and Cassie repeated. The three of them took their shots and sat the glasses on the bar.

Beau looked up at the clock again, 9:00. Come on where was she?

“Pete, can we just get a bottle?” Jenny said grabbing her beer and her glass. Pete grabbed an unopened bottle of the same whiskey and handed it to her. “Thank you. Can you put it on my tab?” Pete nodded. “Grab your glasses and bottles.” She led them over to a high top by the dart board.

“You really wanna play darts?” Beau asked sitting his beer and glass on the table.

“Well not really, but it gets you away from that clock.”

“Touche.”

“Come on. We’ll make it fun. Every time someone gets a bullseye, we drink, every time someone misses the board, we drink.” Jenny persuaded.

“Every time someone throws a dart, we drink.” Cassie teased making Beau chuckle.

Jenny grabbed 3 darts of different colors, handing one color to Cassie and another to Beau. “Alright.” He gestured for her to go first.

They took turns throwing the darts on the board and he was actually having a decent time. After 3 shots he checked his phone. 9:30. What the hell.

“Well, I guess (y/n)’s date must be going well. 2 and a half hours. No calls, no texts, and she hasn’t shown up here yet.” Cassie said.

“Or she’s at home drinking alone.” Beau rebuttals

Jenny poured another round of shots. They clinked and downed them. “Beau, you’re up.”

As he was throwing his last dart, he heard Jenny let a whistle out. There she was finally. Beau threw his dart and turned around. His heart nearly exploded in his chest. She was wearing olive green western looking dress, low cut, very low cut. The lower hem dangle over her cowboy boots, His eyes traced up to her face, God she was just beautiful. Makeup done up all nice and her hair in curls under a cowboy hat that matched her boots. What he wouldn’t give to be the guy holding her hand right now. It should be him not this pretty country boy wannabe. Ugh he rolled his eyes. She smiled at them and mouthed the words oh my god as they made their way to the bar.

“Damn she looks good.” Jenny exclaimed.

“So does her date!” Cassie added as they sat down at their table. He purposely sat in the chair facing the opposite direction.

“He ain’t that good lookin’.” Beau sneered.

“Oh Beau. Don’t be jealous. You know we love you too.” Cassie teased.

His ears got hot as he heard her laugh. Clearly, she was interested in this guy. He huffed and poured himself a shot.

“Hey pretty lady!” Cassie said as (y/n) walked up to the table.

She smiled. “Hey guys. This is Knox.” She gestured towards him. “Knox. These are my best friends. Jenny,” Jenny put out her hand the Knox shook it. “Cassie.” They repeated. “And this is Beau.”

He put his hand out “Sheriff Beau Arlen. I’m sorry Knot was it” (y/n) glared at him.

Knox chuckled. “No sir, Knox” he emphasized the x on the end. “With a x”

“My bad.” Beau said with a smile.

“So, tell us Knox what do you do?” Jenny asked.

“I’m a veterinarian.” She raised her eyebrows at Cassie.

“Oh, are you going to work at Andy’s place?” Jenny asked

“Until I take it over.” Jenny and Cassie furrowed their eyebrows. “Andy is my dad. He is fixin’ to retire within the next year or so.”

Beau’s phone started to ring. “That’s probably Tiff.” He noticed (y/n)’s eye roll. “I should get going anyways. See you girls tomorrow. Box nice meeting you.” She shook her head. “Good night y’all.”

Reader's Pov

Today was your return to the office after taking a 3-day week. You and Knox made things official after 4 weeks of dating. He took you out to his family’s lake house for the weekend to celebrate. You took a deep breath and walked through the door.

A big grin spread across Denise’s face when she looked up “How was he. I mean it? “

You chuckled. “It was good.” You turn to walk to your desk

“The weekend or the sex?” she asked.

“Both.” You said and started walking. She chuckled.

As you sat down your phone started ringing. You looked at the screen “Really?” you said out loud. It was Beau, you haven’t really seen or talked to him in about 2 or 3 weeks, only in passing. Wonder what he wants you thought to yourself.

“Beaufort. What’s wrong?”

“You busy today?”

“not sure I just got in.”

“ok well find out and let me know. I need you.”

“Ok. Let me talk to Cass and I’ll call you back.”

“Ok.” He hung up.

“Ok Beau.” You opened the door to find him pacing in his office. “what’s wrong?”

“Should I ask Tiffany to marry me?” He blurted out.

“Um excuse me?” You practically fell into the nearest chair as your legs went numb from shock.

“So, this morning as I was leaving Tiffany stopped me and told me 3 years is long enough to know whether I want to marry her or not.”

Your eyes widened as your jaw dropped. “You’re kidding me.”

“I wish I was.”

“Well, what did you tell her?”

“I told her I couldn’t do this right now. I had to get to work. And if I was gonna ask her to marry me it was going to be on my terms. Not her forcing me into it.”

You know the question you had to ask, but you didn’t want to. You didn’t want the answer. Your heart hastened as you though over what he would say. “ Do you want to marry her?” you couldn’t hid the quiver in your voice.

“I don’t know.”

You pulled on the bill of your baseball cap trying to hide the tears building in your eyes. “Do you love her?”

“ I’ve stuck by her through everything. The lying, the cheating.”

“That’s not what I asked B.” You began to blink rapidly trying everything that wasn’t too obvious to dry out your eyes.

“Why would I do all that if I didn’t.” He stopped mid step. “I think I should just do it. We’ve been together this long. And I’ll probably be with her for the rest of my life anyhow.”

“Well that’s a hell of a reason.” The words came out before you could stop them.

“Look I know you’re not here biggest fan, but I do care for her. It’s going to be hard to keep a friend that is mean to my fiancée don’t ya think.”

You shot up out of the chair. The nervousness and pain you felt turned into a white-hot rage. “Are you fucking kidding me right now Beau?!” Your hands begin to shake. You can’t hold back the things you’ve been dying to say for so long. “She cheated on you for 2 months. Several times. It’s not like it was a one-time mistake. God, I swear you’re as dumb as a box of rocks! I have absolutely no idea why you would stay with her. And if you really wanna marry someone that takes the greatest person on the face of this earth for granted, then be my freakin guest.” He just looked at you with a dumbfounded look on your face. Tears started coming back and you didn’t bother trying to stop them. “Beau you are my best friend, and I love you, but I can not and will not sit here and watch you throw your life away and marry her.” He opened his mouth; you continued not giving him a chance to argue. “I really don’t want to be this person, and I hate that I am saying this. but I can’t be your friend if you do this.” You walked out the door, not giving him the chance to tell you he was going through with it anyway. You heard him yell after you, but you couldn’t stop. You just wanted to get away from everything.

Beau’s Pov.

He sighed as he got back into his Defender. He pulled his phone out to call (y/n) for the 17th time, straight to voicemail. “Son of a bitch.” He yell as he hit the steering wheel. He scrolled in his contracts and hit the green icon. “Cassie.”

“What’s up Beau?”

“Please tell me you’ve from (y/n)”

“I thought she was with you.”

“Are you at the office?”

“Yea? What the hell happened Beau?”

“Ill tell you when I get there.”

Denise and Cassie jumped as Beau charged through the door. “You guys really haven’t seen or talked to her?” He asked.

“No. Tell us what happened!” Cassie demanded.

“Well, I called her and told her I needed her help. I was given an ultimatum this morning.” Cassie raised her eyebrows. He went over the fight with them. “And then she stormed out.”

“Oh, Beau. I can’t believe you don’t see it” Denise realized what she had said and put her hands over her mouth.

“See what?” he asked

“Never mind. I’ll make some coffee.” Denise walked away.

“Her phone is going straight to voicemail. She’s not at the bar, not at her house. I tried the dinner, a couple parks I know she likes, I tried the gazebo by the lake, I have looked literally everywhere, Cassie, I can’t find her.” He was anxious and jittery. They have had some fights in the past. The one they got into was when he took tiffany back was especially bad, but she was always waiting at the bar for him with a beer and a shot.

“Just calm down. Give me a minute.” Cassie got up and walked to the kitchen. “What do you know Denise?”

“I shouldn’t had said anything.” She kept her back to Cassie. “It’s not my business.”

Cassie walked up to her and put her hand on Denise’s shoulder “Denise.”

“I thought it was pretty dang obvious, but I guess not. She’s in love with Beau. Has been since she’s known him. That’s why she never keeps a man around. She’s been hoping one day he would wake up and realize.”

Beau felt the air leave his lungs as he leaned on the kitchen doorframe. She was in love with him. This had to be a joke. What was so special about him? There’s no way someone like her could love him. “She’s in love with me?”

Cassie and Denise spun around. “Frick.” Denise said.

Cassie’s phone started to ring. “Hey (y/n).” His eyes shot to Cassie. She was nodding. “Alright. I understand. Take the day. I’ll see you in the morning, ok?” “If you need anything just call, ok?” ok.” Cassie hung up and walked to her desk. Beau followed. She started writing on a piece of paper.

“Are you going.”

“Go to the Strickland stables. Follow these directions.” She handed him the paper. “She’ll be there.”

“Did she tell you that?”

“Trust me.” she shook the paper at him.

Reader’s pov.

You inhaled deeply looking out at the view as you sat on the wooden fence. You turned your head as you heard the swishing of the grass on jeans. “Cassie told you where I’d be huh?”

“She wrote me out directions.” He leaned on the fence beside you. “She told me you used to come here with your brother.”

“Yeah, Cody would bring me up here back in the day, when life got too stressful. When we were kids, he told me to throw my problems at the mountains and they would throw solutions back.” You said with a chuckled. The cold wind made the tear drop’s trails sting your skin.

“They give you anything good today?”

“Not really.”

“Can I try?”

You chuckled. “Sure.” He hopped over the fence and stood in front of you. After a minute or two he turned back to you with a big smile on his face. You hopped down. “What did they say?”.

He took a couple steps. He was close. “They told me to stop being such a chicken and do this. He pulled you into him, his hands cupping your face as he leaned in, the anticipation crackling in the air. Then, with a swift, decisive movement, he dipped you backwards, your heels lifted off the ground, his lips meeting yours in a fervent collision, as your bodies pressed tightly together, the world around you faded away.

He brought you back up and rested his forehead against yours. “Well. That was. Some. Damn. Good advice.” You said between heavy pants. He chuckled and kissed you again. You smiled with wide eyes as a thought popped into your head.

“What?”

"I just realized that I have several more ways to persuade you now."

his head lifted as he let out a laugh.

💜 Tag List 💜

@jackles010378

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@quietgirll75

@namcymcl

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@nightxcreature

@hunter-or-the-hunted

@litpicks

#beau arlen #beau arlen fic #beau arlen x reader #big sky #jensen fucking ackles #jensen ackles #x reader #reader insert #fem reader #fluff #angst #one shot #fluff and angst

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cherryheairt · 5 months ago

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Dragon Dreamer pt. XI

part eleven y'all. The closer I get to the season ending, the more nervous I get, I hope I can make do with book summarizations, though canon will be changed around. it has been two weeks since Jaehaerys' death, for time to move forward.

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

cw: mention of violence and death

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Dusk had made it quite far, traveling a lot further in less time than Cregan could on horseback. Around him, Cregan saw through the direwolve's bright eyes. The men had rallied quickly, saying swift goodbyes to loved ones before they left. The greybeards had already started their march to The Twins, leaving the younger men to follow after them with their larger force. It would not be weeks before they reached the Riverlands, but their pace was steady, and the men were rearing to fight for their Queen at Lord Stark's command. Ahead, Dusk met with Lord Henry Hornwood, the man who would lead the greybeards in Cregan's stead. His son, Germen, was old and experienced enough to lead if Henry did not return. None of the greybeards did.

"Lord Stark," Henry bowed slightly toward the wolf, sensing the look the wolf gave him to be all-too-knowing. "We have made fine progress, and have picked up more fighting men along the way. Each House swears themselves to your cause–to the Queen's cause."

Cregan, or Dusk, nodded firmly. The only thing that hindered him when he warged was the ability to talk being taken away from him. Everything else was a bonus; faster speed and strength, hearing, stealth.

"Dragon!" One of the bannermen shouted, causing many of the Northerners in the camp to duck down for cover.

Cregan looked up, Dusk's sharp eyes spotting the nearly invisible white dragon passing the army of men. Against the clouds, only the movement of wings could be seen. Morningstar. Daenys was coming to Winterfell.

Cregan sent his mind back to his own body, blinking rapidly to adjust to the sudden shift. He could leave Henry to deal with the rest for now, knowing Dusk would be following them until Cregan could start his march with them. Back in his solar, he sat up in his chair. Good or bad news, he needed to prepare for the Princess' arrival.

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As Morningstar landed, she seemed to call out for something, or perhaps someone. Daenys pet her neck with a short 'thank you' before hopping off from her wing and marching toward the gates of Winterfell. They were already wide open, Cregan standing the open space surrounded by the two guards who always manned it.

"That was fast," Daenys commented, amused. "I didn't think you would know of my arrival so quickly."

"I have my ways," he said vaguely, grinning as he kissed her hand. When Cregan leaned back up, he kept the hand gently placed in his. "I have chambers and a meal prepared for you—"

"We cannot stay." She said curtly, shaking her head. "I wish we could, but this is more urgent."

"We?" He asked, bemused.

"Ser Alfred Broome has been murdered. An assassination attempt has been ordered for the Queen by the usurper. Luckily, she was saved by her Queensguard. We are still left without A Master of War."

"And what does that have to do with your visit to Winterfell, my Lady?" He asked hesitantly, already able to guess why she had come to him.

"I offered your name as a potential Master for the Queen's Council. Rhaenyra has accepted." Daenys told him.

"A seat at the council?" His brow furrowed, looking down at Daenys with a conflicted look. "I am commanding my men as we speak, sending ravens nearly every hour to rally the houses to fight."

"Can ravens not be sent from anywhere?" Daenys challenged. "You are smart, Cregan. Smarter than those power-hungry fools on my mother's council. They wish to push her out, lead in her stead and lead the realm into a war that it would never recover from. They need a strong voice of reason, another man that they might actually respect in Daemon's absence." She pleaded, placing her other hand over the one that held hers.

"Daemon has gone?" He asked.

"To Harrenhall, where I hope to meet him and bring him back to Dragonstone. He is not sending any news of his success in the Riverlands, so I can only assume he is acting in his own best interest."

"Please, Cregan. Come with me." Daenys squeezed his hand lightly, a pleading tone to her voice. "The Queen would be grateful for your council."

Cregan avoided her stare this time, knowing he was weak to the Princess' whims. With a sigh, "I will come to Dragonstone with you, my Lady." He conceded. The guards behind him stood up straighter, shocked at the news. They shared a glance amongst themselves.

Their Lord was ready to go into the snake pit for this war.

A Stark had never sat on a Monarch's council, only ever used for his men and fealty.

"Alaric, send for a servant to pack my things. Leon, tell my council that I will be gone for a while and to send all my important ravens directly to Dragonstone. The Maester will lead in my stead." He barked behind him, earning obedient nods as the men scurried off.

"Allow me to feed you, at least, before we depart. You must have been flying for a while."

"Please, Cregan—do not make me eat." She stepped back from him stiffly.

When he stepped forward to comfort her, she shook her head. Cregan stilled. "But I won't deny a pig or cow for Morningstar." She asked hopefully. The flight back would tire the dragon out, she knew.

"Very well." Cregan nodded, biting his tongue. "I will send food for her. Give me only a few moments, Princess." He tucked back into the Great Keep to fetch a guard to send for food.

When Cregan returned minutes later, a servant carrying his things followed behind. A butcher, Daenys presumed, exited another part of the keep with a pig being lead outside of Winterfell's walls. Daenys nodded towards the man gratefully when he shuffled past her back inside, Morningstar having eaten her fill.

Cregan, clad in his lordly Stark sigil and pelts, met Daenys near the dragon.

Daenys hummed curiously, glancing around. "Where is Dusk? I figured the pup would have seen you off."

He adjusted Ice on his shoulder restlessly. "He has gone off with my men to act as a scout." A half-truth, but Cregan truly did not know how to bring up his ancestral talent, for it was such a hard thing to explain to southerners. He knew she would understand, but the information was unneeded currently.

"A shame. I would've found a way to take him with us." She smiled up at him cheekily.

Daenys clipped his cases onto a storage part behind the dragonsaddle, reaching out a hand for Cregan to take. Nearly blushing like a maiden at the offer for help, Cregan took it anyway and sat behind his Lady.

"You will burn up in those clothes, Stark." Daenys said, nodding towards his heavy clothes.

"The price I pay for you, sweet girl." He huffed, though held no animosity towards her.

"Ready?" She asked. Cregan could only nod, clenching his jaw and firmly wrapping his arms around her torso.

She'd never sat a man grown on her saddle before, only her younger brothers. It was strange to have someone sat behind her and not in front. Humming, Daenys ordered her dragon up, "Sōves!" Morningstar trilled as she took flight again, already knowing the way home without Daenys having to steer.

Cregan held tight to her for the entire liftoff, mearly buried into her neck while holding his breath. When the dragon steadied herself above the treeline, Daenys laughed at his still-tense hold. She grabbed one of his hands from her belly, intertwining it with her own. "Scared, my Lord?"

"I would be a fool not to be. I must be the only man of no Valyrion blood to ride a dragon. I don't know if I should praise or curse myself." He laughed nervously.

Daenys shook her head softly, laughing more boisterously than he. "I praise you, good Lord. Not every man would be so brave to even get close to a dragon."

He squeezed her hand back, twice. "I guess I must get used to it. After all, my Lady wife having a dragon at her disposal means that I must grow accustomed so such flights."

Briefly, he ran his fingertips over the emerging scar on her forearm, still in the healing process from her bite. The small scar on her neck was already healed up, leaving a white line cast halfway across her neck. None but Cregan knew of them, due to her long-sleeved dresses and shorter height. She shivered at the delicate ghostly touch, earning a breathy chuckle right into her ear.

"Do you want for one of your own?" She teased, glancing back at his pale face.

"I think I will be content with Dusk, safe on the ground." He jested, overlooking the sights that they passed. At the dismantled campsites were abandoned firepits or forgotten items men must have left behind in their haste to get ready. As they flew further, Cregan and Daenys were able to spot the marching greybeards easily. The mass of over 2,000 men spanded far across the winter desert. As they walked, they formed a sea of greys and browns that Daenys had grown accustomed to seeing northerners wearing.

Morningstar passed them quickly on her way towards the Riverlands.

Daenys thought for a moment, "I should like to stop at Harrenhall before we return to Dragonstone."

She knew it was her only chance to help Rhaenyra outside of the council. Not that she spoke during the meetings, anyway. Her, Jace, and Baela were practically disregarded by the old men once they started to speak, thinking that their experience overruled their titles. Rhaenyra would refuse Daenys' ask to fetch Daemon personally. Both the husband and wife were incredibly stubborn, refusing to give in to the other. The Queen didn't wish to put her children in harms way again, but they needed Caraxes and Daemon back quickly.

Cregan stiffened behind her. "Harrenhall? Where Prince Daemon is staying? What exactly is your plan of action for talking your uncle into coming back to Dragonstone?"

Daenys rolled her eyes, grateful that Cregan could not see her face in front of him. "I will simply aid him in treating with the Riverland Lords. Gods know he will only make them riled up with his disrespectful attitude. We need allies, not enemies. Daemon has never been good at making friends."

Cregan stayed silent at her words, conceding to her once again. He hoped the stay would be brief, only a few days or less. He did not wish for Daenys and himself to be exposed at Harrenhall, so close to the Crownlands and not protected by water like Dragonstone was.

Daenys felt faint halfway through the flight, glad it was almost over and done with. Perhaps the lack of food was getting to her. She felt the panging of her stomach starting to hit her only now. Perhaps the only time she wished to eat was when she camping with Cregan, sharing their kills that had roasted over the fire from their own hard work. Being so used to working for her every meal for weeks, then being served plates three times daily made her feel spoilt. Even more so for throwing them away like a bratty child.

Daenys would eat at Harrenhall if there was time. It would make the headaches go away, according to her basic knowledge of the body. Either from hunger or stress, there were little other reasons for such sudden pain. Only one was an easy fix.

She breathed deeply, trying to wish the nausea away, waiting for the castle to come into sight.

When it had, already in the very late evening, Daenys grimaced at the sight. It was hardly a great castle anymore, with no guards keeping watch outside of it or at the doors. It would be easy for Daemon to claim, as well as any of their enemies.

Caraxes howled out at the sight of Morningstar's bright scales. In the night sky, sun barely below the horizon, her magnifice stood out against the dark skies. Any higher, and she could perhaps be mistaken for a true star. Morningstar roared back, greeting the elder as she was guided to land.

Daenys dismounted outside of a large and ungated entrance, a field holding a weirwood tree. "I didn't know there were many weirwoods so far south. I thought the Old Gods were abandoned by Southerners." Cregan commented, slowly following her footholds and climbing down.

"There are only a few. Namely in the Riverlands, and one in King's Landing. Some descending from the First Men have stayed loyal to their ancestors' gods, others moved on." Daenys shrugged, not having much opinion for either religion. The trees were beautiful, though. A haunting and deep aura surrounded them. Almost intimidating, if it weren't a tree.

"Go find Caraxes. Stay with him, and call out at any sign of more dragons." Daenys commanded the dragon, watching her fly off to the rocks that Caraxes made his temporary home.

Daenys takes Cregan's outstretched arm as they walk into the gloomy hall. As they wandered through the dark, damp halls, it took an embarrassingly long time to find the dining hall, where Daemon sat. A young boy sat in front of him, looking flushed and nervous under the intense eye of the prince. An older man sat in, too, who Daenys guessed was Simon Strong–Harwin and Larys' granduncle.

The man had watched over Harrenhall alone ever since Lyonel passed away with Harwin. Since the estate passed to Larys, the knight had been left at his own nephew's mercy ever since. But now, seeing as the old man was not dead, he had allied himself with the Blacks.

Ser Strong and the young boy stood when Daenys entered, shock apparent on their faces.

"Ser Simon Strong, my Lady. Castellon of Harrenhall. We were not expecting the company of a Princess, as well as the Prince—"

"King." Daemon sharply interrupted, eyeing Daenys suspiciously.

"Yes, the King Consort has been staying with us for a few days now while we await the Riverland houses to pledge to your mother." He bowed politely, sitting himself back down at her acknowledgment. Vaguely, she was happy to meet another one of Harwin's family.

"M-My Princess." The boy bowed deeply, hand tightly clutching the pommel of his sword. He wiped the other hand on his breeches, obviously nervous. "I am Ser Oscar Tully. I have come in place of my grandsire, paramount of Riverun." He stammered his way through his sentence, glancing back between Cregan and Daenys.

"Sers." Daenys nodded her head. "This is Lord Cregan Stark. I am escorting him back to Dragonstone upon the Queen's request. I hope you do not mind our intrusion. We hope to sit in on The Consort's meetings with the Riverland lords."

"My Lords." Cregan followed her polite action, though more tense than she. In front of other lord's presence, his voice changed from the soft-spoken and low one he used with Daenys. It was more serious and lordly. He seemed to fill a room with his presence and demand respect.

At the title, Daemon bristled once more. "I have this handled well enough, I believe your mother is expecting you to stay by her side as you always are."

"That is a husband's job, not a daughter's." Daenys said. Before Daemon could start a fight in front of respectable allies, Daenys sat herself down right next to Oscar, who got more flushed if that was even humanly possibly.

"And does your grandsire pledge for The Queen, Ser Oscar?" Daenys asks softly, knowing exactly how it felt to be in his shoes. A young man, too green to be taken seriously surrounded by older and more experienced men.

"As I was telling His Grace," Oscar glanced between Daenys and Daemon, unsure of who to address formally. He had only arrived minutes ago, not yet saying his piece in place of his grandsire. "My grandsire is incapacitated. He lies in a kind of waking sleep, unable to do much more than take meager drink."

Daenys nodded, sympathizing with the riverland boy. Her own grandsire was in similar condition for years before his passing, forcing him to practically be a corpse in his bed, haunting the Red Keep.

"So, he's alive?" Daemon asked, displeased with the information.

"Yes, gods be good." Oscar brightened considerably.

"Well, my time is short, and I am in need of an army. Perhaps you might place a feather pillow over his head and speed along your inheritance?" Daemon leaned closer to Oscar, speaking of the boy casually murdering his own kin like it was nothing.

Oscar leaned back, closer to Daenys. The Princess placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, appalled. She looked to Cregan, who had the same look that she did.

"Daemon!" She hissed. Clearly, she was right in needing to be here to mediate.

Daemon stared at Oscar, waiting for his reply.

"I love my grandsire, like a father." He told the Prince adamantly. "My own Lord father died suddenly, himself a young man. Lord Grover raised me in his stead."

Daemon sat back, sighing deeply as he rubbed his temples. "Very touching, indeed. Are you here to speak with your grandfather's voice?"

"While he still lives?" Oscar asked. It was an uncommon thing to do, though not unlawful in dire times like these. "That is not our way."

"Then you're of no use to me."

"I can see why the Blackwoods and the Brackens did not fear to start a war." He spoke again, this time to Ser Simon. "House Tully is a fish without a head. Remind me which one of your countrymen pledged for Aegon? Was it Bracken or Blackwood?"

The barrage of insult rendered the Tully speechless, merely staring at Ser Simon for help.

"It was House Bracken, Your Grace." Simon wisely covered for the boy.

"Who could remember?" Daemon scoffed, standing from his seat and grabbing Dark Sister along the way. "Summon House Blackwood here. I require men of action to lead my host of Rivermen." He barked, passing Daenys without another word.

Ser Simon pursed his lips, comfortingly patting Oscar's shoulder before speaking. "Princess, my Lord, I will have proper chambers and meals set up for you both for the duration of your stay. Excuse me."

Simon left to order for their accommodations as well as send the necessary ravens.

Daenys sighed, glad for the conversation to at least be over.

"Allow me to apologize for my father, Ser Oscar." He turned to her, stormy blue eyes finally meeting her own now that Daemon's absence no longer frightened him. He truly was a fish out of water, sent to meet with a King at his young age with no advisors at his side. How irresponsible of his grandsire to not make preparations while he is in such a state. "No one is expecting you to do such treasonous actions just to be able to succeed your grandsire. The Crown sympathizes with your troubles, as we have experienced such things ourselves."

He smiled gratefully, looking downtrodden. "I truly do wish to help you–help Her Grace get her throne back. But, my grandsire believes Aegon to be the rightful king, and I can not declare otherwise while he is still Lord Tully. I'm sorry, Princess."

Daenys smiled, standing from her seat with all the poise that her septas forced upon her. This time, unlike with Cregan's first meeting, she knew how to perform confidently. Oscar stood to meet her, standing only a few inches taller than the Princess.

"Please, Ser Oscar, I implore you to stay for at least the night. I'd hate to see you start your walk back home when it is dark out. I'm sure Ser Simon will not mind. Many of these rooms are thus unoccupied."

Shifting on his feet unsurely, he nodded. "If you wish it, Princess. I will leave after breakfast on the morrow. Goodnight, Princess, my Lord." He bowed his head, very briefly passing a kiss on Daenys' knuckles before he strided out of the dining room.

Cregan, behind Daenys, turned to her, finally able to speak alone. "Your father is quite the character. I'd heard of the Rogue Prince, but to tell a boy to do such a thing..." He trailed off, raising a brow at his betrothed.

Daenys took his arm, guiding him to sit back down next to her while they awaited supper. "No one can be prepared for him. I hope the Blackwood's are not easily offended, lest we lose another great house to the Greens." She stressed, fiddling with the cuff of his sleeve.

He sat back in his seat, sipping at the wine a servant had left when the meeting was being held. "They are known for their boldness, Blackwoods are. They will take any excuse to fight, especially for what they believe is just. Even Daemon couldn't scare their Lord off." Cregan told her reassuringly.

They supped together peacefully, making small conversation about what had occured in their lives during their small separation. Eventually, they both finished their plain stews and were shown to their rooms. Adjacent to each other, Cregan turned to Daenys before they entered. "If you need anything, tonight, come to me." He whispered to avoid an echo in the hallway.

"I will." She said, leaning up to kiss his cheek 'goodnight'.

The room was decently spacious, with windows overlooking the sea. The sound of dripping in the castle had started to become a white noise for her, growing used to the sound and even finding its rhythms soothing.

Daenys lay in bed, dressed in a shift given to her by a maid, apparently having no Lady's clothes in the castle being used for a while. While those collected dust, the maid simply allowed the Princess to borrow one of her own. She slept only a few hours, dreamless and pleasent. She was only awakened by heavy footsteps striding past her doors. She tiptoed to her doors, cracking open one to see Daemon's ghostly robed figure walking back to his room, cup in hand. Daenys, ever curious, made her way to where he had come from.

She found a lit kitchen, with a pretty black-haired lady dressed in an apron working over the counters. "Oh, forgive me—" Daenys began to apologize, not wishing to interrupt the woman's work.

The woman did not glance up, busy with her herb grinding, though she did speak. "Wandering the halls so late in the night seems to run in the family." Her voice was accented, though not too differently from Daenys' own. She seemed to be from the Riverlands, too, but did not sound like Simon or Harwin.

"Yes, he woke me up with his parading through the halls. I don't know how you get much sleep in these halls, with all the echos."

The woman looked up at her, smiling knowingly. "You grow used to them. Well, some do. Most run off when they get spooked. Shame, really. Harrenhall has been quite peaceful for me."

Daenys hummed, slowly approaching her table. "What is all this?" It didn't look like kitchen ingredients, but more so poultice, salves, and teas.

"Poisons." The woman says plainly.

Daenys meets her eye, which holds no amusement. Was she serious?

Before Daenys could question her, the woman snorted. "You are quite like the Rogue Prince, aren't you? So serious."

Daenys huffed, taking a seat in front of the counter on a raised stool, watching the woman's work with interest.

"A Princess must be cautious of strangers." She said. "Are you...a witch?" She used the word lightly, knowing of its negative connotation but not having a better word for it.

The woman's almost glowing green eyes appraised the girl in front of her. "Do you think I am?"

Daenys blushed, not knowing if the woman would be offended or amused. "I think witches are interesting. They can do things someone like myself could not imagine, though they've gotten shunned by men who do not understand their ways." She tactfully avoided the direct question.

She nodded thoughtfully in turn. Pausing to lick whatever residue had gotten on her thumb, "I am Alys. As of right now, I am simply making a tea." Quite the complicated recipe for tea, but Daenys did not question it.

"You're a maester, then? For Harrenhall?" She wouldn't be surprised, with so few staff for the castle, a woman having to be its maester was a likely thing.

Alys' eyes sparked with amusement. "That's what they ask of me. The last one fled in the night, and I am the only one with the stomach for it, it seems."

"Fled? Is Harrenhall so bad?" Daenys asked.

"Just never settled in. How are you settling in, Princess? I hear you often experience poor sleep. Tonight shouldn't be much different."

Daenys shook her head, noting the knowing tone of Alys. She seemed to not judge, so Daenys didn't mind being questioned about it. Who would she tell, anyway, in this abandoned fortress?

"I was sleeping just fine here, until the Consort woke me. What are you doing working in the dead of night?"

Alys smiled, "I work better in the quiet and dark. Like a nocturnal animal, I am. The moon gives me inspiration."

Daenys laughed, feeling the tenseness start to melt off. Perhaps Alys doesn't enjoy the company of Harrenhall, though she fit its aesthetic perfectly. The witchy woman looked as haunting and dark as the place she lived in.

"Hm, since you're 'a maester', you can make poisons, yes?

"I can make much more than poisons. I find them boring, too simple. The mind is what truly controls and kills the body." Alys told her. It reminded Daenys of how the Green council controlled Viserys by keeping his mind muddled by milk of the poppy for years straight. He never attended court, never helped the realm, and could not do anything but sit in bed and rot. Poison would kill a man immediately, but the smarter route was to control them.

"Would you like a tea, to help find sleep?" Alys offered, reaching a chalice out to Daenys. She eyes it a moment, considered.

"I have to be up soon, anyways. I'd hate to meet Lord Blackwood in a groggy state. But, thank you, Alys. Maybe another night."

Alys nodded, placing the cup onto her table, watching the Princess leave for her chambers.

On the way back, she passed Cregan's. She hesitated at the door before deciding against entering. She need not wake him for nothing. Daenys spent the rest of her night watching the rain drizzling down to the sea from her window.

Come morning, Daenys dressed with the help of the same maid that offered her night slip. Overnight, the maid has washed the dust from formal dresses that were stored away. Daenys wore a simple dress that might have once belonged to Ser Harwin's mother, who she regretably did not know the name of. It was a light blue with red accenting, two colors she was already used to wearing for her houses.

She met Cregan in the hall, nodding to him. "I could ask for some clothes to be given to you to borrow. You must be miserable in those." While he forwent his pelts, he still wore his thick tunic and leathers, along with sigil on his chest. She tugged at a strap crossing his chest, raising a concerned brow to him.

Cregan smiled at her concern. "It is only a bit of discomfortable weather, not a problem you need to worry about, my Lady."

They entered the dining room together, Ser Simon Strong already there at the head of the round table to greet them. Oscar sat in the middle of it, to not be in anyone's way. His face lit up from his bored expression when he saw her walk in. "Princess!" He stood, stumbling slightly when the chair got caught on a crack.

Daenys stifled a laugh at the action, not wanting him to feel embarrassed. "Good morrow, Oscar. Simon, I hope you did not mind him staying last night. I asked it of him for my own peace of mind."

Simon smiled kindly, waving her off. "All guests are welcome. We so rarely get any." He reminded her a lot of Lord Lyonel, which was obvious considering they were uncle and nephew. Though, Larys' genes clearly did not come from either of these kind men.

Cregan sat next to her when she took a seat next to Oscar, hoping to send the young man off with a pleasant mood. "Did you sleep well, Oscar?" She asked, splitting her roll of bread to butter it.

He nodded energetically, looking much more himself than the day before. Daemon tended to drain people of their energy. "I did, my Lady, thank you. And you?"

"Pleasently, yes. The rain was quite soothing." She said. After so long with all light snow and no rain like she had grown used to on Dragonstone, she had missed the calmness of it.

He nodded, digging into his own heavier breakfast for his walk today.

"How are the Blackwoods, Oscar?" Daenys asked. "I've heard they carry bold temperaments, but you must know them personally."

He nodded, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "At times, too stubborn for their own good. Samwell was their Lord for some time, though the battle at Burning Mill unfortunately led to his brother Willem taking over until his son grows to be of age."

She nodded, intently listening. "And Willem, do you think he'll be a smart choice to lead the Riverlands in Lord Glover's stead?" Daenys asked tentatively, not liking the fact that Daemon was trying to replace the Tullys as rightful paramounts of the Riverruns, even temporarily. Lord Glover was paramount for many years for good reason, and Oscar was his rightful heir. Calm-tempered and sweet, not so bloodthirsty like Daemon clearly was.

"He leads the Blackwoods well in place of his brother. His son and sister are quite like him, hard-headed but loyal. They will serve you, or I suppose the Prince, well." Oscar complimented. Daenys nodded between bites, praying to whatever Gods Harrenhall followed that Daemon wouldn't offend such stubborn people, ones that had recently lost their kin.

"Thank you, Oscar. I hope all goes well today." She said, softly sighing and leaning back into her sest after finishing half her breakfast.

His stormy eyes meet hers again, kind smile reassuring. "If they do not like the King Consort, then I am certain they will like you. Anyone who doesn't would be a fool."

Daenys blushed, feeling a girlish laugh escspe her. "You are very kind, Ser."

When the young Tully decided that it was about time he set out, to check on his house and grandsire, Daenys bid him farewell at the entrance.

"Safe travels, Oscar. Please write to us at Harrenhall with updates. I wish for your grandsire's good health."

He thanked her, promising to write with a gentlemanly kiss on her hand. On his horse, he headed back to House Tully.

Daenys walked back to the dining room, where Cregan and Simon were lightly chatting. It was barely another hour before a guard escorted three people inside the room.

"Lord Willlem Blackwood, his sister Alysanne Blackwood, and his son Davos Blackwood." Before returning to his post outside of the doorway.

The three who were previously sitting down stood to greet them, bowing their heads in greeting. Simon spoke first, "welcome to Harrenhall, my Lords and Lady. May I introduce Lord Cregan Stark and Princess Daenys Velayron." He coughed slightly, sitting himself down once more. Daenys clasped her hands together in front of her, assesing the three in front of them.

Willem has a handsome man only slightly younger than Daenys' mother, with brown hair and facial hair to show his maturity. His sister Alysanne was a tall, slim woman with strong features and pure-black hair. She had a sharp and assesing look in her own brown eyes. Davos, the youngest of all, was Daenys' age with forest green eyes and shaggy dark brown hair. Comely, like his Lord father.

"My Lord, it is pleasing to see you have arrived here with no trouble. We are only waiting for Daemon before we start." She said politely, nodding towards the table for them to sit.

Willem, Alysanne, and Davos sat in a line across from them. Davos was straight across from Daenys, while Alysanne sat parallel to Cregan. Willem sat near the opposite head of Simon, waiting for Daemon to join.

"I wasn't aware that two Valyrions would be meeting us at Harrenhall. I must admit, I was surprised when Prince Daemon summonded me from Raventree. Usually, when people summon armies they send ravens. Or come personally." He nodded toward Cregan. "Word has spread far and wide that three dragons were sent to be messengers for the Queen."

"Yes, my brothers and I treated with houses across the realm. The Queen thought it to be more personal, but the King Consort reigns differently." She told him, sipping her wine. She felt the internse stare of Davos on her, which she met curiously. His hair was quite different from most men she had seen, the style shorter in length. He had a small white scar spanning from his top lip to his nose, though it did nothing to make him seem less handsome. Daenys found it hard to keep his gaze, and he knew it, smirking into his own cup when she looked back to Willem and Alysanne.

"No worries, Princess. It was a short journey to Harrenhall." Willem said dismissively. He seemed like he didn't care if he stayed at home or came to the castle, a more easy-going individual. Daenys was relieved at that, at least.

Alysanne, on the other hand, was bolder than her brother. "I think the Queen's command to be more convenient for the houses. If the King Consort is asking for men, why is he not coming to us directly? You are the ones with dragons, after all."

"Daemon must hold Harrenhall. Caraxes is a deterrent for the Green's dragons, he must stay here at all times. I'm sorry for the inconvenience, my Lady." Daenys said.

"And you? Must your dragon also stay?" She challenged.

"My stay in Harrenhall will be brief. Daemon is the one who called for the Riverland houses, not I. It is only appropriate that he meets with the Lords."

As if on cue, Daemon comes stumbling in as if he were sleepwalking. He sat down next to Willem Blackwood, staring ahead at the cup clutched in his hand. A tea? Daemon rarely drank enough to be drunk, and would certainly not be irresponsible enough to do so before a meeting.

Simon, again, made introductions, and gestured for Willem to say his piece.

"Your Grace, the Blackwood House and all of its men pledge to the rightful Queen Rhaenyra. I now rule as regent until my nephew Benjicot comes of age, but he swears himself to her cause, too. The Brackens are venal cravens, and they must pay for their treachery against the laws of gods and men. And against the Crown."

Daemon seemed to breath in deeply, as if he had to think about his own bodily functions in order to perform them. He placed his cup down, looking between Willem and Simon. "Who are you?"

The room was dead silent. The Blackwoods shared glances that Daenys couldn't quite read. She had half a mind to kick him out and conduct buisness herself.

Cregan, too, sighed beside her quietly.

"Ser Willem Blackwood of House Blackwood, your Grace. As I said." Simon said, pointedly.

"Well met." He murmured back, still bleary-eyed. "What might I do for you?"

Daenys clutched her hands together tightly over the table, pursing her lips to prevent herself from saying something she'd regret. Across the table, Davos held an amused look, smirk still plastered on his face.

"...it was you who summonded me, Your Grace." Willem looked regretful now, unknowing if a cruel prank was being played on him. Surely, this was not the King Consort. "I was given to understand that you wanted an army."

"Well, who doesn't these days?" Daemon said plainly. "You Blackwoods certainly never miss a chance to bloody your swords, do you?"

"Some twenty years ago, my Lord bent the knee to King Viserys and acknowledged the Princess Rhaenyra as his rightful heir."

"So, you fight for this old oath? Not, of course, for your thousand-year-old feud with the Brackens?"

Willem shifted in his seat. "I once vied for Queen Rhaenyra's hand, before she wed Ser Laenor. I always liked her spirit. She had the true blood of the Dragon."

Daenys' brows nearly raised all the way to her hairline. Couldn't he have simply said, 'I am loyal to the Queen' instead of telling the King himself that he once tried to ask for his wife's hand.

"And you're prepared to march without the leave of your lord..." he trailed off, attention caught by a servant girl coming into the room. He stared at her for an uncomfortably long time, as if seeing a ghost. The rest of the room sat in the silence, wondering what in the seven hells was going on. When she finally filled his cup and left, Willem started again.

"Once you and your dragon bring the Queen's justice to the Brackens, our armies will be yours." He swore.

Daemon nodded, but Daenys was unsure if he was aware of what Willem had said. He left immediately after, looking haunted by something no one else could see. Daenys was quick to attempt a recovery.

"Daemon will deliver justice to the Brackens for your house, for Her Grace. He may be crass and dismissive at times, but I assure you, he does not break his oaths." She stood from her seat, leading the others to follow.

Willem nodded, a tired look on his face. "I hope so, Princess. I will leave, back to Raventree Hall. My son and sister will remain—"

"I will not." Alysanne told him, looking around the crumbling castle's hall. "I do not wish to sit around in his hellhole for any longer. I will lead my own betallion, one with men I trust from our House." The Lady said, insistant.

Daenys bowed her head to her, "I am grateful for your eagerness to fight, my Lady."

Alysanne left first, presumably to her horse outside.

Davos, too, started to protest. "If Alysanne gets to lead her own men, why must I stay here?" He started, quickly being shut down by Willem.

"I trust you to discuss matters in my stead, Davos. It will not be forever, just until Daemon keeps his part of the deal." Davos clutched at his dagger's pommel, irritation at being 'useless' evident all over his face and stance.

Willem soon left after, calling for Davos' horse to be escorted to his own stall in the stables. Daenys looked to Cregan briefly, unsure of how to comfort someone left behind as a means to an end. He could offer nothing but a sympathetic shrug. "Ser Davos," she started, watching him turn to her with a clenched jaw.

"We are glad to have you here. I promise, it will only be for a short while while Daemon figures out how he wants to go about the business between the Brackens. You will get your chance to fight." She said, stepping forward a few steps closer to him.

His gaze softened ever so slightly, not wishing to release his anger on the wrong person. "Hm." He nodded. "Is Lord Stark going to be leading his men, or has he been called upon by the King to also stay in these damp halls?"

Cregan stiffened next to Daenys, "I am here at the Princess' bidding. To join the Queen's council."

"Ah, so you won't be fighting."

"Who says that?" Cregan asked.

"Never met a councilman who actually led men to battle. Most prefer to stay in their castles, safe and comfortable." The Blackwood snickered.

"My betrothed asked me to come to the Queen's council as an advisor. Once my men follow on foot, I will take my leave to lead them." Cregan said, firm and absolute. Daenys felt a shiver crawl up her spine at him calling her 'his betrothed'. Imagining him calling her 'his wife' was something she couldn't even fathom.

"Bethrothed?" Davos asked, looking to Daenys with a rasied brow. "Hm. I thought the Princess' hand had been free for many years, now."

She felt her face grow hot, "it has. The betrothal is recent."

"So, not solidified, then?" He asked, nodding to himself.

Daenys moved to answer, to say that she had no intention of breaking her oath, but he didn't notice and continued.

"May I see your dragon, my Lady? I saw the two from afar on the way inside, but I know better than to approach one alone." Davos asked, a light look replacing his smug one.

Daenys, bemused, looked out to the nice morning weather. "You wish to approach Morningstar? For what reason?"

"Morningstar. That is a fitting name. 'Lightbringer' they call her, right? I simply wish to know what it means to be in the presence of one, take it as you fulfilling a silly boyish dream I've always had." He said, bashfully. Beside her, Cregan rolled his eyes.

"It is a fitting name for her." She smiled, "I will show you to her, of course."

Cregan eyed Daenys, but did not question a princess in front of another so brazenly. He ignored the triumphant look Davos shot him, thinking himself above childish games.

The weather was the most pleasant thing about Harrenhall, when it was not storming furious upon the castle. Daenys, Cregan, and Davos made a line while walking on top of the rocky sealine towards the two perched dragons. She did not understand how they lounged so comfortably on such jagged rocks.

Caraxed whined out as he spotted Daenys, a familiar face he had not seen in weeks. It seemed that Daemon had neglected the poor red beast, leaving him without good company until Morningstar arrived. Morningstar huffed at the sight of Daenys, making her discontent plainly seen. "Spoiled girl, we can not always sleep in snow blankets or dragonpits." She cooed, rubbing her chin.

She turned to Davos, who stood many feet behind herself and Cregan. He hesitated now in the presence of an actual dragon, breathless as he stared at her majesty. Cregan smirked at him, pointedly rubbing the dragoness' snout himself.

Daenys waved him closer, nodding her assurance. "She will not harm you, though she may think herself a grand jester when she knocks you over. It makes some of the dragonkeepers nearly shit themselves with fright."

Davos, not at all comforted by her words, stepped foward slowly, one foot at a time. The dragon silently allowed him to stroke her snout, eyes shut with content at bring given so much attention at once. Spoiled girl, Daenys smiled.

The Blackwood boy grinned boyishly at the achievement. "No one will ever believe me when I tell them I pet a dragon."

"Our secret, then." Daenys mused.

Soon, they went back inside of the castle, leaving behind the two dragons (though not after Daenys gave a bit of her attention to Caraxes, who did not let the boys near him like Morningstar did). Davos went off to his guest chambers after leaving a prolonged and dramatic kiss on Daenys' hand.

Cregan huffed beside her, now left alone with only each other in a broken down hallway.

Daenys, waiting for his next words, looked up to him. He didn't speak his thoughts on Davos, knowing that they were perhaps too childish and jealous to speak in front of his lady.

Comfortingly, she patted the arm that laced with her own. "Come, Cregan. Show me how Northerners pray. I would quite like to learn, now that I have an opportunity."

He seemed shocked at her ask but agreed eagerly nonetheless. They made their way through the twisted halls to the outside of the castle, where they had first entered from. The weirwood stood tall and strong on top of the enclosed hill.

Though ancient, the tree was still vibrant with life. It's red leaves were like blood against the stark white trunk and roots. Cregan kneeled in front of it, urging Daenys to do the same with a keen look. "There is no certain way to pray. It comes naturally to everyone. I like to speak my thoughts when I am alone, I find it relieving to speak what I cannot usually say. The Old Gods do not judge, but simply listen. In your head or aloud, they will hear."

She might have been able to speak her thoughts to the Old Gods if she were alone, but it would be embarrassing in front of another. Cregan must have thought the same, bowing his head and closing his eyes as he looked at peace.

Daenys followed his actions, thinking of whatever first came to her mind. Was she supposed to merely speak to the Gods, or ask for something? Perhaps that was overthinking it. It should not be a conditional ritual.

She thought of her brother first. Young Luke, a bright light lost to the storms. She missed him every minute she was awake, wishing things could change.

She thought of her mother, who wore a crown too heavy for her head. Visenya, Luke, and now Daemon and her own council causing her so much grief and distress in such trying times. She wished that Rhaenyra would keep her strength and stand tall always.

She thought of Helena, so close to her now while she stayed at Harrenhall. If she could only fly to her, plead for her to save herself from the war. She wished for her safety.

She thought of Cregan. The man right next to her, a permanent warmth at her side. She wished he might always be there, where he had begun to fill a void in her soul.

Daenys opened her eyes, finding Cregan already watching her. His expression was thoughtful, affectionate. A similar look he wore when they were on top of The Wall.

"What?" She breathed out, confused by his distraction. "Aren't you going to pray?"

"I already did." He answered.

"That was quite short."

"I only asked for one thing."

"And what is that, my Lord?"

"You to stay by my side." He laced their hands together, squeezing once as the feeling and his words made her heart flutter.

She brought his hand to her lip, closing her eyes lightly as she pressed them to his knuckles. "You need not ask the Gods for that. I would do so anyway."

🗡

Daenys disobeyed her mother when she ushered her and her brothers to their temporary chambers at driftmark. She did not wish to sleep again, not after Laena's funeral—and the vision that preceeded it. She was tired of death. At least she qas allowed to hide her mourning for Ser Harwin amidst the guise of Laena's funeral.

Daenys was saddened by Laena's death, truly, but she had never met the woman except in her one dream weeks ago. Her death was not preventable, not my maester or Daenys. Ser Harwins, though, was. A fire, a trapped door, the hazy smell of smoke that filled her lungs and suffocated her the same way it did Lord Lyonel. The man refused to leave his father's side, even through the unmoving door. She was forced to stand there, behind Ser Harwin, unable to command him to leave the cursed place and save himself, she watched as he succumbed to the flames.

Merely days later, it was a similar scene with Lady Laena. The woman approached her dragon, face wet his tears but eyes hardened with decision. Daenys watched as Vhagar, ever loyal, hesitated to follow her rider's command. She, too, succumbed to fire.

Daenys began to resent fire. Even the flames of her own dragoness, she avoided. When it came time for Morningstar to sup, Daenys swiftly made her leave, though she always used to dine with her. How many would fire take from her? Perhaps she would succumb to her own fiery fate, one day.

She sat outside of Driftmark, with Morningstar as she usually did. To avoid everyone and her own mind, the cold sand and salty breeze welcomed her. Driftmark was a far cry from King's Landing's stench and filth. Mayhaps she was biased, though, seeing as the ocean was so much more serene in such a place. Unoccupied by loud fishermen and port traders.

Daenys' head lifted from her lazed resting spot in the sand. A small shadow was moving across the grassy hills nearby, black against the moon's light.

She sat up, curiously moving to follow it. It did not take long, with the figure moving cautious and slow.

Ahead by a few feet, she made out Aemond's white head of waves. "Uncle?" She called out, sliding herself down a grassy knoll while trying not to slip on her skirts.

He turned to her as if he was caught committing a crime, looking behind her for any more unwelcome guests.

"Daenys." Was all Aemond muttered, waiting for her to meet him

"What are you doing, sneaking about? Shouldn't you be with Aegon, drowning in his cups?" She had meant to sound teasing, but with such little energy she only sounded tired and plain.

Aemond sneered, scoffing at her suggestion. "We do not share interests. I have always kept to my studies, as a prince should. That fool wouldn't know his histories or High Valyrion if it smacked him on his fat head."

Daenys snorted, covering it with a hand. Her septas would surely have scolded her for such things. "On that, we can agree. But you avoid the question at hand, uncle."

Aemond lost his amused smirk, looking to the grass and kicking at it with his shoe tip. "Going for a walk. I mourn Lady Laena greatly."

"You've never met the woman."

He rolled his eyes, looking up at her from her slightly lifted spot on the hill.

"I am owed a dragon. And I will not let the opportunity pass me by, it may be my only one." He answered, puffing up his chest like a knight.

She nodded, pursing her lips. "It may be your only opportunity because she'll either kill you or accept you. There is no middle ground."

"I will take the chance," he said confidently. "I am tired of being the only one of my family to not own a dragon. I am the only one who cares to learn of our heritage, the only one with proper blood–" Aemond cut himself off from his rant, flushing red at the slip of tongue.

Daenys merely stared on, unphashed. It was not news to her, nor anyone else, of what others thought of her family.

"We do not own dragons. We are dragons." She stated.

He stared at her this time, bemused. "You will not stop me? Vhagar is your late aunt's dragon."

She shrugged, "dragons have no inherited bond. If she is Rhaena's, then she will eat you. I do not care who the old beast chooses, so long as she gets some rest from her long days."

Aemond smiled slightly, a much more pleasant expression that the serious one he usually forces. "We should fly together, once I claim her."

Daenys laughed shortly, nodding her agreement. "I won't deny a peaceful night of flying, but you should take your first ride alone. You won't want the memory sullied by another."

He thought for a long moment, almost speaking again, before he built his last bits of courage and marched towards a sleeping Vhagar.

Daenys watched from afar as he bonded with the oldest dragon in the world. Briefly, she felt a sense of pride in knowing his confidence was not misguided. Her sympathies went to her cousin, but she had high hopes for Rhaena to find another dragon. There were many wild ones, after all, who've gone unclaimed for years.

After what must have been an eternity for young Daenys to wait, Aemond landed with Vhagar, leaving her saddle to meet Daenys at a side entrance to the keep.

"Did you see us!" He exclaimed, breathless from his exhilarating flight.

Daenys nodded, sharing his excitement. "She is a beautiful dragon. 'The Queen' for a reason. How was your first flight?" She asked, curious. It has been so many years since her first, but the memory never left her mind.

"Indescribable, I thought I would fall off a million times, but!—" His wild gesturing was cut short by a yell. Jacaerys, Lucerys, Baela and Rhaena had met them in the entrance hall to Driftmark.

The rest was history. Daenys stayed to the side during the scuffle, being the eldest she thought the boys would settle it amongst themselves and grow tired fast. That is what always happened when Luke and Jace fought. She was wrong. Never in her life would she imagine that sweet Luke would bring a dagger to a childish tiff, much less use it.

Aemond wasn't innocent, though he was outnumbered greatly. The look in his eyes as he stood over Jacaerys with the rock caused both Luke and Daenys to charge forward to protect their brother. Luke, being closer, unfortunately got there first. He slashed Aemond's eye, making him drop the rock in agony. Daenys clutched at Luke's tunic, dragging him back into her embrace as Aemond clutched his eye.

She knew what Luke did was an act of defense, a justified blow. But if she stopped him that night, gotten to Aemond a mere second sooner and grabbed the stone from his grip, Luke would still be alive years later.

The children of Viserys and Rhaenyra stood beside their mothers. Alicent and Rhaenyra both protectively stood beside their children. Aemond was being taken care of by a maester, while Alicent vied for Lucerys to have his eye taken in retribution. Both Viserys and Rhaenyra vehemently denied the Queen's request.

The night became a blur. Daenys was loyally plastered in front of Lucerys all night, if Ser Criston decided he wished to disobey the King on a sudden whim. Her mother ended up with a slash on her arm but barely flinched as it happened. Daenys wondered if it was her fiery Targaryen blood or her motherly fury that allowed her to be so strong. She couldn't imagine herself being like Rhaenyra, not in a hundred years.

She did remember sharing a glance with Aemond, her eyes filled with unshed tears for her Uncle. His only eye was muddled with a plethora of conflicting emotions, before he left her gaze.

"Do not mourn me, mother. I may have lost an eye, but I gained a dragon."

She would grow to regret her encouragement.

She wished it was her that had taken Aemond's eye.

She wanted his other.

🗡

sorry for kinda putting cregan on the sidelines during the meetings. There's not really much for him to say during them and he's not the type to interrupt in a conversation that isn't his. Trying to add sweet little moments between them and the big drama parts 🙂‍↕️

cregan when Oscar tries to flirt with Daenys, knowing he's just a harmless boy: 😐

Cregan when Davos looks her way: 🤨

yall i like davos way too much i might just write an au one-shot of the three of them getting together i cannot do this #creanyvos

also alysanne is NOT meant to sound like a bitchy character, I imagine her as defiant towards authority and challenging their every word, respecting only those who earned it. I got rid of the suggested temporary like she had for cregan (sorry!!!) bc i think she'd be wanting to dive deep into battle with her men, not left behind politicking.

Kind of want to establish relationships between Aegon, Aemond and Daenys. Gives the feud and war more meaning, I think. A more mutual understanding and hint of friendship between Aemond and Daenys, for being targets of Aegon. A more one-sided hate for Aegon from Daenys. He has mostly no care for her at all, only thinking her another annoying bastard of his sister. Also! Aemond deserved to feel a little happiness right after claiming Vhagar, its sad he ran into the Velayrons right after, although Rhaena had the right to be upset.

Currently regretting naming the dragon Lightbringer so early on in the story. It would've been so much more fitting if Daenys and Morningstar had earned the title in a battle, instead. Maybe if I rewrite the series in two years when s3 comes out lol

cough light blue is a stark color cough red is a targ color cough cough

this already is getting posted too late so i can't include the big event that i had planned for the chapter, it'll be way too long and convoluted and must be its own chapter. next one might be thursday, we'll see though.

#dragondreamer #cregan stark x reader #cregan x reader #hotd fanfic #cregan stark x oc #cregan stark #hotd #hotd season 2 #hotd fandom #hotd x reader #hotd oc

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alieinthemorning · 1 year ago

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Sunflowers [8394 | Grim | Casper]

Content: Fluff, POV Second Person, Spoilers

Pronouns: None

Reblogs: Let me know that you enjoy my work and want to see more, so don’t forget to like and reblog (and comment in the tags. I love seeing people’s rambles in the tags)!

This work’s concepts, plot and original characters are my own which means I do not allow any sort of creative theft nor do I allow my work to be entered into any sort of A.I. bots. Thank you for respecting my space and boundaries

Sunflowers are supposed to follow the sun, this is a fact.

However, they were facing you now, despite the fact that there were sun rays directly hitting. You tilted your head at them, reaching a hand forward to brush across the petals.

You swore that the flower moved closer into your palm.

"I wonder if Casper's really right about my soul…"

Not only was your soul like a mirage, a bright light hidden by a misty smog, but it was also capable of healing others—

"By giving a bit of myself…" You sighed, pulling your hand from the flower.

How did you receive this, you assumed it was a blessing, since you weren't accidentally stealing other people's souls to live longer or something. So a blessing, but how and why? You've been like this since you were younger, so you're pretty sure you've had it since birth, but you're also pretty sure no one in your family could use magic. But you also did just recently find out that Grim Reapers were real and not just something out of fiction.

And then you began to think about what that really meant for you. Would you truly just…cease to exist one day? Yeah, your life mainly consisted of going to work and chilling at home (with the occasional side quest of doing something else), but that didn't mean that you were ready to give it all up.

Your gaze found the sunflowers again.

"Sunshine…"

You also weren't ready to give him up yet, either.

You've never felt such an intense pull toward someone in your entire life, and you've only known Casper for less than a week.

Hell, you didn't even know his name was Casper until last night!

But…loving him…feels right. You should love him openly and wholly, and you were sure he'd do the same.

Your love for each other really were like sunflowers.

You smiled as your fingers brushed the yellow petals. "I guess you accidentally choose something with a double meaning, huh, Casper?"

I TOLD Y'ALL THAT THE FAN WAS FICCING

AND HERE WE ARE

Ahem. Anyway.

I love him very much.

Ko-Fi | Commission | Masterlist

#alie ficlets #a date with death x reader #a date with death grim x reader #a date with death casper x reader #grim x reader #casper x reader #a date with death vn

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enchantresss97 · 5 days ago

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Halloj, mina älskade!

I'm back! Today was a sunny day here after an awful January full with darkness and depression. So feeling good and extra inspired by the gif down below and here it is.

Hope y'all like it and please don't be to harsh on me, I haven't written for a while. Also, please, don't mind the mistakes, I am tired, it's late here, I'll check it tomorrow.

This being said, enjoy it!

Characters: Bill Skarsgård x reader

Description: You and Bill always play, always flirt, a game that never goes anywhere. But the moment you step into the elevator together, everything changes. The tension snaps, will this elevator ride help solve this tension between you or it will make it worse?

Warning: mature theme, SMUT, language, sex

Elevator Ride

I forgot where is this gif from, so if the person who made it see this, I am so sorry and please let me know so i can tag you. Thanks.

The sound of your heels clicked sharply against the marble floor as you made your way down the hallway, the rhythmic tap echoing in the quiet. You were tired, so damn tired and all you wanted was to escape for a moment, to get some space from the day. Your dress clung to your body in all the right ways, the soft fabric hugging your curves, but it felt like a second skin, heavy and uncomfortable after hours of work. Still your mind wandered, as it often did when you were alone, back to him. Back to Bill. The man you couldn’t quite shake from your thoughts, no matter how hard you tried. You’d been dancing around each other for months now, flirting, teasing, pushing, pulling. A constant game of cat and mouse, always a little too close to cross the line, but never actually doing it.

You had seen him earlier, looking impossibly handsome in that deep burgundy tailored suit of his, his green eyes flashing with that same arrogant confidence you loved to hate. You’d caught his gaze, and for a moment, something had sparked between you, just a brief look, but it was enough. But again, it always was, wasn't it? The tension, the silent games, the stolen glances. You'd both done this dance before, circling each other, drawn in by an unspoken pull that never seemed to go anywhere. You wanted more, and you knew he did too. It so obvious in the way his gaze lingered a little too long, the way his lips curled into a faint, knowing smile when your eyes met. But no one ever moved. Not you, not him. Ego. That's what it was. Both of you too proud to step forward or to admit your feeling, too stubborn to admit that maybe, just maybe, you were both craving the same thing. And it frustrated you, this unspoken standoff. The back and forth, the tension that never broke because neither of you would let it. But now you were done with it, you had enough. Why was it always like this? The spark, the pull, the desire, but nothing ever beyond it.

It was ridiculous. You knew it was ridiculous.

This… whatever this was between you; it had to stop. You weren’t the kind of woman to get caught up in something that went nowhere. This constant back-and-forth, this love-hate tension—it led nowhere. But no matter how many times you told yourself it needed to end; your body betrayed you every single time.

Your heels clicked once more as you reached the elevator, your hand pressing the button. You stepped inside, letting out a tired breath as the doors closed behind you.

You pressed your back against the wall, trying to relax, but the air inside felt heavier all of a sudden, thick with something you couldn’t name. The elevator doors slid open, and Bill stepped in, his sharp, tailored suit brushing against the cool air. He froze for just a second when he saw you standing there, in the far corner, arms crossed loosely, your gaze fixed on the mirror in front of you. But Bill knew you were aware of him, he could feel it in the air between you.

You didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge his presence but you could feel him, every inch of him. Tall, towering over you, his presence filling the small space of the elevator. He leaned casually against the panel, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

“Busy today?” he asked, his voice quiet, but carrying. He didn’t need to look at you to know you were aware of the way he was watching you.

Your lips twitched, but you didn’t respond right away. Instead, you slowly raised your eyes to meet his, and for a moment, the elevator seemed to pause. Your gaze was steady, searching his face, your expression unreadable.

Bill didn’t break eye contact. There was something in the way you looked at him, something familiar and yet full of defiance. He felt a flicker of something…something more than the usual challenge between you.

You tilted your head slightly, as if weighing your next words, before letting out a quiet, amused breath. “Don’t you have somewhere to be?” Your voice was light, teasing, but there was an edge to it that he couldn’t ignore.

He smiled to himself, the kind of smile that only you could provoke. “I’m where I need to be,” he said, voice low, his eyes never leaving yours. He watched as you shifted your weight.

His body subtly moving closer, closing the gap between you. You didn’t back down, your lips curling into a smile of their own—half challenge, half something else. You took a slow step forward brushing your hand lightly against his arm as you passed him.

Bill’s breath caught just slightly, the unexpected contact sending a jolt of awareness through him. He couldn’t help the way his body reacted, the subtle tightening in his chest. You didn’t say a word, but the look you gave him over your shoulder was enough to tell him everything he needed to know.

Your gaze lingered on him for a fraction longer than necessary before you turned away. But the tension in the air was palpable, the space between you crackling with something unsaid. Bill leaned in just a little, his voice quiet. “You always do this, don’t you?”

Your eyes flicked to him once more, your smile still there, but this time it was softer. “Do what?”

He took a slow breath, his voice barely above a whisper. “Make it hard to walk away.”

You didn’t say anything more, but the way your eyes met his, the slight curve of your lips, told him all he needed to know. You were just as aware of the silence as he was—the space between you, the unspoken pull. Neither of you was willing to be the first to break it.

Bill took a step closer, his shadow falling over you as his height seemed to consume the space around. You didn’t move, didn’t shy away, but your breath hitched as he towered over, his presence overwhelming. The air was thick with the tension, the subtle, unspoken need that had been building between you for months.

He could see your pulse flutter at your throat, could hear the faintest sound of your breath as it quickened. His eyes locked onto yours, dark and intense, like a storm that was about to break. Slowly, his hand lifted to your cheek, his thumb grazing over your skin in a touch that was both gentle and demanding.

” I’m tired of waiting,” Bill murmured, his voice low, rough, almost dangerous. His thumb brushed your lips, feeling the soft curve of them beneath his touch. His eyes followed the motion, hunger flickering in them as his gaze dropped to your mouth.

You didn’t speak, didn’t pull away. Your eyes were heavy with something between you, something that couldn’t be ignored any longer. With a barely audible breath, you leaned up just enough to meet him halfway.

Bill didn’t hesitate. He closed the distance in an instant, his lips capturing yours in a kiss that was anything but soft. It was hungry, demanding, the kind of kiss that said everything you hadn’t said in all the time you'd known each other.

He broke the kiss looking deeply into your eyes. Your breath came a little faster as Bill’s lips brushed against yours again, more urgent this time. His hand slid to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair, pulling you closer. You felt the heat of him, the power of his presence, and your body responded without hesitation. The moment you touched, everything else in the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, tangled in something that was both dangerous and inevitable.

You wrapped your arms around him, your hands sliding over the firm muscles of his chest. You could feel the pulse of his heartbeat, quick and erratic, matching yours. His lips moved down your jawline, and moving to the delicate spot beneath your ear that made you shiver. Every touch, every kiss, every press of his body against yours sent a shock of need through you.

Bill’s hand moved lower, tracing the curve of your waist and hips, his touch both possessive and tender. He couldn’t seem to get enough of you, the way you fit against him, the way you responded to his every move. He pulled back for a moment, his eyes dark with hunger, and you couldn’t help but let out a shaky breath as you met his gaze. You didn’t think that you ever could get used with his deep, green eyes.

“You’re driving me insane,” he muttered, his voice low, rough with desire.

Before you could reply, without breaking the eye contact with you, he reached out his hand toward the elevator panel and he pressed a button on it, halting its upward motion. The soft hum of the elevator stopped, leaving the space between you eerily quiet except for the sound of your quickening breaths. Your eyes widened, but you didn’t pull away. You were too lost in the moment, in the need for him that you couldn’t deny any longer.

Bill’s lips found yours again, more desperate now, as if he couldn’t wait another second. His hands roamed over your body, teasing the edges of your dress as he pushed it up just enough to feel the smoothness of your skin beneath. You gasped as his fingers brushed over the sensitive spot of your tight, sending a wave of heat through you. His touch lingered on your tight for too long before to move his hand up slowly. You gasped as he finally touched you, bringing his fingers to your wet core. His fingers slowly touching you “So needy“he whispered into your ear.

You moaned softly; the sound barely audible as you tugged him closer. He tugged your panties aside and slowly circled your clit. Your fingers fumbled with his shirt, desperate to feel him without any barriers between you. “I want you,” you breathed, the words spilling out without thought.

That's the moment when he inserted a finger inside your dripping wet pussy while he continues to tease your clit. His mouth trailed down your neck, his lips and teeth grazing over your skin in a way that made you shudder. You arched against his working palm, your body aching for more, needing more and he added another finger into your wet core. You let out a deep moan, he worked his fingers with his thumb rubbing circles into your clit, who made you to roll your eyes back. He pumped in and out of your soaking sleek, spreading the arousal around. You tilted your head back, clutching onto his shirt, you close your eyes, moaning, feeling his finger deep inside you and his hot breath on your neck.

The way his fingers moved, knowing exactly how to elicit the softest moan from you, how to make you shiver with each touch, was almost maddening. Slowly, he withdrew his hand pulling a raspy moan from you.

Bill’s eyes darkened further, his hands gripping your hips as he lifted you up, positioning you against the elevator wall. The change in position made the moment feel even more intimate, more consuming, as if you were the only two people left in the world. You arched against him, your body aching for more, needing more. You could feel the heat of him through his pants, the hard length of him pressing against you.

“Are you sure?” he whispered against your ear, his voice thick with lust, his lips brushing the sensitive skin.

You didn’t answer with words. Instead, your hands pulled at his belt, the urgency of your actions clear. He groaned low in his throat, a sound that went straight to your core, and before you could even take a breath, he kissed you again deeply, urgently, unbuckling his belt and pulling down his costume pants.

He looked deep into your eyes for few seconds, letting you to change your mind if you want to but you remained silent. There was a predatory glint in his gaze, something dark and hungry that made your pulse spike.

The softness of your breath, the way your chest rose and fell with each quiet gasp. It was all the confirmation he needed. He wrapped his fingers around his erection, spreading your arousal over his shaft.

The thought of having him inside you made your blood boiling into your veins and your pulse rushing. Bill’s eyes never left your face, watching every reaction with a hunger that only made the air feel even heavier. He was driving you to the edge, and he wanted to savour every second of it.

He pulled you closer and you crossed your legs behind his back. With a smirked on his face, he entered deep inside you. Your lips escaped a deep cry of shock when you felt him inside, how he filled you, fully, inch by inch. His guttural groan made you shiver. His hot mouth hovers onto yours, your breath mingling while list he was moving slow, making you feel ever ridge, every vein, every throb.

He started moving faster, buried deep inside. You roll your hips and dance on his cock vigorously, your back arching, every inch of you responding to him, the kisses deepened, your lips parting as his tongue swept inside your mouth, your tongues tangling together in an urgent dance, tasting, exploring. Your hands were everywhere, tugging at his tie, yanking the fabric of his shirt open to expose the warm, taut skin, to feel his chest. Bill's hands kept you steady not to fall, and pumping with deep thrusts, with throaty groans who echoes throw the whole elevator.

” You’re feeling so damn good...”, Bill murmured, his lips brushing against your neck as his fingers worked you closer to the brink. The sound of your moans filled the elevator, a symphony of desperation and pleasure.

With a deep groan, Bill's hips found the rhythm that pushed you over the edge. Your body tensed, the orgasm crashing through you with an intensity that left you breathless. You clung to him, your body shaking as the pleasure consumed you, your nails digging into his skin as you rode the waves of ecstasy.

Bill's breath was ragged, his movements growing more erratic as he followed you. He pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes closing as he reached his own peak. You gasped with him when you felt his shaft growing even bigger inside you. With a final slam of his hips into you, he flooded you with his hot seed. The sensation of him shuddering against you, the heat of his release, sent a final wave of pleasure through you.

For a long moment, neither of you moved, the only sounds were your hot breath, harsh and unsteady, as the world around you seemed to spin in a blissful haze. Bill's hands still lingered on the back of your thighs, supporting your weight, as you both tried to regain control.

Finally, he let your legs slowly down and leaned back slightly, his lips curving into a satisfied smile.” That...was fucking incredible."

You let out a shaky laugh, your body still trembling.” Yeah?” you said with a sensual tone, teasing, your voice hoarse with the remnants of pleasure.

Bill's eyes flicked with amusement, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips.” Yeah” he said in the same tone as you, his hand brushing a strand of hair away from your face giving you the most beautiful smile you ever saw.” Now, I think we need to get out of here.”

With a flick of his wrist, Bill finally allowed the elevator to move again, the sudden hum of the lift making your head to spin even more. You looked at him, a hint of laughter in your eyes, as the elevator started its slow descent.

” Not so quick to leave, huh?” you teased, still trying to catch your breath.

Bill raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a seductive smile.” I don't want to leave...but we've been in here long enough to get some...attention.”

You smirked, smoothing your dress down, still feeling the lingering of his warm cock inside you, his fingers on your skin and his tongue in your mouth. You took a moment to steady yourself before stepping away from him.

The elevator door finally open, both of you stepped out into the hallway, but there was no mistake the lingering heat between you.

Bill leaned in just enough to press a soft kiss to your lips, a promise in the gesture that this wasn't over.

” See you soon,” he murmured, his breath hot against your ear.

You smiled, your lips still tingling from his kiss” Count on it.” you replied, your voice filled with the same simmering tension.

As you both parted ways, you couldn't stop thinking about just what happened and couldn't contain your smile. Still feeling him on you, around you, inside you, a reminder that something much deeper had just begun.

#bill skarsgard #bill skarsgård #bill skarsgard x reader #bill skarsgård x reader #roman godfrey x reader #eric draven x reader #nosferatu x reader #bill skarsgard smut #bill skarsgård imagine #bill skarsgard imagine #bill skarsgård smut #bill skarsgard x you #bill skarsgard fanfiction

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genericpuff · 7 months ago

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Public service reminder: I love y'all for your support in what I do here, but (a very gentle but) I want to make it clear that this isn't the way-

Names are censored for obv privacy reasons and I don't want to put any of my own readers on blast because I trust comments like these are made with good intention. I appreciate y'all for loving what I do here and putting it out there for others to read along, but I don't do it for this. As much as Rekindled is indeed a parody redraw of LO that's trying to "fix" a lot of the original comic's issues, at the end of the day it's still just a Tumblr project that I'm doing here for fun and I don't want to see it used as ammunition in the comments sections dedicated specifically to LO (for clarification, this was in the @webtoonofficial announcement post for LO winning its third Eisner).

Whether or not it's "better" than LO is subjective and irrelevant. I obviously can't pretend like I didn't have my own motivations to "fix" what I felt was broken, but the act of "fixing" was for those of us who saw it as broken, not for those who love LO as is.

I also can't reasonably ask anyone to keep their opinions about Rekindled to themselves, it's a piece of work that is publicly available and therefore that will put it under the lens of public opinion, but from me to you, this ain't the way. I host it on Tumblr and DH precisely to keep it out of the main view of the fans/stans, because this work isn't for them, it's for all of you who share my disappointment in the original series. I want to be able to run this space free of any extreme fandom discourse - this is also why you won't see me using general LO tags on Tumblr/IG - but the only way that can happen is if we all play nice and don't let the heat of the discourse get to us. Rest assured, I will always stand by my work and what I do here because I love it and have found my lost joy in what LO used to mean to me through it as well as a community of amazing writers and creators... but prevention is better than the cure and I don't want any of that heat getting thrown back my way through weaponizing of my work with or without my knowing in the first place.

Am I pissed about the comic's third win? Absolutely. And as much as I feel it isn't worth anyone's time or energy to get into bickering matches with the stans in these comment sections, those opinions regarding the comic pre-exist my participation in this fandom and would have, one way or another, hit that boiling point regardless (and it's been wild to watch that comment section go down, I can't lie lmao) But this is not the way. Rekindled is - to me, and hopefully to you, too - a reclaiming of the love and passion people like myself used to have for LO, and a celebration of Greek myth and transformative fiction as a genre, above everything else it stands for or could be interpreted as. It's not a weapon meant to be used in discourse. Let's please do our best to be mindful of that so we can keep having fun in this special little space we've carved for ourselves and not make ourselves into the monsters we're often made out to be just for critically discussing and transforming a piece of media that, in spite of all its flaws, brought us together in the way that it did. Let's keep being the best for each other instead of turning ourselves into the worst over others within this massive fandom who we were never going to agree with in the first place.

Thank you all, much love 💖 Do no harm, take no shit ✊️

#lore rekindled #ask me anything #ama #anon ama #anon ask me anything #lore olympus critical #anti lore olympus #lo critical #lore rekindled comic #lore rekindled ama

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sentfromwolves · 11 months ago

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Hey writing friends! (❁´◡`❁) Along with my new writeblr intro post, I also just wanted to make a more casual post too calling for more writeblr blogs to follow and interact with! If you write any of the following or are interested in the following and 18+ feel free to say hi! I'd also love to hear about all y'alls wips so I can find more writers to follow for 2024! (๑˃ᴗ˂)ﻭ

sci-fi and fantasy of any kind! cozy fantasy, epic fantasy, space opera, romantasy, you name it, i'm usually here for it! >:3

trans/nonbinary protagonists and big queer casts! it is my bread and butter (and what you'll always find me writing too)

Intricate worldbuilding in any genre! Especially ones with intricate politics, funky magical systems, or corrupt religious systems. I'm always down to yell about worldbuilding because I think it is Neat af

You just like to shout about ocs!! I'm so here for it, and I love making more connections here with people who obsess with their ocs the way I do. >:3 come yell at me about them anytime hehe

OT3S!! OT3S!! Please. Thank you.

2nd person POV & Epistolary Narratives or funky narrative experiments. This is hands down my favorite povs to read. I'm obsessed with them. Please come be obsessed about them with me.

Big found families! YES yep yes it's me I'm that bitch I love this stuff it's honestly my bread and butter ESPECIALLY IF IT IS DYSFUNCTIONAL AS HELL (bonus points if they try to murder each other at some point)

Non-European fantasies/celestial fantasies/space fantasies/underground fantasies. Yeah I know I put fantasy above, but celestial fantasies and consumed world concepts are something I'm obsessed with and I want more people to be obsessed with

Queer contemporary fiction. I'm usually in the sff boat but sometimes I write contemporary too, and I'd love to connect with more writers who write both.

The list could go on forever and ever, it's not exhaustive at all! Honestly if you're just interested in new writers to yell with, feel free to hit me up! I'm also looking to build a 2024 tag game list for writer games, so if you'd like to be added, let me know! I love spreading fun writing games around whenever I can. >:3 💝

#writeblr #writing community #writeblr community #writeblr intro #writers of tumblr #looking to build some fun tag game peeps since i have so many tagged things to do currently AAAAA #hello friends >:3

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 10 months ago

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Sweaty Palms 1

Warnings: this fic will include obsessive behaviour, possible non/ducbon, bullying, and other elements which may not be specifically triggered. Please be cautious in continuing on to the story.

Character: Curtis Everett

Summary: You start going to the gym to break old habits, but new things are scary.

Please reblog and leave some feedback, preferably in a reblog but you can always drop by my asks. I always love working in y'alls ideas with these AUs so I am so excited to hear from you.

As always, take care of yourself <3 be kind and be patient. Love you.

No tag lists. Please review my pinned and bio for guidelines.

You’ve never been to a gym before. You’ve never been to a lot of places. Crowds are not your forte, public places are your personal nightmare, and strangers make your nervous. Everything makes you nervous.

You can’t hide forever. That’s the conclusion you’ve come to. It's not a very comfortable one for you but if you don’t change, you’re always going to feel like this. Heavy, deflated, lost. It’s hard to put into words the feeling. The world just seems to pass you by, it functions around you, and sometimes you almost believe you’re not really there. Like a ghost, you just watch it without effect.

The extra fifteen dollars a month isn’t too much of a stretch. You can hold off on your Kindle addiction for the expense. That’s another thing, you need to start being smart, more practical with your money.

Planning. That’s something you’re working on. You didn’t come without one. You wouldn’t make it past the door without a set of steps to follow.

You stop by the front counter first. You ask the woman behind it about how to get into the gym. You bought a membership online. She brings up your profile and issues you a membership card, explaining how you can also download the app and register with your member number. You thank her and continue through.

You walk along the first floor, the leg machines and the rowing machines being worked by the regulars. You find your way to the dressing room on the second floor and enter with your head down. You try not to look anywhere but where you need to. You find a stall and change, packing away your street clothes, then go out to find a locker to shove your stuff in.

You emerge with your phone and your new smart watch strapped to your wrist. You glance at the face of it. Your heart rate is already elevated. You unlock your phone and tap the app you downloaded the day before. You flipped through the catalogue of beginners’ workouts but didn’t have any of the equipment to do it yourself. It’s cheaper to just come here.

You go to one of the spaces laid with mats and stop before one of the racks of weights. You stare at your phone in exasperation. You don’t understand, you’re connected to the wifi but the app just won’t connect. You could try on your own but you really don’t know what you’re doing.

Ugh, why did you even bother? This is just another failure. You try restarting the app and then your phone, aware of the activity around you. Does anyone notice how clueless you look?

“Hit it or quit it, little girl,” a man startles you as he brushes by you and grabs a large set of dumbbells, the thirty on the side catching your eye. You shift out of the way and press your phone against your chest, the smooth fabric of your shirt causing it to vibrate as if you tapped the screen. “This isn’t the phone club, it’s a gym.”

“Sorry, I...”

“There’s a cafe across the street, you can go play candy crush there,” he scoffs, “seems more your speed.”

“Must feel real big, huh?” A gritty voice nears from your other side, “real heavy lifting there, pushing around a woman.”

“Huh?” The first man narrows his eyes as he grips the set of dumbbells at his sides and faces the other man.

He’s taller than you, muscular but not too bulky. His head is shaved and a dark short beard lines his jaw. Similar hair peeks out from the top of his tee shirt and dusts his toned arms. He slips past you, inserting himself between you and the gym watchdog.

“Bro,” the first guy sneers, “don’t even start with me. You think you can step up.”

“I’m not stepping up,” the other man defies, “I’m telling you to mind your business. Take your weights and leave her alone.”

“Pfft, this some sort of date? You know, this isn’t the Olive Garden--”

The second man crosses his arms, his back to you as he postures at the other man. He’s silent as he stares him down. You can’t see his face but you can feel the tension roiling off of him. There’s a thick lull as both men stand in a deadlock.

“Got something to say, bud,” the first guy drops the weights and they boom against the floor. You wince and step back, “go on, I could use the work out.”

“I said it,” the second man utters flatly, unyielding as he looms like a wall between you.

“Fucking loser,” the other spits back, “you’re really gonna fuck around for that? Have you seen the skin around her?.”

The man doesn’t respond. He stays as he is, an unmoving sentinel. The other man growls in frustration.

“Fucking chicken shit, why don’t you speak up, dude?”

Still no answer. Just a glare. You clutch your phone against your chest, frozen in horror and confusion. You didn’t mean to start a fight. You hate confrontation.

Suddenly, the man before you jerks as he’s grabbed by the large man. His back hits you slightly and you drop your phone as he latches onto the other man. Everything happens so fast. The man who came to your defence has the other man on his back on the mat in seconds, a knee on his chest as his fists clasp around the top of his tank top. He bends over him and snarls.

“Christ, bro, get the fuck off of me,” the man on the floor shoves on his arm helplessly.

You glance around and notice the audience forming around you. Oh no. You look back to the two men. You step forward and tap the closest man on the shoulder, the one who defended you.

“Please,” you croak nervously, “I don’t wanna get in trouble.”

He turns his head, glancing back at you with powder blue eyes made bright by the dark row of his lashes. He exhales and lets go of the other man. He stands and puts his arm out as if to keep your behind him.

“You really want me to repeat myself?” He sneers down at the other man.

The larger man pushes himself up and scowls, shaking his head and he turns to stalk off muttering, leaving behind his forgotten dumbbells. The other man bends to pick them up and returns them to the rack. You look down at your empty hands then search the floor.

You reach for your phone but it’s plucked up before you. The man brings it up between you and holds it out. You take it with a thank you.

“No problem,” he rasps.

“I... you didn’t have to--”

“That guy’s an—he's not nice,” he corrects himself and drags his hand over his mouth and chin, “I don’t like bullies.”

“It’s my fault,” you shrug, “I was in the way. But er, thanks. I'm... I’m sorry.”

You turn away and look back at your phone. The app isn’t working. It says it needs another update.

“You need help with something?” The man asks.

“I...” you peek at him over your shoulder, “yeah, I... I don’t... I don’t usually... it’s my first time.”

He nods and hums as he steps closer. You face him and show him your phone. You’re jittery as it trembles in your grip. He’s a stranger. Your whole plan was to avoid those.

“I got this app to help but it’s not working,” you frown.

“Try the update?” He points his thick, long finger at the screen.

You tap and keep the phone visible. The app shop comes up and the update button is grayed out. Underneath, italics read ‘this update is not available for this device’. You frown and bring the screen closer to your face.

“It won’t let me,” you pout and flick your lashes, mortified. How are you this helpless? Why did you have to have a witness? Several. You look around, some eyes darting in your direction.

“Hm, well, what are you trying to do? You said this is your first day?” He prompts, “I could... I could help out a little. If you need. I’m no trainer, I just do my own thing but I could try.”

You bat your lashes up at him then look back at your phone. You don’t know what else to do. Your whole plan has fallen apart because your operating system is outdated.

“I... I’m not very... athletic,” you explain, “so I can’t go very fast.”

“That’s okay,” he assures you, “I can go slow.”

“You don’t have to do that. I can figure it out.”

“I know I don’t have to,” he shifts and peers over his shoulder, “but how about I stay close anyway,” he moves and you can see the guy from earlier staring daggers from a chest press, “just in case.”

“Oh, I... I’m sorry,” you tuck your phone into the pocket of your leggings, “I made him mad.”

“Let him be mad. Got nothing to do with you,” he turns back to you again, “I could take you through some stretches and basics; lunges, squats, stuff like that. As best I can.”

“Erm, I guess... I don’t wanna be in the way,” you rub your neck.

“Not in my way,” he says evenly, “lets grab some weights first.”

He directs you to the rack and without a thought you go to it. He approaches beside you as you realise, you didn’t say yes, you didn’t agree to this, but you don’t know what else to do.

“Start with some twos,” he advises, “and if you’re not getting a good burn, we can up it later.”

“Oh, okay,” you grab the dumbbells with the large twos on the side. He grabs the twenties. You feel totally inadequate.

“So let’s get out space,” he backs up and looks around the mat, “here should be good.” He bends and sets down his weights, "for now, let’s put these aside and start our stretches. You don’t wanna pull anything.”

You nod and place your weights beside you. You stand and stare at him. He’s in good shape. Great shape. He makes you even more conscious of your neglect. You already feel breathless.

“I’m Curtis by the way,” he steps forward and offers his hand.

“Oh, uh,” you shake his hand and give your name.

“Pretty,” he says as he squeezes before letting you go. His hand is huge compared to yours and the gap in your strength is obvious just in that small gesture.

“Alright, easy, slow, arms out,” he extends arms, “roll your shoulders and your head, loosen up.”

You watch him and hesitate to follow his direction. You hate that there’s so many people around. You don’t want to look stupid. You’re so ungainly and awkward.

“Try not to think about it too much. We’re all just here to work out, right?” He says and you shy away, embarrassed that he noticed your discomfort. You raise your arms and start the stretches, “good, you’re doing good, angel. Make sure to breath, alright?”

You roll your shoulders and head and blow out a breath. Your nerves are pinging all over and your muscles are shaky. This isn’t what you expected at all. Your plans fallen to pieces and yet, it’s not entirely a lost cause.

“Arms up,” he guides you into the next exercise, “on your toes, reach as far as you can...”

You obey, letting his voice guide you. His deep, calm timber is almost comforting. The even tenor is a stark contrast to chaotic nervously. You can get through this.

#curtis everett #dark curtis everett #dark!curtis everett #curtis everett x reader #drabble #gym au #au #sweaty palms #snowpiercer #series

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unknownati · 1 month ago

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Hello friend!

I LOVE everything you write for Ekko. Like it's always within character but you add a lot of fun layers to him that are just soooo fun to read lol.

I hope this doesn't come off as "hurry up" in any way because I know you're a human behind the screen. You're talents is ABSOLUTELY worth waiting for....

...but lemme just say when requests are open ill be dropping some DIABOLICAL smut requests because I KNOW you're gonna do them justice. Literally can't imagine another writer writing them. So I'll wait for however long you need! There's no one else I want to bring my degeneracy to life LOL! Hope you're up for it!

Until then, be kind to yourself! Can't wait to see what you write in the meantime!

🥹

thank u sm, you're so sweet (like literally keep rereading this cuz whaaaat i can't imagine this is actually towards me lol)

and good cuz this is a safe space. no shame on my blog at all

both my reqs are basically almost done, so i think this'll be me opening them back up :)

if you have a req and are wondering the status or are just curious, here are my current wips:

p.s., i'm rlly sorry if you submitted a request and you don't see it here :( sometimes i'm just not quite sure how to make something into an actual fleshed out fic, but if i find one similar to what you're looking for i'll absolutely respond w/ a link for you 🫶🏾

i fr have something written down!!!:

never lose me (req), smut: he treats you sooo special - super close to finished, just wrapping it up and proofreading

happy birthday (req), fluff + smut: how the two of you make each other's bdays special - also almost finished!

sound on, smut: ekko sends you a video...you know the rest 🤭 - i got an intro and some inspo

tap tap tap, smut: ekko keeps tapping his pencil and it's driving you insane - literally fully complete, just doing some proofreading

shopping, fluff + smut: you and ekko are thrifting gods and he really likes the pants you're trying on - half done

girls, smut: fem!stud!ekko x fem!black!reader (y'all knew this was coming since 'dreamin') - half done, i keep forgetting abt it 🙁

busy, smut: ekko spends too much time working and you need some of his attention - half done

just an idea rn:

current timeline (req) fluff: if ekko came to our timeline (sammycutiepie made a similar one!!)

double trouble, minor angst + smut: au!ekko and ekko tag team you 🙃 (maybe, maybe not? this might be weird idk i'll think abt it)

aphrodisiac, smut: you both take those little chocolates and see how long the two of you can resist each other

🪱 , fluff: you wake up ekko to ask if he'd still love you if you were a worm

#arcane x reader #ekko x reader #ekko x you #arcane ekko #arcane x you #arcane smut #arcane x reader smut #arcane x reader fluff #ekko smut #ekko x fem reader

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anisespice · 2 years ago

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“ the fuck-it list ” || hq! pt. 2

one || three || four

synopsis: there’s a list going around consisting of hot guys on campus that are deemed “fuckable” with theories as to what they’d be like in bed. it’s all fun and games until somehow your boyfriend ends up on this list.

pairing: various x gn!reader [ hinata, bokuto, kuroo ]

warnings: cursing, suggestive language, hinata’s is SUPER long lol mild objectification, bo and kuroo’s are criminally the shortest ones i’ve written so far ugh (but they get the point across), and I think that’s it :D

notes: first of all, can i just say THANK Y'ALL SO MUCH ♡♡♡ i did not expect that headcanon to blow up, so i will do my very best to make the following ones just as juicy and entertaining for y'all :))) special thanks to @melanatedkink for helping out with this, she helps bring out my inner whore lol hope you guys enjoy !!

notes ii: didn't want the situations to get too repetitive, so these may take me a little longer for the other characters i do in the future, but i appreciate the love and patience for the series thus far !!! you guys are awesome

tagged: @daedaep69 , @ahahadumbo , @viktoryn , @mdsb , @ourgoddessathena , @ushygushybaby , @hyori2 , @lumpywolf , @fantasycantasy

HINATA knew all about the list. Being the social butterfly he was, it would be impossible for the topic not to come up in conversation, especially since a lot of his friends were on it. He found it interesting, to say the least, but never really took the whole thing too seriously. It was just for shits and giggles after all, right?

During a water break in the gym, Hinata aimed for his mouth while squeezing the bottle. Most made it inside, but the rest dripped down his chin. Thinking nothing of it, the spiker used the bottom of his jersey to wipe his face dry, be it water or sweat. And even though it was for a split second, it was more than enough time for the damage to be done to the hearts of those chilling up by the railing on the first level. Beneath the LEDs, in all their sinful glory, were Shoyo Hinata’s nipple piercings.

The gates of heaven have opened, and the choir sings a hymn. But, along came Satan, as he rubbed his seedy hands together in mischief. The groupies were shellshocked and knew they must alert the masses, eyeing their prey all the way until the end of practice. This caught the attention of a certain blonde setter, who brought it to Hinata’s attention right off the bat as they cleaned up the court.

“Oi. Don’t wanna alarm ya or anythin’, but…those spectators up there been eye-ballin’ you for quite a while. Could be trouble.”

The tangerine gave a confused grin, looking over his shoulder in their direction. Sure enough, their eyes never wavered, not even after being caught. However, he merely shrugged it off. “It’s probably nothing.”

Atsumu hummed, skeptically. Though, he didn’t push it any further.

Once they were dismissed and sent to the showers, by the time Hinata was done he'd be the only one left in the locker room. He had to take his time and be extra careful not to bump his piercings, still kinda sensitive. Kageyama offered to stay behind so they could walk back together, "HINATA-BOKE, HURRY UP BEFORE I LEAVE YOUR SLOW ASS IN HERE."

But, Hinata politely declined. "SUCK A DICK, BAKAYAMA. I'm going over [_____]'s tonight, so go on ahead!"

With a nod, the stoic setter took his leave. "Cool. Tell 'em I said hey. See you tomorrow."

"See ya tomorrow!"

And then, all was quiet.

The only sounds filling the space were the running water, his humming, and the flickering overhead lights. When he stepped out with a towel wrapped snuggly around his waist, Hinata heard the sound of his phone ringing in his bag. His tired expression soon melted into joy at the cheesy love song he used as your ringtone.

Pressing the answer button, Hinata greeted you with his face all in the camera, and a bright, "Hi, [_____]!!~ You here already?"

Your eyes were on the road but you grinned, adoringly. "Hi, Sho. And, no, almost there though. I stopped by the canteen to grab some dinner. Know how hungry you get after practice."

"Mmm, starved. You're an angel, angel."

Staying on the call as he changed, the two of you conversed about each other's day as normal. However, when the topic of those groupies eventually came up, it instantly made you tense. Even though most of his fans were harmless, there were still a few rotten apples in the bunch that made you wary. "God, don’t tell me they asked you to spike their ass like a ball again."

Hinata snorted, throwing on a clean shirt, "That wasn't me, remember? That was Sakusa-san. Never seen him look so horrified." You laughed, having recalled. "But, according to 'tsumu-san, they hardly took their eyes off me tonight.”

“That’s old news, babe. Those vultures are always watching you.”

“Not always-”

"ALWAYS." You affirmed, pulling up to the building. Parking outside the doors, you teasingly said, "We can continue talking about how wrong you are in the car, I’m outside. And hurry, the food's gonna get cold."

"Yes, boss," he chuckled, gathering up his things. Throwing the duffle over his shoulder, Hinata made haste for the lobby, making sure to turn the lights off behind him. “See you in a minute, sunshine.~”

With that he hung up, walking with a spring in his step. He had a surprise for you, and couldn’t wait to finally show them off later. Now that the piercings had healed enough, Hinata couldn’t fight the obscene images clouding his mind of all the things you’d do once you saw them. It made him dizzy just thinking about it…

Unfortunately, someone would beat him to the punch. Or, more specifically, something.

‘Shoyo Hinata. 5’6ft sweetheart, and a ball of energy who’ll light up any room he walks into. He may look all innocent, but clearly, we’ve been underestimating him. Kinda has everyone wondering what other piercings he may be hiding…and where.~ What he may lack in height, he makes up for in girth. Expect to go for several rounds back to back, ‘cause he’s got STAMINA. This man will also be very vocal—Talk you through an orgasm, how good you make him feel, dirty-talk, begging, you name it—He is BIG on communication. He's also a cuddler, after-care will be disgustingly sweet, and pillow talk will be a must. 100/10.’

Wow. You suspected those parasites were up to no good, but never would’ve expected this. The picture attached to the thread was of your boyfriend, mid-air from blocking a ball, with his arms straight up. As he was coming down, his shirt was coming up, exposing his whole torso. It was a little blurry, but whoever took the photo zoomed in enough to where you could easily make out the silver on his nipples.

You pursed your lips, uncertain on how to feel. On one hand, you were kinda annoyed they, let alone the whole campus, got to see them before you even knew about them. But, on the horny hand…

“Hey, gorgeous!” Hinata exclaimed, startling you out of your thoughts. He had opened the back door, and threw his bag on the seat before eagerly joining you in the front. Leaning across the console to give you a kiss, he was taken aback when you stopped him, placing a finger on his lips. “Mmm?”

You gave him a blank look, making him a little nervous. He was just on the phone with you and things were totally fine, what could’ve possibly changed in the five minutes it took him to get to the car? Hinata didn’t have to ponder for long, though. Not when you used that very same finger to hook around his collar, yanking it downward. He yelped, pulling away in the last second, but his reflexes couldn’t save him this time.

You confirmed it with your own eyes now.

“I uh—…T-Those are…,” he spluttered, scratching his cheek. You happily watched him squirm, arms crossed with a knowing grin on your face. Hinata sweat-dropped. “I-I was gonna t-tell you, I swear, but I wanted them to heal a little before I did, so that you could…”

“Could what, Sho?”

His face was pure vermilion. With a huff, Hinata whined, “How’d you even find out? I had a whole thing planned and everything! Was it Bakayama? Did he tell you?? Dammit, I knew I should’ve asked someone else to come with me to the appointment!”

You chuckled, shaking your head. “No, it wasn’t Kageyama. I told you so, those vultures are always watching.”

“Huh?”

“I’ll tell you later. For now,” you reached over again, this time with both hands as lithe fingertips slid underneath the thin cotton of his shirt, trailing up the smooth skin until you brushed against the perked nubs. Hinata twitched, immediately biting back a moan as you began teasing them at once. If he got any redder, he’d surely pass out from all the blood rushing to his head. Luckily, it was also rushing elsewhere. “Let’s hurry and get you back to mine’s, hm?"

"...S-So I uhn," he keened when you lightly tugged on one, hand reflexively grabbing your wrist, but not to stop you. His eyes fluttered as he let you feel him up as much as you pleased, mouth hung open as he began panting like a dog. "...I take it y-you like them, then?"

"Oh, baby, I love 'em. Best investment ever, honestly. Can't wait to put them in my mouth," you sighed dreamily, gently pinching to elicit a moan from the ginger. Music to your ears. From the look on his face, he could probably cum from this feeling alone. You pulled away at the thought, smirking as he instantly began protesting.

"Aht, not so fast, we still gotta eat. But, don't worry. You'll get your dessert."

Homie nodded so quick, you were sure he gave himself whiplash. Adorable.

By the end of a very long night full of debauchery, you eventually told him about the list and how exactly you found out about the piercings. And you know what? He couldn’t even be mad. At least it wasn't Kageyama.

“Oh! He says ‘hey’ by the way.”

Now, BOKUTO thought he knew about the list. But after the whole…misunderstanding with Akaashi, it turned out he knew absolutely nothing. Granted, how he felt about it didn’t really change after his friends spent over an hour explaining it to him. If anything, it fueled his distaste for it even more. When he showed up on your doorstep looking absolutely distraught, fat tears rolling down his face as he proclaimed his unwavering devotion to you, you only needed one guess.

‘Kotaro Bokuto. 6’2ft of GAWD DAMN. He's sweet, confident, and R E S P E C T F U L?? We love a triple threat. Not to mention how MASSIVE he is, and don’t even get me started on his ass. Would literally be unable to keep my hands to myself, just saying. Like how you see him dominate the volleyball court, the same could be said for the bedroom, without a doubt. Bokuto loves to give, but he’s also a taker. Definitely gives off Switch with service Dom tendencies. Plus he’s greedy. He doesn’t care if you already came four times, give him some more!!! ∞/10. He is beyond the standard. Argue with the wall.’

You remembered reading it while taking a break from studying, merely brushing it off. It was only a matter of time he’d end up on their radar, you had prepared for it since the list first started circulating around campus. Frankly, you had completely forgotten about it; up until now.

“Ko, baby, please calm down-”

“I don’t care how many people wanna touch my ass! They can’t have it, it’s for you to touch and nobody else!”

You quickly pulled him into your room before he screamed any more embarrassing stuff in the hallway, knowing your neighbors probably recognized his voice by now. The last thing you wanted was another noise complaint, your RA already despised his visits enough to consider banning him altogether–Whether or not they had the authority, you’d rather not find out today.

Once behind the safety of a closed door, the behemoth of a man came crashing down to his knees, arms circling around your midriff as he buried himself in your stomach. You jumped slightly as your room shook from the sudden action, deeply exhaling in order to reconfigure your thinning patience. Taking a page from Akaashi’s book, you knew getting snippy with Bokuto while he was in this state would only worsen it, so you approached cautiously.

“Ko,” you cooed, reaching down to caress his deflated hair. He sniffled, hugging you closer in response. Gently, you pushed him far enough to see his face, wiping away the tears as you offered him a soft smile. “Look at me, do I look upset to you?”

Bokuto took a moment to search your eyes, then shook his head.

“Exactly. Which means you don’t need to be, you’ve done nothing wrong. Now stand up, I’m sure that drop hurt your knees, didn’t it?”

He sniffled once more, then nodded. Slightly embarrassed, Bokuto stumbled back up to his full height, and sure enough, his knees were red. You tsked, gesturing to your desk chair for him to sit on while you fetched an ice pack from your fridge.

“Although I appreciate the reassurance, I already knew you were on the list, babe.”

Bokuto’s head shot up from looking at the floor, mood instantly doing a one-eighty as he gaped at you in shock. “HUH? Why didn’t you say anything to me about it?”

“I didn’t think you cared,” you replied, chuckling. “It’s been up for weeks. I figured you saw it and just ignored it, or something. Besides, I’ve gotten used to people openly expressing their attraction to you, so it wasn’t anything new.”

“You shouldn’t have to get used to it! People need to respect our relationship, no matter how fantastic I am!”

You snorted, but couldn’t help the chuckle. Returning with an ice pack, you kneeled by his legs and placed the cooling relief upon the irritated skin. “Mm, you are pretty fantastic. But, I don’t mind the attention you get, Ko. Because I know I’m the lucky one who gets you all to myself.”

Bokuto beamed down at you, lower lip quivering at the praise.

Effortlessly, he swooped you up from the floor and held you in his lap, the ice pack long forgotten as it slipped out your hands. With a loving squeeze, Bokuto nuzzled into the side of your neck, forcing soft giggles out of you from the ticklish feeling as you hugged him back. You felt so warm in his embrace, and he smelled like home. Even if you’d never say such corny things out loud, the way you melted in his arms was enough for him to know exactly how you felt; it was mutual.

"Plus, you can get a bit intense. They wouldn't last the night."

"Hey, hey, hey, you got that right," Bokuto grinned, smugly. "No one could ever handle me as well as you do, baby owl..." he purred, warm breath fanning over the skin of your shoulder, signaling goosebumps up your arms. You hummed in thought, snuggling in closer, whilst also not-so-accidentally grinding back against the flag pole in his sweats. He grunted, hips jerking upward in surprise.

"Hm, I dunno. It's been a while, I may have forgotten how."

Bokuto chuckled at the tease, the vibrations deep within his chest as he squeezed you a little tighter. You bit your lip to hold in your giddiness as his large hands began to wander, feeling a different kind of warmth as he began to overwhelm your senses. Trailing wet kisses from your shoulder to the side of your face, he playfully nipped at your cheek, eliciting a tiny squeal from you as you wiggled in his hold. And doing so only made you grind back on him even more.

His breathing grew heavier with each passing second, letting out a guttural groan before he flipped you around, making you straddle him. To anyone else, experiencing his sudden mood changes would've given them whiplash. Just moments prior, he'd been on his knees, crying with his head buried in your stomach like it was the end of the world. Now, he looked about five seconds from being on his knees for a different reason. For you, it was just another Wednesday.

"That so? How 'bout I remind you then?"

KUROO thought the list was the most hilarious thing to ever occur on campus, hands down one of his go-to's for entertainment when he’s bored.

Like right now.

The lecture dragged on for what felt like forever, the professor mumbling about absolutely nothing of value as everyone in the class busied themselves with whatever would keep them awake. Some played games on their laptops pretending to take notes, while others blatantly chatted with their deskmates.

With an airpod in, Kuroo had you on facetime in the corner of his screen so that you could keep each other company while he scrolled through social media, and you put away dishes. You tried to convince him to leave the class early, "Clearly you aren't paying attention, so you might as well."

"Unfortunately, he only counts attendance if you sign your name on the exit sheet at the very end of the lecture. So leaving early's out of the question." He muttered. You hummed in understanding, then chortled.

"Oh. Sucks to be you, then."

Kuroo glared half-heartedly at you, but it completely softened at the sound of your laughter, despite it being at his expense. He kissed his teeth after checking the time, mildly annoyed that he still had less than ten minutes. “Why’d you even take the course if you couldn’t care less about it?”

“I needed another elective. And…Kenma was the one who recommended it. Said it’d be an easy pass.”

“And you believed him?” Cue another round of your laughter.

He grumbled, off-screen for you but clearly pouting as he chose to ignore your question. No matter, his silence was answer enough.

With a mere shake of your head, you continued putting away dishes on your end. Kuroo, on the other hand, found himself stumbling upon something that perked him up instantly. After refreshing the feed for more mindless content, the user-handle he knew all too well showed itself like a beacon of hope, beckoning him with the promise of filling the next ten minutes with something way more interesting than…whatever this class was about.

@/FckIt22.

After the last fiasco with Bokuto, then later on Kenma, the ravenette contemplated blocking them. As golden as those situations were, something told him that deep down he could be next. But, it was days like this he was glad he didn’t. His boredom was becoming unbearable…and it was so tempting. What harm could it do to look at this one little upda—“HAH?!”

‘Tetsurou Kuroo. 6’2ft gentleman that you’d proudly take home to mom, and even get your father’s approval. With his charm and roguish good looks, it's no wonder his reputation screams 'playboy'. But, he can’t fool me. I know what he is. A whole SUB, no sandwich. I’m sure being as tall as he is, and how he carries himself, people automatically assume he’s a Dom. False. If you’re looking to be dominated, keep looking. Kuroo wants to be babied, told he’s a good boy, and edged until he nearly passes out. Definitely a little brat, but his hair defies gravity for a reason, PULL ON IT. Boss him around, take control, and watch him literally melt in your hands. 8/10 because he's also a stubborn mofo. Literally would pay to see this man cry from overstimulation ugh.’

Kuroo shot out of his seat, practically piercing right through the air of humdrum. He not only startled you, but the entire lecture hall including the professor. Comically slapping a hand over his mouth, Kuroo’s face immediately began to burn from not only his outburst but also at the fact that his karma came way sooner than he was prepared for...

He wanted nothing more than for the ceiling to collapse on him and him only.

“Tetsu?? Are you okay, what happened?? Hello??”

"U-Uh, I'll call you back." He squeaked, double-tapping his airpod to end the call.

The professor crossed his arms, "Mr. Tetsurou. I understand that my lecture may not be the most enjoyable part of your day, but I would appreciate it if you endured it for just," the professor checks his watch, "six more minutes. Is that alright with you?"

Before he could even open his mouth to give an excuse, a chorus of vibrations, dings, and whistles from various phones instantly made the business major shrivel up. Next thing he knew, what used to be a room full of the undead was now livelier than ever before. Kuroo could feel every single one of their searing gazes; like being an insect under a microscope.

"Bro, this you?" A student sitting behind him leaned forward, phone in hand as he shoved it in Kuroo's face. The picture stared back at him, smugly grinning and shirtless as he ironically thirst-trapped the camera. Out of all the pictures…

He internally cringed. "U-Uhh..."

"Please, everyone settle down, so we can continue-" The professor attempted to redirect focus, but he had already lost it way before all this happened. A few more students jumped straight into bombarding him with questions, eager to push for more info now that this supposed new side of him had been revealed.

“Whoa, how much of this is true??”

“Kuroo-san, I’ll happily baby you!~”

“Aw man, thought for sure you’d be the type to take control, not give it up. What a bummer. No offense.”

He absolutely took offense to that.

With no help from the professor, as he tried and failed to recollect everyone's attention, Kuroo thought of the next best course of action to get him out of this sticky situation. Jumping out a two-story window didn't sound so bad, and the broken bones would be a great distraction from the suffocating feeling of public humiliation.

In the midst of all the theories and queries being thrown at him from every angle, his phone went off multiple times. Mostly from you, but the rest were no doubt the groupchat clowning him once they caught wind of the news. The guys weren't gonna let him live this one down, that's for certain. And to make matters worse...he still had four long minutes left in the class.

He exhaled, "Should've blocked 'em when I had the chance..."

Gathering up his stuff, Kuroo used his long legs to evade the ever-growing crowd of prodding students, all most likely not even caring about the post itself, but more so just wanting to kill class time; he refused to be a scapegoat.

Marching right up to the professor, who gave up trying to round up the class, the rooster-head mustered up the most pathetic look possible to evoke sympathy outta the wrinkly man. "Hey, so uh… may I please be excused a little early for this one time, sir? I'd really hate to be such a distraction from your insightful lecture-"

"Just go, Mr. Tetsurou." Didn't need to tell him twice.

As soon as he made it to your dorm, you could imagine his shock that his friends were already there, waiting as if they knew he'd come running straight to you. You offered him a teasing grin, shrugging as you said, “They came for…emotional support.”

He didn't know if he was mortified or mortified—Yaku, Yamamoto, Bokuto, Akaashi, hell, even Kenma rolled out of bed, wrapped in a blanket burrito and all, just to see the look on his best friend's face. He grinned, sardonically, then patted the empty spot on the couch right next to him. "Welcome to the club. We've been expecting you."

Oh, he was definitely blocking that godforsaken list now. And finding a new elective.

#🍁wasabi #SHES FINALLY HERE #hq #hq!#hq!!#hq scenarios #hq smut #haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu smut #hq hinata #hq bokuto #hq kuroo #the fuck-it list

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